A/N: This story is dedicated to Soulasunajellal, who wrote the fanfic "Muse." It is about SoMa, and it was so artfully done and beautifully written, that I had to write my own. Thanks, Soul, for inspiring me!

Enjoy!

Soul Eater Evans was dreaming.

It isn't unusual for the weapon to dream, he gets lost in his fantasies daily. His subconscious is a wild, creative being, as if it has it's own life force other than his own.

Soul isn't sure where he was. He is walking down a dim corridor, the hallway ahead of him lost in shadow. When he turns back to look behind him, he is met with a darkness that curls and swims at his feet, as sinuous as a snake.

Soul isn't afraid of his dream. He is rarely scared, and little, if anything, could truly frighten him. And yet, standing in this corridor with no end and no beginning, he can't help the little tremor from chilling his bones and send shivers racing up his spine.

He decides to walk forward, seeing as this is the only reasonable way to go. The darkness reminds him of black blood, when the madness once seeped into his blood and twisted his mind. It is a chilling reminder of his past, and he desperately tries to shake it off. There is a odd feeling in the back of his mind, and he isn't sure what it is. It is almost as if something is telling him to turn back and run away.

He continues walking forward, trying in vain to figure out what new dream realm his subconscious has sent him to. His eyes search the murk, but he can not distinguish any recognizable features. All he sees is black, black, black.

He has a vague sense that he is traveling downwards. The faint slope of the hallway descends, and the more Soul walks, the colder he becomes, as if he is descending underground, where only the cold, dead earth dwells.

And then suddenly there is a bend in the hallway, something different from the same uniform straight path. Soul is so taken aback by the sudden change that he stops for a minute. Behind him, the shadows ooze and shift, whispering incoherent words that taint Soul's sensitive ears. His red eyes narrow, and he takes a few hesitant steps forward.

As he rounds the corner, he suddenly hears a rasping voice echo in his ears, freezing him in his tracks. He stops, his eyes narrowing, ears straining to catch an audible word from the unrecognizable voice.

"Come..."

His jaw works in a soundless snarl. The voice sounds vaguely familiar, but he can't put a name to it.

"Come to me...Soul Eater..."

"W-Who are you?" Soul whispers, at last finding his voice. It sounded strange to him, weak and tremorous, which is unlike him. Soul never shows his fear, if he has any. So why did he sound so afraid?

"I...have...her..."

Have who? his mind screams, and this time, his feet, as if of their own accord, surge forward. Soul doesn't fight back, and he lets his feet take control, sending him flying down the curving hallway.

"S-Soul..." he hears a faint voice call him and his jaw drops as a howl of pure agony flies past his lips. He recognizes that voice. It is a voice he can never forget.

"Soul...please," the voice is faint and weak, and full of fear.

"Maka!" Soul screams her name, crying out to that voice. His desperation rises, and he flies down the hall. His eyes are wide, and for once, there is fear in his deep red eyes. There is fear in his voice when he screams her name, and fear is emanating off of every pore in his body. For the first time in his life, Soul Eater Evans is afraid.

He skids to a stop when he comes upon a blue door, situated out of nowhere. The hallway ends abruptly, and the only way forward is through that portal, in which the unknown lies beyond.

He turns, and notices how the darkness forms a thick wall behind him, about a foot away. He has a strange feeling that he can not go back the way he came, he can only go forward.

"Soul.." He hears her voice again and turns. She lies behind that door, and she is calling for him. The sound of her voice fuels him on. He will find her. He will always find her.

He grips the handle of the door, which is as cold as ice, and turns the knob. The door creaks open silently, light shining through the crack in the opening. Soul sniffs the air, and the smell of death and decay permeates his nostrils.

He throws the door open in haste, rushing inside despite not knowing what lay in wait for him. He doesn't care. Maka is his first priority. She is his meister, she is his best friend, and he has to be there for her.

As soon as his eyes become accustomed to the light, he blinks, looking around. When he does, his eyes narrow in recognition. Now he knows where he is.

He is standing in a small room, the same room where Maka came to him when he was being consumed by the black blood. In the center of the room stands the pedestal where his box once sat, preserving the last of his sane self. As Soul looks around, he realizes he isn't alone.

