An Arranged Marriage

Chapter 3

Waking up the next morning, it took you a couple of minutes for the fog in your brain to clear. To remember where you were, and why you were there in the first place.

Glancing down at your hand, you stared in shock at the simple silver ring, a staple of the hunters arranged marriages. It was like two thin rings forged together. A little too big on your finger, you could easily spin it. That would be something that needed fixed. If you stayed in this marriage.

All your life you had been raised for this moment. The chance to unit with a fellow hunter, to grow a family and help him out wherever needed. Or her. Hunter communities went picky, or racists, and many families were mixed ethnicity. There were those of the same race, often times taking in orphans and raising them as their own.

Your father was the leader of the northwest community, and you had been expected to marry well as soon as you could walk. The pact between communities had been set up while you were only five, but it wasn't until two months ago your husband had been decided.

Dean. You hadn't expected to marry someone quite like him. While you had only known him one day, and only part of it, he wasn't like any of the other men in the compounds. You were interested in learning more about this man, and you hoped that once he got to know you he didn't dump you out of this fascinating place.

Changing into jeans and a faded shirt, you left your feet bare as you stepped out of your room, into a quiet hallway. Looking at the closed door in front of you, you considered knocking, seeing if Dean was still in there. Not wanting to make him mad on your first day as husband and wife, you left his room alone, glancing around the hallway curiously.

Last night you had been so tired you hadn't paid any attention to your surroundings. You had no idea where anything was, including the library Dean had talked about. Not knowing whether to go left or right, you just started walking, hoping that you wouldn't get yourself hopelessly lost. Passing by closed doors, each one the same as before you finally took a right,  amazed at how huge this place was. 

When that hallway led to a dead end, you turned back around, trying to remember the way you came. Footsteps sounded softly in front of you, soft enough to be encased in socks, not shoes and you wondered if you were coming up on Dean, or his brother Sam.

Rounding the corner, you ran straight into Sam's chest, his arms grabbing your shoulders to keep you from falling down. "Whoa there, you okay?" He asked, glancing down at you before letting go. 

"Sorry. I was just trying to find my way around, and I think I um..I don't think I know where I am." You admitted. 

Chuckling softly, Sam reached back, tucking a piece of his hair behind his shoulder. "This place is easy to get lost in. I was on my way to the kitchen. I can give you a little guide as we go?"

"Sounds great." You agreed, falling in step beside him. He was dressed in workout clothes, his hair damp and sticking to his forehead. "Is Dean up yet?"

That was the second time you made the tall man chuckle, and you wondered if he was truly this carefree, or if you were just that funny. "Dean enjoys staying up late, and often times will sleep in as late as possible on days we don't have cases."

Nodding in understanding, you gasped in surprise at the library that was spread out in front of you. "This is the library Dean was talking about?" You asked him, and he nodded. Looking from shelf to shelf, you couldn't believe the amount of lore that they had. It was at least double the size of your library back in your community. "What is  this place?"

"It's called the Bunker. Built by the Men of Letters, but they abandoned it, and we were legacies, and it's ours now." He explained simply, and you stared up at him.

"The Men of Letters?" You reiterated and he nodded. "But they were just a myth."

"As you can see, they were not. Our grandfather was a man of letters, and this Bunker is proof that they thrived once upon a time."

"This is amazing. Do the communities know about this?" You asked him, as you thumbed through a book on the different types of weapons used to kill Monsters. It was richly detailed, with pictures and first hand accounts. 

"They've guessed. But we've kept it to ourselves." He warned you, and you nodded, understanding right away. 

Following down the short set of stairs, past an impressive table with a lit map, he walked into a uliterarian type kitchen. It was old fashioned, and meant to feed more than just the three of you, but it was clean, and everything seemed to be working. Little did Sam or Dean know, but you enjoyed fixing meals, especially pie. Pie had always been a favorite of yours, and you had learned how to make different vararieties at an early age. 

"We don't have much. We need to head out on a supply run. But there's eggs, milk. Maybe some bread. We also have cereal." He muttered, going through the fridge, just as you heard more footsteps. 

Glancing to the doorway, you saw Dean standing there, his hair standing on end, a soft gray robe untied showing his black t-shirt and boxers. "Morning Dean." You said respectfully, not sure how to handle this husband of yours. "Would you like breakfast?"

Without even answering you, he went straight to the coffee maker, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "As you can see, Dean's not much of a morning person."

"Shut up bitch." Dean grumbled, and you stepped back, wondering if he had been talking to you.

"Watch it jerk. Your bride thought you were talking to her." Sam came to your aid, and Dean finally glanced at you, his eyes widening as he realized you were standing there. 

"I wasn't...you're not..it's just what..." Dean stuttered, unable to form a complete sentence.

Coming to his brother's rescue, Sam quickly explained. "It's a form of endearment between Dean and I. We don't mean anything by it, it just slips out from time to time."

"Oh." You answered, a little relieved at the news. "Dean, would you like me to make you breakfast?" You asked him once again, not sure what your role here would play out.

"Just because you're my wife doesn't mean you have to take care of me." He grumbled. "I can fix my own freaking breakfast." 

With your mouth forming an O, you watched as he strode past you, opening the fridge and pulling out the milk. Opening it up, he smelled it, making a disgusted face. "Or, better yet. We go out for breakfast. Be ready in ten."

Without another look spared your way, he was gone, his robe swirling around his ankles as he left. Peering at Sam, he just shrugged. "Dean is gruff, but give him time. He already likes you, I can tell. He just takes a while to warm up to people. Especially when he hasn't had food yet."

Sam left then, to get ready for breakfast, leaving you alone in the huge, quiet kitchen. Hoping that his words were true, and Dean wouldn't continue to be as gruff with you. If he was, it was going to be a long marriage, and you might end up taking his out he had given you.