A/N: Cadzooks! It's ALIVE! Why, yes, after... /counts/ Six months? Seven? OKAY, WAY TOO LONG of an absence from FFN, I am BACK baby! Okay, maybe not BACK BACK, but back sporadically. Here's a fic I wrote up. We read "The Raven" in English and when it got to one line I was like "ASDF SOUL~"
Disclaimer: If I owned Soul Eater or The Raven, do you think I'd be a) writing derivative fiction and b) ALIVE? (lolbadpun)
"And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming"
Soul Evans forgot what cold air felt on thighs only clad in boxers. The Nevada heat had toasted his skin to an almost olive complexion, and he'd grown so used to dry, Nevada air, he hadn't really thought to change his nightly routine of stripping down to his skivvies for bed.
The greatest lack of thought on the teens' part was deluding himself so that a mission would never take him to the great country he called his birth nation. He watches as snow dusts over cobblestone streets, feeling dreadfully uncool as he shivers heavily. The door to the hotel room was just barely cracked behind him, just in case Maka took a late night piss and found suspicion in the door being ajar.
And, of course, he was completely lacking in intelligence after a fifteen hour plane ride and thirty minutes of sleep, so he didn't even begin to think his absence from his bed would cause alarm bells to go off. As it was, he was nearly caught in the habit he'd developed over a few months.
"Soul?" the voice was sleepy, and held the tone of perfectly healthy lungs.
Jolting, he tore his hand away from his mouth, flicking the still-burning cigarette over the balcony railing. He whipped his head around to face his Meister. "Yeah?" The words are punctuated by a phlegmy cough.
In her groggy state, she seems not to notice his odd actions. "What are you doing? It's like twenty degrees out here and you're out here in boxers. Get the hell inside you dumb ass."
She went from caring Meister to bitch in zero-point-three seconds. As he scowled and indeed made to go inside, he heard something like "-oh and I'm certain you want to freeze your balls off." from her, but he might just be deluded by the cold air and jet lag. Maybe.
They're on the hunt for some Witch, ("Oh, you're a Death Scythe, you get the big missions now!" Whoop-dee-fucking-doo.), and Soul is beginning to think the powers-that-be don't prefer to let him cruise on through life, because who should they run into on their second day in England, but Wes goddamn Evans. He's past the logical thought of, "Why is my brother in a public coffee shop?" and has moved onto "Did he see me here? Is there enough time to high-tail my Westernized butt out of here?"
The answer: no, no there was not. Dutiful outgoing Meister she was, Maka saw him and dragged them all together at one table. Internally, Soul was running through the most non-feasible scenario of rocketing right out of his seat, into the stratosphere, and away from these bone-heads.
Wes was such a charmer. He every single one of Maka's question, even the inquiries about Soul's childhood. Compliments were flung out about her. Soul was anxiously bouncing his knee and he needed a cigarette, preferably in the next five seconds or he would explode.
"Soul?"
Apparently, during his wild day dreams of escaping, at the very least to smoke, a question had been directed towards him. "Hahhhhn?"
"Wes, uhm..." She seemed to blush and cleared her throat. "He was wondering about everything he's heard in the media. About Shibusen? And their new... Death Scythe?"
Blanching, he gave Maka a much-rehearsed look that meant "I am going to kill you." before turning his steely eyes to his brother. "What about it?" He grunted.
"Just what the pretty lady said. How are things?"
So he was alluding to Soul being a weapon. That was just perfect. Years and years before, his family had the chance to keep contact with him or lose it, all based on the teensy factor of him being a weapon. They chose to pass up that opportunity. And Soul was just about to lose it at the point.
"Well, you obviously read the papers. You don't need to hear anything from me." His voice was bland and rumbly. It seemed so loud among the murmurs of the other patrons in the coffee shop.
"Soul!" Maka shot him a scolding look.
Sighing, he shook his head. "We should go." He wrapped his hand around the crook of Maka's elbow. "Work to do, evil to banish. You know; something that matters." He shot Wes a look, then tugged on Maka's elbow. "Let's go, Maka."
Seemingly disappointed, she stood, and apologized for Soul, in that Maka way that Soul couldn't be aggravated over. Trailing after him, she barely had time to pull on her scarf before he dragged her out onto the street, and they were lost in the crowd.
"What in the hell was that about?"
