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Title: At Sunset
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairings: Dean/Lisa
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Characters: Dean, Lisa
Words: 1047
Summary: Response to this prompt on one of [livejournal.com profile] hoodie_time 's comment memes:

Although sex has always been an escape for him, season 4 to post-series Dean has little to no interest in sex anymore/zero libido.

It turns out it’s due to depression and/or a reaction to trauma, or maybe side-effects from drugs such as antidepressants. His partner (I’m thinking Sam/Dean, or maybe Lisa/Dean set during the missing year?) convinces him they don’t care; they love himmm.
 

Lisa only tries it once. It's already six months since Dean showed up at her doorway looking like he'd lost his last friends, and she's got two glasses of wine in her that are maybe making her a little reckless. Dean's got a bottle of whiskey in front of him that's still at least half full. It was a good day today. They're sitting on the couch and Ben's tucked away in bed and Dean's just started to crack a smile now and again. Six months living together and Dean hasn't so much as given her a suggestive look. But he's also started coming home from work with flowers. And more and more often she'll catch aborted gestures. He'll start reaching for her arm or or shoulder and then pull back. Like he can't decide. She's honestly not sure what to make of it. Sometimes she wonders if maybe he's waiting for her to make the first move. Other times she wonders if it's something else. Tonight, Lisa puts her glass on the coffee and twists around to straddle his lap.

There's a little voice in the back of her mind, the one that goes almost silent whenever she's got alcohol in her, that tells her this is maybe not the best way to approach things.

Dean raises his eyebrows bemusedly at her. “You know, Dean,” she starts as she leans in a bit, fingering the collar of his shirt. “I wasn't lying when I said you were amazing, back then. If you want...”

Dean freezes for a split second, something wary in his eyes, but it's quickly replaced with a lazy grin. “You suggestin' something, Lise?” He leans up and catches her mouth in a kiss, and for a minute she forgets the reason she started all this. He really is as good a kisser as she remembers. But he's also tense as a bowstring underneath her, and she knows something's still wrong.

She pulls back. Asks what's wrong, and Dean's eyes widen in inexplicable panic. He worms his way free and takes off out the front door, and Lisa is definitely sober now. She follows him outside. Relieved to see he hasn't left. Dean's hovering on the front porch like he's reached the end of a leash. He apologizes without turning. “I'm sorry, Lise. I thought- I.” Swallows. “Thought maybe it would be different this time.” He sways and holds onto the railing to steady himself, and Lisa realizes he's drunker than she thought. He never talks this much when he's sober. She steps up beside him without a word and sits on the front step. Pats the space beside her and waits for him to maneuver himself there. She's learned through trial and error these last few months, how to handle Dean. She knows asking him outright will only make him clam up if he doesn't want to talk. If he does, he'll come out with it on his own.

He sneaks a sideways glance at her almost shyly. Fiddles with a loose thread on his sleeve. “I can't. Lately, I. I don't really want to, uh.” He's actually blushing, something she has never seen him do before. She takes pity on him, because it's pretty obvious what he's trying to say.

“Do you want to?” It's an important question. She had a friend, years ago, before Ben, who went to a doctor and then to a therapist because she realized she didn't want to have sex. That was when she was diagnosed with depression, and the meds didn't fix that part. And for a long time that was a problem, until Diane realized that she didn't have to care. That it didn't have to be a bad thing. Lisa's not blind. Dean's got all the symptoms, among other things, and he's got every right to them. This one, at least, doesn't have to be a problem. “I mean, is it bothering you that you can't?”

If anything, Dean goes even redder. He looks at her again in surprise. “Fuck, Lise. You. I like you. I've always liked you. And you've been putting up with my sorry ass all this time, I should be able to-”

He's gripping the end of the porch step so hard his knuckles are white. She covers his hand with her own and he trails off. “That's not what I asked, Dean. This- Whatever we have, here. Now.” And she's honestly not sure what they have. Only that, in spite of everything, she wants to keep it. “If you want to keep this platonic I'm fine with that. Whatever you want, Dean.”

Dean's eyes are wide. “You sure?” He sounds impossibly young; voice barely a whisper. Lisa is suddenly reminded of that weekend so many years ago, during one of their rare trips out of her apartment. He'd bought her chocolates. Some ridiculously cliché box of chocolates, and he'd given them to her and then watched her with this exact expression. Like he wants desperately just to make her happy and he's not sure it's working. Lisa smiles wider than she has in months and she realizes she's maybe a little bit in love with this man. She squeezes his hand and schools her face into something more serious.

“I'm sure. I know these last few months haven't been easy. But. I think we can build something here, Dean. You, me, and Ben. Together. Sex isn't really required for that.”

Dean's smile is tentative, but it's a start. She knows this isn't over. They need to actually talk about this, sometime when they're both completely sober, and probably Dean's not going to like that. But right now she feels like they're going to be okay. Above the trees, the sky is lit up with red, and Lisa drops her head onto Dean's shoulder to watch.

End.
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