The excited bustle of voices passed between the living room and the attached kitchen, filtering immediately into the master bedroom as Maka slid out of the bathroom. She'd wrapped her wet suit in her towel, hoping to keep the immaculate carpet from harm. She hit the living room first, spying Patty and the children on their stomachs, art supplies splayed across the rug as each scribbled away on a giant white sheet of paper. The kitchen was busy with the rest of the adults, Liz and Blake with booze in hand while Kilik had started to arrange cutlery and plates.

"Pizza will be here in fifteen," Kilik greeted her. "Soul's already downstairs in the laundry with the suits. You can go drop that off." His glance away was quick, dashing from Blake to Liz with a not so subtle grin.

Maka puffed her cheeks momentarily before starting back towards the stairs that had originally brought her to that cavernous pool. She had seen the laundry on the way in, attached to that ridiculous locker room before the start of that beautiful blue tile. Opening the door to the benched storage area, she could hear the soft hum of the dryer as she started towards the white door that was left ajar. It creaked slightly on the hinges as she slipped inside.

Soul's painted back was to her, no shirt and sweatpants hanging low on his hips. A towel was draped over his hair but didn't catch the entirety of the droplets that left the spikey strands, allowing them to dot some of the elaborate pattern. It was twin scythes, snaths crossed low on his spine. The accents were a strange conglomeration of words and notes, music surrounded one blade and trickling downward while a swath of what looked to be poetry framed the other. Swirls of darkness took up the rest of his skin.

His head turned, eyes widening slightly as they fell on her. "Thought I got all the suits."

"No…" Maka hesitated with the bundle before offering it to him. "If you don't mind."

"S'fine." He turned, paused the washer, and opened it to toss her offering in before restarting it.

She stared, heart starting to thunder. All day I've looked at him and he… I just don't think I can do this anymore. The door clapped shut, her back pressing firmly into it. Her fingers searched blindly for the knob behind her, groping for a lock that wasn't there.

Soul sighed at first, continuing the work of rearranging whatever in the room he had displaced.

"Soul?"

He jumped, turning quickly as he tried unsuccessfully to push away the surprise on his face. "I-I thought you…"

Two short steps closed the distance, allowing Maka to reach for the towel that he'd slung over his head. She took a moment to fluff it, tousling his hair slightly as he just watched her, agape. He's cute like this. When he's nervous, when he doesn't know what to do or say. Her fingers smoothed down to the ends, grasping it to force Soul to duck his head.

"Maka…" That whisper was the sweetest sound she'd ever heard.

Their lips met, the only piece of him that was pliable. She let the first one be soft, just a hint of temptation. Next was a deeper angle, teasing his mouth open as her hands released the towel and wandered to his bare chest. His heart thundered under her palms, skin burning bright as she ran a trail to stomach muscles that jumped slightly in surprise. By the time those searching hands had slipped to his hips, Soul was stepping forward, body and arms suddenly alive.

One fist dug into her hair, anchoring her as his tongue played sweetly over hers. His other arm reached past her, firmly pressing against the door as if to steady himself enough to stand straight even as she curved her hips in against his. Maka's palms started on another journey, running up his back to clutch tightly to him. Knees weakened, heart buzzed, skin lit on fire as his hand traveled just under her chin, restraining her for a moment as a sigh escaped him. "I…"

"Don't," Maka murmured. She felt his fingers twitch, another centimeter of distance appearing between them. "Don't stop."

His exhale trembled, ragged and frantic against her lips. Pleasant pressure came back to his hand but still tilted her away, making her stubbornly ready to fight until his kiss hit her pulse. It sizzled, continuing to burn its way down the cord of her neck as the next meeting brought a tentative graze of teeth.

No amount of self control could sap the moan from her throat, letting it seep out into the diminished distance between them. Her nails dug into his back as she tried to find some leverage to grind her hips against him. She was regretting the sweater she'd chosen after the pool even if it had a wide enough neckline that he still had room to nibble. Should I– I could take it off and–

His nose hit the collar of her shirt, making him finally tilt his head back and steal her lips. The hand from her neck slipped down, toying with the neck of her sweater.

