Chapter 3: A forest

The sky was slowly turning a dirty yellowish grey, which usually meant rain. That was either good or bad, depending on whether you were standing on a balcony and didn't want to go inside, except if it was to leave through the front door for work. Suddenly, the balcony doors opened slightly and Sam's professor's head appeared. He seemed shocked to encounter Dean and hid it poorly. The man's obvious discomfort kind of amused Dean.

'I'm sorry. I didn't think anyone was out here,' he said and his head disappeared, but before the doors could close completely, Dean realised that he did want to meet the man. It was the difference that mollified him, because Dean had trouble trying to imagine Richard doing anything else than barging right in without any apology whatsoever. This guy had passed the first douche test. So, Dean called out.

'Stay. I don't mind.'

Nervously, the man appeared fully and closed the balcony doors behind him. They nodded at each other and Dean moved over a little to the left to give the man some space. Up close, he looked even hotter. There was the messy hair, the soft-looking lips and the striking blue eyes. Sam's professor was definitely hot. And as an added bonus, he was cute as hell. The man blushed under Dean's gaze and Dean quickly focused on the night sky behind him. Had he just eyed the guy as if he was a piece of prime rib? Yes, he had.

'Hot inside,' the man mumbled and glanced at Dean before looking away again. Ah, small talk: Dean was not good at small talk. Like not at all.

'Yeah. Hot out here too,' Dean answered, resisting the urge to point out that the guy was pretty hot himself too. He bit his lip to keep from laughing. Sam's quest to hook him up was impressive, but Dean wasn't sure it extended to being ok with Dean getting it on with his professor. At least he knew that the man hadn't been send here by either of Dean's pimps, because the look of complete surprise on his face when he saw Dean had been a little bit too genuine for that.

'I guess I'm not really a party person,' the man admitted and it sounded like an apology. The left hand of the man rubbed his neck awkwardly. His distress was adorable in a weird way. Dean couldn't help imagining what it would feel like to have those hands on his body.

'We can't all be,' Dean finally said. The man smiled gratefully at him. Then they resumed their staring at the sky. It was as if they were more relaxed now, as if the man had needed for Dean to tell him that it was alright. Dean wasn't a party person either; more of a go to a bar, get drunk and pick up random guys kind of person, really. But Dean was not drunk now and this was not some random guy.

A pause followed wherein they occasionally glanced at each other and quickly averted their gaze when they noticed the other was looking. It was like sexual tension 101, except Dean couldn't help thinking that the guy was too pure for that sort of thing. Come on, Dean, he thought, stop it. Those lips of his don't look like they've ever been kissed and here you're thinking of doing unspeakable things to him.

'Can I get you a drink?' Dean asked, expecting the man to ask for wine.

'Yes, thank you. I'd like a beer,' the man said. Dean was pleasantly surprised. Why? So, the professor liked beer: big fucking deal. Visibly steeling himself to go inside and possibly having to avoid Richard, Dean placed his hand on the door handle, but the man pointed out the beer bottle standing on the railing.

'Oh, I already drank from that.'

'But you're not going to finish it?' the man guessed and Dean allowed his hand to slip from door handle.

'No, don't feel like it,' Dean conceded and the man reached out his hand to accept the bottle.

'Then I'll save you a trip inside and accept that one,' he offered and he smiled at Dean. That smile was kind of to die for, Dean thought, as he took the beer. About to hand the bottle over, Dean changed his mind, and yanked his sleeve down over his hand to wipe the bottle's mouth clean. However, a beautiful hand on his arm prevented him. The man smiled at him again and mumbled that he didn't mind, so Dean handed him the bottle.

Except something happened when their fingers touched. A spark of electricity ran through Dean and he stared at the man. Dean must have been crazy; the exhaustion of the party and the storm hanging in the air must have screwed him up, because he took the beer from the professor. And after carefully setting down the bottle, Dean turned around and kissed him.

Their mouths connected with such force that Dean feared he might have loosened some teeth. What the hell was he doing? Dean was forward, but not this forward. The guy could be the most heterosexual of men. Yes, it had seemed like he was flirting, but the guy was obviously shy. What if he was mistaken? Jesus, they hadn't even exchanged names. Dean, you are such a whore, he admonished himself.

Luckily, the man grabbed the back of Dean's sweater and buried his fingers in the fabric, pulling Dean closer. His tongue darted into Dean's mouth and Dean moaned. There was a desire directly underneath his skin to rub himself all over and against the man. Friction; that was what he wanted.

Dean's fingers slipped into the man's hair, while all the while bringing their mouths closer together. The man placed his hands around the back of Dean's neck and Dean licked his way into his mouth. The professor made delicious noises that, to look at him, Dean would never have thought him to be capable of making. There was a deep rumbling in his throat as Dean bit his lower lip and gently tugged at it.

A strong vibration ran through them and Dean cursed into the man's mouth when he realised it was his beeper. Just when the party was becoming fun, damn it! Reluctantly, Dean disentangled various body parts. His teeth from the man's lip, his fingers from the man's hair, his right leg uncurled itself from around the man's legs. The professor's taste still lingered in Dean's mouth and Dean licked his lips as he reached for his beeper. Yep, major fire. Matched the fire in his groin.

'Would you mind telling Sam or Jess that I got paged to a forest fire?' Dean asked, avoiding having to look at the man.

'Who should I tell them?' he asked and this caused Dean to look up at him. It was hardly fair, but with his clothes in disarray the man looked impossibly hot. His hair was even messier, his tie was slightly askew and his lips... The professor's lips were swollen and flushed as the result of their passionate kissing. Dean was so mesmerised that he didn't even understand the question.

'What?' Dean whispered.

'Your name,' the man said and that shyness was completely gone. As he looked at Dean, a small amused smile played around his lips and this time it was Dean who blushed.

'Oh, it's Dean,' he answered and like an idiot he fumbled with the door handle. Starting the Impala, Dean realised he still didn't know the man's name, which was probably for the best. That guy felt serious, it would be hard to have just a fling with him, so perhaps it was better not to try. Intuitively, Dean gazed up at the balcony and the man raised his beer in greeting.

Do not think about him, Dean thought, as he drove away. Think about the fire. Since it was a forest fire and it hadn't rained in weeks, there would be little to do for ordinary fireman, except douse neighbouring houses with water, so the fire wouldn't spread to residential areas. Hope for rain, that was basically their job.

Please don't forget to put your keys in your locker again, Dean told himself. Remember that. That is much more important to remember than the heat of the man's hands or the way those bright blue eyes had bored into his own. Something in Dean's groin stirred. No, just no. But that wasn't the worst. It made him angry, because he had managed to bury this feeling for so long. He was happy without that; he didn't need that. Protesting was of no use however, because something in Dean's heart had stirred too.