A/N: Another Prompt: Soma, "I guess I'm not cool enough for you."
"What?" he asked, unable to help the surprise in his voice.
"You heard me," she slurred, fists on her hips, though her feet were far from steady. She was glaring up at him.
"Where is this—coming from?" he asked quietly, pushing off from where he'd been leaning against the wall to draw nearer. She took an angry step back at the motion, and he sighed. Maka had only been drunk one other time and it hadn't exactly been pretty, but this was something new all together. Star was sooo dead for spiking the damned punch. Soul hadn't even want to come to this stupid party, and now here he was, faced with a hundred off pounds of drunk, angry meister.
"Jus'," she waved a hand impatiently, "never mind." She was about to spin and storm off when he caught her elbow, causing her to careen into his chest instead. He caught her by the arms, steadying her.
"UGH! SOUL!" she screeched, indignant, trying to push off his chest and away even as he held her firmly by her forearms.
"Just," he shook his head, "what the hell is this about? You already know I think you're the coolest partner, I thought—"
"Oh, sure," she glared daggers up at him, and he could smell the alcohol on her breath strongly. Just how much punch had she had? "Good enough for a partner, but I'm too big a tiny tits bookworm for a cool guy like you to actually kiss, aren't I Soul? Nooooo, couldn't tarnish your image, 'm not hot enough for the big bad last death scythe," the hurt in her tone was tangible, like a living, breathing thing, and he didn't get it because since when did she have any interest in kissing him? He wanted to laugh and cry all at once; she was the only one who was 'cool enough' to kiss and here she thought—what—that he was the one who wasn't interested, somehow? It was—well, it was just absurd. He felt like he was trapped in some sort of bad comedy sketch, the butt of a cosmic joke.
"Are you—serious?" he asked, incredulous. "Where is this—Maka, where is this coming from?"
She tore away from his grasp, tottering a bit before righting herself, her green eyes full of venom. "You tell me. After all, you're the one who was late meeting me Wednesday after school."
Wednesday after—what? What. The. FUCK? All he'd done Wednesday after school was tell off another fangirl, this one stupid enough to viciously insult Maka. He frowned down at her. "I have no fucking clue what you're getting at," he finally decided on.
"Riiiiight," she slurred out. "So that girl must have been imagining that you sucked her face off on the balcony after school, and I'm sure that huge hickey on her neck is a mass delusion! Half the bloody school is talking about it! Death, Soul, 'm not an idiot. Wha' did it for you, huh? Her big tits or her sweet ass? That wha' cool guys like?" He reached for her, shaking his head, floored. So that girl had spread rumors, and Maka had heard them, clearly. Stupid, stupid fangirl.
"Jus'—UGH—LEAVE ME ALONE!" Her eyes were suspiciously bright as she went to whirl away again, but no way could he let her leave, not after that, not when her head was so full of lies and nonsense. He stepped forward, grabbed her forearms again. She struggled against his grasp, and while on a normal day he'd have been on his ass before he could so much as touch her, she was too drunk to manage an effective defense. He held her in place as she cursed him, practically growling.
"Maka," he said softly, uncaring of the fact that they were starting to draw notice.
"Let—Me—GO!" she screeched.
"Shhh—Maka—just, listen okay? For one fucking second, listen, would you please?"
Perhaps it was the pleading sincerity in his tone, or in his soul, but whatever the case, she stilled and blinked up at him, looking tired, defeated. She sighed. "I'm listening. But make it fast. I wanna go home." She cast her eyes down at her shoes at that, waiting.
He sighed in return. "Me too. So here it is. I did not kiss anyone, not Wednesday, not any day. Some stupid fangirl did corner me, which is why I was late. She asked me out, when I said no, she started mouthing off about you, and when I told her she wasn't fit to lick your shoes clean, she stormed the fuck off. That was it. I don't know anything about the rest because it was never gonna happen."
"Right," she rolled her eyes. "Like you wouldn't kiss a girl you liked, someone cool enough for you."
"Only one girl is cool enough for me, you idiot," he growled before he could think better of it.
"See!" she screeched, her gaze angry and accusing. "You aren't even denying it!"
He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, her freed arm pushing against him again. "Maka, you aren't—"
"I'll bet it's just killing you you can't kiss her now, isn't it! Well, go on, cool guy like you shouldn't care what anyone thinks, right? Find her and finish what you started on Wednesday! Go kiss her! Don't let your stupid flat-chested meister stop you!"
He couldn't help it, he was done. If this was the only way to show her, then fuck it all, he would show her. "Is that really what you want?" he looked down at her, voice soft.
"YES! Just—get it over with so I can stop wanting something so stupid, so I can get on with my damned life because—"
"Fine," he cut her off and pulled her closer with the hand still on her forearm, smashing his lips onto hers. He heard gasps around them and couldn't care. For her part, Maka seemed shocked for but an instant before she returned the kiss. It lasted for moments that felt like seconds and hours all at once before he pulled away to look down at her.
"Do you understand now?" he asked quietly. She had tasted of Hawaiian punch and vodka, but he didn't mind because it was Maka and he'd wanted to do that forever and he needed to show her, and now he had. He had.
"Yeah," she breathed, her face scarlet, her eyes hazy.
"Good," he smiled down at her fondly. "Then let's get outta here."
She nodded, and when he offered his arm, she took it and, arm in arm, they left the party.
They'd have a lot to talk about in the morning because she was nothing if not cool enough for anyone, let alone an idiot like him.