Another sweet little short dedicated to Zi.


Spirit had just barely derailed the moment years ago with his daughter and that mop-head on the balcony at Christmas Eve Commemoration, but now he was seeing the disaster on the horizon as they celebrated survival.

That little kretin had been named Death's Last Weapon and while he could be nothing but proud of her, Maka was making the mistake of basking in it, and the midget imp in general. He'd caught them more than once at the party in quiet conversation, Soul's lips just a little too close to Maka's ear, or Death-forbid one of those slimy hands hovering like Soul was going to have the nerve to touch her.

Spirit was getting the distinct feeling that Marie was aiding in this, forcing him into an intricate game of keep-away as the night progressed which Stein was joyfully partnering with her for. It took a few hours, and a few drinks, before Spirit finally found himself in the position to pounce - or, really, to sit drunken in his chair as the previously mentioned anathema came to refill his punch. "Hey!" Spirit crowed.

"Save it, old man," Soul muttered as he refilled his cup and then a second for Maka.

"I take back what I said!" Spirit tipped forward in his chair, the legs clattering as he almost fell headlong but he was too intent on Soul to notice the new disequilibrium.

With an eye roll that almost tossed them out of his head, Soul turned to the drunken fool and grimaced. "Take back what?"

"That you're allowed to love her!"

Soul rushed forward, practically spilling the cup down Spirit's front as he clapped a hand to the older man's mouth. "Keep your damn voice down!"

"No," Spirit battled with Soul's hand, forcing punch to splatter on his white shirt.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Soul groaned. "My damn shirt and you-"

"Take back my permission," Spirit snapped back. "You don't even have the guts as it is, but I can't let a mop-haired, shark-toothed little-"

"The guts?" Soul spat. "You think I don't have the guts to do it, you drunk fucking oaf?"

"Or the vocabulary," Spirit hiccuped. "Oaf, who the hell uses oaf."

"You-!" Soul stabbed a menacing finger between the two of them. "You listen to me, old man, I-" he stuttered the yell to a stop, bringing his voice to a whisper as he leaned closer. "I love her and I'm no spineless idiot like you so I'll do it right - your permission or not."

"Not!" Spirit clenched the T between his teeth.

Soul fist practically popped one of the paper cups, the crinkle bringing the liquid back to bursting. "Fine!" came his eloquent retort as he turned on his heels, bee-lining for the balcony.

Spirit watched him, cradling something between a grimace and a smile. I hope he does it right.


"Soul?" Maka's eyebrows raised easily as she added up the change in her partner who'd only been out of her sight for ten minutes. What had been a pristinely white shirt was now splattered with pinkish-red splotches and his party-grade grimace was now replaced with his I'm-about-to-explode-in-a-tantrum frown that was usually reserved for when she ate the last of his ice cream. He attempted to press the crinkled cup towards her and as Maka took it her eyes widened again. "Um…?"

"Listen," he barked.

"OK," Maka let a weak laugh flutter from her mouth since even though to the regular eye he looked entirely prickled, Maka could feel his soul warbling, nervous, but still reaching for her.

"You and me…" That stumbled off into an inaudible end, Maka leaning in to try to catch it. She was still trying to dip her ear towards him, to suss out the mumbles when his face suddenly turned the color of the stains on his shirt, his eyes coming wide like hers. "Maka…" He'd never said her name with so little breath behind it and it forced her cheeks to match his.

"What?" But suddenly, at that moment, Maka knew what. Soul, always bad with his words unless he entirely said something by accident, was mute but his soul was still buzzing, trying to lock so tightly with hers that it could squeeze out anything else, any bits of doubt or fear or indecision. At that moment, she let it. It was a click of a light-switch, a bright glow illuminating for both of them that brought even more vibrant color to their faces. "Oh," Maka warbled and while normally she knew the instinct was to run, to tear herself away from it, there was no denying she was cinched to him and the tangled line was humming with the sweetest message.

Soul had nothing on his tongue, not a trembling ounce of syllables that he could bring together and while jumping headfirst was never his way, he could feel the morse code coming back along the connection of their souls urging him forward. He'd never done this - technically thought about it, analyzed it mentally for hours on end and kept himself awake for more than one night with the mental perfection of the act - and all bets pointed to utter failure but he leaned nonetheless. With his mind racing - how's my breath? Oh, fuck, when's the last time I used chapstick? How hard of a Maka-chop is this gonna earn me? - Soul made a new seam for the two of them, his lips just pressing to hers.

Maka's eyes were wide but only for a second before disappearing behind comfortably closing lids. Soul let himself do the same, savoring the newness of it all.