Hi all. So, since there wasn't much to go on in the last chapter, I thought I'd give you this one good and early to get you into things a little bit more. Thanks to those who have shown interest. Hope you enjoy it and - hey - I'm not proud, I am more than happy to beg for reviews.

Getting To Know You

For the first forty minutes I stuck to the rules. No fidgeting, no chitchat, no messing with the radio. Not that I actually had to on the latter point, since his taste in music was pretty damn good. Classic rock and a little heavy metal. I could certainly live with that. But what I couldn't live without – as it turned out – was the comforting noise of background chatter and without a verbal dialogue to distract me, my mind was stupidly free to wander.

Holy crap I was going to Baton Rouge and more than that, I was going to meet him. My heart pounded loudly and my palms were so sweaty that I had to keep rubbing them over my skirt, which was still a little wet from being stuck in the rain and therefore not a whole lot of help. But you know what? It didn't even matter because I was still taking the biggest step of life and the whole thing was just so amazing.

Or at least it was to begin with, because about fifty minutes into the journey – and with the storm clouds still glowering dark up above – the crippling doubt and gnawing insecurity decided to show up and flip everything on its head. What if I got there and he didn't want to see me? What happened if he did but then – I don't know – he didn't like me? What happened if I didn't like him?

Nor was that the worst of my problems.

I was in a car with a total stranger and no one in the world – except poor Roy and I doubted he'd be a credible witness – had any idea where the hell I was. They would probably find me in a ditch by the roadside or floating in a river, or buried in a wood. Was I insane? I must have been crazy and as a bolt of terror shivered right through me, I started to hunt in my pockets for my phone, pulling it free and trying not to tremble as I punched in a number I knew off by heart.

Dean's eyes shifted across from the wheel and I jumped a little when he finally spoke,

"What are you doing?"

"I – I'm phoning my friend. I promised to let her know where I was,"

"I thought I made it clear – no chitchat."

"You implied no chitchat with you."

"No I didn't," Dean growled back at me; not having looked over since we'd set off and his mood clearly not having evened out either, "No chitchat, means no chitchat period."

"Can we stop saying chitchat? It's starting to sound weird. Anyway, if I don't call her, she's probably just going to ring the police and – actually I've got a whole lot of people waiting to hear from me. So unless you let me call someone and tell them I'm safe, they'll all come searching for me – is that what you want?"

Throughout the sentence I'd been trying to sound threatening but the longer I spoke the more panicky I became and I could see Blue Eyes – whoops – Dean's smile widening. It wasn't exactly a kind smile either. It was more like a spider with its eyes on a fly. Perhaps he knew that it was all bullshit – that search and rescue was definitely not on its way. Yep. I really had to be crazy. Finally however, he waved his hand,

"Knock yourself out Princess. Just make it quick."

I blinked at him. Princess? That was original. Because okay, so maybe I was a girl but it wasn't like I was a bottle blonde drama queen. Still, in the interests of self-preservation, I decided to not take offense at the nickname and instead hit the dial and held the phone to my ear.

Please pick up, please, please pick up.

"Lauren?" Kelly answered on the second ring and I was so relieved to hear her voice that I actually squeaked like a tiny little mouse. Dean's eyes flickered across to me briefly, but I ignored them resolutely and cleared my throat.

"Hi."

"Hey honey, so, how far have you got? Brent's been watching the news all morning, apparently there's some sort of storm front out that way. You calling from the airport?"

"Not exactly, no."

"Not exactly?" Kelly's voice echoed back at me and on hearing my tone she was instantly alert, "What do you mean by not exactly? Lauren Marie Hope, where are you?"

"Did you just full name me? I'm still in Florida."

"You stuck?"

"Well, kind of but – not," I mumbled uncertainly, not entirely sure how to tell her that I was travelling in a car with a possible killer that I didn't want to overhear that's what I thought he was, "All the flights were cancelled from Orlando,"

"Oh sweetie, that's sucks. What are you going to do?"

"Actually I – um – I sort of got a lift."

"Sort of?" Kelly echoed again and sometimes I swore it was like she was a mind-reader, which given the fact we'd been best friends forever, probably meant she essentially was, "Jesus Lauren, don't tell me you're hitch-hiking?"

In the background I heard her husband Brent pipe up and based on his pitch, his reaction was similar. Kelly had done really well finding Brent. They slotted together like two parts of a puzzle and I had grown to love him nearly as much as I loved her. Luckily the feeling was adorably mutual and his instantaneous big brother-style coronary was all the confirmation I needed.

Not that it helped my current situation.

"No, no," I shot back, quick to appease them, "I'm just – like – sharing a car with someone."

