Disclaimer: I don't own SPN.

Written because a) I find the concept of asexual Dean very interesting, even if I don't think that's true to canon and b) Because I was very condescendingly told (as though I know nothing about myself or other asexuals who I've TALKED to) that asexuals can't possibly have sex because we have zero interest in it, completely ignoring the fact that asexuality is a lack of sexual ATTRACTION and some asexuals DO enjoy sex.

Granted, I tend to flip-flop between asexual and demisexual because I'm not actually sure if the one time I felt that attraction was genuine or not. But the whole 'not feeling sexual attraction' still holds true, so it's not as though I don't know what I'm talking about.

So here I go.

It's just like clockwork. Go to a bar, find a woman who's attractive enough, chat her up and then sleep with her. It's what Dean's been doing since he was old enough to understand just how sex works.

At first, it was curiosity. What was so great about sex? Why were the teenage boys around him talking about it as though it was the greatest thing ever? Why were girls sharing sex stories and demanding their friends to 'tell them every little detail'?

Sure, Dean had tried jerking off. And that felt nice enough, especially when he'd come. But he hadn't understood why everybody around him was so crazy for it until he'd tried it.

The first person he'd ever slept with was a girl called Vanessa Douglas. She'd been the one to take the lead in everything, because she clearly knew what she wanted and how to get it. It had been Vanessa who'd flirted with him in class; Vanessa who had invited him back to her place; and Vanessa who had made the first move.

"C'mon, Winchester," she said playfully, her fingers skimming the waistband of his jeans. "Don't tell me you're gay or somethin'."

There was nothing wrong with being gay. Dean knew that. But he was well-versed in just what people could do if they felt slighted. He'd seen what had happened at previous schools; when Jeremy Myers had been branded 'gay' by his girlfriend for some reason or other; when Hayley Walker had been called 'prudish' and 'frigid' just because she hadn't had a boyfriend or made out with anybody by the time she was sixteen; when Yvonne Matthews had been deemed a 'slut' and a 'whore' for refusing the advances of a total douchebag.

Dean couldn't let that happen to him. It wasn't as though he cared about whether or not these teenagers thought of him as frigid. He wouldn't even see them a month from now. But these rumours would surely reach Sam's ears, and he'd be damned if he was going to let Sammy think that he was a freak in any way. The kid looked up to him for some reason. Sam didn't need a freak for an older brother to tarnish his reputation (even though the nerd did that perfectly well by himself). And besides, he was curious to see what sex felt like. He wanted to try it at least once, to see if it was all it was cracked up to be.

So he put on his cockiest grin.

"Do I look gay, babe?" he said. That was the right answer, because Vanessa smiled in a predatory way and guided his hands up her shirt.

"You look like a Ken doll," she purred. "So I was hoping you had better equipment than those pieces of plastic."

Sex with Vanessa was…actually pretty nice. Dean loved the feeling of her, tight around him; of letting his hands roam all over her soft skin, her firm breasts, her shapely hips. The build-up was nice as well, and when he came it was like lightning was shooting through him and fire was coursing through his veins and a haze descended on his mind. It was a pretty freaking awesome feeling.

He just wished that he could have felt something towards Vanessa's body; something other than 'she's a nice-looking girl'. That couldn't have been enough, right? With guys crowing about how 'hot' chicks were and how 'they'd bang her' based on her body, and girls ranking boys in order of attractiveness, 'she's a nice-looking girl' couldn't possibly cut it.

"Not bad for a virgin," Vanessa said approvingly when it was all done, running her hand up his chest. She was lying in his arms, so he made the mistake of trying to hold her close; to seek some sort of closeness. Because the sex had been nice, but he hadn't felt…close to her. "Aww, you're a cuddler. That's adorable."

That was the night that Dean learned his first important lesson when having sex: it didn't equal intimacy.

It only gets worse from there. Sure, Dean has sex. A lot. But though it feels amazing physically – and it's a surefire way to relieve the tension that builds up when you have a drill sergeant for a father and a younger brother to look out for and basically raise – it's never enough for Dean.

He's heard a lot more about sex since his awkward first time. How fireworks are supposed to go off, how you're supposed to feel like you're on fire, how nothing else can possibly compare to it. And he does see the appeal in it. He truly does. He's not ashamed to say that he likes sex.

But he's not normal. He becomes more certain of that with every woman – and occasionally man, because why limit himself? It doesn't feel any more intimate – that he sleeps with. He still can't seem to see just what 'sexy' is, or get it up from just looking at somebody, or feel the desire to sleep with them. He desires intimacy, and he desires sex – but he doesn't desire anybody in particular. And that doesn't make sense to him, because how is he supposed to figure out his 'type'? Does he prefer slim blondes? Curvy brunettes? Full-on facial hair or smooth shaven?

