OOS: Still on the road
Traveling with Dean Winchester is possibly one of the worst decisions Rachel has ever made ever. So far, he's been snarky and irritable and annoying and pushy and he's always looking at her and making her really want to punch him, or morph and teach him a real lesson
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Apparently he's reading porn mags. At least, that's what's sitting very obviously in front of him on the ground, propped up so she can see the covers.
The little brown notebook in his hand ... maybe it's a different sort of porn mag, or something, right?
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And also, for the record, she is not blushing and has totally seen those-- things before.
(in Tom's bedroom, about a year ago, she and Jake had been looking for a basketball so the family could play and found a stash under his bed and never spoken of it ever again)
Rachel is cleaning her gun extremely carefully, oh yes.
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Nope.
... and doesn't think her blushing is hilarious either.
Snort.
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Rachel clears her throat softly, ignores the furious heating of her face, and continues the gun-clinging with eyes down. It will soon be the shiniest gun in all the land with all the care she's putting into the task.
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He knows the journal off by heart anyway.
"...you're polishin' that gun barrel very carefully," he observes, smirking.
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"And unlike some people, I'm doing it quietly and without drawing attention to myself," she growls quietly, ducking her head to inspect the gun.
(and to hide behind her hair a bit)
"Why don't you follow suit and go look at those in private?"
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He tosses one over. Unfortunately for Dean and his lack of forethought, it was the one concealing the journal that he's actually reading.
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...hey, that's not a skin mag.
With her gaze already down on the gun, the magazine, and now the journal, fall right in her line of sight. She frowns, briefly scanning the handwritten lines, the strange drawings.
Looks up at Dean with lifted brows, confused.
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...crap, busted.
Dean gets up and comes over, picks up the journal and heads back to his seat with a perfectly innocent expression.
"What?"
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"You are such a creep," she points out, lip curled in disgust, shaking her head as she goes back to her cleaning - minus a few shades of blush.
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(And tosses the skin mags into the fire, since they're not serving any purpose any more.)
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"It bugged you."
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Her fingers flex on the gun for a moment, but all she does is slip it into the holster at her side before picking it up and pushing off the log, grumbling as she circles around the car.
God damn boys.
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