"Who?"

"Yeah," Dean snorted, idly beside me, "Sharing. A fucking car-jacking is what it was."

"Is that him?" Kelly was on it like a pit-bull or something smaller, like a scrappy Chihuahua or a Tasmanian Devil, "You're sharing a car with a random guy? Lauren, are you crazy? You're there with a stranger?"

"Well, I wouldn't – ,"

"Put him on."

"What?"

"You heard me," Kelly answered firmly, "I want to talk to him. Put him on."

"I can't just – ,"

"Lauren, put him on."

Taking the phone away from ear I turned towards Dean with levels of awkwardness that I didn't even know were physically possible. Sensing my gaze, he glanced in my direction and I held out my cell and waved it around,

"Um, she kinda wants to talk to you."

His face creased up in confusion,

"Who does?"

"My – my best friend."

He stared at me for a second, just blinking and to be honest I didn't begrudge him the bewilderment. But to his credit he snatched the phone off me and put it to his ear with a sigh,

"Yeah?"

I literally held my breath, unable to make out what she was saying but able to make a pretty good guess. Dean simply listened and continued to drive, steering us one handed down the darkening highway as the clouds seemed to practically close in overhead. Around us the wind was starting to pick up and the trees on the verges shook hard in response.

"Uh-huh," Dean threw in somewhat lazily, "Okay, I got it. Here she is."

He passed the phone back over to me silently, his blue eyes never leaving the road and I took it pretty hesitantly from him and held it up to my ear,

"Um, Kel – ?"

"Don't start on me Lauren, I just gave him a warning."

"O-kay. Well then, thank you, I guess."

"I still don't like it though – neither does Brent. Are you going to be okay with him?"

I paused momentarily and glanced over at Dean. To be fair he'd done very little to warrant being classified as a serial killer and not just by me but by my best friend and her husband. He was right, I practically had car-jacked him, not to mention the whole staring-at-his-ass thing and swiping his beautiful jacket with water. Maybe I needed to give him a chance? The thought made me nod, although the gesture was redundant in that Kelly couldn't possibly see,

"I'll be fine."

"You want me to stay on the line a little longer?"

"No, no that's okay, you go."

She didn't seem utterly convinced by my sentiments, but to be quite honest neither was I. Still, it was my bed and I just had to lie in it. Or rather sit in it, no chitchat and no messing with the music. Kelly let out a world-weary sigh,

"Okay, but you text me every single hour or I swear to god I'm calling the police,"

"I will," I replied and couldn't help giggling, "I love you."

"Laurie, I love you too – even though you drive me crazy by hitching rides with possible killers. I'm not kidding either, every hour, you hear?"

After a few more earnest assurances from my end and a whole lot more worrying and stressing on hers, I finally managed to convince Kelly to hang up on me and then dropped the phone into my lap with a smile. There weren't a whole lot of people in my life that I could count on to be there for me unconditionally – and that number seemed to be fading by the day – but Kelly was a person that I knew I'd never be without and just hearing her voice had brightened my day.

I felt pumped, I felt confident, I could do anything – although all of that fled the second Dean spoke,

"Your friend has a real way with words."

Crap.

"Um, yeah, about that – ,"

"I kinda like her,"

I blinked,

"You do?"

"What can I say? I like 'em feisty. It's too bad she's already married."

"She told you that?"

He shrugged off-hand,

"In a kinda roundabout way. She told me her husband would track me down and rip me in half if I thought about touchin' a hair on your head."

God this whole thing was so damn awkward and Dean's expression didn't help in that it wasn't angry, or amused, or really anything. I swear I couldn't work him out and as the silence threatened to envelop us totally, I realised that I couldn't cope any more. Road Rule Number One be damned. I needed myself at least a vestige of chitchat.

"So, Dean, what is it you do?"

"You gotta be kiddin' me."

"What?"

"Fuckin' chitchat."

"I just want to know a little bit about you, that's all. You know, find out – ,"

"Whether I'm a cold-blooded killer?" I blinked and clearly my response said it all, "Relax Princess, I'm not and you can tell your angry little friend that. Or is she going to send the Inquisition round too?"

"No, no," I shook my head at him quickly, "I believe you. So, what do you do?"

"Sports entertainment," he growled at me deeply, in a that's enough of that kind of way and sensing that he probably wouldn't give me much more anyway, I opened up a one-woman dialogue instead,

"Sports entertainment, huh? That sounds – uh – great. I'm sure that will put Kelly's mind at ease. But, I mean, you don't have to be too hard on her. It isn't really her fault she's protective. We've been best friends since we were six and after everything that's happened to me this year she just likes to make sure – ,"

"Happened to you?"

