Disclaimer: None of the Winchesters are mine but I love to think they are! *winks*
Beta: I have no beta for the time being, so pardon my mistakes please.

It Takes Two to Tango

Chapter 10

'Tap.'

A tap at the laptop's key snatched Dean away from his make believe slumber.

'Tap.'

Another one made him cringe.

"Hnnh…" a grave sigh was followed by the eerie creaking of the chair.

'Ttrrr…ttrrr…' the vibrating sound of the phone didn't get to Dean's nerve as much as the whispering that came after it did.

What should a kid do to get a descent sleep around here? But come to think of it, he was not sleeping like he was supposed to. The tapping sound of someone typing at the keys, the continuous sighing and creaking of the chair followed by the vibrating sounds of the cell were not the things keeping Dean awake.

The whispering did. Or to be exact, the fear in the voice did.

The voice was laced with worry and fear at the beginning but turned into disappointment at the end and Dean found out he couldn't get back to sleep anymore.

It was a kid brother's fear of losing his sibling that kept him awake.

Carefully easing Sammy's head from his arm onto the pillow, Dean turned himself around – towards his other Sammy who was spending his whole night at the dining table, researching and calling hunters around the state in search of answers and hopes – answers to ways on saving his big brother and hopes that he would not lose him.

Dean studied Sam's sadly. The gangly guy was slumping over the table, staring intently into the screen with his shoulders sagging and with his face stiff. The dark circles around his eyes were a contrast to his fatigue-stricken face – all lack of colors – and the light from the screen made him look even worse.

It had been five hours since they came back from the hospital without the older Dean and Sam hadn't taken his eyes off the screen since then. Hours ago Sam was not showing any sign of breaking down. Instead he looked terribly calm as he maneuvered them into getting a hot shower, into their pajamas afterwards and later into their beds.

But Dean could read his brother like a book. Sam might have grown into an adult but some things never changed. The way Sam dragged himself around the room, the way his shoulders had been sagging, and the way he sighed silently when everyone was not looking, or the way he tossed the books he had found in the town's library harshly around the room told Dean everything that Sam was keeping to himself.

His little brother was freaking out completely.

And Sam had good reasons to feel as such.

…oOo…

"No! No! No!" Sam chanted breathlessly as he shook Dean, hoping the gesture could bring his brother back to consciousness. "Dean! Come on man! Don't do this," Sam cried, almost pleading.

Little Dean checked for Sammy, making sure that his baby brother was all right but he couldn't keep his eyes off the older Sam. The way Sam was pleading to Dean made his stomach churn and his spine tingle. Taking Sammy into his arms, thanking the higher power that his brother was okay, Dean watched as Sam did everything in his might to revive his broken brother.

Sam hugged Dean tight, mumbling "Please Dean…Please." No matter how far they had drifted away from each other, Sam couldn't afford losing his big brother again. Not when things were starting to get better for the both of them.

"S-S-Sam…y-you talked t-t-too much."

"Dean?" Sam pulled Dean away from his embrace and was relieved to see his brother peering at him through tired slits. Despite the pain that was fast taking him in, Dean was trying his best to stay awake – using Sam's voice as his light at the end of the tunnel. But it would not be long before the recognition could turn into disorientation as Dean's strength was slowly ebbing away and he was succumbing back to unconsciousness.

"Dean, stay with me dude." He slapped Dean's face, not wanting his brother to lose consciousness fearing he would never come around anymore.

Although there was barely any strength left in him, Dean swatted Sam's hand away and that made him lose his breath, coughing and trembling violently in Sam's arms. Again, Sam pulled him into a tight embrace, as if preventing Dean from further injuries inflicted by the sudden movement.

"Ss-sammy…oo-kay?" Dean hissed, looking tiredly at Sammy then back at Sam. Every intake of breath he took was sharp and painful Sam could hear it catch in Dean's chest resulting in a worrying gurgling sound. Breathing must have been a labor for Dean, what more speaking yet he still worried about his brother's well being.

It made something in Sam stir - annoyance and jealousy. He was annoyed that Dean was being an idiot for thinking of anyone but himself despite his condition and he was jealous that Sammy was Dean's priority now Sam was down at the second place.

"Sammy's okay Dean." Sam was trying his best not to sound jealous, not to intimidate Dean. "He's okay." Sam put a hand on Dean's chest, easing the pressure in Dean's chest as another series of coughing rocked his brother's body terribly.

