Chapter Title: Surprises

Chapter Summary: The power of clothes

Maka thinks it's rather nice to go shopping with friends. It's been awhile since she even had enough extra money to entertain the idea (the 3DS can wait because there are just some things that are necessary in this world), but when she did the math once, twice, and then three times, she joyously allowed herself to step into the clothing store (besides you can't go shopping without buying something, it's simply impossible).

"This is really cute, isn't it?" Maka grabs a pastel colored top from a rack and puts it up to herself, while simultaneously glaring at the girl hogging the mirror to move the fuck out of the way.

"I guess…" Soul rubs the back of his neck with an expression of absolute bliss and enthusiasm and—just kidding. He looks terribly bored, and Maka is pretty sure he regrets agreeing to go shopping with her. She snorts. Oh well, not her problem.

"Wow Soul, try not to make it look like somebody stabbed you in the foot." She makes her way to a table of lingerie, and he wordlessly follows but heaves a heavy sigh. It's totally on purpose—as if she wouldn't notice. No one sighs that loud, Soul. NO ONE.

As she rummages around through the remains of feminine undergarments, Soul casually picks up a flower printed bra with a single finger, dangling it precariously between them.

Maka narrows her eyes because he has that look again, and she has to ready her face-punching fists in case he decides to say something incredibly idiotic and deserving of it.

He lets his eyes rove all over her body, and no, she did not shiver. Not all in the slightest. "What are you, Maka? A C-cup?"

She scoffs and rolls green eyes, fighting the heat in her cheeks because no no no DO NOT give him the satisfaction DON'T—

"Don't give yourself too much credit Soul, you're a double A at most," comes a new voice, unfamiliar, and wow did they just say something moderately insulting to her Soul?

(Did she just really refer to him as 'her' Soul, like seriously, get a grip Maka.)

"Ughhh, go away Liz," he makes a face at the dark blonde woman who just nonchalantly invites herself into their bubble. Instead of retorting, she ignores Soul (wow rude much) and turn to face Maka.

"Hey, I'm Liz, and I think you're pretty cute," she waves at Maka and shrugs, sounding like it wasn't the least bit weird to call someone you just met attractive.

She wants to say something, anything, but instead chokes on her spit (real smooth, Maka). Soul puts his hands on her shoulders, and yeah sure, it would be nice, except he's squeezing kind hard, and it's kinda uncomfortable.

"Okay, we're leaving now, have fun flirting with old men, Liz, BYE," Soul all but shoves her in the opposite direction of a smug-looking Liz, and Maka has to slap at her hands several times to get out of his grasp.

"Oh no you don't, I don't know what kind of issue you have with that girl, but I am not leaving until I try this shirt on," she hold up blue tank top for him to see. It's cute. Super cute. He's a fashionista, he should understand.

He wrinkles his nose at the mention of Liz, and replies, "Why don't you just buy it?"

"Because what if I don't like how it fits on me?"

He gives her 'are you kidding me' face, almost pouting, "Well I don't like it."

Her face scrunches in angry surprise, because wow did he really just say that, rude seriously. "Oh fuck off—it's seriously cute!"

"But they're…." He fiddles with the fabric. "Noodle straps, or whatever."

She stares at him. Then frowns and blinks because, wait what?

"Noodle? Noodle straps, Soul, noodle straps?" She asks. "Noodle str—you mean spaghetti straps?"

"Yeah, that! Whatever, I was close."

"No you wasn't," she sighs. "What's wrong with spaghetti straps, anyway?"

Soul shrugs, throwing a hand out, gesturing to her. "I' dunno, its….shoulders?" He says dumbly.

"Seriously? What century do you live in, Soul?" Maka laughs herself in twisted amusement and heads to the dressing rooms. He opens his mouth to protest, but she only walks faster, weaving through people and racks.

In the privacy of the fitting rooms, Maka quickly removes her current shirt and slips on the blue top, twirling around to examine it in the mirror. Oh yeah, this is definitely going to be hers.

Just as she is about to pull it off, fingers touching the hem, her curtain is, the curtain is yanked open forcefully. She bites her tongue to silence the upcoming scream, hands flying up to cover her (still-clothed) boobs.

"OH MY SWEET FUCKING GOD, SOUL, what are you doing?"

He doesn't answer. Instead, Soul hastily steps closer (oh yeah, come right in, don't even bother asking) closes the curtain with one hand and stares at her with piercing red eyes.

Don't melt, christ, DON'T MELT.

He steps into her space, and she takes a step back only to be stopped by the wall. "Hey, Maks," his intense gaze meets her, petrified. "I think…I may… I think I might like you. A lot."

Holy shit. Holy motherfucking SHIT.

Alright, well there is a time and a place for everything…

Soul is standing so close, and god she can smell him, and it's completely amazing (okay that's a little creepy of her) and and and—

"Well do you—do you think maybe you might like me a—

It's too much. It's just all too much for her to handle: Soul's proximity, Soul's eyes, Soul's scent, Soul's sudden confession that makes her insides do weird little flip flops because maybe, just maybe she does like him too. And so she grabs his face, bringing it down, and kisses him.

It starts out soft and delicate (they're both probably too scared), but then his tongue, warm and timid, brushes her bottom lip, and she lets out a small strangled sound. At this, Soul's kisses are rougher, harder, almost desperate, and Maka's mind shuts down because she doesn't want to think about where they are, what they're doing. She only wants to feel him.

She's vaguely aware that his hands are everywhere: cupping his face, stroking her hair, running up and down her arms, teasing the hem of her shirt, on her waist, and then back to her face again. Her fingers thread through snowy white tresses, massaging and raking, heart beating wildly at the low growl in the back of his throat.

When they finally pull apart, breathing hard, Maka throws out her pride and pulls him closer into a hug, wounding her arms tightly around his neck. There's a thundering pulse in her ears, but she isn't sure if it's his or her owns.

"That's a yes, by the way," she whispers. "That I like you too, I mean."

He pauses in his heavy breathing to pull back, and she almost dies at the sight of his big ass grin. She contemplates saying 'just kidding' and then kicking him out just to wipe that shit-eating grin off his pretty, little face, but all thoughts immediately dissolve when he leans back down to kiss and nibble her lips.

Yeah, they're still in the dressing room, and he is still randomly romantic enough to give her a heart attack, but whatever.

"The shirt looks good on you by the way," he manages through kisses. Maka can't help but smile hard against his lips.

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(She made out of her friend-but-more (boyfriend?) with white hair in a dressing room. Top that, Kim.)

A/N- And that concludes Time to Pretend! This chapter is by far my favorite to write, because smooches featuring pansexual Liz. If you like my writing, I'll be working on my Resbang story for the rest of the year, so there will be no new things until that is published, other than the occasional oneshot or written prompt (keep an eye out on 'Flying Into The Sun or on my tumblr if you want to keep up with my writing).

A big thank you to all those who have favorited this story, requested alerts on this story, and even bigger thank you to those who have reviewed. Your feedback is always valuable. The hugest thank you to 'Of Heartmates and Soulbeats' who has reviewed on practically every chapter (I love you).

If you liked this chapter/story let me know by leaving me a review! If you hated it I want to know that too!

(sorry for the incredibly long note, wynnie out)