Title: Trichotomy
Author: gleefulmusings
Beta: mysterious_daze
Fandom: Glee/Supernatural, post-Season One AU for both shows.
Pairing: Kurt/Sam/Dean
Rating: T
Warning(s): Language; sexual situations; established Wincest; mentions of an attempted sexual assault.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, lyrics, etc. are the property of their respective owners. Snippets of dialogue may be incorporated from the original canonical episode(s) and belong to their respective authors/creators. The original characters and plot are the property of the author(s). The author(s) is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended, nor should any be inferred. No profit is being made.

Summary: The Winchester brothers meet Kurt Hummel and instantly adore him. Kurt's Uncle Bobby isn't too thrilled about this.

Author's Note: This is a side-story from my prompt series Tickle My Fancy, as requested by clovrboy, who wanted a meet and greet between Kurt and the Winchester brothers. I had planned something along these lines for a while, but it wasn't until I received the prompt that I actually began writing it. This will most likely be a three-shot and is meant to be light and fluffy, though there are some elements of drama. Also, this features psychic!Kurt from my Glee/Medium crossover Fragments. The plot from that story has no bearing on this one, other than that Kurt is a medium and works for the office of the District Attorney.

Thanks, as always, to my personal Cheerios Ash and Laynie. I love you gorgeous wenches.


Sam and Dean Winchester wearily hauled their exhausted carcasses up the dilapidated porch of Bobby Singer, ignoring their creaky bones and faintly trembling limbs, simply glad to have arrived. After chasing a particularly fucking annoying wendigo across four states, they had finally dispatched the nuisance three days prior and were looking forward to nothing but lounging around with Bobby, drinking an unhealthy amount of beer, and possibly tuning up the Impala.

Dean curled his fingers into a slight fist and was just about to knock on the door when he cocked his head, listened more closely, frowned, and then dropped his arm. He turned to his brother. "Since when does Bobby listen to opera?"

Sam shrugged and quietly began singing along with the aria. In Italian.

Dean gave him a hard stare, shook his head, and finally sighed. As much as he loved his brother, he would never understand him, nor did he particularly want to.

The vocalist then hit a note of such crystalline purity that Sam all but swooned and Dean instantly got hard, which he didn't know was possible and therefore thought was totally awesome.

They both jumped back as the door was suddenly thrown open and a nervous Bobby smiled at them a little too winningly.

"Sam! Dean!" He chuckled nervously. "What are you boys doing here?"

Sam looked at Dean and did that accursed Eyebrow Thing, which totally pissed Dean off. As the older brother, the Eyebrow Thing was rightfully his. If he couldn't do it, then Sam shouldn't be able to either. So he settled for a sullen pout. Then he raised both brows until they were hovering somewhere around his hairline, trying to convey to Sam via the double raise that he was still in charge.

A slow smirk spread across Sam's face and Dean grimaced, knowing he had lost. Stupid Eyebrow Thing.

Sam turned back to face Bobby. "Um, you told us to come?"

Dean nodded like a puppy.

"Not until next week," Bobby replied, his tone slightly scolding.

Sam frowned at the rebuke and Dean was completely oblivious, either by choice or nature. Sam was never sure.

"Finished the last job a little early," Dean said, simultaneously shrugging and beaming, "so we thought we'd take a break and come hang with our best almost-relation."

A small, pleased smile appeared on Bobby's face. "Well, now, that's real nice, boys, and I'm happy to see you, but…"

The singing abruptly stopped though the accompaniment continued to pour out of the door, though it was silenced a few beats later.

Dean's eyes widened. "Whoa. A real person was singing that?" At once, he understood Bobby's reluctance to admit them and smirked. "Who's the chick, Bobby?"

The older man glared and scowled.

"Uncle Bobby?" called a small, uncertain voice.

Sam and Dean startled. They had never known Bobby had a niece. Dean immediately wondered as to her age and vital statistics. If she could sing like that, she must have had astonishing lung power. Cool.

"Be right there, sport," Bobby said, turning to call over his shoulder. "Why don't you fix us some lunch?"

"Acceptable," the voice shot back, "but if you think for a moment I'll be employing a recipe from your new Paula Deen cookbook, you're delusional. My pores can withstand only so much saturated fat, and I know the results of your latest cholesterol screening."

