Chapter Text
Sam wasn’t entirely sure how it had started, but somehow, he and Charlie had ended up talking at least once a week about fanfiction.
More specifically,
destiel fanfiction.
Vaguely, he remembered complaining to her about how Dean and Cas just kept looking at each other, and if he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought they were in a relationship. Which they should be. With the amount of eye sex and UST between them…. Sam deserved some sort of award for putting up with all of it.
“I
know!”
Charlie had said. “It’s worse than in
Professional Couple Only,
and some of that was just
painful
to sit through. I don’t know how you do it.”
Sam huffed. “Yeah. Me neither. What’s Professional Couple Only?”
Charlie grinned mischievously, and that had been Sam’s introduction into the world of destiel fanfiction. Somehow, that had translated into Charlie giving him recommendations, and then, turning into some sort of book club for the two of them.
It had been going on for a few months now; every few nights, when they were at the bunker, Sam would log onto Skype, and if Charlie was online, they would talk. If not, he popped onto Archive of Our Own and spent several hours, either slamming his head against a table because they were idiots, or crying because fucking Elvis.
(When he had read
Twist and Shout
the first time, Dean had walked in on him sobbing. Dean was extremely confused when Sam asked him if he could dig Elvis, and even more so when Sam started sobbing even more when he responded positively. Thankfully, he never found out what Sam was reading.)
At this point, Sam was, without a doubt, what Charlie had dubbed “a true heller.” He had only read fanfic, but Jesus Christ, he was getting pretty close to downloading a writing program on his laptop. Fortunately, that hadn’t happened yet. But if Dean and Cas didn’t get their act together soon….
“They’re idiots,” Sam declared. “Both of them.”
“The biggest idiots,” Charlie agreed. “Actually, that seems to be a common theme.”
Sam snorted. “Yeah. It’s kinda creepy. None of these people have even met Dean or Cas, but in every story, they both take forever to get over themselves.”
Charlie nodded through the computer. “I know! It’s hard to get the fandom to agree on stuff in fic, but—“ She stopped suddenly.
“What?” Sam peered at the screen. “Charlie? You there?”
“Yeah! Yeah, but— Sam, that’s it!” she said excitedly.
“What?” Sam repeated.
“If they’re idiots here, and they’re idiots in every fanfiction to ever exist, then we can get them together like in fanfiction!” Charlie’s eyes were wide.
“Get them together like in fanfiction?” Sam said dubiously.
“Exactly! We’ve just gotta— uh— When Charlie Met Cas! Or How to Take Care of Angels and Little Animals!”
“Gabriel is dead,” Sam reminded her.
“Or is he?” Charlie asked.
Wait.
Was he?
“Just kidding,” she said, waving him off. “And I don’t think we’re getting Cas into skinny jeans. Anyway, my point is— pretty much all the classic fanfiction tropes? If we get them to play out, then they’ll have to confront their feelings!”
Sam considered it.
Charlie… did make a valid point. The only true consistency across fanfiction seemed to be Dean and Cas being oblivious, pining idiots. And yeah, fanfiction wasn’t the most realistic all the time, but… it did produce results.
“Think about them staring at each other,” Charlie said, breaking the silence that had fallen. “Practically undressing each other with their eyes. The two of them standing way too close. Definitely within kissing distance. And just staring, not making a move—“
Even thinking about the exponentially increasing UST was enough. “Alright. I’m in.”
A smile began to spread across Charlie’s face. “Awesome. Luckily for you, I have a list of the most effective ways of getting my OTP to make out. Hold on, lemme get it….”
Sam waited, listening to her fingers flying across the keyboard. For a moment, he let himself imagine it. A normal, sexual tension free existence. Not having to see his brother and friend making eyes at each other constantly.
Yeah. He could play matchmaker for that.
“Where did I put it?” Charlie muttered to herself, squinting at the screen. “I know it’s somewhere— aha! Found it! Forwarding it to you now.”
There was more clattering of keys, then a soft ding as the email came in.
“You ready, heller?” Charlie smirked at him.