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Castiel is just learning to walk, and suddenly he’s off, faster than he’s ever went before, his parents watching in awe, until he suddenly trips over a toy. Tears begin to flow from his baby blue eyes as Chuck rushes over to kiss the angry red spot blossoming just below his knee, that is sure to turn into a nasty bruise in the morning.
The first time Dean awakens from a peaceful nights sleep with an angry purple bruise on his left shin, he’s afraid.
“Momma, wha’s wrong with me? I got a boo-boo and it hurts!” he says as Mary gently swipes at the tears falling from his bright green eyes.
“It’s just a bruise, sweetie, you’ll be alright. It’ll go away soon, I promise.” She states, lightly placing a kiss on the blossoming splotch of colors forming just below Dean’s knee. Of course Mary knows this is just the first of many more to come. This is, after all, how she and John found each other, through the identical bruises that seemed to keep popping up on them all through out their high school years.
Years pass, small bruises and random scars keep popping up on both Dean and Castiel, with what seems like no explanation at all. Of course, their parents know exactly what is happening, they know that somewhere out there, their soul mate is getting marked up in exactly the same way. Each time their child cuts themselves, bumps into a corner, or touches a hot pan without thinking, they cringe, knowing somewhere in the world, someone is going to discover that mark on them as well. Eventually, when their children get older, they’ll explain to them what all of this means, but for now they just comfort them, and tell them everything will be alright.
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In high school, Dean learns he is especially talented in the kitchen, and with Sammy just hitting puberty and wanting to eat everything in sight, he always has someone willing to try out his new recipes. One day after school, Sam and Dean are in the backyard, Dean wanting to try his hand at grilling burgers. Earlier that day during his free period, he found a recipe for a marinade in the library that he couldn’t wait to try, and Sam is always eager to taste test. Chatting idly about their days at school, Sam helps Dean patty out the burgers as Dean prepares the marinade. Once everything is ready to go on the grill, Dean flips all the switches and flicks on the long lighter their dad always uses to light the grill, but nothing happens. He bends down to inspect the propane tank, but it seems to be hooked up correctly so he isn’t sure what is causing the grill not to light.
“What’s wrong?”
“Damn grill won’t light. I don’t know why though, I’m doing it all the way dad showed me!” Dean exclaims. “Guess I better go inside and call him, see if he can figure out what’s going on.” He states as he reaches up to close the lid. As he does so, the grill suddenly comes to life, a burst of flames suddenly engulfing the sleeve of his plaid shirt he had been wearing that day.
“SHIT! SHIT SHIT SHIT!” Dean yells, pain surging through his forearm as he begins to wave it wildly through the air, panicking.
“Dean, STOP! GET OVER HERE!” Sam yells, quickly turning the hose on, spinning around, and aiming it right towards his big brother. Suddenly, there is water everywhere, Dean is soaked, but the fire is out, and he is ok. “Are you alright?!”
“Yeah, Sammy, I’m good. Damn, this hurts like a bitch!”
Dean gently tries to peel off what is left of his shirt, revealing an angry red patch along his forearm, which is starting to blister.
“We better get you to the ER man, I’m gonna call Mom!” Sam rushes inside to tell his mother what has just happened, while all Dean can think of is that somewhere out there, some poor soul is going to have an angry burn scar on their forearm for the rest of their life, just like him.
Later that night, Dean, Sam, Mary, and John all arrive home from Lawrence Memorial, exhausted from the long day, but glad that Dean is ok. The doctors were able to treat his arm and told them that there would be no permanent damage, but he may have a small scar from where the flames burned through his shirt.
Castiel had been going about his day like normal, studying after school, when all of a sudden, he feels a sharp pain shooting through his right forearm. He quickly discards his sweater from his school uniform to see a bright red patch forming on his arm, hot to the touch. It doesn’t hurt him nearly as bad as what his soul mate is feeling, but all he can do is say a silent prayer that they are going to be ok, that everything will be alright.
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A few more years pass, more bumps and bruises, but nothing of major concern. Dean has graduated culinary school and now works as head chef at a fancy restaurant in Colorado, and Sammy is off at Stanford, studying to be a big fancy lawyer. Dean loves cooking as it provides a sort of stress relief for him. He can go into the kitchen, get lost in slicing and dicing, frying and sautéing, and not to mention he’s absolutely fantastic at it. How else would he have landed this head chef gig? He’d thought he’d gotten pretty good at not cutting himself while chopping, because let’s be honest, that’s a rookie mistake, but yesterday he was talking to the bartender, a sweet southern man named Benny who he met at the culinary school, and he just got distracted. Going to slice a tomato into the saucepan of the pasta sauce he was working on, and instead running the sharp knife right through the tomato and down the palm of his left hand. 4 stitches and a huge gauze band-aid later, Dean is pissed. Tomorrow is supposed to be their big catering job for Richard Roman, the richest, and also douchey-ist businessman they’ve ever met. He heard about Dean from a mutual friend, and had asked Dean and Benny to cater his annual staff picnic. But because of Dean’s little accident, Benny has insisted that Dean take bartending duty at the restaurant instead, stating the he can handle it all on his own.
“Brother, it’s just a company picnic, I’ll be fine. I’ll even give you credit for all the sweet, juicy burgers I’m about to grill up!” Benny says, still not able to convince Dean he can handle this on his own.
“Benny, it’s just a cut on my hand! I’m FINE!”
