bitternovembersoul:

Fall only has one flavor.

SoMa drabble, rated T for slight crude humor.

With an air of the utmost perseverance, Maka prowled row after row of promising candidates, determined that only the best would be lucky enough to come home with her. Her requirements were purely superficial; perfect looks, and size. She turned to ask Tsubaki her opinion, but she wasn’t there; looking around, she spotted her farther back, talking to her boyfriend. Strange, since she didn’t remember hearing anything about Black*Star joining them, but she supposed he might be useful later. All thoughts of her friends faded into the background as her eyes clasped on utter perfection. Yes! Oh, yes! Perfectly symmetrical, with no flaws, and the size exceeded her expectations. Now was the moment to strike, and she lunged.

Soul gazed about him dispassionately, making a half-hearted attempt to look over his prospects. Honestly, he wasn’t expecting to find much, but Black*Star had insisted he give it a shot; he had promised that he would be able to find the one here, and that he at least wanted Soul to try, so he wouldn’t have to hear him whining about his string of failures. Alright, so he had high standards. Smooth, even coloring was a must, but the big draw was the curve. He liked things to be…..round. Nice and full.  Everything he had seen at the other usual places had been too dry and shriveled to even be worth a second glance. He had to admit, though, that there were better options here. One or two were pretty passable, and he would settle if he had to. At least they were real; he could never get into the fake ones, somehow. They always seemed to be lacking something.  He turned a corner, and froze. His hands trembled in anticipation, and he knew. This was it. No other could ever compare. It wouldn’t be his first, or, given his appetites, his last, but it would be amazing, all the same. Unable to restrain himself, he sprang forward.

Heads met with a resounding crack, and two pairs of hands scrabbled over each other in an attempt to gain purchase. Narrow green eyes glared into baleful red, as both snarled in dawning recognition. The two faced off with a thin veneer of civility, but at any moment, they could be plunged to the level of starving stray dogs fighting over a rotten hunk of meat.

“Soul.”

“Maka.”

Both were cursing the fact that, of all the pumpkin patches in all the nurseries, the other had to walk into this one. It hadn’t always been like this; when they had first met at college last year, they had each actually felt an unexpected spike of interest. This was quickly smothered by Maka’s increasing frustration at Soul’s laidback, almost apathetic attitude to their work, coupled with his snide laughter every time she got worked up. She had fought and clawed her way to get this far, and even though she had excellent grades, each test was a source of agony for her. Soul, on the other hand, couldn’t figure out how a girl with such an odd blend of sweet and tough could morph into such a foul-tempered, nagging shrew. Although he wouldn’t admit it, he had found it sort of cute when she would freak out; the idea of her failing at anything was ridiculous, so he couldn’t see why she was so upset. He actually envied her ability to express her worries, since his usually clawed at him while he gave off the impression that everything was fine.

They had developed an odd little war; she invariably beat him when it came to grades, but he made up for it in other ways, like parking in the last available space, forcing her to sprint across campus nearly every day. This new development, they both immediately understood, would be yet another battle. Neither knew that they shared a mutual obsession with all things autumn, and pumpkins nearly topped the list of their seasonal passions.

“Let go!”

“You let go!”

“I saw it first!”

“Yeah, Well I touched it first!”

“You can’t have this pumpkin! What do you even want it for? Are you going to carve it with your fangs?”

Each sentence was punctuated by a fierce yank, as their bodies swayed back and for with the effort. Mothers pulled their staring children away hurriedly, while a few people around their age started to record them, from a safe distance.

“It would be better than what you—hey! That’s not fair!” Soul yelled, having lost his grip after she kicked him in the shins. she took off running in a zigzag pattern, but the ground was uneven, and she was having to be careful not to trip over pumpkins, so he managed to tackle her. They rolled back and forth, pushing and shoving. The pumpkin slid from their grip, and they crawled after it, cursing and blocking the other as best they could.

A short ways away, their friends watched.

“They remind me of something, but I don’t know what,” Black*Star commented, taking a sip of his hot cider.

Tsubaki glanced at his pensive tone, but returned her attention to the bickering pair in time to see Soul trying to stuff the pumpkin under his shirt.

“What could they possibly remind you of?” She asked, watching Maka dive under with it, to get a better grip.

She winced as Soul let out a scream; Maka must have pulled a dirty move, and twisted a nipple.

“I got it!” Black*Star crowed, “Those rat things from the Ice movies, the ones fighting over the nut.”

It was hard to tell which was meant to be the nut, she thought, as they both ran shrieking, leaves and small twigs sticking out of their hair.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have tried to get them to meet here.”

