Summary: Maka realizes that Soul is like a puppy. Soul is not pleased.

A/N: this fic is crack. pure, ridiculous, slap-your-knees funny, what-the-hell-is-she-smoking, i-have-no-idea-what's-going-on CRACK. i wrote this after a ten-hour bar shift on zero sleep, so please excuse my horrible abuse of our favorite (totally canon) couple and enjoy our adorable soul being trolled by the goddess that is maka. (someone please put me to bed.)

obedient (adj.):

—complying or willing to comply with orders or requests; submissive to another's will

It all started with one innocent comment.

Black Star had been arguing with Soul over something Maka paid zero attention to—after all, she had three chapters left to her book and was not going to let their idiotic tendencies keep her from finishing before lunch was over—when the assassin shoved back from his chair so suddenly that it threw everyone else into silence.

The blue-haired boy was boisterous, loud, and easily antagonized, but rarely did he ever get truly frustrated with his so-called best bro. The fact that he seemed so red-faced now while Soul looked plainly uninterested was a cause for—well, not concern, per se, but some interest at least.

And then Black Star turned to Maka and set everything in motion.

"You," he snarled, his finger pointed accusingly at her face as she lifted a brow over the spine of her book. "Keep your goddamn dog on a leash!"

Tsubaki followed her meister as he stormed out of the cafeteria, but even the gentle shadow weapon seemed confused.

At first, it made Maka snort. Soul was no one's dog, and certainly not hers. He was snappy, argumentative, and never did anything she told him to without a squabble and far more grumbling than she had the patience for. They had been living together since she was twelve, partners since she was eleven, and though she grew to understand his personality more and more throughout the past five years, her weapon still remained such an enigma, even to her.

But then she thought about it. And thought about it. And thought about it.

Soul always blamed her for thinking too much.

"Hey, Soul?" she said later that afternoon. They were in their apartment, lounging around the living room while watching some stupid movie together the way they always did. A bowl of popcorn lay half-devoured on the table in front of them and the sun remained a glowing gold, though it was starting to dream of watercolor oranges.

She watched as his ears perked up at the sound of her voice, but his expression was decidedly bored as he shifted his gaze to look at her. "Yeah?"

"Will you lie down?"

Crimson eyes snapped to full attention. "Excuse me?"

"Lie down," she repeated happily. "On my lap. I want to play with your hair."

Apparently, her straightforward explanation only made him more incredulous. "Are you out of your mind? What the hell have you been smoking?"

Maka only turned up the charm. "Please, Soul? Pleeeasseeee?" She gave him her best puppy dog look, sticking her bottom lip out and everything. Thank you, Patricia Thompson. "Your hair always looks so soft and pretty, and I want to play with it! I promise I won't tell anyone, and it's the end of the day, so it's not like you need it to stay all cool and spiked up anyway." When he only stared at her, looking slightly uncomfortable and more than a little bewildered, she patted her thighs invitingly and crooned, "Come on, Soul. I don't bite! Just lie down."

Then, to her immense and utter amazement, he did.

At first, he seemed incredibly awkward as he lay his head in her lap, his cheeks tinting with a pink she knew he'd deny if she ever pointed it out. But after she began to run her fingers through the pale strands, which were surprisingly soft even though she knew for a fact he used far more product than she ever did, he began to relax. At one point, he even closed his eyes and hummed a sound that was something akin to a purr of contentment.

Maka bit back a smile as she continued to make a home of his hair, and she couldn't help the part of her that affectionately thought, Good boy.

The next day, she expanded her experiment.

"Hey, Soul?"

"Yeah?"

It was after school. She'd finished her homework already and they were back on the couch, his head wordlessly propped on her thighs the same way it had been the previous afternoon. He'd seemed embarrassed in the beginning when they settled into their usual positions, as if unsure of what he was supposed to do this time. But when she merely smiled at him and patted her lap again, he looked relieved and vaguely pleased as he claimed his new place on top of her.

It seemed this was going to become their new norm. Maka was not as opposed as she could have been.

"I'm thirsty," she said brightly. "Will you fetch me a drink?"

One crimson eye popped open. It amazed her how much annoyance he could convey in half a look. "Haah?"

