Summary: Withdrawn after an assault, pediatrician Dean is visited by handsome therapist Sam, a man with two shocking secrets.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: Warning for diehard anti-wincest-ers: Beware of a hint in this chapter that is immediately explained away.
Conjugal Glue (Part 13: The Connection) by frostygossamer
Sam had contacted his friend the realtor, and he and Dean had spent all weekend looking around likely properties. They were looking for a family home, not too far from the hospital, handy for Sam's new office, in easy reach of a good school and with room enough for all four of them to be comfortable.
With three salaries, and what Sam had squirreled away from his life of crime, they could afford something pretty great, even without touching Sam's billionaire father for a sub. The realtor was joyful at the prospect of her commission.
They finally chose a handsome mansion of a place that kind of reminded Dean of the Singer home, only several decades more up-to-date.
"Gonna need a maid," Dean remarked, swiping a dusty banister. "And, I guess, maybe a cook?"
"I do the cooking!" Sam insisted. "No one touches my kitchen but me."
"Princess," Dean commented snarkily.
The realtor gave then a cheerful grin. "Whenever you're ready to sign the contract...?" she began.
"Guess we oughta let Anna have a look-see," Sam suggested.
Dean shook his head. "She's gonna love it. Anyways she's only gonna be here on weekends and holidays. Weeknights she'll stay over in town."
Sam nodded. "Yeah, that's right," he agreed. "Just like Dad. Weeknights I'm gonna get you all to myself."
~0~
The first visitor they had to their new place was Castiel. He came bustling in anxious to impart some important news he had gathered.
Sam was upstairs seeing to their baby Deanna when he arrived. Dean took him into the kitchen to make them both coffee.
"It's about your parentage," Castiel began.
"My what?" Dean spluttered. "Jeez, you mean that family tree crap Sam said you were looking into. Thought that had gotten elbowed aside in the scrimmage. What does any of it matter anyways?"
"Well, Dean, don't you wonder how come you're a zemale like me when your parents, John and Mary, claimed to be regular folks?" Castiel asked. "Don't you think that's a little odd?"
Dean passed Castiel a mug and sat down next to him at the counter. He took a swig of his coffee.
"Guess I never thought about it. Mom and Dad had to be Deltaic, huh?"
"Well, no actually," Castiel responded. "But there certainly had to be Deltaic genes somewhere in the mix. And I finally figured it out."
"OK," Dean said. "Surprise me, Cas."
"Dean, you're going to find this very interesting," Castiel said flatly. "Apparently while your mom Mary was at Med School she had an acquaintance name of Robert Singer."
Dean's mug dropped to the floor with a splintering crash, splashing coffee across the tiles.
"Bullcrap!" Dean exclaimed.
"I have no doubts as to the veracity of this information, Dean," Castiel insisted earnestly.
Dean shook his head in disbelief.
"Let me get this straight, Cas. You're trying to tell me Mom knew Bobby Singer? THE Bobby Singer? Sam's Pop?"
"Yes," Castiel agreed. "She knew him very well, and we can only speculate in a biblical sense. He also knew her fiance John. Seemingly they were in the habit of getting 'smashed' together, on a frequent basis."
Well, Dean did know his Mom had been a hot babe, and his Dad liked his whiskey. He tried to remain calm and absorb these new facts sensibly.
"Don't like the sound of this," he said slowly. "You're gonna say Mom and Dad got themselves liquored up with their pal Bobby, and nine months later I was born. That it, Cas?"
Castiel nodded. "Bobby claims he has no recollection of the, ahem, occasion, but the fact that you are what you are would indicate his involvement was somewhat implicit."
"Just can't imagine my folks being the 'experimenting' type, is all. And not sure that I want to," Dean commented, with a shudder.
The idea of his Dad getting 'jiggy' with Bobby Singer flashed through his head, leaving an unsavoury afterimage.
"Yeck!"
"Indeed. But you are aware of the propensities of medical students for promiscuous behaviour," Castiel pointed out.
Dean knew first hand that was no lie.
"Please don't judge them, Dean. They were all very young," Castiel added, like that was any excuse.
