A/N- I wasn't satisfied with my first attempt at post-Eibon stuff, so here's a second go-around.


Soul's chest is in much better shape than somebody who'd been hit by a chainsaw had a right to expect.

His skin was dotted with thousands of little nicks and cuts, with lurid bruises in a rainbow of colors rising up between, but it's nothing like what Maka feared. When she saw Giriko's saw leg ground against Soul's torso, for an airless second she felt as though she was back in that basilica in Florence. But he did get back up, and Maka's not sure if she should be thanking the strength he's gained as a death scythe or if they're just incredibly lucky.

Either way, she's thankful. She doesn't quite know what she would do without him.

Kim healed her more serious injuries after they returned to Death City. She's still covered in her own collection of cuts and scrapes and bruises, but the major wounds— her cracked rib, the lacerations on her back, the deep gash at her hairline— have already been tended to. While Soul was in the shower she patched up the little things, and by the time he's out, clad only in sweatpants, she's waiting in her pajamas by the door to his bedroom with a box of bandaids and a bottle of peroxide.

He sighs. "You don't have to—"

"Just let me," she insists. "That's what partners do, right? We look out for each other."

His gaze softens, and she knows he understands what she's trying to do. Soul always understands.

He walks over to his bed and sits on it, waiting obediently for her to come and tend to him, and she follows quickly, sinking down next to him on his mattress, taking a moment to look over his chest. That big diagonal scar is going to have lots of tiny companions in a few days. It makes her a little sick to her stomach.

Maka would need six boxes of bandaids at least to treat all of Soul's injuries, but they only have one box of the fancy ones with the antibiotic on the pad, so she focuses on the longest and deepest, and diligently wipes down the rest with the antiseptic. She tries not to notice how warm he is, how he smells like his soap and her shampoo, how his stomach muscles jump when her fingers brush against soft, sensitive skin. It's harder to ignore the way he tenses up when she presses a little too hard when she's sticking a bandaid on.

He is quiet while she works— he usually is, but it's a heavy quiet this time. They have things to talk about, but not yet, not until after she's through with covering up as many little punctures in his skin as their stock of bandages will allow.

There's a revelation brewing in the silence, bubbling over a fire fueled by long white hair and a flat chest and shaking hands, but it hasn't quite come to a boil yet. The Book showed her something about Soul— several somethings— but she hasn't gathered it all together in her head just yet.

After several minutes, her work is as finished as it can be. She finds when she stands up to throw away the peroxide-soaked cotton balls and bandaid wrappers that she isn't ready to stop touching him, so once she returns to his side and sits down again, she takes his hand in both of her own. She doesn't cling to it like she kind of wants to, just laces their fingers together softly.

"Do you need help with anything?" he asks.

She shakes her head. "No, Kim got the big stuff and I took care of the little ones on my own while you were in the shower." She brushes her damp hair out of the way to expose the bandage covering the cut on the side of her neck.

He reaches out to touch the spot lightly, and she notices that his hands are trembling again.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs, not meeting his eyes. "I know you said I didn't have to say it, but I want to. I was being stupid."

He gives a half-hearted snort. "Yeah, you were. But it was the Book talking, right?"

"Kind of," she says with a shrug. "I guess the Envy and Sloth chapters amplified some things."

Beside her, he's very still, that soft, thinking kind of quiet that he has. "I didn't know," he says after a few moments. "All this time you've actually been bothered by this stuff… and I've been joking about it." His voice is bitter with self-recrimination, and that's not what she wants at all. She doesn't want him to feel bad.

"Soul…"

"I never would've thought you'd feel— insecure. Usually that's my job," he says dryly. "Didn't think you'd actually be bothered that you haven't been getting partnership requests."

She sighs. "It's not really that I'm not getting any, even though that would be flattering. Mostly it's just that I hate that you're getting so many."

"Huh?"

