Day 2: Captain's Log, Stardate 167.6. Second day of mission proved to be a bore until I acquired the target by its lonesome to work on previously mentioned English project. My plan is proceeding rather nicely.

"This would be my house." Charlie announced, gesturing to the white house on the corner of the street, "My parents aren't home, so we have the whole place to ourselves."

"It's very nice." Castiel offered, clutching his books and studying the house.

It was a decent sized house, perfect for the average middleclass family. Not too big and not too small, with a select few flowers encircling the yard and the walkway.

"My mom's got a bit of a green thumb." Charlie explained, leading Castiel down the walkway, past the pink and white blossoms.

"They're quite beautiful." Castiel breathed, staring at the flowers as he slowly followed Charlie to the front door.

Charlie suppressed a laugh as she watched Castiel bend down to smell one of them and then continue walking down the pathway, his ridiculous tan trenchcoat flapping behind him. Of course Dean would fall for this one. The one who wears a baggy trenchcoat and a formal tie and finds the time to stop and smell the flowers. In the words of a certain energetic fanfiction writer, Charlie totally shipped it.

"Yo, Castiel," Charlie called out, "We gonna do the project or what?"

Castiel quickened his pace, meeting Charlie at the front door and stepping inside when she held it open for him.

"My apologies." he muttered, ducking his head.

"It's cool," Charlie smiled, "No need to apologize."

She gave him a brief tour of the house, including the kitchen ("This is where we keep the knives and stuff, just in case- okay, moving on."), the living room ("If you need a break or whatever, just chillax down here."), and the dining room ("I don't know why we have this room. We never use it. Just, uh, I don't know, ignore it.") before leading him upstairs into her room.

"So, uh, we should start." Charlie began awkwardly, "I have my laptop and stuff over here with some equipment – agh, nevermind, we won't need that for our project."

"This is perfect." Castiel assured her, offering her a shy smile. He plopped his books down on her desk, selecting one of his binders and beginning to flip through his notes.

Charlie grabbed her laptop, opening a document on Microsoft Word and logging into the school website. She glanced at Castiel over her laptop, hoping to ask him to grab her notes for her, but the sound died in her mouth when she realized what he was doing. He was examining a picture frame above her desk, a wooden one that held a picture of her and Dean on the first day of high school.

"First day of high school," Charlie chirped, "The picture, I mean."

Castiel didn't look up at her, just continued to study the picture. He cocked his head slightly, staring at the picture with an intensity Charlie would've found insanely creepy if it hadn't also been sickeningly adorable.

"What's Dean like?" Castiel asked finally, lifting his head to meet Charlie's gaze.

Charlie cleared her throat, awkwardly scratching the back of her head. She glanced at the frame in Castiel's hand, her eyes flitting over the tiny features of the photograph.

"I'm sorry," Castiel said quickly, putting down the picture, "That was extremely rude of me. Let's continue the project, shall we?"

"Sure thing," Charlie agreed, pausing a moment before continuing, "Dean's a good guy. You should get to know him."

"We've talked a few times," Castiel admitted, hesitantly jumping on board with the subject matter. Out of her peripheral vision, Charlie noticed how although he had put down the picture, his thumb absentmindedly tracing the outline of Dean's jaw through the glass picture frame.

"What did you say?" Charlie inquired, the question coming out a bit more eagerly than she expected it to. Castiel didn't seem to notice though, "When you talked?"

"We just say 'hello' from time to time," Castiel admitted, "That's all."

Charlie could've laughed out loud. Of course that's how their conversations went, if you could even count them as conversations. Charlie could imagine it in her head:

"Hello, Dean," Cas would say, offering a shy smile to the boy he accidentally bumped into in the hallway.

"Hey, Cas." Dean would reply gruffly.

And then they would stare at each with homosexual longing for a few moments before shuffling past each other in the mad scrambled to get to their next class.

"What's so funny?" Castiel asked, and Charlie realized that she actually had starting laughing out loud at the scenario.

"Oh, nothing," she shook her head, still grinning, "Come on, we've got a paper to write."

The next couple hours or so were filled with the soft sounds of pencil against paper and the loud clacking of a computer keyboard. There was a ten minute break that turned into a twenty minute break, and approximately six packs of candy. Occasionally, there would be idle conversation that differed from the usual "What do your notes say?" or "How should I explain this?".

At one point, Castiel asked what Dean's favorite color was, to which Charlie made a face and replied with a, "Uh, I don't really know. Does plaid count?".

After Charlie finished typing up the rough draft, Castiel asked if Dean had any family. A slightly personal question, but Castiel was really beginning to grow on Charlie. And hey, if it helped the cause, Charlie was up for answering it.

"He has a brother named Sam," she answered thoughtfully, her face scrunched up in thought, "And parents. John and Mary I think? John's tough on him, but he's an alright guy."

"I see." Castiel replied, "What should the layout of our poster be?"

When three hours had passed and Castiel decided that he had to go home, Charlie stopped him as he was about to go out the front door.

"He really likes you," she stated seriously, "Dean, I mean."

Castiel shook his head sadly, gazing at the flowers adorning Charlie's front walkway.

"Dean and I," he began carefully, "We are very different. I very much doubt he reciprocates my, ah, feelings. Thank you for having me over, Charlie. I hope we'll be seeing more of each other.

And then he whisked himself out the front door leaving Charlie standing there with a frustrated expression and immense urge to scream into a pillow.