Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or anything affiliated with the franchise, which includes, but is not limited to, the characters, lore, or familiar landscapes.

Dean groaned, slamming his hand against the steering wheel of the Impala. Witches. Why was it always witches!?

A warm hand slipped into the palm he had been resting on his right knee, and Dean momentarily relaxed, enjoying the feel, before remembering whose hand it was and hurriedly detaching himself from it.

A hurt look flashed across Castiel's features before he turned red in realization and went back to staring out the window, his own hands clasped together in his lap.

Dean nearly groaned again, but kept himself relatively in check. His fingers trembled at his side, so he curled both hands firmly around the steering wheel.

Sam laid in the backseat, nursing a swollen ankle. He eyed his brother and the angel warily. "So… what exactly do you think she did?" he asked cautiously. He knew, of course, but that didn't mean he couldn't have a bit of fun with making Dean admit it.

Dean refused to answer, staring daggers at the horizon as the Impala sped down the interstate.

"No, really, Dean. What'd she do? I heard my ankle crack and then something about 'all the tension in the room?' The hell is that all about?"

Dean's hands actually managed to tighten on the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white. He opened his mouth, but before he could start shouting, Castiel sighed heavily.

"The witch put a spell on Dean and I to force us into emulating a relationship. I am not aware of what her intentions were in doing so, but I assume we must find her for it to be lifted." Castiel said tonelessly. He sounded exhausted, which was saying something for the angel.

Sam lifted an eyebrow. "I suppose I get to track her down then. Fine." He couldn't help a smirk. "In the meantime, you two can focus on trying not to be cuddly in the motel. There're only two beds, ya know." He snickered at the visible clenching of Dean's jaw, but Sam didn't miss the way his brother's fingers continually twitched in Castiel's direction.

Castiel wasn't oblivious to the movement either. With another sigh, he reached over once more, taking Dean's hand in his, saying, "If no physical contact for more than five minutes is as uncomfortable for you as it is for me, we may as well adhere to the requirements of the curse, Dean. It will save you stress."

Sam raised an eyebrow as his brother deflated with a, "Yeah, all right, fine," and settled his hand more comfortably in Castiel's. Maybe this won't be so horrible, after all, he thought.

Holy shit. I was wrong. I take it back! Sam ran a hand through his hair, biting his lip to keep from both laughing and yelling at the two idiots on the couch.

It had been three days, and nothing had happened. There were no leads on the witch, no weird or witchy activity in the greater Ohio area, and no decreasing in the strength of the spell.

Actually, it was the exact opposite for that last one. With each touch between Dean and Cas, it seemed they steadily needed more. Now they sat on the couch cuddling all day, occasionally moving to kiss one another casually, and watched reruns of Dr. Sexy because 'Cas had to watch it to catch up on modern culture.'

Sam was torn between tearing out his hair in annoyance that he was getting exactly zero help in tracking down the witch or cheering the two obviously love-struck dorks on. Really though, it's about time, he thought with a smirk.

Sam wasn't stupid. He knew the two were just using the spell as an excuse to touch one another as often as possible at this point. And really, he couldn't blame them. Dean was a touch-starved closet romantic, and Castiel was feeling human emotion for the first time. It would be a long while before the novelty started to wear off, even without a spell in the mix.

Sam rolled his eyes, still exasperated, and got back to work.

"I think I got her!" he said excitedly, turning the laptop around on the table to show Dean.

Dean rubbed his eyes and took a drink of his coffee, his other hand on the mouse as he scrolled through the article. A quick glance under the table showed that his leg was wrapped around Castiel's, so Sam quickly dismissed any thoughts of the spell dissipating on its own. They were going on day five now.

Dean perused the article about the strange occurrences of the day before in a town about an hour from the motel they were staying. "Well," he said, "it looks like her MO. All the pink frilly shit, couples makin' out everywhere, and people bursting into stupid love songs at all hours. I swear, she thinks she's Cupid."

"I can guarantee that girl is not a cupid." Castiel's gruff voice interrupted.

