Happy Boostlethon, chaoticblades!
Gymnastics Lessons
(or, A Lesson in Failure)
by: Ryface (rhymed)
for: ChaoticBlades
Prompt: Ted teaching Booster gymnastics.
"Y'know, I'm really starting to think this wasn't your greatest idea," said Booster, who was hanging upside down by his ankle, his foot caught in a steady ring. The gold of his costume shone under the spotlights like the scales of a particularly beautiful but tragically stupid tropical fish stuck upside down by its foot in his best friend's private gymnasium.
Or something. Metaphors were neither hero's strong suit.
"You're the one who said you wished you were more agile," said Ted, looking up from the book in front of him, titled Teaching Dummies, For Dummies. "How did you even manage that, anyway? Those rings are meant for your hands!"
"You could've told me that earlier! And yeah, okay, maybe I said that and maybe I didn't," Booster whined. "But I don't see how hanging from a ring is supposed to make me more agile!" He flailed a little and his foot slipped free. Ted had made him take off his flight ring ("It's cheating, holding yourself up with tech instead of your own body," he'd said), so he collapsed to the mat in an undignified heap.
"It's to build up your upper body strength and work on your balance," said Ted, finally setting the book aside.
"Upper body strength?" cried Booster, incredulously. "Teddy, Beetle, buddy, pal, have you seen my upper body lately?" He sat up and flexed his arms, striking a pose that would've made even the most ridiculous carnival strongman a little embarrassed for him. "Just look at these things!"
Ted gave him the most blank stare he could manage.
Booster pouted, arms still held above his head, flexing his biceps sadly.
"Let's try something else," Ted muttered, rubbing his temples.
--
"So wait, I'm supposed to... do what exactly?" Booster stared up at the high bar.
"Spin so you go around the bar, then jump off and land," Ted explained again, as patiently as he could manage. "I know you've seen me do basically the exact same thing dozens of times."
"The most I see you do is sit in a chair in front of a monitor eating donuts," Booster muttered.
"Just grab the bar, Booster." Ted resisted the urge to throttle his best friend, but only just.
Booster adjusted the weird gloves Ted had made him wear, brushing some of the powder around on the grips. He looked up at the bar, over at Ted, back up at the bar, shrugged, and jumped.
And missed the bar entirely.
"Do you need a step stool?" Ted asked, grinning a way that Booster would generally describe as "like a stupid bastard jerk". It was a grin he was more used to seeing on Guy. He knew they'd been spending too much time together...
"I've got this," said Booster, somewhat grouchily.
"Usually," said Ted, taking pity on him, "someone would help you up, so..." He stood behind Booster, hands going to his sides. "Jump up, and I'll lift you."
Booster hummed a few bars of "I've Had the Time of My Life".
Ted pinched him.
--
"I think I'm going to need a visual demonstration of this one," Booster said, eyeing the pommel horse warily.
"I really thought you'd be better at this," remarked Ted, climbing onto the equipment, "seeing as you're this great athlete and all."
"Football and flopping around in tights are two different things!" Booster protested, pointedly ignoring the fact that he was at that moment, in fact, wearing the futuristic and heroic equivalent of tights.
"Don't football players wear tights?" Ted grinned at him, and straddled the horse.
Booster didn't get a chance to respond, because he was suddenly distracted by the flex of Ted's arms as he started spinning his legs around the horse, then pulled himself up into a handstand, still spinning himself around in carefully controlled circles. This wasn't at all like what Ted had described. This was actually kind of... beautiful.
Booster pinched himself this time as Ted dismounted.
"I think I'm going to skip this one," he decided.
--
"Okay, maybe we should've started off with this," said Ted, as they approached a large floor mat.
"With the floor?" asked Booster.
"With the basics," said Ted. "Can you even do a cartwheel?"
Booster tried one.
It didn't go well.
"How about just a handstand?" Ted rubbed at his temples again.
"Y'know, I think I'm about ready to admit that this is harder than it looks," Booster wheezed from where he'd landed flat on his back.
"You gonna take back that comment about flopping around in tights?" asked Ted.
"No."
"Then you're going to learn how to turn a decent cartwheel."
"Teeeeeeed," Booster whined.
"Get up, you manchild." Ted held out his hand.
"Manchild?" Booster took Ted's hand and pulled himself to his feet.
"Here, stand like this." Ted manhandled him into position.
"If you wanted to get your hands all over me, you could've just asked." Booster flashed the kind of smile he usually reserved for magazine shoots over his shoulder.
"Don't make me pinch you again."
"Prude."
"Focus, Booster," said Ted. "Keep your legs spread apart, and--"
Booster snickered.
"And extend your arms above your head," Ted continued, pulling Booster's arms up none-too-gently. "Keep your elbows straight, but bend your wrists when you put your weight on your hands. Think you can handle it?"
"With a teacher like you, how could I screw it up?"
Ted declined to answer, and stepped back.
Booster eyed the ground in front of him, and pushed into the cartwheel--
--and made it halfway up onto his hands before toppling over again.
"Ow," said Booster.
"I think we need to face the facts here," said Ted, offering Booster a hand up again. "You're just not meant to be a gymnast."
Booster grinned and took Ted's hand. "Oh, I dunno," he said, and yanked his friend down instead of pulling himself up. "I think there's one area I could demonstrate some flexibility in..."
--
An hour and a half later, there were various pieces of spandex costume strewn across the gym mats. Booster's pants were hanging from the high bar. Ted's boxers were in a crumpled pile under the pommel horse (which was now slippery with things that no pommel horse should ever have to have on it).
"Okay," said Ted, breathless and naked and sweaty, and half underneath an equally naked and sweaty Booster. "I think we found the only thing you're good at in here."
