Author Notes: As always, I own nothing. And I am endlessly grateful for the assistance given to me by the lovely odat in editing these chapters. :)
A heavy breath hung between them. The hand on Maka's shoulder clenched a little too tightly for her comfort. Her ability to concentrate on her Soul Perception was diminishing rapidly, but a quick scan of the room gave her a sense of the flickering wavelengths of the children. They were safe, but Maka had little more than a moment to sort out her thoughts.
A shiver ran down her spine as Maka realized that she was cold. Though it had slowed, the blood from her wound had dripped onto her neck, leaving it sticky and cold. Attempting to concentrate on the whirling of thoughts and emotions in her brain left her temples pounding painfully.
She laughed shakily when she realized that every second she remained silent was making the situation worse. But her head hurt and her perception was dying and Soul was laughing too, the hand on her shoulder falling to his side.
"Soul, is it okay if we..."
"Yeah." He made a motion for her to turn around. She did so, allowing her partner to inspect the gash across the back of her scalp. "It was bad timing."
Maka shivered again, not certain if it was from the cold or the sensation of her partner's gentle fingers in her hair. She was acutely aware of the warmth that his body resonated as he stood behind her. "Head wounds bleed deceptively. The skin of the scalp is really thin, so blood wells really easily. I don't feel lightheaded, so I think I should be fine..."
"Well, at least I know that knock to the head didn't give you any brain damage," Soul grumbled. The warmth of his hands left her head, and Maka considered turning around until she started at a slight ripping sound. Her eyes first darted to the children above them, but their bonds seemed secure. Maka turned to glance at her partner instead. Soul had transformed one of his fingers into a small blade and was ripping the fabric of his shirt carefully. When she opened her mouth to question his actions, he cut her off.
"Bandage." His tone was gruff, but Maka read the worry- and probably something else, she realized- in his eyes. Maka obliged as Soul motioned for her to lean forward; she could feel his hands shaking slightly as he wound the scrapped fabric around her wound. She peered up at him through her bangs, smiling slightly when she caught his eye.
"Sorry." Though he tied the makeshift dressing as gently as he could, her voice still caught as she winced. "We have things we need to take care of right now." Soul shoved his hands in his pockets and began to move away, but Maka caught him with an outstretched arm. "We'll talk later. I promise."
He nodded, lips twitching into a momentary smile. Maka straightened and brushed at the stains of kishin blood and dirt that smeared along her coat. Her lips were puckered in displeasure, face so ridiculous that Soul found himself laughing again. He patted the crown of her head gingerly. "Let's get these kids down and find you a doctor, moron."
Soul had a long history of impressive sighs, but the one he gave as he collapsed into his cold hotel bed was one of the best. It was partly aching muscles and partly the ungodly hour but mostly it was his meister. His precious, courageous, absolutely infuriating meister.
The elaborate rigging of the kids in the rafters spoke to a level of sophistication that Soul and Maka had not expected out of a kishin egg. Though getting them out of their bindings was as simple as a swipe of Soul's blade, the actual process of getting them down was another matter entirely. The basement had a much higher ceiling than most, and the kids had been drugged into unconsciousness. Maka's vertigo made her ability to catch the kids unreliable, so the process of getting the kids down was painstakingly slow. When they had all of the kids to safety, not knowing how else to handle the situation, Maka called the local police.
It was then that they discovered that the Chicago Police Department had not been informed that Shibusen had working operatives in the area.
It devolved into a many-hour nightmare. Chicago had regulations against having an unregistered weapon/meister pair without an official mission statement, and they wouldn't take Shinigami-sama's handwritten note- which had been hastily stuffed into Soul's back pocket- as a voucher for them. Maka had thought to bring Shibusen identification with her, but they had to run Soul through their system to prove that he really was Maka's partner. All the while the weapon was growing increasingly irate, partly due to the bother and partly because each minute that passed was another hour that Maka went without seeing a doctor.
After proving himself a registered weapon of Shibusen, Soul convinced the police to call in someone to look at Maka's head. When he was convinced that she would be taken care of, he agreed to give a statement of what had happened that night. It was a long process that left Soul wishing on more than one occasion that he could pull Maka in to talk to the policeman instead. But the fact that she had a head wound meant that the detail work fell on his shoulders.
It had been a long night to end all long nights, and it was almost enough for Soul to forget that he had confessed his love to his meister.
