A/N: Like the oneshot before this was also originally written for SoMa Week, for Day One: Roommates.

Title: Roommates

Summary: Maka had long ago stopped batting an eye about traipsing around the apartment in flimsy shorts and had stopped reprimanding him when he'd appear at the kitchen table without a shirt on, still half asleep. However, they had still managed to avoid any naked/half-naked confrontations. So far.

On a subconscious level Soul had always known that this was bound to happen. Even if he had never wasted one millisecond of a thought on the idea that one day he'd end up seeing his roommate naked (or vice versa), deep down he had always known. In the beginning, they had both been painstakingly careful (hell, they even had made a timetable for when the other would have their shower!); he'd always made sure to get dressed in the bathroom right after his shower to avoid any embarrassing, accidental half-naked run-ins with his meister. But as the weeks became months and the months became years (and he had turned sixteen two weeks ago), they had become increasingly more careless, or as he would like to think, more comfortable around each other.

Maka had long ago stopped batting an eye about traipsing around the apartment in flimsy shorts and had stopped reprimanding him when he'd appear at the kitchen table without a shirt on, still half asleep. It made something in his stomach flutter, not only because his meister in skimpy clothes was one of the highlights of his day, but also because of the fact that she felt this comfortable and relaxed around him.

However, they had still managed to avoid any naked/half-naked confrontations. So far.

It was a dreary Sunday, the sky overcast with a thick layer of grey clouds and the air was rife with humidity. Despite the gloomy sky, it was far from being cold, it was just moist and humid and warm. It was the kind of weather that made his shirt cling uncomfortably to his clammy skin after he made a quick dash to the grocery store before Maka noticed that he had failed to do so five hours ago. Luckily his meister had decided to take a shower and Soul used this opportunity to spare his ears from another boring lecture about responsibility and all that jazz. Nevermind that, more often than not, she was the one who forgot to cook dinner when it was her turn, and lazily ordered take-out instead.

He let out a yawn as he toed his shoes off, eager for a shower himself. Pulling at the collar of his shirt, he grimaced at the stickiness of his skin as he shut the door. The grocery bag crinkled and he couldn't wait to enjoy the ice cream he had ended up buying as well. Soul never got the chance to put the groceries away.

His eye twitched. Right there on the living room couch was his meister, lounging lazily, the dorky but undeniably cool skull-earbuds he had given her as a present blaring out some trance-fusion—no, actually, he was pretty sure that was some Miles Davis she was listening to! Were it any other day and time, Soul would have felt oddly flustered that she was listening to his kind of music, and perhaps it did make his heart beat faster than usual, but he presumed his increased heart rate had more to do with the fact that Maka wasn't wearing anything else but her underwear right now as lay on her stomach and hummed along the tune (horribly off-key).

She was kicking her legs back and forth, giving him a wonderful view of her amazing thighs and the firm curve of her ass that was hugged beautifully by the plainest (red and white striped) panties he had ever seen. This was better than any wet dream he had ever had. His eyes trailed up the slope of her spine, to the clasp of her bra, to her creamy shoulder blades. Transfixed, he watched as a drop of water fell down the darkened strands of her hair and hit her right between the shoulders and slid down her smooth, soft—oh God, he just wanted to dive right in and lick it off her and let his tongue have its way with her.

Unfortunately, the strangled squeak that came out of his mouth alerted his roommate to his presence, and she pulled one earbud out (and yes, it so was Miles Davis she was listening to, hah!) and craned her neck to look at him from over her shoulder. She appeared to be mildly surprised, but didn't make any attempt to correct her inappropriate position or to blush and express her mortification. Nope.

Instead, she just smiled that chipper smile of hers. "Hey, Soul!"

"Uh, h-hey?" his voice broke at the end and this was worse than any wet dream he'd ever had because in his dreams he was cool and smooth and he was the one to make her blush and stammer.

"Did you get everything we need?" she asked and heaved herself into a sitting position.

He nodded mutely, trying very hard not to ogle her chest, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on her face as his shoulders tensed as he nearly dropped the grocery bag. Her eyes lit up like two matches in the deepest and coldest night (he tended to get very poetic in his mind lately whenever it concerned Maka) as she unabashedly stood up and stretched her arms languidly over head, letting out a small, and very satisfied moan (holy shit, she never sounded this obscene in his dreams) as she arched her back and her tits—no he did not know what her tits looked like when she arched back because he was absolutely NOT looking at her breasts right now.

He mentally slapped himself and willed his gobsmacked gaze to remain on her face, on the gentle curve of her lips as she stepped closer to him, her body oozing out heat. Not the gross uncomfortable kind of heat he was oozing out, but the crackling kind of warmth that made him nearly combust into a mess of stuttering teenage boy who wanted to worship the ground Maka was walking on because she looked so damn good.

He barely registered her voice when she rummaged through the cheap plastic bag, muttering mostly to herself and humming happily when she saw the family pack of their favourite brand of ice cream. What was going on? Wasn't this supposed to make her act super awkward and immediately avoid him for a few hours as she locked herself in her room and tried not to think about how her weapon had seen her in this sexy—uh, half-naked state?! But no, she may as well have been dressed in full winter-gear, except she wasn't and this might be the worst and best day in his life.

"Let me put these away," she said, and brushed past by him, deliberately. He bit back an unmanly whimper as his fingers itched with the urge to run his hands all over her flawless skin and maybe nip a little at her elegant neck. But his feet remained firmly planted on the spot as he watched Maka prance around the kitchen, one earbud still in her ear as she moved her hips to the music, almost getting the rhythm right.

Was-was she doing this on purpose?! What exactly did she think she'd accomplish with this ...sort of seductive behaviour?

Wait, did she actually want to seduce him? His eyes widened as he ran a hand through his tousled hair and let out a puff of air. Sure their partnership might have been closer than most, but did she really think they could go that far? What did she want him to do? Maybe she was waiting for him to just wrap his arms around his and taste the sweat off her neck. He studied her with narrowed eyes, scrutinizing her every movement before he laughed quietly to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. Yeah, right. As if his meister would ever entertain such thoughts. He scoffed loudly and announced that he was going to take a shower now as he fought off the heavy weight of disappointment across his heart.

As much as he'd have loved to touch Maka, he couldn't imagine the brain damage she would have inflicted upon his poor skull if he had acted on his desire. Luckily, he managed to keep a cool head in the end and didn't do something totally not cool.

Soul didn't bother taking clean clothes with him as he stepped into the bathroom with a towel in hand and shut the door behind him.

Maka's fingers furiously jumped over the buttons of the telephone as she dialled Tsubaki's number, and pressed it against her ear right after. Her dear friend picked up after the second ring, her voice excited and curious, but before Tsubaki could finish asking her question, Maka cut her off.

"You're wrong," she said dejectedly as she let her head sag with a sigh. "He didn't look at me once! He doesn't like me the way I like him. This was a bad idea from the start. Why did I think listening to Liz about love advice would be a good idea? I just made a complete fool of myself."

"I doubt that he didn't look at you, Maka," Tsubaki said, trying to appease, but Maka was too disappointed and bitter to let herself be comforted so easily.

She gritted her teeth, nearly crushing the phone in her iron-grip. "He doesn't think I'm desirable at all! He looked only once at my chest and then he immediately looked only at my face, Tsubaki!"

On the other end of the line, Tsubaki shook her head and facepalmed.