A Miracles/Supernatural Cross-over Fanfic
by Laurel (Sailorhathor)
Chapters: 5 of 5
Word Count: 40,864 total; 8,939 this chapter
Author's Notes: "Endpaper" is a term for the paper in the front and back of a book that lines the inside of the front and back covers.
See Part I for additional Author's Notes.
Part V: Endpapers
Everyone found places to sit in Paul's apartment that were not on the couch, since Sam's sleeping body took up the entire thing from one end to the other. He was deeply asleep, totally undisturbed by the sound of the television.
They had been lucky. The factory was large, so they only felt the explosion in the shaking pavement under their feet. Their ears still rang with tinnitus at times, though, from the loud boom of the exploding factory machinery.
On the television news, the fire department still fought the flames. A reporter interviewed an official spokesman for Sintac on the situation.
"Are there any workers still unaccounted for?" the newscaster asked.
"Yes, there are some employees we are still trying to locate," the spokesman replied uneasily.
"Seventeen. But one of those persons, we think, called in sick."
Paul closed his eyes for a moment, taking in the fact that the Mothman had made another correct prediction.
The spokesman continued, "Someone pulled the fire alarm a few minutes before the explosion. We have no idea who did it, or how they knew what was about to happen, but they should know that they saved the lives of hundreds of people. The building was almost fully evacuated at the time the explosion happened."
Dean huffed on his fingernails and pretended to shine them on his shirt.
As there wasn't much else to be done at the time, Evie went through the motions of going home to Matty, but not before she flashed Alva a discreet look. Alva, soon after, got up to leave too. He waited until Dean got involved in the Chinese take-out to pull Paul aside and ask him a few questions that had been disturbing him. "You and Mr. Winchester are thick as thieves today."
Paul didn't let anything slip; he thought Keel had simply noticed how much time he and Dean had spent together, and didn't suspect just how "close" they'd really gotten. "Yeah, we had a busy day."
"What's going on?"
That gave Paul pause while he figured out what to say. "What do you mean?"
Alva glanced over at Dean, who was sitting slouched down in a comfortable chair, his knees splayed so far apart one would think he was waiting for a physical exam, a carton of Chinese food on his chest, from which he was enthusiastically eating. "Well, he's not exactly the usual type of friend you make..."
"No," Paul shrugged, "but it turns out we have a lot in common. I wouldn't have thought we'd get along either. It's because of Tommy, and the Mothman, really, that Dean's here at all."
"We're going to have to talk more about Tommy's miraculous return in the morning. You know there's a possibility there could be something sinister behind it."
"On one level, I know it's possible, but somehow, I trust him fully. I understand, though, why we have to discuss it," Paul said with a sigh.
After a pause to decide if he should really ask this question, Alva just did it. "Is Mr. Winchester trying to woo you away from SQ?"
Paul let out a sudden, hearty laugh, so loud that Dean looked up from his food with narrowed eyes. When neither man stole any looks at him, he went back to watching TV. "Is that what you're worried about?" Paul asked. No, he's just wooing me period. "You are so paranoid, Keel." He shook his head. "No, Dean is not trying to 'woo' me away from SQ. What would he even do that with, when he's homeless and living out of his car?"
Looking genuinely surprised, Alva said, "Really? He hasn't even said one word about you joining up with him?"
"Yes, really. Not one word. Keel... you don't have to worry about me leaving SQ anymore, okay?" Paul grinned. "You're stuck with me."
Alva smiled too. "Alright. But, there's something there... a reason for Mr. Winchester being here. It's why the Mothman manipulated the situation to bring you two together."
Paul stole a look at Dean, which he didn't catch, and looked back to Alva. "There's a connection, yeah. I'm not sure what it is, but it is like meeting someone familiar to you and you have no idea where you've seen them before, but you know it was somewhere. Maybe in time, it will make sense." As a thought occurred to him, there was a sudden apology in Paul's eyes. "Hey, I just wanted to say I'm sorry for snapping at you over how you handled the Danielle Franklin thing. You were right, the Mothman was too vague with his words, and it was a difficult position to be in. It's the reason I wouldn't let you in yesterday. I was really mad at you," he explained with a chuckle.
"It's alright, Paul." Alva gestured to Paul's hands. "Will you be okay? Do you want me to take you to the hospital for x-rays?"
"No, I don't think anything's broken. I actually regret busting up my table more than my hands. At least hands heal." Paul looked over at the table with regret; it really was a nice piece of furniture.
Alva walked over and examined the damage to the coffee table. "I think this can be fixed."
Paul, brightening up, said, "Hey, we built the psychomantium, I bet we could fix it."
Looking up from the table, Alva replied, "I'll come pick it up in the morning and take it to the office, then we can fix it together." He peered at Dean, and commented with a wry grin, "I can pick it up in my 'hooptie mobile.'"
Dean glanced at him with surprise, then just chuckled.
Besides wanting to fix his table, Paul also thought the project would be good for him and Keel to do together. Paul could be a little too hard on Keel sometimes, when he just wanted Paul to like him.
Alva knew from the look she had given him that Evie would be waiting for him by his car, so he didn't linger too long. Sure enough, she waited in the shadows beside the building, near the parking space that held the Wagoneer. "Alva."
"Oh, there you are. You had more you wanted to explain?"
"I sure do. Alva, I don't think Dean wants Paul to leave SQ. I don't think that's what he's after at all," said Evie.
"Then what do you think it is?" Alva asked.
