Disclaimer: Sam and Dean (and the moments in canon when they act like an old married couple) belong to the writers and creators of Supernatural.

Notes: I posted this story during the holidays last year on my Ao3 account, and I thought I'd share it here too this year, before the holiday season is over. It's definitely a Wincest story, but, with the exception of a few brief references to sexual scenes, the story is non-explicit and mainly just Sam/Dean fluff.

Like a Married Couple

"You know what, Sammy? If we weren't brothers, I'd totally marry you."

Dean wasn't sure what made him say it; maybe it had something to do with the eggnog with added brandy that he and Sam had been drinking for most of the evening, or the fact that he was feeling all happy and light-headed because it was nearly Christmas and he and Sam were sitting next to each other on a comfortable sofa, relaxing in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, the two of them taking a break from hunting for a few days to celebrate the holiday, complete with a Christmas tree and Christmas decorations, and another romantic Christmas movie just beginning on the TV.

Or maybe it was because Sam had already made Dean watch a chick flick with the usual clichéd story about how a couple-in-love had overcome all obstacles to finally make it down the aisle in time for Christmas, with his younger brother using the lame excuse that it was the only DVD that he could find in the cabin, and Sam had just spent at least half an hour laughing at Dean's eye rolling and groans at every tacky scene, before he started asking Dean if he'd ever seriously thought about marrying anyone.

Dean had looked from Sam to the walls of the cozy room they were sitting in, thinking about how perfect the whole scene was, how awesome it was that he was sitting next to the only person he'd ever been able to offer any kind of commitment to, the only person who he could really see himself spending the rest of his life with, even if it wouldn't be in a tacky, romantic way, and he had also felt a rush of affection as he watched Sam, whose hair was still damp after taking a shower, who was still a little drunk from the eggnog, looking all relaxed and happy wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants and a slight flush on his cheeks, and the words had just slipped out before Dean even realised what he was saying.

He looked at Sam, who looked kind of taken aback by Dean's I'd-totally-marry-you comment, and also like he didn't know whether to find this funny, or ask a lot more questions that Dean didn't have the answer to, or make this into one of their intense bonding moments that Sam loved so much.

"Dude," Sam laughed, apparently settling on amusement as his reaction, to Dean's relief. "If we're getting married, then you're totally wearing the dress!"

"Yeah right, Sam," Dean replied, unable to resist a challenge when he heard one. "You know that you'd be the one dressing your tux up with flowers. Bet you'd wear a couple in your hair, too…"

"Bet you'd be the one who'd picked the flowers out in the first place, Dean," Sam shot back at him, a playful tone to his voice that Dean hadn't heard for months. "We both know how much you love all the little details." Sam nodded his head in the direction of the Christmas decorations in the cabin, which Dean had spent hours putting up, trying to get everything to look just right, wanting to give his little brother the perfect holiday after so many years of crappy Christmases.

"You'd write the most chick-flick-worthy vows ever, Sammy," Dean grinned, enjoying the brotherly banter after too many months of yelling at each other and trading insults after their more exhausting hunts. Although he was pretty certain that most adult brothers wouldn't get into playful arguments about their fictional wedding. "And we both know that you'd be crying the whole time."

"As if you wouldn't be crying too, Dean," Sam mocked him with a roll of his eyes. "I can just picture you, trying to discreetly wipe your eyes, pretending that you had allergies, or that you had something in your eye-"

"You would so want to eat your typical rabbit food at the wedding reception," Dean jumped in, before Sam could hurt his manly pride any further. He tried his best to give a disgusted shudder at the thought of eating salad on his wedding day.

