Mousy brown-blond hair, a floaty dress like a cloud made of butter-colored chiffon, and a nervous smile greeted the maître de.

I'll be wearing a yellow dress.

This must be her.

When she turned around, he dropped his fork. Her eyes met his and her lip gloss-slicked mouth fell open, gaping like a goldfish.

"Soul?"

Oh, no.

"Maka!"

"What are you doing here?" she hissed.

"I'm meeting someone! Jeez! What are you doing, sneaking around like this? Are you here to crash my date or something?"

"No, I… I'm here to meet someone too."

Soul snorted. "Okay. Who is it?"

Maka bristled. "I don't know. His name's Kit."

He spewed sparkling mineral water across the table. "What?"

"What? Do you know him?"

Soul dabbed the linen tablecloth daintily, as if that would help get out the lemon-flavored stains that were quickly forming. "Maka, do you by any chance have an alter ego? Lucy?"

Her face turned slightly green. "You're Kit?"

"And you're 'single and ready to mingle'?"

"Shut up! At least I didn't claim to play electric guitar or have a Great Dane named Scooby! What the hell is all that? And like anyone's going to believe you're six foot."

"Five ten," Soul snapped. "I rounded up."

"I can't believe this. I'm gonna be sick." She took a seat, clutching the edge of the table.

"Gee, thanks."

There was a moment of silence before Maka spoke. "What are we supposed to do now?"

"Um." Soul fidgeted. "We could go on with it, I guess. The date?"

"Are you kidding me? Why?"

"Why not?"

Maka scoffed, then sat back, looking defeated. "You know what? Fine. Let's do this. Let's have a date."

Waiting for their spaghetti was like waiting for school to be over. They watched the clock, waiting for the torture to end.

Neither of them said a word, but it was an unspoken dare that whoever talked first was a total weenie.

"Nice dress," Soul said flatly.

Hell, if it's going to be like this the whole time, I'd better turn in my tie and call it a night.

Maka gave him an inquisitive look, not sure if she detected sarcasm. "Thanks."

"It, ah, doesn't make you look flat-chested."

She shot him a wounded look.

"Sorry. I'm not good with words."

"Like I don't know that. Just do yourself a favor and stop talking."

Soul scoffed. "Okay."

"I'm sorry," Maka mumbled. "I'm being mean. This is just really weird."

Soul ran a finger along the rim of his glass. "It's fine. This is pretty weird."

"Why can't we act normal around each other? As soon as we're put in a restaurant with fancy clothes, we're not ourselves."

"Fancy? I borrowed this tie from Black Star. And there's a hole in the armpit of my shirt." Maka laughed. "You told me to wear your favorite color." Soul gestured to his button-down. "Any other color would have been fine. But of all things, you had to pick red. Just my luck."

"Not red. More like… crimson."

"Like that's any different. 'Excuse me, I'm looking for a crimson shirt. Yes, it has to be crimson. My date hates red.'"

Maka swatted him playfully. "I'm not even going to ask why you picked Kit as a fake name."

"I just thought it sounded cool. But I'm sure there's a reason for Lucy. Pray tell."

"Lucy Pevensie."

"Sorry?"

"The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. I always admired her."

"Wasn't she like, ten years old?"

"Does it matter?"

"No."

When the food came, it was easier to talk.

Maka leaned into her hand. "This is probably the most ridiculous thing we've ever done."

"We've done a lot of ridiculous things."

"Dressing up and pretending to learn things about each other that we already know? I'd say that's pretty stupid."

"Isn't this kind of re-living when we met?"

"I didn't wear heels for that."

"I did."

"Ohhhh, that's why you seemed taller."

"Yes. I shrunk."

This was completely hilarious, of course. When they met, he was a scrawny thing, barely taller than Maka. A few years of high-intensity training and back-breaking, sweat-pouring hard work later, he was sturdy and solid, just a couple inches short of being six foot, and as much as he loved flaunting it, he was all wiry muscle and lanky teenage limbs.

