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icarusToday's the Buddhist holiday Chokhor Duchen! To celebrate the first (and second and third and many times after that...) time the Buddha taught, let's have a little Out Of Bounds.
But first, a thank you to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
perfica, enname, monanotlisa and teaphile.
perfica has been more than a beta. She's been bouncing emails back and forth with me every day, sometimes several times a day, for a month now, coaxing and encouraging and generally putting gas in the gas tank to keep Out Of Bounds moving forward.
teaphile has been the one to read all of Out Of Bounds in one swoop, everything I have so far, and give me the birds eye view as to how the whole thing clicks together. This is a long story with flashbacks and two parallel plot lines that started as a little crack!ficlet. (teaphile, I'm still working on that "faded out, what happened?" transition.)
enname has been the demanding beta on the scenes I'm posting today, asking for more, fearlessly pointing out faults. Whenever I'm really serious about a story being the best it can be I contact her because she takes a story apart with the calm of surgeon.
monanotlisa then stepped up to the plate when I was panicking and beta'd -- with pom-poms.
Thank you, guys. And now...
You can get caught up here: Out Of Bounds.
Title: Out Of Bounds
Author: Icarus
Rating: NC-17 (have I ever let you down?)
Pairing: John/Rodney
Summary: John always got messed up when he got too close to friends.
A/N: Thank you toperfica for playing OOB beta badminton with me, amothea for listening to me whine, teaphile for her birds eye view, as well as enname and monanotlisa for coming through in a pinch.
[Previous][Next]
Out Of Bounds
by Icarus
It was nearly nightfall when John pulled up to the curb by Rodney's place, the old Chevy rumbling. With a happy breath, Rodney stepped out, holding the passenger side door open with his hip. He swung his gym bag over one shoulder, moving with a cheerful bounce as he looked up at the sky.
"End of the line," Rodney beamed.
John dipped his head, leaning on one arm over the passenger seat, the other hand still on the steering wheel. "See you in the morning?"
"Four-thirty a.m." Rodney sighed in disappointment, adjusting his jacket with a tug. "It was nice sleeping in...."
John tilted his head in a sideways nod, lips pursed. "I can do tomorrow afternoon if you like."
"Oh!" Rodney snapped his fingers. "Then you can drive me home tomorrow too, perfect."
John gave him a funny look. He didn't recall volunteering his entire day. But Rodney had already shut the door so it was too late to complain.
A skip in his step, Rodney hopped up the short stair to his porch and looked back once he had the door open, chin tipped up with a smile. He gave a little wave. He was tightly packed in those jeans, and John wondered just when he'd switched from those sloppy pants he used to wear. John squinted and ran his tongue along the inside of his lower lip, thinking back. Their trip to the mall. And no more practices with dirty hair any more, either.
John reached over to turn on the heat. It gave a useless click, and John punched the dash. Forgot again.
The long rectangular windows to either side of Rodney's front door had lit up, and John could see the indistinct shadow shape of Rodney moving around in his living room. Then the overhead went on in the kitchen, lighting up the two big picture windows.
The kitchen was even more of a disaster zone than John remembered, every inch of counter space filled with dishes and boxes. He snickered.
Rodney went to the sink and washed his hands, his back to John, then turned to stretch for the paper towels. His elbow clipped a bowl, knocking it off.
There was a pause as Rodney looked at it. Then, still wiping his hands on a paper towel, he crossed in front of the windows to the far right and opened a door -- ah. That's where the pantry was, okay. John made a mental note. He liked to get the lay of the land. Rodney returned with a broom and dustpan. This would be a good chance to sweep the entire... nope, Rodney just cleaned up the bowl and put the broom away. John shook his head. No wonder his place was a shit hole.
The open refrigerator door now blocked the view of all but Rodney's ass, not that that was a bad thing, and then he hefted out... of course. The vat of spaghetti sauce.
Rodney rolled up his sleeves, revealing nice arms, something John never got a chance to see. He tugged at the base of a pile of dishes. The dishes slumped and collapsed deeper in the sink, but Rodney appeared to be pretty good at the tricky maneuver (John approved) as he unearthed a large pot, which he rinsed, filled with water, and put on to boil.
He dusted off his hands in satisfaction, wiping them on his thighs.
All of the sudden John felt like some kind of creepy stalker guy, and put the car in gear. This was going a bit beyond watching Rodney in a video. As he left, he caught a glimpse of Rodney leaning to peer out the window with a bemused expression.
He drove away fast enough that he didn't see Rodney come to the porch to wave him in.
