Work Text:
The rumble started in his feet and moved through his body like an earthquake. Instantly, Dean broke out into a sweat and grabbed the arm of the guy sitting next to him on the plane. Normally, that person would be Sam - today, it was not.
“Oh, shit. Sorry,” Dean said to the unsuspecting person on the other end of his death grip.
“It’s fine, really, I get it. Bad flyer? Bad fliers having to fly is just….” he spaced off for a minute. “Unfortunate.”
Dean’s mouth went slack. “Uh...no fucking way. You’re the...the dinosaur chaos guy!”
“Mmm. Among other things. I guess I am. Jeff Goldblum,” he said, giving Dean his hand to shake. “Nice to meet you…?”
“Dean Winchester.” He realized he still had his fingers wrapped around Jeff’s thick arm. “Oh, sorry.”
“Happens all the time,” Jeff said with a big smile. He rubbed his arm where Dean had gripped him. “Wow. You sure do know how to grab a guy.”
Dean blushed and wiped his palms on his thighs.
“Listen, Dean,” Jeff started. “I have a proposition for you.” Dean’s eyes grew wide. “No! No, ooh, nothing like that. You’re nervous, obviously. And I have been told, on occasion, that I have quite a soothing reading voice. How about I read a little to you until we get through this bumpy stuff?”
Dean straightened up in his chair and looked out the window.
“Mmm. No, don’t do that. It’ll just make it worse.” Jeff reached across Dean and shut the window blind. “Now, Dean, just lean back, close your eyes and listen to the dulcet tones of my voice as I read The End of Certainty by Ilya Prigogine.”
After just twenty minutes of listening to Jeff rambling about the philosophical quandaries presented in time and physics, Dean found himself turned completely to the side to face his seatmate. His head leaned against the seat, he watched Jeff’s lips form words he hadn’t heard paired with physics that he thought to be true and theories he knew to be wrong. All of it sounded so magical coming from Jeff. He’d completely forgotten about the plane or the people in it. For all he cared, they could be hurtling toward a wormhole opened up by an alien race to put an end to Trump’s presidency that would accidentally transport them a billion light years away where they’d have to battle for supremacy in a world of vibrant colors, and Dean couldn’t be more content. As long as Jeff was reading to him.
“You want a drink?” Dean asked abruptly.
“Ex-excuse me?” Jeff asked, his mind still pondering Prigogine’s words. “Oh. Oh! Yes. Okay. Absolutely. Oh, miss!” he called, simultaneously pushing the button above his head to summon a flight attendant even though one had just walked two steps ahead of him. She turned. “Can we get - what would you like?”
“A whiskey. Please.”
“A whiskey for my aviophobic friend here, and a ginger ale for myself. Please and thank you.” He winked and the flight attendant smiled as she made her way back to the galley.
“Hey. How much longer on this flight?”
“Ahh…” Jeff glanced down at his watch. “Carry the two…” he mumbled to himself. “We’re looking at approximately 40 minutes until wheels down.”
Dean had been staring at Jeff’s mouth for an hour with periodic breaks to glance at his eyes. And his hair. The five o’clock shadow with silver hair that was like highlighting powder for his jaw. Then Jeff looked at him.
Fuck, Dean thought. Those eyes went right into his soul.
“Fuck what?”
Shit. That wasn’t internal at all. “Fuck...me?” Fuck.
“Well. That’s. That’s quite the proposition there, Dean. Here I was propositioning you about reading aloud and you’ve, whoo, you’ve really just layed it all out there.”
“That did not come out straight. RIGHT. Did not come out right,” Dean said, feeling his face turn red.
Jeff cocked his head to the side. “Mmm. Did it not? Because it seems like the direct answer someone gives is, um, actually their intended response.”
Five minutes later, while the cabin was still dark and asleep, Dean found himself smashed into the airplane bathroom with a tall quirky man. Their feet continued knocking against various walls and doors and appliances. Outside of the restroom, the cabin slept soundly - the pleasures happening feet away in the bathroom lulling them into sweet a dreamstate. It felt how the Age of Aquarius part of The 40 Year Old Virgin looked. The turbulence returned as they banked and made the approach for landing, and the fasten seatbelts light turned on. Dean came until he saw rainbows.
“Uh, uh, uh, WOW!” said Jeff.
Dean couldn’t say a word. His lip trembled. He was so lightheaded from the gentle fucking Jeff Goldblum had given him he had to steady himself on the walls.
The two returned to their seats and buckled up.
“I sincerely hope you don’t have any issues flying in the future, Dean,” Jeff said.
“Did...did that really happen?” Dean asked, suddenly feeling unsure.
“Whatever we call reality, it is revealed to us only through the active construction in which we participate,” Jeff said with flourish.
Dean’s face paled. That didn’t answer anything.
“That’s Prigogine,” Jeff said with a big Jeff Goldblum grin and a nod. “That’s chaos.”