A/N: There's a new Hoodie Time meme! Yaaay!

"This is a friggin' rip-off." Dean points his credit card at the cashier. "How do you sleep at night?"

The guy's hair's white under his ballcap, but he looks like he could still hold his own in a fight. He gives Dean the stinkeye and waits.

The gas is already in the tank. Dean draws his wrist across his forehead, sniffs in hard and tosses his plastic onto the desk. "Be gentle."

He looks up at the bell and sees Sam striding toward him, a funny look on his face. He shuffles back a step when Sam just keeps coming, gets a faceful of Sam-flannel and two hard arms around his back.

"Dude! Personal space!"

"Oh. Yeah." Sam sounds flustered. Giant hands pet Dean's shoulder blades.

"Sam?"

"Sorry. I... sorry."

Dean gives him a hard shove, blinks up at his face. Sam looks just as stunned.

"Dean... are you okay?"

"What? Yes, I'm okay. Of course I'm okay." Dean looks the clerk over, flushing. "Don't let us interrupt your little robbery, pal."

A liver spotted hand pushes the card back to Dean. "That was almost worth a discount."

:::

"What do you mean you don't know why you did it?"

"I don't know why I did it."

"Was it my handsomeness? Were you overwhelmed by my handsomeness?"

"Yeah, Dean. It was your handsomeness."

"I can understand that."

"Dude... you just seemed like you needed a hug."

"A hug." Dean half-smiles, shakes his head. "Whatever."

:::

Dean hisses, shakes his hand out. He eyes the blood welling up along the pad of his thumb. "Damn it."

Two arms close around him. He pounds back with his elbow just as he registers the freckled arms, the smell of Sam's deodorant.

"Aw, crap."

Sam's a few steps off but he's upright, rubbing his stomach, braced against the motel's saggy armchair.

"Dude," Dean says. "What the hell?"

Sam catches his breath, swallows. "You looked..."

"...like I needed a hug."

:::

"Witches don't always look like witches, Sam. You know that. It coulda been anyone."

"Nobody seemed like a witch!"

"Newsflash. You're cursed. Who curses people?"

"A witch."

"A... huh. HH-uhh. HH-HH-HDGHSHSH!"

"Sorry. I'm sorry."

"Dude, just get off."

:::

"It's her, right? It's gotta be her."

"She's the only person who had anything to do with hugging."

Dean watches Sam watching her through the windshield. "So let's do this."

"Yeah." Sam reaches for the door handle.

"Hold up." Dean stares at the steering wheel, pushes his palms down his thighs. He blows out a breath.

"Dean..."

"I know."

Sam's arms are warm around him.

"Shut up."

Sam rests his chin on top of Dean's head.

Prompt: Sam is the one to piss off the witch for a change. He gets hit with a hugging curse and - to Dean's great horror - starts cuddling him the moment Dean shows the slightest sign of distress.