Hi guys! This fic was for a prompt Darkpurply gave me. As you'll see I did the prompt a bit differently, but ultimately you can still blame her, haha.

Also thanks to Cecil Murdock for helping me work out some of the major plot details I was having trouble with!

Soul felt weird and out of place trying to be romantic.

Once, he had imagined that he'd never fall in love, because such emotions were for losers and saps. Then, he had visions of himself as a sweep-her-off-her-feet kind of guy, because that's what the coolest guys do with no effort at all. But now, Soul finally accepted it: he was easily just as awkward and romantically inept as anyone else, embarrassed about his feelings and unprepared with the wit and charm he wished he could emulate.

With that said, he could occasionally credit himself with a good idea.

Even though Valentine's Day was a dumb holiday for chumps, manufactured by greeting card companies and chocolate purveyors, Soul wanted to do something special this year - make a confession.

He knew that despite her professed misgivings about romance, Maka had a soft spot for the holiday. Every year the night before and the day of, she would make heart-shaped sugar cookies with all her friends' names frosted on them, and she would curl up on the sofa with one of the select few romance books she really enjoyed. When their schedules allowed it, she would even have the girls visit for a sleepover. Soul would always tease her about being such a girl at this time of year, but truthfully he thought she was adorable. Even more so when she'd pout, like she had earlier tonight, and tell him to get his head out of his ass.

Little did she know he had a plan for tomorrow.

She would love to be confessed to by surprise. If he was going to do this right, he'd have to set her up to go somewhere romantic without being sure about who she was meeting, because she would always love a mystery, too.

Soul tried not to think about what would happen if she wasn't glad it was him, if she acted disappointed. He was reasonably certain that she would be happy to see him waiting, and he felt he would have to let her know one way or another or their partnership would be affected anyway, so it didn't really matter. He needed to move forward and hope for the best.

Soul sat down and wrote the note out entirely five different times before realizing another problem - Maka would immediately recognize his handwriting. He already ran the risk that she would surmise it was him, since the two of them were so close; if there was to be any hint of a genuine surprise, she absolutely could not have a clue by his handwriting.

He would have to ask for help. But from whom? Black Star would be too loud to keep it a secret, and while Kid had been working hard on his OCD lately, giving him a letter to write was just a disaster waiting to happen. He wouldn't trust the girls as far as he could throw them not to start gossiping about it. And none of it mattered anyway because she would recognize all their handwriting, too.

He sat at his desk, staring in frustration at the paper pad. He tried altering his handwriting, and couldn't do it in any sort of aesthetically pleasing way. Then he tried writing with his left hand before realizing Maka would probably not be too enamored with a valentine that looked like it had been written by a four-year-old boy.

Then he registered the low purring sound emanating from the cat sitting on his desk next to his papers. She'd been there the whole time!

"So, whatcha doing?" Blair asked, smirking.

"I- uh..."

"You're writing a seeeecret valentine, nya."

"...How are you so quiet?"

Blair ignored his question and stretched, grinning mischievously. "Maka's gonna love getting this. I wish I could see her reaction." She looked ready to jump off the desk and toward the open window before Soul stopped her.

"Blair! Wait!" he hissed. "Don't tell her! Don't say anything, just until tomorrow, okay?"

The cat stopped and flicked her tail. "Of course not. Miss B knows how to keep a secret," she sniffed.

He almost let her leave before he asked cautiously, "Hang on. Would you help me with something? With magic?"

Blair sat back on her haunches, then transformed into a human, mercifully clothed. "Maybe. What does Scythey-boy need help with tonight?"

Soul ignored her flirtatious tone. "I can't have Maka recognizing my handwriting," he said. "Is there some way you can, ah, change it so it doesn't look like mine? Or anyone else's that we know?"

"Oh, that's easy!" Blair said brightly. She pointed a finger enthusiastically at one of Soul's failed attempts at note-writing and it levitated above the desk. "This one?"

Soul nodded. "Sure, that one works."

One fervently whispered "Pum-pumpkin pencraft!" later, the note no longer had Soul's penmanship on it. It appeared in a fancy but legible calligraphic script. Soul inspected it carefully.

"Looks good," he said. "Thanks. ...Don't you dare tell Maka about this, got it?"

"Oh, come on, nya. Is that any way to thank me?" Blair purred, invading Soul's personal space for one of her infamous non-consensual hugs before morphing back into a cat at his feet.

He scowled, realizing he didn't actually have any way of ensuring that she wouldn't say anything, nor of punishing her if she did.

"Besides," she continued impishly, "Miss B wants it to be a surprise for Maka, too. You can trust me! I promise!"

