Charlie's arm had fallen asleep half an hour ago, which was a little weird. She wouldn't have thought that would be possible here. Then again, a lot of what passed for reality in Heaven seemed to be based on expectations, rather than any sort of hard and fast rules. She could live with that.

Or, you know. Whatever.

She idly tried to convince the numbness away, but as far as she could tell things tended order themselves to subconscious beliefs, not active desires, so it didn't work. That was fine, too. She didn't actually mind that the pretty blond head resting on her shoulder was cutting off her (non-existent, unnecessary) circulation. There was nowhere else she'd rather be than lying in bed with Jo dozing against her.

Not to say there weren't things she'd change, if given half a chance, especially the whole being dead thing. Maybe they wouldn't have found each other if they'd both stayed alive, but maybe they would've. They would've been the same age—here, since Jo had died four years before she did, she would always look younger—and Charlie probably still would've ended up involved with the Winchesters. It could've happened.

Or they could've died in other ways without meeting; that was always a risk, especially when there were monsters involved.

She didn't mind her own bloody death too much—not anymore, anyway. It had taken her some time to get over it, which she thought was pretty reasonable, but she'd got there. It was actually kinda worth it, for what she'd found after death. For the beautiful, brave woman breathing softly into her chest.

But she still hated what had happened to Jo, even if Jo had likewise come to accept her own death. Charlie'd known about it, the story painted in broad (and anguished-but-emotionally-stunted) strokes from Sam and Dean, but hearing the details of her and Ellen's last moments alive tumble from Jo's lips as she fought back tears had without doubt been the worst moment of Charlie's afterlife.

She bent to press a kiss to the top of Jo's head and her lover stirred, but did not wake. Charlie had never put much stock in soulmates, but the first time she had met Jo in Heaven's Roadhouse, they had just fit. Like they were meant to be.

Jo snuggled closer into Charlie's bosom and stretched. "I can hear you thinking," she said past a yawn. "Either go to sleep or go down on me, but stop brooding. You're in fucking Heaven."

Laughing, Charlie rolled them both over and pressed Jo into the ridiculously comfortable mattress to kiss her breathless. Again, not that either of them actually needed to breathe, but when one thing led to another (and another and another), they both came away flushed and panting. And exhausted, despite Jo having just napped and the whole thing where dead people didn't technically have to sleep if they didn't want to.

All things considered, Charlie thought as she curled up on her side, the little spoon to Jo's big one, she really kinda liked Heaven. Wasn't that the point?