Dean X Male Reader One Shots

Late Nights

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays ye merry people. Enjoy

The lamp is the only illumination in the dark bunker library and your eyes are aching. This mystery has been eating at you for weeks and the paper trail seems endless. You've combed through book after book and you've got nothing but a major headache and a back cramp. Shutting the book louder than you probably need to, you get up and turn the lamp off. Blinded by the sudden darkness, you stand there frozen. Your fingers on the top of the wood table are the only thing anchoring you in the sudden darkness. Your eyes finally adjust to the lack of light and you make your way down into the depths of the bunker, intending on getting a snack from the kitchen to calm your rumbling stomach. You run your fingers along the wall using it to guide you down the midnight halls. Turning into the kitchen, you go about the task of making yourself a late-night sandwich. The racking of a gun stops you in your tracks and you turn slowly on your heel. Dean stands in the doorway, his pistol pointed at your face. At the sight of your familiar features, his shoulders sag and he sighs.

"Feel like making a sandwich for me? I'll eat something since I'm up." You nod and go back to the task at hand adding another sandwich to the platter. You set it down on the kitchen table and the two of you sit down at it. "It's awful dark in here. Turn the light on, genius." Preparing to be blinded, you cross the room and find the light switch. Squeezing your eyes shut, you flip the switch and slowly crack your lids. The stab of light in your eyes makes them water, but you power through it and sit back down across from Dean.

"What are you doing up this late? Other than having a midnight snack."

"I was doing some more research but I got frustrated, hungry, and tired so I decided to call it a late night. Why are you up?"

"I heard something in the kitchen and, naturally, I decided to go and see who was stealing my food at the crack of ass in the morning." Your grin is weary as you finish the rest of your sandwich, washing it down with a sip from Dean's glass. "Hey, jerk! Get your own!" You smile and prop your head on your hand, the exhaustion beginning to take you in. Your head slips from your hand and your forehead smacks the table. Never mind the bruise that you're going to have, you're out like a light. Dean's eyebrows hit his hairline and he taps you on the head. When he gets no response he snorts a laugh. He stands up from the table and cleans up what he can quietly. He approaches you and delicately scoops you up. You sigh and lay your head in the curve of his neck. He turns the lights off with an elbow and stands in the hallway, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the abrupt darkness. The soft puff of your breath against his neck makes his spine tingle. His eyes finally adjust and he sets off towards your room. He bumps the door open with his hip and sets you gently down on your bed. You grab his arm and his heart stops, stuttering back into rhythm when he realizes he isn't being attacked.

"Stay here Dean. Please, I don't want to be alone." Dean pauses and considers you for a moment before sitting down on the edge of the bed. He slips his boots off and takes off his flannel throwing it on the back of a nearby chair. He lays down and curls up on his side next to you. You snuggle into him, slotting yourself into the spots that you fit like a matching puzzle piece. Dean's mind is racing as he tries to figure out what to do, but eventually he just goes with it. Sam finds the two of you in the afternoon still curled around each other. You, protected in the curve of Dean's body and Dean sheltering you against the outside world.