han_solo | (no subject)

"Sure," Dean agrees placidly.

And doesn't mean it at all. He just isn't interested in arguing again.

"So what'd you do, then? Back there?"

Rachel's getting to really hate this question. Luckily for those who ask it, she hates liars more.

"Fought in a war."

"Sounds like fun," Dean says dryly, glancing at her.

Doesn't ask anything else.

He still gets to see her smile. Not wide, but definitely there.

"Sometimes."

Just-- sometimes.

"You ran around killing ghosts and stuff?"

"Basically, yeah." Dean smiles faintly. "Ghosts, demons, what-the-fuck ever."

Rachel nods absently, but she's glancing to him again.

"Fun?"

"Sometimes."

Dean's expression is grim.

"Sometimes not."

That's enough.

Her conversations with Dean tend to be short, but Rachel comes away from them knowing a lot more than she expected to with a guy like him. Or the kind of guy he acts like, at least.

Rachel goes back to examining scenery, glancing every once in a while to a map she'd retrieved from the glovebox. They might be going to her city but she has no idea how to get there.

But, after a few moments, "Huh."

"Huh?" Dean repeats, looking over at her. "What's up?"

"Nothing." Her finger is resting on the map, idly tracing the road they're on due west.

"We're gonna hit the Grand Canyon in like two hours."

"We are?"

Dean isn't looking at her, but that doesn't mean she can't see the small smile that grows and then is gone.

"...cool. I've never been."

There he goes, breaking character again. Rachel smirks a little, amused, and nods with her eyes back on the map. "Yeah. You want to stop there?"

She's been before, her dad driving her to a cross-country gymnastics meet, stopping there for lunch.

...she'll let him get all Glory of Nature about it. She'll get lunch.

"Sure," Dean says, remarkably casual. "Nothin' better to do."

He thought he'd never see it.

Another short glance, another short smirk.

After that, she keeps her eyes on the map. It's better not to question too much, especially not the things that have to be forced casual.

...especially not if she wants to keep riding in the car.

Damn straight.

Two hours later, they're pulling up in an abandoned tourist-tastic parking lot, Dean looking around eagerly.

That's the most adorable goddamn thing she's seen since arriving.

Grinning, Rachel shakes her head as she gets out of the car, starting to strip from her outer clothing. "I'm gonna hunt," she informs him. "Meet you back here."

Hey, it's totally not smirkworthy. Dean gives her a dirty look, but shortly he's grinning again.

Damn it, this is fucking sweet. He never thought he'd see this place. Bitched to Sammy about it once, even.

This is awesome.

He gets a good hour to just bask in the beauty of nature or whatever. Hunting is easy, doesn't take long at all, but Rachel has a bitch of a time getting a fire started and skinning the stupid rabbit.

She's bloody-handed and irritated and wrinkling her nose at the ruined pelt, but she's got a rabbit on a stick over a fire and that's got to count for something, damn it!

(she's not interrupting his nature-vacation-time-whatever either, not until she has to. The trip will be a lot easier if they don't scream at each half the way and sit in sulky silence the rest.)

He's watching her and smirking a little for most of that time anyway.

(funny, but when he imagined coming here, he always kinda thought Sam'd be there too.)

"Failed Girl Scouts 101, didja?"

"I made popsicle picture frames in Girl Scouts," Rachel grumbles at him, irritated that he isn't giving her the praise she obviously highly deserves. She made a freaking fire! Out of NOTHING! "The useful stuff is in Boy Scouts."

Her dad had considered her request to join that Scouts but her mom had vetoed it.

Dean laughs. "Not really. Boy Scouts are all freakin' idiots, don't know north from south. Meat smells good."

Rachel shakes her head and turns the spit. She knows enough about roasting marshmallows to realize she needs to keep the rabbit rotating. "Figures you'd be one of them."

Yes. She is assuming he learned survival skills from Boy Scouts. Or something akin to, anyway.

"How's the view?"

"For about a week, yeah." Dean snorts.

"Looks like a canyon."

Rachel snorts right back, hiding exactly how much that makes her life with continued spit-turning.

"Popsicle sticks?"

"Popsicle sticks," Dean confirms.

"Biggest waste of time in m'life."