A/N: This is late and was quickly done. It's silly.

There is an card in her locker and she doesn't know what to make of it. The mountain of such cards that tumbles out as her partner opens his own locker is common, expected even. But this? It is February 14th, Valentine's Day, and the last thing in the world Maka expects is a large square envelope made of expensive looking pressed paper, her name on the front written in a hand so painstakingly neat it could pass for calligraphy.

"What's that?" her partner asks with raised eyebrows as he leans against his own locker and eyes the paper in her hand. Soul has already unceremoniously dumped his own haul of perfumed envelopes, though she notices a few sealed boxes of chocolate under his arms. Candy always gets kept-waste not, want not.

"Not sure. Maybe a partner request." She does get them sometimes. Most people don't bother since she wields a deathscythe; why would she want another weapon? She does get some, though. Unlike Soul, she actually reads them all since someone took the time to write them, penning a polite refusal. It's not like hers are the gross proposals he often gets. No one is throwing themselves at her, though she has been asked on a date or two in person. She refuses those as well. Why should she date? She is perfectly happy as she is, thank you very much.

Maka flips the envelope, running her nail under the seam. The envelope is so nice compared to what she normally gets, more like one of the letters meant for Soul, and it's certainly odd it came today of all days. She might think someone put it in the wrong locker but for it being addressed to her, and as she pulls out a large, soft, heart shaped Valentine, she is even more convinced this must be a mistake. Soul clears his throat from her side and she glares at him.

"What?"

"What is it?"

"A valentine."

"Seriously?" he scoffs.

Her eyeroll is in place of the book she wants to bean him with. "Yes, seriously. What, just because you think I've got no sex appeal or whatever no one can find me attractive?" It's her turn to scoff. "I get asked out-I'm not hideous. Not everyone subscribes to the Soul Evans school of big boobs or bust."

"Wha-I never said-I mean-" His sputtering is admittedly gratifying. Sure it would be nice if he thought she was appealing, but she'll take showing him not everyone is so shallow over nothing.

No, that's wrong. He's not shallow, she knows that. He hasn't dated anyone, and it's not like the type of woman he has always claimed to prefer hasn't tried. Honestly, Maka doesn't know what he is, but it's still nice to feel like someone finds her attractive, even if it isn't the person who she wants to succumb to her admittedly minimal charms. Even if she's only going to have to turn them down because she's painfully uninterested in anyone else.

She sighs as she inspects the Valentine in her hand. The front says Be Mine? in large, fancy script. Flipping it, she finds a message written on the back:

Meet me at the fountain in the center of Market Square at 5.

It is unsigned, and she doesn't recognize the hand. Strange.

"So?" Soul's voice startles her; he has moved closer to read over her shoulder and she feels guilty somehow or ashamed and why should she feel either?

"So what?" she snaps, her irritation less at him than at the feelings that have no right to plague her.

"So are you gonna go?" His expression is blank, revealing nothing. She might wish he cared-jealousy would be a welcome indication he felt something for her beyond their friendship-but of course he is as bored sounding as ever.

"Maybe." She shrugs, stuffing the Valentine back in her locker and closing it behind her. Pushing off the lockers to walk towards their next class, she hears her partner fall into step beside her, the barest hint of concern seeping through their soul link. There is more behind it, but he keeps it close. The concern is enough to give her pause. Why should he be concerned? She can take care of herself, and hell, isn't she entitled to an admirer or two when he has so many? She doesn't need his concern.

"Actually," she says as they near the classroom. "I think I'll go."

Ignoring the spike of his disbelief that clouds their link, Maka walks into the classroom, head held high.

Hours later and she is arguing with her weapon on the steps of the Academy, drawing the stares of passing students and teachers alike. There aren't many-school has been out for an hour-but it's enough that she knows Soul is uncomfortable. Good, let them all stare. Serves him right for sticking his nose where it doesn't belong.

