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icarusI hope this is okay, because I'm tired and groggy and have no idea. The music is coming soon.
Part one: 'Get back out there.' – 'No. I'm taking up hockey. It'll *hurt* less.'
Part two: 'So why do we have to skate in the nude again?'
Part three: Naturally, John had brought the boom box but had forgotten to bring any music.
Part four: Rodney wondered if John knew 'Mustang Sally' was a favorite with strippers the world over.
Part five: 'This is hero worship, isn't it?'
Part six: 'Me coach. You student. You keep forgetting that lately.'
Part seven: It was just hockey, not a cardinal sin.
Part eight: I'm sure when we were being chased by sabre-toothed tigers we did all kinds of neat tricks.
Part nine: 'You want to be alone?' Kim-the-unutterably-stupid asked.
Part ten: He mentally took back his den and no longer had to worry about John's exercise equipment.
Part eleven: 'I take American Express.'
Part twelve: Give John a spotlight and what does he do? Skate in the dark.
Out Of Bonds
by Icarus
The best thing about sunglasses was you could lean back and just seem like you were chilling out, when in fact you were watching everyone around you. Or more specifically, Rodney. His wide gestures as he talked. The bounce to his step as he hopped up into the trolley.
Of course, it probably looked a little strange that John was wearing them in the mall, but oh well. John folded his arms firmly across his chest and pretended to examine a row of socks as he watched Rodney scrabble into an over-sized sweater with the eager air of a hen feathering its nest.
Rodney was one of those people who did a lot of touching, which John was not used to. His family wasn’t the touchy-feely sort. He bumped John's hip as they slid into a seat on the trolley, brushed John's shoulder as he held open the glass door to the mall, and right now stood way inside the store clerk's personal space as they chatted about fall colors or something -- to Rodney, clerks were a cross between servants and personal fashion consultants. He put his hand on her back, guiding her to the sale items, still talking. Rodney didn't seem to notice and it was done with such careless enthusiasm that no one seemed to mind. Or have a choice, really.
They rang up Rodney's purchases and John turned his back to fumble in his pockets, fingering the hard edge of the CD -- he'd managed a little extra stop while Rodney was busy in the dressing room. John smiled tightly as he pulled out his credit card and mentally added up the damage. There was no way Rodney had fit all that into one gym bag. On the other hand, it was still short of what John owed, so Rodney was letting him off easy.
As they left the store John pulled out the CD and handed it to him. The little red stick-on bow was still attached, if a bit smushed.
"What's this?"
They stopped in the middle of the crowded mall, a rock in the stream of people. Afternoon shoppers passed around them, busy and distracted.
John simply shrugged. "You forgot something."
Rodney plucked off the bow and mutely turned it over. He read the cover of the CD and glanced up at John, obviously surprised.
"It was the Firebird Suite, wasn't it?" John asked, frowning in worry. He was pretty sure he'd gotten this right.
Rodney stared and then shook his head as if to clear it. "I never told you the title."
"Lucky guess," John joked. When Rodney stared too long, he added with a small sarcastic smile, "I had the nice man at the record store help me out."
"What did you do? Hum it?"
"You're welcome." John patiently slung the rattling paper bags over his shoulder.
~*~*~
"It's my fault, really," Rodney said as he carried his end of the table down the steps. He looked over his shoulder, walking backward. John held his end up too high and kept trying to go faster. They stopped mid-stair, and John gave Rodney a steady glare as Rodney tried to figure out how to maneuver around another landing. "I'd assumed intelligence, creativity…" Rodney cringed as the table rang against the cinderblock wall, chipping the paint, "…and a capacity for imagination. Over the years I've discovered that that's far too great a leap for most people to make."
John rolled his eyes. They bumped through the double-doors to the rink, barking shins on table legs and wincing.
With a grunt, Rodney set his end of the table down on the ice. "There." He pulled the rest of it forward, sliding it along the surface. "Now if you'll just help with the Leiko...." Rodney waved a hand in the general direction of the outlet without looking at John. "What one can't understand instinctively through talent one must approach intellectually."
"So... a table on the ice," John said doubtfully. He picked up the orange extension cord and glanced around. "Are you sure you're allowed to do this?"
