December 20th

Soul's room is nothing like the last time he saw it. The posters his parents had so heavily protested in his youth are now all gone, their tack holes painstakingly spackled, and everything painted over in seafoam green. New bed, new closet, new everything except a remnant of his highschool days: his old turn table he'd been too worried to ship across the country. Maybe he'll get a new one in Oregon.

"Well, this is it." He leaves his suitcase by the door and flops onto the bed with a groan.

"This is nice! Is that a walk-in closet?" Maka asks, taking in the room.

"No, that's a bathroom," Soul answers, half muffled by a pillow.

"Aren't you going to unpack?" Maka turns from the bathroom door to fling open the antique wardrobe.

"Fuck no," he growls.

"Well, I want to hang some stuff up - and I'm going to hang up your suit too, unless you want wrinkles."

"Fine, fine." He rolls off the bed a little guiltily to join the unpacking endeavor.

Maka's clothes are impeccably folded of course, so all she has to is move everything from one nice stack to another. Soul spots a couple pairs of shoes and has an awful flashback to him making a bratty comment along the lines of 'don't you have any other shoes besides combat boots?' He winces a little at how shitty he's been for the past week, or longer. Everything's been getting caught up in a haze of angst that put him on edge and made him more surly than usual. And she's been nothing but understanding and supportive the whole time - he'll need to think of something he can do to make it up to her.

"Hey, is that new?" He spies midnight blue fabric in the bag, which Maka reveals to be a long, strappy gown with a very understated smattering of rhinestones around the low dipping neckline.

"Yeah, I just got it." She holds it up at her shoulders. "I thought it might be good for New Year's."

"Hnn," Soul groans. "You shouldn't have spent any money - I'm sure mum is going to take you shopping anyway so she can interrogate you."

"Don't worry about it, it was second hand anyway; I got it at that vintage consignment shop." Maka smooths the fabric against her stomach and it makes it a little too easy to imagine it on her.

"Well, just know you don't have to try to impress anyone here."

"I still want to make a good impression."

Soul only half hears her and continues to babble. "I mean, it's not like we're dating for real." He has to say it aloud to drag himself out of fantasy land.

"Oh, I know." Did that sound a little biting? Maka continues to hang up her clothes calmly; Soul tries to shake off the feeling that he should be reading something into this.

"It looks nice," he blurts. "And I'm sure it will, um, look nice… on you…" He's going to have to replay that in his head a few times to make sure he didn't mess that up. Did he say it right?

"Ah, thanks." Maka blushes and quickens her pace putting her clothes away. Yes, yes he did.

One triumphant internal cheer later, and Soul's running lists of nice things to do. If only there were a friendly, non invasive way to offer to give her head. That sounds fun as hell, but a good back rub would probably be more appropriate and within his sights.

"Hey." He squeezes her steel cable shoulder. "You've been tense - you should let me get these knots out after we see my parents."

"I certainly won't say no to that." She snorts, twisting her fingers with his. "Do you think I can just wear my regular clothes to dinner?"

"Of course." He props his chin up on her head. "It's not like every dinner is a formal affair - I'm certainly not changing."

"Sorry, I'm just nervous."

He sighs. "Me too, Maks. Me too."

The cello stops down the hall and they go to meet their fates. Soul quells childhood flashbacks as he and Maka go to the drawing room adjacent to the dining room, even as he spots silvery white hair that so closely resembles his own. While Wes had inherited more of their father's coloring though (Wes' hair was much lighter blond, they shared the same twinkling sky bright eyes) Soul could see much more of himself in his mother's face. What he lacked was the passion and intensity she so valued.

Everyone stands when he and Maka enter the room.

"Soul, it's nice to finally see you again." His mother glides across the room to give him a light hug. "You've gotten taller, though it would show more if you would stand up straight for once in your life."

"Mum," Soul mumbles, already suitably embarrassed for the night.

"Oh, I'm being rude - you must be Maka." His roommate gets the same feather delicate hug treatment, though she stands at a similar height to the older woman. "I must say, you've been a rather enigmatic figure, popping up in group photos Wesley sends me from Facebook."

