A/N- Happy Valentine's Day, everybody, and thank you all so much for all the positive feedback! I know this is just a bit of silly fluffiness, but I'm fond of it, and the fact that some of you seem to be as well is heartening.

And now on to see if Soul can extract himself from this mess he's gotten himself into... or if he'll only make it worse...

Two weeks later, Soul was standing in front of another front door, this time feeling relaxed and almost cheerful rather wishing he had a sword to cleave through the Gordian Knots forming in his shoulders.

The door swung open almost a minute after his knock, and Maka Albarn crashed into the doorway. She was dressed down in jeans and a Dartmouth hoodie, her hair all tangled and sticking up a little bit at the back as though she'd only just pulled the sweatshirt on over her head before answering the door. Her face was a bit pink and her eyes shimmered green with amusement when she saw him standing outside her apartment.

He reached out impulsively and ruffled her hair a little. "Hair's a little crazy there, Maka," he teased, even as he used the hand in her hair to smooth down the bits that had been sticking up.

"Get off!" she groused, but she was grinning. Finally shoving his hand away, she added, "Please tell me you have–"

"Caramel corn?" he intercepted. He held up the bag in his other hand. "As requested."

"You're the best!" she said, beaming.

She dragged him across the threshold and threw the door shut behind him, and he followed her to the kitchen. Not that it was all that far, her apartment was tiny. Whenever he hadn't been here in awhile, he always managed to forget just how cramped the place was. He would be astonished if it was bigger than 500 feet square. And dingy, on top of it, because despite Maka's clean-freak tendencies, even she couldn't erase the evidence of slovenly prior tenants. He always felt really bad that she was stuck somewhere so crappy.

"Harv here yet?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Nope, he texted me about half an hour ago, got called in to the office last minute to help with some project another team's working on."

"Damn."

Maka nodded. "It's a shame. Watching Harv watch a movie is better than watching the actual movie."

Soul snorted. "With him around who needs MST3K, right?"

"Exactly."

"So I guess since Liz and Patti have the flu it's just us this week, huh?"

Preoccupied with pouring the caramel corn into two separate bowls (he noticed that one of them was stacked noticeably higher than the other and had no doubt which of the two he'd end up with), Maka only nodded.

Soul couldn't say he minded. His other friends were great and all, but he appreciated one-on-one time with Maka.

They had known each other for years. Technically speaking, one could say they had known each other almost their whole life. From five to eleven, they had attended the same elementary schools, and they had been fast friends nearly the entire time. It had been an unlikely friendship formed between a quiet, shy little boy and an enthusiastic, pushy girl who refused to let him be alone on the playground. They had been functionally inseparable ever since.

Until, of course, Soul was whisked away to a private conservatory for the arts to complete his education. They had lost touch aside from the one letter Maka sent him to inform him that seventh grade was terrible and he had better visit in the summers. He'd never replied because letter-writing was a pain, and that had been the end of that for over a decade. He had regretted it often, missed her often, missed the sunshine girl who had made his childhood so much happier than most of what followed.

Then, a year or two after college they had reconnected through mutual friends, quite by accident. He knew Liz from the record label, and Liz's sister was Maka's college roommate, and one fateful group outing had brought them back together after years apart.

They hadn't managed to reestablish the closeness they'd shared as children yet, for reasons Soul couldn't pinpoint, but she was still one of his favorite people in the world. It was also possible (he would neither confirm nor deny it if asked) that he might have a teensy little bit of a crush on her. How could he not? She was brilliant and terrifying and brave, not to mention cute as hell. But he kept that little bit of flutter in his gut tucked away at the back of his mind, because dating was difficult and awkward and the last thing he wanted was to make his relationship with her weird when it was so comfortable and reliable. She was just plain fun to be around, and a great friend, and he appreciated that immensely.

So all things considered, if their bimonthly friend group movie night was going to turn into a Soul and Maka movie night, he had no real objections.

It was also a nice mental break from the problem of producing his entirely fictional girlfriend, a predicament he had been trying and failing to forget about for the last couple weeks. He really couldn't see a way out of this without disappointing his Gran in the worst possible way, which was just about the last thing he wanted to do… so of course he was falling back on his go-to response of overthinking the entire situation and doing absolutely nothing about it.

An evening of movies with Maka was, therefore, the perfect distraction.

