Afternoon Delight A Miracles/Supernatural Cross-over Fanfic by Meredevachon Pairing: Dean Winchester/Paul Callan Rating: Adult for sexual situations Disclaimer: Supernatural and Miracles, their characters and situations do not belong to me. This is all in fun and for love of the characters. Beta: Many thanks to KaijaWest for her help with this. It's a better story because of her. Any remaining mistakes are entirely my fault. Author's Notes: Written for Laurel's (webmistress and Dean/Paul freak) request as part of the fic_on_demand June challenge (day 23). Please note, I've neither received nor given a lapdance, nor do I have any experience with strip clubs. Summary: In an effort to loosen Paul up, and because of his obsessive need to mess with Paul's head, Dean takes him out to a strip club and buys him a lap dance as a surprise. Dean, of course, watches (summary taken directly from the original request). This story is told in Laurel's Dean/Paul universe. ~*~*~         "That's it. Come on. We're getting out of here."         Paul looked up in surprise. Dean hadn't called to say he was coming, but there he was, larger than life in the middle of SQ's headquarters. "I have... I have things... work I have to do. I can't just leave whenever I feel like it. Something could happen."         "One: I'm only in town for a few days, and I'm not spending it all hanging out at your office. Two: It's not like you're actually working a case right now. If something happens, I'm sure Evie'll give you a call. Three: Everybody needs to eat - even you - and I saw this place, advertises a great lunch buffet. So we're going. Now get your coat."         Before Paul could formulate a response, his coat was being thrust into his hands, and he found himself being steered out from behind his desk towards the door.         "Um... would you wait a minute?" he muttered in exasperation before turning to Evie. "Evie, Dean and I are going to get some lunch, brainstorm some more about the Mothman, compare notes, that kind of thing. Is there anything we can bring back for you?"         "No thanks. I'm good." Dean didn't miss the chill in her voice; for some reason, the woman just did not like him. Luckily Paul was oblivious to the tension between the two, neither of them wanted him hurt.         He paused in the door, turning for one last reassurance. "You'll call if anything comes up, right?"         "Oh, I'll call, don't worry about that. You guys be careful out there, okay? I wouldn't want anything to happen to you." The look Evie gave Dean with those words was unmistakable, and promised bad things for him if anything happened to her friend.         Dean waited until they were in the Impala to pull Paul in for a kiss. They hadn't seen each other in a couple of months, and the kiss reflected all the hunger and impatience that had built up in that time.         Paul met his mouth eagerly for a few seconds, then just as quickly pushed away. "Dean! Not here! Someone could see."         "Relax. Nobody's looking. Now, come back over here."         "You said we were going to get lunch. Was that just a story to get me out of the office? I mean, were you really just wanting a... a... a nooner?" He blushed with the question. The thought of sex in the middle of the day, when he should be working, seemed both wrong and thrilling. Much like everything involving Dean Winchester.         Dean grinned. "I said lunch, and I meant it. But if you want a little afternoon delight after we eat, I'm all for it. Now... are you hungry, or what?"         "I could eat, I guess."         Dean started the car and navigated the streets of Boston like he'd been born to them. After a few minutes, Paul realized he had no idea where they were, or where they were going.         "Are we lost? I mean, there are plenty of restaurants between SQ and here. I know Boston can be confusing when you're not familiar with it, and I don't want you to-"         "We're not lost. I told you, there's a lunch buffet I want to check out. It's not much further. You're gonna love this place. I promise. It's just what you need."         A couple of blocks and five minutes later, Dean pulled into a parking lot in front of a rather non-descript building. Well, it would have been non-descript except that the complete lack of windows and the thick, heavy door advertised its purpose as clearly as the GIRLS! GIRLS! GIRLS! sign by the road. In smaller print, the same sign advertised a three dollar all-you-can-eat lunch buffet.         "We can't go in there! It's a... it's a... a gentlemen's club!" Paul sputtered.         "A strip club. Call it what it is, Metrosexual. A strip club. And we can and are going in there. You have got to loosen up, dude. Besides, I promised you lunch, remember?"         "But I can't... Is it even safe to eat in there? There are... naked women in there."         "It's fine. These places usually have a fairly decent spread. Nothing fancy, but the food's not terrible either most of the time. And these ladies work hard. Most of them are just trying to make ends meet, and dancing pays better than most other honest jobs they could get. Paying for school or kids or whatever; it gets expensive. Living in Beantown ain't cheap either. So don't go looking down on them for doing what they have to do to survive."         