Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or its characters.

Setting/spoilers: Roughly during the second half of season six, minor spoilers for 5.14 (Cupid and stuff).

Summary: "I sure as hell won't be going through puberty all over again just because some asshat in heaven wants to toy with us." When Sam and Dean grow a tad too close for either brother's comfort, they recognize their sudden attraction as a Cupid's doing. But what can they even do about it? [unresolved Wincest, tag to 5.14]

Warnings: Wincest...ish

Notes: Please go easy on me; I only just got onto the Supernatural train, and it's awesome :D
I do, however, have a slightly bad conscience about enjoying the Winchester brothers' awesome bromance a tad too much, so here goes my attempt at, err, justifying that. I'm pretty sure the Cupid thing must've been done before, but once I realized it allowed for some really nice interaction, I just had type something like this myself.
Also, I tried a slightly new approach to writing by keeping it crisp and short to let actions speak rather than words and impressions. Then again, though, I did drift off occasionally, but I hope it'll still make a decent read.

So...enjoy!

A Supernatural Infatuation

The Winchesters had become a problem – faithless, ruthless, meddling. Nonetheless, their misdeeds had not outweighed their potential value yet. Heaven still had plans in store for them, but until their time came to pass, they would do more harm than good.

For that reason, it was decided to occupy them with matters aside from hunting. And it just so happened that an unlikely infatuation was the least cruel option to accomplish that.

NOW

Removing his hands from the Winchester brothers' shoulders, Castiel stepped back to face both of them solemnly. "It is done," he announced, "The sigils have been removed."

Releasing a breath he had not even noticed he had been holding, Dean flung himself back onto the armchair he had occupied earlier. "Thanks, man," he sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, "Of all the weird things to happen to us, this entire Cupid affair was just...wrong." Closing his eyes, he took another deep breath.

"Um, Dean..." he heard Sam's deep voice protesting weakly next to him.

Furrowing his brows, Dean opened his eyes again, omitting a low grunt that was stuck in his throat as soon as he caught sight of a broad chest, stray strands of hair and a troubled set of puppy dog eyes. "Holy shit," he breathed in shock, "It's gotten even worse."

He kept staring helplessly at the view his brother provided until he was finally, thankfully, shaken out of his admiration by Castiel clearing his throat. Before the angel could phrase anything, though, Dean had already jumped out of the armchair and approached him angrily. "Cass, if those stupid Cupid marks are really gone," he growled dangerously and forced himself not to steal another glance at the captivating sight next to him, "how come I still want to bang my own brother?"

"Dean," he heard Sam's distractingly raspy voice rising next to him, "I'm afraid it's –"

"You shut your mouth," Dean interrupted him harshly. Not because he wanted to, but because he feared his knees might give out on him if his brother kept talking. It was taking all his composure not to look at him as it was, and the freaking low tune of his voice managed distracting him at least equally well.

"What your brother wants to say, and what he is right with," Castiel began patiently, watching both Winchesters attentively, "is that you have been under the bond's influence long enough for actual feelings to develop. Cupids do not form entire relationships; they merely light the first spark, metaphorically speaking."

Stricken, Dean stumbled back a few paces. Unfortunately, though, that brought his annoyingly handsome brother back into his field of vision. For better or for worse, Sam looked just as disturbed by their entire situation and was struggling just as hard not to meet his brother's eyes. "So you're saying," the younger Winchester drawled and motioned towards both himself and his brother, "this will stay forever?"

Tranquillized by voice and fluid motions, Dean simply kept staring. Watching that mouth moving in agitation got his heart beating furiously in his chest.

And then, annoyingly enough, his eyes locked with Sam's.

Damn.

Castiel was probably explaining what they could or could not do to avert the worst case szenario. Unfortunately, though, his words no longer registered with either brother. They simply stood staring at each other in fascinated bewilderment. Finally no longer able to uphold the distance, Dean stepped closer, reached out to pull Sam's face closer to his and rasped one sentence into his ear, "I'm gonna fucking kill the naked son of a bitch that did this."

FIVE WEEKS AGO

It started harmlessly enough.

"Dude, there's some shaving cream on your face," Sam pointed out when they had just entered a diner for breakfast. Strangely, though, he did not indicate the location of the splotch on his own face, but simply leant over and brushed it off Dean's cheek.

