A/N: Another one-shot to satisfy your sweet tooth. Enjoy!

Soul Eater is not mine, although I still wish it was

"Did we get him?"

"Yeah…we got him."

Never had Maka Albarn wanted to defeat an opponent so badly before. The Kishin egg they targeted this time had attacked not a crowd of innocent bystanders, but a lone woman living in her apartment on the West side of Death City—the dodgier end where Soul and Black Star liked to go and vandalize the walls with graffiti art, that reminded Liz and Patti of the life they used to lead, where Maka would never ever be caught dead unless it was some assignment like this.

The woman was dead, her soul hovering over her mangled body by the time Maka and her Death Scythe had reached the apartment. She absolutely couldn't stand when that happened. Sure, they snagged another Kishin egg, but so what? The whole reason they were at the Academy in the first place was to preserve the peace in Death City; the entire world, for that matter. When the Kishin had taken out their target, it only fueled Maka's fury. Soul always said she fought her best when this was the case. She always told him to shut up.

"Go for it," Maka said in a deadpan voice as Soul reverted back to human form. She looked away as he noisily sucked down the crimson red soul—he seemed to be even more demonic about it since becoming a Death Scythe.

"What's your problem?" Soul asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Nothing, let's just go home, I have an exam tomorrow," Maka grumbled. She couldn't help glancing at the torn figure of the young woman who had lost her life so horridly before heading out into the hallway of the apartment, Soul at her heels…

Then she heard it.

"Geez Maka, don't do that!" Soul exclaimed when Maka stopped dead in her tracks and he walked right into her back, sending both of them off balance.

"Shh, listen!" Maka hissed, grabbing the wall for support—and trying to ignore the fact that Soul had landed in incredibly close proximity with her face. "Do you hear that?"

Now he heard it…a baby crying. "So what?"

"So it's coming from the room we just left!" Maka cried, shoving Soul off of her and rushing back into the debris scattered, blood soaked room, where the cries only grew louder.

"Maka, we don't need to investigate this," Soul panted behind her, carefully treading over the woman's form in trying to keep up with his meister as she searched the apartment, finally flinging open a door across from the kitchen area. "Let's just go h—"

Maka gasped out loud from inside the side room, and Soul immediately sprang into action, plowing his way inside. "Maka! Maka, are you—?"

"Oh…my…God…" Maka stood over a fallen crib, where within a twisted swaddle of blankets lay a tiny infant—wailing loudly, but miraculously unharmed.

"Again, don't do that, Maka," Soul exhaled in relief, "I thought you were hurt—"

"Soul, are you honestly not seeing what I'm seeing?" Maka shouted incredulously, bending down to scoop up the baby gingerly in her arms.

"Yeah, it's a baby," Soul nodded, totally lost. "I think that was pretty obvious."

"It was her baby!" Maka exclaimed, gesturing out the door of the room where the bloody corpse still lay. "This little, defenseless thing, it can't even be a month old! He"—she hastily checked under the blanket—"She's all alone now!"

"Shit…you're right," Soul realized, moving beside Maka who cradled the baby closely trying to soothe her. "The cradle was flung right over, I'm surprised she's even alive."

"I know," Maka said in a quieter tone as the baby's wails softened into whimpers, still squirming in the unfamiliar arms. A newfound hatred for the Kishin egg she had just defeated only minutes ago began to boil within her, and she set her jaw, "We have to do something, we can't just leave her here."

"Maybe there's a father—" Soul began before Maka shook her head, "There's only a single bed in the other room, I checked."

"Then we should go to the authorities—"

"Are you insane? They'll just stick her in an orphanage!" Maka cried, outraged.

"Would you quit screaming like a banshee?" Soul yelled, indicating the baby who had begun wailing again at Maka's outburst.

"Sorry," Maka whispered, rocking the infant slightly to calm her. "No, I'm not going to the police. Orphanages do things to kids, I swear…"

"You've been reading way too many mystery novels."

"Shut up, I know what I'm talking about," Maka stated firmly.

"Well then what are we supposed to do?" Soul threw his hands up in defeat, then randomly flipped through the baby book on the dresser. "Carrie…that's her name, by the way."

"Carrie," Maka said softly, peering down at the little face peeking out of the blankets. Wide blue eyes, soft wisps of brown hair, a tiny hand gripping the end of one of Maka's pigtails. She couldn't help smiling as she gently uncurled the little fingers from her hair…

"No."