"I said I'm thirsty," she repeated. "Can you grab me a glass of water? Or maybe make me some tea?"

"What am I, your servant? Get it your damn self."

And out came the puppy dog look. "Please, Soul? Pleaaaaase?" She fluttered her eyelashes at him, even going as so far to bite her lip, leaning her head close to his.

True to form, his face changed color like a guaranteed chemical reaction and he practically jumped out of her lap, coughing violently as he stormed off into the kitchen. "Fucking—good-for-nothing, short-skirted, fucking doll-eyed little menace... and she blames me for being lazy… have to do everything around here..." He continued to grumble other semi-insulting and awfully adorable things as he slammed through cabinets and slapped a mug onto the counter.

A few minutes later, she heard the kettle start to whine.

By the time Soul returned with her tea, still looking disgruntled and faintly pink, Maka managed to school her expression into pure innocence as she thanked him sweetly for his help.

This time, her gleeful thought was fetch.

Later, she'd swear the third time was an accident.

They were arguing as they walked down the hall towards their classroom as per usual—though if she were being honest, their daily fights could hardly be considered arguments but rather their very special version of communicating. She rarely got angry with him anymore, at least not really. Most of the time, she enjoyed their quick-witted banter. It was what made them—well, them.

Suddenly, someone slammed into Maka around the corner, throwing her back onto her ass and falling right on top of her. His face landed straight between her breasts, his body sprawled out over hers, and she would've thrown him off in outrage if she weren't so overcome with shock.

Luckily, her weapon did not have the same problem.

"Get the fuck off her, you piece of shit!" Soul snarled. He grabbed the back of the guy's shirt and yanked him off her, practically throwing him to the side.

The guy scrambled to his feet. "S-shit! I'm so sorr—" Then his eyes went wide. "Holy—you're Soul Eater, the Last Death Scythe! And that means she's—" He broke off with a look of horror as he rushed to grab Maka's arm. "Crap, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to run into you, I swear—I wasn't watching where I was going."

Part of her wanted to slap away his hand out of spite, but the poor boy looked so absolutely horrified that she took pity on him, offering him a weak smile as she accepted his hand to pull her to her feet. Plus, she was kind of pleased that he looked so scared of her. Her badass reputation was intact after all.

"Don't worry about it," she told him. He looked too old to be a freshman, but then, freshmen always did compared to her baby-faced midgetness.

He blushed. "I—I'm a huge fan, M-M-Maka—can I call you Maka? Shit, I already called you Maka."

This time, she laughed. He might've got a little too up close and personal with her breasts than she'd like for a stranger, but he was obviously harmless. "Maka is fine. What's your name?"

"J-J-J-Josh!" he practically squeaked.

Maka was officially endeared. "It's nice to meet you, Josh."

He looked like he was about to faint. "I can't believe I ran into the creator of the Last Death Scythe—literally ran into you! And oh god, I touched your boobs too—with my face!—and—and—and you have really nice legs, and you're really, really pretty, and kind, so much kinder than I thought you'd be, and—shit, are you seeing anybody? Because I—"

Soul's vicious growl came out of nowhere, as did his blade. "You want to shut your fucking mouth right now before I cut it off your goddamn face."

When Josh made an inhuman squeal of fear, Maka calmly placed a hand on her weapon's shoulder. "Down, boy," she said. "Don't be mean to the poor kid. He doesn't mean any harm."

Her partner made another rumbling noise deep in his throat but backed off, just as she said, and Maka felt her lips spread into a wide smile as she realized what that meant.

After they parted ways from Josh who still looked way too stunned to breathe, Maka barely made it five feet before she was smothering giggles behind her hand, her heart feeling so warm and happy that she couldn't stop glowing if she tried.

Soul shot her an annoyed look. "What?"

Hooking her arm through his, she looked up at him and smiled so brightly that he immediately developed at least three different hives all over his face as she teased, "You're really cute, you know that, Soul?"

"Y-you—shut the fuck up!" Then he added softly, affectionately, "Idiot."

His loyalty was never something that could be questioned, but still he proved it to her every day.

