![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
icarusChipping away at Out Of Bounds... another ~1,500 words.
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: The girls were already warming up below, as delicate as angelfish, circling.
A/N: Thank you to my tireless betas,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rabidfan and roaringmice (our skating consultant ;). Welcome to the team, tingler and mariamme. You guys have been fabulous.
[Previous][Next]
Out Of Bounds
by Icarus
John picked his way down the narrow steps toward the ice, the cool breath of the arena on his face. The crowd buzzed and hummed as people returned to their seats. The girls were already warming up below, as delicate as angelfish, circling. Rodney was down with the other coaches, leaned forward on his elbows with his chin almost to the boards, steepled fingers pressed to his lips. His butt was sticking out in that position, John noted with a smirk.
He held his popcorn high as he edged along the row to sit next to Mrs. Bevington. Her fleece cape coat overflowed into his seat.
"Have I mentioned how weird it is to be in the audience?" John said, getting up again to move aside her coat. She didn't notice.
She regarded him with surprise. "Why? Don't you watch competitions?"
"Well, I'm usually in them." John indicated the rink with his chin. He decided not to add that unless he was a competitor he couldn't afford the tickets. The U.S.-Canadian exchange rate was nice.
Bethany had made it through the qualification rounds three days before and survived her short for a decent seventh place. Middle of the pack, but two skaters had withdrawn; she was still in striking distance. Now she skated slowly, scissoring her feet and bouncing a little, not wasting her energy. She was one of the first up. Her thick curly hair was pulled back in a ponytail that spilled behind her shoulders and she wore a tiny flutter of purple skirt. John decided that one of the reasons he wasn't into women's skating was that their costumes were too damned much alike. You couldn't look at them and see what their program was going to be. The guys – and the ice dancers too, he had to admit – were more fun.
He could also admit that the competition was a lot stiffer for the girls. There were no qualification rounds in men's, not when they struggled just to field enough skaters.
John watched Rodney on the sidelines once the skaters were ordered to clear the ice. His shoulders were rounded as he hovered next to Bethany, gesturing. Her face was wan, and she looked like she was going to be sick. The first skater, a smallish blond girl in periwinkle blue, skated back and forth, looking down, her hands on her hips.
He didn't catch the name when it was announced, but there was a rustle of applause as the girl in blue skated out on one foot, smiling brightly. As the girl began and the classical violins sang, Rodney sat down next to Bethany. She'd put her head between her knees. Okay, she'd either thrown up or was about to. John could relate. Rodney scanned the stadium helplessly, as if looking for John and not finding him.
The audience applauded and John glanced over to see the first kid had landed a jump, skirts flying. Turning back to Rodney, he frowned to find they'd vanished from the chairs – and discovered he and Bethany walking back to the locker rooms. Okay. Definitely going to be sick. John settled in to watch the rest of the other girl's program, trying to decide if she was better than Bethany or not, but he'd missed too much of it.
He applauded politely as she stood in her final pose, even as he scanned the sidelines to see ... ah, there. Rodney was next to the rink again, looking sick himself, and Bethany somehow was already on the ice. She seemed a lot better now, thick eyebrows drawn in concentration as she warmed up.
"That was pretty good," John leaned over to Mrs. Bevington. He wasn't about to admit he'd missed most of it but he hoped for a clue.
"Much better than last year," she said unhelpfully, her round chin high and clapping harder as Bethany skated out with a cheery smile. You'd never guess Bethany had probably thrown up three minutes ago.
On the other side of Mrs. Bevington, a half dozen high voices shrieked, "Go Bethany!"
On the ice Bethany's smile grew wider, more natural.
She raised her hands overhead, palms clasped in her starting pose. The soothing harp music began, rolling like a gentle horseback ride. She swayed, circling out of center ice in a little curlicue, digging her skates in to pick up speed with tight fast strokes, arms out at her sides ... and she swept backwards around the far edge of the rink with one leg raised high, looking over her shoulder. She turned, switched legs, and lowered into a curving swan-like arch around the ice, making the full circuit. The crowd clapped.
John clapped, too, though he thought it would have been better if she hadn't switched legs. But he really couldn't hold a Novice program to Senior standards.
She was a little late into her jump on the soft bell-like tones, and John winced, knowing how many times he'd messed up the timing in Utrecht. She caught the next set of bells though, with a very pretty double toe loop. Then down into a sit-spin with the thrumming drums, her long ponytail spinning with her in a nice counterpoint. It slapped her across the face when she stood into a fast scratch spin. She slid one palm down her arm as she arched her back for her layback spin. And, oh, yeah, she turned it into a Biellmann, catching her skate overhead in a tulip shape as she spun. John clapped then.
