Here's the next installment. Let me know what you think.
Death had warned Soul that being to work early that morning was imperative, setting a good example and blah, blah, blah. Technically Soul had tried, he set his alarm early, even made the totally uncool move of picking his clothes out the night before because for some reason he was as nervous as his first recital. He was sure he was going to fumble all over the keys but why did that even matter? This was Albarn, and he was going to finally look her in the face and really let her know that he was nobody's bitch. Still, he agonized until about midnight, switching out tie and shirt choices like nothing matched black slacks.
Then talking himself into sleeping was a whole other problem. He sure as hell wasn't tired, his mind too busy running marathons to offer the stereotypical sheep counting. All his brain wanted to do was offer different scenarios of what she'd look like because that mattered. It ranged from Wicked Witch of the West to some froggish nerd until Black Star's annoying voice trailed back into his ear. 'I hear she's cute though.' As if that matters, as if that'll make up for the harassment. Soul then went through the rounds of berating himself, trying to force the slate clean since Death warned him about that, too. This was supposed to be something he was taking advantage of, not sabotaging.
All that brought him to about 4 AM when his eyes did finally close and since his alarm was only two hours away he definitely took advantage of the snooze button. Which meant that he was now huffing up the stairs, his watch generously telling him he was only fifteen minutes late and hoping that maybe, if there was a God, Death would be stuck in some kind of traffic jam and Maka would have called out sick. Instead, he was panting, out of breath as he barely snuck his head around the corner. While his desk was just barely in view, the desk across was fair game, giving him an all-access pass to Albarn as she leaned intently towards her computer.
Her hair was long, honey-blond, and thick because it seemed to puddle at her shoulders and cascade across her back. The dim sheen of the computer screen was making her green eyes glow and outlining the cute little upturn of her nose. He gulped. You used it. You used that stupid, totally uncool word. He barely bit back a groan as he thunked his head into the wall. It was cute, and overall, all things added up, she was beautiful, not in that stuck-up sort of way where she was playing to her best features. As far as he could tell, there was no make-up, her hair was left to do as it wanted, and her outfit screamed basic office wear. One more gulp, one more thunk, and he started the absolutely disastrous task of beckoning Liz over.
Liz was turning purple from holding in the laughter at the poor, disheveled mess in front of her. The scowl Soul produced in reply just made matters worse and she had to push him into one of the side conference rooms, shutting the door behind her to allow for the relief of a bray. "What happened to showing her who's boss?"
"I mean, I am…" Soul started but it withered out of his mouth as Liz continued to giggle.
"Look, she got here before Kid, Soul. I'm pretty sure she was waiting outside the building before it opened. And I have to admit, she's got just about the same look as you do right now." Liz punctuated this with a flick of his nose.
He swatted at her hand since that was the best he could do in the circumstances since getting into a full-on fight on the morning he was supposed to meet Albarn didn't exactly sound like the best course of action. "What look is that?"
"Apprehension with a healthy hint of excitement," Liz cooed.
"I'm not excited," Soul griped.
"No, of course not," Liz rolled her eyes. "That's why you can't even step foot out into the workroom."
Soul threw his hands up in the air before letting one brush through his hair. Oh, fuck, I didn't even brush my hair. He did it a few more times for good luck. "What do I do?"
"Brush one more time," Liz laughed as she shooed away his hand instead, fixing the mop-like white mess on the top of his head. "And stop in the kitchen and make two cups of coffee. One for you, because you look like you've slept as much as an expectant father, and one for her because I haven't seen her have one yet." Liz patted his cheek affectionately. "And I'll make sure to convince Death that you've been here the entire time."
"Thanks, Mom," Soul finally roused enough amusement to produce a smirk.
Liz shook her head slowly as she added a little smack to the last of her pats. "Why am I nice to you again?"
"Because you know what's good for you." That earned him another light smack and in an effort to keep any more color from his cheeks Soul slipped away, exiting the conference room. He technically had to enter the workroom to get to the kitchen, but thankfully it was a veer to the right rather than the left, avoiding his set of desks altogether. As long as he didn't look her way, he would definitely be home-free. Except the expectation that Soul would do the best thing, take the easiest course of action, was always wrong, and as he turned the corner he couldn't keep himself from letting his eyes dart to her again.
Which was obviously just in time to meet those vibrant green ones, who had been watching for movement on the workroom floor out of the corner of her eye. Don't freeze, he ordered himself, letting her gaze catch for just a second before turning his eyes back to the course at hand and the most terrifying sight he'd ever beheld in his entire life. Of course, Black Star was standing there, why not, this was his office now too, but Soul could see it all playing out before it even happened, and before he could even get his hands out of his pockets to pray or to signal some kind of quiet the dominoes started to fall.
"Nice of you to finally show up," Black Star barked.
Just bury us in the same coffin, he thought as the visions of the headlines 'Desperate Man murders best friend and then kills himself' flashed in his head. "Blake-"
"That's a piss-poor greeting for your God, Soul."
He winced as his name echoed across the room. "Kitchen, now," Soul hissed as he grabbed Black Star by the tie and pushed him back into the small closed-off corner that was considered a kitchenette.
"Oh, avoiding the ball and chain?" Black Star was barely being dragged, his head still halfway into the workroom.
"I'm making fucking coffee," Soul yanked again, this time getting Black Star all the way onto the linoleum floor.
"I don't need any coffee." Black Star batted him away.
"It's not for you," Soul grumbled as he turned his back to the blue-haired idiot and started to arrange two cups on the counter.
Black Star's butt smacked against the counter as he lifted himself up to sit and lord over Soul's current actions. He snickered, "You're not making coffee for her."
"I'm making coffee," the same gravely tone came with the enunciation of each word.