"So you're going to, what, go on a date with-it could be anyone, Maka!" His voice is low but emphatic and it annoys her beyond measure. It's not because he cares but why he cares, acting as though she can't handle herself. She wishes he cared for other reasons, but he doesn't, and that annoys her, too-unfairly, maybe, but she never asked for his concern in the first place.

"It's none of your business, Soul, we've established that. Now if you'll excuse me-"

"At least let me take you on the bike." It's a plea, a last effort at exercising some form of control over a situation that isn't his to alter.

"No." It's firm, incontrovertible. "And don't wait up!" she calls over her shoulder. She doesn't mean it-but the renewed jolt of concern she feels from him is satisfying.

The market square is only a twenty minute walk from school and she relishes the slight cool of the desert evening in Winter. Her smug satisfaction of leaving her weapon behind fades as she goes, and Maka feels guilt and something like regret. Nervous anticipation churns hot and sick in her stomach. Whoever wrote this, they are about to be let down, and witnessing the disappointment of others has never been something she relishes. She knows first hand what it's like to have one sided feelings, but that doesn't change what she must do. Telling herself that doing it in person is a kindness, Maka steels herself as she approaches the fountain.

There are people there-the square is crowded-but most are couples. One stands out, however, tall, dark skinned, with long dark hair. Maka knows her, vaguely, knows her name is Kaya and that she is an EAT weapon, a pole axe, from the class down, though she is a year older. She smiles broadly and waves as Maka approaches. The girl is absolutely stunning, the object of the affections of dozens of boys and several girls Maka could name. And yet-she's here and now. Why?

"I'm so glad you came!" she says as Maka walks up to face her, her smile widening. It's breathtaking, and Maka can understand how so many are entranced by her even if she doesn't feel it herself. Not only does the girl have a lovely exterior, but a beautiful soul.

"Is this yours?" Maka asks as she pulls the Valentine from her bag.

The girl shakes her head once. "No, it's yours. That's why you're here, right?"

Maka can't stifle her sigh. "Yes." She is quick to head off any hope. "But only to return it. I appreciate it, but I really can't accept, I'm sorry."

The wide smile flips, and the frown is both deep and thoughtful as the girl studies her. "Why?"

It's a simple question. The answer is anything but.

"I'm not interested in dating." It's a well rehearsed response, used before for both rare suitors and concerned friends alike.

The frown deepens. Her eyes look so sad, so defeated that Maka wants to look away. She doesn't. She caused this pain, unintentionally though it was, so she will face it down. "It's him, isn't it?" The weapons voice is quiet.

Maka's mouth opens wordlessly in her surprise. She shakes her head. The other times, this was when they left. "Who?" she asks stupidly.

The eyeroll she gets in response is at least half earned. "Your weapon, who else? I'm not an idiot. But I also know he's never made a move and if he won't, why not give someone else a shot? You deserve someone who will make you happy. I could be that someone, I know I could. You've just gotta be willing to let me try."

At the mention, Maka is reminded that she feels her weapon's soul nearby, has for several minutes though she's been preoccupied. He's followed her. She feels his eyes on her and she is so torn. Maybe this girl is right, maybe someone else deserves a chance, but her heart won't allow it. It's stupid, so stupid, to refuse a chance at happiness with someone who shines so brightly, who feels so deeply for something that is an illusion, something that only she feels, but she must. Her heart is long lost and the idea of happiness with someone else is foreign, impossible. Her partnership with the one who owns her soul, it is enough because it has to be. There can be nothing else, not anymore, not for her.

She shakes her head and lets out a long breath. "I'm sorry, but I can't. I just-can't."

The girl nods. She looks both broken and resolved and Maka aches for her. "I hope he gets off his ass. You deserve to be happy."

He won't-they aren't like that, he isn't like that, not with her or anyone seemingly-but she nods anyway because she doesn't know what else to do. And then the other girl is gone, disappeared into the crowd, and Maka is left holding the Valentine that now represents courage unrewarded. The girl deserves better, and Maka is sorry she can't give her what she wants.

