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Castiel stared, mesmerized by the way the candlelight flickered across Dean’s skin.The various plays of shadow and light, and how they emphasize patches of freckles, absolutely fascinated him. It occurred to him that he was staring but he truly didn’t care. Dean was truly a work of art; a masterpiece of God deserving of worship. Of course he kept these thoughts to himself. Now was neither the time or the place to speak of such things as Dean finished lighting the candles Sam needed for the spell. Later though, later he would worship Dean with words and touch. Later.