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chichirichick · 4 months

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Santa's a Little Late, but...

I had the honor of getting my wife from another life @anxietybard for the @sesecretsanta this year! Read the SoMa pining below or on AO3.

Title: Taking a Leap

Pairing: SoMa, background hints of Marie/Stein, Kid/Star

Rating: T

This wasn’t how I wanted to spend the start of my weekend, but that perfect little girl scout of a meister of mine just had to rope me into another one of her half-baked plans. “You know she has the combined genetic make-up of a dissection-happy scientist and a woman who breaks toilets.”

“A toilet,” Maka corrected as if that made it any better. “And that was just a rumor.” Her prim little sashay ended at the mouth of the walkway. She turned on her heels, planted her fists on her hips, and that bottom lip popped into a pout before she seemed to think better of it. With as flat a line to her lips as possible, Maka griped, “I don’t know why you bothered to come if all you’re going to do is complain.”

This should not be my circus– should not be my monkeys– but staying home alone on a Friday night? I could count the number of Fridays—let's not mention other days of the week—I’d spent without Maka on one hand.

Way to make it sound like you’re a couple, loser.

Ah, and there was the spiral, right on cue. Not that this was anything new, but a few recent weird life events had sent me on more than one mental tailspin: this year, that idiot Star and our often emotionally stunted boss Kid had jumped an unexpected hurdle into each others’ beds.

To my fucking surprise, this ignited a shit-ton of issues for me– no, no, I have no problem with two dudes shacking up, even though thinking about either of those two having sex isn’t high on my list of joyful thoughts. It was just this goddamn hazy, dreamy truth that I’d always tried to hold on to: weapons always ended up with their meisters. I mean, there was no chance in hell that Liz or Patty could withstand more than a partnership with Kid, and Tsubaki already had the patience of a saint just being Star’s weapon, but… I don’t know. Just the idea that the sorta unbreakable bond weapon and meister have–

“Soul.”

Oops. I blinked as my brain scrambled back out of that catastrophic corkscrew to face the one I was in now. “Maka, are you serious?” I slapped on a slick grin for good measure. “I watched you make flashcards all week– I want to make sure Shelley has some fun.”

She rolled her eyes before spinning back to her original trajectory.

Mission accomplished– for now. I followed a few steps behind her, sorta mesmerized by the wave of her hair as she left it untied. That’s been happening more often… wonder if she’s tryin’ a new style or somethin’.

Wow, creeper.

My shoulders crumpled a little further as I sighed. Sometimes that little demon was a real piece of shit.

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Soul being there shouldn’t have irked me, and I honestly don’t even know why I complained. Why I was pouting. Why I was unable to even laugh at his—well deserved—joke about the myriad of activities I had planned.

It’s just…

This was a test. A pivotal, life-altering test.

I hear it: Soul being here for a momentous decision? Of course– or really, it should be of course– but there was a giant roadblock. One that, if you asked me straight to my face, I’d deny even if you were threatening to pull fingernails. In my head, though… the moment played back perfectly in my mind:

Marie, someone who had filled at least a quarter of the empty spot my mother had left behind, wheeled behind curtains to give birth to her long-awaited bundle of joy.

Soul, taking my hand and squeezing as he gently chided: “Don’t worry– she’ll be fine.”

Me, frozen, watching the fabric flutter before my voice—so alien, so far away—croaked from my throat: “I won’t ever be a mother.”

Any flashback to it still sets my teeth on edge, especially as the moment fades out on Soul’s shocked face. I captured each one of those syllables and squashed it down, all while hoping that Soul wouldn’t let it die. I wanted him to question me– to challenge with some Soul-icism that was a comforting mix of mocking and mollification. Because I know why I said it, but I’m all too sure he doesn’t.

And there it was: a giant roadblock.

Well, as if not being in a relationship wasn’t enough of a roadblock.

Sometimes Soul’s not the only one with that dark little voice in his head.

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This was a disaster, and I hate to say I told her so, but I told her so. Okay, and yeah, I don’t actually hate proving Little-Miss-Can’t-Be-Wrong wrong. I’m not above smug satisfaction at being right, but watching Maka struggling against the will of a four-year-old had soured it just a bit.

