Dean sighs softly, looking down at his hands—wondering what he should do now. It’s been a long day, he loves his role—but sometimes he just doesn’t like standing on a stage for such long hours talking about the word of God. He gets tired too, but he was strong—he wouldn’t let a bit of insomnia weigh him down.

Dean glances over at the clock, seeing it was already midnight. Thankfully he had no church gatherings or anything like that tomorrow, the most he might have to do is a confession, but rarely anyone confesses these days. So hopefully he has a free day tomorrow. Dean runs a hand through his hair, not even having to look at you when he feels the sudden angelic grace blanketing him with warmth and calmness.

Dean doesn’t know how this came to be, but now you and him were close, friends even. You, an angel, and him a priest, not too surprising though. He speaks of God, and you are his child. Dean glances over his shoulder towards you, admiring you for a bit—before looking back down quickly.

“Hello to you too, what’re you doing here so late?” Dean says softly, exhaustion heavy in his voice. Laced with the need to sleep, the need to rest. Maybe that’s why you appeared, sometimes you just put him into deep sleeps. Dean welcomes it, it gives him a break of his insomnia, though he never knows why you’re so giving to him.