Maka cradled her head with a sigh. That unhealthy mix of excitement and nerves had kept her filling her cup last night– work be damned. All of it seemed far beyond her usual behavior especially… Soul. She slid her hands down to her chin, holding it up as she leaned on her elbows. I'm like a love-sick teen, aren't I? Pining away before we've even talked about it. Who knows what he's actually going to say!
There was a soft knock at her door, making Maka instantly straighten. "Come in!" she attempted to chime. At the same time, she was holding her breath.
Liz slipped in before balking for a moment, eyes wide as a short laugh spat from her mouth. "Oh, wow, Maka, you look like shit!"
"Thank you," she grumbled as she crumbled back to the desk. "Shut the door."
She did as she was told, locking it for good measure. "Are you okay?"
"Well, it's really not a work thing…" Maka tried to wave a hand dismissively.
This only pressed Liz quicker into the seat across from her, leaning in anticipation. "Because no one has ever talked about non-work related things in this building."
Maka tapped the table, eyes diverting to her nail as it clinked. "I don't know, Liz… I just… it involves someone you know."
Her stare stayed the same, expectant blinks coming as her smile grew.
"I mean, I don't want to– I don't know how he'd feel if I said something."
"He," Liz repeated.
She nibbled nervously into her lip. "Yes…"
"Well, it's not Blake"—Liz wiggled a finger playfully—"since we both know you'd never hold back complaining about something that idiot did. Kilik's been busy lately with planning that acoustic thing they do, and I don't think you've spent all that much time talking to Ox or Harvar…" She popped up another finger with each name as her head tilted, blonde hair swishing playfully. "And that's where our mutual– oh, wait!" Liz tapped her pointer to her chin. "There's one more, isn't there?"
Maka sighed. "Soul."
"Oh, wow, how did I not think of him first?"
She blew air between her lips, eyes narrowing. "I don't appreciate the sarcasm."
"I'm not sure it's technically sarcasm," Liz corrected. "Maybe being facetious? But I'm not interested in that–I'm interested in what's going on with you and Soul."
She dropped her other hand to the desk, fingers fidgeting together as she tried to arrange some kind of excuse– or better yet a diversion since maybe the world would just save her from her fate by spontaneously combusting. When no comet struck right outside her window, Maka was left to whisper: "I'm going to his house Saturday."
Silence overtook them long enough for Liz to fly through some mental checklist. "His house? This Saturday? Is Layla going to be there?"
"Yes…" She continued to fiddle with her nails.
Her lips contorted into a momentary frown before she forced them loose. "Okay, not a huge deal. Layla likes you after all, so… Dinner? Drinks?"
"I said I'd get there around 5."
"And Layla's usual bedtime is around 9:30…" Liz continued to ponder this, toying with a tendril of hair. "I mean, I assume our little hermit goes to bed not that long after, but maybe–"
"He said we'd talk when Layla went to bed," Maka murmured.
Liz's eyebrows shot for the roof while her hands came down hard on the desk. "Talk? Okay, please define talk because I assume it's not about your mutual love of beating around the bush."
"I…" I don't know what to say, honestly. I can't speak for him so what do I even say other than…? "For most of my life, I've… distrusted men." She leaned, bringing a hand up to cradle her cheek as she brought her gaze towards the window. "I guess that's just the nicest way to put it. I'm good at being friends with people, but getting close in that romantic sort of way… well, I just told myself I'd prefer not to. I had better things to do than even try to love someone else." A dull ache started in her gut that she tried to swallow down with a long inhale.
"I'm really hoping there's a but," Liz interjected softly, no more teasing in her voice.
Maka laughed dryly before letting her attention drift back to Liz's tentative smile. "I'm pretty sure there is, and that's what I want to talk to him about. I-I can only guess what he'll have to say, but that's my plan. It's time I took a chance."
Kilik led Layla into the kitchen, the sight of the little girl instantly starting a ruckus at the table.
"Laaaaaaylaaaaa," Blake crooned, leaving his arms wide for her.
Layla acquiesced, but her nose crinkled. "How much beer have you had, Uncle Blake?"
"Too much," Liz crowed from the other side of the table.
"No such thing," Blake grumbled back as he took a moment to crush Layla in his arms. She played along, mimicking the sounds of death and asphyxiation just enough to make Blake break into cackles.
