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Dean Comes to the Door

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Jeff was alone in his apartment doing his favorite thing: being alone. Nobody had called to bother him all day--he had checked his phone six times since he woke up just to make sure. He didn't want Shirley or Pierce to call and complain to him about working together, because he would undoubtedly be guilted into playing mediator. He was definitely not interested in helping Troy, Abed and Annie rearrange their apartment. And Britta...well, God knows what she was up to.

Actually he didn't know what Britta was up to, and that didn't sit well with him. He snatched his cell phone from his sleek glass coffee table and scrolled through to find her number. Just as he opened up a message to her, his doorbell rang. It was probably one of his friends. In fact, it was most assuredly one of his friends needing him to solve a problem because that's what he did.

He opened the door and was more confused at his reaction than the person that was standing there. "Dean," he said in a voice he forced into annoyance rather than relief, his brow knitting. "What are you doing here?" And why was he actually glad to see him? He refused to admit even to himself that he was possibly lonely without his friends asking for his help.

"Hello, Jeffrey," the Dean said with a smile, looking him up and down in his obvious way. "I was just in the neighborhood and thought I would drop in for a spell, see how you're doing."

Jeff lifted a brow and leaned out of the apartment a bit, looking to both sides and just knowing there was some kind of catch. As he suspected, there were three dalmation print suit cases sitting against the wall. "No," he said, looking at the Dean with narrowed eyes.

"Oh, c'mon, Jeffrey, I have no where else to go," the Dean whined, swinging his arms down to slap his thighs in a petulant manner. "When Chang kidnapped me, no one paid my rent, and I lost my apartment. I've been living with my parents, but..." He lowered his voice and leaned in as if anyone else would care enough to listen. "My dad found some very tasteful lingerie in my things, and once he realized I didn't have a girlfriend, he kicked me out."

"I'm sure there are shelters for people like you. Maybe the Humane Society? Or you can, I don't know, get a new apartment," Jeff said, starting to close the door, but the Dean threw himself into it. Jeff was a little impressed to find out that the Dean had some pretty admirable upper body strength.

"My credit is wrecked because of my broken lease, and I'm trying to get it fixed!" the Dean cried in that high pitch of his. "I just need a place to stay for a little while until I get back on my feet. Please, Jeffrey!" He pushed against the door until Jeff stumbled backwards, and he stood in the doorway looking like he was ready to cry.

Jeff sighed long and loud, tossing his head back and looking up at the ceiling. "Fiiiiine," he said, slapping his hands over his face and rubbing his eyes. He had lived with Chang. Could this be worse?

Yes, yes it could. Not only did the Dean insist on watching movies on Netflix all night, but he fell asleep with the TV on and tended to bark in his sleep. Then he was up at in the morning using the bathroom for two hours. Who took a bath in the morning?! And of course he used most of the hot water, so Jeff was left with three minutes of heat then lukewarm and finally cold.

"No one will find the body. I could hide him in Annie's old apartment building. The smell of strawberry lube and latex would hide the corpse smell," Jeff was muttering to himself as he did his hair, making the pointed parts extra sharp to reflect his irritation. He stomped out of his bathroom, doing up the last two buttons of his shirt, and fully intent of giving the Dean a piece of his mind.

He stopped when he reached the living room, because the Dean was just finishing setting his compact dining table with food. "What's this?" he asked, coming up to the table and surveying the damage. There were very tasty looking omelettes, fresh fruit and yogurt. "You made breakfast?"

"I figured it was the least I could do, Jeffrey," the Dean said, patting his elbow and then resting his hand on his arm a little too long.

"Thanks," Jeff said slowly, not quite sitting down just yet. Last time he had a meal with the Dean, he'd been forced to listen to a serenade by a Mexican band.

"Oh, c'mon now, sit, please," the Dean said with chuckle, patting Jeff's butt as he walked around to pull out the chair for him. "This food won't eat itself, though if it could I'm sure it would try because it looks scrumptious if I do say so myself." He gave a cheerful giggle.