~*~*~
The sky was a darkening gray when John parked about a block from the beach, locking up in front of someone's house. He tucked his hands in his jacket pockets, head down against the breeze, the sound of water in his ears already; softer than the ocean, louder than a normal lake.
As he broke from under the tree cover the full force of the wind from across Lake Ontario hit him, rippling his dark blue coat, the clouds low and scalloped, some darker, oozing across the sky faster than the ones above them. Seagulls dipped in and out of waters too active and too deep to freeze.
John blinked against the wind, his nose red, eyes watery. The tips of his ears were pink and his messy hair was blown about chaotically.
It was cold but the wind helped to clear his head.
John dislodged a smooth flat stone from the dirt and tossed it into the soft wash of waves tearing away at the sand. The beach was frozen hard as concrete, littered with twigs and the flotsam of plastic bottles. They'd clean it up in the summer. The combination of snow and sand crunched underfoot.
Lake Ontario reminded John of Lake Michigan back home, only rougher and colder, more forbidding. More unfair.
To keep warm, John skipped into a jog down the dry hardpack. He picked up the pace, breaking into a run, a dark figure scattering a cloud of white and gray seagulls.
He hit the end of this section of beach at the lee of a rock pile, gasping, his lungs aching from the cold air. He took a moment basking in the relative warmth out of the wind. Then he climbed the rocks and concrete block that reached out and down into the water. He edged towards low waves licking up onto the rocks, stepping over pockets of ice. He got as close to the water as he could, right up to where the rocks started to become slippery and damp. A cement block rocked under him, pitching him forward. John's arms swung. He stepped and caught himself, braced between two rocks.
"Way to go, John," John growled at himself, pissed off. "Just fall in and freeze to death, why don't you?"
He climbed back up. At the top, the wind buffeted him. John surveyed the beach, chewing his lower lip. Finally able to think.
He always got messed up when he got too close to friends. Granted, that covered pretty much all of his relationships, and the main problem was usually his skating -- but Rodney was still a bad idea. John picked up a handful of loose pebbles, and chucked one at the water. It skipped once into the waves.
And he wasn't a scary stalker, no matter what his ex said. He'd just wanted to see him without having to deal with his bullshit, so parked outside the restaurant where he worked and watched through the window, chin leaned on the steering wheel, trying to decide what to say. Sorry it didn't work out...? He didn't think he'd been there an hour.
Rodney was a harmless fantasy. It just needed to... not go beyond that.
So. Okay. Rodney was fun, reasonably attractive, and had a really nice ass (though almost every skater did). John tossed another rock, this one too light to skip. And he got to him with that wide quirky smile. He tried John's patience but he was as brilliant as he said he was. He was still an unmannered child, like no one had ever bothered to tell Rodney no -- and hell if it wasn't cute.
John's breath deepened and shook. He scattered the rest of the rocks. He was screwed if what was supposed to switch him off turned him on instead.
He needed to cool it.
It had just... been a long time. This was partially Rodney's fault, too. He very obviously checked John out, and flirted with him all the time, and John wasn't made of stone.
Those lifts had been a bad idea. A really bad idea.
John nodded to himself. Yes. He needed to have it out with Rodney. Unless Rodney could produce a legitimate reason for the pairs skating -- and John was willing to bet that he couldn't -- it had to stop.
Chris Isaak - Wicked Games
[Previous][Next]
Let me know if that music link doesn't work.
But first, a thank you to
perfica, enname, monanotlisa and teaphile. perfica has been more than a beta. She's been bouncing emails back and forth with me every day, sometimes several times a day, for a month now, coaxing and encouraging and generally putting gas in the gas tank to keep Out Of Bounds moving forward.teaphile has been the one to read all of Out Of Bounds in one swoop, everything I have so far, and give me the birds eye view as to how the whole thing clicks together. This is a long story with flashbacks and two parallel plot lines that started as a little crack!ficlet. (teaphile, I'm still working on that "faded out, what happened?" transition.)enname has been the demanding beta on the scenes I'm posting today, asking for more, fearlessly pointing out faults. Whenever I'm really serious about a story being the best it can be I contact her because she takes a story apart with the calm of surgeon. monanotlisa then stepped up to the plate when I was panicking and beta'd -- with pom-poms.Thank you, guys. And now...
You can get caught up here: Out Of Bounds.
Title: Out Of Bounds
Author: Icarus
Rating: NC-17 (have I ever let you down?)
Pairing: John/Rodney
Summary: John always got messed up when he got too close to friends.