While startled, the older brother could not help replying with a tease, "You sure that's shaving cream?"

Eyes widening, Sam immediately wiped his hand off against his trousers. "Dean, that's gross," he grumbled in disgust and shook his head, "I don't even wanna know how that got on your face, man."

FOUR WEEKS AGO

"Dude, look at that," Dean laughed heartily as he unloaded his earnings right on top of the book his brother was currently occupied reading.

Sam nearly jumped in surprise and settled for a light glare that soon turned into an expression of pleasant surprise. "How did you do that?" he asked and eyed the quite large stack of casino chips rather appreciatively.

"Earned fair and square," Dean grinned in victory and slumped onto the chair next to his brother, "Man's gotta be lucky sometimes."

Sam replied with a chuckle, "You should do that more often, you know."

Dean arched an eyebrow. "Every week, Vegas week?" he grinned and nodded, "I'm so in."

Sam shook his head with another light chuckle. "I wasn't talking about that," he clarified and met his brother's eyes briefly, "You should laugh more often. It suits you."

Dean's eyes widened. "Sammy, are you flirting with me?" he teased and shook his head, "because, dude, you're fine and all, but I'm way outta your league."

Rolling his eyes, Sam freed his book from the chips and closed it, "I'm just saying that it's good to see you smiling again. Maybe we should really..." He hesitated for a moment, pondering with a strange expression. "...take more time to enjoy the finer things in life, you know?"

Tilting his head, Dean caught sight of a busty blonde rounding the corner in just that moment. "I totally get what you mean," he grinned goofily and set off to tail his latest prey, yet not without a final wink at Sam, "Gotta love the finer things in life."

THREE WEEKS AGO

"Dammit, Sam, answer the phone," Dean cursed into the receiver, shoved it back into his pocket with an angry huff and put the pedal to the metal.

That damn bastard of a demon had summoned reinforcements and Sam was stuck in a diner at the other end of town.

Several minutes later, Dean stepped around the corpses piled at the door and feared for the worst. Sure enough, he recognized two of them as the remains of demons, each throat cut cleanly, but...

"Sammy!" he called out, and was immensely relieved to hear some barely audible reply from behind the counter. Crossing the room in fast strides, he finally caught sight of his brother struggling up from a puddle of blood - most of which was hopefully not his own.

"Dean," Sam greeted him with a drowsy smile and cleared his throat when his voice did not work all that well, "you're a sight for sore eyes, man."

"Dude, that's my line," Dean replied softly as he hurried over to steady his swaying brother on their way out. "Even though I usually pick up chicks with it rather than some 200 pounds of brother," he added with a good-natured grin of relief, "And I don't usually have to carry them all the way to the motel, either."

"Yeah," Sam chuckled hazily and rolled his eyes, "You don't scare them away until after you've securely tied them to the bed."

Laughing, Dean almost had both of them stumble over a fallen chair. "Don't worry, man, that's not gonna happen to you," he promised and sent his most likely concussed brother a sideways glance. "But you should stay conscious until I'm done with you," he warned and added with a playful smirk, "Otherwise I'd feel like a pervert."

Sam choked on his own breath. "Dude, that's just sick."

TWO WEEKS AGO

Staring up at the cracked ceiling of a shabby, run-down motel room that flickered in and out of his vision, Dean heaved a sigh.

It was a bit disappointing, really.

He had always expected to go down fighting. Hell, he had done so several times already. But this time, no such luck – this time, some tiny, freakish, pink pixie had poisoned him through a cheeseburger.

And, man, it had been one hell of a cheeseburger. As a matter of fact, it had been so good he should have grown suspicious.

But as he had not, he had suddenly found himself toppling out of his chair with his vision fleeting and his body growing numb.

But...if that was really it... death by cheeseburger was at least one sweet way to die. And it had tasted heavenly. Having dropped close to where his head had hit the floor, it still smelled awesome, too.

There was probably only one scent he would prefer to that one.

"Dean!" Sam called out and pulled his brother into a desperate half-embrace as he injected the vaccine into his veins, "Pull it together, Dean, you'll be better in no time!"

