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An Ordinary Day Job

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Summary: Time between hunts -- what do Sam and Dean do? What is ordinary time like for them? Do they get a glimpse of joy?

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Supernatural > Non-BtVS/AtS StoriesRaeBearFR1311,7300328126 May 1126 May 11Yes
Disclaimer: I do not own Sam or Dean or anything Supernatural! This is just for fun.

This takes place anytime after John dies. I just felt the boys needed a break of normal sometimes and this story popped out of me. I would really really really love feedback of any sort.

An Ordinary Day Job

It wasn't always hunting bad things and saving people. Some days were just days. Sure usually just a day or two. Maybe a whole week. Maybe doing laundry, maybe getting more clothes at Sears for the ones the blood won't come out of. Maybe driving 1000 miles just to catch a concert, cuz you know they didn't have to punch a time clock. Maybe an ordinary day started with taking a long steady ten mile jog, really sweating it all out, feeling the muscles sing and hum. Dean didn't always pick up a girl or hustle pool on those days. Sam didn't always sink into a book of one sort or another or try to find some honest day-long job. The best ordinary days these days were spent at Bobby's, so much so they had rooms could be considered their rooms upstairs, so even if Dean most often didn't sleep at home, well on ordinary days he could have.

Truth was it had been about ten days without a job -- that is a hunting job -- and neither of them said anything because it was ten days of not being in danger of dying or in pain or in a world of unspeakable horror. And sometimes you just needed that break. Dean got to working with Bobby on a 1955 Thunderbird, a car so sweet he felt disloyal to his baby. There were moments working on a car when Dean forgot time. And at the end of the day, he would still be sore, but it was the sort of sore that a long hot shower would fix, and if he could get a girl to rub his back or anywhere else she might like, that was a definite pleasure as well.

Sam, on ordinary days in the long stretches at Bobby's that always, in the end, were too short, worked at a gym. The little town near Bobby's auto's had a seedy side: apartments, laundry mats, diners, fast food, car dealers, all sorts of stuff. It could be anywhere. It could be anytime. The gym was not a name brand, just a local, run by a guy bigger than Sam, older than Bobby, with weary eyes. Yet Steve was in shape and, although older, had the fight moves still. They would go a few rounds and the Navy seal tats on Steve's upper arms weren't lying about his skills. At times, Sam could almost pretend that he was back at Stanford, that he hadn't lost all that he had lost, that years hadn't passed him by. And he had almost been too shy to go there, the first time.

He'd gone inside expecting the mirrors and bright ceiling light and pounding beat of music; but this gym the sound was lower than normal, more just a background hum, and the ponytailed girls on the cardio equipment were a little bit separate from the nook with the weights and benches. And a boxing bag. And after working out a few days, a man as tall as he was came over, his eyes with wrinkles at the sides, his mouth quirking up a bit. "You know how to work the stuff, son."

Sam flinched a little at the son, he always did. And shrugged.

"You done any fighting?"

Sam had a flash of memory of the disgusting snake/man thing he'd been wrestling with a few weeks ago, but answered quickly, "No."

"But you know your way around, and for a big guy, you're fast on your feet as well."

"Yeah," Sam said, "I got to be. But I don't fight ... people." He finished the sentence, cursing himself.

"Huh, look at you," said the man. "You've already turned so's your back is toward the wall, and your right hand is ready. Your feet are too. My name's Steve. I'm not starting anything, son. I'm looking for another trainer, someone who really knows what they are doing. And maybe someone who could work out with me in the dojo, I don't get many chances to keep in shape these days."

"I might be leaving town," said Sam. "It happens suddenly."

"You might be back sometimes, I would guess."

Sam nodded. He left out the part about if he was still alive. From the sudden crinkle around Steve's eyes, perhaps the old man got that.

They discussed money, and Steve gave Sam the sort of lesson that he'd expect Sam to give.

And Sam's first client was an hour later. One of the ponytailed gals, only this one had twinkling black eyes. "Penny," she said. "And I don't date trainers."

Sam gave her a long slow smile. "Then I won't ask you out."

"Well shoot," said Penny a half hour later. "I'm going to be sore tomorrow. I'll be back the day after."