Trust him to zone in on that throwaway fragment. I paused uncertainly, not sure what to say even though I knew I owed him something. In the end, I took a deep breath,

"Lately things have been kind of – rough for me."

"Life's rough," Dean answered and there was something harsh to it, like my statement had hit an unknown nerve, "We make it through or we don't, it's that simple. You think you're the only one that goes through bad shit?"

I bristled, my fists balling involuntarily. How dare he judge me? Was I looking for that? A red mist fell in front of my eyes and before I even knew what I was doing, I was blurting out the one fact I'd spent weeks trying to hide,

"My mom died."

"So? Big deal. Mine wasn't around much. Think that makes us even so far."

"She died six weeks ago."

His face fell instantly and for the first time since we'd driven off he looked over at me properly. Not that I could really see. I was too busy fighting down the lump in my throat and trying to blink away the fast forming tears.

Crap, not now Lauren, please don't lose it.

As if my day hadn't been bad enough. I did not want to end it sobbing in a rental car next to a massively unsympathetic ass.

I heard Dean swallow,

"Sorry. Didn't know."

"No," I shook my head, "You didn't."

It came out in a breathy whisper. I didn't trust myself to speak any louder without betraying how I felt, although honestly my eyes were doing that quite nicely and with his gaze flitting steadily between road and weepy passenger, Dean licked his lips and tried again.

"Unexpected?"

"No. We knew it was coming. Thought that might make it easier. It didn't."

He didn't push me any further on that and although his voice was still gruff and awkward, I could tell that he was at least trying to sound softer. He shifted uncomfortably and coughed in his seat, clearly hating every last second, which frankly made two of us, so we had that in common.

"She write the letter?"

"Huh?"

I looked up as Dean pointed down at the envelope. I had almost screwed it completely in my fingers and realizing it suddenly, I loosened them a bit. If he noticed it, then Dean didn't say he had, simply repeating himself instead,

"Did your mom write that letter? Is that why it's so important?"

"She did, but that's not why – ," I shook my head hopelessly, struggling to know how to explain the whole thing, "The letter is my proof to him."

Brilliant Lauren. That'll fill in all the gaps.

"Him who? Please tell me you don't mean god."

I shook my head, my frustration fast rising along with a headache pounding right behind my eyes. Maybe I'd been a little hard on no chitchat.

"No, it's not – ,"

"Because if that's what's going on here Princess, count me out, I don't want to be converted. I'm happy down here in the gutter with the sinners."

My patience promptly swelled and then burst, the final admission coming out in a holler I didn't even know had been fast building up.

"Ugh, no – I mean my dad. This letter is proof that I'm his daughter."

For a second there was silence as Dean merely blinked and I shivered again as his blue eyes flickered over. What was that? Why did that always happen? His tongue darted out to whet his dry lips and my stomach rolled over at the moistness he left there.

Wow.

I needed to get a grip, fast.

"So what, he doesn't think you're his?"

I stared down at my hands and shrugged,

"Actually he doesn't know I exist. My mom never told him. It was always just the two of us."

"Well I guess that explains the psychedelic best friend."

The throwaway comment drew a tiny smile out of me and seeing it, Dean slightly softened up too. Or maybe he didn't – maybe I imagined it – but for the briefest of seconds it seemed like he did.

"Which is why you're so desperate to get to Baton Rouge – so you can finally meet him?"

"Uh huh," I nodded and took a deep breath, the plan sounding totally ludicrous when spoken instead of swirling around in my head, "He's only there for one night, so – it's kind of now or never, right?"

Dean held a hand up to distance himself quickly and just like that, he was an asshole again,

"Hey, don't ask me – it's not my life. We're just sharin' a ride here, remember? No fuckin' way am I givin' out advice. Besides, I said no girly chitchat which is exactly what this fuckin' is. Tell him, don't tell him. I don't care – I'm just gettin' where I need to go."

"Fine," I huffed injured, folding my arms.

"Fine," he nodded.

Then there was silence.

In the lull I sat back and watched the rain streak down the window. The sky was almost fully black and although the sun was still up there shining, it was amazing to watch the cloud almost block it out. The wind had picked up even further and it practically threw the droplets at the car. It was kind of mesmerising to watch it fall and listen to the pitter-pattering sound. It was soothing, it was comforting it was stimulating and – oh crap.

Suddenly I needed to use a restroom.

