Dean x Reader One Shots

Dinner (Angst) (Imagine giving up on Dean and him making it up to you)

Your stomach dropped when you heard Dean's feet on the hard floor, when your ears tuned in to the sound you'd trained yourself to recognize, and even though your back was to the doorway, you knew it was him. You knew it was him as he walked across the kitchen, pulled out a stool, sat at the island.

You recognized his voice when he expressed his surprise at your being awake.

"Couldn't sleep." Was all you said in response to him, and a few seconds of silence passed before Dean spoke up once again.

"Nightmares again?"

I wish.

"Something like that."

More like the sounds of your fucking bar babe. She probably couldn't even shoot a gun, let alone hunt.

"Something like what, exactly?"

Silence passed and you walked over to the coffee maker after grabbing a mug from the cupboard and setting it on the counter beside the now-full coffee pot. Silence still hung when you poured yourself a glass, when you put the pot back into the maker, when you poured some milk, sugar into the glass and stirred.

Ask me for some fucking coffee, Dean. I dare you.

You brought the cup up to your lips, silence still hanging between you and the eldest Winchester, and you took a sip; it was hot, scalding hot, but it was better than the pain you felt when you imagined how he must have looked, when you imagined the hair, the clothes, the bags that were likely under his eyes after not getting any sleep. No, you couldn't look at that, couldn't face it. It was bad enough that he missed dinner, but the fact that you were stupid enough to think he might actually feel something toward you...

No.

You set the glass back down on the cupboard and a good three or four seconds passed before Dean finally cleared his throat and spoke up.

"Would you mind pouring me some coffee, Smalls?"

Oh, would I.

But you took a few steps to the side and reached into the cupboard, pulled out the mug you knew was Dean's favorite, and brought it back over to the coffee maker. Still haven't seen him, still didn't have many plans to.

You filled the mug.

You added sugar, no milk. Just the way he liked it.

"You okay, Smalls?" Dean paused. "You seem quiet today."

"Might just be a contrast to what you've been hearing all night." You were surprised by this when it came out of your mouth, but nonetheless you had to conceal your smile when you turned back to face Dean for the first time.

You set the mug on the island and pushed it toward him, finally taking the time to look Dean in the eyes.

Bags under them, just how you expected. Hair was a mess, robe was obviously thrown on in a hurry this morning, you figured bar girl must have left somewhere around four, given the fact that four was the first hour the bunker was actually somewhat silent.

But it was the shock in Dean's eyes at your comment, the way his eyebrows rose and he drew back the slightest bit while he sat on the stool that made you want to smile. It was the way his eyes bounced between each of yours, the way his mouth was slightly open while he tried to figure out what you meant, what you were getting at, and when you finally shrugged and turned your back to him to get your own coffee, he spoke up.

"Are you mad at me, Y/N?"

"No, no," you shook your head a few times before locking your eyes on the cupboards in front of you, then taking a sip of the scalding coffee, swallowing it and smacking your lips before saying, "No reason to be mad."