After the coughing fit was over, Dean shook his head – looking at Sam from the corner his eyes. He inhaled a deep heavy breath and let out a sigh. Little brothers are annoying as hell.

"No Sam…" Dean took another deep breath. Breathing was getting harder and his chest felt as if it was on fire. His heart was thumping so fast, he found it hard to keep up. "You…you okay?"

Sam was taken aback. All his jealousy went out the window. He was the idiot after all, assuming that Dean was worrying about Sammy, none other. "I'm…I'm okay Dean."

"Shit!" Dean groaned through clenched teeth, gripping his chest with desperation. Something in his ribcage felt as if it was going to explode. He couldn't feel his arms and legs. What he could feel was only the tingling sensation on the tip of his fingers and toes that was so damn irritating. His head felt like a boulder, heavy and stuffy. But his chest was the worst – the searing pain was slicing through his lung and his chest muscle ached so badly he felt like ripping it open with his bare hands.

"Dean?" Sam started to panic as all colors left Dean's face, turning his brother all blue. In a matter of a second, Dean started to convulse – slightly at first and was becoming more vicious the next second. His body began to jerk and his limbs trembled furiously. The trembling was so intense Dean was shaking Sam with him.

"Somebody help!" Sam shouted over his shoulder but his voice rasped with fear – anything hardly came out. As Dean once again succumbed into consciousness, fretfulness came over Sam like tsunami. All his self-control went into the drain. "Shit! No! No! Dean, stay with me!"

"Help!" Again he shouted with all his might, only to be disappointed as his voice was drowned with a hacking cough that suddenly erupted from his lung – burning his throat raw. Before Sam could attempt for another shout, young Dean was already at the door, hollering for assistance so loud he woke little Sammy from his slumber.

"We need a doctor here!" Dean yelled angrily. The kid's voice boomed like a thunder in the busy hallway, freezing the people walking by and directing their attention on him. All eyes were on Dean now but it didn't scare him a bit. What was inside the room was scaring him more - clenching his gut into a tight scrunch. He didn't give a damn what people thought of him. "Get me a friggin' doctor!"

Seconds later the room was crowded with MAs and they were all stupefied over what they were seeing right in front of them.

They had heard a lot about the ape-man and his courage in wrestling an alpha-male gorilla to save the youngest of family members but the sight they were seeing was another side of him that made their heart sank. Sam was holding Dean in his arms, rocking back and forth in some kind of rhythm and whispering words to his brother's ears that were inaudible to others.

While Dean on the other hand was a wreck – his front was smeared with blood and he was unmoving, as stiff as a log in his brother's embrace. For being the one who brought in Sam and Sammy after the gorilla mayhem, he looked worse than any of his injured family members a while ago. Dean was more dead than alive. In fact it was hard to tell whether he was still alive and whether the shaking on his body was really coming from him or from Sam.

'How could someone so healthy look so dead in just fractions of a second?' if they were not working at the hospitals, watching sick and dead people come and go every day, that question would have crossed the MAs' mind, bugging them.

Seeing the heart-wrenching scene caused them a delay in registering what was happening and what they needed to do. Only later when they realized that they didn't have much time to ponder on Dean's condition, the MAs immediately came to Sam and Dean's aid, working hard to pry Sam away from Dean. He was unconsciously clinging to Dean and not wanting to let go, as if letting Dean go would cause him to lose his brother forever.

"Please mister…you have to let go." An MA squeezed Sam's shoulder, talking to him gently so not to further aggravate his anxiety. "We'll take care of him…everything's going to be alright."

Sam said and did nothing. He was shaking - scared like a lost child. The harder the MAs tried to attend to Dean, the stronger he was holding onto Dean. Every time they tried to take his brother away Sam would snarl like a wounded lion, protective and fearful at the same time.

Sam was torn apart. A part of him wanted help for Dean but another part of him was being suspicious of the people around him – considering the culprit was probably one of the hospital staffs and with his condition that was the least he could do to protect Dean.

"It's okay Sammy…you can let go now." Sam was stunned to feel Dean's presence by his side, rubbing his back. He glanced down and stammered finding his big brother still unconscious in his arms. But he was sure it was Dean speaking to him, dragging him back into real time.

"It'll all be okay…"

Sam felt someone moving closer to him, sitting right next to him. But the hand never left his back, stroking him gently in what felt like home.