This wasn't any sort of news Dean had wanted to hear.
"Dude, grossness aside, that has to mean that Bobby is my Pop, right?"
"Indeed," Castiel agreed again.
"And Bobby knew about this all the damn time? Jeez."
"Ah well, no. Bobby knew Mary Campbell quite, um, well but only knew her fiance as John. He made no connection with the Winchester surname until I did."
Dean frowned. "So what does that make me to Sam, huh? We got one parent in common. That make us brothers, third-brothers, some kinda freakin' brothers?"
"It makes you one third siblings," Castiel concurred matter-of-factly. "But, of course, you two are twice as unrelated as you are related."
Dean took a deep breath, feeling a touch of nightmare creep into his little Eden. "But that's incest, right?" he stuttered (*)
"Technically, yes," Castiel agreed. "But, paradoxically, you're mathematically even less consanguineous than regular first cousins."
No longer listening, Dean sagged heavily. He felt bruised, hurting.
"So," he sighed resignedly. "Guess that's it, huh?"
He knew that this thing between him and Sam had been too good to last. Somehow Dean never could get a lucky break.
~0~
The door opened and Sam, drawn by the sound of breaking ceramic, burst into the kitchen looking anxious. One glance took in Dean's dejected mood.
"What did you tell him, Cas?" he demanded sharply.
"I only answered his questions, Sam," Castiel replied defensively. "I told him you two are thirders, as I told you on the telephone. That's all."
Sam shook his head and threw an arm around Dean's shoulders.
"He didn't need to know that from you, Cas," he said. "I was gonna tell him it's not important. He doesn't know that it's cool, that we don't even register the zero parent legally."
Then he turned back to Dean. "It's fine, Dean," he assured him. "It doesn't make any difference, babe. It won't stop us being together."
Dean looked up at him, a flash of anger in his eyes.
"It's still goddamn wrong, Sam," he snapped.
Sam scoffed. "Wrong? Hell, what's 'wrong'? It's only as wrong as you feel. And you don't feel wrong about us, do you?"
Dean exhaled and considered. "No, Sam," he said. "Guess not. But..."
"Dude, since when have you cared what anyone else thinks?" Sam cut in.
"Never worried what people thought before, not gonna start now." Dean agreed.
"There then," Sam concluded, squeezing his shoulder. "No need to worry. Everything's good. We're good. Right?"
Dean nodded stiffly. "Yeah, Sam," he agreed, slightly reluctantly.
Sam hugged him tight and, with his eyes, signalled for Castiel to leave the room.
Castiel hurried away with his tail between his legs, faintly puzzled. He had only been trying to help.
~0~
That night Dean was laying there thoughtful, when Sam finished fussing with the baby and came to bed. He leaned across to give Dean a quick kiss and fumble, but Dean slapped his hand away.
"It doesn't bother you?" Dean demanded.
Sam looked down at him. "What, babe?" he asked, confused for a moment. "Uh, you mean being thirders?"
Dean nodded. "Thirders? That what you call it? Yeah. Being thirders, goddamn brothers. Don't freak you out?"
Sam sighed and shook his head. "Cas was just trying to make you feel like you belong. It's honestly not a big deal."
Dean didn't feel convinced. "How could it NOT be a big deal?"
"Dude, it means we're like one ninth related," he explained, sitting on the bed. "Half-brothers are a quarter, even first cousins are an eighth. Anyplace, 'cept for maybe on the moon, we could even get married."
"Oh, that right?" Dean responded, perking up just a little.
Sam grinned at his lover. "You wanna go someplace and get married, cuddle-bunny?"
"Not if you're gonna call me that, jerk-ass," Dean retorted sharply.
He REALLY did not like sappy pet names, or at least he pretended not to.
"And if I don't?" Sam asked again, now serious.
Dean considered. "Been married, Sam, and, yeah, I liked being married. Don't like being divorced. Makes me feel like a loser."
Sam chuckled. "Reckon it's something we could think about, huh?"
After a moment's silence Dean nodded slowly. "Maybe. We'll see."
