Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater nor the song title to Birds by Kate Nash, which also offered some inspiration in the writing process.

3 Birds
by. Poisoned Scarlett

She can't quite wrap her mind around what is happening at the moment. She tries to recover what little function her brain has but it's a losing battle when his teeth do that thing with her lip – where they bite it and then his tongue slides back into her mouth for another round. She hasn't had someone do that to her in what she would personally say is quite a while – in fact, as he sucks on her lip and squeezes her arm as habit told him to, she hasn't had anyone elicit such a strong, visceral, reaction inside of her since she became single again approximately fifteen days ago.

This encounter is not listed anywhere in her itinerary. It's a smudge in her schedule, an unexpected ripple in her expected dull life. She hasn't seen Soul Evans for an approximated fifteen days, six hours and thirty one minutes, when she dumped him for being a total asshat. Don't get her wrong: he was an attentive boyfriend when it was called for. He had his sweet moments, he knew exactly what she liked, what she disliked, he always stood by her even if she was wrong, he's proven himself loyal more than once, he knew exactly what brand of chocolates she adored and exactly where to massage when she felt stressed. Their sweeter memories together outweighed the bad memories.

But she was being serious when she told him she would dump him if he went out with Black Star to smoke himself silly during university hours.

"You—!" She muffles out, able to break through the dense fog of desire to choke out: "Soul, what are you—h-hey!"

"Still think too much, huh, Maka?" He murmurs against her lips, parting her lips for him for a few more seconds before she regains her wits again.

"Just what do you think you're you doing?" Maka gasps, grabbing him by both arms and pulling back in a fluster. He's taller than she remembers because he's not slouched today but his silver hair is still as unruly as ever. What she notices the most are his eyes – a glinting, tired, garnet – and the tan he now bares. He's never been very pale but he's never been so tan, either, which makes her think that, ever since they split ways fifteen days ago, he probably spent most of his time outdoors than indoors with her. "What the hell are you doing here, Soul, this is the train station!"

"Yeah, I know."

"Then?"

"I was running away." His blunt honesty she'd always admired but there were times when it'd get him into more trouble than it's worth. Thankfully, this wasn't one of those times.

"From what?"

"Ticket inspector—oh, he saw me. C'mon."

"N-no! Wait, Soul—!" She's dragged down the packed train station by the sleeve of her shirt. Her ticket is clutched tightly in her hand and she wonders if she'll make it to her train on time. This ticket cost her nearly ninety dollars and if he ruined it, he was going to have to pay for another ticket immediately. "Soul! Where are we going—?"

"Where are you going?" He demands, raising a sharp brow.

Maka blinks, taken aback. "To—wait, that's none of your business, you ass!" Maka growls, remembering she owed him nothing now. It felt strange, to withhold information to him, but the time spent apart made it easier. "Let me go! I'm going to miss my train!"

"Tsubaki didn't wanna' tell me where you were going, so you tell me: where are you going?"

"Tsubaki—you've been keeping tabs on me?" Maka stares, incredulous. He has the audacity to look unrepentant. "What about you, huh, where have you been that you're evading the train fare?"

"That's none of your business." He smartly retorts and she snarls, tearing her hand out of his. She storms through the overcrowded station, ticket clutched in a white-knuckled hand, wanting nothing to do with that insensitive asshole, when she feels a presence behind her and knows exactly who it is. She's always known when he was around: it had been comforting before but now it was bittersweet. It hadn't been easy for her to break it off with him and his completely shocked and almost heartbroken expression had nearly made her want to take back those words, but she hadn't, knowing that if she bent to his will so easily he would never learn.

Because smoking weed wasn't cool at all and Soul damn well knew that.

"Wait, Maka, I was kidding—!"

She grinds her teeth at his persistence, weaving past an incoming family. She raises her ticket to her eyes, searching for the proper terminal. 35B. Maka raises her eyes and looks around, feeling rather lost and small amongst such a huge station and an even bigger audience.

"San Diego? What're you going to San Diego for?"

"Ah!" Maka squeaks and presses her ticket to her chest, bumping into another person in her haste. She apologizes immediately and sends a dark look at Soul, whose scowling even deeper now. "To visit Crona! She's having a hard time adjusting to the…ocean."

"Ocean? Crona has a hard time adjusting to the ocean?"

"….Yes."

"Last I heard," Soul gruffly begins, "Crona moved to Nevada with her mom."

Maka tenses, caught. "Um…"

"Who are you visiting, Maka?" Soul dangerously asks, not liking the guilt he sees in her eyes. There's only one person he can think of that visits San Diego frequently enough to rent a loft there and he does not like that person at all – in fact, that person is probably the only person who has the potential of stealing away his darling Maka from him and the mere idea tightens his throat with fury.