Sam was taken aback when a face appeared right before him, looking him in the eye. The familiar emerald orbs staring at him were filled with so much concern and love, a sight he was accustomed to since forever.

"Sammy?"

"Dean?"

…

Dean – young Dean – was as perplexed as the MA seeing Sam breaking down, something he didn't expect to see or to witness in his entire life. The way Sam was clinging to the older Dean made the kid's tummy clench in a tight knot.

Dad had made him in charge of protecting Sammy since the night of the fire, to keep him safe, to guard him from all dangers known and unknown to men. Since then he'd tried everything in his might to fulfill that job, to carry out the responsibilities, and he thought he'd done great so far - at least for three years. But today, seeing the broken Sam, Dean wasn't sure he really did a good job.

What happened during the last 23 years? The same question from the night before rang in his head.

Again, Sam looked like a young boy mourning for his lost treasure - trying to look strong yet he really appeared so fragile. Dean watched as the MAs failed to pry Dean away from Sam and how Sam dismissed their effort by holding on stronger to his big brother.

No! They didn't know how to deal with him.

Tugging the hand of the nurse closest to him and Sammy, who'd been standing in front of them, shielding them from looking at the heartbreaking scene – as if trying to protect the kids, Dean asked "Can you please hold my brother for me?" and held up Sammy for her to take.

The nurse took Sammy into her arms without a word. She seemed to be dazed by the commotion that she didn't even remember seeing the seven year old walking towards the two brothers huddling each other on the floor until the boy was already standing behind the mourning man.

"It's okay Sammy…" Dean put a hand on Sam's back, stroking him gently. "You can let go now." He whispered as he walked around Sam and sat next to him – his hand still firm on Sam's back.

"It'll all be okay." Young Dean said softly, almost forlornly. He couldn't even be sure that everything would be okay, that he was promising the correct thing to Sam. Dean might be seven years old, but he knew sometimes white lies were necessary to keep things in place – that human would find hope in white lies rather than the truth.

Dean looked at Sam sadly, sensing the loneliness emitting from him. His gigantic little brother looked as if he had lost everything that meant the world to him and it seemed like it was not the first time.

Dean stooped in front of Sam, looking at him face to face.

When Sam looked back at him with a face so dark he seemed to look deader than his older self Dean held back the urge to punch and to yell at someone. Rage building within Dean as Sam gazed at him emptily with his bloodshot eyes that shimmered with unshed tears. He looked exhausted, all drained up – dead.

Dean braced himself and called out "Sammy?" – reaching.

"Dean?"

Despite the rage, Dean felt a rush of relief washing over him when life returned to Sam's eyes.

…oOo…

While the three of them were back at the inn, the older Dean was recovering at the hospital. The attack had somehow damaged his heart, infecting it with a virus that couldn't be treated with any medication known to men.

A couple of months at least and a year the most was probably how much time the big Dean got left and that was what the doctor had told them. He had also assured them that the hospital would do their best to keep Dean comfortable and at ease – that was the least they could do to help.

Sam told the angelic face doc to fuck off.

That was the first time Sam had said anything after the older Dean was taken to the emergency room. Sam had waited patiently outside the room, offering assuring smiles every now and then to the two kids sitting each by his sides though the look in his eyes told differently. But Sam never said a word and most of the times, although he was looking at the door of the emergency room, he seemed to be seeing other places, lost in his world.

When the doctor came out to bring the news the seven year old was sure Sam would have pounded on him like a wolf attacking its prey, ferocious and impatient. And when the doc delivered the news on Dean's condition, rage flared in Sam's eyes he was almost ready to eat the man alive.

After the oldest Winchester was transferred to the recuperating room, the three of them had appointed themselves as his bedside companions. Only after a couple of hours slumbering from the morphine he'd been given to ease the pain, the man aroused from his sickbed – pulling the IV line and wires sticking to him, fighting to get out of bed and out of the hospital.

Being weakened from the pain, Dean gave in to Sam's strong hands pinning him down to keep him on the bed. Still, they couldn't stop him from demanding an update on his condition and young Dean was astonished and thought things couldn't be worse when Sam didn't even hesitate telling the older Dean the truth.

The kid thought wrong.

The look on the older Dean's face showed no fear as he digested the truth, like it didn't hurt a bit. His face remained stoic and composed before he flashed Sam a big grin and said "Nothing new huh?"

Whatever the kid was seeing was not how normal people would react.

'What the hell happened to us?' A voice in young Dean screamed out loud.

