Hastily done. Vaguely edited. Fluff that you could drown in. Definitely not a Pulitzer but entertaining enough. Just a small collection of Christmas related scenarios that have no particular order or relevance to each other.
Also: I used way too many commas but you'll just have to get over it.
"A little to the left…keep going…STOP…wait, no, go back…no, the other way!"
"Oh, screw this! Do it yourself. I'm so over this shit."
"Soul! Hey, be careful with that!"
Maka stumbled and caught the ornament Soul threw at her as he gave up and threw himself bonelessly onto the couch. She waited for him to apologize and get back up to help her finish decorating the tree but he just scowled at her and settled deeper into the cushions. God, he was useless! She didn't need his help anyway. Maka frowned at her weapon before straightening up and looking down at him haughtily.
"Fine! I'll do it myself."
Soul kicked the tinsel out of his way and draped himself across the cushions. He caught one last glare from his meister before he pulled his headband over his eyes and tuned out her disgustingly cheerful humming. He knew she was doing that just to annoy him.
Right before he drifted off a soft curse caught his attention. A minute passed before a string of mutters interrupted the silence. Soul smirked and started to count down.
He wasn't letting her off that easy. She seemed to realize this and huffed in annoyance at him. Soul kept his relaxed posture on the couch while he felt Maka fuming to the side.
"Ugh. Fine. I can't reach, okay. Will you help? Please?" The last word came out as a growl that made a sharp-toothed smile stretch across his face.
He hauled himself off the couch and approached Maka. He studied the tree topper in her hand and then looked to the tip of their oversized fir tree.
"Whoa – HEY – what do you think you're – "
Maka squeaked and flung her arms around Soul's shoulders while simultaneously trying not to squish the tree ornament. She fumbled around for her voice as Soul carried her over to the tree and hoisted her up so she was level to the top. She clutched the star tightly in her recently sweaty palm and tried not to think about Soul's cheekbone pressing into her stomach or the way her thighs felt against his chest.
"Any day now bookworm."
The feel of his sturdy forearm wrapped under her butt halted her thought process for a few moments longer. She covered her embarrassment by snapping at him.
"I'm not close enough, idiot."
After many more curses and a few pokes and pinches they had the star situated. She leaned back to admire their handiwork. Then coughed uncomfortably. Her hip was digging into his collar bone.
"Uh…Soul? You can put me down now."
He loosened his arms and she slid slowly down his body. Every muscle, contour and dip of their bodies fused and pressed together as her body descended. When her feet finally hit the floor she found her chin tilted up and his down, their eyes locked and their noses brushing. Their breath mingled and their hearts pounded together. The air was heavy with tension and Maka's voice came out much softer than she intended.
"Yeah?" His red eyes bore into hers with focused intensity.
"Oh god. Please tell me you did not drink that stuff."
"Of course I drank it! It was sitting out in the open. It would be rude not to. And Black Star said it was homemade."
Soul groaned at his partner's naivety. He snatched the glass out of her hand and poured the rest down the drain. He cut off her indignant protests with a hard tone.
"Seriously, Maka. Do I have to babysit you at every party we go to?" He stopped her again when she tried to interrupt. "What did I tell you earlier? Never drink from something Black Star brings. Ever. Under any circumstance."
"But Tsubaki said she supervised and that it was okay."
Soul pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, praying for patience. And a little bit of sanity. And the abolishment of eggnog.
He tried to speak to his meister slowly and precisely as he steered her out of the kitchen, through the hall and toward Kid's immaculate dining room.
"Maka. Black Star spikes the eggnog every year. It doesn't matter if Tsubaki's watches him and says it's okay. He's a friggen ninja. He'll find a way to get rum into the bowl. I can guarantee it."
"What? Is your drunk brain finally processing the words I say? I don't speak just to hear to sound of my own voice you know."
"I don't feel so good."
