Alrighty, here's the next installment of my beloved fic! Wanna shout of to K, the peeps in the resbang chat and hidding-in-shadows even if she is a shit.

That one time Soul and Maka are on a mission in Le Cannet, France and are tricked into going to a family reunion held at his grandparents house in Cannes

Missions located near his family always made him nervous. Several weeks after what Soul liked to call "The Nan Fiasco of Death City", Maka picked up a mission for a troublesome pre-kishin roaming the city of Le Cannet, France. This particular city just so happened to be incredibly close to Cannes, where his father's parents lived. So, when his meister told him that they would leave for France in a couple of hours, he froze, his thoughts going a million miles a minute. His initial fear was that maybe the kishin egg just so happened to make one of his family members one of it's victims.

The pre-kishin they were to hunt was called the Wild Man by locals and the monster mostly targeted and killed young children. Soul could only hope that his face remained calm during the briefing and that the rapid tapping of his fingers didn't give away how incredibly worried he was. The faces of his youngest cousins, all bright, full of life and who loved to run through the winding streets of the city.

Soul hadn't talked to God since he met Death, but he prayed that his younger family members were alright.

He and Maka focused solely on the mission for the next few hours, their time on the plane was spent looking over crime reports and sightings of the Wild Man. The death scythe was incredibly interested in the listing of victims that came with the files, and breathed a sigh of relief when the name Evans was nowhere to be found. Maka noticed his odd behaviour but accounted it to the nature of the crime. What sick fuck took pleasure in luring children into the forest and killing them? She could understand if Soul was a little off, she wasn't feeling much like herself either.

But they had a job to do.

And if it was done right, they nor anyone else would have to worry about the Wild Man again.

Soul flopped onto one of the soft, lilac scented beds in the hotel room.

"Guuuh, I hate long flights." Soul's groan was muffled by the pillow smothered in his face, and he is sooooo thankful for soft linens right now, he could fall asleep right here.

Maka dropped her luggage by the only other empty bed in the room (the one closer to the large window, Soul hated being woken up by natural light... or anything for that matter) before slamming her lithe (but heavy, impossibly heavy) body onto the sack of bones she called a weapon.

"Why?" he muttered curtly, it wasn't like his back was in pain or anything (curse his long legs and uncomfortable airplane seats).

"C'mon lazy ass," The ashy-blonde peeled herself away from him, a giggle in her throat. "We've got a corrupted soul to reap."

Soul turned over and was met with a face full of energetic meister. Her smile was dangerous and contagious making the scythe's blood sing.

They were the best team out there, and they were going to show this kishin egg why Maka "Motherfuckin'" Albarn and The Last Death Scythe Soul "Eater" Evans were not to be messed with.

"Can you sense him?"

Maka was perched atop a large building over looking the city; however, she paid no attention to to the breathtaking scenery around her. The scythe meister had her eyes closed and was facing the forest behind the city where many sightings were said to have taken place. Her light eyebrows bunched together in concentration, her soul reaching out for the damaged one that roamed the outskirts of the city.

"There."

And like that, she was off, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, her feet pounding on the pavement at an almost inhuman speed. She only stopped running when she found herself deep in the forest.

And she plunked herself down in the middle of the forest floor, and sat.

"Maka?" Soul's tinny voice questioned, "What are you doing?"

"Quiet, Soul," the small blonde commanded. "Just listen."

It took a moment for Soul to realize what the lithe young woman had up her sleeve. She was just a sitting duck in this position (though not really, she still had a huge scythe clad in her hands). Her strong, creamy legs sprawled out and on display, her skirt hiked up a few inches. And then it hit the piano patterned scythe.

She was luring him.

This girl was going to be the death of him.

It was only a few minutes until the sound of rustling leaves drew closer to them. It was nearing towards the end of the day, but it was already so eerily dark in the forest. The creature slashed through branches, his glowing red eyes piercing through the murkiness.

There he was, the Wild Man.

He stood at a very impressive height on his ape like haunches. His fur was dreadfully black and matted, and his claws were long.

He was a child's nightmare come true.

"Looky, looky what do we have here~?" The creature drawled, his voice slimy. Maka stood, her face full of determination and scythe in hand.

The pre-kishin became visibly upset at the sight of the sharp and large weapon in the petite blonde's hand, being much too distracted by said blonde's legs to notice it's presence before. The lupine snout of the creature, snarled, peeved that his snack planned to put up a fight.

"I'm so disappointed," the corrupted soul growled deeply, "here I thought you were a little boy with an affinity for skirts who just happened to wander upon my wood~" The Wild Man grinned dangerously as he blatantly gestured toward his crotch.

