If there was one person Dean Winchester never understood, it was Jo Harvelle. Dean fought demons, hell, he even fought the devil himself, but Jo Harvelle was a species of her own.
She was rude and harsh, but also sweet and loving. And she was beautiful. Also hot. Dean could stare at her for ages, but that didn't always go well, because whenever Dean stared at her, she would meet his gaze and raise her eyebrows, her actions followed by a "What are you staring at, asshole?" and a smile that would light up her eyes. Talking about her eyes, they were very special. Dean couldn't really decide what color they were.
Because they were brown when she was at the bar of the roadhouse, serving drinks or playing poker with Ellen and some other hunters. And when she would meet Dean's eyes whenever he'd ask for a beer or some whiskey, she'd make sure she'd gazed long enough for him to notice. And whenever he stared into those beautiful brown eyes, he'd feel electricity going through him, and maybe, just maybe, she could feel it too.
They were greenish. Dean often went outside, to work on the Impala and sometimes to call Sam, asking him how it was going with him, and if he could come by soon. And sometimes, Dean just wanted to be alone. But whenever Jo appeared, the desire to be alone disappeared quickly. She would often throw him a beer and sit down next to him, closing her eyes, clearly enjoying the warm sunlight on her pretty face. When she'd open them again, her eyes would be light green, almost yellow. She would look at Dean, studying him. Dean often pretended he didn't notice, he kind of liked how her eyes studied him. He felt how they glided over his jaw line, his chin, his nose, and back down, to his chest and hands. They'd have small conversations, about nothing in particular. And whenever Jo got up again, mostly because Ellen yelled at her, telling that she needed help with something unimportant, she would hesitate, and when Dean would give her a small nod, she'd smile before turning around and hurrying back to the roadhouse.
But they were hazel. Pure hazel. Dean could see it that one time they were in his room, looking at each other, bodies almost touching. But he didn't really care anymore by the time he figured that out, because damn, her lips were soft.