The Things I Do

"Looks like I'll need to cook for a while, by the looks of your hands…"

"This sucks," Maka grumbles as I lead her into our apartment with my arm held loosely around her waist to keep her steady. She'd been complaining ever since we went to the infirmary after our battle with Free of the immortal clan. "How am I supposed to study like this?" she wails, lifting her arms and staring pitifully at the thick bandages wrapped around both of her hands.

I roll my eyes. "That's what you're worried about?" I scoff, though I'm really not all that surprised. She's nothing short of ridiculous when it comes to school. "I would've thought you'd be more worried about bathing or something," I add, my eyes grazing down the length of her body. Her clothes are all buttons and buckles. How did she expect to get dressed and undressed while her hands healed? If she asked Blair, the pesky cat would just force her into some crazy lingerie or carbaret clothes. That would be embarrassing to see.

"Studying is just as important!" Maka shouts, still whining. "The Super Written Exams are coming up. Unlike you, some of us actually want to do well."

"Whatever," I mumble, focusing my attention on helping her sit down on the floor. She keeps her arms wrapped around my neck, making it an awkward dance between us—me struggling to set her down gently and not fall on top of her, and her trying to keep the slightest pressure away from her hands. I have to brace my hands on the floor, one on each side of her waist, to keep myself from crushing her beneath my weight. "You okay?" I ask, backing away and kneeling in front of her.

She nods in response. Her cheeks turn pink. "Umm, could you help me?" Her gaze drifts down to her boots, then back up to me.

I let out a sigh. "Just for today. Since it was partly my fault our wavelengths didn't match."

"Sorry," she murmurs, lowering her head as I lean forward to take her boots off. "Thanks," she whispers, so softly I can barely hear it. I take hold of her arms and help her stand up again.

"What do you want for dinner?" I ask, sauntering into the kitchen and opening the fridge to inspect the contents.

Maka pauses on her way to her room and turns to look at me, confused. "Anything is fine. But don't you want to bathe first?"

"Nah," I tell her. I actually do, but she's worse off than I am. I don't mind waiting. "You can take a bath. I'll cook."

Her brows furrow and she glances away from me. "You can just order takeout," she mutters.

I glance over at her questioningly. "Is that all right? I thought you wanted me to cook nice dinners for you. Seaweed wrapper specials, you know," I chuckle.

She doesn't laugh or even get mad and resort to a painful Maka Chop for bringing up the seaweed wrapper dinner she'd given me when we were at odds with each other. She just nods her head and disappears from sight into her room. At least we're getting along better than before. Looking at her burned hands is painful for me, like looking at the scar on my chest is for her. I don't ever want to cause her that sort of pain again.

I slump down into the couch, rubbing the back of my neck and letting out a sigh. Sometimes it just didn't feel right, how the meister always took so much damage in battle while the weapon just acted as an extension of meister's attacks. Sometimes I almost wish that I was the meister instead. But I know that our partnership is perfect the way it is. Maka is strong. I know she can handle anything that comes her way. And I'm content being by her side and helping her achieve her goals.

Thinking of Maka brings an idea to mind. I reach for the phone on the coffee table and dial a familiar number.

"Hello?" Tsubaki answers on the other end.

"Hey, it's Soul—" I'm cut off by Black Star's obnoxious laughter.

"NYAHA! Tsubaki! Someone is calling to praise my outstanding work today, right?!"

"Ah, no—" I hear her say before the phone is apparently taken from her.

"Hey! I'm the amazing Black Star! Want my autograph?"

"Shut up, you dumbass," I snap, even though I'm grinning. "I was talking to Tsubaki."

"Aww! It's just Soul!" Black Star whines. The shrill sound of it hurts my ear and I have to pull the phone away for a second. "Hey, how's Maka?" Black Star adds, more serious now. As stupid as he could be, at least he was dedicated to his comrades.

"She's fine. Put Tsubaki back on."

"Don't come crying to me when you regret not talking to the great Black Star! Nyahahaha—ow!"

I stifle a laugh, knowing he'd probably just been struck by a shuriken to the forehead.

Tsubaki comes back on the line. She's apologetic as always. "Soul? Sorry about that. So why did you call?"

"Uh…" Suddenly, this whole idea of mine seems kind of embarrassing. I clear my throat, debating if I should just give up now. They were probably really exhausted too. They'd been with us when we battled Free, after all. Might as well play it safe. "Are you busy right now?" I ask.

