FIC: Out Of Bounds - John/Rodney - NC-17
Nov. 3rd, 2007 01:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
icarusYou can get caught up here: Out Of Bounds.
Title: Out Of Bounds
Author: Icarus
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: John/Rodney
Summary: Rodney was never sure what prompted him to check.
A/N: Thank you to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
perfica for playing OOB beta badminton with me. Thank you to libitina and roaringmice for inside intel and spywork at Skate America. This one I'm also kicking this out the door before it's quite ready, just because I've been feeling crummy since Sunday.
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Out Of Bounds
by Icarus
Light blustery rain spattered on taxicab windshield, cold fat drops that blew into Rodney's face as he ducked away and struggled to open the umbrella. There was more wind than rain, and it threatened to turn his umbrella inside out as his wallet became another seven dollars lighter. He tried not to resent the taunting sight of John's car, parked on the street in front of the house.
Before the cab could leave, it was blocked by a small Toyota that pulled in behind it, enthusiastic wipers beating unnecessarily fast. The passenger side door opened and an aluminum crutch got out, followed by John. He waved a breezy hand at a woman in the driver's seat as she backed away. John crumpled a small white bag in his hand. Freed, the cab sped off as if on a mission from God.
"That was my neighbor," Rodney accused him.
"Yeah. Nice lady," John said, watching as she left.
"The one that mutilated my shrubs without asking me?!"
"She didn't mention it." John pointed as he trundled down the walk, passing Rodney. "But she did tell me about some impressively loud Beethoven...."
"Beethoven's 5th and Wagner should only be played at full volume; anything less undermines the intended impact of the music – and that woman is a menace with hedge trimmers. Don't be fooled for a moment by that smiling face. She didn't express one iota of remorse." He shook out the umbrella as John navigated the steps. "What were you doing anyway?"
John wrinkled his nose and complained, "Spilled my prescription. The pharmacist, though, she was nice enough to let me refill it."
Rodney snorted as he unlocked the door. "You and women."
He stopped suddenly and John nearly walked into him. "Wait. Should I be worried here? I mean you've never actually slept with one, have you?"
"Not intentionally," John said.
~*~*~
Rodney was never sure what prompted him to check. The white bag containing the prescription had been set on the coffee table, in the usual spot, while John went to the bathroom. Rodney had heaved the spaghetti on the stove to reheat, pondered cleaning the kitchen, then dismissed it as a pointless waste of time. He clicked on the porch light, and then probably meant to glance at the CDs John had listened to that day, but John's prescription had his name and the contents on a sticker on the outside of the bag. He leaned closer.
By the time John emerged from the bathroom, Rodney had the bag unstapled to check to see if there was some mistake. It wasn't mislabeled. He held it up, spinning towards a startled John.
"This isn't your prescription," Rodney said.
"Yes, it is. It's got my name on it." John's smile was dry.
"This isn't what they gave you in Colorado," Rodney clarified with a sarcastic flutter of his eyelashes.
"That stuff didn't work for me." John nodded to it with his chin. "That's my old prescription."
Rodney's shoulders sagged.
"How old?"
"It's actually milder, Rodney." John came closer and reached to pull it out of Rodney's hand.
Rodney held it away, over his head. "How old?"
John let his hand drop. "It's the same prescription from when they took me off the jumps. It's been working for weeks."
"Weeks? That was almost two months ago!" Rodney was aghast. "You didn't even spill it, I bet. How did you sweep them up, hmm?"
"Rodney...."
But it took only three angry steps for Rodney to fling the front door open. He struggled with the bottle with shaking hands for a moment, then scattered the contents in an arc across the lawn. They fell with a patter, vanishing into the grass.
He turned, capping the bottle, his shoulders hunched, to find John regarding him with sardonic calm. John had one arm draped over his crutch as he balanced next to the couch.
"Thanks, Rodney. That was expensive."
He was too calm.
"You have another stash, don't you?" Rodney asked him, eyes darting over John's face.
[Previous][Next]
Title: Out Of Bounds
Author: Icarus
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: John/Rodney
Summary: Rodney was never sure what prompted him to check.