“I think it’s time for dinner,” Maka mumbled as the last of her confidence deflated.

“Actually–” Man, was I risking my entire life by grabbing her wrist and turning those tear brimmed eyes back to me. I was at a total loss as to why the hell she was taking it so personally, but I couldn’t let her drown in her own saltwater. “Shelley’s gonna make dinner. I’ll supervise.” You would have thought I’d dog-eared the page of her favorite book since the look I got was nothing but a bubbling cauldron of rage with a fine shimmering top of terror. What the fuck’s gotten into you?

“F-fine.” She fumbled over the word before forcing herself out of my grip. Without another peep, Maka disappeared into the archway to the living room, leaving me to feed a sigh to the ceiling.

“Do I really get to make dinner?” The hopeful little chirp sent my eyes back down to Marie’s mini-me. “Really, Soul?”

“Yup”—I ruffled a hand through her hair—“and just to warn you, I’m lazy. So you’re doin’ most of the work.” I made a show of drooping in the doorway, enjoying the way it made Shelley erupt into giggles.

“C’mon, Soul, c’mon!” There was plenty of tugging, dragging, and laughing involved before we made it into the kitchen.

“Alright, show me the pots.” Not a second of confusion crossed that little face– Shelley instantly jumping into action and proving my point almost instantly.

Well, my point if I had made a point with Maka, but Death knows she wouldn’t hear it. The irony? Kids this age are willful little know-it-alls who want to do, not be told, and least of all, be coddled.

Sound like anyone we know?

Since I had kept all that in mind, I was living the ideal: water boiling, sauce in a pot, and a very determined kiddo stirring with her big-girl spoon while I chopped. Shelley was practically preening while she inhaled the tomatoey steam. “Can we save some for Mama and Papa?”

“‘Course.” I couldn’t stop the laugh that followed as she wiggled with delight. Okay, so maybe the homicidal doctor gene didn’t pass down.

“Soul?”

I was busy trying to keep all my fingers intact so all I could do was hum out: “Hm?”

“Is Miss Maka always so mean?”

My knife slowed, half because Shelley deserved careful consideration to her question and half because I needed to glance back at the door. No, there were no jade eyes scowling at me from the frame, but… ah, fuck it. “Not sure I’d call it mean. I know she doesn’t mean it that way, but–”

“Then why does Miss Maka keep trying to tell me what to do?” she complained.

“I know it sounds like she’s tellin’ you what to do,” I murmured, “but it’s more tryin’ to protect you.” I shrugged to buy time. What was her problem, anyway? What was the helicopter parent act that she had going on tonight?

“But I’m a big girl!”

Boy, did I want to snort out a laugh. There was too much irony again, and a part of me wanted Maka to be listening. “Yeah, you are, but when someone cares about you, sometimes they go a little haywire. Sorta wanna just wrap you up in their love to keep you from anythin’ bad.” Okay, so, maybe it wasn’t just Maka who should be listening. I stared down at my hands with a sigh, feeling the sting of that insight trying to needle into my brain. My heart didn’t want to budge, but… “Think you could take it as a sign she really cares, and we’ll work on it from there?”

Oh? And when are you gonna work on that yourself?

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I wasn’t sure if it was my ego or my heart that was more bruised, especially as elation followed the pair into the dining room. Shelley was precariously balancing a bowl of salad—is she old enough to do that?—while Soul steadily carried a pot beside her. The objections were on my tongue when Soul’s stole everything away:

Let her do it, he mouthed.

Oh, yes, definitely a strike to my ego. It yelped along with a myriad of annoyed petulant pleas: How does he know what’s best? Since when is he a child whisperer? How does he know what’s right and I–

I flattened a hand over my mouth as if the words were going to flee from behind my teeth. It was all so dark, so ugly, and it was getting me nowhere. My eyes burned as Shelley joined me at the table. Soul was quick to turn back and retrieve the pasta before sliding into his seat. I honestly wanted to disappear. This was all a failed experiment because every ticking moment was proving me right: I was only capable of needing mothering, not giving it and–

Soul’s hand tightened around mine, making me jump. For a moment, I was sure I’d see heads bowed and “Grace” starting on Shelley’s lips, but Soul was just watching Shelley serve herself. The little girl was in the throes of victory—even though some of the tablecloth had suffered casualties—while Soul ran a gentle thumb over my knuckles.

