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SGA Fic: Out Of Bounds - John/Rodney - NC-17
You can get caught up here: Out Of Bounds.
Title: Out Of Bounds
Author: Icarus
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: John/Rodney
Summary: John couldn't wait to hear what Rodney would have to say about "bindoos."
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 all these months. This part is posted unbeta'd due to the holidays. 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).
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Out Of Bounds
by Icarus
"Gnnnhhhh," John groaned, letting himself flop onto the mat.
Ronon paced around him. "The girls are doing better than you," he taunted, with a smirk that somehow took the sting out of it. Well. Almost.
"I'll get it," John managed to say in a breezy tone, though it was hard to do through gritted teeth. Ronon flashed him a grin.
John lay flat on his back and let his head drop to the pad, ignoring the women who curled into the next pose as gracefully as cats. He tried not to think about the weakness in his take-off leg, or how many weeks it would take him to get it back into shape. He glanced around at the others as they lifted off their mats and then he pushed himself back up into position, wincing as the back of his calf muscles vibrated like harp strings. He could almost hear it, like the whine of an electric guitar.
He set his jaw and ignored the stream of mental complaints that invaded his mind. Om, he thought to himself with inward snort of amusement. But the vibration calmed. He felt his knee relax into a deeper stretch.
Ronon stood over him. "Don't go that deep, not yet," he said. He grasped John's foot and adjusted his stance, placing his feet closer together. "Instead, I want you to hold it for as long as you can."
Like increasing the weight instead of the number of reps in weight lifting; going for strength. John got that, and nodded.
He soon discovered this was easier said than done. A slow trail of sweat dripped into his eyes.
~*~*~
John ran his hand through his hair, his back slumped against the wall. He answered one of the other students' hello with a tired wave that was both a greeting and a brush off and she let him be.
He was maimed for life. His leg was too wobbly to stand right now, after less than an hour of just stretching. John was trying very hard not to be depressed.
As the little bell on the door rang behind the last of the yoga students, Ronon came over and crouched next to John.
"So. Let's see it," Ronon said.
Squeezing his eyes shut, John slowly bent his knee and pulled the leg of his sweats up to his thigh. He expected a whistle or some kind of reaction – because it looked bad, it really did – but Ronon's face stayed impassive. He put his hand on John's knee, which raised John's eyebrows, but then he just tipped the knee left and right, delicately, like it was made out of glass, studying it like a doctor. Then he explained about "nahdees" and "bindoos" and "psychic winds" with a slow, earnest intensity. It made no sense at all to John except that it sounded like he was saying what John already knew: that his leg was really fucked up.
Ronon seemed to read the disbelief or John's total blank look, because he stopped mid-sentence and stared into John's eyes for a moment. It was disconcerting. Then he patted John's other thigh with all the gentleness of a mountain lion, and stood, saying, "Never mind. Just do what I say and you'll be fine. You're coming back the day after tomorrow, right?"
He didn't say it like there was any question, and John found himself answering, "Okay. Sure."
When John stepped out of the yoga center, Rodney was waiting out front in the car, flipping through a magazine in the driver's seat as the exhaust from the tail pipe whipped away, white in the March wind. John hadn't zipped his coat ducked into the passenger seat, wrapping it around him. He wished that they could get the heat fixed. The yoga place had been as warm as a sauna by comparison.
"So how was it?" Rodney asked, putting the magazine down.
John zipped his jacket and blew on his hands. He'd forgotten his gloves at home.
He mentally spun through adjectives and came up with, "Interesting. Weird. Um. But okay, I guess." Then he gave Rodney a wide smirk. "Looks like I have a problem with my psychic winds," he said, nodding with mock thoughtfulness.
The strange look Rodney gave him as he put it in gear was priceless. He was really going to have to listen to Ronon more carefully next time. He couldn't wait to hear what Rodney had to say about "bindoos."
[Previous][Next]
Title: Out Of Bounds
Author: Icarus
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: John/Rodney
Summary: John couldn't wait to hear what Rodney would have to say about "bindoos."
A/N: Thank you to
perfica for playing OOB beta badminton with me all these months. This part is posted unbeta'd due to the holidays. 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 struggles to recover from his injury.
[Previous][Next]
Out Of Bounds
by Icarus
"Gnnnhhhh," John groaned, letting himself flop onto the mat.
Ronon paced around him. "The girls are doing better than you," he taunted, with a smirk that somehow took the sting out of it. Well. Almost.
"I'll get it," John managed to say in a breezy tone, though it was hard to do through gritted teeth. Ronon flashed him a grin.
John lay flat on his back and let his head drop to the pad, ignoring the women who curled into the next pose as gracefully as cats. He tried not to think about the weakness in his take-off leg, or how many weeks it would take him to get it back into shape. He glanced around at the others as they lifted off their mats and then he pushed himself back up into position, wincing as the back of his calf muscles vibrated like harp strings. He could almost hear it, like the whine of an electric guitar.
He set his jaw and ignored the stream of mental complaints that invaded his mind. Om, he thought to himself with inward snort of amusement. But the vibration calmed. He felt his knee relax into a deeper stretch.
