Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater. I own nothing but my computer and a dusty fan.
084: Cold
"Hey Soul, have you seen my tights anywhere?" Maka yelled as she wildly searched through her dresser. She quickly emptied her first drawer, and began to fling more clothes out from the second. The normally pristine bedroom was covered in layers of female clothing: bras, panties, skirts. However, despite her best efforts, Maka's tights were nowhere to be found.
"Soul!"
A soft grunt echoed back from the living room. Fed up with her fruitless search, Maka marched towards her partner's voice. And there he was. Slowly letting the couch shallow him alive. His feet were dangling from one end while the cushions sagged heavily underneath him. Maka smiled. He has been in that position for hours, ever since they got back home. They had just returned from a mission in Panama and only have today off, before they're shipped to their next mission in Lithuania. Lately, it's been one globe-hopping mission after another and Soul seemed to be reaching new levels of exhaustion. And that's why it really bothered Maka to pull Soul from his stupor (and not because she actually liked watching him sleep) but she really needed to find and pack those tights soon.
"Soul?" Maka softly asked as she sat down on the coffee table.
"Hmmm?" Soul muttered without opening his eyes.
"Have you seen my tights?"
"Can't say that I have." Oh good, he can still use words. Guess the couch hasn't eaten all of him yet.
Soul wearily cracked his eyes open and peered at his meister with half open eyes. Maka was still in her South America gear, which consisted of cargo shorts and a white Henley tank.
"Why do you want them?" he asked half incredulous and half still asleep.
"Don't you remember? We have a mission tomorrow in Lithuania and it's going to be freezing out there. Freezing, Soul. You know I can't take the cold very well. I need my tights and a ton of other things too. Like swe-"
"Shhhh," he admonishes while his left hand is clamped over Maka's mouth. Her eyebrows immediately jumped up and disappear into his bangs. What the hell? Did the couch eat his brain while she wasn't looking? Because there is no way in hell that-
While Maka was distracted, Soul's other hand creept to the small of her back. Soul yanked her right off the coffee table and right into his lap. Maka was firmly pressed against him. Soul's chin rested lightly on her collarbone while his hand finally releases her mouth to join the other firmly pressing on her back.
Maka is flabbergasted. She is dumbfounded. She is absolutely uncomfortable with just how comfortable she feels in his arms.
"Later…"
"Huh?"
"I said worry about the tights later," said the gush of hot air past her ear.
A million degrees, with him invading her personal space and pulling her down to snuggle on the couch, Maka felt her body heat rise to a million degrees. Fahrenheit? Celsius? Kelvin? It didn't matter. How could she ever worry about being too cold? As the couch groaned beneath their combined weight, delighted in its newest meal, Maka decided she'd let this go. Just for today, she would assume that Soul caught some sort of bizarre form of West Nile and just let him rest, using her as blanket.
And early next morning, Maka would also assume that their couch also had a taste for nylon, as well as humans. Seeing as she found all six pairs hidden under the cushions.
