Ahh, my first Soul Eater story! This is definitely my favorite new anime in a really long time and I wanted to become more familiar with the characters before attempting to write for them. Although I am current on the anime, I'm not nearly caught up with the manga (though I'm working on it) so please forgive any inconsistencies. Also, it's fluffy – so if you're looking for angst or drama, you won't find it here!
Set… a while after the current story, I'm thinking a year or two but it could be more or less.
I do not own Soul Eater or any of the characters!
Playing it Cool
It wasn't cool and he knew it. The furtive glances, the suddenly sweaty palms – it just wasn't the cool way to go about things. But the white-haired teen didn't know what to do. His technician – whom he'd hardly (okay, maybe not hardly, but at least infrequently) thought about in any way other than a fully competent tech and good friend – that tricky girl had gone and become… well, distracting. Sure, it was clear that the petite girl would never be Tsubaki or – gods help us – Blaire; but it was clear she was no longer the flat-chested shrimp she had once been. And he was losing his mind trying to cope.
Despite everything, she had remained the same Maka he'd always known. Her temper was still on a short fuse and she remained at the top of their class academically. She had even become a stronger technician and their once tremulous soul link had grown into a firm connection of trust and respect.
On top of all this, her fighting style hadn't been altered even slightly – leading him to believe that she hadn't even noticed the changes. Which was absolutely absurd, considering that those differences had proven to be an enormous distraction to him. On at least two separate occasions, his usually immediate transformation had been severely delayed. As his clueless and increasingly irritated technician hollered for him to hurry up and change into scythe form already, he had been too wrapped up in studying the interesting new shape of her uniform vest.
As if that wasn't bad enough, her traditional plaid skirt was just as short as ever; and since she continued to fight all-out (and without any concern for modesty, he was now realizing) he had suddenly become extremely aware of it.
Gone were the ungainly string-bean legs, leading to boring white undergarments. He'd seen both plenty of time during heated battles, when staying alive was top priority and keeping up appearances didn't even make the list. There had been nothing under that skirt of particular interest to him, and so he generally let it pass without any consideration.
But no longer.
All it had taken was one particularly enthusiastic kick to put the formerly subtle changes he had been attempting to ignore into full and complete awareness. Instead of the usual plain white – he was abruptly confronted with pink and green stripes trimmed with lace. And instead of covering everything from view, this new selection of fabric rode low on her hips and high on her legs. And her no-longer skinny legs weren't the only thing that had filled out. He groaned with the memory, fully conscious that that was the moment he realized how nicely rounded her behind had become, the mesmerizing curve only highlighted further by the flimsy pastel selection.
Wasn't the purpose of underwear to keep things covered?
His face crumpled in an aggravated scowl, as though exerting enough willpower could force this new awareness back into his subconscious.
It shouldn't have surprised him that others noticed the new (and in his rather reluctant opinion, improved) Maka, but intentional ignorance also has the unintended side effect of leaving one blindsided to the obvious. Too wrapped up in his own self-induced torment – trying with all his power not to wonder what other new colors she had incorporated into her "wardrobe" – he missed the newly appreciative glances of his classmates as they walked through the school grounds.
One trick he had discovered was that attempting to memorize the exact number of steps between classes tended to occupy his brain functions sufficiently to keep other, less innocent thoughts out.
Today he was at one-hundred and thirteen as they walked from their final class of the day and had his eyes distantly focused on the wall as he trailed listlessly behind his technician. All at once Maka's back was no longer moving; the soft fabric of her vest startling him out of his counting as they suddenly connected. A slight "oof" was the only acknowledgement of his rudeness, which came as a surprise to Soul who was already bracing himself for an enthusiastic Maka-chop. Amazed at her charity, he watched in awe as she suddenly stuttered and turned bright red. An equally red-faced classmate gave him an icy glance before hurrying away in the opposite direction.
Soul ran a hand through his hair, not quite sure what he had done to earn Maka's good graces or why he felt such irritation towards a classmate he was unable to even name.
"Oi, what was all that?"
Without turning around she muttered, "Oh, well, I guess he wanted to, you know…. confess." This last was whispered and she still refused to face him.
As soon as it was out of his mouth, he immediately realized it had been the wrong thing to say. He hadn't meant it to sound quite so disbelieving – not intending to imply that it was impossible someone would want to confess to her. But that was obviously how it had sounded to the now furious technician, who spun around, not making any attempt to mask her fury.
