Chapter Text
Prologue:
A soulmate is defined as “a person who is perfectly suited to another in temperament” and is generally a pipe dream best left to the poets and the dreamers, however, in a time where people are born with tattoo-like brands, finding one’s soulmate is much more easily achieved. Many are able to find and connect with their cosmically designated matches.
Soulmate brands are visible from birth and will remain on the skin unless cosmetically removed, similar to regular tattoos. The brands, only partially completed, will instantly complete themselves once one has exchanged words and had some sort of physical contact with their soul mate, however, there is no other indication that anything has changed and the completion often goes unnoticed by both parties unless the brand is clearly visible on exposed flesh. It’s estimated that a single person will interact with eighty-thousand people in a lifetime, leaving the door open to the very real possibility that one might meet their match.
All brands are, in their own way, significant and meaningful. Once a couple realizes their predestined predicament, it’s customary for them to attempt to understand the meaning of their brands. A brand, as most modern philosophers tell it, is a link to their shared past. Brands hold a meaning to the couple from a past they shared together, believed to have the potential to span as far back as the oldest of their personal incarnations. It’s been theorized that if these mates can ascertain the significance of their marks, they regain the knowledge of that life, including both their memories and their experiences. Though many have tried to understand and decipher the markings, only roughly one couple in every one-hundred-thousand will succeed. The odds of success are slim.
Not all people are born with a mark, which has lead many to the conclusion that they have either never been reincarnated and thus this is their first life, or their soulmate does not yet exist. Since the sudden arrival of brands, life for many has taken an interesting turn. In the midst of this play, put on by some heavy-handed cosmic machine, one unlikely trio is fumbling their way towards destiny.
This is their story.
Chapter One:
“Don’t look at me like that.”
Shiro bit down on his smile as he ducked his head and pulled the strap of his messenger bag over it. He combed back the solid white bangs that fell into his face and sat the bag down carefully on the countertop before looking back to where his lover was seated on top of the counter beside the sink with a cheek full of the chocolate squares Shiro had purposefully hidden from him.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m the crazy one.”
“How do you want me to look at you when I come home to find you sitting on the counter, with a mouthful of chocolate, wearing alien bubbles, looking like a startled chipmunk?”
Lance narrowed his eyes as he chewed, speaking around the chocolate as he dug another delicately wrapped confection out of the small pink bag on his lap, “with love and affection and absolute wonder .”
Shiro chuckled, leaning a hip against the counter as he crossed his arms and watched Lance decimate another chocolate square before reaching up to put the bag back in the back of the cabinet where Shiro had hidden it in the first place. Lance was seated on the counter, a foot from the sink, with his cinnamon hair pushed back by a neon blue terry cloth headband to protect it from the mass of disturbingly bubbly mask on his face. Beyond the foaming skin moisturizer, bright blue eyes crinkled in amusement and his lover blew him a kiss as he took hold of the edge of the counter and gracefully dropped back to the floor, padding over to loosely wrap his arms around him.
“I already look at you like that,” Shiro hummed as he dropped a kiss against the terry cloth band, “but stay out of the chocolate, there’s a reason I put it in the back of the cabinet where you can’t reach it.”
“You mean where you thought I couldn’t reach it.”
“Well,” Shiro drawled, hand absently rubbing up and down the back of Lance’s thin, black, kimono robe as he gave him a mock stern glare, “I didn’t figure you’d raccoon yourself up onto the counter and sniff it out like a drug dog. Besides, you told me to keep all the ‘good stuff’ out of your path until after the Giana contract was finished. What happened to ‘new year, new me?’”
“Turns out it’s more like ‘same shit, different day,’ drug dog raccoon style.”
“Ugh.”
“I know, I’m the worst.”
“The absolute worst,” Shiro nuzzled his nose against the fluffy, lightly floral scented, hair behind the band and indulged himself with another kiss before he took a step back, lightly smacking him on the rear, “now go wash that stuff off of your face so I can kiss you properly.”
