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

[icarus]

The third of four parts today. Huh. These last two are smaller than the others. Oh well. I'm posting in four sections to give a very large part of the story some natural chapter breaks. WG's snoozing so I'm back on the computer again.

The story in one file up to an earlier chapter: Out Of Bounds.

Title: Out Of Bounds
Author: Icarus
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: John/Rodney
Summary: Rodney didn't get a lot of work-related calls at home. The one time John had heard Rodney field a call from a parent, he'd told her, "You know what? I have boundaries. And this is what a boundary sounds like" -- and then hung up on her.
A/N: Thank you to my intrepid and tireless betas, rabidfan and roaringmice. Welcome to the team, tingler

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. Rodney, despite his insistence that he doesn't do competitions, went to both John's Regional and Sectional championships. He does have other skaters, including his 12-year-old star, Bethany (who might have a bit of a crush on John).

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Out Of Bounds
by Icarus



Rodney didn't get a lot of work-related calls at home.

This was probably due to the fact that the one time John had heard him field a call from a parent, Rodney had told her, "You know what? I have boundaries. And this is what a boundary sounds like" -- and then hung up on her. At John's stunned look, Rodney explained, "These are pampered people I'm dealing with. You have to be firm. Trust me, I know: I was one of them."

John didn't point out that he had always called Rodney at home, and even showed up at his door late one night, without realizing he was somehow an exception. It suggested that their relationship had been different from the start—not a comfortable thought. He hadn't meant to take advantage of Rodney's obvious crush.

It was a surprise therefore to pick up the phone late on a Friday night and hear a young girl in a strained voice ask, "Is Mr. McKay there?" She said it with a sniffle that John suspected wasn't a cold.

"He's out right now," John told her.

"Who is this?" she asked with child-like bluntness.

"I'm John," he said, deliberately vague. If people knew he lived with Rodney they might get the wrong idea. Or rather, the right idea.

"John Sheppard? You're visiting?"

John paused for a breath.

"Sure," he said with a smile. It was as good an explanation as any.

"I thought it sounded like you," she said, her voice warming. She sounded a shade more cheerful.

"Well then," John asked, smirking. "Fair's fair: Who's this?"

"Bethany," she said with a hint of disbelief and disgust at his stupidity that he somehow couldn't tell. Yeah, yeah, silly adults.

"Bethany." John took a moment to try to remember which of Rodney's students was... ah. Darkish skin, curly hair, about twelve or so. One of Rodney's Novice-level skaters, and pretty good. "Riiiight. Bethany."

On the other end of the phone there was a sharp intake of breath and another smothered sniffle.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she lied.

"Funny..." John imitated her bluntness, squinting as he asked in a dry, disbelieving tone, "...Because you don't sound fine."

"I'm at Divisionals," she explained.

"Right now?" John hadn't realized the Canadian Divisionals were even going on. That was just one step below Nationals on this side of the border.

"Yeah."

"Huh." He thought he knew what was coming next but he asked anyhow, shifting the phone to his other ear. He leaned his hip against the kitchen counter. "So how's it going?"

"I just did my short program." There was a light tremble in her voice.

"I see."

There was a long moment of silence like a door had slammed shut. Then she asked, "When is Mr. McKay coming back?"

He nodded. She wasn't going to tell him anything else. Fumbling with a pad of post-its, he asked with a determined frown, "Why don't you just give me your number and I'll have him call as soon as he gets in."

"Okay...." she said with an uncertain waver, like she had been fully prepared to stay on the phone until the cows came home, or Rodney, whichever came first.

"The second he walks in. I promise."

She weighed this a moment. "All right. You promise?" she asked, clearly suspicious of an adult brush off.

"Cross my heart and hope to die," John said. She didn't respond, and he got the sense that this wasn't enough. "Look, if he doesn't call you within an hour you can call back."

"Okay," she said more firmly, accepting that.

Forty minutes later, Rodney stepped through the door, coat unbuttoned like he hadn't bothered, shoulders slumped and tired. John stuffed the post-it into his hand and stripped away his wheelie bag, leaving Rodney blinking in confusion. John gave him a one-word explanation, "Bethany."

Rodney swore. "Okay, let me watch her performance first...." He muscled past John towards the VCR.

John caught his shoulder. "No. Now."

"It will take me five minutes to watch her entire performance and then I will be five hundred percent more informed and actually useful, rather than a long-distance human hanky." He shook John's hand off and turned on the VCR. "Let me do my job."

