Ello all! Didja miss my beautiful self? *piano falls on Missy*
So mama-mia, it's a pizzeria! An AU I concocted at Winco's pizza station (where GlitterGoat made me collapse in the frozen yogurt section with her utter kindness and sparkly love-muffins Cx).
Just a sum up of my AU, it's in a huge mall, the Pizzeria is merely one of the many restaurants in its food court. Maka and Soul are finishing up their senior year in HS, I'm pretty repetitive in my universes, blah.
I don't own any fancy shit like Soul Eater, brooms, Ellen Degeneres, rabid dust bunnies, or Stephen King's literature. Soul Evans was very much harmed in the making of this. So was his piano. *another piano falls on Missy*
*whimpers* As well as his second one...
Enjoy~!
Maka Albarn was a very frugal girl, or so she liked to think of herself as. After moving out of her Papa's suffocating vice of guardianship and into her own apartment, thanks be to God or some other divine intervention, she learned how to manage her money very well.
This was what she told herself, anyways, after sweeping the grease-sopped dust bunnies at Death Hut's pizzeria for two hours.
Maka sighed as she squared her slouched shoulders, and finished up the last crevices of the still-dirty-but-it'll-fool-the-health-inspector tile floor. She'd only done, what? Swish a broom for a couple of hours, and now she was on the verge of giving up? After a couple months of working here, she should have been doing push-ups from all the lack of exertion by now. Apartment rent wasn't going to pay itself with its own minimum wage job, after all. She'd been powering through this fast food, mall-joined hell for so long! What was the matter with her?
It was then that Liz, who was on cashier duty, entered through the double doors leading to the ovens with a swish of her ponytail, and then observed Maka mumble some unnamed curses and slap herself squarely on the cheek. She shook her head, tsking while stealing a can of root beer from the fridge (which Maka noted to be against restaurant regulations).
"Gee Maka, and here I thought you were one of the few here who wasn't a crazy." She took a languid sip from the can, and looked upon it in curiosity. "Patty must be rubbin' off; that or that brat with the spiky hair and bad dye job. Thinks he's a ninja or some shit."
Maka tossed the broom abruptly towards her, causing her new friend to stumble and catch it, some of her drink sloshing out to land on the questionably cleansed floor.
"He wants to be a god, first of all. And secondly, no. Liz, I thought I was about to cry."
Liz was walking towards the storage closet, spying for a mop to wipe (translated: smear) her soda up, as she mused, "Why? Did the hunky new pizza twirler turn you down?"
"LIZ! I can't even..."
"Oh Maka, chew on some ice, will ya? Your face puts the ovens to shame- take a joke!"
"He's such an asshole, I swear. Just where do you get these ideas?"
"Maybe from the way you two always, and I mean always flirt at the cash registers?"
"Okay, let me tell you now that flirting and threatening to decapitate heads are not the same thing. He hogs all the customers, and God knows why they all flock to him."
Liz then bopped her playfully on the head with the handle of the mop, muttering something along the lines of 'just read between the friggin' lines already', while her sister whisked into the room, carrying a boxed pizza in each hand, eagerly joining the conversation. "That's cause Soul is a fine beast, I mean didja look at his pectorals? Whooo-MOMMA~!"
"Patty!"
"What?" She set the pizzas down on the pick-up counter, and twirled back to properly retaliate to Maka.
"'Jus SAYIN' he prolly works out. With bein the school's coolest bad boy 'n whatnot, why wouldn't he? Maybe he's into boxing! Or-or martial arts!" She made a cheesy karate pose for effect, Liz and Maka both knowing that if she wanted to, she could throw down with a grizzly and win singlehandedly.
Both sisters for the majority of their childhood lived on the streets, resorting to violence and crime to put food on their non-existent table. As far as they've told her, they've gotten far, and now work here to pay for rent for their own apartment. Maka shouldn't have been as happy as she was when she heard the news, but they lived a hard life, something Maka extremely respected, and she guessed that's why they easily became friends. Liz and Patti for their hard work, and Maka for just being Maka.
