He still wasn't sure how they had hooked him into this. There couldn't possibly be a less cool way to spend a Friday night. He pressed his back harder into the wall, deepening his slouch and scowling as terrible Top 40 remixes thrummed through the popcorn-and-sweat smelling air all around him.
A roller rink. A teeny-bopper, dumbass roller rink.
Okay, he lied. He knew exactly how he got hooked into this.
"Come on, they just started late-session Club Nights, so it's not like there will be little kids there," Maka had said, trying to yank him off the couch. "It'll be fun!"
"Are you kidding me right now? No fucking way."
She released his hand and folded her arms, shifting her weight and popping her hip out to one side while she looked down at him. She was already dressed in a plain white tee, blindingly orange shorts with stripes down the side, and knee socks. "Everyone will be there. Tsubaki even talked Black*Star into it."
Soul sank back into the cushion and trained his eyes on the Shark Week show he'd been watching. "Yeah? How she'd manage that?"
"There's a contest at the end. With prizes."
His eyes rolled skyward. Of course. "I'd rather watch this seal get ripped in half, to be honest."
"You've been watching seals getting torn apart for the last hour." She kicked his feet off the coffee table. "It's not like you had plans tonight."
"I have plans! They involve sharks and blood and death until I fall asleep."
"Soul."
His gaze went to her immediately. She'd used the tone, the one she used every time she called out for him to shift for a fight. It wasn't a request. It was an imperative.
"We're going out tonight." The spark in her eyes left no room for argument.
He slumped forward in defeat. "Does it have to be a skating rink?"
She smirked. "Yep. Get your jacket."
"Yeah, all right."
And now here he was, leaning against 1970s-style carpeted walls like a loser at a 10-year-old's birthday party. There were rope lights. And old-school arcade games. And a godsdamned disco ball.
Kilik flopped against the wall next to him, one slice of pizza hanging out of his mouth and a second on the plate in his hand. He took a bite of the first and chewed, following Soul's moody gaze to the rink floor, where their classmates went around and around like hamsters in a cage.
"You bring me food, buddy?" Soul asked.
"In your dreams, man. Get your own. But seriously, I didn't expect to see you here tonight. Doesn't seem like your scene."
Soul crouched down further into the popped collar of his leather jacket. "It's not. What're you doing here?"
He raised his slice of pizza. "Free slice with admission. I don't turn down free food."
"Is it still free if you had to pay to come in to eat it?"
"Free enough."
Another crappy pop song forced its way through the ancient sound system. A piercing "WATCH THIS!" cut through the music as Black*Star speed-skated backwards and did a backflip in the middle of the floor, nearly beaning someone right in the brain box with his skate. His cackles filled the room while Kid skated between Liz and Patty with ease, looking annoyed and trying to synchronize their movements.
Kilik swallowed his latest bite. "You gonna go skate?"
"There is no possible way in hell anything's going to get me out there."
Maka naturally chose that moment to skate up out of nowhere and make a liar out of him, catching her wheels on the edge of a rug and stumbling before righting herself. It never ceased to amaze him how she could be so graceful and still manage to trip over almost anything. She held up another pair of skates and he groaned.
She shook them at him with a grin. "You didn't think I was going to just let you stand here and sulk all night, did you?"
"I just agreed to play pool with Kilik. We were about to head over. Right?" He turned pleading eyes to the taller boy, who just laughed.
"Sorry, dude, I promised Ox the next game." He tossed his plate in a nearby trash can and walked off.
Soul bared his teeth at Kilik's retreating back. Traitor. He couldn't really blame him, though. Crossing Maka was bad for your health. Mostly the health of your skull.
"Here." She shoved the skates into his abdomen and he instinctively grabbed them. Then she squatted down and started untying his left shoe, her own skate-clad feet wobbling beneath her a little as she tried to keep her balance without winding up flat on her ass.
"Are you for real?" he said, trying to give a little kick to shake her off. Her hands gripped his ankle to keep his foot in place.