"Clearly you're incredulous that anyone would be attracted to me, but I'll have you know that not everyone prefers ridiculously humongous magic-cat-breasts, which, by the way are going to hang down to her waist someday! I'll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself in the future… not that it matters since he was probably the only guy in school who will ever ask me out, since it seems my weapon has set about scaring away all the guys!!" She stopped abruptly, her breathing rapid and eyes huge and wide; almost as if she was in disbelief she had actually voiced those thoughts aloud.
Equally stunned, Soul merely stared back at her for a moment, struggling to process everything that had just been hurled at him. Was it true? Did he really do that?
Blinking quickly, Maka suddenly gripped her bag tightly to her chest before whispering, "Soul, I…" She didn't finish the sentiment and turned to run off, needing to clear her head before she said anything else stupid and crazy.
She only made it four steps when she realized a strong hand was anchoring her in place.
Soul pulled her back, fixing her with an intense gaze, "Good."
Absolutely at a loss, Maka shook her head and broke eye contact, willing herself not to cry before she had a chance to escape, "…what?" she managed to squeak out, still trying to wriggle her fingers free.
"You said I scare off other guys." He lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him, "Good."
Her breath escaped in a rush, the heat in his eyes making her feel light-headed and confused.
"Plus, I might have heard what you told that pretty boy."
Heat blossomed on her cheeks and spread down her neck, "ah!?"
He nodded, pulling her another step closer, amazed at how well his arms fit around her slender waist. "Who is this 'someone else?'" he demanded.
The flush in her checks intensified to a deep red, "Soul, you idiot," she hissed.
Without warning he crushed his mouth against hers, not allowing himself time to wait and possibly chicken out. 'Yes!' his body and soul rejoiced at the feel of the pliant girl in his embrace – finally; this was the cool way to do things! Immediately Maka responded, wrapping her arms around his neck and slanting her lips so their noses wouldn't bump. The many months of tortured emotions went into the kiss, both of them clinging and holding the other as if the moment might disappear.
If Soul had found his technician distracting from a distance, it was nothing compared to actually having her in his arms. When she had moved her arms to return his embrace, it was even more obvious that she was no longer the girl she had once been. Soft, warm mounds were now pressed against him and the hands at her waist were absolutely itching to explore lower territory.
He settled for pulling her even closer, their strong soul connection heightening the experience as he pressed his tongue against her lips. Surprised, she gasped softly causing her lips to part fractionally and he took advantage, only to find her own tongue already reaching to meet his. They battled, both finding pleasure in the struggle for dominance, until Soul sucked her tongue softly into his mouth, careful to avoid hurting her with his sharp teeth. Unafraid, or too wrapped up in the moment, she explored his mouth, tracing his teeth as she instinctively knew he would never hurt her.
The heat from her face felt as though it was enveloping her entire body, along with a delightful tingling sensation in her lower belly when she felt his tongue sliding along hers. Sure, the young meister had thought about such things, but somehow the actual experience was beyond all possible expectations. She had wanted to keep her wits about her – a training habit that should have been difficult to break. But somehow when the warmth from his chest spread into hers and his unique taste mingled into her senses, all her good intentions went soaring away. Her world contracted and everything was Soul and suddenly that was just fine by her.
He moaned against her mouth as his hands drifted lower on her hips; Maka echoed his response, allowing him to align her lower half into more intimate contact. The blood rushed through her veins and she could sense his intensity and excitement through their soul link, quite certain she was emitting the same sensations back to him.
Something warm and firm suddenly reminded her of exactly what they were doing – and not too terribly far away from Shibusen. A brief, horrible vision of her papa finding them thusly engaged was enough to have her quickly breaking the kiss. Still dazed, Soul stared at her, noticing that she echoed his ragged breathing, hoping he hadn't just made a terrible mistake. But the blond merely smiled shyly at him, leaving one gloved hand entwined with his larger one.
He couldn't stop the crooked grin that stretched across his features as he nodded and they began the short trek to their apartment.
"For the record, you're at least 1,000 times more distracting than Blaire."
She glanced at him, "Really?"
He nodded, "Yep... especially the black ones with the red dots."
It took a full three seconds for her to connect the words to the specific pair of underwear she had worn last week. Stunned anew, she stopped in her tracks, emerald eyes now flashing at the white-haired teen whose smug grin had begun to fade. Bracing himself for a full-out Maka-Chop, he couldn't have been more surprised when she merely smiled a knowing smile, slung her bag over her shoulder and continued walking.
After a few steps she turned back and very politely informed him that "They're strawberries."
Mouth agape, he processed this amazing tidbit, then simply shook his head and ran after her.
He decided two things that day. That even after all their time together, Maka was still full of surprises. And also – that he had a new favorite fruit.