A/N: Well, I lied. 67impala demanded that I write a little bit more, and I don't normally negotiate with terrorists but God help me, Dean and Cas were horny as hell and begging that I give them some more screen time. So, for your reading pleasure, the last (I SWEAR, for reals this time, the ABSOLUTE LAST) chapter of this story. An epilogue, if you will. Enjoy.
"Well, here we are." Dean killed the engine and turned off the headlights.
They sat silently for a moment, gazing out at the gleaming gray headstones.
"I don't think I understand the appeal," Cas admitted.
"What's not to understand?" Dean asked, throwing his arm around the back of the seat. "It's dark. We're in a graveyard. Spoooooky."
Cas's eyebrow furrowed. "And spooky is… arousing?"
"No, dude –" Dean wiped a hand over his face and sighed. "Here's how it usually goes. You bring a goth-type chick here, and you tell her some scary story. And she says she's not scared but then maybe she shivers, see? And you say, 'Hey, you ain't scared, are you?' and she goes, 'No, I was just cold,' and you say 'Well, then, lemme warm you up' and she scoots in nice and close, and then maybe there's a weird noise in the bushes and she jumps and grabs you a little tighter, and giggles nervously…"
Castiel stared at Dean like he was insane. "And you find that attractive."
"Well, not that part necessarily," Dean clarified, "though I admit it's kinda nice, it's just that usually one thing leads to another…" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Cas pursed his lips, and considered. Slowly he scooted over to Dean's side.
Dean curled his arm around Cas's back and smiled. "That's more like it."
"Would you like me to…" Cas's voice flattened. "Giggle."
"No." Now Dean was the one staring bug-eyed and disturbed. "By all that is holy, Cas, please do not ever giggle. Ever."
Cas sighed in relief. "I don't think I even can, Dean."
Dean chuckled and kissed the side of his head. "Then we're agreed." And since his lips were already conveniently in the vicinity, he started to kiss along Cas's cheek and jaw, mentally mapping the curve of his cheekbone and memorizing the texture of his stubble.
Cas gazed out at the black night beyond. "Dean."
Dean could hear the seriousness in his voice, and pulled back. "Yeah Cas?"
He spoke very quietly, gravely. "I had a dream last night."
Dean waited for him to elaborate.
Cas's blue eyes were fixed on some moonlit grave. "For the first time."
"What?" Dean couldn't believe it. "All this time you've been human, and you haven't dreamt?"
He nodded. "It's strange. I've been in so many dreams of others, but having my own dream… It was… not what I expected. It's so much more real when it's yours."
"So what happened in this dream?" Dean inquired, smiling and brushing his lips against Cas's ear. "Was I in it?"
"Not exactly." Cas gave him a sideways glance. "In my dream, I was sleeping in our bed, and I woke up. You remained asleep, dead to the world. I grew worried, but then – God appeared to me. He appeared… as Chuck."
Dean frowned. Okay, that was weird. Some strange instinctual part of him told his heart to pump a little faster.
"He told me that he had seen all that I had done, that I had proven myself among angels, and… he offered to restore me. My grace. Everything."
A chill ran up Dean's spine.
"Dean." Cas turned his head slowly, and looked straight into Dean's eyes, his voice small. "I don't think I was dreaming."
Dean tried to speak. Nothing came out.
He tried again. "What did you tell him?" he croaked.
"I told him…" Cas's voice fell to a whisper, and his eyes dropped downward in shame. "I told him to shove it up his ass."
Then he took Cas by the face and kissed him. Enthusiastically. He wasn't planning on stopping. Ever.
"Cas," he gasped between kisses, "I love you – mmm – so goddamn much –"
"Dean," Cas panted, his hands roaming through Dean's hair, "Love you – mmmah – Dean…"
And without even thinking about it Dean was wrenching off Cas's trenchcoat, licking along his collarbone, fumbling desperately at his belt buckle, not even caring that the steering wheel was making all this canoodling difficult as hell.
"Back," Cas groaned, "Back seat…"
"No," Dean grunted, pulling his shirt over his shoulders. "Here. Now."
Cas sighed exasperatedly and pushed him against the window, teasing the skin of Dean's throat with his teeth while his hands dragged down his abdomen and slid along the waistband of his jeans. "Impatient," Cas whispered breathlessly. "You're so impatient, Dean."
Dean moaned and grabbed Cas by the wrists, tried to bring his hands just a liiiittle farther south. "Wouldn't be so impatient," he growled, "if you'd just hurry up fuck me."
Cas chuckled and kissed him, rolling his hips in a way that made Dean pretty sure he was going to die. "If you insist."
They laid snugly together, watching the fog slowly recede from the windows. Dean could feel Cas's heartbeat against his ribs, and he wished that it could be like this all the time – quiet, still, warm. Peaceful.
Cas propped his chin on Dean's shoulder. "Yes?"
Dean's thumb made slow circles on Cas's back. "Why?"
Cas didn't need to ask what he was talking about. He seemed to consider for a minute before answering. "If I had been asked to return to heaven three weeks ago, I would have said yes," he admitted quietly. "It would have been a relief. But this last week… this one week of my existence." He softly, slowly kissed Dean's shoulder. "I have been happier in this one week on earth than in all the millennia I spent in heaven."
Dean closed his eyes, swallowed the lump in his throat. "Me too, Cas."
They both tightened their grips on each other, almost imperceptibly.
"Except for the millennia in heaven part," Dean elaborated. "But the same idea. In earth years."
Cas smiled. "I know."
"You're so fucking poetic," Dean mumbled. "And then I go and say the stupidest shit…"
Cas chuckled. "I know."
"Hey!" Dean protested. "You're not s'posed to agree with me!"
Cas ducked his head and nuzzled it into Dean's neck, and Dean could just hear the shit-eating grin on his face. "I know."