Bobby soured. "How'd you find out?" he whined.

Maniacal laughter was the only response.

Bobby sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Paula Deen?" repeated a bewildered Sam.

"Sport?" Dean demanded, now desperately trying to push his way inside. "Holy shit! That's a dude?"

Bobby curled a lip and shoved Dean back, almost sending the younger man flying over the porch railing and into the yard. "Kurt, I'll be back in just a minute."

"Okay!" Kurt tinkled. "Have fun playing with your flux capacitors!"

Sam was utterly charmed and let out a quiet chuckle.

Bobby stomped out onto the porch, shutting the door behind him, and poked Dean hard in the chest. "Now you listen here, boy," he said, glowering. "That's my nephew in there and he's had a real rough time of it lately, so you're not going to say or do anything that will make him uncomfortable. Got it?" He punctuated his point with several more chest pokes.

"What are you picking on me?" exclaimed an affronted Dean.

"Because I know you."

Sam had to concede the point. "What's going on, Bobby?"

The man ran a shaky hand through his thinning hair. "Kurt is my brother Burt's boy."

Dean snickered. "Kurt and Burt? Can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street?"

Bobby gave him the side-eye and curled a fist. "I can tell you how to shut the fuck up."

Dean sobered and instantly complied.

"Burt is my half-brother," Bobby revealed, "though we've never been particularly close." He dropped his voice slightly. "Burt knows all about the hunting and he's informed Kurt so that he'll be aware, but hunting was never Burt's scene. And that's okay. He always wanted a family and he created a really nice one for himself. Any problems we had were pretty much healed after Kurt was born." His eyes turned distant and sad. "And then Suzanne died."

"Who?" Sam hesitantly asked.

Bobby blinked. "Kurt's mother."

Dean and Sam both flinched.

"Kurt was six," Bobby elaborated. "It was cancer. He sat by her beside day after day, month after month, and watched as she wasted away. Burt tried to shield him, but…" He sighed. "Kurt has his own way of dealing with things. In some ways, he's always been an adult, much more so than the adults who were supposed to look out for him. He doesn't linger in denial; he confronts things directly. Now, that doesn't mean that he deals with them; he's just aware of reality. He tends to bury his feelings so deeply that it sometimes comes across as though he's completely unemotional, which he's not."

Dean slowly nodded. He totally understood that. He wanted to meet this kid and give him a hug or some shit, but that was lame. Maybe he'd just take Kurt out to a titty bar. He blinked. Oh, the kid was probably actually a kid. Well, miniature golf then.

"He's called Tundra by his colleagues," Bobby said fondly. "Permafrost in beautiful wrapping."

Dean was impressed.

"Colleagues?" Sam asked.

Bobby's face turned very serious. "Kurt's psychic."

Sam flinched and Dean reached out to steady him.

"Not like you, Sam," Bobby continued. "Kurt's a medium. He can hear and speak to the dead. He's partnered with the top homicide cop in Dayton. They answer only to the District Attorney." He paused. "You boys hear about the Nightstalker?"

Sam's eyes widened and Dean nodded dumbly. How could anyone not know about the psycho who had crisscrossed the Midwest, raping and butchering over twenty women? He had finally been caught last year, though the details were sketchy. He was, however, taken alive and immediately put on trial. He had claimed insanity, but the plea was rejected. He was currently awaiting sentencing and was expected to receive the death penalty.

"The collar was Kurt's doing," Bobby finished.

"Fuck," Dean whispered.

"Bobby," Sam said slowly, "how old is your nephew?"

"He just turned seventeen."

Dean's look was one of complete bafflement. Sam was more accepting, and thus more nervous about meeting Kurt.

"Look, boys," Bobby said, nervously wringing his hands, "I'm real glad to see you and I'm happy to put you up, but if you say or do anything that upsets Kurt, I'll have to kill you. I won't have that kid hurt anymore."

A very bad feeling began coursing through Sam and Dean.

"What happened to him?" Dean asked, his voice hard and serious.

Bobby chewed on his lip for a moment. "Kurt's from a very small town in Ohio, even smaller than Lawrence." He nodded when the brothers flinched. "He's openly gay and doesn't bother to try and hide it, not that he should, and he probably couldn't hide it anyway. People have had…issues with him."

