rogue_america | Soulmates Through Time

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verse } soulmates

Soulmates Through Time

"Not tonight, Buck," Steve said, unable to hide the weariness in his voice. He shuffled some papers on his desk, tidying up, and pointedly not looking at his friend.

Bucky sighed, tilting his head as he watched Steve, his mouth pulling down to the side unhappily. "You gotta get out there more, Stevie," he tried coaxing. "You'll never find--"

"I got you, don't I?" Steve's brows drew together in upset, but he still didn't look over at Bucky.

The two had known each other since they were little, and as soon as they'd shaken hands upon first meeting - imitating how they'd seen their parents do so - they'd stared at each other, wide-eyed, just knowing that they'd spend their lives together. They'd never questioned it, even though at the time they hadn't really understood the idea of 'soulmates', besides hearing snippets of adult conversations that mostly went over their heads.

Steve had asked his mother about it, several months later. When she'd described the utter feeling of rightness, of knowing this one, single person would always understand and be there for you, supporting you, but also pushing you to be your best... Steve had nodded, and with all the gravity of a five-year-old, had told his mother that Bucky was that for him.

Unlike how most mothers probably would've reacted to the precocious statement, brushing it off as a child enjoying having a new best friend, his mother had stilled and become quiet, looking at him for long moments. "Is he really, baby?" She'd finally questioned, in her sing-song Irish lilt. Steve hadn't been able to take his eyes off her, even as he nodded, willing her to believe him.

Sarah had bundled him up close, kissed his forehead, and just held him in her lap (he really was too old to be held like that, but he still fit, and he liked it, so he never complained). "I'm glad, Steve. I'm so glad you found your Someone so soon."

Now, Steve finally turned to look at Bucky. "Why're you still even goin' ta those things? They're for people looking for their soulmates." He rubbed his right palm heel with his opposite thumb, almost looking like he was massaging a cramp; it was a nervous, comforting gesture he always did, but especially when discussing anything concerning soulmates. Right over the odd oblong shape at the base of his hand, that matched Bucky's. Their soulmarks. Steve had never seen one so low on anyone else's arm; usually they were higher, denoting how old the person was when they'd first touched their soulmate, and found their Someone.

"Some people just like havin' a good time, Steve," Bucky sighed; it was an old discussion. Most soulmates were romantic partners, but it wasn't unheard of for people like them; soulmates who were just friends, or even relatives. Steve knew it, too - there was a sweet old lady in the next apartment house over who was soulmates with her female cousin. The two had never married, but had raised a couple orphans they'd adopted. "I've met some others who've already found their Someone--"

"They weren't like us though, Bucky," Steve interjected, "they were swingers."

Bucky rolled his eyes, but bit his tongue on the angry words that wanted to come out. Steve was under a lot of stress right now, and he was not going to add to that. "So what're you gonna do tonight?"

Steve's brows furrowed together, glancing down. "I was gonna go visit Ma." He looked up quickly and shook his head, interjecting before Bucky could hardly do more than open his mouth, "An' no, you don't gotta come with me. I'm just gonna sit with her for a while. She'll prob'ly sleep the whole time, anyway." He hoped she did, at least; she was in a lot of pain these days, always coughing.

Sighing, Bucky acquiesced. A few more words to figure out their plans for later, and Bucky left, for one of the dances frequently held on weekends that doubled as "meet-n-greets" for people hoping to find their soulmate. Steve had gone to a few, just to be social, but no one was ever that interested in him, so mostly he propped up the wall while Bucky flitted around like a damn social butterfly.

They were such opposites in so many ways, Steve mused as he walked down the street toward the hospital, and yet they complemented each other so well. He knew that was the whole point of soulmates, but he could never stop thinking how incredibly lucky he was to have met Bucky when they were children, before pre-conceived notions had been crammed into their heads, and the rest of the world's problems and issues had become their own. No way would someone like Bucky now, ever glance twice at short, scrawny, chronically sick Steve Rogers. If Steve would even have made it to young adulthood without the bond between soulmates that helped make you stronger.

People with found soulmates could die, of course, and did - his own Da had been killed in the Great War, and his Ma had survived it. But once you'd found your soulmate, it was a lot harder for you to succumb to illness and disease, and you healed faster than otherwise. He'd read an article once talking about potentially the synergistic bond between the very cells of a soulmate, boosting each other's immune system, or something like that.