That was then, this was now.

Now Sam had Dean's sickness to worry about while at the same time he had to find a way to annihilate the wraith which might be the only chance to his brother's survival. To add more to the heaps of trouble was the fact that he had to handle two kids while he himself was not in a healthy condition.

Dean recalled a couple of times Sam had dozed off while driving back to the inn and had to be shaken from sleep. His strength was slowly ebbing away and his coughing had returned, worse than before.

Those were real though jobs to be handled by one man with two kids.

Dean didn't know what to do or how to help Sam though he was dying to be of some help. Since the last hours he had been a loyal observer, helping quietly by trying to make Sammy behave as much as possible so not to give more trouble to Sam.

Sammy.

The baby was another story. He was not looking so good himself after their visit to the hospital. His older self had mentioned something about Sammy to Sam but it was kept a secret from him. Dean didn't like it but he was not going to push now.

For the last 5 hours, Dean had only observed.

But after those long hours of doing nothing, Dean was getting annoyed. Annoyed at how Sam was denying his rest despite the series of coughing he was having and the fact the he was leaning more towards the table each hours passed. Sam was slowly losing his strength but he was not stopping his mission at all cost.

But after 5 hours, when Sam's coughing sounded as if it was hacking his lung into pieces, Dean decided to not be an observer anymore.

…..

Sam sighed angrily as he tossed his cell phone to the table, uncaring whether he'd damage it by doing so. That was another fruitless call. The five hours he spent looking for ways to save Dean had been pointless, so far he got nothing.

Time was moving fast. Dean's heart was deteriorating with unbelievable speed and the only thing Sam could think on how to save his brother was to kill the wraith – which was yet to be found. Judging from how Dean had surprised it at the hospital Sam doubted the wraith will stay in town, waiting to be killed. After all, they weren't even sure that it was a wraith.

Propping his elbows on the table and sinking his face into his palms, Sam sighed tiredly. This was all too familiar. Dean was sick and dying in the hospital and Sam was using whatever resource he had to find a way to save his big brother while Dad was nowhere to be found. Only this time they had no miracle healer to chase after but a wraith instead and Sam was not alone in the motel room while Dad – dad was dead.

Sam rubbed the sides of his head, more to exercise his brain, forcing it to think harder, than to alleviate the pounding headache he'd been having since the last 7 hours.

"Your brain will explode if you keep thinking like that."

The voice made Sam jump, almost falling off the chair "Holy crap!"

He was not alone but he didn't expect any of the kids would be up this late. Sam was sure he had tucked them to sleep hours ago, even before he had started researching. So when Dean appeared from nowhere, holding a glass of water and the sandwich Sam had forgotten to eat, Sam couldn't help but be alarmed.

"Dean?"

"No, I'm Batman." Dean shot Sam a crooked grin as he placed the glass and sandwich right in front of Sam. "Eat," was bluntly said as Dean seated himself next to Sam, peeking to the screen and cringing at the picture of a bypass surgery.

Sam craned his neck and looked over Dean's head, half expecting to see Sammy tottering towards them, only to be relieved seeing the little guy still sleeping soundly on the bed – sucking his thumb. Sam frowned. That thumb sucking habit had had Dean making fun of him forever.

"You know what?" Sam wasn't aware that Dean followed his gaze. "I never really understand why you sucked your thumb when you were sleeping…I guess you got all your nutrients and grown up so big from sucking it," the kid snorted, entertained by his own analogy.

Sam rolled his eyes. 'Talk about the devil…'

"Are you still on it?"

"Yeah." Sam thought Dean is asking about the research.

"You're still sucking your thumb when you're sleeping?" Boy, Sam was wrong.

"What the -? No!" He retorted alarmingly. Sam was so defensive he almost shot up to his feet, showing authority. After all he was the tallest among them now.

"Relax dude," Dean scoffed. The calmness in Dean's voice eased Sam's anxiety and he slowly sagged down to the chair, relaxing. Just as he thought Dean had had enough of his sarcastic remark, Dean said "It's just the two of us here…I'm not going to tell."

"I don't suck thumbs." Sam was determined.

"Yeah?" Dean raised his brows, skeptical. "Well…you might want to start again. Seeing how you're pouting right now, I seriously think you looked better when you were sucking your thumb."

"I'm not pouting."

Sam had his arms crossed across his chest now, his lips puckered.

"And now you're sulking like a girl."

"I did not!"

