Dean X-Reader - Soul Mate

            As is normal, the name appeared the day you turned twelve. You just woke up and bam, there it was in a loopy font on the underside of your wrist. Though still readable, it’s written small enough to stay out of sight when your hand is palm down. It’s rather exciting to think that you’re the only human with this name in this font on this part of your body. It makes meeting people more exciting. Any of them could be your soul mate. If they are, they’ll have your name in the same font and on the same part of their body as you do.

            All you know is that his name is Dean Winchester.

*    *    *    *    *

            Dean’s never concerned himself with finding his soul mate. Sure, he knows he’ll find her eventually, but he’s never taken the time to search for her. He’s one of many who are fine with being involved with other people who aren’t his soul mate, and one-night stands are no stranger to him.

            Her name is tattooed on his wrist, dark, loopy font contrasting with faint blue veins. Sometimes he’ll simply sit and stare at the name and envision what she might look like. Dark or light hair? Tall or short? What color are her eyes? And then he’ll shrug off the thoughts and find something to do.

*    *    *    *    *

            The one thing that you, and probably every other living human, worry about is the death of your soul mate. When he or she dies, their name will have a line slashed through it even if the pair has never met.

            You yourself are a hunter, born and raised. It’s definitely a dangerous life, and more than once you’ve thought that you might not make it out of a situation alive. Sometimes you sit and wonder if this ‘Dean Winchester’ lives a quiet life, or if he’s surviving day to day like you are.

*    *    *    *    *

            A few years ago Dean started to make a conscious effort to cover up the name on his wrist. He doesn’t want to give Sam any more emotionally painful thoughts than his brother gets from having to see Jessica’s slashed name on his collarbone every day.

            Today for some reason, he feels unusually excited about the name. Every other moment he feels the need to say something about it that, to him, sounds obsessive. Luckily he’s got a hunt to take his mind off of things. Classic ghost hunt, nothing stressful.

            Soon enough, the two Winchesters are in a stereotypical haunted house and in the throes of a fight with a rather angry spirit. Iron makes the thing evaporate, but only for a moment, and it comes back ticked as ever. Dean manages to keep it at bay by constantly swinging a fire poker, and he yells for Sam to “hurry up and burn the damn book that’s keeping it here”. He loses his grip on the poker, and it flies from his hands on the next swing. Weaponless, Dean has nothing with which to defend himself as the ghost advances and backs him into a wall.

            Just as the ghost is about to grab him, a shot rings out from his right. Two more follow in its wake, each one hitting their mark. The ghost attempts to teleport away from the shots, but a new bang is heard every time it reappears. Suddenly, the ghost erupts in flames, and Dean looks over to see the book burning at Sam’s feet. A hand is extended to help him stand.

            “You’re welcome.” A distinctly female voice accompanies the hand.

            “Nice aim.”

            “Thanks. You alright?”

            “Bumps and bruises. I’ll live. You?”

            “Same.”

            As his eyes adjust to the dim lighting, Dean is able to make out the girl’s features. She strikes him as quite attractive, really, but what makes his breath catch in his throat is the sight of the name on her wrist. Although he can’t make out exactly what it says, he can tell that the font matches the one on his own wrist.

            “Whaddya say we hit the road?” She gestures to the door.

            “Sure. Yeah. Sam, put that fire out.” Dean has trouble stringing together very many words.

            The three hunters vacate the old house, Dean trailing behind and eyeing the girl curiously. Sam, as is normal, is the first one to be social.

            “What’s your name?”

            “(f/n) (l/n).” She offers.

            Dean nearly trips.

            “Yours?”

            “Sam. Do you need a ride?”

            “Are you offering?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Then sure. It’s probably time I ditch my car anyway. It’s not exactly mine . . .”

            The ride back to the motel is mostly quiet, save for the spotty conversation between Sam and (y/n). If Sam knows that her name matches the one on his brother’s wrist, he’s doing a very good job of not showing it. Dean is completely silent and tries to keep his focus on driving.

            When they reach the motel, Dean asks the girl to help him grab stuff from the trunk. He waits until Sam heads inside before saying anything more.

            “Okay, there’s something you might want to know.” He looks her dead in the eyes.

            “Is there?” She stares right back.

            “Yeah. I, uh, there’s a thing . . .” He trails off.

            “There are a lot of things.” She smirks.

            Before he can change his mind and stall, Dean reaches out and grabs the sleeve of his jacket, but pauses.

            “My name is Dean Winchester.” He states. “Does that mean anything to you?”

            (y/n)’s face goes white as a sheet. “Y-yeah.” She stammers. “Yeah it does.”

            “What about this?” He pulls his sleeve up away from his wrist and displays to her the name written on it.

            When she sees it, both of her hands fly up to cover her mouth. After a moment she shakily and clumsily takes hold of his arm and aligns her other wrist with his. Dean smiles when he reads his name.

            “Oh my God.” He whispers. “I found her. I found my soul mate.”

            Both of them pop their heads up to find their faces mere inches from one another. When she sees Dean’s smile, (y/n) can’t help but break into one of her own. After a brief moment, he starts leaning in until his lips brush hers. When she doesn’t pull away, he kisses her gently. The action is drawn out, neither of them knowing what they’re doing or wanting it to end, but it does. And they linger like that, wrists pressed together as they explore each other’s eyes.

            “So what do we do now?” Dean is the one who breaks the silence.

            “I don’t know.” She murmurs back. “Get married, I guess?”

            “Nah. Not yet. I find the courtship phase to be much more fun.” He winks and grins at her.

            “Whaddya mean?” She gives him a smirk of her own.

            “Allow me to show you. But first, let’s go tell my brother the news.”