Maka's eyes slanted and her grip tightened on Soul's shaft.

"Oh, did I hit a nerve~?" He mocked

"Wild Man," her tone vicious. "for kidnapping and eating the souls of young children" She stood from her seated position and crouched, her stance sturdy and Soul's blade menacingly sharp. "We'll be taking your soul."

The Wild Man grinned, his sharp teeth glinting in the sunlight.

"Bring it on," he growled.

The meister-weapon pair and the kishin egg ran towards each other, meeting in a clash of lightning. With a strategic flick of her scythe, the Wild Man's claws coming same off, hand and all.

His howl was hellish.

Maka grinned, the lift of her lower lip small, and her muscles hummed with adrenaline.

This is what she lived for.

Now that the corrupted soul of the Wild Man resided in the seventh bowel of hell, also known as Soul's stomach, said weapon couldn't wait to get the fuck out of France.

It confused Maka that the her partner was so eager to leave, normally he'd kill for an extra night to stay in a hotel.

In fact, Soul had been acting weird this whole mission. He was much more quiet and reserved than usual, and that said something.

"Soul?" She stopped her scythe in his flurry.

Now that he was relieved of his fear that one of his baby cousins wouldn't fall victim to the disgusting thing that roamed in the forest he used to play with his brother in, he most certainly did not want to risk the chance of seeing anyone from his family.

He wasn't ready for that yet.

He only just started talking to his mom again ("Oi, thank God, mi mimmo, he has finally decided to call his mother!").

And don't even get him started on his Dad.

He could see his father in every nook and cranny of this damned city and it was sickening him to his stomach.

"Are you okay?"

No.

No, he most certainly was not. He just wanted to leave.

Before he could relay this to the green eyed girl sitting on his bed, who was looking at him with concern, his phone rang.

The white haired young man scrambled for the loud piece of technology and read the screen of his cellular device.

His eyes widened.

It was Wes.

Soul answered immediately, he told his older brother to only call him if it was an emergency, it was a part of their agreement. "Who died?" The deathscythe asked frantically, he began to pace. "Is Gram okay? It's not Pop is it?" Soul paused after he hadn't heard anything from his brother. "Holy shit. Wes, are you okay?! Bro, please answer me."

"Soul."

Thank Death.

"Soul, did you leave for your mission in France, yet?" Wes asked somberly.

"Yes! Yes, I'm in France. Is everything okay?" Just when he thought everything would be okay and he wouldn't have to face his Dad or his side of the family for just a bit longer.

"Gram wants to see you."

Fuck.

"Send me your address, I'll have a limo pick you up."

Fuck.

"Dress nice."

Click.

It wasn't like Wes to sound so serious. Soul dropped his phone.

"Soul?" Maka was really worried now. What did Wes say to him?

"I-I… We… We have to go to my grandparents' house." The young deathscythe was caught up in his thoughts, surprised that he was even able to create coherent sentences at the moment.

"What happened?"

Soul looked so lost and Maka grabbed his hands, squeezing them tightly. The scythe swallowed thickly.

"Wes-Wes didn't say." His eyes finally found his way to her bottle green ones, irises full of concern for him. "He just said to dress nice and that he was sending a car to pick us up."

Maka squeezed his hands once more, before she pushed him off towards the room's bathroom. She picked up his unlocked phone, quickly texting their hotel address to the older Evans brother (whom she had only talked to once or twice during one of his conversations with Soul).

As she heard the shower head spout out a jet stream of water, she began to pull out a simple black short-sleeved shift with an open back, and Soul's suit to match, they were always prepared with nice clothes in case they were needed for political delegation on Kid's behalf.

Maka just hoped that their own clothing choice wouldn't be mixed in with a sea of dark hues and salty tears.

Maka looked incredibly pretty with her hair up in a bun.

Said blonde sat next to Soul in the stretch (really Wes? It was only the two of them) limousine, the space in the vehicle all consuming and soul emptying at the same time.

'It's just a fucking car, Evans.' Soul scolded to himself. "Get your shit together.'

Soul dropped his head in his hands, pressing his palms into his eyes.

This was so fucked up.

When was the last time he even talked to his grandparents?

Fuck.

He kept hearing someone rapidly mutter the words "shitshitshitshitshit" and he gave an odd look to Maka before he realized that the expletives were spilling from his mouth. The distressed white haired teen groaned, thunking his head on the seat.

How hard would he have to hit his head on the window for him to knock himself out?

The scythe jumped when he felt skinny, but strong arms wrap around his torso, before he relaxed and wrapped his own arm around his meister's shoulders.