Maka looked up at her weapon, shaking his head. "What—?"

"Maka, I know that look."

"Soul…"

"I know exactly what you're about to say, and the answer is no."

"Why not?" Maka hissed, minding Carrie who had finally drifted off as they walked away from the ruined building back to their home. "Soul, she may not have anyone else in the world to—"

"Maka, we can barely keep our apartment clean for three consecutive days—"

"You can barely keep the apartment clean for three consec—"

"How the hell are we supposed to take care of a baby? It's not like it's a pet fish that's gonna die in two weeks anyway, it's a lifetime commitment! Like—like—!"

"Like the commitment between a weapon and a meister?" Maka raised her eyebrows at him, and he turned to glare at her.

"Don't play that card," Soul said, "I'm serious here—we're too young to take care of a baby."

"Bullshit, we take care of Crona on a regular basis," Maka countered him.

"Crona's at least potty trained!" Soul shot back. "I think…"

"Of course she is!" Maka growled, wishing she had a free hand to Maka-chop him. "Soul it's gonna be fine, between the three of us we can handle—"

"Three?"

"Yeah, Blair can take care of her while we're at school."

"Blair?" Soul spluttered. "You're gonna trust a sexy kitten with this fragile little thing?"

"So you do care," Maka grinned as they came to the front of their apartment, and Soul exhaled, defeated.

"Yeah, I do—I never said I didn't care about the kid," Soul said quietly. Moving closer to Maka, he looked down at the infant in her arms and ran his hand over her tiny head.

"Soul, don't you know what the Academy did when the Star Clan was annihilated?" Maka said, looking up to meet his eyes. "They didn't just abandon Black Star when he was a baby, they took him in and raised him."

"And look how he turned out," Soul snorted.

"Touché," Maka admitted. "The point is the Academy would be disappointed in us if we didn't do this…so what do you say?"

"Make it stop, please make it stop," Soul moaned two weeks later as Carrie wailed in the next room while he tried to watch TV. Maka was grocery shopping and Blair was sleeping after her night shift at Chupa Cabra's, so Soul had hoped the little runt would stay asleep until one of them could look after her. Growing up, he always learned that the man of the house went to work all day while the women stayed home to care for the children—but much like everything else associated with his old life, he'd dismissed it as bullshit. But in all honesty, he was at a loss here.

Despite how vicious and short-tempered she was capable of being, Maka was amazing with babies. She seemed to have this natural instinct that just always knew what was going through little Carrie's mind. "Women's intuition" she'd called it, but Soul didn't think this was something that was all that common. Not every female on earth was born to be a mother—his own mother had proven that theory correct. If you had asked Soul when he'd first met his meister if she'd make a good mother, he would have laughed in your face, pretty sure that Maka didn't care about anything except books and hunting Kishin eggs. But that was a long time ago, seemed like ages, and Soul knew so much more about Maka now and the incredible person she was. She was smart, funny, could kick your ass ten ways to Sunday, and honestly not that bad looking. Now after the past couple of weeks, Soul could add a couple more things to that list: earnest, gentle, caring, just a beautiful soul underneath the tough exterior she hid behind. Someday, Maka was going to make a wonderful mother.

And she'd kill me if I just sat here and did nothing, Soul sighed, swinging his legs off the couch and heading into Maka's room, where a little bassinet was set up alongside Maka's bed. Carrie's entire face was red, her eyes scrunched up tight with her mouth open wide as she screamed for attention. For a minute, Soul just stood there watching her, unsure of how to approach the situation.

"Hey," he said loud enough to be heard, and Carrie opened her eyes to stare up at him. "Yeah, I know I'm not Maka, but I'm supposed to take care of you too. So, uh…what do you want?"

Carrie kept crying, and Soul wanted to bang his head against the wall. Then he spotted the bottle lying on the dresser, "You hungry? Is that it?" No sooner had he gotten the nipple into Carrie's mouth that the baby started wailing again and Soul hastily withdrew the bottle, inhaling deeply to relax himself.

And catch a whiff of the air. And he knew what Carrie was crying about.

"Oh God, anything but this," Soul groaned as he realized what needed to be done. Very slowly, he lifted Carrie into his arms and brought her back into the living room where the changing table was. Laying her squirming form down, he bent down to grab a fresh diaper from the open package on the floor and prepared himself for the worst. Lifting up Carrie's shirt, he carefully unstrapped the reeking diaper from her bottom and quickly wound it up and threw it in the trash before he could accidentally catch a glimpse of what was inside. How could such a little thing create a stench that bad—was she part skunk?

