Summary: Withdrawn after an assault, pediatrician Dean is visited by handsome therapist Sam, a man with two shocking secrets.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 7: The Homecoming) by frostygossamer
Dean followed Sam out of the elevator into the apartment in a state of confusion. Had Sam really said what he had just said? He had been an enforcer, a killer? Sam Singer? That soft-hearted, cuddly teddy bear of a guy who had shown him so much kindness and downright love?
"Nah. Not possible," Dean declared, flopping on the couch.
Sam poured them both a stiff drink and handed Dean a glass. Then he knocked his back in one.
"Totally possible," Sam confirmed. "Gotten myself an FBI file yay thick to prove it."
"OK? Then how come you're not on Death Row right now?" Dean demanded.
"Because I did my time for tax evasion not murder," Sam explained. "Seems I was a whole lot better at disposing of bodies than book-keeping."
Dean gaped at him, his own problem taking a back seat for the moment.
"Should I be quaking in my boots, Sam?" he wanted to know. "You some dangerous fugitive?"
"Hell no," Sam assured him. "Dude, I shot a few rival gang members over mob issues, for pay. I'm not some crazy psycho killer. You're in no danger from me. I honestly turned over a new leaf, put the past behind me, severed all ties with crime for good. I'm a reformed guy. You have my word, babe."
Dean sighed and took a swig of his whiskey. "This is freakin' hard to get my head around, man," he complained.
Sam sat down on the couch beside him.
"Can't expect you to be cool with this right away," he told Dean. "But I'd be crushed if you could never see your way past it, babe. You mean the world to me."
"One helluva bombshell to drop, man," Dean commented.
"Time I was honest with you, Dean," Sam admitted. "There should be no more secrets between us. It's the only way forward."
Dean nodded. "Yeah. Guess so," he agreed.
He put down his glass and stood up. Questions could wait till tomorrow.
"Gonna hit the hay. See how I feel about all this in the morning."
"I'll sleep on the couch," Sam suggested.
"Dude, you sleep on that couch and I NEVER forgive you," Dean retorted.
Getting over a shock like this about Sam was more than Dean could manage alone. And putting a name to what had been done to him had left Dean feeling a little fragile. He didn't want to feel fragile. He wanted to feel loved.
And whatever the guy had been in the past, Dean was damn sure that Sam loved him. He reckoned perhaps that ought to be enough.
~0~
Over breakfast the next morning, Dean had a few questions, as he toyed with his Eggs Florentine.
"So you were a bad-ass gangster, and now you're a healer. Some transformation, huh? Got religion?"
"Not exactly," Sam answered. "I'm just doing what I can to repay my debts. Get back on the credit side of the account. I figured saving a few delinquent kids, helping other ex-cons like me, would be a good way to start."
"And has your lady love been impressed by the make-over?" Dean asked leadingly.
"Anna? This is so not about Anna. Haven't seen her since she dumped me," Sam told him. "Haven't even seen my own folks in years. But I'm kinda hopeful that someday soon they'll be able to take me back. I was a dumb-ass to walk out on them."
Dean nodded sadly. "Wish I could get with my folks again. Miss them a whole lot."
Sam patted his hand sympathetically.
"Yeah, Dean, know I'm lucky that my guys are still around. But can't just turn up on their doorstep and say 'Hi, I'm home'. Gotta prove myself first. Gotta earn their forgiveness."
"And how you gonna do that?" Dean asked.
Sam leaned over the table and pecked him on the forehead.
"Working on it," he replied, meaningfully.
Dean shook his head and went back to stuffing down his eggs.
"You know I oughta be cussing you out over this, Sam Singer," he said, between mouthfuls. "But I'm gonna have to trust you. Gotta trust you really mean it about finding salvation, or whatever. Cos if you're BS-ing me, may as well walk away right now. And there's no way I'm goin' anyplace. You're all that's keeping me together, Sam."
"Babe, I swear, if I hadn't cleaned up my act already, I would for you," Sam promised. "Not gonna let you down."
Dean just prayed he meant it.
~0~
One evening a few weeks later, Sam greeted Dean in the hospital parking lot, with a look of childlike excitement on his face.
"Been talking to Cas," he told Dean, as the doctor got into Sam's car for the drive home.
"Yeah?" Dean asked. "Funny but I haven't seen him in a few days."
"Took some personal time," Sam explained. "Cas told me he's been working on tracing your family tree."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "He's been what?" Dean demanded. "Did I ask him to do that? Hell no. Where does he get off with that?"
"Hey, don't bitch about it," Sam retorted. "He's great with that sorta thing. He may turn up something interesting."
"Not sure I want him to turn up something interesting," Dean muttered darkly.
"And," Sam went on, ignoring the huff, "he's been talking with my Pop. Pop knows a thing or two about bloodlines and such crap."
"Really?" Dean remarked grumpily.
"The point is, Pop says he's open to me coming home for a visit. He'd like to meet with you too."
Sam's joy was written all over his face.
Dean frowned doubtfully. "Not sure I'm ready to meet the parents, Sam. Could be a mistake."
Sam grinned. "Sure you are. It'll do you good. Just wait till you've tasted Mom's Pecan Peach Pie, then tell me it's a mistake."
