Strawberry Rhubarb, or "Anything but Apple" Pie

Summary: Winchesters aren't meant for "Apple Pie" lives. Potters, well, they're even worse than Winchesters on that front. Add an Angel into the mix, and you know you're going to get anything but Apple Pie. But they were all right with that. Mpreg. Eventual Dean/Harry/Sam/Castiel.

Alternate Summary: Despite all the weird things he's seen, Dean never thought a man could get pregnant. So when he runs into an old flame with twin boys, it doesn't even cross his mind that they might be his. Well, not at first at least.

Disclaimer: I do not own either Harry Potter or Supernatural. No infringement is intended.

Chapter Two: Blackberry Jam filling with cinnamon and nutmeg spiced crust, topped with nuts.

"Harry!" The voice was oddly familiar, Harry thought as he turned from his shopping cart towards the voice. In that moment, he realized why. It was Dean.

"D-Dean," Harry stuttered softly, "Hi." Dean looked good. He was still fit and trim, though older than Harry remembered, especially around the eyes. Still, his face was familiar. Harry saw it everyday when he spoke to his sons.

"Harry," Dean grinned, "It's great to see you!"

"Um, yeah. Great to see you too," Harry mumbled in response.

"Uh – How have you been?"

"Good. And – and you?"

"I've been…" Dean hesitated for a moment, and then admitted, "I've been better."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Harry said truthfully. Dean offered a tight grin and nod in return.

"Would you like together? I'm in town with my brother for a week or two…we could go get a drink or something." Or something, Harry thought, knowing what Dean had in mind. And yes, the sex had been good. Really good. But…but he couldn't. He really couldn't.

"I'm…I'm sorry Dean. I don't think that's such a good idea."

Dean's handsome face scrunched in a confused frown, "What?"

"Look, Dean…I had a great time last time we saw each other…but, I just don't think a…repeat performance is such a good idea."

"Why not?" Dean asked softly, showing more emotion than Harry remembered the man holding. In a minute, it was gone, and he smirked teasingly, "I'll make it worth your while."

"I know you would. But Dean…I have a family now. I have responsibilities. And that night…it's not my style to do that."

"Oh. Uh, you're um, married?"

"No. No…I don't have a significant other, but I have two young children. If… if I date, I do it with other…similarly minded adults. And Dean, you just don't seem the settling type."

"I – …" Dean looked hurt for a moment, but the look passed quickly. "I understand. I'd still like to catch up while I'm in town."

Harry couldn't help it. He snorted.

Dean looked slightly affronted.

"I'm sorry Dean. It's just…we never really knew each other did we? Catching up implies that we once knew anything about each other."

Dean laughed, and nodded.

"But, that sounds nice, Dean. I'd like to get to know you. How 'bout…hmm, what are your plans for Thanksgiving?"

"Um, nothing really. We don't really celebrate Thanksgiving."

"Well, my plans sort of fell apart last minute, so I've got a giant turkey in the fridge and all the makings for Thanksgiving dinner, but no one to eat it all. Why don't you and your brother come over tomorrow around four. It may be a bit odd to do Thanksgiving with essential strangers, but it's better than nothing, huh?"

"Sammy, my brother, would like that, I think. It sounds good. Four you said? We'll be there."

They shook hands and said goodbye, promising to see each other the next day. As soon as Dean was out of sight, Harry dropped his head down onto the shopping cart and groaned. What the hell was he thinking?

(pie*)

"We're going to Thanksgiving dinner," Dean announced as he walked into the motel, dumping the overly large bags of rock salt he had gone out to get on the table.

"We are?" Sam asked with a lifted eyebrow, not daring to get his hopes up yet. They had never had a Thanksgiving in Sam's memory. Well, unless you counted sliced turkey and cold pumpkin pie in the back of the Impala. Which Sam didn't. At all.

"Yep. Ran into an old friend at the store…so we're having Thanksgiving with him and his kids."

"Kids?" Sam asked tentatively.

Dean laughed, "Dude, you really are scared of kids, aren't you?"

"Not scared!" Sam protested loudly, "Just…don't know what to do with them, that's all."

Dean laughed again.