Jeff sat down and rolled his eyes as the Dean put a cloth napkin over his lap. "Thanks for breakfast, Dean," he said as he picked up his fork and cut into his omelette. The inside was white cheese and tomato: his favorite. That was both charming and creepy, just like everything the Dean did.

"Now, Jeffrey, you know to call me Craig when we're not at Greendale. Silly goose." The Dean sat down and placed his own napkin over his lap, picking up his orange juice and sipping it delicately.

"Uh huh," Jeff said as he put a forkful of omelette in his mouth. His eyes widened in surprise at the pleasantly light taste. "Egg whites only?" he asked, his cheek bulging a little.

"Of course. I know how you like to eat light for breakfast." The Dean cut into his own omelette and put a bite in his mouth, mmming softly in delight.

"How exactly do you know that?" Jeff asked after he swallowed.

"I overheard you tell the group the other day," he replied with a dismissive wave.

Jeff couldn't recall said conversation. "Did you bug the study room?" he asked slowly.

"Oh, no, of course not," the Dean said as he picked up his juice again and flicked his eyes off to the side.

Oh my God. Jeff knew what he was doing when he got to school. After he was finished with his frankly very good breakfast, he gathered his dishes and went into the kitchen, where he nearly had a heart attack. His kitchen looked like the victim of a hurricane. How could someone use that many dishes making omelettes? "Dean!"

Everyone was already in the study room when Jeff arrived, and he felt like strangling every student that glanced at him. He was never giving the Dean a ride to school again. The man liked to find the 80s station and sing at the top of his lungs the whole way. "I hate all things," he announced to his friends, dropping his books onto the table and then beginning an agitated search around the room.

There was a chorus of whats and whys, and Pierce even asked him if his favorite gay magazine got discontinued. He didn't respond with anything but a growl, feeling under the edges of the tables and cabinets in the room.

"What are you doing?" Annie asked, obviously concerned.

"Looking for a bug." He knelt down and felt along the edges of the couches.

"A bug like a spider kind of bug?" Britta asked, folding her arms over the back of her chair and watching him.

"Spiders are arachnids, not bugs," Abed corrected.

"That's not the point here," she told him.

"A bug as in surveillance equipment," Jeff told them hastily.

"Look in the ceiling tiles. That's where my father liked to put his listening equipment to keep tabs on our servants," Pierce said, probably assuming he was being helpful.

"Jeffrey, are you okay?" Shirley asked sweetly, before she let out a cry as he got up on the table to look in the ceiling tiles.

"No, I am so far from okay," he spat, trying to dislodge one of the tiles.

"What happened, man? You're starting to scare me," Troy told him, his eyes wide.

"My apartment is the official home for Wayward Stalkers," Jeff said with a sigh.

"Chang didn't move in with you again, did he?" Annie asked with a horrified gasp.

"Worse," Jeff answered as he sank into a sitting position on the table.

"Who could be worse than Chang?" Troy asked.

"Dean-dong!" announced the Dean as he strutted in, and came up to their table. "Hello, group," he said, setting his hands on Britta and Abed's shoulders. Then he looked at Jeff and smiled. "Hello, roomie."

"Holy crap!" was Troy's opinion. "You were right!"

"Poor Jeff," Annie murmured.

The Dean ignored them. "I just wanted to congratulate you all on passing Biology and wish you luck with... What subject is it that you're taking this year?"

"Sociology," Jeff grumbled as he slowly laid into his side and curled up.

"Not to be confused with psychology, which I am still majoring in!" Britta announced, and the rest of the group groaned.

"That's nice," the Dean said, patting her head. "Well, I will let you all get to it then! See you at home, roomie!" He flattened the bit of blonde hair that he had upset on Britta's head before he sashayed out.

"Why do things happen to me?" Jeff moaned pathetically, and everyone reached out and patted him in a consoling manner.

"Probably karma," Britta told him, before she pricked herself on his sharp hair. "Ow, Jesus."