She wiggled free at that point, skittering to the safety of Patty's lap. "Where are the twins?" She blinked around the table of adults.
Kilik shrugged. "Their mom should be dropping them off any minute."
"Which gives us time to talk," Liz sang happily as she leaned towards Layla. "Now, spill the beans, kiddo. Maka's coming to your house tomorrow night?"
Layla's eyes went wide, but her lips dutifully buttoned.
"What?" Blake brayed.
Kilik was instantly leaning over the back of Blake's chair, stealing some of the man's intensity. "Yeah, I'll repeat that: what?"
She looked back to Patty for help but the eyes behind her seemed just as intent. Layla drew in a long breath before she put stern hands together on the table. "Papa said it's our business."
Kilik threw out a long whistle as Blake started to entirely lose himself to laughter.
"Layla," Liz complained.
She firmly shook her head, arms now folding over her chest.
"Okay, okay"—Liz tried to throw up placating hands—"what if I tell you what I know?"
Layla narrowed her eyes but didn't reply.
"I can't help it if Maka talks to me," Liz cooed innocently.
"What?" Blake was now entirely without humor, glaring at Liz. "Since when does she talk to you?"
"Since we work in the same office!" A deeply prideful smile was engulfing Liz's face. "It's hard to have a heart-to-heart in gym class."
Blake scoffed as he took out his phone, thumbs flying.
"No, no, no!" Liz instantly sputtered as tried to reach across the table for the device. "This was a confidential conversation!"
"That you're trying to use to manipulate an elementary student into spilling the tea," Blake grumbled back as he glared at his screen.
The clatter of the door interrupted the fray before it could start, the addition of the jovial voices of the twins sending the room into an array of hellos. In the midst of it all, Blake waved a beckoning finger in Layla's direction, bringing the girl to his side to see what he'd been so furiously typing. On the screen—clearly typed never to send—it read:
[[Meet me on the porch right before bed. We need to talk]]
"Wasn't there a bottle of rosé in here?" Spirit called from the kitchen.
Maka stiffened in the armchair where she'd been pouring over her book. "Beats me!" she shouted back, lifting her knees so that the text could hide her shame if Spirit came to investigate.
Instead there was just more clinking and shuffling, accompanied by some grumbles and the slam of the fridge door. Next was Spirit's actual visage, something Maka barely caught over the top of her book. "I'm heading out. You make any plans for tonight?"
She bobbed her book in reply.
He smiled. "Enjoy it, kiddo."
Luckily the pages hid the lack of her own grin– something she had been entirely unable to fake as the next thought glanced over her mind: You're happy I'm staying in, right? That little insinuation last week that I could be dating– She tried to bite down on the sourness. It doesn't matter. I'm not yet—technically—so…
Maka glanced at her phone and gave into the itch to pick it up. She flipped to his contact, hesitated, but then typed: [[What are you up to?]]
[[Slowly getting my guts pulled out my nose]]
[[?]]
[[Parents]]
She snorted a laugh but gave a commiseratory smile. [[Wasn't Layla supposed to save you?]]
[[I took mercy on her and sent her to Kilik]]
[[What a martyr]]
[[Thanks for noticing]]
She paused, her smile aching on her cheeks as her thumbs dangled over the screen. It'd be nice if it was tonight– but I can't say that! Doesn't that sound ridiculously desperate? But I am– I do want to see him.
Another message pinged on the screen: [[Looking forward to tomorrow]]
Her cheeks flushed. [[Is that a question or a statement?]]
[[Maybe both]] came immediately but the three dots tortured her for a moment longer before the next popped up: [[What if it was a question]]
[[I'd ask why you're too lazy for question marks]]
[[Proper grammar when you text is for boomers]]
[[Your ageism has been noted]] She let that sit for just a second before throwing caution to the wind: [[I am]]
[[?]]
[[Waiting for tomorrow]]
The status changed to read but the three little dots refused to take life. Her heart jittered, making her hover her thumbs desperately with hopes of fixing whatever faux paus she'd managed, but his answer came with instant reprieve: [[Same. Gtg getting the stink eye from parent1 but yeah tomorrow]]
A gentle laugh stole away all that panic, somehow knowing—without even having to see his face—that somewhere Soul was stuttering in his own nervousness.