"Never question me."
Rodney lifted and examined the bottom of the cylindrical stage light.
"I'll take that as a no," John said. Scrabbling on his hands and knees under the benches, he had apparently figured out where to plug in the long orange extension cord.
"Hmm... not a 'no' precisely." Rodney attached a last wire and dusted his hands off, standing away from his handiwork. The light blazed a white stripe across the ice. "Let's just say that it's difficult to keep up with creative genius. Most rules are created far too late to pose any real inconvenience to me." He put his hands on his hips, then made a quick flicking gesture in John’s general direction. "Kill the other lights, will you?"
The rink went dark, except for the Exit signs on the far corners and a tight brilliantly white beam across the middle of the rink. The sound of John’s gym bag being unzipped seemed suddenly loud.
"Cool!" John’s voice came from somewhere behind Rodney, his dark shape gliding onto the ice. The sharp whisk of his skates echoed as the he turned to do a shadowy spin, sweeping around to touch the ice with a hand.
Give John a spotlight and what does he do? Skate in the dark.
Rodney watched him, bemused. Then he skidded to the edge in his sneakers and more slowly put his own skates.
"So where’d you go the other night?" John asked him, stepping from left to right in bored serpentine steps.
"Mmm… Champions," Rodney admitted, stuffing his foot in a skate and settling his heel solidly in the back. He yanked the laces tight.
"Dirty old man…" John snickered. "You do know that the college kids don’t really go there."
"Well, there were plenty of Koreans. And I seem to recall that you work to do?" Rodney laced up his other skate and stood. "I want you to stand as close to the beam as possible without getting it right in the eyes, so it’s between you and me." Rodney took several gliding steps toward the spotlight.
He stood in front of it and held up his arms. His giant shadow was projected over row upon row of seats. John slid comfortably over to the wall and leaned an elbow on the edge, shading his eyes with his other hand.
"You’re backlit," John complained. "I can barely see you."
"Good. That’s what we want. Now, this part’s a spectator sport. I want you to watch me and tell me what you see." Rodney skated out of the beam for a moment, thinking.
"Well, I have a feeling I’m going to see you, backlit."
Rodney turned in a slow circle behind the light, carefully stepping his skates over the extension cord. He sighed at John’s willful ignorance. "It’s sort of like charades. You guess what I’m trying to show you."
"Ah."
Rodney thought for a moment, a hand to his lip, head down. Then he stroked forward for a little speed, not too much. He tipped up into a leg extension, arms straight out and rigid, bent up sharply at the wrists. As he crossed the light he tipped his arms delicately, to the left then right. His shadow flickered across chairs and the rink. John laughed.
"That looked just like the American Airlines commercial."
"So, noun?" Rodney prompted, snapping his fingers and nodding as he glided on both skates. He let his arms fall and turned in John’s direction, coming to a stop.
"Fly the friendly skies...”"Not giving him the answer he wanted, but it was close enough.
"Airplane," Rodney finally said. "Right."
This time he needed a good head of steam. Rodney skated an entire circuit of the rink, arms pumping as he came around the turn and barreled towards the light, putting one knee down on the ice, the other edge out and sliding him into a spin. A finger pointed in the air, Rodney came to a stop nearly dead center in the spotlight.
"John Travolta?" John guessed.
"Disco, but yes, good, good," Rodney said, getting enthusiastic. He was still catching his breath so he just struck a pose for this next one, a hand on his hip, smoothing over it, back arched, head tipped back.
"Yeah, uh, I don’t think you quite have the figure for that one," John commented.
"Nouns, please," Rodney reminded him.
"Fashion model? Sport Illustrated swimsuit issue?"
"Pin-Up, but close enough." Rodney nodded once, curtly, and dropped the pose.
He struck another pose in the light, this time bent over, chest parallel to the ice, one hand on his knee. John took a long moment before answering.
"You’re in one of those sex slings…?" he said in a hesitant voice.
Rodney shut his eyes, and blinked once. "What?" He slumped as he stood back up. "No."
"Well, that’s what it looks like," John said reluctantly.
