Note: I do not own Soul Eater, I just get the characters drunk and pissed off. Rated M for some questionable stuff, but no smut. Enjoy!
She can see his abdominal muscles through that tight black shirt.
Now, Maka has never been big on objectifying anyone, but goddamn the bartender is attractive. Not that that fact makes him a better person or anything but….
He's nice to look at.
From like…an artistic point of view? Yeah, of course.
The third time he glances over at her and catches her staring, he grins widely, white teeth glinting in the low lights of the bar, eyes glowing under heavy lashes that she would love to feel fluttering against her skin in the early morning(god what is even wrong with her, she needs some air! Or another drink).
She orders another shot of vodka, and he hands it to her directly instead of putting in on the bar in front of her, their warm fingers brushing lightly as he passes her poison to her with a little smile far more intoxicating than any liquor she could dream up.
She's been here a few times before, and seen him every time. This is always how it goes, she stares until he notices, he finally notices and gets smiley, she gets embarrassed and stops staring, he brings attention to himself and she starts staring again, the process repeating itself over and over through the night until she decides to call herself a cab and go on home.
The day has been absolute hell for her, work was a bastard and this, him, it's what she's been looking forward to all day. He's always at The Reaper on Fridays. She makes a point of being here as well.
She's about four drinks in before she starts feeling less tense, and he can see it on her pretty, flushed face, in the way her shoulders finally fall slack from that squared, upright position she always fixes them in, in how she tugs the ties from her playful pigtails and her golden hair falls across the exposed skin of her back. He wonders how that skin would taste beneath his lips.
He's pulled from his daydream by the aggravating realization that some fucking creep(like he can talk, he was just thinking about kissing the back of someone whose name he doesn't know) has already approached her to try to "take her for a ride" even though she's only here to blow off some goddamn steam, not blow some greasy idiot who thinks she's just a collection of holes to desecrate.
He knows this guy. Knows his reputation.
Giriko has been tossed from this bar on multiple occasions for harassing the women, and Soul is especially on guard tonight. He is having none of this bullshit.
Soul begins to stalk over to interject, when he hears the woman's surprisingly clear voice saying,
"Look, guy, I'm not some hole for you to stick your dick in, I'm not here for that shit, I'm here cause I want a fucking drink. Now step off before I clock you."
Soul thinks he's in love.
Maybe.
He still stands by, just to be certain Asshole has gotten the picture.
He hasn't, he gets angry when the woman with the emerald eyes turns away, grabs her arm and tugs, and Soul is ready to crack a bottle over this guy's fucking head, but the woman beats him to the punch.
Literally.
He hears a sickening crunch, and can't help the glee that bubbles up in his heart.
The security dudes scramble over, but Soul explains what happened, and they drag Giriko out(for like the THIRTIETH fucking time). The woman smiles a bit to herself, then smiles at him, thanks him quietly and asks for another shot.
"Hell, after something like that, all your drinks for tonight are free. What's your name, badass?"
She laughs a bit at his nickname for her.
"I'm Maka. You?"
"Soul."
"No way."
"No way, what?"
"My dad's name is Spirit!"
Change the subject, change the subject, she just made a comparison between you and her dad change the fucking subject.
"What kinda guy is he?"
Fucking hell.
"He's an asshole scumbag. I think your names are the only similarity, so far as i can tell. I'll let you know if anything else comes up as I get to know you."
He internally freaks out cause holy shit, badas- he means uh, Maka, she wants to get to know him and that's just fucking awesome.
"Sounds fair, Maka."
"So… Mind if I stick around a while longer?"
"Stick around as long as you want to. You'll always be welcome."
He means it in more ways than he could explain.
She doesn't realize it until about a year later, as he's bringing her water and aspirin for her hangover and kissing her forehead gently. They're both fully clothed and snuggled into his bed after one of his too long shifts, and he looks so happy to have her there, even if she is cranky and dehydrated and smells like vodka and cherries.
"Sorry for crashing here Soul.." She tells him, not at all sorry, but trying her best to be.
"You will always be welcome, remember? Always."
Yeah. She does remember.
He makes it pretty hard to forget, and she thinks that maybe, just maybe, she sort of loves him for it.
That's a conversation for another snuggle session though. Her head hurts like a bitch.