Summary: Withdrawn after an assault, pediatrician Dean is visited by handsome therapist Sam, a man with two shocking secrets.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 6: The Confession) by frostygossamer

When Dean awoke the next morning, he was wrapped up tight in Sam's long arms. He felt warm and safe. Before Alastair he never used to need to feel safe. His ass felt a little sore, but it was a comfortable sort of soreness. He smirked as he imagined Sam's little guys dog-paddling around in his insides.

And he tingled. He tingled from his toes up to his head and right out to his fingertips.

He had felt that tingle only once before, after the... assault. Back then it had turned his stomach to think that an ordeal so hellish could stimulate all his senses that way. It was so wrong, so depraved, so goddamn nasty.

This time it felt like a good tingle, and he couldn't help but smile.

Sam stirred and kissed him on the ear.

"Love that smile, babe," he murmured sleepily.

Dean grinned. "Sam, I'm NOT a pervert," he declared.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Where did that come from?" he asked.

"I thought..." Dean paused, unsure how to convey what he wanted to say.

For months he had been scared to think that maybe he was some kind of twisted masochist who got off on being... abused.

"Thought maybe I was some kinda sicko who only got a buzz from being... battered to shit," he explained sketchily.

Sam regarded him a moment. "And what?" he demanded, sitting up, suddenly energized. "You got a buzz on now?"

"Mmm," Dean agreed, grinning. "Buzzing like a bagful of hairy-ass bumblebees."

Sam grinned back. "Cas and his wrecked freakin' bi-cycle," he exclaimed cryptically.

He grabbed Dean and kissed him energetically on the mouth. Dean didn't know what the hell Sam was talking about, but he wasn't complaining.

"Hey, Sam," he said, sitting up. "Gonna hit the shower. Reckon I'm gonna be late if I don't haul ass."

Sam smirked at him. "You need to be in such a hurry to get back to the hospital? Don't wanna spend a little time refreshing your memory of what we did last night?"

"Sam," Dean scolded him. "I got patients."

The workaholic in him was rearing its head again.

Sam pouted. "Can't spare me a little time, babe?"

Dean leaned down and kissed him on the lips. "Well, um, maybe a little."

He WAS a little late for work that morning.

~0~

After Sam had dropped Dean off at the hospital, he sat in his car in the parking lot for a while. He replayed the conversation he had had with Castiel about the janitor's protege, the day he had first set eyes on that adorable guy.

Castiel had explained the unfortunate situation to Sam, and when he had impressed on Sam the awful violation that had been committed against the poor doctor, Castiel's attitude had turned from righteous anger to sorrowful benevolence.

"I also fear the poor child has wrecked his bi-cycle," he murmured sadly.

"His bicycle?" Sam queried, confused. "Oh, you mean his biorhythm, right? You think his rhythm is screwed?"

"Yes," Castiel confirmed. "He's been popping pills and chugging alcohol for so many years. I know that sort of behaviour will most surely bust one's bi-cycle."

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, well, that's not the most important thing, Cas. If I can help, I'll settle for whatever's left of him."

"Fine," Castiel said, with a relieved smile. "Just don't think you can ingratiate yourself with the Syndicate by 'popping a puppy', that's all."

Sam laughed. "Not what I'm in this for, Cas," he assured him. "Sure I wanna make the Syndicate happy. And maybe that's why I flew out here. But HE's what matters to me now, not the Syndicate."

Castiel nodded sagely. "That's the right attitude," he said approvingly. "The child deserves no less."

Sam could tell that Castiel cared one hell of a lot about Dean. He felt sorry for him. Castiel was a zero and his evident love for the handsome doctor was hopeless and forbidden.

It was particularly sad that Castiel was 'different' because the Syndicate he kowtowed to was very down on that sort of thing. Ironic, Sam thought, seeing as they were all pretty freaky anyways. They only tolerated Castiel because he made himself useful to them as a runner. Sam was more open-minded.

He knew Castiel had been right. Dean deserved way the hell more than life had thrown at him. He deserved a second chance, and Sam was determined he was going to give it to him.

~0~

They were sitting eating dinner in Il Ristorante Gino, a quiet little Italian family restaurant that had lately become one of Dean's favourite places to eat. He still liked to pretend that he preferred regular American food like cheeseburgers and fries, but he never refused an opportunity to visit Gino's.

Over a couple glasses of a very good Sicilian wine, Sam had turned the conversation to the subject of Dean's ex Lisa.