He had grown out of his yellow and black letterman; out of his well-loved headband that was ridden with tears and loose strings. He stuck to his leather jacket lately; hoodies and sweatpants around the house, and patterned boxers at night. Bones, bicycles, hot dogs, unicorns, neon lemons and limes, blue and red plaid, the works. Maka knew every piece of clothing in his inventory, even buying a pack of underwear for him when it went on sale. Mortified beyond belief from having his female partner purchase his undergarments, he decided to get even and slipped a couple pairs of cheeky-looking panties, complete with enough bows and polka dots to make her father spurt a nosebleed just by looking at them, into the laundry. This didn't go over well as Maka assumed the worst: Soul had had some girl over and they forgot to clean up after themselves. By the time he explained, she turned as red as Spirit's hair.

"This dress could have gotten us a year's worth of Top Ramen. Or gas for your motorcycle. Or some new gloves and books."

"Why the hell'd you buy that thing then?!"

"Can't I want to look nice for once? It's not often that I get to go out. Most parties at the academy usually end in people trying to break into the school and wake up a Kishin." They both chuckled uncomfortably at that.

"You look nice."

"Shut up."

"I mean it. It looks good on you."

"I said shut up." Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink.

Soul was telling the truth. The color of the dress was a soft yellow, like the golden light from the candle sitting on the table. Or the curtains. Or that lady's hair. A lot of things were yellow in this restaurant. Wait. What was he talking about again?

She kept touching her slender neck and shoulders, which was probably not on purpose but distracted him immensely.

Soul always laughed at Maka's skin. It was pale, and constantly troubled them both. She burned easily, which caused her physical pain and Soul mental anguish since she whined about it for days on end. He had to apply the sunscreen in the places she couldn't reach but she growled at him if his hands lingered anywhere. And the blushing. God, she was like a tomato. Maybe it was since she made an ass of herself all the time. Anywho, there was no way that he would ever find it cute. At all. Ever.

Back to Maka's skin; her pallor made every bruise and scrape stand out like a sore thumb. Their endless consumption of band aids was getting to be a problem, but they had to cover their cuts or someone would say something. The DWMA was strict about that sort of thing. It was risk for other students to get sick, and it was also pretty gross to have an open wound.

"Aren't you hungry?" Maka slurped a noodle, blinking at him with big green eyes.

His plate was fuller than hers. She was demolishing her pasta with a scary amount of enthusiasm.

"You have a little…"

"Hm?" A spot of marinara sauce dotted the side of her mouth.

"Here, I got it." He moved to wipe it off, but she dodged his hand.

"What are you doing," she squeaked.

He rolled his eyes and rubbed his thumb on her cheek. "There," he said. "All gone."

"Thanks," she said in a small voice.

"Want some bread?"

"Uh, yeah, thank you." She chewed it ferociously, and Soul hated to point it out, but she was blushing again. When she saw him staring, she made a pouty face. "I haven't eaten since breakfast."

"We didn't have breakfast. Blair set off the smoke alarm, remember?"

"I went out with Tsubaki this morning for coffee."

"Oh. Another one of your lady talks?"

"One of my what? We were talking about my date with Kit. I told her all about him."

"What did she say?"

"She thought he was sweet. I quote, 'I bet he's really handsome. He sounds very nice."

"Does Lucy agree?"

"Lucy thinks he's okay. She likes Soul better." They exchanged grins. "I think I know why this isn't working."

"Why?"

"We know each other too well."

"What do you mean?"

"We know everything about each other, even the not-so good stuff. If we were strangers, if we were Kit and Lucy, we would be talking up a storm right now. There's nothing to talk about now that we're just Maka and Soul."

"It was so much easier when you were just a puppy icon," Soul said. "I just had to say one word and you were falling over yourself."

"You were different," Maka argued. "You were nicer. What happened to that guy? He wouldn't be speaking to me like this."

