Preference

By: DemonClowSorceress

Disclaimer: Soul Eater doesn't belong to me. I just play with the plushies and squeeze the stuffing out of Soul!

Summary: There really isn't a cool way to ask your partner what her type is. But Soul really wants to know.

It started simply enough.

"I wonder what Albarn's type is."

As Soul was in a closed stall, nobody knew that he was there. If they had, this conversation would've never gotten off the ground. None of the boys felt particularly safe talking about Maka in front of Soul Eater Evans. For obvious reasons, of course.

"I wonder what Albarn's type is," said a guy out of the blue. "She's single, right?"

"If you can call her partnership with that Deathscythe Soul Eater a platonic relationship, then yeah," said another guy. "Why are you wondering now?"

"I wanna know. She's cute."

In his stall, Soul scowled. It wasn't the first time he'd heard someone say that, but that didn't make the irritation fade. Shoot, he knew his meister was one of the coolest girls in Shibusen. She was beautiful but didn't dwell on it, strong but didn't brag about it, smart and knew it. He had to work overtime to clean out all the partnership offers and love letters that got stuffed in her locker before she found them.

"She's not clingy, or needy, or annoying like most other female meisters are," said First Guy. "Plus, she's real tough. She got Evans to Deathscythe capability twice!"

"I thought they screwed up the first time."

"Yeah, but they made ninety-nine souls. Point is, she's a tough girl. Fearless too - she went up against the Book of Eibon to get Death the Kidd back!" First guy let out an impressed whistle. "She's all that, and she's not bad-looking either!"

"Watch it, Nestor. If Evans catches you talking about Albarn like that - "

"Oh please, he's not dating her so what's the big deal?"

"He's still her partner. You've seen how he acts around her."

"Please," Nestor scoffed. "He's so not her type."

Soul pursed his lips together. Like this ass has a clue as to what my meister's type is. But to his annoyance, he found that he actually had no idea himself. That irritated him even further.

Later that night, Maka's eyes narrowed when she caught his gaze. "Soul, you're staring at me."

"Are not." He deliberately looked back at the television screen.

"What's the matter?"

I'm curious about what type of guy my meister would date. Unfortunately, there was no cool way to say that without sounding jealous. Even thinking it threatened to make Soul flush red with embarassment. "Heard some weird talk about somebody today," he said boredly.

"Really? About who? And what?" She scooted closer to the Deathscythe's part of the couch, her green eyes wide with interest. "Tell me!"

"What the hell, Maka!" He leaned as far away from her as possible, shocked at her intrusion of his personal space. "Not cool!"

"Then tell me!" ordered Maka. "C'mon!"

Now Soul was in a pickle. He didn't want to lie (because if Maka found out he did, she'd bash his face in and compare him to her father) but he also didn't want to tell the truth (because if Maka found out about the interest in her, she'd be over the moon). It was a lose-lose situation.

So he said, "They were talking about this meister girl's type was."

"Which girl? Maybe I know her."

"Didn't catch a name when I walked in." One white lie wouldn't damn his soul. "But it got me thinking. Do girls really care about that kind of thing?" There, he thought smugly. Now she'll tell me without me asking outright.

He caught a weird emotion pass through Maka's eyes before she shut it down. "Some do," she said in a neutral tone, starting to lean back to her side of the couch.

Dammit! "Why?"

"Because not all girls are the bimbos who throw themselves at any guy." There was a shot of venom in her words, and Soul knew she was speaking about the girls Spirit hung around with.

Soul chose his next words carefully. "Well, I dunno if Nestor Cartright qualifies as any guy. He was doing the talking."

"Nestor Cartright? The new Demon Spear?" A huge smile broke out over Maka's face. "Wow, any girl would be thrilled to hear what he thinks of her! He's dreamy!"

"Dreamy?" Soul repeated, unsure and uncomfortable around this glitter-and-lightbeams version of Fangirl Maka. "What, you think he's cool or something?"

"Cool? Soul, he's practically perfect!" She was clearly in heaven, her eyes wide as she stared off into space. "A real gentleman through and through! He's got this sweet brand of humor and the most gorgeous dark hair that's never out of place! And those blue eyes, oh god, they're like crystal pools you can see the sky in! When he smiles, it's like an angel is smiling at you!" She actually swooned a little - Maka, swooning! "He's courteous and never says a bad word about anyone - just about the most perfect guy ever!"

Every word cut into Soul's gut like an icicle, making him want to retch. He clenched his jaw and sealed his lips, suddenly self-conscious of his razor-sharp teeth. One hand went up to rake his hair back, changing midway to drag his bangs back down to fringe over his eyes.

If he took everything she said as confirmation of her preferences, than the type of man Maka liked...was the polar opposite of Soul.

What started out as harmless curiosity was fast-tracking his heart towards broken.

Maka didn't seem to notice his discomfort, because she kept on talking. "Wow, Nestor Cartright talking about a female meister. Wish I could've been a fly on that wall. You know he still doesn't have a partner yet? Which is weird, since he's obviously the best guy in Shibusen..."

Soul shoved to his feet. "Bathroom," he gritted out, heading there and shutting the door behind him. He twisted the faucets to let the water run for background noise, leaning over the sink to press a hand over his stinging eyes.

He'd been a fool. A stupid, gutless fool, thinking she'd say what he'd hoped she'd say. Thinking she'd say anything about liking sarcastic, dark humor or a pair of eyes the color of rubies. Of liking snow-white hair and a shark's sharp grin.

Of liking her own partner more than just as a partner.

And as always, you assumed, Evans, he chastised himself. You assumed that she actually cared like that about you. And you know what they say when you assume...

But Soul knew what he had to do. More than anything, he wanted Maka to be happy.

Even if it meant without him.

Next day after classes let out, he wasn't surprised to hear Maka squeal, "Soul, look! A letter to me!"

"Sure it's not one of mine?" he drawled, knowing full well it wasn't. He'd purposely looked at every letter he collected from her locker and left Nestor's untouched.

She stuck her tongue out at him and ripped the envelope open. Soul held his breath while trying not to appear tense, waiting as her sharp eyes read over the contents of the letter. "Oh my god," she breathed when she finished.

"What?"

"It's from Nestor Cartright. Soul, he...he..." She looked up, wonder and amazement in her green eyes. "He's asking me out on a date!"

Soul blinked, careful to show no emotion. "Wow. That is big news," he said in a dull tone. "When?"

"Tomorrow afternoon." She drew herself up smugly. "See? I am attractive. This proves it!"

"Good for fricking you."

Maka scowled, reached into her locker and withdrew her trusty dictionary. "Maka Chop!"

Soul didn't even change his breathing. His arm moved up and stopped the book cold, the spine pressing against his wrist almost six inches from his scalp. He heard Maka's breath catch; never in their partnership had he blocked a Maka Chop before. It was different. Too different.

Then again, everything was different now.

"Sorry," he said, looking at her with a plastic smile and hooded eyes. "Didn't feel like having the migraine today. Let's go, okay?"

"Sure." Stowing the book, Maka shut her locker and walked outside with him. "Soul? Are you okay?"

"Never better." The smile stayed firm as his heart chipped a little more. "Never better."

Awww, Soul! Ugh, this had me crying! *sniff*

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