Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater.

Suggested Exercise Routine
by. Poisoned Scarlett

"Dude, I think Maka is a part-time stripper."

Black Star did not say this with the usual amount of lasciviousness he was known for; oh, no, it was quite the opposite, Soul believed that Black Star was one word close to losing his entire mind. He sat across from Soul in his apartment with a hand over his mouth, the most serious Soul had ever seen him. His usually spiked crush blue hair was in disarray from how many times he had run his fingers through it and he was nearing another pace through his apartment, by the way his foot was tapping.

"This isn't funny, Star."

"I'm not kidding! She is!"

"Black Star, there is no way Maka is a stripper—in fact, there is no way she would ever consider taking a job like that because one, she works long hours at the office," Soul began, slowly, "and, two, why would Maka take a job that her dad always blew money off when she was a kid? She's always said how much she hated it."

"I dunno' man that's why I'm asking for your advice!" Black Star hissed, shaking his head. "You two are super close, right?"

Soul shifted. "Yeah, that's why I'm telling you she's not!" At Black Star's ominous silence, Soul added with a forced, tired smirk: 'Sides, even if she did, what if her dad visited? She'd lose it on stage and probably get herself fired when she attacked him with her heels." Neither laughed like usual. It also did not help his churning gut. He thanked his poker face for not letting his friend see how sick to the stomach he got at the thought of her keeping such a huge secret from him.

Black Star swore under his breath, running his fingers through his hair again.

While Soul knew fairly well that Maka had no issue with exotic dancers in licensed institutions, she had issues with the men who visited them and expected more than the job description. Soul knew for certain that she had more issues with the entire backwards mentality of the clients for erotic dancers than the actual profession itself. Soul, for his part, never particularly liked strip clubs and usually sided with Maka when she went on one of her rants about the problems surrounding the job. But, more accurately, he did not like crowded places. Strip clubs in particular were a drag for him: they were loud, crowded, smelled funny, and the music was god awful. But he had gone twice with Black Star, even if his best friend would argue that the second time hadn't counted because he left fifteen minutes later when Maka texted him, asking if he had any stomach pills he could spare since she was puking up a storm and did not think she could make it to the store without an incident or two.

"Okay. Okay, this is gonna' sound weird, but I saw her!"

"Black Star, quit playin' around. This is a lame joke," Soul scorned, fed up with him already. He went back to his iPod.

"No, dude, I'm serious. I saw her. I was at Kid's place and I saw her through the window—in her apartment!"

"What? Kid's place?" Soul looked at him incredulously. "How the hell does that happen?"

"The window!" Black Star insisted, nearly tearing his hair out. Black Star was still baffled, four days and various documentaries and articles later; he had never, ever taken Maka as the type, not even in jest! He had also never realized how awful strip clubs could be. It was enough that he swore to never visit one again. "I saw her through the fucking window SHE WAS POLE DANCING IN HER APARTMENT!" He shook his head in disbelief and braced his head between his knees, eye twitching. "She's like my goddamn sister—if she's broke, if she's on some shit, I can help her—I know people, man, you remember that one time Kilik tried coke? Tsubaki sent 'em with some lady called Nygus and two sessions later he went to volunteer at some adoption center and ended up adopting twins, he's a fucking dad now and he's got his life together—!"

"BLACK STAR!" Soul grabbed his shoulder, staring him in the eyes. "I think you're overreacting. She rooms with Blair and she was literally a porn star when she was eighteen. Maka told me she works at some club so she might have a pole in her room. I think you might have seen her—!"

"I KNOW WHAT I SAW! BLAIR'S SIXTY PERCENT TITS, I THINK I'D KNOW WHEN IT'S MAKA, ALRIGHT?" He screamed, voice back to its normal volume. At the wrong time, however, as Soul slapped a hand over his mouth and sent him an irritated glower. There was no need to alert the neighbors that pretty, saintly Maka Albarn was working the pole in a way that was less than saintly.

