Layla's smile kept jumping back to beaming as she perused over the menu. Maka hadn't bothered to take her to the food court– opting for one of the more mature, intimate restaurants on the outskirts of the shopping complex. Her hunch had been correct: Layla was the type of girl who reveled in being treated like the little adult she was. "Just save room for dessert, okay? I can't live without their peanut butter bomb."

The little girl giggled before replying, "Papa did say you liked peanut butter and chocolate."

"Did he?" Maka tried to quell her surprise, but entirely failed. How much does he talk about me? She bit into the question before she could let it go.

Layla nodded as her eyes continued to dart over the options. "Sometimes he just gets reminded of things and says them. He said you had ice cream together and that's what you picked."

Before he cried– but I doubt he told you that part. Even telling you that much seems so sweet that I… Maka settled her cheeks into her hands, hoping to still any color that was threatening to creep up. "What about you? What's your favorite flavor?"

There wasn't an ounce of thought placed into her answer: "Strawberry. Papa pretends to like no flavors but he–"

"Let me guess," Maka snuck in with her finger raised. "Coffee."

Layla's eyes opened wide. "Did he have that when you went out?"

I actually don't remember what he had in his cup, but an addict is an addict. "No, but I think you and I both know that your papa has a caffeine problem."

She fell into giggles as she dropped the menu to the table. "He's so sleepy without it."

"I bet," Maka added with a pleasant hum. I think I'd like to see that– that groggy bed-headed grump without his fix. I don't think I gave him the opportunity that first morning. She sighed, finger tracing some of the lettering on the front of her menu. "Do you know what you want?"

Layla nodded, stacking their menus together. Maka waved over the waitress, not putting as much judgment as Layla picked her favorite. There were no disco fries to be had here. Slightly more upscale fare left Maka to pick one of those updated classics– a fried chicken sandwich that somehow was supposed to be transformed with a special aioli and kimchi pickles. As long as it had that crunch she'd be pleased, but before she could sink into dreams of golden breading, Layla pulled her back to the surface.

Like any good businesswoman, her fingers were settled calmly on the countertop, shoulders prim and straight. "I want to have a discussion."

"Oh– sure…" Maka blinked at the sudden transformation of girlish joy to something closer to the boardroom.

"You said Papa was important." She left that there as if to coax some greater admission, but Maka just sat there staring. " Very important," she prompted again.

Maka nodded.

A wrinkle started in Layla's brow, but she quickly wiped it away with another stabilizing breath. "But you don't really kiss Papa."

"Oh–" She gaped to let the vowel escape before snapping her lips shut again.

"You hug and hold hands, but kissing is important too."

Again, she nodded as the pre- pre -teen guidance hit her like a tidal wave.

"And staying over, like I said." Layla's fingers splayed slightly as if she was starting to count off the paths their relationship was supposed to take. "And Papa wants to be alone with you, so I can go to Grandpa Julien's or Uncle Kilik's anytime ."

Maka swallowed, painfully aware of the threadiness to her breath and the warmth of the blush creeping up her neck. "That's a very nice offer, Layla…" And I did say alone, didn't I? That I wanted to be alone if we were going to… She placed a quick road block, trying to focus on the determined little girl in front of her. "How… Layla, why is kissing so important?"

Concentration narrowed those eyebrows a little more as Layla leaned her chin into her palm. "I saw when Papa kissed your cheek at the pool. He smiled. It was one of those real smiles that I told Uncle Blake about. That means it makes Papa happy when he kisses you, and that's what I want for him."

Embarrassment was drifting away, a new sort of melancholy taking hold. She just wants him to be happy. That's what it is. She's so afraid he's sad that she's about to give me a list. The idea caught, sparked true as Maka reached into her bag and pulled out the pocket-sized notebook that was never far from her grasp. "Okay, Layla, then I want a list." She turned to a fresh page, pen poised over the lines. "All the things that you think will make your papa happy."

Soul had weighed the cellphone in his hand for the past hour since he'd put the journal down. It wasn't for her name– not to check on Layla– it was Remy's contact that kept winking at him every time he opened the screen. He'd been hoping that the girls would come home and give him a reprieve, but their fun was his folly. Finally, he pressed the call button.

