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Dean hates Kansas.

Dean hates Metropolis. It's got no right sittin' there in the middle of Kansas, out of place as a fuckin' donkey at a ball. He knows America and he knows the roads and the highways and he fucking hates that this world's twisted them all around.

Dean hates Lawrence. Sammy's still there. And Dean's not going back.

Dean hates himself, too, for that.

A surefire cure for angry emo bitterness is beating the shit out of people, however, and fortunately there's a lot of shit going round. Suburbs of Metropolis, clubs, late at night, there's always some chick he can bail outta trouble. That way he gets to beat people up and then gets laid.

Presently, Dean is in a back alley, glaring at a guy on the ground who thought he'd drag some naive little chick into the mens' room even though she was fighting. Jerk. And worse, not even a tough jerk. Dean's not even breathing hard. Waste of a fucking fight.

Yeah ... Dean hates Metropolis.

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Two in one night.

Great.

Dean sighs, glaring at the guy on the ground, and then shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets, nursing a split knuckle. If they're gonna fall into his lap, then shit, they're gonna fall into his lap.

(doesn't make him feel any better after, but during -- well, during a fight it's always OK.)

"C'mon, baby, don't be like that... gotta tell me somethin', just one little word. Ah," he laughs, skeezy all over again, but the voice is getting further, and it's obvious by the time Dean comes out of his alley that the guy and whatever girl he's tailing have just ducked into another one.

"Guess this is private enough, huh? C'mon, sweetheart, lemme getta taste."

Oh, gross.

Dean sighs, flexing his knuckles, and heads into the alley.

"Dude, no. You don't wanna be doing that."

"Buzz off, man," the guy growls, tall but skinny, greasy hair held back with a rubber band, glancing back at Dean with a scowl as he progresses on the blonde in front of him. "We're busy, a'ight?"

There's a noise behind him, like a balloon being blown up. The man frowns and turns back to the girl.

And screams, tearing out of the alley, while a voice calls [Aww, what's wrong, sweetheart?]

It isn't hard to see what the guy had screamed at either. The blonde hair is still there, long and silky, but the head is-- wrong, eyes taking up more than two-thirds of her head, broken into a million pieces of compounded blue, her lips merged together and protruding slightly like... like...

Like Rachel coming out of a creepy ass morph with a roll of her now-human eyes.

OH, fucking great.

Dean rolls his eyes too, and turns back to stomp out of the alley. Not only did he just get totally blocked from a fight he really fucking wants, but it had to be her catching him looking like a goody-goody prick?

Great.

Aww, and they left on such good terms.

Actually, the last time she saw him was in that bar, surrounded by women.

Rachel scoffs softly and straightens her jacket before following him out of the alley.

"What?"

Dean glares at her, once they're back on the street.

"What now?"

Rachel arches a brow, obviously surprised by the outburst. And not really appreciating it either.

"Oh, I'm sorry, have you had a bad night?" she demands with a meaningful tilt of her head toward the alley again. "I didn't say anything."

Edited 2008-09-27 05:29 (UTC)

"You're followin' me," Dean points out, irritable. "Haven't seen you in three days, now you wanna talk?"

But hey, she doesn't seem about to mock him for doing anything stupid. 'S good.

Rachel stares at him before throwing an arm back where they'd just come from.

"It's an alley! There's only one way out! How is that following you?! Excuse me, I didn't think you needed your hand held in the big city."

Irritable Rachel is irritable - especially right after seeing Jo. Her hands find her hips and she stops, brows lifted and waiting for him to choose a direction.

"I'm not avoiding you, I'm avoiding bars and clubs. If that means I don't see you for three days, that's a reflection on your interests, not mine."

Dean glares at her, and then turns away to keep walking.

He doesn't want to fight. With her, anyway. It's bitter and sour and vicious, not clean and brutal like physical fights with strangers.

"Whatever. Bye."

You know? Rachel's getting really sick of not being the only one that gets violent and shut-down when she's angry.

And she's even more annoyed that she doesn't leave.

~~she likes his company - and Jo's - too much~~

But that's more of a big-picture "doesn't leave." Right now, it's perfectly all right to see what direction Dean is going - and heading in the opposite. She'll morph and spend some time outside of the city, check up on him and Jo tomorrow.

Rachel's really starting to hate Metropolis.

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