This is just absurd. And miiight have a follow up. Maybe.

You know, Soul had done a lot of stupid shit in his life. But this might actually take the cake. If only it had been a fucking cake! He'd broken his collar bone sledding one winter (fucking tree in the way!), he'd broken almost all of his fingers over the years, either from punching people (usually away from his meister) or punching things in frustration (usually because of his meister), he'd had more stitches than he could count (not even including the obvious reason there), had probably gone through at least a million bandaids for various reasons, and they bought Neosporin in bulk.

But seriously. A guy tries to do something nice for his meister. And what ends up happening? Second degree burns to his hands. God see if he ever tries to make fudge ever again. Motherfucker.

So now, he's got his hands all bandaged up, it looks like he's wearing a cross between boxing gloves and mittens and he needs to put his fucking pants on. And he can't fucking move his fingers to zip the FUCKING ZIPPER. WHO FUCKING DESIGNED THESE THINGS!? SINCE WHEN WAS THIS SO HARD?! AAARG!

"Soul? You okay? I heard yelling?"

"FUCKIN' FINE THANKS. YUP. JUST DANDY."

"…Time for some more painkillers, huh?"

In the safety of his room Soul felt himself deflate. "Yeah…that'd be great, thanks." He heard her walk away and collapsed into his bed. Fuck. Could he be more of an asshole? Like, seriously. His hands were throbbing and itched and fuck. This sucked.

There was a warning knock and Maka walked in holding a bottle of pain meds and a glass of water…with a straw. Jesus fucking christ she was such a good partner to him. "You…um…Soul your pants?"

Aaaaaand there is it. Yup. Gee Soul. Way to be. Lying in your bed, pants around your hips, neon bicycle boxers waving hello, yup, sign him up for the next virgin sacrifice or porno. "….I can't get the zipper up."

"Sw-sweatpants?!"

"Conveniently missing, you thief."

Maka squeaked and scrunched her face up in embarrassment. "I'll! Um...wash those. Sorry. Here." She set the glass of water and the pills down on his nightstand. "Um…I'll…here." And then her hands were on his pants. And he was the one squeaking. Seriously. Not cool.

"Maka!?"

She made quick work of the button and…and...and was dragging the zipper up his pants. Oh dear lord. Could zippers echo? Was his room even conducive to echoes (oh dear lord he hoped not, cause jacking off in an echo-y room would not be good). FUCK! Do not think about jacking off, not when Maka's hands are so close to his dick! Especially he if wanted to keep his dick!

"There. Um. Let me know when you want to take them off later, I can help." Maka smiled, patted his thigh and motioned to the painkillers within reach. You know what. God bless his wonderful, innocent, beautiful little meister. Because she just said she'd take his pants off for him without even blushing.

"Thanks Maka."

"Anytime!"

Hopefully she chalked his pained groan up his hands and not the offer to help him with his pants anytime.

Oh shit…How was he even supposed to jack off with his hands like this!?