Like the burning facets of a sunlit diamond, Lance’s eyes glowed bright with the same smile on his lips, gracing him with a light that warmed his heart and chased away the fatigue wearing on his body, if only momentarily. Shiro watched him weave through the kitchen and head for the bathroom, eyes lingering on the doorway for a moment before he found the energy to walk into the living room and drop onto the sofa with a long, winding, sigh. Closing his eyes, he listened to the sound of the faucet cutting on in the bathroom and counted to three under his breath, lips quirking up when Lance started humming almost as if on cue.
He’d heard the tune enough over the years to know it by heart even though he didn’t know enough Spanish to understand the words to it. All he needed to know was that Lance hummed it when he was happy.
“Hey.”
Consciousness came slowly as he was prodded awake and he tried to ignore the shaking until it began to intensify. Groaning, Shiro lazily swatted at the hand pressing at his shoulder, opening a single eye to see Lance bent over him, head tilted to the side, as he quirked a brow.
“You’re going to get all cramped up if you try to nap on this couch, Takashi. Come on, bedtime for you.”
“We haven’t even eaten yet,” he argued gruffly, blinking back the bleariness as he opened both eyes and pushed himself into a seated position, “didn’t we agree on sushi tonight?”
“I’ll make food later, what good is going out if you’re just going to fall asleep in your food?”
“I’m not a child, Lance.”
“Mmmhmm,” Lance hummed, “just like you’re not getting all stubborn on me because you just got woken up from your nap too early. Sounds legit.”
Lance took a seat beside him and Shiro immediately leaned over, surprising him, and stole a taste of his lips, the taste of his lemon chapstick tart on his tongue. Gone was the bubbling face mask, leaving his bronzed olive skin deliciously bare and blissfully soft to the touch. Reaching up, Shiro slid his thumb over Lance’s cheekbone, the slightly textured pad of the prosthetic sweeping gently out to the side of his face, and swallowed the contented sigh that breezed over his lips as he leaned against his chest.
“I hate when you do that,” Lance admitted softly, letting his head fall to Shiro’s shoulder.
“Do what?”
“Win.” Lance sighed, “Are you sure you don't want to sleep? You must be exhausted after work.”
“I am, but how about I compromise and we just order out? I haven’t gotten enough of you yet, I’m not going to bed.”
“Ugh, stop it; you already won.”
“You make it too easy; all I have to do is tell you the truth and you melt.”
“I can’t help it, you do that to me.”
Shiro felt his chest warm and he reached back to prop one of the silly decorative pillows Lance picked out against the arm of the couch before scooting back against it and holding out his arms, “come here.”
Like an eager puppy, Lance immediately cuddled up to him, his back pressed against his chest as Shiro slid his arms around him. Nothing was as comforting as the feel of holding him close and the rest of the world had a habit of falling out of focus when he had him in his arms; it was a reminder of the beautiful things in life and of the love in it.
“How was your day? How’d the shoot with Allura go?”
“It was fine. The shoot was fun, plus the company sent us about fifty more of those containers.”
“What human has ever needed that much moisturizer?”
Lance snorted, tilting his head back against Shiro’s shoulder to give him a look, “what, you don’t like how soft I am?”
“I love how soft you are.”
“Then just enjoy it. Besides, I’m definitely not going to bitch about free product. Anyway, payment for the ad rights goes through tomorrow so I’ll be done with that. Allura recommended me for another skincare position that I can fit in before the Giana shoot and they called me right before you got home.”
“Ah, now the alien bubbles make sense.”
“You should know that I never need an excuse to pamper my skin. How was work today? Did you talk to them about the exhibit?”
“It was alright,” Shiro shrugged, enjoying the little shiver Lance gave as the cool metal fingers of his prosthetic slid under the hem of the silky black turtleneck Lance wore, tracing patterns over his abdomen, “we have the set up for the exhibition down and I finalized lighting and catering. Everything is ready to go.”
