Chapter Text
“This is already gonna suck, the least she could do is be on time. She’s the one who likes these kind of shindigs,” grumbling to himself, Soul glanced at the clock, dressed in his evening best with a slightly disgusted look on his face. Tonight was the annual celebration of the DWMA founding and Soul didn’t particularly want to go. The formality was annoying, there would be too many people, and the music was always crap. But attendance was...expected, and Maka wouldn’t stand for him skipping. On top of that, it was Kidd’s first time hosting the annual party since replacing Lord Death, so not only would there be a long and boring speech, but Soul’s absence would definitely be noted by his...classmate? boss? whatever. “C’mon already, Maka! We’re going to be late!” Soul shouted from the entryway of their apartment, where he slouched against the doorframe.
“Can it, Soul!” The angry reply came from the depths of Maka’s bedroom. “I’m almost ready! And besides, it’s your fault anyway!!”
“HAAAH?!?! No way!! How is it MY fault?! If you didn’t always take so damn long to get ready for these things, we could have been there already and not had to wait in line for the free food!” And I would have been able to scope out a place to avoid most of the chaos without being noticed.
“All I’m saying is, if you hadn’t insisted on goofing off with Black*Star before the party, I wouldn’t have had to lecture you instead of getting ready!”
“That is NOT my fault! You didn’t have to get so mad in the first place! it wasn’t a big deal! God, Maka, you are so frustrating sometimes!”
“This is Kidd’s big night! Knowing Black*Star, you guys could easily gotten up to something that would cause problems for him!” Maka’s volume varied as she moved around doing who-knew-what in her room.
“Lighten up, will ya? As much as I hate this party-thing, I’m not the kinda guy to sabotage a friend and his big party. Maybe just...liven it up a little.” Soul grinned toothily at that last part. Death the Kidd was just too fun to prank sometimes. Although nowadays you had to be careful; he was packing a helluva lot more of a punch now he was a full-fledged reaper, and the guy could kick ass before. The power boost Soul’d gotten from being transformed into a DeathScythe couldn’t compare.
“See!! That’s what I mean!” Maka had finally opened the door and stood angrily in the entrance, glaring warningly at the weapon...who was staring at his dress shoes.
“Oh whatever. Are you finally ready now? Maybe this party will help you loosen up. You’ve been really annoying these last…” Soul trailed off briefly as he looked up. “few months,” he hurriedly finished. Swallowing thickly, Soul thoroughly observed the young woman, no, the vision, in front of him, doing his best to keep his face expressionless.
In the years he had known her, and especially the last few, the young girl he called meister had bloomed and filled out into something more. Oh sure, she was still lithe and slender, and she’d never be curvaceous on the level of Tsubaki or the Thompson sisters, but--especially wearing what she was now--there was no longer any mistaking her for a boy.
Maka felt herself blush under Soul’s perusal, his crimson eyes darkening to match the burgundy of her dress. Looking down she smoothed her palms over the material on her stomach. The strapless dress fit snugly on the bodice before nipping in around her waist and flaring out delicately over her hips with a gossamer over-shell. The gown fit perfectly, giving her the hourglass figure she’d always admired, and left little to the imagination about her actual shape. A fact she was slightly self-conscious about. But she loved the way it flowed about her knees and hips, the way it caressed her when she spun, making her feel like magic was swirling around her and transforming her. The dress made her feel free and, she secretly admitted, just a bit sexy and alluring.
She’d picked up the dress, at first, because it reminded her of Soul’s eyes and she’d thought it would make a good match for the dance. But she had worried about the weapon’s reaction, and with the way he was looking at her so intensely, she feared she’d been right. It was ridiculous for someone with her shape to wear a dress like this. But she’d bought it, she looked good in it, and she didn’t have time or want to change into something that might be more acceptable.
“Well! Is something wrong?!” Maka demanded. She was glad when her voice came out firm and indignant, instead of reflecting her inner turmoil. Soul’s dark eyes focused on hers.