"Ah, Lala, what a pleasure."

"Uh, it's me," Soul corrected, once again too aware of his daughter's social butterfly status.

"Oh," Remy replied lightly, voice changing from that saccharine tune to a dead neutral. "Did something happen?"

"Layla's fine." Soul dug his knuckles into the top of his knee. "I just– I got to the fight in the journal."

"Oh." This one fluttered just above disinterest, a hint of softness to the vowel.

The question had sat on his lips for the last hour, so Soul had no hope but to let it pounce off his tongue. "Remy, did you know?"

"Know what?" he offered quickly.

Soul sighed. "Did you know Viv didn't want my mom seein' Layla?"

A hesitant half of a breath fluttered over the other side of the line before Remy's voice came closer to a mutter. "Yes, but– Viv decided it was you who was fit to take care of Layla. You apparently knew best."

Soul slid a hand over his face, head tilting back against the couch. "I didn't know jackshit. And I wish I fucking knew why she put my name on those papers, but… Damnit, Remy, you should have told me," he spat.

"You would have left."

He stiffened against the couch, comfort gone as an ache started in his chest. "What?"

"You couldn't have avoided your parents here, but you could have if you ran off again. I couldn't risk you taking her to Seattle." Gone was the usual sterile lifelessness in Remy's voice, replaced by cracks that urged trembling breaths over the other side of the line. "I lost my sister. I couldn't lose her too."

An unpleasant wave of obstinance hit him. There only seemed room to claw, spit, fight in the face of an accusation that he tried to resist as true. As he sat there, muscles tightening so much that his jaw threatened to snap, some small last bit of clarity hit his mind: I would have. He tried to release it all in a breath, but only an ounce of the tightness abated. "I-I get that," he replied weakly.

"But you've done a good job protecting her." The admission came with a short, painful huff. "Your mother's a beast, but you've kept Layla from the brunt of it, usually at your own expense."

A sour grin lamely stretched across his lips. "Remy, would you– do you think I should do it now?"

"You're asking for my advice?" He returned incredulously.

"Dunno…" Soul was groping in the dark at wires meant to diffuse a bomb. This moment was utterly shatterable, but at the same time, there was tenuous hope. "I think I've made it clear that you and your family are always gonna be a part of Layla's life, but… if it was what Viv wanted, and what your family wants now, I–" He choked momentarily, not on fear but something even less tangible: hope . "I could cut them out if that's what Layla says. If she agrees, I'll settle on it. No Seattle involved."

The line was dead silent, no breath to even acknowledge a connection.

"If I had to say who my family was," Soul continued as the pressure built in his chest, "I wouldn't say it was them. I think you know that. Julien, you, and even Flora have been better to me– supported me so…" He swallowed, the dry click resounding in the stillness from the other end. "I'd never take her away from you is what I'm saying. I don't think I always know what's best, so if you got an opinion here, voice it."

The utter stillness was broken by the clearing of his throat. "Ask Lala. She's old enough now that she should make her own decisions, right?"

"Alright, I will."

"Is she there?" Remy sighed. "I think I'd like to end this call on a lighter note."

"Ah, no," Soul replied as an antsy feeling rose in his gut. "She's out with a–" A friend? My friend? "She's out with my girlfriend right now."

The chuckle that started on the other side of the line grated harshly against every last one of Soul's nerves, but Remy continued it until it was light and airy. "Is that the Maka person she's been talking about?"

Talkin' about her? To Remy? "Yeah."

"You know, for a second I thought it had to be an imaginary friend since you? A girlfriend? " That irritating laugh fluttered across the line again, making Soul's ear itch. "But I see. Explains what's gotten into you lately."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Soul barked, hackles starting to rise, making his shoulders wriggle uncomfortably against the upholstery.

"The changes," Remy offered back succinctly.

"Still don't get what you mean," he grumbled in return even though that was the furthest from the truth. I have changed. I am changing. I'm– The front door clicked open, a beautiful melody of the two voices he treasured most exploding into the foyer. "Hey, bug, good timing. Your uncle's on the phone."

