Day 3: Midnight Baking
The first thing Maka learned about Soul Eater Evans in a kitchen was that even though he was absolutely hopeless in cooking, he apparently could bake just fine.
After four kitchen damages and at least six fire alarms, his cooking skills improved, thank Death.
The second thing Maka learned about Soul Eater Evans in a kitchen was that he bakes when he's restless. At night.
The first clue was a fresh stash of chocolate chip cookies she found on the kitchen table on the morning of their first mission.
The second was when she came home from an overnight stay at the dispensary, the first big injury she ever got from their missions. Oatmeal raisin cookies were stacked above the counter. She remembered how confused she was. Soul hates raisins.
She kind of forgot about this weird tendency until their first big fight, right after Soul came back from dispensary, with forty-six stitches patched on his chest. Their following sessions with Stein were horrible, and Maka kept finding brownies every morning. She didn't eat any. She was still mad at him.
When she had to stay in the dispensary due to Arachne's spell, he brought muffins for her every day. Maka knew they were homemade because they were baked in little shark-printed muffin cups she got him the week before.
He baked a whole apple pie when they got back from Bor-7 Factory in Russia. She heard him shuffling around the kitchen, smelling the thick aroma of cinnamon and apples, but was too tired to check. She thought she heard his voice whimpered something along the line of 'I almost lost her, Blair…' but she wasn't sure it was real or just her tiredness setting in.
It sort of escalated after the Russian fiasco, where he'd lost control of his madness. He refused to say anything, as usual, only grinning and muttered that he was okay. But his behavior said otherwise. At first, she only found little meringues. Then there were peanut butter blossoms on the cooling rack the following morning. Cinnamon rolls were next. And when Maka opened the fridge to see a whole black forest cake, she put her foot down.
Turned out it was not okay. Far from okay. The Black Blood drove him crazy every night, and his anxiety towards the whole Crona debacle came crashing down. It was their biggest argument yet, but at least it brought them closer in the end. And Maka finally learned to see and observe, to learn and understand her dear weapon better.
Since then, she would wordlessly join him whenever she hears pans and whisk clanking at midnight. Together, they bake throughout the witching hours, with sleepy Blair observing from atop the fridge.
After Kid's coronation, his midnight baking kind of stops. She hasn't been woken up by pans clanking at midnight, nor finds any sweets for months.
Everything is great, though not wholly perfect yet. The world is celebrating, and the madness is dissipating. Both she and Soul are content with their lot in the world. She supposed he could finally be truly happy.
They're dancing around each other's feelings, much like what they'd done for the past few years, only with added intensity and much rapid pace.
He finally confesses.
And everything in Maka's world seems to fall in their righteous places.
Everything is good. Great. Fantastic. She wears dopey grins for days.
But then that morning, she finds macarons stacked beside her breakfast plate. They're not Deathbucks's macarons, that's for sure. They're pastel colored and soft, not black or orange with skull patterns.
"Did you make these?"
Soul stops his humming and flips the French toast over his pan. "No, Star made that. Of course I did."
Maka stops her urge to kick his shin, taking a macaron and bites it. Almond.
"But you hate macarons! And almonds!"
"So?" he shrugs, tone indifferent. "You like it."
Her face pinks without her permission. She's an expert in hiding her embarrassment with puffed cheeks and snotty voice, however. "Stop beating around the bush, Evans. Are you really okay?" she adds the last bit with a softer tone, eyes searching his body language for any discomfort.
"I'm fiiiiine. Can't a weapon make stupid cookie sandwiches because his meister happens to love stupid cookie sandwiches?"
He uses his irritated tone, but Maka can't find any discomfort nor anxiety radiating from his soul. If anything, his soul seems very content and just plainly cheerful. There's even a slight blush on his cheekbones.
Assured that he's indeed perfectly happy, a bright grin cracks across Maka's face. She abandons her breakfast to latch herself behind him. "Awww, you make them just for me? Even though you loathe almonds so much? You're sooooo sweeeeet!"
"I'm not sweet!" His blush darkens and reaches the tip of his ears. "S'just cookies, Albarn. Get off me!"
"Blushy, sweet, sweet, cutie pie," she coos. Soul with red ears are too adorable to not tease. She hugs him harder, little fingers sneakily run past his apron to tickle his stomach.
"Maka!" he yells between gasps and snickers, trying but failing miserably to use commanding tone. "I swear I will smack this toast onto your face! Let go!"
"Uh-uh!" Maka sticks her tongue out. "You love my face!"
In the middle of his blush-induced curses and helpless snickers, Maka is delighted to know that apparently, Soul Eater Evans also bakes when he's happy.