Gift!Fic for Keeva: What Doesn't Change
Title: What Doesn’t Change
Summary: They have a routine when Maka comes back to Death City.
Characters/Pairings: Soul/Maka
Rating: G/PG
Genre: I CAN WRITE NOTHING BUT FLUFF *sobs*
Author’s Note: Post-anime, because I haven’t got my hands on the manga yet. Gift!fic for keevacaereni , who requested something with grown-up Maka and Soul. Hope you like it! :)
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Maka Albarn is running on pure adrenaline when she returns to the little shared apartment she calls home. She hasn’t slept in days because of a stupid, stupid sneaky kishin that had been running rampant in Rome, and she couldn’t exactly stop to nap with a dangerous thing like that on the loose. The woman can’t remember the last time she ate, either, and her arms are stinging from a kishin surprise attack.
Most meisters would worry about their health at this point, but they don’t have awesome mostly-still-partners like Maka does.
Well, okay, she mentally concedes. So things are a little weird sometimes since Asura, especially now that Soul’s a Death Scythe, but we’ve been partners for years. We’re not gonna stop being, her mind hesitates, because Maka’s pretty sure that ‘best friends’ doesn’t quite cover the complicated but oddly simple relationship between her and Soul, whatever-we-are just ‘cos we’re really busy now.
Part of the reason for the business is that Lord Death wants to keep his Death Scythes close, even if Asura was taken care of years ago. Still, he cheerfully looks the other way (and distracts her annoying dad) when Maka manages to stay in Death City for a few days in-between assignments, and nobody notices much if Soul coincidentally disappears for those occasions as well.
Maka opens the door to their apartment and is immediately greeted by the sight of Soul. He’s leaning against the wall in the entryway, obviously trying to imply with his disinterested stance that no, he isn’t waiting for her, because Cool Guys never do something so sappy. Maka, however, meets his gaze and grins.
“Hey there, Soul.”
“Maka,” he returns the greeting with a nod.
“You stayed home from school? Won’t your students miss you?”
Soul ignores her teasing (though she really is curious- he doesn’t normally show up until the school day finishes late that night) in favor of more questions. “Kishin all taken care of?”
“Of course!” She mock-sniffs indignantly. While they work best as a team, she’s far from helpless! “I’ve got the soul in my bag- I’ll give it to you later. I am a competent meister and weapon, Soul!”
She’s rewarded with a trademark shark-like grin (which Maka refuses to admit how much she’s missed, even to herself) and a hug. “Well, yeah, ‘cause you’re my meister and we’re kickass.”
Oh, ow.
It’s not the compliment that makes her fail at stifling a gasp of pain (though it does something that’s probably harmful to her insides), but the warm hug currently aggravating the injuries Maka has managed to pick up. When Soul pauses and adjusts his grip to be a little more careful, she mutters a curse. All that work to hide them for nothing!
“And in all these years of being my meister,” Soul muses in a quiet voice, “you’re still stupid about getting hurt. Your arms?”
Maka glares at the long-sleeves of the jacket, which would be Maka-Chopped if it were animate. She’s bought and worn it just for this purpose! I didn’t want to look all weak right when I got back!
“That’s what I thought. C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”
He tugs Maka into the kitchen, leaving her bags by the doorway. Soul makes her shed her nice new (if traitorous) jacket and drape it over the back of a chair, where she’s then ordered to sit. It doesn’t take long for him to grab the first-aid kit and begin properly re-bandaging her arms.
“You really suck at first-aid,” he observes, peeling the old, messily-wrapped bandages away. She sighs.
“Oh, shut up.”
“... you gonna tell me who did it?”
Maka winces as Soul carefully smears antibiotic ointment on the slashes covering her arms, many of them barely missing her veins. “The kishin, of course. It was a weapon-meister pair, and the meister was very good at using her battle axe. Just a one-time thing.”
“Mmhmm.”
… He could at least try to sound a little less disbelieving.
Soul’s taken care of me a lot over the years, she thinks as she waits. Heh, I guess that’s one thing that hasn’t changed.
Maka idly wonders what their younger selves would think of them now. Their respective appearances haven’t changed too much- Soul still wears colored headbands in his shoulder-length white hair (currently a red one she remembers giving him last Christmas), and his clothes are still whatever casual and vaguely-presentable thing he can find in his closet. Maka, meanwhile, has her hair down and keeps her wardrobe limited to practical outfits. Soul is only slightly more mature (Maka suspects that Black Star is to blame for that) but definitely more thoughtful nowadays, and Maka’s learning a lot in her solo-travels.