Evie came closer, leaning against his car. "I believe he's sincere enough when he says he knew nothing of the Mothman's plan. Dean's just as bewildered by all this as we are. But I think along the way, he's developed a pretty intense attraction to Paul."
If Alva had been drinking something at that time, this would have been a perfect time to do a spit take. "You think Mr. Winchester wants Paul for sex?"
"Yes. Big time."
"Well... for one thing, Paul said things that indicated that Dean slept in his bed last night. With Paul. Paul's so conditioned to be charitable and show hospitality to those in need that he'd allow something like this, even if there was a perfectly good couch for Dean to sleep on. All he had to do was complain that the couch was too lumpy or made his back hurt to sleep on it, and you know Paul would give in." Evie continued on her revisionist version of last night. "Dean probably did it because he wanted to be close to Paul in an intimate situation."
Alva joined in. "Paul does know that Mr. Winchester is homeless, living out of his car. He probably feels sorry for him. It didn't seem there have been any advances; Paul seemed pretty relaxed around him."
"I caught Dean touching Paul's face in gratitude. It was a very intimate gesture," Evie said, crossing her arms over her chest. "He seems to be quite infatuated with our Paul."
"Well, Paul isn't an ogre; I mean, we can both see why someone would find him attractive, can we not? But Paul is so naïve that he probably doesn't even notice Mr. Winchester's interest."
"I bet you're right. In fact, I know you are."
Even with the shadow of Rebecca hanging over them, they couldn't see Paul as much of a sexual being. It was just impossible for them, spending so much time with only one of Paul's faces, which definitely wasn't the face that Dean had been allowed to see. It was the reason Evie was always trying to fix him up with someone. She thought Paul was, overall, too shy to make his own moves.
Alva recalled, "You'll remember from the file that one of the people I tapped to follow the Winchesters a few years back was a male. He obtained the pictures of the brothers. I always thought the one he got of Dean Winchester was too... posed... with a grin like a predatory wolf. Not exactly how you pose for a regular photo."
"You think he was sexually involved with the operative?"
"It's very possible, isn't it? It's not like Mr. Winchester doesn't have a certain reputation..." Alva raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side.
Evie, pausing, suddenly laughed. "Are we really talking about paranormal society gossip?"
"Uh..." The idea embarrassed Alva a little, but she had a point. "Well, I did hear this from Lassiter's assistant, who heard it from the head of..."
"Never mind. You're saying that the word around the Adept society is that Dean Winchester is a slut?"
Alva had to laugh too, putting his hand over his eyes. "I guess that's what I'm saying."
"Do the rumors mention men as well as women?"
Now Alva was really embarrassed. "Yes."
"I believe it." Evie reached over and pinched her boss's arm. "You shameless rumor monger. Didn't your mother ever tell you not to gossip?"
"She was one of the worst," he said with a grin, rubbing his arm where she'd squeezed it.
"Okay, so what do we do?" She threw her hands up, not knowing how to bridge the gap between protecting Paul and not invading his privacy.
Alva shrugged. "We do nothing. Paul's a grownup; he can take care of himself."
"But he's alone up there with Dean..."
"No he's not; Samuel is up there with them."
"But Sam's dead to the world for the night," Evie pointed out.
"What do you think the man's going to do, Evelyn, rape Paul with his brother right there in the apartment?" queried Alva with a snort.
"No..." She didn't peg Dean for the raping type either way. Seduction, though, was another story. "I think Dean might try to convince Paul, though."
"Again, with Samuel right there in the next room?" He looked at her, expecting a response.
Evie finally had to give in. "No... I guess not."
"Paul wouldn't be interested anyway," Alva assured her. "He's heterosexual. Remember Rebecca?"
"Yeah... guess I'm worrying for nothing."
"Precisely. Paul's very good at being diplomatic; he'll fend off any advances with compassion." He opened the door to his car. "Now why don't you take that mother hen stance home to Matty? It's getting very late."
"Mother hen stance?"
"You do it and you know it, Evelyn."
A minute later, they were both gone, and Mrs. Bongiovi could come out of her hiding place near the dumpster, put down the bag of trash, and have a good laugh, her hands on her knees as she eventually doubled over with giggles. She didn't understand half the things they said - operatives? - but she knew they were two very foolish people. "Friendship can be just as blind as love," she remarked to herself, and looked up at Paul's window.
Alva and Evie would have felt very foolish indeed if they could have seen into Paul's apartment as the night's events unfolded. Now alone with the sleeping Sam, Dean and Paul had decided to go to bed. Dean knew what he was up for, but he wasn't sure if Paul felt the same way, as Paul made the comment that Dean needed to wake up his brother so the couch bed could be pulled out.
"Phew, when you said this stuff had aftereffects that would make Sam sleep a lot, you meant it. Hey Sam, nap time's over. Time to wake up and go to bed." Dean shook him lightly.
Paul giggled. "Give it up."
"Sam." Dean again shook his shoulder. "We can't pull the couch bed out with you on it."
Sam groaned to be left alone without opening his eyes.
"Sammy... hey! Don't make me do the army wake up song."
Sam swiped at Dean's hand and groaned again, sounding angry.
Leaning in close to Sam's ear, Dean droned, "Saaaaammyyyyyy..."
Sam let out a loud whine of protest and blindly shoved out at whoever was disturbing his sleep. He pushed an unsuspecting Dean over on his butt in front of the couch. "Oof! Well... I think we'll let him sleep."
