Summary: Sam hears something in school that has him thinking all evening. Dean has to deal with philosophical!wee!sam who has some pressing questions on the topic of girls and marriage equality. Sam is 7 and Dean is 11.
Rating: K
Slight insinuation of wincest, depending on how you want to take it. The cover picture is a Gladiolus flower, or the sword lily. It kinda fits the Winchester bros. strength and integrity and infatuation and dedication and brotherhood and all that.
Disclaimer:
Winchesters and supernatural not mine, and neither is Boys over Flowers, from which I modified the title.
Sam has been distracted all evening after coming back from school. Dad leaves a few hours before bed time, promising to be back by morning, and even then, Sammy is strangely lethargic and keeps staring at Dean with a contemplative expression. Dean is getting real tired of this shit real fast. His grumpiness, however, does nothing to knock Sam out of his contemplative state, and in the end, they go to bed quietly, falling into the usual routine of checking the locks and the salt lines.
The light's been out for a while now. Dean wasn't expecting Sam to be awake and extremely coherent. He should have known Sammy would grow up to be the philosopher of the family.
"Hey Dean?" Sam says in a small voice from Deans left side.
"Mm." Dean grunts into his pillow, not bothering to face him.
"You awake?" He asks timidly.
"No." Dean grumbles.
"Oh." Sam says neutrally. "Dean?"
"What." Oh, so NOW he's talkative.
"Are you gonna marry a girl when you're older?"
"Wha-?" Dean's eyes snap open, flicking towards the exact place he knew Sammy was. "The hell you talkin about?"
He hears Sammy shift in his covers and sit up a little. "When you get older I mean."
Dean frowns, grumpiness at Sam's earlier moodiness forgotten. "Course I'll marry a girl. Like Dad married Mom. So, 'course I'm gonna marry a girl, I think. Why, do you want to marry a girl?"
"Tommy was sayin'." Sam explained hurriedly. "Tommy from school. Tommy was sayin' that his big brother brought a girl home an' she giggled at all the wrong stuff and didn't let'em play 'war' with each other cause she thought it was too violent."
Sam was quiet for a while, and Dean waited for him to continue. "Tommy said that. Whene'er his big brother's girl was over, he can't play with'im and had to talk to her all the time. Isn't that ridiculous? Why would anyone wanna be around someone who needs to be having a conversation all the time?"
Dean doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't answer. It's true that other people thought hanging out together meant communicating with each other, he realized. They thought he was weird for not trying to start or make efforts to continue a conversation. Girls especially.
"..Right? Dean?" Sam prods anxiously.
"What about you Sammy? Don't you think you'll find a girl and marry her?"
Sam squirms in his bed. "But what if she won't let us play together, and she won't know our epic battle formations with the army men, and she'll probably put pink stuff all over the place, even in the Impala maybe!"
Sam sounds so horrified at the last thought that Dean has to chuckle. "Maybe not all girls are like that."
"Have you met one who wasn't?" Sam inquires in genuine curiosity.
"Well… There was this one girl who hated pink stuff and liked to play with army men and wrestle with the boys. But she scratched her butt… in public."
Sam cringes audibly. "Eeeewwwww! I don't ever want to get married to a girl." He swears vehemently.
Dean fights a grin. "What, you gonna marry a dude?"
"You can do that?" Sam gasps in enlightenment.
"I don't know." Dean admits. "Maybe. Why not?"
Sam believes every word, listening in wonderment and rapt attention. "Yeah! That would be much more reasonable. You're so smart, Dean. I never thought of that."
Dean isn't sure if he is quite right, but glows with the praise nonetheless.
Deciding to spur on the debate, he turns and props himself up on his elbows. "But even boys won't like it if we carry knives all the time, or guns. And he probably won't like wasting all the salt lining the doors and windows either."
"Oh!" Sam sighed at the unforeseen development. "You're right. Tommy says his daddy told him that people who carry guns are bad guys."
"Just don't get married, Sammy." Dean chuckles. "You won't have any problems if you don't."
"Sure, but I still will have problems if you get married. We can't spar and buy candy when we're not s'posed to."
"Maybe I won't get married either then." Deam mused softly.
Immediately, in a soft flurry, Sam nimbly hops out of his bed and slithers into Dean's, making Dean scoot over to accommodate him. Sam wiggles into place happily. "Pinkie promise?"
Dean lifts his arm so Sam can press himself into his side and rest his head on Dean's shoulder. "What? That's stupid, Sam. At least wait until we're older. You don't even really understand marriage yet."
"I don't need to understand, I don't want it." Sam harrumphs in a determined tone.
"Sam, you're 7." Dean rolls his eyes in amusement.
"But you understand, right?" Sam asks, full of childish trust in his older brother.
"Yeah, I guess." Dean shrugs, and Sam feels the motion against his face.
"You understand, and you think it's okay to not get married." The younger boy points out patiently.
"Don't you want a family?"
"I already have a family." Sam reminds Dean, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
There's a beat in which Dean is trying to gather his thoughts on how to explain the difference to his little brother.
"Oh!" Sam jolts against his chest. "Wait a minute! I can just marry you. We're already family, and neither of us will ever put pink stuff up and both of us know how to salt the entrances and carry knives everywhere! We can do that, can't we? Can't we Dean?"
Sam sounds so excited that Dean is at a loss for words. "I- um."
He can almost feel Sam droop when he thinks Dean doesn't like the idea. "Sure we can Sam." Dean amends hurriedly. That's a perfect idea."
Sam almost squeals in delight. Almost, because Winchesters don't squeal. But Dean can feel the contentment rolling off his brother along with the warmth from his skin.
"You gonna go back to your own bed now?"
Sam ignores the question. "Does that mean I can kiss you on the mouth?"
Dean splutters. "No, that's gross."
"You don't think kissing my head is gross."
"Well that's different." Dean grimaces. "Plus, we're not married yet."
"Tommy's brother isn't married, and he kisses his girl on the mouth."
"Well-" Dean's eyebrows knit together and he squints into the darkness, trying to remember what the difference was. Damn, Sam is too good at this for his age. Dean sighs in defeat. "Fine. How about, let's make a deal. I'll kiss you on the lips, but then you'll have to go back to your bed."
Sam stills as he mulls it over in his little head. Dean waits for the verdict.
"Nah, I'll just stay here. You don't have to give me a kiss."
Dean can practically feel the grin against his arm. The calculating little shit.
"Fine." He huffs in exasperation, partly glad that he won't have to kiss Sammy on the lips. "Night Sam."
"Night Dean." Sam settles and mumbles into Dean's shirt, already sounding content and sleepy. "Love you."
Dean cringes a little, but replies anyways. "Love you too, squirt."
John returns in the wee hours of the morning to find both boys in the bed closest to the door, Dean, with his back to it, curled protectively around Sammy, and Sammy's brown curls embedded in the elder's chest. He stands at the door and watches them for several heartbeats before shaking his head fondly and peeling off his coat and boots, sliding into Sam's abandoned bed instead of the pullout bed he admittedly rarely has to use. Sometimes, he thinks maybe he didn't mess up so bad on those boys after all.