Work Text:
Sam gets hit by a curse that leaves Dean scratching his head.
He watches Sam stumble into a doorway in the bunker, and his mouth twists in a wince. “What kind of witch curses a guy to be clumsy?”
“One with a sense of humor, I suppose,” Cas says, flipping a page in the large, dusty tome he’s reading. “We should be glad it isn’t something more serious.”
In the other room, they hear something crash. “Sorry!” Sam calls out distantly. “Again!”
Dean drops his head in his hands.
---
It gets progressively worse as the day goes on. Sam walks past Dean and knocks him over with an elbow. He walks past Cas and suddenly - somehow - they both end up on the floor. By midday, Dean’s covered in bruises, and Cas is irritable.
“Please hand that book to me, Sam. Carefully.”
Sam, safely seated, reaches past Dean to hand a book to Cas. Dean, in the middle of getting up, is knocked roughly into Cas’s lap by Sam’s shoulders. Red-faced, Dean stumbles away and onto the floor. “Sammy,” he growls, at Cas’s feet, “I don’t want to see you move a goddamn inch until we get this figured out.”
Sam looks sheepish. He nods.
Cas massages a temple.
---
It keeps happening, though, somehow. Sam stays seated and simply watches the other two conduct research, providing input where he can, but it’s as if the spell is determined to make things extremely awkward for Dean.
He’ll walk past Sam and be tripped by Sam’s long legs - only to be caught by an increasingly flustered Cas. Or Sam will be sipping at a cup of steaming coffee and end up spilling it over Cas’s shirt, causing Cas to yell out in pain and ram his face into Dean’s nose.
By the end of the day, Sam has inadvertently caused around 8 collisions - most of which he came out of unscathed. It was Dean and Cas who emerged battered, embarrassed, and stuttering.
---
In the morning, after having found nothing to cure Sam, Dean and Cas leave the human menace in the bunker.
They find the witch at her home, sipping a cup of tea.
“Reverse the spell on my brother,” Dean growls.
The witch blinks over the rim of her mug. She draws the mug away and drawls, “What are you talking about? I never touched your giant of a sibling.”
Dean and Cas look at each other. “The spell - the human disaster spell?”
The woman’s lip curls. “Humans make disasters of themselves enough without our help, thanks.”
“So you didn’t make Sam extremely accident-prone? Clumsy?”
The woman looks indignant. “What kind of witch curses a guy to be clumsy?”
“Good question,” Dean mutters under his breath, exchanging a look with Cas. He sits down at the witch’s kitchen table with a tired grunt. “Any chance there’s a beer here with my name on it?”
---
“Why would Sam pretend to be cursed?” Cas asks, a few hours and three beers later. They’re in the impala, headed back home.
Dean rolls his eyes. “Think he thought it was funny.”
“You sat on me, Dean.”
“I didn’t say I agreed!”
There’s a lull in the conversation.
Then Cas says tentatively, “Do you think - maybe he was - he thought we might - “
“Spit it out.”
“Do you think he wanted us to - “ He holds out a hand, like Dean can read his thoughts there.
“Get together?” Dean supplies. He snorts. “Probably.”
Another pause.
Then, quietly, Cas asks - “What do you think of that?”
Dean looks sidelong at Cas. His eyes shine with affection. Then he holds out a hand, which Cas takes with a smile. “I think he didn’t need to try so hard, honestly.”
---
When they get back home, they find that Sam has unsurprisingly locked himself in his room. “Didn’t find the witch,” Dean calls through the door. “Think you should stay in there for the time being - you know, for your own safety.”
He turns to Cas, who’s smiling widely at the mischief they’re making.
Cas steps toward him, crowding him up against Sam’s door. “Is this your way of making sure we’re alo - “
He’s interrupted by a crashing sound in Sam’s room, then they’re suddenly falling backwards as Sam’s door opens behind Dean’s back. They land in a painful heap, Cas bracketed by Dean’s legs.
“Now, you two? Really?” Sam cries. There’s a gash on his forehead, and his room is a disaster zone. “Couldn’t you figure your shit out after taking care of the witch? It’s getting worse! I broke my arm trying to call you!”
Cas stares up at Sam, then drops his forehead into Dean’s neck with a groan.
Dean groans too, but for a different reason. “Son of a bitch. Think I threw my back out.”