Paul chuckled without reserve.
"Oh, you think that's funny, do you?" Dean got to his feet.
"Yeah, I do."
"I say we stick Sam's hand in a bowl of warm water," said Dean, smirking.
"You sure there aren't better things we could do with our time?"
One eyebrow raised, Dean looked at Paul, finding a naughty grin on his face. Ahhh... he grinned back. "I'm sure there are."
"Well... with Sam taking up the whole couch, I suppose you'll have to sleep in my bed again." Deep inside, Paul questioned why he was initiating this. He wasn't upset like he was the day before. There was no need for comfort sex tonight. So why did he want Dean again? When had this turned from comfort sex to sex for pleasure? Usually Paul's desire for men went right out the window when his mood improved, but he only wanted the man more than he had before. It was an anomaly in the way he usually operated; Paul would have to give it some thought. Right now, though, all he cared about was the sight of Dean smiling like that, sauntering across the room.
"I suppose you're right." Yes! Paul was up for some action too. Hey, it wasn't like Sam would be disturbed; he was practically comatose. He wouldn't hear a thing. Dean stretched and gave a fake yawn. "Let's hit the hay, then." He headed to Paul's bedroom.
Paul followed him with a smirk on his face.
When he closed the door behind them, it didn't stay shut because the latch was loose; the door reopened about half an inch with a small clicking sound. Neither Paul nor Dean noticed because they were already meeting in the middle for deep kissing and groping hands. Dean started to pull Paul's shirt off, but stopped and grinned.
"You take it off. I don't want to wrinkle it."
Paul did, grabbing the back of his collar and pulling the shirt off over his head. "Doesn't matter if this one gets wrinkled, though. It's going straight in the hamper."
Dean snickered. "That's so cute."
"The way you take off your shirt. I could watch you do it over and over."
"Oh, well then..." Paul reached over Dean's head, took hold of the back of his collar, and pulled Dean's shirt off. He whipped the shirt around his hand and spun it a couple of times before tossing it across the room.
That move was so playful it drove Dean nuts; he grabbed Paul's face and kissed him hard. They continued like that for several more seconds before Paul put a hand on Dean's chest and moved him back, finally shoving him into the chair by the bed. Dean liked these little shows of aggression. So unexpected.
Paul got down on his knees in front of the chair and ran his hands up and down Dean's thighs, slowly pushing them open. Dean slid down in the chair so he could splay his legs apart, giving Paul room to get in. Paul unbuttoned Dean's jeans and pulled down the zipper, earning him a wide, aroused smile from Dean, then grasped the waistband and yanked down on it. Dean maneuvered himself to make it easier for Paul to get the jeans past his butt and down to his ankles. Paul repeated this action with the boxer briefs, exposing Dean's hardness. He sighed as the air hit his naked skin.
Eager to get things going, Paul nuzzled into the spot just under Dean's cock where it met his body. He licked there lightly, eventually deepening the area he covered and the amount of pressure he applied with his tongue as he worked his way over and around the base of the other man's manhood. Dean gripped the arms of the big chair, moaning. Paul ran his tongue down to the head of Dean's cock where he concentrated for a minute, sucking and licking the underside.
"Mmm," Dean moaned again. He began to caress his way through Paul's hair with one hand. "Paul..."
Paul's head dipped deeper in between Dean's legs as he took him into his mouth. He slowly brought his head back up, making wet sucking noises and leaving Dean slick. Keeping the head of his cock in his mouth, Paul rolled it around on the end of his tongue and breathed heavily on it before closing his lips around it again. Starting to tremble, Dean moaned a little louder, which encouraged Paul to join in. The humming sound that made caused vibrations that sent good chills up Dean's back. "God, Paul..." He huffed out a heavy pant.
Unbeknownst to them, Sam came groggily awake in the living room. Had Dean just been shaking him? Trying to wake him up? Someone had turned out the light... he guessed Dean and Paul had gone to bed in Paul's room since he'd been taking up the whole couch. Well, Sam would just get a little water for his dry mouth and go back to bed.
When he came back from the kitchen, Sam was just climbing back on the couch with his glass of water when he heard Dean's voice, faint, but unmistakable.
Sam cocked his head with a bewildered raise of his eyebrows. He felt like someone from the 1700's who had just heard an airplane fly overhead. Why did Dean sound horny as hell when he said Paul's name? Correction, when he moaned Paul's name. This had to be investigated.
Sam noticed that the bedroom door was open a sliver. He quietly pushed the door just a little more open to peek inside. What he saw froze his brain up temporarily, it was just that mindblowing. There was his brother, head turned partially to one side, eyes closed, mouth open in panting breaths, with his pants around his ankles. The person between his legs giving him what must be a totally killer blowjob judging by the reaction he was getting out of Dean was Paul Callan. Sam couldn't be misjudging the situation - that was clearly Paul, that clearly wasn't a Tootsie Pop he had in his mouth, and Dean was clearly enjoying himself like this was something he did all the time, if the way he clutched the chair with one hand and Paul's hair with the other was any indication.
Blinking, Sam regained the use of his brain and pulled the door almost all the way shut. Holy Christ... was his older brother bisexual? Why had he hidden this all these years? Or was this truly the first time Dean had ever done things like this with a guy? Sam somehow didn't think this was new. Too many confusing things from the past were coming together with this revelation. Too many times when Dean disappeared with a male friend and came back sweaty and wanting a shower, grinning like an idiot and claiming they'd played sports. Then there was that whole thing with Billy from California and his friends. There had definitely been something going on there. Even though Sam was in junior high at the time, not high school like Dean, he'd still heard the crazy rumors. Maybe they weren't so crazy. Maybe Sam had been very blind because he saw his brother as so macho, this just didn't seem possible. The disappearing thing with men still happened to this day, though Dean used new excuses now.
