Both brows arched upwards as she stepped out of the bathroom, all dressed in burgundy and looking feminine and sexy and classy all at the same time. "Now, that's a dress," he said with an appreciative smile, as he looked her up and down.

"This is the kind of thing a grown-ass woman wears," she pointed out, gesturing a little helplessly to her own chest, displayed tastefully with low cut lace. "I, uh ....I kinda like it, though. With, you know, heels." She rose onto her toes to give some impression of the height she was going to gain from shoes.

"I like it, too," he remarked, setting the cup on a nightstand and moving to his feet. It wasn't often he got to see Jo in a dress, and he wanted to enjoy every minute of it. "You look ..." He was temporarily at a loss for words, and that was a rarity for Dean Winchester. Awesome wasn't quite the word he was looking for. "Gorgeous," he continued, though other words came to mind, such as amazing and sexy.

Her expression softened. That wasn't a word that came naturally to her Dean's lips; she was more used to being called "awesome" and occasionally "hot", than "gorgeous". She bit her lip, raising her hands to twist her hair up off her neck. "Up or down?" she asked, trusting his opinion better than her own, even in this.

"Mmm, up, I think," he said after a moment's deliberation. It would be that much more fun to undress her and take her hair down later. He settled his hands against her hips, gaze traveling downwards to admire the view once again, especially that of her cleavage. "You should get dressed up more often."

Jo watched his eyes wander, letting her hair fall against her back once again to lay her hands on his arms. "You know, I could be wrong," she said in a wondering tone. "I could be hearing things, but I could have sworn you came about this close to asking me out, princess."

He lifted his gaze, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I didn't think I had to, but I'm willing if you are. Hell, I'll even wear a tie," he told her, which was a big concession for him to make. About the only time he put a tie on was when he was impersonating an FBI agent.

"Mmm, you temptress," she teased fondly, rising onto her toes to brush a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I guess I'm keeping both red dresses, then. And this one needs to be put away so we don't defile it in a moment of debauchery."

"Um, you can keep the green one, too, if you want," Dean suggested, though he wasn't expecting her to go out in that dress so much as wear it to fulfill a fantasy or two of his. "Can we defile the other one instead?" he asked, with a playful grin.

"The green one, huh?" Her smile widened to a grin, knowing exactly where his mind was wandering on that count. It really was just as well Bertie was with his honorary grandparents for the day. "You want the killer heels, too, or just the dress?"

"The killer heels, definitely," he told her. Those were like icing on the cake. It was all about painting a picture, after all, and setting the scene, and the scene he had in mind was definitely not for children.

She laughed, pulling him down into a slow kiss. "Then I guess I'm squeezing my butt into that red dress again," she conceded with a grin, nipping his lower lip. It had been a long time since they'd been able to play like this. She'd never realized how much having a child would put a cramp in their sex life.

"Don't worry," he murmured against her lips. "It won't be on for long," he promised, returning that kiss with one of his own, soft, and slow, and lingering. He reached around her to look for a zipper, though this wasn't the dress he was fantasizing getting her out of.

Jo giggled into his kiss, reaching back to slap his hand gently. "Patience, grasshopper," she told him. "If you take this one off, you'll forget you wanted the other one on."

"Why can't I take them both off?" he asked, though he already knew the answer to that. If he took this one off, it wasn't very likely she'd end up putting the other one on.

"Because this one is for when you're all dressed up, too," she informed him impishly, rippling her fingers down his chest to gently pull away from the wrap of his arms. "It's for teasing you all day with the knowledge that you get to take it off at the end of that day. The other one" Let's see how far we get, shall we?" She winked at him, catching the skirt in one hand as she slipped away into the bathroom.

"Yes, dear," he replied obediently, as he let her slip away from him. If that was the dress she wanted to wear to Sam's wedding, then the least he could do was hold himself back until she changed into something they could play in. He had no doubt they'd get pretty far, but how quickly they got there was the real question.

