Summary: Withdrawn after an assault, pediatrician Dean is visited by handsome therapist Sam, a man with two shocking secrets.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

A/N: About halfway now, but there's still a lot more to this story. Stay tuned.

Conjugal Glue (Part 8: The Billionaire) by frostygossamer

Dinner with the Singers was a thing to behold. Dean couldn't remember enjoying a family meal quite so much since he was a kid, when his Dad had burned steaks and sausages on the barbecue for his Mom and the neighbours, long, long ago.

Bobby and Karen Singer were such a fun couple they made Dean feel right at home, as they exchanged family stories and anecdotes across the dinner table. As Sam had promised, Karen's Pecan Peach Pie had been the piece de resistance. Dean really did think he was in heaven.

After dinner Dean, as a dutiful guest, offered to help Karen with washing the dishes, while Sam and his Pop talked old times in the library.

Dean noticed that Karen had prepared and put aside an extra tray of food.

"Expecting to be hungry later?" he asked, unable to believe anyone wouldn't be totally stuffed after the great meal.

"That's for Fergus," Karen replied. "He'll be getting here very late and he won't have had a chance to grab dinner, poor dear. He usually spends weeknights in town, only he wanted very much to meet you, Dean."

"Fergus?" Dean queried. "Sam has a brother?"

"Oh no, sweetie," Karen chuckled sweetly. "Fergus is Sam's Dad."

"Ah," Dean responded.

He had obviously been a little dumb. If this Fergus was Sam's father then who was Bobby? Maybe Sam's step-dad?

~0~

When the dishes were done, Dean decided to slip off to bed before anyone else, so the family reunion could continue in peace. As he passed the library door he overheard Sam and his Pop in conversation.

"Glad to see you finally straightened yourself out and found yourself one of your own, boy," Bobby chuckled. "He's so damn ready."

Sam laughed. "Jeez, Pop, don't let him hear you call him that," he objected. "He wouldn't think it was... appropriate."

"Damn true though. Been right there," Bobby quipped in response. "You know your old Pop was a stone fox in his day."

"So I've heard," Sam replied, amused. "Mostly from you, Pop."

Dean shook that thought out of his head and continued upstairs.

~0~

Dean had had an interesting day. He was slightly squiffy and ready for sleep. He had a quick shower in his en suite bathroom and got into his night things.

Just as he was about to turn out the light, he heard a car draw up in front of the mansion. He jumped out of bed and peered out the window. There was a black '26 Bentley parked next to Sam's car. As he watched, a short, dark-haired and besuited guy got out and walked in the house.

"Fergus?," Dean wondered.

Somehow this guy didn't look like he had ever belonged with the down-home Karen.

"Well, I guess that's how come Karen's with Bobby now," Dean speculated.

He went back to bed, switched off the light and fell right asleep.

About an hour later, his bedroom door opened softly and Sam sneaked in. He quickly slipped out of his clothes and slid into bed with Dean, wrapping his body around Dean's sleeping form. Dean, who had only been sleeping lightly, woke up and turned around in Sam's arms to face him.

"Guess 'Fergus' got here OK," he remarked.

Sam hesitated a second before replying.

"Uh-huh," he said. "He had some business to finish up at the office. We, uh, needed to do a little catching up. He'll wanna meet with you in the morning."

"And this guy is?" Dean asked, still confused about who's who.

"My Dad," Sam answered automatically, like that should have been obvious.

"Uh, so Bobby's not your real Dad?" Dean asked. "He your step-dad or something?"

Sam chuckled. "Bobby's my Pop, Dean. My REAL Pop. He's 'step' nothing. He wouldn't like to hear that from another zero."

Dean was confused. He pulled away from Sam and sat up.

"OK. So am I being particularly dumb, or does that not make sense?" he said.

"We're Deltaics, Dean," Sam replied. "I explained that to you. Didn't I?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Clearly not in a way that enlightened me any," he complained.

"Ah," Sam responded. "Don't get it? Jeez, guess I'd better explain it better, huh?"

But Dean wasn't in the mood for a long lecture on some self-help theory or whatever, so he stopped Sam there.

"This Deltaic thing some kinda weird-ass cult?" he demanded.

"No, Dean," Sam laughed. "Not a cult..."

"Then I don't need to hear it right now," Dean cut in. "Need me some beauty sleep. OK?"

"OK, babe," Sam agreed, pulling Dean back into his arms. "We'll talk about this tomorrow."

Dean really didn't think he needed to know that his ex-triggerman lover's folks were into some spaced-out, new-age, free-love crap. Not tonight.