"Easy there tiger," Liz bemused, "we know about Mr. Hot-Shot. But what do you suspect he's doin' here, at our humble little Pizzeria?"
Maka left to pick her apron off of the rack of hooks, tying it in a puckered bow before heading out the swinging doors and into cashier duty, before saying, "If you know, would you mind telling me? I can't stand him here, bringing his posse from school, lounging on the job, and distracting ME from earning my weekly sums. If this is some kind of joke, I'll be glad to deliver the PUNCH-line if he doesn't take the hint."
"'Punch'-line? C'mon cupcake, let's not resort to violence here. I believe that's against restaurant policy."
She gave him nothing but a flip of her pigtail and a haughty lift of the chin, as she settled behind the cash register next to him, all the while he gave her a wide smirk with a serrated set of pearly whites, and a glint of something-or-other in his teasing, lidded scarlet eyes. PECULIAR eyes, Maka stubbornly insisted.
"The silent treatment too? What, am I in the doghouse now?"
A mere sniff in response from the cute bookworm who thought blowing up her cheeks was something intimidating.Seriously, he mused, who does that? Cupcake and her weirdo quirks.
"Weirdo."
"Hm?" Maka turned at the sound of hushed breath.
"I said your bra is showing. Is that a trainer I see-"
"SOUL EVANS SO HELP ME I WILL RIP YOUR-"
" Hold that thought muffin. Welcome sir to...uh-"
"It's Death Hut genius!"
"I know Liz! Just takin my time, jeez. So you want a pizza or what?"
~O~
It was about 10:30 PM on a Monday night, customers bare and tables bare-er, with the night shift left to disinfect the table tops, shake the tablecloths, and restock the mini sugar and salt packets. The night shift referring to Maka and Soul, of course.
Now, Soul didn't mind working late on a weekday, his passive attitude in all respects of life earning him on-the-edge-of-mediocre grades. Besides, his heater was broken in his apartment, and he wasn't in any hurry to leave work early and freeze himself into a full-body ice cube of a coma. Maka, however, was quite earnest to drop everything and run to the nearest bus stop.
Not only was it a Monday night and the first semester finals were scheduled for next Monday (which to your correct presumption means yes, it is in fact cram week), but Soul Evans was not but two tables away, in low riding basketball shorts and a well-fitted T-shirt, displaying his constant, circling motion of table cleaning with a well-built, olive toned, (and to her knowledge of occasional basketball sessions at the school gym) well-trained arm.
Soul wanted to change into his street clothes, since no one was coming around this time anyways and he hated starchy uniforms, and their superior Liz saw no reason why he couldn't.
That being, she didn't see how wrong she was like Maka was at that moment. Seriously, of all the wardrobes in the world. And just how much did he have to scrub that table? It was taking an eternity, in Maka's opinion. His smart phone was also in a side pocket, dragging the free-flowing shorts down ever so slightly, revealing a modest amount of Joe Boxer's-
CRASH!
"-for FUCK'S SAKE!"
"Woah! What the hell was that? Albarn?"
"Aw jeez, now I need a- where the hell did Patty hide the broom this time?"
Maka threw the tablecloth she mindlessly tore from an entirely set table like a crummy magician at his first street performance to the side, and quickly hurried to the kitchen, her flush hidden under low restaurant night-lighting.
Just what in the world was her mind wandering off to? It was just him! He'd only shared classes with her since ninth grade, and she was seventeen now, Soul but one year older. She knew for a fact that he was still the same egotistical, lazy punk who drooled when he fell asleep in chemistry; he hadn't changed in years.
So...it must have just been her. Maka couldn't think of any other explanation. At least she left before the heat in her cheeks spread to other...ahem, places. After all, Evans did have a nice body, and her body was experiencing major chemical changes; mammary gland growth, sexual drive, chocolate dipped pickle cravings. It was a natural chain of reactions, nothing to sweat over. If it ever got too serious, she could just dive into her Papa's embarrassing and disgusting dildo collection at home, supposedly a secret under the floorboards in his closet. There were plenty unopened packages, and a wide range of tastes to explore from, not to mention colors-
"ACK-!"
