Hey ya! Okay, so if you didn't immediately run away when you saw the title then try to stay put long enough to mock my ending. This was not what I intended at all (funny how that always seems to happen) but for the most part it's okay. The characters are totally OOC (that was unavoidable) and it jumps around a little. Oh well, life goes on. Sit back, relax and enjoy the train wreck!

Disclaimer: I own Soul Eater! HAHAHA! Got you! I don't really own it, it was just dedicated to me and written as a description of my life story. I'll stop now ;=]

Maka grunted as her back slammed against the apartment wall. She ducked swiftly, narrowly avoiding a punch aimed at her face. She kicked out and her leg connected with a body. Gathering her strength she used that body as leverage, throwing him backwards and herself away from the wall.

Soul threw his hands out, regaining his balance before he could tumble over. Leaping at Maka again, he snapped his fist out, curving towards her stomach. Instead of evading, Maka threw her body forward at the strike, turning in time to trap Soul's arm to her side.

She then thrust her right arm forward but he caught her curled fingers in an open palm.

The battle raged on, only the whispers of breath and occasional thump of bodies echoing through the otherwise abandoned apartment. They struggled, in a graceful, practiced tango around the living room and up the hall. Each fought to take the lead, moving through the deadly dance with experienced ease.

It had been three years since the defeat of the Kishin. Life had basically gone back to normal. Missions were more grueling, schoolwork took longer and parents became more annoying than ever. Their life was busy enough but it lacked a certain quality to it. An edge or excitement.

Not that they wanted a repeat of Asura.

Maka and Soul had just grown… bored. It was lather, rinse, wash, repeat. The same things over and over in only slightly varied forms.

So they had started a ritual. Every night after school, chores and the remaining homework was attended to. They would push all the furniture from the living room into the kitchen and down the hallway. Then they would spar.

At first it was awkward. A blow was either too forceful or not nearly strong enough. Legs tangled and they would go down in frustrated heaps. Hair caught in buttons, zippers snagged on skin.

In other words: They were a cursing, irritated, bruised, and clumsy train wreck.

But it got better. Ground rules were established. Solid guides that avoided an excess of band aids and helped stave off the lingering boredom.

1st No weapon forms. That could get ugly fast.

2nd No shoes and/or excess of clothes such as leather jackets or a certain trench coat and vest. They got stuck between swinging limbs and just made you hot and sweaty.

3rd No dirty trick or obnoxiously aggressive behavior. This was about taking up the time and practicing new techniques, not winning.

4th Kick all other occupants besides self out of the apartment (this included cats, blue haired dorks and all people with a ridiculous OCD).

5th Aim for a disarm and trap rather than a knock out or mercy. Reasons for this should be painfully obvious.

But even with all the rules, injury was unavoidable. They didn't want to hurt each other. It just happened. They almost stopped a few times but it was good practice and their pride wouldn't allow them to give in.

Splashes of purple, black and blue settled across their skin. Once in a while a nose would bleed out or someone would bite down on their tongue. Ankles were twisted, fingers jammed.

All occurrences were followed by profuse apologies and bags of ice that soothed both body and ego.

At some point their friends started to wonder. When they stumbled into the classroom, limping and swollen, they started asking. Black Star tried first.

"What the hell, Soul? I know I said you were whipped but you didn't have to go and take it literally."

"Get bent and die."

"You look like you already did."

"Aw, really?" Sarcasm dripped with tangible acid off each word. "Since you're so interested, I'm sure I could whip up the same deal for you."

They were cut off abruptly when a Maka-Chop interfered with their already impaired brain waves.

"Shut up, both of you," Maka said, checking her book for stains, "class has started."

Liz tried next.

"Hey, Maka?"

"Hmm?" Her attention to Liz was limited to none, as she tried to apply the correct amount of reactant into her bleaker. The weapon cleared her throat.

"It's just that…well, lately you and Soul have been coming in with a lot of bruises and such, and I know we've all had a limited amount of missions lately, plus I'm sure Blair hasn't been beating up on you and add the fact Spirit would rather die than harm his little angel" (the last part earned a glare and she quickly blundered on) "Marks like that don't come from just anywhere, you know? There's really only one explanation left. And I was just wondering…Is it true?"

Liz now had her full attention. "Is what true?" Maka asked cautiously.

"That you and Soul are finally getting jiggy with it."

Maka stared blankly. The older girl tried to elaborate. "You know, bumping uglies? Doing the nasty? Playing that humpty dumpty? Letting out your funky monkey? Uh, smashing, tapping, bouncing…the horizontal tango?" This was exasperating. Maka's everlasting unemotional expression didn't help either. Liz became desperate. "Making magic? Creating…" What would Maka understand? "…mass amounts of soul resonance?"

BANG!

The rest of the class looked up to see a very stunned meister and a terrified weapon at a lab table coated with the quickly drying remainder of their experiment. Said experiment was now seeping into their skin in the form of a gaudy, shimmering blue powder. Black Star 'Yahooed' somewhere from the back of the classroom and complimented them on their new godly color. Kid was admiring the symmetrical blowback of the explosion.

"I guess not…" the pistol sighed.

