You gotta know when to hold 'em [You gotta know when to run]
[Pick a card]
It should have been a cake walk. They were a bunch of morons that got together twice a month and bet their paychecks on this game. They talked too much to stay focused and drank too much to ever catch on. Not that they had anything to catch onto this time. Dean was down to a hundred bucks, at least five hundred behind the table winner and it was genuine. Sam hadn’t miscounted, as the glares Dean was giving him insinuated. The table had just gotten lucky, which meant Dean’s luck was going south fast.
“Damn boys, if my luck don’t turn around soon, I’m going to be watching from over there,” Dean said with a ‘good ol’ boy’ grin that he’d been working all night.
“And you guys haven’t heard bitching until you hear Tommy after he’s lost a card game,” Sam joked. He wasn’t doing as badly as Dean, but then that was never the plan. He was the middle runner. The guy who never won too much but never got down too low either. Tonight he and Dean were operating as Tommy Lee and Jason Vanhooers. Sam was pretty sure the other men at the table thought he and ‘Tommy’ were life partners. He’d gotten beyond caring at this point.
The table laughed collectively. “Sounds like he’d give my wife a run for her money.”
Oh yeah, they definitely thought he and Dean were a couple. Sam sipped at his beer and watched intently as the cards were dealt, two face down. He watched the table as the community cards were put own. He made predictions based on what was on the table, how the guys were betting and the expressions on their faces; they had shit for poker faces.
“Maybe this hand will change his luck and spare me some misery,” Sam said. That was the signal to Dean. Sam was pretty sure he only had a low pair but Dean started betting like he had a flush. He tossed it all out there, scared the shit out of the table-who didn’t have anything by Sam’s estimation and never had to show his hand. A couple more like that and they were out of there up almost a thousand dollars. Of course the rest of the table was bitching but their job was done here and chances were they’d never have to step foot in Paris, Texas again.
“Y’know,” one of the bigger guys slurred as he stood up, pushing himself away from the table and nearly tipping the whole thing in the process. “I think we got cheated by a coupla faggots.”
Sam cast a look to Dean and he was wearing the same sort of look; kind of ‘oh shit this is getting ugly fast’. They were standing shoulder to shoulder, Dean collecting their combined winnings with one hand, shoving it into his pockets as fast as he could. He was still shoving when the first punch came. The guy caught Sam in the chin and in turn looked absolutely terrified when Sam hardly swayed. Sam grinned at him and Dean started swinging.
One guy went through the table while Sam broke a chair over another one’s back. Dean started collecting everyone else’s money while Sam was swinging.
“Dean, think you could stop stealing and help me out here?” Sam yelled as a couple of guys drove him back toward the door. They spilled out into the yard and through a mess of punches and kicks, Sam could see Dean hitting his way toward him. Dean grabbed his brother by the coat lapels, hauling him to his feet and shoving him toward the Impala. They squealed out of the gravel driveway, slinging rocks and Dean hooping at the top of his lungs.
“Damn, Sammy, we gotta get into more card games like that!”
It should have been a cake walk. They were a bunch of morons that got together twice a month and bet their paychecks on this game. They talked too much to stay focused and drank too much to ever catch on. Not that they had anything to catch onto this time. Dean was down to a hundred bucks, at least five hundred behind the table winner and it was genuine. Sam hadn’t miscounted, as the glares Dean was giving him insinuated. The table had just gotten lucky, which meant Dean’s luck was going south fast.
“Damn boys, if my luck don’t turn around soon, I’m going to be watching from over there,” Dean said with a ‘good ol’ boy’ grin that he’d been working all night.
“And you guys haven’t heard bitching until you hear Tommy after he’s lost a card game,” Sam joked. He wasn’t doing as badly as Dean, but then that was never the plan. He was the middle runner. The guy who never won too much but never got down too low either. Tonight he and Dean were operating as Tommy Lee and Jason Vanhooers. Sam was pretty sure the other men at the table thought he and ‘Tommy’ were life partners. He’d gotten beyond caring at this point.
The table laughed collectively. “Sounds like he’d give my wife a run for her money.”
Oh yeah, they definitely thought he and Dean were a couple. Sam sipped at his beer and watched intently as the cards were dealt, two face down. He watched the table as the community cards were put own. He made predictions based on what was on the table, how the guys were betting and the expressions on their faces; they had shit for poker faces.
“Maybe this hand will change his luck and spare me some misery,” Sam said. That was the signal to Dean. Sam was pretty sure he only had a low pair but Dean started betting like he had a flush. He tossed it all out there, scared the shit out of the table-who didn’t have anything by Sam’s estimation and never had to show his hand. A couple more like that and they were out of there up almost a thousand dollars. Of course the rest of the table was bitching but their job was done here and chances were they’d never have to step foot in Paris, Texas again.
“Y’know,” one of the bigger guys slurred as he stood up, pushing himself away from the table and nearly tipping the whole thing in the process. “I think we got cheated by a coupla faggots.”
Sam cast a look to Dean and he was wearing the same sort of look; kind of ‘oh shit this is getting ugly fast’. They were standing shoulder to shoulder, Dean collecting their combined winnings with one hand, shoving it into his pockets as fast as he could. He was still shoving when the first punch came. The guy caught Sam in the chin and in turn looked absolutely terrified when Sam hardly swayed. Sam grinned at him and Dean started swinging.
One guy went through the table while Sam broke a chair over another one’s back. Dean started collecting everyone else’s money while Sam was swinging.
“Dean, think you could stop stealing and help me out here?” Sam yelled as a couple of guys drove him back toward the door. They spilled out into the yard and through a mess of punches and kicks, Sam could see Dean hitting his way toward him. Dean grabbed his brother by the coat lapels, hauling him to his feet and shoving him toward the Impala. They squealed out of the gravel driveway, slinging rocks and Dean hooping at the top of his lungs.
“Damn, Sammy, we gotta get into more card games like that!”