There she stands, green eyes wide with fear and pain. Blood drips down her face and out of the corner of her mouth. Her hands hang at her sides, limp and useless. Her feet are suspended off the ground, and Soul notices with a sick feeling, that there is a puddle of blood under her hanging feet.

Behind her stands the little red ogre that once lived inside Soul's mind, a permanent and living embodiment of the black blood that had once surged so wildly through Soul's veins. The little ogre was presumed dead when Soul consumed him, the black blood tamed.

But now he is here.

Soul's eyes widen as he looks at the ogre, who is in his large form. The ogre grins at Soul, his creepy eyes staring blankly into Soul's red ones. Soul now knows to whom the raspy voice belonged.

The ogre is holding Maka suspended above the ground, and to Soul's despair, he sees that the ogre's claws are puncturing her chest. Her eyes are closing, the vibrant emerald green of her life dying out. She utters one last croaking, "Soul..." before her head drops and her eyes close forever.

"If you had let me take you over, this wouldn't have happened," the ogre says evilly, shaking her limp body. More blood drips onto the floor, staining the white tile red. The ogre laughs, a manic laughter that shakes Soul to his very core. He begins to convulse, his mind reeling. All he can see is Maka's prone form, her eyes closed, and her blood leaking out of her dead body.

The ogre drops her body with a sickening splash as shes hit the puddle of blood, and Soul stares at her. His body won't respond, even though his mind was screaming at him to get up, to go save her. He knows it is pointless.

The ogre saunters up to him, hands grasping for Soul's face. "Come to me," the ogre says, caressing the sides of Soul's head, enveloping him in a wave of red and black. Soul can feel liquid dripping onto him and turns his head, his eyes widening as black blood pours over his shoulders.

"Come to me, Soul Eater Evans. The darkness is all yours. And you are mine."

"God damnit!" He screams, jerking upright into a sitting position, the blankets falling off his shoulders. He rips at his shirt, clawing at invisible hands that grab at him. He yells and wipes at his hair, his shoulders, his torso, trying to wipe away the imaginary black blood he is sure was seeping into his body.

"No, no, Maka! Please, don't leave! Maka!" His shouts are becoming frantic, and his chest heaves as his dreams seem to become reality. Is he still dreaming, or is he awake, he can't be sure.

A light flickers on in the hallway, and then his door opens. He winces at the bright light and jumps when he feels a warm hand on his shoulder.

"Soul?" her voice is hesitant and quiet, like she's scared of this new Soul. Like she's scared because this is the first time she's seen him with terror burning in his blood red eyes, scared because he seems to be clawing at demons she can't see.

He blinks, lucidity flowing back into his eyes. He looks at her, and shakes his head, as if he can't believe it.

"Oh god, Maka," he whispers, reaching out for her. Her eyes widen as he grabs her waist gently and pulls her close, his face pressed into the smooth part of her stomach. His shoulders shake and he whispers inaudible sentences.

She runs her fingers through his spiky white hair and smiles. "It's ok, Soul," she whispers, reclining against his mattress and pulling him close. "It's ok, it was just a nightmare."

"It seemed so real," his voice is muffled, but it is distinguishable. His arms tighten around her waist, and he pulls away from her abdomen. "You were dead, Maka. Dead. The little ogre killed you-"

His voice breaks, and he has trouble swallowing his fears down. He closes his eyes, trying to recollect his thoughts. Maka stays silent, allowing to calm down. It's a few minutes before he talks again, and when he does, Maka is relieved to hear the tremor is gone from his voice.

"The little ogre killed you to punish me for not giving in to him," Soul says. "Your blood was everywhere, staining the floor. And then he came at me, trying to absorb me. It was-"

"The little ogre is gone, Soul," Maka says gently, caressing his face. She holds his cheek, and stares deeply into his red eyes. "I'm alive, and you're here, as you. There is nothing to fear."

"You must think so little of me now," he whispers, sitting up and straightening his shirt. It has a wide neckline, and Maka can see the long diagonal scar running down his chest from when he defended her from Crona. Her heart lightens at the memory, not because she is fond of seeing her friend injured on her behalf (heavens no) but because of his unwavering loyalty and fierce desire to protect her no matter what.

"I could never think little of you," she says, coming to sit beside him. She grasps his hand, running her fingers comfortingly over his palm. "You don't have to act so brave and strong all the time. We're human, and humans feel afraid. They feel fear. You don't have to act like you're not scared all the time just to protect me, you know."