Dean frowned deeply and Sam narrowed his eyes.

"Explain," Sam demanded, not liking where this was going but needing an answer all the same.

"The school harassment was one thing," Bobby said quietly, looking down at the porch. "You know what I mean: dumpster tosses, running him up the flagpole, name-calling. Stupid shit like that which assholes need to do to feel better about themselves." He paused. "But it got worse. A lot worse. Phone calls, both to Kurt and Burt. Bricks through windows. His truck was vandalized." He looked at Dean. "A Navigator."

Dean was absolutely appalled, and the look on his face said as much.

"And?" Sam prompted, sure there was more.

Bobby sighed. "Pee balloons were thrown at him. The house was spray-painted with homophobic slurs…"

"What the fuck century are we living in?" Dean barked harshly.

"It's not all bad," Bobby countered, though his voice was tinged with doubt. "As you heard, Kurt can sing. Really sing. He's part of his school's glee club. Last year they took their Invitationals and Sectionals, making it all the way to Regionals. He also joined the football team. He's the kicker, see, and they hadn't won a single game until he joined. They've been undefeated since. His teammates might not like him, and they resent his skill and refuse to shower or undress with him in the locker room, but a lot of the hate has been dialed down because they're afraid to lose him."

Dean's eyes shined with a fierce pride. "Awesome."

Bobby sucked in a breath. "Well, they weren't too thrilled with him when he went out for and was accepted as a cheerleader. After a few weeks, he was made captain and he took his squad to Nationals and won it for them."

Dean smirked. "A cheerleader? Wow, way to embrace the stereotype."

Bobby gave him a thunderous look.

"Wow, way to be a judgmental asshole," Sam shot back.

Dean blushed fiercely and was so horrified by his own behavior, his honest contrition was the only reason Bobby didn't deck him.

"Needless to say," he continued, glaring at Dean, "Kurt's now got a posse of very protective girls surrounding him. And I mean very protective. Imagine sixty Mean Girls all swarming around one boy who treats them like absolute goddesses, and I'm sure you'll understand."

Dean shuddered. He'd known girls like that and, yeah, he'd fucked a lot of them, but he'd never turned his back on them. He knew how vicious they could be.

"Then there's the coach," Bobby added, "who, according to Burt, is psychotic, probably homicidal, and very possibly a demon. Kurt's her favorite."

Sam smiled. "So it's better now."

Bobby shook his head. "A couple of weeks ago, Kurt and some of his girls were leaving the mall in the next town over just before it closed. A gang of thugs from a rival football team attacked them and held the girls back. Then they beat Kurt and tried to gang-rape him."

"Jesus," Sam hissed, fisting his hair in his hands.

Dean swore loudly, turned on his heel, and punched the side of the house.

"Uncle Bobby!" screamed a panicked voice.

Bobby smacked Dean upside the head and opened the front door. "Sorry, kiddo. Tripped over the rocker."

"Are you okay?" Kurt asked, now concerned.

"I'm just fine, sport. Lunch almost ready?"

"Twenty minutes."

"Good boy."

"Love you!"

"I love you, too, kiddo."

Bobby again closed the door and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"We can leave," Sam immediately said.

Dean nodded, somewhat reluctantly. He actually wanted to meet this kid. Kurt sounded like a pretty remarkable dude.

Bobby shook his head. "You're always welcome here. Kurt knows about you, about what you do, and has a lot of respect for you."

Sam smiled and Dean swelled with pride.

"That said, I was serious about being on your best behavior. He's still pretty jumpy. Physically, he's okay; he heals pretty fast. Emotionally, well…" he trailed off, shrugging.

"What's being done about the rapist sons of bitches?" Dean seethed.

Bobby huffed. "Initially, nothing."

"What?" Sam hissed.

Bobby then smirked. "But then Justine Westgate, Kurt's partner, got involved. That's one woman you never want to cross. She and Liza Capwell, the District Attorney, went to the State's Attorney and demanded something be done. They couldn't file charges themselves, since it occurred outside their jurisdiction, but they rallied the sympathetic cops to their cause. Then the cheerleaders got involved. Cheerleading is taken pretty seriously in Lima, since the team has won six national titles. Most of the girls on the squad have parents who are professionals, like lawyers and doctors, and who don't give a shit that Kurt likes boys. The guys who attacked them are either in jail or waiting to be sentenced."

