When their usual show ends and the annual Victoria's Secret fashion show starts there's a moment of tense silence as Soul and Maka not so subtly gauge the others reaction. Maka glances nervously between Soul and the TV and Soul does his best to look everywhere but at the screen. It's awkward and unsure and definitely not cool. Deciding the worst he's risking is a maka chop, Soul decides to break the silence first.
"Well it's not like there's anything else on tonight."
Maka snorts.
"You would say that."
He throws the TV guide at her.
"Go on bookworm prove me wrong."
Maka glares at him and carefully thumbs through the pages for the night's viewing. The show continues and Soul sneaks glances at the screen, knowing all too well how even when reading Maka never misses a thing. As she flicks through the pages her eyebrows knit closer and closer together and a pout tugs at the corners of her mouth. She's kind of cute, in her own way.
"Find anything else?" he asks smugly.
Maka just glares at him.
"Aw c'mon Maka, it'll be way tamer than what Blair wears anyways and they have live performances."
"How would you know?" she asks suspiciously.
Soul pauses for a moment, a moment too long he realises as she reaches back with the TV guide, ready to force it to make impact with his head.
"They've been showing ads for it, sheesh calm down!"
She huffs and focusses on Soul as models stream down the runway.
"The only thing this is showing is that all men want is big breasts. It's stupid."
Soul rolls his eyes.
"Then go read or something."
"And leave you in here alone? You'd like that wouldn't you, you pervert."
"Maka just give it a chance" he sighs tiredly.
She frowns at him but for some reason concedes, lowering the TV guide slowly and turning to face the screen. A parade of impossibly attractive women in sparkly and enticing lingerie strut down the catwalk popping hips and blowing kisses to the performers and the crowd. Every two or three girls there is one sporting a pair of wings and that is what allows Maka to surrender, not that she'll let Soul think she's giving up without a fight.
"It's ridiculous." She says, pretending she isn't just as captivated as her partner. "There's not a single hair on their bodies."
"Yeah," Soul agrees lazily, figuring it can't hurt to earn back a few brownie points. "It's so not cool, no one actually looks like that."
Maka smiles a little at that and seems satisfied enough. Confidence in her partner reassured somewhat, from there the show is a hit. Soul complains about the music choices and Maka defends them just because. Maka marvels at the wings and Soul mutters about her expecting too much from him. Maka's focus moves on from the wings to the outfits themselves and Soul adds to her comments, or comments on the next one instead. What starts out as a simple commentary on which is more ridiculous, quickly turns to which ones are the prettiest, or which ones would suit their friends and acquaintances.
"That one has Blair written all over!" Soul points a skimpy purple number.
"Now if Black*Star was a girl again…" Maka laughs.
"Liz, right?" Soul asks of a red duo, just a little cautious
"Not symmetrical enough for Kid."
"You don't think?"
"Ugh, no. He just can't mind his own business is all."
Whatever aspect of the hypothetical situation she has a problem with, the idea of the weapon and meister in a deeper relationship or the idea of weapons and meisters in deeper relationships in general, makes Soul just a little nervous. He changes the subject, pointing to a rainbow thong.
"If your idiot father saw that-"
"Soul don't ruin it."
They both cringe.
The collections move through different colours and themes none of which really stick past the initial impression as the models flirt down the runway. But there is one collection, all silver, black and white accompanied by music that is almost Soul's favourite smooth jazz that grabs the full, undivided attention of both weapon and meister.
The models float gracefully down the darkened runway, the lingerie they sport steadily getting darker and more demonic as their wings become larger and more angelic. It's a contrast that resonates with the pair and their casual and joking commentary slows and ceases. Six models into the collection a tall blonde who is all legs appears. She wears sheer black stockings and long black gloves. Her bra is black but for tiny silver diamonds spread across the cups and a big black bow between them. A matching underbust corset with sharp diamond shapes cut out of it covers her waist and leads to plain, if skimpy panties that tie in perfect black bows at the sides. Resting on the models shoulders are a large pair of fluffy white angel wings. Maka sighs a little at the sight of those wings. They're everything she's been obsessed with since learning more about her Grigori soul type. Soul sighs a little at the whole ensemble. The contrasting dark and light reminds him of Black Room soul resonance. Without thinking he comments on it in his even raspy drawl.
"That one would suit you eh little angel?"
He doesn't realise just what he's said and just how bad it may sound until Maka lets out a squeak. For one terrible moment, the silence between them hangs heavy, tense and awkward. Wasting no more time Soul quickly leans back against the couch, crossing his arms behind his head and adds a flippant, if somewhat strained,
"If you had any tits of course."
The harsh Maka chop that follows is no surprise. Still, he yells at her hitting him and she yells at him for being so crude. The show finishes before their argument does and the next show starts playing quietly in the background. Finally, they call a truce and head their separate ways, calling out their usual goodnights to each other. Neither mentions the show again the next morning, carrying on as if nothing out of the ordinary has occurred. They are both more than happy to let the other think that Soul's comment has been forgotten amongst the bickering, but they both can't help but think to themselves, that tiny tits or not, he definitely wasn't wrong.