“I’m so proud of you,” Lance put his hands on top of Shiro’s and squeezed, stretching up a little so that he could tilt his head and press his lips to his jaw, “you’ve worked really hard on those pieces and you’re going to kill it. I know it’s been stressful, but it’s going to pay off, you just wait. Did you and Matt decide on a title?”
“Yeah, we’re going with ‘The Shape of Expression.’”
“That’s perfect! I’m honored to be a part of it.”
“Like I, and everyone else on the planet who has ever met you, have always said- you make a beautiful model.”
“Thank you but you’re the talent.”
“You’re going to be able to make it to the opening aren’t you?”
“You know I’d never miss it.”
Shiro tightened his arms around him, “good.”
They basked in one another’s closeness for a long while, steeping in the warmth and comfort they found there, before Shiro finally decided to bring it up.
“Have you been feeling okay?”
There was a split second tension that came and went, but the residual rigidity in Lance’s shoulders wasn’t lost on Shiro.
“Fine, why?”
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice the turtleneck?”
“It’s been cold in here today.”
“That’s a bad excuse, Lance.”
“Is it illegal for me to wear?”
The defensive rise in his voice was more than enough to cement his suspicions.
“Lance…”
“I’ll get over it, it’ll pass like it always does.”
Shiro pulled his right hand out from beneath the hem of the shirt and reached for Lance’s throat, fingers gently tracing the twin, black, lines he knew from memory that marked the skin beneath the fabric.
“You know I love you, don’t you,” he murmured quietly against his ear.
“I know you do and I love you too…”
There was such profound sadness in his voice that it tore into his heart. He understood his pain; he’d had the thoughts himself.
“...so why won't it complete already? I can’t imagine caring about anyone else like I care about you. Who gets to say that you aren’t my soulmate? It isn’t right, Takashi, it’s not. Is it supposed to be some kind of sign, like we’re doomed to fail? Are these stupid marks supposed to be telling me that what we have doesn’t mean something? I don’t doubt you and I don't doubt me, but I can’t understand why what I feel doesn’t change these damn things.”
“Hey, hey,” Shiro sat a little straighter and forced Lance to shift in his seat so that he could look at him straight on, meeting his gaze and reaching out to wipe away the tears falling over his lashes, “who cares? Nothing is going to stop me from loving you, not an earthquake, not a zombie apocalypse that I keep telling you will never happen, and certainly not some stupid birthmark. Nothing, Lance, and I mean it.”
Lance said nothing, sniffling as he reached for him and threaded his arms tightly around his neck, burying his face between his arm and Shiro’s throat.
“I’m sorry that it bothers me.”
“Don’t be, you can’t help it and I get it. Just don’t ever forget what I said, okay?”
“Okay.”
“What brought it on today?”
After another sniffle, Lance lifted his head and spoke with a watery voice.
“I watched it happen. Allura and I had just settled into place when the new tech girl walked into the shot and caught an earful from the photographer. She poked him in the chest and yelled back at him about the amount of wires crossing the walkways then I guess realized she was being too candid and she covered her mouth. She had a weird outline on the back of her hand and right as she covered her mouth, the outline changed. It was incredible to see, honestly; it went from a black line to a really pretty chess piece, a knight that looked made out of jade or something. It was like watching a speedpaint happen on a person right in front of you.”
Shiro took a moment to digest his words and when he spoke, he spoke carefully and softly.
“Can you live with knowing that it’ll probably never happen for us? Because if it hasn’t happened by now, I don't think it’s going to,” Shiro spoke his mind honestly, thinking about the thin, incomplete, floral wreath on his chest and trying to look past the pain that he had felt after seeing the tears well in Lance’s eyes.
Lance nodded but he could still see it there, the hurt, the frustration, and the bitterness.
“Yeah, I can; I don’t like it, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you. I just think it’s bullshit.”