Holding hands wasn’t anything exactly new, but this… I risked another glance at his face, and while the turn of his smirk spoke “cool as a cucumber,” the light pink of his ears was that well-honed hint that he was nervous. About what? Nervous that I was– yes, Maka, duh. Soul could be dense about certain things, but I had to admit that he wasn’t about people’s feelings. He could read a room just as easily as sheet music.

I let my stare linger from that peony stain to the strong set of his jaw before rising to scarlet eyes that were now focused on me. “You ready to eat?”

I squeezed his hand, watching as that made the corner of his mouth twitch. Whether tonight was a losing battle or not, one thing was clear: I had Soul with me. That was always enough. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

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Fuck, I was starting to think I was insane. Suddenly, Maka wasn’t Maka anymore. Or, I dunno, maybe she was more Maka than she was before? Again, fuck. Because whatever funk she’d been in at the beginning of the night had suddenly lifted as soon as dinner was over. I’d seen the girl hangry before, but…?

Or your lame little hand-holding actually worked.

As if that’d ever be enough.

It was Maka’s turn since we’d hit the toiletries stage of the bedtime routine. That means—again, what the fuck—she’d settled back into the observer role. No more bossing– no more worrying over whether or not an activity was gonna leave toes and fingers intact. Just an enigmatic smile and eyes that wouldn’t quit following me around the room. I couldn’t tell if I hated it or liked it– again, just insane.

“Soul!”

I jolted at the call before steadying myself for the mosey down the hall. Shelley was tucked to her chin, Maka sitting there with a book poised. I watched the scene, a smirk on my lips. “Whatdya need me for?”

“You have to do the bear voice,” Shelley instructed.

“Apparently my voice isn’t deep enough,” Maka added with one of the only self-deprecating smiles I’d ever seen on her. I didn’t like it.

That sent me striding, moving to plop on the other side of the bed. “Lemme see.” Maka angled the book my way. I glanced at Shelley, seeing that childlike expectant smile. Next was Maka, and… well, there was some sorta expectation there too that I couldn’t exactly get a fix on. I didn’t have time for that thought; my little Goldilocks wouldn’t wait.

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I’d made some lame excuse to stand in the kitchen. Well, popcorn was a fitting one at least since we had time to kill before Stein and Marie got home. Each pop! had my nerves tingling– little beats of gunfire to rip little holes in my heart. I guess it was all the melancholy of letting my dream die.

I wasn’t so stupid as to create white-picket fences. Mantles with family photos in neat little rows. The sing-song voice of children playing in the yard.

We were, at best, soldiers. In my mind, only pieces of that would even be possible, and even then…

Roadblocks.

Unrequited love. My neediness. My stubbornness. My… well, everything since tonight had shown me the obvious truth: I’m not made to be a mother.

Because that was the core covered in the mud of those words I had said to Soul. I had watched Marie in her sacrifice and knew—so deeply that it wrenched my heart from its place between my ribs—that my mother had never done the same for me. Sure, there was the actual birth, but the unconditional love that came after? And obviously that hadn’t been passed down. My patience today—or utter lack thereof—had been the final nail in the coffin. I was too stubbornly myself, and the self that I was most certainly didn’t fit the motherly mold.

“Yo.”

I just about jumped for the counter, spinning quickly to catch Soul with an eyebrow raised as he stood in the doorway. “What?”

“Are you coming in this century, or am I starting this movie by myself?”

“I’m just trying to make sure all the kernels are popped,” I grumbled as I turned back to the bag circling in the microwave.

“Alright, little miss perfect,” he teased before his footsteps got lost in the hush of the carpet. “Don’t blame me when you hate the flick.”