"You're taking forever. I'm just speeding things along."
She'd never leave him alone. Maybe if he did a couple of loops he could get away with hiding in the arcade for the rest of the night. He sighed and looked at the cracked, worn leather of the skates in his hands. The wheels were giant and orange and ridiculous.
"Are these even my size?" He checked. "Oh. They are."
"Of course they are." She put pressure on his shin so he'd lift his leg and she could take his shoe off. "You think I don't know your shoe size?"
Her face, which had been trained on his feet, rose to look up at him as she started undoing the knots of his other shoe. There was something about her looking up at him like that, crouched down, with those pigtails, so very close. It sent an unexpected wave of heat through him.
He nudged her away. "Fuck, cut it out, I can put on my own skates. You're not my mom."
She was so very not his mom.
Instinctively, he offered his hand so she could grab it and pull herself upright. She gripped it in both of hers as she got up, steadying her balance before letting go.
He picked up his discarded shoe and walked to a nearby bench so he could sit and get his skates on, grumbling all the while. "I could be watching the Megalodon special right now."
"You can't fool me," she said, balancing with a hand on his shoulder while he worked. "You can pretend to everyone else that you like to watch those shows for the guts and glory, but I know you're a secret nerd for shark facts."
He scoffed. "I think you're projecting."
"I don't even get it. You've seen that Great White in Jaws once, you've seen them all."
Annoyance snapped in his head like a rubber band and he tied his last knot way tighter than necessary. "They're not called Great Whites, they're just White Sharks, and they can dive down thousands of feet and then swim to the surface at twenty miles per hour to throw a 1200 pound sea lion up in the air like a rag doll and they can eat corroded metal without batting a godsdamned eye which is mostly because they don't have eyelids but the point stands."
He fumed up at her only to find that she was giggling silently into the back of her hand.
"Shut up."
"Nerd," she laughed.
"They are the noble living fossils of the deep and they are VERY COOL, okay?"
"Okay."
This time, she offered her hand so he could get up. One foot immediately slipped out from under him and he had to grab the length of her arm to stay standing. These fuckers were trickier to control than he remembered them being ten years ago, which is the last time he had ever been in roller skates are you serious.
"You are the worst kind of person for making me do this," he growled at her.
"I know," she agreed, arm wrapped around his torso to keep him steady.
Black*Star slammed into the waist-high wall in front of them, his breath coming out in a whoosh. He banged his hands against the wall in a furious drumbeat.
"Soul, come on dude, everyone in this place is killing me. I've lapped them all a million times already. They can't handle my unbelievable speed and skating prowess. I need a real challenge. Challenge me, bro. Do it!"
Tsubaki slid up beside him near the opening that marked the rink floor's entrance, gliding to a perfect stop. "He's not going to rest until he's beaten everyone, so the sooner you say yes, the better." With a soft smile, she reached her hand out to Maka.
Maka released Soul's ribs and let her friend pull her back onto the floor, stumbling just a little when she had to step up. He felt suddenly unsure on his own feet, very mindful of the warm band around his chest where her arm had been holding him in place. But he wasn't about to show it.
This was probably going to be a mistake.
He pointed directly at Black*Star. "I challenge you to a race around the rink. Three laps. No tricks, no flips, no fancy footwork. Just pure speed. Think you can handle it?"
Black*Star threw his arms in the air and whooped to the flashing lights on the ceiling. "CHALLENGE ACCEPTED."
Thankfully, Black*Star was too distracted doing squats and stretches to notice Soul stumble in the exact same place Maka had before he made it onto the floor. He grabbed the wall and she and Tsubaki snickered next to him.
"Shutupyou'restillthefuckingworst," he muttered.
A minute later, he and Black*Star we crouched in a runner's start position, ready to push off. As if sensing imminent disaster, the other skaters cleared a path, either by flattening themselves against the outer wall or leaving the floor entirely. A group of people sat in the middle of the rink to watch.