"Wes!" Soul growls.

Wes just shrugs while Maka tries to contain her lack of composure. "Just trying to keep updated on your mysterious west coast life."

"Anyhow," their mom continues, "it's nice to meet you, Maka."

"The same to you, Mrs. Evans," Maka answers cordially, in perfect form.

"Oh, please call me Victoria, and Mr. Evans the elder is Robert."

Soul's father gives a nod, then a nod toward the dining room. "Shall we eat then, Vic?"

"Of course, we can chat more over food. There's just so much to catch up on," Soul's mother answers with a serene smile that makes his spine shudder.

He expects a little grilling over grilled chicken, but while the first question they ask Maka is about her path of study and career plans, the conversation remains surprisingly light.

"I started out just doing english, but with all the labs I've been taken, I might double up with chemistry," Maka comments, slicing asparagus into dainty bites like she was born to.

"I see Soul scored a girl with a good head on her shoulders." Soul's father grins before diving into the most boring topic of all: British literature. Maka actually looks like she's enjoying herself, though. Then come the stories of pranks at Julliard with the (trademark) Good Ole Boys, because hey, you too can have fun with the help of nepotism.

Soul only gets caught off guard when Maka starts telling a story from their spring break camping trip, only it's through the context of them dating.

They'd decided that, to reiterate the serious nature of their relationship, that it would be best if they'd been together since before moving in together, probably for a while - before Christmas even. But, to keep the story straight, all events would be the same.

"Of course, I didn't believe him when he said I would be too cold with just a blanket." Maka laughs. "But he didn't even say 'I told you so' when we had to squeeze together to keep from freezing."

"What a gentleman you are, Soul," Wes jokes, and the whole family laughs.

The surreal thing about hearing these stories played back to Soul in this context is that it all does sound strangely romantic. With that, it makes sense that Maka would interpret any hinting or poorly attempted flirting as friendliness. Their relationship has been haywire from the start.

His parents are enamoured with Maka and he wonders how he could have expected anything less. She's bright, driven, good at conversation - things he admires and envies about her, and that surely make her appealing to his family. He's out of the hot seat, and besides having to answer a few stray questions, he's free to eat in peace.

It's relaxing, surprisingly, listening to Maka chitchat about any number of things. The only problem is when he lets a yawn slip and his mother gives him a scandalized look.

"Sorry." Soul's voice cracks. "Must be the jetlag."

His mother's face softens a little. "I guess it would be almost one on the west coast - Maka has just been keeping us so entertained."

Soul can't help but smile proudly. "She's good about that." He smirks sideways and pinches said girl's knee under the table, eliciting an excellent leg twitch.

"Well, I'll just go grab the pie and then let you two get some rest." His mom ducks into the kitchen and returns with dessert, serving it.

"Mrs. Evans, this is delicious," Maka gushes after taking one bite. "Did you make this?"

Soul nibbles the crust too, and it's as good as he remembers.

"Yes, that's very sweet of you, dear." Victoria smiles. "We have employed a cook for quite some time - it's so time consuming, you know - but I do find a bit of nostalgia in baking sometimes. It reminds me of all my father, especially around the holidays."

"Oh! I used to love cooking with my dad, too!" Maka exclaims cheerfully, before her smile drops harshly into a resting poker face.

"You'll have to help me with the Christmas baking then." The older woman's eyes crinkle. "We can chat more than, but I'm sure you're both tired now."

"Just a bit," Maka admits.

"Well, off to bed with you," Soul's dad chimes in. "But remember, your room is right above ours."

Wes spits out a bite of pie with a cackle.

"Goodnight then." Soul stands up in a rush before anyone can say anything else embarrassing.

"Sleep well," his mother says. "I do hope you're sleeping okay, even without your medication."

"Okay. Yeah. Bye." Soul leaves the room in a flurry with Maka quick on his heels. Just when the evening had been going not terribly, that had to happen. Maybe they can just ignore it from now on.

When they get back to the room, it's Maka's turn to flop face down on the bed.

"Tired? Soul calls, shucking off his jacket.

"A bit." She rolls over to face him. "Your parents are nice, but definitely intense. Aren't you worn out?"

