Dean x Reader One Shots

The Brick (Angst) (Fight with Dean --> confession of feelings)

Summary: Imagine getting into a fight with Dean after you get pretty injured on a hunt, which results in him finally admitting why he's been so distant with you.

Word Count: 3,599

The walk into the bunker was slow and silent, your only interaction with either of the Winchesters took place when you walked around to the trunk with intentions of grabbing your duffel and some guns that needed to be cleaned, but Dean swiped your hand away and carried it in for you. The temptation to argue arose, you wanted to remind him that you were neither a child nor helpless, and although the side of your head looked pretty rough courtesy of the brick that was smashed against it, you were alright. You knew 2 + 2 was 4, you knew who the president was, you knew that the Winchesters were a pain in your ass.

You went to the kitchen, first, with the intent to pour yourself some water, but when Dean walked in and saw you, he not-so-gently reminded you that your face looked like shit and you should probably clean it up.

You were holding your glass under the faucet and didn't bother turn to him when you said, "It can wait, I'm thirsty."

"Water can wait." He paused. "Can you see straight?" Dean's voice was right next to you and you turned to look at him before nodding.

"I see fine."

Dean leaned his head and raised a hand to your face, inspecting the wounds with a light touch for as long as he could before you pulled away, took a step back.

"I'm fine," you pushed his hand back down and attempted to step around him to head toward the bathroom, but he stepped to the side and blocked your path. When you looked at him with raised eyebrows (ignoring the pain that the muscle movement caused), he shook his head.

"We should bring you in."

"We should not bring me in, I'm fine."

"You got hit with a brick."

"I have a hard skull."

"It was a hard brick."

You felt your jaw clench as you stared at Dean, at his clearly angry and cold eyes, and within seconds you'd taken a few steps back and started walking around the island to get past him. When Dean went around the opposite way and met you on the other side, however, you crossed your arms over your chest and raised your eyebrows once again.

"I'm going to clean up, that's what you wanted so what's the problem?"

"Brain damage," Dean nodded toward your head. "You look like shit, Y/N, you need to go in."

"I don't need to do anything," you stepped to the right, Dean countered with a step to his left. "I'm not going in. I'm going to clean up, wash my face with alcohol, maybe drink a little alcohol, and I'm going to sleep because I happen to be tired."

"You're not sleeping," he shook his head, "Not with that."

"Then I'll stay up all night. Again. Maybe I can do some more research since apparently I'm not allowed to do—"

Dean reached an arm out and grabbed your wrist when you managed to get around him, and within seconds you were turned around to face him once again, this time with your back to the door and his long-ass fingers wrapped around your wrist. "You're starting to bleed again, at least let me—"

"That's because you're raising my fucking," you ripped your wrist out of his grasp, "Blood pressure." You paused and stared at him before shaking your head, laughing a bit. "Let me go and clean myself up, I'm not in the mood for your 'woe is me' crap right now."