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English
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Part 7 of SPN Kink Bingo 2017
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SPN Kink Bingo 2017
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Published:
2017-10-27
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2,614
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Bonding Term

Summary:

The Advocates of the Heart came for Dean the morning after his twentieth birthday. He’d always known that his Bonding Term would come, and he’d even looked forward to it as a child. Everyone did. Meeting your soulmate marked being a mature part of society, the start of the most rewarding part of your life. But the reality of it caught him unexpected, and he wasn’t prepared to finally have the answers to questions he’d wondered about his whole life.

Notes:

SPN Kink Bingo square: Soulmates. Masterpost here.

Work Text:

The Advocates of the Heart came for Dean the morning after his twentieth birthday.

He’d spent the night before celebrating with Sam, so his head was a little fuzzy when he woke, but he wasn’t too hungover to roll out of bed and get ready for work. It wasn’t one of his days to work the service counter, just in the depot warehouse, so he didn’t bother combing his hair or finding a shirt without holes in it. He chugged a meal drink, for expediency and a bit of extra nutritional boost to get him through the day, and headed out.

Waiting for him as soon as he opened the door, arrayed in a semicircle in the hallway, four pink-masked Advocates blocked his path. He froze, fighting the instinct to flee back into his apartment; they’d follow him and drag him out if he made them, and he didn’t need that on top of everything.

It was a good thing, anyway. Right? He was lucky. Some people had to wait years, and there he was being summoned the day after he became eligible. He just couldn’t stop thinking about not seeing Sam or his friends for who knew how long, not even being able to say goodbye, and it made him nauseous.

“Dean Winchester,” said one of the Advocates to his right. “Please come with us. Your soulmate has be identified and your Bonding Term begins today.”

He couldn’t bring himself to let go of the doorframe and close the door just yet. “My brother,” he started, but the Advocate cut him off.

“We’ll contact your family and make arrangements with your workplace.”

“My milk... And, can I just, my shirt has a hole—”

He couldn’t pin down why he felt so uneasy. He’d always known that his Bonding Term would come, and he’d even looked forward to it as a child. Everyone did. Meeting your soulmate marked being a mature part of society, the start of the most rewarding part of your life. But the reality of it caught him unexpected, and he wasn’t prepared to finally have the answers to questions he’d wondered about his whole life.

The Advocate stepped forward, reaching out a hand in a cream glove that tried to be reassuring without quite touching his arm.

“Dean. It’s all right to be nervous. This is a significant occasion, and many people find themselves anxious when the time comes. But it’s also a momentous occasion, one that will bring you nothing but joy hereafter. Let us worry about the trivial details, you only need to focus on meeting your soulmate.”

/

In the car, with two Advocates up front and Dean by himself in the back, he flipped through the folder that had been waiting for him on the seat. On the front, in softly curving letters, was a name: Castiel Novak. His soulmate.

No one but the Advocates knew the details of the process by which soulmates were discovered. It was widely thought to involve the blood panels and brain scans that were a part of everyone’s yearly health screenings, but even that was speculation; those tests also provided diagnostic information for a wide range of physical and mental areas of concern.

Whatever their methods, the Advocates’ matching worked. Every person Dean knew who’d had their Bonding Term was passionately in love with their soulmate, and happier than ever. Even people who’d thought they were in love with others before, like Bela and Balthazar, had come away from their respective Terms with their actual soulmates wondering how they ever could have been so mistaken.

So Dean was excited to meet his soulmate, he really was. He was just nervous, too.

According to the file, Castiel was thirty-four and male. No wonder they’d been so quick to send for him, if Castiel had been waiting so long—fourteen years since he became eligible for a match. The other information was more surprising, though. He’d only ever dated and slept with women, and he’d enjoyed the experience. It had never even occurred to him that his soulmate might be a man.

It couldn’t be a mistake, because the Advocates never made mistakes like that, but he worried about being a disappointing and inexperienced partner.

The file went on to describe Castiel’s physical characteristics, though it didn’t include a photo. Again, the man didn’t seem to be the type Dean would’ve picked for himself, but then that was why the Advocates existed. People were notoriously bad at finding their own soulmates. He wondered what else they knew about him that he didn’t know about himself.