"Samantha wants an ice cream?" Dean taunted, leering mischievously at Sam, wiggling his brows as he did so. "Strawberry perhaps?"

"Dude! You're a jerk!" Sam gave in. He had totally forgotten he was talking to a seven year old Dean, not the one he was used to over the last three decades. 'Seven year old Dean, thirty year old Dean… what's the difference? They are still Dean'.

"And you little brother…needs a rest." Dean's tone changed from being cynical to soothing.

"Whatever you're doing…you can continue it tomorrow." The green eyes looked pleadingly at Sam, as if lulling him to sleep. Sam swore Dean's eyes have some sort of enchantment that could comfort him anytime he was stressed out ever since they were little.

For the first time after those long stressful hours, Sam thought a rest would be a good idea. But then his cell vibrated and his hand moved reflexively to grab the phone. A glance at the caller's ID, Sam's face brightened.

"Bobby?" Sam almost shouted out loud.

"You wanna' blow my brain out with that shrieking?" despite the mocking, Sam could sense urgency in Bobby's voice.

"Bobby? Where the hell were you? I called you like…hundreds, no, thousands of times." Sam wasn't really good at being patient. Not when his brother's life was on the line. Bobby was the first person he tried contacting and was the only person he had tried calling more than once but was only able to reach his voice box. So having Bobby on the line had Sam's hope return tenfold. Whether Bobby knew what to do or not, Sam would still be happy to talk to Bobby – the closest man they had as a father.

"What did you get yourself into now, ya idjits?" and nobody knew them better than Bobby.

"Uncle Bobby?" Dean's brows connected.

"Who's there with you Sam?" Now Sam could hear Bobby freak out.

"Long story and it's not what you think." Sam cut it short. He couldn't explain everything now. Everything had to wait. "Bobby, can you be here as soon as you can?"

"Where are you?"

Whatever Sam was telling Bobby afterwards Dean had lost it in his own thoughts. That was Uncle Bobby on the line, not Dad like he would have expected. Where's Dad? Why didn't Sam call Dad?

Wait…Dean gasped, failing to catch his breath. It was all coming to his senses now.

Looking around he realized that they were still living in an inn, not a permanent residence. And Sam, the grown up Sam didn't look as quite as Dean had hoped for him to be. The way he researched – full of vigor – and the way he yelled into the phone – laced with frustration, fear and anger at the same time, reminded Dean of dad during his worst nights after hunts went south.

'No! No! No!' Dean wanted to cry, he wanted to scream.

Turning around, studying the little Sammy sleeping on the bed, and looking back at Sam, still talking to Bobby on the phone, Dean felt his tears start to well up. When he learnt what dad did going away for days, he'd promised himself that he'd do whatever he can to protect Sammy's innocence, to let him grow up like normal kids do.

Dean knew what his father hunt and it was not a safe world out there. There were always things – monsters likely – lurking around in the dark, waiting to pound on their prey. But he would try protecting Sam from knowing that facts so that his baby brother wouldn't have Dad's life Dean knew he himself had to carry on someday.

Dean didn't want whatever life that was taken away from him was ripped away from Sammy too.

However, looking at Sam now, he'd come to think that he hadn't really done a good job protecting Sammy's innocence. His brother had grown up to be what Dean was trying to avoid him to be – a hunter.

Sammy is a hunter.

They are hunters.

Those were news to him.

And Dad's not here.

The last was not.

Dean looked up as Sam flipped his cell and tossed it back to the table, his brother's face looked brighter than the cloudy expression he was having moments ago.

"Sam? Are we hunters?" Dean asked, half of him hoping Sam's answer would be no but another half of him already knew the answer.

Sam didn't reply immediately but looked at him with a sad smile.

Running his fingers through his hair, Sam said "I wouldn't say we're hunters…we're more like Batman and Robin, the saviors of the day."

Dean didn't say anything to that but turned to look at little Sammy instead. Sam's heart broke. "I'm sorry…" Dean whispered and Sam braced himself hard so he would not start cursing to the sky, like he always did when he was alone and mad at Dad.

"Dean," Sam called worriedly, one hand reaching out to Dean, wanting so bad to squeeze his shoulder and tell him 'it's okay, it's not your fault'.

But Dean turned back to look at him and there was a sly smile on his face, almost devilish. "I'm sorry that you are Robin."

"You really are a jerk!" Sam rolled his eyes as Dean started laughing.