A bit of connecting footwork out of the spin sequence, and then he saw her line up for her next jump ... and she popped it. The audience clapped anyway. Down by the ice, however, Rodney's hands fell slowly, his shoulders sinking in dismay, and then John knew: that was her triple. She was going have to throw in the triple someplace else to make up ground, or turn a double into a triple.
It was possible. John hoped to hell she'd practiced alternate strategies. He leaned forward, fingers laced together between his knees. "C'mon," he said under his breath. Mrs. Bevington glanced at him.
She bounced up on her toepicks as the fast rhythm section began, and oh, not good. He'd seen Bethany do this a thousand times but the pep and energy just wasn't there. She cut through her footwork sluggish and slow, like she was carefully counting steps for practice.
Come on, don't let one fuck up blow your whole program, John thought, shaking his head.
She made it to the end without any more mistakes, a smile pasted back on. But the jumps weren't there. She'd done nothing to put herself back in contention. John ran his hand through his hair as the crowd clapped enthusiastically, either very nice and encouraging (and skating crowds were usually encouraging) or else unaware that she'd missed an essential element of her program, responding to just her performance.
Head dipped, she did a graceful curtsy. A black and white Dalmatian toy flew over John's head and onto the ice. As she stroked off the ice, she circled around and picked it up, wiggling the puppy for the crowd.
Rodney waited for her by the sidelines, holding onto her skate guards with both hands like they were a blankie, his eyes huge and tragic. Her head down, jaw tight, she put on the guards and then marched right past him for the lockers. She was stopped by the camera people and had to turn around to the Kiss N' Cry. It was her first competition where her reaction was on television, and the CBC showed all of their Nationals, not just the top skaters. (Canadian television had to have a certain amount of pure-bred Canadian content.) Rodney swept a hand out graciously for her and Bethany stepped up onto the platform, stoic, her shoulders hunched, her face displayed on the overhead screen. The camera zoomed out to show Rodney sitting next to her, wringing his hands.
"Hi, Bethany!" yelled the girls on the other side of Mrs. Bevington.
Bethany gave the camera a strained smile, looking around, searching the crowd. Rodney leaned over to say something but Bethany wasn't listening. Her teammates waved wildly, a cluster of flailing hands. Bethany waved back, then hunched again. She played with the floppy ear on the stuffed toy, biting her lip as she waited for her scores.
"5.2 ... 5.0 ... 5.4 ..." the announcer read.
"What?" Mrs. Bevington startled. Her seat squeaked in complaint. "That was a wonderful performance! She looked beautiful out there! What's wrong with those judges?" she huffed.
John shook his head but didn't answer. Explaining about the jump felt like rubbing it in.
~*~*~
John quietly slipped the hotel door shut behind his back. Unsurprisingly, Rodney was still waiting in the hall. Bethany had refused to open the door for anyone other than John which was a bit of a surprise, but he supposed Melanie Weir had spilled the beans about his injury before Worlds. Somehow he'd become "the one who'd understand."
Oh, he understood all right. All too well.
"How is she?" Rodney asked in a stage whisper.
"Terrible," John said in a low, hoarse voice. He stared at the ground, hooking his hands in his pockets. He shifted his weight from one hip to the other.
Rodney's shoulders sagged dramatically as though this were somehow news. "Still. She'll get over it."
John stalked toward their room. "Not tonight she won't."
[Previous][Next]
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: The girls were already warming up below, as delicate as angelfish, circling.
A/N: Thank you to my tireless betas,
rabidfan and roaringmice (our skating consultant ;). Welcome to the team, tingler and mariamme. You guys have been fabulous. 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. John and Rodney take Rodney's young protege, Bethany, to the Canadian Nationals while John prepares for his own National championships.
[Previous][Next]
Out Of Bounds
by Icarus
John picked his way down the narrow steps toward the ice, the cool breath of the arena on his face. The crowd buzzed and hummed as people returned to their seats. The girls were already warming up below, as delicate as angelfish, circling. Rodney was down with the other coaches, leaned forward on his elbows with his chin almost to the boards, steepled fingers pressed to his lips. His butt was sticking out in that position, John noted with a smirk.
He held his popcorn high as he edged along the row to sit next to Mrs. Bevington. Her fleece cape coat overflowed into his seat.
"Have I mentioned how weird it is to be in the audience?" John said, getting up again to move aside her coat. She didn't notice.