It took him more like ten minutes, but then Rodney called her, pacing the kitchen. John watched him from the couch, feeling an obligation to eavesdrop.

"Settle down, settle down... no, that's good!... well, you weren't going to beat her anyway... I didn't want to tell you because you might have, we didn't want to banish the possibility in your mind... No. Never go into a competition planning for failure. That's not getting your hopes up, that's positive thinking.... Because you're ready." He folded his arms, more stubborn than she was. "Show me anyone who's worked harder for this.... Look, based on your scores alone, you're in great shape going into the long program tomorrow—oh. Sunday then. Good, that'll give you another day of ice time... no, you're not going to die!... Well, eat what you can and if you throw up, you throw up."

Rodney returned to the VCR and analyzed her performance for her, step by step. Slowly the tension in the room eased. "Think you're going to live through this?... good," he chuckled. "Your mom's right. She's skated longer than you have—no, not at this level, true. But you've got this. You're doing well."

He sighed as he hung up, shaking his head. "Every season." He plunked onto the couch next to John, rewinding the tape to watch all of her competitors' performances with a careful eye.

"Why aren't you there?" John asked. "You're her coach."

Rodney fast-forwarded through an Asian girl in pink sparkles with ribbons in her hair who, although cute, was not definitely not in Bethany's league. No one in that flight was. "I don't do competitions. They all know that. When they sign on with me, that's the deal."

"You went to mine," John pointed out.

Rodney turned to him with wide innocent eyes, seeming hurt. "That's different."

"No. It isn't, Rodney." John waved a hand at the TV screen as Bethany began her program again, the sound muted. "You've left that kid flapping in the breeze!"

"What? You want me to cancel all my Saturday classes, hop in my car right this second and drive to Peterborough?"

John gave him a steady stare, then licked his lips uncertainly and asked, "How far is Peterborough, exactly?"

~*~*~

Two hours later, Rodney was snappish when he called John from his hotel in Peterborough.

"I hope you're happy. This place is little better than a Motel 6. There's mold on the windowsill!" he complained bitterly. "And don't even dream you can slack off just because I'm out of town."

John simply smiled. "Was she surprised?

"I think she cracked my ribs. It might be time to scale back her conditioning," he groused. "Oh," he added with a kind of evil amusement that made John nervous, "I've informed her of how much she owes you. There's talk of marriage, and I do believe I've seen ominous hearts inscribed around the letters 'J plus B.'"

"Evil, McKay." John laughed.

"I warned you of my fiendish ways, and it serves you right." He added as a parting shot, "Touch the beer and you die. Training weight, remember? You gained too much over Thanksgiving."

~*~*~

Ten o'clock Sunday morning, John dutifully cracked open the bottled water and turned out the cable access channel that carried the figure skating Divisionals—and it suddenly became clear why Rodney had cable he never watched. The VCR whirred and began recording.

Bethany was in the final flight, among the top six. John raised his eyebrows and marveled at the perfectionism of certain skaters. He would have killed to be in the top six when he was a teenager.

As colorful as birds, the six girls launched for their final warm-up, racing each other around the ice until they split apart for their last practice before the freeskate. Rodney stood by the side of the ice, a little apart from the other five coaches. His hands rested on the boards, tense as he watched Bethany hold a long spiral. She executed a combination spin sequence, dropping out of it at the last second, her shoulders sagging as she stroked powerfully over to Rodney. His head bent to her, he gestured with one hand. No way to know what he was telling her. The other skaters were set loose like multiple pinballs around the ice.

Elbow on the arm of the couch, John watched the competition with a smug smile, damned proud of both of them.

He wasn't all surprised when the phone rang not even fifteen minutes later when he was digging around in the fridge. He was due a reward, he thought.

Rodney was breathless with enthusiasm. "The scores aren't posted yet, but barring total idiocy and partial blindness on the part of the judges—which naturally I'm not ruling out—she's in the top four, at least. Maybe more?" he said, his voice rising in a hopeful question. "She just might be going to Nationals." He seemed to try to rein himself in, clearing his throat. "Which, of course, means a lot more work for me. We'd have to train through the Christmas season and there's extra costs involved, so, you know, it's okay either way."

"Of course," John said, humoring him as he opened his beer.


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Sam Roberts - Canadian Dream

Comments

[twistedrecesses.livejournal.com]

:D It's always so much fun to read John and Rodney sniping at each other. And the massive update is awesome.