"What're we gonna do about this, Dean? If we don't break this thing soon, I'm gonna drown myself in the shower."
Sam paced around the motel room restlessly, his hands fisted in the hem of his shirt, his eyes fixed on the floor. Dean sighed noiselessly and shrugged, though he knew his brother wouldn't see it.
"The hell can we do? My first instinct is to pay Bobby a visit, but we damn well can't do that now."
He paused, cast a furtive glance at Sam, then immediately whipped his eyes away. "Think we'll make it through a call with him?"
Sam stopped pacing. "Uh. D'you wanna be the one to explain this mess to him? Because I know you'd be so much better at it. You're really great with this kind of thing."
Dean winced. Sam's voice had pitched from irritated into adoring within the space of half a minute.
"Shit. Dean, we're not gonna survive that phone call."
"Hey, hey, hey, don't worry," Dean began in an earnest voice, before clearing his throat and continuing hurriedly, "If one of us is out of the room, maybe the effects won't be so obvious. I'll call Bobby, give him as little info about this situation as possible, and have him figure something out for us. Easy. You can wait outside until we're done. I'll take care of it, okay? I hate to see you upset."
Dean's last sentence was spoken so emphatically that Sam returned his gaze to his brother's was now wearing a slight frown, his hand pressed over his mouth. Against his will, Sam's hands reached for Dean's face and cupped it softly.
"Dammit!"
Sam overcame the urge with a bit of mental effort, and snatched his hands away as if he'd been burned. Dean's ears were so red it would've been funny under different circumstances. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I'll let you make that call." Sam backed out of the room, successfully stifling the desire to utter an embarrassing term of endearment.
Out in the hallway, away from his brother's tantalizing presence, Sam's heartbeat slowed considerably. This curse was making it impossible to be within ten feet of Dean without wanting to shower him with affection. Anything his brother said made him feel light-headed with admiration and warmth, and it was completely fucking unbearable. It was all Sam could do to repress his supernaturally-induced ardor and only let slip a few aborted movements and some gooey compliments. He imagined Dean was facing similar troubles, because he'd spent the entire morning clenching his teeth and reddening in Sam's presence. Sam slumped against the wall and ran a hand through his hair. He wondered how Dean's conversation with Bobby was going. Knowing him, the old man was probably getting a huge kick out of this disaster. Sam groaned quietly and prayed that Dean wasn't humiliating himself too badly in there.
A minute later, he jumped as the door to their motel room swung open. Sam straightened and looked nervously at Dean, who was staring at the floor again. The guy had stupidly long eyelashes. Sam dug his nails into his palm.
"So what's the verdict?"
"A week. Probably." Sam sucked in a breath. "Yeah? That's, uh, that's not so bad."
"Yeah. Bitch could've done worse."
"Any solution that we know of?"
"Nope. Gonna have to tough this one out."
"..."
"..."
"How'd Bobby take it?"
Dean grimaced at the question, offering no further answer.
"You gonna come in, Sammy, or are you planning to sleep out here?"
Sam nearly choked on the idea of spending hours in a cramped room with Dean and the throbbing pressure in his chest.
"Actually, I was thinking that it'd be best if I got a separate room. Put a little damper on this curse."
As soon as he got the words out, he was surprised to see a flash of desperation cross Dean's features. He wanted to wrap his arms around him and squeeze until they both disintegrated.
"No, Sam, don't. I can't...if you're not with me, the curse'll drive me insane. I won't be able to think about anything but you. I won't get anything done."
Dean swallowed and attempted to press his lips together, but he evidently had more to say.
"I just...I need you. I want you to stay with me. We can wait this thing out together. I'm useless without you, Sam, you know that."
He stopped, covered his face with his hands. "Jesus Christ, what am I saying?"
Sam fidgeted uncertainly, battling with a combination of embarrassment and overwhelming fondness. He smiled, then, and took a step into the room.
"Okay, Dean. We can make this work."
Dean followed him inside at a safe distance. "I sound like a little girl, for crying out loud."
Sam forced a smirk, but he couldn't hold back the rush of happiness singing through him at the things Dean had said earlier. This was one hell of a curse they were dealing with.
(TBC?)