“Yeah. We’re late.” Soul was desperately trying to cover his reaction to that stunning dress. Well...the woman-girl in it. But seeing the anger rise in his miester’s face, he added “but you look great. Now c’mon. Let’s go already.” He wheeled around on his heel and slouched down the steps, giving himself no time to observe her reaction.
Maka delicately clutched her wine glass just in front of her with both hands as she peered around the crowded dance floor for her weapon partner. She paid special attention to the dimly lit alcoves and balconies where he was wont to frequent at events like this. Kidd’s introduction speech, long winded as it had been, went over surprisingly well (no thanks to Soul and Black*Star). But luckily, much of the shenanigans had been avoided after Maka had discovered part of their plan and warned Sid and some other faculty to be on the lookout. A fact the devious pair were still a little miffed at. They had been plotting some ridiculous prank involving something about throwing off the symmetry, and fireworks to liven up Kidd’s speech...she hadn’t really paid much attention to the details.
But regardless, the festivities had begun and the dance hall was now filled with music, laughter, and the kaleidoscopic swirl and flash of fabric and sequins as everyone danced. There was an almost desperate undertone to the abandon the students and faculty partied with. It had been two long years since the last Shibusen dance. Two years since the trapping of the kishin and darkening of the moon. At first, everyone had been too busy frantically putting out fires caused by the kishin’s madness--not to mention trying to maintain the shaky alliance with the witches--to even think about partying. Kidd, especially, had had his hands full, having recently lost his father and not only inherited new and foreign abilities, but also the DWMA and all associated responsibilities. Surprisingly enough, it had been that pretentious, aggravating weapon, Excalibur, who had provided the most help to the new Lord Death; although the young shinigami still had a long way to go.
Now, however, things had finally settled down enough to hold a proper party to celebrate and cut loose. But although the job requests Shibusen received were now returned to a largely normal level, and things seemed to be settling back down to a pre-kishin state, there was an almost intangible sense of lurking danger in the atmosphere. Veteran weapons and meisters, especially, could feel it, like weathered fishermen sensing the oncoming storm.
They danced to forget troubled pasts and escape the questionable future.
Maka knew she had been one of those feeling the most pressure from the brewing strife, and it had been hard on her partner. But she wanted to be prepared. If the battle on the moon had shown her anything, it was that she could still push herself further: the gap between herself and Kidd and Black*Star was big even considering their freakish strength. Che. Maka grumbled at the thought. She had her own strengths to play to, but she still needed to improve some of her weaker areas. Chrona was counting on her. And lately it feels like I’m the only one who still has hope. I KNOW we can save Chrona. I’ll find a way. No matter what! I have to. A change in the song broke the meister’s reverie and she shook herself slightly. As much as she cared about Chrona, she couldn’t forget about her other friends along the way: tonight was for fun and she hadn’t had much of that lately. Ruthlessly shoving a whisper of guilt into a corner of her heart, she continued her search.
Half the reason she had even come to this party was because she hoped to make it up to Soul. She knew she’d been a bit of a grouch lately but he’d just been going along with her moods, although recently she’d noticed his rope was running a little short. Parties might not be his thing, or so he claimed, but Soul usually cheered up after some food and time with their friends. Or, at the very least, watching them and the other Shibusen students make fools of themselves while awkwardly dancing or flirting with their dates. And it was an off chance, but maybe she could even get Soul to dance with her to work on their soul resonance. With the strain of all her training a quiet note of discord had crept into it recently, and they couldn’t afford for it to grow.
But she couldn’t spot her weapon’s shock of white hair anywhere. There was Marie, taking her turn dancing with the host while keeping half her attention on her husband, Stein, and their daughter. The professor with the huge screw in his head stood off in a corner, an unlit cigarette to his lips, casually leaning against the wall while watching the thing crawling around in front of him with bemused scientific interest. He still hadn’t quite adjusted to the tiny human who had been a part of his and Marie’s life for more than a year, now. Maka shook her head.