She sighs, figuring she'd have to come out with it sooner or later, but her eyes meet black from across the station.

"T-ticket inspector!" Maka sputters, pointing at the man dressed in a tailored uniform black suit. He's suit is free of creases and dust and she can just make out his name on the polished tag that clips to his breast pocket: Ox Ford. Behind his glasses, he narrows his eyes dangerously and sneers at them with triumph. His gloved hands point an accusing finger at them, a silent gesture to stop because they were busted.

But not if Soul had anything to say about it.

"Move it!" Soul shouts, grabbing her wrist again and pulling her through the crowd. Soul ducks into a nearby station – 48B – and doesn't stop until they reach the platform. He looks both ways, spotting nothing that resembles her station, but he catches the sign just a few ways ahead: 35B.

"N-no, Soul, we can't just run through the tracks!" Maka chokes, terrified. But he merely tosses her another one of his missed reckless grins and pulls her behind him and down to where the train tracks are, both running to the proper platform whose already loading up its passengers. Soul grabs her by the hips and lifts her up, letting her grab hold to the edge of the platform. She flushes, remembering she's wearing a skirt, but the urgency to be off the train tracks wins over her modesty.

Soul climbs up soon after, pulling her up from the dusty floor. He looks behind him, finding no one resembling his feisty ticket inspector anywhere. He smirks. Crisis averted—!

"YOU'RE A DUMBASS!" Maka screeches, smacking him over the head with her novel.

"OUCH—!" He swallows back his whimpers when she smacks him again and delivers another blow for being so simply Soul. "You're alive, aren't you? The trains aren't even running right now!" Soul snaps, dodging another blow from her novel. "Look! You're gonna' miss the train! They're already closing up!"

"What? No!" Maka cries, running to the train with one last burning look at Soul. "Go deal with the ticket inspector, Soul, I'll be back tomorrow!" Maka shouts over her shoulder, fully expecting him to march back into the station and rightfully pay for the fare he evaded if he wants her to even speak to him again.

"Get in." Soul grunts, pushing her inside and sending another ticket inspector an easy smile that's reciprocated.

"You're following me?" Maka gapes, horrified. "But – but you don't have a ticket!"

"Shh, not so loud, beautiful." Soul grins, dangerously. "We have to talk." Soul hardens his eyes, pushing her to the stairs that lead to the second level of the train. Maka clutches her ticket to her chest, pursing her lips stubbornly. "Now."

She hates it when he gets into one of his moods.

He'll get all sulky and quiet. He doesn't rage like Black Star and he doesn't become immobile with his own emotions like Kid: he goes through the daily motions of life absently, removed from the present, and every time she'd look at him, his eyes would darken and he'd glare at something and ignore her. That's what he's doing right now: reclined in his seat, digesting her words, pissed off at their significance.

He can hold a grudge better than a woman, Maka finds herself thinking in wonder.

"I'm just visiting him, Soul." Maka mumbles, shifting her eyes to the window when he sends her another dark look. "Kid isn't a bad guy! I don't know why you've never liked him…"

Soul sneers and props his legs up on the seat across from her. His arms drape over the top of the comfortable seats, his fingers tapping to another one of his imaginary beats. He doesn't say anything for the next hour and Maka squirms in her seat because she knows why Soul does not like Kid. It was something that was brought to her attention a few days before Soul officially became her boyfriend.

Kid had a subtle crush on her that she mostly blamed on his OCD tendencies. She was, as he had always commented, very beautiful in an aesthetically symmetrical way. Her symmetry had been what lured him in in the first place while Soul and she hadn't clicked as most believed they did when they first met. Their friendship had first been rocky, then comfortable, then closer and fonder and stronger until the next thing she knew, she was conscious of his very move and when he looked at her, it made her heart trip and her hands sweaty.

Kid had never quite gotten over how Soul won their rivalry, from what she observed. She supposes, as she glances down at the ticket she holds in her hand, that this unexpected request for her to visit him in his loft in San Diego – only fifteen days after her break up from the infamous Soul Evans – was a little suspicious. She hadn't agreed to visit only for Kid – she frankly found his OCD tendencies a little disturbing – but rather for the Thompson sisters who also had an apartment in the culturally rich city of San Diego.

"I'll be back." Soul suddenly says, breaking the tense silence.

"Where are you going?" Maka asks, and flinches when he sends her a cold look.

It softens at her downcast eyes but he turns away before she can really tell. "Restroom."

