You Know You Trust Your Partner...
by. Poisoned Scarlett.
...when she's your one call from jail.
Spirit Albarn had a personal vendetta against him, of this he was positive.
The cuffs on his hands were chafing his skin.
Soul sighed as he slumped against the cold concrete of the waiting room wall; the only one still handcuffed since he was the only weapon type at the moment.
He could somewhat understand Spirit's loathe of him but he had taken it too far tonight by placing him in jail for it! Maka had taken painstaking lengths to ensure that his record stayed crystal clean and this one stump in jail would forever stain it. He could only imagine how much of a scene she would cause when she realized just who had called the cops on him in the first place.
Note to self: do not bait Spirit about dating Maka again. Soul duly noted, slumping down further on the bench when he caught a shady-looking man eying him. He avoided contact with the other men housed within the same room who, he was sure, had been convicted for far worse things than vandalizing a petty wall.
Lord Death did not mind his students spray painting the city walls with their imagination. The owners of the managements often put up signs on the lower portions of the buildings that alerted taggers like him or Black Star that they were allowed to decorate the wall.
There was only one rule to follow, and that was to not mark the wall with gang propaganda.
But creating murals, as Lord Death cheerily called it, was encouraged.
"Evans! Evans!"
Soul turned to the male officer who had booked him into Death City Jail with a scowl. He couldn't have shouted it any louder; at least five heads had turned to stare at him, obviously recognizing the surname.
"One phone call! Hurry up!"
He scrambled out of the holding room in a heart beat, glad to be away from the suffocating cloud of sweat and restrained fury. He had never been thrust in jail before, and the anxiety and uncertainty of being placed in a facility where the worst of the worst were detained was killing him. It was uncool to feel unnerved by the situation, given that he was usually collected even in the most dangerous of situations, but he couldn't help it.
Jail was not a very friendly place to be.
"Dude – over there!" Black Star stated, pointing to the furthermost part of the wall. "You missed a spot!"
"Oh, crap, forgot about that." Soul muttered, and shook the can of black paint a few times. He sprayed the spot he missed, smirking. His eyes roamed the masterpiece he and his friend were creating; the skull, bones, souls, scythes and chain-sickles with their names slyly weaved within the image. "We done yet? Maka told me to be back before eight!"
"In a bit! We're almost done!" Black Star grinned, shaking out a can of silver paint. "Hyahaha! Only four more walls to go before everyone knows who the almighty Black Star is!"
Soul snorted, watching his friend quickly fill in the 'a' in his name before moving onto the next letter. "You still haven't given up on that yet? How lame."
"Fuck you, Soul, you thought it was a pretty damn good idea when we were younger!" Black Star snapped over his shoulder, continuing to spray the wall.
"I was thirteen, dumbass. I thought everything you said was cool." Soul said sarcastically, rolling his eyes when Black Star hooted something similar to "damn straight!"
The next few moments were still a blur for Soul. A stomach-dropping siren had sounded from the street behind them and Soul barely had enough time to turn and understand what had happened before they were swarmed with officers. Black Star, he had seen from the corner of his eye, had swore colorfully and dropped his can; shouting for him to make a run for it.
He had disappeared up on a rooftop, officers trying to track him down frantically.
"Don't run away, you dumbass!" Soul had shouted, for the sole reason that he knew eluding capture would only worsen the charges already pressed on them. "Look, I don't know who called you on us, but we're allowed to—!"
"ON THE FLOOR, NOW!"
"Careful – he's a weapon type!"
"Get on the floor now! ON THE FLOOR!"
"What the fuck? I didn't do anything—oh, shit—!" The next thing Soul had known, he had been tackled to the dirty floor and there were at least five officers forcing his arms behind his back. He had been yanked up crudely after they cuffed him, told his rights by a stoic officer, and shoved into the back of a police car before he could collect his wits.
The last thing he had seen before they hauled him off to jail was Spirit leaning against a lamppost, mockingly waving goodbye with a cellphone in his hand.
Soul shuffled to where the public phones hung and quickly picked up the less damaged one. The cuffs made things harder but he managed; unwilling to ask an officer to remove the cuffs for his comfort.
He didn't think he'd get a very positive reply if he did.
His eyes landed on the toll and he cursed under his breath. They couldn't make anything easy, could they? He hung the phone back and dug in his pocket the best he could. He pulled out all the change he had.
He was dryly rewarded with just enough coins to place one phone call...
He did not hesitate. He dumped the coins into the slot and dialed in the one number he knew perfectly – forwards and backwards – by memory. His hand clenched around the receiver, praying that Maka would pick up the phone. He had lived with her long enough to know that she often dismissed phone calls she did not recognize in the Caller ID.
"Hello?"
"Maka!" Soul breathed in relief. "Thank god you answered!"