How weird. When did we grow up?
“When was the last time you ate?” Soul questions, tying the last bandage off. Maka blinks.
“Um...”
He shakes his head. “Tch! I guess we’ll have to stop by a restaurant before the theater, then. Here’s hoping we don’t miss all the showings.”
Maka looks at him doubtfully, pulling her jacket back on. It hides these new and far more comfortable bandages nicely, at least. “Are you sure we’ll have time tonight? I’m supposed to report to Lord Death when I get back, you know.”
“Eh, he can wait ‘til tomorrow,” Soul dismisses. “He knew that you’d complete the mission when he assigned it to you. Besides, if you’d really wanted to report to him first, you would’ve. Movie Night’s more important, obviously.”
“Is that really any way to refer to the Lord Death and your boss?” Maka asks, trying to hide the faint blush. Soul shrugs.
“Nah, he’d agree with me.”
----
“I want to see Face Punch!”
“It’s my turn to pick, Soul!”
“I’m not gonna go see some cheesy chick-flick, Maka!”
“You dragged me to Explosion last time! That was a terrible movie but you didn’t see me complaining!”
“But that was freaking badass--”
“MAKA-CHOP.”
The teller stands in terror as Maka turns away from the downed Soul and says sweetly, “Two tickets for The Diary, please!”
----
You know, I really don’t have it that bad, Maka thinks, glancing at the man beside her.
Okay, so he’s fallen asleep fifteen minutes in, and done so right after inhaling all the popcorn (Maka had barely saved the shared soda), but for all Soul’s complaining he’s still gone out with her. He could have simply left instead of, well, taking her out. The Movie Nights are always his treat, and no amount of persistent Maka-Chops could make him change his mind. You’re usually the one out in the field and in danger, he’d once offered by way of explanation, along with an awkward shrug. I’m just sitting around here stopping brats from killing eachother. ‘S not like I’ve got a bunch of other stuff to spend money on.
Maka snuggles in next to Soul, ignoring his snores. There’s probably a silly smile on her face, but it’s dark and nobody else can see it. No matter what the world does to pull them apart, she decides, they’ll always be partners.
Summary: They have a routine when Maka comes back to Death City.
Characters/Pairings: Soul/Maka
Rating: G/PG
Genre: I CAN WRITE NOTHING BUT FLUFF *sobs*
Author’s Note: Post-anime, because I haven’t got my hands on the manga yet. Gift!fic for keevacaereni , who requested something with grown-up Maka and Soul. Hope you like it! :)
-------------
Maka Albarn is running on pure adrenaline when she returns to the little shared apartment she calls home. She hasn’t slept in days because of a stupid, stupid sneaky kishin that had been running rampant in Rome, and she couldn’t exactly stop to nap with a dangerous thing like that on the loose. The woman can’t remember the last time she ate, either, and her arms are stinging from a kishin surprise attack.
Most meisters would worry about their health at this point, but they don’t have awesome mostly-still-partners like Maka does.
Well, okay, she mentally concedes. So things are a little weird sometimes since Asura, especially now that Soul’s a Death Scythe, but we’ve been partners for years. We’re not gonna stop being, her mind hesitates, because Maka’s pretty sure that ‘best friends’ doesn’t quite cover the complicated but oddly simple relationship between her and Soul, whatever-we-are just ‘cos we’re really busy now.
Part of the reason for the business is that Lord Death wants to keep his Death Scythes close, even if Asura was taken care of years ago. Still, he cheerfully looks the other way (and distracts her annoying dad) when Maka manages to stay in Death City for a few days in-between assignments, and nobody notices much if Soul coincidentally disappears for those occasions as well.
Maka opens the door to their apartment and is immediately greeted by the sight of Soul. He’s leaning against the wall in the entryway, obviously trying to imply with his disinterested stance that no, he isn’t waiting for her, because Cool Guys never do something so sappy. Maka, however, meets his gaze and grins.
“Hey there, Soul.”
“Maka,” he returns the greeting with a nod.
“You stayed home from school? Won’t your students miss you?”
Soul ignores her teasing (though she really is curious- he doesn’t normally show up until the school day finishes late that night) in favor of more questions. “Kishin all taken care of?”
“Of course!” She mock-sniffs indignantly. While they work best as a team, she’s far from helpless! “I’ve got the soul in my bag- I’ll give it to you later. I am a competent meister and weapon, Soul!”