Soul patted her on the head. "Ah. Thank you, Blair." He grinned. This could work. It really could.

"Do you have anything to give her when she meets you?"

"Not that it's any of your business," he answered, "but yeah. I'm trying to keep it simple, though."

"Whatever you got, Maka will love it." The cat winked. "Blair knows these things."

Soul eyed her suspiciously. Did she know something he didn't? That might be a good sign. "I hope you're right."

They were interrupted by a knock on Soul's door. "Hey Soul?" Maka shouted.

"Ah - what is it?" he stuttered, terrified that she had overheard something.

"I'm going to Tsubaki's for a while. To study. Don't wait up for me, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Don't get into trouble," he answered. He might doze off, but he wouldn't fully relax until he heard that door open as she returned.

Blair gave Soul an inscrutable smirk before disappearing out the window.

The simple, mysterious letter began:

Maka,

Happy Valentine's Day!

I need you to meet me in the park this afternoon, right after your meisters-only class. I'll be waiting there for you.

They were reaching the end of their time as students. Extra lessons for students at their high level were added every single day after school - Monday, Wednesday, and Friday involved lessons for both partners, while Tuesdays were weapons-only lessons and Thursdays were meisters-only lessons. Valentine's Day happened to fall on one of those meisters-only afternoons this year. Soul would escape school at 2:00 and Maka would be stuck there until around 3:30. He would have time to stick the letter in her locker after last period, go home, get clean, and pull himself together before going to meet her.

Normally, Maka's classroom would be on the way out so the two would walk together until she arrived and he left the building, usually going to lounge around at Deathbucks or outside somewhere until her class was over. But today Soul only pretended to leave the building, lingering outside the front door, turning back to her locker when he knew Maka would be settled in class.

Soul slipped the plain little envelope through one of the locker slats and heard a tiny clink as it fell down the front of the compartment. Maka was practically compulsive about bringing her books home and making sure she had what she needed at the end of the day. She would be sure to find it.

His heart pounded as he descended the staircase to his bike.

Maka sighed on the way back to her locker. This class had been rather draining. Often, the meisters-only classes were a little depressing, since they frequently taught lessons about how to fight temporarily if one's weapon had been disabled - something most meisters were very uncomfortable with. She would be glad to go home and relax.

She was looking forward to giving Soul the special present she'd made him. Maka was slightly nervous, worrying that he might suspect and reject her feelings, but she knew that if it had come out well he would enjoy the cake regardless of any other factors.

She would wait to see how he reacted before actually confessing.

Maka opened her locker and put away two of the books she wouldn't need tonight, exchanging them for three more that she would.

(She didn't even notice the little envelope that had fallen to the floor, face-down, with her name on the front.)

Instead of taking the usual route home, Maka made her way toward Black Star and Tsubaki's apartment. Soul's gift was in their refrigerator, where she'd left it last night - her fears about Black Star eating the cake were just slightly less than her fears of Soul finding it before he was supposed to.

It took almost an hour, all told, to get in and out of her friends' apartment. They ended up chatting for quite a while; Black Star (who had to be given credit for leaving the cake alone entirely) ended up joining in with Tsubaki, who was giving Maka an emphatic if unsolicited pep talk about how much Soul would love this.

Soul arrived at the park a little before 3:30, the time the meisters-only class should be getting out. He'd worn nicer clothes than usual - because whatever she might deny, he thought smugly, Maka definitely has a weak spot for formalwear. In his pocket was a small pendant to give her as a gift; it was a sturdy, silver-colored pair of wings, carved intricately with feather patterns and attached to a black cord. Soul thought the more important part of what was about to transpire would be his confession - but he couldn't go empty-handed.

He braced himself, assuming she would be there soon. It would be a very short walk from Shibusen to the park.

At 3:45, Soul thought he might die of suspense. He was gritting his teeth, thinking in colorful language that the class must have been kept late. He gave up standing and sat down on a bench.

A long time passed. Still she didn't appear.

It occurred to Soul that this might be a really bad sign. He sat on a bench and rested his head in his hands, heart sinking all the way to his feet. What if she'd figured out it was him and decided not to show up?

Wait - this is totally unlike Maka. She wouldn't do something so cowardly as standing someone up, including me. And if she didn't know it was me, she'd be curious to find out who the note was from.

Soul didn't know what to think. An uneasy, endlessly doubtful part of him was forever terrified of rejection despite all logical considerations; images of Maka realizing the letter was from him after all and choosing not to see him danced through his head. It also occurred to him that perhaps she had simply not received the letter. But another part realized that an emergency of some kind could keep her from showing up. Death City was usually safe, but accidents could happen. Infiltrations.