It drives him insane. But who can he talk to? John would give him that disapproving look, saved just for Dean whenever he does anything contrary to being the perfect soldier, such as showing emotions 'like a girl'. And Sam wouldn't understand. The kid's perfectly normal when it comes to being attracted to chicks, so Dean isn't going to go ahead and mess with the small bit of normal that Sam has in their otherwise chaotic life.

No, Dean's a freak and he just has to learn to live with it.

So live with it, he does. He teaches himself how to flirt. He learns what to look for when talking about a person's 'hotness'; if he sticks to boobs and slim bodies for women, toned and muscular stomachs and arms for men, shapely butts for both, then he can't go wrong. And he can judge attractiveness when it comes to faces; he can tell who's drop-dead gorgeous and who needs a bit of work done. Just because he isn't drawn to fuck them doesn't mean that he can't appreciate a fine work of art when he sees one.

It seems to work very well. He fools everybody – even himself sometimes. There are moments when he's convinced that he can get it up just by sight; where he feels particularly drawn to one person purely based on their assets. But it never lasts. He always comes to realise that he's just fooling himself. He's the fool in this. The fool who just wants to feel close to somebody, who just wants a rock in this godforsaken world where he's all alone, when all anybody seems to want is physical gratification. Which is nice in itself, but it's never enough.

And then when he does get the chance – twice, in fact – at having a proper relationship? At having his rock? He fucks it up. And both times – with Cassie and Lisa – it's because of him. Him and his dangerous world and fucked-up soul.

All he does is drag everybody down.

It's why, when he becomes aware of his feelings for Castiel, he ignores them. He ignores the terrifying tell-tale signs of attraction – romantic attraction, that is, because he's too fucked up to ever actually want someone's body – and buries them deep down, convincing himself that what he feels for his best friend is purely platonic.

Because Cas is his best friend. Sure, he's got his brother, but there are some things he just can't tell Sam. There are some things he doesn't want Sam knowing, for fear of being labelled a freak and losing the one person he's relied on his whole life. But Cas is different. Cas is an angel; he won't judge Dean for craving intimacy, for not being the raging sex machine that everybody seems to think the man is. Cas won't call him a freak or leave him.

Hell, Cas is the one person apart from Sam he feels closest to. But with Cas, it's different. It's…more intimate. And if he loses that connection, he doesn't know what he'd do. He can sacrifice romance for this closeness. It's not exactly what he wants but it's close enough.

So understandably, it's Cas who makes the first move – which surprises Dean, because he didn't know that the nerdy little angel had it in him – and kisses Dean. Dean immediately freezes and Cas feels this, because he backs away as soon as Dean goes rigid.

"My apologies," the angel says. "I seem to have misinterpreted the situation."

Dean's about to tell Cas that yeah, damn right he did, and there's nothing between them and they should keep it that way. But what comes out of his mouth is totally different.

"You didn't."

Silence falls on the room.

"I don't understand, then. You kissed all of those women that you are attracted to. Why is this any different?"

Dean lets out a shaky laugh and sinks down onto the bed, burying his face in his hands. Cas sits down stiffly next to him. This is it. He's going to tell the angel what a freak he is and Cas won't want anything more to do with him. Because Cas might not have thought that he was a freak when it was purely platonic but now – now that there's a mutual romantic attraction in the air – he's bound to take Dean's lack of desire to fuck the angel like the slut he as a personal insult, and tell him to clear off.

"I…wasn't attracted to those women," Dean says slowly, almost painfully, as though he's painstakingly peeling off a Band-Aid. "Or the men I slept with. Or anybody."

"I still don't understand. Why did you sleep with them, then?"

This time, Dean's laugh is far harsher.

"Because I'm a freak," he says darkly. "Because all I fucking want is some closeness, like I'm a chick or something. But nope, no huggy times without paying up. And even then, I didn't get to cuddle them. I just got to hold 'em until they got sick of me and thanked me for a good time."

"Why did you not simply ask for closeness?"

"Are you serious? I dare you to go up to someone in a bar and ask them to cuddle you. Dude, the only reason people go to a bar is to get drunk or to get laid, or both. Cuddling's something you do with someone you care about, who you're close to. And no, little pain in the ass brothers don't count."

He jumps in surprise when Cas shifts closer and wraps his beige-sleeved arms around him.

"Uh…what?"

"I care about you," Cas says simply, adjusting himself so that he can snuggle into Dean's side. "And I trust you. And I'm certain that I'm correct in my assumption that you feel the same way. So I would be more than willing to cuddle with you. If I can provide you with the intimacy that you're after, I would be happy to."

Dean's still frozen in Cas' arms. He can't. He can't let himself fall again, like he did with Cassie and Lisa. He can't let himself be hurt again – especially not with one of the three people he cares about more than anything in the world. And doing this shit with Sam and Bobby would be freaking weird, so he doesn't have to worry about that.

