Starting and ending the same way. I hope you enjoyed SoMa week! I know I did. For once, I'm doing Maka's perspective which is not my usual.
Black Star calls himself a God at least fifty times a day- and we all know I'm not speaking hyperbole. I guess in our early days, I would almost agree; we were, at the very least, super-human. I shouldn't use the past tense since we're still all risking our lives; a new scar for every week. Maybe that was why ennui had settled in, why it didn't feel all that God-like since what else was it but our job? Or day-to-day existence? Maybe that's why, on the couch, watching him half-asleep made me feel so much bigger than any battle.
"Soul?"
He lazily lifted half a lid and grunted something that was probably supposed to be a 'yeah.'
"Wake up."
Another grumble rumbled as he half turned into the couch, his face hiding in the crevice.
"It's not a request." Without much ceremony, I flopped on him, legs twisting up with his as I tried to force myself into his hiding space.
"I'm tired," he huffed.
"But we have to talk," I insisted softly.
It's always the same with Soul, that playful orneriness suddenly slipping away as soon as I asked for it. It wasn't always that easy since as teens he'd so often hid behind it, trying to push me away from finding that wounded heart he'd spent years trying to make disappear. With time-with so much aching time-he'd finally bent to me, just like I fitted to him, letting go of the jealousy, the fear of being left. When we got to that point, I was almost positive there was nothing left, nothing more perfect than what we had.
So, there he was, no longer in any way close to sleep, red eyes concentrating on me as if I was the ultimate puzzle. "You OK?"
I nodded. "But I have a secret."
His eyebrows flexed, a little of the seriousness fluctuating away from his mind as I could see the smirk starting in the corner of his lips. "This is what you woke me up for?"
"You don't want to know?" I asked playfully.
Strong hands settled at my waist, one palming shimmying under my shirt to steal warmth from my skin. "You're going to tell me anyway," he grumbled.
"No," I threatened. "Maybe I won't- unless you ask."
"That's bullshit," Soul chuckled. "You can't keep a secret."
"Well, I guess you don't want to know." My pert answer came with my hands planting firmly to his chest, making space between the two of us as I tried to settle back. I should have known better, those hands anchoring me against him in a way that was all too safe, all too homey, and instantly drove away even the playful urge to fight.
"Tell me." One of those rare orders came from his lips. The punctuation was one of those stares from him, the kind that made me wonder if he was the one with soul perception- if he wasn't reading all the fluttering thoughts in my mind and in my heart.
We're Gods, flashed across my mind, almost coming to my lips but instead evolving into a soft giggle as I settled back down. I scooted against him, low enough that I could press my forehead against his chest and feel the beautiful beat of his heart. "Soul, how much do you love me?"
"That ain't a secret," he murmured back as his hand floated through my hair.
Maybe it never was a secret; it was well-known to all our friends but impossible for the two of us to navigate until our twenties- until enough brushes with death forced us to realize that in all of our Godliness, we were still mortals. We could die. I hated thinking about that part, but Italy was what had started it; a brush with death telling my heart I couldn't live without him. "So tell me again."
"You first." That baritone buzz of a laugh made my forehead tingle.
"Forever," I whispered as I squeezed into him.
"Don't forget always." Soul pressed a kiss to my hairline, his breath coming shakily after. "Should I be scared?"
"Probably."
"Maka-"
I shook my head, rubbing against the fabric of his shirt. "Not in a bad way."
"That makes no sense," he huffed. "Maka, look at me."
I finally raised my head, seeing the sweet concern shining under furrowed brows. I could only give him the sweetest smile I think I could ever create, especially knowing what words were coming next. "I'm pregnant, Soul."
His eyebrows jumped, the tension over his eyes relaxing only to be replaced with wobbling of the muscles as his eyes instantly started to cloud. "Seriously?"
Even with all the worry of it, a breathless laugh bubbled in my throat before I echoed, "Seriously."
"We…" Soul was desperately searching for the words as the tears started to cling to his lower eyelashes, threatening a quick deluge.
"We're going to have a baby," I whispered with a surging flood of joy. I let one of my hands move to his face, starting to clear the liquid as it streamed. "Just another beautiful little melody we made together, right?"
He let out a wet, trembling laugh before his hands came alive and found their purpose. Soul's fingers ran all over me as if to check the solidity, the reality of being there with him and that this moment existed. The journey finished at my face, pulling me in to place a shaky but beautiful kiss on my lips. "Thank you- oh, fucking thank you," he urged before stealing away my breath again.
Maybe that was his own little prayer, but I wasn't thinking about that. I was thinking about us, about all it had taken to get us here. We had struggled, we had fought, we had climbed from nothing to the pinnacle and now we were Gods. We created life.