Theme: 20) Dance

Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater.

Circumstance

He knew that when Maka leaned into him, when her arms draped around his neck, she was going to tell him something was wrong.

His unpartnered hands dropped. The music kept going. The pairs still swayed. Suddenly anxious, Soul reset his hands, trying not to break appearances. They met her slim, breakable waist, then slid hesitantly until they reached her hips.

He watched in quiet unease as her face, lips, mouth, eyes, tiptoed to his cheek. Her eyelashes cast down on his scarlet tie. Her soft, arrested breaths ghosted to his ears. “Soul, there's a witch at the dance.”

His fingers flexed involuntarily, drummed against the dress over her skin. His eyes burned.

“Don't look.”

He tried to clear his throat. “I won't,” he responded, with some difficulty.

“I have a mirror in my purse.” Maka glanced once into his eyes; they were large, purposeful, and slowly undid her arms from his neck. But Soul's hands remained at her hip. “Soul, let go,” she pressed, looking a modicum confused.

“Yeah.” He pulled his arms back, limply.

“Follow me out.” This normally went unsaid. She broke the perimeter of their circle, and beamed at him encouragingly.

Soul just short of gaped at her. When he had re-adjusted his hands, he had felt it, realized it.

Maka had hips.

It wasn't the everyday Maka hips, the skinny, vertical kind of hips. It had the curved feel of an almost-woman. Tiny at the waist and a midget hourglass arc to the thigh.

“C'mon.”

Soul wordlessly watched her turn on her heels and walk unassumingly toward an exit.

Maka had hips and a butt.

fin.

A/N: When I saw Episode 50, I had to pull this out of the trash and stick it on here. Apologies for the crackiness. Please don't take it too seriously.