"Yes," Maka panted between kisses. It trembled further down, caressing tentatively over the swell of her chest. He cupped and then squeezed, making her break the kiss again. "Soul…"

"Fuck," he spat suddenly, all tension released except for the hand that pressed to the door behind her. Soul dipped his chin to rest his forehead against her shoulder.

Before Maka could clear her mind enough to form a sentence, a knock rattled the door at her back. She jumped.

"Papa?"

He chuckled softly. "Yeah, bug."

The knob rattled for a moment. "The door won't open."

"Had to move some stuff in front of it," Soul muttered with a huff. "Need me for somethin'?"

"The pizza's here, and I can't find Maka."

"She's here helpin' with the suits." Maka had dared to shift and let her hands smooth down his back, forcing him to break for a sigh. "We'll be up in a second."

"Okay, Papa." Then came the soft patter of feet that Maka assumed she'd missed the first time.

After the sound receded enough, Maka murmured, "You must have good ears."

Another trickle of laughter expelled against her neck. "You sorta learn. If you can't tell where kids are at all times, you're in trouble." His spine uncurled, coming face to face with her again. "Sorry about that."

Maka shook her head. "I'm not." Do I mean that? Really? I'm not sorry that I cornered him in here, that I–

A gentle brush of his lips quieted her mind for just a moment. His fingers tenderly trailed along her cheek. "You go ahead, I'll catch up in a few minutes."

She trapped his hand, holding it against her for a few errant breaths while her eyes stayed closed. "Soul, about later…"

He cleared his throat. "Yeah?"

"Stay with me tonight."


A bathroom connected the two basement bedrooms, Soul trapped there as he leaned against the left side sink while running the water. There wasn't a point in locking the doors since he was pretty sure Kilik was already passed out and his other option… Well, that was Maka.

She was waiting on the bed.

In the bed.

Their bed for tonight.

He tried to pull in air, but the fear had a firm, strangling hold on his throat. There had been many moments tonight when the memory wanted to creep back up on him: his body crushing hers against that door, his lips tasting along her neck, and that searching hand. Except he had squashed it each time since these sweats weren't exactly forgiving, and he'd gladly left stray erections behind him in middle school.

But that moan– the way she said my name! A bit of a breath finally choked out. Soul reached for his toothbrush and the toothpaste, steady actions to convince himself this was any other night. He'd put Layla to bed surrounded by the twins, and now he was getting ready to hunker down. That was all. And even if she was there– even if she was sharing the sheets with him–

He shoved the minty goo in his mouth, starting that tried and true motion of bristles against gums. Froth built on his lip as he stared in the mirror. Soul concentrated on his reflection– on this new man standing before him. Or at least he goddamn hoped this was someone new. Because even if he had channeled Seattle Soul for that date, it wasn't exactly right. That was obviously still a part of him—unable to be packed like his bike in the garage—but that guy was still only half a person.

That guy stayed alone in his apartment.

That guy ate, slept, and then only lived on the radio.

That guy was just as lonely– just as empty as before Seattle.

Then I got Layla. He settled an easy breath on that puzzle piece, but the next still felt like he was jamming it into place– edges not perfect. I want to think I have Maka, too, but… He spat to make room for a sigh, watching as the white foam swirled with the water. What if I can't tonight? Or worse, what if I disappoint her? What if…?

He tried to force the brush back into his mouth to make the monotony return but his molars only received a half-assed swipe. The rest of his routine was abandoned as soon as he rinsed his mouth and toothbrush. Glad I could make myself good and nervous before I walked out there. Great talk, brain, seriously. Soul looked towards the door and finally shut off the water.


Maka packed a worn down t-shirt and a pair of shorts, and ever since she'd slipped in between the sheets the ire wouldn't fade. This was definitely not something Blair would wear– entirely not a come-fuck-me-now négligée. In my defense, I wasn't exactly expecting this. A terrible lie, and one that stung her with shame. Blake had been crystal clear about the implications, and there was no denying that it hadn't been Soul's expectations that had kept her in the laundry room.

She tried to focus on the white noise of the water running from the joint bathroom, but none of it eased her restlessness. Throwing back the sheets, Maka moved towards the door but hesitated. If he doesn't find me in bed… Her eyes moved back towards the bathroom and the steady rush of the tap. She shook her head. Just a minute. Her fingers toyed with the knob before opening it.