Sugary snacks portioned out, she handed the bowls to him and bounced into her living room (which took all of six steps, god her place was tiny!) to pick up a selection of DVDs, which she then turned to show him.

"I was thinking since Liz isn't gonna be here, we could break out the horror flicks for once," she said. "So what'll it be? Rosemary's Baby or Silence of the Lambs?"

Soul raised an eyebrow. "Do you even have to ask that question?"

She snorted. "Oh right, you have the world's biggest man-crush on Anthony Hopkins. Silence of the Lambs it is, then."

He gave her an entirely unabashed grin as he settled himself into his favorite seat on her lumpy couch, balancing the two bowls of caramel corn in either hand so as not to spill them. "Anthony Hopkins is a god among men," he deadpanned.

"Whatever you say, shark-boy."

He gave her an over-exaggerated pout at the old nickname, but she didn't see it as she was too busy putting the DVD into the slot on the side of her decidedly undersized flatscreen.

Once the movie was in, she plopped down next to him and made grabby hands for her bowl of caramel corn, which Soul handed to her with an exaggerated sigh and roll of his eyes.

"How was Toronto?" she asked as the start menu began playing in the background.

"Hot," he complained. "Canadian. Mosquitos everywhere. Roy Thomson hall was under renovation so the TSO was playing in some shitty secondary venue with terrible acoustics."

She patted his arm in sympathy, but her eyes were shimmering with mirth, and he got the feeling she was mentally mocking him. "How was DC?" he asked in return.

Instantly the pseudo-comforting arm touch was gone as she groaned and lolled her head against the back of the couch. "It was three days with my father, what do you think?"

Soul grimaced. He should have known; Maka's complicated relationship with Congressman Spirit Albarn was somewhat legendary. "More divisive politics?" he guessed.

Maka nodded. "I deserve a medal of honor for keeping a straight face the whole time and not ripping his head off right on the National Mall and tossing it into the reflecting pool."

"Such a pacifist, Maka," he mumbled, just loud enough for her to hear and retaliate with a pinch to his shoulder. He playfully swatted her hand away. "Well then if the visit to Papa Bear didn't go so well, has work at least been decent?"

He wasn't really surprised when Maka groaned even more loudly and smooshed her face into the bowl of caramel corn with a muted crunching noise.

Maka worked a pencil-pushing job in the HR department of a software development company. It was a job she'd only taken out of desperation when she discovered her creative writing degree didn't have employers banging down her door to pay her rent while she worked on a novel. The pay was terrible, the work was reported (loudly and repeatedly) to be uninspiring, and unfortunately for Maka, the company didn't usually hire internally. More than once, she had applied for a position in the marketing department, which she claimed would at least be an intellectual challenge, but each time she had been denied.

"I take it no dice on the career change this time, either?" he prodded.

She made unintelligible noises into the caramel corn.

"That sucks," he sympathized.

More zombie sounds, followed by what he thought might be Really thought I'd get it this time.

He glanced around at the apartment again. It was a far cry from his spacious and– if he did say so himself– tasteful home, and his heart went out to her. She'd had her heart set on getting a better apartment once she landed a job with a salary that would actually put her above the poverty level, and now that plan was deferred once again because stupid AGOR Ltd. couldn't see what a gem they had in Maka Albarn. It was a shame she wouldn't accept his help, financially speaking, because she deserved so much better than this. They could be roommates if she weren't too proud to take help from anyone; lord knew he had the space for her. Maybe if he framed it as wanting to fill up his lonely house, he could… he could convince her to…

And suddenly an idea occurred to him. A terrible, wonderful (but mostly terrible) idea.

"Hey, Maka?" he asked tentatively.

"Hm?"

"What's your favorite flower?"

She sat up straight again, a piece of caramel corn clinging to one cheek, and looked at him curiously. Absently he reached out and plucked the sweet off of her, popping it in his mouth.

"Why do you ask?" she queried, eyebrows drawing together in confusion, presumably at the abrupt change of subject.

"Just… I have a really awful idea and I… um… can you just answer the question?"

Looking still more confused, she nevertheless said, "It's hard to say. There are a lot of pretty flowers. I like white daisies a lot, and lupine… but if I had to pick a favorite, I guess… irises, maybe?"

He nodded to himself. He'd thought they were, was pretty sure he recalled her saying something like that before; maybe he'd been subconsciously thinking of her during the Familial Interrogation of Doom. Why he would think of Maka Albarn while being grilled on the subject of his supposed serious girlfriend was a question he immediately decided not to think about.