Rodney skated away from him in two short steps, hands on his hips as looked up at the ceiling. He snorted.
"What? They’re comfortable!" John said defensively. "You just rock back and forth…."
"Moving right along…" Rodney said, his voice a tight squeak. "That was supposed to be a speed skater."
"That did not look like a speed skater," John argued. "You need to do that thing, you know, with your hand up."
"While skating," Rodney corrected him.
"Now see, that’s the problem with charades. Everybody sees something different," John explained in an amiable voice.
"Aha!" Rodney skated closer. "But you didn’t! You got most of these. Well. In the ballpark anyway." Rodney beamed. "That means I was doing something right."
John nodded, uncomprehending. "Yeah. So what, I win?"
"No. I win," Rodney grinned at him. He held up two fingers as he skated back around the rink again, glancing over his shoulder at John, "Two more!"
He didn’t need as much speed for this one, but it was more impressive if you gave it some fire. Rodney nearly forgot about the extension cord, so had to jump it at the last second, fumbling a step to catch himself. Then he came around the curve, legs straddled wide apart, hands clapped together over his head -- when he hit the light he caught a sudden edge and turned in a fast circle. His hands came down in a gun pointed directly at John.
"James Bond!" John announced, obviously pleased with himself.
Rodney spread his arms and bowed. "You got me." He held up a finger, eyes gleaming. "One more."
He skated through the beam from the left. Then stopped suddenly. He turned around, and skated through it from the right. John squinted and stood away from the edge of the rink, his arms folded. Rodney slid to a stop.
"Hang on. I don’t think I get that one." He nodded, pointing with his chin. "Do it again."
Rodney obliged, smirking. Left to right; then right to left again.
John looked down and shook his head, digging the heel of his skate into the ice absently. "Nope. It doesn’t look like anything to me."
"That’s you!" Rodney spun around and pointed at him. "Between the jumps and the elements, when you should be telling us something, you fall silent."
John stepped forward in a gliding step, hands on his hips with a thoughtful air.
"Can I do 007?" He tore off his track jacket, revealing a sleeveless t-shirt and black fingerless gloves.
"Wait." Rodney skated hurriedly to the edge, stumbling off the ice. He fumbled in his bag. He’d brought the tape just in case John proved to be a little slow, though he needn’t have worried. John was stubborn, yes. But stupid? No. "I have the perfect music for you."
With a smirk, Rodney clicked on the Theme from Get Smart. He turned to John, chin up, with a beaming smirk.
"Very funny," John said mildly, giving Rodney a wry look. His eyes glinted with mischief. "But I’m afraid I didn’t bring my skate phone."
"Ow." Rodney chuckled. "That sounds like something 86 would use…."
"You know, I never figured out how he survived to the next episode?"
"A friend of mine said he’s the most realistic CIA character, but I suspect he was kidding." Rodney switched out the tapes. "Well, since you failed to come properly equipped…."
He pressed play. Henry Mancini poured out of the boombox, the James Bond theme, and John light up with a smile.
John glided low to the ice in a slow smooth circle, picking up speed, his movement silky and perfect for the song. He did have some musical sense. John visibly hesitated as he approached the electrical cord, tongue in the corner of his mouth, then swung his elbows and jumped it head on.
John popped up into the splits, then landed with an awkward stumble. "Sorry, I forgot," he called out to Rodney.
Rodney shook his head at him and answered, "Give me poses, not jumps!"
John nodded but slowed now, his moves uncertain. He stood straight, legs straddled but too close as he spun around once, hands together in a semi-gun, arms tucked in uncomfortably.
Rodney watched him. "Make it a real gun, John."
"This looked easier when you did it," he said.
"You’ve got to believe it. You’re James Bond, and that’s a gun," Rodney explained. But John winced. Rodney sighed. "Stop skating and just do the pose. Here…."
John looked at Rodney with trusting eyes as Rodney made him stand in front of the spotlight, watched as Rodney kicked his skates wider till they cooperated and were shoulder-width.
"Don’t look down!" Rodney scowled, and John’s eyes flicked back up.