The short, T-shaped hallway opened off to the den where the kids were supposed to be snuggled up in the blanket fort that Blake had so skillfully built. Instead, as Maka rounded the corner, she saw one distinctive set of eyes open, staring at her in the darkness and full of tears. Layla blinked, sending another deluge down her cheeks before sniffling.

"Layla?" Maka moved quickly to the edge of the blankets, motioning the little girl forward.

Layla scooted out from between the twins, careful not to disturb their sleep before collapsing into Maka's arms. A few mewling little groans gave way to a rattling sob.

Gathering the girl into her arms was easy, but pulling herself to her feet proved to be a surprising use of muscle. Maka managed, getting them away from the others and back towards the compressed trail to the bedroom. "What happened?" she murmured softly as she stroked down Layla's back.

"I had a nightmare." Layla's arms tightened around her neck, more saturated sniffles echoing near Maka's ear. "Papa– something happened to Papa and–" Her voice crinkled away, pressed into a whine.

"It's alright, Layla. Let's go see your papa and maybe that'll help." She continued through the door she'd left slightly ajar, tapping it closed behind her with her foot.

The clap repeated as the bathroom door shut, Soul's eyes popping wide as they met Maka's. "What happened?"

"Nightmare," Maka whispered as she walked towards him, Soul quickly meeting her more than halfway.

"Hey, bug, hey," he started softly, hands searching over his daughter, smoothing hair and brushing cheeks until the girl turned in Maka's arms. "Was it the Mommy and Daddy dream again?"

Layla detached from Maka, but there was no awkward wobbling as Soul easily scooped her up. "No, Papa, they hurt you– they took you!"

"Okay, okay," he murmured. "It's alright to be scared, but it's over. I'm right here. Nobody's takin' me anywhere."

Maka watched the sweetness, her arms feeling so incredibly empty without Layla in them. The weight brought her forward, one hand on Layla's back and the other on Soul's arm. "She can sleep with us tonight."

"Maka…" Slipped from Soul's lips before he buttoned them, gaze falling to his daughter.

I know what I promised, Maka wanted to whisper, but the ache kept her mouth shut. I know what I said, what we're supposed to do, but I can't… She pushed him slightly. "Come on. Time for bed."

His feet shuffled for a moment but eventually listened, moving back towards the bed Maka had left behind. Soul slid Layla in first, giving her the middle and took his side.

Maka played with the hem of her t-shirt. I… She tried to digest the scene, to isolate the drastically different emotions that were threatening to flood her. That residual want from the laundry seemed unfair in the wake of a terrified little girl, but at the same time, Maka found a strange bit of respite in it. With it tangled fear, leaving her to move towards the bed in search of the same comfort Soul was showering over his daughter.

She slipped in on the other side, Layla's back to her as the little girl started to quiet against Soul's chest.

"Sorry," he mouthed at her, the movement barely visible in the darkness.

Maka shook her head, letting her hand gently fall to Layla's back to continue her own soothing. As soon as her fingers met spine, Layla started to snuggle away from Soul, moving between them to steal warmth from both sides. I'm glad you're here, Layla. Maka felt the terrible truth in it. I still don't think I'm ready for everything I want.


The blackout blinds left Soul with no concrete handle on what time it was, but he was sure by the soft sounds of life from the bathroom that it had to be something close to a decent hour. He started up on his elbow, careful not to jostle the mattress too much. Even at rest, he could feel the extra kick to his heartbeat as he gazed down at Maka and Layla. That sweet little girl had turned in the night—Death knows she was never a calm sleeper—and was now laying with her forehead against Maka's shoulder. Whether purposeful or just a sweet accident, Maka had turned her face towards Layla, looking as if she were about to brush a kiss over his daughter's forehead.

That topsy-turvy, good-bye-stomach feeling was back, as if someone had pulled the entire bed out from underneath him. His head and heart floundered to right themselves, and somewhere in the fog of it, he brought his hand to Maka's face, clearing a wayward tendril of hair. Her eyes moved behind the lids before blinking open. "Hey," he murmured.