"Fucking awesome!" Dean crowed.

Sam's brow furrowed. "Liza Capwell," he repeated. "I've heard of her." He blinked slowly and then opened his eyes until they were the size of banjos. "The White Diamond?"

Bobby nodded. "That's the one. Beautiful and brilliant, but hard and utterly intractable. She's never lost a case, is considered a shoe-in if she makes a senatorial run, and she adores Kurt." He frowned. "As well she should. He's closed her last three dozen cases."

"Damn," Sam whispered, shaking his head. "How long's he here?"

Bobby shrugged. "As long as wants, but probably at least another month."

"Just needed to get away, huh?" Dean asked sadly.

Bobby nodded. "Burt took it really hard. He loves his son more than anything, and Kurt worships his father, but they don't relate to each other very well. Burt has a tendency to see Kurt as a perpetual victim, which he's definitely not. He's cold, aloof, and can be utterly ruthless. He may have been victimized, but he's no one's victim."

Okay, Dean definitely wanted to meet this kid.

"It was all I could do to get Burt to agree to send him. As it was, his girls wouldn't let him go. I had to drive to Lima so they could check me out."

Dean blinked. "Seriously?"

"Deadly. They had run background reports and credit checks. They interrogated me – and I do mean interrogated, not questioned – for over three hours. They asked for references. They described in graphic detail what they would to do me where Kurt injured while in my care." He blew out a breath. "Not gonna lie, boys. Those bitches scared the shit out of me. I pissed myself."

Sam and Dean gaped at him.

He nodded, wincing. "The leader – well, she's the leader by default; Kurt's the real leader – is a girl named Santana Lopez. If she were a demon, so much could be explained, but she's not. She's just evil, and Kurt is her one of her few blind spots. She hates him for that as much as she loves him, but she will kill anyone or anything who hurts him. Weighs a hundred fucking pounds soaking wet, and she alone put four of those footballers in the hospital – and I mean in traction. I'm sure she's already plotting to have them eliminated while they're in prison. She has the money and connections to make it happen, and she sure as hell as will."

Sam and Dean continued to stare.

"Then there are the blonds, Quinn and Brittany. Quinn is almost as bad as Santana, but she looks like an angel and will slop sugar all over you while she sticks a knife into your gut. The subtler evil is always scarier than the blatant one. And Brittany, well, she's a sweetheart. They're all very protective of her, but she's no slouch, either. She plays the role of the dumb blond to the hilt, but she's just as scheming and treacherous. It's just that no one ever sees her coming."

Sam and Dean simultaneously shook their heads.

"Together, they're alternately called the Quadrumvirate or the Four Horsemen."

Dean turned to Sam. "Dude."

Sam nodded weakly. "I know." He shuddered. "High school."

Bobby grinned viciously. "Ready to meet him?"


Sam and Dean entered the house and were appropriately shocked at its condition.

There wasn't a speck of dust or dirt anywhere to be seen. The hardwood floors were polished to such a sheen that they could see themselves reflected in it.

Bobby chuckled nervously. "Kurt's very particular about his surroundings. As soon as he got here, he cleaned for a solid week."

The brothers peered into the living room and were stunned. There were several new mahogany bookshelves. Bobby's myriad books, once piled haphazardly on any available surface, were all sitting proud on their new holders.

"He organized them according to category," Bobby babbled. "Then he grouped them by language, and alphabetized them within their subsets. He also created an index."

Sam was silently geeking out, spinning around the room with his arms flung wide and beaming happily.

Dean was now utterly terrified of Kurt.

"He's really good with research," Bobby boasted. "He can speak Latin, as well as Spanish, French, and Italian, and he can read and write Greek and Sumerian."

Dean shook his head in wonder. "Who is this kid?"

Sam began bouncing up and down. "I want to meet him!"

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Hey, kiddo!" he called. "The Winchester boys are here. I'd like you to meet them."

They waited and were soon rewarded with light footsteps making their way towards them. Kurt hesitantly peered from behind the corner leading to kitchen, and then slowly crossed the room to Bobby's side.

Dean was awestruck and thought Kurt Hummel was the most adorable thing he had ever seen. He just wanted to fold Kurt up and put him in his pocket so he could always be holding him.

