SGA FIC: Out Of Bounds - John/Rodney - NC-17

[icarus]

Okay, sga_santa fic ready. Now. *rubs hands together* My other projects.

You can get caught up here: Out Of Bounds.


Title: Out Of Bounds
Author: Icarus
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: John/Rodney
Summary: John gazed down at his leg in disappointment.
A/N: Thank you to perfica for playing OOB beta badminton with me all these months. Thank you to libitina and roaringmice for inside intel and spywork at Skate America. Special thanks to sarka for all the help with Czech history and language (not to mention the cool music).

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. John's recovery from his injury is slower than he would like.

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Out Of Bounds
by Icarus


"Been keeping off the leg like a good lad, have you?" Doctor Beckett's eyes sparkled at John.

"After we shackled him to a chair," Rodney said with a snort. He'd brushed by the flustered nurse, who lifted her hands and let them fall in a hopeless gesture.

Doctor Beckett glanced from the nurse, to Rodney, to John, puzzled, so John indicated Rodney with a wave. "Doctor Beckett, meet Rodney McKay. He's my coach." And damn, he was going to have to learn to say that without the sudden warmth that hit him, or the blush, otherwise people were going to know what was going on.

"Charmed," the doc said, giving Rodney a doubtful look.

John gazed down at his leg in disappointment. The hair had mostly worn off his calf, the muscles thinner than the other one, skin a pasty grey-ish white. His take-off leg. It looked worse than it had after surgery.

"—It'll take some time to restore the muscle tissue," Doctor Beckett was saying, "so we don't want to give it any undue stress. Moderate exercise only." He waited till he had John's attention then held John's eyes and said, emphatically, "No. Jumping."

"Perhaps jesses would be in order," Rodney mused, thumbnail trailing along his lip. "I caught him climbing six flights of stairs."

John glared at the tattletale. Also—six flights? "It was three."

The doc didn't seem that impressed.

"They weren't very steep."

John decided he handled the doc better when Rodney wasn't here.

"Low to no impact, please," Doctor Becket continued, sighing.

"Is stretching acceptable?" Rodney asked, his hand dropping away from his face. John had seen that look before. Rodney had an idea.

"Oh, yes, in fact that would be very good."

~*~*~

The place had wooden floors, bright red hangings, and smelled like a Grateful Dead concert; a mix of incense, patchouli, and that unmistakable whiff of pot. Behind the counter there was a brass statue of a naked lady with more arms than anyone needed, draped with a pink Hawaiian lei.

At the sound of people in the next room intoning "Ommmmmm...." John was pretty much ready to turn around. Although Rodney had already driven off. Still, walking home was moderate exercise, right?

"You here for the free class?" a deep voice behind him asked.

John spun around to find a tanned, muscular guy with long dreadlocks behind the counter, bare-chested except for a necklace and a suede vest.

"Uh. Yeah," John said.

"That'll be forty bucks."

John paused. He hadn't even brought his wallet; even if he had the cash....

The big guy flashed him a white smile. "I'm just messing with your head."

He gestured with a jerk of his chin for John to follow. The sound of "Om" grew louder as he cracked open the door.

John hung back, swiping at his mouth with a nervous glance back at the street. "Do I, uh, do you have to do the whole 'Om-ing' thing?"

"No. But you're gonna wish you had." The big guy tapped his forehead. "Helps up here."

"I think I'll—" John caught sight of a framed poster of a newspaper review next to the door with a photo of the big guy looking even bigger and the name, Ronon Dex. "Wait. You're the yoga instructor?"

"You got a problem with that?"

"No, I just—" John cut himself off. "You know what? Never mind." He followed the guy into a room full of mostly women who had finished chanting and were now seated cross-legged, meditating. The big guy stalked to the front while John tiptoed like a nervous cat and found an empty mat in the back.

"No," Ronon said. The group startled, then turned around to stare at John, who froze, one hand on the mat, his knee still raised. "I want you to sit in the middle where you can watch everyone else."



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Comments

[icarusancalion.livejournal.com]

You're too sweet. I don't know where I remember the pasty skin tone from when a cast comes off, but I've seen it somewhere. I get a vague flash of high school and junior high when I think of it, but I haven't pinned it down.