Dear. Lord. Death.
She understood that he had an image to uphold as a cool guy- whatever, he was still a total dork- and that his hair always had to look, in his words, "perfect, but still careless." What did that even mean?
Whatever it was, it also entailed close to half an hour each of preening that fluffy white mass of hair. He flipped Maka's expectations of boys getting ready on end; she was usually ready to go before him, blonde locks tied in simple pigtails, clothes neatly pressed, shoes on her feet.
She'd give him credit, he could pull on an outfit in seconds and look effortlessly good, but the stupid HAIR would make them late, guaranteed.
Not that Maka didn't like how it looked. It fit him, really.
It was the disgusting hair gel she hated.
The first time she'd figured it out, they'd been living together for just over half a year. It was in New York on a mission, a ridiculously long one. They'd been in a hotel for a few nights, two twin beds and a shitty old tv with maybe ten channels.
It was early in the morning, but she'd been ready to leave for a while, and was (rather impatiently) waiting for him to be, too. This pre-kishin wasn't particularly evil, just annoying and damn good at hiding.
The dull buzz of his hairdryer from the bathroom had lulled her into zoning out, eyes glassy and unfocused on a magazine page.
His sudden exclamation startled her, and Maka jumped to her feet. Had the stupid creature smashed in the tiny bathroom window? What the hell? "Soul?!"
The weapon walked out into the shared roomspace, and it took a bit of willpower for Maka to avoid simply dropping her jaw.
His hair was so fluffy and still wild, Jesus Christ, sticking out in a dozen directions, but tamer than usual. It looked... Soft. That was how it behaved naturally? The meister almost wanted to reach out and touch it.
He looked good.
"I'm out of hair gel," he announced, looking rather annoyed. His little frown quickly curled into a smirk. "What're you so shocked about, bookworm?"
Maka realized she might've been staring a little. "Your hair. It," She swallowed, trying to gain composure. "It looks different, and-"
"You thought it just did that by itself?" He was smiling, and it only served to make her more flustered.
"Well, I mean, I dunno," she stammered. She realized she was embarrassing herself, so she snapped back fast, "You take showers in the morning and don't leave the bathroom until you're all ready, seriously, you hog that bathroom and it's not cool-"
He chuckled. "Chill out, it's okay, you don't have to explain yourself. It's not really a big deal, I'll pick up more when we go back home." Sharp teeth glinted as Soul gave a yawn. "And I'm really hoping that's tonight. Hotels kinda suck. Ready to kick some ass?"
So, sue her. She really, really liked how her scythe's hair looked when he didn't mess with it. So what?
And then, on their way through the backstreets of NYC while chasing that fucking kishin egg, it happened. Clinging to Soul while riding his motorcycle wasn't unusual for them, and the reckless asshole he was, he never wore a helmet. So when Maka let go of with one hand to push her bangs out of her face, she accidentally got a palmful of hair- his. In that moment, she was so, so glad the wind drowned out any embarrassing squeaks that she most certainly did not make.
Soul didn't seem to notice, he was focused on the goal ahead and not driving into pedestrians, so she just tried to calmly put her arm back around his waist and pretend nothing happened.
She'd been right. It was really, really soft.
And months and months later, Maka wouldn't admit that her favorite days were the ones when the hair gel ran out. Or had been, uh, misplaced.
Even later, when him sprawling out on the couch and laying his head in her lap became a regular thing, just something they did and it's okay for her to play with his hair while they talk because really they're just roomates, Maka had to admit she's pleased. There is a whole other couch right there and he'd rather be close to his meister? Cool, as he'd put it.
Except that his hair gel or whatever made her fingers feel strange, like she'd maybe dipped them in goo. Looking at it, she kinda had, in a second-hand way, which was also a little gross. And instead of being soft like that day in New York, his hair is stiff and a little weird.
Maka one hundred percent loves the lazy smiles he gives while she twists locks of the silvery stuff around her fingers, how relaxed everything about it is.
But there's really no complaints from her when that hair gel is SO unfortunately misplaced. Nope.
"Hey, Maka!" She hears him call from the bathroom while she's making their breakfast, and immediately, a little smile appears on her face. "Have you seen my hair gel?"
"Nope," she calls back, unable to keep a slight giggle out of her voice.
Footsteps alert her that he's walked out of the bathroom, and she turns on her heel. "Told ya, I don't kn-"
Lord Death have mercy on her soul, he hadn't bothered to put a shirt on. Damn. Out of everyone to do that, he was probably her first choice, but damn. Damn.
Apparently, mercy had been granted. "I knew it! Liar!" he playfully accused, sauntering over. "I, Detective Soul, think you're bullshitting the court."
She tried to match his tone, not give anything away. She knew exactly where the goop was. "Oh? And why is that?"
Suddenly, she was being attacked in possibly the most childish way known to man. He was tickling her, up her sides. Not fair, he knew her weak spot!
With a shriek, she retaliated, trying to reach his neck but he'd gotten tall, shit, she wasn't going to win this.
Rolling and laughing on the kitchen floor, engaged in a vicious tickle fight with her partner, wasn't how Maka had planned the morning, but it was not unwelcome.
Eventually, she was forced to give her surrender. "I give! I give," she shrieked, wiggling away from Soul. "I know where your stupid hair gel is, okay?"
He flopped out on the floor next to her, breathing hard, before casting his crimson gaze in her direction. "I know," he heaved, face splitting into a toothy grin. "I know. You left your bedroom door open, it's on your desk. Lazy work, Albarn."
Her hands clapped to her face, trying to hide the fact that she was blushing bright red.
"It's okay!" Soul rolled onto his stomach and propped himself up on his elbows, peering down to his meister's face. "I just wanna know why you did it."
Green eyes tried to look anywhere but at him. "Maybe I likmntwyurhrluks..."
His eyebrows pulled close together as he signalled confusion. "Huh?"
"Maybe I like the way your hair looks! Maybe it's cute and soft! Maybe I like to play with it a lot!"
Dead silence rang and Maka clamped her eyes shut, terrified at what the response to her blurted confession might be.
Her heart sank, he probably thought she was a total freak, she was going to die of embarrassment right then and there-
A very, very gentle brush across her lips, just quickly. Startled, she opened her eyes to see that dumb fluffy-haired boy hovering over her, questioning written in his face.
"Do that again," she ordered. Relief flooded his features and he leaned down to kiss her once more, a little more sure of himself. Maka matched him this time, pressing into the kiss, letting her hands grab for his back and that ridiculous, wonderful hair.
When they finally stopped to breathe, he pulled her up to sit. Gently, he began to work her hair out of its pigtails. "Two things I must admit," he murmurs.
"One, I've wanted to do that for a long, long time. Two," Soul finishes pulling out the second hair tie and then drops them both in her lap before smiling wide. "I might have hidden a few of those before."
A/N: Hi! Thanks a billion for reading. This is my first writing contribution to the Soul Eater fandom, and this piece was originally published on 1/26/2014 on my anime sideblog, lameshitbaby. I decided to post it here just because, well, I can?~ I had a lot of fun with this. It was inspired by a conversation with my good friend Cassie about how the SE crew looked in the Book of Eibon, and what it might suggest about them! If you remember, Maka's hair was pretty plain and simple in the book, and a lot of people were disappointed that it didn't look more like Soul's usually spiky mane. But in the Soul Eater Not! manga, it's revealed that Soul uses- you guessed it- hair gel, and he actually looks pretty darn cute without it. (And a lot more like Maka's BoE form, oooooops.) Thus, this was born!