It was possible the Mothman's drugs were making him hallucinate. Sam didn't think they were supposed to, but he had to be sure. He rubbed his eyes, then peeked inside the door again. Nothing had changed. Dean even solidified the revelations about himself by licking his lips, panting once, and moaning, "Oh Paul," visibly trembling in pleasure.
Sam had to shiver a little himself as the sounds in the room brought back a memory of Jessica's head in his lap. He again closed the door to just an inch and crept back to the couch. Should he say something to Dean about what he'd just seen? Dean obviously had no intention of telling him. Sam would have said it was some sort of spell for sure that made Dean and Paul behave like that, but there was Dean's past to consider... no, it was real. Jesus-jumping-up-and-down... before he could finish that exclamation in his head, the small amount of Mothman drugs still left in his system put Sam back to sleep. He'd have to think more about it in the morning.
Dean's eyes had been closed for the entirety of Sam's little spying session; he had no idea anyone had even opened the door. His eyes finally opened again when Paul took his mouth off his cock. "Muh?"
A wicked smirk colored Paul's face. "You were quite the bad boy today, Dean." He climbed up into the chair, straddling Dean on his knees, and rubbed his clothed crotch against the other man's naked one. Dean let out a surprised noise. "You tried to embarrass me in front of my co-workers. Even grabbed my ass in front of Evie." Paul put on a fake, cute little pout, working it for all it was worth. His hands rubbed up and down Dean's chest.
"You know... one of these days, you're actually going to have to finish a blowjob on me," Dean panted. He placed his hands on Paul's hips, trying to coax him to grind harder. "You look really cute when you're mad."
"Oh?" Teasing Dean, Paul ground against him very slowly. "I think you like being bad."
Dean moaned out loud. "You love it and you know it."
"What I think you really like is torturing me."
"I'll quit when you stop being so fun to torture," Dean snickered. He licked his lips and breathed out heavily at the feeling of Paul stroking against him.
"Maybe you need a taste of your own medicine." Paul ground down more aggressively, trying to get the denim of his jeans to bite into Dean's sensitive skin.
Dean's mouth hung open in an answering pant and moan. "Go ahead. If you giving me a lapdance is torture, I'm all for it."
"Fine." Paul gave Dean a little more of a taste as he rubbed down and against him with enthusiasm. Getting into it, Dean's hands tightened on Paul's hips, and he ground back, his own hips rotating in the chair.
"Paul..." he breathed.
"Ohh-ho no you don't." Paul took Dean's hands from his hips and pinned them over Dean's head, by the wrists, on top of the chair.
Dean could have easily gotten out of it, but he enjoyed when Paul showed this saucy, wicked side. He knew by instinct that Paul rarely showed such behavior to anyone, which made him feel special that it was shown to him.
"You do not call the shots during Dean's torture time. Not unless I ask for your input." Paul grinned with a wink. To tease further, he ground on Dean for half a minute while still holding him down. They both were panting and moaning now - Dean could feel Paul growing hard. Then he suddenly slowed down, looking into Dean's eyes and saying, "Tell me something I do that really turns you on."
Dean looked at the necklace that Paul now wore instead of the rosary; it was a simple silver crucifix. "The fact that you're so corruptible on the outside."
"That's not something I do. Try again," Paul said, smirking.
Dean realized that this was a bit of a game, and if he played right, he would be rewarded. "It turns me on when you whisper all hot and bothered."
Paul had to chuckle. He hadn't expected that answer. "When I whisper?"
"You sound so sexy."
Paul leaned in close to Dean's ear and whispered, "Like this?"
Dean shivered involuntarily. "Uhhh," he moaned. "Yeah, like that."
Somehow, getting them both off this way just wasn't enough for Paul. He was compelled to encourage them to go a lot farther. He whispered again, "If you could do whatever you wanted to me right now, what would you do?" Paul did not stop the hypnotic, delicious grinding.
Moaning again, Dean replied, "I'd fuck you. While you talked dirty in my ear."
"Sounds good to me." Paul hopped up, giving Dean his biggest surprise yet. Dean smiled mischievously because he knew he was about to get to do Paul. Inside, his libido yelped WOOHOO!
Dean watched as Paul stripped from the waist down, then got into the stash drawer and retrieved the necessary condom and bottle of lube. He climbed back into the chair, straddling Dean again.
Dean started to reach for the lube, but stopped. "Is torture time over?"
"Not completely," Paul said, and winked again. "But you're allowed to help." He handed the bottle to Dean.
Grinning, Dean asked, "How many times have you...?"
"Receiving? Um... about... three times," Paul answered.
"This month?" Dean squirted a little lube on his fingers.
"Uh... no. In my whole life," Paul sheepishly clarified.
Dean looked at him, raised an eyebrow, and squirted lots more lube into his hand. Paul laughed in response, suddenly growing a little embarrassed. "You sure you want to do this, Paul?"
"Yes." He leaned in and, voice thick with arousal, said, "The idea of you screwing me really turns me on."