He'd had vague notions of his feelings for some time, but it was only recently that he realized that there was romance in his devotion to his meister. Knowing how frequently they resonated, he knew that he wouldn't be able to hide it from her long. Half-formed plans of telling her how he felt in varying levels of sickening cliche were blown away by that night's events. Even with his distinct lack of experience he knew he had screwed up; even cliche was preferable over an angry and panic driven confession. He moaned into the cold mattress.
The fact that Maka hadn't Chopped him over what had happened left him worried. She'd embedded a book spine in his skull even while bedridden- over much lesser things. So when she hadn't done so when Soul told her of his feelings, he felt a sudden apprehension over her promise that they would talk later. If she reciprocated his feelings, wouldn't she have told him so right away?
But this was Maka, whose father was the textbook definition of male infidelity and made overthinking things a hobby. And to top it all off, she had a concussion. Was that what kept her from hitting him? Had her judgement been impaired that badly? Or maybe that promise to talk later meant that she didn't mind the uneven nature of his feelings. A little voice tried to suggest that maybe she loved him back, but Soul immediately hushed it by shoving it into the furthest corner of his mind. The chances of that were astronomically tiny, and he was not willing to deal with the fallout of such a ridiculous hope being let down.
He sat up sharply when he heard her hiss from the bathroom. Whirling, he moved to help, but Maka warned him off.
"I'm taking out my hairbands."
"Why would that hurt?" Soul hovered at the closed doorway, unsure whether or not he should come in, regardless. Maka hissed again.
"The hair's tangled and the blood dried..." she trailed off. He could hear her small sigh of frustration. "Look, Soul, I can handle this. Just...go sit down, okay? I've got this under control."
"Doesn't sound like it," he muttered, but he spun on his heel anyway. He gave the rumpled coverlet of the bed a wary look before opting to lean against the wall. Closing his eyes, he listened to the hum of his meister's soul. Maka's music had been playing erratically for the past several hours, the melody shifting painfully, often interrupted by a sudden jolt of notes much like hands slamming on piano keys. It made him cringe whenever he heard it, feeling the ripples of empathetic pain. Soul wanted to sit her down and tell her to stop thinking, but he would have better luck trying to get her to stop breathing. So he kept a constant tab on his meister's wavelength, enduring the echoed pain as a sign of silent devotion.
Soul was startled by her sudden curse from the bathroom, the sound almost drowning out the garbled yelling of an adult man. Though his body tensed, ready to break down the door to protect his meister, Soul knew the voice of Spirit Albarn well enough to not panic. Sudden intrusions via mirror were a common enough occurrence for Shibusen students. Despite this, Maka's wavelength pulsed painfully at the sound of her father's voice. Soul decided that intrusion was necessary; he knocked briskly at the door. She was insistently trying to calm her father as she let Soul in.
Soul entered the cramped bathroom, scowling at the mirror. "Oi, Deathscythe. Your daughter has a concussion, so I suggest you shut up for a minute."
"A concussion?" Spirit screeched, catching himself as he realized his noise level. "Darling, are you okay?" He spoke in a mock whisper.
Maka's music had soothed into a slightly irate sonata, the painful banging gone. "I'm fine, Papa." She did her best to mask her wince with a smile.
"I thought you weren't supposed to contact us through the mirror on this mission," Soul deadpanned, shoulders hunched as he slouched against the bathroom wall. "Something about drawing too much attention to ourselves?" Spirit turned an evil eye on the younger weapon, nostrils flaring.
"You can't expect a good father to just ignore the fact that his girl has gotten hurt, can you?"
Soul tried his best to look nonchalant as he stared his superior down. He could see the concern in Spirit's eyes, so he shrugged in lieu of an acerbic response. Maka leaned in beside him, gingerly positioning herself so that her head wouldn't brush against the wall. Her hair fell against his shoulder, messy with dried blood. It draped unevenly over the bandage wrapped around her head. Soul's shoulder tingled at the spot where it met with Maka's. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her father scowl in restrained disapproval.
Soul bared his teeth for a moment, challenging Spirit's contempt. "Whatever. What do you want, Deathscythe?"
"I want a full report," Spirit replied, his face drawn into something similar to a pout. "Shinigami-sama said that it would be okay to drop the pretense long enough for us to sort out what happened. You brought enough attention to yourselves tonight as it is."
Soul could feel Maka cringe beside him. Her music softened bashfully as she thought of sprinting across the road, dodging traffic with Soul's weapon form in her hands.
"Chicago is a big place, and enough weird stuff happens here that this will be easy enough to sweep under the rug. But we really can't do much about eyewitnesses." Spirit's expression was almost apologetic as his daughter shrunk with each condemning word.