It's only two minutes later that the ticket inspector comes and rips the tab off her ticket. She doesn't mention Soul and takes back the pamphlet her two-way ticket had been stapled on. The ticket inspector continues down the aisle until he reaches the end, then backtracks and verifies the colored stub of paper he's stuffed on the entrance of each compartment before heading back to the front.

"Here," Soul says five minutes later and Maka catches him sneakily stuffing another paper on the entrance of the compartment. He hands her a can of her preferred soda and he takes seat across from her like before, crossing his legs at the ankle and ripping open his bag of chips. He seems a little better now. Maybe a walk had really been all he needed.

"Where did you get that?" Maka nods to the stub of paper.

"This." Soul holds up a bright yellow flier, the top strip torn off and now stuffed in the entrance of the compartment. She can just make out the name of a band on it. The concert had been yesterday, in San Francisco.

"Is that where you went?" Maka asks, curiously.

"Yeah, it was a pretty good concert." Soul admits, folding the paper in fourths and stuffing it in his pocket. "….I got an autograph from them."

"You did? Where?" Maka smiles when he opens his jacket, revealing all the band mates autographs on the shoulder of his shirt in black marker. "You can't wash that one anymore. Oh, and that was your favorite shirt, too!"

He arches a brow. "Maka, all my shirts are orange." It had been his own brilliant idea in order to never go shopping for clothes again. He would buy exactly seven shirts of the same color and brand for every single day of the week and not worry about what matched and what didn't for the rest of his years. It was rather brilliant until Black Star made the joking remark that he never washed his shirts. That turned into an argument between both men until, in one of their strange bouts of agreement, Black Star started doing the exact same thing with a winning smile.

Only Soul actually had different clothes for special occasions, should it be called for, and Black Star had forgot about that part…

"No, you wear that one more often than the others!" She points to the hem, where the stiches have come loose. "I remember because… Kid always complained about that defect but you always said it was more comfortable than the others." She darts her eyes to the window to avoid his intense stare.

"I didn't think you noticed." Soul comments, keeping his tone flat.

Maka locks her jaw to the side and says nothing. She makes sure not to look at him so he doesn't notice her disappointment at his surprise. She noticed many things about him just like he noticed many things about her. He should know that unless he was being a prick again. She purses her lips and sinks deeper into her seat, firm on ignoring him for the remainder of the time.

Luckily, she didn't have to do it alone.

"Hello?" Maka greets when she answers her phone, smiling at the cheery voice that greets her back. "Hi, Patty! What's up?" Her smile grows as the girl hurls head-first into a detailed recount of the past few hours. "Liz is with Kid? Where are they?"

Soul studies her silently.

She can feel it – his eyes, staring at her. She also hates it when he does that. He always did that, look at her intently, study her, observe her, sometimes just look at her because there isn't anything else to look at – or so is his excuse when she asks. She doesn't know what he finds so fascinating about her but right now, after being single with a bucket of ice-cream to keep her company for more than half of the fifteen days and being locked in a compartment with said ex-boyfriend, it's likely the most awkward thing he could do without saying anything.

"Oh." Her brows raise, a grin brightening her eyes. She forces herself not to focus on Soul's blatant staring. "They are. Huh. I…really didn't expect that. I thought Liz went for the more… fit types." Maka cringes when Patty laughs loudly at that. Soul arches a brow. "I'm not saying Kid isn't fit – he's just not that…athletic. Like, well, Soul and Black Star work out so I would think Liz—no, wait, is this on speaker?" Maka drops her face in her palm when she hears Kid's dry "thanks, Maka" from the other line. "I'm sorry, Kid, I really didn't mean it like that! I just meant you don't work out on the same schedule that Soul does…" Maka groans when Liz bursts out laughing. She doesn't dare look up to see Soul's reaction to her fumble. "Can we change the subject?"

Suddenly, very sharply, Maka hisses: "No." She doesn't look at Soul as she says this, she only says it and glares out the window. "I don't want to talk about it," she corrects in a softer tone. It was a matter of them asking and frankly, with the topic of their query sitting right across from her, Maka doesn't want to talk about it at all.

The next half hour is spent drifting from airy subject to another; all the while Maka is conscious of Soul's gaze on her, observing her, studying her as he always did. She swallows down her discomfort and focuses on Liz's rants about the horrors of using one brand of nail polish and another brand right afterwards.

She's Maka. He's Soul. That's about all there is to it now. They're no Soul and Maka anymore. They're not the unexpectedly compatible couple they had become known for. They're not anything anymore and she guesses it was that thought that dulled her tone with Liz on the phone and, eventually, led the girl to think she was boring her.

