Soul's eyes opened in the dim, pre-dawn light. This tone on his ceiling was a rare sight for him on a weekend since sleep always came so thin that he would soak any last bit of it when alarms weren't involved. His awakening hadn't been because of the annoying metallic clang from his phone but the movement next to him in bed– the beautiful shift of Maka back into his arms. She'd started the night on her side of the comfortably cramped full bed, but now she was fully tucked into him, her head on his chest as her leg locked over his middle. "You awake?" he murmured.
"A little," she whispered back before somehow squeezing closer. Her breath was entirely too warm against his chest, making the heart underneath tick out of time. "Did I wake you?"
"A little," he echoed but nuzzled a forgiving kiss to her hairline. "Glad to get the reminder you're here."
Her sigh in reply was all too sweet, making him pepper a few more kisses one after the other. On the next soft press, she tilted her head back, first getting a grazing kiss to the nose before she met him head on. Hours ago on the couch, he'd definitely embraced the wave after wave of urges that came, but there, in the dark, tangled up… it was endless. Insatiable.
The space she made, even momentarily, made him ache. "Maybe I was wrong," she whispered.
"Wrong?" His bold brain flashed over their regular chant—slow—with a spark of hope to its inaccuracy. He tried to force a breath to clear that need, to hear her even though the closeness was making it entirely impossible.
"I like this…" Her leg latched tighter, foot playing along near his knee. "So much so that maybe once a week isn't enough."
Soul attempted to chuckle but it was weak, lacking breath. He sunk a needy hand into her hair, pulling her back to him to answer that with a slow, tempting kiss.
"I guess you agree," she murmured with a giggle that made his stomach warble.
"How about…" He lingered in another tender press, blonde strands tickling through his fingers as he stroked down to her back. "You choose. Door's always open."
In all the warmth and want, that pause from her hit him down to the core. Her chin tilted downward, breaking the kiss or any hope for more as her finger tapped nervously along his collarbone. "You mean that." It neither sounded nor felt like a question, so Soul buttoned his lip, trying to draw a pattern in the new unsteadiness of her breath. "I'm not pushing you?" That warbled high as her hand planted firmly against his chest.
"Don't feel pushed," he murmured. His hand traveled along her arm until it caught the unsteady hold of her palm. "Just feel the same way you do. I like this."
Maka was back to sinking into him, finding any nook and cranny that she could to fill with the shape of her body. Boundaries were muddled and forgotten, tossed aside as Soul tried to wipe away whatever worry that was that had struck her in the dark. He ignored the light as it changed on the ceiling, holding her until her breathing steadied and her hands stopped searching for purchase.
Maka toweled her hair with much more care than usual. Moisture wasn't the issue, more just the tangled twists of her thoughts that would take much more than a brush to abate. Waking up next to him– giving him that smile– all of it had been beautiful in its intimacy. So where had the fear seeped in? That brief moment of worry that had made her cling to him?
I don't know.
What's worse is I don't even know if I'm lying to myself about that.
I'm afraid he'll ask…
And after being so open with me, what does it look like if I'm closed to him again?
She huffed, dropping the towel in the hamper before rifling through her bag. It was always stocked enough for at least a weekend trip, so clothes and toiletries were easily available at her fingertips. Maka made quick work of the task before exiting into the hallway and making her way towards the stairs.
There was only soft shuffling coming from the kitchen, and when she entered, the only back she saw was Soul's. "No Layla?"
"Surprised me too." Soul turned with a smirk as he leaned against the island towards her. "You must have ran her ragged yesterday."
"Goes both ways," Maka replied with a laugh. "Any coffee?"
"Another minute." His eyes trailed down her arm to the bag. "You, uh, always have a bag like that?"
Maka followed his glance, relaxing her fingers and letting the duffle hit the floor. "Um, well…" Always. "Yes," she forced from her throat while faking that confident smile. "It's just something I started doing after the divorce– or I guess before the divorce."