She stumbled home at three in the morning, the world and blur and her heels dangling from her fingertips. For a long moment, she simply stared at her silver clutch, as if trying to mentally withdraw her keys and fit them into the knob with sheer will. Before she could even make the attempt, the door flew open to reveal her very angry and very awake weapon.

He took one look at her—from her skintight strapless black dress to the heels she no longer wore—and clenched his jaw so tight it had to be physically painful.

"Fucking damn it, Maka," he gritted out. Then, without another word, he slid one arm under her shoulder and the other beneath her knees as he carried her into their apartment, bridal style, kicking the door slammed shut behind them.

Somehow in the short distance between the front door and her bedroom, Maka managed to fall asleep with her head against Soul's shoulder because she was startled awake when he tried to set her down on her bed. Her hands instinctively clawed against his back, latching onto him like an infant who was about to be ripped away from her mum, but he soothed her spine with whisper-soft fingers despite the fact that his shoulders were so obviously tense.

"Relax," Soul murmured gruffly. "I just need to set you down so we can get you ready for bed, alright?"

Only then did she release her death grip on his shirt. When he eased her back, his face was shadowed by the hallway light spilling through her door, but she knew he had to see the pout on her face. "You're mad at me," she slurred.

His jaw tightened but he otherwise didn't react. His hair was free of gel and artfully messy, but she knew he hadn't been sleeping. Several years of living together had made her a pro at discerning the difference between his bed hair and his Soul hair.

This look was definitely his recently-washed-but-unfortunate-victim-of-stress-pulling-slash-why-is-my-meister-so-goddamn-frustrating hair.

"I told you to call me when you were ready to come home. I would've picked you up from the club."

"Thought you were—" Hiccup. "—sleeping. Didn't want… to bother you."

"It bothers me even more when I'm waiting around for you to fucking call."

"You didn't have to wait up for me."

At that, he snorted. "Don't be fucking stupid." He retreated for a moment to scavenge through her drawers, returning when he found an oversized t-shirt she knew he recognized as his own. When he crawled back up the bed towards her, he paused, staring at her feet, his expression contorting into another level of madness. "Jesus fucking Christ, Maka! What the hell did you do—walk all the way home?" When she didn't answer, crimson eyes snapped to her face with fury. "Maka!"

"Sent the other girls home in cabs," she mumbled. "Didn't want to wait for another."

"So you thought it was better to stumble your drunk ass across town at three in the morning? Are you fucking insane?"

"Hey!" she protested. "'M a badass meister. Can handle—" Hiccup. "—myself." Okay, maybe arguing while inebriated wasn't her best idea.

"Not when you're drunk out of your mind, and not when you're looking like—" He cut off abruptly, clenching his jaw, then shoved his shirt into her chest. "Turn. Around," he growled.

Maka did as she was told, eager to get out of her dress. Even when mad at her, Soul knew she hated sleeping in bar clothes. Not only did they feel grimy, but they were uncomfortable, too.

He started to pull the zipper down her spine but froze after a few inches. She heard him inhale a shuddering breath.

"Soul?"

"You're not wearing a bra."

She rolled her eyes—or at least tried to. Having control over any part of her was kind of difficult right now. She probably looked more like she was twitching. "With this dress? Course not."

Faintly, she heard him mutter something that sounded vaguely like mucking kill me. "Give me the shirt."

"Huh?"

"Don't make me ask again, damn it," he growled. "Hand me the goddamn shirt!" When she did so with a pout, he immediately started to wrestle it over her head. "Arms—fuck, not like that, Maka! Jesus."

"You're being mean," she said, her voice muffled by fabric as he yanked the shirt roughly down over her dress.

"Yeah, well, you're being a fucking idiot." When he managed to get her liquid appendages through the proper holes, she blew a raspberry in his face after popping her head through, making him snort. Then he sighed at her dejected expression, kissed her briefly on the temple, and urged her to turn around. "It doesn't matter how strong you are in a fight, Maka. When you've got alcohol in your blood and you're wearing something like this, you're still a beautiful girl that any asshole on the street would die to get his hands on. You can't just wander around like this when I'm not there to watch out for you. You need to be more careful. You're smarter than that; I know you are."

She craned her neck around to blink up at him with wide, kohl-lined eyes. "Did you just call me pretty?"

