Maka feels like she's walked into a horror film. He's driven her through the desert and to the meeting of two cliffs that define a narrow canyon; the dirt road off the small highway off the interstate had been long and winding and did not instill her with confidence. She reminds herself that she can definitely kick his ass in a fight and knows how to disarm an opponent as he dismounts from the bike.
"Gotta walk from here. 'S'not far."
"Oh-kaaaay," she says, skepticism running thick in her voice and in her veins, but she dismounts and follows as he walks his bike between two high cliffs. She feels claustrophobic, it's so narrow, but still, she follows.
They get to where the canyon widens and it's exactly what she expects in the waning light-a dry desert wasteland. "You-live here?" He couldn't possibly. There's nowhere to live. Alarm bells are clamoring and Maka gets ready for the fight.
"Yeah. Just. Wait." Strange words leave his lips and Soul practically glows as he waves his hand over her eyes and suddenly, suddenly, she sees. The desolate canyonscape is gone, replaced by a paradise of lush greenery run through by streams. Soul grins at her as she gapes, then wheels his bike into a small shed at the edge of the canyon.
He comes out, and as she still gapes, his grin manages to be both sheepish and shit eating as he runs a nervous hand through his hair. "So, uh, this-is home."
"You live here?"
"Thought we established that." His grin widens. "I guess you could call this my front lawn. Real show is inside."
"Inside-where?" Maka eyes the tiny shed where he'd wheeled his bike with renewed skepticism.
"Not there." His laugh is warm, like it used to be, and she softens just that bit more. Soul walks to her side, takes her hand. "Gotta walk a bit, but it's worth it."
She swallows and nods, the trepidation bubbling to the surface again. Walking into a-a veritable jungle. A jungle that had appeared in the middle of the desert out of thin air, she reminds herself. Maybe it's some sort of elaborate illusion-but she's still intrigued. He leads her down a small cobbled path that follows near the cliff side for several minutes, crossing several bridges over small streams that seem to run throughout, until they reach the mouth of a wider stream in the canyon. There's a waterfall cascading down the cliffside, from where she cannot guess, and steps run from the path on either side up behind the water. It's lush and beautiful and Maka feels like she's dreaming, like she's stumbled on some sort of island paradise in the middle of Death Valley. It's impossible. Or maybe not impossible, but it would take a lot of time and money and manpower to make something like this happen in the midst of the harsh Nevada desert, and surely, surely, this isn't something that could be done in secret. And yet, here it is, appearing right before her eyes like a mirage.
"This is, well, sort of my front door, you could say." Soul interrupts her thoughts as she stands in awe. "Wanna see the rest?"
"Yeah," she breaths, and he tugs her up the steps and behind the waterfall and, oh my, oh my, this really is a dream, must be.
There is a hall behind the waterfall of natural stone, but only a handful of steps in, it opens up into a large cavern. She can't say it's natural, though she supposes it might be, because to call it a cave is a gross understatement.
"So, this is home."
They have come to a little wooden bridge that spans a small stream running through the cavern. There is some sort of illumination from the moss covered ceiling that almost appears to come from the moss itself and lights the cave well. Past the bridge, the walls are lined with lush greenery, plants of every description splayed around an almost normal living space, a room with a couch and a television and a coffee table and all the other things one might expect to find in a living room. There is a kitchen on the far wall, and a few openings Maka can only guess might be hallways at various points in the large cavern.
She's in awe. She's speechless.
"This is home?" she finally manages.
"Pretty sure I just said that." The laugh he lets out is nervous, a stuttering exhalation. "We can-sit, if you want. Talk, maybe. I'd like to explain."
Maka nods, stunned, her tongue struggling to gain purchase. She doesn't even know what she's agreeing to, not really. "You-this-how is this even here? Are you a gazillionaire or something? I feel like I've stumbled on the bat cave."
"Definitely not rich, just a warlock." Another nervous laugh. "And I didn't even make this place, BJ did. I just sort of-I guess you could say I inherited it. Anyway." He starts walking over the bridge towards the living room, calling over his shoulder, "You coming?"