"You're not." Maka sighs, rubbing her eyes out. "There has just been a lot of things that are stressing me out right now, that's all. I'm a little tired. Going to the spa would be nice," Maka mumbles absently and sinks a little more into her seat. "I—okay." She sighs. "Okay. Bye, Liz, I'll be there in another hour or two. Bye." She hangs up, dropping the phone in her lap and continuing her gaze out the window.

"What's stressing you out?" Soul asks, softly.

His sudden compliance to talk irritates her but she answers: "I'm falling behind in my humanities class because I lost my textbook a couple of days ago. They don't restock that volume until today but since I reserved this ticket ahead, I couldn't cancel and pick up a new book. That means I can't do the homework and I already have a low grade in the class." Maka frowns, not wanting to think about it. She'll need to pull various all-nighters to catch up with the course work, she thinks wearily. "Papa came over."

"What did he want now?"

"He heard about our break up and he wanted to take me out to dinner and potentially cut you into pieces and scatter your body parts throughout the world." Maka nonchalantly says.

"He didn't do a good job." Soul muses, outstretching a hand. "Still whole."

Maka snorts, then sighs. "He won't stop bugging me about it. He calls at least four times a day."

"What else?" Soul asks, calmly.

"I can't find Blair." Maka mumbles, her brows creasing to show her worry. "I think I must have left a window open because I don't know where she went! I've checked everywhere, even the closets, in case she got stuck in there again..."

"Blair? Oh, she's with me." Soul blinks.

Maka finally looks at him, eyes wide. "She's with you?"

"Yeah, I found her in my apartment a couple of days ago. She was sitting on the couch. I thought you dropped her off but apparently you didn't." Soul surmised, taking her shock to mean that Blair had followed him on her own.

Maka's shoulders visibly relaxed. "Well, she's always liked you better." Maka sits up a little in her seat and leans against the window until her head bumps against the glass. "At least she's okay." She closes her eyes, the light turbulence of the train rocking her into light sleep.

"Maka?"

"Hm?"

"Can we talk about us?" He finally sighs out and Maka's eyes spring open.

"There's nothing to talk about." She stubbornly says, shutting her eyes.

"Yes, there is." He counters, sharply. "I don't want to leave you. Okay, look, I know I did something stupid—!"

"—You said you quit, Soul, you LIED to me about something that was very important to me!" Maka snaps, voice rising. "You lied and you ditched your classes to smoke with that – that idiot! Even after I told you not to because I hate the smell! I hate everything about it! I don't date drug-addicts, Soul Evans—!"

"First off, I've only smoked three times since Black Star brought it up in high school—!"

"And I told you to stop because it's gross, disgusting, and it makes you stupider than you already are!" Maka fires back.

"Stupider?" Soul sneers. "Please, Maka, are you seriously going to throw away five years of commitment just because I smoked one bud of weed?"

Maka stares out the window moodily. The trees and landscape blur but not because of the speed of the train but the tears that are irrationally welling in her eyes. Because she does regret ending it so abruptly when there were other ways to fix his developing habit but she had been angry and hurt and more than a little cranky that day and the words had tumbled from her lips before she could stop them. She adamantly stares out the window when she feels him sit beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Maka?" He softly calls, sighing when she just sniffs. "I know it was my fault. You told me you'd end it if I did it again and…I did it again because I didn't take you seriously. I'm sorry. I won't do it again, just…" He tugs her to him gently, wrapping his other arm around her neck when she willingly presses against his chest. "…don't do this. It's been hell without you, Maka. Even the TV can't keep me busy unless you're there to make some uncool remark." He cracks a smile when she grunts. "I miss you, Maka."

She sucks in a breath, reaching up to wipe her eyes hastily although he's already seen the tears. "…And?"

"I'll take you seriously next time." Soul sighs.

She sniffles one last time, nodding. "I missed you, too, Soul." Maka whispers, slumping against his chest in relief. Her apartment had been too empty without his constant, if sometimes a little overbearing, presence. She was used to waking up right beside him – sometimes clothed, sometimes not – and to wake up for fifteen days straight without him cursing because he stubbed his toe on the doorframe again or brushing his teeth noisily in her bathroom or drinking out of the carton because he thought he could get away with it… it bothered her more than she cared to admit. It made her careless, head stuffed with thoughts of him and what he was doing and if he remembered to pack his wallet in his pocket, that she had accidentally left her textbook in the bus and officially lost it.

"I won't do it again." Soul promises.

"You better not," Maka muffles out from his shirt, looking up with a sincere smile. "Or I'll dump you again and you'll have to buy Blair's litter forever!"

Soul snorts, resting his cheek on her head in relief. "I'd give that cat away to a shelter before that happened."

"No, you wouldn't!" Maka giggles. "You were the one who thought owning a cat was a good thing!"