"So where did you two meet," he asked.

"At Med School. Stayed up nights cramming together," Dean remembered.

"Bet you did," Sam smirked.

"Hey, I was kinduva geek back then," Dean objected. "Pretty much a striver. Mom and Dad kinda drummed it into me."

Sam's face turned serious. "Guess things changed after the fire, huh?"

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "Was a freak accident. Mom got trapped by the flames. Dad, ex-marine that he was, had to be a hero, try and save her. They both bought it. Hit me hard. Coulda made it through losing one of them, but both? Came this close to dropping the hell out."

"But you didn't?"

Dean nodded. "Lisa talked me out of it. Said they woulda wanted me to qualify, continue their work, saving people. And then there was Ash."

"Ash?" Sam queried. "So who was Ash?"

"My roomie at college. That guy was into IT before it was cool. And he was mega-smart. But he was also into dope and worse. He got me some stuff. Saw me through the final year. And I qualified. My folks woulda been proud."

"They woulda," Sam agreed. "And that's how it started? The substance abuse?"

"Pretty much."

They ate in silence for a few minutes.

"And what about you?" Dean probed. "How'd you get into the self-help racket?"

Sam chuckled. "Originally? A broken heart. I was a moody-ass teenager, totally in love with this chick, name of Anna." He smiled wistfully.

"Guess that didn't work out, huh?"

Seemed kind of obvious, given Sam's current tastes.

"Could say that," Sam agreed. "I liked to think I was a bad-ass. Mixed with the wrong crowd. She laid it on the line. Told me I was no good, had no respect. Told me to get the hell out."

Dean was interested. "So what did you do?"

"Got the hell out," Sam replied. "Got into petty crime. Then prison. Then Colombia. Then prison again. Did things I'm ashamed of now. Debts I gotta repay. And I got respect, sure enough. The wrong kind."

Sam sighed. "But then I kinda 'saw the light', you could say. Met this old lifer who made me see where I'd gone wrong. How I'd lost my sense of values. So I started to try to help the young guys, the first timers. And when I got out, got into self-help, helping ex-cons like me readjust to regular life. It paid some dues."

Dean was sitting with his mouth open.

"You're an ex-con? Jeez, I thought you were just some bleeding-heart do-gooder," he exclaimed. "What did you do the time for?"

Sam shuffled in his chair uncomfortably and took a sip of his wine.

"Rather not talk about that right now, Dean," he prevaricated. "But, babe, I turned my back on my family for over a decade, so I do know how it feels to be alone in the world."

Dean shook his head. He would have to consider how he felt about this revelation. But somehow he couldn't square it up with the guy in front of him.

"Now that came outta left field," he remarked.

~0~

They finished the meal in silence and then walked home to the penthouse. As they walked slowly along the darkened streets Dean restarted the conversation.

"When were you going to tell me? About your life of crime?" he demanded.

"Waiting for the right moment, dude," Sam explained.

"So it wasn't because you figured I might not give it up if I knew?" Dean suggested mock-accusingly.

Sam sighed. "Was kinda scared you wouldn't take it too well, is all. You're kinda turned inward yourself, Dean. But I get that. Some secrets are best left unsaid."

They had reached Sam's apartment building by then. Sam nodded to the concierge as they stepped into the elevator. He punched 'penthouse' and turned to Dean.

"OK," he said. "No more dancing around. Let's come clean right now. You tell me your darkest secret and I'll tell you mine."

Dean stared at him for a moment, wondering if this was some self-help trick.

Finally, "Deal," he agreed.

"You first," Sam insisted.

"OK." Dean hesitated, glaring at the floor for a moment, as he steeled himself.

"I was... raped."

That stark word seemed to hang in the air like smoke from a gun.

"Alastair, that fucker, he didn't stop at beating the shit outta me. He goddamn raped me. I couldn't... I never told anyone."

Anger and defiance filled his eyes as he stared up at Sam, anxiously trying to gauge his reaction. Sam gave Dean a sweet, understanding smile and a tender hug. Sam had known. Cas had divined it. But Dean had needed to say it himself. Now he could heal. Sam was so proud of him.

"Now you," Dean pushed.

Just before the elevator doors opened, Sam took a deep breath.

"I was an enforcer for a drug lord. I killed people."

TBC

A/N: Well, I suppose you'd worked that one out, but Dean hadn't. More tomorrow.