They always met on Friday nights, usually at Kid's mansion. They'd file into the basement, armed with mountains of blankets and pillows, curl up in front of the TV with whatever the pick of the week happened to be, and then pass out until morning.

This week it was Liz's turn - some action thriller with lots of guys in leather jackets.

Soul sighed from his spot on the beanbag with Maka, enjoying the warmth of his meister nestled against his chest.

Kid and the Thompsons were on the couch on the opposite side of the room. Patty's head rested against a pillow on Kid's lap, his hand stroking through her short blonde hair. With his other arm he held Liz against his side. Soul could hear Kid whispering into Liz's ear - what exactly he was saying, he wasn't sure.

Black Star and Tsubaki sat on the floor with a shared blanket pulled around their shoulders. Said meister had a bucket of popcorn in his lap - which continuously spewed kernels every time he got excited of an action scene.

Soul sighed inwardly.

So. Much. Touching.

Spartoi as a whole was really just a moshpit of confusing feelings that blurred the lines of romance and friendship. The only clear platonic relationships between meister and weapon were Kilik with the twins and Ox and Harvar. The clearest 'this is definitely more than a meister/weapon relationship' was probably between Kim and Jackie.

Soul and Maka were at the point of heavy petting - and really everyone just assumed they had an unspoken 'thing' with each other, but there were no labels.

Much to his delight, as soon as the movie had started Maka eagerly pulled him down with her onto an oversized beanbag. The dimmed light had done well to mask his blush and eagerness as she pulled a quilt over them and tangled her legs with his.

Soul looked down at his meister. She was so tiny against his lanky frame - now filled out thanks to a late growth spurt that left him at a lanky 6 foot height and a broadened chest.

Maka yawned and looked up to meet his gaze, smiling sleepily. She reached up and began combing her fingers through his hair. Soul had to remind himself to breathe.

"You need a haircut," she said.

Moment ruined.

"What?" Soul exclaimed, earning him a look from Kid and a smirk from Liz.

"It's just… it's so… If it gets any longer you're not going to be able to see, Soul."

Said weapon pouted and turned away. "I thought you liked it long."

"I do," Maka said. She turned his face back to her. "I'm just saying you should get it cleaned up a little. Try a new style maybe other than just the gel. Don't wanna look like a mop, ya know?"

Soul scoffed and pulled their shared quilt over her face. "What do you know about style."

"Soul! Stop I can't-"

"Oi lovebirds, either get a room or shut up!" Black Star hollered. "This dude's about to blow up the bad guy headquarters and-"

He was interrupted by a very annoyed shush from Liz.

Maka pulled back the edge of the quilt and peeked up at Soul, almost giving her weapon a heart attack. It was not okay for someone to be that cute - and alternately terrifying when she was pissed.

Soul ran his hand through his hair. "Ehhh I mean I could if you think it would look better…"

Maka beamed. "I can do it for you!"

"Maka. No."

His meister grinned and Soul couldn't help but to give her a soft smile back. He sighed. "We'll see."

God she smelled so good.

Part of the reason he liked being this close to her - besides the fact that he was a sucker for any physical touch with his meister - was that when they were like this, Soul felt the static in his head quiet. As soon as they would settle against each other he would always let out a silent sigh of relief, as if he'd been holding his breath until then.

No more gnawing madness, no more taunting Oni, no more of that sickly anguish that would creep up on him and keep him up at night.

Maka was sanity. Maka was comfort. Maka was home.

He glanced over at the others, saw the shine in Tsubaki's eyes as she giggled at Black Star and the way Liz rested comfortably under Kid's arm.

Damn weapon genes.

Maybe to an outsider it might've just seemed like a normal teenage lack-of-personal-space thing. Look at it from a certain angle and maybe they were just really good friends. Fighting a kishin could do that to you.

But Soul knew better.

It was in a weapon's nature to become attached to their meisters, Soul thought as he gently combed through Maka's ponytails with his fingers - to which she playfully complained.

The death scythe sighed again and plopped his head against hers. Maka could shave his head and Soul would still be hopelessly attached to his meister.

He was so fucked.