This is exceedingly short. The plotbunny wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it.
She was trying to read.
He was being annoying.
This wasn't the first time this had happened honestly, and he usually did it on purpose.
Soul always had a habit of taking up the ENTIRE couch whenever he got to it first. He was at least nice enough to sink into the back of the couch enough for her to sit on it in front of him, usually in front of his stomach, to read while he either dozed off or watched TV. If he was in a particularly bored and daring mood, he'd poke her incessantly for no reason just to get a rise out of her. She still didn't know why he did that, as it usually earned him a Maka chop. He either had a horribly short memory, or a death wish. Or perhaps he was just a masochist.
Over time she'd learned to ignore him. Over time he'd found ways to be impossible to ignore. She had weak points. That one ticklish spot in her ribs, for example, Or that one spot on the back of her neck that made her whole scalp tingle when he poked it just right. Or he'd give up on poking her entirely and just tug at her hair, whether it was tied up or not.
Even so, whether she reacted or not, Soul would eventually give up, stretch, and fall asleep behind her as she leaned back on him. Or she'd force her weight on him to hold him down while she buried her book in his face. Both options ended with him slightly curled around her and asleep. If unconscious counted in that category.
Today she'd done an impressive job of ignoring him, despite the fact that her right pigtail was now almost completely out of its tie, he'd tugged at it so much, and she felt him stretching out behind her with a groan as his back audibly cracked. She leaned back on him once he relaxed and continued reading.
His hand brushed her side again.
Oh, God damn it. Did he not know when to stop? Fine. At least he wasn't poking her. She could ignore this much easier than his usual annoyances.
About half an hour later, it was getting harder to ignore. What the hell was he doing? Normally he'd be poking her side and neck, or jabbing at her ribs to get her to curl in on herself with a ticklish snort, but this... he'd never done this before. Instead of the usual, he was just softly, almost absently, running the backs of his fingers against her side. Enough to be noticeable, but not enough to be irritating. It was just... there, and despite her best efforts, she wasn't able to ignore it this time.
Sighing in irritation, she closed her book, moved to embed it in his face... and stopped.
He hadn't even noticed her move.
He wasn't asleep, his eyes were open, but he just had a dazed look on his face as he gently ran his fingers over her hip and waist, up to her ribs, and back down again, like he had been for the past forty minutes. He didn't seem to be looking at her, just staring off into space, until she watched for a while and noticed his eyes only loosely following the motion of his hand. She couldn't read his expression at all, which was new to her. She was normally able to tell what he was thinking even when he wore the blankest of stares, but she'd never seen this before, and she's torn between being intrigued and irritated, wondering somewhere in the back of her mind if he was doing this on purpose.
Eventually he notices her confused stare, and his eyes travel up to hers, still holding that strange look, and he simply smiles before stretching again with a wide yawn. She nods inwardly to herself. He's about to go to sleep. Everything is normal again.
Until he pulls her down with him, throws an arm over her waist and nuzzles deep into her hair before letting out a small sigh and falling asleep.
Maka blinks once, twice, and looks down at the deadweight arm around her waist. She goes to remove it, but he only tightens his grip and his arm digs under her, effectively pinning her against him. She's trapped until he decides to wake up. Sighing, she puts her book on the table in front of them and shifts her legs up onto the couch, trying to get comfortable. His legs immediately tangle with hers and her eyes snap wide open when she feels him kiss the nape of her neck before nuzzling his forehead against her hairline. For a moment she thinks he's fallen asleep again until his free hand reaches up and removes her hair ties before tossing them on the table next to her book.
He's been asleep for quite a while when Maka finally decides to give up. It's late, she's tired, and he's warm. Shifting carefully to not wake him up again, she gets comfortable before drifting off herself, barely registering his foot absently brushing hers as he shifts slightly in his sleep.