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icarusShorter section today, 1,356 words. I don't want to make anyone wait, although I wanted to finish through to the end of the summer before I posted. But the wisdom teeth put me out of commission for a week, so let's post, and then write the rest of the summer.
You can get caught up here: Out Of Bounds.
Title: Out Of Bounds
Author: Icarus
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: John/Rodney
Summary: The nice thing about Rodney was that he seemed to genuinely enjoy his students' screw-ups. It was like he considered each one a new marvel of idiocy and proof of his own superiority.
A/N: Thank you to my intrepid and hard-working betas,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rabidfan, enname, and roaringmice.
[Previous][Next]
Out Of Bounds
by Icarus
If John had a diary, it would read,
"Dear diary,
I suck."
Except if he had a diary, Rodney would probably get his hands on it and then John would have to defend why he sucked, while Rodney said things like, "Now, let's be specific. That jump sucked. Singular. I don't want to hear any generalizations and outlandish stories built on one mistake. Also, have you done this before? Yes? Good. Now get back to work." And then he'd rant about how skating was simple, that it was skaters who were complicated. "I'd like a map of those kaleidoscopes you call minds" – and, great. Rodney had managed to invade even his hypothetical diary.
At least Sonja had stopped making major changes. They'd had to pass on a pre-season competition simply because her program—John couldn't think of it as his—wasn't done. Rodney had probably given her an earful about that.
John pumped around the ice, his legs tired and sore, his mind more on the snack machine than this, the fourth run-through of his long program in a row. He dipped into a spin and felt it travel across the ice. Shit. He fell out of it entirely, and felt Rodney's eyes on him with his particular confused mixture of appalled amusement. Technically at the moment Rodney was teaching a small group class, demonstrating footwork and then gliding to the side as they copied him, but he always kept one eye on John.
Frankly? John could do without the attention today.
He tossed aside the current run-through for the time being to get at least that one spin right, and felt the thunderous weight of Rodney's displeasure, telegraphed in the set of his jaw and the way he turned slightly away from John. Fine. John wondered if letting himself hit the snack machine would get rid of that distraction, or if another one would pop up and take its place. He circled to his starting position again for his fifth run-through.
Maybe he needed to take it slower, go step by step? Or section it out?
He dropped any concept of working at tempo and sketched out the program slowly, aiming for precision. He transitioned into a double Lutz rather than work it full-out—and took off, realizing instantly it was the wrong edge, a flutz, then wobbled the landing and tumbled backward onto his ass, one hand on the ice. Crap.
What a granny jump.
Maybe his blood sugar was low and it was costing him his concentration. John gave up on the fifth run-through and skated to the side of the rink. He snapped on the skate guards and walked out. Moments later, he returned with a half eaten package of chips, still chewing.
He rolled up the empty bag, stuffed it into his pack, then glided back onto the ice, feeling a little better. Right up until he began his sixth run-through.
~*~*~
As John waited for Rodney in the dark outside the rink, there was no sound except the cars hissing by. No one could see him, so John put on the CD headphones and spun around and around, arms out like a kid, his windbreaker fanning out around him.
"John?"
John yanked the headphones off. He wondered when Rodney had appeared or if he'd seen.
"Ready to go?" Rodney said. John could barely make Rodney out in the light, so he figured not.
John cleared his throat. "Uh. Yeah," he said in a low, adult-sounding voice, trying to cover his embarrassment.
~*~*~
The nice thing about Rodney was that he seemed to genuinely enjoy his students' screw-ups. It was like he considered each one a new marvel of idiocy and proof of his own superiority. Then he would be straight with you and say exactly what he thought, that the jump/combination spin/whatever was lousy, and explain exactly what he wanted to see next.
It was infinitely preferable to Sonja's obvious disdain followed by false cheer. "That was much better, John!"
John gave her a dismal stare over his shoulder and wondered if that worked on anyone over the age of five.
"Only because his last try located new levels of abysmal and then found the substrata beneath it."
Which was much better in John's book, although he sighed at Rodney's all-too-accurate assessment.
"Never mind performing 'with feeling'," Rodney said, his arms folded but the air quotes evident in his sarcasm. "I'll settle for a pallid facsimile of a program that is at the very least accurate. We'll just keep lowering the bar until we find a level you can manage." He made a gesture with both palms up, like he was urging an orchestra to turn up the volume. "And give us a little perkiness? Some energy? This is figure skating, not torture."
