Summary: Withdrawn after an assault, pediatrician Dean is visited by handsome therapist Sam, a man with two shocking secrets. AU Sam/Dean slash romance. Warning: implied Alastair/Dean noncon
Conjugal Glue (Part 5: The Caregiver) by frostygossamer
"Sam?" Dean gasped into his cell, the moment the call was connected.
"Hi, Dean," Sam responded immediately. "What is it? You OK?"
"Sam... Sam, just found out... That guy, A-Alastair, he's dead!"
There was a heartbeat of silence before Sam responded, "I know, Dean."
"And you didn't tell me?" Dean asked, bewildered.
"Didn't wanna stir up the bad memories."
"They, uh, say he was, uh, taken out. By a professional killer maybe."
"Yeah, heard that. Guess he pissed someone off real bad. The wrong someone."
"Yeah," Dean agreed, feeling a little spaced-out. "Guess so. And it's all good, huh? Guess I should be happy, right? He got his. Everything's peachy."
Sam sighed at his end of the line. "Look, Dean, gonna come get you. OK? I get that you don't know how to feel right now. Need time to absorb this. Just hang tough till I get there. Be there in five."
"Yeah," Dean let go a sigh, feeling relieved. "Good idea, Sam. See ya in five."
He collapsed into a chair and closed his eyes, feeling dazed.
~0~
Sam took Dean back home to the penthouse. Dean, inexplicably emotionally drained all of a sudden, passed out on the bed for an hour. Sam woke him later with a mug of black coffee and some cookies for his blood sugar.
"Thought I woulda felt good 'bout that douchebag getting himself offed," Dean complained, munching a cookie. "But I'm a little steamed."
"Yeah, well, it's a big thing to take in," Sam suggested, rubbing Dean's back. "Just let it sink in slow."
"Worst thing is," Dean continued grumpily, "if he was gonna get hit, shoulda been me. You were me you'd feel the same, right? That it shoulda been you, huh Sam?"
Sam nodded. "Shoulda been me. Yeah, Dean."
~0~
After the dark cloud of Alastair's continued existence had been effectively dispersed from Dean's life, he settled right back into his hospital routine. He wasn't just observing and tutoring now, he was back on the ward doing what he did best.
Staff and patients alike were glad to see him seemingly back to his old self. Even his supervisor, Meg, grudgingly admitted that he was back on form as the best pediatrician on her team.
Dean was still a guest at Sam's penthouse apartment. Sam had forbidden him to even think of returning to his former drab address. He insisted that Dean find somewhere else before he even thought of moving back out, but he wasn't about to encourage him to do that yet a while.
"When you're ready I'll help you find a new apartment," Sam insisted.
"Better be soon," Dean complained. "People are starting to act like we're an item, bud."
"That bother you?" Sam asked casually.
"Not as much as it probably should," Dean admitted.
"Then I guess you're not ready yet," Sam reasoned.
Sam stayed in touch with Dean throughout the day, especially important now that Dean was starting to crank up his hours again. And every night, at the end of Dean's shift, Sam would pick him up at the hospital and take him to dinner, or straight back home to prepare something haute cuisine.
It hadn't taken Sam long to check out the finest eateries in town. He seemed to have a knack for finding the best source of any food Dean could desire, and no matter where they went he always knew what was the best thing on the menu. He chatted up the waiters, explored the kitchens and had a story to tell about every ingredient in every dish. And his own cooking was of cordon bleu standard.
"You know one helluva lot about food, don't you?" Dean remarked, leaning on the kitchen sink as Sam threw together another delicious meal with next to no effort.
"Like to take an interest," Sam admitted. "Always reckoned the culinary art is up there with the fine arts. Learned my cooking from an old Quebequois chef in Montreal. Owed me a little debt. Let him off in exchange for lessons. Worked out good."
"Worked out REAL good," Dean had to agree. "You'll make someone a good wife," he joked.
Sam shot him a questioning look then laughed. "Cooking is great therapy. Gotta love that. Guess I get the love of food from my Mom. It's a Deltaic thing."
"Deltaic?" Dean queried. It wasn't a word he had heard before.
"We're all Deltaics, Dean," Sam explained. "Plus, minus and zero. I'm a plus. Makes me protective, makes me wanna provide. A minus is nurturing, like my Mom. No one on earth would ever starve if she had her way. And zeroes are the caring ones. You're a zero, Dean."
"Oh thanks," Dean complained.
"No, Dean, really, you're a damn fine zero," Sam chuckled. "And it's why you're a great doctor."
Again with the self-help philosophy. Freakin' applesauce!
"Not sure that I like the deal," Dean commented. "Was never into horoscopes either."
"Oh, it works out pretty good. Seriously," Sam insisted. "You'll see."
~0~
After another long day at the hospital, and a sumptuous dinner created by Sam for his delectation, Dean was in a rare warm and fuzzy mood.
Sam joined Dean who was standing on the balcony, enjoying the sight of the sun setting over the city. Tiny pinpricks of light on the streets below flickered like fireflies in the twilight.
