"I had a crappy guidance counselor", Prompt by all-american-anteater~

This is a little AU that came to mind when I read your prompt ^^ enjoy~

The rumbling of the engine cut abruptly when Soul pulled out the keys and flipped the off switch. He heaved his body off the bike and made his way to the bright lights spilling from the wide windows of the department store, the only one still open this late at night in his area.

He thanked the shinigami for the existence of twenty four hour shops as he stepped into the automatic sensors with coins jingling in his coat pocket. The cool blast of air from the store that came when the double doors separated along with the soft pop music that echoed into his ears were preferable than wasting gas on frequent joyrides in the desert city, especially when he needed to cool his head. There had been another benefit to this particular shop too.

"Welcome to the Deathpartment store! I'll be in the back until you're ready." A young woman's voice shook the tranquility of the shop.

Soul swaggered, making sure his aloof attitude was intact, to the refrigerated aisles, straight towards the teas and health drinks. As he touched the chilly handle, he spotted the bounce of a pigtail from his peripheral vision. A corner of his mouth twitched into a half smile, betraying his cool appearance.

He swung the door open. "Lipton or Naked."

"Brisk," Maka squatted and went for the pink lemonade, handing the bottle to Soul as she rose.

"One more." He tucked the bottle under his arm and let the fogged door fall into place.

She was already on his other side, reaching for the next drink, "Arizona."

Before she could touch the can of southern sweet tea, Soul snatched the mucho mango and pressed it against her cheek. She squealed, jerking away and rubbing warmth back into her skin, earning a low chuckle.

"You bitch," she pouted, but followed him around the store after retrieving a tan basket from the aisle down anyway, "I'll take your soul next time."

Soul dumped the drinks into the basket and continued to shuffle to the rows of junk food, "You can try but you'll trip over your fat ankles." A swift jab in the ribs unleashed a river of apologies that flowed from his mouth.

Maka blew on her knuckle and smirked, "That's what I thought." She shifted the basket onto her dominant arm and threw in a bag of Takis.

"Why do you have to hit me every time I come in?" He grabbed two bags of jalapeño hot Cheetos, noting that two drinks weren't nearly enough to wash down the fiery hell spawns Maka was gathering.

"Maybe when you stop," stating her rebutted with laughter in her voice.

She didn't know that he used these precious moments with her to escape his miserable household, full with unrealistic expectations and a suffocating life. There was no way she knew how he suffered every day, enduring lessons that molded him into a crisp and cut member of an elite society. She could've never guessed that the many nights where he would stumbled into the store were the nights when his nightmares were worst. His insecurities made their way into his subconscious and reflected in his dark music, forcing him to hide his heart under layers of lies. Maka, his only bubble of joy, a true flame in the dark, had no idea who he was outside of the walls of the store, but she knows who he truly really was, down to his thoughts and actions.

"In fact, shouldn't you be studying if you have all this time to bother me?" she continued to tease him, "As Yeats said, 'Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire,' a penny for your thoughts."

He rubbed the back of his head, turning a slight shade of pink at the mention of fire, "I had a crappy guidance counselor. Also, I'm not an academic nerd like someone here, always blessing me with her two cents quotes." He tugged one of her pigtails lightly to emphasize his mischievous intentions.

Before Maka could continue their daily bickering, the doors slid open again and the footsteps of two adults echoed to the back where they were at. She glared and shoved the basket into his smug, open hands, "You don't get the last words, Soul. We'll resume this momentarily." She called out her greeting and made her way to the register to make sure someone was there.

Soul continued to browse the rows and when he heard the doors open again, signaling the departure of those others, he walked to the register.

He handed the entire basket to Maka without bothering to use the conveyer belt, "Are BlackStar and Kilik not working today?"

She scanned each item and arranged them in a paper bag, "They're in the back on break, no need to bother them for three customers." She tapped a few buttons on the register and the price lit up on the display.

Soul pulled out a ten and two nickels and placed them into her waiting palm in exchange for the receipt. As he checked it for any mistakes, which never occurred when Maka was on the job, he noticed that she didn't charge him extra for the bag. Not that he had enough to cover it. He was lucky he had the perfect amount with and benefitted from her manipulation. He folded it twice and slipped his hands into his coat pocket, feeling the cool of a single coin and was reminded of his real intentions of tonight. 'Now or never...'

Maka leaned over the counter and propped her head up with both her hands, "Aren't I an angel?"

He snorted, "Wasn't Lucifer one too?"

"You dick."

His mind fired away at the opening she unwittingly gave, "Hey, did it hurt?"

"Did what hurt?" she looked down at her forearms genuinely concerned and mumbled, "Did I cut myself while stocking again…"

"When you fell from heaven."

Maka's head shot up and she blinked once, then twice, "Wah?"

"Did I die and go to heaven? 'cause I'm looking at an angel."

"What in the—," her expression was comical.

He threw a hand up and pointed at the ceiling, "I wasn't sure if you were a beautiful angel or a sexy devil, but now that I'm close, I see heaven in your eyes," his voice was laced with sarcasm with that line. 'Now for the finale...'

Soul reached out to poke her face, holding the coin in his palm. His finger made contact with soft flesh, "Where's the tag that says 'made in heaven'?"

"YOU—"

He caught her fist and smoothed it out, sliding the coin into her warm hand, "A penny for your thoughts." He grabbed the bag of his purchases and bolted out the door, calling out a flustered good bye and sped away into the night in a flash.

Maka stood there gaping at where Soul used to stand. He was truly a mysterious guy and she was more into him than a young adult mystery novel. Registering a warm coin was in her hand, she furrowed her eyebrows and studied it.

It really was a penny, complete with Lincoln and a copper sheen. There was no significance in the year, no signs of a counterfeit, no duh. She flipped it over, resting Lincoln's face downward, and what she saw next made her heart melt.

In ultra-fine sharpie ink, it read a series of tiny numbers and the words 'yeah?' underneath. It was so open ended, like yeah what? Call me, yeah? Let's grab coffee, yeah? Just 'cause we've been doing this thing for a while but let's finally exchange numbers, yeah? Let's meet up outside of Deathpartments in a more socially agreeable setting during the real hours of the day, yeah? Let's go on a date, yeah? She knew it was Soul's style to let her choose her own interpretation, no doubt willing to agree to whatever she would wanted it to mean. She considered her choices.

A penny for her thoughts indeed.