I might do some time jumping after this for the sake of my own sanity. I have a lot of the wedding already in my mind so...

Wes showed up two songs before the end of his set, an additional form of torture. Soul found himself struggling to keep his concentration on the keys, sure that even the tiniest of mistakes was filtered straight to Wes's ears. He managed to make it through but by the end, he felt a new kind of exhaustion washing over him. He needed a drink but since Wes was still sitting there without one, it seemed impolite to walk over with just something for him. "Hey, Wes." Soul tried to beckon over Patty but couldn't catch her eye. So much for taking off the edge.

"You never told me you were playing jazz. It really suits you." Wes was beaming in that proud papa kind of way, eagerly leaning over the table to get closer to Soul.

Whichever way you're about to take that, don't. You can do this. "Thanks. I, uh, I actually like it." If he could do so without looking stupid he might have reached around and given himself a pat on the back. A normal conversation with his brother, who would have thought.

"It shows. You played extremely well." Wes watched the compliment strike his brother and knew this wasn't the right lane to be in. "How's the recording going?"

"I've had a few more customers." Soul tried for Patty again, feeling the anxiety rising into his throat. He's not trying to hear you're not successful, that's not what he's searching for. Thankfully the blond finally saw him and came dancing over, stopping short as she saw the mirror image that was Wes.

"Who's this?" Patty cooed.

"Wes, meet Patty. Patty, my brother, Wes."

"Nice to meet you," Wes charmed right back. "Could we have two bourbons, Russell's Reserve if you have it, please?"

"Of course," Patty raised her eyebrows momentarily at Soul before scampering off.

"Bourbon?" Soul couldn't stop a smile from tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I didn't think you liked that kind of stuff."

"Maybe we're not that different." His smile was tentative, knowing he was toeing the line.

Soul gave in, letting the grin take him. "At least not when drinks are involved." The words sat there for a while, the mutual smiles sinking in with both of them. It wasn't until Patty appeared back with the drinks and both of them took their first sip that Soul felt his tongue loosen. "I was a dick, Wes."

Wes put his hands up, "Soul-"

"No, don't." Soul took another quick sip, running a hand over his mouth to wipe away both the guilt and the kick of the bourbon. "I… you don't deserve the run-around. It doesn't do shit for either of us."

"OK." Wes took a hesitant sip, waiting for anything to bookend that comment. "Thank you, Soul."

"Come on, don't thank me for not being an ass." Soul sighed but refused to let his smile waver. He needed Wes to know he wanted him here and his face was probably the best way. "Plus, you're getting married. That's probably stressful enough without your brother acting dumb."

"Ah," Wes sighed before taking a long swig from his glass. "I've been keeping the stress to a minimum since you're the only person I've told."

"What?" A second before and it would have been a spit-take. "You didn't tell Mom and Dad?"

Wes shrugged. "Would you?"

"Fuck no." Soul found himself laughing in spite of the situation, or maybe because of this new information. Wes keeps things from Mom and Dad. Wes is a human being. "Maybe you should just elope in Vegas, really stick it to them."

"OK, I can't channel that much of your personality," Wes chuckled.

"Me?"

"You're the rebel, remember?" It was playful, but Soul still felt those words grate against his ears.

He tried to cover the dip in his smile with his glass, taking a slow sip. "More black sheep, but sure."

"Not to me, Soul." It was the combination of the hand reaching out for Soul to pat at his elbow, the hard shake of Wes's head, the slight tremble of Wes's voice as if it would break.

His stomach tied up in knots and all those little asshole moments were staring him in the face, all the hurt that he just had to cause to make up for his own. "Thanks, Wes."

Wes ran a nervous hand through his hair, a habit that they shared almost as if through blood. "But, uh, it'll eventually have to be brought to their attention and thought it'd be best to do so when we're all back for winter break."

"And I'm guessing you want me included in that all." For the first time, Soul took his eyes off of Wes, his hand clutching at his forehead so his eyes focused on the table.

"I know it's a lot to ask and-"

"Fuck, it is, Wes!" Soul felt that control slipping out of his grasp, the volume knob turned all the way up. He wants you there just to divert the attention. He could look bad but you will look worse and Wes will walk away unblemished. His hand clenched into the table and his mouth hung open, ready for another outburst of vitriol.

It was as if Maka were behind him, a soft whisper repeating from her lips, Do you prefer to be alone or do you feel like you have to be?