"Not even a little bit - you did all the talking for me." He sits on the bed so he can stroke her back. "You still want a shoulder rub?"

Maka practically leaps out of the bed. "Lemme put pajamas on; I fully intend on falling asleep in the middle of this massage - and don't you dare wake me up."

She snatches some clothes and her toothbrush and disappears into the bathroom. They've shared a room before, a bed, a couch, a sleeping bag, but something about the way Maka comes out wearing one of his loose tank tops and her penguin shorts reeks of intimacy.

"Lie on your stomach?" Soul murmurs, moving to kneel next to her on the bed after she complies.

She lets out a deep sigh when he presses strong fingers into the wings of her shoulder blades. He's content just watching her relax, practically melting into the bed as he methodically kneads out her muscles. He reaches the small of her back, careful to skip that charmingly ticklish latitude just above, and he almost thinks Maka has fallen asleep.

"Soul," she whispers.

"Yeah?" He pauses to turn the light off before starting back up her spine.

Then, in the pitch blackness, she asks about the one thing he'd been desperate to avoid.

"You used to take something for your insomnia?"

Soul swallows - remembers to breathe. This is Maka. He can do this. "Yeah, actually for a lot of things."

After the initial jolt in his entire body, he pauses his ministrations, and he can feel her breath hitch in her ribcage in surprise that he hasn't cut the subject off.

She dares to test further, careful, careful of his boundaries, but he still wants to run away when she says, "Like anxiety?"

It's much easier to be honest in the dark. "Yeah, anxiety. I was on meds for ADHD, though I don't think they were right - my mum was just looking for a quick fix for bad grades." He squeezes her upper arms tightly, forcing another inhale and slowly admitting. "Depression, too."

Maka twists around under his hands until she's on her back, facing him, though Soul can't imagine she sees anything but his white hair in the blackness. "But you don't take anything now."

"No," he sighs. "I was so resentful about how little my parents took my opinion into account. It was such a cocktail, and a lot of the side effects cancelled each other out anyway." He swallows thickly, trying to keep steady while he brings up a poisonous past that he'd rather leave behind, but that clearly still affects him. "Maybe some of it was helpful, but the combination…" he trails off for a second. "I think, for me, it mostly made it worse."

"You know, the same things don't work for everyone, right?"

"Yeah, I know - and believe me I've thought about trying different things. It's just stressful thinking about how things went the first time." He's still waiting to crack and clam up with the whole talking thing, but Maka is holding his cheek and stroking the back of his neck and it feels safe.

"How do you feel now? Are you happier?" she asks quietly.

"Yeah." Soul finally crawls fully on the bed next to her. She rolls over to her side so he can curl around her and tuck his face into the back of her neck. "I'm happier, but it doesn't mean I'm not still fucked up."

"You're not fucked up." A hand reaches behind her to grab for his protectively.

"I always thought everything that was wrong at home was just situational, and it would all be fine when I moved out. A lot of it has been, too, it's just… hard to separate out what's actually wrong from what I'm just making a big deal about. After last week though, I'm starting to think doing something about it wouldn't be a bad idea."

Maka hums, neutral in pitch, understanding and acknowledging but not offering an opinion. She pulls the hand she's been holding around her waist. "Do you… Does that happen often? I get sick thinking about you just panicking in your room without me knowing about it." She tightens her grip, twining her fingers with his. "I know you're not a very open person, but I still want to be there for you."

"No, that was the first one since I left home," he answers. "Like you said earlier, kinda intense parents - definitely was not helpful. Honestly, I'm almost annoyed they haven't done anything more terrible yet, like maybe I just imagined my childhood."

"What happened, happened. And while I'm going to be optimistic about them turning over a new leaf, the way you grew up was a legitimate experience. You don't have to pretend it's not real, or it doesn't exist."

Soul snorts and makes Maka giggle involuntarily with the hot burst of air on her neck. "You always know how to word things." He smiles drowsily. He's relieved. Maka validates him in a way he didn't know he needed, and it soothes his pounding heart and constricting veins.

The relief is exhausting.

