So, as you know, this story is entirely unedited and un-beta'd at the moment. I'm a little iffy about this chapter, so I hope you can forgive me for any unintentional cheesiness and plot holes. I'll fix it all later when I edit this entire thing. But here you go, installment three of Playing God is Ridiculously Frustrating.
Day 3: Captain's Log, Stardate 168.4. English class proves to be a gift that keeps on giving. My only problem - I think I screwed up the whole thing.
"I have a good feeling about today, Becky." Charlie smiled, walking down the hallway next to her friend, "Today, I've got a plan."
Beside her, Becky was hanging on to every word, sighing wistfully in response to Charlie's declaration.
"I wish I was in your English class." she commented, her face beginning to scrunch up in disappointment.
Charlie was on her way to English class and Becky was headed towards History; meaning that instead of playing matchmaker with Charlie, she would be learning about the wonders of Ancient Japan.
"I'm a genius," Charlie stated, allowing herself to gloat, "They're going to be swapping spit in no time."
Becky stared at her with fascination, enthusiastically nodding in agreement before her expression turned to one of confusion.
"What is your plan?" she asked.
"Right," Charlie sighed, "I should probably tell you, but we're rapidly approaching the English hallway and I really don't want to be late."
She gave Becky an apologetic look and offered her a goodbye wave, but Becky grabbed her wrist and kept her rooted to the spot.
"You better tell me." Becky warned, widening her eyes in an attempt to look threatening.
"I will later," Charlie assured her nervously, pulling her wrist free from Becky's clutches, "After it works. And please don't grab my wrist again, violence is never the answer."
"Charlie!" Becky whined, pouting as Charlie whirled around and began walking towards the classroom.
"Peace out, Becks." Charlie called back. She watched as Becky let out an aggravated huff of breath and stomped off in the general direction of the History hallway.
Charlie rolled her eyes before adjusting her books in her arms and entering the English classroom. She wasn't late, which was a gigantic piece of luck. She glanced around the room confidently, but spotting neither Castiel nor Dean, she sighed and plopped down into a random desk.
She was just beginning to take out the rough drafts she and Castiel had worked on the night before when Castiel , right on cue, slid into the desk opposite her; a motion very similar to the day they first met.
"Hello, Charlie." he smiled shyly, arranging his books underneath his chair.
Well, it was now or never.
"Castiel?" Charlie began, phrasing her greeting as a question, "Can I ask a big favor of you?"
Castiel's eyebrows furrowed in worry, his head tilting to the side ever-so-slighly.
"Is something wrong?" he asked.
Charlie bit her lip, trying to decide whether or not her plan was actually worth it. It had seemed wonderful when she bragged to Becky about it, but now, talking to Castiel, it seemed rather juvenile.
"Uh," Charlie began a bit nervously, "Can I hit on you?"
Castiel looked at her, confusion clouding his eyes as he mulled her sentence over. Charlie waited patiently, her breath hitched, before the penny dropped and Castiel's face lit up in realization.
"Is this a tactic to make Dean jealous?" he asked, each word spoken slowly and cautiously.
"Possibly." Charlie admitted with a nervous shrug, "Is it stupid? It's stupid. It works in the romcoms, though."
"I don't know about this-" Castiel started uncertainty, but was cut off mid-sentence by the arrival of Dean Winchester.
Castiel's face lit up at the sight of him, and Charlie couldn't help but notice how he subconsciously brushed off that ridiculous trenchcoat of his. Part of Charlie secretly wondered why he wasn't teased about, but the other part of her – the kinder one – decided it was because everybody was so used to it.
"Charlie, have you seen Benny?" Dean demanded, "He's my partner and the guy's been MIA since this morning."
"Oh my god." Charlie breathed, staring up at him in fascination. Screw her plan, everything was falling into place without any need for one. Is this what being God felt like? Because it felt like the entire universe was on her side, and it was absolutely fantasatic.
"Well, uh," Dean began, staring at Charlie in confusion, before turning to Castiel and mumbling a muted, "Hey, Cas."
"Hello, Dean." Castiel greeted pleasantly.
Charlie could've burst out into song right then. Benny was most likely sick (Dean was right, nobody had seen him all day.) which meant that Dean could sit with Charlie and Cas, which also meant that-
"I don't have to hit on you!" Charlie informed Castiel excitedly, grinning at him.