Sam hoped that Dean would figure out everything way more easily once he had met all the family.

~0~

When Sam and Dean came down to breakfast the next morning, Bobby was sitting at one end of the table tucking into a high-calorie breakfast. At the other end of the table was a veritable wall of newspaper. Karen was distributing food from a central position, like a Las Vegas croupiere. Two places were set across from her for Sam and Dean.

"Morning, Mom," Sam said, sitting down and helping himself to chocolate-chip pancakes and bacon.

Dean plonked down in the seat beside him and poured himself a black coffee.

"Morning, dears," Karen sang cheerily.

Bobby deliberately put down his knife and fork.

"It's a damn fine morning, son", he told Sam. "And ifn your idjit Dad would tear his eyes off of those business rags of his for one moment, I'm sure he could be civil enough to wish you both 'Morning' too," he admonished.

Fergus peered past the edge of his Wall Street Journal and smirked.

"Actually, Bobby, technically I HAVE spoken with Sam already this morning," he pointed out. "But I WAS neglecting to greet our guest, Dr. Winchester," and he turned to Dean, "Good morning, Dean. Trust you slept well?"

"Very well, thank you, Mr...?" Dean responded.

"Singer. We're all Singers here, isn't that right, Bobby?" Fergus answered, in a sarcastic tone.

Bobby nodded. "Yeah, that's right. We're all Singers," he agreed emphatically, beaming fondly at his son.

Dean noticed Fergus shoot Sam an odd look before reaching for another slice of toast, and disappearing behind his newspaper again. Sam shook his head incredulously.

"You gotta forgive my Dad," Sam whispered to Dean. "He can be a little cranky in the mornings."

Fergus shook his newspaper and grumbled at that comment.

~0~

After breakfast, Fergus squirreled himself away in his study to take an international business call. Sam took Dean out into the extensive backyard to look at Karen's rose garden and get some fresh air.

"Sorry 'bout Dad, Dean," Sam began. "His bark is kinda worse than his bite. He's a little tetchy because Pop bawled him out last night, about us all being one family, and how Pop and Mom outvoted him anyways."

"Outvoted him?" Dean queried.

"About taking me back. About letting go of the past. Goes against Dad's business instincts to write off old debts," Sam explained.

Dean sympathized, "That's tough."

"Well, he backed down, for now," Sam chuckled. "Pop generally gets his way around here. They have an understanding. Dad and Pop kiss on a deal, and then Pop breaks it."

Sam glanced back toward the house.

"Looks like he's gotten off of the phone. Maybe it's a good time for you and Dad to get acquainted."

Sam and Dean walked back in the house and Sam shoved Dean into the study, shutting the doors behind him and leaving him stranded with the mysterious and formidable Fergus.

Fergus glanced up from his desk.

"Dr. Winchester," he drawled. "I've heard so much about you and your good works at Welby Memorial Hospital."

"Oh really?" Dean responded. "Heard zilch about you so far."

Fergus chuckled. "Have you heard of the name 'Crowley'?" he asked.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Crowley as in Crowley International?"

Fergus nodded. "Yours truly," he answered.

Dean whistled softly. "Gotta be worth billions."

"Conservatively," Fergus agreed. "Some might say rich as Hades. And so you realize I have a reputation to preserve. It's important to me that nothing crooked is associated with the family business. Nothing bent."

"Nothing crooked about me," Dean insisted.

Fergus smiled wryly, "I'm talking about my son, Sam. You know his history?"

"Now I do," Dean admitted. "But he swore to me that his criminal past is just that, his past."

"Let's hope so," Fergus remarked, steepling his fingers. "But you can't blame me for being cautious. I, as a prominent, er, businessman in our little community, am naturally wary. We can't all be trusting souls like my dear Bobby, can we? I'm sure you'd agree."

"I think... I believe Sam is totally sincere about straightening out," Dean asserted. "I trust him. Otherwise I wouldn't be..."

"...with him? I'm sure," Fergus agreed with a grin.

Dean wondered if Fergus knew that he and Sam had a thing going on. Did his Dad know he was gay?

Fergus stood up and walked around his desk toward Dean. He perched on the desk and folded his arms.

"You're a righteous man, Dean. And I will admit that my son's relationship with you has given me some hope for him. Perhaps he is redeemable after all."

"Believe it," Dean insisted loyally.

Fergus nodded. "Let's hope you're right."

At that moment their conversation was interrupted by a commotion in the entrance hallway, as a couple of new visitors arrived.

TBC

A/N: Yes, Fergus IS who you think he is. More tomorrow.