Dean's head was still reeling, but he was coming back down from the high that always accompanied having Dempsey so close. Everything was fuzzy and his brain was clouded; fuck he'd missed this. It was times like this when he could understand why Don Juan chased a high. There was no other feeling quite like it.

It took a second to get through the fog and realize what Dempsey was asking him. Dean had rarely used Greek on Dempsey, usually French or Italian, so he could only think of the one time it had meant something.

"Kai tha to ékana xaná, se káthe zoí." He breathed out. He would do it again, in any lifetime. But not here, not now. It never seemed to be the right time, they were in the same space, but never the place in life. "Et je le referais, dans chaque vie." The languages filtered through his head easily enough, one after the other. "E lo rifarei, in ogni vita." The romance languages all sounded like just that, romantic.

Dean sighed. "You should go. I'll apparate home." Nobody had been around, but it would look even less suspicious if only one of them came walking out.