"Yeah-yeah!" She moves to catch up, and as he slides into place on the sofa, she takes a seat near him, a full cushion between. Caution seems warranted; this is all new territory and she's still uncertain. She's seen a jungle come to life before her eyes and a cave apartment that seems impossible and it's just so strange. A warlock. Can it really be possible?
"Drink?" Soul asks, and she nods again. Eventually she'll find her tongue, but it remains tied as she keeps darting her eyes around to the life all around her. "Soda okay?" Another nod. He knows what she drinks when she drinks soda at all from their many excursions, so Maka doesn't clarify. Expecting him to rise to get refreshments and maybe just give her a damned moment to think-to process-he instead waves a hand and mutters a few foreign words and suddenly, there's a can of Coke in front of her, cool with condensation, another can in front of him, and a plate of cheese and crackers between them.
"Did you just-create that?" Clearly, this must be some fever dream. Food doesn't just appear.
Soul has already leaned over to take plastic wrap off the plate and grab his own can; he turns to her as he pops it open. "Nah, was in the fridge. I mean I can create stuff, but it's pretty complicated and easy to mess up. Better just to buy what you need like everyone else. I always keep drinks and snacks in the fridge so I can summon it."
"You actually use magic to get yourself a drink instead of just walking to the fridge?" She's incredulous.
"Well, not most of the time. Only when I'm really caught up in something." He has the decency to look sheepish. "Or, like, just now, to show you my magic is not just some sort of trick. I mean Penn and Teller, seriously?" He's suddenly incredulous, it's cute, and Maka can't help her laugh. The slight pout he sports just makes her laugh all the harder, and it takes her a moment for her to swallow down her mirth in favor of information, because this is all new and fascinating and she wants to understand, she really does.
"It is-pretty neat," Maka admits. "But how-" she shakes her head- "I mean, how did you even become a warlock?"
Taking a swig of soda, Soul puts his can down with a slight thunk onto the coffee table. Maka reaches for her own soda and pops the top, expectant.
"I didn't exactly become one," Soul says finally. "It's something you're born with. It's rare. And I had no idea most of my life since it doesn't manifest until puberty."
Her head tilt is thoughtful. "So one day you woke up and, boom, magic?"
"Noooooo." He frowns. "More like, weird stuff would occasionally happen. Like if I was pissed and thought, hey, I wish that guy would trip on his ass, sometimes it would happen. But I didn't know I was doing it until BJ came around."
"Who's BJ?"
"My mentor." The pain that crosses his face is stark, and Maka almost regrets asking. "When I was 16, he showed up on my doorstep and told me what I was and that he was going to teach me how to control it."
"And that was it?"
"Sort of? I mean, my parents wanted to call the cops until he showed them what he could do. And then he started explaining things and training me."
"So wait, your parents weren't warlocks, but you were born one anyway?"
"Yeah. How weird I look is a physical manifestation of it, but it's not like anyone knew that. Like I said, we're rare. Really rare. Nearly extinct. It's some sort of freakishly recessive trait, can be buried in a family line for centuries before it manifests again, at least, that's what BJ said."
Wheels turn in her head. Soul had said he inherited this place. And that his parents didn't have magic. "So BJ gave you this cave."
"The cave, the canyon, and everything inside. He worked for years to set it up to his specifications. It was one of his safehouses, the most hidden."
"Safehouse? But he has magic, right? Why a hiding spot? I mean, I get people might be afraid, but as long as you don't go advertising what you can do and performing impossible feats in front of crowds, it shouldn't matter." Maka's curiosity is peaked; it's all so new, so interesting.
He eyes his drink speculatively, dragging his index finger around the lip then down the side, picking up condensation as he goes. "There's a reason Warlocks are so rare, why there are so few even I'm not sure how to find others of my kind," Soul finally says as he lifts his finger, raising the gathered condensation. It drips back to the side of the can as his finger hovers. His eyes lift to meet hers. "We're hunted, have been for over a millennia." He's more serious than she's ever seen him, red gaze so intense she can almost imagine it's burning.
