I should not be doing this, but here you go, another fic started without finishing all the others. I have too many ideas in my head. I'm pretty sure this one isn't going to go above PG-13, though.

Maka's smile was becoming one of those things I craved and, worst of all, there was this new feeling blossoming in my chest every time it was me who made her smile, some kind of overactive pride that made my heart flutter. See, it's just that bad, so bad it's making me use phrases like heart flutter and I've even gone so far as to say butterflies in my stomach. That's how I got myself into this mess in the first place, looking at that goofy, self-righteous grin of hers, the one reserved for the times when she knows she's right and she's just daring me to try to prove her wrong. My only drive was to make that grin explode into her smile, so I fell for it, said yes when I know I really should have said no.

"If we win, you do whatever I say for a whole day." That statement was accompanied by the previously referenced grin that was already starting the knot in my stomach.

"You're on." And that was me throwing caution to the wind, not considering even an ounce of the consequences, just basking in the glow of the way that smile went ear to ear in reply.

This should have been the easiest win. A basketball game, three versus three, girls versus boys. I knew from the beginning that Kid would be our handicap, but I thought at least Black Star and I could carry the show. Of course, Black Star didn't inform me he went a little too hard during practice, going over the top with his Shadow Star antics which as we all well know drains him. With a last-minute substitution of the usual underperforming Liz replaced by a rowdy Patty, it became clear after the first couple of minutes we were doomed, or I should say I was doomed.

Not to mention Maka didn't understand the idea of personal space with me anymore, not that I should actually complain about that. So guarding became skin to skin, her pressing against me in ways that made me struggle for breath. Cold shower thoughts had to dominate since basketball shorts are unforgiving, leaving my brain blank on tactics. That gorgeous idiot even tried a layup, something completely out of her usual ability, which sent the two of us toppling, me doing exactly what a weapon is supposed to do and protected my meister, even if that meant my meister ended up on top of me, her warm, sweaty body just melting into mine.

That agonizing layup was the game point, and as if to rub salt into my fucking wounds she let go of one of those glowing smiles right there, laying on top of me as if that was fine, normal, easy. I had to tip her over, get her off me because my body was definitely losing its control, forcing me to tuck my knees against my chest. It looked convincing, like a man fighting shame and disappointment in a loss rather than a poorly timed boner, and I was rewarded, or maybe punished, with her soft hand pushing back my bangs. "You lose."

I just looked at her breathlessly, definitely one hundred percent sure she didn't understand all the implications of her saying that. Yeah, I'd lost the game, but fuck was I losing the fight, too. I had tried to tell myself a million times that I wasn't falling, I'd never be so stupid as to let myself think I had a chance of breaking through that delicate but well-guarded heart. But, damn it, I'd do anything for that smile.

"So, slave-for-a-day-Saturday?" Patty chimed as she suddenly popped up over the two of us.

Maka and I had just been sitting in the grass, minding our own business after thankfully finally getting Black Star to quiet down about the travesty of the game. "Slave?" I groaned. "Why do you have to call it that?"

"Don't be a sore loser!" Liz laughed as she pushed past her sister and grasped on to Maka's shoulders to whisper in her ear.

"She'll probably just make you do some stupid, embarrassing stuff," Black Star yawned, already bored with a conversation that wasn't on the topic of Black Star.

"Liz!" Maka hissed, pressing the older girl's face away from her ear.

I couldn't help but notice that cute little pink hint to her cheeks and, Death, am I far gone. "Don't give her any ideas," I grumbled in Liz's direction.

"I think you'd like my ideas," Liz shrugged before breaking out into a grin. "Anyway, I'm sure Maka's been thinking of more than enough to keep you occupied for a whole day."

I grimaced, not just because of all the possibilities she had at her fingertips but more so because Maka seemed nervous, something I never liked to see on her face and feel vibing off her soul. It was a deep thing, a big feeling because I caught it coming in waves off of her.

"Anyway, how is it different from usual? Maka orders Soul around all the time," Black Star cheesed out a grin.

"No way," I griped, sending a kick his direction that he easily deflected with his hand. "Cool guys don't take orders. It's called teamwork, maybe you should try it sometime." That started the scuffle, the thing I wanted to replace the tension of the conversation since a good 'ole knock-down-drag-out between me and Black Star usually always ended with both of us in a better mood and the crowd amused. As we played through the fight I also felt her waves smooth out, even heard a laugh or two as Black Star and I got to rolling around. Uncool me was wishing that by the time we were through she'd be back to grinning.

Saturday morning had me in a panic. The prime reason should have been the anticipation of what the day had for me but it was the complete disruption to our normal morning flow that had sent me spinning. It was 9 AM and she hadn't left her room. 9 AM for Maka Albarn who was usually banging down my door by 7 AM, only an hour reprieve from the 6 AM weekday routine. In all my working memory, I could not find a time when I'd woken her or even let myself into her room, always knocking and waiting for her to open the door.

