i just don't think dean or cas care abt labels at all. dean is a gen x-er who grew up pre-internet and his queer experiences were shaped by the times. he is not looking up microlables or saying things in the gen-z PC way. and cas was a wavelength for billions of yrs. he too does not care. nor does he care what dean calls himself either. they're both just like, yea we like each other so so much and fuck abt, it's not any of your business tho, keep walking.
wanted to make smth cute to celebrate a follower milestone so i ended up making square deancas pfps!! they are transparent and y'all are very welcome to use 'em <3
[in case y'all wanna get square bois as stickers, here's my RB]
„Dude, can’t we just go home?”, Dean muttered into Sams shoulder. They were pressed against each other in an ocean of glittery, half naked people. Normally, Dean was all for glitter and half naked, but not when it was almost 90°F and 2 pm on a Tuesday.
“No way! I wanna see the next act!”
The brochure Sam got handed yesterday in the street said something about a drag queen throwing knives, and for whatever reason Sam had insisted on coming here. Dean had originally planned on waiting in the car, a safe distance from the pride village, but his stomach betrayed him after 10 minutes of smelling all kinds of delicious street food.
When Dean let out an annoyed grunt and rolled his eyes for the twentieth time that day, Sam lost his patience.
“Why don’t you just go and find some more of those churros to stuff yourself with. I’ll meet ya at the gate in 10 minutes”, he snapped.
Dean shot him a sarcastic grin and squeezed his way through the crowd. It was bad enough that he had to loose his jacket because of the heat, now his arms would be glittery for the next month. He finally found a group of flag waving, laughing people that he could follow behind and out of the stage area. The food court left more space for him to walk and he took a deep breath.
He didn’t understand why Sam wanted to come here so desperately. Maybe he needed some distraction after their last hunt; they couldn’t save the stupid teenager who let himself get turned into a vampire and when he had attacked Sam, well… It wasn’t s difficult choice but it didn’t leave them unfazed.
Dean shook of the guilt with a roll of his shoulders and focused his mind on more urgent matters. Churros. He deserved them after spending an hour squeezed between leather straps and nipple patches.
He took the bag of deep-fried goods with a grateful smile from the young woman and found himself a fence to sit on. It might have possibly been the quietest place in the whole village and Dean enjoyed the silence for a minute. He was getting old after all, and even though he would never admit it, the loud music was giving him a headache. Some of the churros were filled with jam and some with nougat and Dean couldn’t help but smile as he thought about how much Jack would love these. For a second he considered saving one for Jack, but he decided that cold churros tasted like sad clowns so he had to finish them all by himself.
As he was stuffing the last churro on his mouth, he noticed a guy sitting across the lawn, leaning against a tree. And smiling at him. Dean froze for a second. Was the guy…No. People can be friendly for the sake of it. He wasn’t being checked out. He couldn’t be, he had a mouth full of deep-fried dough and his hands were covered in jam. He shook his head in disbelieve about his egocentric thoughts and tried to smile at the guy in response, though it probably looked quite horrible, considering his puffed-out cheeks.
But the guy seemed to get the idea because Dean could make out the movement of the guys shoulders as he chuckled. Dean was pleased with himself. No reason to panic just because someone offered a kind smile. He began to wipe his hands on the stack of napkins he wisely brought with him, when he saw movement in the corner of his eyes. The guy was scribbling something down and got up to get back to the party, Dean assumed. That assumption was disproven when he suddenly felt the presence of another human in his space.
Like a deer caught in headlights, Dean stared up at the man with wide eyes, his hands stopped in the middle of the wiping motion. The guy was almost as tall as Dean, with messy black hair and a five o’clock shadow. His eyes, Dean realized, now that they were face to face, were differently coloured behind his glasses. One was strikingly blue, almost white and the other was as dark and green as moss.
It took Dean a minute to tear his eyes away from those of the stranger, who was just smiling at him with an amused expression on his face. He then reached up to Deans face and gently wiped away some jam that was stuck on the corner of his mouth. Dean was so surprised by the intimate motion, he was back to staring and if his breath might have hitched, the guy didn’t let on whether he noticed.
“You have something on you face.”
His voice was deep and smoky and send a shudder down Deans spine. Internally, he slapped himself for his reaction, or the mere lack of it, if he was being honest. Normally, he would turn on his charm and tell Sammy to get a cap to the motel, but for some reason his brain had decided to just not function today.
Somehow, he managed to gulp down the doughy mush and choked out a “Thanks” before the stranger handed him the napkin with a smile and disappeared in the crowd. For Dean the interaction had seemed to last hours, but in reality it probably were only two minutes. And still he sat there on the fence, like an idiot, still clutching the napkin in his hands and staring at the spot where he last saw the dark hair disappear.
The ringing of his phone snapped him back into the real world and he answered with a grunt. ^
“Dude, where the hell are you?”, Sams shouted into his ear. In the background Dean could hear the music blasting and people cheering.
He cleared his throat and forced himself to get a grip.
“I’m, uh, I’m somewhere at the side, with- with grass ‘n trees? I don’t know.”
“What? Dean, I can barely hear you. Just meet me at the Info point, okay?” Sam shouted and hung up.
Dean let out a sigh and ran a hand over his face. This was stupid. He had acted like a fifteen year old virgin with a crush and had missed the opportunity for a nice little pick-me-up. He once again shook his head and hopped of the fence. When he collected his trash, he remembered the napkin the guy had given to him and for whatever reason, he decided to look at it. And there it was. A number scribbled at the corner with a “Aaron” and a heart above it. Dean chuckled to himself. He still got it. Or at least he tried to convince himself that it was his charm and not maybe the dude having a weird eating kink that got him a number. Whichever it was, he took it as a win.
He spotted Sam easily in the crowd, although there were quite a few guys in dangerously high heels walking around. Neither of them dressed like a 17 year old lesbian though, so Sam still stuck out.
He was standing at the desk of the info point, patting himself down and smiling apologetically at the teen next to the register. When Dean pat him on the shoulder, he sighed in relief and turned around.
“You got some cash?”, was all he asked. Dean searched for his wallet and peeked at the object Sam wanted to purchase.
“The hell is this? You got a zebra kink of something?”
Sam gave him his best bitch face and unfolded the black and white piece of fabric. Except it wasn’t all black and white. In the middle, there was a triangle in rainbow colours.
“It’s an ally flag, Dean. Now give me the money.” But Dean took a look around at the stuff that was put on display in the tent. A huge pile of differently coloured flags with a legend to all the pride flags next to it, took up most of the space. Dean took a long look at the poster and then grabbed one of the plastic bags. He turned back to his brother, when his eye got caught by one of the nick-nacks next to the register. With a grin he took it and put it next to his brothers flag.
When the sat down in the car, Dean couldn’t ignore Sams curious stares anymore.
“What?”
“Nothing”, Sam tried to keep down a smile.
“Just wondered what you got for yourself.”
Without looking at him, Dean pulled the pink, blue and purple flag out of the bag and threw it in Sams lap.
“That one’s for me”, he muttered and ground his teeth when he felt the embarrassed blush creep up his neck. Quickly, he pulled out the last item in the bag and held it up. It was a headband with a fluffly, rainbow-coloured halo atop of it, which bounced around crazily as Dean shook it.