"I didn't want to talk to him!"
"He's your brother! Can't you just make an effort?"
"Don't feed me that shit! I don't want to see him or them and that's that!" His voice came out snappy and harsh. Me watched his Meister flinch back. Wincing, he collapsed back onto the bed. His butt hit the mattress with a bounce.
"Death God help me..." he rubbed at his face put of frustration. "I'm sorry. I'm just stressed. I need a smoke so bad-"
Shit.
Shit.
"You need a what?" Her voice was soft and venomous.
Let him repeat: shit.
"THIS THING ITCHES!"
"Too bad." Maka snapped. Soul was fidgeting in his seat restlessly. It hadn't taken long to capture the witch; she was so dull and idiotic they'd gotten her on the third day and promptly flown home that evening; this evening.
She slapped his hand around from his arm, where he'd been reaching to scratch the nicotine patch placed there. "Maybe if you stop scratching like a sugar-high five year old and forget about it, it won't itch as much!" All Soul did was bare his sharp teeth in response.
When they landed, Soul fell to the ground dramatically and kissed the floor, which he was promptly slapped across the back of the head for. "The floor has germs." Was Maka's excuse.
Either way, Soul was glad to be back. He fell into his bed upon arriving in their apartment with a grateful sigh. God, he hated England. He'd had too much stress over the past few days and he couldn't even smoke it off anymore.
And what did Soul do when he couldn't smoke?
Based on the facts he was seventeen, hormonal as hell, and not "getting any", his number one option was jerking off. But his door was open, Maka was puttering around the house, and he was lazy as hell.
Speaking of his Meister...
She always did laundry when they returned from a mission. She hated wearing anything that had sat too long or sleeping in her bed when the sheets were, quote, musty. So it was that he got the ultimate flash when she walked through the hall in her panties and bra.
It only took seconds for her to figure out his door was open, which was pronounced by a shriek and a book thrown at his head, which was turned toward her, his mouth slamming shut from it's gape when the spine made impact.
"OW OW OW FUCK!"
"You saw her ass?"
"No! Geeze- she had panties on!"
Black*Star still found this to be an absolute ground breaking revolution. Soul Evans had finally seen a woman's ass. He didn't quite count the time Soul pulled up Maka's skirt- they'd both gotten Chopped for that and it had been purposeful. But now... Now he'd seen an ass.
"Oh, come on. You can't tell me you didn't stare." The blush from the Scythe was enough for him.
"SOULIE-BOY'S GOT THE HOTS FOR HIS MEISTAH!"
"Shut the fuck up and get down from that stool!"
"Tch! You sound like Tsubaki now!"
"Fah- FUCK YOU GET DOWN HERE!"
"That's what she said~" Black*Star fired off before plopping back onto his seat. Soul groaned from the overall corniness and immaturity of his friend.
"Yeah, I saw her ass and I stared. What of it?" he swigged from a nondescript dark bottle.
"One less step on the road to devirginization, my man." He raised his own bottle to his lips.
Scoffing, Soul rolled his eyes. "I highly doubt Maka's cherry will be the one I pop."
"Psht, why not? What she lacks in boobs I bet she'll make up for in ti-"
"ALRIGHT, THAT'S MY MEISTER YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!"
"You haven't even thought about it?"
Maka made a face. "No! That's just gross."
"...Maka, you're seventeen. And Soul is... well, let's face it, Soul is hot."
"I'm sure Black*Star would love to know you said it."
Tsubaki shrugged. "I'm just saying. I think both of you would benefit greatly from sex."
"I'm not doing Soul. Get off my case."
Simply smiling, Tsubaki rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, Maka."
Soul was still in a stressed mood when he returned from the outing with Black*Star. But Maka returned home, only looking slightly annoyed, bearing gifts- Chinese take out.
"OHYESTHANKYOUUU~" Soul grabbed for the cartons, opening them and spooning food onto plates. Maka hid a smile- it was just the kind of Soul-behavior she was used to. He scarfed the food, burning his tongue, but not caring, hungry and burying his emotions somewhere down deep below layers and layers of chow mein.
Afterward, he sprawled out over their couch, Maka nudging him aside. He flopped over her lap and stuck his tongue out at her, to which she responded with by way of book to the skull. He groaned and turned to watch TV, not moving from her lap.