She’s rewarded with a trademark shark-like grin (which Maka refuses to admit how much she’s missed, even to herself) and a hug. “Well, yeah, ‘cause you’re my meister and we’re kickass.”
Oh, ow.
It’s not the compliment that makes her fail at stifling a gasp of pain (though it does something that’s probably harmful to her insides), but the warm hug currently aggravating the injuries Maka has managed to pick up. When Soul pauses and adjusts his grip to be a little more careful, she mutters a curse. All that work to hide them for nothing!
“And in all these years of being my meister,” Soul muses in a quiet voice, “you’re still stupid about getting hurt. Your arms?”
Maka glares at the long-sleeves of the jacket, which would be Maka-Chopped if it were animate. She’s bought and worn it just for this purpose! I didn’t want to look all weak right when I got back!
“That’s what I thought. C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”
He tugs Maka into the kitchen, leaving her bags by the doorway. Soul makes her shed her nice new (if traitorous) jacket and drape it over the back of a chair, where she’s then ordered to sit. It doesn’t take long for him to grab the first-aid kit and begin properly re-bandaging her arms.
“You really suck at first-aid,” he observes, peeling the old, messily-wrapped bandages away. She sighs.
“Oh, shut up.”
“... you gonna tell me who did it?”
Maka winces as Soul carefully smears antibiotic ointment on the slashes covering her arms, many of them barely missing her veins. “The kishin, of course. It was a weapon-meister pair, and the meister was very good at using her battle axe. Just a one-time thing.”
“Mmhmm.”
… He could at least try to sound a little less disbelieving.
Soul’s taken care of me a lot over the years, she thinks as she waits. Heh, I guess that’s one thing that hasn’t changed.
Maka idly wonders what their younger selves would think of them now. Their respective appearances haven’t changed too much- Soul still wears colored headbands in his shoulder-length white hair (currently a red one she remembers giving him last Christmas), and his clothes are still whatever casual and vaguely-presentable thing he can find in his closet. Maka, meanwhile, has her hair down and keeps her wardrobe limited to practical outfits. Soul is only slightly more mature (Maka suspects that Black Star is to blame for that) but definitely more thoughtful nowadays, and Maka’s learning a lot in her solo-travels.
How weird. When did we grow up?
“When was the last time you ate?” Soul questions, tying the last bandage off. Maka blinks.
“Um...”
He shakes his head. “Tch! I guess we’ll have to stop by a restaurant before the theater, then. Here’s hoping we don’t miss all the showings.”
Maka looks at him doubtfully, pulling her jacket back on. It hides these new and far more comfortable bandages nicely, at least. “Are you sure we’ll have time tonight? I’m supposed to report to Lord Death when I get back, you know.”
“Eh, he can wait ‘til tomorrow,” Soul dismisses. “He knew that you’d complete the mission when he assigned it to you. Besides, if you’d really wanted to report to him first, you would’ve. Movie Night’s more important, obviously.”
“Is that really any way to refer to the Lord Death and your boss?” Maka asks, trying to hide the faint blush. Soul shrugs.
“Nah, he’d agree with me.”
----
“I want to see Face Punch!”
“It’s my turn to pick, Soul!”
“I’m not gonna go see some cheesy chick-flick, Maka!”
“You dragged me to Explosion last time! That was a terrible movie but you didn’t see me complaining!”
“But that was freaking badass--”
“MAKA-CHOP.”
The teller stands in terror as Maka turns away from the downed Soul and says sweetly, “Two tickets for The Diary, please!”
----
You know, I really don’t have it that bad, Maka thinks, glancing at the man beside her.
Okay, so he’s fallen asleep fifteen minutes in, and done so right after inhaling all the popcorn (Maka had barely saved the shared soda), but for all Soul’s complaining he’s still gone out with her. He could have simply left instead of, well, taking her out. The Movie Nights are always his treat, and no amount of persistent Maka-Chops could make him change his mind. You’re usually the one out in the field and in danger, he’d once offered by way of explanation, along with an awkward shrug. I’m just sitting around here stopping brats from killing eachother. ‘S not like I’ve got a bunch of other stuff to spend money on.
Maka snuggles in next to Soul, ignoring his snores. There’s probably a silly smile on her face, but it’s dark and nobody else can see it. No matter what the world does to pull them apart, she decides, they’ll always be partners.