"I'm cooking dinner. But I can make time for you," she says cheerfully.

This just wasn't cool at all. I sigh again and lean back against the couch. "Maka told me to order takeout," I mutter. If it was Black Star, he wouldn't have understood what I was trying to say. He'd just stay there stupidly on the other end in silence and then ask me what that had to do with anything. But this is Tsubaki. She would understand right away.

"Oh! Well, I'm making beef stew, so there's going to be a lot even for Black Star and me," she says. "I was planning on saving the leftovers but I can bring some over to you guys, if you want."

"That would be great," I smile, relieved. At least she's not making me feel uncool for making this lame request.

"Okay! I'll come over soon. Bye, Soul."

"See ya."

I hang up, toss the phone back on the table, and rest my arm over my eyes. What was I doing? I could make any number of excuses as to why I didn't order takeout and called Tsubaki instead. Takeout would cost money, it wasn't good for your health, the food itself wasn't that tasty, Maka might have wanted something specific to eat. Plenty of excuses. But that's all they were. Excuses.

I know that Maka doesn't really like takeout. That she only said it because she feels bad about making me do all this stuff for her because of an injury. I know she likes Tsubaki's cooking and that having friends around will make her smile. Those are the reasons I did what I did.

So why did that make me feel so agitated?

It must be exhaustion.

I pick myself up and head for my room, intending to take off at least my coat and socks while I wait for the bath. As soon as I step into the hallway, Maka collides headfirst into my chest. My hands reach for her shoulders automatically. "Hey. Watch where you're going, klutz," I tease.

She doesn't lift her head. "Sorry," she mumbles. I hear her sniffle.

"Maka?" I exclaim worriedly, without even thinking. I lean down to meet her eyes, but she spins her head away from me. "Maka, look at me," I command. She doesn't listen. Of course she doesn't.

I put my hand on her cheek and turn her face towards me. She's beet red. Her hair is loose and tousled. There are tears in her eyes and falling down her cheeks. I feel an ache in my chest. I hate it when she cries. "What happened, Maka?" I ask, wiping her tears with my thumb.

"Nothing. I'm fine," she snaps, keeping her gaze on the floor.

I roll my eyes at her stubbornness and let her go. She brushes past me and into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. She can be such a pain sometimes. I lean back against the doorframe of her room, shoving my hands into my pockets. That's when I notice her black coat lying on the floor rather than being neatly tucked away somewhere. Beside it are a pair of scissors and two broken hair-ties.

So that's what happened.

"Dummy. You could've asked for help," I murmur.

She really was a pain.

I drape her coat over the back of the chair at her desk, put the scissors into the desk drawer, and throw the hair ties in the garbage. I only do it so that she won't get annoyed or upset when she sees them again. That's all.

…

Maka finds me dozing off on the floor in my room when she's finished with her bath. "Soul, I'm done!" The smell of her soap and shampoo reaches me before I finally open my eyes. She's crouched down next to me, so close I can feel the warmth radiating off her skin. "If you sleep here, you'll catch a cold, stupid," she says, smiling at me as though I'm hopeless.

Maybe I am.

I grin back at her, leaning forward so that our foreheads nearly touch. "I thought stupid people can't catch colds. Isn't that why you've never had one?"

She gapes at me in disbelief. "Soul, you idiot!" she shouts, punching my shoulder. Really dumb move on her part. "Ow!" she cries out, gently cradling her burnt hands. She whimpers softly. "You jerk."

"It's not my fault," I say, defending myself. But she looks so pitiful with her eyes watering and her lip trembling that I just can't leave her alone. Funny how she acted so tough on the battlefield, but so weak around me. Not that I minded too much. It had to hurt after all. "Come on," I sigh, grabbing her arm to help her stand. "Let's bandage you up again."

I set her down on the couch and get the ointment and bandages I'd left in the foyer. She uses her arm to wipe away the tears she'd let fall while I had my back turned. I pretend not to notice and sit beside her.

The skin of her hands is warm to the touch. I can feel it even as I'm rubbing the cooling ointment into her palm and over each of her fingers. She hisses and closes her eyes, then lets out a sigh of relief as I start wrapping bandages around her left hand, then her right.

"Thanks," she whispers, looking down at my own hands as they work.