Jeff was determined to go home alone, because he was not suffering through the Dean's singing again. He was all the way to his car before the gnawing guilt finally got to him. How would the Dean get to his apartment? He would have to sleep in his office if he couldn't get another ride. A tiny bit of Jeff thought that might be a good bit of revenge, but that tiny bit was not loud enough to stop his feet from leading him to the Dean's office.

The door was open a bit, so Jeff was able to push it in without alerting the Dean, who was concentrating on something. He actually seemed to be focused on school-related things instead of designing an outfit or looking for his dalmatian soul mate. He was chewing on the end of a pen, his brow fixed in a knot. That look was something Jeff hadn't seen since the commercial fiasco, and it was good that he was using it for good. Maybe.

"That'll ruin your teeth, you know," Jeff suddenly blurted, before he mentally smacked himself.

The Dean's head jerked up, and he looked surprised before he allowed a smile to spread across his lips. "Oh, Jeffrey, you startled me," he said, sitting back and pushing his glasses up so he could rub his eyes.

"Sorry," Jeff said, hesitating in the doorway before he decided in was good and shut the door behind him. "How late do you usually stay?"

"It depends," the Dean said, looking down at his work. "I'm in a bit of a pickle right now, but once I figure it out I should be able to leave."

"Oh, okay," Jeff said, lingering a moment before he went over to sit on the pleather couch in the office, pulling out his phone as he got comfortable.

The Dean looked up and made a shocked little noise. "Why, Jeffrey, are you waiting for me? You don't need to do that."

"It's not a problem," Jeff found himself saying. Wasn't it? No, apparently not. He glanced at the Dean, who was smiling so big that it hurts his eyes. "I just don't want you bumbling into my apartment in the middle of the night. Jeez, it's not a big deal. Stop looking at me like that."

The Dean nodded. "Whatever you say, Jeffrey."

When they finally left, the Dean sang all the way home again, but he at least let Jeff pick the station. Jeff couldn't find a genre other than the 80s that the Dean was suited for.

The next morning, the Dean failed to lock the door to the bathroom while he was getting ready, and Jeff walked in on him in his sleepy haze. They both gave shocked cries at the sight of each other, what with Jeff in his boxers and a t-shirt and the Dean submerged in bubbles in the bath, shaving his legs.

Jeff was the first to recover. "Is that my razor?" he asked in horror. He was conflicted between retreating and anger.

The Dean looked guilty. "I left mine at my parents' house. I was going to replace it today, I promise."

Jeff's eyelid twitched, and he rubbed it. "You do that." He snatched his toothbrush and toothpaste and went to brush his teeth in the kitchen. He stopped once again when he entered it, finding that instead of the mess it had been the previous day it was now perfectly clean. The Dean had done the dishes in the middle of the night, somehow without clattering around and waking him up. "Nice," he said, going over to the sink.

As he brushed his teeth, he leaned his hip against the counter and stared out the window as his thoughts focused inward. He still had to figure out what he needed to do once he finished his BA. There had to be another firm that he could charm his way into, preferably one that was in direct competition with his old one. He scowled to himself, spitting into the sink.

While he was getting dressed, Jeff kept thinking about his job situation and kept getting more and more annoyed. He had a plan, and it was to go back to his old firm. Throughout all the craziness that had transpired in the last few years, he had stuck to that plan. But now? Now what was his end game? He was for once without a clear direction. He knew how the rest of the group felt all the time.

The Dean came out of the bathroom humming, and he went about bustling around in the kitchen as Jeff stole into the bathroom. He made oatmeal this time, and Jeff ate it without any hesitation. "Do you specialize in breakfast food?" he asked.

The Dean tittered. "Oh no, I can make a whole range of things. I really like cooking. It's nice being able to cook for someone again."


The Dean swallowed, stirring his oatmeal. "It gets lonely cooking for just one."

Jeff was a little taken aback. "Oh."

That day was about as uneventful as any day at Greendale ever was, which meant there was only one cult scare and only one student ran around screaming about being abducted by aliens. After his classes were finished, Jeff went to sit in the Dean's office again to wait for him to be done with his work. He was finished earlier than before, so Jeff made a suggestion.