Maka, already unbalanced in her precariously tall heels, tripped and stumbled over her own feet. Soul, who had already been braced for disaster, stepped forward and caught her smoothly before she crashed into one of the statues lining the hall. Maka slumped into Soul's chest and held onto his lapels for dear life as the entire world spun around her. Her partner's steady hands around her waist and soothing voice finally brought her vision to a sickening halt.
"What did I tell you? If you had just listened – "
She tried to get him to shut up. His self-righteous tone was grating against her forming headache. But to slap a hand over his mouth meant letting go of his sports jacket and the world hadn't quite gone to a complete standstill yet. She also considered Maka-Chopping him but there was no way she could have fit a book into the tiny cocktail dress Liz had shoved her into. Her alcohol influenced brain saw only one logical solution. The burning of her body where Soul's chest pressed against hers agreed with the seemingly sound logic.
She leaned forward and smashed her lips firmly against his own. That shut him up instantly. She hummed her approval and slipped her eyes shut to enjoy the moment of lecture-less silence. Maka smiled and in doing so may or may not have accidental deepened their lip-lock.
Her brain was not on the same page as her body and her treacherous mouth soon took advantage of this lapse in judgment.
So, she got a little carried away.
Somehow her arms ended up wound around his neck and her tongue snaked into his mouth that had parted in surprise. Her shoes, as uncomfortable as they were, put her at a perfect height to drag her hips against Soul's lower body.
So, she got more than a little carried away.
But she didn't hear Soul complaining.
Soul, who's brain was not hindered but whose body was exceedingly uncooperative when drunken bits of meister where plastered to it, finally managed to detach his mouth from his partner's. He told himself the only reason he kept hold of her waist was to keep her from face-planting on the hard linoleum floors.
He spluttered at her bedroom eyes and swollen lips for a moment before gathering his dignity and settling for a hard scowl.
Soul felt more stammering coming on in response to Maka's major understatement but Black Star's impeccable timing interrupted their awkward moment.
"Yo! You, underlings. Kid says dinner's ready and we have to eat at exactly eight o'clock. Come on, your god is hungry."
Maka swiveled around unsteadily and pointed a finger in Black Star's direction. "Go away," she slurred, "we're having a moment."
"Whoa! Is Maka drunk?"
"Totally slammed." Soul confirmed.
"HA! She had my eggnog, didn't she? Damn, bookworm. Didn't know you had it in you."
"I only had about four glasses, okay! I'm so not drunk. Well, maybe a little tipsy. Slammed-ish…"
Soul could take no more and grabbed Maka's arm, swinging it over his shoulders. His meister was scary when she was drunk. But maybe not in a totally bad way. Not that he would ever admit it. As they walked (in Maka's case, staggered) down the hall, Soul looked over Maka's head and frowned at a still cackling Black Star.
"Oh, and by the way, your eggnog tastes like shit."
"How would you know, you puny godless human? You said you weren't going to drink any!"
Against his will Soul's eyes glanced to the now lip gloss-less surface of his meister's lips.
"This is stupid."
"Just shut up and start enjoying yourself already. Jeesh."
Maka scowled and ground a frustrated heel into the soft, fluffy snow that powdered the walkway, mixing it in with the dirt until it was a slushy, muddy liquid. She didn't want to be here. In fact, this was the last place she wanted to be. Every cell in her body screamed at her to turn back and go home to the comfy cushions of the couch where she could curl up with hot chocolate and a book. No snow. No people. And no lines like the ridiculously long one she was standing in.
But here she was, waiting out in the frostbitten air of Death City's central park, huddled in her partner's jacket, freezing her ass off and waiting in line for admission to the skating rink.
All that misery for a lousy skating rink.
And what did one really gain from balancing in skates on ice anyway? All you did was glide in circles. Or fall on your ass in front of everyone. Or freeze to death. Or crash into people.
Maka really didn't want to be here.
Soul, who could feel the half-angry half-cold trembling of his meister, draped an arm around her as much to keep her in place as to keep her warm.