Cuddling up against his saviour's chest, Dean inhaled deeply and released a small, hoarse chuckle of undisguised relief, "I've missed your musk, Sammy."

ONE WEEK AGO

Waking from yet another far too weird and far too arousing dream, Dean scrunched his nose. The room reeked of sweat and desire – most of which had probably been caused by his very lively dream landscape.

It certainly didn't help that said landscape, well-built, half-dried and covered in a towel only, exited the bathroom in that very moment, frowning at an obviously still quite groggy Dean in disbelief.

"Geez, just how much porn did you watch last night?" Sam sighed and went to open the window, exposing far too much skin in the process.

Watching his brother's muscles flexing and unflexing for a treacherously long moment, Dean gulped before he forced himself to look away. "Too damn much," he admitted grumpily and opened his first beer of the day to drown the awkwardness in alcohol.

He had been staring at Sam the entire night.

EARLIER TODAY

They had been hunting a single vampire and had accidentally run into a nest.

Much worse, though, they had wound up cramming into a tiny storeroom on their escape. Luckily, the vamps retreated soon enough. But that did not mean either brother dared moving any time soon. Pressed against each other far too intimately for comfort, both were breathing heavily, thoughts occupied by something much more troubling than the hunt.

Both were aroused far too obviously for the other not to notice.

"Not a word, Sam," Dean growled with a dangerous glare, "A man's got his needs, and if you ever mention this..." His expression darkened even further. "...I swear I'm gonna kill you."

Needless to say, three hours later he found his brother waiting for him in their cheap motel room, brooding on the sofa with his elbows on his knees, fingers intertwined. He was wearing an expression that said 'We need to talk' far too clearly.

So much for the efficiency of death threats.

"Dean, listen," Sam began and sought his brother's eyes, "I'm afraid we've got ourselves in a... situation."

Sitting down on the armchair next to the couch much more forcefully than necessary, Dean did not bother hiding his agitation. "Come on, Sammy," he began, "there is nothing to talk about. We've been on the job 24/7 and we both haven't got laid in, well, forever." Gulping down another mouthful of beer, he huffed. "It's only human to develop some strange cravings under those conditions."

But Sam only looked back at him blankly. "No, it's not," he stressed, "and you know that, Dean. We're brothers."

"Yes, we're brothers," Dean agreed firmly, "and we both just so happen to be good-looking and sex-deprived." Getting up again, he lifted his index finger, "You know what we're doing about this? We get to the closest bar, get drunk and have our merry ways with some hot chicks."

He was already half the way to the door when he noticed Sam did not bother following. "Dude, I don't know about you," the younger brother spoke, shaking his head before looking up with a troubled expression, "But if I get drunk right now, I'm going to have my merry way with you rather than anyone else."

Dean opened his mouth to protest, blinked and closed it again. Returning to the couch slowly, he released a nervous laugh. "So what are you saying?" he demanded slowly, "'Take me, Dean, because we both want it?'" He shook his head violently, "We're not even going there, man."

Sighing deeply, Sam rested his chin on his palm. "You're getting me wrong," he said, his eyes fixed on Dean yet drifting quickly, "and worse, you're getting me distracted."

"Well, excuse me!" the older Winchester retorted at once.

"So doesn't that strike you as odd?" Sam went on.

"It doesn't strike me as odd," Dean clarified and got louder, "It strikes me as insane. It's outright disturbing. So what?"

Another sigh, another approach. "Okay, let me phrase this differently," Sam explained slowly, "We're both straight, we're brothers and we've been travelling together for practically our entire lives." He raised his eyebrows, daring Dean to understand the problem. "So with all these premises, we suddenly start getting attracted, to each other of all people, and at the exact same time?"

A short moment of silence passed before Dean replied with a disbelieving blink. "You're saying that this," he began, motioning between the two of them, "that us, is a friggin case?"

Sam offered a discontent half-nod, "I don't know, maybe. We've encountered a Cupid before."

Inhaling deeply, Dean weighed his options. "So now what?" he drawled, "We ask Cass to do what, un-gay us?"

"I fear that is hardly possible. Your sexual orientation is an integral part of your personality."

As usual, Castiel's unannounced arrival had both brothers flinch.

