Soma Week Day 3: Catharsis

You're an EMT, you saved my life and now I have the biggest crush on you AU – NSFW(ish) for implied sexy things

–

When Soul found himself bleeding out onto the concrete with a broken leg and a potentially punctured lung, he thought that he was either a) going to die and wind up a cautionary tale for young people everywhere or b) live long enough to hear his mother rant about how she was so right about the danger of motorcycles.

He did not think that he would c) be meeting the girl of his dreams.

She was a vision of loveliness in her navy blue uniform, an urban angel with long blond hair done up in twin pigtails that should have looked ridiculous on a grown woman. Blood from his head wound obscured the vision in his left eye but from what Soul could tell, she was cute, with a young, kind face and big, expressive eyes. His ears were ringing and his sinuses burned from exhaust smoke but her voice was soothing and gentle. Even through her gloves, her hands felt cool on his skin.

It all happened so quickly. Soul drifted in and out of consciousness, wondering how uncool he must have looked to the cute EMT. She held his hand as another EMT stabilized him and put him on a stretcher. She asked him his name, his address, did he know where he was, and to try to stay awake.

"Don't worry, you're going to be fine," she promised.

He really wanted to believe her, Soul thought blearily, because if he died, there went his chances for a date.

–

Soul Evans was, in fact, going to be fine.

He was sporting a plethora of cuts, contusions, a nasty scar from neck to navel, and a broken leg but the doctors said he was going to live. Soul didn't get to see Cute EMT again and was surprised to find that he was extremely disappointed. She was just doing her job, Soul told himself, so he needed to stop getting worked up about the mysterious pigtailed paramedic. He just wanted to say thanks for helping to save his life. Maybe ask her for coffee to repay her.

It was completely and totally innocent. It was gratitude and definitely not attraction, not by any stretch of the imagination. She was cute but she was no beauty, from what Soul could recall, with her childish hairstyle and round face. There was no reason to obsess over someone who looked like they could still be in high school.

Yet here he was, at home with his broken leg, scouring the internet to try and find this girl.

Soul literally had nothing to go on except for "blond pigtails" and "NYC EMT" but all the Google search produced was a regrettable amount of porn. He was about to give up and resume spending his days healing and wasting time judging old classmates on Facebook (the perfect catharsis to unwind from this whole ordeal) when it happened. Black*Star, neighbor and best bro, had updated his profile picture with who else? Pigtailed EMT of Soul's dreams. The caption was nearly illegible with all of the emoticons and star wingdings, but from what Soul could decipher, they had attended some junior high school reunion together.

That had to be a sign, he thought.

Not, Soul amended as he texted his friend, that he wanted to marry her or anything. He just wanted to say thanks.

And maybe kiss her a little.

–

It had taken very little convincing to get Black*Star to throw a party at his apartment so Soul could "accidentally" run into Cute EMT– Maka Albarn, to be precise– who he learned was twenty one years old, single, an EMT, a recent Columbia graduate, and a part time martial arts instructor (thank you, Facebook). Black*Star immediately started teasing him about his taste in women, but turned serious and said that Soul better not fuck around with one of his oldest friends or else.

Soul swore on a stack of Black*Star's Playboys that he would only approach Maka with the most honorable of intentions.

Soul was not his smoothest or his coolest on crutches (or ever, really) but he tried to look unaffected when Maka Albarn waltzed into the apartment wearing a little white sundress that showcased her toned arms (nice), smooth neck (nicer), and long legs (nicest and Jesus All Mighty Christ, did they ever end?) She was cuter than he remembered, Soul thought begrudgingly, but that didn't mean that he was planning to seduce her. He just wanted to engage in polite conversation, thank her for helping him not die, and maybe find out what kind of restaurant she'd want to go to on their first date.

"Dude, wipe the drool off your mouth and go talk to her," Black*Star laughed. "You're a big nerd. She's a big nerd. It's a match made in nerd heaven."

It was easy for someone like Black*Star to say that because he exuded confidence, sexual prowess, and never spent a night alone. Soul couldn't remember the last time he had been interested in anyone, let alone pursued them. All of his past relationships, short lived as they were, had been a product of some girl asking him out and him not finding a reason to say no. This was new and intimidating and he hated to get pushed out of his comfort zone. He was starting to lose his nerve and he hadn't even said one word to her yet.

Soul decided he would casually– very casually– make his way over to the chip bowl that she was standing by and try to make small talk. "Casually making his way over" turned into "falling flat on his face and taking the chip bowl with him because crutches are hard" and Soul wished he had died in that motorcycle accident because it would have been less painful than his embarrassment.

"Are you okay?!" Maka helped him up and Soul was surprised at how easily she was able to carry his weight. She was such a cool girl. "Here, let me help you. Let's go over to that chair."

They made their way over to Black*Star's recliner, Soul grumbling out a thanks and trying to will the blush off of his face. So much for making a good first– well, second– impression. "Fuck these crutches. Thanks."

