Miracle Anti-Aging Cream (11/?)vikkiMarch 27 2010, 19:39:04 UTC
The moment Castiel stepped inside the bar, every eye in the place turned on him - a surprising number, considering the hour. "Woah, kid, you lost?" the bartender asked.
"I'm looking for Patrick," Castiel replied, sidestepping until his back was to the wall directly next to the door. He put his hands in his pockets and stood very still.
The bartender ducked out from behind the bar and came around, approaching the apparent nine-year-old. Castiel eyed him warily; the man crouched a good distance away. "You Dean?" he asked.
Castiel hesitated. "No. He's my friend. He'll be here soon."
"Kid, I don't think you know what you're doing here. You read the sign outside, right? Twenty-one and older," the tender explained patiently.
"It says twenty-one and ode right now," Castiel informed him.
The bartender laughed. "Guess it does. Need to get that fixed. But kid, if you need to use the phone, need to find your parents, I can help, and then you've got to go. You'll get me shut down."
Castiel thinned his lips. "No, thank you. I need to see Patrick."
At that moment the door next to the bar opened up, and out stepped a man who, to Castiel, appeared to be a wizened husk of a man, eyes rotted from his sockets, teeth gone. An hourglass seemed to grow out of his back. He flinched, just slightly.
"Are you asking for me, child?" the husk said.
"The witch Patrick," Castiel said breathlessly.
"I prefer 'sorcerer'," Patrick said. "It's all right, David." The bartender stood up, and now Patrick crouched before Castiel, looking him up and down. Their eyes, such as it were, met.
"... you are not what you seem," Patrick hissed, arthritic fingers clenching in agitation.
"Nor you," Castiel hissed back, taking his hands back out of his pockets.
"You can destroy me," Patrick said, his voice straining in awe.
"I haven't come to destroy you," Castiel replied, dropping his voice. "I want you to take years from me."
Patrick's toothless gums ground together. "So you are the friend Dean spoke of. Friends in high places."
Castiel eyed him warily, but made no reply.
"What can I do to you, deathless creature?" Patrick continued. "You can give and take and never lose or gain."
Before Castiel could reply, the door opened to admit Dean and Sam. "That was close," Dean grumbled. "Cas?"
"Here, Dean," Castiel said, and Dean looked around to him.
"Ah, gotcha. Well, Patrick, this is my friend Cas. Cas, Patrick. Looks like you've already made friends."
"Cas, yes," Patrick said slowly, and stood. "It's not often that one wants to lose to me. It takes all the fun out of the game."
"Nobody's looking to give you a good time," Dean growled.
Patrick ignored him. "But you, Sam, you were a challenge. An excellent challenge. Won't you play me again?"
Sam gazed down at Patrick evenly. "Just get on with it."
"Very well." Patrick twisted away, indicating the door he had entered through before. "In here. We won't be disturbed." He led the way.
"Not even when Cas here comes out after suddenly gaining twenty years?" Dean demanded, taking Castiel's hand. Castiel allowed it, deathly silent.
Patrick gave Dean a disdainful look. "You give the attention of drunks too much credit." He opened the door.
Inside was a green felt table stacked with familiar chips and a deck of cards; Patrick rounded the end and sat facing the door; Dean and Sam gingerly took seats that flanked Castiel, who sat opposite Patrick expressionlessly.
"Ace is high. No wild card," Patrick said, picking up the pack of cards and shuffling them expertly.
"Hey, Cas, do you even know how to play this game?" Dean asked quietly.
"Yes, Dean," Castiel said.
"The real question, gentlemen, is how many chips should 'Cas' carry?" Patrick shuffled and watched Castiel as if he would suddenly turn out to be a dragon in disguise. "One chip? A thousand? A hundred thousand? He has so many years to bet." He put the stack of cards face-down. "Cut the cards."
Dean and Sam looked at each other over Castiel's head. Castiel spoke before either of them could come up with an appropriate reply. "Thirty years should be enough."
Re: Miracle Anti-Aging Cream (11/?)maychorianMarch 28 2010, 03:41:03 UTC
OMG, thank you so, so much for writing so much so quickly. ♥! I love that Patrick punches Dean for calling his love a bitch. I adore Dean, I do, but he disses women a lot. I like when he gets called on it. I also love that Patrick and Castiel see each other for who they are.
Re: Miracle Anti-Aging Cream (11/?)simonejesterApril 17 2012, 23:10:19 UTC
I adore Dean, I do, but he disses women a lot. I like when he gets called on it.
I know this is an old meme and an old comment, but I just wanted to say that I heartily agree with this. Especially his "some days you get to kill a whore" comment to Cas in the Whore of Babylon episode. I'd have fucking roundhouse kicked him in the chest (shoulder? I'm short) for that kind of talk. It's bad for women and worse for actual sex workers.