Ronon stood over him. "Don't go that deep, not yet," he said. He grasped John's foot and adjusted his stance, placing his feet closer together. "Instead, I want you to hold it for as long as you can."
Like increasing the weight instead of the number of reps in weight lifting; going for strength. John got that, and nodded.
He soon discovered this was easier said than done. A slow trail of sweat dripped into his eyes.
John ran his hand through his hair, his back slumped against the wall. He answered one of the other students' hello with a tired wave that was both a greeting and a brush off and she let him be.
He was maimed for life. His leg was too wobbly to stand right now, after less than an hour of just stretching. John was trying very hard not to be depressed.
As the little bell on the door rang behind the last of the yoga students, Ronon came over and crouched next to John.
"So. Let's see it," Ronon said.
Squeezing his eyes shut, John slowly bent his knee and pulled the leg of his sweats up to his thigh. He expected a whistle or some kind of reaction – because it looked bad, it really did – but Ronon's face stayed impassive. He put his hand on John's knee, which raised John's eyebrows, but then he just tipped the knee left and right, delicately, like it was made out of glass, studying it like a doctor. Then he explained about "nahdees" and "bindoos" and "psychic winds" with a slow, earnest intensity. It made no sense at all to John except that it sounded like he was saying what John already knew: that his leg was really fucked up.
Ronon seemed to read the disbelief or John's total blank look, because he stopped mid-sentence and stared into John's eyes for a moment. It was disconcerting. Then he patted John's other thigh with all the gentleness of a mountain lion, and stood, saying, "Never mind. Just do what I say and you'll be fine. You're coming back the day after tomorrow, right?"
He didn't say it like there was any question, and John found himself answering, "Okay. Sure."
When John stepped out of the yoga center, Rodney was waiting out front in the car, flipping through a magazine in the driver's seat as the exhaust from the tail pipe whipped away, white in the March wind. John hadn't zipped his coat ducked into the passenger seat, wrapping it around him. He wished that they could get the heat fixed. The yoga place had been as warm as a sauna by comparison.
"So how was it?" Rodney asked, putting the magazine down.
John zipped his jacket and blew on his hands. He'd forgotten his gloves at home.
He mentally spun through adjectives and came up with, "Interesting. Weird. Um. But okay, I guess." Then he gave Rodney a wide smirk. "Looks like I have a problem with my psychic winds," he said, nodding with mock thoughtfulness.
The strange look Rodney gave him as he put it in gear was priceless. He was really going to have to listen to Ronon more carefully next time. He couldn't wait to hear what Rodney had to say about "bindoos."
[Previous][Next]
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How much time does John have to recover before his next event? (Listen to me! I'm talking like they're real! You do this to me! And make me abuse the exclamtion point!!)
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Fortunately, as I'm sure you know by now, John has until September before his next event. But he has to be skating, training, and putting together this years programs by April at the latest. And it's March now.
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It's really bindu. At the yoga school Ronon is teaching the gentle Iyengar yoga, but he himself practices the more sophisticated Mysore school Ashtanga yoga, which is involved in learning to control the channels, energies, and elements (bindus).
Ronon was trying to tell John that there were channels in the body along which energies flow and drive the life elements. These energies were now screwed up in John's leg. But yoga doesn't just provide physical rehab: if he does the mental part it will speed his recovery. John got hung up on the vocabulary and didn't know what the heck Ronon was talking about. (It's partially Ronon's fault. He's used to talking to yoga students and new agers about this stuff so didn't explain the basics.)
;)
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and THIS PAGE WAS THE THIRD LINK!!!!
yes ok, i get it phonetic spelling, very funny
:P
WRITE MOAR PAWWWWUN WOMAN!
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I did tai chi for a while and yeah, one gets amazingly sore from that sort of thing. :)
Angie
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There are several story arcs. There are two parallel plots: a subplot in the past, and the main one in the present. The past story arc has almost caught up with the present. It will tie into the present towards the end of the story.
The main story arc has two aspects: the romance, and the sports.
The romance story arc has gone through four of roughly six phases. We are just entering phase five.
The sports aspect has gone through five of seven phases that roughly parallel the romance (though not exactly) given the two effect each other.
In terms of time within the story, we have two physical time periods left to cover: the summer training, and the next competition season.
In terms of "numbers of scenes" in my outline, we just finished scene 100. My outline says it will take about 20 scenes to write the summer, and probably a little less to do the competition season.
In terms of length, the story is currently 100k. I think it will be about 150K by the time it's done. Now, it's not unusual for me to write 7-10k in one sitting, but Out Of Bounds -- like my SG-1 The Walls Of Jericho (http://www.icarus.slashcity.net/stories/wallsofjericho.html) -- is coming out in 1,000-word scenes.
If I had 50 straight days with nothing else to do ... but then there's RL. The Walls Of Jericho was 35,000 words and took, posted a scene at a time like this, from November 2004 to spring 2005 to complete. However, this coming quarter I am in my senior year, I'm taking very difficult classes, and on top of it, I will be working part time.
I hope that answers your question.
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And sweaty.
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