A/N: Thank you to
perfica for playing OOB beta badminton with me. Thank you to libitina and roaringmice for inside intel and spywork at Skate America. This one I'm also kicking this out the door before it's quite ready, just because I've been feeling crummy since Sunday. 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. Now conveniently located at Rodney's (although John won't let Rodney use his car) John recovers from his injury. The days slip away with little progress on choosing his music.
[Previous][Next]
Out Of Bounds
by Icarus
Light blustery rain spattered on taxicab windshield, cold fat drops that blew into Rodney's face as he ducked away and struggled to open the umbrella. There was more wind than rain, and it threatened to turn his umbrella inside out as his wallet became another seven dollars lighter. He tried not to resent the taunting sight of John's car, parked on the street in front of the house.
Before the cab could leave, it was blocked by a small Toyota that pulled in behind it, enthusiastic wipers beating unnecessarily fast. The passenger side door opened and an aluminum crutch got out, followed by John. He waved a breezy hand at a woman in the driver's seat as she backed away. John crumpled a small white bag in his hand. Freed, the cab sped off as if on a mission from God.
"That was my neighbor," Rodney accused him.
"Yeah. Nice lady," John said, watching as she left.
"The one that mutilated my shrubs without asking me?!"
"She didn't mention it." John pointed as he trundled down the walk, passing Rodney. "But she did tell me about some impressively loud Beethoven...."
"Beethoven's 5th and Wagner should only be played at full volume; anything less undermines the intended impact of the music – and that woman is a menace with hedge trimmers. Don't be fooled for a moment by that smiling face. She didn't express one iota of remorse." He shook out the umbrella as John navigated the steps. "What were you doing anyway?"
John wrinkled his nose and complained, "Spilled my prescription. The pharmacist, though, she was nice enough to let me refill it."
Rodney snorted as he unlocked the door. "You and women."
He stopped suddenly and John nearly walked into him. "Wait. Should I be worried here? I mean you've never actually slept with one, have you?"
"Not intentionally," John said.
~*~*~
Rodney was never sure what prompted him to check. The white bag containing the prescription had been set on the coffee table, in the usual spot, while John went to the bathroom. Rodney had heaved the spaghetti on the stove to reheat, pondered cleaning the kitchen, then dismissed it as a pointless waste of time. He clicked on the porch light, and then probably meant to glance at the CDs John had listened to that day, but John's prescription had his name and the contents on a sticker on the outside of the bag. He leaned closer.
By the time John emerged from the bathroom, Rodney had the bag unstapled to check to see if there was some mistake. It wasn't mislabeled. He held it up, spinning towards a startled John.
"This isn't your prescription," Rodney said.
"Yes, it is. It's got my name on it." John's smile was dry.
"This isn't what they gave you in Colorado," Rodney clarified with a sarcastic flutter of his eyelashes.
"That stuff didn't work for me." John nodded to it with his chin. "That's my old prescription."
Rodney's shoulders sagged.
"How old?"
"It's actually milder, Rodney." John came closer and reached to pull it out of Rodney's hand.
Rodney held it away, over his head. "How old?"
John let his hand drop. "It's the same prescription from when they took me off the jumps. It's been working for weeks."
"Weeks? That was almost two months ago!" Rodney was aghast. "You didn't even spill it, I bet. How did you sweep them up, hmm?"
"Rodney...."
But it took only three angry steps for Rodney to fling the front door open. He struggled with the bottle with shaking hands for a moment, then scattered the contents in an arc across the lawn. They fell with a patter, vanishing into the grass.
He turned, capping the bottle, his shoulders hunched, to find John regarding him with sardonic calm. John had one arm draped over his crutch as he balanced next to the couch.
"Thanks, Rodney. That was expensive."
He was too calm.
"You have another stash, don't you?" Rodney asked him, eyes darting over John's face.
[Previous][Next]
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
They allowed pants as of last year, for women
Date: 2007-11-05 04:21 pm (UTC)Shae Lynn Bourne was a victim of unintentional topless figure skating just two years ago. Thing popped out and "whoops!"