Well, it looked like Patti had decided to lay the broom on top of the shelves on each side of the supply closet doorway, causing Maka to luckily dodge a beheading, but settle for a choking collision, the broom flying onto the other side of the closet and her clutching her sore neck, the area flushing for a less hormonal-driven reason. She supposed this was what she got for letting her mind stray to the gutter like some mangy ally-cat without a home.
"Yo Maka! You okay?"
Soul strode in in all his testosterone, leather and mint scented glory, white eyebrows creased at a girl in pigtails and custom, frilly white apron choking herself in a tornado-struck closet.
This woman.
He silently picked up the broom, took her by the bow of the apron, and dragged the two out to the train wreck caused only minutes ago. While Maka voiced her opinions of pushy, impatient shark monsters with her colorful vocabulary, Soul acknowledged her by leaving the very second they arrived at the spill site and returning shortly with a dustpan. Kneeling on the ground, he began to pick up the shards of broken glass from a previously whole salt shaker, and let them plunk into the plastic container.
Maka was at a loss for words. Didn't she cause this? Why would he help her clean up an easily avoidable mess when he could just leave at his whim, pride and muscle shirt a blur as he walked out the mall entrance?
"This isn't pre-paid television, cupcake. Grab the broom." Soul pointed out, though he didn't have to look up from the heinous 80's carpet to know that she wasn't doing jack shit besides standing like a useless lamppost.
"Err...right."
Maka swept the sugar, salt, and other grainy food dressings into miniature sand dunes, making a note to bring a portable vacuum to work for future purposes. She also decided to look over the fact that he immediately took the most hazardous task, being picking up sharp glass shards without say. Maka moved the dunes together to become a desert of white and lint balls.
In her mind she mulled over her crappy day, school overbearing and her homework nowhere near completed, since the late-night shift was rudely thrust into her schedule. Finals where but less than seven days away, and her Papa would most likely throw a horrid man-baby fit knowing she was working herself to the bone like this. Honors student, school sport, and part-time job didn't always go well together, but it was necessary for them to be grouped now and then, considering her financial position was nothing worth bragging about.
So it didn't help in the least when a bedroom-eyed asshole who liked low riding plaid boxers and smooth jazz on max volume with crappy ear buds distracted her like a child to a bubblegum machine, because really now. She'd been around him for years, not necessarily his friend, a sort-of acquaintance if you will. That is, if sort-of acquaintances had acid-spitting staring contents across their chemistry class.
But because of these variables whirring about her head like noisy mosquitoes on a sugar-high, Maka decided to pull a Houdini with a pizzeria's tablecloth, and there she was now.
As she looked down, her sugar dunes had disappeared, and Soul was seen at a nearby trashcan, dumping the tiny desert and sneezing when a cloud of dust rose from his actions.
Maka needed to get ahold of herself. Was she even awake at the moment? Well, she must have been, because she was being led by her shoulders by two firm hands to a booth, where she gladly sat down, and finally realized how tired she was right then. The weight off of her feet felt nice, and she was about to rest them on the opposite seat until Soul plopped right at their designated spot.
"So," he droned as his face fell into the palm of his hand, propped by an elbow as his head quirked to the side, "want to tell me why you're acting like a complete wacko?"
Maka groaned at the loss of her footstool, and held her head in her hands. "Who wants to know?"
"I don't know, probably the person sitting right fucking in front of you."
She didn't respond.
"I mean- err...sorry."
Soul somewhat straightened up from his slouch and ruffled his pale bed head roughly, trying to piece his sentence together carefully. This woman was known to be overly sensitive and equally violent, and he didn't want to take his chances while she was groggy too.