"Seriously, Soul, what's with a question like that out of the blue?"

He sucked on his lower lip for a second, wondering if he should even say what was on his mind or whether he should just put the whole insane thought out of his head permanently. But he had to do something about this soon, or he'd really be up shit creek, and he didn't have any other ideas at the moment…

"My grandmother's in the States for a few months," he said cautiously.

Soul wasn't looking at her, but he was pretty sure he could hear her frown. "Um… okay?"

"And you know how my folks are always bugging me about settling down soon?" At her hum of acknowledgement, he continued, "Well, when I had dinner with them a couple of weeks ago, they may or may not have brought that up again, and Gran may or may not have gone all old-person-sad on me and pulled the I just want to know you'll be happy even after I'm gone card, and I may or may not have lied and said that I had a serious girlfriend."

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and yep, she was definitely looking at him funny.

"And that seemed like a good idea... why, exactly?"

He groaned as he slumped forward, elbows on his knees and face hidden in his hands. "Damned if I know," he said through the gap between his palms. "I was panicking because she was talking about how she's gonna die 'cause she's old and I hate upsetting her and all of a sudden my mouth was saying words and… yeah. Shut up, stop laughing, this isn't funny!"

He sat up again and shoved her shoulder in annoyance, and she fell back against the couch, still giggling. "You're right," she said, although the dancing light of amusement in her eyes said otherwise, "it's just stupid. And not like you at all. You're not usually impulsive like that."

"I'm aware," he said dryly. It seemed he was about to use up his entire lifetime's supply of impulsiveness over the course of fourteen days if he actually voiced the thought that was suddenly boiling in his head.

"Anyway, what exactly does all this have to do with my floral preferences?" she asked.

He heaved an enormous gusty sigh. "It's just… I told them that my imaginary girlfriend liked irises. And… I don't know, I was thinking just now that maybe… gah, okay, this might be the worst idea I've ever had, but–"

"Soul, if you are about to ask me to be your fake girlfriend, I swear I will fracture both your legs."

"No! Definitely not! Well, not exactly," he amended sheepishly. "Look, just hear me out, okay? If it's really as weird and crazy as I think it might be, you can just give me a concussion so I'll forget the whole thing, and we can pretend I had a minor stroke that made me talk crazy talk for a few minutes, but just… let me run it by you?"

Her expression said she was already convinced he was off his rocker before she'd even heard the completely insane idea he was having, and planning in advance what common household object she was going to use to give him the agreed-upon concussion, but she nodded her assent.

"Okay, so–" He sucked in a deep, bracing lungful of air. "–what if we actually got married? No, stop, don't hit me yet! Just think about it. I'm really not interested in dating so it's not like I'm gonna actually find somebody the usual way, and I know for a fact you gave up on the entire idea of romance before you were even out of high school because you tell me all about it on Valentine's Day every single year. So since neither of us wants to go that route, we could get married but, like, platonically?"

Her eyebrows were attempting to disappear beneath her bangs. "Platonic marriage," she echoed back at him, a statement, not a question, and laden with skepticism.

"Yeah. Think about it, marrying exclusively for love only really became a popular thing in the last eighty or ninety years. Before that, romantic shit was sort of like a boss-level bonus in marriage, at least for people middle class and up. So getting married to a good friend wouldn't be all that weird."

Maka snorted. "You're messing with me, right? You're not seriously asking me to marry you just to avoid admitting to your family that you lied to them."

He chuckled weakly. "What can I say, you know I hate confrontation"

"Except with me, apparently."

"But when we argue, it's not really… uh… unlike some people I could mention, you're not constantly judging everything I do," he pointed out. "But seriously though, I'm not joking. What if we did it? Not just so I don't have to see Gran's face if I admit I lied out my ass, but because it kind of makes sense other ways, too."

And it really did. It was still a completely insane idea, but the more he thought about it, the more it grew on him.

"It would be practical, too," he continued, warming to his subject. "Tax benefits and stuff. And you could quit your job, because god knows I've got more than enough money just from the trust fund, not even counting what my uncle left me when he died. You could focus on that novel you're always talking about instead of wasting your time doing something you hate just to pay rent."

She snorted. "So basically you're suggesting I be your trophy wife?"

