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Cas loves nights like these.
He’s lying in Dean’s bed, wearing one of the softest sets of pyjamas he’s ever come across. Dean got them for him, insisting that if he was going to be lying in bed then he needs pyjamas of his own, and that he can’t wear his suit and call it good.
Cas wouldn’t have minded either way. He likes his usual suit and coat, yes, or he wouldn’t have gone to the effort of recreating them so many times, and whether he wears them in or out of bed doesn’t make much difference to him. But it makes a difference to Dean. Cas doesn’t sleep, so the physical comfort of what he wears in bed is of little matter to him, but he’s happy to wear clothes designed for wearing in bed when in bed if it’s better for Dean if he does. And Dean went to the effort of getting him pyjamas he really likes. They’re soft, and blue, and Cas loves how the fabric feels on his skin. And, crucially, Dean’s the one who got them for him. The pyjamas are excellent and Cas loves them, but even if they weren’t that great Cas is sure he’d love them anyway, because they’re his and they’re from Dean.
Everything feels more when he’s with Dean.
The Sun’s rays feel warmer, the colours of the world around look brighter, and his emotions grow stronger than he remembers them ever being before they met. Being with Dean feels right in a way that’s only surpassed by being a father to Jack.
Right now, Dean’s asleep. He’s curled into Cas’ side. Their legs are tangled together and his arms are wrapped around Cas’ middle, holding him tight and clutching the fabric of Cas’ pyjamas so that not even the slightest movement will be able to pass him by. Not that Cas has any intention of going anywhere. Those days are long behind them both.
Cas has an arm wrapped around Dean too, his hand coming up behind Dean’s head and gently running his fingers through his hair.
In Cas’ other hand is a book. A second-hand, slightly beaten up paperback he found at a thrift store earlier in the week that he thought looked somewhat interesting. He was right, it is somewhat interesting, but he’s only half paying attention to it. Most of his attention is on Dean.
When Dean sleeps, and the nightmares leave him alone, all the tension and the weight of years of pain disappears from his face. He’s beautiful. He’s always beautiful, but he’s especially so now. Cas could stare at him for all eternity and never grow bored.
They hadn’t had sex earlier.
Cas enjoys sex with Dean very much, and he knows it brings Dean a great amount of pleasure too. Dean actively desires sex, and sex with him in particular, and Cas is more than happy to engage in it with him.
It would be inaccurate to say that Cas wants sex in the same way Dean does. Cas doesn’t desire sex with anyone, not even Dean. He never has, not in all his many, many years of existence. Attraction of that nature simply isn’t something that he experiences.
He enjoys having sex with Dean because the feeling is pleasurable, and because it’s something he and Dean are able to share and experience together. Bringing Dean joy is one of Cas’ favourite things to do, and whether that joy takes the form of, for instance, watching Dean’s choice of cowboy movie, or if it takes the form of wrecking him with a few choice touches, Cas is just as happy.
At first, when he explained this to Dean, Dean suggested that things feel different for him because he’s an angel, but Cas knew immediately that this isn’t right. It wouldn’t explain why, if angels can’t feel attracted to anyone simply because they’re angels, why angels like Gabriel and Balthazar sought sex out like they did. It wouldn’t explain why the creation of nephilim had to be forbidden in the first place. It wouldn’t explain why Cas didn’t feel differently about this while he was effectively human.
He doesn’t like to dwell on what April did to him. He’s since come to realise that killing him wasn’t her cruellest action that day.
In the end, there’s a simple explanation for why Cas isn’t sexually attracted to anyone, including Dean. He hadn’t gotten halfway through trying to explain it to Sam before Sam had shown him no less than three websites and a blog talking about this very thing.
Apparently, asexuality in humans is about as common as being a redhead. Cas has known a lot of redheads. He may not be human himself, but he’s spent time without any grace, his family is mostly made up of humans, and he’s in love with one, so he’s comfortable with using their terms to describe himself.
He’s a man, too, after all. That’s not an angelic concept either.
Dean’s insistence following this discovery that they didn’t have to have sex if it wasn’t something Cas wanted was sweet, and it was very much appreciated, but it was needless. There’s nothing to worry about.
Just because Cas doesn’t desire him sexually doesn’t mean that he’s opposed to having sex with him. It’s all much of a muchness to him. Whether he and Dean are finding better and more creative ways to make each other come, or whether Cas is watching over Dean as he gets some sorely needed sleep, he would consider both to make for an excellent night.
Right now, he’s watching over the man he loves as he sleeps after a long day running around playing host to the members of their family who are visiting the bunker this week, and he’s content.
He turns the page, looks at Dean, and smiles.
He’d thought he couldn’t have this. He’d thought the simple happiness of openly loving Dean was the one thing he could never have. He’d thought that telling Dean about his feelings was the best he’d ever get.
He was wrong.
He’ll never stop being thankful for that.