SGA Fic: Out Of Bounds - John/Rodney - NC-17
Another longish update while I struggle with the final freeskate scene. Why is this so haaaaaarrrrrd?
The story in one file up to an earlier chapter: Out Of Bounds.
Title: Out Of Bounds
Author: Icarus
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: John/Rodney
Summary: One thing about having a yoga instructor who was six foot four with a lion's mane of dreadlocks: he certainly stood out in the milling crowd around the snack stands.
A/N: Thank you once again to my tireless betas (we're having fun), rabidfan and roaringmice, and now tingler.
Previously in Out Of Bounds: Known more for his jumps than his artistry, figure skater John Sheppard hires ex-skating champion and "artiste" Rodney McKay to be his coach. Their teasing friendship warms into something more. After a year of training and preparation... the U.S. Championships.
[Previous][Next]
Out Of Bounds
by Icarus
The laughter of the crowd was muffled through the glass of the box seats. Behind Radek, the caterer adjusted the heat on the chafing dishes and refilled them. Coffee was replenished with fresh pots.
Radek didn't think these were the best seats in the house. For figure skating he preferred to hear the sound of the skates, right by the ice. But Trevor Morton of the USFSA had been an obliging host, and it did have privacy and data ports for everyone's laptops. Not to mention the private bathrooms, which were nice.
"They like him," Trevor said, nodding approvingly to where John was gingerly stepping off the Kiss N' Cry platform, followed by Rodney and then Sonja. "Cussing like a sailor and folks are yukking it up. If Fletcher had done that we'd have a mess." Trevor folded open and powered up his laptop.
"What are you doing?"
"Contacting our webmaster. If Sheppard's popular I want photos on the web site, pronto. And his bio had better damn well be up to date-ah, hell. Nobody gets anything done around here. Please, someone tell me he's straight."
"There were some rumors about him and Yvonne during Skate for a Cure over Christmas," Radek offered.
"Close enough," Trevor said cheerfully. "And charity work, too, that's helpful. Let me call the publicist... sorry about this...." he added, glancing over his shoulder as he flipped open his cell phone.
~*~*~
As two Zambonis purred in opposite directions resurfacing the ice for the last group, John climbed the arena steps two at a time.
One thing about having a yoga instructor who was six foot four with a lion's mane of dreadlocks: he certainly stood out in the milling crowd around the snack stands. Ronon spotted John, probably from the turquoise glitter on the Hawaiian print, and waved him over with a corn dog.
John pushed his way through a group of older women in L. L. Bean jackets, and recognized Jeff Kulka in line at the Starbucks. John found a clear spot for them out of the way by the window, behind a display of cheap stuffed animals.
"So... what do you think?" John grinned.
Ronon's laughter was evident in his smile. "It's kind of girly."
John tipped his head with an undulating roll of his shoulders. "True...."
Ronon nodded once, conceding, "There is some pretty impressive stuff in there. The jumps for one."
"So you like it?"
"Eh." Ronon squinted and wrinkled his nose. Although he was still smiling and his eyes twinkled. "I wouldn't go that far." He slapped John on the shoulder, gruffly, beaming with pride. "But I won't hold it against you."
~*~*~
"And the final standings after the short program: Kyle Fletcher turned in a solid performance. He is in first place. Then a newcomer unexpectedly took second."
"Yes! Eighteen-year-old Elijah Wong turned in a stellar performance at the West Coast Sectional, and he is doing very well here tonight."
"He beat most of our most seasoned skaters in the short. But a lot can change in the much tougher long program. Now, David Bellamy has recovered from a weak season overall and is currently in third."
"He married Cherisse Grant, an ice dancer, just last winter."
"Maybe he's finally back from the honeymoon?"
"Looks like!" They laughed.
"Following him in fourth is John Sheppard, with Christian Yong-Suk in fifth, and then finally, the surprise of the night, Jeff Kulka bringing up the rear in sixth place."
"But like you say, a lot could change in the freeskate. While technical skaters like Yong-Suk and Sheppard might temporarily outmatch Kulka in the short, Kulka really shines in the artistic presentation of the freeskate."
"We'll see this Friday night. In the meantime, join us tomorrow night for the women's short program at 8pm eastern standard time on ABC."
~*~*~
The ice machine at their hotel hummed and rattled, then made a faint churning sound. John scooped out two buckets full, gripped one in the crook of his arm, the other in his fist and trudged back down the hall to his hotel room. After a week of competition the atmosphere in the hotel was quiet and tense, overlaid with exhaustion. Two teenagers sharing a room slammed a door, while rap music played behind another. John passed what sounded like an argument. The entire hotel had been booked for the competitors, giving it the feel of a college dorm.
He reached his own room and knocked with his elbow. Rodney answered immediately.
"Ah, good." Rodney snatched away one of the buckets and padded barefoot to the bathroom. Several other buckets of ice were lined up on the tile. "I waited to run the bath." He turned the cold water on full.