John wasn't too sure about that. He returned to his starting position and waited for the beats of the taiko drums to begin.
He sketched the arm work Sonja had added, feeling awkward and silly, and ducked into the opening spin, back leg extended. He popped up into the little hop, a half step behind the beat, then moved into the footwork sequence, a basic walk-through.
As he leaned to the side and transitioned into the spin, he let his arms open, outstretched with the music, with the force of the turn... and for one moment of clarity, it clicked. It felt right... yeah, like that... and he dropped into the tuck. It wasn't in the choreography but....
"What was that?" Sonja's voice snapped across the ice. John let his momentum fall away and stopped. The music continued without him.
She glared at him, hawk-like, and then turned to Rodney.
Rodney was making placating gestures, with a quick panicked check of his watch. "Ah. I think that's good enough for today. We're tired, making mistakes, little itty bitty slips, we've been working this program very, very hard—and very, very exactly, I might add—and we should, ah, take a break?" he ended weakly in a questioning tone. "We can do the short program next week. That's going very well, don't you think?" he turned to Sonja, hands together like little paws.
She was a quiet a moment, then conceded with a slow nod, "It is."
"Good, good." Rodney wrung his hands. "We'll see everyone back here next week, same time, same station." He smiled at her rather desperately.
She gathered her coat and gave John a wide, false smile as she left, the one female skaters used when they were either pissed off or in pain. They were trained to smile no matter what. It was weird to watch one of them get cut off in traffic or have someone step on her toe and see that blank smile appear.
The music built to a crescendo around them and then finished. The elevator returned with an empty car, opening with a ding.
"We're ending a little early," John noted, hands on his hips.
Arms pumping, Rodney skated out to him. He slid delicately to a stop without so much as a scrape along the ice; sometimes his skill with compulsory figures showed. His head ducked, he held up a forefinger, paused as if gathering his thoughts, and then said, "Let me teach you some basic Sonja mathematics.
"She's okay with subtraction. You can miss an element, screw up a jump—it happens. But," Rodney looked up, eyes intense and very blue, "she's not too keen on addition. If you want to try a little extemporaneous experimentation, be my guest! But not with her work." Rodney shook his head. "I swore up and down that you were no wannabe choreographer, that you followed your programs with slavish devotion—and I was telling the truth, darn it!"
"I don't know what I did," John said, face blank.
Rodney stabbed a finger at him. "Just... do it on your own time. Pick some music. Lyrics, anything, maybe some other taiko piece," he said, hands spinning as he improvised. "But don't fool with her programs. Why do you think no one can get her to choreograph these days?"
[Previous][Next]
You can get caught up here: Out Of Bounds.
Title: Out Of Bounds
Author: Icarus
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: John/Rodney
Summary: The nice thing about Rodney was that he seemed to genuinely enjoy his students' screw-ups. It was like he considered each one a new marvel of idiocy and proof of his own superiority.
A/N: Thank you to my intrepid and hard-working betas,
rabidfan, enname, and roaringmice. 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. Their teasing friendship warms into something more. Following a serious injury, John moves in with Rodney -- temporarily -- to train full time. John has a real choreographer now, Rodney's former skating partner, Sonja, but to everyone's frustration he's the same old John.
[Previous][Next]
Out Of Bounds
by Icarus
If John had a diary, it would read,
"Dear diary,
I suck."
Except if he had a diary, Rodney would probably get his hands on it and then John would have to defend why he sucked, while Rodney said things like, "Now, let's be specific. That jump sucked. Singular. I don't want to hear any generalizations and outlandish stories built on one mistake. Also, have you done this before? Yes? Good. Now get back to work." And then he'd rant about how skating was simple, that it was skaters who were complicated. "I'd like a map of those kaleidoscopes you call minds" – and, great. Rodney had managed to invade even his hypothetical diary.
At least Sonja had stopped making major changes. They'd had to pass on a pre-season competition simply because her program—John couldn't think of it as his—wasn't done. Rodney had probably given her an earful about that.
John pumped around the ice, his legs tired and sore, his mind more on the snack machine than this, the fourth run-through of his long program in a row. He dipped into a spin and felt it travel across the ice. Shit. He fell out of it entirely, and felt Rodney's eyes on him with his particular confused mixture of appalled amusement. Technically at the moment Rodney was teaching a small group class, demonstrating footwork and then gliding to the side as they copied him, but he always kept one eye on John.
Frankly? John could do without the attention today.
