#prideshots

[lagaylife-france]

Les beaux mecs du jour par lagaylife.fr

[5typesoftrash]

First Time for Pride

This is a special prideshot - Sastiel with pan!Sammy for my beautiful pansexual Momma @thorki-and-other-obsessions!!! I love you sweetheart, you’re amazing! It went a little off the rails, but w/e

==

“Did you see those signs outside?” Sam asks excitedly on June 28th, 2021.

They’re sitting in a diner, eating diner food, drinking garbage, just the three of them. Team Free Will, the OG version. Last year at this time, everyone was staying inside, obligated by law not to leave their houses except for groceries, exercise, or their jobs, and the jobs were conditional; only essential workers could continue to actually work. The economy totally tanked, and we’re still rebuilding.

Sam seems too excited about this. His grin is infectious; it gets Cas right away, but Dean?

Dean’s heart sinks into his stomach.

He saw the signs, alright. Signs for a pride parade. For gay people.

“No,” he lies. Sam looks at Cas.

“Yes,” Cas says happily. “Can we go?”

Sam looks at Dean again, this time throwing on the puppy-dog eyes. Dean bites his bottom lip.

“I guess,” he whispers. Sam and Cas both cheer.

~~

They make their way through a crowd of people, joining the flow. There are vendors everywhere, and Dean picks up a soft pretzel and mustard sauce from one. Sam is grinning at Cas, holding his upper arm right below his armpit, pointing at something Dean can’t see and whispering something Dean can’t make out. It makes Cas light up, though, and then they’re walking away from him.

Dean hurries to catch up and spills mustard on himself.

It turns out they were looking at a face-painting stand. Sam indicates the chair but Cas shakes his head and insists that Sam go first. Sam shrugs and sits down, simply says “pan” and the woman holding the paintbrush smiles. Dean has no idea why Sam is getting cookware painted on his face, but Sam seems excited, and Dean is, admittedly, intrigued. He looks on with interest and when Sam hops up with his full face painted pink, yellow, and blue, Dean just stares.

“It’s the pan flag,” he explains, like that’ll clear everything up. Dean just shrugs.

“Cool. And what’s that mean, exactly?”

Sam shrugs. “Means I like everyone. People are people are people. And people are hot.”

Dean stares at him. “And that’s it?”

“Mm hmm,” Sam replies.

“And you’ve known?”

“Mm hmm.”

“How long?”

Sam shrugs. “Fifteen years? Twenty? I don’t remember anymore.”

Dean gapes. “And you never told me?”

Sam looks at him with disappointment. “Would you have listened?” he counters. “Or would you have brushed it off and told me to get laid? By an assigned female person?”

Dean opens his mouth to speak but no words come out. Sam purses his lips. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

He turns back to where Cas is getting his face painted. Dean follows his gaze in silence.

Cas’s isn’t a full-face thing; his is a bunch of littler flags. One in dark gray, light gray, and white with a single green stripe in the middle. One that’s black, gray, white, purple, and one with a black triangle on the left side, white on the top, gray on the bottom, and green in the middle.

“What do yours mean?” Dean asks softly. Cas smiles.

“This one,” he says, pointing to the gray-and-green one, “is the agender flag. It means I do not experience gender in the way that most humans do. More exactly, I experience no gender whatsoever, inasmuch as I am a cosmic being not tethered permanently to a body, nor am I married to the concept of gender on the whole. I am perfectly fine with any and all pronouns a person may ascribe to me, although most often I use he and him being, as you may have noticed, in a male vessel.”

He points next to the purple one. “This is the asexual flag. It means that I do not experience sexual attraction to others, although I am not sex-repulsed and would – and have – had sexual relations with partners if it was something that they themselves were interested in. However, I do find myself preferring to please my partner rather than experience it myself.”

Dean makes a face. He didn’t really want to hear any of that about his best friend’s sex life.

Cas finally points to the triangle one. “This one is the demiromantic flag. It means that I only experience romantic attraction to people after a strong platonic bond has been formed with them. For example, Sam.”

Dean blinks. “Sam?” he repeats. He turns to his brother. “Sam?” Sam is flushed and staring at the ground. “Sam?” Dean says a third time, more insistently.