"So there are people who-know about you-I mean, about warlocks?" Maka's stomach twists at the pain in his eyes.
"Some." His face is grim. "They're also rare, but there are people who can see magic in this world. It's sort of complicated-there are other types of magic than mine-but their mission in life is to eradicate every last bit of it."
"But-but who and why?"
"They're called Hunters." Soul let's out a bitter laugh. "And why is the best part of all. BJ forced me read this book about it, stuff that made my head spin, but basically, back in the day when Christianity was just taking over everything, the people running things got together and decided that magic was a temptation wrought of the devil and needed to be eradicated. I mean, the history is pretty complicated, and this wasn't so long after the Great Magical War that wiped out most of the magic." His eyes have the odd, far away look of memory, obviously not of the war but maybe of hearing about it, Maka thinks.
"I'd really like to hear it, if you don't mind telling," she pushes gently.
"Oh, yeah, I want you to hear it." His nod is slight, voice gruff. "I'm just not much of a storyteller. You'd probably be better off reading."
There is a fond smile on her lips as she shakes her head; Soul isn't an epic talker, and this is a lot of story to tell. Still, she's always liked his voice, and it mesmerizes her as he fills in the gaps in her knowledge.
"I guess all these magical people couldn't agree on how to deal with non magical humans," Soul finally continues, "and back then, there were a lot more of us because magical folks live a long time. But then we mostly wiped each other out over that, taking plenty of humans with us. And so, Warlocks and other magic people spread out and tried to blend in, though they also used their magic to get ahead sometimes. Before the shit with the church, Warlocks used to be employed as advisors all the time. There was even an actual Merlin, though most of the stories about him aren't true if this book was right. Anyway," he goes on, shaking his head, "these assholes running the old church figured out that some people born with magic in their line didn't have any magic themselves, but they could see it, so they started seeking them out. They would find them young, train them in stealth and combat while filling their heads with their twisted ideas about the myriad evils of magic, then send them out to seek and eradicate that evil. And it wasn't just warlocks, either, but other magical types, too. Witches and faeries and-"
"Witches-and faeries?" Maka knows her voice is dripping with skepticism, but for all she's seen what Soul can do, they're still diving deep into the rabbit hole and it's difficult not to balk. The more he tries to explain, the more absurd it sounds, like a night terror, like the world gone mad.
"I know it sounds crazy." His embarrassment tints his cheeks red. "And to be fair, I've never really met any other magical types, just was told or read about them. I can't see magic like hunters can, I just have magic, though I can-sort of sense it if's active and I'm close enough. I could sense when BJ used magic, but I've never felt anything since but my own."
"Okay." She sighs, trying to wrap her head around it all. "Okay. So, let me get this straight. You're a warlock, you were born a warlock, and warlocks are rare, men who can use magic. And there are people called hunters who are trained to kill your kind and are why you've been nearly exterminated. That's-that's-"
She remembers a day weeks ago, a day when Blake had crowed about his latest, greatest comic idea, remembers the book about warlocks and the story of their struggles, their near eradication during the Great War, remembers how they are said to be hunted, how her heart had bled at the thought.
Maka remembers and it all clicks into place with a finality she finds breathtaking. Suddenly, it makes sense.
"-that's awful, Soul. Really, really awful."
The sigh he lets out speaks volumes. He'd been afraid, she could feel it somehow, and the relief her acceptance brings him is nearly palpable.
Even still, even with this new understanding, there's something that makes no sense. Sure, Maka gets the part about being in danger, but if it's so dangerous, why meet with her for weeks only to vanish?
Her frown has him guarded in an instant, face impassive.
"But what I still don't understand," she says slowly, carefully, and she can see his breath slow with anticipation, "is why you stood me up. Why take the risk for weeks and stop? Was there a hunter? I don't-I still don't get it." Maka can't keep the hurt from her tone and she hates it, hates feeling so damn vulnerable.