Maka chuckles humorlessly at his confused ineloquence. This is a daring thing to voice out loud, but they have to talk about it. Clearly their communication skills still aren't up to par, and she can't keep relying on how well they can read each other nonverbally, because if the last twelve hours are any indication, it's not enough. So she has to say these things, even if it's scary. "I'm selfish," she admits. "I get jealous so easily, and I know it's not right, but I feel so possessive of you when you spend time with other people."

He still looks confused. "I don't understand."

"It's like— I just keep having this horrible feeling that you'll find people you like better than me and I'll lose you. And before you say it, I know it's stupid, and probably not very healthy, but I can't seem to stop feeling that way."

He seems momentarily lost for words, eyes wide in complete astonishment. After a few moments, he unsticks his tongue and blurts out, "You're right, that is stupid." He seems to realize that's not quite the right thing to say, but he's clearly struggling with words right now— and she did say it first— so she lets it pass. "Is it like a meister instinct territorial thing?" he asks awkwardly.

That makes her smile despite the heavy subject matter. "I don't think that's actually a thing," she says. "It's more of a 'Maka is too attached to Soul for her own good' thing."

"I don't think that's entirely bad," he says hesitantly, as if he's chewing on the idea.

She frowns. "What does that mean?"

"It means— I… how do I—? Urgh." He blows out a frustrated breath. "Can we turn off the light or somethin'? I'm trying to do this 'honest conversation' thing right 'cause we've sucked at it so far, but I can't talk with you looking at me." He's blushing and self-conscious and it's kind of cute. Maka wants to hug him.

But before she can decide whether to act on the impulse, he's leaning away, reaching over to turn out the light without waiting for any agreement from her. She notices that he doesn't let go of her hand, and it makes something warm settle in her chest.

She's fine with the light out. She doesn't care much either way, and if it makes it easier for Soul, that's fine.

"Look, you shouldn't worry about all those letters," he says, and she can hear how much easier this is for him in the dark. "They're just a nuisance, and I'm not taking anybody up on it. I don't want another meister."

"Yeah. I got that impression back in the Book," she says. There was real panic in his eyes when she tried to break up with him, and she won't forget that. "I'll try to stop being so paranoid and jealous. It can't be good for our resonance."

He lets go of her hand. "Right. Our resonance." He flops back on the mattress, and she senses that he's sulking. What did she say wrong?

She lies down next to him as he squirms further back on the bed to accommodate his long legs. "It's not just that and you know it," she says, taking a stab in the dark at what bothered him. "We haven't been just meister and weapon for a long time, Soul."

By the faint moonlight leaking through the blinds above their heads, she sees him nod, and she turns on her side to face him.

"In the Envy chapter, I saw my brother," he says, seemingly out of the blue. "Or a vision of him, I guess. Which makes sense."

"It does?" Soul never talks about his brother. Maka doesn't even know his name, just that he exists.

Soul nods again. "I've been envious of him as long as I can remember. He's perfect and I'm… me." She wants to protest that being him is a wonderful thing, that he's a beautiful person and a gift or some other nauseatingly cheesy thing, but she bites her tongue because Soul is sharing for once, and she doesn't want to scare him back into silence.

"He kept saying all this crap about how I only left because I wanted to get out of his shadow, and how we were only partners because you don't really get music so you can't actually judge my playing."

He tries to play it off casually, but he fails and only ends up sounding even more vulnerable thanks to his attempts at bravado. The irony in contrast to her own experience with Envy is not lost on her.

"So should I assume that's not true, then?" she ventures.

Soul shrugs. "It kinda started out that way, but now… well, like you said, it's been a long time since we were just weapon and meister."

She smiles. "Yeah. We're partners. And you… you're my…" Best friend, she wants to say, but she's shy and it's not quite accurate. He is her best friend, but that's not all he is to her. Then again, Soul fills so many roles in her life that there might not be just one word for it all. How can she possibly express just how much he means to her?

"Maka, I'm in love with you."

Oh. Well, that seems like a pretty succinct way.

"Sorry if that makes things weird. I just think you need to know," he adds.