"But I freaked out over a simple nightmare," he argues.

She places a finger over his lips. "Nightmares frighten everybody. I've had my share of them too, and they have frightened me. I'm sure Black Star has suffered from them too, but he probably won't say." She smiles lightly at him, and then, as if on pure instinct, she leans over and kisses him on the forehead.

"I'm here for you. That's what friends are for. Now come on. You want pancakes?"

He smiles, his terror from the nightmare slowly abating away. "Sure," he says, standing up. "Sounds great."

Maka gets up from her bed and walks to the door. "I've already got the batter made," she says. "I'll start cooking."

He grabs her hand just as she's about to leave. "Maka," he says firmly.

She turns and looks at him, a question burning in her deep green eyes. "Yes?" she asks quizzically. Her hand feels warm in Soul's, and he feels his face burn with heat.

He lets go of her hand. "Thanks," he mumbles quietly.

She smiles, a light smile that makes Soul's heart swell with happiness. "No problem. That's what friends are for."

They are sitting at the breakfast table, a large pile of pancakes gleaming with maple syrup and butter placed in front of them when the knock on the door comes. Maka places a pancake on Soul's plate and frowns.

"Who is it?" she mutters, setting the spatula on the table. She wipes her hands clean on her napkin before running down the hall. Soul sits there patiently, waiting for her to return.

He hears the voices of Black Star and Tsubaki, and Kid with Liz and Patty. He sighs, knowing full well the chaos that is about to ensue.

"Ohh! Pancakes! Gimme some!" There's a blue flash, and then Black Star is there, shoveling pancakes into his mouth while Tsubaki tries to pull him away, her cheeks red with embarrassment.

"The place setting is not symmetrical! What is wrong with you?" he hears Kid say, and Soul just simply ignores him. There's no use in fighting Kid over his obsession with symmetry, and Soul has learned by now to just ignore Kid and his ravings.

Maka walks in, a slight grimace on her face as she observes the mess. Soul gets up and walks over to her. "Don't worry," he says. "They'll clean up after themselves."

"Will we?" Black Star yells, his mouth full of food. He laughs and spews half chewed pancakes across the table. Maka's face twitches, and Soul ducks in time for her to launch a book at Black Star, nailing the bluenette between the eyes.

Soul chuckles, still crouching on the floor, as Maka goes into fire-spitting dragon mode, an evil glint in her eye as she chases the now bloody Black Star with her spatula. Kid sits at the table, his eyes crazed as he tries to make the setting symmetrical. Liz and Patty are talking nonsense, and Tsubaki tries to make herself invisible, muttering, "why me?" over and over.

Soul smiles. Now we're back to normal, he thinks while watching Maka. 'Cuz you can't have normal without the daily dose of chaos here at DWMA.

It is now late afternoon, and the three meisters with their weapons are walking in the streets of the DWMA, enjoying the sun. The air is cool, as it is only early spring, and the smell of new flowers fills the air.

"Ohh!" Patty says, pointing ecstatically to her right. "Ice cream!"

Soul looks over to see what she's pointing at: a vendor scooping out ice cream out of his little cart to give to a little girl and her mother. He can feel the drool coming out the corner of his mouth and he quickly wipes it away, hoping nobody caught him in the act.

Maka grabs his hand and drags him forward. "Come on," she says, a smile on her face. "Let's get some!"

He makes no protest as she pulls him over. He looks over his shoulder to see the others following suit, Black Star literally pulling Tsubaki off her feet in his haste to get some of the cold treat.

"What will you have, miss?" The vendor asks Maka. Her eyes glitter with excitement as she looks into the cart. She looks at the flavors, then makes up her mind. "I'll have chocolate," she says. "Thanks."

The vendor pulls out a cone, and scoops up a hearty amount of chocolate ice cream for her. She takes it from him, and Soul swears her eyes are going to pop out of her head from anticipation.

"And what will you have, young sir?" the vendor says. Soul doesn't look into the cart, he already knows what he wants.

"Chocolate, please" he murmurs.

As soon as the vendor gives him his cone, Maka steps forward with money in hand. She tries to pay the vendor, but is stopped by Soul, who grasps her hand. She looks at him in confusion.