"The rain stopped," Soul says simply, matter of factly, as if it explains everything. This really must be a fever dream. "The rain stopped," he repeats, "and it hurt, it killed me, but it was too dangerous to go out then. I hated it, hated thinking about what you must think, hated the idea it might-you might-" he leans closer and reaches for her hand, the one clutching at the fabric of her jeans in hurt and anger and nerves as if holding on for dear life. His hand is warm and welcome and she grasps it back tightly "-I know I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. But I was so afraid of worse, that a hunter could really come and hurt you because of me, so I stayed away."
"But what-I mean-" Maka's head is shaking vehemently because voicing the protest is difficult "-why would you only come when it was raining? Why?"
Soul lets out a long breath, holding her gaze. "See how there's water everywhere here? The stream in the cave, the waterfalls, all the creeks in the valley, that's not an accident."
It does makes sense, when she puts it together. Soul has surrounded himself with water, or his mentor has. But she still fails to get the why. "Okay, so why the water?" she says carefully, so cautious she might be trying to walk on glass.
"It masks the magic, hides it so that hunters can't see it. They can read magical auras, but not when there's water around to mask them."
"But-"
"How?" he shrugs. "Honestly, I don't get the mechanics, only that it works. And some magical types know how to mask it, but warlock auras are too constant. Only water makes a difference. I only go out when it rains, ever, because that's the only time the hunters won't see. So when the rain stopped-when it stopped-I had no choice."
"I just-" Maka takes in a calming breath, "Why did we never exchange numbers. You could have called me, could have-"
"There's no service for miles, Maka. Wouldn't have been a point. I'm-" Soul clenches her hand tighter, and he looks pained. "Fuck, I'm sorry. And I shouldn't even have come today, it was really fucking stupid, but I'm so goddamn selfish that I couldn't stay away. It hurt so much, trying to stay away."
"Me too," she says, voice small. Maka will not cry. She will not cry.
The tears stay back, barely, as he smooths the back of her hand with his thumb. "And I told myself, I mean, I told myself that maybe you were hurt too, and I hated myself for that more, so I decided I'd risk it, just this once, I'd be careful and I'd risk it to tell you the truth so you wouldn't be upset, wouldn't-wouldn't hate me. I couldn't stand the thought of you hating me. Of you hurting." He shakes his head. "But I know that's just what I told myself, and yeah it's true, but really, I just missed you so damn much. I-without you, I've felt so-lost. I told you I can feel magic and haven't felt it in a long time except my own but that's not-totally true. Lately, when you're near me, I feel it in you-like my magic is a part of you. I don't get it, but we're connected somehow." Soul laughs, and it's so bitter she wants to hug him, to reassure him, because she gets it. She's been hurting the same, for the same reasons, even if she hasn't understood them. Even if she still doesn't. "But you must think I'm fucking crazy, right? All of this is so weird, I know it is, I'm so weird, and you-" He shakes his head, seemingly at a loss.
"I understand, Soul. I understand because-because I feel it. Sometimes, I see-I see this strange aura on you-I thought I was hallucinating. And then, sometimes it's like I know what you're feeling, just know. It's-it's weird but, I-"
"We're connected," he repeats, red eyes searching hers.
"I think so, yes. I-yes. And I missed you, I did, but it hurt. I thought-but you just left, just never showed, and I don't know what to do, Soul, because it hurts."
"I know," he practically whispers. "I feel it, Maka. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. But now-now you know why and you can come here, I can tell you how to get here and you can come here anytime, even if it's not raining so I can't go out. I mean." He reddens. "Only if you want to. If-if you never want to see me again, I-I get it, and-"
"I-" Maka licks too dry lips "-I want to, I think. I don't want to-don't want to not see you."
Relief washes over his features and she can feel it. It's strong and hopeful and she basks in it for a moment before nodding. "But I should-I should get back. I already missed class and cancelled on the Thompsons and Tsu will worry if I'm not back soon."