Plugging his nose with one hand, he grabbed one of the baby wipes and gingerly cleaned her dirty bottom, tossing it in the trash with the dirty diaper. Good, the nasty part's over, Soul thought as he reached for the baby powder. All this time, Carrie had quieted down a bit, but was still whimpering when Soul heard the apartment door open and a yell of "Soul! I need help with the groceries!"

"Little busy right now!" Soul called, cleaning up the excess powder he had spilled on the changing table before opening up the new diaper. Lifting Carrie's legs, he slid it underneath her bottom just as Maka entered.

"Where's Carrie—?" She stopped short as she watched Soul, lazy too-cool-for-school Soul strapping a fresh diaper onto Carrie's bottom, and knew she had to be dreaming. "You—you changed her diaper?"

"You sound shocked," Soul rolled his eyes, as Maka blushed.

"I—I just—well, you've barely done anything since we brought Carrie home, and—"

"—didn't think I was capable of changing a diaper?" Soul smirked at her, and she folded her arms and turned away in embarrassment. "Thought so."

"Sorry I sold you short," Maka mumbled.

"It's cool—just wish she'd stop crying," Soul said as he picked up the whimpering Carrie.

"What's the matter?" Maka said in that weird little sing-songy voice as she took Carrie from his arms. "You want your bottle?"

"Tried it already," Soul replied, shrugging.

"How 'bout a toy?" Maka cooed, picking up a squeaky stuffed duck and holding it up, to which Carrie seemed to ignore and writhe against Maka's chest. "Huh, this is different…"

"Maybe she just needs a nap," Soul suggested, wiping down the changing table and putting the powder and wipes away. That was when Maka noticed the keyboard beside Soul against the far wall—and got an idea.

"Soul…try playing the piano!"

"Say what?"

"Play the piano, maybe she'll like it."

"Why?"

Maka frowned, "Because honestly, I'm out of ideas right now."

This seemed to satisfy Soul—his meister being totally stumped was a rare occurrence, and he was ready to take full advantage of this. Cracking his knuckles with a pointed-toothed smirk on his face, he almost sashayed over to the piano and sat down. Maka let a soft smile grace her lips as Soul began playing a soft minor key lullaby as she sat down on the couch with Carrie in her lap. The baby girl seemed to settle down a bit as Maka rocked her in time with the music, trying to hum along, but knew she was tone deaf and stopped. Just listening to Soul's melody as his fingers ran across the keys with such ease was enough for her. Carrie hiccuped and Maka gently shifted her over her shoulder, rubbing her back gently. Soul's playing was definitely helping, but Carrie was still unsettled, and Maka's brow furrowed in concern. She didn't want to wake Blair up and ask her what to do, the cat girl had another all night shift tonight at the bar and needed all the rest she could get. She sighed…it was times like this she wished her mother was h—

And it hit Maka like a ton of bricks. Looking down into Carrie's big watery blue eyes, she could almost read the infant's expression like one of her books.

"You want your Mama, don't you?" Maka whispered, swallowing back the hard lump forming in her throat. "Oh, poor thing…" What the hell was I thinking? Just ripping this baby from her home and bringing her here—she's scared to death. As Soul kept playing, Maka brought a finger up to Carrie's hand and stroked it gently, letting the tiny fingers close around her own large one. Relieved to see her eyes slowly closing at last, Maka listened as Soul brought the piece to a close, her mind far away as her weapon came and sat down beside her.

"Told you she needed a nap," Soul said, and Maka looked over at him and forced a smile.

"That was beautiful, Soul—thank you." But Maka didn't look happy. In fact, she looked like she was going to cry. Soul tensed; Maka hardly ever cried, and he wasn't really sure how to deal with it if she did.

"You alright?" he asked tentatively as she lowered her eyes, her messy ash blonde bangs hiding any emotions from him. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and he felt her tense at his touch. "What's the matter?"

"I've…I've never really thought about it before," Maka said quietly, removing her finger from Carrie's grip.

"Thought about what?" Soul asked, moving closer to her on the couch.