Even in the darkness, she could see the impressive pink tingeing his cheeks. He reached beneath her oversized shirt and quickly drew the zipper down all the way. "There," he said with far more force than was necessary. "Can you manage the rest on your own or am I going to have to kick your ass for getting so drunk you can't undress yourself?"

Maka shimmied her hips out of the strapless monstrosity, managing to get it down to her knees before she whined and squirmed and jut her lip out at her weapon with imploring eyes.

Soul dutifully slid it down her legs for her, muttering a beautifully familiar collection of grumbles and grunts. "…absolutely useless… never gonna let you go out ever again…"

Newly free, she began to swish her legs back and forth like she was making a bottom snow angel, giggling like a little girl. "You say that every time Liz drags me to the club."

"I wouldn't fucking have to if you'd just stay in with me in the first place," he said unhappily.

Yawning, Maka crawled onto his lap, ignoring his red-faced protests as she wound her arms around his neck and rested her head contently on his shoulder. She made a husky purring noise, feeling the warm flush of his skin burn into her cheek. "Missed you too," she mumbled. "Never want to leave you. Hate it."

Her weapon partner practically melted into a puddle of goo beneath her, his arms tightening around her waist. "I fucking hate it when you go out without me. Liz should know better than to let you drink this much. You're like half her size with the tolerance of a baby. She can't expect you to keep up with her."

"Would you believe me if I told you Tsu and Kim were the real party girls of our group?"

She could hear the slight smile in his voice. "Honestly wouldn't surprise me in the slightest."

"Hey, Soul?"

"Yeah?"

"Stay?"

His hands stalled against her spine. She wasn't sure if he'd been drawing something or playing a song or just enjoying the excuse to touch her like this, but her word froze his concentration. For a moment, it was like he forgot to breathe, and then he finally exhaled, long and deep, and she could feel his lips come to rest on the top of her head. "Always," he whispered.

Sleep came quickly.

A few days later, she discovered she had no sense of boundaries.

"Hey, Soul?"

"Yeah?" he said warily. Over the past couple weeks, he seemed to realize that she was acting even stranger than usual, and while her requests appeared normal, there was some sort of underlying meaning to them he clearly didn't understand. And yet, he still did everything she asked. He might've complained every second, but he never denied her a thing.

So loyal. So sweet.

Such a good boy.

"Do you kiss with a lot of tongue?"

He choked on his drink. Pop sprayed all over his shirt like something from a classic teen movie. His face was cherry red, either from the nature of her question or the fact that he'd most likely gotten carbonated liquid down the wrong tube. He continued to cough and cough and cough, and when it seemed like it would never stop, he stood up abruptly off the floor and disappeared down the hall towards his room.

Maka waited patiently on the couch, sipping her own drink as she watched the actors banter on the television screen.

Soul reappeared moments later, his face still flushed but no longer sticky, wearing different clothes that weren't stained with cola. "What the fuck kind of question was that?" he demanded.

"I'm just curious," she said with a shrug. "So do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Do you use a lot of tongue when you kiss?"

Her weapon pressed a hand to his forehead and tilted his chin up as if he couldn't believe this was happening. "H-How the fuck should I know?" he finally managed to stutter. "It's not like I go around kissing just about anyone! You know me better than that!"

"Does that mean you haven't kissed anyone before?"

"Of course I fucking haven't!"

"Huh."

"Huh?" Soul squawked. "Huh? Huh?! Is that all you have to say?!"

"I haven't kissed anyone either." And then she stood up in front of him, cupped his cheek, rose onto her tiptoes—and pressed her lips to his.

Soul was frozen for a full five seconds before he jerked his head back. His mouth gaped open and closed as he struggled for words to replace the birdlike noises that were emanating from his throat. "M-M-M-M-Maka!"

"Huh," she said again, sounding slightly disappointed.

Her partner looked ready to burst or cry or something in between. "Stop fucking saying that!"

"You use far less tongue than I expected," she told him with a pout. "Guess you're not a dog after all. Their kisses are basically all tongue. More like licks, really."

"A—dog? What the f—what are you even—I can't fucking—Maaaakaaa!" he finished in a wail, and he looked so pink, so desperate, so helpless, that she felt her heart go warm-warm-warm in her chest with an affection that couldn't be matched by any other human—or animal—on the planet.

