Dean hated running. He hated it so, so much. He barely managed the 10k and finished it unhappy but in one piece.
"Okay," Ji-a was uncomfortably perky for having just outpaced them for close to an hour - even though she was more than a foot shorter than Sam, "Go get changed. Class starts soon!"
She pulled off her shoes and headed for the stairs. Dean caught himself staring. It was lucky she was hot or there's no way he would have stayed. The ultra-cheap accommodations were great and all, but he wasn't enjoying the grinding training. And he knew they'd just barely gotten started. Slowly and laboriously, Dean followed her up the stairs.
Ji-a dumped a set of clothes on the coffee table.
"Here," she said, "It should fit."
"What's this?" Dean asked.
"Given you just ran 6 miles in jeans and work boots I thought maybe you would want something else for class," she said, "I keep the gym hot. I don't want you passing out. My brother in law uses this set when he comes to town. They'll be a little snug on you. Sam's on his own. See you downstairs!"
She grabbed a cup of green tea and a glass bottle full of cloudy liquid from the countertop and skipped down the stairs.
"Wait…brother-in-law?" Dean muttered to himself. Was she married?
"Where the hell does she get that energy?" Sam asked, emerging from the hot pink, k-pop bedroom.
"No freakin' clue," Dean replied.
"Maybe it's the tofu?" Sam offered.
Dean snorted as he looked at the clothes she'd handed him. Best he could tell it was a pair of black footless tights and bright red shorts. Great.
—
Dean and Sam made it downstairs and found five men - all a decade their junior - and one woman in her early forties chatting as they warmed up in the gym.
Ji-a stood in one corner, lighting incense and fiddling with the thermostat.
Dean pulled at the too-small red shorts Ji-a had given him, realizing this must be the standard Muay Thai getup as he looked around the room. All five of the other students, plus Ji-a, wore tights with shorts, the men were shirtless, the woman in a sports bra, and Ji-a in another Case Western t-shirt. Sam felt indescribably awkward, wearing his literal pajamas. Athletic wear wasn't really in their wheelhouse.
"Okay!" Ji-a was still absurdly energetic, "Grab jump ropes. I want a thousand reps. Then we'll stretch and get started."
Dean was dripping sweat before the class was done. His shins were killing him. His knuckles were almost bleeding. And Ji-a was still smiley. How? What the heck was the woman on? They were done with what she casually referred to as "real training" now on to cooling down and stretching out in the last ten or so minute before class ended. Ji-a had shed her t-shirt when they switched from warming up and kicking pads to sparring. And she still had it off now, as she bent over her legs in butterfly position. Dean found himself repeatedly distracted by how her sweaty sports bra clung to her body.
"Great class everybody," Ji-a said, getting to her feet, "Same time Monday!"
As the other students filed out Sam and Dean both slumped to the floor. They liked to consider themselves tough. They liked to consider themselves strong. But this was killer. They hadn't hit hard though - except in sparring, and with even pairs Ji-a had spent that half hour coaching rather than training - which left Dean wondering, could she actually fight? Or was she just some kinda ultra-fit yoga chick like Lisa?
Ji-a sat down in front of them. The tattoos marking her chest, arms and shoulders glistened with sweat. Dean recognized two or three of the seven Buddhist protective warding glyphs along her collarbone and also noted a tiger up one forearm and a line of Thai characters up the other.
"I'm guessing that's gonna be a hard pass on private training today?" Ji-a chuckled.
"We're good…" Sam panted.
"No, no we're not," Dean cut his brother off. Ji-a raised an eyebrow.
"Excuse me?" Sam asked, irritated.
"I want to see you fight," Dean said, "I want to know you're legit."
"I just taught a ninety minute kickboxing class. Is that not sufficient evidence?"
"You didn't spar," Dean pointed out.
"There were eight of you," Ji-a countered.
"Fight him," Dean instructed, pointing at Sam.
"Seriously?" Sam wailed.
"Yeah," Dean hauled his brother up by the shoulder.
"Fine," Ji-a agreed, "You ready?"
Sam sighed, then nodded.
"Alright," Ji-a shrugged. Sam swung at her, hard and clipped her shoulder. Ji-a hissed, but didn't back down. Instead she ducked past his fist to get into range and landed a quick combination of a hard kick to his lower leg and then an elbow to his gut. Sam doubled over and Ji-a stepped back, massaging her shoulder.
"You hit hard," she noted, "Nice work."
She turned her gaze to Dean.
"Happy?"
"Very," he murmured. He was falling for this chick. This was very, very bad.