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Sam senses that something is off from the minute he sits down. Things have been kind of off between Dean and Cas since the whole mark business, though, so he doesn’t read too much into it.

They’re watching Iron Man 3, since Cas is apparently catching up on the Marvel cinematic universe. There’s popcorn and cold beer, and all in all it’s not a terrible way to spend an evening. Even if Dean looks kind of uncomfortable, a flush high on his cheeks.

He keeps fidgeting, too, the near constant movement always in the corner of Sam’s eye. He starts out slouched, with his legs spread. Then he straightens, crosses one leg over the other. Then switches. Moves his hands from his lap to crossing them, to stretching one out on the couch behind Cas.

On the other side of him, Cas doesn’t seem bothered at all, completely engrossed in the movie. It’s pretty good, even if Sam hasn’t seen any of the others.

About half-way through the movie, Dean clears his throat.

“This chick is pretty good,” he says conversationally. His voice sounds even gruffer than usual, a tell-tale sign of embarrassment. “Kinda reminds me of Mia Farrow.”

Sam isn’t expecting it, so it takes him a couple of moments to realize what Dean just said.

Mia Farrow.

“I don’t see the resemblance,” Cas says, squinting at the screen. Dean’s arm is still propped behind his back.

Oh.

“Um…” Sam clears his throat and stands up. “I gotta… go to the bathroom.”

Cas doesn’t even really seem to notice that he’s leaving, but Dean shoots him a grateful look. From this angle, Sam can see his hand on Cas’ shoulder.

He really should have seen that one coming.