Destiel One-shots

And They Were Soulmates

Set in soulmate AU where everything that gets on your skin ends up on your soulmate's as well.

Unlike what rumor would have you believe, it was widely known that the soulmate system was hated across the world. Utterly hated. People didn't like having soulmates. The system had flaws, and people despised it for that, insisting that it should be foolproof. People that had met and hated their soulmates even protested it, insisting that they could never have been paired with someone so awful.

They claimed the soulmate concept in itself robbed you of your freewill. People chose to have relationships specifically with people that weren't their soulmates just to defy it. It ruins relationships and friendships, it gave asexuals anxiety, it destroyed generations of cultures that were used to arranged marriages, it was nerve wracking and utterly annoying. Those that actually approved and enjoyed the concept stayed relatively quiet about that opinion. It was more controversial than politics. 

Sam Winchester secretly loved the soulmates. His parents hated it, for good reason, but he didn't. He loved the idea of having a soulmate, of having someone that was specifically destined to love him and only him. It was comforting, in his eyes. He thought if anything, it would raise people's self esteem. It made him feel better to know that no matter how low he thought of himself, someone out there loved him enough to be his soulmate. It made him feel less alone.

Sam's soulmate was an artist. Or, at least, that's what Sam assumed. Day after day he'd sit in class or at home, and brightly colored patches of paint would appear all over his hands, arms, and occasionally his face or legs. Sometimes the paint lingered for days. He'd gone around one week with a solid green hand. Dean had poked fun at him for having an actual green thumb, but Sam liked it. He liked wondering what his soulmate had made that had required him to use certain colors. He tried to send little drawings back, but he was awful at them. He settled for smiley faces instead, just to let his soulmate know that he was thinking of him.

Dean Winchester's soulmate was a total teacher's pet. Or, at least, that's what he assumed from all the random facts that were scribbled on his arm on a daily basis. Part of him was surprised that his soulmate hadn't gotten ink poisoning by now from how much he wrote stuff on his arms. He supposed he annoyed his soulmate just as much with all the oil he got on him after working in the garage. He didn't mind the soulmate system. He didn't like it, didn't not like it. If his soulmate wanted to be with him or not, that was his choice.

Yes, Dean knew his soulmate was a boy. He hadn't told anyone. It had only occurred to him a few years ago that his soulmate might not be a girl, and he had asked. His soulmate had written back, confirming that he was a boy, and Dean had been too stupid to ask any more questions. He should've, though. The more he thought about his soulmate, the more he wanted to know. He wondered if his soulmate liked pie. He would have too, Dean imagined, otherwise there was no way they could possibly be soulmates.

Gabriel Novak's soulmate didn't live in the same country as him. That was the only conclusion Gabe had come too. Words and phrases would occasionally be scribbled on his arm, courtesy of mystery soulmate, but they were never in English. Sometimes it was Arabic, other times it was conjugations of various Spanish verbs. He left smiley faces and badly drawn items too, but mainly it was strange things written in various languages, which was why Gabriel was eternally grateful that Google translate existed. He wished that the soulmate thing worked liked texting, where you could send pictures. He would love to have a picture of his soulmate, even just to paint, if nothing else. He imagined he probably annoyed his soulmate with the paint a lot, but he didn't care. He loved the art.

Castiel Novak's soulmate was a forgetful idiot. He constantly was writing notes and dates and items to remember, when he wasn't covered in black splotches, of course. Cas supposed he wasn't much better, always writing random facts he read or heard down on his arms. He was slowly covering his entire room with sticky notes covered in facts, and his arm just happened to be the easiest place to write them down on before he could record them at home. He just wanted his soulmate to want to be with him. He liked the idea, but he had seen so many people meet their soulmate, only to discover that said soulmate wanted nothing to do with them. That's what had happened to Cas's brother, and he hadn't been the same since. Cas couldn't blame him though. There was something about being told your whole life that this person was going to love you, and then finding out that they didn't even want to get to know you. That hurt a lot. Cas hadn't spoken to his soulmate, save for one time he had asked if he was a boy. Cas wasn't sure why that mattered, especially since his soulmate hadn't mentioned his gender in return, but he didn't care. He was pretty positive he was gay, but if for some reason his soulmate turned out to be a girl, he supposed he could find some way to deal with that.