Shorter teaser chapter because the next is long, I promise!

Maka didn't mind having a second meeting with Mr. Death but it put Soul on edge and she couldn't help but want to grab his hand at the sight of the squirming. It didn't help that he'd been awful quiet about the project itself. Sure, he'd run designs past her, things that were definitely up to his regular caliber, but he still seemed to be engrossed in some deep pondering of the big picture.

"Good news, you two!" Death started again with his thousand percent enthusiasm. "It seems like Eibon is living up to the rumors of his eccentric persona and has changed the game when it comes to proposals."

"We're up for anything, sir!" The minute she said she knew it'd be spit back at her as soon as they were out the door and when she risked a glance at him she saw the smirk tugging at Soul's lips.

"You'll have to be," Death continued to ooze cheer. "Your first mission will be to attend a party at Eibon's house. It's a black-tie affair filled with the competition."

"A party?" Soul balked. "A client's never had us do anything like this before."

Death shrugged casually. "He's looking to not only assess your work, but character as well. It'll be what you show him at the party that will get you to the next part."

Maka watched Soul wither but was happy he didn't give the "you mean that's not it?" that she was expecting.

"If you pass the party, you'll have a one on one meeting Eibon at his head office where he'll hear the details. You'll have to not only sell yourselves but the product." Even with the slowly dawning anxiety that his words were bringing, Death was still smiling, even going so far as to pat the two of them on the shoulders. "But, really, I know the two of you will figure it out. I can see the wheels turning already."

Maka's definitely were, the idea that she was actually going to have to market herself setting every nerve in her stomach alight. She hazarded a glance at Soul and noticed more white than red in his eyes but that same tight-lipped apathy below it. "Well, sir, of course, we'll do our best. Is there… has he set dates?"

"Next month for the party and then one more month for the proposal, since I know you two will wow him enough to get a chance to actually talk about the product." Death started his shooing hands, scooting the two out of the office. "Now, back to what you do best!"

As his rickety office door shut behind the two of them, they stood speechless. Maka tangled a finger in his and suddenly Soul remembered to breathe, his head turning to her. "A party?"

"A party," Maka sighed.

"You… done this before?"

"Sort of," she shrugged. "Networking parties aren't exactly unheard of, but…" Maka couldn't help herself, letting that finger evolve to a soft hand touching his arm. "Don't worry, I'll walk you through. It's our deal, right?"

He still seemed to gulp in reply, "Right."

"Did you…" Maka started but as his anxious eyes searched hers for the rest of that sentence she bit off the end. "We could practice at home. No TV at dinner tonight."

That elicited a groan from his mouth, "Not fair."

Maka crumbled into laughter and a smirk replaced the woe on his face. Staring at him like this always started a steady increase in her heart rate and she had to resist the heat that wanted to come to her cheeks. "I'm glad it's with you."

While she was resisting it, Soul didn't seem to be able as the rosiness came to his cheeks. "Huh?"

"This project, I couldn't imagine doing it with anyone else," she tried to beam but the bewilderment on his face made her tone it down. Her mind was trying to make her aware of the million different implications, how inappropriate and without boundaries.

But none of it mattered because in the next second he was patting a hand over the one she had pressed to his arm. "Nobody but you, Maka."

Honestly, Soul was a mess. This whole afternoon had been an exercise in composure and he was completely exhausted with the energy put into not emoting. First, it was her damn outfit. Realistically, it was totally appropriate, a sports bra under a racerback tank and shorts, but there were two very clear problems: one, he couldn't take his eyes off of the delicate build of her shoulder blades, the smooth and unmarred skin, the dangerously long legs and two, he was fairly sure all the other guys in the gym couldn't either. It probably didn't help that she was one of the few girls to step foot in here since this place was another throwback to his Eater days, a boxing club owned by another non-sider, Sid.

Sid had raised an eyebrow at the accompaniment but didn't say a word, though Soul was ninety percent sure the phone call that he watched Sid make after was to Marie, another domino he'd hear about at the next Sunday dinner. Everything about this he'd regret, especially as he grabbed her from behind, circling his arms around her slender arms and waist. "What are you going to do?"

"Bend at the waist," she murmured.

"Well?" he urged, even though that movement wasn't going to be comfortable in any way. She slowly started the bend and he let his hands start to slip, restraining himself from sighing as they settled on her hips. "Now turn and clock me with your elbow." Maka had zero follow-through for the moves, just tapping him at the neck. "Twist the other way, too." He was even and cold on the outside but the inside was closer to a bonfire, unsure of how much longer he could handle literally having her in his arms. "You hit until I'm out cold. Hopefully with more momentum when it's the real thing."