"How about we get something to eat before we go back to the apartment?" he asked casually as he looked at his phone, tapping away a Google search for a nice takeout place between Greendale and his apartment.

"That would be lovely, Jeffrey. What did you have in mind?" the Dean asked, standing on the passenger's side of the car and waiting for Jeff to unlock it.

"I don't know--Thai?" Jeff said, unlocking the doors so they could get in.

"Oh, no no," said the Dean, buckling up. "Peanut oil does not agree with me. It is not pretty."

Jeff shuddered. "Chinese? Sushi?"

The Dean 'mmm'ed for a moment, before he fixed Jeff with a look. "Could we maybe get something less..." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Ethnic?"

Jeff stared at him. "Pizza?" he said slowly.

"Oh, wonderful! I love pizza."

Of course he did.

Jeff picked up the tab on his mushroom pizza and the Dean's onion, triple cheese and sausage pizza. When they got home, he had another suggestion. "Movie?" he asked, already gravitatong towards his collection. He had a few mindless movies that focused more on explosions than plot that would go well with pizza.

"Oh, oh, can we watch one of mine? I brought my favorites."

Jeff turned to him with suspicious narrowed eyes. "Depends."

"We should watch Some Like It Hot!" gasped the Dean, immediately excited and already digging through his bag.

"Oh God no-" Jeff started to say, before a DVD was shoved into his hands.

"You get it started, I'm going to go put on some appropriate attire!"

Jeff groaned as the man ran off into his room to change, and he put the disc into his machine before dropping the case on the coffee table. "I'm going to need beer for this."

He had just popped the cap off one of his six beers and was staring at the menu screen when the Dean emerged from his room in a pale blue dress with matching heels and frilly bucket hat. He crossed his foot in front of the other and pursed his lips, striking a pose in the doorway batting his eyes at Jeff.

Jeff drained his beer.

Twenty minutes into the movie, Jeff was feeling the alcohol, because he was leaning back and actually enjoying what was playing out on the screen. Eventually he tossed his arm over the back of the couch.

The Dean had started out sitting prim and proper and trying to eat pizza with dainty little bites, but as he became engrossed in the movie his legs uncrossed and he leaned over his plate with his elbows on his spread knees. He had tucked the corner of a napkin into his collar at one point.

Jeff ended up paying more attention to him than the movie, and he accidentally blurted out, "You make a pretty woman." Immediately his eyes bulged and he focused on inhaling his beer.

The Dean sat up straight and blinked at him, before he smiled and inched closer. "Why Jeffrey." He licked his faded lipstick lips. "Would you date me?"

Jeff sensed this conversation was going to turn awkward very fast, and his brows came together. "Maybe."

The Dean slide over more, pressing their sides together and laying his head on Jeff's shoulder. "Would you fuck me?"

Jeff froze, staring into Dean's eyes and trying to wrap his head around that question. Would he? If the Dean had soft breasts instead of a surprisingly toned chest, would he want to touch them? Those legs probably belonged on a woman. But what about--

His thoughts halted, because all of the sudden the Dean was kissing him. His lips were soft, but he tasted and smelled like onions. It was surreal, and he wasn't sure how to react. His beer slipped out of his hand.

The Dean jerked back, and Jeff opened his eyes. He hadn't realised he closed them.

"Oh no, your carpet," the Dean said as he bent over to pick up the bottle. Droplets of beer dribbled over his fingers as he righted it and set it on a coaster.

"It's okay," Jeff said, even though he knew he should have been freaking out. He piled some napkins on the floor and pressed them down into the spill with his foot, before he leaned back again and looked at the Dean.

The Dean looked guilty. "I..." He looked at his damp hand, before he reached for a napkin.

Jeff grabbed his wrist, and the Dean looked startled as he slowly drew it away from the table. Jeff brought up to his mouth and slowly dragged the tip of his tongue between his fingers, gathering the sticky beer residue and leaving them wet with saliva.

The Dean made a strange noise, something between a whine and a gasp, and when his hand was released he dropped it on Jeff's knee. "Jeffrey, you... You're drunk." He looked down after he said this, like Christmas was cancelled.