Standing suddenly, Soul pulls her with him. "I'll drive you back, yeah. And I can leave the bike behind so if you want to-"
She waves a dismissive hand. "I can't drive a motorcycle, but I can borrow Tsu's car, so it'll be fine.
"So you'll really visit?" His voice is so hopeful it makes her warm.
"I really will. I'm not letting you off that easy, Soul Evans."
Soul laughs at that and shakes his head. "Wouldn't even dream of trying."
With that, they make their way out of his little grotto home, back to his bike, and finally back to Death City
They drive to her apartment and he parks the bike on the curb. Maka turns, questioning when he begins to walk her to her door. "Shouldn't you go? Isn't this dangerous for you?"
"What's a few extra seconds? If a hunter is around, we're already screwed, and I'd rather make sure you get inside safely."
"You sure you'll be okay?"
"I'll be fine, not worried about me."
"Such a gentleman," she snorts.
"At your service." His bow is comical because it's far too smooth, and she giggles as they reach the door.
"Well. I suppose such service deserves a reward." Maka leans forward, stands on her tiptoes because he's so damn tall, and presses her lips to his. The kiss is short, sweet, a moving of lips that lasts more no more than half a minute. It leaves her breathless anyway, not her first kiss though she hasn't shared many, but certainly her first that means anything, the first that makes her stomach flutter and her skin warm.
"So that's how it is?" It's hopeful.
"That's how it is," she agrees as she turns her key and lets herself in. "Goodnight, Soul. I'll be back to visit soon."
Maka stands with her back to the front door, breathing hard as she hears his motorcycle roar off into the night.
It's been weeks, and it's still dry, but Maka has been seeing him as much as she can. Tsubaki doesn't mind lending her the car since she usually walks anyway, so when Maka doesn't have work or class, she goes. There are some weeks she only sees him once, weeks when she can't manage the time between work and school, and that's hard on both of them, but she tries not to let that happen if she can manage. Since they'd put it all into the open, laid out their cards, they've only grown closer, and visiting Soul is always her highlight, just as seeing him had been before.
Her friends still tease her mercilessly at first about her disappearances, but she's long since admitted that she and Soul aren't just friends. They're seeing each other, she had told the group over dinner one night, and that's why she hasn't been around as much.
There were gasps at that, and a variety of exclamations.
"Maka, that's wonderful!" Tsubaki had gushed.
"Yeaaah, get it!" had been Patti's contribution.
"My baby is growing up," Liz had said with mock solemnity, wiping a nonexistent tear from her eye.
"He rich?" Kim had asked immediately.
"Just be careful," Jackie had warned.
But most loudly, as he always is, came Black Star's declaration of, "If he hurts you, kick his ass. And remember, no ding ding without the wedding ring!"
That had earned him a hard punch to the shoulder, and then Maka had fielded questions, but now, her friends had adjusted to the idea that Soul was a semi-permanent fixture at minimum. At this point, they only pestered her to force him to come to DC and go out with the group. If Maka had invested so much of herself into a man, then they damn sure wanted to get to know him.
Maka understands the impulse. She's spent the last two months getting closer, getting to know him, really know him. The more she knows, the more drawn to him she feels, the more irrevocably bound. Soul can't go out anymore, the monsoon season long gone into an unusually dry spring and any rain brief and fleeting, but it hardly matters, they can still spend time together. At first, they just talk a lot, and sometimes watch movies, sometimes play videogames, sometimes listen to music, sometimes take walks in the canyon he calls home. He plays her piano one night, a song he says he's written for her, and it makes her feel, makes her dip then soar. Maka can't believe he thought he wasn't good and tells him so. He should be a musician. He is a musician. He denies it though, insists it doesn't matter since he can't risk school anyway, and she gets it and it makes her sad.
She always kisses him goodbye, even in those first visits, brief pecks that turn into lingering heat as the weeks pass.
