She's a little sister. A kid that can't be that much older than Sammy and she got that bratty smile that rival's Sam's bitchface at the best of times. But Sam has never filled out a pair of jeans like that- all low slung around the hips and struggling against curves. Still, the fact remains that she's a little sister. Dean shouldn't touch, shouldn't think about it.
But if there is one thing that Dean is, it is not a saint, so he takes his fill where he gets it, watching Jo bend to pick up a case of beer as him and Sam walk into the Roadhouse between hunts. She bends and bends and the view is hard to ignore. With a smirk he can't fight, he tilts his head and enjoys. That is, until Sam is digging his elbow into his side, huffing as if Dean's behavior is still embarrassing and unexpected after all these years.
"Dean," Sam chastises softly, though there is a smile hinting around his dimples even as he shakes his head.
"If you're checking out my ass, Winchester," Jo swears without even turning around, heading towards the back just as her mother opens the door. The look she fixes on the elder Winchester is enough to keep him heeled for weeks, if not a month or two. He always forgets about the mother.
"What you boys in for this time?" Ellen questions, still fixing Dean with a stare that makes his libido just about shrivel up and die. A common occurrence now that they frequent the Roadhouse, an occurrence that always seems to make Sam gleeful.
"Just looking to lay low for a bit." Sam pulls out a stool and straddles it easily, sounding like a kid on Christmas morning if Dean's ever heard it. "Gonna grab a beer and then head up the road-"
"Yeah, course ya are," Ellen cuts in. She polishes two glasses before filling them up from the tap and setting them on the counter, all while saying, "You know that back room is open whenever you need it."
"The one next to Ash?" Dean chips in, taking the stool next to Sam and flashing a dubious look at the older woman.
"Yeah, like your ever quiet when you bring a lady in," Sam mutters into his beer. Whether Ellen hears it or not is up for debate, but she flashes Dean a disapproving look as she turns to grab a rag. "Thanks, Ellen, but we don't wanna put you out or anything."
"Nonsense," she snaps and that's the end of it.
Jo walks in then and there is no way her hips move that way naturally, or that the smirk on her face has anything to do with said hip movements. She joins her mom behind the bar, leaning against the counter and fixing her smirk on Dean. "Hey, maybe this time you can stick around long enough to actually beat me in a game of pool," she teases. Dangerous playing ground, but Dean can't help the quirk to his lips. It's built in his character, a natural flirt. Not his fault in the least.
And it is definitely not his fault that his voice drops just the right way when he says, "Oh, you don't want us staying around that long."
"Damn right," Ellen says and he sobers with an apologetic smile towards the mother, though the way Jo's biting her bottom lip and glaring at him tells him he had the effect he tried for. Two can play at this game sweetheart, he thinks as he tips the beer to his lips, choosing to ignore the cut of her tank top. Sam better find them a case quick, he tacks on, downing the beer when she shakes her ass on the way out.