(pie*)

Harry should have expected it, just from the way Dean had been acting yesterday, but he didn't. So he was flustered, covered in flour and wearing that awful apron Luna had given him when he flung the door open at three.

And there, on his doorstep, was Dean, as always looking flawless, and apparently, his brother. Dean's brother was tall. Really tall. He was also gorgeous. He had flawless skin, gentle, caring eyes and a sense of stability, patience and maturity about him. He was everything Dean was not, but at the same time he could tell they were brothers. It was in the nose, and the hair line, and in the look in their eyes. And their auras, of course, but Harry tried not to rely on that to judge people. It was more fun to do it the other way.

"Uh…are we early?"

"I, uh, thought you were coming at four."

"Oh," Dean frowned, "I could have sworn you said three. Sorry about that."

Harry sighed softly, but stepped out of the doorway, gesturing that they should come in.

"Thanks Harry. This is my brother, Sam. Sam, this is Harry."

"Pleasure to meet you," Sam sad quietly, reaching out a hand. Harry grinned and shook hands with the guy. It was ironic that Dean's (the father of Harry's children's) brother was much more Harry's type than Dean himself.

"And you. You can hang in the kitchen with me while I finish dinner…not much else to do, unless you want to find the American Football game on the telly. The boys are still down for a nap, since I figured they'd be up late tonight, but they should be up soon."

"Do you need any help in the kitchen?" Sam asked, as Dean excused himself to catch the rest of the game.

"You know what, that would be great. How are you with a whisk?"

Sam hadn't laughed so much in a long, long time. Harry was witty, sarcastic and intelligent. He made sly jokes that took a minute to make their way into Sam's head and had a soft, compelling voice. The lilt of his accent was heavy, but in a way that suggested it had once been much heavier.

Sam could see why Dean liked Harry so much. It kind of sucked that Dean had met him first, because by brother rules that meant Sam couldn't really lay a claim. And Harry was exactly and absurdly his type. He was more Sam's type than Jess had been, and that was seriously saying something.

He liked everything about Harry, from his sparkling green eyes, to the lacy pink apron he was wearing, and somehow managing to pull off.

Harry made him smile. And Sam hadn't smiled in a long time.

Harry was a little nervous about having the boys around Dean. Understandably so, Harry thought. After all, it wasn't every day that kids got to meet their father. Not that they would know, or Dean would know. Nobody would know but Harry. And that was alright with him, it was the way he wanted it. Dean didn't have any claim on his boys, as far as Harry was concerned.

And, Merlin, he knew that was selfish and wrong. Dean did deserve to know he had children. But what was he supposed to say. "I'm some weird freak – I have all the guy parts and all the girl parts" and then what would he say. He should have made Dean use a condom all those years ago. It wasn't Dean's responsibility because Dean didn't know he could get Harry pregnant. Why would he know? He wouldn't. It was Harry's damn responsibility, and he should say something.

Dean had a right to know.

Sam was an amazing reprieve from Harry's swirling thoughts. The tall, handsome man was also a good listener, well educated, naturally intelligent and kind. He wasn't as witty as Harry tended to prefer them, but damn did he make up for it with those kind, gentle eyes. He was a gentle giant, and Harry desperately wished he could ask the guy out.

Oh well. As Harry slipped an apple pie into the oven, he heard two pairs of footsteps on the stairs. He smiled and stepped into the hallway, Sam following him curiously. Isaac and Felix were standing together at the top of the stairs, Isaac slightly behind Felix as was their way. Both were tiredly rubbing their eyes under their little boy glasses and yawning. Felix clutched a worn, blue and green quilt Molly had made for him when he was just a baby, while Isaac held his stuffed deer, Pronsie, tight to his chest.

"Hey kiddos. Have a good nap?" Harry asked, taking the steps up and gently lifting his boys, one in each arm, with well practiced ease. They were both very small for their age (four). Getting enough food in them was a daily struggle. Isaac especially had trouble keeping weight on, so much so, that when he was two, his Healer had prescribed a gtube, which allowed Harry to pump food directly into his little boy's belly. Even now, Harry could feel the slightest bump under his hand as he hefted Isaac a little higher on his hip.