She glanced everywhere but him before finally settling wider than usual eyes on his face. Gone were all traces of sleep. "Good morning." Her whisper warbled.

Insecurity made his fingers twitch, pulling back to keep from any more tender touches. "You sleep okay?"

"Fine." Maka was suddenly up, springing to sit up from the sheets. "How about you?" she offered as almost an afterthought, her gaze falling down to Layla. He watched her lip quiver.

Why does it look like you're about to cry? Soul felt desperate to grab her– to whisper that question, but a third voice joined in.

"You're too loud," Layla grumbled.

"Looks like your papa isn't the only one who likes to sleep in." Sweetness came back to Maka's voice and face, sending Soul for a loop.

"Maka," Layla whined, sleepy little eyes blinking open slowly.

"I know, I know…" She laughed softly as she helped Layla roll towards Soul. "You two sleep in for a little more. I'm going to get up."

"M-Maka–" Soul reached for her but there was nothing to grasp but thin air. The carpet was already hushing her footsteps, long legs bringing her swiftly to the doorway where she didn't even offer a glance back. It shut behind her, and for a moment, Soul felt all the air suck out of the room. What just happened?

Layla was burrowing, trapping Soul to the bed and leaving him no choice but to roll onto his back and relent. Half asleep, she started to murmur, "Maka's even warmer than you, Papa."

Joy should have sprung up in his heart but all that did was bring another jangle of nerves. I know. Bein' in bed with her– wakin' up like that was perfect. Perfect for just a minute before… how did I fuck that up? It wasn't just now– it couldn't have been, so…

"I'm hungry," Layla groaned.

Soul managed a dry laugh. "Well, bug, it's sleep or food. What's your pick?" He looked down at the braid he'd made in her hair, the pajamas he'd bought for her, the entirety that was his daughter. It had only seemed natural to have her in bed with them, especially in the face of her pain, so while he'd had a flash of guilt last night, he'd let it melt away. But now… What if Maka can't?


Coffee was all she could cradle. Maka could barely make eye contact when Soul emerged from the basement, Layla on his heels. It was easy to settle on the little girl, on her friends, but the moment she let anything—thought or gaze—wander back towards Soul, the muscles contracted tightly in her chest. Last night I was supposed to… but I used Layla as an excuse. I made a boundary between us and he must be– how could he not be disappointed?

Soft touches were attempted, but Maka was infinitely talented at slipping away. She was a runner, after all. After getting through enough of her coffee not to draw suspicion from Blake, she did just that, tossing the easy excuse that she was going to get dressed. Her breath felt thin as she made her way down the stairs, entirely gone as she finally made it to the bedroom.

Maka curled up on the bed, trying to bring back the memory of Layla between them, of the weight and the warmth of a family. It brought a tumultuous mix to Maka's chest, sporadic floods of want, melancholy, and a million other greyed emotions that didn't have a name. Without the other bodies there, it was distant– like a dream falling apart as wakefulness took control.

The door opening catapulted her to sitting, shame surely pinking her cheeks as Soul stood in the doorway. "Sorry–" He paused, half turning back but then thinking better of it. "I, uh, just came to…" A weak, warbling breath left him before he stepped inside enough to shut the door behind him. "I-I think I get what happened last night."

Her mouth was instantly dry, gaping for air as if that would help.

Soul was focused on the floor, his hands shoving uselessly into the pockets of his joggers. "And I can't make any excuses or…" He lifted his eyes, heavy with a scarlet glow that she'd never seen before. "Maka, I have to be a dad first. That's– maybe that's not exactly all I am, but if Layla needs me, I'm there. I told you when this started that maybe you needed time to think about this because… this is how it's gonna be. This is part of bein' with me and if you can't– don't–" He choked on each of those words, any hope of keeping his sights on her ruined as he dipped his head.

"Soul…" Maka whispered.

He swiftly flick his chin side to side, lifting a hand to pinch away the glisten of tears that had started before renewing his unsteady glare. "So maybe you need more time to think, or maybe– well, this mornin' felt like you already made some kind of decision, and I think it's fair that I know now."

He thinks– oh, Death, he thinks– Tears started in her own eyes.

