A/N- It's been about a zillion years since I've added to this collection, oy. Anyway, remember how I said at the beginning that these might not always be chronological? Well, this is one of those times. This story jumps allllll the way back to the very first week of their partnership, because I was in desperate need of fish-out-of-water Soul. Because you know he totally was when he first got to Death City. So this is me, fucking with sheltered little rich kid Soul.

Much thanks goes, as always, to Professor Maka, who is the most fabulous beta a girl could ask for.

Although Soul hated to admit it, growing up as an Evans had not prepared him very well for living anything other than the country club lifestyle. He was happy to be out from under the crushing weight of his brother's shadow, and fucking ecstatic to replace his parents' chilly house with the warm Nevada sunshine, but the real world was a bit of a slap to the face.

Moving to DC was culture shock enough, but there was another major difference that freaked him out more than the extreme gothic tombstone shit and morbid Death Child humor.

Namely, the change in tax bracket.

It started with the student stipend. Since he lived in an apartment instead of the dorms, his stipend was higher than most other NOT students, to account for his rent and food expenses. Nevertheless, when he got his first week's check in its little yellow envelope, the number astonished him. It wasn't even enough for pocket money!

Money was something Soul had never given a whole lot of thought. He knew his parents had a lot of it. He knew what a trust fund was, and he knew about interest rates and how to balance a checkbook, because his mother had sat him down and taught him this stuff when he was eight or nine. But knowing how money worked and actually having to worry about money were very different things.

It never occurred to him just how much his lifestyle was going to have to change without his parents to pay for things. He had a vague idea of how a budget was supposed to work, but until now, he'd never envisioned needing one. He definitely wasn't interested in getting a side job to make more money, because on top of classes, that seemed like way too much work… but how the hell was somebody expected to live on only $800 a month? Especially since over half of that was going to be eaten up by rent money?!

At first, he was mighty proud of himself for how he handled it. He calculated how much he would need to set aside each week– and he even remembered the electric bill!– and squirreled that amount away from his first check in a little tin can, which he decorated with some pretty badass skull-and-crossbones stickers he bought at the crafting store and tucked it safely into his closet. He felt exceptionally fiscally responsible.

He was so pleased with himself, in fact, that he treated himself to a large stuffed crust pizza with extra green peppers from Gravestone's. And did so again the next night. And the next night. And it totally had nothing to do with the fact that he had no other food in the house. No, it was absolutely because he was a newly independent man celebrating his freedom like the cool guy he was. He was especially pleased by the fact that he could also get them to deliver two-liter sodas. He had never been allowed to drink anything closer to cola than rootbeer, so the discovery of Mtn. Death– which as far as he could tell was the D.C. knockoff of Mtn. Dew– was a revelation.

But pizza delivery was not cheap, and by the time Thursday rolled around, he was down to three bucks and two slices of pizza to live on until Sunday. Standing in the Shibusen cafeteria and realizing that he could afford either an apple or a pudding cup for his lunch was incredibly depressing.

Deciding that, as cool as pudding cups were, the apple was probably smarter, he picked out the largest fruit from the pile, paid for it, and shuffled back over to the table where Maka was already sitting with Black*Star and Tsubaki. He slunk into his chair, hoping that just this once the dynamic duo that was Maka and Black*Star would leave him the hell alone so he could eat his pathetic lunch in peace.

He was half-lucky. Black*Star was deeply involved in regaling Tsubaki with some story Soul could not give less of a shit about and didn't acknowledge (or more likely didn't notice) his arrival at the table. Maka, on the other hand, seemed to have developed some freaky talent for immediately being aware of him at all times, and she glanced over at him with a little smile that quickly turned into a puzzled frown when she spotted his solitary apple.

"You're not eating?" she asked.

Since there was absolutely no chance in hell he was going to admit to being flat broke, he shrugged. "Not hungry."

Her look was quizzical as she said, "Yesterday you ate a hamburger, three orders of the cheesy bread, a bowl of broccoli, and still ended up stealing three of Black*Star's onigiri."