She regarded him with surprise. "Why? Don't you watch competitions?"
"Well, I'm usually in them." John indicated the rink with his chin. He decided not to add that unless he was a competitor he couldn't afford the tickets. The U.S.-Canadian exchange rate was nice.
Bethany had made it through the qualification rounds three days before and survived her short for a decent seventh place. Middle of the pack, but two skaters had withdrawn; she was still in striking distance. Now she skated slowly, scissoring her feet and bouncing a little, not wasting her energy. She was one of the first up. Her thick curly hair was pulled back in a ponytail that spilled behind her shoulders and she wore a tiny flutter of purple skirt. John decided that one of the reasons he wasn't into women's skating was that their costumes were too damned much alike. You couldn't look at them and see what their program was going to be. The guys – and the ice dancers too, he had to admit – were more fun.
He could also admit that the competition was a lot stiffer for the girls. There were no qualification rounds in men's, not when they struggled just to field enough skaters.
John watched Rodney on the sidelines once the skaters were ordered to clear the ice. His shoulders were rounded as he hovered next to Bethany, gesturing. Her face was wan, and she looked like she was going to be sick. The first skater, a smallish blond girl in periwinkle blue, skated back and forth, looking down, her hands on her hips.
He didn't catch the name when it was announced, but there was a rustle of applause as the girl in blue skated out on one foot, smiling brightly. As the girl began and the classical violins sang, Rodney sat down next to Bethany. She'd put her head between her knees. Okay, she'd either thrown up or was about to. John could relate. Rodney scanned the stadium helplessly, as if looking for John and not finding him.
The audience applauded and John glanced over to see the first kid had landed a jump, skirts flying. Turning back to Rodney, he frowned to find they'd vanished from the chairs – and discovered he and Bethany walking back to the locker rooms. Okay. Definitely going to be sick. John settled in to watch the rest of the other girl's program, trying to decide if she was better than Bethany or not, but he'd missed too much of it.
He applauded politely as she stood in her final pose, even as he scanned the sidelines to see ... ah, there. Rodney was next to the rink again, looking sick himself, and Bethany somehow was already on the ice. She seemed a lot better now, thick eyebrows drawn in concentration as she warmed up.
"That was pretty good," John leaned over to Mrs. Bevington. He wasn't about to admit he'd missed most of it but he hoped for a clue.
"Much better than last year," she said unhelpfully, her round chin high and clapping harder as Bethany skated out with a cheery smile. You'd never guess Bethany had probably thrown up three minutes ago.
On the other side of Mrs. Bevington, a half dozen high voices shrieked, "Go Bethany!"
On the ice Bethany's smile grew wider, more natural.
She raised her hands overhead, palms clasped in her starting pose. The soothing harp music began, rolling like a gentle horseback ride. She swayed, circling out of center ice in a little curlicue, digging her skates in to pick up speed with tight fast strokes, arms out at her sides ... and she swept backwards around the far edge of the rink with one leg raised high, looking over her shoulder. She turned, switched legs, and lowered into a curving swan-like arch around the ice, making the full circuit. The crowd clapped.
John clapped, too, though he thought it would have been better if she hadn't switched legs. But he really couldn't hold a Novice program to Senior standards.
She was a little late into her jump on the soft bell-like tones, and John winced, knowing how many times he'd messed up the timing in Utrecht. She caught the next set of bells though, with a very pretty double toe loop. Then down into a sit-spin with the thrumming drums, her long ponytail spinning with her in a nice counterpoint. It slapped her across the face when she stood into a fast scratch spin. She slid one palm down her arm as she arched her back for her layback spin. And, oh, yeah, she turned it into a Biellmann, catching her skate overhead in a tulip shape as she spun. John clapped then.
A bit of connecting footwork out of the spin sequence, and then he saw her line up for her next jump ... and she popped it. The audience clapped anyway. Down by the ice, however, Rodney's hands fell slowly, his shoulders sinking in dismay, and then John knew: that was her triple. She was going have to throw in the triple someplace else to make up ground, or turn a double into a triple.
It was possible. John hoped to hell she'd practiced alternate strategies. He leaned forward, fingers laced together between his knees. "C'mon," he said under his breath. Mrs. Bevington glanced at him.
She bounced up on her toepicks as the fast rhythm section began, and oh, not good. He'd seen Bethany do this a thousand times but the pep and energy just wasn't there. She cut through her footwork sluggish and slow, like she was carefully counting steps for practice.
Come on, don't let one fuck up blow your whole program, John thought, shaking his head.
