SGA Ficlet: Out Of Bounds snippet
Apr. 25th, 2006 11:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
icarusI'm not sure if this is the next part or not, and it's not very long, but to tide myself and everyone else over....
In the dull gray light that filtered through the tiny stack of windows in John's bathroom, John stripped off his shirt and tossed it to the floor, running his hands tiredly over his face. He kicked off his underwear and winced, feeling every muscle in his body. He stooped to pick them up, then decided that, bending down too far-? Not a good thing.
He didn't bother to turn on the lights.
Sitting on the cold toilet seat he cringed and examined today's "collection." The big bruise on his knee was turning greenish-yellow, but it was overlaid with a smaller dark purple stab from the back of his blade. He tipped open his right thigh to follow the long scrape and dark indentation from a simple spin he'd done when he was too tired. Skate slid out and he went down while he was still in tuck.
It was the stupid ones that bugged him.
He twisted and examined the outside of his left thigh. The left leg always took less damage. There was nothing wrong with that knee.
The left elbow was another story. John turned it towards the light, feeling the almost-good-but-kinda-not soreness. No bruise there but there should be. He squinted at it and worried a second, before he reached for the Arnica lotion his former coach had sworn by, slowly working it into the new tender areas that didn't show any damage, yet. John was never sure if or how homeopathy worked, but anything to avoid a trip to the doctor's.
He stood, slowly, his muscles stiff from sitting in the cold even that long. With a limp he reached into the old clawfoot tub. Cold then hot water spurted over his hand. He fiddled with the knobs but the old building never really got consistent temperatures.
As the water steamed, he groaned inwardly, remembering one other thing on the to-do list today.
He left the water running and crossed the apartment to his closet -- and if anyone saw him naked it was their problem -- digging out an old suit with dusty shoulders. He brushed it off, then grabbed the laundry detergent and a pillowcase of clothes and tossed them into the bathroom. The suit he hung on the bathroom door. Steam should take care of most of the wrinkles.
Shampoo stung on cut knuckles he'd neglected, and John stood in the shower just letting the hot water run in rivulets down his back, an arm braced against the wall. Then he shut off the shower, and scrubbing a rough towel over his chest and back, he tossed in the plug and let cooler water run. He emptied the pillowcase of clothes in the tub, letting it fill with splash of detergent. Saved hours at the laundromat. The suit was still wrinkled, but John didn't care all that much.
It was eleven o'clock but he'd already been up for eight hours.
He sank into bed to take a nap.
In the dull gray light that filtered through the tiny stack of windows in John's bathroom, John stripped off his shirt and tossed it to the floor, running his hands tiredly over his face. He kicked off his underwear and winced, feeling every muscle in his body. He stooped to pick them up, then decided that, bending down too far-? Not a good thing.
He didn't bother to turn on the lights.
Sitting on the cold toilet seat he cringed and examined today's "collection." The big bruise on his knee was turning greenish-yellow, but it was overlaid with a smaller dark purple stab from the back of his blade. He tipped open his right thigh to follow the long scrape and dark indentation from a simple spin he'd done when he was too tired. Skate slid out and he went down while he was still in tuck.
It was the stupid ones that bugged him.
He twisted and examined the outside of his left thigh. The left leg always took less damage. There was nothing wrong with that knee.
The left elbow was another story. John turned it towards the light, feeling the almost-good-but-kinda-not soreness. No bruise there but there should be. He squinted at it and worried a second, before he reached for the Arnica lotion his former coach had sworn by, slowly working it into the new tender areas that didn't show any damage, yet. John was never sure if or how homeopathy worked, but anything to avoid a trip to the doctor's.
He stood, slowly, his muscles stiff from sitting in the cold even that long. With a limp he reached into the old clawfoot tub. Cold then hot water spurted over his hand. He fiddled with the knobs but the old building never really got consistent temperatures.
As the water steamed, he groaned inwardly, remembering one other thing on the to-do list today.
He left the water running and crossed the apartment to his closet -- and if anyone saw him naked it was their problem -- digging out an old suit with dusty shoulders. He brushed it off, then grabbed the laundry detergent and a pillowcase of clothes and tossed them into the bathroom. The suit he hung on the bathroom door. Steam should take care of most of the wrinkles.
Shampoo stung on cut knuckles he'd neglected, and John stood in the shower just letting the hot water run in rivulets down his back, an arm braced against the wall. Then he shut off the shower, and scrubbing a rough towel over his chest and back, he tossed in the plug and let cooler water run. He emptied the pillowcase of clothes in the tub, letting it fill with splash of detergent. Saved hours at the laundromat. The suit was still wrinkled, but John didn't care all that much.
It was eleven o'clock but he'd already been up for eight hours.
He sank into bed to take a nap.
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Date: 2006-04-28 07:09 am (UTC)Icarus