I'm not going to be alone. Instead of booming, his voice came out trembling just above a whisper, "You just better make sure the place is stocked with bourbon because if Mom breathes one word to me that isn't related to your wedding…"

Wes jumped at his opening, "Deal, Soul, whatever you want."

"Yeah, deal, sure," Soul muttered, draining far too much in a gulp. His eyes watered a little and he blamed it solely on the alcohol.

"Look," Wes played with the rim of his glass while avoiding Soul's eyes, "Don't take this the wrong way, Soul…"

That little turn of a phrase made him grin, the memory of Maka drifting across his mind. "Yeah?"

"You're different." Wes put up a finger to pause any comeback. "Like a good different."

"Just growing up, I guess." Why was he holding on to that tidbit? But he hadn't even told her what his life was like, so why did his life need to know about her yet?

"Sure," Wes narrowed his eyes a little as if hearing the questions that came after in Soul's mind. He didn't push, wanting to hold onto the mood of the evening at any cost. The rest of the night entailed finishing their bourbons and talking about things that didn't matter but started to tie them together.

No matter what, though, in a month and a half Soul was going home.

Maka didn't hesitate to invite Soul to the dorm, but the thought of having him in her room was sending her into a teenage-grade tailspin. It started with the cleaning, rearranging to make things seem less stiff even though she had argued that point with herself multiple times. Soul seemed well aware of what she was, so what was the point? It ended with staring in the mirror, looking at angles that should be curves as she sorted through outfits.

Decisions were easy when they were navigating the outside world. She didn't have to think of what she was covering underneath because the closest he could come out there was to drift a hand just under the hem of her shirt. But alone there were too many options and… did she even want to say no to any of it? Taking it slow was her forte, the modus operandi for the girl who was always sure her SO was still on the prowl. But with Soul, she felt herself rushing to connect, to concrete.

At the same time, it felt like her body would be the last thing to seal the deal. It was more like an in-spite-of situation instead.

When Soul texted, she was still partially in a panic, a small withering yelp escaping from her throat at the buzz of her phone. At the sight of 'here,' she gave up any last efforts to preen and practically booked it to the elevator, the jogging only working to send her heartbeat further through the roof. The elevator offered her a 360-degree view of herself, allowing for more last-minute nitpicking until the doors slid open.

Soul's smile snapped her out of it momentarily, that ear to ear grin making any thoughts in her mind turn into mush. They exchanged little hellos, his hand instantly coming to its place at the small of her back as she signed him in with security. Maka made the agonizing walk back to the elevator, trying to savor the feeling of his fingers. As the doors closed in on them she felt him do the same, pressing her delicately against the mirrored wall and capturing her lips. He never liked to let a greeting go by without that.

Before the ding, Soul gave her space back, only leaving his hand in place. He cleared his throat, those fingers tensing against her spine. "Something wrong?"

"Uh, no," Maka bit her lip. As if she could be more convincing.

"What, didn't finish your notes for today?" The vibrancy in his smile was wavering a little, his teasing only half-hearted.

Maka tried to feed his smile with her own. "Nope, all color-coded and ready for you."

"Can't wait." But she could tell he was letting her off easy.

To make matters worse, Tsubaki wasn't even there to put some kind of damper on activities. Maka almost bristled as they finally made it into the confines of the apartment. "I, uh, left my books and stuff in my room." He didn't answer, just followed her as she moved through the common area to her own space.

Upon entering, Maka had assumed he'd look around, take it in, but he made a direct move to the desk, plopping himself into the chair. "I hope you got that stuff on conversions of pyruvate to AcCoA because I feel like I read it eight times and I think it leaked out my ear each time."

The relief washed over and she was able to flop onto her bed, pressing her back against the headboard. "Oh, yeah, find it in the book, I'll talk you through it." And she did, thoroughly, watching as his brow went from knitted to relaxed. He moved from topic to topic to quiz her, her stomach unclenching, her mind completely forgetting that this was her fifteenth outfit choice. He was still stealing glances at her, eyes lingering for too much time between questions. As if she minded.

The clock had ticked away an hour before Tsubaki had returned, exchanged some pleasantries, and then shut the door behind her, making sure to tell the two she'd be in her room, on the opposite side. This had made Maka blush, but Soul seemed unphased, just continuing through another topic as soon as Tsubaki left. It wasn't fair, the way he seemed constantly together, unaffected, but she knew that was a lie, too. As the material dwindled, she cleared her throat. "How did it go with Wes?"