Her laughter floated out to him from the bathroom at his obedient response, knowing perfectly well that if she took too long in there, he would likely come in to get her. Thankfully, it was less effort to get the tight red number on second time around, though it rolled up to her hips as she contorted to get the heels on with it. Rolling it down, she ran her hands through her hair, twisting the blonde length up and securing it with a stick, before gathering the armful of dresses to slip back into the bedroom and begin hanging up the ones she was keeping. "Enjoying the view again, princess?"

By the time she got out of the bathroom, he had already stripped out of his shoes, socks, belt, and flannel shirt, but was still clad in t-shirt and jeans, eagerly awaiting her arrival. He whistled appreciatively again, but this time allowed his gaze to travel up and down and didn't try to fight what that view was doing to his body. "Since I first laid eyes on you, even if you were poking me with a rifle."

"Technically you didn't lay eyes on me until you hit me to get the rifle out of my hands," she pointed out in amusement, closing the door of the closet to turn and laugh at his preparation for their afternoon delight. "So vindicated that I'm one of just a handful of people who've punched Dean Winchester and lived to tell the tale."

"Hit you? I didn't hit you. You hit me!" Dean reminded her, rubbing the spot on his face where she'd hit him, as if it had only just happened. And he'd been punched plenty of times, but he wasn't about to remind her of that fact. In fact, he'd been punched so many times that he thought he knew what a punching bag felt like, but none of that was going to keep him from making out with her.

She laid her hands on her hips, tilting her head as she grinned at him. "Oh, really' So what was the whack on my arm with the rifle for, huh?" Ever since she'd had her memories returned to her, Jo had discovered a treasure store of incidents from their shared past she could tease him with, and this was just one of them.

"Honey, if I hit you, you'd know it," he insisted with a stupid grin. Somehow, she just didn't look very stern standing there with her hands on her hips in that little red dress. Who cared about the color, anyway' It was the way the dress accentuated Jo's curves that made it so trashy ....er, sexy. "What do you say we find out if it's any easier getting you out of that thing as it was to get you into it?" he said, closing the distance between them, that patented Dean smirk on his face as he wet his lips.

"Baby, you got me right in the heart when I made your nose bleed," she assured him with a low laugh, walking her fingertips up over his chest as he closed the distance, the tip of her nose circling his with her smiling mouth teasing his lips just shy of a real kiss. "Is this the point where I say I'm spending the afternoon with a little friend called self-respect, or did I grow out of that?"

"I taught him everything he knows," Dean boasted with a grin. That wasn't quite true, but he couldn't help but take the credit.

"Yeah, I thought his burps sounded familiar," Bobby pointed out with a straight face.

"Like father, like son," Dean replied with a shrug.

"Both of them, if you get Becky in the right mood," Jo added with a grin of her own. "You guys wanna come inside, or do you have plans for your evening?"

Ellen glanced between the younger couple with their happy glow, and bit down her wide smile. "We'll be heading out," she said diplomatically, meeting Bobby's eyes knowingly. "We'll all be seeing each other in a few days for the wedding, anyway."

"I don't even get a beer after changing all those diapers?" Bobby asked, a little indignantly, but Ellen clearly wore the pants in that family, and he knew better than to argue with the boss.

"You can have one at home, after you clean up your mess," Ellen informed him fondly, turning to hug Jo and Bertie, to kiss Dean's cheek. "See you soon, kiddo."

Jo chuckled, stepping back to lean into Dean's side as Bertie sighed hugely, tired but unwilling to admit to it.

Bobby harrumphed again at Ellen's suggestion, which was his way of giving in, while Ellen made the rounds of hugs and kisses.

"Thanks for the dresses," Dean whispered back when Ellen kissed his cheek, as if that comment was meant for Ellen's ears only and that she'd understand what he meant by that without asking.

"Come on, before we all start sharing our feelings," Bobby grumped.

Ellen grinned, winking at Dean as she stepped away. "Well, get in the car then, you old duffer," she told her own husband. Bobby and Ellen rarely showed their deep affection for one another openly, but it was there in their voices, in their eyes, if you knew what you were looking for.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Bobby said, with a wave of his hand to the younger couple. That was about as close to a "See you later" that they were going to get from him, but they both knew that beneath all the gruffness, Bobby was an old softie. If only they knew how little Bertie was the apple of his Grampa's eye.

