Dean shuts his eyes and mutters a soundless curse at the momentary slip of mind. He should have known not to mention Death, yeah, and guilt washes over him for having done so. "Maybe- Maybe ask me about heaven some time..." he all but whispers. Sometime, but not now. Dean knows all too well how they both have the ability to completely kill the mood, however unintentional it may be, and god-freaking-dammit, right now he needs his makeup sex.

It's the part that makes the fight worth it, and he's not about to let that go. His body was set for three full days of naked debauchery and they barely got one before it got interrupted. Dean's hellbent on catching up on lost time.

He answers the kiss in kind, hungry and hard, and the hand not playing painfully with FDR's hair digs into his hip so he can guide the man back towards the pool table. He does have every possible intention of tainting it for all time.