Twice a year he has to spend a week up in the attic room at Uncle Bobby's house. He's too young for a suppressant shot so he has to deal with his heats.
In between bouts of fever and nausea and other more humiliating symptoms, he watches his brother out of the dusty gable window. John always leaves, can't stand Dean's 'stink' as he puts it, but Sam stays. Uncle Bobby plays catch with him and sometimes they shoot at tin cans.
---
Dean doesn't look like an omega. And John buys him special deodorant that means outside of heat he doesn't smell like an omega.
People assume he's a beta and that's what he pretends to be.
"You gotta be careful Dean," his dad tells him in one of their rare conversations before the topic of Dean's gender designation becomes family taboo. "The sorta places we go, it isn't safe for an omega. Don't let any alpha too close to you and don't let anyone give you shit."
Sammy treats him like he's developed some terminal illness.
He stops calling him 'bitch' when they fight and calls him 'jerk' instead.
---
When he's 17 he and his dad are out looking to hustle some pool or poker and instead stumble across an omega getting gangbanged in the backroom of a dive bar.
The guy they're fucking can't be any older than Dean, a teenager all gangly limbs not quite grown. There's a hulking alpha buried in his ass, grinding deep since he's knotted there, and another one has his dick shoved down his throat. The swollen red knot is too big to fit, like a fist pressing against the omega's stretched lips, but the guy is trying anyway, choking the omega and yanking on his hair. There are other alphas crowded close around, some just watching others jerking off.
The omega is moaning and he seems into it, but it still makes Dean's stomach turn. The alphas have him spit roasted, are fucking him like he's a piece of meat not a person. There's sweat and come all over him, like they've been passing him around for hours. The stink of it, half a dozen alphas in a mating rut, burns the back of Dean's throat and makes him gag. He can't imagine ever wanting anything like that. Letting one alpha anywhere hear him, let alone a fucking crowd. Beside him his dad stiffens and grabs at his arm, his grip painfully tight.
"Dean. Wait for me in the car," he says, voice low and commanding.
Dean nods. He's already taken a step back without noticing. "Yessir."
When he gets back to their motel he has a long shower. He feels dirty from just looking. Unclean.
---
Sometimes an alpha will scent him.
It only happens rarely. Dean works out, wears bulky layers and a heavy jacket, lets his stubble grow out a little and obsessively uses pheromone blocking deodorant and cologne, so most alphas dismiss him as a beta and don't spare him a second glance. But every now and then one will stare too long, stand too close. He'll be at bar and someone will sidle up to him, stand too close and tell him he's pretty. Or ask if he needs someone to take care of him. If he's alone.
Maybe it's weak, a sign of that inherent omega-ness that he hates, but whenever it happens Dean runs straight to his dad with his tail between his legs. Or even Sam if John isn't around.
You don't touch an omega, even an unmated one, if they're with family. An omega belongs to the head alpha of their family until they're mated. It dates back to when omegas used to be bought and traded. If Dean doesn't seek an alpha out by himself they have to come through John. Get his permission.
YOU ARE READING
Grey
FanfictionIn a world where people don't see in color until they find their true mate, the first thing Dean sees when he pulls himself out of his grave is the blue sky. When Castiel raised him from the Pit, he inadvertently claimed Dean as his mate.