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Maka was fidgeting even though I was sure I’d picked a total winner of a film– some stupid puzzle of a thriller that she could use that big brain to tear apart for two hours. Instead, it was me she was tearing apart, and not being a bit sly about it. Her finger was toying with the power button and after a few more circles she finally took the plunge. I was stuck staring at a black screen.

“How did you know?”

“Know what?” I could be a little proud of the nonchalant, bullshitting tone I’d actually managed to put into that. I still couldn’t fix the arms that protectively crossed my chest or the bit of a grimace that was tainting the side of my smirk.

“You don’t have to be modest,” she pressed, green eyes starting an inquisition. “I want to know why–how you’re so good with kids.”

I shrugged, but the stone in her features told me I wasn’t off the hook. “Sorta– yeah, I had cousins and stuff.”

“And stuff.”

Woo-boy, I was toeing a line, but… there was Solomon Evans, and then there was Soul Eater. I’d never been too sure about burdening Maka with the old me, and this was sure it. Still, I dipped that toe: “Before my grandma died–”

The start of that brought her eyes wider, sweetness– softness coming to her eyes.

“–there used to be a mob of us. Mom’s got three brothers and a sister and each of ‘em wasn’t shy about having kids. Wes and I are the only pair.” I swallowed the old urge to button my lips because she was hanging off each word with a death-grip. “But they were all younger. Mostly babies and toddlers, so I got used to that kinda kid.”

She just nodded.

I cleared my throat. “But when Grandma died, our idiot parents just fell into fighting about inheritance and all that stopped.” I suddenly realized that secret had been a rock in my gut, and while it still scratched me raw coming up, its absence was a weight I didn’t fucking miss. “Got used to it, so I missed it.”

“I’m sorry.”

Sure, she could be apologizing for the shit my parents did, but I knew there was more to it. Her eyes were a little too shiny, and that button of her nose was turning a light pink. Maybe my sense had been lost along with that burden, since I couldn’t stop the whisper: “Why’d you ask Marie to do this?”

She flinched and her lips buttoned tight.

“Maka,” I pushed.

Her reply was a sigh, her fingers flexing on the channel changer and threatening to undo the silence. I grabbed them, ruining her chance for escape. “How do you know I asked?”

“‘Cause,” I muttered back.

“Don’t you think I’m responsible enough for Marie to just ask me?” Any playfulness in that was erased by her eyes falling away from me.

“Bookworm”—my throat burned with the love I couldn’t hide—“I know you. Doin’ somethin’ like this… what were you tryin’ to prove?”

She blinked, the liquid no longer just a shine in her eyes but small rivers down her cheeks. “It doesn’t matter. I failed anyway.”

Her arms tensed, trying to pull back her hands but I slipped into a firm hold on her wrists. I wasn’t gonna let her get away, not if it meant she was gonna break somewhere on her own. “Failed at what?”

“I was no good at this,” she whispered as that horrible, un-Maka-ly smile plastered on her lips again.

I wanted to roll my eyes. “Maka–”

“No,” she decimated that even with her softened voice. “I told you, right? I’m just– I won’t ever be a mother.”

Oh. There it was. Definitely not something I had forgotten, but we were sixteen. I fucking barely knew my own feelings let alone how to navigate hers. What I did know though? This was a deep hurt, and I most likely had this one chance to get it right. “The first time I held my cousin, I dropped him.”

Maka blinked, brows furrowing. “What?”

I produced at least half of a laugh thanks to the memory floating over my brain. “Not dropped-dropped, but yeah, he was nuts as a toddler and just threw himself everywhere, and since I didn’t know and hadn’t tried before, I made the mistake of trying to lift him when he was having one of those tantrums and pow!”

“But–”

“But nothin’,” I spat. “You can’t just throw yourself into something and expect it to be second nature. Even meistering—you know, that thing that’s literally in your blood—didn’t come to you without practice.” I gave her wrists a shake for good measure since I could see the argument forming on her lips. “You think four hours with a bossy preschooler means you couldn’t manage a kid of your own?”

“Nothing I did was right,” she hissed.