That did set him off his track a little, eyes blinking, and Soul closed the notebook, placing it carefully on the desk. "Can I put that off one more day?"

"Are you OK?" She put her book on the stand and was ready to get up and out of the bed, to come to him, but he put a hand up.

"I'm fine. I just… I kind of wanted…" His eyes floated around, now seemingly intent on what the room looked like. "Can I come over there? On the bed?"

"Yes," she hated the squeaky quality of her voice.

The chair creaked only to be answered by the bed as he put a knee on it. He was pausing, almost testing the bed springs before he crawled up to her. Maka stole one of the pillows from behind her back and put it next to her just before he eased into the headboard, his shoulder pressing to hers. "Did we go over everything?"

"Besides your personal life, yes," she smiled but couldn't laugh.

His normal grin was gone, replaced by a face so solemn and searching that she was terrified they were about to have some kind of conversation she wasn't ready for. Instead, he brought his hand to cheek, bringing her forward to lips that were searching and needy. Soul didn't seem to care about air, about space, just to part her lips and tangle his tongue into her mouth. His hand moved from touch to grasp as it moved to the base of her neck, sinking into her hair.

Maka found herself sliding down and he came with her, his body pressing again her. Laying like that gave away the curves of each of their bodies and flash of concern washed over Maka. As if he could taste it, Soul slowly pulled away, biting at her lower lip softly as he came out of the kiss. "Can I touch you?"

"Maybe just… could we just kiss? For now?" The flustered blush, the heat from feeling his lips against hers was fading into that sadness, the anxiety of the moments before he got there and her eyes felt as if they were about to betray her with tears.

"Maka…" But it wasn't coaxing or admonishing like he was pushing her, instead, she knew her body was giving it away, he was seeing it. "We can study some more if you want."

"No, I like this." The words sounded stupid in her ears and it was just enough to tip her into freeing a tear from her eye.

"Hey." His hand untangled from his hair to rub a thumb through the tear, clearing it from her face. "What is it?"

She stared at him, feeling his thumb come back again just to rub lovingly against her cheek. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

Soul's face went through an evolution of concern, confusion, humor, and then seriousness once he settled on the reality of the situation. "Remember the first day we met? You sat next to Tsubaki in lab."

Her stomach clenched as she seemed to instantly set the comparison there. "Yeah."

"BS was being BS, giving his daily rundown of the girls he was seeing. He started describing Tsubaki, wanted me to have a look. I went to glance over there but my eyes never got that far. You popped up first." Soul couldn't help himself and broke the storytelling to give her a feathery kiss. "I stared. I thought for sure you'd catch me but I didn't care. You were so beautiful and you were the only place I wanted to look."

The words were starting to seep in but that lingering feeling hung on. "But you're…"

"Crazy about you?" Soul offered with a laugh.

She sighed, "Handsome, Soul."

"Thanks," he added another laugh. "But my hair's perpetually a mess and I'll never be anything but lanky. I swear, BS force-fed me protein powder and made me do reps for months last year and I still look stringy. Also, have you heard BS call this my ugly mug? Sometimes I agree. Depends on the day."

She started to protest, her hands digging into the fabric of his shirt. "No-"

"Yes," he cooed back with a smile. "Give me your hand."

"What?" But she did as she was asked, bringing her hand up from his back and waving it weakly in front of him.

His hand gently circled her wrist, his thumb caressing her palm. "Tell me about your fingers."

"They're… boney?" she offered weakly.

"They're delicate and perfect for running through my hair," he whispered, a blush rising on his cheeks. "And that honestly drives me fucking wild. What about your wrists?"

A smile was started to pull at the corner of her mouth, half from his ridiculousness in these questions but also the thought that anything she did to him got that kind of reaction. "No problem with my wrists."

"Good." He paused to consider the next body part but let his hand slip into hers, interlacing their fingers. "What I'm trying to say is that it's definitely not just your personality that does it for me. Every time I see you I can barely take my eyes off you." Another gentle kiss accented by a squeeze to her hand. "I'll take it as slow as you want, but next time ask me what I think. We're friends, right?"