"I got that guy from my brother," Soul said gruffly. "It wasn't hard to copy him. I just had to think 'what would Wes do in a situation like this? How would he woo the ladies?'"

"Like I said." Maka rearranged her silverware on the cloth napkin. "I like Soul better."

"Maka, I think we should enjoy the rest of our date. As friends." He lifted his glass and clinked it to hers.

"Do you think Tsubaki would ever like Star?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I don't know."

"Does he like her? I knew it! I totally called this!"

"Uh… if he asks… you didn't hear it from me, all right?"

Maka giggled. "Okay."

The waiter came over. "Can I interest either of you in a dessert? We have a wonderful chocolate cake that's perfect for two."

"No, thank you. We'll just take the check now."

Soul paid and turned to Maka. "Wanna get out of here?"

"Oh, Soul. You're such a dashing young man. Take me home."

"You know what I'm going to do with you?"

"Tell me," she pleaded, clinging to his arm.

"I'm going to make you a hot fudge sundae."

"I'm going to swoon. Lead the way, Casanova."

Despite all of Maka's indignant attempts at riding back on Soul's big orange beast of a vehicle, he handed her the helmet. "Get on or you're walking, kiddo."

She tried to argue with the term "kiddo" (she was already seventeen and he was just a few months ahead, so who was he to talk? Kiddo her ass.) but he just flashed a deadly smirk and pulled her on the bike behind him. "Might wanna hold onto something."

Soul radiated heat in the cool night air, warming her chest through thin fabric. It was a little too thin, and she worried for a second if he could tell that she wasn't wearing a bra. As the saleswoman had so kindly pointed out, her chest was small enough to go commando in this dress. His back was pressed awfully close to her breasts, and he could probably feel them in all of their barely-there glory. Her once modest gown was now hiked up to her thighs, cherry-printed undies exposed to the world thanks to the wind blowing up her skirt. If they got stopped by a red light, it would only take one look for him to see those little red and green fruits, so Maka prayed that the traffic will be sparse. She tried not to notice how firm and taut Soul's stomach muscles are as she clasped her hands around him tighter.

When they stop, she took off the helmet and was about to hand it to the driver when he put his hand on her knee. It wasn't in a suggestive way, but still made her heart jump into her throat.

"Sorry…" he said when he realized what he'd done. "Sorry. I was just steadying myself. I didn't see your leg there."

"It's okay," she replied, sliding off of the seat. She would never in a million years tell him how good his fingers felt on her skin. Something fluttered in her stomach, then lower. Fuck, this stupid boy was going to give her a heart attack. And he was making her tongue swell up, too. Maybe she got stung by a bee on the way home? That was the only conclusion that makes sense. Flying insects were the reason why she couldn't form syllables.

Pressing the plastic into his hand, she ran inside, mumbling something about "having to go to the bathroom" and that he should "really hurry up".

Stumbling through the hallway, she rubbed her lips together and ran a hand through her hair absentmindedly. The lip gloss was long gone, and the fifteen to twenty minutes used to do her hair were wasted, as her windswept strands of dishwater blond were as limp and unappealing as ever.

"Maka?"

Oh, crap. He was nearly here. And where were those damn keys?! She had to make her escape. This was taking a turn for the worst. Soul was making her feel very warm, almost feverish, and she needed to clear her head. Right. Now. Before she said something stupid.

"Blair," Maka said, rattling the handle. "Let me in, please!"

"What?" called a faint voice from behind the door.

If she's taking one of her five-hour baths, I'm going to take another one of her nine lives...

"Maka!" She didn't mean to say it out loud, but a small hiss of "shit" could easily be heard.

"What's wrong? Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm just… really tired. You know. Dates really take all the energy out of me."

"We can lay on the couch and watch Scooby Doo." His smile wasn't as Great White Shark as usual. It was more like Friendly Neighborhood Wolf Who Bakes Cookies For Children.

"That sounds good."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Mm?"

"Do you think we should kiss?"