Soma Week Day 1: Geeking Out

We're both high school teachers and my students ship us but I won't let them tell you AU

—

Soul Evans was just as cute as he had been in high school.

Maka was twenty four years old— a grown woman for all intents and purposes— and she couldn't stop staring at her old friend like a lovestruck teenager for the entirety of the teacher's meeting. While the principle droned on and on about the beginning of the school year and protocols for this and that, Maka watched Soul pretending not to watch her. What were the chances that she would end up a teacher in the same school as the guy she had crushed on for four awkward, hormone ridden years?

More importantly, what were the chances that she wasn't going to make a complete idiot out of herself as soon as they were alone together?

Soul's white hair was still purposefully ruffled just so, clothes casual but well put together, accessories scant but on point. She remembered him being tall in high school but she hadn't noticed the faint scruff under his chin or how narrow his waist looked in proportion to his shoulders. He was still slender but more filled out than in the days when Black*Star would wrestle him down to the gym floor— Maka thought it was probably inappropriate to be noticing these things about her co-worker.

He caught her eye and gave her a familiar little smile, mostly close mouthed and Maka remembered how self conscious he was of his teeth. Her heart skipped a noticeable beat.

Chances of her getting out of this school year with her dignity in tact? Zero.

—

He caught her in the parking lot just as she was about to get into her sensible, ten year old station wagon to head home, have three glasses of wine, call Liz, and discuss how pathetic her ten year old crush was. Soul was still people awkward and his hands found permanent residence in his pockets. His slumped over stance was so familiar; it called up intense deja vu— nights when they would hang out on roof tops and talk about nothing, movie marathons, texting each other when they really should have been sleeping.

Maka took one step towards him before she found herself flinging her arms around him and holding on tightly. He stiffened in surprise but it only lasted a moment before he was hugging her close.

"When did you get back to town?"

Soul pulled back to look at her but kept his hands around her waist. "Not too long ago. Couple weeks, maybe."

She realized that they were in the school parking lot and this probably wasn't appropriate behavior for teachers. Then again, students had gone home for the day so it was fair game to hug Soul and maybe smell his cologne. "Things didn't work out in Europe?"

He shrugged. "Just taking a break from performing for a while."

"Sorry to hear that."

Soul looked down at her, giving her that private, fond look of his that made her go completely stupid. "You don't sound very sorry."

Maka bit her lip to keep from nervously laughing. "Busted."

He finally let go of her— regretfully? Maybe? Or was she looking into it too much?— and ruffled her hair. "Don't worry, we'll be spending lots of time together now molding the minds of the tomorrow's future or whatever bullshit the principal was spewing."

She pushed his hands aside. "Take your job seriously! You have to make our band win trophies and… whatever it is that bands do."

Soul snorted and they stood there in silence. It wasn't uncomfortable, Maka thought. It was like no time had passed at all since the last time they stood here, Soul having convinced Maka to cut class, eating chips and shooting the shit and sunbathing. "Dinner?"

Maka blinked. "What? Tonight?"

"Yeah," he shifted. "Unless you're having dinner with your… husband?"

She bit her lip again. "None."

"Boyfriend?"

"Nope."

"Girlfriend?"

"'fraid not."

"Sorry to hear that."

Maka shoved his shoulder playfully. "'You don't sound very sorry'," she mocked.

Soul full on grinned, all teeth and ridiculous dimples, and she felt her blood pressure raise. "Busted."

—

Dinner had been nice and comfortable and suddenly Maka felt sixteen again. They sat at their favorite old hole in the wall pizza place drinking beers and sharing their usual pie (half meat for him, half veggie for her). She learned that Soul was planning to stay in town for at least a couple of years because he felt burnt out on performing, though he didn't go into detail. His parents were fine and enjoying rich people retirement, Wes was a thriving musician in Europe, and Soul was an uncle now to the world's cutest little blond niece.

Most importantly, Maka learned that Soul was painfully single and had been for some time.

She knew she shouldn't be entertaining the thought of dating him but it had dominated Maka's every waking moment since their recent reunion. Playing it cool was key but Maka had never been good at that— she was honest and earnest to a fault and Soul was good at reading her. He must have known about her crush, both then and now, and was trying to be polite in his rejection.

"Ms. Albarn, you've been writing the same word over and over on the board," one of Maka's English students said helpfully. Lo and behold, she had written "theme" eight times in a row.