There was a florist shop just down the block from the hospital - probably did a lot of business with visiting family, Steve thought, only a little bitterly - and he jiggled his wallet in his trouser pocket in contemplation. Ma might be sleeping now, but even if she was, it'd be a nice surprise for her to wake up to fresh flowers. It'd play hell on his allergies, but he'd only be carrying them for about 10 minutes, so it wouldn't be all that bad. Nodding decisively, he stepped into the shop.

It was bright and cheery inside the store, with warm yellow lighting casting a golden glow over the gleaming hardwood counters; ribbons and strings in a myriad of colors seemed to explode out of display stands, and dozens of pre-made bouquets were on every available surface. Steve's fingers started itching for his pencil and sketchbook - there was so much detail in the little shop; not actually so little, but made cozy with the sheer volume of product vying for space.

He picked a ready-made bouquet of baby's breath and orchids, his mother's favorite (she said it reminded her of the flowers back home), and went up to the cash register to pay for it.

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New York City was a very different place from her home in the south, Marie contemplated for the hundredth time while she tidied up the shop she worked at in the afternoons. The floral arrangements had to be checked regularly to ensure none of the buds were wilting or beginning to brown, the floors swept and shelves dusted so loose petals and pollen didn't accumulate. Vases were shined up to make displays just so, and the windows were wiped down daily so customers could see their window displays.

Her parents had moved the family to New York when she was in her late teens, her father wanting to have more opportunities for his legal practice than were offered by the still modernizing cities in Mississippi, and to let her mother have access to the best medical care possible. She'd still passed on after a few years, the sanatorium offering her a more comfortable life than she could have had at home, but her father hadn't taken the loss well. It was like he'd died with her, his soul leaving with its mate and leaving behind an empty shell. He too passed on just two years later, grief wearing him down until there was nothing left.

Being the only surviving child of the family, Marie had been left to fend for herself. Her father's will had left his assets to her, but much of their money had gone toward care for her mother, which had been on the expensive side even for a lawyer. So while she did have some savings, Marie had still sought out respectable employment to support herself, and she lived modestly.

Thankfully, she enjoyed her job. Working with flowers reminded her of her childhood home that had been surrounded by her mother's garden, and it was a brief respite from the bustle of the industrialized city. And the longer she was there, the more she was learning -- Mrs. Patterson was even starting to let her design some of the arrangements. It was one such arrangement that she'd completed just that afternoon that the young man chose as Marie stepped out from the back room, carrying a handful of colorful ribbons that she set on the counter when he approached.

Brushing back a stray lock of blonde hair, she gave the customer a charming smile and said, "That's a lovely choice, sir. Did you know that pink orchids symbolize grace ad happiness?"

Steve was a little surprised as the gal working the counter complimented and began talking about his choice of flowers. He wasn't all that used to people starting conversations with him; she was trying to make a sale though, he supposed - and then immediately felt bad. He didn't know her, so he shouldn't judge her on how other people acted toward him.

Glancing at the flowers in question, a small smile quirked at the side of his lips, sadness making it subdued. "I didn't know that, actually. My mother likes them because they remind her of - her childhood." He caught himself just in time from saying 'back home.' People were better toward immigrants, but there was still a lot of prejudice, especially toward the Irish.

"So, do you know a lot about flower meanings?" He'd been interested in it as a kid, thinking it was such a neat idea that you could tell someone how you felt without actually having to say the words. He was abysmal at words, always mucking them up and saying the wrong thing to get his foot stuck in his mouth.

Marie had never been the sort to look down on others, despite growing up in possibly the most prejudiced part of the country. She'd always felt that people deserved to be treated as just that--people. And while she hadn't always been able to voice her opinions when she'd lived in the deep south, now that she was in New York... Well, she wasn't some timid butterfly anymore, and she wasn't chatting with him just for the sale.

He seemed like a nice guy. Over the years, Marie had gotten pretty good at reading people, and everything she saw about this particular young man said that he was an innocent, and the fact that he was buying flowers for his mother spoke volumes.

"Some," she admitted with a slightly embarrassed smile. "I'm still learning. Mrs. Patterson, the owner, has been teaching me, but I think I still have a long way to go." Glancing from the bouquet to the ribbons she'd just brought out, she picked up one in a rich pink color and asked, "How about a ribbon for around the stems? It's no extra charge." It normally would be, but he didn't look the sort to have the money for quite so many frivolous expenses, and she did have the bit of coin to spare this once.

Looking at the ribbon she held out, Steve quickly debated. He was pretty sure it wasn't no extra charge, because everything cost something these days - which meant she was doing him a favor. He didn't like charity, because he could take care of things on his own; he always wanted to prove that he wasn't a 'drain on society'. On the other hand... He looked at the bouquet. It was completely frivolous to be buying his mother flowers, but he knew it would make her happy. And if the shop girl was willing to do that for him, a complete stranger...