Jo laughed, waving as the older couple pulled out of their drive and headed home. "Sounds like you guys had a lot of fun today," she said, tilting her head to look down at Bertie. The one year old swallowed, nodding his head sleepily. "Early bed, huh?"

"Looks like they wore the little guy out," Dean said with a chuckle. "How 'bout I get the bottle ready while you get him ready for bed?" he suggested. A bath was probably out of the question tonight, as far as the little guy was concerned.

"Seems like a good plan, princess." Jo smiled, brushing a kiss to Bertie's sandy-blonde head. "C'mon, little man, let's get those teeth brushed and into jammies, 'kay?" Another sleepy nod was her only answer, although one hand reached out to grip Dean's shirt before she could move away.

Dean stopped in his tracks, so to speak, brows furrowed at their young son, wondering what he wanted exactly. He leaned close to press a tender and affectionate kiss to their son's cheek. "It's okay. I'm just gonna get you a bottle. I'll be right back," he promised the little boy. Dean always made it a point to be there for bedtime, and it was often him who gave Bertie his bedtime bottle and last snuggle before bed.

Slowly the little hand relaxed its grip, satisfied now his Daddy had given him a kiss hello. Jo smiled to herself at the little interaction, careful to keep pace with Dean as they went back into the house together. Bertie was just a little bit clingy at times, but there was nothing wrong with that. He'd grow out of it, eventually.

Sam - the older version of "Bertie" - was proof of that. It was hard for Dean to wrap his head around sometimes, having a son that both a baby and an adult all at the same time, but it was all just part of the weirdness that was the life of the Winchesters. It wasn't long before Dean and Jo had fed and changed their little man and tucked him into bed, and Dean had turned quiet as he often did at times like these.

Jo gave him the space to be quiet for a while, tidying up in the kitchen, the living room, making busywork for her hands until she ran out of little jobs to do. Then she made coffee, bringing him a cup on the couch before folding herself down beside him. "All right, spill," she said, without preamble. "What's on your mind?"

"Hmm?" he asked, turning off the TV with the press of a button, as if that's all that had been distracting him all this time. "Nothing, why?" he lied. Even if he wasn't an open book, it wasn't often that Dean Winchester had nothing on his mind.

"Is that nothing as in ....really nothing, or nothing as in ....you're overthinking every possible calamity that could possibly befall us in the next fifty years and trying to predict our lives down to the last second again?" she asked mildly, sipping her own coffee as she laid her legs over his lap comfortably.

"Not quite fifty years," Dean replied, knowing the one person he couldn't lie to or keep anything from was his Jo. "Just the wedding," he said. He didn't really have to explain much more than that. Their own wedding had been a disaster that had ended with a hunter funeral. It was something neither of them wanted repeated, and though Hades had been defeated, they still had plenty of other enemies.

"I know." Her answering murmur was soft, one hand reaching to comb her fingers through his hair as they talked. "But this time around Ayden's funky Sight thing is actually accurate. She'll know if anything is expected to happen, and she hasn't said anything about it."

"I know. It's not that. I trust Ayden, I do. But after everything we've been through ..." He shrugged, finding some comfort in her reassurance, but it wasn't enough to dispel all his demons. "I don't want Bertie growing up the way Sam did, you know?"

"He won't," Jo told him fervently. "We've already changed things. The losses he endured won't happen, because Ares dealt with the last of the Fates, because Sam and Hope dealt with the other Fates, because you and me killed Persephone and Hades. Athena was punished for being a two-faced idiot. Even if there are Olympians with plans of their own, they won't act on those plans for a long time yet, not with everything so fresh in their minds. Crowley, on the other hand, is still a problem."

He would have used a different word in place of idiot, but he nodded in agreement. "Crowley will always be a problem," Dean replied. "The thing about Crowley, though, is that we kind of know what he wants, and without him, who knows what we might end up with instead."

"Yeah, that's true," she agreed. "It isn't just worrying about what might happen at the wedding, though, is it' If it was just that, you'd be wanting to kill something to get the feelings to lie down and play dead." She tilted her head, trying to catch his eye. "Talk to me, baby."