"Come on, Grinch-Albarn. Lighten up. It's almost Christmas and we're out in town celebrating and participating in a universally accepted manner by going ice-skating. What? Still no smile?"
Her frown deepened and she burrowed herself further into Soul's side to avoid meeting his lopsided smirk. She wasn't happy. She wasn't going to be happy anytime soon. And that was final.
Soul rolled his eyes at his partner and shuffled them forward to pay for their ticket. He dragged Maka through the gate and up to the shoe counter. When she refused to give her size to the befuddled worker he remained unfazed and picked out her exact size for her. Sometimes there were advantages to tripping over someone's boots every evening.
Maka looked out at the skaters on the rink as Soul knelt in front of her lacing up her skates. They made it look so effortless and fun. The smiling couples holding hands and the kids darting around their parents legs made a sickeningly happy picture. And she was resolved to stay unhappy. A tug on her scarf brought her attention back to Soul. He motioned toward the rink, stood up and held a hand out to her. She froze. No way was she going out there.
Soul watched as she glanced in panic at the open gate leading away from the rink.
"You'd never make it in time."
She scowled at her partner for reading her mind.
"Why don't you want to go? It's not that bad, I promise."
"I – it's just that…icntskt."
"I can't skate!" She yelled at him. "I'm terrible at it. I look like a cartoon character slipping over a banana peel every time. I…" She deflated suddenly. "It's embarrassing."
Maka looked up when she heard Soul's rumbling laughter. She threw her fist forward to smack him but he caught it in an open palm and pulled her up off the bench. She threw her arms around his neck to keep from falling over in the skates. She caught her breath as Soul's lips brushed the rim of her ear.
"I'll hold onto you the whole time."
Suddenly she wasn't so afraid.
The first circle around the rink she held onto Soul's arm and the siding the entire time. After much coaxing and a few more breathy promises in her ear Soul managed to persuade Maka to stand in front of him while he propelled her around the rink. She hissed at him and held his hands tighter around her waist ever time he tried to let her coast on her own.
"See?" he said, leaning over her shoulder. "You're a natural."
She harrumphed and folded her arms over her chest as Soul glided them around a corner. She was still resolved not to enjoy herself but it was much harder to do when Soul had his warm hands steering her around the ice. She looked over as Soul slid up next to her and gave her a crooked smirk. Her heart melted at the sight.
But suddenly it froze up again. Because Soul was skating next to her. With his hands in his pockets. Which meant they weren't on her. Which had to mean she was skating alone.
Soul growled at his partner as she tripped over her own skates in panic and fell backward onto the ice. He lunged at her and caught her waist, flipping them midair and landing hard on his back. They slid across the ice, miraculously missing the other skaters before skidding to a stop at the side of the rink. Maka looked stunned for a moment but then sat up on his stomach and jabbed an accusing finger into his chest.
"This is entirely your fault!"
"My fault! You're the one who can't balance on ice skates for two friggen seconds. You're lucky I saved your ass."
"Oh, shut up, Soul. I told you – "
"Yeah, yeah. But, you know, there are much easier and less freezing ways to get me to lay submissively under you – OW – damn it! I knew you stuffed a book down your shirt! No way could your boobs have looked so big otherwise!"
He should have seen that second Maka-Chop coming.
"GOD DAMN IT, SOUL!"
He cringed and sunk deeper into the couch as a stream of furious curses rang out from the kitchen. Soul wasn't sure what he'd done this time but he knew whatever it was, his situation wasn't good. He slouched even further, trying to melt through the cushions and into the floor when his meister stomped over to him and snatched the remote from his hand, turning off the television with more force than he thought was necessary.
"Soul. You've done it again. How many times do I have to tell you not to leave the last milk carton empty! Who drinks milk and then puts back an empty box? I told you I was making Christmas cookies for our friends. And now I have no milk. You cannot make Christmas cookies without milk."
Smart-assery was not the solution to this problem. But she just looked so ridiculous with flour dusting her shirt and hands and batter and frosting smudged across her cheek and neck while she stood with steam practically pouring out of her ears.