"Oh!" Layla's pleasant exclamation came with the thunder of her footsteps as she rounded the corner into the living room, hand readily outstretched.

"Here you go, Remy." Soul left him with no room to snicker again as he slid the phone into Layla's hand. "Tell me about the trip after."

Layla nodded before putting the cell to her ear, instantly chirping, "Uncle Remy!" Her disappearing steps were replaced by heavier ones, a slow and beautiful gait that he turned on the couch to witness.

An amused smile was curving those pink lips as she entered. "Now, was that a perfect little coincidence or are you planning something?"

"Don't think I have that much coyness in me…" But he still smirked, beckoning her over with a gentle hand. She acquiesced, but only so far as to lean over the back of the couch. "Don't want to sit?" he questioned, eyebrows raising.

"Not yet…" Her head tilted, nothing about that smile fading and only becoming more glowing with the splash of her hair cascading over her shoulder. "I promise Layla got all the things on her list."

"Thanks." Temptation brought his hand up, touching her cheek and urging her a few more inches downward so he could strain to meet her. It was barely enough of a brush before she giggled.

"Not yet."

A frown threatened to stretch his lips.

"And don't pout."

"Pout?" he griped, glaring at her as she stood. There wasn't time to try to entice her closer because Maka was already turning and disappearing back the way she came. "Hey," Soul called after her to no reply. He huffed, suddenly realizing he was doing exactly as she predicted. There was an honest attempt to wipe the slate clean but it fizzled and failed, making him turn searching eyes back to the doorway. "Hey," he repeated.

"Hey yourself," she called back, but it finally brought her back to him, packages in hand. She left the girly boutique bags on the armchair but thumped the hulking monstrosity of a bag next to him on the couch. "The comforter you requested."

"Thanks." He put his hand on it but didn't bother to look.

Maka motioned towards the bag. "Well?"

Soul shrugged, finger toying with the plastic. "Sure Layla picked somethin' fine."

"We did," Maka corrected with enough of a haughty air that his eyebrows took off again. "Since Layla said it was for me, too."

His blood was fighting between blanching and blushing until his ears finally lit up. "For you? "

"The two of us, since that was part of Layla's list." How that so nonchalantly fell from her lips had Soul entirely on edge.

"List?" That word very rarely ever brought terror but a raw wave of it surged from head to toe.

"Not yet," Maka echoed her sentiment from before but her smile was muted, less playful and more… entirely out of Soul's grasp.

He tried to focus on the comforter as if it would offer an answer, especially as her footsteps receded again and the tap started to run. There was some clinking next, but that seemed overpowered by the clack of his hard swallow as all the possibilities started to percolate. What list of things could she possibly give Maka? Especially since Maka doesn't seem pissed just… happy? Amused? As if–

"Here you go, Papa!" Layla dropped the phone on the couch next to the comforter as she trotted over to the packages. "Are you ready to see?"

Soul patted the bag next to him first. "Tell me about the comforter, Layla."

"Maka found it," she chimed joyfully. "It's a secret why. Maka said she wants to see if you can figure out why we picked it."

"You–" Before Soul could get the rest of the accusation out, Maka arrived, two wine glasses in hand. He'd already been scolded twice for not waiting, so he snapped his lips shut on the question. "Alright, what else you got?" Maka settled next to him on the couch, comforter uncomfortably between them before handing him his drink.

It was a quick parade– a new bathing suit in iridescent purple, a few sweaters, and an especially interesting velveteen jacket that Soul could only guess was Maka's suggestion. He was fiddling with one of the buttons to try to keep that nervous inkling away. It hadn't perfectly blossomed yet since Layla and Maka's conversation floated easily around him, but it was alive and well and biding its time.

Maka knew she shouldn't exactly be content with the way Soul seemed to be sweating under the collar. It wasn't exactly fair, so she tried to squash down the little bit of amusement that came from him stealing glances and trying to hide furrowed eyebrows. For his benefit—and hopefully to wash away her sins of delight—Maka scooted the bedding off the couch, giving her the space to slide next to him and steal a hand. She hadn't meant it as any kind of code, but as soon as she exchanged a look with Soul, Layla was on her feet.

