The nights that he does not spend with Dean seem interminably long. Be it duty or sour serendipity that separates them, not every night is one spent in warmth and harmonious heart beat. Though he endeavors to impress his desire to be nearby when he can. This particular visit is made as the sun nears the horizon and the eastern sky is lightening with the heraldry of a new dawn. Placing a cup of coffee on the nightstand by his bed, he dares to linger in longing as he watches the Righteous Man.
The Hunter had never been one to sleep deeply and rarely soundly. At first he thought that the flutter of wings were in his dreams. A dream in which he was wandering through an old corn field maze. A flurry of feathers fluttering along the ground which he was following and picking up.
But the slightly change in the air in the room and the oh so soft sound of the coffee mug being placed on the night stand told him that these noises were not a part of his dream. That there was someone in the room with him.
His shoulders tensed, but then the corners of his mouth twitched in a tiny smile. Dean could practically feel the Angel's blue eyed gaze burning into the side of his head. Some things never change.
"Get in the damn bed, Cas."
Dean's voice was slurred with sleep and tinged with amusement. Muffled slightly by both pillow and quilt. But he made no move to get out of bed.