Dean rolled his eyes, taking one of his hands away from his coffee mug and patting Cas' knee. "Yeah, man. We know, but thanks for confirming that."

Castiel had obviously missed the sarcasm in Dean's statement, since a small congratulatory smile appeared on his face as he leaned back against his chair.

Sam could still see that Dean's hand was on Cas' knee, but he wasn't going to stick around long enough to see if it'd stay there. Cas and Dean had taken to making out like teenagers only yesterday.

He hurriedly gathered up his stuff.

"Well, I'll go check it out. You two stay here. You won't be useful if you have to touch each other every few minutes anyway."

Dean barely looked away from Castiel's gaze when Sam bolted out the door.

Two hours later, and Sam was checking out the house where the witch was last seen. Thankfully, she was easy to describe: tall, fair, long red hair, favored black clothing.

The place looked empty, but Sam sniffed the air in confusion before heading directly for the kitchen area. He was so unused to it, that the smell of a home-cooked meal was foreign to his senses. Even still, the sight that greeted him made his steps falter.

The witch was in the house, just as the neighbors had said. And she was baking. Pie by the looks of it. She turned around, smiling, and not looking the least bit frightened.

"Hello there!" she exclaimed brightly. "How's that ankle? I'm sorry I didn't stick around to help you mend it, but ya know, that brash brother of yours had a gun pointed at me. I'm sure falling from your height over an end table had to hurt. Tea?" She gave the gun a pointed look and brandished a tea kettle in Sam's direction.

Sam was pretty sure his eyebrows had moved passed his hairline, but he put his gun down regardless. "Wait, what? You're the one that pushed me backwards! It's your fault I twisted my ankle in the first place!"

The witch scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Oh please! You tripped over your own big feet. I was just protecting myself. Anything I did was in self-defense!"

"What about the curse you put on my brother and friend?"

The witch turned back to look at Sam now, obviously intrigued. "Oh? That little thing? It only lasted twenty-four hours. I don't see why it's such a big deal. All I did was take the feelings already there and amplify them a bit. And geez, for those two, I barely did anything."

Sam felt his jaw drop. What!?

"And anyway, that's what I do. I can sense when people would do well together, and I give them a little…push. Your friend and brother were sorely in need of a push, wouldn't you say?"

Before he thought anything of it, Sam was nodding in agreement. Then something occurred to him. "Wait a minute. You're telling me the spell you cast only lasted for a day!?"

Eyebrows raised, the witch nodded in affirmation and turned back to finishing the pie she had been working on. "Yes, I'm absolutely positive. That's the spell I use the most to help out."

The urge to rip his hair out was back. "Oh my God! Those assholes! I can't believe this. It's been them! All them! This whole. damn. time!"

A hand tentatively tapped his shoulder and Sam swung around to see the witch holding out a finished pie, smiling widely. "Give this to the happy couple, yeah? And maybe see about getting your own room at that little motel you're staying at." She shoved the pie into Sam's hands, grabbed his shoulders, whirled him around, and propelled him towards the door. "Oh," she said as Sam walked in a daze toward the sidewalk and turned around to listen. "And don't come back. Bye now!" Her smile turned vicious for a moment before the door slammed on its own, shutting the victorious witch on the other side.

Sam looked down at the still warm pie in his hands and then back at the house contemplatively. Shrugging after a moment, he stowed the pie on the floorboard of the Impala and drove off toward the motel.

Those bastards aren't getting pie until tomorrow.

Author's Note: Well then! I wrote this in about an hour, and I had a lot of fun doing so! This fic was inspired by a post I saw on Pinterest (that I know I've seen on Tumblr somewhere) that said, "I want a witch to put a love curse on Dean and Cas and they spend the whole time acting like a couple and three days later they find her and when Sam demands for her to lift the curse she says 'The curse only lasts for 24 hours.'" I tweaked it a bit to suit my own ideas, but I got the gist of it! Thanks for reading! Comments are always well loved!