Soul was staring through her like glass, her inner workings entirely on display. "You said you were young when that happened."
She shrugged. "And I would just spend time at Blake's or… you know. Layla's had to have sleepovers by now."
His shoulders tensed, his inhale tight as the turn of his lips. "Layla has those for fun as far as I know. Doesn't sound like the same thing."
All of those probing, lingering thoughts in the shower hadn't even come close to drawing the dirt and grime off of those ancient, decrepit feelings, while one sentence from him brought them back to a crushing reality. Because it wasn't fun. It wasn't about having fun. It was… "I just got tired of them fighting, so like any good preteen I'd skip out on the drama." The nonchalant, worriless tone she could usually adopt for this was out of her reach under his continued stare. "I hated it."
Before she had hoped for coffee, but a new urge hit her and even with the silence—the absence of an order that she wanted to give but somehow couldn't—Soul moved towards her. His hands were just as gentle as the first time they'd embraced but came with just as much meaning. "But now?"
She curled into him as she tried to sigh out the tightness from her chest. "I don't know. I always blamed it on habit—the way I learned to run—but…"
Soul kissed her hairline before resting his cheek against her crown. "No matter what you figure out, what I said this mornin' still applies." His hands ran up and down her back, not tempting but firm in their warmth. "Door's open here."
Another knot began to unwind, a little more of the fear flaking away even though the depths underneath were still muddled. "I know."
This time Maka heard the footsteps, the fine pitter patter above them that brought her slipping slightly away from his embrace. Soul stared down at her with the start of a smirk. "Looks like the monster's awake."
"She's an angel," Maka corrected.
Soul scoffed, letting it trail off into a laugh. "Give her time." Just as the steps were beginning to close in on them, he ducked down, giving her a quick peck before the girl in question burst into the kitchen.
"Maka!" Any space between the two of them evaporated as Layla squished into the leftovers of their embrace. "Good morning!" Layla's voice twittered with joy, leaving Maka catching her infectious smile.
"Good morning," she cooed in return as she stroked a hand over Layla's hair.
"You're in trouble," Soul grumbled as he nudged Layla's shoulder.
Innocent emerald eyes blinked up at Soul. "Me?"
He hummed out an affirmative before stealing a glance at Maka. "Your little list, bug."
Layla's lips pulled into a pout. "Maka and I had a discussion."
The flair of attitude had Maka hiding a giggle behind the back of her hand. She took the opportunity to sneak out of the exchange, circling around the island to the coffeemaker.
"Sure," Soul admitted, but his voice came back firmly, "but all those things had to do with me– with us– right?"
"Well…" Layla petered off weakly.
Maka turned back with two filled mugs just in time to see Soul lifting Layla onto the stool, getting her at eye level. "Listen, I'm not sayin' your questions or thoughts were wrong. What I'm sayin' is"—his eyes flitted towards Maka momentarily before touching on his daughter again—"if you want us to start movin' towards bein' somethin' like a family, we gotta talk like a family. So talk of Maka livin' with us or– or anythin' else like that needs to include me."
It was a crack of a whip up her spine–
It was another swipe at the grime that had built over a lifetime of grievances–
It was a secret that her mind had kept under lock and key from her own heart–
Family.
The soft talk between father and daughter suddenly turned to static as Maka's grip on the cups tightened.
When's the last time anything felt like family to me?
Papa was a singular entity– yes, one full of love but still void of the finer tunings that came with being a unit.
Mama was gone– then and now. Alive or dead.
Blake, Sid, and Mira had done a good job. Patched a leak, but…
She slid the cups on the counter just in time to lift her hands and catch the tears on her cheeks.
"Papa, stop," Layla hissed before Maka felt the little girl connect with her middle, arms wound tightly around her. "I'm sorry, Maka. I didn't mean to make you sad– Papa didn't mean to either."