Steve gave a decisive nod and smiled. "That would be great. Thanks." He put the barest emphasis on the thanks; he didn't want to draw attention to the fact that he realized what she was doing, but he wanted her to know he appreciated it.

Marie didn't see any charity in her act, simply a way of helping someone make their gift even more perfect. There were so many reasons he might be giving a bouquet to his mother - a birthday, congratulations for an achievement, a wish for better health. Whatever the reason was, she knew the extra detail would be noticed and appreciated.

"It's my pleasure, sir," she assured him softly with a warm smile before reaching out to take the bouquet from him. It would be easier to wrap the ribbon and tie it around the stems if it were laying on the counter. She wasn't as vigilant as she might normally be, and her fingertips brushed against his. It was just for a moment, but...

Steve never had an issue like some others with touching people - he'd already found his soulmate, so it didn't ever occur to him to be careful as he held the bouquet out for her reaching hand. "Please, call--"

And then he felt it. As soon as their skin touched, that surge of rightness; he'd never forget that feeling, even though he'd been barely five when he'd first felt it. Steve couldn't stop the quick, in-drawn breath, even as his eyes flew up to hers. His brows drew together in shock and confusion. This - this wasn't right. Bucky was his soulmate! He'd never gone out looking because he already had his Someone, there shouldn't be anyone else!

And yet, he couldn't deny that there was no other explanation for what he'd just felt when he touched the shop girl.

It was an automatic reaction to avoid touching someone without their permission,rather than bring a result of the result of actively looking or not looking for her Someone. Such a thing didn't occur to her, and so it was a complete surprise when she felt that rightness rush through her, just the way her mother had described it all those years ago.

Marie stared at the man across the counter, confusion written across her expression. Her mouth opened to say something, but the words wouldn't come out. Taking a shallow breath, she set the flowers down and took hold of the ribbon to finish her work, though her hands shook slightly.

This was not how she'd expected her day to go.

This isn't right. That's all Steve could think, as the woman took the flowers from his now-lax hand and began shakily applying the ribbon.

Unable to stop watching her, Steve began unbuttoning the cuff of his right shirt sleeve. He had to check, had to make sure...

His fingers curled in when he glanced down and caught sight of his soulmark with Bucky at the base of his palm. It was familiar to him, something he rarely thought about anymore. But then he pushed up his sleeve, and there it was - a new mark, not quite halfway up his forearm. It was lighter than the other one, but Steve imagined he could see it darkening even as he watched.

"This can't be right..." he whispered to himself, unaware that he was even speaking out loud.

In her head, Marie was cursing like a sailor, berating herself for being so weak as to avoid dealing with the situation that she was allowing herself to complete a shabby bow around the flowers. This wasn't her--she was better than this.

The ribbon was tugged loose again before she looked up, catching sight of the mark on his arm. Marks. Two of them. "It's not unheard of," she remarked quietly, her southern drawl thickening a little with her emotions running high. "My aunt has two..." It felt like too simple a response when he was clearly struggling with their present situation.

Deep breath. Pushing up her own long sleeve, she saw the mark on her arm that hadn't been there before, a match to his in shading. This was really happening and they had to face it. Holding out her hand for him, she introduced herself. "My name's Marie."

"W'll I've never heard of it," Steve muttered to himself, not caring that he sounded like he was sulking. He imagined what Bucky would say to the news. Bucky would be ecstatic, overjoyed that Steve had found a girl, someone a little more socially accepted as a soulmate - and proof that Steve wasn't defective, or abandoned by God, or any of the other things people said about people like him.

Seeing the mark on her arm made it hit home for Steve - this wasn't just about him. He didn't know anything about this dame; did she even want to find her soulmate yet? Was she happy the way things were for her, or was she hoping her soulmate could make life better? He was actually kinda hoping for the former, otherwise she'd be sorely disappointed; he wasn't the guy to make life better for anyone.

Taking a deep breath, Steve took her hand, and gave her a smile; strained, but genuine. "Steve. Nice to meet you?"

The way he muttered like that almost had her worrying about things that were ridiculous; of course he was surprised by this, anyone would be, and he clearly hadn't been expecting to have another soulmate out there in the world. It was strange that his first mark was from so early in life, but she was sure there was a story behind it. If his soulmate was still around, though... what would they think of this? Would she fit at all in their world?

