Soul's foot taps a beat on the hardwood floor, dreaming of the souffle he could be baking instead of being in this meeting. He fixes his gaze on the shiny table top, avoiding eye contact with Kid. He's decked out in full on Lord Death gear, and it's hard for Soul to look him in the face with out creepy flashback vibes of being 13 and pubescent.
Except he's in his mid-thirties and ditched the SOUL EATER headband almost 20 years ago.
Soul cringed to himself, tentatively touching the hair near the temples, grateful the creeping grey still blends in with the white.
His job as the Last Death Scythe is mostly symbolic now, but it's still requires more work than he anticipated. Basically, meetings, shaking hands, and kissing babies.
His heart gives a twinge.
Speaking of babies.
"Kid," says Soul.
Kid, blinks at him, apparently interrupted during another long speech.
Soul taps his watch lazily.
"Ah, yes." Kid nods. To the rest of the room, he says, "We will continue this discussion next week. And a Happy Father's Day to you all," he adds with a solemn nod.
Soul quickly stands and gives Kid a friendly slap on the shoulder before hurrying off.
As Soul descends the never ending front steps of the DWMA, he gets closer and closer to his ticket to freedom- his precious bike. Over 20 years old at this point, his first baby survived witches, late night rides through the desert, and Maka threatening to sell it because it's not a "family friendly" vehicle.
Soul grins to himself. His chrome and orange baby has also survived his first living breathing baby, his little Lily.
Born into sheer chaos, Lily was a fighter from the beginning. Born too soon, she was a teeny thing, but made up for it in pure personality.
Lily is all Maka's lack of impulse control and none of Soul's cool. After a totally kid appropriate sex talk one morning before school, discussing the presence of her new baby brother, Lily decided that blurting "My mom and dad had sex. Two times!" would be the best way to process the conversation. Maka was livid but thankfully Lily's preschool teacher had understood.
Soul strides across the staff parking lot and climbs on his bike. He zooms through the streets of his city, where his children were born, where he married his wife. He revs the engine and pushes his baby to go faster.
Soul parks his ride next to their horrendous green mini-van he bought Maka when they got pregnant with Jax. It started out as a joke but after a trip to the grocery and the vet with two kids under the age of 5 and Blair in her crate, riddled with fleas, they kept it. Soul was glad for it, he cringed at the thought of baby spit-up and fur all over his bike.
Soul opens the apartment door, and carefully steps over the small mountain of mutilated dolls.
Maka bounces little Rose on her hip, squinting at a stack of papers that must be her the fine print if her maternity leave paperwork, her cell phone wedged in between her ear and shoulder.
She waves when she spots him, mouths, quite unnecessarily I'm on the phone, and waves the stack of papers in her hand.
As far as Soul could tell, it was a mess of fine print and legal-ese.
Soul strolls over to Maka and plucks Rose out of her arms, then gives his wife a smooch on the cheek. Maka grins, wrinkling her nose in thanks before returning to her phone call.
Soul ambles to the living room, and nuzzles his youngest childs floof of pink hair, sucking in clean baby smell into his lungs. Her hair will darken to a deep red, lamentably like his father in law. He ignores it, as he decided a long time ago, and buries his nose deeper into her hair.
Soul nudges the rocking chair with his foot, testing the weight and finding it stable. He sits carefully, cradling Rose against his chest.
Soul eyes the various piles of toys strewn across the living room, organized in some sort of way by his middle child.
Jax.
Soul sighs and leans back in the rocking chair, settling into a rhythm. Rosie stirs and settles, her milky baby breath expelled in the cutest yawn soul has ever witnessed.
For moment Soul imagines Jax on his chest, his flaxen head and sleepy green eyes. Soul would always have drool soaked through his shirt when he held his son.
He smiles to himself.
"Papa," a little voice drifted up from the under his chair. "Up."
Soul lifts his eyes to the ceiling and reaches down towards his son's voice. Little hands cling to his forearm as Soul lifts Jax and sits him on his lap. Jax, teeny baby drooly version of his mother, settles on his father's thighs, face down, legs curled under him, butt in the air.
Soul can't imagine he's comfortable, but who is he to complain how someone else sleeps.
Soul closes his eyes, warm and content, and lets his thoughts wander.
"Daddy!"
Lily tears through the piles in the living room, sending toys flying. Part of her hair is tied up into twin-tails, the rest of it flows past her shoulders in a tangly sheet of white.
"Look what I made at school," she says, holding up her painting proudly. "It's our family."
Soul cracks one eye open and tries to stifle his snort.
His oldest has drawn herself, her mother, her father, and Blair twice- once as her kitty self and once as her sexy godmother self. Lily also took it upon herself to add a rather prominent dog- that they did not own, or where planning to own.
Her siblings are nowhere to be found.
"Looks good, Lil," Soul says, grinning at her. "I think there are a couple things missing, doncha think?"
Lily turns the paper back to face her and nods solemnly.
"I forgot the sun's blood. Be right back!" She dashes off to add to her masterpiece, and Soul laughs to himself.
Maka peeks her head into the living room. "Did Lily show you her drawing?" She asks with a grin.
"Yup," Soul replies. "Still angling for the puppy. And less babies."
"That's too bad," Maka says walking into the living room to squeeze into the rocking chair next to Soul. She shifts Jax on her lap, his little head resting on her chest.
"It's too bad," Maka repeats. "I kind of want to keep them."
"Yeah," Soul agrees. "Me, too."