"I'm going to bed!"

"Am I tucking you in?" Soul's question was strangely wry.

Layla bounced to her feet, throwing herself into Soul's arms for a hug and a litter of kisses. "No, Papa, I'm fine." After drowning him with just enough affection, she turned to Maka, giving her just as tight of an embrace. "Thank you so, so, so much for taking me today, Maka!"

Maka was in love with the joy and warmth, the tender way that Layla didn't hesitate to give her just as much as her papa. "Thank you, Layla. I had so much fun."

The little girl nestled closer, getting her whisper just to Maka's ear. "And you'll talk to Papa about the list?"

"Of course," Maka answered quickly as she took advantage of the hold to toy with Layla's beautiful locks.

Layla stayed put, letting Maka get her fill of that tangle of curls. After a few contented hums, she finally whispered, "I want you to be happy too."

Maka laughed softly, but as Layla pulled away she made sure to give her a tender smile on top of it. "I think we all can be. Good night, Layla."

"Good night!" she announced for both of them before starting steady footsteps towards the stairs.

She glanced after the girl, waiting for the footsteps to recede before looking towards Soul. He had actually relaxed, red eyes glowing softly as he stared at her. "What?" she murmured, slightly bewildered by the entire loss of any of the evening's jumpiness.

He cleared his throat before trying to wipe away some of the intensity of his smile. "Nothin', just… glad you two get along."

"It's hard not to," Maka replied. "I think I've told you before you're raising a wonderful little girl."

"She has her moments." He chuckled softly, tilting his head. "Kinda hopin' she keeps having those moments and this list of hers isn't…" The trepidation was back, sneaking in easily with his sigh. "Please tell me she didn't say anythin' too crazy."

"Well…" Maka stood, walking over to the array of bags to dig out her purse. The notebook was waiting right on top, and she opened it, flipping through pages until today's work appeared. "I don't kiss you enough."

He snorted a laugh before shaking his head. "Guess she watches too much TV."

"No," Maka corrected. "Her explanation was actually valid– she sees you smile when you kiss me. Really, the entire list is mostly just a focus on 'let's make Papa happy.'"

His eyebrows climbed up his forehead.

Maka's furrowed in return. "Are you really surprised by that?"

He shrugged. "I guess not, but… guess I'm curious what she thinks that entails. Wanna hold my judgment until I hear that." Soul motioned towards the notebook before taking a long sip of his wine.

Her gaze turned back to the page, swaying slightly as she began the ambling journey downwards. "I should stay over at least once a week. That was a negotiation. Originally we were at three times a week, but I said with work it was a little more complicated than that. I'm supposed to stay either Friday or Saturday night– to be decided based on if I'm spending time with both of you or just you and I alone."

A weak laugh trickled away from the couch. "Who exactly decides that?"

"Us," she replied easily. "Layla was sure that you would keep your promise about balancing. Apparently you already talked about sharing time with me?" Maka raised her eyes in time to catch a bashful smile on his face.

"Sorta… just kinda told her, well, I wasn't keepin' you all for myself." A sigh fluttered over his lips as he scratched at the back of his neck. "You're a person after all. You do what you want. Didn't want her thinkin' it was some kinda contract."

"I appreciate that." Maka nodded with a smile before turning her focus back to her list. "She did struggle with her expectations of a timeline…"

Dread laced every inch of his question: "Meanin'?"

It had already had more than enough time to screech through the reaches of her mind, leaving Maka with the ability to produce a soft laugh before continuing, "Well, after this school year deciding when I stay over will be a moot point. By summer, I'm supposed to be living with you two."

"Layla Vivienne Evans," Soul groaned, and Maka raised her eyes just in time to see him plop his head back against the couch.

She giggled. "I told her it was a very generous offer, but that it depended on more than just time. I don't think she exactly liked that answer, but…"

"Please tell me that's the end of the list," he grumbled towards the ceiling, his eyes pinched closed.