Maka hiccuped through a weak laugh before her hands cleared away the blur enough to see Soul's brow wrinkle as he appraised her. "No, Layla, it's not that." She wrapped one arm around her to strengthen the statement.
She looked up at Maka, cupid bow lips pressed into a frown. There was a sudden hint of family resemblance since her eyes had taken on the same exact intensity as Soul's. "But you're sad."
"For a different reason," Maka murmured as she shook her head. "It has to do with my mama and papa, not this." She raised her gaze to meet Soul again. "I promise it's not this."
He nodded slowly, his brow refusing to fully unfurl until he huffed out a sigh. "Layla, we're making pancakes."
All of the concern rinsed from Layla's face, a suddenly glowing smile striking up towards Maka. "Papa's pancakes fix everything." With that, it was a race of little legs between the pantry and refrigerator, amassing ingredients one by one on the counter.
Soul leaned, grabbing the coffee cup she had left for him but offering his other hand in the space next to hers. Maka took it without hesitation before returning her attention to Layla's gathering. Something tells me… Maka sighed, letting her shoulders relax and her hand finally fall from clearing her face. Your papa can fix a lot of things.
Maka opened the door, refusing to hold her breath. She forced meaning and strength into her steps, grabbing another cup of coffee from the kitchen before moving into the living room. Spirit was predictably there, paper open across his lap as he poised his own mug close to his lips. "Good morning." It wasn't anywhere close to Layla's chiming, but Maka tried to keep pleasantness in it.
"Morning." This was a surprisingly quiet reply for him, but she could see the rest lining his lips as he forgot about the paper entirely and began to stare.
She settled into the arm chair across from him, cradling the cup and the memories of the morning to keep the warmth in her heart. "I took Layla shopping yesterday and just ended up staying." Her shoulders wanted to bristle, but she forced them down. "Layla is that guy's daughter."
Spirit digested this in a silence that made the hairs at the back of Maka's neck tingle.
"That's going to happen more often."
The grip on his paper tightened, crinkling the black and white. "You're a grown woman." The words were there but the sentiment seemed grey and muddled. "So you're serious about this guy."
"Yes, Soul and I are serious."
The line of his lips fluctuated. "Soul?"
Maka resisted the urge to roll her eyes—just barely—replacing it with a long sip of her coffee. "Solomon, but no one calls him that."
Spirit was quiet, gears revolving as he flapped the paper in his lap. "I want to meet him." He clutched his mug tightly between both hands. "If that's allowed."
Her own grip tightened, heart thumping through a few thick beats before replying: "I'll ask him."
That broke whatever veneer Spirit had been able to keep as he sucked his teeth. "Normally, you don't have a choice when it comes to meeting your significant other's parents. I don't see why he'd have a problem."
"I don't make decisions for him," Maka corrected quickly. "Didn't you ask Blair if she wanted to meet me?" Turning tables rarely worked, but the droop in Spirit's resolve gave her at least momentary hope. "Speaking of, maybe you should invite her if Soul says yes. Get it all out of the way."
His eyebrows lifted. "Him and her?"
"If he agrees," Maka cautioned. Since maybe, just maybe, you'll behave better when it's not just me. Blair might make you have a little shame for once. She tried to hold onto that hope as she stared him down.
Calculations curved his brow, lips pressed shut as the idea settled. "Fine. Let me know what he says."
Maka nodded before dropping her gaze to the coffee in her cup. She pulled in a slow breath, hearing that word resounding in her head again: family. Her papa as a papa again. That woman—that's not fair since I have to admit I liked her—as a mama. Maka as a daughter.
Or…
The imagine of the three of them in bed flashed over her mind.
Soul's used to being a papa.
Layla is a dedicated daughter.
But I…
Soul's steady, warm voice broke into her thoughts: "Door's open here."
In her heart and in her mind, she tried not to let that close.