A flutter of giggles caught her attention and she turned to spot cluster of girls crowded over by one of the grand hall’s pillars. Tamping down a spark of annoyance she decided to go investigate what the fuss was all about. Soul was likely the object of their attention. Despite the time that had passed since his transformation into a Death Scythe, girls still flocked to him, the coolest guy on campus and the “last Death Scythe,” desiring him as partner and more. Thankfully, though, most of the attention was now limited to fawning from afar. More than two years of refusals to switch partners was enough for most to get the message. But they could still hope. After all, even though Maka was top of her class, the two personalities didn’t make much sense together...unless there was something more to their relationship than just weapon and meister. As far as anyone knew, though (and it was definitely discussed in the rumor mills) the duo had an entirely platonic relationship. Much to the frustrations of Black*Star and Tsubaki, and even occasionally Kidd and the Thompson sisters. The friends had tried, sporadically, to get Soul and Maka together, but each attempt had failed miserably and sailed past them, blissfully unnoticed. Much the way the gaggle of girls’ glares went completely unobserved by Maka as she stalked past and came into view of Soul, setting her now empty wine glass on a passing server’s tray on her way.
The grouch sat slumped in a chair, half-ignoring Black*Star’s incessant chatter, as he smirked out at the faceless crowd. His arrogant look rapidly faded when he spotted his meister strolling towards him, replaced with a slightly wary and definitely more intense expression. That walk said she was after something, and he wasn’t sure he’d enjoy it, not with the way things had been going lately.
Maka stopped in front of him and Soul peered up with hooded eyes, garnet meeting forest green.
“Hey, Soul, wanna dance?” with her cheery voice and head tilted curiously, it was hard to believe she was one of the most dangerous meisters in the academy.
“Now why would I want to do that?” he drawled, “You know I hate dancing”
“C’mon, you know our resonance has been off lately, and dancing might help. Besides, even if you deny it, you are good at dancing.” She avoided mentioning the Evans family as the reason for his skill; it wouldn’t do to sour things before they’d gotten started.
“Doesn’t matter. I don’t dance. And besides, why would I dance with someone with no curves at all?” Soul’s usual dig, intended to reestablish firm ground for his heart, belied his actual feelings on the subject of the undeniably stunning girl and succeeded far better than he had planned. As his meister wheeled around, back stiff and chin high with disdain, he thought he caught a sparkle at the corner of her eye.
“Fine then. But when our resonance completely dissolves, don’t blame me. And don’t say I didn’t warn you. If you won’t put any effort into our partnership, you might as well put in more effort at the apartment: you have dish duty for the next two weeks.” With a final disgusted sniff, she stalked off in the general direction of the food tables and Tsubaki.
“Ouch, man. That was harsh. It wouldn’t kill you to dance with her, ya know? And now you have to do dishes for two whole weeks. I hate dishes. That sucks. Are you an idiot or something?” Black*Star’s comments, running parallel to his own thoughts, did not improve Soul’s mood. He wasn’t quite sure why he’d shut her down, or especially why she’d seemed to take it so hard. It wasn’t any different from what he usually said. As he brooded after his meister, now complaining to Tsubaki while filling a plate, he wondered how to salvage the situation. It’s not like I’d hate to dance with her. It’s just...all these people, ugh. And what’s so special about dancing anyway? There’s got to be other things to do to improve our resonance, and it’s not like it’s really all that bad. I’m sure it will settle down after a little while...right??
Completely lost in thought, the albino weapon completely missed Black*Star’s sideways glance and subsequent eyeroll. Those two were just so pathetic, sometimes. But with any luck, by the end of tonight, there’d be one more idiot-couple happily going around Shibusen. And they’d be praising him as the biggest and best guy around. The one who brought them such happiness. The blue-haired assassin grinned conspiratorially to himself as he watched his partner with Maka and planned their next move.