To say the boy was beautiful would have been a gross understatement. Kurt was fairly tall, his limbs somewhat gangly, as if he had gone through a recent growth spurt. His eyes were enormous and a color to which Dean could put no name. They were a stunning blue-grey, reminding Dean of the stormy Atlantic, and appeared simultaneously to absorb and reflect light. The hollows of his cheeks bespoke a recent and unwarranted weight loss, probably due to what had been done to him. He was almost painfully thin but looked whipcord strong.

Kurt also had the longest legs Dean had ever seen a person other than Sam, and he couldn't stop staring. He just wanted to hold Kurt and protect him and kill things for him.

For his part, Kurt looked at Dean, whose charming smarm definitely reminded him of Puck in ten years, raised an eyebrow, crossed his arms over his chest, and scoffed, thoroughly unimpressed.

That just made Dean love him all the more, though he was seriously put out by yet another dude who could do the Eyebrow Thing.

Kurt rolled his eyes and turned to Sam, registering the other boy's height, greater even than that of Finn, and impressive build. He shrank in on himself and curled up against Bobby.

Sam rightly assumed that either his face or body reminded Kurt of one of his attackers and he visibly deflated, feeling ashamed for no good reason.

"Lunch is ready," Kurt quietly told his uncle.

Bobby wrapped an arm around Kurt's trembling shoulders. "Is there enough for all of us?"

Kurt nodded. "I made extra."

"You're a good boy," Bobby said softly.

Kurt appeared to gain strength from the praise, twirling on his heel and strutting out of the room, back into the kitchen. Bobby followed.

That ass. Dean drooled. He wasn't gay, but there were exceptions. He'd thought Sam was the only one, but apparently not. Kurt Hummel was a major fucking exception.

Sam kicked him.


"What's to eat?" Dean said brightly, smiling winningly at Kurt, who couldn't have cared less.

"Grilled cheese and tomato soup," Kurt said in a bored voice.

"Sweet!" It was Dean's favorite childhood meal.

Kurt frowned. "Well, actually, it's tomato bisque with jasmine rice, and sliced Gruyere on toasted seven-grain bread."

Dean blinked. "Huh?"

Kurt glared at him, which just made Dean smile that much harder.

"It smells delicious," Sam said politely, sniffing discreetly and overwhelmed by the delectable odors drifting toward him.

"Thank you," Kurt said stiffly.

Sam hung his head.

Bobby cleared his throat and Kurt gave an exaggerated blink, appearing to snap out of his snit. He pasted a small smile on his face, though everyone could tell he didn't mean it. Still, all of them, particularly Sam, appreciated the effort.

Sam looked longingly at the refrigerator. "I don't suppose you have any sprouts?" he asked meekly.

Kurt brightened. "Yes! Please allow me to get you some."

Sam grinned happily.

Dean soured. "Sprouts?"

Kurt whirled around and gave him a hard look. "You get milk. You look like you have scoliosis."

Dean sputtered as Sam laughed uproariously.


Bobby, Dean, and Sam stuffed themselves to the hilt on Kurt's delicious repast, asking for more helpings several times each. Kurt happily made more and served them graciously, appearing to love preparing large meals, though he barely ate anything himself. That only fed in to Dean's brand new fantasy that Kurt was the perfect housewife; he just had a dick.

Dean could work with that.

Kurt opened up slightly and was witty and charming during lunch, seemingly very pleased to meet the Winchesters. At first the boys just thought it was lip service, but then Kurt recalled in minute detail several of their more notorious cases, as relayed to him by Bobby. Dean became more arrogant as his exploits were expounded upon, while Sam turned shy and self-deprecating.

Dean began to think it was purposeful and that his little brother was diabolical, as Kurt started focusing on Sam, almost to the exclusion of Dean himself as well as Bobby. Soon, Sam and Kurt were babbling away to each other in Latin. Several times they would look at Dean and begin giggling. Bobby tried and failed to stifle his snickers.

When Kurt learned that Sam had attended Stanford, he immediately began interrogating the man about tuition, courses, fields of study, and professors. Dean suddenly realized that he wouldn't be able to marry Kurt until the boy had finished college. He figured that, by then, he'd be ready to settle down.