As the idea began to settle, Marie thought about how her life would change now that Steve was in it. She didn't exactly need a man to save her, but... well, she was lonely. None of her friends still in this part of the city were what she would consider close, and her family was gone. At least now, perhaps, she wouldn't be so alone.

"It is," she agreed with her genuine smile. "It's very nice to meet you, Steve." And then she laughed a little, letting go of his hand and shaking her head slightly as she easily retied the ribbon into a perfectly formed bow. "I don't think either of us were expecting this, but at least we're in it together, right?"

Steve found himself giving a lopsided smile. He did like her optimism, at least. "Yeah. Guess we are."

She was pretty, too, he found himself noticing. And then felt his face heat up as he realized just what he was thinking. That wasn't - just because most soulmates ended up romantic partners, usually even married, didn't mean that's what she'd want from him. It never even crossed his mind that gals would be interested in him, despite what Bucky always insisted. But he'd be happy to have another close friend, someone around to talk to.

Glancing at his watch again, Steve grimaced. "I...gotta get going," he said reluctantly, feeling like the world's biggest cad. Who met their soulmate, and then immediately ran out on them? Apparently, he did. "Are you-- how-- how late are you working? I could walk you home, maybe?"

If friendship was all that came out of their new relationship, Marie would be more than happy. But where most people might automatically rule out any romantic entanglements because of Steve's appearance, she did no such thing. If he was as kind as she had first thought, then he had every chance of winning her heart, regardless of what the world thought of people who didn't fit into what they considered ideal. No, he wasn't that traditional sort of handsome, but he was charming in his own way, and his next words endeared him to her in a way that little else might have been able to.

"That would be really nice, it's been a long time since someone walked me home," she told him, her smile softening but still very much in place. "I'll be finished up in about two hours."

She didn't hold it against him that he was leaving so quickly. He'd been on the way to see his mother, who was obviously important to him, and she had to work regardless. That he was making an effort to see her afterward meant a great deal.

Steve nodded, the movement a little jerky in his nervousness. He liked that she was so nice about it, didn't seem upset that he couldn't devote his time right this minute to at least a little longer getting to know her. He'd seen girls act like that with guys (ie Bucky) even when they weren't soulmates. So he was glad Marie wasn't like that.

"Okay," he responded. "That's--that's perfect." He tried giving her a pleased smile, but was pretty sure it just came off as awkward. Which, to be fair, was kinda how he was feeling at the moment.

Marie hated women who thought the world revolved around them. She'd seen the girls she'd grown up with act like that and it irked her that they couldn't see past their own petty lives to realize there were more important things.

"I'll see you soon, then," she said with a nod, finding his awkwardness adorable more than anything else. It was far more endearing than off-putting, that was for certain. "I hope you have a good visit with your mother."

Steve opened his mouth, and was about half a second away from saying something to the effect of 'she'll probably be sleeping, hopefully', before he remembered that Marie knew nothing about his mother, or his own life. Now really wasn't the time to explain it to her, either - and if she'd just been another shopkeeper, concluding their business and being friendly, he wouldn't have thought anything of it.

But that wasn't the case, and he found himself... both anticipating and dreading having to explain his life to her. He wondered if other people periodically took stock of their lives, categorizing things so they'd have an easier time of explaining what was happening when they finally met their soulmate. Steve was beginning to realize that his life was even more different than he'd anticipated, because he'd never gone through the anxiety of wondering about his soulmate, what they might talk about and learn from each other - he'd always had that, or near enough that he figured it counted as 'always'.

He finally just nodded and gave another small smile, replying, "Yeah, yes. I hope so, too." He dipped his head, more a shallow bow than another nod, before deciding discretion was the better part of valor and just turning and exiting the shop, determinedly not looking back, even through the shop window, for just one more glance at Marie. His other soulmate.

"Only you, Rogers," he muttered darkly to himself, as he weaved through the foot traffic on the way to the hospital.

His mother was drifting in and out of sleep when he arrived, but didn't seem to be in too much pain. A quick glance at the chart at the foot of her bed told him why; they'd upped her morphine. Again. He'd been a nurse's son his whole life, he knew what that meant. They were making sure she was comfortable. He knew a couple of the nurses on the night shift, actually colleagues of his mom's before she grew ill and wasn't allowed to work in a hospital setting anymore. Maybe he should talk to them about...

Steve resolved to discuss the situation with Bucky. Which led him back to thinking about Marie, as he sat and held his mother's limp, but still warm hand, his fingers stretched out to feel her fluttering pulse. Would she want to be a part of this decision? If she disagreed with him... frankly, even being his soulmate, he just didn't know her - well, at all yet, and certainly not well enough that her opinion in the matter held any weight. Bucky's held weight - but Bucky also knew him well enough to know that if Steve decided something, there were few things that could change his mind.