"What are you doing, Soul?" she asks. "I have to pay him."

"No you don't," he declares, reaching into his pocket for his own money. "This is my treat. It's on me."

Maka looks at him with gratitude in her eyes as he pays the vendor. They step away, giving the others a chance to get their ice cream, and sit together on bench near the vendor.

"You didn't have to, you know," Maka says, licking her cone. "I could've paid. It wasn't any trouble."

Soul shrugs. "It's no problem. Not to mention, it would look weird if a girl was buying the food when the guy should."

"What are you saying, Soul? That kind of thing only happens if we're on a date."

"Maybe we are," he says nonchalantly.

She looks at him. "What did you say?" she asks him, suspicion evident in her voice. "Is this a dare, because if it is, its not-"

He leans over and kisses her suddenly, shutting her up. She can taste the chocolate on his lips as he kisses her, a simple kiss that sends a shock resonating throughout her body.

He pulls away and smiles at her. The others haven't noticed this little moment, but Soul doesn't care.

"Maybe we're on a date now, don't you think?"

She narrows her eyes, and playfully slaps him on the shoulder. "Smooth, Soul," she says, a happy feeling swelling in her chest. She leans her head against his shoulder, and his arm wraps around her waist.

"Real smooth."

They are walking home now, and the sunset has turned the streets of the DWMA alight. Maka walks on top of a stone wall, Soul standing walking next to her on the sidewalk.

They don't talk, but walk along quietly. They had long ago separated from the others, and were now returning home.

After a while, Soul breaks the silence. "You think we'll have a quiet dinner?"

She chuckles, swinging her arms out to the side as she walks along. "Who knows? Maybe."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't answer the door tonight," Soul suggests.

She looks at him. "Why? Is there a particular reason?"

He looks away, flush on his cheeks. "Maybe..." he grumbles. He looks at her again. "I was just thinking, that maybe we could just eat together, like, by ourselves, without any disturbances or annoyances-" they both think of Black Star at the same time "- getting in the way."

"Like a date," Maka says, grinning slightly.

"Yeah," he says. "Our private date, just for us."

She chuckles, then breaks off. "Crap," she says, shivering as a cool wind brushes over her bare skin. She's wearing nothing but a thin tank top and her red plaid skirt. Soul can see the goosebumps rising on her skin as she shudders from the cold.

"Here," he sighs, stopping her. He slides his arms out of his coat- he happened to grab his black and yellow one instead of his leather one- and gives it to her. "Take it, otherwise you'll freeze."

She tries to shake him off, but he insists. "Take it, Maka," he says, dumping it over her head. "I don't want you to become sick before we have our first private date."

"Fine," she grumbles, but she is grateful for his quick thinking. She slides her arms inside the coat and buttons it, the warmth from his body still lingering on the fabric of his coat. She smells his scent, musky and sharp, almost citrusy.

She smiles and looks down at Soul. With the jacket buttoned up, she actually looked pretty cute, Soul thinks. The jacket itself is a tad big, but it suits her just fine.

They start walking back down the road. Maka reaches down and ruffles Souls hair good naturedly. "All fluffy," she declares.

He chuckles, but lets her ruffle his hair. After all, if his meister is happy, then Soul is happy too.

She sleeps soundly, curled up next to Soul on the couch. He smiles, covering her body more with the afghan resting on her shoulders, and gives her a light kiss on the forehead. She murmurs and sighs, but does not wake.

He sees his coat resting on the arm of the couch and he gives a low chuckle. He didn't think his jacket looked that good on her, but it did. And if she were to put it on again, it would still. The red, black, and yellow worked well together, and Maka pulled off that look pretty damn well, he thinks.

He curls up beside her, his arm around her, and pulls her close. Her head rests on his chest, her hands splayed out on his ratty t-shirt. She yawns, which reminds him of his fatigue. He nestles close to her, and breathes in the warm smell of her shampoo, which smells like peppermint. The scent soothes him, and lulls him to sleep.

"Good night, Maka," he whispers, closing his eyes.

That night, no nightmares haunted his dreams. That night, Soul Eater Evans rested comfortably, holding his best friend in his arms, while the moon smiled down at them from above.

A/N: Fin.

Hope you liked it! I got my inspiration from this fan art I saw online (jacket scene). Curse me how for not remembering the author.

-Wolf