Day 11 - Greeting Card: "We both like each other but we can't get our shit together without outside interference" Future fic, Soul Eater universe


It starts innocently enough with a card in Soul's locker.

Soul is now eighteen and smart enough to throw out any sort of love letter or request in front of Maka because he knows it's a Thing, he tells her, and while her jealousy is cute, he has no desire to be Maka Chop'd in genitals.

"Huh," Soul says as he scans over the card. "Interesting."

"What?" Maka pretends to be casual even though she is dying to know what is written on the card. It's plain white and void of any visual clues. Is it a love letter? A partner request? A marriage proposal? "What's up?"

"Nothing," he folds up the card and sticks it in his back pocket. "I'll meet you back at the apartment for dinner. It's your turn to cook."

Curiosity burns in her chest. Her jealousy is stifling. "I'm making stir fry," Maka says, even though what she really wants to do is rip the card from his pocket like the crazy person she is. She doesn't have that right, Maka reminds herself. He is not her boyfriend.

Soul reaches out to her. Gentle fingers stroke a stray hair that has fallen out of her pigtail. He is driving her insane and he has absolutely no idea. Or maybe he does, Maka thinks, with the way he is grinning at her. "Put extra steak in mine. See you."

"Bye."

I don't care, Maka tells herself over and over.

She stares at his locker with a glare so heated it could burn a hole through the metal.

I definitely DON'T care.


"I don't actually care at all," becomes Maka's personal mantra and no one, even Black*Star, is fooled. "Soul is an adult and he can do whatever he wants. Do I care who he hangs out with? Do I care that he was being suspicious and secretive? Do I care if he runs away with that redhead meister with big boobs from the EAT class? I don't."

"Then why have you been talking about it for the last half an hour?" Black*Star finally looks up from his video game. "For someone who 'doesn't care', you seem to care a LOT."

Maka throws a pen at his head. "Shut up, Black*Star! When did you get perceptive?"

"Your God knows all," he tells her. Black*Star grabs her wrist and drags her off of campus none too gently. "You're lucky your God is a benevolent one. Let's go."

She blinks at him. "Go where?"

"To spy on Soul."


On a scale of 1 to "Let Patti get drunk at the zoo and terrorize the giraffes", the Spy on Soulmission is at least a hundred in terms of bad ideas. Black*Star is, for all intents and purposes, a shitty assassin. Blending in is just not his forte.

As soon as they step into the diner (Black*Star is good at tracking and apparently Soul had been stupid enough to tell his friend where he was going) he announces their presence in a loud voice and "stealth" flies out the window. Maka wants to die.

Soul is sitting across from a girl that Maka vaguely recognizes. She is a weapon, like Soul, a dagger-axe from Hong Kong and she is, for lack of a better term, hot. Tall, slender, with a punk rock sensibility from her short turquoise hair to her leather pants to her winged eyeliner, she is absolutely gorgeous. Maka is immediately self conscious and wants to jump through a window to escape.

Without invitation, Black*Star drops into the booth next to Soul. Both Soul and Dagger-Axe look a bit surprised but no one is kicking them out. Maka slumps next to Soul's date and tries not to hyperventilate. This is karmic retribution for listening to Black*Star's dumb ass plans, Maka thinks. She should know better.

"'sup, bro?" Black*Stay asks casually.

"I'm really sorry about this," Maka says to both Soul and Dagger-Axe. "Black*Star suffered a lot of head trauma as a baby."

Dagger-Axe laughs. She has a tongue ring. She has a tongue ring and Maka sits at home and cries while reading historical romance novels. This is the worst kind of torture. "Don't worry about it."

"What are you guys doing here?" Soul asks Black*Star.

"On a date," Black*Star says around a mouthful of bread.

Someone gasps. Maka thinks it might have been her. "What?" Soul asks, as if it's the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard because it is.

"Yeah, dude. You can't think you're the only one with the hots for Maka? I mean, tiny tits as they may be–" Maka kicks him under the table, "– she's not hideous or anything."

"Oh gee, thanks," Maka says dryly.

Dagger-Axe– Jenny? Janet? Jessica? Maka can't recall– puts her hand up. "Uh, I think there's been some sort of–"

It happens in slow motion. One moment Maka is leaning over the table to slap the bread basket out of Black*Star's hand and the next he is tugging her by her pigtail and his lips are on hers. Someone screams. Maka thinks it might have been her but it is muffled by Black*Star's mouth which still has bread in it.

"Dude," Soul pulls Black*Star back into his seat. He grimaces and Black*Star laughs riotously. "Gross. No."

"There has definitely been some sort of misunderstanding," Jenny or Janet or Jessica says. "We're not here on a date. I was asking Soul if he would be okay with me asking Maka to partner up."

Maka is frozen solid. She cannot function on a human level anymore. She has no idea how to handle any of this.

"All of the weapons know that Maka is off limits because Soul is her guard dog," Jenny or Janet or Jessica continues, "so I thought it would be smart to get his blessing first. He's so stubborn, though. Someone must have missed that lesson in kindergarten about sharing."

Soul shrugs. "Sorry." He doesn't sound very sorry at all, actually. And is he really not going to address the fact that her mouth had been accosted by Black*Star who is now stealing fries off of Soul's plate?

"Besides, Soul's not even my type."

"What's wrong with him?" Maka asks defensively. Only she is allowed to badmouth Soul, thank you very much.

Jenny or Janet or Jessica shrugs. "He's a boy and I'm gay so I don't think wedding bells are in our future."

"Ooooh," Maka says at the same time Black*Star screams, "NICE!" Soul nudges him in the stomach with his elbow.

"I need to go now and think about my life choices," Maka excuses herself and runs out of the diner. Maybe if she is lucky, a car will hit her and put her out of her misery.

Black*Star and Soul catch up to her easily. Soul's grin is infuriating. "Aren't you Miss Popularity."

Maka tries not to cry. "Haha. I get it. I screwed up. And now I have to gargle bleach to get the taste of Black*Star off of my tongue." She sighs. "I suck."

"Yeah, you do," Black*Star agrees, "but isn't anyone going to talk about how your awesome God helped you two get together?"

Soul punches Black*Star in the arm. Hard. "You stuck your tongue in my meister's mouth, you dick. That doesn't count as 'helping'."

Black*Star shrugs. "But my divine intervention worked, didn't it?"

Soul and Maka look at each other. "Did it?" Soul asks.

"Yeah," Maka says. "It did."

"Good," Soul slips his hand in hers. He kisses her right there in the street and Black*Star whistles loudly. "Disinfection," he teases.

"You just secondhand kissed Black*Star," she teases back.

"Don't say that or I'll cry."