"Hey!" Sam responded, sounding indignant. "It'd be better than celebrating a wedding at a diner, or at a bar, eating pie or steak all day and drinking beer all night…"

"What's wrong with pie and steak?" Dean asked, kind of liking the idea of going to a diner after a wedding ceremony, eating junk food and avoiding anything too formal, before spending the night partying at a bar. He wondered if it was kind of weird that he was enjoying thinking about these details so much, that he was having so much fun discussing this with Sam. "And it'd be cool to go to a bar-we could get them to play some soft rock for our first dance…"

Sam's eyes widened a little, and he went quiet for a couple of seconds, and Dean wondered if he'd gone a little too far with that comment, instead of sticking to the script of joking and insulting each other through their banter; but then Sam grinned and nodded, and Dean knew that the game was still on.

"Yeah, Dean," he smirked, "maybe I'd even let you lead. Too bad we'd have to go back to a cheap motel room after a day like that, though…"

"Nuh-uh, Sammy," Dean cut him off with a shake of his head, forgetting for a moment that this was all supposed to be a joke. "Forget the motel room; we'd be going back to our own house."

"We would?" Sam asked, sounding fascinated by this comment. His expression was now a lot more serious. "But…why?"

Because we've only been in this cabin for a couple days, and I already kind of want us to just stay somewhere like this for ever…somewhere like a home of our own.

The words were in Dean's head, appearing out of nowhere yet sounding scarily familiar; but Dean couldn't say them out loud, not when he didn't really understand them himself, not when he was always the first to complain when they took any sort of break from hunting, not when his conversation with Sam was already getting deeper and deeper.

"Because we'd be married, Sammy," Dean chose to say instead. "And if we're married, then we should have a home of our own." It was almost terrifying, how Dean could suddenly picture the exact details of the house that he would buy or rent for him and Sam, how it made perfect sense in his mind that they would have a home just for the two of them in this fictional wedding scenario, how relieved his fictional self would probably feel at the thought of having somewhere permanent to settle down with Sam. He had no idea where all of these thoughts were coming from.

Sam had a faraway look in his eyes, and Dean couldn't help wondering if Sam was imagining the exact same thing.

Then, the faraway look was replaced by a mischievous glint. "You're secretly an old-fashioned romantic, aren't you, Dean?" he laughed. "Anyway, if we had our own home to come back to after the wedding, I could carry you over the threshold."

"Dude!" Dean spluttered, indignant. Because no, just… no. It was too much, picturing his not-so-little brother being able to pick him up like that, being all strong and dominant, not when Dean's mind was filled with so many fond memories of holding Sammy in his arms when they were kids, carrying him up to bed, easily picking him up to offer comfort, or protection. Besides, he still had his manly pride to consider. "No way! You would totally drop me!"

"Why?" Sam asked, sounding genuinely confused. "The only way I'd drop you is if you'd spent the day eating too many pies…"

Dean looked Sam up and down, taking in the muscles and the strong arms and his height. He thought he knew everything about Sam off by heart, but now, it was almost like he was looking at him for the first time. Or maybe he was just seeing Sam in a whole new light.

"Fine," Dean sighed, eventually, "you might be carrying me over the threshold, but you know that the second we got into the bedroom, you'd be all shy and nervous, and you'd want me to take charge…"

"Why have I gotta be the blushing virgin in this story?" Sam asked with folded arms, sounding kind of annoyed at the idea of it.

Dean had a feeling that this 'like a virgin' scenario wouldn't exactly be true, especially when he judged his own imagination against the reality of all the times when he had walked in on Sam having sex in motel rooms, where Dean would always smirk and walk past the bed in the direction of the bathroom a little too slowly, mumbling, "Don't mind me," as he tried to be subtle about looking at what was going on out of the corner of his eye, giving in to his curiosity. In those situations, Sam definitely hadn't been blushing. Or a virgin.

Dean decided that maybe it was just some sick, twisted need to impose his own fantasy of having Sam needy and vulnerable and dependent on Dean onto their adult lives, so that he could indulge in his own desire to play his protective older brother role; a role that Sam rarely let Dean act out now.

