Disclaimer: I don't own Soul Eater.

Prompt #11: Arrangements - To be honest, the thought of living with a male was almost repulsive, even if the male was her weapon partner. But living with Soul managed to change her tune.

Words: 939

The apartment was perfect and too small at the same time. Maka quickly glanced around what was going to be the living room before making a beeline for the bedrooms. She wanted to claim her territory before Soul could so she had a firm base of operations. She heard him walk down the hall to the other bedroom, make a small hum of no importance, and proceed to start unpacking.

Maka frowned; wasn't he going to complain about the rooms or start throwing his weight around? Demand they switch rooms? Anything?

Apparently not. Maka leaned out her door and peeked into Soul's room. His back was to her, but she could see him laying out his folded clothes with almost obsessive care, sorting shirts and pants and socks into their appropriate piles. His other bag was pushed out of the way, and the only thing out of place was the yellow and black jacket hanging off his bedpost. "Settling in?" she asked.

"Yup."

"The room okay?"

"Yup. Perfect." He didn't sound like he was lying, but men were capable of lying about the smallest things. Her father had proven that.

"We need to go food shopping."

"Okay," Soul said, not turning around. "I'll unpack and then we can go to the market on my bike. No need to haul all those bags back in this heat."

Living with a male was not agreeable with her in any way. But Soul was her weapon partner, and so they had to. Shibusen rules practically mandated it. But it didn't mean Maka had to like the idea. She dumped her belongings on the single bed and huffed an annoyed sigh, already imagining the spotless apartment in the upcoming months. It hurt her brain to even think about it.

He'll probably leave his dirty clothes all over the place, never clean a damn thing, eat everything in the fridge and not want to go shopping, slouch around and slug about like a useless man, and bring home girls like a kid brings home puppies...

Six Months Later...

Soul was a boy of many mysteries, but Maka only had an issue with one. He was too clean.

Maka frowned as she looked around the apartment. She didn't understand it, but something about Soul's tidiness felt off to her. Like he was trying to impress her. But why? Why would he care? It wasn't like he had anything to prove.

She finally called him out on it when she saw how he replaced the objects he used with almost anal care. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" he asked.

"Make sure everything's in its place."

He looked over at her, and Maka was surprised to see a trace of anxiety in his eyes. It was gone in the next second, replaced with careful carelessness. "You're complaining because I'm neat?"

"Boys don't usually pick up after themselves. Or clean without being told. Or help shop without griping."

"Awful sure of that, are you?" Soul asked curiously. When Maka didn't respond, he shrugged. "I just don't like mess. And if I didn't go shopping with you, you'd never get what I like to eat."

"That's not true."

"It was if you grew up in my house." That was all she got out of him, and Maka decided to leave it at that. They weren't at that stage of sharing, anyway.

One Year Later...

"So tell me about this weapon of yours," said her mother over the phone. "A scythe, yes?"

"Yes Mama, I'm a Scythe Meister."

"Is she a competent weapon?"

Maka grimaced and said, "Soul is a boy, Mama."

That information made Kami's voice turn cold and harsh as a blizzard. "You took a male weapon? Why?"

"He was the best scythe there, and we - we connected." A lame explanation of how she had felt hearing his music, but she couldn't find another way.

"I connected with your father. Doesn't mean that's an indication of a long relationship."

"Soul is nothing like Papa." And he wasn't. Soul respected her, kept his own mess to a minimum and chipped in with the chores whenever he could. Sure he slacked off in school and acted like the coolest thing since ice cream sandwiches, but he was dependable, solid, and most of all, trustworthy.

Her mother sighed, the sound blowing through the phone in a rush of static. "I thought you'd select a female weapon so you wouldn't suffer what I did with your father. I don't want you to be disappointed."

"I don't think I will." She heard the front door open as Soul called out her name. "I need to go now. Goodbye, Mama."

Soul was unpacking the groceries when she came into the kitchen. "Your mom okay?" he asked without turning around.

"Yeah, just calling to see how I was." Maka leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. "Soul?"

"Yeah?"

"Am I...a good roommate?"

His shoulder shrugged. "You're not a bad one."

"Be serious."

Soul turned to face her. "I'll admit, I wasn't thrilled to room with a girl, especially a flat-chested bookworm, at first," he said bluntly.

The insult stung, but Maka remained focused. "What changed your mind?"

"You." Soul shrugged again. "You're different. In a good way. Simple as that." He turned back and continued to unpack. "Wanna heat up some hot chocolate? Black*Star and Tsubaki should be over soon to see that movie."

"Sure, okay."

This morphed and became a thing. I like the thing, but it wasn't the thing it was supposed to be.

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