He adjusted John’s back straight with a little push to his chest -- holding his hip so it was still, thank you -- then grabbed his shoulders and squared them. John was staring at him wide-eyed when Rodney clapped him on the shoulder, pushing off backward a few feet. "Now you’re good to go."
John’s gaze stayed on Rodney and followed him steadily, eyes intense.
"Gun, John." Rodney reminded him, waving a finger. "Though the smoldering is good. Very James Bond."
James Bond Theme - Mancini
Theme from 'Get Smart'
Next part is here!
Part one: 'Get back out there.' – 'No. I'm taking up hockey. It'll *hurt* less.'
Part two: 'So why do we have to skate in the nude again?'
Part three: Naturally, John had brought the boom box but had forgotten to bring any music.
Part four: Rodney wondered if John knew 'Mustang Sally' was a favorite with strippers the world over.
Part five: 'This is hero worship, isn't it?'
Part six: 'Me coach. You student. You keep forgetting that lately.'
Part seven: It was just hockey, not a cardinal sin.
Part eight: I'm sure when we were being chased by sabre-toothed tigers we did all kinds of neat tricks.
Part nine: 'You want to be alone?' Kim-the-unutterably-stupid asked.
Part ten: He mentally took back his den and no longer had to worry about John's exercise equipment.
Part eleven: 'I take American Express.'
Part twelve: Give John a spotlight and what does he do? Skate in the dark.
Out Of Bonds
by Icarus
The best thing about sunglasses was you could lean back and just seem like you were chilling out, when in fact you were watching everyone around you. Or more specifically, Rodney. His wide gestures as he talked. The bounce to his step as he hopped up into the trolley.
Of course, it probably looked a little strange that John was wearing them in the mall, but oh well. John folded his arms firmly across his chest and pretended to examine a row of socks as he watched Rodney scrabble into an over-sized sweater with the eager air of a hen feathering its nest.
Rodney was one of those people who did a lot of touching, which John was not used to. His family wasn’t the touchy-feely sort. He bumped John's hip as they slid into a seat on the trolley, brushed John's shoulder as he held open the glass door to the mall, and right now stood way inside the store clerk's personal space as they chatted about fall colors or something -- to Rodney, clerks were a cross between servants and personal fashion consultants. He put his hand on her back, guiding her to the sale items, still talking. Rodney didn't seem to notice and it was done with such careless enthusiasm that no one seemed to mind. Or have a choice, really.
They rang up Rodney's purchases and John turned his back to fumble in his pockets, fingering the hard edge of the CD -- he'd managed a little extra stop while Rodney was busy in the dressing room. John smiled tightly as he pulled out his credit card and mentally added up the damage. There was no way Rodney had fit all that into one gym bag. On the other hand, it was still short of what John owed, so Rodney was letting him off easy.
As they left the store John pulled out the CD and handed it to him. The little red stick-on bow was still attached, if a bit smushed.
"What's this?"
They stopped in the middle of the crowded mall, a rock in the stream of people. Afternoon shoppers passed around them, busy and distracted.
John simply shrugged. "You forgot something."
Rodney plucked off the bow and mutely turned it over. He read the cover of the CD and glanced up at John, obviously surprised.
"It was the Firebird Suite, wasn't it?" John asked, frowning in worry. He was pretty sure he'd gotten this right.
Rodney stared and then shook his head as if to clear it. "I never told you the title."
"Lucky guess," John joked. When Rodney stared too long, he added with a small sarcastic smile, "I had the nice man at the record store help me out."
"What did you do? Hum it?"
"You're welcome." John patiently slung the rattling paper bags over his shoulder.
~*~*~
"It's my fault, really," Rodney said as he carried his end of the table down the steps. He looked over his shoulder, walking backward. John held his end up too high and kept trying to go faster. They stopped mid-stair, and John gave Rodney a steady glare as Rodney tried to figure out how to maneuver around another landing. "I'd assumed intelligence, creativity…" Rodney cringed as the table rang against the cinderblock wall, chipping the paint, "…and a capacity for imagination. Over the years I've discovered that that's far too great a leap for most people to make."
John rolled his eyes. They bumped through the double-doors to the rink, barking shins on table legs and wincing.