"You know, Soul," she said, and she was smiling so softly as she stared up into his perfect crimson eyes, "I think I love you a lot."

This time when she kissed him, he was only stunned for a moment before he was urgently kissing her back.

This was nothing like the first kiss. The first kiss, while sweet and warm and fuzzy and not at all wet, only lasted a few gentle heartbeats before he pulled back.

This kiss was different. This kiss was desperate and fierce, filled with such breathtaking fire that she could've sworn that her heart stopped several times in her chest while also going a thousand beats a minute. This kiss made her eyes roll back in her head and her chest feel like it was going to burst, and when his tongue reached out to touch hers, it was nothing like she expected and everything all at once. It was frenzied and wild and so powerful that her knees gave out beneath her, but it was okay, because Soul was there, and he always had her, always supported her, always took care of her. And as he eased her back onto the couch, her trembling hands gripping at his shirt, she knew she was safe. Safe, and so, so warm.

"Oh," she breathed when they finally parted for air, both of them panting, both of them sweltering, both of them so incredibly desperate for the other that even this brief separation felt like miles.

"Oh?" Soul rested his forehead against hers. "Is that better than huh?"

She swallowed thickly. He was teasing her, she was sure of it, even though his crimson eyes were more burning than playful, and how was it fair that he could be this coherent when she felt like her brain had completely disappeared? How had he gotten his bearings so quickly when she had utterly lost hers? "Y-yes."

His lips twitched at the corners. Before she could demand to have them against hers again, he pressed them against her jaw, then her neck, then on this spot just above her shoulder that made her whole body arc up into his, an unbidden whine rising from her chest.

"Nnn! Soul!"

"Nnn," he echoed in a whisper. "I think I might like that one best so far. Let's see what other sounds you can make..."

As it turned out, Maka could be very vocal when he wanted her to be.

And he really did know how to use his tongue. Just the right amount.

It came up again much later in a conversation that was meant to be a joke but had far more meaning to both of them. They were back in the cafeteria, the low chatter of the other students drowned out by the loud voices of her friends and new boyfriend. Maka was reading; Soul's arm was draped over her shoulders. They were completely content.

"I think I'm more of a badger than anything else," Liz was saying. "Patriotic, protective, blunt, aggressive. So what if I'm a bit of a nosy bitch? I don't care. I'll own it." Her friends snickered. "Patty can be a giraffe because she won't accept anything else, but Kid is definitely a squirrel."

"A squirrel?!" Kid looked aghast.

"Don't you see it?" Liz asked cheekily.

Patty tilted her head. "I kind of see it."

"I totally see it," Black Star snickered. "Such a weak animal for a small guy like him. I, on the other hand—"

"A god is not an animal, Star," Liz said, rolling her eyes.

The assassin grumbled. "What else is there?!"

"I don't know—a monkey, since you're so much of a buffoon?"

"You can be a lion," Tsubaki offered kindly before her meister could flip the table, ever the pacifist. "They're the king of the jungle, aren't they? That's kind of like a god."

Black Star settled down, looking pleased. "Yeah! I'm totally a lion! Rawr!"

None of them had to characterize Tsubaki; there was no question about it. She was a swan, lovely and elegant, the most loyal friend they could ever have and a patient mother figure to them all. Plus, swans mated for life. Sometimes Maka wondered if that was why the beautiful Japanese girl was so devoted to her meister despite the fact that Black Star could make any saint want to rip their hair our. She couldn't find any other explanation.

"Well, Maka's definitely an eagle," Liz said, eying the newly happy couple with calculating eyes. "Fierce, confident, and striking, if not a little impatient. Independent enough to work on her own, but charismatic enough to be a leader."

"Aw, thanks, Liz."

"The one person I can't pin is Soul," she continued. "He's snappy but not cruel. Introverted but not independent. Fiercely protective when it comes to Maka, but typically non-confrontational when it comes to anything else." Liz frowned at him. "Damn. I don't have a clue what kind of animal you'd be."

When Maka's eyes brightened, Soul quickly slapped a hand over her mouth and growled, "Don't you fucking dare."