It slipped out before he had a chance to think about it.
"Sorry, what?" Maka asked, eyes widening in surprise, or disbelief, or maybe both. He didn't know, the world was spinning and somehow she was still at the center of it.
"Can I kiss you?" he repeated, words slightly slurred but face surprisingly serious.
Her eyes dropped down to his lips before quickly glancing away, face pinking. He should probably shut up now, he thought. But when she laughed at something Tsubaki said earlier, her eyes shining with mirth, the urge to kiss her had been strong, and hadn't left him since. Were her lips really as soft as they looked? What he would give to find out. Even drunk, though, Soul refused to do anything Maka wouldn't want, so his addled brain decided that asking permission was a worthy compromise. Black*Star had said that alcohol was liquid courage, but at the moment, Soul couldn't help but think that liquid stupidity was a more fitting name.
"You're drunk," she said, not meeting his eyes. "Did Black*Star convince you to take shots again?"
"Does that mean no?" Soul asked, face saddening.
She was probably regretting coming to his hiding spot by the wall to check on him. Maka no doubt thought that he was avoiding the crowds, which, he admitted to himself, he partly was, but really he had been avoiding her, afraid he would do something dumb, like tell her how pretty she looked. He drank from his cup, trying to chase down the sting of rejection. Somehow, he had thought that he already accepted the fact that Maka would never like him more than a friend. The bitter taste in his mouth told him otherwise.
"It means that you're not thinking straight and don't know what you're asking for." Maka said, voice sounding defeated.
Is that really what she thought? She turned to leave, feeling the need for a shot of her own, but Soul reached out for her hand, stopping her. They looked at each other, Maka waiting to see what he would say and Soul waiting for his brain to supply him with something to say. She saw him swallow, as if preparing for something.
"What if I did?" he said lowly, something dangerously akin hope bubbling up despite himself. "What if I knew exactly what I was asking for? What would you say then?"
Her face was red and she still refused to meet his eyes, but Soul could see that she was smiling.
"I'd tell you to wait until your breath didn't smell like tequila and ask me again," she whispered into his ear.
Soul grinned like he'd won the lottery, and the two went home arm in arm.
The next morning, after Maka gave him a glass of water and aspirin, he did ask again. Maka responded by kissing him and asking what took him so long.