Destiel One-Shots

Never Trust A Red-Head

Third Person POV:
Charlie Bradbury was a mischievous, feisty, playful young woman, who enjoyed thinking up great schemes and putting them into action. What helped was that they rarely ever failed. A C.B. plan was almost virtually foolproof. Her latest plan was simple: get her two best friends together. She called it Project Destiel.

Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak were obviously perfect for each other, despite the fact that they had never actually met. They had heard of each other, of course. It seemed like nowadays all Charlie talked about was how amazing the other one was. It was getting rather tiresome for the two boys. Charlie just didn't understand. Anyone with eyes could see they belonged together. They were both gay, or at least partly gay. Dean was, in fact, bisexual. Both of them were single, although Charlie could never figure out how. Both of them were drop dead gorgeous, and that was saying something, cause she was a lesbian. Both of them were just nerdy and dorky enough to utterly love each other.

Thus, Project Destiel was born.

Dean's POV:
   It's nine in the morning when the sound of my phone going off pulls me from my sleep. It's early for a Saturday, or at least it is for me. Fumbling stupidly, I reach out and smack my side table blindly until my hand lands on my phone. A lazy smile of victory tugs at my lips as I wrap my tired fingers around it and bring it into sight. My sleep infused muscles clearly aren't working right, because as soon as I have my phone over my face, it slips out of my fingers.

   "Ow! Son of a bitch!" I cry as a sharp pain radiates out from my nose. Still grumbling, I pick my phone back up, taking care to keep a firm grip on it to reduce the risk of getting a black eye next. Of course it was Charlie who texted me. Everyone else in my life, aside from my little brother, knows not to bother me before noon on weekends. Well, Charlie and Sammy know not to bother me. They just don't care.

From: Charlie, 9:01 AM
Hey Dean. I'm thinking dinner tonight. How does that Italian place downtown that we like at around six-ish sound?

   I have to reread her text a few times before my foggy brain fully understands the words. I frown as I think over her request. Usually, we don't make plans in advance. One of us texts the other in the moment, asking if the other is busy. Brow furrowed, I type back a reply.

To: Charlie, 9:08 AM
What's the occasion? I don't think it's my birthday, and it's definitely not yours.

   My text immediately goes from Delivered to Read. The three dots show up next. As I wait for her reply, I pull myself up so I'm sitting instead of lying down. Now that I'm fully awake, I won't be able to fall back asleep. And definitely not with my nose still throbbing. My phone pings in my hand.

From: Charlie, 9:09 AM
Do I need a reason to see my best friend?

   I smile, but can't help the feeling of overwhelming suspicion seeping into my bones. Chewing on my bottom lip, I try to make a decision.

To: Charlie, 9:11 AM
I know I shouldn't trust you, but I'll bite. I'll see you at six, Kiddo.

Castiel's POV:
   I've already been up for close to three hours when I get a text from Charlie. She thinks I'm crazy, but I get up every morning at 6:15 AM, including weekends, to get a solid hour long workout in before I start my day. It helps to get my blood flowing and gives me that much needed boost to get through all the crap generally thrown at me while I'm at work. Weekends are just to keep the routine going.

   I'm on my second cup of gourmet coffee, my brother had got me hooked on it about six months ago, phone beside me on the end table next to the couch. Reaching out, I grab it and thumb it open.