A/N: So, you know how on Frasier most of the comedy comes from mistaking one person for another or thinking they're linked with each other differently than in reality. That's more or less what the fic is about.

The title is taken from Alanis Morissette's "Ironic" mostly the part 'It's meeting the man of my dreams/ And then meeting his beautiful wife '.

Oh, And of course SPN is not mine, obviously, please, don't sue me. Frasier doesn't belong to me as well, but they stolen this type of humor from Shakespeare, so I guess I'm clear.

Enjoy, and if you do, please review to let me know what you think.

And I have a Beta now. So a shout-out to Twilight684, who was kind enough to help me with my bad English.

"Dean, that's absolutely stunning," Sarah said, looking in awe at the furniture piece.

The vintage looking crib was made of dark wood with beautiful marquetry in the form of brighter wooden framing at the head and foot boards.

"Dude, you've really outdone yourself," Sammy added, probably glad he had an opportunity to squeal like a teenage girl for once. "But it's too much. I'm not sure we can accept it."

Sarah instantly nodded in agreement, though it would be more convincing without that pained expression on her face.

The look that Dean threw Sam's way clearly stated that, for such a genius, his baby brother was a complete idiot. "Of course you can, man. And, honestly, you'll be doing me a favor 'cause, besides furnishing, there's not much else I can offer your little girl."

"Now you're being an idiot!" Sam objected quickly.

"You're both being idiots," Sarah chimed in, effectively stopping the conversation. "Sam, we will gladly accept your brother's gift. And, Dean, you're gonna be the best uncle in the history."

Both men grinned at that, and Dean once again thought his sister-in-law was awesome and totally rocking the Winchester surname.

Sam didn't have a lot of girlfriends, much less one-night-stands; he was more of a settling kind of guy. But Dean had to admit that some of his little brother's earlier conquests made him cringe or reach for the holy water. First, in high school, there was Ruby. She was on Dean's blacklist because the girl was a stoner and tried to hook Sam up, and not on some everyone-has-to-try-it weed, but on some brand new pills; Dean was having none of that.

Then during Sam's senior year he was going out with Lilith, which would be all great because the girl was smart and hot as hell, if it wasn't for the fact that she was bat-shit crazy. Dean was happy Sam still lived with their parents then and wouldn't bring a girl for a sleepover because, honestly, she probably would've killed them all in their sleep.

And then in college Sam met Jess. She was the perfect American Girl—all smiles, blue eyes and wavy blonde hair. She was nice enough, and Dean couldn't say anything bad against her if he tried, but he wasn't a fan. She was more of a fantasy and too apple pie for his taste, and the fact the apples were too much was definitely saying something. And, as he predicted, they broke up without much of a fuss or stomping feet on either part. Sam admitted later that his reasons for the breakup was the fact she didn't challenge him at all. So, just as Dean suspected, she was all sweetness and no filling.

But he was rooting for Sarah from the moment he met her, which was basically the day Sam met her. They were at some lame art exhibit that Sam had to attend because of his additional classes and he'd dragged Dean there under false pretenses. He said there would be chicks, because chicks dig art, and booze, because they buy said art more willingly after few drinks. Those were Sam's exact words. It was that moment Dean realized his brother would make a good lawyer because, while both statements were true, Sam conveniently failed to mention that the chicks were mostly painted and the real art-digging ones were married to Sam's professors or possibly their grandparents. And, as for the alcohol, it was some girly champagne for the snooty visitors.

Luckily for his lying ass, he met Sarah, who was overseeing the exhibit. It was the moment Dean was opening his mouth to tear his brother a new one when he caught a sight of him making a beeline in her direction.

Oh, that reminds him, he owed the little shit some ass whupping for that night eight years ago. He thought it pointless during the exhibit and later in the car since his brother was on a cloud nine, and the depths of Dean's sass and witty responses would be lost on the grinning bastard.

Long story short, the date Sam asked Sarah on that night turned into relationship, which turned into moving in together, which mutated into Mrs. Sam Winchester, a title which, for the first time in his life, he wasn't referring to his 6'4" brother. And now the madness has been spreading, or maybe sprouting, into another Winchester that was currently in the form of a huge baby bump Sarah was sporting.

"I have also a sitting chair and a chest of drawers as a set. I though it would go nicely with that rocking chair Mom gave you."

Sarah nodded in agreement, and all of them knew that Sam's opinion on this particular subject was not going to count.

"I haven't lacquered it yet, thought maybe you wanted to put some design on the headboard or something."

"Wow, that's very thoughtful. And I would like that, if it's ok with you?" Sarah added quickly.

"Yeah, no problem. I haven't finished it for a reason, but you know you'd have to find your own guy for that 'cause no one in my shop does that stuff."

