And Then My Soul Saw You (and it kind of went "Oh, there you are, I've been looking for you.")
Fandom: Wizards vs Aliens
Rating: K+
Genre: Romance
Pairing: Tom/Lexi, Varg/Lyzera
Word count: 1649
Summary: [Soulmate AU, where one has the person's name marked on their wrist] "Varg, do you know how many people in the Greater London area alone are called Thomas?"/ "You think that Lyzera is going to be any easier to find?"
AN: What's this, fanfiction during my study periods? Consider my New Years Resolution broken.
I've never written one of these soulmate things before, so I did the logical thing and wrote one. Hey ho.
DISCLAIMER. I do not own WvA or anything of the like.
You see the name for the first time when you're fourteen.
The majority of people get excited when it happens, turn it into some kind of big event, but Lexi has never made that much of a fuss over it. The name is just one of those things, not there one day, and then there the next day, as if she's just written a note to herself on her skin and forgotten to scrub it off for seven years.
Most people, seven years later, at the age of twenty one, have also found the person with their name marked on their arm. But, then again, she and her brother are just really, really, really unlucky.
"I don't know why you think that this is such a big deal," Varg says, one afternoon, as he perches, rather uncharacteristically, on the beanbag designated for visitors (the two of them have yet to invest in actual chairs).
Lexi lets out a sigh, hanging over the side of her bed so that Varg's questioning look is upside down. "Varg, do you know how many people in the Greater London area alone are called Thomas?"
"And you think that Lyzera is going to be any easier to find?"
"At least you'll actually know when you meet her! I doubt many people are called Lyzera; you can't miss her. I could have walked past my soulmate hundreds of times, and I wouldn't even know."
"It's not like it used to be, Lexi. The name isn't something that should determine your life. People end up marrying people who aren't their soulmate all the time now."
Varg's reply sounds a little reproachful, and Lexi frowns at him. "Are you insinuating something?"
"I'm just saying. If Jathro can do it, we could too."
Their cousin, Jathro, doesn't have a name on his arm like everyone else; it's a rare occurrence, but it does happen. Jathro laughs about it every time that it's mentioned, saying that at least he's free to pick and choose his soulmate - "Unlike you, Lexicon," - but there's frustration in his eyes every time he's reminded that he hasn't been predetermined anyone; Lexi's lost count of the amount of times Jathro has had to break off a relationship because someone else has had that girl's name on their wrist. It's at times like that, consoling him with boxes of chocolate and ice cream, that she takes a moment to sneak a look at her wrist and send thanks to whomever may be listening that she's been born with a name.
"You're thinking of giving up?" She asks now, rolling over onto her stomach so that Varg is the right way up.
"I don't know. Perhaps." He shrugs, and her eyes widen. "Don't look at me like that. You can't honestly tell me that you've never thought of giving up the search."
"That's not the point," she argues, even though it's true. She's often considered it, during those late nights when sleep won't come to her. "I thought you were the traditionalist. You didn't strike me as the type to give up."
"Lexi, you can't deny the fact that I'm already twenty five. Twenty five, and still alone, living with my baby sister. The majority of my friends, my colleagues, have met their soulmates by now."
"So? What does that matter? Father was in his thirties before he met Mother; some people don't meet each other until the last few years of their lives."
"What are you saying? You'd be willing to spend the majority of your adult life alone, just so you can have eighteen months, in the middle of your eighties and on your deathbed, with someone you won't even get a chance to know properly?"
Lexi pulls a face. "Yes...No...Maybe, I don't know." She finishes with a lame shrug. "I just feel that, if that person's meant to be for you, you should, you know, find them no matter what."
Varg mimics her expression exactly. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'd rather not wait until I'm in need of life support before I meet the one I'm supposed to be with."
"It's nice to see you full of optimism about this."
"Optimism is my middle name," Varg replies dryly. A banging sound from the front door prevents him from saying anymore on the subject. "Aren't you going to go get that?"
"Why me?"
"You're closer to the door."
"By about two metres!"
"It still counts." Varg brings his phone out of his pocket, swiping the screen to unlock it, smirking. "Go on."
The knocking sounds again, louder. Lexi heaves herself off the bed with a melodramatic sigh and makes her way into the hallway.
"Coming!" She wrestles with the lock, the incredibly complex one that Varg had bought, after a brief spell of panic that everything that they owned was going to be stolen, eventually managing to wedge the door open, only to be met with the sight of a stranger on her doorstep. "Yes?"
"Hi. Sorry to bother you - My friend and I've only just moved in next door -" He gestures in the direction of the next flat; boxes are still piled up amongst the flaking green paint that litters the corridor. "- and I was just wondering if you've got any milk around."
"Milk? Um, sure." Lexi moves back, so that he can step inside.
"Who is it?" Varg yells, still sitting on the beanbag in her bedroom. "Are they trying to sell something?"
Lexi rolls her eyes, ushering their new neighbour through to the tiny kitchen. "I'm sorry. Ignore him. He likes to think that he's foreboding, when, really, he's a big softie. Anyway, milk's in the fridge. Help yourself."
"Thanks." He nods towards the room where Varg is. "Is that your boyfriend in there, or something?"
Lexi snorts, shaking her head. "God, no, no, nothing like that. That's my brother, Varg. You'll get used to him once you've been living here a while." She holds out a hand for him to shake. "Lexi."
The bottle in his hand slides from his fingers and lands on the floor; the lid rolls off under the oven somewhere, milk spilling out across the tiles. Neither of them seem to take any notice.
"What did you say?"
Her hand falters, falling back to her side. "Um, I'm Lexi. That's my name. What's yours?"
He doesn't answer, or bend down in order to retrieve what is left of the milk; instead, he reaches out towards her sleeve, the one that covers her wrist. "Can I -?" When she makes no complaint or refusal, he peels the material back, so that the printed black letters of Thomas are visible.
"What -?" She begins to say, but doesn't get more than that out, as he lets go and rolls up his sleeve too, showing her his own wrist, with the name Lexi written there in bold, clear lettering.
"Lexi? What was that noise - Is that milk all over the floor?" Varg has materialised in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, looking unimpressed until he catches on to the mood, eyes flickering to their exposed wrists, and then to his sister's face. "Ah. You - Right." He nods slowly. "I'll just...let you two have some space, then." He backs away rather rapidly; Lexi hears the front door shut a few seconds later, prompting her to clear her throat.
"So. You're Thomas, then."
"Tom. Only Gran calls me Thomas nowadays." There's a smile on his face now. "I was getting worried, you know. I thought I'd never find you. Do you know how many people out there are called Lexi?"
"Do you know how many people out there are called Tom?" She counters.
"Fair enough." There's a momentary pause. "So, what now? Are we supposed to hug this out, or...?"
Lexi shrugs. "In all honesty, I've never thought this far ahead. I wasn't even sure I was going to find you in the first place, let alone what would happen if I did."
"Well, how about it, then?" Tom holds his arms out towards her, and, after a few seconds of hesitation, Lexi walks into them, letting her chin rest on the crown of his head. It's nice, warm. Feels right, even.
"Say, Tom?"
"Hm?"
"You wouldn't happen to know someone called Lyzera, would you?"