Making Home
Summary: The Winchesters take you in after the death of your family. Dean invades your nest on accident, and Sam yells at him and then comforts you in his own way…
Relationship: Sam Winchester x Reader
Word Count: 4000+
Tags: Angst, Abo Dynamics, Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam, Nesting, Fluff, Pre-Heat
You met the Winchesters after the death of your family.
They were disguised as FBI agents, asking too specific questions that you yourself had been taught and memorized long ago.
“It’s dead, you know,” you couldn’t help but blurt out to them the minute they began questioning you. They were obviously hunters and you weren’t going to waste their time.
Confusion and intrigue filled their eyes and their scents when you said that, but Sam had been the first to bite.
“What’s dead?” He asked.
You rolled your eyes, “The werewolf, you know? The one that killed my entire family?”
“How-” Dean started to question but you interrupted him.
“My father was a hunter for twenty years. You guys are asking some very obvious questions, you’re dressed in cheap suits, and you’re badges are fake.”
Awkward silence.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong. Whoever made those did a very good job, but they’re still fake.”
The older hunter smiled, either amused at your bluntness or happy with his badge work.
“Uh, really, is-” Sam coughed awkwardly, not knowing what to say.
“Did you kill it?” Dean interrupted Sam.
“Yes.” You replied, tired of the questions.
It had been a long couple of days in that motel room. Empty bottles of Jameson littered the floor and the room reeked of depressed omega, a smell so potent that the men in front of you had no doubt smelled it when you first opened the door. The bed behind you was covered in random shirts and blankets, a makeshift nest you had been wallowing in for days.
“Awesome. Well, I guess our work here is done then.” Dean put his hand out for you to shake, “Dean Winchester, a pleasure.”
Sam smacked his hand away and lectured him quietly, something about insensitive and her family just died.
But you didn’t care what he was saying and you could barely pay attention to it because that name. Winchester. You knew it.
“You’re fucking kidding me,” you barked.
Sam looked at you, sympathetic, “I’m sorry he’s such a dic-”
“You’re the Winchester brothers?” You demanded an answer.
They gave eachother a look and Dean’s hands disapeard behind him.
“Do you know where I can find Bobby?”
Dean let go of his gun, hands moving to his sides once again. “I’m his niece. We haven’t seen him in years but when I was a kid.. my dad always told me to find him if something went wrong. If he was killed...”
Sam smelled worried, Dean smelled angry. Both scents hit you in the face, making you shift uncomfortably.
“He’s dean, isn’t he?”
They nodded and your heart dropped. You eyed the half-empty green bottle on the nightstand, willing yourself to feel nothing so your scent wouldn’t stink up the room anymore than it already had in their presence.
You knew Sam caught the glance, the next thing out of his mouth only confirmed it.
“Maybe you should stay with us for a little while,” the younger Winchester asked, or more like pleaded.
Dean gave him the what the fuck?? look but didn’t argue.
You laughed, “You, uh, you don’t want me staying with you. Not right now,” you gestured to the mess of the room surrounding you.
“It’s fine, Dean’s the messiest person I know and I manage,” Sam immediately argued.
“And I drink a lot.” They laughed at that, each muttering something along the lines of yeah, me too. “No, I mean a lot.” You pointed out the empty fifths littering the floor. They seemed to catch on.
“I’ll drink with you,” Dean assured you in a more comforting tone. “Come on, let’s get out of here, kiddo.”
---
Two weeks. It had been two weeks since the Winchesters had taken you in. The bunker was nice enough, comfortable. It made you feel safe, safer than you had ever felt in your life and a hell of a lot safer than you were used to.
Sam and Dean had been nice, nicer than you deserved. And Dean kept that promise on drinking with you.
Currently, though, the reality that you had absolutely no family left was feeling particularly hard today. Everything felt empty and pointless, and you begged yourself for escape from the constant depression.
So you did what you knew would help at least a little bit: building a nest.
You had been eyeing the small closet since the first day, contemplating. Normally you wouldn’t have hesitated making it, but the extra two alphas in your presence made it hard. What if they found the nest? How were you supposed to explain that to them? Oh, hey, sorry I marked the shit out of your closet and made the entire room smell like depressed, dying omega. Shit, my bad.
You thanked god himself for the existence of scent blockers. Without them, surely the boys would have kicked you out by now. You would have stunk up the entire bunker.
Sighing, you grabbed the blankets off your bed and headed for the closet.
---
“Hey, Y/n! I made burgers, you want one?” Dean walked up to your door, speaking loudly from the other side.
No answer.
“Y/n?” He asked again. “If you’re naked you gotta tell me now because I’m coming in,” he added after a few long moments.
He walked into the room hesitantly, looking down to avoid the possibility of you being naked. Still, no sign of you. In fact, the room was practically spotless. The blankets and pillows on your bed were gone and there were no empty bottle of whiskey like he would have expected. He spotted a couple dozen empty boxes of scent blockers in the trash next to your bed but you weren’t in sight.