Booster chuckled, and pinched him.
-end
(or, A Lesson in Failure)
by: Ryface (rhymed)
for: ChaoticBlades
Prompt: Ted teaching Booster gymnastics.
"Y'know, I'm really starting to think this wasn't your greatest idea," said Booster, who was hanging upside down by his ankle, his foot caught in a steady ring. The gold of his costume shone under the spotlights like the scales of a particularly beautiful but tragically stupid tropical fish stuck upside down by its foot in his best friend's private gymnasium.
Or something. Metaphors were neither hero's strong suit.
"You're the one who said you wished you were more agile," said Ted, looking up from the book in front of him, titled Teaching Dummies, For Dummies. "How did you even manage that, anyway? Those rings are meant for your hands!"
"You could've told me that earlier! And yeah, okay, maybe I said that and maybe I didn't," Booster whined. "But I don't see how hanging from a ring is supposed to make me more agile!" He flailed a little and his foot slipped free. Ted had made him take off his flight ring ("It's cheating, holding yourself up with tech instead of your own body," he'd said), so he collapsed to the mat in an undignified heap.
"It's to build up your upper body strength and work on your balance," said Ted, finally setting the book aside.
"Upper body strength?" cried Booster, incredulously. "Teddy, Beetle, buddy, pal, have you seen my upper body lately?" He sat up and flexed his arms, striking a pose that would've made even the most ridiculous carnival strongman a little embarrassed for him. "Just look at these things!"
Ted gave him the most blank stare he could manage.
Booster pouted, arms still held above his head, flexing his biceps sadly.
"Let's try something else," Ted muttered, rubbing his temples.
--
"So wait, I'm supposed to... do what exactly?" Booster stared up at the high bar.
"Spin so you go around the bar, then jump off and land," Ted explained again, as patiently as he could manage. "I know you've seen me do basically the exact same thing dozens of times."
"The most I see you do is sit in a chair in front of a monitor eating donuts," Booster muttered.
"Just grab the bar, Booster." Ted resisted the urge to throttle his best friend, but only just.
Booster adjusted the weird gloves Ted had made him wear, brushing some of the powder around on the grips. He looked up at the bar, over at Ted, back up at the bar, shrugged, and jumped.
And missed the bar entirely.
"Do you need a step stool?" Ted asked, grinning a way that Booster would generally describe as "like a stupid bastard jerk". It was a grin he was more used to seeing on Guy. He knew they'd been spending too much time together...
"I've got this," said Booster, somewhat grouchily.
"Usually," said Ted, taking pity on him, "someone would help you up, so..." He stood behind Booster, hands going to his sides. "Jump up, and I'll lift you."
Booster hummed a few bars of "I've Had the Time of My Life".
Ted pinched him.
--
"I think I'm going to need a visual demonstration of this one," Booster said, eyeing the pommel horse warily.
"I really thought you'd be better at this," remarked Ted, climbing onto the equipment, "seeing as you're this great athlete and all."
"Football and flopping around in tights are two different things!" Booster protested, pointedly ignoring the fact that he was at that moment, in fact, wearing the futuristic and heroic equivalent of tights.
"Don't football players wear tights?" Ted grinned at him, and straddled the horse.
Booster didn't get a chance to respond, because he was suddenly distracted by the flex of Ted's arms as he started spinning his legs around the horse, then pulled himself up into a handstand, still spinning himself around in carefully controlled circles. This wasn't at all like what Ted had described. This was actually kind of... beautiful.
Booster pinched himself this time as Ted dismounted.
"I think I'm going to skip this one," he decided.
--
"Okay, maybe we should've started off with this," said Ted, as they approached a large floor mat.
"With the floor?" asked Booster.
"With the basics," said Ted. "Can you even do a cartwheel?"
Booster tried one.
It didn't go well.
"How about just a handstand?" Ted rubbed at his temples again.
"Y'know, I think I'm about ready to admit that this is harder than it looks," Booster wheezed from where he'd landed flat on his back.
"You gonna take back that comment about flopping around in tights?" asked Ted.
"No."
"Then you're going to learn how to turn a decent cartwheel."
"Teeeeeeed," Booster whined.
"Get up, you manchild." Ted held out his hand.
"Manchild?" Booster took Ted's hand and pulled himself to his feet.
"Here, stand like this." Ted manhandled him into position.
"If you wanted to get your hands all over me, you could've just asked." Booster flashed the kind of smile he usually reserved for magazine shoots over his shoulder.
"Don't make me pinch you again."
"Prude."
"Focus, Booster," said Ted. "Keep your legs spread apart, and--"
Booster snickered.
"And extend your arms above your head," Ted continued, pulling Booster's arms up none-too-gently. "Keep your elbows straight, but bend your wrists when you put your weight on your hands. Think you can handle it?"
"With a teacher like you, how could I screw it up?"
Ted declined to answer, and stepped back.
Booster eyed the ground in front of him, and pushed into the cartwheel--
--and made it halfway up onto his hands before toppling over again.
"Ow," said Booster.
"I think we need to face the facts here," said Ted, offering Booster a hand up again. "You're just not meant to be a gymnast."
Booster grinned and took Ted's hand. "Oh, I dunno," he said, and yanked his friend down instead of pulling himself up. "I think there's one area I could demonstrate some flexibility in..."
--
An hour and a half later, there were various pieces of spandex costume strewn across the gym mats. Booster's pants were hanging from the high bar. Ted's boxers were in a crumpled pile under the pommel horse (which was now slippery with things that no pommel horse should ever have to have on it).
"Okay," said Ted, breathless and naked and sweaty, and half underneath an equally naked and sweaty Booster. "I think we found the only thing you're good at in here."
Booster chuckled, and pinched him.
-end