A/N: Oh Hoodie Time, how thy memes make me happy.
It's less gay if they put their arms around each other. Less. Because otherwise it's just two dudes standing nipple to nipple.
:::
"This isn't awkward at all," Dean pants, chest heaving against the warm mass of his brother.
"Why'd you do that?" Sam's breath puffs over his temple. "God. Are you okay?"
"Oh yeah." Dean tips his dizzy head onto Sam's shoulder, feels the ceiling fan bluster over his sweaty neck. "Hunky dory."
:::
"That bitch." Dean's sullen in the passenger seat, cozied up to his brother. Sam's radiator torso pumps too much heat into him; the thigh beside his makes the back of his knee sweat.
"How you doing?" Hazel eyes flit over him, skim back to the road. "You look like you're gonna barf."
"I, uh." Dean swallows, pushes a hand across his face. "Pull over."
:::
At the travel agent's office Dean's hands go numb. He blinks down at his notepad, licks his lips and throws up on the carpet.
He feels better when Sam crouches beside him, rubbing his back. Of course he does. But when Sam moves off to get him water, all Dean sees is stars.
:::
Sam's outside of the covers, and Dean's under the covers, and so it's not gay.
:::
"I feel..."
"Yeah?"
"This is better."
"You seem better."
Dean's heart thumps against Sam's chest. Sam's answers back.
"So I guess this is it."
"This is what?"
"The best position."
"Okay." Sam's fingers settle awkwardly into the small of Dean's back. "Okay. Good."
:::
Behind the Impala Dean mashes his torso to Sam's.
"It's getting worse, isn't it?" Sam's palms are loose on Dean's shoulder blades. "It's almost like the bubble's getting smaller."
"Nah. I just really dig your cologne." Dean takes a long breath in through his nose. "If we cut out her heart and make her eat it, is that like, too much?"
"Wow." Cool fingers test his cheek. "Kinda."
:::
"Dean? Dean Van Halen?"
Dean looks up from his plate of eggs, into a frowning face. "Oh," he breathes, pulling up a grin. "Crap."
"What are you doing here?"
"I, uh." Dean glances across the table at Sam, who raises unhelpful brows. Dean gestures at his food. "Breakfast."
"You said you were taking your brother to the hospital."
"He's all better." Dean chuckles nervously. "Good as new."
"You said he broke his leg."
Sam bat his eyes at him.
"False alarm." Dean's smile quavers on his face.
:::
"Don't eat anything."
"What?"
"If you eat you're gonna have to crap, and I am not going in there with you."
:::
"You make me feel better."
"What?" Sam sits forward in his chair, smoothes back Dean's hair.
"Just by being here."
Sam looks across the room at the first aid kit.
"No, man. Literally."
:::
"To freedom," Dean crows, raising his glass.
Sam grins at him over a plate of garlic bread. "Private time."
"Private time."
But Sam's bed that night seems farther away than Dean remembers.
In a totally not-gay way.
Prompt: Dean, Sam, gen. The boys are cursed where they have to stay within just a couple feet of each other at all times or Dean gets violently sick and could die (they find this out the hard way when they try to get further apart and it nearly kills Dean). Maybe they also have to cuddle/hug frequently too as part of the stipulations of the curse. (No Wincest from this though, please)