"You always assume the worst, Soul," Maka whispered, her grip tightening.

She was right.

But what else was he supposed to expect?

The limo finally pulled up to the large mansion overlooking the ocean, many others just like it, parked in front of and near the house (read: mansion).

'No herse.' The weapon thought briefly to himself, he sighed. He could breath easy, for now.

The driver opened the door, allowing the two passengers to leave the luxury vehicle. Once outside from the confinement of his long, black jail, Soul assisted Maka up from the cushioned seats of the limo. The meister reached for her weapon's hand, like she had every time before. But this was a different type of demon they were facing.

His grip was strong, so tight that a girl who wasn't trained to defeat nightmares and evil each day would crumple under the pain. But Maka just squeezed the tall boy's hand, looking up at him with a reassuring smile.

"Wherever you go, I'll follow."

Those words, the intention went both ways.

The young Evans man looked down into emerald fire and breathed deeply.

As the two walked up the winding staircase to the main doors, Soul felt himself being hit with the memory of his first day walking up the steps of Shibusen (though there were not nearly enough stairs and he wasn't thirteen, no matter how much he felt like a prepubescent boy.)

The two reached the top and stood in front of the door. Soul took an audible, shaky breath and raised a fist to the door, knocking politely. The large, intricately designed ivory doors were opened by two butlers, one young and the other with graying hair. Before either man could say a word, a flash of platinum blonde hair and a scheming grin pushed them out of the way and shoved the young man and woman inside.

"I'm so glad you could make it, little brother!"Exclaimed the tall (though shorter than Soul by an inch or two), effervescent man. His blue eyes sparkled as he babbled on, excusing himself to the butler he ran down to retrieve said younger sibling and his guest. His voice was charming and rich.

Maka could only guess that this was Wes, Soul' older brother.

The older man shoved the three star meister and her weapon towards the main room, which seemed to be full of Evans relatives.

Cheerful Evans relatives.

Soul was very confused.

Where were his crying aunties?

His somber faced uncles?

His younger cousins that'd look up confusedly because they didn't understand that something tragic had happened?

And that was when he caught sight of the decor and the elegant (but frankly, cheeky) banner that read, "Evans Family Reunion".

Soul was no longer confused.

Soul was furious.

'The bastard tricked me.'

The younger Evans brother stopped walking and his brother crashed into his broad back, his meister's hand was still gripped in his own and she was also stopped in her tracks.

Soul glared at his brother, hoping that maybe, maybe his brother would feel some sort of guilt for this most heinous of crimes.

"What's the hold up, little bro?" The elder sibling asked innocently, ignoring the foul look his brother was throwing at him.

Soul stared silently at him. Of course. His brother would have no remorse, none whatsove-

"Oh, I'm so terribly sorry!"

Okay, so maybe Soul was wrong.

"Where are my manners?"

Shoved up his ass somewhere, maybe.

"I'm Wes, Soul's older brother, I've heard you on the phone a couple of times." Wes had somehow made his way around his younger sibling and was raising Maka's free hand to his lips. "I must say you are much lovelier in person."

That little shit stain.

Wes's turned his attention back to Soul, chuckling happily at Maka's reaction to kissing her hand. "I am immensely happy that you decided to bring Maka, Soul! It'll be good for her to meet the family. Gram and Pop will love her, I'm sure!" The blue eyed man smiled charmingly.

He was gonna kill his brother in cold blood. He was so close to punching the shit out of him.

But, Soul was supposed to be getting along with his family, he was supposed to be opening up to his brother and slowly integrating himself back into his family tree.

Keyword being slowly.

Soul knew Wes was just trying to help, but he really needed to learn his fucking boundaries.

"Where are Mom and Dad?" Soul asked simply, barely restraining himself from snarling out the question. He could start there. Because if their father was there, he was out. There was nothing that could make him stay, not even Maka, if there was a chance that Soul actually had to speak with his dad.

"Unfortunately," Wes began, "Our parents couldn't make it, Mom had a prior engagement and needed Dad to go with her." He nudged Soul's ribs playfully. "You know how they are."

Well, at least his Dad wasn't going to be there to ride his ass.

He was still incredibly pissed.

Soul grinned, the tips of his sharp teeth peeking out from his lips. "How unfortunate." He clapped his brother on the back, hard. Wes yelped in pain and Maka gasped, too shocked to reprimand her weapon for his heavy hand. "Well, we don't want to keep anyone waiting, do we?"

Wes coughed, regaining his posture and maintaining some distance away from his "little brother" (holy crap, when did he get so strong? Wasn't it enough that he was already shorter than him? He couldn't do this, he was getting old). "You're absolutely right." Wes gestured towards the room full of Evans. "Lead the way."