He returned and ordered John to strip. Then he ran his hands down John's legs, frowning, his thumbs kneading the muscles, not sexually, but the way one would check a thoroughbred for injuries. Leaned back on his elbows, John handed him the tube of Arnica cream.
"You believe this voodoo?" Rodney asked.
John shrugged one shoulder. "If it works."
"Pla-ce-bo," Rodney said in a mocking tone, but he worked it in anyway.
The bath was half full and Rodney crossed the room to shut the tap off. John stretched and followed with understandable reluctance. He helped Rodney dump in the rest of the ice.
Gingerly, John stepped in. He lowered himself, stretching out the injured leg first, his teeth gritted, face calm and disciplined. Once all the way in the water, he let out a breath.
"Come on in," he told Rodney, "the water's great." John gave him a tight smirk.
Rodney tilted his own smile at him, eyes bright and alive with humor. "Ah, yes, you see, when you coach, you switch--" He indicated moving from one place to another with a little hopping arc of his hands. "--from masochism to sadism. That's the fun part."
He added more ice with entirely too much glee. John tipped his head back and laughed.
~*~*~
"You are watching live coverage of the 1999 U.S. Figure Skating Championships. Tonight we have the women's short program. The women are currently on the ice, warming up." The camera zoomed in on a girl in yellow, cutting into a spin. "There's the current reigning champion, twenty-two year old Yvonne Shaeffer ... our hometown girl. She's from Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and took the silver at last year's World championships."
"Yes, though she barely held onto second last year. This year she didn't quite make it to the Grand Prix final. She performed brilliantly at Skate America, but then crashed and burned at Trophée Lalique. The competition is always so tight in women's figure skating. She has to be feeling the pressure."
The camera wandered over the crowd. It paused, focusing on a woman with dyed red hair and a broad face with a slight downturn at the corners of her mouth. John stood next to her, hands clasped where he leaned his elbows on the railing. He nodded to something she said.
"There we have her mother, Mrs. Madeline Shaeffer."
"Maddy's done so much for figure skating. Next to her, on the right is Yvonne's skating partner from Skate for a Cure, John Sheppard."
"Sheppard and Yvonne are said to be very close. He'll be competing this week as well, in the men's freeskate tomorrow."
"No doubt he's pulling for her tonight."
The camera returned briefly to the skaters on the ice as one of them completed a jump. Then the network cut to a sign that read: "We Love You, Yvonne! Your #1 Fans!" The teenagers holding it realized they were on television and shook it. They pointed out the camera to one another, grinning.
"And here we have Yvonne's number one fans." The announcer chuckled.
The other laughed. "The sign says so!"
"Who are we to argue with that?"
[Previous][Next]
The story in one file up to an earlier chapter: Out Of Bounds.
Title: Out Of Bounds
Author: Icarus
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: John/Rodney
Summary: One thing about having a yoga instructor who was six foot four with a lion's mane of dreadlocks: he certainly stood out in the milling crowd around the snack stands.
A/N: Thank you once again to my tireless betas (we're having fun), rabidfan and roaringmice, and now tingler.
Previously in Out Of Bounds: Known more for his jumps than his artistry, figure skater John Sheppard hires ex-skating champion and "artiste" Rodney McKay to be his coach. Their teasing friendship warms into something more. After a year of training and preparation... the U.S. Championships.
[Previous][Next]
Out Of Bounds
by Icarus
The laughter of the crowd was muffled through the glass of the box seats. Behind Radek, the caterer adjusted the heat on the chafing dishes and refilled them. Coffee was replenished with fresh pots.
Radek didn't think these were the best seats in the house. For figure skating he preferred to hear the sound of the skates, right by the ice. But Trevor Morton of the USFSA had been an obliging host, and it did have privacy and data ports for everyone's laptops. Not to mention the private bathrooms, which were nice.
"They like him," Trevor said, nodding approvingly to where John was gingerly stepping off the Kiss N' Cry platform, followed by Rodney and then Sonja. "Cussing like a sailor and folks are yukking it up. If Fletcher had done that we'd have a mess." Trevor folded open and powered up his laptop.
"What are you doing?"
"Contacting our webmaster. If Sheppard's popular I want photos on the web site, pronto. And his bio had better damn well be up to date-ah, hell. Nobody gets anything done around here. Please, someone tell me he's straight."
"There were some rumors about him and Yvonne during Skate for a Cure over Christmas," Radek offered.
"Close enough," Trevor said cheerfully. "And charity work, too, that's helpful. Let me call the publicist... sorry about this...." he added, glancing over his shoulder as he flipped open his cell phone.
~*~*~
As two Zambonis purred in opposite directions resurfacing the ice for the last group, John climbed the arena steps two at a time.
One thing about having a yoga instructor who was six foot four with a lion's mane of dreadlocks: he certainly stood out in the milling crowd around the snack stands. Ronon spotted John, probably from the turquoise glitter on the Hawaiian print, and waved him over with a corn dog.
John pushed his way through a group of older women in L. L. Bean jackets, and recognized Jeff Kulka in line at the Starbucks. John found a clear spot for them out of the way by the window, behind a display of cheap stuffed animals.