On the next page he found an answer, of a sort. The report broke down, in great detail, Castiel’s sexual preferences:

Exclusively attracted to males. Sexually submissive, masochistic. Responds well to prostate stimulation but requires contact with penis to climax. Enjoys performing and receiving fellatio and anilingus, amenable to acting as penetrative partner but prefers receiving role.

It only got more explicit from there. Dean’s eyes flashed over Currently able to hold breath for 34 seconds; potential for 67 and Particular sensitivity on back of neck, left nipple, first half-inch on underside of penis before he had to close both the folder and his eyes and focus on breathing deeply, in and out, trying to clear his head and think for a second.

On the one hand, it kind of addressed his concerns about being an adequate lover for his soulmate; it was a cheat sheet to all of Castiel’s turn-ons and kinks. Knowing what Castiel liked, what got him off, meant he knew where to focus his efforts to keep his soulmate satisfied. There would be no miscommunication or pretending to enjoy an act for a partner’s sake. Everything was laid out plainly ahead of time.

But it was also intensely personal information, the sort he was vaguely uncomfortable having about a man he hadn’t even met yet. Even more unnerving was the thought that somewhere, Castiel had a similar folder about Dean. If his soulmate’s gender came as a surprise, he had no doubt that the information contained in that report on his sexual preferences was also, at least in part, unknown to him.

He’d never been asked his preferences on any of that stuff, nor been interviewed about any of his previous partners. However the Advocates got their data, it had to be just as esoteric as the soulmate matches. That meant it was probably just as accurate.

He’d never hurt a partner before, aside from the misplaced elbows and accidental knees that happened to everyone, but his soulmate was a masochist. Did that mean he was an unknowing sadist? It wasn’t any less surprising than being unknowingly into men.

Dean really, really wanted to know what was in the folder with his name on it. At the same time, the way the whole situation gnawed uneasily at his gut told him that maybe he really, really didn’t.

/

The Bonding Suite was nice, though impersonal almost to the point of sterility. Only the burgundy of the walls kept it from looking entirely like a hospital room. The color lent a warmth and intimacy to the atmosphere, but nothing else felt welcoming in the set of rooms where Dean and Castiel would spend a minimum of two weeks cut off from the outside world.

If the Advocates didn’t think they’d formed a strong and stable bond by then, their Term could be extended as needed. Dean didn’t personally know anyone whose Term had taken longer, but it wasn’t unheard of. The Advocates of the Heart made the transition as easy as possible, but it was still a big change.

It didn’t always go smoothly. There was a whole subgenre of romcoms dedicated to stories about people who thought they hated each other at the start of their Bonding Term, only to realize at the end of two weeks—or four or six, if it was a particularly dramatic movie—just how perfectly matched they were.

He hoped his Term wouldn’t have to be extended, but all the unexpected information he’d been hit with made him nervous. Despite knowing that the Advocates had determined Castiel was his soulmate, and that the Advocates were never wrong in their matches, he just couldn’t see how it was all going to work out.

The door opened before he had time to brood on it too long. An Advocate entered, followed by a man who had to be Castiel, and then another Advocate. The suite’s living room, spacious for two people, felt claustrophobic with six. Dean studied the four Advocates, trying in vain to note any differences in their outfits or masks, because his alternative was returning Castiel’s piercing stare.

Castiel had been waiting over a decade for him, so Dean didn’t begrudge him the look. But Dean had only had the car ride over to prepare. He wasn’t ready.

He just wasn’t ready.

“Castiel Novak,” one of the Advocates intoned. Dean thought it was one of the ones that had come with his soulmate instead of him, but he could have been wrong. “Your soulmate, Dean Winchester. Dean Winchester, your soulmate, Castiel Novak.”

Three of the Advocates left. The one remaining gestured them to sit together on the generously stuffed loveseat. It finally pulled Castiel’s gaze away from him, but only a few inches separated them when they sat, and Dean could have sworn he felt Castiel’s body heat through the air between them. His attention split, he tried to listen to the Advocate and not be too acutely aware of his soulmate sitting next to him.

He hadn’t felt any spark or immediate connection on seeing Castiel for the first time. Maybe that wasn’t really how it was meant to happen, it wasn’t always played that way in the soaps and movies he enjoyed a little too much, but he’d always expected there would be something. Some kind of instant attraction or interest, at least. He hadn’t gotten anything like that with Castiel. He was curious, but mostly he just felt awkward. Uncomfortable.