Damn my weak bladder and sensitive hearing – that and the fact that I hadn't been in hours. In fact I'd been heading towards the bathrooms in the airport when they'd suddenly declared that all flights were shut down. After that I'd just kind of forgotten but I certainly couldn't forget anymore. What the hell was I supposed to say to Dean though? Since we didn't seem to be talking and given the whole getting where I need to go speech he'd made me listen to a minute ago. Even if I told him I wasn't sure he'd pull over and so instead I settled for shifting in my seat, trying to get my bladder comfy and screwing my face up each time it didn't work. I thought I was doing it pretty discreetly, but then suddenly Dean's gruff voice rang out,

"Fuck's goin' on over there?"

"I need to use the bathroom."

"Are you fuckin' serious?"

"I really need to go."

For a second I thought he might just tough love me or say something about wishing he'd never let me in – actually I think he was probably going to – but a quick glance over at my scrunched up face and the way my legs were cinched together alerted him to the fact that I was barely holding on to it and he rolled his eyes and let out a groan,

"Alright, alright, let me get off the interstate."

He spun us off the very next exit ramp, by which time I was half-braced up against the dash. As a little country road opened up before us, I tried to be helpful in any way I could,

"I'll keep my eyes open for a gas station, when I see one, I'll shout and you just – ,"

I stopped as Dean pulled us up on the grass; a tangled patch of scrub alongside us. I turned towards him questioningly and was alarmed to find him smiling for the first time. What the hell was that about? Seeing the newly-forming frown on my face, he indicated the wind-swept foliage with his hand and it didn't take me long to work out what he meant.

I gaped at him, outraged,

"You want me to go in the bushes? Because, I don't know if you've seen the weather lately, but the storm of the century is raging out there. I can't pee in that!"

Dean stared back at me,

"Then I guess it all depends on how desperate you are Princess, because – trust me – there isn't a restroom for miles. So it's either go out there and do it Davy Crockett style, or stay in here and stain the seats. Oh and just so you know, the second option is not an option."

"You're enjoying this aren't you?"

"You have no idea."

Now that the car was stationary, the power of the storm was truly apparent and despite the fact that the rental was a big one, it was actually physically rocking up and down. How the hell was I meant to pee in gale-force conditions? Was that even possible? With Dean still smirking at me however, I decided I couldn't take the coward's way out. Screw it. I was going to pee in the storm and hope to god it didn't rip off my panties.

I grabbed the handle defiantly, then stopped, as a sudden thought hit me like a punch to the gut,

"You're not going to – like – drive away are you?"

Dean blinked back at me cluelessly,

"What?"

"You – you're not going to wait until I'm out there and then just drive off and leave me on the side of the road, right?"

In response, Dean narrowed his eyes at me sharply and I genuinely couldn't tell whether he was offended or whether he was figuring out if it could work. In the end however he merely let out a grumble and reached out to turn the engine off. Instantly the car stopped its rhythmic purring and in the silence the wind seemed to sound more violent. Reaching over he gave me the keys and then stared at me impassively,

"That make you feel better?"

I nodded, surprisingly touched by the gesture,

"I – yes, it actually does."

"Great," he drawled back; the word dripping sarcasm, "Now can you just fuckin' go pee already?"

Physically getting out of the car was a battle that I hadn't been prepared for – since the wind was blowing in flush against the door and practically holding it shut – but once I'd made it I quickly wished I hadn't because holy hell was the weather ever bad. Simply making it over the foliage felt like stepping out in the middle of typhoon and by the time I'd actually completed my task, I was soaked to the bone and my hair was wet and tangled.

On the way back I was positively blown towards the car and I banged up against the window like a cartoon character, semi-flattened against the glass. Dean watched it happen – without moving – from the driver's seat and wearing that god damn patented smirk that for a moment made me wonder if he'd locked the doors internally or decided to pull some other kind of prank. Luckily however he hadn't done anything and I forced the door open and threw myself in before the wind blew it shut hard behind me again.

I sat there for a second on the seat just panting, feeling like I'd gone ten rounds with a bear. I didn't look at Dean, I couldn't bring myself to do it and as his palm came out in the corner of my eyes, I silently deposited the keys back onto it, listening to him re-start the car.

"Feelin' refreshed?"

Again I didn't answer but what I did do was shiver and wrap my arms around myself. We drove in silence back onto the road and the further we went, the worse the shivers got. It was miserable. No, scratch that – I was miserable. How much worse could one day get?

Ten minutes after that, Dean flipped on the heater and channelled it to blow straight into my face. I didn't say anything and he didn't either but I melted into the seat nonetheless.

After that, we kept to the ground rules; no moving, no chitchat, no messing with the radio. Kiss was on. I didn't mind.

Told you I'd beg. Please review!