Shit. He felt a bead of sweat trail down the side of his face. Be cool. Maka caught his eye and gave him an encouraging thumbs up. A smile tugged at his mouth.
Tsubaki gave the countdown and they were off. He half expected to immediately catch his skate and do a flying faceplant, but somehow, miraculously, he found his rhythm before it happened. Rocking back and forth, he kept picking up speed. He even remembered how to turn. He'd known from the start that he'd had no shot against Black*Star in a speed race, but he was holding his own pretty well.
In the end, he won on a technicality.
"We agreed… no… tricks," he panted, leaning up against the half-wall next to Maka and trying to keep his feet from going out from under him.
"That's a bullshit rule and you know it," Black*Star said as he poked Soul with an accusatory finger. He was barely even winded. "You can't deny the people what they want, and what they want is to see me being awesome, as usual."
Soul managed a toothy grin. "Tsubaki?"
Tsubaki shrugged. "Sorry, Black*Star. Those were the rules."
"Aaaaaargh fine, losers. Take your phony win. We all know I'm still the best."
"You're still the best," the rest of them chanted back at him. It was enough to appease him, and soon enough all the skaters were back on the floor, doing lazy loops to some ballad or another.
Maka dragged Soul back out onto the floor after he'd had a rest. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but it was kind of fun, in a completely pathetic way.
The DJ's voice crackled over the music. "All right, young things, it's time to grab your partner for a couple's skate. Take someone's hand!"
He didn't even think about it beyond the word "partner." He just instinctively removed his hand from his pocket and reached out, expectant, because he knew she'd be there. When his brain finally caught up to the actual implication of a "couple's skate" he tried to take his hand back, but he was too late. Because she was there. She was always there.
Maka's hand slid naturally into his, the most familiar feeling in his world. He chanced a glance at her to see… he didn't know, to see if she was blushing or some shit because she got the wrong idea. She wasn't. She just smiled and skated alongside him, matching her movements to his.
The main lights dimmed low, sending the disco ball's reflections scattering over the rink like broken glass. A familiar radio hit with very suggestive lyrics pumped through the air and Soul felt like curling up a dying a little. He looked around to see who else was still on the floor. It looked like most of the pairs were meister-weapon. There were very few actual couples. He relaxed. Maka wrapped her other hand around his forearm, skating closer. It felt nice.
The song stopped and they slowed. He looked at her again and caught the disco ball's light dancing across her skin, her shirt, her legs.
He let go of her hand and pointed over his shoulder. "I'm gonna… go. Do the thing. Arcade. I saw Black*Star."
"Okay. I'm going to keep skating." She punched him gently on the arm and went off for another circuit.
Free at last, he thought, ignoring the little thread still pulling him back to the floor. He found his shoes and removed the skates, turning them in at the rental desk before wandering around to find Black*Star, who was, in fact, in the arcade.
He and Kid were battling it out over some old-school street fighting game. Kid would get too wrapped up in attempting to pull off perfectly executed combos while Black*Star soundly pummeled him into the ground.
"Victorious again!" Black*Star shouted, fists in the air. "You owe me nachos. I'll wait here."
Liz and Patty both tossed an arm around Kid's shoulders as he skulked off toward the snack bar.
"It's okay," Liz said. "I'll let you braid my hair if you want."
"Twin braids?" Kid said. "Perfectly symmetrical?"
"Sure."
Soul slumped into his usual wall-lean next to his friend.
"You up for a game?" Black*Star said, taking a swig from his styrofoam cup.
"Nah, I don't think my ego could take another loss."
Black*Star nodded sagely. "You have to be strong of character to go up against me, that's for sure."
They shot the shit until Kid returned with Black*Star's nachos, which they all shared.
He wondered what Maka was up to. She'd been out there for a while. He lazily scanned the floor and found her leaning over the wall and talking to… someone. He couldn't tell who. A tall boy with dark hair and glasses. Maka's usual friendly smile played across her face and she laughed at something he said. He touched her arm.