There it was again, dirty words coming out of that angelic mouth. Drove Dean insane. It instantly became extremely urgent that Paul get that condom on him. While he did that, Dean reached between Paul's legs, looking for that certain spot, and playfully slapped on a healthy helping of lube. Paul squirmed and moaned at the sudden feeling of that slicked up hand, which was followed by the insertion of first one finger, then two.
"Mmm, mmmm..." Paul hummed, holding back his nervousness and apprehension as best he could. Still, he sounded a little scared. He hadn't done this in three years.
"It's okay. I'm making you a Slip n' Slide before I get in here," Dean promised, keeping things light with his little comparison.
Paul laughed nervously.
After a minute of fingering, with Paul stroking down his chest and shoulders appreciatively, Dean smirked and said, "Okay, you're about as lubed as you're going to get. Mount me."
Although that made him laugh lightly, Paul swallowed hard and crawled higher up on the chair with his knees; he poised himself over Dean's latex-sheathed cock. Dean took him by one hip and put the other on his hardness, holding it steady. He guided Paul around until he hit that warm, slick spot and pushed up just a little. Paul made a small gasp.
"Sit on me real fast, okay? It'll only hurt for a second," Dean said.
"I know," Paul breathed out, and did as Dean instructed. He relaxed his tense thighs, at the same time, pushing down. The burn was sharp, but it didn't last long, as his muscles instantly allowed the intrusion. Dean slid in on the warming lube. Only a few unpleasant seconds and a hissing cry from Paul, and it started to feel incredibly good, that wet heat inside him, pressing on all the best spots. Dean moaned so loud he was afraid he must've awakened Sam. When Paul, eager, squirmed a little, Dean held his hips tightly to restrict his movement, and shushed him.
"Hold it a sec." Dean listened carefully. No sound from the living room. "Okay, go."
"I don't think you should be calling the shots here. You don't know when you want to start," joked Paul, and went to pin Dean to the chair again.
"You don't want me to..." He spoke in a teasing tone, reaching for Paul's stiff, bobbing cock.
Paul had always been more of a giver in the sex department; he had just about forgotten about himself. "Oh, yeah. Yeah yeah. I mean, um, I'll allow it." He grinned.
"I bet you will," Dean chuckled darkly, and wrapped his hand around Paul's manhood, starting to stroke him down with a firm, but still lubed, grip.
"Uhhhh," Paul moaned out loud. He began to rock up and down, getting that sweet, heated friction going. Doing as Dean had asked, Paul leaned down and whispered in his ear. "You feel good inside me."
"Ahh... you little minx," panted Dean.
"...So good when you fuck me." Paul deliberately spoke as dirty as he could muster because he knew it would turn Dean on.
"Damn, Paul!" How did he know exactly what to say?
"You made me want you again. Really bad," Paul said, making Dean's ear his confessional.
Dean commanded, "Say my name."
"Dean," Paul whispered in his ear. "Oh, Dean!"
Growling, Dean thrust upward when Paul pushed down. "I'm your protector. Say I can be your protector." A pleading desperation colored his voice when he spoke the second sentence.
Paul intuitively opened the empathic link and tried to filter out as much of the sexual arousal as he could since he knew it would cause an overload and make him cum prematurely. Behind the feelings in the forefront, he found a deep psychological need to take care of people and keep them safe; he felt it as a sweet, noble warmth in Dean's heart. Paul was touched. He caressed the side of Dean's face with his fingertips. "Of course you can be my protector, Dean. Protection is what you were born for."
In reaction, Dean made a small noise almost like a sob, closed his eyes for a few seconds, and sucked on his bottom lip. Paul didn't need the emotional feedback he felt through the link to know that Dean needed people to look after to feel at all useful in the world. It made him want to tell Dean he was the best guardian in the universe, smother his face in kisses, and then weep for that wounded little boy inside him. Paul could feel that little boy hiding there even now. Instead, Paul started to rock down harder on Dean's lap. Dean reached up with his free hand to touch Paul's face too, then slipped that hand to the back of Paul's neck and pulled him down for an urgent kiss.
Between sucking on Paul's lips, Dean panted as he begged, "Make me cum, baby. I need you."
"Need you too."
Dean could feel himself nearing climax. He pumped quicker and harder with his hand.
"Dean... Dean... making me..." Paul moaned.
"Say it!" Dean growled back.
"...going to make me cum doing me like that."
"Guuuuhhaaaahhh!" Dean couldn't take it anymore; he grabbed Paul's hip, making a slapping sound, with his left hand, and pushed him up and down faster.
Paul didn't really need the encouragement, but he understood the urgent need. He matched Dean's upward bucking hips by meeting every thrust in the middle. That made Dean go in as deep as he could, which Paul especially liked - it felt incredibly good. So many sensitive spots there, ready to give pleasure when triggered. Add on the building orgasm in the front and Paul had two wonderful sources of stimulation. It caused him to arrive at that place of total gratification at least 15 seconds before Dean. Paul tried not to be loud, but he had to moan and murmur under his breath as he came all over Dean's chest and stomach.
Dean loved it all; he smirked at how dirty and hot it was to be splattered with Paul's cum.
"Mm Dean! Dean! Fuck me, fuck me," he whispered down low.
That did it for Dean. So Paul wasn't all about lovemaking and picket fences. He had a dirty, raw side that liked talking all wrong and wanted to be fucked. And hardly anyone knew. Dean could have cum just sitting and thinking about Paul Callan, comparing and contrasting the naïve, gentlemanly, repressed side with the prickteasing, hot, luscious side. Dean shoved himself into Paul up to the hilt and held himself there by pulling down on both of Paul's hips as he came.