"You've been looking like horse shit lately-"(and after a grunt when her boot connected itself with his kneecap)"and don't you dare deny that! Your eyes are blood shot, you yawn every other minute of the day– have you been getting any sleep?"
"In homeroom...I...think."
"Maka, hey! C'mon, don't bail out on me here. Just, pick your head up pigtails."
She raised her head slowly, blinking away the irritation of his loud voice. God, didn't he know what time it was?
"Yeah, that's better." He smirked, but his raised lips quickly fell at the sheer exhaustion written across her face, how three AM study sessions worked their way into her health, how her loosened off-crème hair draped coquettishly over her cheek, how her eyelashes were a matching blonde. Blonde and curved.
"It's just that..." Soul blinked along with her once, twice. Was she seeing him like this, shadowed under hanging golden lamplight too? "...You should take better care of yourself. How am I gonna look when my partner falls asleep on the job? Not cool, Maka."
Alas, dear Maka had already given into the persistent lull of sleep, her folded arms a makeshift pillow and her bangs slowly rising and falling with her warm breath. Soul internally ran off a cliff on his bike. Of all the times to knock out, cupcake.
He supposed it was for the best, if she wasn't in a half comatose state this whole time, he would've been chopped for being some sort of sick pervert. Who stared at girls in their sleep anyways? Especially a-cup, five foot girls who had cute back dimples that showed when they played their volleyball tournaments?
Biting back a blush (which in hindsight wasn't a good idea with choppers that put Jaws to shame), Soul wordlessly picked both her feet up and settled them on his lap as Maka let out a sigh of sleepy content. Smiling at her unconscious reaction, he pulled out his phone and dialed Liz, tapping his finger on the seat to the rings of the call.
"Yeah, hey Liz? Maka-"
...
"Yep."
...
"Well, how was I supposed to know?"
...
"NO! I didn't, you old prude."
...
"No."
...
"No."
...
"Thompson, I swear to God, not ONE word about this. Just get over here and pick up your hibernating bear."
Maka snorted slightly at that, and Soul couldn't help but laugh at a confused Liz right in the middle of her currently interrupted Pretty Little Liars marathon. He jiggled his knee and watched her shake with it as well, just to rouse her kitten-like irritability even further.
"Damn, she's dangerous when out-cold too."
~O~
"Soul~! Come on, tell us!"
"Yeah, why are you working here at the mall all of the sudden?"
" 'Cause I felt like it."
"Wow! You're just the spur of the moment type of guy, huh?"
"That's so COOL~!"
"But why at Death Hut of all places-"
"Oi Maka, how ya doin' back there?"
"Just peachy."
The echo of dirty water in a janitor's pail fell deaf to the continuing chatter of the sophomore hoard of estrogen crowding about register two, otherwise known as Soul's current shift. Didn't they know they were holding up the non-existent line behind them?! Maka kicked the bucket even harder, causing it to tip into an anticlimactic spill, and reach into the far crevices of the underside of the refrigerator.
"So, you like basketball don't you Soul?"
"I've seen you play a couple times!"
"What?! No fair~!"
"Erm...did I just hear a- OI! Hands behind the counter."
A series of giggles ensued, and Maka cursed as she embraced the tiled floor to watch her hand disappear into the darkness of the fridge's under-vents and grease caverns. Her one paper towel quickly was caught by a sticky unnamable substance, and as she retracted her hand at the touch of something furry and wet, thinking of rabid dust-bunnies and over-priced floral perfume.
Stupid post-school rush hour.
It wasn't all that surprising, Maka had to admit. Soul was extremely popular at their high school, though acting quite the opposite of a typical social butterfly. Her friend Tsubaki occasionally talked of how her boyfriend and him played only one-on-one basketball matches, saying that he really needed to branch out in his social life more often. When Maka would walk to school, she would hear the roar of a Road King speed past her in a blur of leather and solitude. Of course he chose the one ride that best suited one person. Last time Maka checked, snarky, ill-tempered numb-nuts who could crack the most stubborn of jawbreakers with their bear-trap of a jaw weren't exactly fit to "rule the school".