"Soul—? Do you know what time it is? You said you'd be back before eight! It's already ten! Where are you?"
Soul leaned against the wall, ignoring the tattooed man who waited behind him for his turn with the phone. "You'd never believe what your dumbass dad did to me this time."
"What? Papa? Soul, are you okay...?"
She sounded worried. Soul rubbed the back of his neck, guiltily "Yeah—no, actually. I'm in jail – for vandalizing private property and, according to the reports, eluding capture and resisting an officer."
He heard her gasp, and he continued awkwardly: "So, now someone has to bail me out or I'm stuck here for the next... two weeks." He held his breath, awaiting a lecture of epic proportions, when he heard the line cut. He blinked, bewildered. Had she just hung up on him? "Maka? Maka! Shit..." He slammed the phone on its hook, grounding his teeth in both anger and hurt.
"Man, that was harsh." The tattooed man commented.
Soul spared him a bleak glance. "Yeah, well, it's not everyday you get a phone call saying your partners in jail..."
"I feel you, man." The man nodded, reaching forward to grab the phone. Soul noticed he had pierced his wrists as well. "My girlfriend dumped me when she heard I got booked for Possession."
"Possession?"
"Got caught with a bag of pot." The man grinned, and Soul returned it with a slight grin of his own although he felt less than amused. "Had to get my second girl to bail me out – heh, I guess I found out who loved me the most, huh?"
"Yeah, guess you did." Soul shifted uncomfortably. He usually avoided bad company like this, mostly because he was far above going to jail for petty crimes and because his career as a Death Scythe counted on it. This one bust to jail could ruin his entire record, and his chances of becoming Death's weapon. "Good luck getting bailed this time!"
"Yeah, thanks! You, too!" The guy nodded, dialing in a number.
Fuck you, Spirit. Soul thought hatefully, returning to the holding room. He caught the guarded looks tossed at him from the officers and he pretended to be unaffected by their glares. The cuffs that scratched his skin were starting to become harder and harder to ignore. He sat down on the bench, sighing bleakly again.
He was never one to lose his temper for long periods of time unlike Maka, who could stew in rage for weeks on end if he didn't suck it up and apologize.
He watched the doorway open with new criminals, each and every one shady and dangerous in their own way. He wondered if he looked just like them, too, and his mouth pressed in a grimace.
He wanted out.
Now.
But his only life-line had decided to ditch him when he needed her the most...
He didn't think Maka would just hang up on him like that! He understood being punished for his screw ups but this was simply insane– and he hadn't even screwed up this time! Lord Death truly didn't mind his students creating murals; the Death God often said it added character and color to his dreary little city. The images drawn on the walls also attracted tourists, given that some of them were simply amazing feats accomplished with simple spray cans or paint.
Soul reached into his pocket to take out his cellphone out of habit – only to remember a few seconds later that it had been confiscated.
His cellphone, wallet, and other personal items had been robbed from him by the officers when he first came in. He didn't even want to know what his mug shot looked like; being as he had been scowling, and Maka often commented he looked rather intimidating when he scowled.
"Fuck this!" Soul swore under his breath. He was sure the clock would hit midnight soon, and he was already beginning to feel drowsy. He forced himself awake: the last thing he needed was to fall asleep in a place where criminals prowled freely; or as freely as they could get, with so man officers watching them like hawks.
He spent at least two hours brooding near a corner, ignoring the world around him as he glared a hole into the wall opposite to him, when he heard his dreadful surname get called again, only this time it was less aggressive than before.
"Someone paid your bail." The officer informed him, to his surprise. "You'll get processed over there, and you can pick up your stuff while you're at it." The officer pointed to the middle-aged woman who sat behind a thick glass sheet, typing away at a computer.
"Uh, any chance I can get these taken off me?" Soul asked hopefully, holding his hands up.
The officer chuckled, far more paternal than the first officer who had booked him. "Not a chance, kid, you're still a hazard even if you got bailed. Even more so since you're a weapon type. Now, hurry up, you don't wanna' keep your girlfriend waiting!"
Soul made no effort to correct him, a weight lifted off his chest when he realized just who had bailed him, as he headed toward the middle-aged woman. It didn't take very long to get processed out. He had cringed when he caught a glimpse of his mug shot in the computer screen before the woman finally handed back his personal belongings through the slot under the bullet-proof glass.
"I don't wanna' see your face here again, kid." The woman sternly said, before he left. "You look like a good kid – I'd hate to see you come here again with even more severe charges. I hope this taught you a lesson!"
Soul smirked weakly. "Yeah, don't worry. I don't plan on comin' back here any time soon, either." He walked toward the paternal officer, who gestured him down a long corridor that would lead to his freedom.
