AN: I do not own Soul Eater, nor any of the characters within the story. I only borrow them for fun. This story is dedicated to a most wonderful friend. Rated T for mild language, just to be safe. enjoy!

Maka always adored the woods.

Well, in theory, in photographs and movies, she adored the woods.

Thus far, her real life experiences in these particular woods has been dreadful at best. She finds it astounding that her hatred of mosquitoes is starting to rival the hatred she harbors for Kishin. At least those don't try to bite her repeatedly.

Usually, she amends internally.

"You seem pretty pissed off. What's with you?" Soul's voice rings out hollowly from his blade. Bastard isn't even capable of getting bitten in his current state.

Lucky.

She doesn't answer him with words, glaring at her own reflection in his blade. Huffing in frustration, she tries to clear her mind enough to sense the soul of their current target.

Their battle when they finally clash could hardly even be considered that, a mere swing of Soul, a crackling pop, and it's over. The thing was so weak, Maka has to wonder why Kid would send the likes of her and Soul on such a simple mission. Surely it would have suited some DWMA students far better.

She can't be all too frustrated about it though, because the log cabin they're staying in is gorgeous, and the night air is so clean and cool as it drifts in through the living room window. She feels almost giddy, like the colours are brighter and scents are sweeter. The altitude makes her lighter. The desert never gets like this. Makes all those itchy bites worth it.

After they clean themselves up, they sit together on the love seat, she with her book, he with his notebook, neither saying much of anything, the cool breeze ruffling their hair gently, dancing across their shoulders and faces kindly…

They awaken to the sound of a strange, chirping kind of laughter that makes Maka's hair stand on end, and it's hardly a few seconds before she's shaking Soul's arm vigorously.

"Soul there's something in the house get up!" She whispers hurriedly. Maka isn't frightened by much, but she's certainly not a fan of feeling unsafe in her own home, however temporary said home may be. Soul just groans, looking at her blearily, ink smudged on his cheekbone from his messy scrawl that he fell asleep on. It'd be adorable if she didn't think they were in immediate danger.

She pulls him by his shirt collar, down so they're both tucked in front of the couch, noses almost touching from trying to keep them both behind their big fluffy shield. Soul looks mildly irritated, wildly amused, and just a teensy bit confused. God, does she have to spell everything out for him?

"Transform!"

"No need."

"Soul, I don't know who that is out there, transform damnit!"

He just chuckles, ruffling her hair and getting to his feet. She scrabbles for a pant leg to pull him back behind their wall, but he just keeps walking, steps quiet and light. She gets up to go after him, but he puts a hand out to halt her. Of course she ignores him, tiptoeing right up behind him and placing a hand on his shoulder to brace herself as she makes herself as tall as possible to see beyond him. She can hardly see over his shoulder, but she does catch a glimpse of something… fluffy?

A tail. A big, fluffy, ringed tail. There is a raccoon in their kitchen.

"See Maka, told you. No need to worry. Well, I mean, raccoons can be mean, but i think this little guy just got cold. We can probably chase him out, easy. This used to happen at our old cabin.." He speaks so quietly she can hardly hear him, but she's got the idea. If she opens the front door, he can escort their furry little friend to the exit. Easy!

Ha.

That little bastard is far more clever than they gave him credit for.

Soul thinks he's finally got it out the door, when it turns around and runs between his legs, tripping him as he tries to avoid stepping on the fluffy creature. Maka, having the hero complex she does, tries to catch Soul as he's falling. They end up in a tangle heap of idiots on their ratty old welcome mat. Their little friend already scurried out the window. Of course.

"Soul," wheeze," elbow.."

"Oh! Shit, sorry, you alright?" He scrambles to get off of her, pulling her to her feet with him. He brushes the dust off her shoulder and back, fixes her hair, asks if she hit her head. She tells him she's fine, but she sees him checking to make sure her pupils aren't all messed up. When he's sure she's unscathed, he just bursts out laughing those breathless, heavy kind of laughs, the ones that shake your bones and make your cheeks ache but hardly make a sound. She doesn't get it, but suddenly she's laughing too, giggling till her abdomen is sore, and somehow they end up on the floor again in a fit of hysterics, heads against each other's shoulders as they snort and chuckle and cackle like hyenas. The sound of them is so awful, it just makes them laugh more.

She tries to catch her breath, wiping her eyes with a sleeve and gasping for air, her cheek brushing his as she tries to straighten up. Suddenly her face feels hot, and she feels like hiding it in his shoulder again.

But she doesn't. She pulls back to look at his face, his wide, genuinely happy grin that feels far too rare. His cheeks are flushed as she cups them in her hands, and she can feel them grow even hotter when she presses her lips to his forehead. He feels like a dork, getting all flustered. It's not like she's making out with him or anything, geez.

But he is a dork, and getting any kind of affection from Maka is just awesome no matter what, and at the moment, even though his ass hurts from falling on it so hard, he's kinda thankful to that furry little bastard for hijacking their kitchen temporarily.

When she lets her hands drop, he kisses her cheek, hugging her to him and nuzzling her face, tickling her cheek with his scruff until she starts giggling again.

It's an hour before they finally drag themselves up from the floor and crawl into bed(after shutting and locking the window, of course). They huddle together under the sheets, Soul's head resting in the crook of Maka's shoulder, his toes hanging off the bed slightly while she warms hers by tucking them beneath his calves. He's half asleep, but she's saying something, and her words are always important, so he musters all his focus up and listens.

"-should come ere again this weeknd y'know?"

Yeah. Definitely.

Just gotta buy a screen for the window…