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Dean is Not Impressed.

With everything ever, really.

He's sitting on the porch in Lawrence, drinking a beer and wondering how he wound up justifying time out from the 'what's going on with Sam and Jess' hunt to take a roadtrip with two chicks who hate him.

They're leaving in less than an hour; he should probably pack.

Ehh.

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Mmmmm. Toasty.

Dean lifts his beer bottle to her, in cheerful salute.

Also, more subtly, offering. He's got spares.

But she's not old enough to--

Oh, forget it.

Sighing deeply, Rachel crosses the street with steady, strong steps, her eyes never wavering from Dean. And once she's there, just within a few feet from him, her arms cross and she continues glaring.

"I don't want to deal with any crap on this drive."

"Why would I give you any crap?" Dean demands, leaning back and looking up at her.

"Because you and Jo can't stop from fighting after thirty seconds in the same room with each other and this is going to be a several-hour drive where I don't want to half to listen to it the whole time."

Flat Rachel is Flat.

She shifts, another glance back, and glares at him some more.

"And because you seem like a smartass."

"Aw, hey, that's a hasty sort of judgement," Dean complains. Vry Srs, No Rly. "Sure you don't wanna give me a chance?"

It would be a bad idea to tell him that she knows someone exactly like him and wouldn't trust either of them as far as she could throw them - and she cannot throw particularly far.

But it's very tempting.

"I was nice - I said 'seem.'"

That's a tiny hint of a smirk there.

"So you did," Dean agrees lazily, and offers her a beer.

But she's not--

...hell, why not? She's not going to get to beat anything up.

Looking more than a little wary about this, Rachel takes the bottle and - after a long, long pause - sits down on the porch steps with him. There's space for two or three people between them, but she's there.

And takes a sip of the beer before making a face at it.

Dean's curious, of course, as to what made her come storming out. And vaguely curious as to the spandex getup she was in the other day. And kind of annoyed, indefinably, for no reason he can pin down.

But it's a hot afternoon and he's got nothing better to do until Jo's ready.

He doesn't have anything to say, though.

Honestly? Neither does Rachel. And while the beer doesn't taste good, it's cold and she's fine with sipping it. She's not terribly comfortable sitting with a stranger like this.

But whatever. For right now, right this second... it'll do.

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