"If you're going to say thanks for every single thing I do while your hands heal, I'd prefer it if you didn't say thanks at all," I say bluntly, earning a sharp look from her.

"Fine," she pouts. "If that's what you want."

"It is. Stuff like saying thank you and I'm sorry should be meaningful, you know. If you say it too much, it loses its meaning." I smile at the pensive expression on her face and wipe my ointment-covered finger over her nose.

She gasps and wipes it away immediately. "Soul! That's not fair! I can't even Maka Chop you!"

"Then I'll use this time to get back for all those Maka Chops."

"No way!"

The shocked look on her face is priceless. Laughing, I head back out into the hallway to take a bath myself.

"You're so mean, Soul!" I hear Maka exclaim as I shut the door to the bathroom.

Mean, huh? She must have some crazy, convoluted definition for the word mean. After all the things that I've done for her.

Oh well. That's my meister.

…

Tsubaki and Black Star are there just as I finish my bath. I know because I hear Black Star's laugh echoing throughout the entire house and the resounding thud of the dictionary Tsubaki Maka Chops him with in Maka's stead. Maybe inviting them to come over wasn't the best idea.

I wait a good minute or two before daring to come out of the bathroom. "Excuse me for intruding," I murmur with the towel over my head, trying to make an escape into my room.

Maka is already there, leaning against the doorframe. She knew me too well. "This is your idea of takeout?" she drawls, gesturing with her head to sight of Tsubaki setting a big pot on the stove while Black Star posed on top of the table and rattled off some rant of personal glory, how honored we were to have his presence here this evening, and how our apartment couldn't hold someone as big as him so he'd have to leave shortly.

I shrug, floundering for words or one of those many excuses I'd come up earlier. I had pretty good ones, I know. I just can't think of them. Instead of anything reasonable, I just end up saying "Surprise?" and get kicked in the shin.

"Dummy," she says as she walks past me with a tiny smile on her lips.

I chuckle as I rub my aching shin. "You're welcome."

Tsubaki already has the table set when I show up. She smiles up at me cheerfully. "Good evening, Soul. I hope you don't mind if we join you."

"Not at all," I grin and take my seat next to Maka.

Black Star stands up abruptly and slams his foot onto the table, rattling the dishes. "You should feel lucky that I, Black Star, have agreed to share my table with the likes of you!" he announces, brandishing his spoon in the air.

"It's not your table," Maka mutters from her chair directly across from him.

He ignores her, of course. "And you should feel even more honored that I have accepted the task of feeding the weak who have no chance of ever becoming as great as me! Nyahaha!"

"What are you talking about?" Maka, Tsubaki, and I all ask at the same time.

We get our answer soon enough. Black Star dips his spoon into his bowl, leans across the table, and shoves the spoon in Maka's mouth.

There's silence. Absolute silence. All I see is the image of Maka's wide-eyed, pink-cheeked, mortified expression and the spoon Black Star has stuck in her mouth as though she's a baby.

"B-Black Star," Tsubaki stammers, her face paling. "Didn't you already use that spoon?"

"Hmm? Oh yeah. I did. Haha!"

Tsubaki's face turns a bright shade of red. "Black Star! That's an indirect kiss!"

"What?" He looks down at Maka again, baffled. "Indirect…" His eyes widen. "Kiss?!" he screams.

I can't hold it in anymore. I burst into laughter.

"Maka! Give me back my indirect kiss!" Black Star shouts, looking disgusted and horrified by the whole thing.

"You're the one who did that on your own! Don't blame me! I hate it as much as you do!"

I laugh even louder, tears building up in the corners of my eyes, and hit the table with my fist. It's just too funny.

"Liar! You just wanted to steal an indirect kiss from the great Black Star! Admit it! That's why you lured me here!"

"You came here on your own! I had nothing to do with it!"

"You two, please stop," Tsubaki mumbles, although she looks equally mortified by what just happened.

They continue arguing pointlessly, which was to be expected. My laughter dies down and I wipe the tears from my eyes. Tsubaki gives up on trying to stop them, so the two of us just quietly take a bite of the beef stew and ignore the chaos around us.

"Wow. This is really good," I say.

Somehow my words end the argument. Maka and Black Star end up staring at me for a second before Black Star breaks out into a huge grin. "Right, Soul? That's because she's my weapon. Hehe." He steals Maka's untouched spoon and immediately begins devouring everything in his bowl.

