Once again, I humbly offer you another AU. I'm not sure how well this one is going to work, but I'm hopeful. I'm a little afraid it's going to be too OOC, so please let me know. It may just be a personal story idea that's getting wrapped up in fanfiction. Again, give me your opinions.
The groan from Soul's mouth was absurd, elongated to the point where his throat felt grated down. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."
"Language," Liz reminded softly from a few desks away.
Soul sent her a scowl. "How do you expect me to react? She sends me another email with another little-miss-perfectionist correction to work I've already combed through at least twelve times." He took a look at the message on the screen again before lowering the cursing to under his breath. "Maka fucking Albarn. I need her like I need a fucking hole in my head."
"Soul…" Liz chided.
"She's up my ass constantly," it was over, Soul was on a roll and all the rest could be forgotten. This wasn't even their first project together, but doing the first one right meant every time the boss had something new it was Albarn, Albarn, Albarn. "Nitpicky as hell. I'm getting white fucking hair from all the stress."
Patty joined in the eyeroll with her sister as Liz sighed, "All your hair's white, Soul."
"But would it kill her to be nice to me?" Soul offered his hands to the screen as if it would change the email. "Even just one fucking 'good job, thanks' thrown in. But no, I'm just a bitch pool boy for a technically contracted worker. She doesn't even actually work here!"
"Bitch pool boy?" Patty sent a questioning gaze at Liz.
"He doesn't have the body for pool boy," Liz laughed.
"Hey," Soul growled. "All I'm saying is that she better not set foot in this fucking building because I'm going to…" Soul had to let his diatribe trail off, the bosses door clicking and clacking until it opened. That was actually Soul's handwork, a little playing with the jam and some of the screws made the door near impossible to budge without some coaxing. It was insurance for not so appropriate workplace banter since the last thing he needed was firing. Not to mention, did he actually have a finish to the threat? Probably not.
"Soul, could I see you for a second?"
Soul was back to leaning over his computer, hoping he didn't look like he'd just spent another fifteen minutes of his life thinking about Maka Albarn. "Sure, Mr. Death." He ambled across the floor, getting raised eyebrows from the Thompson girls that he replied to with a glare. As he entered the office, he made sure to shut the door as best he could behind him, knowing those big-eared sisters were probably pressed to the seam.
For a guy with such a morbid name, Death's voice was always jovial, constantly peppered with amusement at only he knew what. "Let's start by saying everyone really, really lovely work on the last project. Really stellar."
"Thanks, sir." Soul swallowed the praise as best he could. It had been a mediocre project, at best. He'd never say this out loud but the only reason the client bought it was probably because of Albarn and her damn attention to detail and her supposed gift of gab. Soul was above the pack in what he did, but he was sure he actually needed someone riding his lazy ass to get him to potential. But those kinds of thoughts were for a bigger man, and Soul was currently still feeling pretty petty.
"And with all the success lately, we've decided to expand operations!" Death added the dramatic pause, cue the fanfare and celebration in the room full of all two of them.
But there was a breed of elation bubbling in Soul's gut because this could be it! This could be the 'you're lead project manager' moment and he'd only ever have to work with Death, a relief since he'd be free! No Albarn, and real job security that could actually make him look like a functioning adult, not some-
"Which means we've been able to bring all contracted employees on board full time to the office."
Soul's gut melted over his shoes. Albarn.
"The teams will get shuffled…"
He breathed a sigh of relief as the swell of his dream came back to him.
"But since you and Maka have been such a powerhouse, I'm keeping you two together. She'll take the desk across from yours and I know I won't have to expect anything less than success from my two little stars."
"Great," was all his brain would offer as he blinked through the vision of that shrew nagging him from two feet away instead of via text. "Thank you for the opportunity, sir."
"Take advantage of it, Soul," the musical quality drifted out of Death's voice. "I know you struggle sometimes to see what's good for you, your past most certainly wasn't, but I think this partnership with Maka has been. It's pushed you, pushed you right in the direction of that project lead that I know you've been wanting. Maybe putting a little more trust in the partnership is in order."
"Yes, sir," Soul gritted through his teeth. "Thanks again." He turned quickly on his heels, struggling against the tampered door before getting himself out the office.
"Getting fired?" Patty poked him as he huffed past, not even bothering to smack her hand.
"Worse," Soul groaned as he slid into his desk. Before the girls could get in the process of picking information from his bones, he picked up the receiver on his desk phone, dialing the number he knew by heart.
Black Star's crowing voice blasted after only one ring, "Yo! Calling to congratulate your God on his promotion?"
"Black Star- Blake…" Soul corrected. Sometimes he still got it mixed up, the old life versus the new. He wasn't Soul Eater anymore, just Soul Evans and Black Star was barely holding onto Blake, still insisting on having that one foot out the door. Soul had gotten him cleaned up enough to get a contracted job with Death, but it all still felt tenuous.
"You have to up the celebratory flare, dude, I'm not feelin' it," Black Star threatened.