Soul stood up anxiously, head spinning, protective weapon-heart pounding, to go check for her at the apartment.

Maka made her way down Main Street with the white cake box her friends had kindly supplied.

She smiled and nodded at all the passersby she could recognize despite being as nervous as hell. Maka knew many people in the city - classmates and their parents, shopkeepers, Shibusen faculty, and random citizens and relatives of meisters and weapons.

People were starting to hustle home from work at this time. Some carried flower bouquets and Valentine gifts. She realized how strange the city during Valentine's Day must seem to outsiders. Pink, white, and red hearts decorated everything in sight, contrasting with the town's overall year-round skull theme. She remembered Valentine's Day as a child and how conflicted her feelings had been about it. On one hand, the celebratory atmosphere was enjoyable, and there was lots of chocolate. On the other hand, it celebrated romance, and she had been put off of romance for a long time thanks to her exceedingly lascivious father.

She stopped in front of a shop window. Here. A flower shop. She'd stood here pondering a couple of years ago, studying pink and red roses and tulips. She had wanted to believe in love and romance. Through all of the crap Maka's family had been subjected to, a part of her still wanted someone to feel that way about her. It had taken a while, but standing in this spot she had thought about Soul, and realized that what hurt her about her father was not about some inherent flaw in men. It was a human flaw that some humans have - including her father.

Suddenly, the sound of a familiar motorcycle engine interrupted her thoughts, and she looked up into the street to see her weapon zooming frantically in her direction. Maka stood stock-still, staring at him as he pulled up to the curb.

He was wearing a suit and tie. Soul hated suits and ties. His voice echoed in her head: "damn monkey suits..."

This was a situation she absolutely did not understand.

"Maka," he said seriously, climbing off his motorcycle. "Are you all right?"

Confused, she responded, "Ah...yes? I think? What's going on?"

He studied her for a moment, looking just as uncomfortable as she felt.

"So, how are you?" Soul finally asked. She didn't usually see him this nervous.

"You're acting really weird," Maka said. "Tell me what's happening. Do you have a-" Something in her chest constricted. "Do you have a date or something?"

"No..."

She couldn't read that expression. His eyes darted from her to the surrounding buildings and she could practically see the gears turning in his head.

"Soul?" Maka asked, now worried. "What's wrong?"

Then, with a jolt, she remembered the cake she was carrying.

Shit. Shit shit shit. Now he was back to square one, and they were in a public place.

"Just to clarify," he sighed, "did you see anything strange in your locker this afternoon?"

"Ah...no," Maka answered, confused. Her confusion did not clear when Soul raised an eyebrow dubiously.

"You're sure? Nothing unusual?"

"No, nothing at all. I just got my books and left," she said. Then she glanced at the package in her hands - he hadn't noticed this before - and held it up toward him before he had a chance to say anything.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Soul. This is for you."

"Oh...you got me something?" So smooth, Soul, great job! he thought sarcastically.

Maka wore her shy smile. His heart skipped a beat when he realized that he was the cause of it.

"Made it, actually. I hope you like it," she said, biting her lip. He felt desire twisting in his gut, even at such a simple little movement. "We didn't get a chance to taste it."

Gingerly, because he felt strange tearing into the present Maka had given him - especially in public - Soul opened the box.

Inside was a chocolate cake, thick and rich, decorated on top with an assortment of deep red strawberries.

"Whoa," he breathed. "It looks amazing."

"You think so?" Maka asked, pleased.

"Yeah, I really do," Soul said. "Thank you." He felt his anxiety start to blend with euphoria. Whatever strange things were happening, events were turning in his favor. Then he glanced around one more time, and letters on the front of a large building caught his eye: Death City Public Library. It was huge and provided reading material regarding everything but Shibusen school matters, as luxurious on the inside as on the outside. All kinds of memories came back - times Maka had dragged him there after school hours and on weekends, the isolated History of Science section she hung out in once.

"Come on," he said, grabbing the small cake box in one arm and her hand in his. He knew the perfect place to make a love confession to a bookworm, far better than any desert city park.

Maka was wondering if Soul had lost his mind entirely, because he was leading her toward the library, a place he'd vowed never to go of his own free will. Then he led her, still holding her hand, up the front stairs.

"Ah - Soul? What are you doing?"

"We're going to that section in the library that no one but you ever goes to because it's so boring," he answered from up ahead. Maka pouted, but didn't say anything because this was all very confusing and she wanted to know what would happen next.

Soul brought her to the elevators and let go of her hand to smash the button. He wouldn't look at her, instead pulling her forward once again without looking when the elevator arrived.

