A/N: Mini SoulxMaka drabble. Featuring Daddy!Soul and Mama!Maka. Hope you like :)
The girl marched towards the formal living room with a steely resolve and rumbling stomach. Her father sat slouched on his piano bench, eyeing the handwritten piece hungrily. His fingers relayed the end of the third measure as he felt a tug on his shoulder. Engrossed in his music, he ignored it. A small strawberry blond pigtail tickled his back as the little girl continued poking her father to get his attention. He managed to reach the end of the page before surrendering to the tiny fingers that prodded his sides.
"You need something, bunny?" Bianca pouted at his use of her nickname, which she deemed too babyish now that she was six. He said her little pigtails reminded her of a bunny (and of her mother until she turned sixteen).
"Dad! I'm hungry!" Bianca declared, confident that that would relay the message.
Unfortunately, her dad was a dork - a dork who refused to be ordered around by two stubborn blondes in his own house.
"Hi, Hungry. I'm Dad," he replied, patting her clumsily on the head. She stomped her foot down angrily - she was so eerily similar to her mother.
"Dad, I'm serious!"
Soul faked innocence, giving her his best look of confusion. "I thought your name was Hungry?"
"Daaaaaad!"
A miniature but persistent set of hands began assaulting Soul's shoulders - again.
Here we go, thought the disgruntled father - again caught between the lack of motivation to get up from his piano and his chivalrous tendency to fetch something for a girl that she could easily get herself. The plastic glasses are literally in the bottom cabinet and the fridge is within her reach. But noooo, mini-Maka wants juice, doesn't she? he thought as he craned his neck to look at his little daughter.
Her hands were tucked into the pockets of her denim dress, and Shinigami pins adorned her pigtails. "Dad! I'm thirsty!" she demanded.
Soul put on a maniac grin for her. "Hi, Thirsty! I'm Friday! Let's go to Saturday for a sundae!"
She was unfazed. Shoot, she must have heard that one before.
"Daaaaaaad!" she complained, crossing her arms. "I'm sick of your jokes! And I want some - " She stopped mid-sentence, and Soul raised an eyebrow at her. "Wait, can I actually get some ice cream?"
He shook his head. "Nope, you haven't had dinner yet, Thirsty."
"Daaaaaad!" He ignored her and began returning to his piano. "DAD!"
His index finger barely grazed a key when she threatened, "If you don't get me a drink, I'll get Mama to chop you!"
His hand shot up to his tufts of white hair in reflex, rubbing the ghost of thousands of bruises on his head. He sighed, "Bunny, you can reach your glasses and the water, get it yourself."
The bunny narrowed its eyes and stomped her foot down. "Daddy! There are no glasses! All I want is some water, but I can't find any of my glasses!"
"Wha - " it took Soul a second to process but he then yelped, "Crap, I forgot to empty the dishwasher!" before hightailing out of the living room and into the kitchen. Bianca rolled her eyes at her forgetful father and took a tentative his seat at the piano bench.
"Hey, Maka."
Maka continued flipping pancakes as she peered at the disheveled mess of spiky white hair and pajamas sprawled across the sofa. He had woken up in their bed earlier than she had, yet he insisted on bringing his iPod to the sofa before breakfast to listen to the music he claimed "energized him for the day" - without getting cleaned up, of course.
"Yeah?" she replied, pouring another puddle of batter onto the skillet.
"I know you're sick of all my dad jokes." His eyes remained closed, as if he were still asleep.
Maka sighed, "Honestly, I think Bianca is suffering the most."
Mock offended, Soul clutched his chest, feigning injury. "Ouch. I thought she loved my jokes."
Maka smirked. "Maybe half of the time, Daddy Soul."
He stuck his tongue at his wife childishly, and she giggled as she untied her apron. "You should go brush your teeth, you slob - breakfast is ready."
A calloused hand gripped her arm as she began to turn around. "Wait, Maka, before you wake her up - I have a non-dad joke."
Maka rolled her eyes, wrapping her free hand around his fingers. "If it's a non-dad joke, it must be a dirty joke."
He peered at the winter wonderland outside through the window. No, this joke was definitely relevant. His trademark toothy grin crept across his face. "You're half right, Mama Maka. It's a blend of dad humor and dirty humor."
She huffed, exasperated. "All right, let's get this over with."
"What's the difference between a snowman and a snowwoman?"
She raised an eyebrow. "What?"
He bit his lip, struggling not to burst into laughter. "Snowballs."
She resisted the urge to snicker and stared silently at him for a good thirty seconds before a familiar dark cloud shrouded her face.
"Oh no - not that - no, please - "
Soul collapsed back onto the sofa from the impact of the book smashed onto his head. A small head peered into the kitchen, stuffed animal in tow. Her amethyst eyes were wide and curious.
"Mama, why did you hit Daddy again?"
A small bead of sweat graced Maka's forehead. "Oh, well - Daddy told a bad joke again and Mama got a bit violent," she explained guiltily.
The little girl tilted her head to the side to get a good look at her father, who was rubbing his skull in pain. She snorted.
"Good, Daddy deserved it," she said crisply. Maka guffawed as her daughter meandered into the kitchen for breakfast.
Soul, who had regained consciousness, gawked at her, wounded. "Bianca!"
While she had successfully managed to get into her chair, her little legs swung in the air because they couldn't reach the floor. "Yes, Daddy?"
"You just hurt me right here," Soul informed her woefully, drawing a slash in the middle of his chest.
Bianca had already engulfed a mouthful of pancake. "You mean your heart?"
Soul snorted. "No silly, my scar."
Maka rolled her eyes again. "Go brush your teeth or prepare for another head-smashing," she admonished, hauling her moaning husband off of the sofa. "Your jokes are the worst," she added as she shoved his butt in the direction of the bathroom.
Soul groaned. "You're no fun, Maka."
"You're an idiot," she whispered, and her smile was mischievous as her lips met his. "I love bad jokes."