A/N: Thank you to
perfica for playing OOB beta badminton with me, amothea for listening to me whine, teaphile for her birds eye view, as well as enname and monanotlisa for coming through in a pinch. Previously in Out Of Bounds: Known more for his jumps than his artistry, figure skater John Sheppard hired ex-skating champion and 'artiste' Rodney McKay to be his coach. A teasing friendship (and perhaps more?) developed between them, and a late night practice session turned sensual and intense.
[Previous][Next]
Out Of Bounds
by Icarus
It was nearly nightfall when John pulled up to the curb by Rodney's place, the old Chevy rumbling. With a happy breath, Rodney stepped out, holding the passenger side door open with his hip. He swung his gym bag over one shoulder, moving with a cheerful bounce as he looked up at the sky.
"End of the line," Rodney beamed.
John dipped his head, leaning on one arm over the passenger seat, the other hand still on the steering wheel. "See you in the morning?"
"Four-thirty a.m." Rodney sighed in disappointment, adjusting his jacket with a tug. "It was nice sleeping in...."
John tilted his head in a sideways nod, lips pursed. "I can do tomorrow afternoon if you like."
"Oh!" Rodney snapped his fingers. "Then you can drive me home tomorrow too, perfect."
John gave him a funny look. He didn't recall volunteering his entire day. But Rodney had already shut the door so it was too late to complain.
A skip in his step, Rodney hopped up the short stair to his porch and looked back once he had the door open, chin tipped up with a smile. He gave a little wave. He was tightly packed in those jeans, and John wondered just when he'd switched from those sloppy pants he used to wear. John squinted and ran his tongue along the inside of his lower lip, thinking back. Their trip to the mall. And no more practices with dirty hair any more, either.
John reached over to turn on the heat. It gave a useless click, and John punched the dash. Forgot again.
The long rectangular windows to either side of Rodney's front door had lit up, and John could see the indistinct shadow shape of Rodney moving around in his living room. Then the overhead went on in the kitchen, lighting up the two big picture windows.
The kitchen was even more of a disaster zone than John remembered, every inch of counter space filled with dishes and boxes. He snickered.
Rodney went to the sink and washed his hands, his back to John, then turned to stretch for the paper towels. His elbow clipped a bowl, knocking it off.
There was a pause as Rodney looked at it. Then, still wiping his hands on a paper towel, he crossed in front of the windows to the far right and opened a door -- ah. That's where the pantry was, okay. John made a mental note. He liked to get the lay of the land. Rodney returned with a broom and dustpan. This would be a good chance to sweep the entire... nope, Rodney just cleaned up the bowl and put the broom away. John shook his head. No wonder his place was a shit hole.
The open refrigerator door now blocked the view of all but Rodney's ass, not that that was a bad thing, and then he hefted out... of course. The vat of spaghetti sauce.
Rodney rolled up his sleeves, revealing nice arms, something John never got a chance to see. He tugged at the base of a pile of dishes. The dishes slumped and collapsed deeper in the sink, but Rodney appeared to be pretty good at the tricky maneuver (John approved) as he unearthed a large pot, which he rinsed, filled with water, and put on to boil.
He dusted off his hands in satisfaction, wiping them on his thighs.
All of the sudden John felt like some kind of creepy stalker guy, and put the car in gear. This was going a bit beyond watching Rodney in a video. As he left, he caught a glimpse of Rodney leaning to peer out the window with a bemused expression.
He drove away fast enough that he didn't see Rodney come to the porch to wave him in.
The sky was a darkening gray when John parked about a block from the beach, locking up in front of someone's house. He tucked his hands in his jacket pockets, head down against the breeze, the sound of water in his ears already; softer than the ocean, louder than a normal lake.
As he broke from under the tree cover the full force of the wind from across Lake Ontario hit him, rippling his dark blue coat, the clouds low and scalloped, some darker, oozing across the sky faster than the ones above them. Seagulls dipped in and out of waters too active and too deep to freeze.
John blinked against the wind, his nose red, eyes watery. The tips of his ears were pink and his messy hair was blown about chaotically.
It was cold but the wind helped to clear his head.
John dislodged a smooth flat stone from the dirt and tossed it into the soft wash of waves tearing away at the sand. The beach was frozen hard as concrete, littered with twigs and the flotsam of plastic bottles. They'd clean it up in the summer. The combination of snow and sand crunched underfoot.
Lake Ontario reminded John of Lake Michigan back home, only rougher and colder, more forbidding. More unfair.