Then he and Kurt would get an awesome house with a white picket fence, a really cool dog, and a cat they both hated but kept around anyway. Kurt would clean every day and make things gleam and prepare totally amazing meals. They would entertain the desperate housewives on weekends and then retire to their bedroom, where Dean could worship Kurt's stupendous ass in blissful quietude.

It was the most fucking lame fantasy Dean Winchester had ever had in his life, and he loved it.


Kurt insisted on cleaning up, despite the halfhearted protests of the others, though Sam refused to abide, clearing and wiping down the table. Kurt rewarded him with a shy smile, which made Dean scowl. Kurt finally shooed all of them out of the kitchen so he could mop the floor. Dean swooned as he smelled the scent of Pine Sol as it hit the bucket of hot water Kurt had drawn.

"Boys," Bobby said to the Winchesters, "let's catch up." His tight smile, which didn't meet his eyes, plainly indicated that he was not pleased with Dean's flirting or Sam's cow eyes. "Kurt, we'll be on the front porch."

Kurt waved over his shoulder. "Yes, Uncle Bobby. Dinner will be ready at six."

Bobby nodded. "And what will you be doing in the meantime?"

Kurt sighed. "I have to check in with everyone, and then I thought I'd do some yoga out in the barn."

"Alright, then. Let me know if you need something."

Kurt nodded and began softly singing something under his breath, making great swipes with the mop across the floor.

Dean was in heaven. Kurt was like Snow White, but hot.

Bobby grabbed both Dean and Sam and began hauling them toward the front of the house, boy boys whining that they wanted to stay and listen to Kurt sing.

Finally they emerged on the porch, Bobby shut the door behind them, and pushed them into chairs.

"Listen to me, you little fuckers…"


Sam and Dean sat cowering on Bobby's front porch, terrified of the creative threats he had just unleashed upon them, ones far too detailed ever to be considered merely idle.

Bobby sighed. "Look, boys. You know I love you like my own, right?"

Dean grunted and a bright-eyed Sam nodded.

"After the last time you two were here," Bobby continued, "it was pretty obvious to me that you two were…together."

Dean released a low sustained growl as Sam blushed furiously and began hyperventilating.

Bobby held up a hand. "No judgment. I meant what I said: I love you like my own. You're not hurting anyone with what you're doing, and I've never been one to hold against people what they do behind closed doors." He stared at them. "I assume you're still together?"

Dean glared and Sam reluctantly nodded.

Bobby nodded in kind. "Then that's just fine. You can share a room, if you want, and I know Kurt will say nothing about it. He's been abused enough in his life because of the fact he likes guys. He won't care." He stiffened and his stare became glacial. "That said, I'll kill you dead if you think for one moment of adding my nephew to your harem."

"That's his decision," Dean barked, not even bothering to deny their interest.

"He's seventeen fucking years old, Dean!" Bobby bit back. "He's never even been on a date before, let alone experienced anything more…personal. The last boy he had a crush on will, in a few months, be his new stepbrother."

Sam winced. "Damn."

"He's also trying to get over being sexually assaulted by a group of assholes half a foot taller than him and who outweighed him by at least fifty pounds. He's not ready for your bullshit."

"You don't know that," Dean challenged, incredibly pissed off that Bobby was in essence likening him and his brother to rapists and more than a little hurt that he was being denied someone he so desperately wanted.

"He's going to be a junior in high school, Dean!" Bobby thundered. "He's in the top ten of his class. He wants to go to college, and then probably some professional school. He's in Glee, on the football team, and captains a cheerleading squad who wins national titles more often than you change your shorts. He also has a nearly full-time job putting away the worst criminals in the state of Ohio." He raised a brow. "Do you really think he has time for your shenanigans?"

Dean huffed and crossed his arms. "You make it sound like we'd use him and…and just…throw him away or something. We would never do that!" he insisted.

Sam nodded, his backbone finally asserting itself.

"I know him," Bobby hissed. "You don't. Kurt is not one for casual flings, and I sincerely doubt that he'd be interested in some triad relationship, especially where the other two involved are brothers. And I don't mean that he would be grossed out by that, but he would feel left out or left behind. If he ever decided that he was interested, I would support him, but where do you honestly think it would go?"