This was complete and utter torture.

Seeing his family again wasn't as bad he thought it would be. His Uncle Marius was still a drunkard who lived off the finest wine, his cousins were still trouble makers and his grandparents were still sweet if a bit reserved. The old couple was sitting on a dias overlooking their incredibly large family like royalty of which, they technically were (Soul's grandfather was an English duke who married a French baroness).

No, the real torture was seeing how well Maka and Wes got along.

A bit too well.

Wes was charming, mature and hilarious. He thrived in crowds and was well adjusted to social situations.

And his brother and his meister looked good together.

He knew his meister wasn't going anywhere, they had spent countless, moonless nights reassuring each other of this fact. But Wes always got the best things in life; Soul was an off-model cheap version of him. The knock-off. Why wouldn't Maka seek bluer skies? Or in this case, bluer eyes.

At some point, Soul released Maka's hand from his own and slinked off into a hallway, which led to another part of the mansion.

As Soul roamed the large house, a wave of nostalgia hit him as he reminisced the vacations he spent here with his family. That one time Soul nearly broke a very expansive bust. The times he and his mother cooked in the kitchen, no matter how much his grandmother insisted on having the cooks do the work. Eventually, Soul ended up in front of a very familiar room; it was the bedroom he slept in during the times his family stayed there.

The young man opened the door, immediately noticing the room had been renovated slightly. The bed was on the other side of the room, closer to the stained glass balcony door, the walls were now a springtime green, instead of a pastel blue and a white carpet had been installed over the wooden floors. Still, Soul felt at home here, the memories of he and his brother playing in this room, comforting each other during storms, those memories would stay forever, no matter how many times this room changed.

Soul sighed, closing the door behind him. He shed his suit jacket and tie, leaving both articles of clothing on the bed. He then made his way to the stained glass door, rolling up his unbuttoned sleeves as he slid the door open, the lights from the city below barely filtering in.

He took in the ocean air, briefly wishing that he snuck some champagne with him. Maybe then he could forget about the way Wes had his hand on his meister's waist.

"Soul?"

Speak of the devil.

The red-eyed man turned away from the calming sight of the ocean and the city that bordered it for the breathtaking (if not irritating) sight of Maka. He huffed, feining annoyance. "What do you have a sixth sense or something?"

Maka scoffed, crossing her arms after closing the door behind her, "You idiot. Does the ability to locate souls ring a bell to you? We've only done it a hundred times."

Ah, yes banter. Now, this he excelled at, he could do this. "Yeah, but I could've been in the bathroom." Soul retorted, a slight grin slipping on to his face.

She crossed the expanse of the room with those creamy white legs of hers and was by her scythe's side in a matter of heartbeats."Then, you would've locked the door."

Soul turned his body back towards the ocean, his hands on the balcony railing, while Maka leaned against it facing away from the city. "I dunno," The white haired teen chuckled. "You still should've knocked." He looked at her, a playful glint in his wine colored eyes. If they were different people, this would be a romantic moment between the two, the boy smiling wistfully at his love, the girl returning said smile.

Maka sighed.

But they were not different people.

The blonde scythe meister, grazed her hand on her weapon's cheek. "I know what you're doing, Soul." Her eyes bore into his own, their souls confronting each other, something that frightened the young Evans in the beginning of their partnership. "What's wrong?"

Soul's mood immediately dropped. He was good with pushing Maka's buttons, the banter was distracting, it helped him forget that his brother could be an intrusive asshole. He crossed his arms on the balcony railing, resting his head on said limbs. "N'thin" he mumbled.

There were many ways that this scenario could have gone. Maka could have left him alone to mope. She could have argued with him. She could've said nothing and just stayed by him till he felt compelled to talk. Out of all things to happen, he didn't expect for her to suddenly get very acquainted with his face space. Their noses bumped into each other and Soul isn't sure if he imagined their lips grazing for a split second. The tall, lanky man shot up quickly, almost tumbling over his own feet. Maka, however, did not stop there. She was still incredibly close and Soul was kind of terrified. What was she doing? He slowly backed away from her, but the meister matched him step for step. Then, Soul was falling and his back met the fluffy white sheets of the king sized bed. Maka stood at the foot of the bed, her arms crossed and her eyes glinting.

For once, the petite meister towered over the tan, white haired boy and he was very sure that he was close to shitting his pants.

"Maka, what the hell?!" He asked out of shock.

"What's. Wrong," she demanded, in that meister voice of hers. It was very hard for Soul to resist answering immediately. However, he did understand her frustration. He did just kind of ditch her and left her to the wolves.