With a grunt, Rodney set his end of the table down on the ice. "There." He pulled the rest of it forward, sliding it along the surface. "Now if you'll just help with the Leiko...." Rodney waved a hand in the general direction of the outlet without looking at John. "What one can't understand instinctively through talent one must approach intellectually."
"So... a table on the ice," John said doubtfully. He picked up the orange extension cord and glanced around. "Are you sure you're allowed to do this?"
"Never question me."
Rodney lifted and examined the bottom of the cylindrical stage light.
"I'll take that as a no," John said. Scrabbling on his hands and knees under the benches, he had apparently figured out where to plug in the long orange extension cord.
"Hmm... not a 'no' precisely." Rodney attached a last wire and dusted his hands off, standing away from his handiwork. The light blazed a white stripe across the ice. "Let's just say that it's difficult to keep up with creative genius. Most rules are created far too late to pose any real inconvenience to me." He put his hands on his hips, then made a quick flicking gesture in John’s general direction. "Kill the other lights, will you?"
The rink went dark, except for the Exit signs on the far corners and a tight brilliantly white beam across the middle of the rink. The sound of John’s gym bag being unzipped seemed suddenly loud.
"Cool!" John’s voice came from somewhere behind Rodney, his dark shape gliding onto the ice. The sharp whisk of his skates echoed as the he turned to do a shadowy spin, sweeping around to touch the ice with a hand.
Give John a spotlight and what does he do? Skate in the dark.
Rodney watched him, bemused. Then he skidded to the edge in his sneakers and more slowly put his own skates.
"So where’d you go the other night?" John asked him, stepping from left to right in bored serpentine steps.
"Mmm… Champions," Rodney admitted, stuffing his foot in a skate and settling his heel solidly in the back. He yanked the laces tight.
"Dirty old man…" John snickered. "You do know that the college kids don’t really go there."
"Well, there were plenty of Koreans. And I seem to recall that you work to do?" Rodney laced up his other skate and stood. "I want you to stand as close to the beam as possible without getting it right in the eyes, so it’s between you and me." Rodney took several gliding steps toward the spotlight.
He stood in front of it and held up his arms. His giant shadow was projected over row upon row of seats. John slid comfortably over to the wall and leaned an elbow on the edge, shading his eyes with his other hand.
"You’re backlit," John complained. "I can barely see you."
"Good. That’s what we want. Now, this part’s a spectator sport. I want you to watch me and tell me what you see." Rodney skated out of the beam for a moment, thinking.
"Well, I have a feeling I’m going to see you, backlit."
Rodney turned in a slow circle behind the light, carefully stepping his skates over the extension cord. He sighed at John’s willful ignorance. "It’s sort of like charades. You guess what I’m trying to show you."
"Ah."
Rodney thought for a moment, a hand to his lip, head down. Then he stroked forward for a little speed, not too much. He tipped up into a leg extension, arms straight out and rigid, bent up sharply at the wrists. As he crossed the light he tipped his arms delicately, to the left then right. His shadow flickered across chairs and the rink. John laughed.
"That looked just like the American Airlines commercial."
"So, noun?" Rodney prompted, snapping his fingers and nodding as he glided on both skates. He let his arms fall and turned in John’s direction, coming to a stop.
"Fly the friendly skies...”"Not giving him the answer he wanted, but it was close enough.
"Airplane," Rodney finally said. "Right."
This time he needed a good head of steam. Rodney skated an entire circuit of the rink, arms pumping as he came around the turn and barreled towards the light, putting one knee down on the ice, the other edge out and sliding him into a spin. A finger pointed in the air, Rodney came to a stop nearly dead center in the spotlight.
"John Travolta?" John guessed.
"Disco, but yes, good, good," Rodney said, getting enthusiastic. He was still catching his breath so he just struck a pose for this next one, a hand on his hip, smoothing over it, back arched, head tipped back.
"Yeah, uh, I don’t think you quite have the figure for that one," John commented.
"Nouns, please," Rodney reminded him.
"Fashion model? Sport Illustrated swimsuit issue?"
"Pin-Up, but close enough." Rodney nodded once, curtly, and dropped the pose.