Dean was referring to the furniture shop he owned. He was never a brainiac, but he was always very skillful. As a child he spent most of his freetime at 'W&S Mechanics', the garage that belonged to his father and uncle Bobby, but when he became a teenager he discovered his new hobby. It stuck and soon enough their house, and the households of their friends and family, were almost littered with his handmade wooden sculptures, carvings and small decorative accents.

His father was adamant, as he wished both of his boys went to the University, but when Dean sold his first piece totally out of the blue–something he made sitting on a porch, and one of their neighbors thought it would be a nice gift to his wife–he managed to convince his parents to put his school money into some shop and handcrafting courses. Now, over 10 years later, his shop was quite successful, employing staff and making a name for himself. It went so well Dean could focus on singular, extremely detailed, and one of a kind projects that brought in big bucks.

So when he learned that he was going to be an uncle, and that his brother and his wife were taking an almost meditative approach towards preparing for the baby, he decided to provide some basic necessities for the nursery. Apparently it went well if the looks on Mr. and Mrs. Sam Winchester's faces were anything to go by.

"Don't worry, Dean. I know a guy." Sarah winked in their direction. "He sometimes does some work in our decorative arts, textile and sculptures department." Sarah was working for the Minneapolis Institute of Arts as an event and exhibition planner. "His name is Castiel Novak, and he's the god of renovations."

The tone in which Sarah was describing the guy made Dean wonder what he did to end up in a family of nerds.

"We've talked a few times and he told me he's also a freelancer. He likes to make some decorative pieces, mostly for friends and family. I will call him and ask whether he would be interested." She hesitated for a moment. "Would you be OK with partnering up on this?" she asked, looking at Dean expectantly.

"Sure, no problem. I've been thinking about expanding my business recently, and one of the ideas was adding some applied arts guru to the staff anyways. Might as well beta test this shit and see how this guy works. It would be a good opportunity to check the market for some artists."

"Great, I will give him a call and see if I can take him up on his offer," she said, stepping from the brothers to make the phone call.

"And what did you say his name was again?" Dean shouted in her direction.

"Castiel Novak."

"Man," he turned towards his brother and sighed exasperatedly, "how am I gonna remember that?"

"Dean, I can take care of it myself. I'm pregnant, not paralyzed."

For such attitude he still liked Sarah the most.

They were loading the crib on his truck, because he's not exploiting Baby that way. And by 'they' he meant himself since Sarah was standing to the side and offering useful suggestions.

"Lady, forget it. Believe it or not, I've worked on that crib for a while. And it's a nice piece of furniture. I won't have your water breaking over it."

Her date was set for the beginning of August, which left them four months in the clear, but Dean wasn't taking any chances. "Besides, you've got Moose to boss around, why didn't you wait for him to drive you?"

"'Cause he's working on a case and I couldn't wait to start the project. Plus, Castiel was available at this time. But if you're busy..."

"Nah, it's cool. Wanted to meet this wonder child of yours anyways. But I still think that's a weird ass name... OK, all set. Can we get going now or do you have to pee again?"

The gate was locked and the bell seemed to be broken.

"He said that if it's locked we should just go get him when we arrive. But maybe you could go 'cause, at this rate, it'll get dark before I whale my way out of the car."

"Ok, you sit tight, eat a candy bar or whatever. I'm gonna get the guy. What's his name again?"

"Castiel. Castiel Novak," Sarah provided, giving him the stink-eye for the 'sweets' comment.

"How am I gonna remember that? Hope the guy responds to Cas."

"Wouldn't know, haven't tried. Now go 'cause your niece is starting to put pressure on my bladder."

The pregnancy comment had the expected effect and Dean jogged toward the buildings.

The first building, the big Victorian house, was dark and quiet, but Dean heard some commotion and music from the building behind it. It looked like a barn. As he got close he could see a man hunched over some Chippendale style armchair, working on it carefully with thread and needle with his back to Dean.

"You must be Mr. Novak? I'm Dean Winchester," he said gently so as not to startle the renovator. At the sound of his voice the man in question stood up and turned towards Dean, and when the latter was met with the bluest gaze in history his mind went blank.

On the other hand, his heart had some useful information to share.

"So there you are," it provided helpfully.

So, the first chapter is a preview for you. I'm still finishing my other fic which only needs epilogue, and as soon I'm done with it, I'll devote my full attention to this baby.

It will be a happy fic. As I'm an only child from a small family I have this fantasy that big families/extended families share almost everything and have basically an open door policy to one another. So that's what you'll find here.

Anyways, thoughts?

Oh, I only ship Destiel, so that's the only smut there'll be.