AN: Rated M, I suppose, simply for some foul language and the description of taking a leak. No smut, no sex, just lots of embarrassment all around. There comes a point in every partnership as tightly knit as the ones shared by Shibusen students when bathroom necessities become an intimacy that is filed under the Knowing Too Much category for both partners. When you gotta go, you gotta go, and nature could care piss-all about who sees you doing it.


When It Rains, It Pours

He probably should have pissed before they hiked all the way down from the school proper, he mulls as he climbs on his bike a bit more gingerly than normal, and waits for his distracted Technician to pull her nose out of her notebook. She's double-checking a note she took to cross-reference a textbook, and she wants to make sure she doesn't have to go get the textbook itself to double-check the information she took from it. Normally, Soul is more than happy to wait around for her, let her take all the time she needs, because it's not like he needs to be anywhere without her. But today he's gotta go, and he just wants to get home and duck in the bathroom before even thinking about anything else.

"Maka."

She kind of leans her body towards him, imperceptibly except to Soul, and he rolls his eyes at her minimal acknowledgement, shifting impatiently. He has to consciously stop himself from taking a grip over his crotch, and his teeth are starting to float. He tries again, gruffer and more impatient. He doesn't like rushing her, but fuck he's gonna piss his pants in a minute.

"Maka."

"What, Soul?"

"We need to get home, c'mon, you can check your notes-that-don't-need-to-be-checked there."

"What's your rush? You got a big date tonight?"

She's being snarky, getting annoyed with him and her notes, he can tell, but that's the last thing on his mind. Fuck, a bedpan would do at this point. His eyeballs are swimming, and it is not cool to have accidents at their age, and he'll be damned if he's gotta find a non-existent bush around the campus to whip it out in. That would be a badass move to make, but he's not in the mood to put up with the head trauma his Technician would ensure he'd barely survive. He's also pretty sure he's not gonna make it back up the school's steps in time to make it to one of the restrooms inside. So with a surreptitious glance around them to be sure no one can see him lose his cool, even the slightest, he pulls out a big gun and throws his head back to let loose the most mournful, pathetic, annoying, immature groan he can muster.

"AauuuuuggggghhhhhhhMakaaaaahhhhh."

It does the trick, as he'd hoped, and Maka snaps her wrist at his head, whipping him painfully in the temple with her sharp, gloved fingers.

"All right, you whiney brat."

"Thank God, c'mon already."

She puffs her cheeks out and grumbles irritably as she stuffs her notebook into her bag, climbing on behind him and digging hard fingers into his sides for good measure, as she mutters her discontent in his ear. He doesn't hear it for long as he guns the engine and starts their way home, relief flooding him at the prospect of a bathroom on arrival. He can barely keep his legs from squeezing shut over the bike as he tears down the familiar streets, Maka complaining the whole way.

Not that she's afraid of his speeding, but it aggravates her when he's unnecessarily impudent within the city. He grips it harder, just to piss her off and because he's already pissed, just in a much worse state. He'll pay for rushing her and purposefully being a brat later, but for now, he just really wants his bathroom.

His bathroom is denied him, however, as he's glomped unceremoniously upon stepping his first foot through the front door. Maka, seasoned Meister that she's becoming, easily side-stepped Blair's welcome-home glomp, leaving him to be blinded by massive cleavage in his water-logged, distracted state.

"God dammit, Blair!" Soul hollers uselessly, and the cat just giggles as she gropes at him.

"You two behave!" Maka commands lazily over her shoulder as she heads for her room.

Under any other circumstances, he may take a round-about pleasure in pushing Blair's jiggling chest from his face, but at the moment, he's about to explode with a fluid nobody wants. He fusses and cusses and is confused when he isn't brained and rescued jointly by his Meister. He barely manages to get their inhumanely sexual cat away from him, gasping for breath and control of his bladder in the process, when it occurs to him that he can hear the shower running. He darts to the bathroom door, pounding and yelling as Blair skips happily back to the kitchen, her mischief accomplished.