Liz left her alone after that in order to preserve Maka's innocence and prevent her from causing further damage to herself. It took a week for Maka to wash the powder out completely.

Patti and Kid made the attempt after that.

"Soul Eater, I –"

"Hey! Don't forget me!"

"Yes, yes. That is, we, have something we must discuss with you."

Soul swung his head up from the desk and let it lull back as he leaned into the chair. Kid stood primly, hands clasped before him, back ramrod straight. Patti was dangling off one of Kid's elbows with a goofy smile and five markers clutched in one hand.

He eyed the two of them warily.

Kid continued, "There is no need for idle chatter or redundant rants. I will get straight to the point. I know what's going on."

Soul frowned moodily. Why was it his business if he and Maka trained extra hours at night? If anything, the son of Death should be patting them on the back for putting in the extended effort. Not that it was for anyone else's benefit. But that was beside the point. He opened his mouth to object.

"Just hear me out, Soul," he said cutting him off, "I understand. Trust me, I really do. Sometimes things such as this can't be helped."

"Yeah!" Patti chimed in, face schooled into a look of deep concern and understanding that only made her seem more clueless.

"I can appreciate what you are doing. I'm sure we all can. But it has to stop."

Soul sat up, thoroughly annoyed and ready to protest. Who cared if they got a bruise or two? No one really got hurt. He made sure of that.

His response was shut down yet again.

"Soul. No matter how much it pains me to say this…getting yourselves injured just to ensure that Death City stays symmetrical isn't the right way to go."

"…..Hauh…?..."

Patti looked more confused than ever. She tilted her head up to look at Kid's watering eyes. "Wha-what…?"

He sniffled slightly. "It's a beautiful thing. I admire the hard work and dedication you two must be putting into that strenuous job. But it can go on no longer!" He was practically wailing. "I will not stand by and let my dear, dear symmetrically inclined friends be hurt by something they can't control! You must stop hurting yourselves for Equal's sake! You must!"

Soul gaped like a fish and Patti scratched her head before turning back to Soul with nod and another misdirected expression.

What in the….? Where on earth…? Is this from… experience? Why is he…? How could…? That didn't even…speaking of even…

"Soul? Soul, say something!"

"…"

"…"

"What is up your butt?"

Kid slowly let go of Soul's shirt (which he had grabbed during his proportionally performed frenzy) and stepped back, restraining himself.

"What was that?"

"Whatever it is, it's sideways."

Shortly after Patti lost focus and started a laughing marker rampage. First she drew giraffes on Kid; then she attacked Soul with the same design. Soul's stupefied shock and Kid's still shining joy left them oblivious to this abuse until the young Death Lord noticed that the necks of the animal weren't symmetrical.

In the same week that Maka turned a shiny blue, Soul came home sporting non-washable animal doodles. They were also blue. Soul received a well placed Maka-Chop for pointing out their matching hues. He concluded that these mindboggling events were either a sign from above or a warning from bellow. He wasn't quite sure yet.

Tsubaki had observed the consistent hit and miss tactics and headache-educing results that her friends' lines of questioning had caused. Not finding a better solution herself or wanting the face the sure to be wrath any further inquiries would bring, Tsubaki did the only thing she could.

She left them the hell alone.

Soul sucked in breath and clenched his stomach, absorbing the shock of Maka's latest jab. His breath was expelled from his lungs in a harsh huff. Maka pushed her advantage and kicked Soul's legs out from under him.

He fell but not before taking her with him.

They landed in another tangled heap, rolling across the floor, each trying to gain the upper hand. At the end of the living room they sprang apart before falling into a series of strikes and blocks.

"I can't believe that they – (right hook) – thought up all those ridiculous – (double kick) – scenarios."

"I – (block, counter punch) – know! Did you hear Kid? What did – (pinned her left hand to wall) – symmetry have to do with anything?"

She freed her left hand and tried to push him away. He stepped forward, trapping her arm again and catching her left leg with his own as well.

"Black Star was just a douche. And we really don't look that bad – (he kept pushing toward her until there's was no room between them) – the bruises look cool."

Maka stopped struggling and leaned her head against the wall. Soul's deep red eyes watched her wordlessly.

"You should have seen Liz's reaction. She thought we were 'getting jiggy with it'" – (he was surprised enough to leave an opening. She took it).

Soul grunted as his back slammed to the floor once more. Maka put her hands on his chest and pushed herself up. She settled back down and straddled his hips. His lazy grin and half-lidded eyes were enough to make her reach down and kiss that smirk right off his face. He runs his hands up her legs, all the way to her skirt clad bottom. She sighed and put her elbows down near the top of his shoulders. Soul admired the low cut camisole that revealed the top of her perfectly shaped body that was currently stretched out on top of his. He pulled her down into a long winded kiss until she leaned back yet again.

"'Getting jiggy.' As if. We're totally doing the humpty dumpty."

I do believe this was written for the soul purpose (haha-get it? no...oh...well...) of being able to write out the words "humpty dumpty." There, see? I did it again.

Mwahahahaha!

I also finally understand why authors beg for reviews. It's cuz they're the bestest! So I say, from the bottom of my cold loveless heart, review, review, review!