"Yeah," she laughed softly against his lips. Maka slipped her hand from his, moving it along his neck into his hair, watching as he leaned into the touch, a contented grunt coming from his lips. "And as a friend, I'd like to say you definitely don't have an ugly mug."

His only reply was a chuckle before he nipped at her lip again, pulling her into another searing kiss that started to melt those thoughts away, the worry nothing more than a vapor.

The vigorous kissing had been more than enough for Soul, a sentence that he never would have dreamed would ever have popped up in his head. Again, there was that tug in his mind that he wanted, needed this to go perfectly and just savoring the steps was what seemed to feed him. Plus, he still felt like he hadn't technically been honest with her, but he supposed that's what tonight was for.

Soul had considered bringing her back to the gallery, maybe even showing her the little studio he rented, but it all seemed too opulent. The house always seemed like the last resort thanks to the three stooges, but he had made sure to blackmail them into compliance, at least just for the evening. Kim was conveniently at Ox's, Kilik at work until ten, and Black Star at school and then the gym for at least a few hours. He could only hope.

Maka had flat-out refused to have him pick her up especially since the weather was edging closer to being far too frigid for an open-air ride. Instead, he waited patiently for her at the closest bus stop, hands shoved deep into his pockets. The nerves didn't catch up with him until the bus came to a complete stop, Maka almost bouncing down the steps, her blond hair swishing with each step. He tried to blame the breathlessness on the tight leggings, a sweater dress only reaching down to her mid-thigh peeking out from underneath her jacket, the rosy glow on her cheeks.

He swallowed it down, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and leaning into her ear. "Maybe I should have brought up your legs the other night."

"Soul…" she was rolling her eyes, the blush high on her cheeks.

"I still can't pick a favorite, but these tights might be a deciding factor."

Maka pushed him playfully, "Stop."

"Never." He gave her shoulder another squeeze before picking up the pace down the street. It was only two streets before they could make the turn down to the house, the two of them huddled together in the chill of the November night. The street was empty and, thankfully, the house was as well as Soul swung open the door.

"Where is everyone?" Maka peeked around the empty living room.

"Kilik's at work, the other two are doing whatever it is they do for fun." Soul shrugged off his jacket and threw it over the back of the couch, taking hers and doing the same. "How were your classes today?"

"Oh, Lit Theory was great today since we finally got to take apart Kafka."

Soul took her by the hand, pulling her towards the couch. "That's the guy that turned into a giant bug?" He plopped into the cushions but before she could move to his side he grabbed her, pulling her down into his lap.

Maka couldn't stop a laugh and slid herself slightly to the side, leaving her legs in his lap and her back up against the armrest. "Well, the guy who wrote about a guy turning into a giant bug."

"Please tell me there's more to the story than that." He rested a hand on her thigh, the other coming up to quickly run through her hair.

"Well, yeah, but it depends on who you ask." She captured the hand from her face, intertwining their fingers. "What about you?"

"Fine. Lots of numbers, all of them blending together," Soul sighed. "Maybe I should have just stuck with music."

Maka smirked, raising an eyebrow. "There's plenty of time to change majors."

"Sure." Soul rolled his eyes before letting his head fall back against the couch, his eyes focusing on the ceiling. "So I owe you a story or two, huh?"

"About what happened with Wes?" There was a battle of excitement and concern playing in her voice.

"I guess it's a little anticlimactic, but it went fine. Maybe even nice," but he still somehow managed to punctuate it with a sigh. "But he has me coming home with him over winter break in order to tell my parents about the engagement."

Maka's eyes went wide, blinking. "That's not anticlimactic."

"But I didn't yell once, so I have that going for me." He let his head roll to the side, focusing on her with a minuscule portion of his usual smile.

Maka squeezed his fingers, the smile elongating on her lips. "Which means you succeeded in having a grown-up conversation with your brother."

He savored that smile as if it were a gift for his good behavior. It was starting to feel like it was. "I haven't been home in a while."

"A while meaning?" He hated and loved that she wouldn't let him get away with that.

"Since college. I just stay at the house year-round. BS does, too, so it's not the most depressing existence, but…" Soul cleared his throat, giving her the clear sign he wasn't done but finding himself unable to tack anything on. Running a finger over her knee, he tried to focus on that, on the fabric, on the curvature, on the way that maybe he did like her legs the best of all. He could smile a little then. "Both of my parents think that name is everything, or maybe it comes right after money. I feel like it fluctuates."