Dean cleared his throat awkwardly as Castiel stared at Charlie in wide-eyed embarrassment. Charlie bit her lip, realizing her mistake before composing herself and patting on the desk beside her.
"Benny's sick," she informed Dean coolly, "You may sit with us."
"Gee, thanks." Dean muttered sarcastically, but his attitude couldn't hide the fact that he was obviously pleased by this turn of events.
"Alright," Charlie grinned, opening her binder and flipping through the tabs in search of her notes, "Here are my notes. I have to go to the bathroom, so Castiel, would you mind starting to revise our rough drafts with them?"
Castiel turned his gaze away from Dean to look at Charlie and nod his head in agreement.
"I guess I'll, uh, actually start my rough drafts?" Dean tried, staring down at his own binder in frustration.
Charlie glanced between Dean and Castiel, barely able to keep herself from blurting something out. Really, this was too perfect.
"You didn't start your rough drafts?" Charlie asked, with a note of feigned innocence, "Well, I'm sure Castiel could help you with them."
Dean looked up at her, obviously detecting something wrong with her tone of voice. His eyes flitted back to Castiel's for only a moment before he cleared his throat and spoke up.
"Yeah, that sounds good," he said, his voice gruff, "Would you mind helpin' me out, Cas?"
"Of course," Castiel nodded, refusing to meet Dean's gaze, "Let me look at the notes you took."
Charlie clapped her hands together, a goofy grin on her face as watched Castiel reach over for Dean's notes, still avoiding his eyes.
"I'll just be a moment." she smiled, "A girl's gotta relieve herself now and then."
Neither boy looked up at her or even acknowledged that she'd spoken, but Charlie couldn't bring herself to care. Instead she backed out of the classroom and rushed down the hallway towards the bathrooms. Halfway down the hallway, she may or may not have pumped her fist into the air a few times, performing a bit of a victory dance before jogging the rest of the way to the bathroom.
When she had hid in the bathroom for what seemed the appropriate amount of time if someone actually did have to relieve themselves, she returned to the classroom and took her seat.
Charlie didn't really know what she was expecting, but nothing had changed since she'd left. Dean was leaning back in his seat, watching on as Castiel wrote something on Dean's notes. Charlie sighed, and Castiel lifted his head up at the noise.
"Did you talk to each other at all while I was gone?" Charlie questioned incredulously, propping up her head with her palm.
"No." Castiel replied bluntly, before returning his attention to Dean's notes again.
Charlie sighed again, vaguely wondering if it was possible to roll your eyes so hard that you could actually see the inside of your head. She turned to Dean, only to find that he was glaring at her.
Alright, so maybe the situation wasn't as perfect as Charlie had originally thought it to be. But now was no time to give up. If Castiel or Dean weren't going to make a move on their own, Charlie would have to do it herself.
"So," Charlie began, turning to Castiel, "Cas, you're actually sort of cute."
Charlie was the world's worst flirt, but the response she got was almost magical. Castiel turned bright red, still refusing to look anywhere but Dean's notes. Dean, on the other hand, sat up straighter. Noticing the fact that Charlie used his nickname for Castiel, he shot her a smoldering look. Charlie stared back at him, her eyes wide and innocent.
"I mean, I don't usually go for guys, like, at all," Charlie forged on, still pretending that Dean's glare didn't make her feel uncomfortable at all, "But, I don't know Cas, there's something about you."
"Charlie, is this really the right time for this?" Dean cut in, and Castiel ducked his head down even further.
"It's always the right time for love, Dean." Charlie informed him.
"Alright, Charlie," Dean said, abruptly standing up, "I'll leave you two lovebirds alone."
"Wait, hold on-" Charlie tried, but it was too late. Dean has resigned himself to the other side of the room.
Charlie groaned, letting her head bang against the desk.
"Well," Castiel cleared his throat, "That certainly didn't go as planned."
"I'm sorry, Cas," Charlie sighed, lazily lifting her head up, "This was my fault."
"Only Dean calls me Cas." Castiel stated stiffly, "He, ah, also forgot his notes."
"Come on, don't be like that." Charlie whined, "I mean, Dean knows I'm a lesbian, he can't possibly think that I was being serious-"
"You should go give him his notes." Castiel continued, ignoring Charlie's comment and sliding the notes across his desk and onto Charlie's.
Charlie stared at them, and couldn't help but wonder why playing god had to be so goddamn hard.