“It’s not a big deal, Dean,” Sam mumbles. “We’re just kind of messing around.”

Dean glances at Cas, who looks hurt. “Sammy,” he whispers kindly. “I don’t think Cas agrees. So either you’re lying to me or you and Cas need to have a conversation about the boundaries and expectations in your relationship.” Sam looks at him like what the fuck. Dean shrugs. “I do listen when you talk some of the time,” he defends himself.

Sam sighs. “Yeah, I was lying, Cas and I are serious.”

“How serious?” Dean asks guardedly. “Like… like, wedding rings and love confessions serious?”

“Half of that,” Sam admits.

Dean fully turns away from them and ends up spinning in a complete 360. “Sammy, I’m really sorry you felt like you couldn’t talk about your sexuality or your relationship with me. I- I love you, man, I swear. And I do support you however you are whoever you choose to be with.”

Sam smiles weakly. “Thanks, Dean,” he whispers.

Dean glances at the sign and points at something at random. “Can I get that on my cheek?”

Sam lights up and the woman smiles at him kindly, gesturing to the chair. Dean sits down and holds patiently still as she paints a small pink, purple, and blue flag on his face.

“Which one is this?” Dean asks as they walk away. Sam has his arm around Cas’s shoulders and Cas’s arm around his waist, and they’re both grinning at him like idiots.

“That’s the bi flag, Dean,” Cas says gently.

“It means—”

“I know what it means,” Dean cuts Sam off. “I know my Greek and Latin roots, I finished seventh grade.”

He flushes slightly, but as they continue off together, thinks, both genders. Maybe.

Just maybe.

[5typesoftrash]

Stanford Pride

Sam is glad he agreed to come to this.

He would never have done it on his own, he wouldn’t have had the courage, but he’s lucky he let Jess and Brady talk him into it.

He’s known he wasn’t straight since he knew there were other options. He’s also known he wasn’t gay. But he never knew quite where he fell on that spectrum in the middle. It’s only since coming to Stanford, since meeting Jess and Brady, that he’s found labels he’s comfortable with.

Demibisexual demipanromantic polyamorous demiguy. (Lots of demi, he knows, but he likes it.)

And now, at age 21, he’s being dragged along to his first-ever Pride Parade.

It’s… a lot. Floats, streamers, loud music, and holy shit so many people. Like. So many. Like ‘might have a panic attack’ many. But Jess is on one side and Brady’s on the other, both of them holding his hands, so he’ll be fine.

Shit. Where’s Brady?

Sam glances to his right, but his boyfriend has dropped his hand and miraculously disappeared. Fuck. He turns to Jess.

“Jess, where’s Brady?” he shouts over the commotion. Jess looks around in alarm.

“I don’t know!” she yells back.

“Call him!” Sam exclaims. She pulls out her phone.

“Fuck, no answer,” she mutters. “His phone’s probably off or he can’t hear it.”

Sam looks over his shoulder at the pizza vendor – Brady loves pizza – and then—

“Hey guys!” Brady’s voice says from right in front of them. Sam turns to look at him. His arms are full of cotton candy and pride flags.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Sam accuses playfully, laughing. He grabs his cotton candy and his demisexual and pan flags, takes a bite of the sticky treat, and kisses his boyfriend desperately. “You asshole,” he adds out of spite.

Brady shrugs. “I wanted to get flags.”

He hands Jess the lesbian and heteroflexible flags, holding up his own bi flag proudly. Sam grins at him. “Buddy system,” he reminds Brady. “Dumbass, we go everywhere together. Jess even tried to call you.”

“Stop chewing me out, Dad, I said I was sorry.”

Sam snorts. “You said nothing of the kind.”

Brady shrugs. “Sorry?”

Sam regards him with teasingly narrowed eyes. “Ehh, close enough,” he replies, then kisses Brady’s cheek.

“Thank you guys for bringing me to this,” he murmurs. “It’s really fun.”

“We love you,” Jess tells him happily. “We’re happy you’re happy.”

“What she said,” Brady says wisely, chuckling.

Sam ducks his head. “I love you too,” he whispers. He’s still getting used to saying it out loud – it was never something the Winchesters said – but he thinks he’ll manage. He has a beautiful boyfriend and girlfriend to teach him how.