A/N: Needless to say what I was doing when I came up with this idea (making french toast, just in case you were wondering). This is also posted on my tumblr account, and will maybe be on my deviant art, so don't freak out if you see it again and think someone stole my name and story.
Soul awoke to the smell of breakfast cooking and smiled. Of course Maka would already be awake. She was probably awake hours ago. Sighing, he rolled out of bed, his hunger out weighing his reluctance to leave the warmth of the sheets. He walked down the hallway towards the kitchen, only to stop and lean against the wall, observing Maka quietly.
"Ain't it funny how love can make you fly; sweetest buzz and the highest high," she sang to herself, dancing around the kitchen and swaying her hips from side to side. Soul smiled to himself, enjoying the view.
"Someone's in a good mood this morning," he said, startling her. She jumped, before turning around to face him.
"Don't scare me like that Soul!" she exclaimed, annoyed. As she turned back towards the stove he sidled up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and leaning forward to whisper in her ear.
"You know it's so sexy when you dance like that." He chuckled when he saw the slight blush touch her cheeks.
"Don't distract me or I'm going to end up burning breakfast," she deflected, ignoring his comment. Soul sighed and walked away, moving to sit at the kitchen table. A few minutes later, she came over to the table, setting down two plates. Silently, they began to eat, Soul looking up to glance at her periodically. When they were about halfway finished, he noticed something.
"Hey, Maka, you've got a little something on your face," he said casually, smirking.
"What, where?" she asked, reaching to grab her napkin. Before she could get it, he quickly leaned over towards her and flicked his tongue out, licking the syrup off the corner of her mouth. He smirked in satisfaction when he heard her gasp in shock.
"Soul, what are you-" she was cut off my Soul's lips on her own, muffling the last of her words. As she slowly began to respond, he moved his hand to her waist, gently massaging it. Standing up, he pulled Maka with him. At this point, hands were tangled in hair and grabbing onto the hems of shirts. They stumbled towards the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes in their wake.
Suffice to say, it was a very good morning.
Aaaaannndddd I'll stop there. This turned out ateensiebit more risqué and suggestive than I intended it to. I kinda hope my mom never sees this. Anyways, you can use your imagination about what happens next ;) I'll take a prompt request and dedicate a story to whoever can name the song Maka sings in the beginning.