"She must be thinking of Mr. Evans," another student whispered loudly. "He's so cute. Did you see how they look at each other?"

"Oh Em Gee!" the first squealed. "I ship it!"

Maka blushed and erased the board so hard she nearly put a hole in it. How pathetic was this? Even her teenage students noticed how stupid she was over someone so completely out of her league. "Be quiet! That is— everyone is going to get an F if you don't stop talking about this!"

It was too late. The damage had been done and the class was positively geeking out about the possible Maka/Soul pairing. People were taking bets, talking baby names, and wondering if Maka would call off their final if Soul returned her feelings.

She buried her face in her hands and wondered just when it was that she had lost all control over her life.

Oh, right. It was the day she met Soul Evans.

—

She had to put a stop to the madness.

Maka invited Soul to her apartment for drinks and Netflix and maybe makeouts. She hoped makeouts. Long overdue, hot, hair pulling, lip biting makeouts. She pulled on the shortest skirt in her artillery (Soul had said once, begrudgingly, that she had really nice legs), broke out the good whiskey, and plotted. Tonight would be the night. Make or break. Will they or won't they? She was finally going to get her answer.

Her answer was a very convoluted "What the everloving fuck?" because Soul was giving her the most mixed messages and Maka still had no idea where they stood.

He had stared openly at her legs, gaze mapping out from ankle to thigh, swallowing thickly around his drink. There was definite blushing. There was also blushing when their hands brushed or Maka leaned in closely. He was nervous and the ice in his glass clinked every time his hand shook.

But there was no kissing or love confessions or anything that went beyond a very soft (so soft!) gentle (so gentle!), playful (so playful!) stroking of her cheek with his knuckles before he left for the night.

Maka slumped down on her couch, frustrated.

Will they or won't they?

—

Maka and Soul had skipped their own senior prom, insteading choosing to spend the night watching movies and talking about how stupid proms were, so it was hilarious to Maka that here they were, chaperoning a prom and living vicariously through their students.

Students kept trying to literally push them together, only to skitter away when Maka growled at them and threatened to revoke their graduations. Soul looked confused and that was fine— he never needed to know that her students were this invested in her pathetic love life.

"Nice dress," Soul screamed over the music.

"Whatever," Maka screamed back. She was still annoyed at him. She was also annoyed at herself. When were they going to grow up and stop dancing around their relationship status?

"What?"

"I SAID WHATEVER!"

Soul winced and motioned for her to follow him to a quieter place in the ballroom, just behind a large, gaudy table display. Technically, they were still "chaperoning" because they didn't leave, but they were now safely out of sight. He motioned for her to continue whatever it was she was saying earlier.

Maka huffed. "You're such a coward. Why didn't you kiss me last night?"

He nearly careened over into the table display. "Wha—"

"Do you like me or don't you?!" It sounded so juvenile, but the words flooded out without going through the switching station from her brain to her mouth. "Because I like you. I've liked you since we were fifteen. If you don't feel the same way, okay, that's fine. I'll be embarrassed but we can still be friends, I hope. But I need to know. Sometimes I think that you do? I don't know. Do you? Because I do. Like you, I mean."

Soul raised his eyebrows. "Are you confessing to me at prom?"

She was going to punch him, she decided, because he was making fun of her after all of that. "Soul, I swear—"

He ran his hand through his hair. She could tell that he was struggling not to grin. "I mean… how blind are you? I made you a mixtape."

Maka blinked at him. "Huh?"

Color crept onto his cheeks and Soul looked away. "I made you a mixtape right before graduation and all you said was, 'Thanks'. So… I thought you weren't interested."

"Are you…" Soul finally lifted his gaze to her. "… an idiot? What kind of a confession is a mixtape?!"

"Hey! It was a great mixtape!" Soul argued. "It's not my fault that you're musically ignorant!"

"Then why did you try to confess via lame mixtape?!"

Soul scrubbed his face with his hands. He looked as if it was physically painful to get the words out. "Ugh. You were just so— ugh, this is disgusting and uncool. You were so out of my league. I was scared. Are you happy now?"

"Yes," Maka breathed, grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and finally kissed him.

The students who found their English and Music teachers making out at senior prom laughed, high fived, and swore on their diplomas that they would never, ever let the principal find out.