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Sunshine on the street at the parade
But you would rather be in the dark ages
Making that sign, must've taken all night
You just need to take several seats and then try to restore the peace
And control your urges to scream about all the people you hate
'Cause shade never made anybody less gay
Dean Winchester was a naturally competitive person, and he never turned down a challenge. Many people who claimed to love him would even go so far as to say that he had an overinflated ego. But, even he knew that he stood no chance against the magic of Castiel’s scalp massage. There was something about the gentle pressure, the way his fingers would seem to caress every strand of Dean’s hair, every millimeter of his skin, the soft rumbling of his voice as he babbled on about the silliest of things… It was so incredibly relaxing, and okay, maybe he had fallen asleep in the middle of a movie because of it once or twice.
“It was fucking adorable ,” Charlie cooed the day after she first witnessed, and documented, it happening. “He started scratching your head and you just fell asleep like a golden retriever. Absolutely precious.”
Charlie could (and would) tease Dean about falling asleep with his head in his boyfriend’s lap all she wanted. Fuck it, he was happy, and he was entitled to his fair share of gross couple behavior. Still, he would definitely blame this summer’s early, intense heatwave for the fact that he had yet again drifted off mid-conversation.
“... and the parade route actually ends pretty close to The Roadhouse, so if you wanted to meet us there afterwards–”
Dean frowned, not bothering to open his eyes. “Wait, what? Why would I be meeting you afterwards?”
He sensed that it was the wrong thing to say, or, at least, the wrong way to say it, when Cas hesitated before replying, “I…Well, you certainly don’t have to. I can always come back ho–back here after, instead.”
Oh . Yeah, shit, definitely the wrong way to say it. Dean reluctantly opened his eyes and sat up, failing to fully stifle his groan. Comfortable afternoon nap be damned; this conversation was more important.
“No, Cas, I meant…” Castiel was clearly trying to look unaffected, but Dean prided himself on being an expert on Castiel Novak. Dean could see the tension in his partner’s shoulders, the barely hidden frown that was only seconds from emerging, the force with which Cas was biting his bottom lip, the fact that he was avoiding eye contact for once. All signs pointed to being hurt, and Dean could kick himself for being the reason. Again.
He sighed, then started over. “That came out wrong. What I meant was, why would I be waiting instead of walking with you?”
“You want that?”
Dean couldn’t help smiling at Cas’ wide eyes. The tension was easing from Castiel’s shoulders, and with just a bit more effort, Dean was sure he could bring out one of those gummy smiles he adored so much. Well, in for a penny…
“Of course I want that,” Dean reached for Cas’ hand, willing himself to stay brave long enough to get the words out. “It’s my first Pride with a boyfriend.” He tore his eyes away from their joined hands so that he could watch said boyfriend’s face when he added, “It’s our first Pride together. Of course I want to spend every second of it with you.”
Fortune truly does favor the brave, Dean thought, because he was rewarded with what could only be described as one of the most gorgeous smiles in the history of the universe. No, it was more than a smile. Castiel was beaming at him, expression full of wonder, and Dean vowed to spend the rest of his life feigning courage if it meant Cas would look at him like that again. Maybe, if he worked hard enough, he could even feel worthy of that look someday.
When Cas finally spoke, his voice came out breathy, so soft that Dean might have missed it if every fiber of his being had not been honed in, hyper-aware of Castiel.
“Dean…” Really, what right did he have to say Dean’s name like that , anyway? To steal Dean’s breath away with just the sound of his own name? “I love you.”
Dean wasn’t quite sure how to respond to the intensity of the moment. It felt too important, too heavy, even if it was a good weight. Luckily, Dean was a man of action, and he had plenty of ideas that did not rely on verbal communication.
Still, he made sure to mumble, “Love you too, you big softie,” into Castiel’s neck a few minutes later.