"I – Cas, I can't," he says in a small voice. "I can't. I've been down this road twice before and I fucked up both times. I'm broken, Cas. I like sex but I'd rather fucking cuddle. I want someone that I'm gonna wake up next to every morning, who I get to kiss every day without feeling like I have to fuck them…who's just gonna be there for me every day and not run away. And I fucked up both times I had it. I'm not cut out for this."

"I can be all of that," Cas counters. He's so fucking calm, the bastard, and Dean just wants him to show some emotion other than coolness or affection. If Cas would just yell at him, throw a punch his way, call him a freak…he could deal with that. He can't deal with someone being loving. It just doesn't compute. He doesn't deserve this.

"Then what if I fuck this up?" Dean's voice is thick and stuffy but no, he's not going to cry, because he's already enough of a twisted fuck-up as it is. "I can't lose you, Cas. You're my best friend."

"Dean, I will always be there for you. Romantic partner or not."

Dean gives another harsh laugh.

"That's just it! You don't get it, Cas! You think I'm some lily white saint when I'm not! I'm broken, I'm a freak – I can't even make myself like people's bodies like normal people can – and I'm gonna hurt you so if you know what's good for you, you'll get your ass away from me now! Romance changes everything! You can't get that close to someone and then act like nothing happened when it goes to shit!"

He wants Cas to get mad but the fucker stubbornly remains calm.

"Dean, you're trying so hard to resist happiness. Why don't you think you deserve it? You are not broken or a freak just for not feeling physical attraction on a sexual level."

"Pull the other one."

"I'm not trying to spare your feelings. I'm being factual. You're not broken, Dean. You simply feel no sexual attraction – just like heterosexual people feel no sexual attraction to people of the same gender, or homosexual people feel no attraction to the opposite gender, or pansexual people feel attraction to every gender. You feel attraction to no gender. It's a valid identity."

Dean tenses. He can't do this. He can't let himself believe that he's not a freak, only to be disappointed like he knows he'll be.

"And Dean, we already share a profound bond. The only thing romance would do is to strengthen this bond. If we did decide not to be romantic partners anymore, the only thing that would change is the level of physical affection that we show each other."

"You make it sound easy," Dean mutters. "But trust me, Cas. Romance is different. And once you fuck someone, everything changes."

"Then we can take it slow. Of course I'll cuddle you and give you physical affection but it doesn't have to be romantic until you decide otherwise. All I want is you, Dean. In any capacity that I can have you. We don't even have to have sex at all if you don't want it. Though I would not think any different of you whether or not I have sex with you. And I don't understand why you would feel any differently about me, since all you desired from sex was intimacy that I can give you without the act."

"'S just different," Dean says tiredly. "Sex is…you get to know someone in a totally different way. Not with any of the people I slept with for the hell of it but…with Cassie and Lisa. It changed things. It's not just seeing someone naked, Cas. That's not what changes with me. I don't feel that attraction, remember?"

Cas shrugs.

"My point still stands. We don't ever have to have sex if you don't want to. We don't even have to kiss or engage in romantic acts. All I want is to be intimate with you. And I know that you want the same."

There's one brief moment in which Dean considers rejecting Cas; pushing him away and telling him that this can't ever happen, that this is all a big mistake. But he's tired. He's sick of not having anybody. So what the hell. It's not like they're diving right into sex and loving, and as Cas said, they can take this slow.

"I can sleep with you if you really want," he mumbles. "I do like sex."

Cas chuckles.

"I only wanted to have sex with you because I knew that intercourse is a type of intimacy, and I thought that you would want that. I am utterly indifferent to sex, Dean. So if you don't want to have sex with me then you don't have to."

Dean frowns up at Cas, a question niggling at him.

"Do you –?"

"Yes. I'm the same, Dean. I feel no sexual attraction to anybody. Asexuality, I believe it's called. So you aren't a freak, nor are you broken. You're Dean. And that's enough."

Laughter bubbles up in Dean's chest and escapes him.

"Oh my God. I'm not different. I – there's someone else like me! Asexual. Asexual…I finally got a name for it!"

When he looks at Cas again, his stomach swoops pleasantly when he sees the wide smile on the angel's face.

"Yes. You're not broken, Dean. You're just different. And you're perfectly valid."

Still grinning, Dean wraps his arms around Cas' waist and hugs him tightly.

"I don't wanna fuck this up," Dean says. "Can we…yeah, can we take it slow? I do wanna kiss you and I do wanna sleep with you eventually but…this closeness is nice for now."

Cas strokes his back comfortingly.

"Of course, Dean. You can set the pace."

Sitting there in Cas' arms, Dean finally feels complete as everything clicks into place. This is what he's been missing his whole life. This is what he's never had. This is the intimacy that has escaped him for so long. He's really not broken, or a freak. Is he?