He hated the reminder that his boy was sick.

"Boys, this is Sam."

"Hi Sam," Felix said with a sleepy smile, and Isaac waved. Dean slipped in behind Sam from the living room.

"And this is Dean."

Felix repeated his greeting, while Isaac offered a shy smile.

"Felix is the talkative one," Harry introduced, "Isaac's the shy one. Also, if you have trouble telling them apart, almost every one does, Felix's glasses are blue and Isaac's are green. And they won't switch on you. They have different prescriptions. Felix also has a chipped tooth."

"Nice to meet you boys," Dean grinned, "I spotted some awesome cars in there. Can I convince one of you to play with them with me?"

Harry's heart burst. He…he hadn't known Dean would be so good with kids. He hadn't. And he hadn't expected that wistful look in Dean's eyes, or the softness around his mouth. By Merlin, he hadn't expected Dean to be a good father.

"Can I, Mumma?" Felix asked, squirming down.

"Sure, bubba," Harry said, setting him down. Felix ran over to Dean and tugged on his hand, but both Dean and Sam were staring at Harry.

"Mumma?" Dean finally asked. Harry blushed lightly.

"It's cause we gots…"

"Shh, Felix. You know you're not supposed to talk about that, bub."

"Oh. Right. Sorry, Mumma."

"It's a long story for another night," Harry said to the older pair of brothers. Sam and Dean exchanged looks, but nodded congenially.

"Leave your fuffa on the stairs and you can go play."

Felix set his blanket on the stairs and pulled Dean into the middle room.

"He's a bit of a natural with kids," Sam said as Harry carried Isaac into the kitchen and settled him on his lap so he could finish the salad, "Well maybe natural's the wrong word. Dean practically raised me. But he's really good with kids. I've always been jealous of him, there."

"You're not good with kids?" Harry asked in surprised amusement.

"Not really," Sam mumbled, "Never know what to do."

Harry couldn't help it. He laughed. "They're not mysteries, Sam. They're just kids."

Sam blushed and shrugged.

"Dean doesn't seem the type," Harry said abruptly, "I mean…"

"The father type?" Sam asked. "I know. But he is. I mean, like I said, he basically raised me. My Dad was, uh, pretty absent when we were growing up. Dean shouldered a lot of the responsibility, specially with me. Dean doesn't talk about it much, but I know he wishes he was a father."

"Why isn't he? I mean, why didn't he settle down and have kids?" Harry asked, heart breaking, as he shifted Isaac in his lap. Isaac whined a little and snuggled into his arm. His boys could have had a Daddy. Fuck. What had he done?

Then Harry smacked himself internally. What was he have supposed to have done? Told Dean months before he himself knew that he was pregnant? The only thing he could have done was warn Dean that there was a possibility Harry could get pregnant, and how exactly did a guy go about doing that?

No, there was nothing he could have done. Still, Harry felt the twinge of regret. Over the last four years, his boys had frequently asked about their Daddy, especially once they understood that Harry really was their mother, that wasn't just what they called him.

And here Harry had been, raising two boys all alone, one of them with a serious, chronic illness ('course, it wasn't one he would easily be able to explain for Dean, but…) when he could have had help. Support. He hadn't needed to be alone.

"The way we live…well it doesn't exactly lend itself to settling down."

"The way you live?"

"We travel a lot. Rarely stay in one place more than a week."

"Oh."

Harry felt sad for the rest of the evening, even though it was a nice evening. A really, really nice evening. They laughed and joked over turkey. Dean moaned and groaned his way through Harry's pie, which made Harry blush and heat with pleasure and arousal. And then later, as Sam and Harry slipped dishes into the dishwasher quietly, Harry could see his boys asleep on Dean's chest on the living room couch. Dean was also fast asleep, one arm around each boy, and snoring gently.

With a start, Harry realized he wanted this. He wanted Sam teasing him gently as they cleaned and Dean asleep on his couch, with a boy in each arm. And that scared him, it really did.

*nutmeg and cinnamon, so warm and friendly and just a little bit spicy, and the blackberry and nuts, daringly sweet and topped with the harshest bits of life.