To keep warm, John skipped into a jog down the dry hardpack. He picked up the pace, breaking into a run, a dark figure scattering a cloud of white and gray seagulls.
He hit the end of this section of beach at the lee of a rock pile, gasping, his lungs aching from the cold air. He took a moment basking in the relative warmth out of the wind. Then he climbed the rocks and concrete block that reached out and down into the water. He edged towards low waves licking up onto the rocks, stepping over pockets of ice. He got as close to the water as he could, right up to where the rocks started to become slippery and damp. A cement block rocked under him, pitching him forward. John's arms swung. He stepped and caught himself, braced between two rocks.
"Way to go, John," John growled at himself, pissed off. "Just fall in and freeze to death, why don't you?"
He climbed back up. At the top, the wind buffeted him. John surveyed the beach, chewing his lower lip. Finally able to think.
He always got messed up when he got too close to friends. Granted, that covered pretty much all of his relationships, and the main problem was usually his skating -- but Rodney was still a bad idea. John picked up a handful of loose pebbles, and chucked one at the water. It skipped once into the waves.
And he wasn't a scary stalker, no matter what his ex said. He'd just wanted to see him without having to deal with his bullshit, so parked outside the restaurant where he worked and watched through the window, chin leaned on the steering wheel, trying to decide what to say. Sorry it didn't work out...? He didn't think he'd been there an hour.
Rodney was a harmless fantasy. It just needed to... not go beyond that.
So. Okay. Rodney was fun, reasonably attractive, and had a really nice ass (though almost every skater did). John tossed another rock, this one too light to skip. And he got to him with that wide quirky smile. He tried John's patience but he was as brilliant as he said he was. He was still an unmannered child, like no one had ever bothered to tell Rodney no -- and hell if it wasn't cute.
John's breath deepened and shook. He scattered the rest of the rocks. He was screwed if what was supposed to switch him off turned him on instead.
He needed to cool it.
It had just... been a long time. This was partially Rodney's fault, too. He very obviously checked John out, and flirted with him all the time, and John wasn't made of stone.
Those lifts had been a bad idea. A really bad idea.
John nodded to himself. Yes. He needed to have it out with Rodney. Unless Rodney could produce a legitimate reason for the pairs skating -- and John was willing to bet that he couldn't -- it had to stop.
Chris Isaak - Wicked Games
[Previous][Next]
Let me know if that music link doesn't work.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-07-18 07:16 pm (UTC)Yep, that's about the size of it. :D Poor John. [patpatpat]
Angie
no subject
Date: 2007-07-21 04:59 am (UTC)Icarus
no subject
Date: 2007-07-18 10:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-21 04:59 am (UTC)Icarus
no subject
Date: 2007-07-18 11:56 pm (UTC)He drove away fast enough that he didn't see Rodney come to the porch to wave him in.
had me sighing "Oh John!" loud enough that my cats came running.
no subject
Date: 2007-07-21 05:01 am (UTC)That's a great picture. Mew?
no subject
Date: 2007-07-19 01:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-21 05:08 am (UTC)I did Orson Scott Card's idea of "interviewing the character" and asked John what he wanted to do, and John's answer was that he "wanted to be alone."
The best loner music I have is Chris Isaak. But... Solitary Man, San Francisco, didn't fit. Still, they had a beach quality to them and I knew the beaches area down from Queen Street in Toronto. So that's how we learned where John went.
Then I did a search for other Chris Isaak songs and stumbled across this one. And the song told me why John wanted to be alone. It just fit so perfectly.
Icarus
no subject
Date: 2007-07-21 11:17 am (UTC)(And I definitely know what you mean about John being hard to get into - I've neatly sidestepped it in the comedy fic I'm writing at the moment by making him so incredibly shallow that there's very little going *on* in there! But he's definitely the one I spend most of my time scratching my head over otherwise...)
no subject
Date: 2007-07-19 04:20 am (UTC)If only I didn't have to get up early tomorrow to run errands before work. But, it does leave something for me to look forward to tomorrow: More OOB!
Woohoo!
*okay, so not all of my enthusiasm is completely due to the story. bask in it nonetheless!*
no subject
Date: 2007-07-21 05:09 am (UTC)John has not been very communicative about his interest in Rodney. A little gift here. A little flirt there. A date (unplanned) there. A bit of masturbation over skating porn on the side. But admit feelings? Not John.
Icarus
no subject
Date: 2007-07-19 12:34 pm (UTC)That still makes me cackle out loud.
no subject
Date: 2007-07-20 02:42 pm (UTC)Icarus