There was, naturally, a strategy session with Charlie. Like most strategy sessions these days, it was held at Dean’s apartment, with the three of them eating pizza in the living room. Charlie sat cross-legged in a recliner, a piece of pizza in one hand, and her phone in the other. Cas, the only one who felt it necessary to use a freaking plate, despite Dean’s vocal judgment, sat on one end of the couch, with his plate of pizza balanced precariously on the arm. Dean, meanwhile, was sprawled across the couch at an odd angle, his back leaning into Cas, a piece of pizza in each hand (with bites taken out of both), legs crossed, and feet dangling off the opposite end of the couch.
“Okay,” Dean said around a mouthful of pizza, “Lay it on me.”
Castiel huffed, barely refraining from rolling his eyes. “Really, Dean. Is asking for basic manners too much?”
Dean flipped him off in response.
“So, I’d obviously have your back regardless,” Charlie said, pointedly ignoring the bickering, “But the timing really is great. There was an overall positive response to the team photo in matching shirts. We made it to the Conference Finals, so the team is coming across as stronger than ever. Most people’s attention will be on the Stanley Cup, so there won’t be quite as much scrutiny focused on us. It’s a win, all around.”
“See?” Dean smiled reassuringly, “Charlie says it’ll be okay.”
Cas didn’t seem convinced. “People will still notice your presence, Dean. Are you sure–”
Dean sighed. “For the millionth time–”
“Oh, excuse me for being concerned that my impulsive boyfriend is going from being in–”
“Me? Impulsive ? I–”
A loud whistle echoed through the apartment, effectively silencing both of them. “Boys,” Charlie said sternly, arms crossed now that her pizza was long gone. “Hush. You’re being ridiculous. Dean, Cas loves you and wants to make sure that you know what you’re committing to. He doesn’t want you to feel obligated to do more than you’re ready to do on his account. Cas, Dean is sure. He wants to do this because he loves you, too.”
Dean opened his mouth to respond, but stopped upon seeing the look on Charlie’s face.
“Now. Dean. You mentioned that there will be other teammates present?”
“Yeah,” Dean nodded, “Benny mentioned that he and Garth wanted to join if we were going. Thought we could rep the Impalas together.”
“Of course Benny wants to join in ,” Cas muttered under his breath, his tone sharper than Dean was used to. What the hell was that all about? Dean glanced at Charlie, who looked weirdly amused instead of baffled. Okay, then. Definitely something to file it away for later.
Charlie, both to Dean’s frustration and relief, powered on, “Having a small group will be nice. Here’s what I’m thinking…”
Dean had spent hours preparing for the parade. He studied Charlie’s notes more than he had ever studied for an actual exam. When simply reassuring Dean that everything would be fine and telling him to relax didn’t work, Cas had even resorted to hiding Dean’s handmade flashcards. The thing was, Dean knew he was being a bit extra about the whole situation. But it was so important to get this right. He couldn’t risk messing this up. Logically, he knew that Cas was not going to dump him if he said the wrong thing. Cas had witnessed, and been victim of, an abundance of Dean’s stupidity since joining the Impalas, and, frankly, he didn’t show any signs of being fed up with it yet. Unfortunately, the logical part of Dean’s brain was almost entirely drowned out by the anxious part, which was shouting about how easily everything could go wrong. One tiny misstep at a community Pride event could easily be the first domino falling. A journalist could blow it out of proportion, and Cas could realize he had made a huge mistake in giving Dean so many chances, and….
Anxiety spiral aside, it was a beautiful day. The sun was shining brightly, but the heat was not as oppressive as it had been a couple of weeks beforehand. Dean, Cas, Garth, and Benny had pulled out the beloved You Can Play shirts again. Garth was, in his own words, “rocking these rainbow beads”, by which he meant the seven sparkly necklaces he showed up in. Benny stuck to a more subtle “love is love” pin on his shirt. Cas had added rainbow socks and shoelaces to his look, along with a heart shaped pin that had the words “let me be perfectly queer” on it. The pin had been a gift from Dean, who carefully painted rainbows on Castiel’s cheeks that morning. He had briefly debated bi themed face paint of his own, before deciding to stick to smaller steps this time around. Instead, Dean wore pink, purple, and blue striped socks and a “you are safe with me” pin. Charlie, adorned head to toe in lesbian pride attire, met up with the group to say hello and exchange hugs, before going her own way. As she had explained beforehand, “I love you guys, but I want to enjoy myself without worrying about representing the team today.”