"Alright, I think I can remove the cuffs now." The officer said, and Soul immediately rose his hands. The officer quickly undid the locks, and Soul snatched his hands back protectively. He didn't like being restrained in such a way; it made him anxious, since his arms were vital in fighting. "Safe to say you won't come back? You look like a good kid."
What the hell? Do you they not see the teeth and eyes? Soul thought, annoyed, but answered smoothly: "Don't worry. I don't plan on comin' back." The rest of the way was silent until he spotted Maka, nervously tapping her foot on the tile as she awaited the release of her weapon. She appeared to have only thrown on a coat and her boots. He caught glimpses of her usual green pajamas under the coat.
"Maka!" Soul shouted, and Maka breathed in relief to find him unharmed.
"Soul!" Maka ran to him, glancing at the officer who escorted him out briefly before turning her attention back to him. "Thank god you're okay!"
"Tch, why wouldn't I be?" Soul mumbled, able to regain his cool attitude despite the broody mess he had been back in the holding chamber. "This place is swarming with cops, as if any one of them could pull a fast one in here. You can't even take a piss without someone watching you..."
Maka scowled and smacked him on the head. He expected it to hurt more but it was only a simple bump. He rubbed his head out a little, grinning slightly. "Ow?"
"I spoke to my papa," Maka explained, taking his hand and leading him out. The jail made Maka jumpy. She'd rather be outside, however chilly it was at the moment; it being around three in the morning. "And he cleared the charges. You were about to be processed into Nevada prison if I hadn't come for you now!"
"What?" Soul exclaimed, in incredulity. "I never even eluded capture! Black Star did! And I never resisted – it's not my fault they're too dumb to listen to me!"
"But you were vandalizing a wall, right?" Maka accusingly said.
Soul faltered. "No... well, okay, so we were—!"
"SOUL!"
"Lord Death doesn't care!" Soul defended himself. "I've asked him permission before! He said he doesn't mind as long as it isn't gang-affiliated! And, last time I checked, I'm not in a fucking gang!" Soul sighed sharply and rubbed his temples with his free hand. He tightened his fingers around her own. "I just wanna' go home. I'm tired, hungry, and that noisy place gave me a killer headache..."
Maka pursed her lips, an angry retort on the tip of her tongue. She thought against it when she caught his haggard appearance; how the circles under his eyes appeared more pronounced. She felt compassion swell in her chest, and Maka stopped to pull him into a hug as she usually did when he was having a bad day.
She smiled softly when he wrapped his arms around her, sighing into her hair. She remembered the days when he would cringe and stand perfectly still, muttering something about his style getting cramped before he reluctantly returned the embrace. "You dad's a bastard, you know that?"
"Yep, I know." Maka replied, with a tiny giggle when Soul grumbled and rested his forehead on her shoulder. "Don't worry – I made sure he'll never pull another stunt like this again."
Despite himself, curiosity won. "...What'd you do to him?"
"You know your bail money?"
"Yeah?"
"Took it from his bank account." Maka smugly stated.
"Isn't that illegal?" Soul wondered.
"Why would it be illegal? He's my papa and he gave me authorization to use his bank account whenever I needed it." Maka loftily stated. Her lips curled up in mischief. "And I needed it now, so I used it."
"That was still a lot of money..."
"Would you rather stay there for another week before you get processed into a county prison?" Maka arched a brow. Soul shook his head vigorously, pulling her closer to him if that were possible. "I'm sorry I took so long – but I had to go directly to Shibusen and ask papa to drop the charges unfairly placed on you. It's a good thing Lord Death was there, too..." She sighed in relief. "He helped relieve the charges immediately!"
Soul chuckled. "And here I thought you totally ditched me."
"Why would I ditch you?" Maka asked, crestfallen he had thought she had abandoned him. "You're my partner, Soul. I'd never leave you alone in a place like that..."
Catching the hurt in her tone, he quickly amended: "I mean, since you hung up without saying anything! I just thought...you were disappointed." Soul mumbled, jerking away from her. "Or something..."
Maka softened her eyes and smiled. "I know you, Soul. You're not stupid enough to get thrown in jail unless someone like my dad comes around and calls the police on you!" For a second, he wondered if he should back away slowly because Maka looked absolutely murderous, before the look softened. "I'm not disappointed in you, Soul, but I am angry that you didn't tell me you were going out to graffiti with Black Star!"
Soul groaned. "If I told you that, you'd never let me out!"
"But if you had told me that, you wouldn't be stuck in this mess in the first place!" Maka said hotly, and pushed away from him. Soul sighed as he felt a lecture on its way.
He just wanted to hold Maka a little more, was that so bad? Apparently it was because, true to his gut feeling, Maka went on a tangent about his irresponsibility and the consequences for baiting her short-fused, overprotective, father.
Note: Requested by aviechan.
Scarlett.