“I know, I know, but we don’t need to risk you tearing open those stitches and being out of commission even longer, so just let me handle this today, you handle the bar, and once you get all healed up, everything will be back to normal”
Dean wanted to argue, but when Benny talked in that sweet southern drawl, it was hard to say no, so he begrudgingly agreed to take over the bar for the day. He’s a little over halfway through his shift when he notices a breathtakingly gorgeous man walk in and sit down at the end of the bar, wearing a long, tan trench coat. Dean has never really labeled himself as straight or gay, if he sees someone attractive and he has a connection, he’s not against getting to know him or her a little better.
“What’ll it be?” he asks, putting on his best grin, looking down at the man who is obviously nervous.
It takes the man a second to notice that Dean is even there, mind obviously elsewhere. “Oh…sorry…uh I’ll have a rum and coke, please.” He states, finally looking up at Dean.
Those breathtaking blue eyes take Dean by surprise, positive he has never seen anyone with eyes that bright and beautiful. “Coming right up!” He taps the counter and winks before walking off.
When he returns with drink, Dean notices that the man is absently rubbing at a scar on the palm of his hand. It looks a lot like the scar Dean had just gotten yesterday and this sends the thoughts racing through his head. Ever since he was little, his mom and dad had told him that sometimes, when their soul mate gets hurt, they end up with the same bruises or scars. All throughout his life, Dean had experienced this in the form of random bruises popping up on his legs and arms worry running through his mind each time, silently wondering if the other person was ok. He, of course, had given his fair share as well, considering how many times he’d burned and nicked himself all throughout high school when he was just learning to cook, and though less frequently, throughout culinary school as well. So of course Dean notices the scar on the mans hand, how he’s rubbing at it, looking nervous as all hell, but he’s almost certain it’s got nothing to do with him. It couldn’t, could it?
“Here we go, rum and coke! Listen, don’t mind my asking, but everything all right man? You seem a little worked up?” Dean inquires. It’s the slow part of the day after lunch but before the dinner rush, and he’s intrigued. Sometimes, part of the bartender’s job is to lend an ear, so if that’s what this guy needs, that’s what Dean can do right now.
“Yes, sorry. I’m fine. It’s just…I’m waiting for a date, and I’m a little nervous. He should have been here by now.”
“Oh. I’ve had my fair share of that. Listen, drinks on the house, man. Name’s Dean, by the way.”
“Castiel. Nice to meet you.”
“Castiel, huh? That’s a different name. I like it. So, this date, is it a blind date type of deal or…?”
“Yes. My sister Anna suggested that I meet a man she’d been working with, Balthazar. Quite frankly I’m not a fan of blind dates, as you can tell, but Anna was so excited to set us up I just couldn’t say no.”
“Well Cas, seems to me like if he can’t show up on time then he’s not worth your time.” Dean says with a wink, walking away to refill Cas’ drink and wait on the couple that has just arrived at the other end of the bar.
Cas noticed the bandage wrapped around Dean’s hand as soon as he sat the first drink down. Ever since he was a child, he had been told about the “soul mate markings”, and experienced his fair share. He’d always gotten his hopes up though, meeting someone, exchanging stories, finding out that they didn’t have similar experiences growing up. He’d been in his fair share of committed relationships, but none of them ever had that spark, it seemed like there was always something missing.
A little bit of liquid courage in him, and feeling bold, Cas decides to ask Dean about the bandage on his hand. “Can I be nosy and ask you what happened?” he inquires.
“Oh this?” Dean says, raising his hand, pointing to the bandage. “Dumb mistake on my part, that’s what. You see, I’m not actually the bartender here, I’m the head chef.”
“Well, you had me fooled.” Cas interjects, raising his glass to take another drink.
“Anyways,” Dean continues with a grin, “Yesterday, I was talking to Benny, our bartender, while I was working on some pasta sauce. Got distracted, went to slice a tomato into the pan, and sliced right down my hand instead. 4 stitches and this thing later and I’ve got to miss out on our biggest catering job yet.” he finishes angrily.
At the mention of yesterday, Cas’ heart skips a beat. That’s when the angry red scar had popped up suddenly on the palm of his hand. This is too good to be true, he thinks, it has to be. He could never get this lucky. Talking to Dean is so easy, and feeling brave, he decides to boldly ask Dean a question that could change everything. “Dean, do you know about soul mate marking?” He looks at Dean with a tilted head, blue eyes questioning.
Surely he did not just ask that, surely he isn’t thinking the same thing I’m thinking, Dean thinks to himself. “Ye…Yes…why do you ask?” Dean manages to stammer out, heart pounding in his chest.
“You cut your hand yesterday right? Around dinnertime, I’m guessing?”
“Yes…?”
“Dean, that’s exactly when this scar appeared on my hand.” Cas says without missing a beat. “Can I ask you another question, Dean?”
He nods his head, unable to speak, thoughts racing through his head.
Cas begins to remove his suit jacket, rolling up the right sleeve of the dress shirt he’s wearing. “About 10 years ago, did you happen to burn yourself, right here?” He asks, pointing to a small, jagged pink scar on his forearm.
“Yes. Yes!” Dean answers, shoving his sleeve up as well, holding his arm out to Cas’, comparing the scars and seeing that they match up perfectly. Cas gently runs his fingers over the scar on Dean’s forearm.
“I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you, Dean.” He says, blue eyes looking up at Dean full of hope, hand reaching out to caress his cheek, like years of unanswered questions have just been answered, everything he’s ever wanted sitting right in front of him.
“Me too, Cas, me too.”