"Grrrraaaaugh, Paul! God, Paaaaaul..." Dean rotated his hips a bit before humping quickly in and out while he spent himself. The movement slowed down and eventually stopped. They shook in each other's arms.
As their breathing just began to calm, Dean put his arms up around the back of the chair and moved his hips a little just to tease. Paul gave a hard tremble. "Mmm. You feel like Heaven every time," Dean told him.
Snickering and still panting lightly, Paul responded, "And you're a big slice of sin, Dean Winchester. Probably not at all good for me." Another thought struck him, and he leaned down and brushed Dean's lips with his own. "I've seen inside your heart, though. Your life was never sorry," he said quietly, then kissed Dean full on the mouth.
That kiss was the kind you gave someone you wanted to see again - caring, and touched by who they were as a person. Dean didn't think he could be all of what Paul thought he was, but he still kissed him back with as much enthusiasm, a hand intertwined in his hair. What was this connection between them? Damned if Dean could explain it.
When the kiss was finally broken, Paul remarked that they couldn't take a shower because the noise might awaken Sam, but he could get them a washcloth and a towel. Dean certainly couldn't go, as he indicated by looking down at his chest and patting the back of the chair. "I'll be right here," he said with a smirk.
Paul snuck to the bathroom, naked, hoping that Sam wasn't awake, but no, he was still out like a light. After cleaning himself up, he brought a wet washcloth and a towel back to the bedroom. Dean was still stretched out in the chair, wearing that smirk, just looking up at Paul, and made no effort to take the washcloth away. Paul probably could have gotten things going again in reaction to how erotic Dean looked slumped down in that chair, with his attitude written all over him and his chest marked with white spatters. Paul simply began to clean him up, running the washcloth over his stomach and across his nipples.
"I hate to ruin this picture, but you can't wear this to bed," he said with a smile.
Shortly after, they were both in their underwear and in bed. Making it seem like an afterthought, Paul moved closer to Dean, his head on the pillow so close to Dean's shoulder that they might as well have been cuddling. "Protect me from the bedbugs," Paul said as a joke.
That gave Dean a sudden sting, but he kept it to himself, looking at Paul and wrapping an arm around him. Paul happily settled in with his head on Dean's left shoulder. He ran his fingers lightly over Dean's chest until he fell asleep.
Dean took a good hour to drift off. He couldn't stop thinking about what he'd said. Why had he asked Paul if he could be his protector? How could Dean say such a thing when he knew he wasn't going to be around forever? Stupid, it was such a stupid thing to say. All he could do was hope that when Paul really needed his protection, he would be there.
It was near dawn when Dean woke up in the bed alone. He rubbed his eyes and glanced around. Huh, where was...?
Though still groggy, Dean did his best to spring out of bed to look for Paul. He stubbed his toe on the bed frame and hopped to the door cussing and hissing; man, he hated having to get out of bed in such a hurry. Luckily, Dean didn't have to go very far because the man was standing in the living room... hovering over the couch, staring down at the sleeping Sam. How long had Paul been doing that before Dean woke up? That creeped him out to no end. He made his way across the living room.
"Paul? What's up?" Dean whispered. "Is Sam okay?"
Paul looked at him with a troubled expression, brow furrowed, but this look was far more hard-edged than anything Dean had seen of Paul so far. "People are so fragile. I don't always understand why they are given these tasks." He sighed. "Sometimes I think it's a bad system."
Dean instantly knew he wasn't talking to Paul. He was talking to the Forces inside Paul they'd all discussed last night. The voice and facial expression were too different from the person Dean had come to know. Not that he knew Paul all that well, but... "Is Sam fragile when compared to his task?"
"Very much so. But he stands a chance."
Dean shuddered all over. "What is Sam's task?"
"He's already doing it." Paul looked at Dean again, pivoting his head in a mechanical way, like he wasn't used to moving his own body in a natural manner. "You have no idea what's to come, Dean Winchester. Your family is in such peril. All of them."
Hearing the deep, mechanical voice emphasize the words 'no idea' was the creepiest thing yet. Dean cringed. "Peril from what?"
"Ask the Mothman when you see him," the Forces replied.
"So we will be able to catch it?"
"That is up to you." Paul examined Sam's sleeping form below him. He shook his head slowly, as if in regret. "So fragile." Then Paul turned and headed back to the bedroom.
Under his breath, Dean said, "Stop reminding me," gave Sam a visual once over, and followed Paul.
Paul, standing next to the bed, seemed to be waiting to say one more thing to Dean. Dean left the door open this time so he could hear anything that may happen in the living room; the Forces' little walk around the apartment had spooked him, put him on guard. He saw Paul standing there.
Forming his hands into a ball, Paul, or rather, the Forces, began making a very unsettling sound. "Crrrrrrrrraaaaaaack..." it sounded like, and Paul opened his hands so the little "globe" he'd formed with them broke in two. Then he dropped his arms to his sides and got back into bed without another word.
Keel was right. After allowing himself another hard shudder, Dean took some paper out of his bag and wrote down all that he could recall of what Paul's Forces had said.
Dean and Paul were taking the elevator back up to Paul's apartment with a laundry basket full of Dean and Sam's clothes when Dean finally had the courage to give Paul the piece of paper to read. Several hours had passed, Sam had awakened reluctantly in a crabby mood, and Paul had agreed to take Dean down to the laundry room to wash their clothes. They had so little in that department, washing had to be done quite often. The more Paul read, the more embarrassed and troubled his face became. "God, Dean, I'm sorry."