It doesn't take long for the kissing to invade their other time together, hangouts melding with makeouts. Maka really, really doesn't mind. He's a good kisser, mind numbingly good, and being close to him makes her feel dizzy and giddy and warm. Is this what had made her mama throw away a full ride to Harvard? This feeling, this warmth? She can imagine sacrificing a lot for this, for him, but she's not her mama and she also has her own life to live, and Soul isn't her papa, not even close, and she loves this, she loves him.
The thought, how much she cares, it should scare her but it doesn't. They're bound, and she can feel his soul, feel his affection and his loyalty. She doesn't know how, or why, but she can. From Soul, Maka has nothing to fear.
That's why, when he mentions one night there's actually a hot spring in another part of the canyon, she finds herself insisting they go.
"I can't believe you never told me there's a hot spring!" She's indignant. "You're the worst, you know that? The absolute worst."
Soul is leading her down the path that hugs the canyon wall, but he pauses long enough to say over his shoulder, "Never said I wasn't. Really don't see why we're doing this now, anyway; it's not like you have a bathing suit here."
Tilting her head thoughtfully, a slow smile crawls to her lips. "Didn't figure I needed one."
The strangled, "Oh," he lets out is answer enough.
It doesn't take them long to come to the small mouth of a cave, only a few hundred feet down the canyon wall, and Soul leads them inside. The interior isn't large either, but there is, indeed, a large pool of visibly steaming water situated amidst a soft carpet of moss. There is a faint glow from the walls, probably some sort of magic, and Maka lets out an appreciative "oooooo" at the sheer beauty of the place.
"Yeah, it's pretty cool. I just-I dunno, I don't come here much. I have a bathtub and shower in the grotto so I never saw the point."
The eye roll she responds with is well earned as Maka unceremoniously pulls her shirt over her head and kicks off her sandals, leaving her in a bra and short skirt.
His eyes goggle in the most gratifying way. Soul has seen her in a bra before, groped her over one, even, in their recent makeouts, but this is different somehow and they both feel it. Maka tilts her head to one side as she unclasps her bra and slides it off, then slides off her skirt and panties in one go. She doesn't give him time to ogle her long, jaw slack and eyes hazy as he gapes, but screams out, "Last one in is a rotten tomato!" to his indignant protest of, "hey!" before jumping feet first into the little pool.
It isn't deep, coming up not even to her waist, and Maka has to let herself sink to keep her breasts covered as she listens to the muffled curses of her boyfriend, who is struggling with his own clothes. Moving her gaze up to the water's edge, she sees Soul struggling with the button of his jeans, everything else since discarded. His small noise of triumph is adorable as the snap gives and the zipper goes down, and the jeans and his boxers are off in an instant. She barely gets a glimpse of white, of something standing at attention below his belly button, before he's jumped in with a mighty splash, using the cover to tackle and tickle her breathless.
"You're a-rotten tomato!" she gasps out between bouts of tickles.
"And you're a dirty cheater!" he manages as she retaliates, as he becomes similarly breathless.
They call a truce soon after because neither can breathe, and they find themselves close, so close it's natural that their lips find each other.
After two months of practice, kissing has become like breathing for them, but this is different, too, and while it starts off slow, it soon becomes hungry and desperate and as he grasps her hips and pulls her closer and she feels something stiff against her belly, it makes her greedy. She's palmed him through his jeans before, but there are no jeans between them, and she wants. His lips and his tongue and his hands on her breasts, it's all too much; she's a flame, burning burning burning.
Maka shifts her weight and tackles him so that he ends up falling back against one of the shelf seats, eyes wide.
"Maka?" His voice is breathless, questioning and hopeful and reverent all at once.
Her only answer is to kiss him again as she plants her knees on either side of his on the seat, straddling him. The water is strange and soft, like it's full of some sort of fragrant oil, probably more magic. Theoretically, she knows water and sex might not mix, but this seems like it would be okay and she's past being able to care. She wants. Maka grasps him where he rests just below the apex of her thighs, pulling from their kiss to meet his gaze.