"Only cuz you kept looking at it like you wanted it! I was just trying to get laid, Maka—!" He cackles when she squeaks and swats his face in embarrassment. "It worked and you know it," he smugly sings and she buries her face in his shoulder because it was true.

"Papa is going to be so mad at you," Maka muses, nuzzling her nose in his shoulder.

"Spirit can go to hell. I was never planning on letting you go." Soul scoffs. He smiles gently down at her when she looks up in surprise. "I was actually gonna' drop by your house today. Guess my luck when you ran right into me."

"More like you ran into me." Maka corrects. She remembers how they stared at each other – longing hurting her heart, regret making it hard to look him in the eye – before he grinned that toothy grin of his and said "it's been a while, Maka" and his mouth crushed against hers and thought was put on hold for an indefinite amount of time. "You're lucky I didn't kick you where it hurts the most!"

"A risk I was willing to take." Soul frankly says but does shudder at the thought. "You didn't do it."

She catches the undercurrent of triumph in his statement. "I was caught off-guard, that's all."

"Sure."

"I was."

"I know."

"I really was!" Maka insists.

"I know, Maka." He drawls.

"You're starting to piss me off."

"I know, Maka." He grins.

"Soul…"

"Yes?"

"Shut up before I give you what you deserve for not paying the train fare!" Maka warns. Soul grunts and tightens his arm around her shoulders, sinking against her side comfortably. He almost dozes off until the sound of careful footfalls distracts him. And when he looks to the side, his eyes bulge and he hastily grabs his hood to pull it over his head. It's then that he curses his totally cool but totally obvious white hair.

"He's here," Soul hisses. Maka blinks.

"Who?"

"The fucking ticket inspector!"

"Well, they work —oh. You mean Ox Ford." Maka whispers, queasy. He's looking at everyone critically, searching, no doubt, for a head of silver white. Maka suddenly wishes Soul hadn't been blessed with such abnormal hair color as Ox turns to look at their compartment. Maka sinks back into the seat, making sure to bury her face in Soul's neck. She was sure he saw her face back at the station. Surely she couldn't get away with being anonymous anymore. "Soul, why can't you just let him catch you so you can pay the fine and be done with this?"

"Are you kidding me?" Soul's eyes bulge in horror at her suggestion. "Do you even know how much the fine is? It's around two thousand five hundred and ten hours of community service! I don't have the kind of money on me and even if I did, I wouldn't want to give it out for something retarded I did!"

"Knowing that, why did you do it anyway?"

Soul shrugs. "Thought I could get away with it. I was going to, too, until Ox recognized me from the last time I didn't pay the fare nearly a year ago."

"A year ago?"

"Long story short, Black Star and I got mean tans after that trip." Soul mumbles, smiling sheepishly at her candid look. "Hey, you dug the tan, Maka. Don't lie."

"Ugh, whatever." Maka sighs, deciding to ignore it. She looks up and gives him a stern look. "But might I remind you that we still have another hour here!"

"Let's just stay like this for now," Soul whispers back, staring at Ox through the reflection of the window. They stay still for another minute before Soul loosens his arms around her and he stands up, peeking down the aisle. It's empty of the stalking ticket inspector but Soul has a feeling he knows they're here and he's just waiting for them to lower their guard.

"C'mon." Soul extends his hand to Maka, shaking it a bit when she doesn't take it at first. "We can't stay here."

"What? Where are we going?" Maka whispers, grabbing her bag and following Soul down the aisle. He takes her down to the first floor and leads her down another aisle to the restroom. "Oh, no, we are not –!"

"He won't check here!" Soul insists and pushes her inside and closes the door behind them. He does well in ignoring the scandalized looks he received from a couple down the cart. The bathroom here is rather small and has the feeling of it being cluttered. The tiny sink is pushed against one corner, the toilet in the middle, and the towel dispenser on the opposite wall of the sink. There's hardly any space to move or lean on but Maka lowers the toilet lid and sits down with her purse on her lap and Soul manages to lean against the door, exhaling a deep sigh.

"I'm going to spend the next hour in the restroom because you didn't want to pay the train fare?"

"Black Star and I always got away with it..." Soul mumbles, surly.

"But it only takes one time!" Maka hisses, holding up one finger. Soul reaches over and swats her hand lazily like a cat. "And now you're cowering in the restroom and you've dragged me down to your level, too!"

"Well, y'know what they say," Soul grins lazily, unable to put his teasing to rest for the day. It simply wasn't natural if he didn't tease her at least fifteen times a day. "Until death do us part and all that good stuff."

"We're – we're not even married!" Maka sputters.