He struck another pose in the light, this time bent over, chest parallel to the ice, one hand on his knee. John took a long moment before answering.
"You’re in one of those sex slings…?" he said in a hesitant voice.
Rodney shut his eyes, and blinked once. "What?" He slumped as he stood back up. "No."
"Well, that’s what it looks like," John said reluctantly.
Rodney skated away from him in two short steps, hands on his hips as looked up at the ceiling. He snorted.
"What? They’re comfortable!" John said defensively. "You just rock back and forth…."
"Moving right along…" Rodney said, his voice a tight squeak. "That was supposed to be a speed skater."
"That did not look like a speed skater," John argued. "You need to do that thing, you know, with your hand up."
"While skating," Rodney corrected him.
"Now see, that’s the problem with charades. Everybody sees something different," John explained in an amiable voice.
"Aha!" Rodney skated closer. "But you didn’t! You got most of these. Well. In the ballpark anyway." Rodney beamed. "That means I was doing something right."
John nodded, uncomprehending. "Yeah. So what, I win?"
"No. I win," Rodney grinned at him. He held up two fingers as he skated back around the rink again, glancing over his shoulder at John, "Two more!"
He didn’t need as much speed for this one, but it was more impressive if you gave it some fire. Rodney nearly forgot about the extension cord, so had to jump it at the last second, fumbling a step to catch himself. Then he came around the curve, legs straddled wide apart, hands clapped together over his head -- when he hit the light he caught a sudden edge and turned in a fast circle. His hands came down in a gun pointed directly at John.
"James Bond!" John announced, obviously pleased with himself.
Rodney spread his arms and bowed. "You got me." He held up a finger, eyes gleaming. "One more."
He skated through the beam from the left. Then stopped suddenly. He turned around, and skated through it from the right. John squinted and stood away from the edge of the rink, his arms folded. Rodney slid to a stop.
"Hang on. I don’t think I get that one." He nodded, pointing with his chin. "Do it again."
Rodney obliged, smirking. Left to right; then right to left again.
John looked down and shook his head, digging the heel of his skate into the ice absently. "Nope. It doesn’t look like anything to me."
"That’s you!" Rodney spun around and pointed at him. "Between the jumps and the elements, when you should be telling us something, you fall silent."
John stepped forward in a gliding step, hands on his hips with a thoughtful air.
"Can I do 007?" He tore off his track jacket, revealing a sleeveless t-shirt and black fingerless gloves.
"Wait." Rodney skated hurriedly to the edge, stumbling off the ice. He fumbled in his bag. He’d brought the tape just in case John proved to be a little slow, though he needn’t have worried. John was stubborn, yes. But stupid? No. "I have the perfect music for you."
With a smirk, Rodney clicked on the Theme from Get Smart. He turned to John, chin up, with a beaming smirk.
"Very funny," John said mildly, giving Rodney a wry look. His eyes glinted with mischief. "But I’m afraid I didn’t bring my skate phone."
"Ow." Rodney chuckled. "That sounds like something 86 would use…."
"You know, I never figured out how he survived to the next episode?"
"A friend of mine said he’s the most realistic CIA character, but I suspect he was kidding." Rodney switched out the tapes. "Well, since you failed to come properly equipped…."
He pressed play. Henry Mancini poured out of the boombox, the James Bond theme, and John light up with a smile.
John glided low to the ice in a slow smooth circle, picking up speed, his movement silky and perfect for the song. He did have some musical sense. John visibly hesitated as he approached the electrical cord, tongue in the corner of his mouth, then swung his elbows and jumped it head on.
John popped up into the splits, then landed with an awkward stumble. "Sorry, I forgot," he called out to Rodney.
Rodney shook his head at him and answered, "Give me poses, not jumps!"
John nodded but slowed now, his moves uncertain. He stood straight, legs straddled but too close as he spun around once, hands together in a semi-gun, arms tucked in uncomfortably.
Rodney watched him. "Make it a real gun, John."
"This looked easier when you did it," he said.
"You’ve got to believe it. You’re James Bond, and that’s a gun," Rodney explained. But John winced. Rodney sighed. "Stop skating and just do the pose. Here…."