Sucking in several breaths, she walks to the edge of the fountain. "I know you're there," she says without turning around.

The deep sigh is close, only several feet back. Maka turns to sit and sees her weapon approaching. He sits beside her, bumping his shoulder casually with his own. "Hey."

"Hey," she replies. "You're supposed to be home. Didn't realize you were a stalker now."

"Not a stalker, just worried. And I know you can take care of yourself Maka, trust me, I know, but it doesn't mean you always have to. I'm your partner. 'S my job to look out for you."

She doesn't feel like arguing, especially when she can feel the affection rolling off him, so she doesn't. "Whatever."

"You okay?" he says after a short pause. Her response is a shrug. "Why'd you turn her down?"

Another shrug. "Not interested."

"Was she right?" His voice is soft, careful.

She snaps her head to look at him, stunned. "What?"

"She said you were-you had feelings for someone else." His face is blank but he's pink and his soul is cautious.

"You heard that?"

"I heard that. Deathscythe with sound manipulation, remember?"

"Oh. Yeah."

"So?"

"So nothing.

"You didn't deny it."

Her response is yet another shrug

"Is that a yes?"

"It's none of your business, I've told you that." She returns her gaze out to the crowd. His soul is so guarded that she doesn't know what he wants -why is he pushing this? It could ruin everything, ruin them.

"Pretty sure it's my business if you have feelings for me, too. Definitely want it to be my business." His voice is low, tense.

"Why are you pushing this?" She looks at him and it's him looking out and away now. "Why do you care how I feel?" She can't help but think she missed something because she feels disappointment welling up in him unexpectedly. "Wait-did you say too?"

"I did." The annoyance turns to fear. He's still looking at the crowd.

"As in, you have feelings for me?"

It's his turn to shrug and she growls her frustration. His grin is nervous as he finally turns red eyes her way. "Turnabout is fair play."

"Oh, shove it, Eater and answer the damn question."

"What question?"

"Soul." Her tone is a warning and he sighs.

"Yes," his grin fades and his eyes are seeking. "Okay? Yes."

She nods and she feels sick and warm and confused. Is this happiness? She doesn't know. Soul has feelings for her, the same kind she has for him, and it doesn't make sense because he's never shown it, but it is clearly so nonetheless and now she has no idea what to do.

"Okay." She marshals her bravery, steels herself, meets his searching gaze head on. "Me too, then."

The surge of warmth from him is all the answer she needs. Somehow they feel the same thing. It's so impossible and obvious and how had she missed it? She guesses they were both afraid. Maka isn't afraid anymore.

She moves her head over and up and kisses him, a soft, brief peck on the mouth. It's something she's wanted to do for years. The kiss is even warmer than she thought it'd be and his stunned, goofy smile is priceless as she pulls away and pushes the paper from her hand into his.

"Wha?" He looks down, surprised.

"Read it."

"Are you-giving me your used Valentine?"

She shrugs. "Message still stands. So?"

"Be yours? Already am, so yeah. How 'bout you?" He pushes it back at her.

"You're giving me a third hand Valentine?" She raises her eyebrows.

"Message still stands."

Her laugh is only a little giddy. "Then yeah. If you can stand my flat chest and all."

He makes a strangled noise, looking pained. "I was fourteen. Fourteen. Everyone's an idiot at fourteen. Even you were an idiot at fourteen." He eyes her warily. "You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?"

"Nope!" she sings out. "But I'll let you make it up to me." Her grin is so wide it aches as she moves in for a second kiss, a little longer, a little less chaste.

The next day, Maka finds Kaya, thanks her, and introduces her to Tsubaki. Years later, Maka and Soul attend their wedding.

The Valentine they frame, and it holds a place of honor in their bedroom. It had, after all, brought them together.