"There's a few odds and ends but there was one key point that she was very vehement about." Maka took a moment to grab her wine glass, draining more than just a sip as her eyes traced over the final line that had struck her both as sweet and sorrowful. She knew embarrassment would flood him—Death knows it had when Layla first said it to her—but Maka couldn't help but wonder what the second wave of emotion would be.

"I guess I'm ready as I'll ever be," Soul prompted with a sigh before dropping his chin. His smile was tight, but his eyes did have the faintest trace of mirth. "Hit me."

"Layla wanted to make sure that you…" Her heart swelled with another muddled mix of unknown sentiments. If she'd have had time, Maka would have made her own list of those alone– tried to piece together exactly what it was that hit her when this mental picture played across her mind.

"Fuck, is it that bad?" Soul muttered before rubbing at his brow, trying to erase the creases. "Maka, I'm sorry if she–"

"No," Maka cut off any attempt to stop the words she'd promised Layla she'd say. "It's– sort of beautiful, in a way." Her voice warbled, making him drop his hand and stare at her with widening eyes. Maka cleared her throat. "She wants you to have the chance to be a papa again. You're great at it, and she seemed convinced it was– is something you want."

His jaw fell slack, lips gaping slightly as the force of the idea made the air disappear from his mouth and lungs.

She closed the notebook and tossed it back towards her purse before risking a step closer to him. "Is– is that something you think you'd want?"

A wobble appeared in his lip as his eyes fell, blinking as if to bring his hands into focus. "She said that?" he murmured in utter mystification.

Maka took another tentative step towards him, now threatening close enough to sit on the couch next to him but still hovering at standing. "Please don't think that it's because she doesn't see you as–"

"No, I get that." His hand came to his face, settling his palm against his lips.

"Then maybe– maybe I should be sorry," Maka whispered, trying to refuse the urge to bite into her lip and send back the rest. "I didn't mean to… well, it's a big question, I know, and maybe it seems out of the blue, but…"

He raised his eyes to her but still kept silent.

She heaved a breath. "We said that if anything was going to happen, that we wanted to make sure that we planned on this going somewhere and…" She ran nervous fingers through her hair, her heart galloping as it all suddenly felt so unpracticed. Be brave, Maka. That's what he said you are so be it. "Couples should have common life goals and if– if you do or don't, I think it's something to know now rather than later. And I know this is just Layla's thoughts, so if you haven't considered it I understand."

His hand dropped. "I never–" There was a rattling from his throat before he could continue. "Sorta was operatin' on the idea I would only ever have the chance to be Layla's papa and that's all." Soul's shaking hand reached for her, just getting a hold of her fingers. "Never thought about it because I never thought I'd be with someone. Pretty sure I can't spontaneously reproduce." He laughed weakly as he stared up at her.

She mirrored him, her own giggle barely making it past her lips. "Probably not."

"So I guess…" Soul's fingers tried to lace with hers and Maka moved the step forward to allow him the room. "I can think about it, right?"

"Of course." The way he was staring at her made that even more breathless.

"Do I… you got a timeline for when you need to know my answer?"

Maka shook her head. I'm actually not entirely sure I could take it. Just thinking about this– about longevity– possibility–

His thumb ran over her knuckles. "What about you?"

The rubbery weakness in her knees brought her to sit next to him. "I, um…" Her mama flashed over her mind, followed quickly by her papa as if neither of them could even entertain the same mental space. "I think that it's– wanting a child is a discussion. It's for two people who are ready, who've assessed what changes it would bring to their lives, their relationship and…"

"Made a list?" Soul offered.

Her laugh in reply was nothing more than a puff of air, leaving her almost as breathless as the soft smile on his face. "I feel like you're teasing me," she murmured.

"Sorta," he replied with a laugh. "But I think what you said makes sense to me. It definitely isn't somethin' to rush into, but I get why you want to talk about, well, the intent. I'm not as ready with an answer as Layla, but… I promise I'll think about it."

"Good," Maka whispered weakly, trying to catch up on her air.

"The other stuff…" Soul blew out a breath before he shook his head. "Guess we talk about that too. I get why Layla would think it'd make me happy, but I think I'd like to make sure any of that makes us both happy." He scooted closer, his other hand reaching for her cheek with that slow climb that always gave her the option to run.