"I don't believe you. There's no way Maka would work as a stripper—there's no way she would," he stated, without a doubt. There was no way. He was sure that, if she were, if she had ever thought it, she would tell him, right? She had told him herself: no more secrets, okay? You're my best friend, Soul, I'll always tell you everything. Maka was his best friend. They had been friends for a long time, longer than Black Star. He had met Black Star through Maka when they were in high school those years ago. If anything of that sort had crossed her mind, she would have told him, he was sure, but what if he wasn't? What if he had taken her too seriously, taken her words to heart too deeply? He had stopped being so controlling of his secrets a long time ago. But perhaps it was only been him? Had Maka not been as serious about her admission as he had been?

"I saw her—you know what? C'mon, we're going to Kid's place!" Black Star grabbed him by his shoulder and shoved him towards the door without preamble. "I'll just fucking show you!"

The drive was tense and, the more Soul brooded on it, the more depressed he became. He supposed it was slightly absurd to feel an ache in his ribcage, a jealousy that he had always brushed aside before. It threatened to eat him alive right then and there; a horrible, ugly, emotion he wrestled with a lot in his youth when it came to Wes and his musical differences. But this type of jealousy, this type of hurt, it ran deep. It ran deeper than he thought it would and it forced him to reevaluate the affection he felt for her. He was fond of her, of course he was, she was his best friend, but he couldn't kid himself when he felt like punching and gagging all those nameless men who whistled at Maka in his mind.

Maka was his best friend; she was the one he went to when he was in trouble, when he had good news, when he just wanted to hang out with someone. She was also his first priority, something Black Star had always made fun of since he found out. That being said, the fact that Black Star was so anguished over this made him think that he was not the only one who put her first when need be.

Black Star took the stair steps to Kid's apartment by threes, Soul following close behind. He had to grab the back of the athlete's shirt to slow him down, but that did not help much. It did not stop him from pounding his fists on Kid's door, hollering at the top of his lungs for him to open up.

"Wh—what is the meaning of all this, Black Star?" Kid shouted, bewildered. Black Star pushed through him without a word and Soul merely sighed, giving Kid a weak greeting that was answered with a frown. "What's going on?"

"Black Star says he saw Maka pole dancing and he's freaking out," Soul deadpanned.

"SHE'S A STRIPPER! SHE'S A STRIPPER AND I'M GONNA HELP HER GET OUT OF THE BUSINESS! I READ THIS ARTICLE LAST NIGHT THAT SAID THAT A LOT OF STRIPPERS IN DEATH CITY GET KIDNAPPED AND SOLD INTO THE SEX SLAVE INDUSTRY BECAUSE THE PLACES ARE CORRUPT AS HELL AND—FUUUUCK!" He screamed, pointing a horrified finger out the window. "What the hell is that nerd doing LOOK SOUL!"

Soul skid to a stop next to Black Star, mouth dropping and face paling. Black Star was right—she was there, he could see her through the crack between the blinds. He would recognize her ash blonde hair anywhere and he could clearly see her spinning on the pole, her long legs hooking above her as she fell into a slow spin—

"Oh, that," Kid popped up beside them, disinterested. "She does that every Friday. Is there something wrong with it?" He was looking at his speech cards as he said this.

"Well," Soul began, but was interrupted by a raging Black Star.

"YOU GODDAMN CORPSE, SHE'S DANCING TO DIRTY OLD GUYS LIKE HER POPS!" He hissed, dropping his voice. "But fuck that, do you know what happens to girls who get into this business? They can get raped, they can get killed, fuck, Tsubaki once showed me this documentary where the business owners abuse the dancers—it's hell, man, it's literal hell, and if Maka needs my help I'll—SHE'S DOING IT AGAIN!" He shielded his eyes, on the verge of calling Tsubaki to tell him what to do to help his basically-sister out.

"I…" Kid stared, at a loss for words.

"Kid, you know how Star gets when he learns stuff," Soul sighed, rubbing his temples. He looked troubled, but not angry. He was more thoughtful, struggling to come to terms with something.

"I believed you would be more upset," Kid directed to him, curious. They were both ignoring Black Star at this point. "Sex has little relevance to me but do you not like her? You're not exactly…very friendly, when it comes to her suitors. Nor do I peg you as the type to…be fine with letting her share her intimacies with others like this."

"Aren't you upset?" Soul retorted.

