Strawberry Rhubarb, or "Anything but Apple" Pie

Summary: Winchesters aren't meant for "Apple Pie" lives. Potters, well, they're even worse than Winchesters on that front. Add an Angel into the mix, and you know you're going to get anything but Apple Pie. But they were all right with that. Mpreg. Eventual Dean/Harry/Sam/Castiel.

Alternate Summary: Despite all the weird things he's seen, Dean never thought a man could get pregnant. So when he runs into an old flame with twin boys, it doesn't even cross his mind that they might be his. Well, not at first at least.

Author Commentary and Notes: For my regular readers, don't kill me. This story grabbed a hold of me and wouldn't let go. However, I promise I'llbe getting back to my other stories soon. For more information, see my profile. Generally, this story is mostly written. It will update every Saturday/Sunday unless I can't for some reason.

Warnings: Mpreg. Foursome. Wincest. Pie. Slash. Disability/Medical Jargon. The disorder mentioned is made up. As in not real. It will be explained further in later chapters. Sorry for the confusion! (Not Dean, Sam, Harry or Cas).

Chapter One: Dark chocolate and raspberry filling, with bittersweet chocolate glaze.

It wasn't anything special in particular. Well it was, but that came later. In the moment, it was really like any other hook up in Dean's long life of hook up's. It happened that this hook up was with a guy, but that wasn't unheard of. It was just that there weren't as many guys as gals who could turn Dean's head. It took something special.

And by god, did Harry have something special.

He spotted Harry leaning casually against the bar, sipping on an amber drink, eyes hooded as he gazed around the bar and a half smile tugging on his lips. It wasn't the eyes that did it for Dean, though it was what 'did it' for many. And sure, they were nice. Very nice indeed, a deep emerald green that captivated and entranced. Steady, calm. But Dean had green eyes, and his mom had green eyes when she was alive. So they were nice, but they weren't what did it for Dean.

It wasn't his warmly tanned skin with definite olive undertones and a healthy sun kissed look. It wasn't the pink lips, wet from whisky. It wasn't the lithe muscles, or the black shirt that clung to the man's shoulders. These were nice, too. And they were definitely attractive, no doubt about that. And yeah, they were all part of the reason Dean ended up sleeping with Harry, but they weren't what 'did it'.

No. It was the glasses.

Yeah, the glasses. Now usually, Dean didn't go for the 'geeky' type. It just wasn't him. He liked a hard guy, with a smirk and lots of power. And later, he would find out that Harry had those things. A smirk that made him weak at his knees, and power that could bring and angel to their's. But Dean didn't know that when he picked up Harry in that dusty bar inAustin,Texas. It was the rectangular, black glasses that softened Harry's face, but also framed it. They made Dean want to take them off and see what was hiding behind the glass.

So Harry wasn't exactly his type, but when had that ever stopped Dean from having what he wanted?

As Dean Winchester strode across the bar, he didn't know that this one moment, and the moments to follow, would change his destiny, his brother's destiny, the destiny of one angel up in heaven and the destiny of the entire world. All he knew, is that he wanted, and he would receive.

(pie*)

Harry caught the man's sideways glances before he worked up the courage to make his way over. He trailed his gaze down the trim body. The guy was tall, taller than Harry by a good five inches, and well built – thick in the shoulders and trim around the waist. His hair was short, and a light brown, and his eyes a warm green, tinged darker in the evening light of the bar. He wore a leather jacket which flattered his shape and showed off a Zeppelin tee and an unusual amulet which let off a strange but not altogether unpleasant aura. His lips, pouty and thick were twitched into a cocky smirk. Even his stride was arrogant. Usually, Harry didn't go for the arrogant guys who thought they could get him in bed with a single smile or wink.

But this guy – he was different. Harry didn't know why, but he was. It was strange, but he made Harry feel…safe for the first time in a long time. Harry smiled at him as he came to a stop in front of him, and waited for the corny pick up line.

And yep, "If I followed you home, would you keep me?" The man smiled enticingly.

"Depends," Harry responded teasingly, "What's your name?"

"It depends on my name?" The man asked, quirking an eyebrow, "Have to admit, I've never had that response before."

"What can I say," Harry grinned, shrugging his shoulders, "I'm just special that way."

"I'm Dean. Do I get your name in return?"

"Dean," Harry rolled the name off his tongue and took pleasure in watching the man squirm, "Hmm…Dean. I've always liked that name. I sp'ose I can give you mine. I'm Harlan. But generally, I go by Harry."

"Mhm, I like hairy guys," Dean responded, a teasing glimmer in his eyes.

Harry laughed, "Can't promise anything on that front, luv."

"So…I'm just passin' through, my place is just a motel…"

"I've got an apartment a couple blocks over. Not big, but big enough for a bed," Harry lifted one shoulder in question and Dean nodded in response.

"Let's just walk."

They walked mostly in silence, occasionally playfully teasing the other. Neither asked for more information from the other, though Harry did ask as they approached and apartment complex,

"You're clean, right?"

"Clean as a whistle. You?"

"Yep," Harry responded. As soon as they made it inside Harry's front door, Dean was on him, kissing him and licking and nipping his way down Harry's neck. Harry moaned in response and kissed back.

Huskily he half requested, half ordered, "Bedroom."

"Mmm…" Dean mumbled in response, pulling at the edges of Harry's tee. Harry pushed at Dean's jacket and pushed frantically up against Dean, feeling his own need pulse beside Dean's.

He tugged his lover down the hall and into his bedroom, door closing with a resounding thud.

In the morning, Dean was gone. There wasn't a note with a number on it, or a note at all. There was no sign of the man at all. Harry sighed, and rolled over, ignoring the throbbing ache in his lower back and bum. He should've known. Dean was the type. The type Harry tried so hard to avoid. Harry wasn't a one night kinda guy. He never had been. He didn't know what compelled him to break that rule with Dean last night. He had broken all of his rules with Dean. But Dean obviously hadn't felt the same connection.

He should have known better, Harry thought to himself, trying to ignore the tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. He just should have known better.

It was two months before Harry realized the significance of that night, of Dean, and the impact both would have on the rest of his life. It wasn't until he cradled his sons in his arms on October, 31st, 2006, that he forgave Dean for what the man had done to him. He forgave Dean for breaking his heart. On the other hand, even though he knew Dean had no way of knowing that Harry could get pregnant, and it was really Harry's fault for not insisting on a condom and forgetting a contraceptive spell, it would be a very, very long time before Harry forgave Dean for leaving Harry a single parent.

It would a be a long time before Harry forgave Dean for leaving Felix and Isaac, who was diagnosed with Yves Broghe Syndrome ( or YBS) upon birth, fatherless.

And yeah, it wasn't Dean's fault that Harry was alone with his two baby boys, one who was very sick. It wasn't his fault.

Harry knew that.

It didn't make it any easier to forgive him.

*dark chocolate swirled with tart raspberries for something all together bittersweet, dark and magical.