The urge blossomed, fear licking at her heels. He has to think I'm crazy. That question was practically single-white-female grade! Not to mention all the other insinuations that came before that and– It took the soft touch of his lips to blockade any further gush of her thoughts. Maka made ready to content herself on just a peck and then the quintessential "it's getting late" before sending her absurdity laden tongue packing.

Instead, the tenderness slowly stripped away, lost as he parted her lips with his tongue in a search that soon started to tip towards desperation. The hand that had been on her cheek dipped into her hair, grounding her as her body threatened to melt away under the pressure of his kiss. He unwound the fingers they had tangled together so he could grip at her hip, changing the entire trajectory of her fantasy of being left out in the cold.

He wasn't pulling her, but Maka took it as a call nonetheless, shifting her weight towards him. The hand on her hip tightened, clutching as the kiss broke momentarily for a ragged breath. "Can I…?" Maka stumbled over the rest as heat started to cascade from under his touch. He was patient, leaving more yearning breaths between them without interrupting. "If I move into your lap…"

Soul nodded, nose tenderly nudging against hers. Now there was some pressure from his hand, urging her promise into reality as she straddled him. For a moment, all she could do was continue to exchange breaths with him, all of her trembling in the wake of the closeness she'd been dying for. There was no cooling this, and Maka knew the precipice she was on. There was a call aching down to her very core, one she'd silenced for so long but his touches left it with no lid.

"Soul…" The purring quality to her whisper left her shocked, only to be outdone by his reaction. Whatever cliff she'd been on, he'd already obviously fallen off of, his kiss coming back to catch her with a greediness that stole away everything she'd put behind his name. Gone where his hands from hip and hair, now tightly winding around her keep her pressed to him and trapped in his heat. Each revolution was blistering, letting her hidden want blossom into a fervor. Her arms were pinned between them, leaving her only hope to clutch into the fabric of her t-shirt and fall so deeply into the lavish movements of his tongue.

"Stay." His voice was thick, low, and Maka couldn't tell if it was because of the same whirlwind she was feeling from the kisses or something so much deeper. His desperate squeezing hadn't ceased, palms still solid on her back as he held her just a breath away from his lips.

The request came with a delirious rush of a thousand different answers, but the best she could warble was "What?"

"I…" The warmth of his exhale stuttered over her lips, and she could hear the click of his swallow. "When you go, it always feels like a bubble bursts and I have to go back to reality." That huskiness was no longer passion, especially as he breathed heavily again. "Today… between all the things I did, our talk, and seein' you with Layla… I just want this feelin' to stay. So I'm askin' if you'll just be here for a little longer– nothin' more than sleepin' but with me."

"Soul…" Maka couldn't keep it from being a gentle admonishment, and when she pulled away from him, she saw the panic in his eyes. To quell it, she cupped his face, staring at him with melancholy marring her kiss-bruised lips. "Whether I stay or go…" Tender fingers brushed along his cheekbones. "The reality is that I'm with you. Leaving tonight doesn't mean that I didn't love being with Layla. Leaving doesn't mean that you didn't take huge steps to mend your heart. You can't make that disappear since I won't let you."

His hands that had clasped so tightly lost their anchor and fell to her waist. "Y-yeah. Okay." Soul's eyes darted away, his chest heaving through another sigh.

Maka's smile started to settle as she leaned towards him, hair cascading over to tickle his cheek as she brought her whisper to his ear. "I want you to ask for something different."

It was his turn for the same dumbfounded question as his eyes grew large. "What?"

"Ask me to stay because…" She let out her own sigh, this one laced with an entirely different emotion– something bordering so close to love that she couldn't deny it. "Because you deserve to see the way I wanted to look at you the other morning. I messed up that chance, so I want another one. Please."

His head dipped, somehow magically avoiding choking on her hair so his lips could find the crux of her neck. The touch there wasn't teasing, more a desperate connection with her skin. "Stay," he repeated. His hand drifted down her spine, pinning her even more tightly to him. "Stay because I wanna see that smile."