"Yet." He laughs mockingly when her face flushes red. "Relax, I'm not proposing. It's not cool to propose to a girl in the crapper." His foot reaches over to kick the bowl of the toilet musingly. "Unless that's your thing then—!"

"MAKA CHOP!"

The next half hour is spent in pessimistic silence – as it's supposed to be. Maka swears that after twenty minutes sitting on a toilet seat, feeling the train rock more than it should in the tiny compartment, she's probably going to lease a car and never again take the train to some place a car can easily take her to. It was probably cheaper and faster, too.

"Have you ever wondered…" Soul begins, slowly. He stretches out a hand, staring at his palm. "…if my fingers are way too long for my hand?" He wiggles a couple of digits, narrowing his eyes.

"You better not be high, Soul, or I'm going to smash this book in your skull and dump you all over again." Maka frankly tells him and Soul snaps his head up with a dark look.

"I'm clean, for your information." He spits. He holds out a hand, showing her his current concern. "And I just realized that maybe I have huge fingers…"

"You don't have huge fingers, Soul." Maka reaches out to take his hand, holding it up against the fluorescent light of the bathroom. "They look normal to me."

"Look closer!" Soul insists, a smirk curling his face.

Maka leans in, squinting. "No, they're pretty nor—ah!" Maka squeaks when Soul suddenly honks her nose and he slams against the door in laughter to avoid her mean right hook. Maka grabs her nose in horror and sends her recently-recovered boyfriend the meanest look she can muster while blushing. "I TOLD YOU TO STOP DOING THAT! I hate it when you do that! I'm not some clown!"

"You make the most epic face ever when I do that!" Soul wheezes in laughter, covering his eyes with his hand at the thought. A mixture between confusion, mortification, and that endearing cross-eyed look he always cracked up at.

Maka growls and throws her purse at him. Soul shields himself using his shoulder and snickers, letting the bag drop on the floor. "So worth it—!" He gasps when she launches herself at him, deriving some satisfaction in watching her much-taller, much-broader, boyfriend go down like a champ because of her tackle. "That was dirty," he coughs, holding his possibly bruised ribs.

"That was justice." Maka replies, matter-of-factly. "Now, get up. You're getting your pants all dirty!" Maka bends down to pick up her purse from the floor, wondering what time it was, and he grins a little naughtily and wraps his arms around her slim waist. "What're you up to now?" Maka mumbles, knowing fairly well when his chin comes rests on her shoulder and he grabs her hips to grind against his.

"Well, it's been fifteen days." Soul begins, innocently enough. "Fifteen days is a really long time…"

"Oh, please! You've gone years without it! I think you can—!"

"Correction: that was before you came into the picture, then I spent a couple years with my hand, and five years with you!" Soul corrects, mock-stern. "And fifteen days without you…. it's kinda' killing me inside slowly. Like those horrible, flesh-eating, viruses in the movies. I'm dying, Maka." Soul kisses her neck, nibbling on her earlobe and eliciting a sharp breath from her. "Can't have that, can we?"

"No, we can't." Maka murmurs, lifting her head a little and closing her eyes when his mouth trails down the curve of her neck. His lips skip over her throbbing pulse, breath feathering the sensitive skin of her collarbone. His hands slither up her shirt and his fingers brush the underside of her breasts, a devious digit wiggling its way under her bra. Her hands fist his shirt when he finally grabs his prize, giving it a leisure squeeze while his mouth traces back up her jaw and finds her own.

Their movements are just becoming more rough, with her hands gripping the lapels of his jacket demandingly and his hands groping the firm mounds of her ass, when they feel the train decelerate and the conductor come on the speaker announcing their imminent arrival. Panting, Maka pulls back, but Soul pulls her back forward, capturing her mouth with his before she can say anything that might ruin the mood he'd been painstakingly trying to set since he first shoved them in them there in the first place.

"We have to go, Soul," Maka muffles around his mouth.

"Later," he grunts back, his hand already flipping her skirt up to stretch the elastic of her panties downwards. "We still got time."

"We don't even," Maka begins reluctantly, pulling away from him before he can distract her anymore, "have enough time for a quickie, Soul. Even that's not fast enough!"

"Maka, c'mon, fifteen days!" Soul whines.

"I think you can go sixteen without that flesh-eating virus causing too much damage." Maka dryly replies, laughing when he groans and gives her that neglected dog look he'd come to perfect over the years. She pulls back from him, fixing the shirt that's rode up her stomach and swatting his hand away from under her skirt. As she makes herself presentable for the public, Soul inwardly mourns the trains bad timing and only ruffles his hair back to normal and fixes his askew jacket before opening the door and peering out. He immediately slams it closed at who nearly catches him coming out of the bathroom.

"Maka, that creep it out there, waiting for us!" Soul hisses.

