Title - Vow of Celibacy

Summary - Sam's sick and tired of Dean going after any girl that shows some cleavage, so the two brothers make a bet.

"Vow of Celibacy"

"No, I don't need to take a stupid vow of celibacy to cleanse your overly pure ass!"

So what if he liked to have a little fun at times? So what if he liked girls? So what if he found it rather nice to be close to a girl and not worry about emotional strings and long-term commitments? Dean concluded this ridiculous suggestion was based off the fact that his younger brother was jealous that he didn't get the ladies. Sam, oh pure innocent Sam, who can't have sex with a girl unless they drink some tea and talk about their emotions.

"Dude, I'm surprised you don't have an STD by now with the way you go through women," Sam argued before scrunching up his face. "Tell me you don't have an STD."

"Come on!" Dean exclaimed.

"Oh my gosh, what do you have?"

"Nothing!"

"You're lying!"

Dean stared at his little brother, frustration clear on his face. He shifted in his seat, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Sammy had a look on his face, the stubborn look that suggested that he wasn't going to drop this. As much as Dean hated talking about his sex habits with his kid brother, at least he wasn't asking him to talk about his emotions and how he's feeling.

"I had syphilis once," he admitted. "Once."

"Anything else I should know about?"

"Dude, it's not like I'm going to give you anything."

"We share a bathroom, Dean!"

"Jesus, Sam, you can catch far worse stuff by using public bacterial deathtraps at gas stations!"

"What if I got syphilis from you and never knew it?"

"Trust me, Dude, you'd know. Plus, you were at Stanford when I got that."

Sam threw his arms up in the air. He couldn't believe how careless his brother could be when it came to women. Fuck first, ask questions later. It was always do first in the Winchester household and ask question later. All women were the same in Dean's eyes, and it wasn't hard to match the guy's criteria when it came to women: nice ass, shiny hair, sweet smile, and a nice amount of cleavage showing.

"Why do you care all of a sudden?"

"Because that girl you picked up last night, she reeked Herpes, Dean!"

"Hey, don't talk ill of… uh… Scarlett! She happened to be amazing."

"Did you at least use protection?"

"Yo, Samantha, I always have at least five condoms in my wallet. Stop worrying about it. Your interest in my sex life has passed the weird stage."

"Oh, well, shoot me for caring, Dean!"

"You're caring too much about this!"

"Please, just try to be celibate. I mean, who knows how many nieces and nephews I may have out in the world."

"You just crossed the line, Sam!"

"Your sleeping around bothers me, okay? I'm not going to lie. Sometimes I see a kid on the street that looks vaguely like you, and I freak out! Now I'm sure there's something about me that bothers you, right?"

"Oh there's more than one thing," Dean shot back.

"Okay, so we make a bet and winner… gets whatever."

"No."

"Come on, Dean."

Sam stepped forward and placed a palm in front of his chest. He then took his other hand, made a fist, and settled it on top of his palm. Sighing, Dean got up and mimicked his brother's position. They pounded the fist on their hands three times before revealing their weapon of choice. Dean was in the scissors position, and Sam in the rock. Sam smirked.

"I always win that game," he said smugly, "so we make the bet."

"Son of a bitch!"

"You have to be celibate."

"Fine. You can't talk about emotions, feelings, get all girly on me. Let me sum that up in one word for you, College Boy. No more acting emo. I don't want to deal with your angst crap."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. You're all angst-ridden all the damn time!"

"Fine. We need to come up with a prize."

Sam pulled up a chair to sit across from his brother. The two stared at each other with annoyance written clearly on their faces. Neither of them knew what they wanted if they won. Hell, it had to be something great or else Dean was just purposely going to lose. Celibate? What the hell kind of punishment was that?

"What if we made a list of things that the other person has to adhere to for an amount of time?"

"Oh, God, Sammy, I can just picture your list. Number one: talk about our feelings every night before we go to bed. Number two: hug more. Number three: celibacy vow."

"You're an ass sometimes, you know that?" Sam snapped. "I can picture your list as well. Number one: must have sex at least once in every new town. Number two: must get drunk of our asses. Number three: must go to a strip club before going back to the motel."

"This isn't going to work, okay."

"We'll make it work."

"Why are you so adamant about me being celibate? Honestly, Dude, you're getting kinda creepy."

"I'm sick of you hitting on any girls that have an ass and breasts that meet your standards, and let me tell you, Dean, it doesn't take much for you to bang a girl. If it's female and dressed in something that shows cleavage, your downstairs brain goes crazy."

"I'm sorry, Sam, that I like to have some fun. We can't all be a like you and actually get feelings involved in the equation."

The next two days consisted of finishing up the job they were on. Then they were on the road. Within a week, they were in a new town with a new job. Not once did Sam bitch about sharing feelings, and Dean hadn't fucked anything yet. The brothers were barely speaking to one another. Sam feared anything he might say might come out angst-ridden, and everything out of Dean's mouth was him being cranky.

Another week passed, another job done. Sam still wasn't talking much, and Dean was still surprisingly deprived of sex. It just figured that Ellen would call them to do her a favor. She asked Dean several times on the phone if he was all right, clearly noting his short temper. When they arrived at the Roadhouse, they were surprised to see Jo there cleaning off the counter. Since when did she get back?

"You boys okay?" asked Ellen.

"Peachy," Dean muttered as he watched Jo walking around the bar cleaning up tables.

"Upstairs brain," Sam snapped.

"There's nothing wrong with looking. That's not part of celibacy. I can look as much as I please!"