John looked at Rodney with trusting eyes as Rodney made him stand in front of the spotlight, watched as Rodney kicked his skates wider till they cooperated and were shoulder-width.
"Don’t look down!" Rodney scowled, and John’s eyes flicked back up.
He adjusted John’s back straight with a little push to his chest -- holding his hip so it was still, thank you -- then grabbed his shoulders and squared them. John was staring at him wide-eyed when Rodney clapped him on the shoulder, pushing off backward a few feet. "Now you’re good to go."
John’s gaze stayed on Rodney and followed him steadily, eyes intense.
"Gun, John." Rodney reminded him, waving a finger. "Though the smoldering is good. Very James Bond."
James Bond Theme - Mancini
Theme from 'Get Smart'
Next part is here!
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-04-03 03:29 am (UTC)There's just been one little thing that's been niggling at me while I've been reading this: there's been no mention of Elvis Stojko (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elvis_Stojko). I'm sure Rodney would have mentioned him to John, not only because Elvis was the first skater to land quadruple-double and quadruple-triple jumps, but because I remember distinctly that his biggest problem when competing was his lack of artistry. He was always graceful, but could never evoke the kind of beauty that got other skaters the gold. He was all about the jumps, just like your John. :)
Anyway, just thought I'd throw that out there. Loving the fic. :D
And of course, he's Canuck, which I'm sure Rodney would be all over. ;->
no subject
Date: 2006-04-03 04:17 am (UTC)Great skaters Rodney idolizes-? Oh, the Canadian Toller Cranston for sure. Robin Cousins is almost too good to be believed. Ilia Kulik of course is an utter artist.
Icarus
no subject
Date: 2006-04-03 06:48 am (UTC)Now, of course, I'm curious as to how good John actually is, in your head. Obviously Rodney would still coach him unless he were totally hopeless, but now I really want to know if, or how much, John can improve. Cool. :D
Thank you for replying, and for continuing this story. It's one of my favourite AUs.
no subject
Date: 2006-04-03 08:07 pm (UTC)It was one of those times I wanted to grab the judges by their collective collars and drag them into the 20th century. Artistic doesn't just mean "pretty" -- it means "creative"! Augh!
The next Olympics Stojko skated a relatively conservative program, but his moment had passed. He wasn't really doing what worked for him. This leads into your next question pretty well.
Now, of course, I'm curious as to how good John actually is, in your head. Obviously Rodney would still coach him unless he were totally hopeless, but now I really want to know if, or how much, John can improve. Cool. :D
Obviously you'll find out how well John will do in the story.
But about the past: John consistently moves up through the Regionals and Nationals. He's not considered a top-rung skater so has to qualify every year. He's only made the World's twice, coming in 10th a couple years before this fic, and then being taken out by an injury last year.
But the fact that he's made the World's twice recently - where he hadn't before - says that he's improving, and that has a lot to do with John focusing on his artistic program. Rodney is the third coach John has had helping him with this, it's not a new effort.
But Rodney's the first one to risk taking apart what works for John. Everyone else has simply worked on his choreography. Rodney's point of view is that will never work, he has to change as a skater rather than just puppeting someone else's instructions.
What happened with Stojko is a good case in point as to how dangerous this is in terms of John's success as a skater. That's why John is so hesitant. But he had a feeling that even with the choreography of his other coaches he'd never make it past 10th or so on the World's at best. He's willing to take the risk. Although as he watches himself have trouble doing both the jumps and the choreography, well... it's got him worried.
Icarus
no subject
Date: 2006-04-04 01:24 am (UTC)Indeed. I look forward to it. :)
I enjoyed reading your backstory for John. I also got a kick out of the idea that in this universe, Rodney was obviously (or at least apparently) never told he 'lacked art,' as he was in the SGA one we see on television, since his whole career has been about doing something artistic.
I'm pretty sure the olympics where Stojko had the unusual routine was in Lilihammar, providing memory serves. I was so disapointed when he came in second, but I had to admit that the Russian had a certain beauty in his movements that Stojko lacked, and I could see why the judges went that way.
Thank you for responding to my comments. :)