Soul watched this with an even gaze, smirking as he recalled the events of the evening. "It's not all on us, though," he drawled. It was Spirit's turn to arch an eyebrow, the effect somewhat ruined by the adoration in his face as he tried to comfort his daughter.
"It's okay, Maka, sweetie, it's not your fault, I'm sure that you had a lot happening all at once and I probably would have—eh? What is it, Eater?" The older scythe's tone had been sickeningly sweet until the last sentence, which was delivered with a level of nonchalance that even Soul could begrudgingly appreciate.
"Alerting the authorities, Deathscythe. It seems someone forgot to do it." He crossed his arms for good measure. A pall fell over Spirit's mirrored face.
"That was Spirit's job," came Stein's sardonic voice from somewhere out of view. What color was left in Spirit's face drained. Maka, on the other hand, frowned at the realization that others were privy to their conversation.
"How many of you are there?" she asked. Suspicion settled into her features.
"Present!" That was Shinigami-sama, singsonging cheerfully.
Marie and Stein both chimed in from the background. Maka's grimace grew more pronounced.
"Why aren't any of you standing where I can see you? And why is it that none of you took care to alert the proper authorities?" she droned, foreboding in her voice. Spirit gaped in a rather fishlike manner and for a moment. Soul was almost concerned that his senior Deathscythe wasn't breathing.
"Spirit wanted you all to himself, Maka. He was worried about you," came the lilting voice of the death god. She heard a muttered request for someone to pass the chips in the background.
"If he was properly worried, he could have called the local police in Chicago so that they wouldn't be suspicious of us when we brought children to their station." Spirit seemed to shrink from the admonishment.
"Well, uh…"
"That way we could have saved a few hours and I could have seen a doctor more quickly."
Spirit made a strangled noise.
"She would have lost a lot less blood if we could have saved that time," Soul added. He tried to keep from grinning when Spirit stiffened.
"We all thought he had already done it," supplied Stein, seemingly in on Soul and Maka's game.
"Yes, yes," Shinigami-sama added cheerfully. "I thought that since it was his daughter, he'd do so quickly, but—"
"But what?" Maka's voice was heavier than lead. Soul wondered if the weight of it would crush the red-headed scythe into dust.
"But he was in Chupa Cabra's all of yesterday; we had to drag him out by the neck to let him know you were hurt." Soul had to hand it to Stein—the man had a talent for deadpanning that was nigh impossible to beat.
His former partner recovered enough to eye daggers over his shoulder in what Soul and Maka assumed was Stein's direction. "Stein," he hissed, fingers clenched.
The stitched meister's response had an air of false innocence to it: "Sempai, I was just telling her the truth. It's not good to keep secrets from people you care about, after all."
Maka huffed, crossing her arms in a way that mirrored Soul's position. Spirit turned creakily, a sycophantic smile on his face.
"N-now Maka…sweetie…Papa loves you more than anything—"
"Then maybe you should actually do what you're supposed to and not make my job harder," Maka shot back, petulance in her tone. Spirit looked downtrodden.
Her music flowed aggravatedly. The anger made her blood pound, which in turn made her head hurt worse. As Spirit mumbled apologies, Soul nudged the girl beside him.
"Oi, Maka. I'll handle the report, okay?"
She turned a skeptical eye on him. "You already did the police report, though, and you complained about it the whole way back to the hotel, are you sure you want..." Her voice trailed off as he rolled his eyes. Hand on her shoulder, he gently pushed her towards the door.
"Bein' next to you when you're hurting like that is making me hurt. Go sit down or somethin'." In the background, Spirit squawked in indignation, but a swift glare from Maka shut him up rather quickly. She nodded appreciatively at Soul, who shut the door behind her. Cracking his neck, he leaned back against the wall and stared down the discontented Deathscythe in the mirror.
Stein's voice was heard, sounding less jovial than it had before. "So tell us, Soul. What happened?" Spirit was shoved to the side, now sharing the small mirror space with a frowning Stein. Both weapons looked on apprehensively as the meister twisted thoughtfully at the screw in his head.
"Maka called in the report when we were at the station. I don't get why that wasn't good enough." Soul kicked petulantly at the sink cabinet. He'd told Maka that he would handle the report, but he mostly just wanted to get her to lie down for a while. Going through the story again when all he wanted was to sleep was not an appealing thought.
"She has a head wound, Soul," Stein droned. "The information she gave could have been unreliable."