"No need to apologize."
"But it's so weird. Standing there, staring down at your brother like some kind of crazy freak..." Paul sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I hate this."
Dean nodded. He knew Paul meant it. Like Sam, he just wanted to be normal. "It's okay. Make sure Keel gets that. He'll sort it all out."
Paul smiled. "It's funny how quickly you picked up my habit of calling him Keel."
"What am I supposed to call him - Alva?" Dean chuckled.
Paul laughed too. No, he couldn't see Dean calling him that.
They entered the apartment, finding Sam sitting on the couch, putting on his shoes. He seemed far less groggy than he had even two hours ago; food had helped. Paul knew it was going to take another day for Sam to really feel alert.
"You'll call us in a couple days?" Paul asked Dean.
"Of course. You sure you want to see the Mothman again?" he asked back.
Paul had to laugh, though it was nervous laughter. "No, but I'll do it anyway because it's important. Besides, you'll have him tied up, right?"
"Shit yeah. His mothy ass will be bound up the whole time." Dean noticed Sam coming over. "Help us fold this stuff, will ya?"
Twenty minutes later and the Winchester brothers were ready to go, back to Mountaineer to see if the Mothman's trail had gone cold. All three men were now standing in the hallway outside Paul's apartment. Dean held his bag out to Sam. "Would you take mine down to the car too? I want to say bye to Paul."
Sam couldn't help it; he was hurt that his brother hadn't told him this secret, something he'd apparently been hiding for years. He thought he knew what "say bye to Paul" meant, and it made him snappy. "I'm sure you do," Sam said in a tone that revealed that he knew exactly what was going on, and tossed the bag over his shoulder carelessly.
"What's wrong with you? You still tired?" Dean questioned.
"Nothing." Sam headed toward the stairs.
"You can sleep in the car," called Dean.
Saying nothing more, Sam disappeared down the flight of stairs, foregoing the elevator completely.
Paul just grinned, now that they were alone. "Well..."
But Dean was now staring at the front door of Paul's apartment, not feeling playful. "I'm concerned for you. I don't like leaving you alone without any protection from violent ghosts like Mrs. Keel. And the sleepwalking..."
Paul didn't like being treated as if he was anymore vulnerable than anyone else. "And I'm worried about you getting hurt with all that demon hunting that you do, but you don't see me trying to change things I can't control," he said with a smirk.
Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine. Fine... but will you please consider the protective circles a little more carefully?"
"I'll consider anything you want, Dean."
"You just won't accept any of my suggestions." Dean shook his head. "Why am I letting you frustrate me like this?"
"'Cause you think I'm adorable." Paul played with the collar of Dean's jacket, pretending he was fixing it.
This guy sure liked to tease and flirt. Sometimes Dean liked it, and other times, it made Dean want to pound him. "Nah, that can't be it, 'cause adorable people remind me of Snuggle, the fabric softener bear, and I kill those little bitches. You're more a sexy but stubborn little pain in my ass."
"I'll take it. Better than being your enemy any day," grinned Paul.
"Damn straight." Dean sighed; he both hated and loved this part. Goodbyes were hard, but getting back on the open road rocked. "I gotta go now. Sam and I will come back in a few days and let you know what we find out." He also knew that he might not be able to keep that promise. If Dad called with more coordinates for him and Sam to follow, they might be off to Godknowswhere, USA instead of Mountaineer. Who knew what tomorrow would hold. Still, Dean found himself saying, "Take care until I see you again." He yanked Paul to him by the front of his shirt and gave him a passionate goodbye kiss. They both breathed and just looked at each other for a moment after it was over, aware that fate might never truly bring them together again. "See ya, Metrosexual."
"See ya, Dean," Paul replied quietly.
A minute later, Dean slid in behind the wheel of the Impala. He noticed Sam had their father's journal open in his lap, reading something. "Catching up on the Mothman?"
Seeing the journal made Dean suddenly remember. "Damn. Paul never finished telling me about 'God is Nowhere'."
"What?" Sam asked, looking up.
"'God is Nowhere.' It's a phrase a bunch of people saw written in blood, like the blood formed itself into those words on its own. Pretty creepy shit, huh?" Dean commented.
"Actually, yeah, sounds pretty creepy. Well, we'll be back in a couple days. You can ask him then." Sam flipped through the journal to find the entry on 'God is Nowhere;' he knew he'd seen that phrase in here. It came on him suddenly. Next thing Sam knew, he was having a vision of himself turning the journal to the back, yanking off the pocket, ripping up one corner of the endpapers, and pulling out a hidden, folded piece of paper. The vision didn't cause him pain this time, probably because it wasn't as intense and violent as the others. But it was just as important.
When the vision was over, Sam turned to the back of the journal and started to do exactly what his vision had detailed.
"Hey, hey, what are you doing?!" Dean yelled, trying to snatch the journal away.
"Wait, Dean! There's something here!" Sam had torn up enough of the lining to expose that there was indeed a folded piece of yellow legal paper sealed inside. It was obvious that someone, most likely their father, had pulled up the pocket and endpaper, put the folded sheet in, and glued it back down.
"Sam, what... oh. Good find, psychic boy. You had a vision about it, didn't you?"
Sam nodded and showed him the paper. On one of the folded sides, the words 'God is Nowhere' were written in their father's handwriting.