"So... what do you think?" John grinned.
Ronon's laughter was evident in his smile. "It's kind of girly."
John tipped his head with an undulating roll of his shoulders. "True...."
Ronon nodded once, conceding, "There is some pretty impressive stuff in there. The jumps for one."
"So you like it?"
"Eh." Ronon squinted and wrinkled his nose. Although he was still smiling and his eyes twinkled. "I wouldn't go that far." He slapped John on the shoulder, gruffly, beaming with pride. "But I won't hold it against you."
~*~*~
"And the final standings after the short program: Kyle Fletcher turned in a solid performance. He is in first place. Then a newcomer unexpectedly took second."
"Yes! Eighteen-year-old Elijah Wong turned in a stellar performance at the West Coast Sectional, and he is doing very well here tonight."
"He beat most of our most seasoned skaters in the short. But a lot can change in the much tougher long program. Now, David Bellamy has recovered from a weak season overall and is currently in third."
"He married Cherisse Grant, an ice dancer, just last winter."
"Maybe he's finally back from the honeymoon?"
"Looks like!" They laughed.
"Following him in fourth is John Sheppard, with Christian Yong-Suk in fifth, and then finally, the surprise of the night, Jeff Kulka bringing up the rear in sixth place."
"But like you say, a lot could change in the freeskate. While technical skaters like Yong-Suk and Sheppard might temporarily outmatch Kulka in the short, Kulka really shines in the artistic presentation of the freeskate."
"We'll see this Friday night. In the meantime, join us tomorrow night for the women's short program at 8pm eastern standard time on ABC."
~*~*~
The ice machine at their hotel hummed and rattled, then made a faint churning sound. John scooped out two buckets full, gripped one in the crook of his arm, the other in his fist and trudged back down the hall to his hotel room. After a week of competition the atmosphere in the hotel was quiet and tense, overlaid with exhaustion. Two teenagers sharing a room slammed a door, while rap music played behind another. John passed what sounded like an argument. The entire hotel had been booked for the competitors, giving it the feel of a college dorm.
He reached his own room and knocked with his elbow. Rodney answered immediately.
"Ah, good." Rodney snatched away one of the buckets and padded barefoot to the bathroom. Several other buckets of ice were lined up on the tile. "I waited to run the bath." He turned the cold water on full.
He returned and ordered John to strip. Then he ran his hands down John's legs, frowning, his thumbs kneading the muscles, not sexually, but the way one would check a thoroughbred for injuries. Leaned back on his elbows, John handed him the tube of Arnica cream.
"You believe this voodoo?" Rodney asked.
John shrugged one shoulder. "If it works."
"Pla-ce-bo," Rodney said in a mocking tone, but he worked it in anyway.
The bath was half full and Rodney crossed the room to shut the tap off. John stretched and followed with understandable reluctance. He helped Rodney dump in the rest of the ice.
Gingerly, John stepped in. He lowered himself, stretching out the injured leg first, his teeth gritted, face calm and disciplined. Once all the way in the water, he let out a breath.
"Come on in," he told Rodney, "the water's great." John gave him a tight smirk.
Rodney tilted his own smile at him, eyes bright and alive with humor. "Ah, yes, you see, when you coach, you switch--" He indicated moving from one place to another with a little hopping arc of his hands. "--from masochism to sadism. That's the fun part."
He added more ice with entirely too much glee. John tipped his head back and laughed.
~*~*~
"You are watching live coverage of the 1999 U.S. Figure Skating Championships. Tonight we have the women's short program. The women are currently on the ice, warming up." The camera zoomed in on a girl in yellow, cutting into a spin. "There's the current reigning champion, twenty-two year old Yvonne Shaeffer ... our hometown girl. She's from Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and took the silver at last year's World championships."
"Yes, though she barely held onto second last year. This year she didn't quite make it to the Grand Prix final. She performed brilliantly at Skate America, but then crashed and burned at Trophée Lalique. The competition is always so tight in women's figure skating. She has to be feeling the pressure."
The camera wandered over the crowd. It paused, focusing on a woman with dyed red hair and a broad face with a slight downturn at the corners of her mouth. John stood next to her, hands clasped where he leaned his elbows on the railing. He nodded to something she said.
"There we have her mother, Mrs. Madeline Shaeffer."
"Maddy's done so much for figure skating. Next to her, on the right is Yvonne's skating partner from Skate for a Cure, John Sheppard."
"Sheppard and Yvonne are said to be very close. He'll be competing this week as well, in the men's freeskate tomorrow."
"No doubt he's pulling for her tonight."
The camera returned briefly to the skaters on the ice as one of them completed a jump. Then the network cut to a sign that read: "We Love You, Yvonne! Your #1 Fans!" The teenagers holding it realized they were on television and shook it. They pointed out the camera to one another, grinning.
"And here we have Yvonne's number one fans." The announcer chuckled.
The other laughed. "The sign says so!"
"Who are we to argue with that?"
[Previous][Next]