Sam gave him a little peck on the mouth.
"And," he continued, returning to the original subject. "Means like you're not an orphan, Dean. You got a real live Pop. Good, huh?"
Dean smiled uncertainly. "Guess so," he allowed.
Sam rolled over onto his back and pulled Dean on top of him. He ran his hands over Dean's hips, tracing the smooth curve of the pelvis under his thumbs. Despite himself Dean moaned softly under his touch.
"Do you even know how beautiful you are, babe?" Sam whispered.
Dean pursed his lips. "Don't start with that crap," he retorted. "Telling me I'm pretty ain't gonna get you anyplace."
Sam laughed. "Not gonna lie, Dean. You gotta be the hottest thing I ever saw. Sweetie, you are totally smokin'."
Dean fidgeted irritably. "Quit it," he commanded. "That sorta talk's gonna do nothing for me. You want a girl, you go find yourself some chick, man."
Sam was finding Dean's attempts to defend his masculinity adorable.
"Some chick's not what I want, Dean," he said. "YOU are exactly what I need. You're so damn perfect."
"Damn it," Dean grouched. "Suppose we just agree you keep your mouth shut. Suppose I shut it for ya."
He leaned in and effectively ended the conversation by kissing Sam long and deep. Sam forgot how to speak.
~0~
Six months later, Dean was making a quick visit to the supermarket in a break from work. He was hurrying around the store, with his little pink bundle of joy in a shopping cart. Steaming around a corner, who should he run into but his ex, Lisa, her fingers wrapped tight around the tiny hand of an angelic, golden-haired little boy.
There was a heartbeat of silence as both hesitated to be the first to speak.
"Hi, Lisa," Dean said, breaking the ice. "How you been?"
Lisa smiled. "I've been fine, Dean," she replied. "Everything's fine. How about you?"
Dean inhaled. "Fingers crossed. Everything seems to be working out," he answered.
Lisa giggled self-consciously and ruffled her little boy's hair.
"Yours?" Dean asked, a rhetorical question. "What's his name?"
"His name's Ben," she replied. "Isn't it, honey?"
"And his Dad?" he inquired cautiously.
Lisa waved a dismissive hand.
"Gabriel? That candy-ass vanished. Pfft! But that's fine." she answered, then added wistfully, "Funny thing is though, sometimes this little guy reminds me more of you."
Dean nodded for some unknown reason.
"And you?" Lisa asked. "This little cutie...?"
"Deanna. She's mine," Dean replied emphatically.
"Oh?" Lisa remarked.
With their history she felt slightly dubious of that, but decided not to probe for medical details.
"Seriously," Dean added. "I'm her... Pop."
That word, still new and piquant on his tongue, made him grin stupidly.
Lisa nodded, agreeing to believe him.
"I'm back at work. And I've gotten engaged," he went on, anxious to convince Lisa that he wasn't some broken shell without her.
He hesitated for a moment then added, "To a guy."
He thought maybe that would let her down gently.
"Oh?" she repeated, sounding not as surprised as he would have liked her to be.
"Listen," he said. "Why don't you come over sometime. Catch up. I'd like that. Meet Sam. And Anna, Deanna's Mom."
Lisa shook her head, starting to form an excuse, and then she visibly changed her mind.
"Actually, I'd love that," she said.
Dean grinned. "Great. Then that's a date."
The more the merrier, he thought, as he settled Deanna in the car later. They should fill that big house with family, friends and kids, lots of kids. That little angel Ben would have been his, if Lisa had had her wish. He could afford to extend the hand of friendship and forgiveness.
Because, after all, family is the most important thing in the world.
TBC
A/N: Yes, I know this chapter was just a bit of a loose ends tie-up. Final chapter tomorrow.
(*) Sorry about sneaking a hint of wincest in here, but I couldn't resist thinking about the maths of ternary relationships. I extrapolated the numbers based on a table on Wikipedia page 'Coefficients of Relationship'. Anyway, conveniently, there can be no existing laws or commandments about 3-gender relations to break. Plus I thought it would be nice to give Dean back one parent.