"Castiel, you do know something, don't you?" Sam enquired with a frown.

"It appears heaven deemed it necessary to...distract you," Castiel offered solemnly.

"Distract us from what?" Dean demanded at once. Pacing around the angel, he added heatedly, "More importantly: you knew?"

Yet Castiel shook his head in regret. "I apologize," he stated, "I would have intervened if I had found out it time."

"But it's undo-able, is it?" Dean demanded hopefully, "It's those Cupid marks doing this, is it? So..." Tilting his head, he threw his arms in the air. "Undo the marks, undo the curse, right?"

Once again, Castiel fixed him with a stare. "It is not quite as simple, Dean."

"We gotta try, Cass," the older Winchester all but pleaded, "I sure as hell won't be going through puberty all over again just because some asshat in heaven wants to toy with us."

NOW

What may have been caused by the Cupid's marks did not appear to vanish with their removal.

"I am sorry I cannot be of further assistance," Castiel spoke, slightly awkward yet mostly unfazed by the display of the more-than-brotherly affection in front of him, "I fear you will have to face your feelings the traditional way."

The sound of wings rustling indicated his departure, yet the Winchesters were far too occupied by their mutual proximity to be taking proper notice. They had heard his words well enough, but they still failed to move at all.

"Sammy," Dean rasped, still close enough to his brother's face to actually feel his warm breath on his skin.

"Dean," Sam replied breathlessly, leaning forward at last. Yet rather than giving in to a kiss they both craved, he pulled Dean into a tight hug. "We need to do the right thing here, Dean," he whispered in a torn voice and stepped back to stare into Dean's eye, "We need to decide whether, underneath all the angel crap, this is something we actually want to go with."

Breathing shakily, Dean stumbled back a few paces. At the very least, the spell of his brother's insane attraction was broken for the moment, but... "You actually think we have a choice?" he asked in disbelief.

"There's always a choice," Sam stated with a shrug and raised his eyebrow, "What were you about to do about it before we found out a Cupid's behind this?"

Dean tilted his head. "Denial, pretty much," he offered and arched an eyebrow, "You?"

Sam replied with an unhappy shrug and sighed, "Acceptance, pretty much."

Dean's eyes widened. "Acceptance, as in 'Let's lock that away with all my other strange fetishes'," he asked, "or acceptance as in 'I'm gonna jump him in his sleep'?"

Sam rolled his eyes and retorted, "Acceptance, as in 'We'll never have any functional relationships anyway so this is the closest to love we can ever get'." He sighed, yet his glare stayed just as intense, "And if I remember correctly, you were the one moaning my name last night."

Laughing nervously, Dean turned away, "So you noticed, huh?"

"You were not exactly subtle about it," Sam replied and leant back with a sigh, "So where do we go from here?"

A short silence fell before Dean arrived at a decision. "We'll wait and see if...this...doesn't just wear off after all," he offered with a lopsided grin as he strode towards the door, "For starters, I'll go get some grub for me and the missus. We'll figure this out, Sammy, just like we always have."

Looking up, the younger Winchester seemed even more miserable than before. "There's nothing to figure out, Dean," he stated flatly, "We need to decide before anything happens we'll eventually regret."

Sighing, Dean returned to his brother's side and heartily slapped his hand onto his shoulder. "You know, Sammy," he began, "no matter what shit storm got fired our way, we've always made it through - because we've always been sticking to whatever felt right at the time." He smiled softly. "Altogether, this is no different from other cases," he stated, "So let's just handle it like we always do."

Sam looked far from convinced, yet he did arch an eyebrow. "You do realize that would mean either slaughtering a Cupid or surrendering to its scheme?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded grimly, "That's definitely on my to-do list."

Sam frowned and asked, "Which one?"

As their eyes met once again, Dean's dark expression melted into a sly grin. "You'll find out soon enough, Sammy."

FIN...?

Notes: Lots of fun and lots of awkwardness - and an open end :D Will true love prevail or will they get away with a scare and two aching hearts? It's up to you guys, really. Which do you prefer?

Technically, this is meant as a one shot...though I might add some fun once I figure out whether I'm actually shipping this.

In any case, thank you for reading! I hope it was worth your while :)