Dean Winchester was not gay. Girls had been all over him for longer than he remembered. He'd shagged more than his fair share and then some. He was a frickin master at picking them up at bars. And hey, he knew a nice booty when he saw one. No, he wasn't a…homosexual.
There were other explanations for everything that was happening. A guy can hold hands with another guy without being gay, right? Yeah, right. Dean turned to look at the man next to him. Messy hair, loose tie, trench coat. Gorgeous blue eyes, too-cute-for-his-own-good, smart.
"H-hey, Cas?" he stammered. Cas shifted to look up at Dean. "Just 'cause sometimes I kiss you and tell you I love you d-doesn't make me...gay, does it?"
Cas cocked his head in that funny way that he did sometimes. "I'm afraid I don't understand your question, Dean." Dean gulped. He never confronted his feelings like this. What a terrible idea. Why oh why did he have to bring this up?
"W-well, I mean, you're my b-b-boyfriend right?" Dean cursed himself. Damned stutter always came up at the worst of times. To his surprise, Cas smiled with a mixture of amusement and affection. Dean willed himself not to blush, but to no avail. He knew his cheeks were bright red.
"What do you think we are?" Always answering questions with more questions. Dean was silent for a moment or two.
"I don't know." he stated stubbornly. Not Gay. Not gay. not gay. not gay notgay notgaynotgay… his mind repeated in an increasingly desperate string of thoughts.
"I think I might be able to give you an idea." Cas said, lifting his hand to Dean's face and tipping it forward to kiss him softly. And just like that, Dean forgot his insecurities. All the years of John openly discriminating against gays, all the boys on the football team in highschool who shamed the gay kids, all the backhanded remarks, everything fell away, and he was kissing Cas, and the only word that could describe what he was feeling was love. And it was all okay.
He was okay.