"I want to, can I?"
He's red and his voice is husky. She can feel his want, too, feel it in more than the hardness she grasps in her palm, see it in his eyes that are liquid flame. "I-it might not be good. I've never-"
"Me neither. But I want to. I really want to." And she does, so badly. After two months, it's like an ache in her soul, the need to be close. She needs this.
"Yeah, me too."
That's all Maka has to hear. With him already in her grasp, she slides him along herself and sinks.
The first thing she thinks is warm, so warm. There's no pain, just the overwhelming feeling of being filled, of being touched so deeply where she's never even touched herself. He groans her name, snapping his hips up to drive himself deeper and she sees stars and wants to see them again, so as one, they begin to move.
It doesn't last long. It can't. It's true, nothing gold can stay, and this closeness is so much, too much. It isn't long before they reach their end, him diving over the edge first only for her to follow. It's light and heat and every nerve drowning in sheer pleasure before she crashes back to earth, his arms around her as they both pant in unison.
"That was-it was-" he's struggling for words, but they don't really need them.
"Yeah, it was," she agrees.
There are no regrets, not for either of them, as they bask in the warmth of the water and each other until it's time for Maka to go.
Maka doesn't get home until morning, and maybe she hasn't got much sleep, but she can't find it in herself to be sorry.
Yeah, maybe she's tired, but it's a small price to pay.
Still, she's missed Tsubaki, who has already gone to class, and she responds to her worried text from three AM last night with, "I'm home and I'm fine," before getting ready for work.
She's not at all surprised when her friend shows up at the cafe later that morning, right after her classes end, ordering a tall latte and taking a table. Clearly, she means to wait until Maka's break, and Maka figures she owes Tsu a huge apology. She really should have texted her, but she'd been so wrapped up in-things-it just hadn't occurred to her.
It's noon by the time she can take her break and Tsubaki's been there almost two hours. Maka brings over a couple of chicken salad sandwiches by way of apology as she slides into the booth across from her closest friend.
"Brought you lunch," she says cheerfully. "Sorry about last night, I just-"
Tsu cuts her off, but instead of looking hurt or angry like Maka expects she should, she just looks smug. "You stayed over at Soul's."
"Yeaaaaah," she admits. Shit, she hadn't figured on that assumption, which is just stupid of her, really. It's a pretty natural-and correct-conclusion to draw, and Tsubaki has a shockingly dirty mind anyway for someone so genuinely nice and caring in every way.
"Did you-?" The eyebrow waggle is too much and Maka goes scarlet, but still manages a nod of confirmation. She can't lie, not to Tsu.
As Tsubaki gives off a delighted squeal, the sound of a fist slamming on a nearby table startles them both. It's Hiro, cleaning up after some customers. Maka offers him a placating smile, but he just turns with his tray of dishes and moves off. He's clearly angry. Maybe the customers had been assholes.
Turning her attention back to her friend, Maka wants to run and hide at the knowing smile on her face. "Was it good?" Tsubaki asks, and Maka can tell she's trying to keep the excitement out for her voice.
"Yeaaah," she admits, face hot. "It was-really good."
"Ahhhhhh!" She's beaming. "I'm so happy for you! Oh my god, but this was your first time, right? Did you use protection? Please tell me you used protection."
The heat has risen to five alarm fire, but fortunately, the place is crowded and Tsubaki isn't loud. Still, Maka wants to die. "I-we-I mean, I'm on the pill, and we've never-he's never either-so-"
The way she's suddenly frowning makes Maka even more self conscious. "You're sure he's never-"
"I'm positive, he wouldn't lie." Plus, what she can't tell Tsu is at this point, she's pretty sure she would be able to tell if he actually did.
"Then good. You going back tonight?"
Maka shakes her head. "You know I have class, but tomorrow."
"Well, then, I won't wait up," Tsu says with that same knowing smile, and Maka wonders if her blush will ever go away at this rate.
Then again, if the price for her time with Soul is a mere blush, then she's more than happy to pay it.