Mistletoe Trip, a soul eater fanfic

Disclaimer: All original Soul Eater characters, story, and affiliated media are copyright (c) 2004 by Atsushi Okubo. Kashii Ai, Cassie Drey, and any associated names/companies in no way own the Soul Eater series.

Prompt: Mind-fuckery and mistletoe

Pairings: SoulxMakaxKid OT3

Written For: caveat lector, aka Nadia (my beta) for Christmas

Words: 1, 240

Mistletoe Trip

Death the Kid came to consciousness slowly. His head was swimming with pain, a dull, pounding throb. It was surprisingly regular. He liked that, at least it was organized. The young shinigami allowed himself a small groan of discomfort, and cracked open an eye. He shut it immediately as unwanted light flooded in, increasing this dreadful headache tenfold. Kid sighed and considered his options. He could open his eyes, allowing the light to flood through, and wait for his eyes to grow used to it. Or he could simply stay like this, in the dark world under his eyelids, waiting for the headache to abate. He decided on the latter. He was sure the headache would fade as it always did. Hell, he rarely ever had a headache; his immortal body was hardier than a mere human's.

A small poke in his ribs interrupted his thoughts. Kid groaned and buried his ear deeper into the soft, squishy pillow. The poke came again, only harder. He edged away from the source of this irritation. What the hell was this, anyway? Was his father trying to wake him up? It was probably Patti, wanting him to make her breakfast or something . . . The mattress shifted and depressed, and the soft rustle of cloth told him that someone was moving across the bed. Damn. Patti was so going to shout in his ear, now. He just knew it. He was surprised when something soft pressed into his back. He cracked open an eye, and this time, allowed it to adjust to the blindingly bright light. He was even more startled when a pair of slender, tiny arms slid around his waist. He opened the other eye and stared down at the hands clasped over his stomach. That didn't look like Patti's hands. Or Liz's. The hands were most definitely female, but very small, almost childlike, and the neat, short nails were painted with black polish. The shinigami's curiosity was definitely peaked now, so he turned to see whose hands this could possibly be.

"AAAGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!"

"WHU—WHAT?"

"MAKA?!"

"What?!"

"What the hell are you doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why're you in my bed?!"

"Oh . . ." She looked confused for a moment, and then smiled, "It all started with the mistletoe!"

"What . . . mistletoe?"

"Yes." She paused for a moment, her brow furrowed in remembrance, "And lots and lots of vodka."

"Vodka?"

"Yes, vodka."

"I see." He automatically pressed his fingers to his forehead in thought, as was his habit. What did happen last night? He realized with a jolt that he didn't remember. They had been at a small Christmas party, a get together of just the seven of their group, he knew that. That's right. Today was Christmas Eve. He looked down and realized he was wearing nothing but a silky red dress shirt, open over his bare, well-muscled chest, and a pair of plain black boxers. Wait . . . boxers?

"Maka . . . what the hell happened last night?" He squinted and rubbed his aching forehead, "I was drunk last night, wasn't I?"

"Yeah. Really drunk."

The shinigami stared at the black and white comforter swirled in his lap, "Did . . . I mean . . . did we . . .?"

"Uuhhhnnn . . . morning already?" Kid watched in slow horror as a spiky white head and a round, bronze face emerged from the covers beyond Maka. What. The. FUCK. Soul rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and blinked his huge ruby-red eyes, "'S really bright, with those huge windows . . ." He turned and smiled his typical, bright-and-sharp smile, "G'morning Maka, Kid."

"Good morning!"

"What the hell are you doing, Soul?"

The Death Scythe regarded the shinigami with a rather innocent but strange (at least to Kid) expression of delicate hurt, "Eeeehhhh . . . waking up?"

"And why the fuck are you waking up in my bed?"

Maka sighed and tilted her head, "Kid doesn't remember what happened last night . . ."

"Oh. I'm pretty sure the three of us ended up . . . um . . . sleeping together."

"Excuse me?"

"Are you sure we did? I mean, does Kid ever get drunk?" Maka asked.

"It was the mistletoe, remember?"

"I don't remember any mistletoe at the party." Kid cut in.

"He's right. There was none." Maka agreed. Soul nodded, "You're right. I believe there was vodka."

Kid was beginning to be confused, "Was there, or was there not any mistletoe at the party last night?"

He watched as weapon and meister looked at each other and shrugged, "I don't remember."

"I didn't pay enough attention." Soul stretched lazily, and Kid noticed that he was wearing nothing. The shinigami looked away, and racked his brains, "I thought Maka said there was mistletoe at this party. And you did too, Soul."

"I never said that."

"What?"

"You planned it, so you decorated. Did you put up any mistletoe last night?" Maka asked, tilting her head in an adorable way. His brain hurt too much for this. Please, God kill him now . . . oh, wait. He was God. Or least His son. The shinigami leaned his head into his hand, allowing the palm to cup his face as he spread his fingers so he could see through them. Soul and Maka were both watching him, waiting patiently for him to answer. What was up with this? These two people . . . had he really done . . . that with them? Soul and Maka were two of his best friends, and he cared for them both dearly. Maka was beautiful, no doubt, and Soul . . . Kid had never figured himself for the bicurious type.

"Kiddo?" He felt Maka's soft hand on his shoulder, "Are you okay?"

"I'm not sure. This is just so . . . unexpected . . ."

Soul nodded, and shifted, moving closer, "It just happened. I mean . . . there was the drink, and the mistle—"

"I thought there was no mistletoe!"

"There was no mistletoe." Maka stated.

"I'm done with this." Kid moved away from them, and slid out of bed. He stood and looked about his bedroom. A shower sounded nice. A long, hot, shower that would let him think. Particularly on whether or not he really did put mistletoe up last night, or it was simply a delusion of his mind. He glanced over his shoulder to see Maka getting out of bed. She stretched as she stood while Kid turned back and scurried into the bathroom before he could be followed.

Later, after Kid's shower, he was coming down the stairs when he ran into his weapon, "Oh, good morning, Liz."

"Good morning. I heard Soul and Maka pulled a major one over you."

"What are you talking about? You mean last night?"

"Last night?" The demon gun folded her arms and arched an eyebrow, "They told me they were planning on pulling a very elaborate prank this morn—" She watched as the gun meister collapsed in a dead faint, "—ning . . ." Liz sighed before bending to help her poor Technician. The Christmas party was tonight.

It was her job to hang the mistletoe.

A/N: Have I mentioned how delightfully fun it is to torment Kid? Yes? Oh, of course everyone knows that. XD

I lol'd all through writing this. It was very, very fun~

Special thanks to May Never Know for beta'ing this story on such short notice!! Great job~

This is, of course, of course my dear friend and beta caveat lector, or Nadia. I LOVE YOU NA-CHAN!! You're oodles of PURE AWESOME!! And a self-proclaimed grammar-Nazi, thus a really awesome beta. :3

I'm sorry this fic is late, my family has kept me busy. TT_TT

Merry Christmas!!

And to everyone, Happy Christmahanakwanzica!!