"Everyone who suffers because of…not just Kishin, but fear and madness," Maka replied. "I mean, we hunt down Kishin souls because it's our job, but we never stop to think about the innocent people who get killed simply because we didn't make it there in time. It makes me feel…inadequate." Her voice broke on the last word, and she avoided Soul's gaze by glancing at Carrie's sleeping face. It didn't help—the hot tears formed in the corners of her eyes as she stroked the infant's hair. "No matter what I do to help Carrie, I can't bring her mom back for her—and that's what she really wants."

"So…you wanted to bring Carrie back here…because you feel guilty about the Kishin killing her mom?" Soul pieced together, and Maka nodded with a sniffle.

"It was a stupid idea, we're not helping Carrie at all…we can't replace her family."

"Dumbass, you think it would've been better to just leave her there?" Soul chided, moving his arm around her shoulders. "I know I yelled at you that night about it, and I'm sorry. I was just…I was scared, alright? It's a hard enough job keeping you safe, now I have to take care of a person who can't even feed themselves?"

"Really? Protecting me is your job?" Maka raised her eyebrows at him.

"No, I—c'mon, you know what I mean," Soul gave her a half smile, tugging on her pigtail playfully, then using it to wipe away a tear from the corner of her eye. "You did a really courageous thing, taking Carrie in like that. You're…a lot stronger than I am."

"No, you're strong too, Soul," Maka smiled up into his eyes. "It's alright to feel scared, I mean, this is so new to both of us. But…well, Carrie does seem to adjust well and she likes you—"

"No, she likes my playing," Soul smirked, jerking his head over at the keyboard. "I smiled at her the other day, and I think my teeth scared her."

"Well I have to admit, they are scary," Maka chuckled. Slowly, she turned herself towards Soul and carefully laid Carrie in his arms. The infant barely flinched, just rolled her head slightly to the side to rest on Soul's chest, letting out a soft coo. "See?" Maka whispered, and Soul nodded as he kissed the top of Carrie's head. He looked up to see Maka gently covering his hand with hers, "You're going to make a wonderful father someday, Soul Eater."

"Thanks…you won't be half bad yourself," Soul smiled as Maka rested her head on his shoulder, watching Carrie sleep while feeling Soul's light, warm breath ruffle her hair.

"I'm sorry, Maka! I'm really really sorry!"

"I can't believe you, Blair! How could you?"

"It was a total slip up—an honest mistake!"

"You were sworn to secrecy!"

"Calm down, both of you!" Soul finally yelled, stepping in between the two women before a positively fuming Maka launched herself at the shamefaced cat girl. Blair had come back late the next morning from her shift at the bar with an unfortunate confession that had sent the hot-tempered scythe meister over the edge into a shrill fit of screaming rage.

"I'll calm down after I kick her teeth in—!"

"Maka, sit down!" Soul roared in a commanding voice so shockingly out of character that Maka instantly obeyed. "You knew this was gonna get out sooner or later."

"I was going to formally tell Lord Death about us keeping a baby here myself," Maka spat out, still shaking with suppressed anger. "But this slutty little blabbermouth just had to—!"

"She's not a slut," Soul cut in, and Blair meowed in thanks while hugging Soul's arm—which only caused Maka to growl flinging herself at Blair's throat again.

"Can't you keep your hands off him for five seconds?"

"Can't you shut your mouth for five seconds?" Soul shot back, shoving Maka back onto the couch before turning back to Blair. "Now…tell us exactly what happened, Blair."

"Maka's papa was the last one in the bar, like always, and I was cleaning up before we closed," Blair recounted for the second time. "We were talking on the couch, having a few drinks—"

"How many drinks?" Soul asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Eh, four or five—maybe six," Blair confessed, and Soul had to restrain Maka once again before telling Blair to go on. "So Death Scythe was telling some story about Maka when she was a baby, and I guess the word 'baby' triggered something in my wasted brain and…it all just came spilling out. He knows everything."

"Are you sure he wasn't just as wasted as you were?" Soul asked, and Blair shook her head.

"Not after he started yelling something about Maka being too young and he's going to tell Lord Death about this immediately," Blair whined ashamedly, wringing her false-nailed hands in her lap. "That's all I remember…I have a headache, can I go to bed?"

"No—!"

"Yeah, go ahead," Soul jerked his head towards the cat bed in the corner while clapping a hand over Maka's mouth. In a puff of smoke, Blair became her little cat-self and crawled happily towards the bed. Once she shut her eyes, Maka wrenched herself away from Soul and stomped towards her bedroom, slamming the door shut.