He couldn't help but laugh at that as well. "I guess technically, yeah. Except without all of that high society A-list bullshit, because you know I'm not about that. I'm just saying you wouldn't have to worry about finances, and I wouldn't have to sit around staring at the walls in my empty house every damn day, and it… it might be nice, you know?"

When he worked up the nerve to meet her gaze again, he found that she was giving him a quizzical look, like she might actually be seriously considering his… oh shit, he was pretty sure this counted as a proposal. A really terrible, babbling proposal, but still.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but you may have a point," she said slowly. "I've never seen the benefit of the whole romance thing. It seems kind of superfluous and messy and not really worth the risk; I'd always figured I'd just, um, find emotional fulfillment in close friendships, I guess? But I also definitely don't want to die alone, either."

"You see what I mean?" he pressed, "It's crazy, but it also makes sense."

"It does. But… what about you, though?" she asked, sounding reluctant. "Because I'm not interested in a romantic relationship with anybody, but I thought you were."

"Eh." He shrugged. "It'd be nice, but I don't think that's gonna happen for me. Last time I had a girlfriend was in high school, and I can count the number of dates I've been on since then on my fingers. I dunno if you've noticed, but I kind of suck at dealing with people."

"Oh, believe me, I've noticed," she muttered under her breath.

He shoved her shoulder lightly. "You're not supposed to agree with me, idiot."

"I suppose you'd rather I lie and puff up your ego instead?"

"Nah, that would be something one of my emo chick stalkers would do," he scoffed.

Maka frowned. "Which brings up another flaw in this whole brilliant idea of yours," she said. "What about the sex thing?" A hint of pink rose in her cheeks, and it was much too cute, which sort of unintentionally reinforced the subject she had brought up.

"What about it?"

Her frown deepened as she stared thoughtfully at her idly fidgeting fingers. "I'm just wondering, because the idea of having sex with you is kind of weird. Not because you're unattractive or anything, because you're not, you're very attractive–" She snuck a glance at him and rolled her eyes. "Oh stop looking so smug about it, asshole, I'm not ripping off my clothes and begging you to take me now. I'm just saying, you're not a disgusting troll."

"What was it you said earlier about puffing up my ego?" he quipped, which earned him another shoulder-pinch.

Soul squirmed away from her, lips curling up in a mock-snarl. Once he had escaped her attempts to bruise his upper arm, he settled back into a more serious expression. "Really though, we wouldn't necessarily have to, y'know, do the thing–" Although now that he thought about it, the idea of having sex with Maka really wasn't half-bad. "–if it makes you uncomfortable. I mean, if we wanted to have kids–" Oh shit, was he really seriously suggesting that he and Maka have babies together? What the hell Kool-Aid had he been drinking? Abort mission! "–or something at some point we could, but the separate bedrooms thing is cool, too." Nice recovery, asshole.

"But don't guys have… like… needs?" she asked, brows drawn together.

He snorted. "Oh please, that's just bullshit teenage douchebags come up with to convince their virgin girlfriends to give it up. I mean obviously I get horny and shit–" He delighted in the vivid shade of red Maka turned at that. "–but I've done just fine with my hand and some lotion for like eight years since the last time I got laid, so I think I can manage on my own if you'd rather do the celibacy thing."

She nodded slowly. "Okay, so basically you're suggesting that we be permanent roommates with tax benefits, then?"

"I know how much you like practical things," he teased. Then, sobering again, he added, "It sounds nuts, but I think it could be a really good thing. And I'm really not seeing any other way for me to get out of this situation without breaking my grandma's heart. Maybe it's really impulsive of me to ask, but it's really, really important to me not to hurt her. I don't know any other way to do that except this, so... please, Maka?"

There was a long, long silence, during which he panicked extensively at the idea that he might have seriously fucked up his relationship with one of his closest friends for the sake of an idea he hadn't even thought through before throwing it at her. Then she let out a soft breath and, looking at him earnestly, asked, "Can I take some time to think about it?"

He nodded vigorously. "Obviously. It's an important decision, take all the time you want."

She looked incredibly relieved, and he suddenly felt really bad, like he was pressuring her to do something she didn't want for the sake of getting him out of a jam. "I know this is really my problem to deal with," he said hurriedly, "and if you decide you don't want to it's okay, I know it's a pretty permanent solution to a short-term situation, so I can figure something else out. I just… thought I'd throw it out there. And if you think it would be too weird then we'll just forget the whole thing and pretend I just went temporarily insane and this conversation never happened, and–"

"Soul?"