Glancing at his watch, Steve realized visiting hours would be over pretty soon, as would Marie's shift. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to his mother's forehead, before gently placing her hand on her torso. He gathered his jacket and quietly made his way out of the ward, nodding to the nurse at the desk as he left.

It was a good thing that Mrs. Patterson had gone for the night or Marie would have gotten a stern scolding for the way her mind kept wandering after Steve had gone. Steve. Her soulmate. It was such a crazy thought, to know that her soulmate wasn't just out there, but had suddenly dropped into her life out of nowhere. Just walked into the shop to buy some flowers for his mother, just another day of average, normal life.

But what if their hands hadn't touched at that moment? What if they'd never seen each other again after that moment? New York was a big place after all. Even thought of it made her feel sick. They'd only just met, but that feeling of rightness, of belonging with someone, had settled into her quickly and deeply, and she was very much looking forward to seeing him again.

Things were right on schedule that night. No late customers, the till had evened out, and all her receipts were in proper order for the morning. She'd even gotten a head start on the next day's order. So when her time was up, she turned off the lights and stepped outside, locking the door behind her.

Steve's hands were stuffed in his pockets, his head down in typical New Yorker fashion as he headed back down the street from the hospital. Don't stop, don't make eye contact, stay vigilant but otherwise ignore everybody. Which wasn't hard for him tonight, as his thoughts were swirling and he couldn't grasp any one for more than a few minutes.

He glanced up finally as he neared the shop, and was surprised to spot Marie just locking up. He would've jogged up to her, but jogging really wasn't an option for him. He did try to subtly lengthen his strides to reach her a little quicker, though.

"Hey--hi," he corrected himself; it didn't really seem polite to greet a gal, let alone his soulmate, the way he'd greet an acquaintance on the street. "Umm... is there anything you need to do, still?"

It was suddenly being made very apparent to Steve that he'd never had occasion to walk a gal home before. He had no clue what to do, or what to say. He hoped Marie didn't decide she'd been landed with the worst soulmate ever.

The worst soulmate ever would have been someone cruel who felt she was more property than person. It was rare for a relationship to turn possessive to the point of violence, but it did happen. (Though perhaps more than anyone knew, since it likely wasn't the sort of thing to be discussed in public.) If her soulmate was someone who appreciated her as an independent person, with the right to thoughts and feelings of her own, then she would consider herself lucky.

"No, I'm all done for today," she assured him with a shake of her head before gesturing down the street. "I live a few blocks over, it's about fifteen minutes if I'm not in a hurry." Which she sometimes was if she ever overslept.

Steve nodded, absorbing the information. His brain, at least, was no slouch when it came to exerting itself - it had plenty of practice picking up the slack when his body just couldn't do the things he wanted it to. "O-okay," he stuttered, pulling up beside her and gesturing for her to go ahead. Then he wondered if he should offer his arm to her. Was this dating? It really was just polite to offer your arm to a lady, but the few times he'd had occasion to try, he'd been politely but summarily ignored.

He did sort of stick out his elbow, in case she wanted to walk on his arm (he wasn't holding his breath, though). "Are-- are you? In a hurry?" he asked hesitantly. She'd been working all day, after all, she probably just wanted to get home and get off her feet.

It was with a smile and not a second of hesitation that she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. A polite and familiar gesture, but not too familiar. They might be soulmates, but they had only just met.

"Not unless you have somewhere else to be, sugar," she informed him brightly, leaving him an opening just in case he did have another engagement. "With things as they are, I'd like to get to know you. Might as well start tonight."

...Oh. Huh. Steve's mind blanked for a few seconds, completely thrown for a loop at her willingness, and apparent want, to get to know him better. He had to keep reminding himself that Marie wasn't just another girl he'd met, or set up on a date, but his soulmate. It made things different.

"Oh...I mean, no! No, I don't really... actually..." Steve chewed on his bottom lip, glancing over at her. "So, I just had a thought. And, feel free to say no, I'll completely understand... but, umm... would you wanna go back to my place? Not!" He interrupted himself almost right away, realizing, slightly too late, how that would sound. "Not like--that! It's just, my-- my other soulmate," he reached up to rub at his eyebrow in an unconscious awkward motion, "Bucky, he lives upstairs. I-- he's..."

Steve sighed. "Honestly? He's a lot better at talkin' ta people. I'm good at listening and remembering, but not so much with the polite banter. In case you hadn't caught that yet," he added deprecatingly.

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