"Maka," Soul groaned, pounding on the door. "Stop acting like a brat." He heard nothing except a small cooing noise from Carrie on the other side, and pounded again. "Maka, open the door."

"What?" Maka shouted through the door before opening it, Carrie snuggled against her chest in one arm. "I think it's pretty clear whose side you're on, Soul—and it's not mine."

"This is getting ridiculous, Maka," Soul said calmly, stepping closer to her and forcing her to look into his eyes. "You had your fun playing house for a few weeks, but Carrie's not your kid. Time to wake up and take the next step."

"I told you, I was going to tell Lord Death—"

"When?" Soul asked. Maka opened her mouth, then closed it—then did this several times, and Soul had his answer. "Didn't think so."

"I can't," Maka shook her head, holding Carrie close, "Not after everything she's been through."

"You said yourself that you couldn't replace her mother," Soul said, much more gently when he saw the pain in Maka's eyes. "You can't. She's not ours, no matter how much you want her to be." Before he could stop himself, he had pulled Maka and Carrie into his arms and said in a soft, thick voice "We have to let her go…"

Spirit showed up the next day, practically banging down the apartment door and calling Maka's name before Soul opened the door and jerked his head towards the kitchen, where Maka was feeding Carrie. Before Spirit could even start scolding her, Maka demanded to know the conditions under which she would surrender Carrie to the Academy. Judging by the look on Spirit's face, Soul guessed Maka must have sounded a hell of a lot like her mother.

According to Lord Death, Soul and Maka could not legally care for the child, as they were both under eighteen and not living independently. Carrie had distant relatives living in New York City that Sid had been able to get in contact with and explain the situation, and he and Nygus would be taking Carrie there themselves as soon as possible. Soul was cool with the decision, but Maka wanted details: who they were, what kind of people they were, did they have other kids, and a dozen other things that Soul tuned out after an hour of this. He knew she was just stalling the inevitable when she asked what kind of fertilizer they used on their lawn, and told her enough was enough and she wasn't going to win this one. It was only when Death the Kid came by soon afterward on behalf of his father with a cozy baby stroller to take Carrie to the Academy in that Maka finally accepted defeat.

It looked like Carrie barely knew the difference between being in the comfy stroller and being in Maka's arms, because it didn't really elicit any emotional response from her. Not even when Soul, Maka, and Blair knelt in front of the stroller and said their goodbyes, hugging and covering her little face in kisses before Kid wheeled her out. Spirit smiled down at Maka and lightly ruffled her hair, and when she jerked away, headed out the door after Kid.

Now she was gone. And this time, Maka really did cry. She waited until she and Soul were alone in the living room, and when the demon scythe turned to go get dinner started in the kitchen he felt her grab hold of his sleeve. Soul looked down and saw Maka sitting on the couch, her head bowed, her shoulders shaking. Aw man…He would never know what went through this girl's head sometimes—why she wanted to take in Carrie so badly, why she had grown so close to her in a few short weeks, why she could handle the divorce and her mother's departure without shedding a tear, but parting from the baby made her bawl her eyes out. But it wasn't his place to know everything about her, why his passionate meister always felt things the way she did. His place was as her Death Scythe, his bond as her partner as long as she'd have him. And if her heart was broken, he'd be there for her as he was at that moment. Holding her hand as her face crumpled and tears splashed down her cheeks, until she lurched forward to sob into his chest. Holding her while he stroked her hair, comforting her with soft shushing noises until she began to breath evenly again.

"I don't know what came over me," Maka whispered a half an hour later, after Soul had brought her soup and made her drink it, her eyes still red and puffy. She half chuckled, half hiccuped, "I feel so dumb…"

"You're not all brains and books and ass-kicking, Maka," Soul said after a moment. He turned to give her a genuine smile rather than his default "cool" smirk, "You have a good heart and you're the most caring person I know. That's why you feel this way, I guess."

Maka regarded him for a moment, before reaching over and grabbing the remote. "Let's see what movie's on tonight." A few minutes later, they were immersed in the visual epic Colossal , watching Jay and Rosette trying to escape the sinking ship, Maka wrapped in a blanket while Soul shoved handfuls of popcorn into his mouth.

Neither of them noticed they were still holding hands.

A/N: Please leave a review on the way out!