Black*Star nearly choked on his drink.

“Are you crazy? Look at them; they’re perfect for each other!”

The perfect couple in question was now on their knees in the dirt, stubbornly gripping the pumpkin between them as if it was a precious golden ring. Maka’s tights were ripped, and sweat dripped down into the scarf that had seemed cozy this morning, but was now strangling her.  Soul was wheezing, promising himself that there would be sweet, sweet vengeance if she had managed to scratch his jacket.

“Just pick another one! You’re probably only going to use it as some sort of hipster bong, anyway!” Maka whined.

Soul gave a sarcastic bark. “Someone’s been spending too much time on the Internet. You’re wrong, but it would be better than whatever cutesy shit you’re gonna paint on it.”

Maka gripped the stem. “How is a snarling werewolf with glowing red eyes cutesy? Or carving it and stuffing it with a string of lights so it looks like constellations when it—”

“Like that one that’s all over Pinterest?” Soul asked, perking up.

“Um, yeah. But with less glitter, because that one is just a little over the top.”

“Definitely. Just a few sprinkles would be enough.”

Maka had the uncomfortable sensation that she was actually starting to bond with him, so she pulled up a few angry memories to fuel her.

“So now that my design ideas are approved, would you please pick another pumpkin?  Why does someone like you care so much about this, anyway?”

Soul drew himself up out of his customary slump, clearly affronted.

“Whaddya mean, someone like me? Do you honestly think you know me well enough to judge what I care about? Not that I have to explain myself to you, but fall happens to be a really big deal for me!”

Looking more than slightly deranged, with her hair slipping from her pigtails and frizzing with static, leaves clinging to the strands, she crossed her arms with a huff.

“This is ridiculous. You’re getting all worked up over a pumpkin, when you barely care enough to coast through a group project that counts as about twenty-five percent of our grade!”

He leaned closer, his voice a loud, rumbling growl, “Why the hell do you think I don’t care? I care! I just care really deep down!”

“Then why do you always make fun of me?” Maka pointed out triumphantly, unwilling to let go of her former assumptions.

“I’ve never made fun of you! Name one time I’ve ever made fun of you!”

“You always laugh at me when I start studying for tests!”

Soul was shocked. That’s the thing that had her panties in a wad all this time?

“I laugh because you run around like a chicken with your head cut off, even though it’s obvious that you’re gonna wreck the curve for the rest of us!”

Maka jerked back.

“I….wait—what?”

A man and a six year old boy moved between them, with a muttered ‘excuse me,’ temporarily breaking their eye contact.

“You heard me. You get all worked up, when the rest of us are pulling all-nighters, praying to pass. And then you act surprised when you do. Every. Single. Time.”

“Oh. Well. I….hm.”

Maka was flustered. Perhaps Soul wasn’t being a fresh pine scented douche, as she had thought. This complicated things. With a sigh, she decided that maybe they should work out some sort of truce.

“Alright, look. Why don’t we—Hey! What the hell, they took the pumpkin!”

Soul looked down, and found she was right; while they had been arguing, their pumpkin had been pilfered. Slowly, they both turned their heads, to find the man and his son walking to their car, the pumpkin tucked under the man’s arm, bobbing along tauntingly.

With identical groans, both collapsed backwards, exhausted, frustrated, and more than a little conflicted about their conversation. After a few minutes of staring at the overcast sky and wallowing in self-pity, Soul decided to do what he had wanted to at the first of last year.

“Wanna go for a coffee?”

Maka briefly considered; should she go with her initial impression of Soul, or the one she had built up without bothering to verify? A test question should help her decide.

“Pumpkin spice latte?”

“It’s October. Other kinds of coffee shouldn’t even exist.”

“Ohgodyes. I’d do anything for pumpkin spice.”

And thus the two highly stubborn individuals pulled their aching bodies to their feet and turned in the direction of one of the cities’ sixty-seven Starbucks, already deep in conversation about the finer techniques of pumpkin carving.

~ONE YEAR LATER~

Soul pulled out his credit card to pay for a tank of gas, his gaze drifting over the shoulder of the short, bored looking man at the register. He was about to hand over his card when he stopped, hardly able to believe what he was seeing.

“Can I get a couple of those, too?” He asked, pointing.

The man turned to the shelves, grabbing the items that Soul had indicated.

“Here. Can you believe those? This seasonal shit is getting ridiculous.”

Soul merely cackled as he shoved the pumpkin spice flavored condoms into his jacket pocket, Imagining the look on his girlfriend’s face when he asked her if she really meant it when she said anything.