Dean almost felt bad when he saw the shameful look pass over Paul's face. Almost. But he was right; Paul did need to loosen up. Hopefully this would help.         "I... We're really doing this, aren't we?"         "Yep. Every red-blooded male needs to go to a strip club at least once in their life. Today just happens to be your lucky day."         They went inside, and as Dean paid for two buffet lunches, Paul let his eyes adjust to the darkness. When he could see, he was surprised to find men actually eating, and no naked women to be seen. At least, no completely naked women. The two currently dancing on the main stage were clothed, but articles of clothing were being peeled away slowly as he watched.         A shoulder bump from Dean drew his attention away from the stage. "Food first, man. You look like you haven't eaten since the last time I was here."         Dean grabbed a plate and had it filled before Paul had a chance to look over the options available. Long years of practice getting the most food for the least money - money on the girls didn't count in Dean's book - made his approach to a buffet table incredibly efficient. Which was a good thing in this case, because he wanted to be at a table before Paul. He hadn't lied when he told Paul they were getting lunch, but he hadn't exactly told the whole truth either. Too often the guy still acted too much like the priest he'd almost become. Dean wanted to change that.         Paul got to the table just as a scantily clad girl was walking away.         "I ordered us a couple of beers."         Something about the way the corner of Dean's mouth quirked up made Paul nervous, but he decided it was probably just the younger man's amusement at bringing Paul to a strip club. Determined not to let on that it bothered him, Paul sat down and began to eat. He tried to keep his eyes on his food, and not on the girls. It just didn't seem right, no matter what Dean said. This sort of thing belonged in the bedroom, not on stage in front of a bunch of strangers.         Another waitress came to take their plates when they were done, and Dean sprawled out in the chair, getting comfortable. His attention was pretty evenly divided between the dancers and Paul. He didn't want to miss a nuance of Paul's reaction, especially now that there wasn't a plate to focus on. Shifting the chair just a bit gave him a clear line of sight on the stage while keeping Paul in his peripheral vision. When he saw the girl strutting towards their table, he shifted over a little more. The show in the chair next to him was about to get a whole lot more interesting than anything up on stage.         The blonde walked straight up to Paul, who grabbed his bottle of beer like it was a security blanket.         She planted both hands on the table and leaned forward, giving both men an excellent view of her more than ample - and probably augmented - cleavage. "So... first time?"         "Wha-what?" Paul looked from the woman to Dean and back in confusion.         "Your friend here said it was your first lapdance." She said it so matter of factly, like it happened everyday, and winked at Dean before returning her gaze to Paul who was too busy choking on his beer to notice the exchange.         When he was breathing freely again, she continued, "So it is your first time. That's okay. I don't bite. The rules are simple. You don't get to touch... unless I say it's okay. You just sit back and enjoy the ride. I'll take care of everything else. Think you can handle that, baby?"         "Dean?"         "Don't look at me, man. Just go with it."         "Look... miss..."         "Her name's Angel."         "Look, Angel. I don't mean any offense. I'm sure you're a lovely person. I mean, you are... quite attractive. But I'm just... I mean... I wouldn't want..." The blush grew deeper and warmer as Paul fumbled over his words, finally turning to Dean again in desperation.         "He's just shy. It's okay. Just go ahead. Really." He leaned in close to whisper in Paul's ear, "I'll be right here, watching. I want to. So do it for me, all right?"         Paul's face heated even more, not entirely in embarrassment, as he nodded. He sat back in the chair gripping the arms tightly, tension evident in the stiff way he held himself. Dean settled back into his own chair, as relaxed as Paul was rigid.         Portishead started playing, and Angel began to move with the beat. At first she stayed a foot or so in front of Paul's chair, coming closer as the song went on until she was straddling his lap, grinding down on him along with the music. Paul appeared to loosen up, mostly because all his tension was collecting in one area of his body.         Strangely enough - or perhaps not, given the situation - as Paul became more relaxed, Dean was becoming less so. Barely contained tension thrummed under the surface as he watched Paul react to the woman in his lap. It was a look Dean had seen before, when the straitlaced, uptight man let go, let himself enjoy the moment. Paul's face was flushed with excitement, his pupils wide, and his breathing was becoming ragged. His hands clenched and unclenched as he struggled to keep them at his sides instead of reaching for the dancer. Dean watched the long fingers working, imagining them on him, remembering their strength and gentleness. Paul looked up, met Dean's eyes, and suddenly neither of them could breathe for want.         