"No, it's her life," Kid shrugged. "She's my friend, but what she does on her own time is none of my business. So long as she's content and responsible, it matters little to me."

"There you go," was all that Soul said. Kid noticed how he struggled to force the words out of his mouth, but decided not to comment on it. "But something's off about this. Maka…Maka and I hang out every Friday night with the sisters. It's movie night. If she were…"

"WAS THIS BECAUSE OF ALL THE TINY TITTY JOKES?" Black Star wailed behind them. "I TAKE THEM BACK!"

Kid sighed. "Black Star, I need to learn this speech by tomorrow. I don't have time for this."

"SHE'S NOT A BOOKWORM, CAN SHE STOP NOW?!"

"Black Star!"

"SHE DOESN'T DRESS LIKE AN OLD PERSON—GOD, I WISHED SHE WOULD ALWAYS DRESS LIKE AN OLD PERSON! I'LL NEVER MAKE FUN OF HER CLOTHES AGAIN!"

"Black Star?" Soul rolled his eyes, facepalming when the man only hit his head against the wall repeatedly with a long groan, as if this had all been his doing and he needed to fix it. Soul was more reasonable. When he could not get another word out of him, he walked out of Kid's apartment. Soul crossed the street quickly, heading up to Maka's apartment with more haste than usual. He knocked loudly, not giving Maka enough time to really compose herself. It turned out she did not even bother: she answered the door in baggy sweats and a sports bra, her breath heavy as if from a work out.

Her face brightened at the sight of him, but it quickly became worried when she caught his eyes. "Soul? Is something wrong? What happened?" She let him pass.

"Yo," he greeted weakly, letting her shut the door behind him. "Uh. There's a problem. A big problem." He shuffled deeper into the room and stopped when she stiffened and went to grab his wrist.

"Wait! D-don't go in there!"

"Why not?"

"Um, I…that's not important! You said there was a problem?"

"Maka," Soul sighed, the ache in his chest becoming harder to ignore. He tried to be reasonable, but it was so hard: he hated the thought of her dancing like that for others. He couldn't even bother with being fair: he hated it. He loathed it. He never wanted anyone to see as he did now: only him, he wanted only himself to be the one she trusted enough, but instead he said: "I saw you—from the window. You left your blinds open again, idiot."

"Saw…me?" Maka repeated, her green eyes growing very wide.

"On the pole. Uh," Soul looked down, gritting his teeth. He needed to know; he told himself he would never judge her if she ever decided to become an erotic dancer. It was a job like any other, right? He would hate every second of it, yeah, he would go to the strip club every single night just to make sure she was safe and happy and, most importantly, safe. But he would listen to her reasons, help her if she was struggling, do his best to support her if she did it of her own will. Maka was an adult but goddamn did the thought of her dancing for others hurt. "I…never pegged you as the type, bookworm, but, uh, if you—!"

"Oh, no! I wanted to show you once I was good!" Maka groaned, covering her face with her hands.

Soul stopped suddenly, brows scrunching together in disbelief. He snapped his head up, staring at her. "Wha'?"

Maka just crossed her arms self-consciously. "The gym wasn't cutting it for me. I still felt like I wasn't being pushed enough, and then Blair said that pole dancing is really difficult and really gives a person a workout. I didn't believe her at first, but after watching some videos and watching her show me some basic moves, I realized it was hard. It's really hard, trying to carry your weight like that. So I started to practice and look!" Maka smiled at him brightly, placing a hand on her stomach. He dropped his eyes to the just-signs of a—

"Since when do you have abs?" He squinted. She'd always been lean, but now there was slight show of muscle on her abdomen. "Wait, are you telling me you're not a stripper?"

"WHAT? Of course not!" Maka shouted, horrified. "Do you know how dangerous jobs like those are in this city?"

"But—but if you could, would…?"

"N…no," Maka mumbled, her face flaring up. She was fiddling with her thumbs, shy. Soul wanted to rub his face in relief and kiss her forehead all the same. "That's…there's no way I can do that. I don't have the…body, or the courage to get up and…"

"Yeah, you can, you're—good."

"Good?" Maka narrowed her eyes at him.