“Y/n?” He asked again, growing concerned.
A shuffle was heard from the closet and Dean immediately whipped out his gun from where it stuck in the back of his jeans. He stared at the door, cautious, and then opened it slowly, the gun still pointed directly in front of him.
“Y/n?” He put it away as soon as he realized and knelt down to you.
You jumped back, dodging Dean’s hand when he reached out to you. You were surrounded by fluffy, white blankets and random articles of clothing. Underneath the strong, distressed omega scent was the smell of unfamiliar people. Most definitely an alpha and possibly another omega. The smell was faint but it was there and Dean could only guess you deceased family’s scent was buried in the nest somewhere.
“Hey,” he said softly, covering his nose with one hand to try and help with the smell. It was no use, though, the alpha in him was reacting to the prominent depressed omega scent. Without meaning to, he gagged. “What’s wrong, Y/n?”
“N-Nothing, I’m good,” you replied. Your voice was shaky and your body quivered to match it. You looked down at his hand, resting in the blankets of your nest. The idea of an alpha, even Dean, touching your nest made you uncomfortable.
He pulled his hand away and stared at you, “I lie professionally and I know when people are lying to me, Y/n. You are not okay.”
Tears formed in your eyes, “I’m sorry. I just- I nest when I’m nervous and I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. I-I’m sorry-”
“Woah, Y/n, hey, it’s fine,” Dean said quickly. His eyes grew wide when you started to sob, “I- fuck. Do you want me to get Sam? I feel like he would be better at-”
“What?”
“No, you’re right I’m making this worse, aren’t I? Do you want me to leave? Should I leave?” He searched for some way to help.
“Please,” you agreed quickly.
“Okay.” Much to your relief he stood up and left the room.
---
“Sam!” Dean yelled as he walked into his brother’s room unannounced.
“Jesus, Dean! What?” Sam glared at his brother, demanding a reason for the sudden unwanted intrusion.
“Dude, something is seriously up with Y/n.”
“And what makes you say that, Dean? Did she eat your pie or something because you didn’t actually inform her of your rul-”
“No, I’m saying this because I just found her wallowing in her closet, buried in a nest that reeks of her dead family members,” Dean barked back. He was still uneasy and stressed from the unfortunate interaction.
“You what?” Sam stood up from his bed, now intrigued with Dean’s worry.
“I was looking for her because I made food and went to see if she wanted some and I walked into her room - yes, I did knock, and yell to see if she was in there before walking in - and all the shit of her bed was gone, the room is clean. I heard movement in the closet, got worried and pulled my gun out but when I opened it up, she was there, in the dark, crying.”
“You pulled a gun on her in her nest?!” Sam suddenly asked incredulously. “Dean!”
“I didn’t know she was in there!” Dean defended himself.
“Oh my god, Dean!”
“What?!”
“Do you know nothing about omegas?” Sam scolded, obviously angry.
“Not all of us took special classes about omega rights in a freaking ivy league college, Sam. What the hell did I do? What wrong?”
“Yeah, it was omega rights. Not anatomy you fucking moron! You’re supposed to learn that stuff in school and like- in life! How have you been with this many omegas and know nothing?” Sam threw a t-shirt on, having previously just been laying in bed reading a book. Dean glared at him. “Omegas make nests to feel safe and content. Her entire family is dead. Her father, uncle, and sister were just killed, in front of her, all in one day. It hasn’t even been a month since then, of course she’s nesting! She was just pulled from everything she knew into a strange place with two strange new alphas constantly around.”
“I’m still not seeing why you’re mad at me,” Dean deadpanned.
“Because that nest is probably the only place where she felt even remotely safe this entire time and you just pulled a gun on her. A random alpha intruding her nest would be enough to compromise it, but on top of that you pulled a gun on her! How do you think she feels right about now?”
Dean sighed, “Fuck.”
“Yeah. Fuck.” Sam agreed, pacing anxiously as he continued to scold his brother.
“What do we do?” Dean asked.
“We can’t do anything but wait until she comes out of her room.”
---
Four Hours Later
You walked out of your room in a new pair of clothes and covered in scent blockers. You headed straight for the showers, needing to be as odorless as possible before confronting the alphas after that embarrassing encounter earlier today.
You put music on as loud as it would go and got into the shower, sighing as the hot water hit your back. Desperate to as much of that depressed scent off of you, you grabbed your new scent blocking shower gel and scrubbed it all over you.
You had a plan: Scent blocking body wash, shampoo your hair, condition, shave legs, more body was. You wanted to get in and out quick so you could get something to eat because apparently sitting in that closet for some reason made you extremely hungry.
So you had a plan.
---
“Oh, fuck,” an involuntary moan was pulled loudly from your lips, your head falling back against the tiles of the shower wall. You hand was moving furiously against your clit, pleasure coursing through you as you balanced on the edge of orgasm.