"It's alright, Maka," his whisper warbled away as a pathetic smile came to his lips. "I– just be honest with me, please."

Her fingers clenched into the bedspread, that wild lurching of her heart forcing the words achingly from her chest. "It's not your fault!"

His eyes widened.

A few wayward tears trembled down her cheeks. "Last night– oh, Death, last night was all my fault, and I-I made such a mistake!"

"I don't understand…" he murmured as his feet shifted nervously.

She wanted to smear the mess on her cheeks but clutched into the bedspread instead as her heart desperately thundered away. "Something was going to happen last night."

His eyebrows jumped before he managed just a shallow shrug of his shoulders. "I… I don't know if it was or wasn't, but…"

"You were thinking about it," she offered.

He nodded.

"I was, too." Maka sniffled, her breath hitching a few times as he brought a tender glance still laced with confusion back to her. "It was too much for me–" Her strained whisper broke into a sob.

Soul catapulted forward, making it to her side of the bed to sit across from her. His hands reached, hesitated, but wouldn't be denied as they cupped her cheeks to clear tears. "I still don't understand," he murmured.

"I–" she stammered, lip quivering. "I was relieved that Layla was there." Maka had to pull his hands away, holding them off her skin as shame overwhelmed her. "Soul, if we…" She squeezed his hands with a shuddering breath. "If that kind of something happens between us…" Death, Maka, be mature! It's not something! It's sex. Or some facsimile of sex! So just say it!

Soul cleared his throat while he gently squeezed her fingers. "What"—again, another rumbly bit of gravel broke his words—"does sex mean to you?"

Her cheeks couldn't decide whether to blanche or blush, the question entirely catching her off guard. "I know what sex means," she mumbled weakly.

He chuckled. "Uh, more like maybe– a list. What are the requirements?" His fingers were fumbling over her knuckles as his eyes fell to follow the soothing circles he was trying to make. "Like if something were gonna happen, I'd want us to be exclusive– only you with me and vice versa."

Maka's heart threatened to soar at both ideas, a childish bit of shame muttering to her about the list being overshadowed by his request.

"I also just…" He sighed, letting his head hang a little further. "I wouldn't want to if you didn't want this to go somewhere. I-I don't wanna just scratch some itch, I mean."

That made her wither, that idea of being her papa once again echoing in her head. As all of her started to tremble, the most terrifying of all questions slid off her tongue: "How do we know it's not just that–an itch?"

A wrinkle started in his brow, working that over before he could raise his gaze to hers. "Gonna admit I was lookin' at you yesterday," he murmured. "You know I think you're beautiful and that ain't just your personality or your face. This mornin' though…" A shaky breath left his mouth before an even more trembling smile followed it. "Wakin' up next to you– that mattered just as much. Didn't care how fired up I got yesterday, I wanted that closeness just as much as any somethin'." Another sweet sweep of his thumbs drew lines on the back of her hands. "When you woke up this mornin', how did it feel for you?"

She blinked, letting loose another line of tears. "I know I got out of bed so quickly…"

He nodded, grin threatening to die.

"... but that was because I-I was ashamed of the way you were smiling at me." Maka lowered her head, hoping the blonde tresses would obscure the watery mess that was her cheeks.

Instead, Soul slid his hands out of hers to cup her face, fingers easily clearing the stream and forcing her eyes back to him. "Ashamed of what? Feel like we say this a little too much but: we didn't do anythin' wrong."

"Because we didn't do anything," she urged back. "I made a promise and then I–"

In a flash, his voice was ice. "What promise?"

It struck her, leaving her lip quivering slightly as she barely murmured, "In the laundry room. I asked you to stay."

His tongue snapped, his hands going from those soft, soothing caresses to falling to her shoulders, threatening to shake her. "Talkin' like that isn't some contract," he spat. "We were both– well– heated and that's fine– great but that doesn't mean you owe me anythin'."

"But how many times can I just– start and stop?" She pressed with a clear warble of desperation. "Even our date! I can kiss you, but I can't invite you up? I can't convince myself that, after all that–"

"Again, it isn't a contract," he muttered.