"Because you'd like it, having me take care of you," Dean tried as a response, deciding that he might as well go all out with his comebacks now, even if there was no way that Sam would agree. "Come on, Sammy," he continued to mock, "don't even try to tell me that you wouldn't want me to light candles in the room and scatter red rose petals on the bed…"

He stopped talking when he noticed that Sam was blushing, and apparently trying his best to hide his face behind his hair, and cover his face with his hands, as though he really didn't want Dean to see his reaction. As though, maybe, Dean had unintentionally hit the nail right on the head.

He wanted to ask Sam about what was going on, what he was thinking, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not when he was suddenly thinking about Sam being naked underneath him on a king-sized bed, looking up at Dean with a look of total trust and devotion, the two of them married, committed, bonded for life, whatever they wanted to call it, and also wondering why he wasn't thinking that anything about that image was sick, or wrong, or not as hot as all of his times with beautiful women...or a few other times, that he definitely hadn't told Sam about...

"Anyway, it'd be your first time with a guy, s'far as I know," he continued, after a tense silence that lasted a little too long. "So I guess you would be like a virgin…kind of."

At Sam's shocked expression, Dean felt his own cheeks flushing, realising what he'd just unintentionally given away about himself, thinking that maybe he'd already given too much away in this conversation, that the discussion had got too intense, too serious, too…close to home-on Dean's part, anyway, even though he was pretty sure he hadn't thought about any of this before tonight.

Sam went quiet, a little too quiet, looking deep in thought, and an invisible tension set in between the two of them.

Lost in the uncomfortable silence, Dean took the time to really think about it all.

He could picture it all, as real as if it had actually happened. The two of them in a church (Dean knew how implausible that location would be, but still, he preferred the idea of the two of them exchanging vows in a church for some reason), Sam standing opposite him, the two of them making their emotional vows, promising to be together for ever, just like Dean had always wanted, Sam crying, Dean pretending not to cry.

Then he pictured them having their wedding breakfast at a typical diner, Sam eating salad, Dean eating pie, Sam rolling his eyes affectionately with a that's-my-husband expression as the waitresses brought more and more food over for Dean, the two of them heading to a bar in the evening to continue celebrating, drinking a few beers, Sam dragging Dean up to dance.

Then, finally, he pictured them arriving at their new home, Sam crying all over again, his younger brother's strong, steady arms picking him up, Dean complaining, insisting that he wasn't a chick, but secretly loving the fact that Sam could hold him, protect him, carry him to their new bedroom, where Sam would laugh at the candles and the rose petals, but he would also look kind of emotional, and Dean would kiss him, softly, wanting to keep that innocent, happy look on Sam's face for the rest of their lives.

As the images played in his mind, Dean realised something. It might have started out as a joke of a conversation, he might have vowed for years to never get married to anyone, he might never have been able to make a real, mature relationship work, the story might be more tacky than the chick flick that he and Sam had just watched, the fantasy might be kind of impossible in reality-and also illegal-but, in spite of all that, and in spite of everything else in the universe that seemed to conspire against him, Dean wanted it. He wanted all of it. Even if they never had a real ceremony or officially signed any marriage documents. He wanted Sam. For better or for worse. For ever.

He almost couldn't believe that he was only just working all of this out right now, as it seemed so obvious, when he thought about it, that Sam had always been so much more than his brother, and that no woman (or other man) would ever compare to a soul mate. And it wasn't like they didn't already act like a married couple most of the time anyway.

The silence went on and on, and Dean decided that he could never go there, if Sam didn't want it. He would do his best to dig them out of this conversation, if that's what Sam needed, if things were going to get too weird between them. He just needed Sam to say something, anything, so that he could work out what he was feeling.

"Dean?" Sam muttered, breaking the silence at last.

"Yeah?"

"I..I'd want the flowers to be white, instead of red. Just in case you were ever gonna, uh, you know..."

As Sam blushed, Dean couldn't help grinning like Christmas had come early.

"Sam?"

"Yeah, Dean?"

"You'd better not drop me."