"Woo," Soul offered lifelessly.
Black Star cackled on the other end, "What's up your ass, anyway? Oh, oh, wait, does that mean all the contracts got full-time? Your wife's coming to the office?"
"How many times do I have to tell you not to call her that," Soul snapped. "She's the bane of my existence."
Black Star could barely squeeze the words between laughing. "Except you talk to her more than anyone else, even if it's mostly via email and chat, and she has you completely whipped."
"Doesn't sound like a good wife," Soul grumbled.
"I hear she's cute, though," Black Star dropped slyly.
Soul floundered for a second but recovered in a huff, "Like I care what she looks like! I bet she's a midget with a moon for a face."
Black Star's knowing laugh in reply only pissed him off more. "Twenty bucks says she's your type."
"No," Soul shot back. "Not possible. Make it a hundred and if I lose, you have me locked up because I've definitely lost my mind."
"You got a hundred? Aren't you still strapped from not having a roommate?"
"Yeah, that's why I'm making this bet because it's easy money!" Soul finally let a laugh break his lips, a little joy coming to him. "Tomorrow you'll be here to witness me meeting Maka Albarn and really showing her who's boss."
Black Star was still cackling away, "Just roll up the sleeves. Show her the tats. Bet she'll freak. Maybe wear the muscle-t to work."
"We have a dress code, Blake," Soul muttered.
"Yeah, you also have a code of conduct but I'm sure you can't keep your mouth in line when you do use it." The chuckling died down, Black Star's voice still light off the dregs. "It'll be cool to work together again though, you and me."
"Sure," Soul let out a weak laugh, "Just not the same kind of work as we used to."
"Not for you, anyway," Black Star grunted.
Soul let his eyes linger over the girls for a second, sure their attentions were elsewhere before he leaned closer to the wall. "Look, Blake, I could-"
"Told you," Black Star cut him off. "The best I can do is halfway. You, though, you're going full suit and tie, got it? You go get that white picket fence like you want."
"Yeah," Soul sighed. It's all just a cover, though, right, Black Star? The suit, the tie, the job, it's all just a lie we tell ourselves because who's going to look at me, at this, and want that white picket fence? "First I gotta live through Albarn."
Maka had spent all morning reading through all the paperwork, the benefits and the pieces of herself she was signing away to the company. The work wouldn't be different but at least the money would be which fed a growing sense of elation in her. A real job meant probably being able to move out of her dad's house and maybe actually have something that resembled a life because trying to bring a guy home with that overprotective stalker of a father breathing down your neck was a Sisyphean task. But first, you'd have to have guys that you wanted to bring home, Maka reminded herself dejectedly.
The only guy in her life was her partner, one who had to be with her by force and, boy, did it feel compulsory. His voice always grumbled over the phone, although, she had to admit, it was strangely soothing, a low baritone that had a little smokey growl to it. Stop, Maka, you sound like a romance novel. But he barely ever used it, their conversations limited to single syllables and two-minute maximums. Maybe if you asked him how he was or what he was up to rather than rushing into business as soon as he answered the phone…
But Soul was talented, so talented that Maka was sure that wasting time on non-work related items was below him, so she rushed to make everything perfect. Emails were kept short and sweet and constant because as soon as he sent her something it was straight to work. Every detail had to be laced through and Maka combed for anything that could potentially set off a client and hurt his work. Sometimes his errors were hard to find since he had so little, so she'd search, again and again, nitpicking at the tiniest detail.
But she sure as hell wasn't just doing this for him! This was her chance to shine, even though, deep down, she was sure that partnering with him would be the key to success one way or another. It couldn't be just coincidence that the last few projects had been near perfect, had turned heads not just in the office but with clients. That's why Maka jumped at the full-time position before she even saw the dollar signs because it was a chance to be in an actual office, be in the city which for her was just some fairytale land she'd only heard stories about. She always preferred face to face, anyway, especially since she'd never technically seen his face. Maka always thrived when she could get close and found she could pry almost any bit of information from people if she could just see their glances, the way their hands moved or their body.
In a strange way, one that she tried in vain to stop letting come to her mind, she was dying to see Soul's reactions, his movements. The way his voice sounded you could swear he was a gruff old man, ready to wave his cane and kick you off his lawn, but there had to be something else to him. The terse nature, the irritability had to be covering up something he just wasn't openly willing to show. And sure, you're going to pry it from him, why? We aren't in some 'Beauty and the Beast' situation, there's not going to be some rose he's trying to keep hidden from the world. Not to mention there's that problem, the one where even though maybe you think you want the opportunity to bring a man home, you're really just terrified of it. You're the best at sabotaging.
Maka tapped back to his last email, a quick 'will do' in reply to a few more tiny mistakes she'd picked up on. Office romances don't happen, anyway. That's rom-com nonsense. We're a good team, and when we meet, that's all we'll be. She was going to meet him tomorrow and everything would click into place, she was sure of it.