"Maka, what the hell, I need the bathroom!" He hollers over the sound of the ocean in his bladder.

He hears Maka's blasé voice come through the wood, muffled by the running shower and echoing off the linoleum and tile, as his red eyes begin to turn yellow and cross.

"I was here first! I'm only going to be ten minutes, Soul, I just wanted to get my shower over with before dinner."

"I'm not gonna make it ten minutes!" He shouts at her desperately, violently shaking the unlocked knob for emphasis, hand unabashedly clutching his shaft through his jeans now.

"Just cover up and let me piss real quick, I can't hold it that long!"

"Soul, you're a big boy, you can do it." She tells him obnoxiously, and he can tell the point is settled as far as she's concerned.

Except that nature doesn't work that way, and he really can't do it, and he makes the fateful decision between pissing out the window or barging into the bathroom while his female Technician is in the shower. He's gonna die a painful death, but at least his bladder will be empty, he consoles himself as he turns the knob and bursts through the door. There's a rush of heat and steam and the strong scent of Maka's shower gel, and maybe if he's quiet she won't even know he's blustered in.

But there's an echoing 'tack' as he flips the seat up in his hurry, and Maka sticks her head around the corner of the shower curtain to see what made the noise, and he's literally caught with his pants open and his hands digging his dick out.

The rush of terror does nothing to help the pressure in his groin, and he can't even take the time to act as chagrined as he feels as he whips it out and takes aim. Maka's contorting red face disappears back behind the shower curtain and she screams a war cry that echoes terrifyingly through the cramped space. He can't help how impressed he is as the cacophony of sounds mingle in the small room, the competing of the whooshing shower, his built-up stream, and her raging screams sending echoes through the air that must be rattling the whole apartment. He splutters as he empties into the bowel, beside himself with both relief and mortification, barely coherent, as he and Maka both yell over each other.

"Triedtowarnyou!I'msorryMaka!Igottapisscan'tholditI'mreallyfuckingsorry!"
"SOUL EATER, GET OUT OF THIS BATHROOM RIGHT NOW!"

"Maka, unless you want me to pee all over the floor, you're just gonna have to wait it out!"

All of his apologies fall on deaf ears, his stream still fluidly punctuating the whole debacle, and the next thing he knows he's being pelted in the head with shampoo bottles. His shampoo. And his body wash, and her shampoo, and Blair's. He flails the arm nearest the shower, desperately trying to keep his aim with his other hand, and trying to shield his face at the same time.

"God damn it, Maka, you're gonna get it everywhere, knock it off!"

Even though he's mildly impressed she's managed every bull's eye with the shower curtain still tightly closed.

"Soul Eater, so help me, if you get that anywhere but in that toilet, you will clean it up with your face!"

And he blanches, because that's her Meister voice, and he knows she'll carry through with it.

"Then stop chuckin' shampoo at me!"

He nearly begs, but he's got more control slowly coming back as his bladder shrinks in obscene relief.

"Get outta this bathroom!"

Finally, he's down to enough trickle to shake it off and pack it in, flushing in almost the same motion and sprinting out the door before even he knows he's made it to safety. His face is burning red, and he's panting and didn't even get to wash his hands. He's also pretty sure he didn't have time to put the seat back down. Shit, that'll just add to his list of offenses warranting the Maka Death Penalty. Blair, with her uncanny ability to sense strife and chaos, comes smugly slinking around the corner and bee-lines straight for him again, narrowing in on his blazing face and radiating panic. He bolts to his room like the overwhelmed Boy he is, slamming the door behind himself and hiding under his blankets.

He spends the next ten minutes torn between the knowledge that he was right next his naked Meister in the shower, and how humiliating it is for both parties when someone needs to piss while the other's trying to wash.

He vows from that day forward to never ignore an opportunity to take a whizz when presented the chance to safely do so.