"What?"

"You're babbling."

"Yeah, I'm kind of freaking out."

She gave him a kind smile that made him feel warm all over. "You don't need to freak out, this isn't going to make things weird one way or another."

Which was a huge relief to hear her say, but he most definitely did need to freak out. "Sweet of you to say, but I think I'm still gonna freak out a little bit, because I just accidentally proposed to one of my best friends and even if it's a bizarro platonic proposal thing it's still… surprisingly scary. I suddenly get why dudes get so worked up over popping the question."

Maka laughed and nudged his shoulder with her own, and her weight came to rest on him lightly. "It definitely wasn't eloquent, but you made a very good case for yourself, don't worry."

He was absolutely going to still worry, but he also had his potential fiancée borderline cuddling with him, so he figured he could try not to have a complete internal meltdown. At least, not until he left.

"Tentative yes for now, okay?" she said. Her eyes were steady when he looked at her, and her voice was soft, but despite her composure, something in the air made him wonder if she was as calm as she seemed. It wouldn't surprise him at all if she was freaking out more than he was, but it was surprising that she wasn't showing it. Maka wore her heart on her sleeve. He hoped it wasn't a bad thing that she was keeping whatever she was feeling right now to herself.

"I really need to take my time to think about it," she continued, "because this is really out of the blue and it's a pretty life-altering decision. But for the time being let's just assume yes unless I say otherwise."

Which, considering he had opened the subject expecting to get absolutely nothing but brain damage out of it, was a whole lot better outcome than he'd been anticipating. "Sounds good to me," he said shakily. "So should we, uh, just watch the movie now?"

Maka looked bewildered, as if she'd completely forgotten the reason for him being there in the first place, and her eyes darted to the tv screen, where the menu for the DVD had been looping the entire time they'd been talking.

"Oh. Yeah." She grabbed the remote with a hand he thought might be trembling just the tiniest bit, and switched the movie on.

Although she'd said things wouldn't be weird between them, and although she continued to sit more in his personal space than not throughout the movie, he could feel how much tension there was in her body the entire time. Her goodbye as he left late that night was also strained and a bit awkward, and he was left in limbo for several days, anxious and even more stressed than before as he fretted over the possibility that not only was he going to hurt his grandmother beyond belief when he had to fess up to his colossal lie, but he had also permanently fucked up one of his most important friendships as well.

He also frequently found himself wondering why he didn't need time to think about this. Of course, he was thinking about it, because seeing as he had a hard time thinking of anything else he really had very little choice. But he should have been more freaked out by this… right? Entertaining the idea of marrying anybody, especially under circumstances like these, should be fucking alarming.

But although he was panicking over the idea of having screwed things up with Maka, the actual idea itself still seemed like a good one to him. Maybe a little nuts, but the idea of marrying Maka Albarn overall felt like a positive thing. That might possibly have something to do with the fact that he did have a bit of a little crush on her; he wondered periodically if platonically marrying somebody he had considered asking out once or twice was really such a great idea. But he dismissed that thought. It wasn't like he was desperately in love and pining for her or anything, he just had occasional warm fuzzies over her, and the way he figured, that could only enhance a marriage… right?

It was a comforting thought, but it didn't stop him from sweating profusely every time he contemplated the possibility she might say no.

Then, almost a week after their conversation, he was stirred out of a half-dose at a little after midnight by the buzz of his phone. He unlocked it, squinting at the brightness of the screen, and found that he had a text from Maka. When he opened it, his stomach dropped in terrified delight when he read:

I decided. I'm in if you are.

A/N part deux- This is the final reminder I'll be posting on ffnet that there is still time to sign up to be an author or artist for Reverb (Reverse Resbang). If this is the first you're hearing about it, links to further info are on my profile. If you want to make art or write for something besides SoMa, please do, one of the things the mods (myself especially) are pushing for is more ship-diversity in this event. If you're on the fence about whether you want to participate, remember that you can always drop out if it gets to be the check-in point in April and you know you won't be able to continue, but you can't decide later that you want to do it after sign ups have closed.

Speaking of which, sign ups do close tonight, Saturday the 14th of February, at 11:59 p.m. Eastern Standard Time, so if you want to get involved, head on over to the sign up threads (again, links on my profile) and get your name in the pool before then!

And now I'll stop pimping Reverb and go back to what I'm actually good at, which is writing shamelessly fluffy crap...