“That ain’t exactly true,” I pressed. “You tried. That was the rightest thing you could do.”

The pause that came after had me just about ready to tear out my hair. It wasn’t until she fidgeted, sighed, and tossed her chin back towards me that she spoke again. “Rightest isn’t a word,” Maka corrected softly as her eyes finally met mine. Her smile was dull, but at least it wasn’t fake anymore. “And I don’t know about trying, but… Soul, this isn’t just you– ‘wrapping me up to keep me from somethin’ bad?’”

My stomach dropped. Of course she’d been listening—of fucking course—but did she get the insinuation there? Love. I had said love. Wrapping someone in love. And I–

Well, no shit, Eater, she’s sure you love her in that lame weapon way. Don’t get ahead of yourself.

“I’m sorry– I eavesdropped.” For once, she did look a little guilty, but I missed out on it completely. I was staring at my hands, hoping that if the heat I was feeling was a blush, then at least the tilt of my head would hide part of it. “Thanks for standing up for me.”

“Like I said– you were tryin’,” I mumbled.

The tangle of our hands was suddenly in the forefront of my mind, but as soon as I started to loosen my hold on her wrists, she slid her palms back into mine. “But you’re not messing with me, right?”

“Nah.” One syllable– that’s all I fucking had. She was holding my hands too tightly. I was suffering through slick palms. I was sure at least my ears were pink. I was–

“I’m glad you came.”

Okay, no more at least. If my whole face wasn’t a tomato, then Clapton wasn’t a guitar god.

“It’s funny…” The breathlessness of her laugh drew my eyes back to her face. I had seen that look on her face only a few times before: she was scared, but that elated kind of afraid like she was about to jump off some cliff. “I wanted to do this by myself, but I realized that it always ends up alright if I have you with me.”

Floor, say hello to stomach. Tongue, lose every last control over your muscles. Brain, bluescreen. Here was where that dark, oily voice would usually pop in to ground me again, but even that didn’t have the strength to overcome my hopes at that moment.

It’s not like I imagined white-picket fences. No stupid Macy’s photos in tacky frames. No kids clamoring around the backyard.

We were tools, right? Usually just means to an end, but…

If there was one thing I did envision, it was having her with me. And sometimes, just sometimes, it was all the happy stuff that could come along with that.

“Soul?”

“Ah,” I tried, but my mouth was still full of cotton.

“I just wanted you to know that, okay?” Her fingers were slipping away. The fucking moment was slipping away, and I knew it, and–

“You’d be good at it,” I blurted.

Trajectory was momentarily paused, her hands hovering between us. “What?”

“Being a mom,” I stammered through, knowing that for once I had no plan. “Maybe it doesn’t feel like it now, but I know you. I know you’d learn, and I know you’d be good at it.”

I had hoped the crying was over with, but new tears blossomed in her eyes. “Oh.”

“And that’s– that’s not me keepin’ you from somethin’ bad,” I murmured.

She nodded, brought her hands back to her face, and did her best to clear the mess. Death, Maka might have been all blotchy and tear-stained, but I couldn’t help but think she was probably the most beautiful I’d ever seen. She was vulnerable, and for once, we’d actually talked about it. I couldn’t help but want that moment to last forever.

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I wanted to imagine that moment as another thread woven into our connection, and I wish that I… well, all that I could urge myself to do at that point was to plant my head on his shoulder and turn the movie back on as if it were any other night. My bravery does have its limits.

At first, his heart galloped like we’d just finished a practice fight with Star, but after comfortably melding together over an hour, any thumping was replaced by his gentle snore. I laughed at the predictability: Soul always had a post-stress coma.

I lifted my head to examine the tilt of his chin, the way his unfussed bangs slightly fell over his eyes. Soul’s mouth was slack, grumbles starting on each inhale. Gently, I tested his cheek with my finger, waiting to see if he was truly dead to the world. He was motionless besides the temporary creation of a dimple.

Wise Soul-isms that I had waited years for danced across my mind:

You can’t just throw yourself into something and expect it to be second nature.

That was the rightest thing you could do.