"So?"

"So something's wrong."

He gave her his best impassive stare and said, casual as cake, "Nothin's wrong."

Her frown deepened, and her nose wrinkled up as she studied him in a way that made him feel like he was under a microscope. "Are you sick?" she asked.

"What? No!"

"Well if you're not sick, why aren't you eating?"

He grumbled in annoyance, "Would you just drop it?"

"No! I'm your meister and it's my job to make sure you're in good condition!"

"'Good condition?' I'm a weapon, not a car!"

"It's still my job to make sure you're healthy!"

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever, I had a big breakfast, can't a guy just eat his fruit in peace?"

She huffed frustratedly, pouting in a way he did not think was cute because cute was reserved for baby animals and definitely not pushy, baby-faced meisters. "Fine, have it your way," she groused, turning back to listen to Black*Star.

She ignored him for most of the rest of the day, sitting silently next to him unless she was answering questions in class (which she always did, he was discovering, jeez she was nerdy!) and stalking along with fast steps to stay ahead of him in the hallway.

Somehow, the fact that he'd gotten his way didn't feel very good. But that might've just been because his stomach was empty and not at all happy about it.

Unable to bring himself to eat any of his precious pizza reserve, his dinner had been an entire bag of Doritos he'd bought with the very last of his stipend, but it had done exactly nothing to satisfy his stomach's demands. By the time lunch period rolled around on Friday, he was pretty sure his blood sugar was low enough to dig to China, but he only had six cents in his pocket and that wasn't gonna buy him jack.

He felt awful. Soul couldn't recall a time he'd ever really been hungry before. Sure, he had a pretty healthy appetite and looked forward to mealtimes as much as anybody else, but he was discovering that there was a big difference between having the tummy rumbles and being genuinely underfed for over twenty-four hours. He felt shaky and a little bit sick to his stomach, which was confusing, because all he wanted to do was eat everything, but he was pretty sure if he ate he would puke.

And unfortunately, Maka very much noticed. She had gotten over being annoyed with him by the time they met up on the front steps that morning, but when she noticed him sitting empty-handed at their table, she immediately looked irritated again… but also worried, which was weirdly gratifying.

"You're not eating again?" she asked.

He shrugged.

She leaned closer to him, studying him closely. "You don't look so good, Soul."

He shrugged again.

"Seriously, what's wrong?"

He didn't really feel up to lying to her today.

"Don't have any money," he mumbled, avoiding her eyes by staring at the table instead.

"What? But you get two hundred dollars a week!" she exclaimed.

He nodded miserably. "Gotta set some aside for rent and stuff."

"But you should still have plenty left for groceries!" she protested.

Groceries?

"I… uh… didn't get groceries," he said, as quietly as he could, hoping that somehow she would misunderstand him or not hear him at all and let this conversation just be over.

The idea of buying groceries hadn't even occurred to him, and in hindsight, that was so embarrassing he wanted to crawl under the table and die. This was the least cool thing that had ever, ever happened to him and he was never going to live this down and he would be the laughingstock of Death City when people found out because people always found out about stuff like this somehow and Maka would probably end their partnership right now because who the hell would want a partner who was too stupid to even think to buy groceries?

But Maka wasn't staring at him in contempt. She mostly looked confused. "But… what did you spend your money on, then?"

He suddenly longed for the power to turn invisible. "Uh… pizza?"

She blinked. "All of it?"

"Yes?"

"But… why would you do that?"

The fact that she sounded totally astonished by his newfound poverty just made him feel worse. He was not cut out for this low-income thing, because if Maka's reaction was anything to judge by, he really really sucked at it.

"Dunno," he mumbled, wondering if every eye in the cafeteria was really on him or if he was just paranoid.

He couldn't have looked up at her if his life depended on it, but when Maka spoke, she sounded worried of all things. "Do you have any food at all?" she asked.

"Couple slices of pizza."

