Destiel smut and fluff oneshots

Cuts and Bruises

This is a soulmate AU in which the soulmate of someone feels the pain that the other goes through. This is also all in Deans POV.

Deans POV

I woke up with another bruise this morning, but passed it off since it's a common thing now. Sam walked into the living room of my apartment and smiled as he dropped his bags.

"How come you're never seen with any markings?" I asked, poking at the fresh bruise.

"That's because they aren't in visible areas," he said with a wink, asking into the kitchen. "Let me guess, you woke up with another bruise?"

"How'd you know?" I asked sarcastically, walking into the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee.

"What does your soulmate do that causes so many bruises?" He asked, tossing me the creamer.

"I don't know, why don't you ask my soulmate?" I asked sarcastically, pouring creamer in my coffee. "Oh wait, you can't because we don't know who he is."

"Come on, don't be like that," he said, picking up his phone. "I found Gabe therefore we can find whoever your soulmate is."

"You found him by accident," I said, sitting at my small, round table.

"I found him because I looked for cuts that were the same as mine," he said, leaning against the counter.

"I'm going to work," I said, putting my cup in the sink.

"Don't forget your look for people with that same bruise!" He yelled at me.

-

When I arrived at Bobby's garage someone was already sitting out on the bench waiting. I walked up to him with a smile on my face, I looked him over.

"Hey," I said, holding out my hand for him to shake it.

"Hello," he said dully, not taking my hand.

"Are you ok?" I asked, watching him shift in his seat.

"Never better," he muttered, poking at something on his arm.

"Is that a bruise?" I asked, taking a closer look.

"What's it to you?" He asked, covering his arm.

"I have to get to work, here my number if you ever wanna talk," I said, writing my number on a slip of paper.

I walked into the garage after handing him the paper and sighed. "You're late," Bobby said from under a car.

"Sorry, I was talking with the guy out there," I said, walking behind the counter. "A 1978 Lincoln Continental Mark V? Whoever owns this has taste."

"It belongs to the guy you were talking to, the brakes locked up and the engine stalled." He said, rolling out from under the car.

"Did you see the bruise on his arm?" I asked, putting my jacket on the hook.

"Getting mushy with him already?" He asked, grabbing a pen.

"No, I'm asking because it's the same as the one on my arm," I said, walking back over to him.

"So you are getting mushy with him," he said, writing a report on the car.

"How long do you think it'll take to fix his car?" I asked, watching him write.

"Why don't you get to work instead of worrying about some boy you just met?" He asked, throwing an oily towel at me. "Idjit."

"Alright, alright," I said, walking over to the car. "I gave him my number."

"Get to work, I'm not payin ya to be lazy," he said, sitting behind the desk with the report.