Happy SoMa week 2021! Please enjoy my day 1 offering.
Maka cookin' was just about always a disaster. That's why when I walked through the door to hear sputterin' sniffles from the kitchen, I couldn't help but heave a sigh as my heart lurched into double-time. My regular call of "I'm home" was drowned from my mind by feet hittin' the hardwood to practically jog me to the linoleum. She was sittin' on the floor, one hand playin' peek-a-boo while little hiccups shook her shoulders. "Hey…"
All that did was turn the crinkle of her lip into a full-on tremble. As I squatted, I went to grab the hand she was limply resting on her knee but she pulled it away with a hiss. A pathetic little "ow" warbled from her mouth.
I just bit my tongue from statin' the obvious: you burned yourself, Maks. Instead, I did the smart thing for once and pushed back to my feet, walkin' off into the bathroom to take out the first aid kit. This definitely wasn't time to pull out the big guns- Death knows this was small change in her history of injuries- but somethin' was churnin' my gut worse than any other time we'd played doctor. It only spiraled as I attempted to ease her hand away again, sighing as she snatched it protectively back.
"Don't," she whimpered, a lilt that most definitely didn't fit her.
And I did what didn't fit me: I grabbed her hand regardless of the fight. We silently grappled for a moment until she gave in, letting me pull the injury close enough to inspect it properly. Thoughtful silence was tickin' away in the meantime, waitin' for her willful voice or my sullen complaint. I tried to fill it with fixin' her, but even with her hand bandaged I knew I wasn't in the clear. "Maks…"
"Soul," she muttered back mournfully as she finally dropped the hand from her eyes, those beautiful green ones that I'd fallen in love with years ago tainted with tears. "I can't do it."
"Can't do what?"
She heaved a sigh before half-shouting in frustration, "Anything I make, I burn! It doesn't matter what, I always just ruin it and if I can't-" Her words cut off with a frustrated groan. I waited, holdin' my breath for more but findin' her stuck stubbornly.
"So you ain't Betty Crocker." I started to shrug but my shoulders stiffened as my joke only caused another tremor in her lips. This was shark-infested waters and I was bleedin' out so it only felt like a matter of time before I got gutted, so I stilled my tongue and did what I did best- waited.
The silent standoff lasted for two shaky breaths before she let the gigantic fear slither off her tongue with the tiniest voice, "Soul, if I can't- if I can't do something simple like this, how am I ever going to be able to take care of them?"
"Maks…" This wasn't a fight, just me pullin' her in, fittin' her body against mine so that for a second we could forget where her skin ended and mine started. I let my fingers run comfort over her back, into her hair to angle her head just enough so I could brush a kiss against her forehead. "I'm sorry to tell you, but I don't think our kid's gonna give a shit."
A wet gasp of a laugh, definitely something she'd tried to hold in, stumbled out of her throat.
I smirked as wide as I could before makin' it disappear from her view to nuzzle my nose against hers. "Can't see them inheritin' anythin' from you or me that's gonna make them snub any kinda food- burnt or not. But…" I tested a kiss, pleasantly surprised to find her latchin' on, givin' me all the tenderness she could muster. "You're a woman who made a deathscythe before she was eighteen. You've fought to save the world from madness. You've… been able to break into my heart in ways I didn't think were possible. Cookin'- good or bad- ain't the end of the world. Burnin' things ain't the end of the world."
"I just…" She huffed a soft breath of defeat over my lips.
I sunk one hand into her hair, the other snakin' around her waist to keep her still for the words I knew would burn her worse than any piece of cookery. "You ain't your mama."
A tremor worked from her soul to mine; a mournful, angry scream resounding across our connection.
"You'll love them." I kissed her wobblin' lips again. "That's why when you told me, the first thought I had wasn't a worry. It wasn't me bein' scared that I was gonna screw it up or any of the million other concerns I've created since. It was just… I was really fuckin' happy." It was my turn to choke on the tears that wanted to come, clearing my throat to try to hide the anguish. Her fingers betrayed me, instantly searching for my cheeks and urging a few droplets to come just to give her purpose. "I am really fuckin' happy. 'Cause, like I said, you'll love them. I don't have to worry about a thing because I know, at the end of it all, you'll love them."
"And you will too," she murmured.
"Goes without sayin'." My chuckle was interrupted by a sniffle, spurrin' Maka to more action as she tenderly cleaned my tears. "Just like us, Maks. I don't care if you can't make me a five-course meal. All I care about is the way you smile at me, the way you kiss me…" A pressed another bit of love to her lips. "And the way you never let me forget how important I am." I didn't have to produce another word, just her feathery kisses provin' me right. I kissed her until my legs started to get pins and needles, finally begging for relief. I managed to stand, reaching down and helping her to her feet.
"Soul..." She came right back to my arms, strongly holdin' me tightly around the waist. "Let's get take-out."
I pressed my smirk to the crown of her head, amusement linin' the kiss I left there. "Anythin' you want."