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“Do you ever think it’s weird that we got married?”
Dean’s hands stop halfway through stirring the pot of soup in the stove, his face turning to blink at you slowly, and you find yourself rushing to finish your thought.
“Like… like the first morning when you wake up after getting a haircut. It’s not a bad thing, in fact you’re really pleased with it, but for the first few minutes, it feels strange. You go to run your hands, or your brush, through your hair, and the hair just stops before you expect it to and you have to remind yourself that it’s supposed to be that way… y’know?” You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from rambling more than you’re already doing, and find it’s hard to meet your husband’s eye.
His voice is sort of hesitant when he finally speaks. “You’re not… regretting the haircut, right?”
You give him a faint smile as he continues the metaphor, still unable to meet his eye, and you clear your throat before speaking. “Nah, I really love the haircut. Probably the best thing I’ve ever had in my life. But I’m still getting used to it.” Your face heats up. “Like… I’ve spent my entire life just throwing my hair into a ponytail and going about my day, and now I’ve got to really put thought into how I’m going to style my hair for the day. Like I can’t just get up and go, I’ve really got to put some consideration into how it lays and all that. Does that make sense?” You finally meet his eyes and he seems to genuinely give it some thought before replying.
“Yeah, I guess so. For me, it’s like choosing to wear a different shirt. The old ones are worn in and soft, familiar and comfortable, but the new one is made of nicer material and feels more tailored than I’m used to. Still comfortable, still easy to wear, but I have to remind myself that it’s going to take a few washes before it feels just as familiar as the rest.”
“Exactly! Like… you really do love the new shirt, or the new haircut, but it’s going to take a while to get used to having it.”
He nods and turns back to the soup, stirring again slowly to keep the ingredients from sticking to the bottom of the pot. “It has only been a week, so maybe we just need time? What, uh. What brought this on?”
You shrug, knowing he can’t see you, and you step up behind him to wrap your arms around his middle, still unused to being able to touch him so freely. “I’ve been making plans in my head. Little things really. Buying different furniture, trying new recipes… hell, I even thought about dying my hair some crazy color. And then I remembered that it’s not just my opinion on those things that matter anymore. I have a husband, a partner, to run that stuff by.”
Dean leans slightly back into your embrace, after turning the burner down to let the soup simmer. His voice is soft and low. “You know I wouldn’t keep you from doing those things.” He moves his hands up to cover yours, his thumbs brushing your skin. “I’m not one of those guys who tells their partner that they can’t do the things they wanna do. You do- you know that, right? That I’m not gonna try to control you?”
Your head comes to rest between his shoulder blades, and you find yourself nuzzling into his warmth, taking in the scent of him. The soft clean smell of his soap, the lingering scent of his laundry detergent mixing together with his deodorant. It’s not exactly a new smell, as you’ve known him for years, but it’s somehow taken on a different feeling now that you’re married. “I know. Not worried about that, Dean. You’re a good man. Always have been, as long as I’ve known you. It’s more…” You sigh as you scramble to explain yourself in a way that makes sense. “If you wanna go for a drive, you don’t run it by Sam. You just grab your keys and go. That’s just how it is, and there’s nothing wrong with that. That’s how it should be. If I wanted to do those things before… the haircut, I would just do them. I didn’t need to take other opinions into consideration. If I wanted to dye my hair or get a tattoo or something, I’d just do it. Now, and I’m not complaining… I don’t mind at all… but now I have someone to run it by. I’m not worried about you telling me that I can’t or treating me like crap if I do what I want anyway… it’s more just trying to adjust to telling another person about the thing. Having a partner that should have a say in those things. I want you to have a say in those things, but it’s still an adjustment. I’m still getting used to letting you in on what’s going on in my head….”
Dean taps your arms, silently asking you to loosen your grip on him so he can turn to face you. He settles then, the soup seemingly forgotten, as his arms return your embrace, his hands splayed against your back to pull you into his chest. “I get it. This is new, having a partner for life. It was different when we were just seeing each other. Commitment without committing, our lives together but still independent. We’ll work on it together. I’ll… I’ll iron my shirt and you can fix your hair, and… I really don’t know where this metaphor is going, sweetheart.”
You share a laugh with him, listening as it rumbles through his chest. “I really don’t either. I do know that I’m really, really happy with my haircut. And I also know that the new shirt looks really good on you.”
Dean’s cheeks flush with warmth and leans down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m really happy too, sweetheart.”