~0~
That weekend saw them driving to South Dakota to meet the Singers. Dean wasn't exactly in a good mood, feeling pushed into something he wasn't really ready for. It wasn't so long ago that he had decided to give this relationship with Sam a try, and he didn't yet feel sure enough about it to be held up for the approval of Sam's family.
Sam had been altogether too enthusiastic about this whole thing. So, OK, Sam was keen to come running the moment his folks started waving a white flag, but did he have to drag Dean along with him?
Dean was asleep in the shotgun seat of Sam's car, when he finally pulled up outside the rambling Singer mansion. Dean opened his drowsy eyes and blinked.
"Who the hell are these people? The Munsters?" he murmured, as he crawled out of the car and stretched.
A twinkly-eyed, middle-aged guy, sporting a tawny beard, stood on the front stoop smiling warmly. He held out his arms as Sam approached him.
"Welcome home, son," he greeted Sam, the faintest hint of a sob in his voice. "Been such a long time, boy."
Sam threw his arms around the older guy and hugged him tightly for several long minutes. Finally he released him so he could breathe.
"Pop, it's been way too long," Sam gasped, tearing up. "I was kinda scared it was maybe... too late."
"Never too late," his Pop assured him tearfully. "Just glad ya finally made it, ya idjit."
Sam and his Pop laughed together happily, before Sam tore himself away to introduce his companion. Dean had been standing there watching this emotional reunion with an empty, disassociated feeling inside.
"Pop. This is Dean," Sam introduced him. "Dr. Dean Winchester, my personal project."
Dean was glad Sam hadn't used the word 'partner'. He was so not ready for that yet. Even 'boyfriend' would have seemed too strong. He wondered vaguely if Sam's folks even knew their son was gay.
"Hi, Dean sonny," Sam's Pop greeted him, with a grin. "Very pleased to meet ya. Just you call me Bobby. OK?"
"Hi, Bobby," Dean responded politely.
Dean extended his hand but, instead of shaking it, Bobby grabbed it with both hands and began rubbing it vigorously.
"Sonny, you got one cold mitt there," he exclaimed. "My idjit son forget to put the heat on in the car, huh?" and he pulled Dean into the house.
~0~
"Your Mom's where you'd expect, in the kitchen, Sam," Bobby called to Sam over his shoulder, then to Dean, "Gonna take you on into the library, Dean sonny, let the boy have a moment alone with his Mom."
Sam disappeared into the back of the house, while Bobby seated Dean in a big leather armchair in his library.
"What you're needin' is a taste of my best single malt. Soon warm you up," he declared.
Dean accepted a glass from his outstretched hand and took a sip. It hit the spot. Dean sighed and sank back into his chair.
"Now that's what I call whiskey," he pronounced appreciatively.
Bobby chuckled and sat himself down facing him.
"Sam's Mom's been in that dang kitchen all morning," he said. "Karen's been nervous as hell about seeing her boy again. There were times, ya know, when we reckoned he'd given up on his folks for good. Broke her heart."
Dean nodded. "Family is important," he agreed sagely. "Family oughta stick together. I only wish..."
Bobby leaned forward and patted his knee gently.
"I know, sonny. Cas told me 'bout your Mom and Dad, Dean. But you're not alone now, remember that."
~0~
Sam paused a moment in the kitchen doorway to watch his Mom busying about her cooking. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed this beautiful domestic scene.
"Mom," he whispered.
His Mom shrieked and dropped a hot dish onto the table.
"Oh Sam," she gasped. "You're here already. Oh sweetheart."
She ran over to Sam, who enveloped the slim woman in his arms.
"Mom, I have missed you so much," he murmured in her ear.
"Same here, Sammy," she replied.
They hugged in silence for a few minutes before letting each other go. His Mom dusted off the flour that she had transferred to Sam's clothes.
"Sam, you have gotten so BIG," she gasped through her tears. "Your Dad will be impressed to see you looking so... grown-up."
"Will he?" Sam asked doubtfully.
"Uh-huh," she insisted. "He's not some ogre, Sam. Not anymore."
~0~
When Sam joined Bobby and Dean in the library, Bobby was telling Dean some embarrassing story about Sam's childhood. Sam thought it was a good moment to cut in.
"Mom has been baking up a storm out there," he chuckled. "Dean, you're gonna be blown away when you taste her pie, fresh from the oven."
"Hell, yeah," Bobby agreed. "Karen has won prizes for her pies, sonny. You gonna believe you died and gone to heaven."
Sam grinned in agreement. "Sure will. OK, Pop, I'm gonna take Dean and get him settled in his room."
Bobby nodded. "Right next door to your old room, son."
"You kept my old room?" Sam asked, a little choked.
"Sure we did, Sam," Bobby affirmed. "Always hoped you'd be back some day, son. Never gave up."
Dean noticed Sam biting his lip as he guided him upstairs to find his room.
"It's a big thing, right?" he commented. "It's one goddamn big thing, coming home."
Sam nodded. "Goddamn awesome," he breathed.
TBC
A/N: Clues are there. Answers on a postcard. More tomorrow.