"Sam? Dean? This is a difficult job. You boys need to have your heads in the game if you're going to take it," Ellen told them as she looked between the brothers. "I can get another hunter to take it."

"It's fine, Ellen, goddammit!"

"Way to be mature, Dean."

"Oh my God, Sammy, I swear."

"Who knew you'd be so cranky?"

"I'm seriously going to fuckin' kill you if you keep this up!"

"He's testy." Sam turned his attention to Ellen. "He's uh… don't worry about it."

"I can see that," she admitted. "Look, I'm not going to give you boys this job. You need to resolve your issues with each other first."

"Jo!" Dean shouted across the room. "Wanna do a hunt with me?"

"Dean!" Sam objected.

"Dean, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Ellen questioned.

"Seriously?" Jo inquired with a smile on her face.

"Yeah, Samantha's being a pain in the ass so I need someone who won't piss me off!"

"I'll get my stuff."

The job was several towns away. Something was ripping organs out of people for some unknown reason. It wasn't a person just stealing organs like in the urban legend but some sort of animal taking organs due to the claw-like incisions. Once they got to their destination, Dean regretted bringing Jo alone. She was a chatterbox that couldn't be put on mute. She twirled her stupid knife around and talked about her theories. Dean wanted to just shoot himself in the head by the second day.

The third night, the two went on a stakeout of the next potential victim. The thing was following a pattern. The house that they were staking out was one of three possible next hits. Dean gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white. His right leg was bouncing up and down as he tried to look at the house and not at Jo's cleavage. She conveniently was wearing a tank top with a small hooded sweatshirt unzipped too far.

"Are you okay?" she asked as she twirled the fucking knife.

"Just watch the house!"

Instead of following his order, she turned to look at him. Her chest twisted towards him, and he couldn't help but look down. Fuck her. Fuck her to hell for torturing him like this. He saw her cock her head to the side and let out a sigh. Immediately his eyes snapped up to look at her face. Look at her. She's young and innocent. She's not just going to sleep with him.

"What's going on, Dean?"

"We're on a stakeout, Jo, a stakeout. That means we have to watch the house and protect the people inside. So just stop staring at me like that."

"You're the one staring at my chest."

"It's not my fault that you have no clothes on!"

Jo scoffed before twisting back into the right position. She unzipped her hooded sweatshirt all the way and discarded it to the backseat. She then pulled the tank top off over her head and threw it to the backseat as well. That's when she reached back to take off her bra.

"Jo! What the hell are you doing?"

"What? I thought you said I had no clothes on?" she talked all innocently.

Dean couldn't take it anymore. He lunged at her, pushing her hard against the passenger door. She let out a small oomph before he covered his mouth with hers. He straddled her, sliding her down so that she was lying comfortably on the bench seat - or at least as comfortable as it could be. He then started to trail kisses down her jaw.

"Dean…" she breathed heavily.

She reached up and pulled off his shirt. That's when there was no going back. It took another two days to finish off the monster before they headed back to the Roadhouse. Dean refused to make eye contact with Jo the rest of the time and neither one of them spoke about what happened in the Impala.

They sat outside of the Roadhouse in the car, not making a move to get out. Dean knew he had to talk to her, tell her something, but he actually knew the girl and was going to see her again. It wasn't like he could just say, 'I'll call you' and then give her a kiss with no intention to actually call ever again.

"You were… uh… great," Dean started.

"You too."

"Listen, I'm not looking for a long term thing."

"Me either."

"Good. Great. Listen, you can't tell Sam what happened."

"If you don't tell my mom, then I won't tell Sam."

"Excellent. Sam and I have this stupid bet going on. I'm supposed to be celibate, and that's just crazy."

"Celibate? For how long?"

"Well, I took a vow of celibacy and Sam took a vow of not being angst-ridden."

"How long?"

"About two weeks."

"You couldn't stay celibate for two weeks?"

"Look, Jo, there's a difference between not having sex because you don't want to and not having sex because you're being forced not to. If Sammy and I didn't make this bet, I probably wouldn't have had sex."

"That's so… pathetic."

With that, Jo got out of the Impala and grabbed her bag from the backseat. She then made her way to the Roadhouse without looking back. Soon enough, Sam came through the front door and walked towards the Impala. He took the seat that Jo had been occupying just moments before.

"Have fun with Ellen?" Dean asked as he put the car in gear.

"Yeah. Have fun with Jo?"

"She wasn't you, so I couldn't pick on her or anything."

"You did her didn't you?"

"God, Sam, how can you ask me that? I took a vow of celibacy that I'm trying to take very seriously!"

"Then why is there black lace panties by my feet?" Dean didn't answer and didn't dare look at his little brother. "Jesus, Dean, it's only be two weeks. You seriously have a problem."

"Dude, when you tell someone they can't do something, then they automatically want to do it!"

"I won the bet, Dean, and I know exactly what you're going to do for me."

"Yeah, what is it?"

"First, you're going to clean the upholstery. I don't even want to touch the seat with bare skin. Secondly, we're going to a clinic and getting you tested. Who knows what you gave poor Jo?"

"Hey! Come on!"

"Then we're settling down for awhile with no hunting. You're going to go to sex anonymous."

"Fuck no, Sam."

"I won the bet, Dean! Now say it with me, 'My name is Dean Winchester and I'm addicted to sex.'"

"Son of a bitch."

Author's Notes - Just a little idea that I got in my head. Please don't forget to review and tell me what you think. It's only common courtesy and takes merely 30 seconds.