"Uh. Yeah. You're hot," he blurted. They stared at each other for a second, Soul's slightly lost to Maka's steadily incredulous expression. "You are," he added, as if that would help.

She decided to ignore that. "Soul, did you honestly think I was a stripper?"

That was what it took to shake him out of his stupor, her dangerously even tone setting alarms off in his head. "No, Black Star did. He's actually losing his mind over in Kid's apartment, saying how he'll never let you get kidnapped and sold into the sex trade or something—HIS WORDS, not mine," he defended, raising his hands in peace at her furious expression. "I…there's no way you can be a stripper. You'd have told me. I mean, this is a big thing, I was pretty sure you'd tell me."

"Of course I would have, you idiot," Maka said, after a brief silence. She gave him a lopsided smile, the sweet smile that always made him question his affections for her. He was fond of her, but it was smiles like those that made him think that his fondness for he ran deeper. It was smiles like those that made his gut tighten painfully every time he thought of her showing it to other people, of the smile becoming fixed and modeled instead of goofy and genuine. "I didn't tell you about this because…well, I suck," she pouted.

The reason was so simple, so absolutely Maka, that he could not contain his laughter.

Soul reached over to ruffle her hair, eyes soft. "What I saw didn't look bad at all. You looked like a pro." He scrunched his nose playfully, wiping his hand on his pants. "Gross, you're all sweaty."

"What would you know about professional pole dancing?" Maka pouted, crossing her arms.

"Star's taken me twice," Soul whined. Maka only snorted at him; his experience the first time had been him accidentally falling asleep after two hours because alcohol made him laughably sleepy and the second time, he had chosen keeping her hair out of her mouth as she vomited over remaining at the club. "It looked professional. Dunno', the lights make it hard to see—!"

"Liar," Maka rolled her eyes, turning on her heels to head back into the room. This time she let Soul walk in as well, letting him survey the ceiling-to-floor metal pole in the middle of the bedroom. It looked like Blair's room considering all the purple and cat plushies. "It's really hard. I couldn't even get up at first," she jumped and her leg hooked around the pole, muscles tight and back arching a bit. Soul cleared his throat. "But, now I can, but I still—mess up," she tried to spin, but Soul saw it was slow and awkward, and her movements were shaky at some parts. She let herself slide down after a bit, breathing hard, sweating trails down her neck. "It's really hard. But it's the kind of training that's pushing me right now—!"

"YOU WANT TRAINING?! I'LL TRAIN YOU!" Black Star bellowed suddenly, crashing into the room.

Maka squawked. Soul sighed.

"C'MON, TWENTY LAPS AROUND THE CITY! LET'S GO, I'LL TRAIN YOU SO HARD YOU'LL RIP A MUSCLE! LET'S GO! I'M READY!" He ran in place at break-next speed, blue hair spiked up as if with his energy. He bumped his fists together, pumped. "No way you're gonna' be a stripper, you can't wear grandma clothes and be a stripper that's just weird—!"

"MAKA CHOP!"

"Idiot," Soul sighed, not bothering to help him up when Maka kicked him out of the room. "Told you he was losing it, it's all those documentaries you make him watch. They get to him," he added, pretending he hadn't seen her dark look. "So. Training, huh?" Soul murmured, coming to a stand before the pole. He glanced down at his shoes, then back at her. "Y'know, I wouldn't have cared if you couldn't even hold on. I would've liked to know from the beginning—we coulda' avoided this entire mess if you had."

Maka pressed her back against the door, both ignoring Black Star's shouts and pounding. She smiled, slightly guilty. "I know but…I don't like failing in front of you. I wanted to be good before I told you so you wouldn't laugh," she was looking down at her feet, words making his lip twitch because Maka could plot out exactly how many words she needed to write a day to make a deadline but she could be really reckless when it came to what words came out of her mouth. "You're right, though. If I had told you, this idiot wouldn't be so loud right now."

Soul refrained from commenting, glancing out the window instead. The blinds were cracked open. He walked over and shut them properly, slipping his hands back into his pockets. "…Y'know, I don't like the idea of you dancing for others."

"I'm not going to, it's just for exercise."

