Note: Okay here we go! I do not own Soul Eater, m&m's, or Bisquick. The song E-pro is written and performed by Beck. I do recommend listening to the song while reading, though it's not necessary. Rated T for cursing and mildly suggestive implications. Beware!

Meister only classes were actually fairly fun, for Soul at least.

Don't get him wrong, he loves Maka, being around her and talking to her, it's all wonderful and he counts himself as blessed.

But honestly, sometimes having the house to himself feels really, really wonderful. Today, Maka has meister only classes all day, and Blair is off at work. Which means it's time to get out his old mix CD collection, fuzzy socks and pancake batter(with m&ms mixed in cause he's a classy lil shit alright?).

It's about eleven when he drags himself out of bed, clad in only red and black plaid boxers and fuzzy purple socks, silvery hair sticking out in every direction imaginable. He stumbles into the kitchen, mix CD in one hand, other hand scratching lethargically at his abdomen. He pops the CD into their player that sits atop their refrigerator and hits play, automatically nodding to the beat when the song starts, head stuck inside the fridge, searching for their carton of milk.

He hums along to the vocals idly, grabbing the whole milk and vanilla extract, closing the fridge with a hip that pops just in time with the drum beat. He lays all ingredients out on the counter, admiring them in all their glory. M&Ms, milk, butter, vanilla, red food colouring, and last but certainly not least, Bisquick.

Hell yeah.

He grabs a large glass mixing bowl and whisk and gets to work, hips thrusting to the music, and at some point, he just entirely gives up on his cool, starts belting the chorus of 'NA NA, NA NA NA NA NAHHHHHHH' into the whisk, eyes closed and a goofy grin on his face.

Of course, he can't hear the front door when is opens, or his meister's surprisingly light steps, cause he's too busy jamming out to E-pro and making pancakes in the shapes of kishin souls, sliding from one side of the kitchen to the other in his fuzzy socks. He's singing along at the top of his voice when Maka taps him on the shoulder, and he shrieks, almost falling onto his ass.

She said she'd be back at three.

It's definitely not three…

"Shit, Maka! What the hell are you doing here, I though you said, I mean, you told me! Augh! Damnit, damnit, damnit.." He buries his face in his hands, cheeks flaming as he peeks between his fingers and sees his fluffy purple socks. She's caught him doing some really ridiculous stuff, he can admit that, but this…

This takes the cake.

"Why didn't you wait til I got home, Soul?" She's smirking at the incredulous look on his face, popping a spare m&m into her mouth before she kisses him chastely, walking past him to flip his little 'soul-cake' as she affectionately refers to them, before it burns. "Cut me some strawberries, will you?"

"You're.. you can't tell anyone about this Maka."

"I won't if you make me some chocolate strawberry pancakes. Deal?" she asks him, bumping his hip with her own and smiling. A slow grin creeps onto his face, and he nods, turning back to the fridge to retrieve their strawberries, slicing them up quickly with a transformed finger and dropping them into the batter, licking the juice off his blade carefully as she watches slightly dazed from beside him. "Hey Soul, is this the first time you've done this?"

And he freezes.

Shit!

He's caught..

"Uhhhh…"

"Don't. It's okay, I know the answer already. Just… promise to include me from now on..?" she murmurs, and god, how could he say no? It may take a while to get comfortable with it, but if it means more time with his meister, music, and food, why the hell not?

"Yeah. Every Sunday, you and me, this can be our thing," he smiles."But, you need to dress accordingly…." She's about to smack him with her book bag for insinuating she prance about their apartment with him half naked, but he trots into his room before she can, and returns with a pair of bright red fuzzy socks much like his own. He tosses them to her with a grin and turns back to flip her pancake, hips subconsciously still swinging to the music.

After she slips them on, she walks up behind him and slips her arms around his waist, hips matching up to the swing of his own. He can feel her lips curl upward against the back of his neck as she tells him,

"You're a pretty good singer you know."

He blushes darker than his scarlet soul-cakes and she giggles into his skin, holding tighter until she feels him relax once more.

"Thanks Soul."

"For what?"

"For letting me in."

And he just smiles, humming once more and rocking with her. He's never felt so cool in his life.