"The knock to her head didn't make her stupid," Soul snapped. "You could have a little more faith in her." He could feel her music flowing from the other room, less troubled with her headache, but there was still an edge to it that he couldn't quite interpret. Though he wanted to spend more time evaluating it, Stein was leaning forward, tapping at the mirror. Soul felt sudden empathy for fish in tanks.
"All the same, Soul Eater," Spirit added, seemingly recovered from his earlier admonishment. "We'd like to hear the report from you."
Soul rubbed at his neck with a sigh. "Fine, fine. But tell me what she told you first."
Stein recounted Maka's entirely accurate report flatly. At one point while the meister was talking, Spirit was called over by Shinigami-sama and left the mirror's narrow view. Soul arched a brow at this, but Stein continued as if nothing had happened. When he finished, Soul shrugged. "I don't know what to tell ya, Professor. What Maka told you is pretty much exactly how it went."
Stein's eyes narrowed. "And you're sure it wasn't Mack?"
"Well, for starters, tracking the guy wasn't a problem." Soul grinned. "We'd only heard about this guy this afternoon and we were able to find him within a few hours. If this was the same kishin who gave Deathscythe the slip last time, I suggest that Shinigami-sama find another weapon."
A yelp of protest came from somewhere out of Soul's view.
Stein nodded, however, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "And the other reasons?
"Well, Maka could sense his soul. Didn't you guys say that you think that he might have use of some form of Soul Protect?"
"Yes." This was Shinigami-sama. His masked face leaned into the top left of the screen. "We believe that he may be working in conjunction with some sort of witch. However..."
"None of our leads have turned up when it comes to identifying who this witch might be," Stein finished dryly. "Considering the death of Louis Fitzgerald and his family's previous associations with witches, we had thought that we could find at least a hint, but we've come up with nothing. I don't suppose you've had any insights into the Dive?"
"Ehh, not much, to be honest." The white-haired weapon stretched, yawn warping his words. "Other than the fact that it seems to be a hotspot for unusually strong souls- like the bartender, the vocalist for the band and the owner."
Stein's eyebrows had flown up as he looked to someone out of view. After a moment, Spirit appeared, crowding in between Shinigami-sama and Stein.
"Unusual in what way?" His voice was apprehensive.
"They're all human." Soul kicked at the sink cabinet again.
"We know that the bartender, Louie Miller, is a human of unusual power," hummed Shinigami-sama. "What are the names of the others?'
"Ehh...Lottie Lenya, that's the vocalist."
Spirit's eyebrows raised in a comic mirror of Stein's expression. "Lottie? What is she doing there?"
"Wha- you know her?" Startled, Soul leaned forward.
"Of course he knows her." Stein sounded more interested than he had before. "She's one of the non-Shibusen weapons in North America that Spirit is responsible for." The red-haired weapon slumped a little.
"Responsible for?" Soul was now the one raising his eyebrows to match the other two.
"Well, weapons have extraordinary power," Shinigami-sama explained. Some of the cheerfulness in his voice had wilted. "So when a weapon is born, they need to be registered and watched."
"Watched?" Incredulity made Soul's volume raise enough that he could feel the spike of pain it gave Maka. He mindfully lowered his tone. "What do you mean, watched?"
There was embarrassment in the Death God's tone. "Well, we have to. Initially it's to keep an eye on when it's time to admit them to Shibusen, but if they choose not to attend, then..."
"You watch them to make sure that they don't cause trouble," Soul finished angrily. "Is that what was going to happen to me if I hadn't come to Shibusen?"
"You were already being watched." Stein's voice had gone back to boredom. His hands were shoved in his lab coat pockets, fiddling with something therein.
"Mm. Good to know," Soul shot back caustically. Stein shrugged.
"I don't make the rules." A moment of silence passed; Soul forced himself to avoid looking angrily at his death-god boss, taking a deep breath instead. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
"So yeah. Lottie is there, who evidently you know. Then there's the owner, Jenny Diver. Is she another one of your weapons gone astray?"
Spirit shook his head at Stein. "I've never heard of her," the meister said.
Soul frowned. "According to Maka, she's got the strongest soul of the three. Do you keep an eye on potential meisters as well?"
Spirit's voice was thoughtful. "If they've got souls more powerful than Lottie's, then we really should be keeping an eye on her." An odd expression crossed his face, but he said nothing else.
"We'll look into Ms. Diver once we get to the bottom of this situation with Mack. Are there any other souls that we should know of?" Stein was turning at the screw in his head again.
Soul shrugged. "A lot of the regulars of the place are above average in power. About Loiue Miller's level, Maka said. We just assumed that the place drew them in somehow."