Blake sat with his feet against the railing, swinging with presses of his knees. The door finally opened, Layla peeking her head out. "Uncle Blake?"
"C'mon." He stopped the porch swing to wave her over. As a last ward against the fall chill, Layla had wrapped herself in a comforter, barely keeping it from dragging against the ground. It fed Blake's chuckle.
"I really don't want to talk about Papa…" she started hesitantly as she sat next to him.
"We aren't." He threw an arm around the fluff of the blanket. "Ask me anything you want about Maka."
Layla's eyes narrowed, processing the freedom that was laid before her.
"I've known Maka since we were kids, so go ahead."
She leaned into him, getting a whiff of that very non-Papa smell of beer and Old Spice. "I don't know, Uncle Blake… isn't it mean? To talk about her like this?"
He snorted a laugh. "Only you would worry about that. Kid, I bet you're happy for your papa, but I bet you're scared, too."
Her eyes searched the darkness, her voice sinking closer to a whisper. "I want Papa to be happy. I think– he smiles at her." Layla raised her head, furrowed brow trying to express more than her words could. "I know he smiles, but it's not the right kind of smile all the time. I've seen the right smile, and I think I see him doing it when he's with Maka."
"Good." Blake nodded along with her logic. "It's still okay to be worried though. Change is weird. Having another person in your life who's not an aunt or an uncle could feel weird too."
She dipped her chin, the idea still settling uneasily in that little gut. "She hasn't been a mommy before, has she?"
"Nah." Blake shook his head. "She's good at bossing people around like a mother though. And being a know-it-all."
Layla raised her eyebrows.
Blake scratched the back of his head. "Not really in a bad way though. Sorta like… she pushes you. Makes you think you can do things that maybe you were scared to do before. So even if you're scared, or you're worried, she's gonna be there to move you along. She might order you around a little, but it's always for a good reason."
"Papa needs a push," Layla muttered, bringing another healthy snort of laughter from Blake. "Do you think she likes Papa? Papa calls it 'in the romantic way.'"
"He would call it something lame like that." He rolled his eyes. "Can't say I know for sure, Layla, but it's a good sign that she's coming over. And if you're really curious, think about it the same way you have with your papa. Maka's happy and bubbly most of the time, but you keep your eyes open for those smiles from Maka, too."
Layla tucked this order away, the mental list of Saturday slowly growing. "Does she like the same things Papa does?"
Blake instantly shook his head, scoffing. "I'd be surprised if they could even agree on books." Her face fell, a sigh almost starting on her lips before Blake tapped her mouth shut with gentle fingers to her chin. "That doesn't mean anything though. Being just the same is boring. A lot of the time when you get 'in the romantic way' it's because you go good together, not match."
She grabbed his hand, letting her mouth open again. "What do you mean?"
"You know why peanut butter and chocolate taste good together?"
Layla shook her head blankly.
"It's because one is a little salty and savory while the other is sweet. It tastes better because it balances out. Too much sweet and you get sick, too salty and it doesn't take care of your craving." Blake shot her a grin. "In other words, don't panic if they aren't both into chocolate."
Some of that was beyond her grasp, Layla simply blinking at him while the ideas flew to the far reaches of her mind. Even without the entirety of the knowledge of it, she clung to his surety. "Do you think it'll be okay?"
"Yeah, I do," Blake answered immediately. "Can't say there won't be hiccups, but– well, wanna know a secret?"
"Yes!" Some of that girlish excitement was finally returning.
"This is kinda what I was going for all along," Blake cooed. "Let's just call it my genius plan." He cackled, getting Layla to at least echo him softly with her sweet, high trill. "So, think I can get the answer to one question?"
She pursed her lips, caught in a staring contest until she gave one swift nod.
"Soul say why he invited Maka over?"
That question was given it's due, Layla letting it churn over in her mind before she answered as carefully—and truthfully—as she could: "Papa said he wants to be alone with her."
Blake's eyebrows flew upward, but he snapped his lips shut.
She appraised his reaction, her own brow furrowing again. "What?"
"Nothing," Blake answered with a slick grin. "Just didn't think he had it in 'im."
