Huge fan of A/B/O supernatural where Dean walks into that motel room with Sam and Ruby and they both immediately freeze up, absolutely, undoubtedly sure he can scent it. Ruby knows they can’t hide it, so she’s scrambling for some explanation while standing in the doorway staring at Dean, jumping to the thought that their last hope is that he won’t realize it’s her.
But Dean so fucked up from hell that he’s not used to Sam’s scent anymore. His alpha should be able to pick up on the subtlest of differences, especially something like this, especially in another alpha he knows so well, but hell has dulled that, it’s dulled everything.
So miraculously, he doesn’t realize. Of course, the room is filled with the cloying sex scent, strong enough that even a beta like Bobby wrinkles his nose at it, but Dean just ignores the smell of sex and clasps Sam into a hug, not so much as blinking when Ruby causally makes her leave, her eyes locking with Sam’s in question and promise as she walks out the door.
It cracks something inside Sam that Dean can’t realize, it’s some fucked up physical manifestation of how badly hell has messed Dean up, but of course he is so relieved that Dean can’t tell yet. Maybe he’ll never be able to tell. Maybe Sam won’t ever have to admit to his big brother what he’s done.
But then when Dean does see them together again, and he’s not quite so jolted and messed up anymore, he knows.
And the accusation is not only: “You’re working with the demon.” It’s worse.
He turns to Sam, nearly in disbelief.
Dean’s mouth freezes, lips stuttering like he can’t believe the words he’s saying. His head turns back to Ruby, her name falling from his lips as a confirmation.
“Ruby.”
She nods, oddly still, defensive, cautious.
And Dean turns back to Sam, voice more strained than Sam has ever heard it.
“You mated her?”