"But it's not fair to you." She finally grabbed at his hands, pulling them away, struggling against him to break the connection. "What does it do to you to have me keep going for what I want and then slamming on the brakes? How long before you hate this, hate me for constantly being hot and cold?"

A fluttering laugh of disbelief broke his lips. "You're not." Their fingers fought, Maka wriggling to try to negate any touch, but he was firm, grasping for her elbows and finally making her still. "There's no cold, Maka. You know, even when you were avoidin' me, you were never cold. Not havin' sex isn't cold, and it doesn't make me think that you don't want me. It's this stuff, the runnin' and hidin' that makes me wonder– that scares me."

Running and hiding. Maka gulped. That's it, isn't it? No bravery, just turning tail and running every time. That isn't me. How can that be what I do? "I-I want to tell you my list."

A soft smile started on his lips, and all he did was nod.

"I think we should be exclusive"—that made her breath shudder but she pushed on—"before then. Now. I want to decide that now."

"Alright," he murmured, hands going soft at her elbows so they could drift back into tender touches. "Just you and me?"

She nodded, knowing her voice was going to crack even before she said it: "I can't do this any other way."

"That's set then." He was toying with her fingers now, trying to be gentle but still tainting the circles with some urgency.

"And you're right, if that happens this has to be going somewhere. I'm not saying we do the antiquated wait until marriage, but…"

Soul chuckled.

Even though it tempted her to fall into annoyance, there was part of her that found solid relief in the way he could laugh. It helped urge the start of a smile on her cheeks. "And you are Layla's Papa first, I know that"—before anything in his face could fall she grasped his hands back finally—"so maybe for the first time, we could plan on being alone?"

His eyebrows jumped slightly. "Uh, yeah."

"I mean, I know every time probably can't be an empty house, but…"

For the first time since the conversation started, his gaze fell away, finding a spot on the bedspread.

"Soul?" Maka offered softly.

A shaky smile quirked the corner of his lips. "Y-yeah. It's not…" He huffed. "Alone. Just sayin' that…"

Suddenly she noticed the blush starting at the collar of his t-shirt, threatening to climb up to his ears and maybe take over his cheeks. "It doesn't have to be the next time we're alone."

"Well, I mean–" He cut off with a shaking sigh. "Guess that's why we're having this conversation, right? What else can I– do you need?"

Maka's hands moved to his t-shirt, touching the start of color there and following it up until she could let her fingers disappear into his hair to pull him close. Her lips met his, finding his hesitation melting away as he tenderly returned her affection. She pulled away just enough to speak, letting her thumb toy with that earlobe that she was sure was pink by now. "I want to be able to be more honest with you. I want to be able to tell you why I need to stop so there's no confusion."

His nose grazed hers softly. "I'd appreciate that."

Her heart slapped against her ribs, the next words catching against the sandpaper of her throat. "And there's one irrational, impossible thing on the list."

Soul tilted back slightly, scarlet eyes honing in on hers. "What's that?"

"I wish…" She couldn't resist the wayward sigh that left her as she struggled to keep her gaze on him. "I want you to promise me we're always going to be friends."

There was another fluctuation of his brows, settling into a hard stare. "Why's that impossible?"

"I'm not trying to say this will end." How that brought an unexpected dagger to her chest. They'd been so enveloped in the thrill that Maka had forgotten to have those fears yet, and letting them crawl in now was threatening to sap her of all her strength. "I just– I don't ever want you to be alone again, and even if I can't do that romantically, I'd want– I want to make sure you have that."

His mouth gaped slightly, releasing a wayward breath before he dove back towards her. There was no hope for space, just his arms wrapping around her as his lips crushed against hers again. Maka could taste it all: the bitterness of his hurt, the hopeful thrill of the reality she'd offered him, and the search for a promise that it couldn't end. Soul gave no sign of slowing, just digging hands into her back to pull her closer.

There wasn't an ounce of resistance in her, allowing him whatever reassurance he needed at that moment. She stroked his hair, moving to meet him on each revolution of tongue and lips. It's okay, she wanted to plead with him. No matter what, I really don't want to leave you. I don't want to lose this connection. Even if the rest of your life can't be with me, I can't imagine just having you entirely cut from it.

As that whisper lingered in her mind, the truth hit her: she was nothing like her mother.