CHAPTER ONE
When he pushed open the airport's heavy glass door, Florida's industrial strength pea soup humidity slapped Dean in the face and, in one long greedy pull, sucked every bit of oomph out of him.
Almost staggering under its pure, unadulterated evil, Dean whimpered, shaded his eyes against the sun's merciless glare, and turned to go back inside.
Fuck this shit. Time to bag the helicopter tour of what was clearly Hell's Freaking Armpit and book the next flight to Disney World.
Then Eddie Falcone slithered up from the depths of his murky subconscious and grinned at him, dimples popping and black eyes dancing maliciously.
Dean sighed.
Fucker.
Stiffening his backbone, he took a deep breath, stepped outside and let the heavy door shut behind him, surrendering himself to the not-so-tender mercies of August in southern Florida.
Luckily, it was a small airport, geared mainly toward tourists taking helicopter tours into the Glades and the surrounding area, so it wasn't too hard to find the copter tour he was looking for. Named Rainbow Tours, according to their website, for more than their bright fluorescent paint jobs, the helicopters stood out gaily amongst their more monochromatic fellows.
When Dean walked sluggishly up to the colorful birds - already second-, third-, and fourth-guessing his obviously very stupid decision - a very tall, very well-built man with short-cropped dark hair and dancing hazel eyes hurried around the back of one of the silent birds and knocked Dean on his metaphorical ass.
"Hey!" The man held out a big, calloused hand and gave him a friendly grin. "Sam Cullen."
Dean stared at him, enthralled.
Enraptured.
Entranced.
Shit.
Smiling down at him, Sam Cullen topped Dean's six feet two inches by at least three inches, each of those inches a symphony of long legs, broad shoulders, tightly packed jeans and colorful tattoos peeking out from the neck and sleeves of his Rainbow Tours t-shirt. He was so unerringly Dean's wet dream, he could have been specifically designed to drop kick the memory of Eddie Falcone straight out into the ozone layer.
After a few seconds, Dean managed to get his brain back online and shake the proffered hand without drooling on it. "Dean Winchester."
"Welcome to Rainbow Tours." Sam looked beyond Dean for his expected second passenger. "And Mr. Falcone?"
"It's just me," Dean said hastily. "Eddie, uh - he couldn't make it."
"Oh, that's too bad." Sam frowned a little, hesitated. "Did the agent, uh, Shelby, talk to you about–?"
"Not getting Eddie's share of the money back?" Dean nodded, inwardly extremely tickled about how pissed off Eddie was going to be. "Yeah, no sweat."
Sam relaxed, clearly happy not to have to deal with that potential minefield. "Great."
Trying not to be too obvious about checking out the pilot's considerable assets below the waist, Dean dramatically wiped the sweat from his forehead. "I'm from Texas, man. I thought I knew heat, but – Damn, how do you stand it?"
"I grew up in Minnesota." Sam grinned, shrugged. "We had to plug our cars in most winters, just to keep the engines alive. I'll take Florida any day. You're from Austin, right?"
"Yeah, just outside. You ever been?"
Sam chuckled. "Oh, hell, yeah! I fly in for South by Southwest almost every year. The music scene is insane there." He waggled his eyebrows. "Not to mention the partying."
"I hear that! I bartend at a place on Sixth Street," Dean said. "San Jac Saloon."
Sam shook his head. "Don't think I know it."
"It's pretty new, just opened a couple years ago. Stop by next time you're in town. I'll stand you a beer."
"I'll do that," Sam promised. He looked at his watch, then up at the sky. "Okay, then, how about we get this show on the road?"
Dean looked at the helicopter just beyond Sam. "Is that the one we're going up in?"
"Yeah." Sam nodded. "You been up before?"
"Actually, the flight from Austin was my first time on a plane." Dean tried not to look as nervous as he felt, but he was pretty sure it didn't come off, as Sam, obviously used to apprehensive passengers, gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
"No worries. I'll get you up and back safe."
Dean wasn't sure whether the renewed butterflies in his stomach were due to the imminent prospect of flying, or the warmth of Sam's hand. "Uh, the Rainbow Tours website says you started flying in the army?"
"Yeah." Smile dimming a bit, Sam didn't volunteer any more information. He opened the copter door, then paused and looked over at Dean assessingly. "You up for a little adventure?"
Dean looked back at him, startled. The helicopter ride was already a pretty big freaking adventure. "What exactly did you have in mind?"
A mischievous look in his eyes, Sam gestured for him to follow and the two walked around the copter to a much smaller bird. "Since it's just you and me, how about we take up the Bumble Bee?" he asked.
Aghast, Dean stared at the copter. His mouth opened, then closed. Finally, he got out, "Dude, it's got no doors."
"True, but she's got fantastic seat belts." Sam made a flamboyant gesture, bowing Dean forward to inspect the beast.
Well beyond nervous now, Dean peered inside. Bare minimum was putting it mildly. "Where the hell is the steering wheel?"
Amused, Sam shook his head. "No steering wheel, just a couple of joysticks and foot pedals."
"Oh." Dean's stomach gave a nervous roll. "I don't know. . ."
Sam shrugged philosophically. "Whatever you're comfortable with. We can take Big Bird" – he gestured toward the larger helicopter. "He'll give you a good ride. But Bee Bee –" his grin was wide –"She's so wide open, it's the next best thing to having wings!"
Dean grinned weakly as Sam affectionately patted the diminutive deathtrap. "She's your baby, huh?"
"She is," Sam admitted. "But we can take the big guy up instead. Seriously, whatever you want."
Undecided, Dean anxiously worried his lip, looking longingly over his shoulder at the bigger copter.
What had he gotten himself into here? Shit, man, this whole thing had been Eddie's idea in the first place! Dean had only gone along with it in a futile, last-ditch effort to keep their sinking relationship afloat. Left to him, his vacation would've been split between Disney World and drinking too much beer on the beach.
He looked sideways at Sam, who was waiting patiently for a decision, then back at the Bumble Bee, aka Disaster Waiting to Fucking Happen.
This was such a bad idea! Sweet Jesus, who goes up in a helicopter with no doors?
Dean opened his mouth to put the kibosh on the Bumble Bee. Then he thought again of Eddie.
Rock climbing Eddie.
Scuba diving Eddie.
Bungee jumping Eddie.
Adrenaline junkie Eddie.
Lying, cheating Eddie.
"Fuck it!" Dean said it fast before his brain could take back over. "The Bumble Bee it is!"
ΩΩΩ
This story is already complete, just doing a little editing. I'll have chapter two up the next day or so.