It seemed that Stein was happy with this assessment, as he nodded and exchanged a meaningful glance with Shinigami-sama. Spirit, on the other hand, looked more troubled. He gave the younger weapon a long glance before reluctantly speaking.
"Are there...ah...working girls at this club?"
Incredulous, Soul rubbed at his temples. "Are you kidding me, Deathscythe? Skirt chasing when you're not even-"
"That's not why," Spirit snapped in response, face heated. "It's just...when I was on the mission last time, our only lead was a working girl who had associated-" Soul arched an eyebrow "with a number of Mack's victims. They were all humans of extraordinary power. I was chasing the lead when..." His voice trailed off, an uncomfortable silence settling in. Stein lit a cigarette, ignoring Marie's quiet 'I thought you quit' that floated in from the background.
"When you mixed work and pleasure?" Soul finished sardonically. Spirit flushed.
"Chantelle wasn't going to talk to us about anything. I thought that if I did some undercover work, I could crack her, but my ex-wife didn't approve."
Soul's expression was without sympathy. "It's not cool to cheat on your partner. Even when it's for the job."
Something hardened in Spirit's gaze, the embarrassment burned away. His voice was quiet. "It was our first mission after Maka was born. I wanted to go home to my little girl." The elder Deathscythe's posture stiffened as he leaned away from the glass. "Regardless-"
"I'll keep an eye out for her," Soul interjected. He relaxed his posture, voice sincere. Spirit seemed more at ease.
"How are you going to handle continued surveillance of the Dive?" Stein asked, fogging up the mirror with a puff of cigarette smoke.
"I'll keep playing to keep up the ruse, but we'll have to see how well Maka is feeling in the morning." Soul rubbed at his jaw, restraining the urge to yawn. "If her head is still hurtin' too much for her to resonate with me, then we're up shit's creek. So if that's the case, then I'll keep playin' and keep up the charade until she feels better."
"Maka's a tough girl," Shinigami-sama said warmly. "I'm sure that she'll be raring to go in no time."
Soul grinned. "Yeah, that sounds like her. Is that everything you need? 'cause it's late and-"
"Go to sleep," Stein supplied. He nodded abruptly towards Shingami-sama, smoke curling from his lips. They formed little skulls before they dispersed. "I think we can handle the rest of this."
The meister and death god moved out of view, muttering to each other in serious tones. Spirit, however, shoved his hands in his pockets and stared his daughter's partner down. Soul looked on with a bored expression, content to wait until Spirit said his piece. Maka's music had toned down sleepily, the echoes of pain less pronounced. Soul's shoulders felt lighter.
"Eater..."
"Yeah?" Soul matched Spirit's gaze smoothly, an eyebrow arched.
"I'll be holding you to my request." There was an air of defeat in Spirit's posture as Soul straightened. The younger weapon chuffed in laughter behind a razor-sharp grin.
"You never needed to worry about that, old man." The lightness in his voice was unusually flippant. "You're not the only one who cares about her, you know."
Soul tapped at the mirror a couple times, opening the bathroom door with his free hand. "I'll be going now. I've got to check on Maka. I'll...uh...let you know if anything happens, okay?" He gave a brief sort of nod before edging out the room. The image of Spirit cut out right before he shut the door.
Soul sighed for a moment, letting the new information sink in. He knew that he should probably tell Maka about the lead, but her music had only recently slowed to a less furious pace of thought and he didn't want to exacerbate her pain. Their mission could wait until morning.
She was sprawled her bed, which was closer to the bathroom than his. While he had been talking, she had changed into her bedclothes, wiry legs swamped by her oversized flannel pants. Her music spiked in tempo as he stepped into the room. Rubbing at her eyes, she turned on her side to look up at Soul. He waved his hands at her.
"Go back to sleep, Maka."
Her gaze turned peevish. "You know I wasn't asleep, Soul. You've been checking up on me this whole time."
A look of shock crossed Soul's face. "How do you know that?"
She rolled her eyes at him as she carefully pulled herself into a sitting position. "I could feel your soul poking at mine every minute or so." Soul looked down bashfully.
"Er...sorry about that. I didn't mean to bother you or anythin'."