The scenarios that were playing in my head were even worse, ranging from borderline PG-13, for fuck's sake I am a teenage boy, to medical drama. With trembling fingers, I knocked on the door while my other hand clenched the knob. "It's open." I spent a second analyzing the voice, not sleepy, not gruff with sickness, just Maka. Maybe not sweet Maka, but not pissed Maka either.

The newness of this had the hairs tingling on the back of my neck. Maka was still laying in bed on her side with those loose blond locks cascading back across the pillow. The rest of the scene was PG but my body didn't seem to care, my stomach doing a little flip as she slid her arm underneath her to bring herself up on her elbow. I got close enough that I could consider sitting on the side of her bed. As if I'd have the guts. "You OK?"

"I guess," she murmured.

I swallowed hard, eyes darting from her to that empty spot on the bed. "What's wrong?"

It was obvious she had followed my eyes, a soft smile pulling on her lips. "Sit down."

"Oh, I-"

"Today you do what I say, right?" Her eyebrow raised a little.

"Everything?" came as an absolutely not cool squeak which made her explode into laughter and that stupid damn grin. My legs crumbled with that healthy dose of anxiety and embarrassment and I took a hard seat next to her, eyes focused on my hands that clutched at my knees.

"You didn't put parameters on it before…" she sighed and I felt the bed move and saw her head peeking next to my leg, elbows holding her up. She pressed herself against my arm, setting it on fire. "Are you going to be a sore loser?"

"No," I grunted in reply, bumping her shoulder from my arm as playfully as I could muster. "But you still being in bed is weird."

"I'm changing things today," she barely whispered it and before I even had a second to latch on to it she was up, pushing herself back to slide off of the other side of the bed. "Did you make coffee?"

"Yeah." I couldn't break that morning ritual even without her appearance.

Her bare feet padded over to me and she held out her hand, pulling me to the safety of standing. "Could you make pancakes?"

I sighed desperately as the grin broke across her face. "Well, yeah." And even though my dopey answer stretched that smile a little further it wasn't the same. The morning was off and it had heightened my senses, made that bit of anxiety she was trying to hide glow around the edges.

Maka seemed to come apart as I stared until she tugged on my hand again. "Well? I have to get dressed and I don't think you want to be here for that."

As if I'd have the guts for that, I grimaced. "OK, OK. Pancakes." I started towards the door and paused at the frame, tossing my head over my shoulder. "Chocolate chip?"

That was better, no falter in her face. "Yeah!"

Her last-minute laugh as I walked out the door fed me in a way I couldn't possibly put into words.

When I got out of the shower she had laid clothes on my bed and while I was ready to let out a scoff of disbelief at the fucking audacity here, I felt that weird part of me liking it. Grandpas got their clothes laid out for them, not young, cool guys. And again, no personal space: Not just in the sense that physicality didn't matter but that my space didn't need to be a mystery to her, and I had to admit this wasn't the first time. She came in to get me up in the morning or when she couldn't sleep and needed to just spill until whatever getting to her was gone. I never locked my door and barely ever closed it except to sleep or change.

This was one of those times, staring at the sets of clothes on my bed with the door closed as I tried to feign annoyance enough to get rid of this smirk on my face. The jolt of the knock at the door let my face fall as I pulled the towel around my waist tighter. "Yeah?"

Maka opened the door and strode in, her normal grin back on her face probably after stuffing them with the pancakes I'd left. When her eyes hit me she turned on her heels, stumbling an extra step closer with the misplaced momentum. "Sorry!"

"I told you to come in," I rolled my shoulders, trying not to feel my own embarrassment. "Anyway, not anything you haven't seen. What's the deal with the clothes?" I could see the blush on her cheeks as she turned back to look at the bed instead of me but it made no sense. I wasn't lying, it was definitely something she'd seen before, hell, we play shirts versus skins all the time, but there she was, unable to even look at me.

"The blue's for right now, the grey's for later," it came out as a mumble from her lips.

I added extra drama to my sigh, "So not only do I have to do what you say but I get extra laundry, too."

My joke was enough to make her laugh and force her eyes up to my face, a nervous smile pushing the blush higher on her cheeks. "You're not going to ask me why?"

I blew some air between my lips before picking up the first shirt, the blue one. "No point." I tossed the shirt in my hands as I tried to decipher the look on her face, that embarrassment tinted by worry. "Anything else or can I get dressed already?"

"No, get dressed," she averted her eyes again as if she was just going to stand there while I changed. "And you're going to have to drive to the first place."

"Chauffeur, too. Great." With how funny I was feeling I wasn't too sure I wanted her arms wrapped around me on the bike to begin with since that was already conflicting enough. "Guess I'm doing the dishes, too?"

"That would just be cruel," she laughed before disappearing into the hallway, leaving me wondering if she knew the definition of the word. Didn't she realize this whole day was cruel?