Re: Miracle Anti-Aging Cream (11/?)vikkiMarch 28 2010, 22:19:19 UTC
Remember how in 5.07, both Dean and Bobby got old? They played Patrick at poker, and basically whenever Patrick won, he won 'years' off their life. Castiel's bargaining with years he will live, not years he's already lived, basically. I hope that helps!
"I'm looking for Patrick," Castiel replied, sidestepping until his back was to the wall directly next to the door. He put his hands in his pockets and stood very still.
The bartender ducked out from behind the bar and came around, approaching the apparent nine-year-old. Castiel eyed him warily; the man crouched a good distance away. "You Dean?" he asked.
Castiel hesitated. "No. He's my friend. He'll be here soon."
"Kid, I don't think you know what you're doing here. You read the sign outside, right? Twenty-one and older," the tender explained patiently.
"It says twenty-one and ode right now," Castiel informed him.
The bartender laughed. "Guess it does. Need to get that fixed. But kid, if you need to use the phone, need to find your parents, I can help, and then you've got to go. You'll get me shut down."
Castiel thinned his lips. "No, thank you. I need to see Patrick."
At that moment the door next to the bar opened up, and out stepped a man who, to Castiel, appeared to be a wizened husk of a man, eyes rotted from his sockets, teeth gone. An hourglass seemed to grow out of his back. He flinched, just slightly.
"Are you asking for me, child?" the husk said.
"The witch Patrick," Castiel said breathlessly.
"I prefer 'sorcerer'," Patrick said. "It's all right, David." The bartender stood up, and now Patrick crouched before Castiel, looking him up and down. Their eyes, such as it were, met.
"... you are not what you seem," Patrick hissed, arthritic fingers clenching in agitation.
"Nor you," Castiel hissed back, taking his hands back out of his pockets.
"You can destroy me," Patrick said, his voice straining in awe.
"I haven't come to destroy you," Castiel replied, dropping his voice. "I want you to take years from me."
Patrick's toothless gums ground together. "So you are the friend Dean spoke of. Friends in high places."
Castiel eyed him warily, but made no reply.
"What can I do to you, deathless creature?" Patrick continued. "You can give and take and never lose or gain."
Before Castiel could reply, the door opened to admit Dean and Sam. "That was close," Dean grumbled. "Cas?"
"Here, Dean," Castiel said, and Dean looked around to him.
"Ah, gotcha. Well, Patrick, this is my friend Cas. Cas, Patrick. Looks like you've already made friends."
"Cas, yes," Patrick said slowly, and stood. "It's not often that one wants to lose to me. It takes all the fun out of the game."
"Nobody's looking to give you a good time," Dean growled.
Patrick ignored him. "But you, Sam, you were a challenge. An excellent challenge. Won't you play me again?"
Sam gazed down at Patrick evenly. "Just get on with it."
"Very well." Patrick twisted away, indicating the door he had entered through before. "In here. We won't be disturbed." He led the way.
"Not even when Cas here comes out after suddenly gaining twenty years?" Dean demanded, taking Castiel's hand. Castiel allowed it, deathly silent.
Patrick gave Dean a disdainful look. "You give the attention of drunks too much credit." He opened the door.
Inside was a green felt table stacked with familiar chips and a deck of cards; Patrick rounded the end and sat facing the door; Dean and Sam gingerly took seats that flanked Castiel, who sat opposite Patrick expressionlessly.
"Ace is high. No wild card," Patrick said, picking up the pack of cards and shuffling them expertly.
"Hey, Cas, do you even know how to play this game?" Dean asked quietly.
"Yes, Dean," Castiel said.
"The real question, gentlemen, is how many chips should 'Cas' carry?" Patrick shuffled and watched Castiel as if he would suddenly turn out to be a dragon in disguise. "One chip? A thousand? A hundred thousand? He has so many years to bet." He put the stack of cards face-down. "Cut the cards."
Dean and Sam looked at each other over Castiel's head. Castiel spoke before either of them could come up with an appropriate reply. "Thirty years should be enough."
tbc
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And OMG, I don't want this to end! :(
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I know this is an old meme and an old comment, but I just wanted to say that I heartily agree with this. Especially his "some days you get to kill a whore" comment to Cas in the Whore of Babylon episode. I'd have fucking roundhouse kicked him in the chest (shoulder? I'm short) for that kind of talk. It's bad for women and worse for actual sex workers.
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*pets him*
I'm...not quite sure i get how *losing* years is going to gain him years but...we shall wait and see! :)
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Thanks for continuing to read this, though ♥
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I was thinking - wait. If you take years off Jimmy's life, he's only got like nine or something at the moment, that's not enough!
I luff your icon.
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Hee, it's called Castiel - BAMF!walk, because Castiel is such a BAMF when he walks anywhere. =DDD
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:)
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