"Why did Dad hide it?" wondered Dean.
"We're about to find out." Sam unfolded the paper most of the way and started to read a passage that caught his eye. "...'I was distracted, so I didn't notice the boy walking the top of the jungle gym until it was too late. He called to me that he was practicing his balance, and then I heard him yelp as he lost it. A meaty thud followed.'"
Dean chuckled. "Faceplant. Who is that about anyway?"
"I haven't gotten that far yet. Listen. 'He started to scream and cry. By the time I reached him, his busted lip had bled quite a bit, along with the spot where he'd knocked out two baby teeth. The blood pooled on the pavement where he'd fallen. I picked him up to comfort him and try to stop the bleeding. The woman I'd met that day at the park ran over with my... other son... in her arms, and she scared us all when she pointed and shrieked at the pool of blood. The blood had formed words.'"
Sam looked uneasily at his brother; he didn't like where this was going. "'It formed the words God is Nowhere.'"
All Dean could think about was the things Paul had said while he was on the phone with Keel. Something about this guy, Chad Goodwell, trying to kill all of the 'God is Nowhere' people. "My God... did Dad say something about his 'other son'? Who is this letter about?!"
Sam unfolded the entire sheet of paper to read the top paragraph. "'I must hide this paper after I have written what happened that day in 1984. My research on the 'God is Nowhere' phenomena is sketchy, but more than one reputable psychic has told me that anyone whose blood spells out these words is in danger - a danger to themselves, and in danger from agents of evil. That is why I must chronicle what happened and then hide this paper, to protect the life of..." Sam swallowed down his dread. "...the life of my son.'"
Eyes widening with that confirmation of his suspicions, Dean almost snatched the paper away so he could just read it already. Sam was taking too long. "Sammy, who? Which one of us is the 'God is Nowhere' person?!"
Sam looked at him with worried eyes. "'My son does not remember this incident because he was too young. He couldn't even read yet. When this thing happened, I had my baby Sammy lying on a park bench so I could change his diaper. My older son Dean climbed up on the jungle gym...' It's you, Dean. The letter is about you."
More Author's Notes: Jack Bull Chiles, Jake Roedell, and Black John are all characters from the book Woe to Live On AKA Ride with the Devil by Daniel Woodrell. Skeet Ulrich played Jack Bull Chiles in the film version of this book. He also played Paul Callan. Another little joke of mine. ;)
The lyrics "Sleep all day, out all night. I know where you're going. I don't think that's actin' right, you don't think it's showing..." come from the song "Funk #49" by The James Gang, (c) 1973 MCA Records.
Thanks to Kaija for allowing me to use her idea that Dean be a 'God is Nowhere' person.
I also want to note here that Kaija and I chat about the Dean/Paul relationship quite a bit, to the point that sometimes there are similarities in how we portray it (even in the sex scenes). Neither of us does this on purpose. But her story "Working Vacation," which she wrote for me, was definitely a big inspiration on this first Dean/Paul story of mine. I wasn't even sure I should go ahead with the fic relationship that was brewing in my head (and loins) until she wrote that story for me.
Thanks to Kaye for saying during our chat, "And then the Mothman picks Sam up and flies away with him?" Yeah, that's exactly how it happened! The idea simplified the whole scene greatly.
Again, thanks to Deejay for the joke of calling Alva's car the 'hooptie mobile.' This story also references an idea she is allowing me to use that I cannot detail because it's a big spoiler for my fanfic series (read "Persistence of Memory" if you haven't already). Just wanted to note that it is referenced heavily here.
I just made up the term "projective clairvoyance." Clairvoyance exists, but has anyone ever projected it to another person? I dunno.
The way Paul removes his shirt in this is actually a habit of Skeet Ulrich's that I have noticed in more than one of the movies he's been in. I've never seen anyone remove a shirt that way. It's cute. Me, obsessively notice odd Skeet habits? Naaah. I also want to note that I have a total fetish for Skeet's sexy hands and Jensen's gorgeous eyes. Funny that those are the features Paul and Dean like best about each other, heheh. Oh, and I also think Skeet sounds really sexy when he whispers, of all things - that's reflected in the story, too.
I'm going to let you guys have fun Googling all the rock star names to see who they are. ;)
"Paul's apartment, our home sweet home," is a reference to the Mtv short film "Joe's Apartment" and the subsequent movie of the same name. "Joe's Apartment" is about a guy who lives in harmony with the roaches that frequent his home (ew). The roaches sang a theme song that went, "Joe's apartment, our home sweet home..."
References to Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Dean mentions the Hellmouth in Sunnydale and Alva mentions Slayers.
If there is anyone out there who is a fan of the Violent Femmes, Dead Milkmen, Sonic Youth, and similar bands, please contact me. I need help with Sam's musical tastes. I gave him these bands as favorites because they seemed to fit his personality, or rather, his personality fits many people whom I've known who just devoured music like that. I am not extremely familiar with what would be considered a good Violent Femmes song, etc. What would be on Sam's playlist of favorites? Dead Milkmen's "Bitchen Camaro" and "Punk Rock Girl," plus Sonic Youth's "Bull in the Heather" is about as far as I get with a playlist. R.E.M. I know. Little help?
Fate is an Engineer is (c) 2006 Demented Stuff/The Pleasure of the People
Miracles is (c) 2003 Spyglass Entertainment and Touchstone Television
Supernatural is (c) 2005+ Kripke Enterprises, Wonderland, & Warner Brothers/The CW Television.
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