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No one knew why.
That’s a little vague. There were a lot of things no one knew. The truth behind the creation of the universe. Why ‘common sense’ was called as such and was very uncommon. How anyone could care about what Kim Kardashian was eating for dinner tonight (Some type of fancy fish or a steak that cost upwards of a hundred dollars). The whys and the hows of the universe don’t often have answers.
Specifically, no one knew why you had a specific little phrase marked, like a tattoo, on your body. No one knew how the location was chosen or who knew to put it there. Some said God, some said fate. Most said something along the lines of, when asked, “Who knows?”
Theses marks looked as you would expect any tattoo to look, written in black ink, slightly raised above the skin. The only problems with this theory were their inexplicably presences at birth and the fact that they were skin- just skin of a different pigmentation.
These words and phrases weren’t just random. At some point in your life, someone would say these words to you, and in response, you would say the words tattooed on their body. As it turned out, these people were what you would call soulmates. A variety of names were tried (such as ‘tatmat’ by the ‘YOLO’ kids but, by the grace of some reigning deity, it never caught on) but ‘bondmate’ was the most commonly used.
Some people have the typically shebang.
“Hi, I’m John.”
“How are you?”
“Bonjour!”
“Oh, thanks!”
It’s the more unusual stuff that tends to amuse. There’s a story of particular couple who met on a farm. The young woman was running from a friend and almost ran into her future husband and his best friend. Upon being asked by the friend if she was alright, she responded with “Just running from a fearsome dragon, sir.” Her future husband’s response?
“Don’t worry, Princess, I’ll be your charming knight.”
The particular story I wanted to tell you has a little to do with that one, I suppose, as the man and wife were the boy’s parents. The horribly romantic words do reflect harshly on their kids, especially if they do have something like “Hi, I’m John” as their mark.
Sam Winchester was not so lucky as to have something as obscure as “Hi, I’m John” as his mark. At moments in his life, he wished- deeply- to have something normal. But, unfortunately (from his viewpoint), his mark read “Are you fucking sorry?!”
He pondered long and hard on that one. Was his bondmate just an ass? Did it have some deeper meaning? Was he one day going to be accused of murder and have someone yell that at him? The answer to the first two are yes, and the last one has a bit of backstory to it and does almost happen. It’s actually quite funny- but a story for another day.
Sam’s brother helped him through his ‘prissy bitchmode’ as Dean called it. It did help that Dean’s mark read “Hey, assbutt!”
“Seriously? What kind of insult is that?” Dean would say when asked about it.
Sam resigned himself to having the words marked on his hip for the rest of his life, and possibly his tombstone, if his brother was to be believed.
-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-
The week leading up to Sam meeting his bondmate was not a good one.
By all normal standards, it was quite nice. It was April, sunny, and warm Californian weather. The birds were singing, the flowers were blooming and everything was generally quite nice.
Sam, however, slept through his alarm clock. On the day he was supposed to take the LSAT.
Sam blinked himself awake at 7:42, eighteen minutes before his exam was supposed to start. There was half a second of rest before a flurry of motion began. Cursing all the while, Sam pulled his pants on with one hand and groped for his shirt with his other. By the time he cleared the house, he had mismatched shoes, old jeans with a tear in the knee, a coffee stained shirt, and his brother’s book bag.
The exam was hell. Getting in was hell. Taking it was hell. Afterwards, Sam was walking back to the apartment he shared with his brother- still convinced he had been stabbed in the back and really was in hell- sure he had failed.
Dean was waiting for him back at their apartment. He seemed fidgety when he handed over Sam’s bag but all Sam could think about was how possible it was to smother himself with his own pillow.
-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-
“Chin up, Sammy, that’s all I’m saying.”
“I hate you.” Sam’s head thunked onto the table.
“Oh, c’mon, it’s not that bad. Maybe this is a sign from the universe, trying to help you escape your doom of stuffy lawyerism.”
“You aren’t making any sense, Dean,” Sam grunted at his brother, head still firmly glued to the table.
“I’m making perfect sense, bitch. You’re just too busy moping to notice.”
“Am not, jerk.”
“Look, it’s been a week. Go get dressed, alright? Think you can handle that, Samantha? Without drowning in your sorrows?” Sam lifted his head to glare at his brother. “Don’t give me your bitchface, just do it.”