"Oh." She was quiet for a minute, then said, "Do you want to come to dinner tonight?"

That was enough to get him to look up at her. "Like… at your house?"

She nodded, a tentative smile on her face. "I'd like to introduce you to my family," she said. "Since you're my partner and all."

Technically he'd already met her dad– twice now, actually– but that was beside the point.

He chewed carefully on his upper lip as he pondered her offer. Dinner at Maka's house. Dinner at Maka's house… with her… and her parents… with Death Scythe and the meister who had forged him… That was a lot of pressure. He wasn't sure he was prepared to handle that.

"Papa and I are making stew," she said, waving it temptingly in front of him like the proverbial carrot, which he supposed made him the ass in this scenario.

He sighed heavily. "Okay," he said, trying to sound resigned. "But only because I'm pretty sure I'm gonna pass out if I don't eat something."

Soul eyed the grocery store in front of them dubiously.

Dinner the night before had gone as well as could be expected with Death Scythe glowering at him from across the table, but at least Maka's mom had been nice enough, if a little bit frosty, and she had kept Maka's dad from being too much of an asshole. He was mostly just glad to eat something, and the stew had actually been pretty good.

After dinner, however, Maka had insisted that she was not going to let her partner starve over the weekend, even if he had brought it on himself, and if that meant spending the remainder of her stipend on groceries for him, then so be it. She'd also added that he'd better not expect her to do this again, because she felt bad for him but she was also trying to save up while she still lived with her parents, and she couldn't keep blowing all her money to feed him. It was the weirdest combination of generosity and stinginess, and he was once again baffled by this tiny girl he called meister, who he had only known for a little over a week. Already she was leading him around by the nose, it seemed, and he was both irritated and oddly comforted by it.

Her insistence was what led to him standing on the scorching blacktop in front of an Albertson's– he had at least managed to talk her into going to a real grocery store and not DeathMart, thank god– on a Saturday morning, skeptical as hell and more than a little apprehensive.

"What's that look for?" Maka asked, stepping onto the sidewalk beside him.

"What look?"

Her eyebrows were drawn together, but she was smiling bemusedly at him. "You look like the doors are gonna eat you. Why don't you just go inside, silly?"

Admitting he had never actually been to a grocery store before was not on today's agenda, so he said, "Just waiting on your sloth ass, duh."

She huffed and punched him in the shoulder hard enough that he was absolutely going to have a bruise tomorrow. "Don't be a jerk, Soul. Let's go." She walked forward through the automatic doors and into the mercifully air conditioned store, Soul trailing along behind her.

The sight that greeted him was enough to make him stop dead in his tracks again. There was food everywhere, a whole field of fruits and vegetables spread out before him, so much of it he thought he could die a happy man right here and now. And he could see a glowing neon tube on the back wall spelling out Meats, and over to his left there was an entire section dedicated to what he was pretty sure were piles and piles of artisan cheeses, and the grocery store was officially now his favorite place.

He didn't realize how much he'd been rubbernecking until Maka asked, "What are you staring at? You act like you've never seen a grocery store before!"

Soul made the very eloquent reply of "um…"

Maka's eyes widened. "Wait, have you never been in a grocery store?"

Crap. He was not admitting that his parents ordered their shopping and had it delivered to the kitchen for the chef to prepare, especially not in front of Maka, who had clearly done this before. "Uh… my parents never took me with them," he said, which wasn't technically a lie. Maka didn't need to know that his parents hadn't gone in the first place.

She was giving him that bemused look again. "Jeez, how sheltered were you? Alright, c'mon Soul, I'll show you the ropes."

Grocery shopping was bizarre, but he was pretty sure it was also going to be his new hobby. They bought the staples, stuff like butter, milk, eggs, and a couple of seasonings (he still wasn't sure why Maka insisted on getting garlic salt in a can when he could have just bought whole garlic instead). They got all his favorites, oranges and asparagus and blueberry yogurt and two loaves of bread, one French and one sourdough, and a roasted chicken that he could just heat up in the oven. Maka also made him put some other things in his shopping cart, stuff like grapefruit and sunflower seeds and spinach, that were supposedly good for maintaining weapon health.