"That's what I'm here for." She pats the arm around her midriff.

"Man, they loved you though. Maybe I should just date you for real." He doesn't joke, but Maka laughs nervously, unclear of his intent.

"Guess I'm just that lovable."

"Yeah," he agrees without an ounce of sarcasm, nuzzling his way closer to her. He has to close the gap.

They're quiet for a little while, besides the rustling of blankets as they wiggle impossibly close to each other, interlocking neatly. Soul plays with the hem of Maka's tank top that rides high on her stomach. Her skin is so soft he's reluctant to pull it back down.

His index finger slides under against her skin; she breathes deeply, and he freezes. Is she asleep? If she's asleep he should probably stop touching her tummy, no matter how pure his intentions.

"Is this okay?" he asks, pushing a second finger under her shirt to poke at her belly button.

"Mm," she hums. "Yeah, it's nice, your hand is warm for once - just don't you dare tickle me." She shimmies against the two hesitant digits trailing on the plane of her skin.

Soul goes the whole hog and slips his whole palm flat against her, tugging her firmly back to him, closing the last infinitesimal distance between them. "Is this better?"

"Yeah."

It's hard to resist exploring her sides, but he's under strict no-tickling orders, so he keep still. He's content to just revel in how warm and soft and Maka she is, even if he's nowhere near falling asleep.

He's so in love, and it feels very tangible. He wants very much to stop pretending it isn't real and doesn't exist.

December 24th

"Rise and shine, love bugs."

Soul blinks at the bright light flooding in through the doorway; a very annoying Wes shaped silhouette stands a little too jauntily.

"Don't you knock? What if-" Soul pauses to think of a good excuse, though there really aren't any compromising positions they would actually be found in. "What if Maka was indecent or something?"

"What is family for if not a complete lack of privacy?" Wes starts yanking on the edge of the blanket, but Maka latches on like the snapping jaws of an alligator.

"I will end you," she growls.

She and Wes have been getting very comfortable over the past few days.

"Come on guys, it's Christmas Eve and we need to get ready for Grandma and Aunt Isabelle to come over - plus getting spiffed up for church later."

"Why does mum keep so much hired help around if she's just gonna make us do all this stuff?" Soul gripes, taking after Maka and burrowing further into the blankets.

"That is the brattiest thing I've heard out of you since you were sixteen. I don't know, must build character or something. Besides, the housekeeper has a family too, you know. Mum sent her home since we're around to do her dirty work, and there's no way I'm shoveling snow by myself." Wes peels back the blanket, eliciting a cat like hiss from Maka.

"You kept us up until two playing frickin' cribbage of all things," she grumbles. Maka might be the early riser between the two of them, but God help anyone in the vicinity if she misses out on her sleep.

A little more coaxing, also known as harassment, and Soul is out in the cold in a jacket and heavy boots. It becomes very clear very quickly that it was all a ruse to split him off from his roommate once Wes shuttles her off to the kitchen for 'bonding time with Mother' (Soul could puke.) With Maka out of the picture, Wes immediately starts heading for the garage, not the shed.

"Where are you going, asshole?" Soul calls from the suspiciously clear walkway.

"We're going shopping little bro - I need help picking out a good present for your girlfriend."

Soul freezes. Shit. He'd been too busy worrying about the trip; he hadn't gotten a present either.

Wes laughs. "Looks like you need to go shopping too anyway. Now get over here, we're taking the Mercedes."

They drive into town and Soul points to the old antique shop that closely resembles the one in Oregon that Maka can spend four days at a time in.

"We should be able to find some stuff in there," he says.

A bell tinkles when the door opens, and an oddly familiar croaky voice calls a greeting.

"Hullo, Beth!" Wes shouts back.

"Ms. Anderson?" Soul is in disbelief. "You're not teaching anymore?"

"No way." His old math teacher grins. "Too much ninth grade algebra does things to you. I ditched that gold leafed hell hole called a school and opened this place instead. Now what are you Evans boys in for?"

"Last minute Christmas shopping for Soul's special lady friend." Wes throws an arm over Soul's shoulder that is quickly shrugged off with an embarrassed grunt.