I know you’d learn, and I know you’d be good at it.

I was unable to deny the burn that brought to my eyes, and I let it engulf me again. A short, sweet deluge bubbled over my cheeks, rinsing away the last of the bitterness that I’d held onto that night. My other fingers joined in– not to poke, but to slide until I had cupped his cheek.

“Thank you for… being you, Soul.”

I leaned, and my lips brushed against his other cheek.

“Maybe, someday, I’ll know the right words for you, too.”

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Weird. Yeah, that was the only way to describe it. The feeling like you’re sure you left your wallet at home, but it’s in your damn pocket. Just something off and my brain was sending a muddled report. I tried to blame it on the disturbed sleep– Marie and Stein came home just an hour after I hit the true depth of my snooze.

Either way, gone was the storm-cloud Maka and here was the sunshine, her step light as we made our way back to the apartment. She was a few steps ahead of me, but somehow my little grumble was enough for her to turn a head over her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Dunno,” I griped. “Wonderin’ if maybe Stein had the chance to poke around in my sleep.”

For once, Maka didn’t roll her eyes as expected. “Why would you think that?” Her attention faltered, the security door to the building pulling her in.

As I listened to the soft beep of the keypad, I let that marinate. Well, I dunno, Maka, you and I had a pretty heavy talk and then suddenly we weren’t. Yeah, okay, maybe that was the unevenness. Either way, I finally felt like I gained an inch tonight, so I wasn’t about to take a mile. “Y’know, just guts rearranged. Like somebody maybe had their fun while I was snoozin’.”

“Hm?” Her pitch faltered, climbing towards the roof.

Now, I had been joking—not that Stein wouldn’t take advantage of a free exploratory surgery—but that was definitely too much of a panicked frequency from her. “Maka Albarn–”

“I have to–”

Those lithe legs of hers were motoring up the stairs, already up to the next landing. Thankfully we weren’t teens anymore, and with my last growth spurt, she wasn’t leaving me in the dust. “Did that maniac–”

“He only ever did that to Papa, and–”

“Maka Albarn!” The final shout came with the slam of our door, pinning us in the quiet of the apartment after our cat-and-mouse chase.

Her shoulders were tense, back to me as she murmured, “It wasn’t Stein.”

“Uh…” was all I could manage. I didn’t think I was getting an affirmative, and my hands reflexively went to my gut to check my organs.

She pivoted quickly, eyes shining with determination. “It was me.”

“Uh…”

A few steps and she was back in front of me, face now just two inches from mine as she challenged me: “And all it was was this.”

Her lips—fucking Death, her lips!—were right there, an inch from mine. It didn’t matter that they planted on my cheek, I was still sent. Out of order. Gone.

Maka tried to maintain her bravado, but the next still came with a little of a warble: “Now, is that all that bad?”

“N-no,” I stammered. Since all my sense was gone, and my hands moved of their own volition, grabbing her by the shoulders. “No, I– I–” Her face flushed pink, sending me partially into a panic. This was a misstep– not what she wanted, and I–

“You what?” There was an ultimatum in that question, and the shining clarity in her eyes had me knowing she had already decided something and it was just time for me to catch up.

“Normally don’t people do that sorta thing when someone’s awake?” That murmur ached in my chest with all sorts of want. “Y’know, s-so the other person has the chance to…”

“To?”

To panic– to overload– to– I swallowed that all and leaned in, lips just stopping a centimeter from hers. “To ask for more.”

Oh, thank Death she giggled softly. Maka worried her fingers in the sides of my T-shirt for a second before she tilted on tiptoes. A kiss. A real fucking kiss. Not just weapon and meister. Not friends. Not roommates living in limbo.

I felt her smile spread before she let go, giving me unnecessary space. Jade eyes shined up at me. “I should have known my actions always speak louder than my words.”

I sighed– this one full of contentment instead of the urge to tear out my hair. This time when I leaned, just our foreheads met, enjoying that closeness just as much. “And I’m always here to catch you when you jump.”

#soul eater #soul x maka #maka albarn #soul eater evans #soma #se secret santa #for my besties

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