Just then a shrill tone broke through the final few bars of "Sour Times." Paul's cell phone. The song ended, and Angel stood. "You going to answer that? Thanks, cutie. It was fun." With a wink at both the men, she walked away, her stiletto heels putting an extra sway in her hips.         Paul pulled out his phone and checked the caller ID. He took a deep breath to try to steady himself before he answered. "Evie?"         "Paul? Are you all right? You sound... off."         He paused, knowing how he sounded, but unable to get his desire back in check with Dean sitting so close, looking so decadent. "I'm fine. Did something happen?" He prayed it was nothing, wanting only to take Dean back to his apartment for the afternoon, but then stopped himself. Prayer shouldn't be used for such things. He was already going to have to spend more time in confession than usual. No use adding to his transgressions.         "Alva wants us to look into something, check out news reports and stuff before deciding if there might be a case for us in Maine. I probably wouldn't have called, but you did ask me to, and you'd been gone a lot longer than usual for lunch. I wanted to make sure you were okay, that you hadn't been in an accident or something."         "Oh... well I guess I'll have Dean bring me back then, if you really need me. Did Keel say what kind of case it was?" He tried to keep the disappointment and frustration out his voice, but wasn't sure how successful he was. More than that, he hoped Dean's groan hadn't been audible to her.         "No, he didn't. Just that there had been some strange occurrences reported recently, and he thought we should take a look at it. You know how it is. Since we don't know exactly what we're looking for, it'll be a lot more work involved. The sooner you get back to help, the better."         "No problem. We're on our way. Who knows, maybe Dean will help out. He does have some experience with our line of work after all."         "I think we can manage just fine without Mr. Winchester's help, but we'll see. So, I'll see you soon?" Evie tried not to sound catty, but it wasn't easy. Paul really was just too naïve to be spending much time with someone like Dean Winchester.         "Probably about twenty minutes, maybe more depending on traffic. Don't worry, we'll get there." He ended the call, and turned to Dean, who was wearing an expression of sheer exasperation.         "Gotta get back to the office, huh? Should've known she'd call. Could her timing be any worse, though?"         They made their way back to the car in silence, not wanting to get too close when they couldn't finish anything, but unable to stay too far apart. "It's not Evie's fault, Dean. I told you I had to work today, and now I have to get back to it."         "Other things I'd rather get back to, if you know what I mean." The look in Dean's eyes was pure sin, and Paul couldn't think of anything he wanted more right then. Still, he had responsibilities, and a little sacrifice, denial of urges, could be good for the soul. Didn't make it any easier though. He just hoped his body got the message before they got back to the office.         "Oh I know what you mean. But you brought it on yourself. It's all your fault I have to go back to work like this."         "Like what?"         "You know what. And don't think I'm not going to make you pay for this, 'cause I will. I can't believe you bought me a lapdance! I just... I can't... you! You're in so much trouble now, Dean."         "I'm gonna hold you to that, you know. No working all hours tonight. After all, the last time you decided to punish me for being bad, I thoroughly enjoyed it."         They made good time, arriving at the office in about fifteen minutes, and Paul tried not to think too much on how much over the speed limit Dean had to have been going to get there that quickly. The trip earlier seemed to have taken much longer, but it was kind of hard to tell for certain.         A thought struck Paul then, as Dean licked his full lips lasciviously. "You're going to be impossible, aren't you? Back at the office?"         "I don't know what you're talking about." The fake innocent look that time, not the one where Dean really tried to fool people into trusting him.         "Yes, you do. Why don't you drop me off and then you can go to my place, read a book, watch television, or whatever until I get through."         Dean thought about it for a minute. "Yeah, all right. I can do that. But if you're not home by 5:30, I'm coming down there. I'll bend you over your desk and kiss you so hard you'll feel it in your toes. Right in front of Evie, Keel, whoever's there. I mean it."         Paul believed him. He knew the only person Dean was worried about hiding their relationship - whatever that entailed - from was Sam. Obviously he didn't expect Sam to be there or he wouldn't have made the threat. Dean meant it, and Paul knew he'd be making whatever excuses he could come up with to be out of the office before the threat could be acted on.         One last kiss, more torment than good-bye, before he got out of the car and headed for the stairs.         Dean rolled down the passenger window, and yelled, "Five-thirty!"         "If not before!" Paul smiled and waved him on, but the car stayed where it was until he'd opened the door, before it tore out of the alley with a roar. *fin* Back to The Stories or Back to Brokeback Mothman