"Ox?" Maka creases a brow. "If he's waiting for us at the exit, there's no way we can avoid him…"

Soul studies the floor as he thinks for a solution to this problem and it comes in the form of his hoodie and Maka's hair. "Put your hair down." He demands, to her confusion.

"My hair?" Maka blinks when Soul reaches over hastily, undoing the bands to her pigtails and redoing her hair into a high pony-tail resembling Tsubaki's. "Wait – what is this all about? Soul, if you think Ox is going to fall for this—!"

"He will, trust me. He looks like the type." Soul rushes and grabs her purse, shoving it under his arm. "We just need a couple of minutes, that's all." He grabs her wrist as she rubs her head, disliking the tightness of the pony tail, but doesn't have enough time to fix it for he's opening the door to the restroom with his hood over his head. Maka squishes to his shoulder as they hurry past Ox, who gives them a passing glance before continuing his look-out. But Maka, from the corner of her eye, catches Ox's double-take and pushes Soul ahead frantically.

"He spotted us!"

"RUN!" Soul shouts, bolting down the platform again; only with Maka holding onto his own wrist tightly. He dodges past swarms of people, weaving his way through the crowd at an almost expert level. It makes Maka, whose stumbling and always trying to find her footing every ten steps, wonder just how many times Soul and Black Star had hitched rides on the trains without paying the fare. The thought is disapproving but expected from her mockingly rebellious and reckless man.

"Down there! Go down there, it leads to the street!" Maka shouts, pointing to an obscure doorway once they reach the inside of the station.

"How do you know that?" Soul asks but obeys her.

"I've been here before!"

"What?" Soul scowls, sending her a dark look she responds with a sheepish grin. "When the hell did you take a trip to San Diego and how come I didn't know about it? You're always with me!"

"Except these past fifteen days!"

"So this is your second time?" Soul accuses with a dangerously low tone, looking both ways down the street. His eyes lock on the trolley that stops ahead of them and begins to load and unload its passengers. "When'd you go the first time?" He pushes her ahead of him and they stumble inside the trolley, Soul swearing when he finds Ox running right after them. "What the fuck – is he actually gonna' chase us?"

"Close the door!" Maka grunts, reaching for the handle and shutting it instantly. The trolley is packed as it is and Ox merely pounds his fist on the door, giving them a look worthy enough to make a small animal cower and pointing an accusing finger at her. Maka only sticks her tongue out at him as the trolley picks up speed and begins its leisure run around the more popular parts of the city.

"We lost him," Soul sighs in relief. He scowls down at her. "Well?"

"I came a day after I… left you because I was feeling bad! So Liz invited me to stay for a few hours and she paid for my ticket!" Maka admits, not meeting his guilty gaze. "But that was to visit Liz. Kid had no idea I was here!"

"At least," Soul mutters, still not liking the idea of his recently-reacquired girlfriend hanging out with that psycho. He drops a dollar in quarters in the trolley's coin slot and gives the driver an easy nod he returns. "Do you see him?" Soul asks, pushing his way to stand directly behind her. His hands land on her shoulders, squeezing them comfortingly.

"I think that's him," Maka swallows when she sees Ox board another trolley from the slanted mirror that hangs above them. "I think he's going to follow us—!"

"Then this is our stop." Soul grabs her arm and hauls her out of the trolley the instant it stops to unload its passengers, running into a local mall and weaving through the clusters of people to duck into a nearby store. If Ox had seen them fled, he'd surely follow, and the mall was a good place to lose him. It looked big enough for them to be able to give him the run-around.

"Maka, you got that bastards number?"

"Who? Kid?"

"Yeah!"

"Yes, do I call him to pick us up?" Maka already has her phone out, dialing.

"Tell him everything in under ten seconds flat, we gotta' go now before this idiot finds us." Soul mutters begrudgingly and keeps a look out while Maka rushes their situation to Kid over the phone. She's hanging up within twenty seconds, relief glimmering in her eyes.

"He says he'll be here in ten minutes! We just have to hold up until then!"

"Good cuz there he comes now." Soul grabs her wrist and sneaks them through some clothing racks, keeping his eyes set on a stalking Ox. "Damn, he's stubborn…kinda' reminds me of you, actually." Soul grins teasingly at Maka, who looks up with a resenting look. "Yeah, definitely you. Ouch," Soul winces when she jabs her finger into his ribs. "Watch it! That's still tender!"

"I didn't hit you that hard," Maka mumbles and stiffens when she finds Ox entering the store they're hiding in. "Does he have some sort of GPS to track us or something?" She gawks as he begins to swiftly look down the aisles, making sure to look between the rings of clothing. Soul tugs her along and keeps them both ducked, heading to the entrance of the store.