"When?" she blinked at him.

"If," he corrected anxiously. Though stick with me, babe, and I can promise there's a good chance. That produced a long-suffering sigh. "Try it again, a little more gusto. I promise I'm not too soft."

That brought a quick smile to her face and she leaned back into him, letting him wrap his arms around her waist in a bear hug. For a second, and only one because that's all he allowed himself, Soul imagined holding her as being normal. This would be something he'd do while she was cooking, letting his lips come to the crux of her neck while she laughed about it tickling and - Shut up. This is no time for that. You're teaching her to fight, not fall in love. He cleared his throat, "OK, go."

She leaned forward with real purpose, throwing him off balance since he had still expected the half-assing. When she turned, her elbow didn't connect perfectly, not hitting the neck but glancing across his cheek and right to his nose. It was searing, white-hot pain and he actually yelped, something that hadn't happened since his teens. The terror in her eyes made it even worse, or maybe that was when he touched his nose and came away with blood.

"Soul, I'm so sorry!" She was panicking, hands touching all over his chest as if that would slow the red drip from his nose.

"S'OK," he grunted as he pinched the bridge and saw stars. He plodded over to the towels, grabbing one and starting to dab at his face as Maka hovered like a moth at a lightbulb.

"Is it broken? Did I just break your nose?" Followed by a million little 'sorry's and perfect fingers working over his shirt.

He was watching her worry, her lips pressed in an agonizing rotation of frown and apologies. Watching her, all he could honestly do was laugh, and that's what he did. A laugh that he probably hadn't felt in a while, the kind that sneaks up on you along with the amusement. The towel muffled most of it but as he continued chuckling her hands planted on her hips, the anguish slowly evaporating.

"Are you laughing at me?" she frowned.

"A little," he cleared his throat on the last chuckle.

"I was worried I hurt you, you idiot," she hissed.

"You did," he smothered another laugh. "Been stabbed, though, remember? Bloody nose, definitely not broken, has nothing on that." She let out the cutest puff of air and he used his clean hand to grab for one on her hip. He circled her wrist and pulled, surprising her. "What do you do?"

"Twist my wrist, pull towards where your thumb meets your fingers." She completed the motion as she described it. "And will you stop? Fix your nose first!"

Soul sighed before hunkering down in one of the seats at the edge of the mats. He kept pinching, putting his head down and focusing on the floor.

"Was that… the only time you've been stabbed?" The words were definitely alien in her mouth, Maka sounding like she was still processing them as they came.

"The Mosquito thing? Yeah," Soul tried to speak under the towel but his words were still muffled enough that Maka crouched to her knees in front of him.

Her face was still saturated in concern, the annoyance far behind. "Have you been hurt worse?"

"I try not to keep track," Soul grumbled. "It was part of the day-to-day. A lot of the scars got covered up by the tattoos anyway."

"Really?" Maka's eyes widened a little with the wonder of it and he couldn't help but grin.

"Yeah, used to have a big one across my chest, got sliced. You can only really tell if you touch the skin." He started to zip his lips, that interest coming to her face again. She just wants to know every last little thing. Why? It's ugly, it's dangerous, and-

"Can I feel it?" Soul was lucky he was in the chair already, the idea of her perfect fingers traipsing along the scar that used to be armpit to hip setting the fire of a new kind of need in him. Today had shown him that it wasn't just the comfort he wanted from her, and that was even more dangerous. Her face lit up under his dumbfounded stare and the warbling anxiety was back. "Nevermind, that was, oh my-"

"Alright." He lifted just the corner of his shirt where it dipped below his pant line. "The black there. The feathers on the tengu." Soul couldn't look though, eyes searching for the ceiling. It felt like they were playing chicken and he was going to lose. It was three agonizing breaths until he felt her warm fingertips press into his skin. He was losing all of it, every last bit of willpower as he begged for those fingers to keep going.

"It does feel different," the awe in her voice made it worse, the absence of fear when this something should be terrifying to her. "Why all the demons?"

Soul let out a quaking breath as she took her hand away. "Guess it's my thing. That's what I am. Soul Eater."

Maka narrowed her eyes at him, "That was your street name?"

"Yeah," he muttered.

The way she examined him like the words were written on his face made his gut jump just as much as the touch. "Well, at least it's better than Black Star."

Soul had to press the towel to his mouth again to catch all the laughter.