Multifandom Oneshots (II)

Dean Winchester x Reader

You walk into the kitchen for breakfast. Your hair's still a mess and you're still tired from having just woken up. You're already pouring coffee by the time you see Dean seated at the table.
"Good morning." You touch his shoulder as you sit down beside him.
"Morning." He doesn't even look up from his dad's journal or move his hand off his glass of whiskey.
"What'd you do, leave right after I fell asleep?" You ask with a smile, expecting him to refute it and say he'd just gotten up a couple hours ago.
"Yeah, pretty much." He flips a page.
"Have you slept at all these past few days?"
"A couple hours. I'm trying to read, babe."
You stop talking in favor of eating toast.
Dean doesn't talk, not even when you leave the room. You go to your room to get dressed, then go back into the kitchen to grill Dean.
"Dean, let's talk." You sit down in the seat you'd vacated only moments ago.
"What's up, babe?" He still doesn't look up.
"Don't call me that."
"What?" He looks up quickly.
"Good. Now that I have your attention, let's talk." You pull the book and the bottle of whiskey towards you and push it out of his reach.
"What, Y/N?" He sighs.
"What's up with you?"
"Nothing, what's up with you?"
You wait.
"Honestly, babe. I'm fine. Okay?" He sighs, and he looks irritated but you don't drop your gaze. "I'm fine. Give it back."
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"I don't know what you're wanting from me, Y/N." He runs a hand over his face.
"I just want to know what's wrong."
"Nothing's wrong."
"Something's wrong."
"How do you know?"
"You look like shit." You mean it to come out flat, but it comes out rather sharp.
"Thanks." He snaps back.
"Dean, this doesn't have to be a fight."
"You made it one." He stands up.
You grab onto his arm. "Dean, would you please just tell me what's going on? You can't keep up drinking all day and night forever."
"Oh yeah? Watch me."
"Dean."
He rakes a hand through his hair. "I'm not the good guy in this equation, Y/N. I'm not the good guy in any equation. I've been fooling myself all these years. I don't help people. I get their friends and families killed. I—"
"What are you going on about, Dean? You know that's not how it is."
"And you're the only one who sees it that way." He sits back down. "I'm a monster."
"No you're not. Sometimes bad things have to be done for the greater good, that's all."
"I don't do anything for the greater good. I just do bad things."
"The world isn't black and white. There's always a gray area—"
"No, there isn't. I kill people. I get people killed. Black, not gray."
"I've killed people too. Does that make me bad?" You raise your eyebrows.
"No. You want to help people. I do it because Dad wanted me to."
"You want to help people, Dean."
"No, I don't. I hate people."
"So do I."
"No. You say that, but you love everyone. And everyone loves you."
"What can I say, I'm lovable." You smile sweetly.
He laughs, almost in spite of himself. "Yes, you are."
"Come on, Dean. Go to bed. You need to get some sleep."
"I'm not tired."
"You mean you can't sleep."
"Yep."
"I'll sleep with you."
"You just got up."
"You underestimate my ability to sleep all the time." You smile.
"I have a better plan." He smirks. "But it also involves going to bed. Does that count?"
"It's a step." You laugh.
When you get in bed, he pulls you into his arms. "I love you."
"I love you too." You kiss his cheek and rake your fingers through his hair. "I wish you would talk to me."
"I'd rather keep that look of pure adoration in your eyes."
"Oh, I don't adore you."
He kisses your forehead. "I adore you."
"As you should."
"I know."