“I’ve always got you, that’s all you need to have faith in.”
“I know, I know you do.”
“Good, now let’s move this to the bedroom because I’m cramped up over here.”
True though it was, he just couldn’t stand to see that look on his face any longer. Any excuse to bring the light back into his eyes and chase away the clouds was all he wanted. Lame as his attempt was, it worked. Lance rolled his eyes and the vice grip that his tears had held on Shiro’s heart gave a little so that he could breathe again.
“I told you.”
“Uh huh.”
Lance got up from his seat and held out a hand that Shiro easily took into his own, standing and allowing him to lead him to bed. Lance looked over his shoulder as they passed through the doorway to their bedroom, one manicured brow arched.
“Also, the zombie apocalypse could totally happen.”
“Well they eat brains so you’re probably safe anyway.”
“Keep talking like that and I won’t be protecting you from the tacky neighbors when they feel like snacking on smartass.”
Chuckling, the pair climbed onto the bed, Lance taking his place snuggled closely against Shiro’s chest. Unbidden, the marking conversation wiggled its way back into the front of Shiro’s mind.
“So, the marks... Is that why you were nearly face first in the chocolate when I got here?”
Lance hummed his affirmation.
“...Do you need more chocolate?”
Lance nodded.
“I’ll pick some up tomorrow,” he promised, kissing his forehead.
“Thanks.”
“I’ll also sit them on the counter so you don’t break your neck trying to raccoon up to them again.”
“Double thanks. Sorry for getting worked up on you, I really didn’t mean for that to come up again.”
“I don’t blame you, it’s okay. I don’t expect you to be perfectly okay with it, it’s a heavy topic and I get that it’s disappointing. At the end of the day, though, all that’s important is you and me and if we’re happy..”
“You’re making me look bad by being perfect all the time.”
“Hey, it’s not easy being this great.”
Lance snickered and snuggled a little closer, the tension that had been present in his shoulders finally, finally, melting away. Shiro breathed a small sigh of relief and was hit all at once with the fatigue he’d pushed aside.
“It’ll be okay.”
“Hmm?”
“The exhibit, that’s what you’re worried about isn’t it?”
He had to smile a little at how easy it was for Lance, even in his own distress, to read him so well.
“I’m mostly just exhausted; putting this together hasn’t been a walk in the park.”
“I know, but it’s almost over-”
Lance was interrupted by a loud buzzing from Shiro’s pocket. With a grumble, Shiro pulled a hand away from Lance to fish the phone out and briefly scan the text.
“Who was it?”
“It’s Matt, he said he’s ready whenever I am and that he’s excited.”
“I can’t wait to see the exhibit! After it’s done, I’ll take you out to celebrate.”
Shiro leaned back to put the phone on the nightstand and then slid his arm back around his lover.
“Oh? Are you planning to get me drunk and then take advantage of me,” he questioned on a hum, watching Lance through thick lashes as he flashed him a seductive smile.
Lance pursed his lips thoughtfully, not taking his bait, “I dunno, sounds like a lot of work but you might be worth it.”
“Oh I might be, huh?”
“Maybe,” Lance grinned playfully, smiling against his lips as Shiro kissed him.
“Possibly,” he amended.
Shiro kissed him again, a low grumble of a growl in his throat as he nibbled at his bottom lip.
“Definitely.”
“Mmhmm, that’s more like it,” Shiro winked.
The pair shared a laugh and, after a short while, Shiro felt his eyelids grow heavy, the weariness mingling with the comfortable intimacy to lull him back to the fringes of unconsciousness. He could feel the rhythmic rise and fall of Lance’s chest against him and hear the soft, constant, ticking of the clock across the room over his desk. Just as he was toeing the edge of sleep, a loud rumbling rose up from his stomach. There was silence for a few seconds before Lance lifted his head and cleared his throat, casting a quick glance to the clock.
“Takashi?”
“Yeah?”
“...We never ordered the food.”