"But they don't make you come home? I'm pretty sure my dad would have a fit, threaten to stop paying my tuition all together if I missed even one holiday." Maka was finding it hard to concentrate on one thing, his obvious pain, his threatening anxiety, or that delicate finger running up and down her leg.

"They don't pay for me," each word had a force of its own. "I don't take any of their money and that's how I want it."

Maka blinked, "The bar pays enough for that?"

"Between the bar, the events that I play sometimes, and the music I sell and produce, it mostly evens out." Soul upgraded the finger to his whole hand, the connection seemed to be the only thing keeping him going. "I'll admit that I let Wes… well, he didn't give me much of a choice about paying for being at school. But it's him, not my parents, and Wes never makes threats."

She had to still that hand, planting hers over top of it, now holding both of his. "So, you work three jobs. And school. And still manage to have your notes and now I'm taking up your time."

"Don't ever say it that way," Soul squeezed her thigh, watching as a blush erupted on her cheeks. "You don't take anything. I want my free time to be with you." He forced the hand a little higher, her grip loosened as he reached the hem of her dress. "I make everything work. Perfected it last year. This year just needs some well-deserved tweaking. I think someone was right when they asked me about being alone. I don't want to be alone."

"Someone was being terrible and intrusive when she asked that," Maka's blush at this point bordered on red, amped by his hand and the embarrassment. His face told her he didn't have any plans to admonish her and she gave in, reached her fingers out to cup his cheeks, pulling his face to hers just momentarily, though she could feel that needy hand trying to pull her in. They weren't done, though, she couldn't let him get away. "Will you be OK if you have to go back?"

Soul's growl turned into a groan, anger giving away to frustration. "No, but I have to make it OK. I have to do this for Wes." As if he ever thought those words could or would come out of his mouth.

"If you need me to…"

He should have had a firm 'no' to place here, the idea of even putting a three-month friendship, one-month relationship in jeopardy should have been an utterly stupid idea. Beyond never even wanting to tell his parents about Maka, what would they do to her if they met her? What would they even put her through for not being some blue-blooded heiress? "I don't want them to hurt you." It was a weak whisper and he wasn't even sure those words had come from his mouth.

"Mob hurt me or words hurt me?" Maka gave half of a smile before giving it up to bite her lip.

"Words. Maybe some actions thrown in there, mostly passive-aggressive." Soul moved his hand to cup one of hers, pressing it into his cheek. His breath was so deep she was sure his lungs would burst. "But the wedding is this June and I… it sounds so selfish after what I just said but I think I'm going to need you there."

"Why is that selfish?"

He took the rest of his breath to look at her, just to look at those beautiful green eyes. "Because this is all crazy, isn't it? We haven't dated a month and I'm throwing a million things at you, dirty, tangled, deep things that normal me wouldn't ever even tell anyone about. All this stuff should be locked away tight and I should be running from it but I'm going right into the thick of it and begging you to come with me. It's weird."

"Our relationship is weird." The tension eased out of her face and she surprised him with a smile. "And maybe it's nothing like I've been in before but… I like this. I don't think it needs to be anything other than what it is."

"So you'll come with me?" He shook his head slightly. "I mean, to the wedding."

"Yes, but if you need me-"

"Maka," he groaned out in frustration.

"Soul," she mimicked, making his frown tighter. "I'm not saying I'm going to come to Christmas dinner at your house or anything. But late December into the middle of January is a long time and I'd like to see you."

"I'd rather just come to you," Soul sighed.

Maka's sharp laugh struck him in the face. "And come see my insane dad? I'll take your parents, thank you very much."

"So I'm guessing you didn't tell him either…" They weren't Romeo and Juliet, that was for sure, but it didn't sit well, especially not at their age, but just the thought of telling his mother left his mouth filled with sand. Maybe sooner is better than later, though and tried to ease the tension of that thought by moving that hand back down her leg, drawing another pattern on her thigh.

She frowned, "I hope it doesn't bother you, but no. Absolutely not."

"It can't bother me if I've done the same thing, right?"

"Maybe we'll let them all know five years from now." Maka tried to relax back against the arm of the couch but Soul leaned towards her, pinning her there as his hand made the revolution back up her thigh.

"Five years, huh?" He eased towards her lips.

"Maybe more," she let out a contented sigh, "You said for as long as I can stand you."