"They'd probably taste better without milk. Although there isn't much that could really improve them…"
Soul ducked as the cardboard carton was chucked at his head.
"Ugh! I hate you! You're such an ass!"
Before Soul could think of another comment and further deepen the hole he had dug for himself Maka stormed out of the room and into her own, slamming the door behind her. He grimaced when a few of the ornaments loosened from the tree and rolled to the ground. She was pissed.
And rightfully so. But he couldn't help but frustrate her. It was too fun. And when she was angry and annoyed at him she just looked so…hot. Her green eyes flashed with uncontained malice, her chest would rise and fall with deep breaths and her muscles would tighten and clench as she wound tighter and tighter. He was a sex-deprived-red-blooded-teenage guy. What could he say? To be aggravating was probably written in his very DNA.
He heard her door creak open. Sighing, Soul stretched and stood up to face his doom. He would apologize if only because she looked equally as attractive when she melted as he used the apologetic puppy dog eyes.
Maka glared suspiciously at his open expression and casual stance. He was going to apologize. And she was going to accept because he always looked so…sad. But she wasn't falling for it this time. She turned on her heel and breezed into the kitchen, determined to ignore her partner's dangerous expressions.
He trailed behind her and watched as she purposefully avoided him. He swiveled a chair around and sat in it, leaning his chin on the back and peering at her as she tried to salvage her cookies. She was good at ignoring him.
But he was better at getting her attention.
The weapon leaned over the chair's backrest and started slowly drumming his fingers against the hardwood table. His meister twitched but otherwise didn't react. But he could tell he'd gotten her.
She grew tenser and tenser with every tap of his fingers. Her jaw fluttered. Her shoulders rolled. Her fists balled up. Her calves tightened. Her toes clenched. Soul loved every moment of it.
Suddenly she exploded and whipped around, knocking a cup of sprinkles across the polished floors. She stalked toward him with murderous intent, sugar crackling beneath her feet.
"You." She snarled as Soul scrambled out of his chair and backpedaled away from her. "So. DEAD."
"Hey, hey now, let's not be hasty – "
Soul almost made it to living room. He was so close. But alas. A woman scorned who also has a hardcover cooking book outmatched Soul even on his best day. He got one good look at his sexily furious meister before the book made contact with his cranium. But it was worth it because she was positively livid. Soul briefly wondered if he was a masochist. Then decided if Maka looked that good it didn't really matter.
He swayed and staggered back, clutching his head. But he didn't get very far. At first he thought it was Maka. But when he glanced up at her she seemed just as confused.
"What the hell?"
They both tried stepping away from each other but the further they got the more forcefully they were drawn together. Maka stumbled against the invisible pressure pulling them together and Soul jumped forward to catch her before she fell. They crashed together and Soul juggled her awkwardly, trying not to squish/grope/hurt her.
They stood plastered together for a moment in silence. Soul was very aware of her boobs squashed against his chest and her leg sandwiched between his. He cleared his throat and prayed to god that his face wasn't as red as it felt before trying to dislodge the arm he had wrapped around her shoulders. It didn't budge. Neither did the hand attached to her hip.
He should have felt a lot more annoyed about their situation than he was.
Maka squirmed against him and tried to loosen her own arms from around his waist. She had even less success than him. He held his breath as she wiggled against him. She huffed out a defeated breath and slumped against him.
"What is going on? I can't move at all."
"I don't know." Soul answered, looking around. "I don't get what just hap – AH HA!"
"What?" Maka said, trying to looking up to where Soul was staring. "I don't see – oh man."
"I'll kill her."
Hanging above with deceptive innocence was a bright green sprig of mistletoe decked out with a cheery bow and sparkling bells. Soul swore at that moment to destroy all things purple and cat-like.
Maka struggled in vain for a few moments longer. She sighed and looked up at her partner who seemed calmer than he had a right to be. Then she remembered she was angry at him which made the whole situation that much worse. She snapped at him sourly.
