fandomtownies | Caritas, Sunday Evening

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Caritas, Sunday Evening

It was Guy's first night behind the bar, so hopefully nothing would attack. He'd promised Kitty, after all. Couldn't break that.

So, after giving the zombies an unimpressed look at any attempts to con the newbie into doing anything more than duct tape, he was settled in. And maybe looking up drink specials for the day before settling on something that may or may not have just made him snicker.

Bulbasaur
Ivysaur
Venusaur

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"One's a shot, one's a cocktail, and one's a highball." He owned a bar. Don't you judge him. "If you can't handle much, might as well stick to a domestic beer."

"What, you're saying I can't handle my drinks?" Dean's eyebrow, Guy. He was raising it at you. "I'll have you know that this has been a very 'highball' kind of weekend, man."

No. Really. His teaching buddy was the pony.

You got used to that at least. After you were a pony yourself.

"New in town?" Guy asked, starting to make that highball.

"New in town," Dean confirmed. "New to this century, apparently, too. Gotta say, I'm kind of disappointed that cars don't fly yet, but besides that, this has been a kind of weird weekend."

"How far back we talkin'?"

Dean winced a little bit at that.

"Nineteen fifty-three. I probably don't have it as bad as some people do, I'm sure. I mean, at least I know what a phone is, even if I probably wouldn't know one to see one. But... you know."

It all meant that he was, like, turning 89 this year. That was kind of a big deal.

Making a sympathetic face, Guy held up a cellphone that was probably a good three years out of date, as though that would help him out. "At least you're not in space or somethin'."

"Not in space, right." There was a pause while Dean leaned over to take a look at the phone anyhow. Because... hey, it was out of date, and still kind of mind-boggling. "But Pinkie did mention something about rocks turning people into monsters, so I'm not so sure it makes all that much difference."

"Those things happen sometimes here." And home. Mostly home. "Just listen to the folks in charge and you'll be safe."

"So, the guy in the red pajamas," Dean checked.

Cindy had pointed out the vice principal to him on day one. And had done so while talking at length about his swords.

"...maybe not him."

"Maybe not," Dean agreed with a wry little grin. "Ms. Winchester seems like a safer bet, at least. And Steve."

Steve, who had helped to break his brain by informing him that he was in the wrong century to begin with. But at least he'd broken it to him gently?

"So you're a teacher up at the school?" Guy asked, pushing the Venusaur over to Dean.

"Yeah." Dean reached for the drink, looking pretty thankful that it was now in his hand, yes. "I'm the new art teacher, starting Friday. Which gives me time to find a place, get settled in, wrap my head around the 21st century, that kinda jazz."

He really, really needed that Venusaur.

Art. Of course.

"They've got apartments in town," Guy said, leaning against the bar. "Staying at the hotel now?"

Oh, Guy. Guy.

Oh, hey. There was mint in this thing. That was exciting. Dean was going to be very interested in that. Truly.

"Nah. I need that money for the deposit on a place. I think. Uh, America still uses the dollar, right?"

... Yeah.

"Nah, we're on the Yen." Guy, don't be a dick. "Dollar still works. If you need a place to stay in the meanwhile, I have some rooms open."

As long as you didn't mind one that smelled like fish. Aquaman.

Yeah, Dean rummaged through junkyards for art supplies. He wasn't going to get too worried about a bit of a leftover fishy smell, really.

"... Yeah? I have to admit, that kind of beats crashing in my office."

Swivel chair. Ow.

"Don't drink all the beer and you're welcome to stay as long as you need."

"That shouldn't be much of a problem," Dean replied. "I'm usually more of a coffee kind of guy anyhow."

He snapped his fingers. Just once. Just because.

Guy gave that a confused look for a moment before opening himself a beer. "Name's Guy, by the way."

"Guy, huh?" Dean nodded a little, offering him his hand. "Good to meet you, man. I'm Dean."

Look! No snapping, this time!

Guy took the hand, giving it a firm shake. "What kinda art do you teach then?" he asked once he let go to return to his beer.

"Mostly sculpture," Dean replied after an experimental sip of his pokemon juice. "I mean, I'll probably start the kids on the fundamentals of art... stick some pencils in their hands and get them to brainstorm or something, but I'm hoping to work their way up to some decently sized pieces before the semester is through."

Gotta drink 'em all.

"And keep 'em away from anything dangerous. This group of kids..." Shake your head, Guy. Shake your head in disappointment.

Caritas, Sunday Evening

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