Chapter Title: I Really Just Wanted Some Coffee or Curse Your Stupid Face

Summary: She wanted coffee. And he's a piece of shit. Simple.

I guess this could be considered a modern AU. I'm not really sure. Valentine's gift for my good friend Laura (sasahara-sohei). I hope you like it dear! Also this is apart of a drabble series (because I want to write a chapter story but I dislike writing long things, do you see my problem?) that connects an odd way. So stay tuned!

Oh and I don't own Soul Eater or any of its characters.

Maka wasn't exactly the most patient of people. Sure, she had more patience than her idiot of a "god"-brother, but it was a well known fact that she had somewhat of a short fuse in regards to her patience meter.

So the fact that she had been standing behind the same old man (who smelled strongly of prune juice) for the past twenty minutes was...well simply put it was pissing her off. She had even given the elder a few suggestions on what to order for it to fall on (actually quite possible) deaf ears.

And Maka wouldn't haven't even been here, but the quaint cafe was the only place that used those imported coffee beans that brews to delicious perfection that she loves so much. And frankly, being late to her job became less worrisome the longer she stood behind the man, because dammit Maka Albarn did not slip and fall in the shower and find that her favorite heels had become a new toy (already complete with scratches) for her cat, to not get a cup of her favorite coffee. And if that damn man stood there for another second; she was going to go back there make her own damn coffee!

Just as she was running a rough hand through her hair in frustration (for probably the one hundredth time) did the old man finally declare his order. And Maka has never been more happy to take one step forward as the elder shuffled off mumbling something about how everything was so advanced nowadays. (And seriously was it even healthy to be giving 80 year olds coffee?)

Finally she's ordering her regular cup of caffeine (no sugar or creamer please) and promptly thrusts money into the cashier's general direction. Except her money wasn't being taken and Maka,being the ever frugal girl she is, was all about free stuff, but uppity cafe's such as this did not just give out free stuff willy nilly like that. She glances at the cashier and at first she thinks nothing of him, until she finally notices that he has white hair.

Like really white.

Like the same white she saw when her mother took her on "vacation" to give her father some "alone time" in the mountains.

She would have been quick to deem him as albino, but his skin sported quite the tan. (Seriously, what is up with this guy?)

But those red eyes of his were staring at her and Maka had no idea where her brain was at but it certainly wasn't with her because she's staring right back at him. And she's sure if Tsubaki was here she would be crooning about love at first sight right now.

And fuck was he smirking at her? Cause she's pretty sure he was. And Maka wanted to wipe that smug look off his handsome-wait no. She didn't just think that. Nope, not all. This guy was the farthest from handsome and if he didn't stop looking at her like he knew some special secret she was going to rearrange that face of his until he even had a possibility of being attractive.

But then he speaks, grunting out his lazy question that whizzed straight past her ears, and she's starting to believe that all that internal ranting about faces and the rearranging of them was for nothing because his teeth are sharp.

And for some reason this small observation makes her palms sweaty and her toes numb.

"Your name?", he drawls out (later she learns that this what he said the first time when she was too busy shoving money at certain albino-esque cashiers).

Then she blinks. And she blinks again. Then three times until (finally) she actually hears him. Then she's sputtering out a litany of huh's, uh's and oh's as she fumbles over her own damn name! Finally gripping the right syllables on her tongue; she blurts it out before it can escape her.

"Maka."

He writes it down without a second wasted and she's finally getting rid of the bills that she had apparently crinkled in a vice grip that she had no idea she formed.

Then she's waiting again while mentally kicking herself for whatever the hell that was back there, until her name gets called with a side of black coffee. And she's ready to get out of there and to go to work that she's a thousand years late for. Except there's something on the cardboard sleeve of her cup and it vaguely looks like a phone number.

And that's probably because it was.

Maka shoots the cashier a glance and he's smirking at her again, which he makes no effort to hide, until he's back to taking down the next customer's order.

And she's not really sure what came over her, and maybe it was the prune juice fumes getting to her, but she's sliding the sleeve right off her cup, and she can feel those eyes of his staring at her as she tosses the sleeve right into the trashbin.

Maka feel's quite proud of herself for a moment, until she notices something that makes her lips twitch downward.

Hidden under the sleeve of her cup and where her name should be is "Angel" in all its mockingly quoted glory. And just when Maka had thought she had seen the last of it, there was another phone number.

She whips her head to him, to glare at him with her already half-assed wrath, except he's grinning, teeth sharp, jagged, and maddeningly distracting plastered on that stupid (stupidly handsome) face of his.

And Maka decides that she despises him.

(But not really.)