It was official- he hated the flea market.

"I swear to Shinigami Maka, if you stop at another book booth, I will throw all of the books you have so far into that fountain over there," Soul complained, kicking a rock as he followed his all-too-eager meister around the bustling market. So far, every purchase had been of books; there were so many god-damn books. Cookbooks, mystery novels, romance novels (which he scoffed at; since when has Maka been a fan of those?), even books on farming! (Because they were going to be doing so much farming in the middle of the freaking desert.) There were so many other cooler stands out there. Old records, movie collections, jewelry peddlers, hell even the food stands were better choices than freaking book stands. She stopped, turning and giving him a chilling smile.

"If you harm even one corner of my books, I'll tell Black*Star about last night. And you know that you only have about five minutes before all of Shibusen will know," she spoke menacingly and he gulped.

"You wouldn't!" he whispered, paling slightly in horror. Last night had been a disaster. He didn't even want to think about it.

"I would. I wasn't the one having issues last night," she chuckled darkly before turning around and walking to the next book stall, humming lightly.

"You're a monster," he murmured, shaking his head. Even cool guys had issues like that, right? He followed her dejectedly while keeping his mouth shut for fear of his reputation being ruined. By the end of the day, his back was killing him from carrying all of her new books. He was grumpy and didn't like the fact that he hadn't gotten the chance to pick out a single thing while they were out.

What he did like, however, was the surprise she gave him that night for putting up with her shenanigans. As he held her in bed later that night, he decided that maybe the flea market wasn't such a bad thing after all.