"He's just that good. This guy shouldn't be a ticket inspector, he should be a fucking cop." Soul mutters acerbically and pulls her out of the store in an instant, both of them making a break for the next store. This one is a home appliance store and Soul presses his back against a shelf and watches out for any signs of their train-station follower. "You see him?"

"Yes! He's over there—!" Maka whips out her phone when it vibrates, reading the message. "And Kid's here!"

"Where, exactly?"

"He must be directly outside the mall! He owns a black Escalade! We can't miss it!"

"We can't let that guy see us," Soul mutters, staring at a contemplative Ox Ford who rubs his chin as he deliberates his next move. "He knows we're still here. He would've seen us run out. The exit is right behind him." Soul growls in frustration, looking around for another possible escape route. "Fuck, we're screwed." Soul flatly decides, shoulders slumping in surprisingly calm defeat.

"No, we're not! What if we just run past him—?"

"Oh, we'd make it. But like you said, you can't miss Kid's car: he'd get the plate numbers and then we'd be royally screwed." Soul mumbles, raising his guard when Ox begins his prowl. "He's on the move again."

"Where's he going this time?" Maka asks, texting something quickly to Kid. "Soul?"

"Inside the hardware shop. It's small; he'll be out in a couple of seconds at best."

"Kid said he moved the car down the block!" Maka announces, looking up with a triumphant grin. "If we can just run to the exit and down the block, maybe he won't catch Kid's car!"

"It's worth a shot—!" Soul instantly grabs her wrist and they burst through the doors of the home appliance store like mad, not bothering to look if Ox had spotted them or not. Soul looks both ways frantically once outside before he spots a black, flashy, Escalade down the block and he runs for it, pushing Maka forward all the while. It would be easier – and safer – if he let the bastard care for Maka while he went on the run. This would be his third offense for skipping out on the fare and, although he told Maka he'd pay a fine and do community service, that also meant jail time for evading capture, something which Soul was very averse of.

"In!" Soul hisses, slamming the door closed. He shouts for Kid to get moving, even as he's barely getting in the car, and Kid floors it and sends Soul tumbling into his lap in the most ridiculous way possible. Maka stands in the back seat and, stretching to reach for the partially open car door, slams it closed with a relieved sigh while Soul practically catapults out of Kid's lap with a look of utter revulsion.

"That was not cool, man!"

"It's not my fault you have the grace of a drunk!" Kid snaps, shuddering at the contact with the albino as well. He keeps focused on the road, thankfully. "What trouble have you gotten Maka into this time?"

"For your information, Maka isn't in trouble; it's me." Soul glares, looking up at the rear view mirror and seeing nothing of Ox. "So leave her out of this."

"Paying the fare becoming too much of a burden on you, Soul?" Kid taunts, able to keep that infuriating even tone of his all the while.

Soul bites back a snarl. "No, you can say I just like living on the edge. You should try it sometime and stop being such a pussy."

"What did you just call me, you uncouth ingrate - !"

"Soul, Kid, stop it." Maka sighs, rubbing her temples to ward off an incoming headache. "Can we just get to your place, Kid? I'm tired and running around trying to avoid a fine isn't my idea of a relaxing trip." She shoots Soul a look he guiltily replies to. The look softens her resentment and she smiles a bit in forgiveness, looking out the window to gaze at the sky. It's already darkening to a navy blue, the sun having completely set without her knowing. "What time is it?"

"Eight." Kid answers with a mega-watt smile. "Perfect timing as always, Maka!"

Soul scoffs, grumbling something about stubborn maniacs. Maka smiles wearily, reaching forward to grab Soul's hand with the suggestive little smile that told him his fifteen days of torture might end sooner if he stopped his belly-aching.

And blocks behind them, Ox Ford stared down the street with hard eyes, dusting his gloves off and promising that one day he shall catch the infamous Soul Eater and Almighty Black Star so he could get that promotion and wow his crush Kim Diehl with it.

A/N: Cuz Ox Ford should've been a Brooklyn cop in some rip-off drama but instead he's a lonely ticket inspector just tryin' to get that promotion that'll impress the lady in this fanfiction.

The Soul/Kid rivalry makes me chortle...

Don't do drugs, kids! Or your other half might dump you and you'll have to suffer through fifteen days of loneliness and despairing solitude like Soul did XD

And the idea came from this guy I saw doing the exact same thing Soul did and getting away with it. That guy is made of win. He just sat there like a boss, ordering drinks and totally not admitting he didn't pay for the train fare at all. That's 90 bucks he skipped out on. He's my fucking hero LOL

Scarlett.