Content Warning: Mild alcohol use
December 15th
"I can't believe you've even got some miniature Christmas tree in here." Soul pushes Maka's door open. She's on the phone.
"Hush, my mom's on the phone." She puts her hands over the receiver and waves at him irritatingly. He's almost a little surprised that she has another parent besides that weirdo professor.
"Yeah, of course, put grandma on," she says sweetly. Her voice gets a little higher and she starts speaking in what he guesses to be Japanese. "Hey, Soul, my mom wants to talk to you." She shoves the phone at him and he takes it hesitantly.
"Hello?" he prays that the voice on the other side is speaking English.
"Oh, is this Soul? It's so nice to meet you," a woman laughs, "well sort of."
"Uh yeah," he mumbles.
"It's so nice of you to take care of Maka over these holidays, I can't thank you enough."
"It's more like her that takes care of me."
"What is she saying to you?" Maka mouths at him, he just shakes his head at her.
"I hope you guys have a good Christmas. Don't tell Maka, but I'm sending her a check to help with the tuition, don't let her send it back," Maka's mom says.
"Of course," he replies.
"Give me the phone back." Maka snatches the phone. "Stop saying weird things about me, mom." She says. Soul slumps on the bed. "Okay, love you too, Merry Christmas."
"So where did this tree come from?" Soul says as she slips her phone back in her pocket.
"My mom sent it to me," she replies and start tacking up a string of lights around the edge of the ceiling.
"She seems nice."
"Oh, she is, she's great." She smiles. "She works so hard, and is so ambitious - I'm going to be just like her."
"Anyway, I didn't know you spoke Japanese." he's still waiting for her to stop surprising him.
"Well, if I wanted to talk with that half of my family, I sort of had to learn it. Now I have to go to work."
"You need a ride? I need to do some Christmas shopping." He still has to get her present, and he hasn't even thought about whether to get anything for his dorm mates. He's never really had that many friends so he hasn't decided whether it's cool or not to get presents for them, probably if it's beer or something.
December 21st
He's bored. He wishes Maka didn't work so often because he doesn't really have anyone else to talk to. A little pathetic, he thinks to himself, but he's never been that social anyways. He's about to pull out his phone and call her when it rings.
"What's up?"
"Hey, I just got home from work," Maka says, "you down for Christmas movies and pasta?"
"Totally, come on over." Yeah, a little pathetic. He hears a knock on the door and swings it open to see her with a giant fuzzy blanket. "Where are the movies?"
"You underestimate my love of Christmas," she brandishes a flash drive at him and he snatches it out of her hand. "You can pick the first one."
He plugs in the flash drive and pulls up a pretty extensive folder of movies. "This seems really illegal."
"Like all of your hundred gigs of music isn't," she scoffs and flops in front of the laptop. "What are we watching?"
"What a Wonderful Life, obviously." He shoves her lightly and claims a spot in front of the tiny screen. "We need a T.V."
The screen fades to black and his stomach grumbles.
"I can't believe you haven't put on pasta yet," she mutters.
"You're needy." he gets up to put on water and she wraps the blanket tightly around her. "What are we watching next?"
"Meet Me in St. Louis."
"That's not really a Christmas movie," he yells from the kitchen.
"It is so, and it's my favorite; I'm starting it without you."
He returns with two bowls of pasta, doused heavily with pesto, and a tall glass of vodka and a dose of orange juice. She reaches for the glass and takes a sip, making a face.
"There's vodka in that." He points out as she makes a disgusted face.
"That's disgusting," she sneers involuntarily, "but I'm getting used to it."
"I don't know if you should drink that." he takes the glass back and takes a swig.
"You're not my father."
"Thank god. Geez this movie is awful, the only thing it has going for it is-"
"Judy Garland," Maka fills in, stuffing her face with pasta.
"I guess she makes up for everything in her own way."
The movie is nearing its end and Soul is comfortably buzzed and full of pasta. The movie isn't actually as bad as he remembers it being, but that could be the alcohol talking. He decides it's more charmingly old-fashioned. Maka is sprawled on the floor, lazily nibbling pasta and humming to the signature song. She's topped off the remains of his screwdriver with more orange juice, smart choice, and tastes it gingerly.
"Aren't you supposed to drink eggnog on Christmas or something?" she grimaces.
"I guess, I've never been a Christmas person." He replies, yawning.
"Oh come on, it's the one time you're supposed to enjoy your family."
"My family Christmases were always more like formal events, kids upstairs to not cause an embarrassment," He mutters bitterly. She leans her forehead against his hand, somehow conveying something between sympathy and affection.
"Are you an only child?" she asks.
"No, I have an older brother, Wes; he's the favored child," he replies and takes a drink from the watered down drink. He's really too sober to be having this conversation.
"I always wanted a sibling, but Christmas was always nice with just me and my mom."
He clams up a little; he's never been a sentimental person. The only thing less cool than feeling sorry for yourself is talking about it. He rubs the back of her neck and double clicks Miracle on 34th Street.
December 25th
"I thought I'd find you in here."
He looks up from the piano.
"I haven't seen you in a couple of days."
Truthfully, he feels awkward about talking about his family, though it isn't really a good excuse for avoiding one of his only friends.
"I've just been practicing a lot." He returns his gaze to the piano.
"I have your present back in my room, you should come get it." She starts to move for the door.
"Will you sing something for me?"
He can tell she's taken aback; it is pretty odd for him to request something like that. Mostly he feels vulnerable and it feels safer to be the one making an appeal.
"You know better than anyone that I can't sing." She flushes a little pink.
"That's not entirely true." He grins, "come on, I'll play something you know." He plays out the changes to a very familiar song. She just glares at him and rocks back on the heels of her boots. He returns the look with a smirk and runs the progression again.
"Have yourself a merry little christmas," her voice is quiet, and nervous, and the pitch wavers a little, but it's not bad to listen to. She doesn't fall flat, and hearing her sing is reassuring. He's knows that he's selfish for wanting to keep her to himself, but he's always been too good at ruining good things in the past.
"So you said you have a present for me?"
"You suck." She punches his shoulder and everything is normal again.
"Calm down." He hands her a gift bag, "Merry Christmas and all that."
"Wait, I really do have to get your present from my room," she pushes it back at him and hurries for the door. He leans against the piano for a few minutes, waiting for her to return. She comes back in a huff, a neatly wrapped box in one hand. "Merry Christmas, Soul."
He unwraps the box nimbly and pulls out a cream headband with a couple of patches sewn on the front, a blue one with his name and another with a fanged mouth. "This is cool, did you make this?" he slips it over his head, impressed.
"I'm a girl of many skills," she smirks. She's kind of amazing.
"I can't say the same." He hands her the gift bag for the second time and she takes it. She digs impatiently through the tissue paper and pulls out his gift to her.
"So cute!" she exclaims, holding up the mismatched, stars and stripes socks.
"For your skinny chicken legs," he says nonchalantly as she kicks off her shoes and pulls the socks dangerously high. "I figure there are certain circumstances when it's acceptable to give people socks."
"Thanks."
"Merry Christmas."
"So what am I making for dinner?" she asks.
"Fuck." He hadn't gone to the grocery store. "Is the grocery store still open?"
"I don't think it opened at all today," she replies, "wait, you forgot about the groceries didn't you?" her voice gets more shrill by the second and Soul prepares himself to get whacked. Fortunately all she has to throw at him is a gift bag so he gets off easy.
"How do you feel about ramen?"
"You're the worst."