Though this phrase speaks for itself; until I own Soul Eater, I do not.

Please enjoy!

Soberly Drunk

Soul Eater had grown into a handsome young man. At age twenty two he was exceptionally skilled in hand to hand combat and single handed kishin hunting, personally trained by the best, his partner- the Angel of Death- Maka Albarn. Despite their exceptional compatibility in various situations, their amazing Soul Resonance that seemed to grow more intricately advanced with each swing and the plain fact that they were a powerful pair, they weren't much of a pair to begin with.

Maka lay upside down on her bed, glaring at the clock on her desk. Being twenty one meant that she was an adult, restricted to nothing to an extent, and had no authority to restrict anyone, but often times she pondered the idea of restraining Soul to a leash. She sat up properly on her bed, looking out of the window. The street was in darkness showing the pale outline of recognized items, none of them moving. Activating her Soul Perception ability, she saw a single soul stumble towards the apartment, clumsily, often paused. She frowned and turned away, going to her novel.

"Whatever," she mumbled, quickly becoming absorbed in her book.

The door slammed open and she jumped, her book falling into her lap. Curious lake green eyes peered out to the living room. A tall figure leaned against the door to close it, all limbs seeming limp and keys falling from twitching fingers to the floor. Maka frowned and stepped forward. Soul's eyes were hidden beneath his white bangs and he seemed preoccupied, hesitant, as if recalling suspiciously of an event. Maka touched his jacketed shoulder.

"Soul?"

"Ne, Maka," a low, dark voice grumbled, more mature than nine years ago. She flinched, it had an eerie atmosphere to it.

"What is it?" she scanned his soul carefully, "Are you hurt?" he appeared to fine physically and spiritually. She was caught off guard when he leaned forward, nearly toppling them both over hadn't he held her up last minute. Their foreheads were touching and he was breathing shallowly, his eyes seeming more tired than usual. Maka tried to pull away from him then blinked absent mindedly.

"Do you love me?" he asked in a childish tone much like Shinigami- sama. Maka stared at him.

"You're drunk!" she exclaimed, smelling the distinct scent of alchohol about him. He leaned closer and Maka jumped back, slamming a book's spine into his skull skillfully, sending him to the floor with an echoing thud. He groaned, rubbing his head. Suddenly repentant and guilty, she bent beside him with a sigh.

"Maka doesn't love me…" he moaned, almost sorrowfully. Maka blushed, looking away and reached out a hesitant hand to soothe where she had impaled her makeshift weapon on him. His hands moved away as she rubbed, and his face was away from her.

"Sure, I love you, I guess," she stated awkwardly, "But you can be such an idiot sometimes! Take now for example- why the hell did you have to drink yourself drunk? I mean, are all men alike? Playing with girl's like their toys, treating themselves with such disrespect even, it's disgusting,"

He looked up, blinking. His cheeks were lightly tinted, and his eyes still looked glazed. He remained silent until she stood up, removing her hand from his throbbing cranium. He groaned.

"Anyway, get up now. You'd better sleep off the booze."

Another groan.

"Get up, Soul,"

"Too tired," he moaned.

She sighed and kneeled next to him, taking one limp arm and slinging it across her shoulders. "You are going to get up and get to your bed, hear me? Otherwise I'll break your blade- or arm- off!"

He hesitantly and clumsily moved to his feet half leaning on Maka. She grunted beneath his weight, shuffling into his room and throwing him on his bed- partially on purpose. He turned his back to her, kicking off his sneakers to the floor and falling to sleep immediately, soundlessly. Maka pulled the warm covers over his unmoving figure. His fingers lightly clutched the edge of the blanket, and he moaned, shifting. Maka smiled and walked out of his room, softly closing the door behind her.

Morning crept slowly to day and Maka got up willingly, yawning and opening her window, hesitant before moving out of bed. Her warm toes shuddered against the cold floor. She knocked against Soul's door, slightly leaning on it and yawning.

"Soul, you up? Get ready. We have a mission today," she heard a groan and shuffle from behind the wood. "You not feeling well? Can I come in?"

"Whatever," a muffled voice responded. Maka opened the door with a creak and approached a huddle beneath the dark blue sheets. She smirked.

"Not feeling well after last night, I'm guessing?"

"God," he growled, pulling the sheets closer, "My head's reeling. What the hell happened?"

"You were drunk," she stated plainly, still smiling. He glanced at her, scowling at her amusement. She shrugged. "You had it coming."

"Can't I play hookie today?" he groaned making no attempt to sit up. Maka headed to the door.

"Sure, but be careful explaining that to Shinigami- Sama," she still had an amused tone in her casual voice.

"Maka," she half turned at the doorway, eyebrows risen in question, "Do you love me?"

She blushed and bit her bottom lip. He turned to her, his face perfectly serious and expectant. She huffed and turned her back to him, her hair fluttering around and covering her countenance completely from Soul's view.

"Sure, I guess, I can't hate my partner." She mumbled and heard him chuckle.

"I love you too,"

Maka blinked, feeling her chest thump harder the further it echoed in her mind. She shook her head and walked to the kitchen, unaware of Soul's genuine and satisfied smile.

He wasn't drunk last night.

Tell me what you think, what you love, what you hate, what you wanna say. Speak nonsense, say anything whatsoever! I feel lonely… (and reviewing does nothing to your computers! I know! I tried!)

Selfish reader… you aren't going to review, are you?! Yes you, who else is reading this?! Stop talking and start typing, ya lout! (I mean no offense to anyone.) But I mean it!!!