A/N: I was once told by a reviewer that my birthday fics were "seriously the best ever." I don't know if that's true...but I couldn't resist giving my girl Silverspoon a big ol' shout out for her special day!

If you know her, you probably know that Sam is a BIG Dean/Jo fan...so what better way to help her celebrate? I have a total of 10 installments of varying lengths planned, the last of which I will post on her birthday. It's an absurdly tight schedule...and means Dean/Jo goodness almost daily for the next week. Can you handle it?

Many, many thanks to stephaniew for her friendship and betaing skills...here's to hoping she won't be pulling out her hair and thinking of firing me before this is all done. Steph, babe, I wouldn't have a chance at pulling this off without you...you rock.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

Little Black Dress

Dean fidgets with his cufflink. "If you don't hurry, Sam's gonna leave without us."

Red fingernails wrap around the door, opening it just wide enough for big, brown eyes to meet laughing green ones. "You're not the one that has to wear a dress," she says, frowning at him.

He sees an errant curl fall from the pile Jo's pinned up. Watches the way it wisps toward her shoulder in a soft wave. Aches to brush it behind her ear solely for the chance to touch her skin. "I'm sure you look fine..." he says.

"It's not the dress I'm worried about," Jo hisses as she steps through the door, pulling on shoes. "It's these damn heels..." She takes a half hop step forward, nearly tripping.

Dean's arms are around her quickly. "I love..." He stops short of saying the words when their eyes meet. Recovering quickly, he gives her a lopsided grin. Remembering the way the vintage satin cocktail number clung to her every curve, he adds, "This dress."

She laughs to hide her discomfort. He hadn't just... No. She had to be imagining things. "Close your mouth, Dean-O. You act like you've never seen a girl in a dress before," she teases to break the tension.

He brushes over her cheek with the tips of his fingers, his tongue flickering over his lower lip. "It's not like you wear them often," he snickers.

He watches the way her impossibly long lashes fan over her cheeks as she blushes, the hint of mascara she wears making her eyes somehow brighter. Unable to resist, he gives her the gentlest of kisses, longing for more as his fingertips caress her jawline.

With the pad of her thumb, she strokes the tiny smudge of transferred lipstick from his mouth. "And you got on me for making us late," she says, staring into his emerald eyes.

"I'll be down in a minute," he says, his fingers plucking at the thin strap on her shoulder. "You go ahead."

She chuckles, a saucy grin crossing her face as she sashays toward the bedroom door. "Frontal alignment problem, babe?"

He shakes a finger at her. "You watch that pretty little mouth, or you'll pay for it later..."

She looks at him, her eyes serious even though she can't stop the smile from touching her lips. "Oh, I'm counting on it..."