Dean X Male Reader One Shots

Sticks and Stones

Dean's eyes are glazed over as he stares into the middle distance. You quietly sip your drink knowing that he'll come to eventually and that it's better not to startle him out of whatever reverie he's in. He blinks several times and comes out of it letting out a puff of air.

"Sorry," His voice is low as he tries to shake off whatever fog is plaguing him.

"It's alright D. I do it too. What were you thinking about?"

"Dad." The word is enough to put a chill through your bones. John never had any good memories attached to him and by the look on Dean's face whatever flashbacks were plaguing him were not positive. You don't say much knowing that if you push him to talk it'll just send him further into his nightmares.

"He was blaming me for mom's death again." He says breaking the long silence that had hung heavy like a blanket of fog between you. "Memory is old...real old. I was about 11 or so. He had come back to where we were staying from a hunt and had started drinking. I had told Sammy to go off and play in the corner of the room far away from dad cause I knew what was coming." His eyes go distant and unfocused. "He was toasted. At least a bottle deep into some kinda hard liquor when his eyes found me. He started in on me throwin every kinda insult he could. I looked over at Sam and he was staring in horror at dad's tirade. I moved as nonchalantly as I could inbetween dad and Sam, but he noticed what I was doing. Said I was doing a good job at protecting my brother but couldn have protected mom or something to that effect. He was too drunk to get words out that were intelligible at that point." Dean's fingers wrap tighter around the mug cradled in his hands, his knuckles going white from the tension of remembering.

"He took a swing at me and I ducked him. Told Sammy to lock himself in the bathroom. He scurried off ducking behind me and the last thing he saw before he closed the door was dad clocking me across the face." His fingers ghost over a spot on his cheek where there's a little divot. Clearly a broken bone there that never healed correctly. "Sam only came out when he heard the door to the hotel room slam. He peeked his head out and found me broken and bleeding on the floor covered in bruises and bleeding from several wounds. He panicked but I cracked my eyes open long enough to tell him it was all going to be ok. Best i could through a split lip anyways." Dean falls silent then, staring off into the middle distance. You cover his hand with yours tracing the skin along the back of his hand with your thumb.

"It's ok Dean. I'm right here."