Maka stares sullenly at hers.

I watch her for a moment, then ask, "Do you want a different spoon?"

She pouts. "Not really."

"Hmm." I replace the spoon in her bowl with my own and use Black Star's instead.

She continues pouting for a little while more before she awkwardly picks up the spoon and starts to eat.

I notice Tsubaki smiling sweetly at us and lower my head, hiding my own grin. Sometimes I wonder what I got myself into when I offered to play my song for someone who knows nothing about music. Partners. Sometimes I wonder if I'm a housemaid, or a babysitter, or a parent. But it's a nice life, all the same.

…

After Black Star and Tsubaki leave, Maka lies down on the couch with a book while I finish cleaning up in the kitchen. In the middle of cleaning, I keep glancing over at her. There's just something off about her appearance. As much as I try to figure out what it is, I can't seem to put my finger on it.

"Soul, is something wrong?" she asks after I glance back at her for about the tenth time.

Now that she's facing me, I think I know the problem. "Maka, did you comb your hair?"

Her eyes widen. "Does it look bad?"

"It's messy."

She groans and tries to smooth it down with her bandaged hands. "I thought it would be a pain to comb it, so I didn't," she admits with a blush reddening her cheeks.

Absently, I scratch the back of my neck. "Do you…want me to do it for you?" I ask. I'm not even sure why I offered. But it's out already. And her hair really is messy.

"Eh?" She whirls her head around to face me, embarrassed by the question. "Y-you don't have to," she stammers, averting her gaze back down to her book. "I'll be fine. Just deal with my messy hair!"

Yeah. I expected her to say that. So, as soon as I finish washing the dishes and putting everything away, I grab the comb out of her room and force her to make room for me on the couch.

"I said you didn't have to," she grumbles.

"Shut up."

I lean forward, running the comb down her back, gently tugging at the knots in her hair. The many knots in her hair. "You should've told me about this earlier," I say tightly, trying to comb her hair without hurting her too badly.

"How do you think I feel?" she retorts, her voice just as strained as she leans her head back to prevent me from pulling at her hair too much. "That's why I said you didn't have to do it."

But I do it anyway. Because I know it'll bother her in the morning. Once the knots are gone, her hair is silky to the touch. I'd never noticed before. Obviously because I didn't go around touching her hair. Geez, what was I thinking?

"Ah, that reminds me. I'm not going to have to make your pigtails in the morning, am I?" I ask, tapping her head lightly with the comb. Her shoulders tense up and she turns her head robotically. The skeptical look she gives me makes me feel uneasy. "What?"

"You're kidding, right?" Maka frowns. "If you do my hair, Kid will spend a whole hour fixing it."

I roll my eyes. "No, he won't."

Maka raises a questioning eyebrow.

I grin. "He'd spend three hours fixing it," I tell her.

Both of us start laughing. Maka leans back into my shoulder and I lean back into the couch, instinctively lowering my head towards hers as we laugh.

I think, maybe, it's for moments like these that I do the things I do.

But then again, what do I know?

…

The next morning when I do Maka's hair, Kid practically explodes when he sees her and ties her down to a chair to spend three hours making it perfectly symmetrical. Needless to say, she refuses to let me do her hair ever again. Though she still makes me comb it after her bath.

Oh well. These are just the things I do.

Author's Note: After the rather lackluster ending of Soul Eater, I decided to upload this story I've been developing for a while. It's collection of side-stories concerning our favorite meister and weapon pair, Maka and Soul, told from Soul's point of view. These side-stories, all imagined by yours truly, occur "behind the scenes" throughout the manga series. So if you haven't read the whole manga series, things might get a little confusing and there will be spoilers. For those who have, I'll include direct quotes from the manga which will roughly show when the side-story is taking place. I only have about five or six of these planned out, and the next installment occurs much later chronologically than this first one. If you have ideas for any more, I'd be glad to hear them.

The relationship between Maka and Soul is a strong one and many of the things they do for each other shows hints of deeper feelings. It's those feelings that I'm going to be fleshing out a little more, by adding this small collection of private moments between the two. And then, for the end of this fanfiction, I hope to create a much better SoMa moment than the one presented at the end of the manga. But we'll just have to wait and see...

Thank you for reading!