Dean X Male Reader One Shots

Tear Tracks

"No way Jose. Not happening," Dean's mouth twists up in annoyance and he huffs. "Don't pout at me. I'm not doing it." Dean opens his mouth, decides better than to argue, and closes it again. He sulks in his seat at the table, cradling his barely full beer bottle as though it were a newborn. You take the last drink from yours and the empty clink of glass on the tabletop is the only sound besides your breathing. The silence stretches on for 10 minutes, then 20, then 30, before Dean decides to break the silence.

"I'm goin' to bed." You stand with him and grab him by the elbow when he wobbles. He brushes you off and stumbles off to his bedroom. Sighing, you clear the table of his empty bottles and make sure that everything is locked up tight before going to bed yourself. You get changed and the chill of the sheets makes goosebumps ripple across your skin. You shiver and lay there staring at the ceiling until sleep slowly drags you down.

You blink your eyes open, the last vestiges of the dream you were having slipping from your mind. You feel a certain sense of unease as you sit up, looking around the room. Your hand slips underneath your pillow and your fingers find the cold steel of your pistol. You slowly slip out of the covers and pad for the door. You wince as the hinges to your door creak and you step silently out into the hallway. A hoarse cry comes from down the hall and you make your way towards it. You spot movement out of the corner of your eye and swivel towards it pistol raised. Sam raises his eyebrow at you and you shrug turning back down the hall. The cry sounds again and it seems to be originating from Dean's room. You and Sam look at each other and start towards it.

You take one side of the doorway and he takes the other. He holds up three fingers and when he puts the last one down you open the door and step away. He enters, pistol up and you come in close behind. Dean is twisted in the sheets and his face is screwed up in pain and tears are rolling down his face.

"Dean," Your voice mingles with his painful cries. His back arches off the bed and his nails dig into his palms leaving angry red crescents. You set your pistol on safety and set it down on Dean's dresser. Holding up a hand to Sam, you gently sit yourself on the unoccupied side of Dean's bed. You reach towards him and lay a gentle hand on his forehead, sweeping the sweat dampened hair away from his forehead. Dean's eyes shoot open and his fingers wrap around your wrist like a vice. He twists your arm until you're gasping in pain. He hovers over you, teeth gritted, eyes alive with malice. You squeeze your eyes shut, and say through gritted teeth. "Dean, it's me." His calluses leave your skin and you roll your shoulder trying to ease the arcing pain.

"Sorry," His voices is hoarse. He clears his throat and you can feel his weight shift behind you as he sits on the edge of the bed.

" 's fine. You ok man? You were screaming in your sleep. I thought something was attacking you." You scoot to the edge, sitting next to him. He rubs a hand on his face, trying to wipe away the tear tracks.

"Scram Sammy. This ain't something you need to hear." Sam's sounds of protest are drowned out by Dean's roar. "NOW SAM." Sam glares at him and walks from the room, his footsteps soon a quiet echo. "I dreamt of hell, but it was different this time." Dean's voice is so much quieter than it was just moments ago. He's whispering, the pain evident in his words. "It wasn't me being tortured. It was you and Sammy. I was the one holding the knife. Carving your skin and tearing you to pieces." He drops his head to your shoulder and he begins to cry. You murmur to him, holding him as his body shakes. His fingers wrap themselves in your t-shirt and he cries letting out everything that's been pent up for so long.

"Come on D. Get under the covers." He shakes his head and unwraps himself from you. You nudge him until he relents sliding underneath his sheets. You comb your fingers through his hair, humming to him. After your fourth rendition of 'Hey Jude' Dean's eyes slip closed. You sit with him until his breathing evens out. It's a rare occasion that Dean Winchester is at peace, but you treasure these moments. His face is open and calm as he begins to lightly snore. You smile and know for sure that he's out but you decide to stay anyways just in case. You gently set a chair next to his bedside and lean back. A small smile settles across your face as you know that Dean is peacefully asleep and you slip away yourself into the land of dreams.