But Sam knew the better of Dean. Even when he was still young, nobody could enlighten a sour mood better than Dean did. He could make a joke out of the most depressing situation and Sam was grateful for that.

"Sam…where's…" Dean couldn't finish when soft but desperate knockings rapped on their door.

Instantly, Sam and Dean shot up to their feet. They exchanged suspicious glances and immediately got into their positions – Dean ready with his shotgun, standing beside Sammy's bed and Sammy with his .45 went to the door. Checking the salt line underneath the door, Sam grabbed the knob and looked over at Dean. Knowing better what he'd see Sam still hoped to see the kid trembling like any normal seven year old would and Sam sighed silently when he found Dean bringing the shotgun to his shoulder instead, ready to blow any bastard's head off.

The kid nodded his head at Sam, ready to pull the trigger – if he needed to.

There was no hesitancy in Dean though it might be the first time he had to kill, and that sent a knife slicing through Sam's heart. He blamed that on Dad.

Sam nodded back and focused on opening the door, confronting whatever was knocking on their door. He turned the knob and instead of knocking the light out of the uninvited guest, Sam jerked back and cringed.

"Dean?"

Sam and Dean stood with their mouth hanging open. The weapons fell to their side and the look of shock on their faces was unmistakable. They never had expected for that person to show up in this time of the night – well, that was what young Dean thought. Sam on the other hand had known this would have happened sooner and later.

Dean Winchester never does hospitals.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, the headache he was having had increased tenfold. This was all too familiar. Like a déjà vu.

Dean – the older Dean – was leaning against the doorframe with a crooked grin on his sick-stricken face. "What's taking you so long?" He complained as he pushed through Sam to get into the room. "It's not Halloween…not like you have to prepare the candy or anything," Dean growled as he sagged down to the nearby couch.

He was just closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath when he felt the giant hands of his brother tugging him under his arms and hauling him up to his feet. Before he could even complain, Dean was already lying on the bed and it felt too good he had forgotten the complaining part.

Dean sighed contentedly and hoped nobody would hear him.

"You know monsters don't appear only on Halloween Dean." Sam quickly grabbed a blanket and spread it over Dean, carefully tucking the sides so that no heat would escape.

"Personal space dude!" Dean tried pushing Sam away but to no avail. Sam was a lot stronger than he was right now. The fatigue was taking a toll on him, making him sleepy. "Are you tucking me in?" The slurring in his voice was giving him in despite the toughness he tried to show.

Sam didn't respond. Instead he sat down on the bed opposite to Dean – the one the youngest was sprawled on - elbows resting on his knees, and huffed out a defeated sigh. Little Dean joined him a moment later, dropping next to Sam, staring at his older self with disbelief.

"How do you get here Dean?" It must be 10 miles or so from the hospital to the inn and Dean would have dropped dead halfway through his journey if he actually walked the miles.

Dean opened his eyes in slivers. "Sammy boy, I thought I taught you well." He sighed with make believe frustration. When Sam appeared to be clueless, Dean couldn't help but groaned with annoyance. "How many times do I have to tell you this? Chicks dig in sick men."

Sam raised his arms in disbelief, look of disgust on his face. "You're sick!"

"Now you get it." Dean's eyes were dropping heavily and he was slowly losing control of his body.

Smiling slightly, Sam covered the space between the two beds in just one step and readjusted Dean's blanket. "I called Bobby…he'd be here in the morning."

"Yeah…Bobby." Dean slurred as sleep was fast overtaking him. "Yeah…okay."

"Good night Dean."

"Night gorilla's bi-…"

Dean hadn't even finished it as he fell into a deep slumber.

TBC

a/n: The update took longer than I hoped it would be. Hopefully the next ones are not going to take this long. Thank you for the awesome reviews and thanks a lot for more for sticking with me and the story. I promise I will get back to the reviews ASAP. And for those of you who went to the trouble of rereading the story, thank you so much and I'm sorry I caused you the trouble. Thank you too for the alerts and the subscriptions, those really made my day! In my stories (the long ones and the one shots), I seldom put in Bobby, fearing that I wouldn't get his character right. But I'm taking my chances here, because I think he could use a little teasing here and there with the young ones around. One more thing before I go, I'm thinking of making AU series on It Takes Two to Tango – you know, assuming the kids lived with the boys and all four of them (maybe a little bit of Bobby too) are having fun (ahem!) times together – so, I would like to know how you think about the idea. Thanks again, love ya!