Maka suddenly leaned over so closely that Soul could smell her shampoo. It smelled like a clean, generic pharmacy shampoo and he had no idea why he found that so endearing. He held his breath like a loser when her fingers brushed his scalp. "You had a Dorito in your hair," she said as she flicked the chip away.

He wanted to die.

"You look familiar," she said before he could make an excuse to leave and maybe jump out the window. "Oh! You're the guy from the motorcycle crash on the Lower East Side, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Soul attempted to get his bearings after the Dorito misstep. He needed to play it cool. "It wasn't a big deal, though."

Maka raised her eyebrows. "You hit a telephone pole and almost died. That's kind of a big deal."

Shit. She had him there. "I guess," was all he offered, because Soul hadn't really planned out what to say, and even if he had, it all flew out the window once he saw her in that dress.

"I'm glad to see you're okay," she said with a smile. "It looks bad on my record if someone dies on my watch."

Soul finally cracked a smile of his own. "Heh. Can't have that."

"What a small world that you know Black*Star," Maka sat herself down on the chair next to his, leaning her elbow on the soft, leather recliner arm. "And that we'd meet here only a week or so after your crash."

He busied himself drinking his soda so he wouldn't have to look at her directly. "Uh huh."

"Black*Star told me you were dying to meet me," her kind smile morphed into a huge grin.

Soul choked on his drink, wiping at his nose frantically and coughing. "That fucking– swear to God, no loyalty. Why am I friends with him?"

"Because he's kind of like the human version of a trainwreck," Maka said. "You know you should just walk away but you can't stop staring." She put her chin in her hands and watched Soul wipe the soda from his button down shirt. "So? Now that you've met me, what do you think? As cool as you remember?"

He scoffed, mortified that things had gone down like this. Soul was ready to slink back to his apartment and hibernate there for the next ten or so years. "Yeah, right."

"Hey, I helped save your life!" Maka protested. "That makes me more than a little cool."

"You wore your hair in pigtails. Minus twenty cool points," Soul said, feeling much more comfortable with the snarky banter.

Maka hmphed. "Rude! They're functional. See if me and my pigtails ever save your life again."

Soul opened his mouth to tell her that her hairstyle made her look like a pedophile's wet dream, but it only came out as, "Can I take you for coffee sometime?"

She looked as surprised as he felt but at least it wasn't an instant rejection. Soul didn't think his ego could handle another devastating blow. "My uncool pigtails and I will consider your offer," Maka said, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"Fair enough," Soul said.

A beat of silence and then, "We've deliberated and decided that you can take us to coffee. Your treat."

"Deal."

–

What started out as curiosity and infatuation on Soul's part had turned into a genuine, full blown crush. Maka wasn't just the cute EMT that had saved his life. She was funny and kind hearted and he liked her so much that he could forgive her terrible taste in music. He had never felt this way before– and never this quickly– so while part of him was apprehensive, a larger part was excited by the possibilities.

One cup of coffee turned into a lunch date, then a dinner date, and then several more dates until Maka invited Soul over to her apartment for "Netflix and beer but really to makeout."

She claimed that she wanted to change into something "more comfortable" and walked out in a too large sweatshirt, reading glasses, hair in pigtails, and the most ridiculous thigh high striped socks he had ever seen in his life. Soul must have been in love, he thought, because it turned him on like a lightbulb.

"So, this is the real me. I'm nerdy and I love to read and there's a lot more to me than just my job. I mean… you don't only like me because I saved your life, right?" Maka asked, eyes imploring. "You know, the whole transference thing? Because I–"

Soul put his finger to her lips, effectively shushing her. "No. I like you and your hideous socks."

Maka bit his finger lightly in revenge and he shivered. "They're comfortable."

"But maybe you'd be more comfortable with them off?" he asked hopefully, trailing his fingers down her side and to the top of said striped abomination.

She arched her eyebrow. "You have a broken leg."

"I'll manage to work through the pain."

–

"Well, this was a serious misstep on both of our parts," Maka said from above Soul, watching him writhe in pain. She was down to just her underwear and he was in a t-shirt and boxers and Soul had come so close to adoringly and respectfully banging the shit out of girl of his dreams.

He grunted. "No, no. I can keep going." She tried to crawl off of him but Soul dug his fingers into her hips. Maka huffed out a laugh at his stubbornness. "Just give me a second."

"I'm pretty sure that as an EMT I can't condone you putting stress on your leg," Maka eased herself away from his leg and straddled his stomach. Soul let out a pathetic whimper but managed to smooth his hands over her thighs through the pain. "We really should stop."

Soul wanted to cry. However, he pressed on bravely. "If you scoot up a couple more inches, we could do other stuff that has nothing to do with my leg. Fun stuff."

"Oh, yeah?" Maka laughed. "How fun?"

He tugged her encouragingly. "My nickname in college was 'Eater'. You connect the dots."

Maka smacked his shoulder lightly but let herself get pulled. "You're terrible! That can't be true!"

"Wanna find out?"

"… yes, yes I do."

–

"In the spirit of transparency, I should let you know that I got that nickname because I won a Big Mac eating contest."

"Honestly? I never would have known."