Dean’s short conversations with the press before the parade went (almost suspiciously) smoothly. Their group of four stayed together for the most part, which lulled him into a sense of security. It was impossible to not adore Garth. Benny was laying on the Southern Charm. Cas was being Cas. And, miraculously, Dean managed to not stick his foot in his mouth.
It wasn’t until the very last minute that Dean found himself alone with one of the reporters. She was younger, probably in her early 20’s if Dean had to guess, and she looked like she might be almost as nervous as he was. She had been nothing but kind and respectful, so Dean didn’t hesitate to hang back a moment when she said, “Mr. Winchester, could I ask just one more question, if you don’t mind?” in a rush.
He nodded, let the others know that he would catch up with them, and turned back to her. “Of course. No problem at all.”
“Who are you walking for at the parade today?”
Quite suddenly, Dean lost the ability to think, let alone to speak. There was a question within that question, wasn’t there? What she had meant to ask, had maybe been afraid to outright ask, was: Are you queer? And, honestly, Dean wanted more than anything to be able to give her an answer. But he couldn’t . His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. At some point, he realized that the lady was speaking again.
“Oh my god, never mind,” She was blushing, as if she were the one who could not answer a simple question. Part of Dean wanted to reassure her that it was okay, but he still could not find his damn voice. “I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have even… I’m so sorry!”
In the blink of an eye, she was gone. Dean shook his head, then jogged to catch up with his teammates. He instinctively took Cas’ hand, comforted by the fact that his broken brain would at least allow him that one thing. Dean looked from Cas’ smiling face, out to the sea of rainbows, bright colors, sequins, and sparkles. He let himself take in all of the people present for this celebration of love, perseverance in the face of persecution, and reckless optimism. There were so many people fighting to make the world a better, more inclusive place. Dean pushed the Question to the back of his mind.
In hindsight, he really shouldn’t have been so surprised to see the reporter again at The Roadhouse’s after party. This was just how Dean Winchester’s life tended to go. He was two beers in, face comfortably resting on Castiel’s shoulder, and struggling to follow the elaborate D&D storyline Garth was explaining in excruciating detail, when he saw her out of the corner of his eye. She was sitting alone at the bar, staring off into the distance. It looked like she had barely touched her drink. Sammy would probably call it projecting or whatever, but Dean thought she still seemed pretty anxious. Dean, on the other hand, was feeling much better now. He was comfortable. Relaxed. Safe.
“Hey,” he whispered to Cas, “I’ll be right back.”
Cas’ brow furrowed. “Everything okay?”
“Mhmm,” Dean stood before he lost his nerve, then gave Cas a quick peck on the lips. He basked in the resulting smile like a cat soaking up the sun. “Everything’s great, actually. I’ll tell you all about it in a couple minutes.” And with that, he sauntered towards the bar, winking at Castiel over his shoulder.
The reporter was so lost in her thoughts that she jumped when Dean sat on the stool next to hers. He winced, feeling guilty for startling her. “So, uh, sorry to bother you.”
She shook her head emphatically, “You’re not bothering me!” She fidgeted with her straw wrapper, either unable or unwilling to meet his eyes. “I really am sorry about earlier.”
Dean chuckled, “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” He glanced over at Castiel, who was nodding along to whatever Garth was saying. He looked up just in time to meet Dean’s eyes, and raised an eyebrow, silently asking if Dean was sure he was okay. Dean gave a tiny nod, even as a wave of affection knocked the breath out of him. Fuck, he loved Cas so much.
He cleared his throat and refocused on the woman in front of him. “Please excuse my hesitation earlier. I was walking for myself, and for my boyfriend, to celebrate our first Pride together. I’m bi.”