Sam sighed and dropped his head in his hands. "Bobby's right, Dean."

"The fuck he is," Dean denied, scowling.

"Kurt has a life, Dean," Sam challenged. "He's almost ten years younger than me. He's just starting out. How can we mess that up for him?"

"We wouldn't!"

"He has a home," Sam stressed. "He has a father and friends who love him. We can't give him those things. Can you even imagine what would happen if we introduced him to John?"

Dean blanched.

As much as he didn't want to, Bobby felt he had to interject. "Kurt would handle John just fine, believe me."

The boys clearly didn't, and their looks spoke for themselves.

"We're on the road constantly," Sam continued, looking at his brother. "We don't even know where we're going next. That's no kind of life for someone like Kurt. He's not a hunter."

"He's psychic!" Dean shouted.

"That means he's supernatural," Sam replied, "not that his visions are supernatural. He's putting away human criminals, Dean, not demonic ones. Would you want to put him in that kind of danger? We're not cops. We're not District Attorneys."

"We could protect him," Dean stubbornly insisted.

"He shouldn't need protection," Sam said. "He should be able to enjoy his life. We can't give him the things he needs, Dean. Bobby's right. We don't even know Kurt. We're just reacting to our dicks."

Dean's fight was slowly leaving him. "I think I love him."

Bobby scoffed, but Sam held up a warning hand.

"I know how you are, Dean. When you fall, it's hard and fast and true. But Kurt's a kid."

Dean shot him a look filled with disbelief. "He's not. He's never been allowed to be a kid."

Even Bobby had no rejoinder for that one.

Sam sighed. "Look, Dean, I understand how you feel, I really do, but do you honestly think you could treat Kurt the way he needs?"

"What the hell does that mean!" Dean exploded, hopping to his feet.

"Look at how you treat me," Sam said evenly. "You worry about me far more than you do yourself. Yeah, I'm your brother, but I'm also your lover, and there's very little equality in our relationship. You determine our cases. You determine where we go. You don't even ask for my opinions. When I do or say something you don't like, you shut me out completely."

Dean opened his mouth.

"I know you," Sam continued, "and I love and accept you for who you are. But I can guarantee you that someone like Kurt, someone's who been through so damn much in such a short life, would never allow himself to be coddled the way you coddle me. He just wouldn't put up with it. And he wouldn't sit around waiting for you to finish your hissy fits. He would leave, Dean, and there's no brother bond with him to get him to stay."

Dean visibly deflated and released a slow breath. "You're not happy," he said in a small voice. "Not with me."

"Bullshit," Sam spat. "If I wasn't, I would leave, Dean. But like I said, I know you. I know what makes you tick and I how to manipulate you when it's necessary; I know what your words and your silences mean. I know all of your secrets and your pain. It's exactly like how you know me. Kurt doesn't know these things and he won't understand them." He sighed. "You said yourself that Kurt's never been allowed to be a kid, and you're right, but you would still treat him as one. We both know it."

Dean pulled his legs up to his chest and stubbornly looked away. Bobby was impressed with the way Sam had managed to corral his brother.

"I want him, too, Dean," Sam whispered. "I want to hold him and take care of him and make everything all right for him, but I can't, and neither can you. He needs to do that for himself, and it sounds like he's been doing a pretty good job of it."

Bobby nodded.

"Fine," Dean said shortly after several long, agonizing moments, "but if he comes to me, if he makes a move, if he says he can handle it, I'm not turning him away." He glared up at Bobby.

Bobby shrugged. "If he's the one doing the pushing, I know he won't let you say no. He's known his own mind since he was two years old, and nothing I say will sway him. So even though I won't like it, I'll deal with it. If you hurt him, I'll kill you. And as far as my brother and Kurt's friends are concerned, you're on your own. Believe me when I tell you that you have no idea what will happen, and even Kurt wouldn't be able to guarantee your survival."

Dean nodded. "Noted." He turned to look at Sam.

"If he wants," Sam said softly. "But he has to come to us, Dean. You won't push him. You won't flirt with him. There will be no touching or suggesting or anything else like that. It must be his decision, one he reaches on his own and with no prompting from either of us."

Bobby sighed and nodded. "I won't interfere, and if something happens, I won't stand in your way. But like I said before, if you hurt him, I will kill you."

They believed him.