There were also things that Soul had never even heard of before. Pre-cooked pasta in cans that you could just heat up in the microwave. Cheese in a bag that had already been grated for you. Fruits and veggies that came in cans (he insisted on buying two cans of pineapple, which Maka raised an eyebrow at but didn't stop him from putting them in the cart). Whole entire meals frozen in little plastic wrappers that you could heat up just like that, which Maka insisted were disgusting but he was pretty sure nothing that cool could be as gross as she made them sound so he picked out six of them (and she made him put back four).

His favorite thing, though, was the shopping cart itself. He'd seen them on TV, but he'd never realized how awesome they were. They had a little rack on the bottom– which he figured out from watching other customers had to be for big stuff like toilet paper and crates of soda (actual crates of soda! that was a thing!)– that, if used properly, was a perfect footrest. You could stand on the cart with one foot and push yourself along with the other and sail along at top speeds down the aisles.

After he nearly knocked over a little old lady, though, Maka made him stop. He could understand why, but he made a point to pout about it anyway.

When she led him over to the checkout lanes, there were three cashiers working, all of them looking entirely too likely to be judgmental for his taste. He could ignore random shoppers glancing twice at him because of his weird looks, but he was less thrilled by the prospect of being eyed curiously by somebody he would actually have to interact with. He found a glimmer of hope when he spotted the sign that said self-checkout above what appeared to be automated machines that would let you do it yourself, and he tried to steer the cart in that direction, but Maka grabbed his elbow. "Where are you going, doofus?" she asked, and dragged him back over to one of the unoccupied cashiers.

Apparently, he was getting stared at by strangers even more today after all. Fantastic.

While the middle-aged woman with her hair in a bun pulled tight enough to give her an amateur facelift scanned their purchases, Soul avoided eye contact by watching the little screen that showed the prices and total. That wasn't any better, though, because watching the numbers add up just made him feel nervous and guilty; Maka's stipend was less than his since she lived at home, and this was definitely getting uncomfortably close to her entire allotment for the week.

It seemed that even in Death City and away from his family, he was still just a useless burden to everybody around him.

Instead of staring at the screen, he decided to stare at his shoes instead.

"D'you got any coupons?" he heard the cashier ask, her voice bored and mechanical.

That made him look up, rather offended. "Aren't coupons for, like, poor people?" he asked, and regretted it deeply when Maka stomped on his foot and glared at him.

While Soul hopped on one foot and swore under his breath, Maka looked back at the cashier with a smile already back on her face. "Actually, yes," she chirped, taking out her wallet. She unfolded it and from the cash pocket withdrew a little stack of clippings that she handed over.

The cashier sighed, clearly annoyed at having to go to the trouble of putting in the discounts, but she dutifully punched each successive coupon into her register. "Sixty-three twenty-seven," she announced when she was finished, and Maka handed over the cash with a smile.

"What?" Soul asked, looking up sharply. "But that should've cost over a hundred bucks!"

Maka gave him a sickly-sweet grin. "That's why you use coupons, Soul," she said primly.

He stared in wonderment at the colorful slips of paper the cashier was tucking into the open drawer of her register, a new idea beginning to take shape in his head.

One week later…

Maka had just sat down at the top of the steps to wait for Soul, book on her lap, when he came streaking up to her, having apparently arrived before her for once.

"Maka!" he said excitedly. "Did you know there's coupons in the little inserts in the newspaper?!"

She rolled her eyes.

A/N part deux- For the record, all those stickers Soul put on his Definitely Not A Piggy Bank™ were absolutely glittery. He ignores this fact aggressively if it's brought up. And did anybody catch the fact that all the "good 4 weapons" type foods were all rich in iron? (I think I'm hilarious, can you tell?)