Jeff stared at him. Did he do that because his inhibitions were lowered? Was he going to regret this later? The answer was maybe. He didn't care at the moment. He leaned in and put his lips to the Dean's ear. "I'm not that drunk," he whispered, before he tongued the fake diamond clip-on earring there.

The Dean groaned, his hands coming up around Jeff's back. He didn't say anything else, just tilted his head back as Jeff kissed his neck.

Jeff focused on the hot skin under his lips. It wasn't smooth, not like a woman's, because the Dean had to shave the hair from it. Jeff found he was okay with that. And he smelled nice.

Suddenly Jeff was pushed back into a prone position, and the Dean shimmed up to straddle him. His dress rode up his thighs, showing the tops of his sheer pantyhose. He started to unbutton Jeff's shirt, and Jeff didn't stop him.

The feel of the Dean's thin fingers trailing their way down his bare chest made him suck in his stomach with a hitched breath. Parts below clenched, and he felt his jeans starting to strain in a non-fashionably tight way. One of his hands gripped the back of the couch while the other ran up the Dean's arm.

The Dean flicked his eyes to his face, biting his lip, before he leaned down and pressed a kiss to one of his nipples, making him grunt. He left a path of hot kisses and licks down his stomach, before he reached the button of his jeans. He looked at his face again.

Jeff decided to be helpful, reaching down and unbuttoning his jeans. He drew the fly down and pushed his jeans down just a bit, exposing his tasteful green boxer briefs. He reached into the front of them and drew his cock out of the hole, swallowing as he was exposed.

The Dean gazed at his prize, taking a breath and letting it out shakily through his lips. "I would like to thank the Academy," he said.

Jeff laughed, before his was cut off by a moan as the Dean swiped his tongue up the length of his cock and took the head into his mouth. The things he did with his tongue on the head brought the most interesting noises out of Jeff's mouth.

The Dean didn't continue that for long though, sitting and hiking his dress up to show panties that matched. There was a sizable bulge in those panties. He rocked his hips against Jeff's, and Jeff gasped at the feel of silky material over hardness.

He soon reached into his panties, cupping himself and using the thumb of his other hand to push the fabric down, hooking it under his ball sac. He stood at attention, proud and so damn pale.

Jeff's breathing was strange, but he didn't say a word. He gripped the couch cushions as the Dean aligned their cocks, such an unusual sight to Jeff. But he certainly didn't complain as the Dean wrapped his clever fingers around the both of them and started to move his hips.

"Sh-shit," Jeff moaned, leaning his head back and clenching his eyes shut. The feeling was new and odd and unreal and so good. He felt the Dean's weight on his chest, and he wrapped one arm around him.

His other hand moved between them, gripping their cocks as his fingers laced with the Dean's. He rocked his hips in a messy, uneven rhythm with the Dean, listening to him pant and groan into his ear and answering in kind.

"Look how she moves! It's like Jell-o on springs! Must have some sort of built-in motor or something. I tell you, it's a whole different sex!" someone in the movie was saying.

It wasn't too long--but totally a respectable time--until their movements were turning frantic, and their sounds were more unintelligible. When Jeff came, he knocked off the Dean's hat and gripped the back of his head, crying out. When the Dean came, he dug his nails so sweetly into Jeff's arm.

The pounding in Jeff's ears eventually slowed, and he listened to the Dean breathe for a while, gazing up at the ceiling.

"Jeffrey," the Dean eventually mumbled into his ear.


"I can't feel my legs. Help."

Jeff rolled his eyes affectionately, before he pushed himself and the Dean up, helping him untangle their legs. He found a napkin glued to his sweaty chest and peeled it off. He vaguely recalled it had been in the Dean's collar.

The Dean adjusted his panties as Jeff did up his pants, before he thrust himself against Jeff's side and snuggled into his shoulder, turning his attention back to the screen. "I really like this movie," he mused.

Jeff watched his face for a bit, before a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and he looked at the TV. "Yeah, it's okay."