“Dean, Castiel. You have been identified as soulmates; congratulations. You are being provided with this suite and time alone to come to know one another as people and partners. You will not be disturbed by the outside world. It’s a time to focus on yourselves and each other, to prepare for the life you’ll build together from this day.”

It was nothing Dean hadn’t heard before, but in the moment, in the context of actually being in his Bonding Suite with his soulmate, it took on a new gravity. He would spend the rest of his life loving and being loved by this total stranger. But that was the point of the next two weeks, for him and Castiel to go from being strangers to being proper, bonded soulmates.

He risked glancing away from the Advocate to look at Castiel again and unexpectedly found himself meeting vivid blue eyes stealing a surreptitious look of their own. Face hot at being caught, Dean jerked his gaze back to the Advocate. When he peeked over out of the corner of his eye a second later, Castiel was staring ahead with a frown.

“We’ll be monitoring your progress throughout the next two weeks to ensure you form a strong bond. Please try not to worry about that; we’re just observing, we won’t interrupt anything—”

Dean lost the rest of what the Advocate said. It wasn’t like it was really any more invasive than the file he’d gotten on Castiel, or the one Castiel had no doubt gotten on him. Personal details, so intimate that Dean was embarrassed just remembering he knew them about the man next to him. If that was normal, the idea of having someone observing all their interactions probably shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

But it didn’t feel normal to Dean, and neither did someone watching a live feed of their entire lives for the next fourteen days, at least. Eating, sleeping, shitting, and having the sex they were obviously expected to be having. He hadn’t seen any mention of exhibitionism in the comprehensive list of Castiel’s kinks, and unless it was yet another thing the Advocates knew about him that he didn’t know about himself, it didn’t feature on Dean’s, either.

“Dean?”

He’d been lost in thought for too long. The Advocate was looking at him expectantly—or at least, Dean thought so. It was hard to tell with the mask. Castiel was definitely staring at him again, at least.

“Sorry.” He scratched the short hairs at the back of his neck self-consciously. “It’s just, uh. A lot.”

“Of course.” Behind the bland pink mask, Dean had no idea if the Advocate was smiling or frowning; there was no inflection in the tone of voice to give it away. “Do you need me to review the delivery schedule again?”

“No, thank you.” He knew the gist: full meals to start, then groceries for them to cook themselves after a week or so; meal drinks if they needed extra sustenance. All delivered to a small cooler cabinet in the kitchen wall so that they wouldn’t have to interrupt their bonding by interacting with anyone else.

After confirming Dean didn’t have any other questions—“None that you can answer,” he didn’t say, watching Castiel watch him with what looked less like interest and more like disappointment with each passing second—the Advocate congratulated them again and then just left.

The door locked audibly as it closed; the inside of it didn’t even have a handle.

And just like that, Dean was alone with his soulmate. Castiel Novak. A man he never would have picked for himself. A man who’d waited fourteen years for him.

They sat in silence that went on way too long, given the whole soulmate thing. It should’ve been easier, Dean thought. They should have been more comfortable, even as strangers, knowing that they were destined for each other. Perfect for each other. It shouldn’t have felt so weird. Maybe if Dean had had more time to get used to the idea of being eligible, if he hadn’t still been hungover from his birthday.

That’s what he blamed, at least, for the first words he said to his soulmate being, “I was six.” He turned as he spoke, and Castiel’s eyes were fixed on him. Had been staring at him the whole time, maybe. Dean plowed on. “When you hit eligibility, I was six. How could they possibly know?”

Castiel’s face cracked open and Dean added another unwanted fact to the list of things he knew about the man: what he looked like when he was heartbroken. But his voice was remarkably even as he said, “I know I’m not what you expected in a soulmate.”

“No,” Dean admitted. Was he what Castiel had expected? The man had waited nearly half his life, nearly three-quarters of Dean’s, and ended up with Dean. “But that’s what we have the Advocates for, right?”

“Right.” Castiel relaxed, like he’d been afraid of Dean outright rejecting him. He still looked intense, intent, and Dean had to break away from the stare just to take a breath.

Though he couldn’t see them, there had to be cameras in the room. They’d be focused in on the loveseat, on the two of them, judging their progress. There would be similarly hidden cameras all over the suite, making sure they bonded appropriately over the next two weeks. The sense of inescapably being watched did nothing to ease Dean’s nerves, but it was required to make sure they adjusted.

He’d get used to it, eventually. After all, they were soulmates, right?

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