It's her turn to feel lost for words, but she can't stay silent; despite his nonchalant declaration, she can imagine waiting for a response to that would be nerve-wracking or anybody, but for Soul… She's gotten the impression that he might have a stronger than usual fear of rejection.

In lieu of eloquence, she reaches out and takes his hand again. Hesitantly, she says, "I think I love you, too."

"You think." He sounds perplexed and a little disappointed, but his face is a blank in the dimness.

She nods. "I'm not sure I'm all the way there quite yet, but I realized awhile ago that I have feelings for you." She takes a shaky breath. "It's… scary."

"No kidding."

"But we can be brave, right?" she asks. "We can handle anything together."

"Together?" She can hear in his voice how much he hopes she means what he wants her to mean, and how afraid he is that she doesn't.

Fortunately for him, she does. "Yeah. Together." She leans over to him and brushes her lips against his. It's the lightest imaginable peck, but it's warm and her first. She isn't totally certain of this, but she suspects it might be Soul's first kiss, too. He certainly seems delighted with it, and eagerly returns the favor, lingering longer on her lips before easing back, face still only inches apart on the mattress with their hands tangled together between them.

He has such a look of delight on his face, like Christmas came early, and she just can't help the urge to kiss him all over again, because he's adorable.

They trade kisses back and forth, soft and unhurried. The stressful day spent fighting their way through the Book of Eibon is catching up to them, and they're sleepy and warm and feeling hopelessly fond of each other. It's slow and affectionate and exactly what they need tonight.

The revelation that he loves her as more than only a partner isn't such a shock as it might have been yesterday. Those ideas that the Book set to cook in her mind have finally boiled over, and she knows now why he was a slender, small-breasted girl in the Lust chapter, why his hands and voice shook when she tried to throw away their partnership. It was all because of this, this love that puts a glow in his eyes and a smile on his lips so wide it makes it hard to keep kissing, this love that makes him brush her hair back from her face and caress her cheek so tenderly. He loves her, he loves her, he loves her, and if she's not in love with him already, she knows she isn't going to be able to hold out long in the face of this overwhelming affection he shows her. How could anyone fail to love him? she wonders.

Eventually, though, Maka feels she should probably make words happen. Reluctantly, she lets him have his mouth back (the pout he wears tells her he doesn't really want it back, but he doesn't protest when she pulls away).

"We're good now, right?" she asks. "No more letting stupid stuff like jealousy trip us up?"

He snorts. "We'll work on it."

That makes her smile. No superficial bandaid fixes for them, no sweeping things under the rug anymore. They'll deal with their issues directly from here on out.

She doesn't want to get up, but she's exhausted, and surely Soul is as well. She should get out of his hair so they can both get some sleep.

With a nearly-suppressed sigh, she sits up. "We should go to bed," she says. She moves to get up, but Soul's still holding her hand and apparently unwilling to let go.

"Soul."

"Soul, it's late."

"Yeah, it is," he agrees. "We should get some sleep."

"Will you let me go, then?"

He shakes his head. "Nope," he says, popping the P sharply. "Stay here."

She sees immediately what he's getting at. Soul can pretend to be a real hard-boiled type all he likes, but they've spent upwards of ninety percent of their time together for the last three and a half years, and she knows him better than that. On the inside, he's a complete marshmallow who takes comfort in invading her personal space. He probably won't come right out and say it, but he wants snuggles. It's hilarious— and nerve-wracking, because sleeping in his room, in his bed, even in the most innocent way, feels alarmingly intimate, and she wants to be close to him but she spent so long trying to keep him at a safe emotional distance that breaking that habit is hard.

But… courage, right?

"Okay," she says.

He beams at her, and shuffles around so that he's lying the correct way on the bed, and tugs lightly on her wrist, patting the mattress next to him invitingly with his free hand. She laughs softly and lays down beside him.

They're both a little bruised up for proper cuddling to really work, but they share a pillow and somehow their legs end up all tangled together and Maka refuses to let go of his hand.

She wakes up in the morning with a smile on her lips and Soul's face tucked into the crook of her neck.