“Fine.” Sam left the kitchen, still scowling. He had overslept. Why did he have to oversleep that day, of all days?
He moved through the motions of showering and getting dressed without enthusiasm, though he did manage to squash the desire to drown himself in under the warm spray of water.
When Sam finally emerged from his room, another voice had joined his brother’s.
“I do not believe your brother would appreciate that, Dean.”
“I’m just saying I don’t- ah, hey, Sammy.” Dean was leaning against the counter, nursing a cup of coffee in one hand. A man with messy black hair and trench coat stood across from him, also holding a cup.
“Hey, Dean. Who’s this?”
“I am Castiel, Sam.”
“Nice to meet you.” Sam moved across the kitchen to shake his hand, and then over the coffee pot. “So, are you-” Sam started to say just as Dean began with “Sam, Cas is-”.
Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean’s slightly pink face. “Uh, Cas is… I mean-”
“Dean, calm down, I’ve known you were bi since I walked in on you and Benny in high school.” Dean spluttered and Sam just smirked.
“I believe your brother was trying to tell you that we are bondmates, Sam.”
Sam mouth dropped open and he looked between Dean and Castiel for several moments before enthusiastically pulling his brother into a hug. “Really? Congrats, man!”
Dean broke off the hug quickly with muttered, “No chick flick moments, dude.”
“Dean believed that telling you in your current state would not help matters.”
“Nah, this is great!” Sam said, smiling. “So… ‘hey, assbutt’?”
“I believed that your brother had thrown a book at me, which explains my mark as well.”
“Yeah, ‘parently one of your books got thrown out your bag, Sammy, and he handed it back to me, right? After yelling that at me and the only thing I could think of was, ‘I hate this book’.” Dean broke back into the conversation, smiling a bit. “I guess it’s a good think you grabbed my bag, yeah?” Sam gave Dean an exasperated eye roll.
“So you guys met a week ago, and it took you until now to tell me? Gee, thanks, Dean.”
“No problem, bro.” The lull into a silence for a moment, Sam unsure as to what to say to them. He just wanted to- screw it, Dean was right- mope some more. In peace. He cast a glance at Dean and Cas, who were staring at each other, seemingly locked in a staring contest. He cleared his throat and they both looked away, blushing. Castiel looked back at Sam.
“Dean tells me you are planning a career in law, Sam.”
“Oh, uh, yeah. Well, maybe.” Sam let out a small laugh. “Maybe not, anymore. I dunno.”
“Going into the law field is almost as sacred as God’s word, in my family. I would not suggest it to you unless it is what you really want to do.” Castiel spoke with a very serious air about him, though that seemed to be his default setting.
“Thanks, Castiel.” Sam took another gulp of his coffee, the caffeine already working its magic on him. “I guess… Are you a lawyer then?”
Castiel shook his head. “I received my law degree but I did not enjoy the work. I own a bookshop.” Sam grinned at him excitedly.
“Wow, really?! That’s so awesome! I love books. Is it working for you?”
Castiel nodded, undeterred by Dean’s mutterings about nerds. “Yes. It is quite enjoyable.”
“Cas and I were gonna watch some movies, Sammy. He’s never seen Star Wars, can you believe it?!” Dean exclaimed, shooting Castiel a look that was clearly meant to express his incredulity. From Cas’ face, the importance of this seemed to go straight over his head. “I have to fix that, man.”
Sam snorted. “Have fun, guys. I’m gonna study or something.” Castiel nodded and Dean rolled his eyes and they parted ways.
‘Maybe Castiel is right,’ Sam reflected, collapsing at his desk, eyes skating over his school work. “Crap…” He groaned, pressing his hands into his eyes. With a sigh, Sam heaved himself up again, thinking a trip out of the house and to his favorite coffee shop will do him good. And he defiantly doesn’t want to listen- or watch- his brother stumble his way through getting to know his bondmate. He’d known Castiel all of two minutes and he already wanted to gag from the looks they were shooting each other.
Throwing his books into his book bag, he shrugged into his jacket and shoes. He stuck his nose into the living room where the opening theme to A New Hope is playing. “Going out, jerk,” He called to Dean.