"Well…figure out how to get us out of this mess. You're the one who got us stuck here in the first place."
"Okay, first of all, this is so not my fault. Blame the sex crazed cat. And yourself for chasing me when I had done absolutely nothing wrong. Secondly," he continued to speak over her spluttering, "I think the way of out this magic trap should be fairly obvious."
The chagrinned expression on Maka's face confirmed her fears. She knew what they had to do but she was still so mad at him. Or as mad as one could be at him while pressing against the defined muscles of this torso and thighs. Not that she was thinking about that. At all.
He smirked at Maka's confliction. He knew somewhere deep down she wanted to kiss him as bad as he wished to her but her stubborn pride and persistent annoyance with him were getting in the way. She scowled deeper at his mirth but he was not fooled.
She looked up at the cursed mistletoe one more time before settling her gaze on her partner. She wanted to wipe that smug look right off his annoyingly handsome face. Soul stood there unmoving, waiting for her to make the first move.
She tightened her grip around his middle and leaned up, planting a quick kiss on his lips. They both loosened their arms and waited for the spell to lift.
"Uh…maybe it wasn't long enough."
She stepped on Soul's toe, unapologetic when he yelped.
"Thank you, Captain Obvious."
She tried again. Maka ordered Soul to lean down and suddenly they were nose to nose. Their breaths collided and their eyes met. Maka broke the moment by pressing her lips back into Soul's. She held the kiss, closing her eyes, and secretly (and unwillingly because she was still irritated with him) enjoyed the warmth he was radiating.
Again they were met with failure.
"Why didn't that work!"
"Maybe you need to slip me a little tongue."
She tried to hit him but only ended up pulling them closer. Now she was mad beyond compare. Mad at Soul for reasons she couldn't remember anymore, furious with Blair for being a pervert, done with all and any kind of baking because it led to this kind of crap and ready for Christmas to be over and done with because it put her here in the first place.
She stood up on the tips of her toes and mashed her mouth against his punishingly. She kissed him hard, dumping all her frustrations upon him. But suddenly he kissed her back and somehow there was a tongue in her mouth. She remembered his smart-ass comment and that fact that it might be true and only kissed him deeper.
His palms slid down her sides and her hands fisted in his hair. Their hands roamed over each other's bodies grabbing, caressing, touching. The logical part of her mind pointed out they were free now but the aggravated, unrestrained (possibly horny) side of her jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist.
They crashed against the wall. She broke the kiss and gasped for air but Soul's mouth never left her skin. He skimmed his lips across her cheekbone and down her neck, stopping to lick the batter from her throat. Their hips pressed together tightly and his teeth sank into her neck. She grabbed a fistful of white hair and brought their mouths back together. They lost themselves in one another in a haze of moans and grinding.
Eventually they settled back down. Their kisses grew softer, less desperate, and harsh grips turned into gentle embraces. Soul tugged them over to the couch and pulled her into his lap. He distracted her with open-mouthed kisses across her neck as she tried to form coherent thoughts.
"I was right, you know." He muttered into the crook of her shoulder.
"The cookie batter really does taste better without milk."
She honestly didn't think he should have been surprised he ended up on the floor. But his indignant expression said otherwise.
Maka suddenly cracked up, whipping a hand over her mouth in an attempt to contain her giggles. He was more than a little disturbed.
"What?" He snapped, paranoid.
She collected herself and leaned down to his level.
"You have flour handprints on your butt. I think it's cute."
Soul Eater Evan had vowed at some point in his life he could be cool, suave, awesome, even endearing…but never, never would he be dubbed cute. But when Maka draped her warm body over his, he forgot not only how cold the floor was or that he was supposed to be pouting – he also found that being cute wasn't all that bad when you had someone else's tongue in your mouth and hand patting more flour patterns on the back of your pants because of it.
I hope that all of you now have a new appreciation for flour. I know that I do.