A small smile fluttered on her lips. She started to shake her head, but she thought better of it as the disorientation caught up with her. Soul was moving towards his bed and though her grasp on Soul Perception was still fuzzy, she knew that he was trying to give her space. A voice in the back of her head told her that it would be easier if she just let him go to bed, quoting a need of sleep to avoid conversation. But she had promised them that they'd talk, and she'd spent the past few hours gathering up the courage to say what needed to be said. So as her partner passed, she grabbed at his hand. When he stopped to give her a bemused look, she patted her mattress, indicating that he should sit. He did so, apprehension growing in his features. The bed was large enough that he sat without touching her. Maka frowned, carefully scooting over so that their hips were just barely touching. Her hand reached out for his. As he took it, their fingers laced together in the nervous silence.
Heart pounding, she opened her mouth to speak. "Soul, I said we'd talk and I-"
"Maka, it's late. You don't need to do this now." His interjection was exactly as she expected. Masking her unease with a stern look, she reprimanded him.
"When I said we'd talk, I meant it." Her fingers tightened in his, stern expression fading away. She looked tired again, and Soul restrained the urge to raise his other hand to cup her cheek. Instead he shifted a little closer, gauging her reaction carefully. Maka could feel the tension in his body; she wanted to say something to calm him, but she could do little to ease her own.
She knew what she needed to say; she'd been rehearsing it in a tightly locked corner of her mind for the past few hours, turning over phrases and emotions uneasily despite her throbbing headache. Normally words were not difficult for her, even when paired with emotion, but this was new territory for Maka- dangerous, uncomfortable territory. And as loath as she was to admit it, it scared her. Bravery was her virtue; she had faced down demons with less apprehension than this. Yet she could not slow the beating of her heart as her partner's thumb brushed against hers slowly.
"Maka..." His face was closer than she had expected it to be, eyes soft as he looked at her with worry. She knew that she wasn't making this easy for either of them, so she took a deep breath, hoping that he wouldn't detect the slight catch. Had he always spoken her name like that?
"Just give me a minute. I need to think."
He laughed slowly, the sound intimate as his thumb brushed against hers again. "You do that too much, Maka."
Maka found that she was too comfortable in their position to interrupt it by Chopping Soul. Instead she settled on frowning at him, but it was halfhearted.
"Seriously, though..." Soul's eyebrows had furrowed, the worry in his eyes more pronounced. "You don't need to do this now. I'm the one who threw this at you and..." He broke eye contact, looking up as if for an answer, "and I don't want you to feel pressured by my mistake. I was goin' to tell you sometime soon, but I didn't expect this and it just...happened."
"I'm glad it did," Maka said softly. She caught his gaze again, wondering if maybe she could somehow convey her jumbled mess of emotion through eye contact alone. It would have made the exchange much easier. A sudden giggle escaped her lips, her forehead slowly coming to rest against Soul's.
Though he was startled, he did not move away from her, instead shifting his hand so that he could better support himself.
"I am pretty stupid today," she murmured. Her breath was soft against Soul's cheek.
"That's what I've been telling you all night," he teased gently. "Anything specific, though?"
Her eyes slipped shut as she carefully let her soul stretch out to meet his. It beat at her concentration and the throbbing in her head was more aggravated than it had been before, but it didn't hurt the way resonating had a few hours ago. A wave of relief washed over Maka; her concussion must not be that bad if she was recovering from it this quickly.
Their souls met in a shared sigh of contentment. Maka let her tangled mass of emotions flow over the link, embarrassment tinging her cheeks as Soul's end of the link hurriedly tried to process it all. He was even more overwhelmed than she, but he made a valiant effort to make sense of it all.
I can understand why you said you needed time to think, he sent. The sensation of his voice thrumming along her soul calmed her. Their resonance seemed to have a similar effect on him; she could feel his posture relaxing. Though his closeness comforted her, her neck was starting to hurt from the awkward craning position she had found herself in. Now immersed in the resonance, Soul could feel her discomfort. He shifted beside her, trying to find a better position for them both, but Maka stopped him with a hand on his chest, pushing him gently.
Lay down, the suggestion was more feeling than words, and Soul answered with a questioning tone that very thinly covered his panic. Despite the confusion of the moment, Maka managed to unify her thoughts into a sharp command. Lay down, Soul. I'm not going to bite you.
But are you comfortable with-
If I wasn't, I wouldn't be telling you to lay down.
Sighing, the weapon complied slowly and settled down on his back. He watched Maka with a careful eye as she settled down beside him. Their arms were squished uncomfortably between them, but both were hesitant about moving his arm to pillow her head. So instead she turned on her side, smiling as he did the same. The coolness of her mattress soothed the throbbing in her head a little. She leaned in, allowing their foreheads to touch again. Silence set in as she tried to focus on her emotions.
I said that we would talk, but...words can be difficult. Though she was apologetic, Soul's end of the resonance was quick to shake that off.