Soul raised his hands placatingly and his partner relaxed slightly, the glittering lights of the city the only source of illumination allowing the scythe to see his meister's glare (though he could feel it all the same). "Would you just, sit down and tone down the meister act?" He asked, annoyed and feeling vaguely defeated.

Maka's glare lingered before she sat closely to her weapon on the large bed. Soul merely sighed before gruffly stating a simple,"The asshole tricked me."

"What?" Maka asked confusedly, before realization dawned upon her. "Who, Wes?"

"Yeah," answered Soul weakly.

"How do you mean?"

"I had no idea about this reunion. I don't even remember the last reunion I've been to."

There was a beat of silence between the two. Soul groaned and shoved his palms into his eyes.

"I thought someone was dead, Maka," he scoffed, exasperated. "He made me think someone was dead and used that as an excuse to get me to come here." The aggravated young man suddenly sprung up and began to pace. "I told him to let me do shit at my own pace, but no fuck Soul's feelings, right?"

Maka grabbed his hand mid-pace and his heated glare snapped to their connected hands before he relaxed his hunched shoulders.

"I'm trying, Maka. I really am." He sounded so helpless, they had worked so hard and Soul felt like he was back at square one again. Maka raised herself from her seated position and wrapped her arms around her tower of a weapon.

"I know you are, Soul." The weapon crushed his meister to his chest and the two stayed like that for a while before Maka moved her head to look up at her weapon.

"Soul," she began, "I know you may not have been exactly excited to see your family, but you were so worried about them this whole time we've been here. During the mission, you were so tense because you didn't want anyone in your family to be hurt."

Soul's eyes widened, "I didn't say any-"

"I kind of put two and two together." She smirked at him.

Of course she would.

"Now, you're here. Now, you know that they are okay. And you know that they've missed you, and they were so excited to see you," she finished, smiling sweetly at him.

Soul let out a deep breath. She was right (as always). "Yeah. I just wish I didn't have to be tricked into thinking that someone died in order for me to be here." The teen muttered grumpily.

The blonde giggled, "Yeah, that was kind of a dickish move."

Soul looked down at her and chuckled, "Was that vulgar language coming from your mouth, Maka Albarn?" He scolded her jokingly. "You are among the elite, no such language is acceptable nor will it be tolerated!"

Maka barked out a short laugh, "Oh, but leaving your partner to the mercy of your family is perfectly fine?"

Now, that was a dickish move. Soul moved one of his arms from around her waist and meekly scratched the back of his neck.

"You seemed fine with Wes, thought he would take care of you," the sheepish boy muttered, his eyes low and looking anywhere but at the woman in front of him.

Maka nudged her forehead against his chin before her electrifying eyes met Soul's own.

"You seemed fine with Wes, thought he would take care of you," the sheepish boy muttered, his eyes low and looking anywhere but at the woman in front of him.

Maka nudged her forehead against his chin before her electrifying eyes met Soul's own.

"I would've been better with you." She smiled warmly and nuzzled into his chest.

Soul shivered slightly and prayed that she didn't feel it.

She removed herself from his embrace, reaching down for the scythe's warm, large hands.

"Okay, dorkasaurus rex," the lithe blonde teased. "Let's get out of here before anyone gets suspicious."

She began to walk towards the door but then Soul pulled her back, grabbing her by the arms to steady her in her suede heels. He wrapped her arm around his own and lead her towards the balcony.

"Can we just…" he swept an unruly strand behind her ear, "chill out here for a little longer?"

Maka stared at him, entranced by her partner's relaxed disposition and the openness in his red eyes.

A little while longer? Maybe just for a few more minutes, surely they would not be sorely missed.

She smiled brightly at him, "Sure."

An hour or so later, the two finally made their way back down the stairs. The partners got caught up admiring the scenery and Maka was very interested in Soul's time in France and was happy that he was finally opening up about his past to her. There was no way she was going to miss stories of a little Soul roaming around the streets of Cannes and causing a ruckus.

Wes was the first to catch sight of the two. "Oh, there you two are!" He greeted them happily. "Well, you two were certainly gone for a while." The older Evans winked at Soul. The younger Evans barely held in a groan and resisted rolling his eyes.

Maka only nodded, "Yeah, we had a really nice talk." She looked up at Soul, her smile warm.

Wes lifted his eyebrows, intrigued by the loving look that Maka threw at his little brother.

"Ohhhhhhhh, I'm sure you did~" The blue eyed man retorted, his eyes alight with mischief.

Soul's hand met his face.

Great.

Now, his brother thought he and his meister were a thing.

He'd never hear the end of this.