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.

***

It started in English Class. Dean's teacher was obsessed with soulmates. She had found and was currently married to hers, so she assumed that everyone had to be the same way.They had written dozens of papers on the subject, to the point where it was mind numbly boring.  But this? This was a little far.

"I want you all to take out a pen," She instructed. "And I want you to write a note to your soulmate." The class paused. There was no paper in sight. They knew what she meant. "Anything at all. Ask them if they like something you like. Ask them where they're from. Anything at all, and then, if they respond, tell me what they said and write a one paragraph response for homework about how the response made you feel. If they don't respond, write about that feeling too. Go on."

Reluctantly, the class began to write on their skin.

Dean had no idea where to begin. What was he supposed to say to his soulmate? What did he want his soulmate to say to him?

Do you like pie? He wrote awkwardly, already hating it. He went to scribble out the words, but then the familiar feeling of something being written appeared on his other arm.

I think you're beautiful.

It was such an odd, out of context sentence that Dean paused. He glanced at his other arm, where a small yes had appeared.

Are Dean stopped at the possibility. Could his soulmate really be sitting in the same room as him, or could it merely be a weird coincidence? Are you in English class right now? He finished the thought and immediately scanned the room. Some kids were sitting there, looking bored. Others were writing away at their arms, smiling widely. One kid had their arms crossed in quiet fury, the pen sitting defiantly on their desk. A kid near the front stiffened momentarily, and then went back to writing. Dean glanced down at his arm, only to see a response appearing.

How did you know that? Dean decided to take the chance.

In ten seconds, I'm going to ask to go to the bathroom. If we're in the same room, make up an excuse to leave and meet me in the hall. It seemed simple enough, and after ten seconds, Dean raised his hand and asked to go to the bathroom.

He waited a minute, and then the classroom door opened, and a dark haired boy stepped out, looking wide eyed. Wordlessly, Dean held out his arm. The other boy did too, and the writing matched.

They just stared. Dean just took it all in. The boy was definitely worthy of being called beautiful, with amazing blue eyes and even better hair.

Cas wasn't sure how he was breathing. He hadn't expected his soulmate to be this good looking. He held out a hand, not really sure what else to do.

"I'm Cas," He offered. Dean shook his hand, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"I'm Dean."

"So you're the one who's always covered in oil." 

"Yeah, I work at a garage." Cas grinned. "I gotta ask, though. What's with all the weird bee facts?"

"I like bees and weird facts?" Dean laughed.

"Good enough for me."

*****

Sam Winchester had been kicked out of his chorus class after the teacher deemed his voice wasn't up to par. It was a stupid reason, but whatever. He was moved into an art class, and while he was even worse at art, a part of him was happy to take part in something he knew his soulmate liked.

But by the time he was ready to start painting, his hands were covered in blue patches, paint, courtesy of his soulmate no doubt. But if they were both in art at the same time...

He scanned the room, but plenty of kids had blue paint on their hands. Sam took up a brush, dipping it in the brightest red paint he had, and painted a big red star on his palm. Casually, he walked around the room, glancing at everyone's hands until he spotted it.

A short boy with golden hair, his apron so caked with paint that you didn't know what color it was supposed to be. Blue paint and a red star staining his hands, not that he even noticed as Sam approached. He slowly got closer, seeing what he was painting. 

It was an eye, stunningly realistic, with a blue and gold background. The eye itself had no color, and judging by the way the boy set down his brush after finishing the background, he had no idea what color to make it. 

"Hi," Sam offered, not wanting to startle him. He tucked his hands behind his back. 

"Hey," The boy smiled at him. "Don't think I've seen you in here before."

"I got kicked out of chorus, so I'm in this class now," The boy laughed.

"Well, I'm Gabriel." He held out a hand, finally noticing the red star. "Wait, that's weird." He frowned. Sam held out his hand.

"Not weird if your soulmate left it there," He said. Gabriel looked at Sam's hand, then at him, then at his own hand, then back at Sam.

"Thank you soulmate gods," He whispered. 

"I'm Sam."

"Well hiya Sammy," Gabriel grinned. "Um, don't take this the wrong way, but can I like, paint you? I've just really wanted to paint my soulmate for so long but I didn't know anything about what you looked like and-"

"Go right ahead," Sam insisted. "I'd like to see more of your work." 

"Right, well," Gabriel pointed at the painting. "This is something. It was going to stay unfinished until I found out what color eyes my soulmate had, but now..." Gabriel leaned towards him. "My god, what color are your EYES?"

"Good question. They change a lot."

"They're beautiful..."

"And a challenge to paint. Good luck." Gabriel grinned.

"I like challenges."