Fic: Tick-Tock
Title: Tick-Tock
Author: yellow_pomelo
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Characters: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: None, if you know who Castiel is.
Warnings: (implied death)
Word Count: ~260
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of it's characters.
Summary: Castiel has never measured his life in definable units.
Notes: Part of The Snuff Table for the prompt 'Trance.'
There are three hundred and sixty-five days in one year.
Each day is twenty-four hours long and each hour is composed from sixty minutes.
Each minute is counted by sixty seconds.
So:
Sixty seconds per minute. Thirty-six hundred seconds per hour. Eighty-six thousand four hundred seconds per day.
Thirty-one million, five hundred fifty-six thousand, nine hundred twenty-six seconds in one year.
~
The life expectancy of an American male is seventy-five years.
Castiel's body is thirty-five years old.
So:
If each year is thirty-one million, five hundred fifty-six thousand, nine hundred twenty-six seconds long, how many more seconds will Castiel live for?
How many minutes will the watch on his wrist count?
How many days will his journal log?
How many calendars will hang from the walls of the kitchen?
He can hardly think and is surprised that his mathematical ability remains intact, but Castiel cannot possibly calculate the answers for these questions. There are too many variables, too many uncertainties and his vision is subjective.
Still, the questions continue to pile in his head like snow, great drifts that build up until even the windows of his eyes have been blocked and darkened.
How many years will start with fireworks?
How many lives will carry on?
How many moments will he have that Dean won't?
He doesn't know the answer to any of those questions, but standing in a trance by the morgue table, he knows without thinking how much time he will have in common with Dean.
Forty years.
But didn't Dean's forty years feel like eternity?
Perhaps it is.
Author: yellow_pomelo
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Characters: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: None, if you know who Castiel is.
Warnings: (implied death)
Word Count: ~260
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of it's characters.
Summary: Castiel has never measured his life in definable units.
Notes: Part of The Snuff Table for the prompt 'Trance.'
There are three hundred and sixty-five days in one year.
Each day is twenty-four hours long and each hour is composed from sixty minutes.
Each minute is counted by sixty seconds.
So:
Sixty seconds per minute. Thirty-six hundred seconds per hour. Eighty-six thousand four hundred seconds per day.
Thirty-one million, five hundred fifty-six thousand, nine hundred twenty-six seconds in one year.
~
The life expectancy of an American male is seventy-five years.
Castiel's body is thirty-five years old.
So:
If each year is thirty-one million, five hundred fifty-six thousand, nine hundred twenty-six seconds long, how many more seconds will Castiel live for?
How many minutes will the watch on his wrist count?
How many days will his journal log?
How many calendars will hang from the walls of the kitchen?
He can hardly think and is surprised that his mathematical ability remains intact, but Castiel cannot possibly calculate the answers for these questions. There are too many variables, too many uncertainties and his vision is subjective.
Still, the questions continue to pile in his head like snow, great drifts that build up until even the windows of his eyes have been blocked and darkened.
How many years will start with fireworks?
How many lives will carry on?
How many moments will he have that Dean won't?
He doesn't know the answer to any of those questions, but standing in a trance by the morgue table, he knows without thinking how much time he will have in common with Dean.
Forty years.
But didn't Dean's forty years feel like eternity?
Perhaps it is.