Maka, there's no need to apologize. Take as much time as you need to figure things out. As long as this doesn't affect our resonance...
It won't Maka assured him softly. I promise. I...think I like you back? I mean... The verbal portion of her link died out as she pulled out individual sensations, trying to piece them together into something that made sense-her obvious physical attraction to him, the comfort she took in his closeness, the way his thumb brushing against hers felt like electricity through a wire. Her confusion threaded through the feelings as she pushed them towards Soul. I don't know how I feel. You've been my partner for so long, I just-
Don't know where the loyalty ends and the love begins? There was an intensity in his gaze as the link welled with his understanding. Believe me, I can relate. Maka laughed softly, cautiously raising a hand to Soul's face. He leaned into her touch, and as his lips brushed softly against her palm a jolt of pleasure ran through her body. A pleased smile crept onto his lips. We'll take this slowly. His hand snaked under hers so that he could run a finger across her chin.
I can live with that. Sleepiness made her eyes droop, contrasting her own small smile. The combined warmth of their bodies had warmed the mattress, an enveloping warmth tempting Maka. Soreness had crept into her muscles at some point and she craved the comfort of sleep, though she knew the next day the ache would only be worse. Her drowsiness flooded the link, triggering Soul's own exhaustion. He yawned despite himself, puffing air against her face.
"Good thing I got you that toothbrush," she mumbled, catching his yawn. He rolled his eyes at her, but linked as they were she could feel his gratitude that she wasn't put off by his yawning in her face.
You've done far worse, she teased, I can't imagine why you'd be so afraid now.
He arched an eyebrow at her, the look dubious enough that she responded with a trill of sympathy. Giving in to her exhaustion, she shut her eyes, nuzzling her forehead closer to his. Soul laid there for a moment, allowing himself to enjoy their position before pulling back slightly. The hand that Maka had cupped around his face fell to his shoulder, pulling him back. Her face was scrunched in disapproval. Where are you going? The question was only barely verbal.
You're tired, Maka..and so am I. I'm gonna turn the light off and go to bed.
Forget about the light; you're already in bed. Her awareness had drifted off enough that she didn't register the sudden jolt in his emotions. Hand clutching him tightly, she tried to pull him closer. You're warm and you smell good...stay.
Though she might not have been awake enough to register his emotions, surely she was close enough to feel the pounding of his heart. I don't think we have the same definition of taking it slowly, Maka.
His meister made no response other than to slide her hand to his ribcage, trying to bring him closer. Sighing, he allowed her to tuck her head into the crook of his neck. The position allowed him to lean in and inhale the scent of her hair. He blamed her intoxicating scent for the tumble of words that fell through the link.
You smell pretty damn good too.
She responded with a shimmer of emotions; he could feel her smile against his as he was, he was slow to interpret each thread of feeling, but a grin crept on his face as he did so. More than anything else, despite being too tired to form proper words, Maka was flattered.
She was comfortably nestled in the crook of his neck, the curve of her nose just brushing his jawline. Breath deep, her small chest expanded rhymically, coming just shy of brushing his own. Soul let a hand slide up her arm, fingers tangling in her hair as she made a small hum of approval. He sat there for a moment, enjoying the sensation of his meister curled up beside him. Her music betrayed the sense of security she felt in his arms; Soul had always been the one to protect her.
Despite this, Soul knew that she was tired. Though her headache had faded, the exhaustion had whittled her down to a very vulnerable state. And while it warmed him that his meister would be comfortable being that way with him, despite the tangle of her feelings, he knew that in the morning she might feel different.
Pushing with his shoulder, he relocated Maka's head from its position at his neck. The hand that was tangled in her hair moved to cup her face and he pulled back, looking at her with serious eyes. She cracked an eye open, bleary green meeting his crimson. The link swelled with her brief confusion. Chuckling softly, Soul tilted his chin forward, resting his lips on her forehead.
They were more rough against that skin than they had been on the thick calluses of her palm. She could feel where his lips were starting to chap at the corners and a blurry thought of chapstick appeared in the link briefly before being smothered by her rising contentment.
And then he was pulling away, ignoring her feeble attempts to draw him back into her arms. He stood, body flushing with goosebumps at the sudden loss of warmth. Noting his meister's frown, he folded a corner of the blanket over her. She clutched at it as he moved away.
Soul...Though she wanted to command him to return to her side, it came off as more of a whine. He smiled despite himself as he turned off the lightswitch.