"I'm just a sub," said Sam. "I'm not always here, my brother and I have to travel for our other job sometimes."

"What do you do?"

"Nothing worth talking about," said Sam, "sort of history road trips." With things to kill. "I do a lot of research."

He ended up training half a dozen people that day and took home a nice bit of off-book cash.

And he was still there a few days later when Penny came in again, and in fact it turns out she did end up going out with her trainer.

But Sam quickly realized he couldn't use the gym just as a way to pick up tail, he needed it to be a place where he wasn't a hunter, where he was working out and working with others. He loved Bobby like a father and Dean.... was more his other half than his brother. But the gym was his place. He realized he hadn't even mentioned it to Dean much. Dean digging into a classic car was a man in the middle of his joy, and as much as Dean always had one eye on Sam, always had a radar sense for if Sam was in any danger, perhaps on an ordinary week, a week off at Bobby's, perhaps Dean too needed a little time apart. Time doing more than laundry and watching the soaps waiting for the pain of the latest beating to ease. Time to just for a minute here and there have a sense of himself only. Whatever the reason, he didn't question Sam about it. And after Dean got that T-bird fixed, Bobby had him drive it to the owner, and Kris turned out to be a Kristine and Kristine turned out to be a car chick kind of gal, and pretty much single that weekend. Dean came home to Bobby's three days later with a lasagna, which the three of them ate in about five minutes. Sam even whipped up a salad.

Perhaps on an ordinary day, Dean wouldn't have admitted to knowing that Sam was at his gym, or even where that was, but Bobby got a call from a friend in Cleveland, and from the story Dean knew they had a new hunt.

Bobby caught the look on Dean's face, though it had only lingered there a second.

"Son, you boys can have more time off, it's not like there's rules for hunters. We can let one t'others handle this."

"Nonsense, Bobby, we're the best." Dean's voice had already dropped down and gotten growly. "Better go clean this up now instead of having to fix someone else's mess later." His eyes had already changed to the brightness of a hunt, his grin already had a bit more shit in it. "I'll go get Sam from his gym."

"I'll get you guys some more info when you swing by here for your gear."

But Dean had already grapped up their stuff. Be ready to move in ten was how they were raised.

"We'll call you from the road instead."

Bobby just nodded.

Dean parked the Impala, didn't pause to let any thoughts catch up with him. They were needed in Cleveland. Nothing to think about. He pulled open the door, the jingle announcing his presence. No one was at the front counter. To the left the aerobic equipment and the ponytailed girls of differing ages. At least one was an off-duty cop, to Dean's eye. To the right was the weight room, he went that way and the nook with the punching bags. No Sam. He opened the door at the end and was in the dojo area. Sam, in one of those outfits, showing skinny acne-covered kids how to make some moves. He saw how serious Sam was, and he saw the boys (and one ponytailed girl) paying close attention. It was normally Dean with the children. He hadn't realized Sam had the knack as well.

"How can I help you?" said a cold voice.

Dean turned quickly to the right, one hand whipping back to his hidden gun, his back to the corner, side to Sam, he could dive to protect the kids, he could leap toward the windows, he could... shit he could pull himself together is what he could do.

"Sorry man, yeah, I'm here to get my little brother." And turned on his grin, shrugging his head toward Sam.

Gray eyes looked him over. "You guys got a job?"

"Sam told you about that?"

"Told me the work comes and goes."

Dean swallowed. "I'm lucky to have a partner I trust."

Gray eyes lightened up a bit. "Where's my manners? I've Steve, owner of this here mall gym."

"Nice to meet you," said Dean.

"Dean," said Sam, coming up beside him, as the children sorted themselves out with shoes and gear and parents. "We got a job?"

"In Cleveland."

"I'll be ready in five."

Steve measured them up. "I'd say stay out of trouble but then hell you're heading to Cleveland."

Dean laughed.

"I told him, he ever want to settle down, to an ordinary job, he's got one here waiting."

"Yeah, it's always good to dream about that," said Dean.

And then Sam was changed and they left the building and got into the Impala, doors closing at just the same time.

The End

You have reached the end of "An Ordinary Day Job". This story is complete.

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