He tossed aside the current run-through for the time being to get at least that one spin right, and felt the thunderous weight of Rodney's displeasure, telegraphed in the set of his jaw and the way he turned slightly away from John. Fine. John wondered if letting himself hit the snack machine would get rid of that distraction, or if another one would pop up and take its place. He circled to his starting position again for his fifth run-through.
Maybe he needed to take it slower, go step by step? Or section it out?
He dropped any concept of working at tempo and sketched out the program slowly, aiming for precision. He transitioned into a double Lutz rather than work it full-out—and took off, realizing instantly it was the wrong edge, a flutz, then wobbled the landing and tumbled backward onto his ass, one hand on the ice. Crap.
What a granny jump.
Maybe his blood sugar was low and it was costing him his concentration. John gave up on the fifth run-through and skated to the side of the rink. He snapped on the skate guards and walked out. Moments later, he returned with a half eaten package of chips, still chewing.
He rolled up the empty bag, stuffed it into his pack, then glided back onto the ice, feeling a little better. Right up until he began his sixth run-through.
~*~*~
As John waited for Rodney in the dark outside the rink, there was no sound except the cars hissing by. No one could see him, so John put on the CD headphones and spun around and around, arms out like a kid, his windbreaker fanning out around him.
"John?"
John yanked the headphones off. He wondered when Rodney had appeared or if he'd seen.
"Ready to go?" Rodney said. John could barely make Rodney out in the light, so he figured not.
John cleared his throat. "Uh. Yeah," he said in a low, adult-sounding voice, trying to cover his embarrassment.
~*~*~
The nice thing about Rodney was that he seemed to genuinely enjoy his students' screw-ups. It was like he considered each one a new marvel of idiocy and proof of his own superiority. Then he would be straight with you and say exactly what he thought, that the jump/combination spin/whatever was lousy, and explain exactly what he wanted to see next.
It was infinitely preferable to Sonja's obvious disdain followed by false cheer. "That was much better, John!"
John gave her a dismal stare over his shoulder and wondered if that worked on anyone over the age of five.
"Only because his last try located new levels of abysmal and then found the substrata beneath it."
Which was much better in John's book, although he sighed at Rodney's all-too-accurate assessment.
"Never mind performing 'with feeling'," Rodney said, his arms folded but the air quotes evident in his sarcasm. "I'll settle for a pallid facsimile of a program that is at the very least accurate. We'll just keep lowering the bar until we find a level you can manage." He made a gesture with both palms up, like he was urging an orchestra to turn up the volume. "And give us a little perkiness? Some energy? This is figure skating, not torture."
John wasn't too sure about that. He returned to his starting position and waited for the beats of the taiko drums to begin.
He sketched the arm work Sonja had added, feeling awkward and silly, and ducked into the opening spin, back leg extended. He popped up into the little hop, a half step behind the beat, then moved into the footwork sequence, a basic walk-through.
As he leaned to the side and transitioned into the spin, he let his arms open, outstretched with the music, with the force of the turn... and for one moment of clarity, it clicked. It felt right... yeah, like that... and he dropped into the tuck. It wasn't in the choreography but....
"What was that?" Sonja's voice snapped across the ice. John let his momentum fall away and stopped. The music continued without him.
She glared at him, hawk-like, and then turned to Rodney.
Rodney was making placating gestures, with a quick panicked check of his watch. "Ah. I think that's good enough for today. We're tired, making mistakes, little itty bitty slips, we've been working this program very, very hard—and very, very exactly, I might add—and we should, ah, take a break?" he ended weakly in a questioning tone. "We can do the short program next week. That's going very well, don't you think?" he turned to Sonja, hands together like little paws.
She was a quiet a moment, then conceded with a slow nod, "It is."
"Good, good." Rodney wrung his hands. "We'll see everyone back here next week, same time, same station." He smiled at her rather desperately.
She gathered her coat and gave John a wide, false smile as she left, the one female skaters used when they were either pissed off or in pain. They were trained to smile no matter what. It was weird to watch one of them get cut off in traffic or have someone step on her toe and see that blank smile appear.
The music built to a crescendo around them and then finished. The elevator returned with an empty car, opening with a ding.
"We're ending a little early," John noted, hands on his hips.
Arms pumping, Rodney skated out to him. He slid delicately to a stop without so much as a scrape along the ice; sometimes his skill with compulsory figures showed. His head ducked, he held up a forefinger, paused as if gathering his thoughts, and then said, "Let me teach you some basic Sonja mathematics.
