xii. | make it seem like a hooker

                                    

                                          
Disclaimer; I don't own supernatural... surprise, surprise!
                          
Skin; Part One
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"I don't believe in pessimism. If something doesn't come up the way you want, forge ahead. If you think it's going to rain, it will." -Clint Eastwood
                          
EMERY WAS IN THE BACKSEAT, SINGING along to the rock song playing from the cassette tape. It was cut off, however, when Dean stopped the Impala and turned it off. She sent a glare over the back seat, watching as Dean opened the front door. 
                          
"C'mon, Dean, that was the middle of the song!" Emery complained, hearing Sam laugh. She giggled along with him. 
                          
"Oh, suck it up, Em! I'll play it again!" Dean stated, grabbing the gas nozzle to fill up the car. 
                          
They sat in silence for a second, before Dean stated his plan for driving. "All right. I'm thinking we hit Tucumcari by lunch, then head south, hit Brisbee by midnight." Dean glanced at Sam, who was doing something on his phone. "Sam wears Emery's underwear."
                          
"Dean, that's so gross!" Emery protested, smacking him on the forehead since he was leaning through the window on Sam's side. 
                          
"I've been listening. I'm just busy," Sam responded, clicking something on his PalmPilot. 
                          
"Busy doing what?" Dean asked. 
                          
Emery peered over Sam's shoulder, smirking, "reading e-mails."
                          
"E-mails from who?"
                          
"My friends from Stanford."
                          
"You're kidding me? You still keep in touch with your college buddies?"
                          
"Why not?"
                          
"Well, what exactly do you tell them? You know, about where've you been, what you've been doing?"
                          
"He tells them that he's hanging out with a beautiful model and his geek brother," Emery interjected sarcastically.
                          
"I tell them I'm on a road trip with my big brother and his girlfriend," Sam's eyes glanced at Emery through the rearview mirror, the girl pink. "I tell them I needed some time off after Jess."
                          
"Oh, so you lie to them."
                          
"No, I just don't tell them," there was a pause, "everything."
                          
"Yeah, that's called lying," Dean stated. "I mean, hey, man, I get it, telling the truth is far worse."
                          
"Just ask Cassie or whoever," Emery mumbled bitterly. Dean sent her a glare. "Still touchy, I see!"
                          
"So, what am I supposed to do, just cut everybody out of my life?" Dean shrugged at Sam's words. "You're serious?"
                          
"Look, it sucks, but a job like this, you can't get close to people. Period," Dean stated, and Sam's eyes met Emery's again in the mirror. The girl blushed again. She didn't even know why. 
                          
"Sam," Emery put her hand on his shoulder. "Dean's just antisocial."
                          
"Yeah, whatever," Dean said, and from his position leaning against the Impala went to get the gas nozzle. 
                          
Emery watched as he checked it, before taking his spot leaning up against the car. She rolled her eyes, and idea popping into her head. 
                          
"God," Sam exclaimed, Dean leaning down to look through the window again. 
                          
Snickering, Emery tuned out of their conversation and leaned out the window, smacking Dean's ass. Dean whipped around, startled, and Emery burst into a fit of laughter.