"Just wanted you to know," he slipped his other hand in his pocket coolly, taking a page out of Maka's book and not wording his thoughts carefully: "I get jealous," but, his more astute side always won out in the end, "I mean, if you started to twerk for other dudes, I'd pay just to go laugh at you because it would be hilarious in your nerd sweaters and slacks!"

"MAKA CHOP!"

His nose was crushed against the floor, her foot pressing down on his back, her enraged ranting going in one ear and out the other, and he never wanted this change—he would take a thousand Maka Chops to the head if it meant her staying right by his side, never for others.

"Aaaaah," He groaned, ignoring her when she screeched for him to listen before she dug her toe into his spine. "Man, so uncool," he mumbled to himself. By this time, Black Star had broken in, looking at the pole like it had personally offended him. Its existence probably had. "Makaaaaaa," he whined when she stood on his back and used him as a mat. She was light; he was hardly bothered as she shouted at Black Star not to touch anything as the room was not hers.

He probably loved her, Soul reasoned as he lay on the floor. That explained his sick gut feeling at the thought of her taking on such a job, of keeping such a thing from him. It would explain the ugly jealousy, the hurt at being pushed back like that. It explained all his ugly thoughts, the ache in his ribcage. It was certainly uncool, Soul thought, for it to have taken this to acknowledge it.

"Maka!"

"What?" She snapped, glaring down at him. At this point, Black Star had scaled the pole and was trying to unscrew the offending object from the ceiling with his bare hands.

"Let's go to the movies tonight."

"Soul, it's Friday, we always watch movies on Friday's."

"I meant, just us," he added, glancing up at her from under his bangs. He waited patiently as she worked through his words, her green eyes widening and her face reddening suddenly—cutely, she was adorable, yes, it made sense why he ruffled her hair, why he felt so fondly of her. He just hadn't come to that conclusion because it all felt too natural. He had never even considered the thought of her suddenly not being there beside him for whatever reason. "I think the movie you wanted to watch is still playing at a theater at the edge of Death City," he added, staring at the wall now. His face was warm.

"J…just us?" She asked again, hoping she hadn't heard wrong. "Can Liz and Patty not come today?"

"They can, but I just wanna' go with you," he said, more firmly. "If you want."

"…Like…?"

"Yeah," he answered, knowing what she meant by that. Date. He had asked her out on a date; he was honestly out of his mind, too, for not planning it. There was probably a better way to do this, a cleaner way. He should not have taken a page out of Maka's book; she was so reckless and dense and— "Wasn't kidding. Earlier," he mumbled, the room really hot. "Don't like it. M'dumb..."

When Soul began to speak in grumbled, short sentences, he was brooding over something and he was upset. Maka's eyes softened and she stepped off him, sitting cross-legged on his back instead while Black Star shouted something about statistics and surveys on sex work and the dangers of working such jobs. Soul just sniffled, staring broodingly at the wall.

"I'd love to," Maka smiled down at him, letting her hand rest on top of his head. "We'll talk about this, later, after Black Star—DON'T YOU DARE," she suddenly gasped, realizing Black Star had somehow managed to unscrew some bolts from the pole. "This is Blair's, if you mess it up and she hurts herself when she's practicing, I'll KILL YOU, BLACK STAR, YOU MORON!"

"TWENTY LAPS AROUND THE CITY, MAKA, YOU'LL HAVE AN EIGHT PACK BY THE TIME I'M DONE WITH YOU!"

"I DON'T WANT TO RUN TWENTY LAPS! THAT'S INSANE!"

"NO, THIS IS INSANE!" Black Star screeched, throwing a bolt to the floor in rebellion. "TWENTY LAPS!"

"Black—!" Soul sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose when Maka let out an annoyed groan and stormed over, dragging Black Star off the pole before he could inflict anymore damage to it. This was probably why he had never thought about how he felt about her: there was always too much going on for him to even think. "So uncool. I'm gonna' go get some water…"

It was after that incident that Tsubaki decided not to let Black Star watch anymore late-night Discovery Channel documentaries unless he was supervised by an adult at all times.

Someone asked me for an erotic dancing au a while ago but I never did it because I couldn't figure out how to go around it. Well, let's say I figured out a way. Hope you guys like it!

Scarlett.