She made it to the end without any more mistakes, a smile pasted back on. But the jumps weren't there. She'd done nothing to put herself back in contention. John ran his hand through his hair as the crowd clapped enthusiastically, either very nice and encouraging (and skating crowds were usually encouraging) or else unaware that she'd missed an essential element of her program, responding to just her performance.
Head dipped, she did a graceful curtsy. A black and white Dalmatian toy flew over John's head and onto the ice. As she stroked off the ice, she circled around and picked it up, wiggling the puppy for the crowd.
Rodney waited for her by the sidelines, holding onto her skate guards with both hands like they were a blankie, his eyes huge and tragic. Her head down, jaw tight, she put on the guards and then marched right past him for the lockers. She was stopped by the camera people and had to turn around to the Kiss N' Cry. It was her first competition where her reaction was on television, and the CBC showed all of their Nationals, not just the top skaters. (Canadian television had to have a certain amount of pure-bred Canadian content.) Rodney swept a hand out graciously for her and Bethany stepped up onto the platform, stoic, her shoulders hunched, her face displayed on the overhead screen. The camera zoomed out to show Rodney sitting next to her, wringing his hands.
"Hi, Bethany!" yelled the girls on the other side of Mrs. Bevington.
Bethany gave the camera a strained smile, looking around, searching the crowd. Rodney leaned over to say something but Bethany wasn't listening. Her teammates waved wildly, a cluster of flailing hands. Bethany waved back, then hunched again. She played with the floppy ear on the stuffed toy, biting her lip as she waited for her scores.
"5.2 ... 5.0 ... 5.4 ..." the announcer read.
"What?" Mrs. Bevington startled. Her seat squeaked in complaint. "That was a wonderful performance! She looked beautiful out there! What's wrong with those judges?" she huffed.
John shook his head but didn't answer. Explaining about the jump felt like rubbing it in.
John quietly slipped the hotel door shut behind his back. Unsurprisingly, Rodney was still waiting in the hall. Bethany had refused to open the door for anyone other than John which was a bit of a surprise, but he supposed Melanie Weir had spilled the beans about his injury before Worlds. Somehow he'd become "the one who'd understand."
Oh, he understood all right. All too well.
"How is she?" Rodney asked in a stage whisper.
"Terrible," John said in a low, hoarse voice. He stared at the ground, hooking his hands in his pockets. He shifted his weight from one hip to the other.
Rodney's shoulders sagged dramatically as though this were somehow news. "Still. She'll get over it."
John stalked toward their room. "Not tonight she won't."
[Previous][Next]
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-01-20 09:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-20 09:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-20 09:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-20 09:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-20 10:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-20 11:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-20 11:34 pm (UTC)Oh, poor Bethany. How very disappointing for her. And for Rodney. *sigh*
It was good seeing it through John's eyes, as a fellow competitor. Thanks for posting. =>}
no subject
Date: 2009-01-21 12:05 am (UTC)I love the respect John gives her as a fellow soldier and not as a kid.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-21 01:40 am (UTC)...Ahem.
How could you DO that? *wails* Was so cruel! *g* Words can describe my love for empath!John and searchingforJohn!Rodney. So cute, omg.
Thanks. Again. Getting to be quite addictive, this consecutive (almost;) posting! Ta very much! Brava!
no subject
Date: 2009-01-21 01:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-21 12:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-21 05:05 pm (UTC)wiggling the puppy for the crowd.
Oh, so cute.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-21 06:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-21 11:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-22 02:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-22 07:23 am (UTC)*wibbles*
European figure skating contest today
Date: 2009-01-22 08:56 pm (UTC)If you can, rewatch it. Both Joubert and Contesti looks like John from afar with the great build and dark hair - although John´s face is much more cute ^^
Re: European figure skating contest today
Date: 2009-01-23 06:06 am (UTC)As far as telling me the results of a competition I haven't seen yet... if it's all right with you, I'd rather not have spoilers. I've skimmed past the headlines to the best of my ability.
I think Lysacek is the ringer, looks-wise, even having the fly-away hair. Joubert is closest of the European skaters. Skating style-wise, I'm still looking for someone who skates like John. Preaubert's jumps are exactly like what I picture for John, but John doesn't hunch his shoulders like that. I guess John skates like John. :)
no subject
Date: 2009-01-23 01:09 am (UTC)I'm glad you included this chapter, it feels very realistic to me.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-23 03:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-23 07:00 am (UTC)Poor girl. John will make it better!
no subject
Date: 2009-01-23 10:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-24 07:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-10 10:22 pm (UTC)