That was a goodnight kiss, Maka. I'll be going to mybed so that you don't give me a concussion in the morning with one of your books. In the darkness of the room, Soul could see her stir. Don't argue with me this time. Please?
Stay, she toned at him sleepily. Her music was somewhat troubled, enough so that it gave Soul pause as he stood over her bed. Taking two deep breaths, he leaned in, taking the other side of the blanket and tucking it around her. She made an irritated noise, but Soul turned and carefully made his way to his own bed.
I've taken advantage of you enough tonight, he told himself as much as he did her. Though he slid under the chill covers of his blankets, he didn't break from the resonance. Maka's sleepiness was overpowering her unhappiness and the shimmering link between them left Soul feeling content. Her music was lilting and sweet as they both slipped off into sleep.
Having a decent view of the sunrise could be a rarity in big cities like Chicago. But if you had a good eye for the urban landscape, it wasn't hard to find a good spot. Even after being away for so many years, Mack had enough sense of the city that he secured a good location not too far from where he had been living the past few weeks. He'd set up a folding chair on the roof of a public-access building that opened early- the ground floor had a coffee shop that opened before dawn to catch the early jogger crowd and some old regulars. The businesses on the upper floors left the roof door propped for the smokers that worked there, giving Mackheath a golden opportunity to watch the day begin.
You are my sunshine
Though his voice was thin, he carried the melody well. There was warmth in his tone as he sung.
My only sunshine
He slipped his hand into his inner coat pocket. The fabric of his glove slid quietly along the folded handle of his jackknife. Eyes on the horizon, he took his hand out of the pocket long enough to remove his gloves. Then, swiftly, he took the knife from its resting place, pulling a bit of polish and a cloth from another pocket with his other hand. He flipped the knife open, observing its dull glint in the new light. Humming to himself, he brought it to his lips and kissed the flat of the blade.
You make me happy when skies are grey
After setting the blade on his knee for a moment, he unscrewed the little container of polish, using a cloth-covered finger to scoop out the greasy substance. Though it was broken by the occasional skyscraper, the horizon was clear as its color evolved from the faded blue of denim to the burning orange of embers. Mack's fingers were reverent as they slid along the blade of his knife, wiping away any dust before he took the polishing cloth to its steel.
You'll never know, dear, how much I love you
The moment was serene. Mackheath took exceptional attention to detail in the polishing of his knife, hands lovingly buffing away that dullness until it shone like quicksilver in the new light of the morning. His thin shoulders made an occasional thunking noise against the chair, but the sound was quiet in the morning air. Eyes narrowed in concentration, he moved his attention to the handle of the blade. That was more demanding work than cleaning the blade itself; Mack took to the handle with singleminded fastidiousness.
It was that same single mindedness that caused him to neglect his Soul Perception; though it wasn't very strong, it would have alerted him to the security guard's presence with enough time for him to make a clean getaway. That not being the case, when the security guard stepped onto the roof, informing Mack that he wasn't supposed to be there, the latter was startled into action.
Being a much smaller man than the security guard, Mack used his superior speed to sneak in a blow with the unsheathed blade. The guard doubled over, clutching at a rapidly spreading bloodstain on the right side of his torso. Using this distraction to his advantage, Mack spun to the guard's flank, digging the blade deep into the man's back. He pulled in an upward, diagonal slash, cutting the guard from right to left in one clean blow. The man unraveled from existence, a small blue soul left in his wake.
The shiny new watch on Mackheath's hand shone in the morning light. Tucking one of his gloves on and grabbing at the soul with his free hand, Mackheath cleared away the area of the few stray drops of blood that had come from the guard's wound. Idly rolling the soul in the palm of his left hand, he made an apologetic noise.
"Not our usual fare, I'm afraid, but we'll have to make do." Blood cleaned from both rooftop and weapon, Mackheath straightened, sending a morose look at the rising sun. "I suppose we'd best find another place to watch the sun come up, my friend."
Closing the blade with a click, he grabbed his folding chair and slipped out of the roof area. Before sliding the knife back into his pocket, he raised it to his lips one more time.
Oh please don't take my sunshine away.
I tried to get this one to you guys soon so as to not leave you on a cliffhanger, since in the original draft, all this was supposed to be in the previous chapter anyway. I'm glad I didn't keep them together, because it would have ended up being a monstrosity if I had let it be.
My boyfriend is visiting me for his spring break, which means that I won't be writing much, if at all, in that time, so you'll have to expect the next chapter in maybe two and a half weeks. Sorry about that.
Much love for all the people who have said kind things about this fic so far. You guys are awesome. :)