This was not your plan.
“Oh my god, fuck,” one of your hands cupped against a breast, the other working hard to get you off. Your head was cloudy with lust and your were positively desperate to reach orgasm already.
You tried to picture something, anything that would push you over the edge. Your mind pictured a big, fat knot, connected to a hot alpha body. The alpha was naked, abs protruding and tanned all over. You imagined his mouth, his growl.
You were so close, legs shaking, letting out desperate please. You continued to pictured him, him moving his hand against his length, fingers gripping a half-formed knot. You could picture his mouth hot against yours, teeth scraping against your neck. Hair, brown and long, scratching you chin as he continued to kiss down your body.
Brown and long hair. Sam’s face connected to the imaginary alpha’s body. Sam. Why were you picturing Sam?
Whatever the reason, it pushed you over the edge and into one of the most satisfying orgasms you’ve had in a while.
“Fuck, oh fuck,” you rode out your climax, easing the pressure and slowing the divine little circles around your clit.
Finished, now you stood on shaky legs and continued to wash the conditioner out of your hair.
---
When you made it to the kitchen Sam was sitting the the table. He looked up only to glance at you and then down back at the book in his hands.
“You know, you uh, scared the shit out of Dean earlier-”
“Fuck, I know. I’m sorry I swear I’m not usually like that. I don’t know why I’m acting like this and-”
“Woah, hey,” Sam interrupted, closing his book and placing it on the table. “First of all, you have nothing to apologize for. If anything, Dean owes you an apology. He had no right to barge in on you like that. Second, Y/n, you’re allowed to freak out. You’re grieving, it’s fine. Dean and I have done our fair share of dealing with people’s deaths in our life, we know how it goes,” the alpha said. He stood up and walked towards the fridge.
You immediately went for the liquor cabinet, reaching for your usual. You heard the padding of Sam’s feet and the door of the microwave closing as you poured yourself a drink.
About a minute went by before the microwave went off and by then the kitchen had been filled with an amazing, mouth-watering scent that made your stomach growl. Seriously, why were you so hungry?
Sam grabbed the plate from the microwave and handed it to you.
“Dean’s an idiot but he makes good burgers,” he said, brushing past you close enough for you to get a whiff of his scent. The smell somehow made you feel calm, tame, but you brushed off the feeling after looking at what was down on your plate. “They even taste good after being microwaved.”
It looked and smelled magnificent and you had to catch yourself from moaning at the sight. You sat down next to Sam, who had picked up his book and continued reading.
You took a bite, now not able to control yourself. You let out a small moan in between bites. It was salty and smokey and exactly what you fucking needed right now.
Sam smiled at your delight, “That’s basically exactly how I feel every time he makes those.”
You ate the rest of it while he read his book, content in the easing smell of happy alpha and cheeseburgers. You relaxed for a minute.
---
“This might be a, uh, weird question.. but do you have a shirt I can borrow? This one is like, the only one not drenched in the smell of death but it’s also has a bunch of blood splattered on it. I was gonna ask Dean because you’re like, gigantic, but he’s passed out on the couch,” you said awkwardly.
Sam laughed, “You know we have a washer and dryer, right?”
“I did not know that.”
He laughed again, “Okay, well I’ll show you where they are tomorrow. In the mean time, you can borrow one of my shirts. Come on.”
He led you down the halls and into his room. There, his scent was everywhere. It was strong and caught you off guard, but it smelled amazing. It made your mouth water and you wondered wondered briefly why you were so attracted to his scent.
And then it hit you.
“Oh my god,” you said in utter disbelief.
Sam turned around, “What?”
“Oh my god,” you groaned in annoyance.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“I’m in pre-heat,” you said quietly, too quietly for him to hear. It explained it all: the emotions, the hormones, the hunger, and the mid-shower masturbation session.
“You’re what?” Sam asked, concerned now.
“What day is it?”
“The 14th, why?”
“I’m due for a heat on the 20th, fuck.” All the pieces were being put together, “That’s why I’m being a little bitch-”
“You’re not being a little bit-”
“Yes, I really am. I’m being all emotional because my hormones are fucked, and that’s why I freaked out on Dean. And the freaking nest, and, fuck, that explains the shower and your smell.”
“What happened in the shower?” Was the younger hunter’s first question. “What about the way I smell?” Was his second, sniffing himself.
“I can’t believe I forgot about it,” you said. You paced his room, deep in thought.
“What happened in the shower?” he asked again.
You laughed, “A lot,” is all you said.
He sniffed himself again, “Do I smell bad or something?”
“No, no!” You said quickly. “You smell fucking fantastic,” Sam’s eyebrows rose in question and he looked down at the shirt in his hand.
“That’s not why I wanted the shirt! I really do have blood on this shirt, look,” you pointed to the dark brownish red stain across the front of your shirt.
He handed the shirt to you.
“I believe you,” he said, smirking.