It felt like a long trip, but it must have taken under a minute for them to arrive in the History of Science section. He dragged her around the corner, to the back of the room, and then down the longest aisle. Back here it smelled like musty old books; the carpet was a warm reddish shade, and the books were a mixture of brand-new and decades-old volumes. There was a single plush armchair here, as in every other aisle in the entire library, with a small table, lamp, and window.

Soul did his best to look dignified and composed as he put the cake down gently on the table.

"All right. So I guess somehow, it got lost." He took a deep breath. "Maka, I left a note in your locker this afternoon. I was asking you to meet me at the park when you got out of class."

"Huh? But why didn't you just ask me to meet...oh." Her eyes widened and she covered her mouth in shock. "Was it-"

"Yeah," Soul said, meeting her eyes. "I didn't sign it because I wanted to surprise you for Valentine's Day." He pulled the pendant out of his pocket and put it in her hand, which she closed gently and reverentially around it. "This is for you. I thought you'd like it."

"Oh. Wow, that's-" Maka examined the silvery little wings for a moment and then embraced Soul tightly, surprising him a bit. Her hair tickled his chin. "That's wonderful. Thank you, Soul."

"Y-you're welcome," he mumbled, giving her a cautious hug back and hoping this meant what he thought it meant. He held her shoulders and pushed her back enough to look into her eyes.

"I thought you'd like it if I confessed to you today," he said quietly. "I thought you'd like to be surprised, and I wanted to do it right. Things didn't exactly go as planned, but actually I think this is better. Anyway, the important part of what I wanted to say before is that...Maka, you're my meister and my best friend. And I love you." He watched her face warily for her response.

Maka drew close again, positively beaming through a deeply flushed complexion. She kissed him softly, and breathed against his lips: "I love you too, Soul." Then she laughed giddily. "For a long time."

He had only ever watched actors kiss before. He'd saved this moment for Maka, and couldn't say he had any experience with making out. But he let instinct guide him as his lips slanted over hers. He tried to hold her as tightly and as gently as he could all at once, both arms wrapping her up with more tenderness than he'd known he had. She lifted her hands - they were trembling a little - and touched him all over, feeling his arms, his back, his hair.

She parted her lips, and Soul slid his tongue in, caressing hers, relishing the feel and taste of her with every fiber of his being.

Maka moaned softly and longingly, a tiny sound she couldn't control, just enough for him to hear.

Soul grinned, all crescent moons and Cheshire cats, against her mouth, and met her next kiss enthusiastically. She kissed as passionately as she did everything else in life. Soul carefully moved backward and sat in the armchair, pulling her into his lap.

She straddled his hips, held her forehead against his, and gazed into his eyes for a long, long time before kissing him again - this time not on the lips, but on his cheeks and his nose, his eyelids, his brow, all the way along his jawline. His angular shape, tan skin, and thick hair felt as strong as she wanted to be. She reached around to embrace him and let him pull her close, taking the opportunity to bury her face in his neck.

"You are such a bad influence," she muttered through a flurry of kisses. Soul laughed in his deep voice, maybe because of what she said or maybe because she was tickling him. "I would never have started making out in a public place before meeting you."

"Don't kid yourself, Maka," Soul rumbled huskily into her hair, hands rubbing her back in circles. "I always knew you had a rebellious streak."

His lopsided grin was just so tempting and she tugged on his tie as she returned for another deep kiss.

He couldn't help it. She was sitting right there on his lap. He thrust his hips forward, just a little, just enough to quench the desire.

She took to it more quickly than he had predicted, though. Maka bucked against him, once, twice, three times, and then there was maybe sort of a rhythm as they kissed deeply and grinded their hips together. Long ago in this process Soul had stopped trying to conceal his arousal, and as they rubbed together she felt it, thick and hard through his pants. His hands wandered; he palmed both of her tits before reaching along her back and grabbing her ass, helping her move in time with him.

Then they heard the ding of the elevator.

"Shit," Soul groaned. Maka instinctively rearranged herself so she was lounging sideways in his lap rather than outright humping him, and Soul was incredibly grateful that she did not leap off to leave him alone with a massive boner the elevator's occupant could notice. She plucked the nearest book from the shelves and opened it to the middle, pretending to read. Footsteps echoed away from them, and they were left alone.

Maka bit her lip, once again awakening that twisty-turny feeling in his gut, and turned to give him an ardent gaze. "Hey, Soul. Let's go home."

Friday morning, Maka found an envelope face-down in front of her locker. It had her name on it, and inside was an unsigned letter written in classy calligraphy.

"Hey Soul," she said, turning to him. "Look what I found."

"Ah jeez, Maka. It was right there. How did you miss it?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I was thinking about getting home and giving you your present."

Happy Valentine's Day, fandom. Will you be mine?