Soul paced, powerlessness aching in his gut. He almost insisted she stayed– even got so far as to walk her to her car door with the words sitting uncomfortably on his tongue. Instead, the only thing he could manage was: "Call me tonight." What he couldn't tell her was:
I want to protect you.
I don't want you goin' to a home where things are broken.
I couldn't give any less of a damn about the way it looks, but just stay here with us.
Reining that in had been near impossible, and even now each one of those echoed in his mind with his steps along a well-worn path in the living room. He was so intent on digging a ditch that he almost missed the buzz of his phone. When the illumination finally caught the corner of his eye he dove for it, grabbing and swiping in one smooth motion. "Hey." He tried not to let that sound breathless and full of anticipation.
Her soft laughter greeted him. "Did you run for the phone?"
"No–" He huffed, running a hand through his hair. "I mean– well–"
"Are you okay?"
"S'what I'm supposed to be askin' you," he grumbled back.
A gap of static filled his ear before Maka's breath slowly leaked out. "You probably guessed Papa wasn't all that happy I was out."
It's none of his business, Soul wanted to spit but left the space and spite for her.
"And he doesn't deserve to be," Maka continued softly.
"Maka, if he–" Soul tried to swallow it– the horrendous bile, the terrible inky thoughts he'd had since she left. If he hurt you– fucking hell if he even–
"I don't want to give into his histrionics."
Soul's knuckles strained around the phone as he lost his grip on everything else. "I want to meet him."
"What?"
He sat hard on the couch while his head fell into his hand. "Guess it could go either way– he could just end up hatin' me more. I just– let me try." And let me make sure I know exactly how much he's hurting you. What he does and what I need to do to keep you from cryin' like that.
Her sigh quaked over the other end. "Soul, I– are you sure?"
"Yeah," he replied without leaving room for a breath. "I want to, and I want–" Soul had to pause to swallow– the click of his throat barely abating the choking. "Maka, if you need to I want you to come back here, now."
"Soul…" It was halfway between chiding and sweetness– admonishment and love all rolled into one. "I'm okay. I actually just… I need some time."
His stomach curled inward, fear starting to ripple across the muscle. He was paralyzed as the fear started to cool all that anger. Time for what?
Even if he couldn't voice the question, her answer came: "I promised you I'd figure out how to tell you things, remember?"
"Yeah," he murmured hoarsely.
"And I know you were worried this morning—about my crying—so I want to have an answer for you before I come back."
Soul sighed as he rubbed a hand over his face. "Alright." But it wasn't. His heart was lurching, galloping, threatening a quick escape through his mouth.
"Wednesday night."
Another tremble in his chest buzzed while he tried to tamp down the anticipation. "What about it?"
"I'll stay Wednesday night, if that's okay."
"It's always okay." Oh, fucking hell, I just want her here now. Why can't I just be holdin' her, comfortin' her? I don't need a fuckin' explanation, just her safe with me.
A gentle laugh echoed in his ear– not her full strength giggle but at least something laced with mirth. "Then I promise– and I promise I'll be okay."
He couldn't control the grumble that started in his throat.
"Soul." This time she laughed with the chiding, sweetness filling his ear and trying to permeate his heart. "How about lunch together while we're at school until then? This way you can fuss all you want."
"I'm not fussin'," he muttered.
"So then it's a no?" That playful teasing brought the blood to the tips of his ears.
"Lunch and Wednesday night." His eyes traced the wrinkles in his sweatpants as he tried to push the worry away.
"Sounds good to me," she murmured back sweetly. "Good night, Soul."
"Maka, wait." The plea fluttered up before he could catch it.
"Yes?"
Pinpricks of nerves struck at the nape of his neck as she waited for him. "I care about you." He winced, entirely enveloped by the embarrassment.
A terrifying moment only filled with her uneasy exhales passed before she murmured: "I needed to hear that."
He let out his own shaky breath. "I wanna show you, too, so when you're here Wednesday…"
She hummed sweetly. "After I tell you everything, please do."