"She's okay with subtraction. You can miss an element, screw up a jump—it happens. But," Rodney looked up, eyes intense and very blue, "she's not too keen on addition. If you want to try a little extemporaneous experimentation, be my guest! But not with her work." Rodney shook his head. "I swore up and down that you were no wannabe choreographer, that you followed your programs with slavish devotion—and I was telling the truth, darn it!"
"I don't know what I did," John said, face blank.
Rodney stabbed a finger at him. "Just... do it on your own time. Pick some music. Lyrics, anything, maybe some other taiko piece," he said, hands spinning as he improvised. "But don't fool with her programs. Why do you think no one can get her to choreograph these days?"
[Previous][Next]
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-09-16 10:13 pm (UTC)"But don't fool with her programs. Why do you think no one can get her to choreograph these days?"~~~um, because she's a prima donna? Sorry. Had to come back on that one. lol
Poor John. He has 'moments' and then goes 'whut? huh?' Such a guy.
no subject
Date: 2008-09-16 10:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-16 10:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-16 11:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-16 11:44 pm (UTC)Poor, poor John. He can't quite figure things out, can he?
no subject
Date: 2008-09-17 12:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-17 01:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-17 05:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-17 06:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-17 09:02 am (UTC)Also, hope your teeth are feeling better...back to real food yet? ^_-
no subject
Date: 2008-09-17 10:43 am (UTC)But John will get there in the end and get the gir... er boy too - I'm sure! Thank you so much for this - more please!
no subject
Date: 2008-09-17 07:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-17 10:23 pm (UTC)Yeah, I'm not even sure Rodney saw him "get it." Sonja was so wigged about her choreography that he was distracted by her.
no subject
Date: 2008-09-17 10:25 pm (UTC)More is coming soon. I'm working on the next section and hope to have it up no later than this weekend.
no subject
Date: 2008-09-17 10:27 pm (UTC)Thank you so much. I hope to have the next section, at least part of it, up by this weekend.
no subject
Date: 2008-09-18 12:49 am (UTC)The elite female skaters are much closer together in their abilities than the men because of the steep competition. There will be 200 women skating for the gold at Regionals, and maybe just two men. So by the time you get to Nationals, the gap between the first place skater, Kyle Fletcher, and the 9th place skater, John Sheppard, is vast.
no subject
Date: 2008-09-18 01:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-18 01:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-18 01:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-18 01:55 am (UTC)Usually when skaters change their program it has to do with the jumps: they missed an important jump earlier so swap out another jump farther.
no subject
Date: 2008-09-18 02:54 am (UTC)Of course, I have a foolproof method of knowing what happens in a WIP: betaing. *g*
no subject
Date: 2008-09-18 06:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-18 02:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-22 04:08 am (UTC)"Only because his last try located new levels of abysmal and then found the substrata beneath it." ~~~This line is perfect. I love it.
Thank you. Rodney's blatant rudeness is the reason to write SGA.
"But don't fool with her programs. Why do you think no one can get her to choreograph these days?"~~~um, because she's a prima donna? Sorry. Had to come back on that one. lol
Ha. You're not the only one to say that. *g*
Poor John. He has 'moments' and then goes 'whut? huh?' Such a guy.
Yeah, he doesn't get it yet.
In other news: The next part is up (http://icarusancalion.livejournal.com/798394.html).
no subject
Date: 2008-09-22 04:09 am (UTC)As an FYI, the next part is up (http://icarusancalion.livejournal.com/798394.html).
no subject
Date: 2008-09-22 04:10 am (UTC)P.S. the next part is up now (http://icarusancalion.livejournal.com/798394.html).
no subject
Date: 2008-09-22 04:11 am (UTC)It's still the weekend where you are, right?
no subject
Date: 2008-09-22 04:12 am (UTC)I promised by the weekend, right? Here you go: the next part is up (http://icarusancalion.livejournal.com/798394.html).
no subject
Date: 2008-09-22 04:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-22 04:15 am (UTC)But! The next part is up (http://icarusancalion.livejournal.com/798394.html).
no subject
Date: 2008-09-22 04:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-22 04:19 am (UTC)Here you go (http://icarusancalion.livejournal.com/798394.html).
no subject
Date: 2008-09-22 04:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-22 04:21 am (UTC)As promised: the next part is up (http://icarusancalion.livejournal.com/798394.html).