But judging by the way he didn't focus on the mob of tissue padded push-up's (you should know which kind we're talking about here) and openly pierced belly buttons, but at the flat screen across the mall isle broadcasting reruns of the Ellen Degeneres show, Maka deduced that he didn't really give two shits. One girl pulled up her low collar, head bowing in humility.
"Well, bye Soul!"
"Yeah! Erm, see you-"
"Uh, Welcome to Death Hut! What would you like to order Sir? Hey Liz, was that ok? Or do I have to say some other load of customer service bullshi- OW!"
"Uhm. We..okay then! Bye..."
And thus the pack of trotting hussies shamefully made their way towards another restaurant, and Maka barely managed to cartwheel in joy, cause damn, a piece of toilet paper was still sticking out of that girl's left cup.
Instead, she managed to bang her head under the sink next to the fridge, and doing so knocked enough sense into her that she shouldn't have been happy that Soul got annoyed by a group of perfectly pretty and desperate girls, that he turned them down, or that he'd rather spend his shift looking back at her while handing the previously mentioned customer his combination slice and coke, a slight smile lifting his face and making Maka almost fall down a second time. The floor would officially never stay clean at this rate.
"W-what?!"
"Thought I heard a baseball cracking a wooden bat, but turns out it was just your head and hard metal."
"You're lucky this floor's slippery or else I'd-"
"Sorry."
"-rip you limb...from limb?"
Her threat veered off into a question, as she blinked in complete confusion when Soul walked over, dropped to his knees, and pulled out a rag from his apron's pocket to help her absorb the puddle of dirty mop water. Her puddle of dirty mop water. He wouldn't look up from his own reflection when he spoke again.
"Yeah, about what just happened... They're always followin' me, watching me do every little damn thing, it's so not cool."
His words came rushed at some points, slow and thoughtful at others. Maka couldn't take her eyes off of his glued down to the floor. This was the first time she heard sincerity from his deep, rumbling voice. It was just a dumb flock of tenth graders, Maka wasn't that mad. But, he looked so embarrassed and disappointed with himself; how was this the stone-eyed jerk she had third period with? Did he talk with his few friends like this too? Somewhere in the back of her mind, she hoped he did.
It was nice.
"-ullshit. And I came here to get away from all that, too! It's just, everyone's so needy. Last I heard, I'm dating five girls at the same time. I mean, REALLY? I haven't left my house in five DAYS, how am I gonna get five GIRLS to screw me?!"
Oh, was he secretly a rambler? Maka mused with the idea of a shark reciting tongue twisters while she watched his scrubbing keep in time with his apology/speech/biography.
"-but ever since I've come here," He cleared his throat anxiously, while Maka lifted a blonde brow in question. "Well, you've all been really cool. I can just relax, and do what I wanna do, and not look over my shoulder for God knows what."
"You know, you're not getting paid to sit on your ass and enjoy some Ellen with a side of Sprite."
"While I can still argue with that- (Maka pinched his arm in response)- it's nice here. And... 'msorry you had to see that mess."
He threw the sopped towel in the sink overhead, and finally looked up into Maka's wide, radiant smile. He opened his mouth, but no biting humor came out, just a short release of breath at her crinkled jade eyes.
"Well, you're not so bad yourself." She stood up, leaving soul still sitting like a dog in a daydream, and patted dust from her uniform pants. "And thanks. Nice to know you have a heart once in a while."
Maka walked to register two, taking over his shift wordlessly, and Soul found enough pride to pick up off the floor to get up and proclaim into the loudspeaker at full blast, at the utterly packed food court: "Thanks, tiny tits! But I don't think I can return these sudden feelings of yours; I'm flattered, though!"
Soul couldn't tell which was redder. The laughing faces of the customers, Maka's cheeks as well as the descent of it down her neck to her collarbone, or the lump on his head courtesy of Maka and Stephen King's hardback cover of "It".
R&R? To invest in Soul's new piano? ;3;