“Later, bitch!” Dean said back, already absorbed in the movie.
“Nice meeting you, Castiel,” Sam said with a snort.
Castiel nodded back. “Same to you, Sam.”
Sam stowed his keys in his pocket as he shut the door behind himself. The walk wasn’t too long, but he spent it with his head low, hands stowed in his pockets. So what if he was moping? He had surely failed the LSAT and to top everything off, Dean had found his bondmate. Sure, Dean was more than four years older than him, but now he’d be reduced to being an old spinster cat-lady and doomed to watch his brother make goo-goo eyes at Castiel.
Sam was just rounding the bend to the coffee shop when he heard two people walking towards him. Glancing up, he saw a small man with golden hair talking to an Indian woman with long black hair, just coming out of the shop. They looked disgustingly happy. ‘Probably bondmates,’ Sam thought gloomily, and went back to watching his feet.
“It’s my job, you moron, you know that,” The woman said, sighing in exasperation.
“C’mon, Kali, it’s just silly. Persecuting young artist types for pursuing inspiration. It’s just like a punch across the face! Pow and-” The man had been gesturing wildly with his hands and just as Sam passed him one hand, curled into a fist, flew upwards and smacked him straight in the nose.
Had it been any other day, Sam surely would have had better reflexes as to keep this from happening. But today was not any other day. He was lost in his thoughts and not paying the slightest attention to the outside world.
Sam staggered back a step, feeling the blood start to pour already as the man jumped forward and yelled, “Are you fucking sorry?!”
-`-`-`-`-`-`-
Gabriel was excitable on the best of days. Today, he had pulled an all-nighter working on his latest masterpiece. It would be awesome… If he could bare to part with it.
Kali had liked it when she shown up at his flat before dragging him out of it, telling him in no uncertain terms she wouldn’t eat or drink anything there until it was cleaned. Well, she had technically said ‘sterilized and declared sanitary by professionals’ but that was neither here nor there. She had then insisted on going to the coffee shop around the corner. It’s not like Gabriel protested that much- he loved the place.
“Irish cream latte, Kali! It taste like Saint Patrick’s day! If only they’d add a little something extra…”
“This is a coffee shop, Gabriel, not a pub.”
“Semantics!” Gabriel declared with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Why did you drag me away from my ever so important work?”
“Because you smell,” Kali said raising an eyebrow, daring Gabriel to disagree. “And you needed a break.”
“Not fair, Kali,” Gabriel whined, opening the shop door. “I was struck by inspiration!” Kali followed him out, sighing.
“It’s my job, you moron, you know that.”
“C’mon, Kali, it’s just silly. Persecuting young artist types for pursuing inspiration. It’s just like a punch across the face! Pow and-” Gabriel curled his hand into a fist and mimed a punch, startling when his fist connected with someone’s face.
Gabriel whirled, almost dropping his coffee. A mountain of a man was standing there, holding his noise, which seemed to bleeding. A thousand thoughts crossed Gabriel’s mind I’msorry!-areyouokay?!CanIhaveyournumber? before he blurted out, “Are you fucking sorry?!”
He did drop his coffee that time to clamp both hands over his mouth, more words already spilling out. “I was trying to apologize and ask if you were okay and it got all mushed together and, god, you’re bleeding, I’m so fucking sorry!” Gabriel barely register the giant’s shell-shocked look until the words fell from his lips:
“It finally makes sense.”
That shut Gabriel up. His mouth opened and closed several times before he wordlessly pulled his shirt sleeve up to show the words marked there.
“Same for me! I never understood what it was supposed to mean. It’s kind of a relief it wasn’t some lame ass pick up line!”
“I’m Sam. I’d shake your hand but it’s covered in blood.”
“They call me Gabriel,” the blonde said, smiling as well, though it looked strained. “God, I’m gonna have to tell everyone I ever meet that I met my bondmate by breaking his nose...” His face turned pink with embarrassment.
“My brother will never let me live it down,” Sam said, smiling at Gabriel.
“Mine either. As if they didn’t have enough to complain about already!”
“As lovely as this is,” Kali interrupted, eyes sparking with amusement, “you’re still bleeding, Sam.”
And, really, could they have met any other way?