There is nothing in the world she likes better than quiet evenings on the couch and Soul's fingers in her hair. He becomes so animated, the cool-guy façade dissolving into narrowed eyes and soft grunts and the most hilarious facial expressions as he tries to coax the ponytail into looping around her ashy-blonde locks and staying where he put it.
"How the fuck," Soul explodes one evening when her hair is particularly tangled, "do chicks stand having so much hair?!"
Maka begins to run her own fingers through it, deftly combing out the knots. "How do guys stand walking around half-naked all the time?"
"Because it's comfortable!"
"Exactly. Put a shirt on, by the way."
He huffs and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like stupid before getting up and ambling towards his room.
He gets better at it, though, as time goes by. Soon noises of frustration are replaced by companionable silence, and even a word or two.
That's when she decides he's ready for braids.
Maka gets to laugh herself silly all over again as Soul's (supposedly deft) fingers stumble drunkenly through the weaving of her tresses. Once again his eyes narrow and he mutters in concentration and his face contorts itself into expressions that she can't help but giggle at.
Death, he's so adorable funny when he does her hair.
She teaches him all kinds of things, from French braiding to the art of using a curling iron (because freshly-painted nails and hair just don't mix). One day, Maka looks in the mirror and thinks that her weapon is just getting too damn good at this. He can do her hair better than she can herself. That realization is what leads her to asking him, more and more often, to style her hair, whether it is for a grand party or a small outing with Tsubaki or just an ordinary day at school.
"Damn, pigtails," he tells her one day. "I don't know whether to be ashamed or proud."
"The latter, I think," she sighs, because his fingers are gently combing through her loosened hair and it feels incredible. "I know I'm proud of you."
"Tch," Soul huffs, but when she opens her eyes just the littlest bit, there's that small soft smile she loves dusting her weapon's lips.