"Well, I'll be," the woman gasps. "Never thought I'd see the day."

Still probably won't, Soul thinks. Deceit towards one of the only teachers who actually made an effort with him feels a little scummy.

"Have a look around then," Ms. Anderson continues. "I'll give you a discount on any jewelry."

He holds in a scoff; he isn't sure he's ever seen Maka wearing jewelry at all - he doesn't think she even has her ears pierced.

"So." Wes starts on an outside loop around the place. "What makes Maka tick?"

Soul shakes his head ruefully. "She's so easy to shop for. Books are always a safe bet, especially super heavy ones. She'd love those kitschy cat figurines." He stops to point out a whole shelf of feline themed salt and pepper shakers. "Novelty socks too, though I don't think you'll find any here. That wind chime would work, or that paperweight."

Soul walks through the place pointing out the odd assortment of Maka things, momentarily pausing by a big poster full of botanical illustrations. "I'd tell you to get that, but she'd put it above the couch and then I'd have to look at it every day."

He freezes, distracted by something shiny in the corner of his periphery. An oddly painted bust wears a silver hairpin with a little flower inset with a twinkly blue crystal.

"Jesus, you are so boned," Wes chortles, catching up with him.

"Completely," Soul breathes. Jewelry might not be up her alley, but Maka is a hair accessory person through and through. He can't not picture it tucked neatly into her hair, maybe swept up with that dress.

Completely. Utterly. Boned.


They make it back before lunch, and Soul spends the afternoon getting away with sitting on the kitchen counter, teasing Maka and taking swipes of cake batter. There's still Vivaldi playing in the background to remind him he's in his childhood haunt, but somehow he doesn't care.

It's not even bad when The Aunties show up, and he and Maka both get equal amounts of slightly aggressive cheek pinching. Sitting in a pew at church is slightly less terrible with his roommate sitting next to him, especially when she slips her hand into his during a hymn and doesn't let go for the rest of the service. The choir isn't bad either.

It's late, and Maka is tired when they drive home; she leans against his shoulder in the car, heedless of his grandmother cooing in the front seat. He supposes the benefit of saying they're together is that they don't have to resort to flustered denial to excuse the link between them.

They hike up the stairs, weary and slow, Maka's present burning a hole in Soul's pocket the whole way up. He has to give it to her before he backs out.

"Wait, before you fall asleep-" He digs in his pocket right when they reach the room. Maka freezes mid unceremonious pants fling, stripping down to the camisole and spandex shorts she'd worn under her clothes for the express purpose of not having to change later.

"What's up?" The pants hit the floor.

"Well, uh, it's Christmas now technically, and I got you something."

"Wait, you have to wait until we go home," Maka blusters. "Your present is in my closet 'cause I couldn't bring it in a suitcase."

"But I have to give it to you now - it's to go with your dress!" He counters.

"Oh."

"So Merry Christmas, nerd," Soul huffs and hands her the tissue paper wrapped pin. He shuffles back and forth between feet while she unwraps it. Tissue paper joins the pants on the floor; she's about to open her mouth but he cuts her off.

"Before you say anything, I promise it was on sale and totally not expensive."

"I was just going to say it's stunning. Thank you." She holds it up to the light, then tucks it in the corner above her ear. "Does it go in like this?"

"Something like that," he murmurs, reaching to straighten it. His hands fall naturally to her shoulders; every part of his body screams for him to just kiss her already.

"Uh, hey, Maka?" He bites his lip - definitely chapped.

"Yeah?" she responds. Then she has to go and look at him all doe eyed and unsuspecting and he can't do it. He thinks, maybe possibly, there's a slim chance she does have feelings for him, but he needs more solid evidence to hold up his high hopes.

"Merry Christmas." He cups her ears so he can tilt down her face and go for the forehead instead. It's as platonic as a kiss can get, but still enough to get his heart racing.

"Merry Christmas," she squeaks a little in surprise. He can feel her shoulders tremor in what could easily either be nervousness or excitement.

She leans in to give him a hug.

There are a lot of unconfirmed suspicions, but mostly he thinks they're both scared, and that thought makes him hurt.