She was very annoyed when he began to doze, mouth open, drool pooling on her knee. It felt slimy and disgusting, so she shifted, and his eyes fluttered open, and she gasped.
Maybe it was because he looked so sleepy, or because she was aware of his stress, something cause him to look so sad it near broke her heart- she blinked at the way his eyes looked so demonic, they're ruby red shining, hidden just under a haze of grogginess.
"Hey. Staring isn't nice." He croaked.
"I wasn't staring!" She snapped.
"Liar."
She glared at him and he looked up at her sleepily and it took moments for her to realize just how much they really could benefit from sex. Apart from how her thighs tingled, the obvious facts of how far apart they could seem to drift, how much attitude they showed each other, they still cared; in little ways and in big ones.
Maka Albarn, pig-headed and needing to make the first move, mashed her lips against his, to which she received no response, except for him to push her back by the forehead. She was almost embarrassed- what if she was too small-chested? What if he didn't think like that?
"You're doing it wrong, baka." He wormed a finger into her mouth, which tasted faintly of sweet and sour sauce, and pressed it to her tongue, opening her mouth and melding his own open mouth to her own.
A wet appendage slipped into her mouth and Maka couldn't help fall into a girly pool of mush, where words like "bliss" and "hot" and "amazing" were the broadest ranges of her mental vocabulary. She was incredibly embarrassed when his mouth managed to drag a moan from between her own lips.
"Oh, Maka." he pulled back and gave her a smug look.
Her hand twitched, perhaps to Maka Chop him. "What?" She snapped.
"I'm not banging you." He said in response, in part to the way her hips pressed to his, in an agonizingly attractive way. It was damned hard for him to refuse something he wanted so desperately.
Glaring, she pushed up and clambered off of him. He sighed. "It's just what Black*Star and Tsubaki want!" He called.
"Maybe I wanted it too!" She retorted, followed by the slam of her door.
His mouth was dry. But he didn't dare get up from his bed. Maka could be in the kitchen, or the bathroom, or anywhere in the apartment, for that matter. He didn't want to talk to her- it would just add even more stress upon this heaping pile. And if he couldn't have a cigarette to unwind, then he damn well wasn't about to fool around with his Meister just to quell his frazzled nerves.
'But you want to.'
Apparently, Ogre was going to make a show tonight- his voice cackled and echoed around in Soul's brain, making his head hurt.
'You want to a lot.'
Soul assumed it was bad when a demon inside his soul knew what he wanted more than he did.
She was half-mortified. But she wasn't stupid- she knew what she wanted. And he was sitting in a room separated only by a foot of plywood and dry wall from hers, and it was killing her.
Why had he said no? It was her chest, wasn't it? Definitely. He always made fun of her chest- or, lack thereof.
"It's not your chest you dolt."
Oh, Death God, she hated the wavelength. It gave so much away.
"Then why won't you have sex with me?" She put on her best pout, which always managed to sway him. This time was no different.
Making a face, he shut the door and came to sit on her bed. "Because everyone is just waiting for it to happen. They all tell us to get it on and I'm not going to because it'll ruin your reputation and I-"
"So you're not doing it because everyone else has already predicted it?"
"...Yes."
"You're such an idiot!"
God were her hips intoxicating. She'd pounced him after that statement and rid them of clothes and he had little in his head to stop her because she was grinding against him, so much so that he was sure he would go insane had she not sunk her hips around him at that very moment.
For such a cool guy, he sure did make embarrassing sounds. He moaned at first contact, and tried to still his hips, as much as they wanted to simply bury into hers and stay there forever.
Unfortunately, Maka was hissing and gulping above him. "Fucking-" she thrust down onto him, and his mouth opened, whereas hers closed in a sharp inhale.
Everything was blurry, and hazy, and he could tell she got very little out of the moment, besides one or two moans- when he had cried out in release and thrust up, her hips just comfortable enough by then to take some pleasure in the thrust. She pulled off and collapsed back into her sheets gently, leaving Soul feeling awkward.
"Get up here and cuddle me." She ordered in a mumble. It made things seem just a bit normal, so he smiled softly and did so.
A/N: So yeah! There it is. The end was kind of crappy... I was ready to finish up by then. My style has kind of changed. I tried to do it in first person for awhile, but it kind of fell out of that POV.
Sharks will eat you if you don't review. Also, if you eat peanut butter snickers.