"What did I tell you, love at first sight," Black Star cooed. "Plus, you've always had a thing for blonds."
"So what if I have a thing for blonds," Soul snapped as he poured the dark liquid into the stark white cup. "And so what she's got some great eyes to go with and she's not some crater-faced midget. Being beautiful doesn't make up for the fact that she's never, not once, ever said anything I do is any good, just one fucking nitpick after another."
"Soul," Black Star was trying to smother a laugh.
Soul finished pouring the coffee, tightly gripping the cups in his hands. "So, sure, staring at her face will be great but listening to her pick me apart day after day, I might as well just jump out the fucking window now."
"That's a little melodramatic."
His guts turned to jello as his brain desperately searched for the owner of that voice. Hearing it on the phone was one thing but real life, right behind him meant it had to filter through at least a thousand brain cells before the truth that he probably knew from the instant he heard it came to him plain as day: Maka Albarn was standing behind him. Black Star started cackling as Soul slowly turned, coffee trembling in his hands, to finally come face to face with his partner.
Those green eyes were even better in this light and if he wasn't speechless enough already the way she batted them at him would have chopped off his tongue for sure. "I have to nitpick, it's my job, it makes you better," she was holding back, he could hear the strain in her voice as she kept an even, level tone. "But," that she punctuated with a huffing sigh, "Don't think I don't like your work. You're good at what you do."
Soul might as well have been mute for all the good his voice was doing him now, his brain following suit by flat-lining uselessly. It didn't seem possible, this lithe, blond, barely a woman had totally stripped him of his cool with hardly a sentence. He'd beaten guys half to death, maybe more than half, but all it took was that nonchalant utterance from those perfect pink lips.
"Hey, dumbass, say something." From his perch on the counter, Black Star gave Soul a firm kick to the ass.
This was enough of a jostle, especially with the current trembling quality of Soul's hands, to upend the cup from his fingers and pour the unpleasantly warm liquid mostly down the front of Maka's shirt. As it hit her a hissing yelp came from her mouth and her eyes first widened at him before falling to the obnoxiously obvious stain. He was ready for every curse in the book but she simply turned on her heels, tramping out of the kitchen.
As Black Star continued to cackle in the background, Soul finally got his voice to sound. "Shit."
Maka was trying to process the last fifteen minutes without screaming wordlessly as she stared in the washroom mirror. A solid attempt was made at rinsing out the coffee but the fact that it had almost been an entire cup and of course her shirt option for today had been white left her without any hope. Now she was sporting a stained and sopping wet shirt, her bra definitely visible and all of it was Soul's fault. OK, be rational, it's not like he threw it at you. It was an accident. But he had clearly avoided her when he came in, even going so far as to lock eyes cooly with her before fooling around with Blake and disappearing into the kitchen.
That apathetic entrance was a complete opposite of the conversation she walked into though. All sense had been lost from her mind when he uttered the word beautiful, one that she had rarely heard used except by Papa and would never actually use to describe herself. But that's surprisingly not what her mind was perseverating on the most, instead a constant echo of the idea that he wanted her praise. Because that's what he was complaining about, not an end to the hair-splitting but just a simple pat on the back. Again, that conviction that there was something hidden underneath this persona he used as a mask struck her and instead of anger, she felt a wave of sadness for him.
That emotion was broken by the knock at the door. "Albarn," the voice gruffed on the other side.
Maka's lip trembled, "I'm a little busy."
"I have an extra shirt," Soul raised his voice with an extra knock as if that would be more convincing.
Maka took a slow, lingering breath before she turned the knob, keeping her foot in place behind the door so he wouldn't be able to get it open enough to get a glimpse of anything other than bathroom tile. The door never made it that far, just opening enough so that his hand could slip through clutching what was obviously a man's button-down, but at this point what choice did she have. She grabbed the cloth from his fingers and watched as the door instantly clapped back shut. She happily made quick work of getting rid of her ruined shirt and replacing it with the fresh one. Leaving the bathroom became the next obstacle and Maka took a few extra breaths as her fingers touched the knob.
When the door opened completely he was standing on the other side, leaning against the wall directly across the bathroom with his arms crossed his chest. A vibrant blush brushed across his cheeks before he threw his glance down the hallway.
He's embarrassed. Maka could almost let out a sigh of relief but the next thought left her breathless. Or he's seeing you in his shirt and thinking something else. He did say you were beautiful. Color just as bright as his came to her face and she stumbled through every option of words to say and found each crumbling off her tongue.
"I'm sorry," he finally offered curtly.
"It was an accident," Maka murmured.
"Yeah, but a shitty way to start your first day at work," he broke into a gruff sigh. "And not the coolest way to introduce myself."
"Definitely not," she managed something close to a laugh and his eyes finally came back to hers, a surprising fiery red that completely caught her off guard.
Soul ran a hand through his hair, expelling a shaky breath. "Look, what I said-"
Maka palms pushed out, putting the brakes on his words. "Let's start over." Mostly because I don't want to hear your explanation for the beautiful comment. I don't think I can take it. "I'm Maka Albarn."
"Soul Evans." He held out his hand and straightened his shoulder in the process, suddenly making her feel petite next to him now that he was no longer leaning, no longer far from her space.
"I look forward to working with you." She hesitantly took his hand and as they shook she noticed the callouses, the scars on his knuckles.
"Same," his voice was low and he forcefully cleared his throat as he pulled his hand back. "Promise tomorrow I'll just leave the coffee on your desk."
"In the cup, too, please," she grinned but he barely saw it, his eyes darting away from her to the workroom again.
He snorted, "Funny, Albarn." While she hoped for more of a reaction she'd take it and it was all she would get because he turned, starting the walk back to the desks. While she stumbled to catch up behind him she thought she heard him murmur, "I think you'll fit in just fine."