Soul didn't even realize how deeply he'd been scowling until he turned his attention back to the group. They'd been chatting, but now they were all looking at him. He quickly rearranged his face into his usual mask of bored indifference. Liz and Patty smirked to one another while Kid tapped his chin, apparently deep in thought.
"What?" Soul said.
"Nothing," the Thompson sisters said in unison.
"What?"
Black*Star clapped him on the shoulder. "You, my friend, need to get- ow." Tsubaki had smacked him upside the head. "- yourself a drink." He rubbed the impact site. "Jesus. I was gonna tell the guy he needs a drink."
Soul pointed at the large cup in his friend's hand. "You put booze in that?"
"Never leave for a night out without it."
Once he had confirmation, he snatched the cup and took several healthy swallows before the burning caught up with him. He drew it away from his mouth, sputtering and shoving it back at Black*Star. Everything tasted hot and antiseptic and slightly of pine.
"What -" Cough. "The fucking -" Cough. "Hell is that?"
"Gin, I think." Black*Star opened his nearby pack and pulled out a good-sized bottle of something. "Yep, gin."
"Straight gin?! Death almighty, I thought you poured a flask into your soda. Who the fuck drinks gin straight?" He wiped his tongue against the back of his hand.
"The great Black*Star does. I have the tastes of a god. Go big or go home, bro."
Soul's stomach clenched, threatening to send the liquor straight back up, but he fought it down. His mouth still tasted like pine needles. He made a noise like "whaglahbruhglabluh" as he spit into the nearest trashcan and tried not to gag.
"Are you all right?" Tsubaki's voice sounded concerned and came from somewhere in the vicinity of his right shoulder.
"Blarghglbleargh," he responded, spitting again.
She came around to stand beside him, holding out a tin of mints, which he gratefully accepted. He popped two in his mouth. After a minute, they seared away the godsawful aftertaste and settled his stomach.
The room was already starting to blur a little as he rejoined the group. Patty had a cup of her own and looked happy as a clam, sipping and kicking her feet from where she sat on a nearby table. Kid was leaning away from the bottle Black*Star offered him, looking mildly offended.
"I'd rather not," he said. "I prefer to keep my faculties intact. Alcohol makes the world all… wibbly-wobbly."
Soul grinned and thought that description was pretty spot-on. Everything was certainly developing a tilt to it.
By the time Maka joined up with them a few minutes later, he was in a very good mood.
"Hi Maka. Hiiiiiiii Maka."
She looked him up and down. "Hi, Soul."
"My head's so heavy. Duzzit feel heavy to you?" He thunked his head down onto her shoulder. "S'heavy, right?"
She pushed him off. "Why do you smell like peppermint and Pine Sol?"
He cupped his hand over his nose and mouth and breathed heavily into it to smell his breath. "S'not that bad."
"Oh my gods, Black*Star, did you give him something? You know what a lightweight he is!"
Black*Star shrugged. "I wouldn't say I GAVE it to him, exactly."
"Hey! 'M not a lightweight!" He did his best to look affronted.
She rolled her eyes. "I know you're very concerned about your coolness factor here, but even I have a higher alcohol tolerance than you." She turned back to the group. "I think that makes it a night for us, guys. I'd better get him home."
"You guys aren't even going to stay to witness me annihilate the competition in the contest?" Black*Star said.
Maka laughed. "You can give us the highlights tomorrow."
She hugged Tsubaki and they said their goodbyes. Soul wasn't feeling too broken up about leaving early. It'd been more fun than he expected, but he hadn't been kidding about the heaviness in his head. How did it even stay on his neck?
They'd walked to the rink from their apartment, so the way back wasn't too difficult. Soul kept lilting off to one side or the other and Maka either pulled his sleeve or nudged him back onto the right path.
"Hey Maka," he asked when they were climbing the stairs, which took most of his concentration. "Who whuzzat guy you were talkin' to?"