Sam glanced across at Dean, once again marveling at how perfect he looked when he was happy. Sam silently moved behind Dean and placed one hand on the banister either side of him.
"So totally peaceful up here," Sam commented.
Dean hummed in agreement. "Sure is," he murmured.
Sam leaned in and planted a ghost of a kiss on the back of Dean's neck. Dean inhaled sharply but didn't pull away.
"Thought you were straight, Sam," he remarked quietly, without turning around. "That's what you told me."
"You just have to take my word on that," Sam chuckled. "Or... maybe I could show you."
Dean smiled gently. "Don't put yourself out on my account," he responded.
"You flirting with me, Dr. Winchester?" Sam heard himself saying.
"Dunno," Dean answered archly. "Am I?"
Sam grasped Dean's waist and spun him around to face him.
"I'd never do anything to hurt you," he swore earnestly. "You do know that, Dean?"
"Know it," Dean replied, with a hint of a chuckle. "Trust you, Sam. You're my therapist, right?"
"Licensed," Sam agreed, smiling, "and qualified to make you feel real good."
Dean's green eyes met Sam's searchingly for a moment. OK, so everyone thought they made a great couple, right? And, truthfully, Dean had never been so centred before Sam came along. This guy, this great guy, was plainly crazy in love with him. How hard would it be to just go with it?
Dean took a deep breath. "Any time now would be fine, Romeo," he whispered.
Sam grinned then leaned forward and kissed him. Dean hesitated a heartbeat before melting into the kiss. It was his first with a man and it was smooth as silk.
"So far so good," he thought, trying not to overthink.
~0~
Sam guided him to the bed, and they helped each other out of their clothes. Then Dean lay down on the bed and Sam crawled over him. He kissed Dean on the lips, the neck, the collarbone, the pecs, and began to move his hips against his. Dean complied at first, but a few seconds in he began to squirm in rising panic.
"No! NO! Sam, please no!" he gasped, struggling out from under the bigger man.
He sat on the side of the bed, breathing raggedly and quivering.
"Sorry. Sorry, Sam. Can't do it. No, just can't." he gasped, manfully choking back a sob.
Sam was agitated by Dean's distress. The last thing he had wanted to do was upset him.
"Dean? You OK?" he asked, stretching out a hand to rub Dean's arm comfortingly. "Did I hurt you? Was I too fast?"
"No," Dean replied, shaking his head. "Not you. Flashback, is all," he explained. "Too much. Way too much."
Dean's evident pain wounded Sam's heart.
"C'mere," Sam said, and wrapped his arms around the smaller man, pulling him in to his warm embrace.
"It's OK, Dean," he murmured. "We don't have to do anything."
Dean smiled feebly and then gave him a peevish prod in the chest.
"Said it's not you, doofus," he insisted. "Was totally up for it. You big lunk, you kinda crowded me and I freaked, is all," and he tried for a chuckle.
Sam rubbed Dean's back and chuckled too.
"Wanna try again?" he asked, after a couple minutes.
"You betcha," Dean answered. "Not letting this thing beat me, dude."
"OK," Sam said. "Let's go for something else."
He rearranged the pillows and sat back against the headboard, then guided Dean into his lap.
Dean smirked down at him. "Want me to ride you, Sam?" he asked.
"Ride me like the Lone Ranger, babe," Sam agreed, grinning sexily.
Dean bobbed down to capture his mouth in an ardent kiss.
"Get ready for a long ride, Tonto," he whispered.
"Mmm," Sam responded. "But let's just take it slow this time, pardner. Nice and slow."
He stared up at Dean with nothing but love in those hazel eyes. Dean felt his initial nerves melting away. This guy loved him. This guy would never hurt him. All Dean wanted to do was bathe in that love, and wash away the bad memories for good.
Dean spread his hands over Sam's ribcage. This was a big guy. Dean was no shrimp but Sam made him feel small and delicate, almost like HE was the girl. Almost.
"Don't worry," Sam breathed. "It's perfectly natural. We're gonna fit just right."
"I trust you, Sam," Dean responded, trying to not let uncertainty enter his voice. "Whatever you want, I'm fine with. Just show me what to do."
Sam smiled warmly. "OK then. Relax, babe. I'm gonna make you purr."
Sam's hands were firm but tender, his lips sweet and hot as chili pepper. He explored Dean in a way no one ever had. Dean closed his eyes tight and let those hands roam his body, touching places that should have remained untouched by far too many of the wrong people.
Sam's fingers wiped away the pain, his gentle lips soothing the hurt and making new again. The ache Dean carried inside began to fade and grow dull under Sam's soft soothing mouth. The wounds in his heart began to mend.
Dean allowed the gentle breakers of Sam's love to sweep over him, into him, through him. Cleansing. Replenishing. Filling him with a love he had never known. How could he have never known...?
And after they came together, Dean slipped into the deepest of sleep, nestled in the curve of Sam's body. It felt like that was where he belonged. He purred.
TBC
A/N: So they're finally on the same page. Or are they? More tomorrow.