She put her keys in the lock, turned them, and pushed their door open. "Which guy?"
"The one at the rink. With the hair. And the shirt." He kicked his shoes off and let her help him wriggle out of his jacket.
She hung it up on the hook. "That's very specific."
"You knoooooow, the guy. He had glasses." Glasses was a funny word. It was hard to say.
"Just someone from my study group. He was telling me about the comedy show he went to see over the weekend." She searched Soul's face warily. "With his boyfriend."
He would not smile. He would not smile. "Oh. S'cool."
She sighed and helped guide him across the living room. He flopped back onto the couch, head lolling on his neck. She leaned down to adjust the cushions and he reached out to wrap one of her pigtails around his fingers.
"Y'look like somebody. From'n old movie."
"Uh huh," she said, disentangling his fingers from her hair.
He waved his hand over her ensemble. "What wuzza movie? She was dressed like you. Jus' like this." He titled his head to the side and inspected her, trying to clear the fog in his mind. It was a wisp of a scene, a girl in roller skates with blonde hair hanging past her shoulders.
Maka stood and walked to the kitchen to get down a glass. She rose up onto her tiptoes, reaching high.
The character's name was on the tip of his tongue and he tried to get it out. "Roll-something. Roll… chick. Rollgirl. Rollergirl!" He snapped his fingers. "Thazzit!"
She paused before filling the glass at the sink. Her head turned to him very slowly. "What?"
"Rollergirl! Y'know, the chick from that movie. What wuzzat movie? Black*Star lent it to me once…" He squeezed his eyes shut. "There was that girl, and a guy, and it was in the 70's, and…" The scene came clear in his head and his eyes snapped open.
Maka was now leaning against the counter with a glass full of water, looking at him through narrowed eyes. "Yes, Soul? What movie is that?"
"Nothin'. Never mind. Can't remember."
"Are you sure?"
Instinctively, he curled his legs up in front of him on the couch, protecting vital organs. "Nope. Dunno."
"Because it sounded like you just compared me to Rollergirl from Boogie Nights."
He groaned and covered his head with both arms. "How d'you even know about that?" he said, his voice muffled.
"I know pop culture references, dummy."
"I dinnit mean… tha's not… you just LOOK like… cuz of the…" He groaned again as he felt her sink into the seat next to him. "Not th' face this time."
She put a hand on his arm and pulled, and he reluctantly came uncurled, expecting her fist at any second. Instead, she held out the glass of water to him.
"Drink," she commanded.
He blinked and took the glass, watching her warily as he took several pulls of water. She just leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, watching him.
"Why're you bein' so cool right now?" he asked.
"Because you're drunk and I'd rather not deal with your whiny ass asking me to make greasy food for your extra-large headache in the morning. Drink the whole thing."
He complied, and she automatically got up to get him another, which she also made him drink. She brought back a bowl of popcorn with glass number three.
"Whazzat for?" he asked, even as he grabbed a handful.
"We're going to watch your stupid shark shows until you fall asleep."
He smirked. He couldn't help it. "I don't need you to take care of me."
"You'd be lost without me," she said, snatching up the remote and flipping the TV on.
It was true, and he knew it, but he wasn't about to let her have the satisfaction of knowing. Instead, they ate popcorn and watched sharks swimming through deep blue until the heaviness in his head gave way to that special sort of sleepiness brought on by alcohol. His nodded onto his chest. Without really thinking about it, he moved the bowl from between them and laid down with his head in her lap. Her hand rested along his jawline as she rubbed slow circles behind his ear with her thumb. He thought he'd probably start purring if he could.
He chuckled a little at the thought floating in the thick dark that comes just before sleep. Then he was gone.
Only his subconscious felt her shift out from beneath him, slipping a piano-patterned cushion under his head to replace her. She almost walked away, but on a sudden whim, she bent down and planted a soft kiss on his temple.
"Goodnight, you idiot."