Stargate: Atlantis: Sheppard/McKay, Senses: Sight
Title: Watching Rodney
Author: yarnaddict
Theme: Five Senses: Sight
Rating: G
Author's Note: Thanks go out to slytherindyke for the last-minute beta. =)
John likes to watch Rodney.
When he's working, his body language telegraphs just how the day's experiments are going, how recalcitrant the Ancient technology is being, how much or how little coffee he's had. John can step into the lab and, with one glance, tell what kind of day it's been, just by looking at Rodney.
When he's excited, his hands fly about in gestures both big and small, fingers playing the air like an instrument. His face lights up and he grins, looking for all the world like a small child on Christmas morning. John doesn't have to hear what he's saying; he just needs to see that expression, see those gestures, and know that whatever was wrong, it'll be all right, now.
When he's nervous, he rubs his fingers together. His hands twitch and fidget. And he frowns, his brow furrowing and his mouth pulling down hard at the corners. It's different from his frown of anger or his frown of confusion, and John has watched him enough to know them all, be able to tell which is in evidence with just a quick look.
When he's sleeping, though... John can sit and watch him for hours when he's sleeping. His features relax and his hands go still, and the lines fade from his face to leave him looking years younger, more innocent, less weighed down by the pressures of his job, of life in Atlantis. He looks peaceful, and that's the look John likes best of all.
Author: yarnaddict
Theme: Five Senses: Sight
Rating: G
Author's Note: Thanks go out to slytherindyke for the last-minute beta. =)
John likes to watch Rodney.
When he's working, his body language telegraphs just how the day's experiments are going, how recalcitrant the Ancient technology is being, how much or how little coffee he's had. John can step into the lab and, with one glance, tell what kind of day it's been, just by looking at Rodney.
When he's excited, his hands fly about in gestures both big and small, fingers playing the air like an instrument. His face lights up and he grins, looking for all the world like a small child on Christmas morning. John doesn't have to hear what he's saying; he just needs to see that expression, see those gestures, and know that whatever was wrong, it'll be all right, now.
When he's nervous, he rubs his fingers together. His hands twitch and fidget. And he frowns, his brow furrowing and his mouth pulling down hard at the corners. It's different from his frown of anger or his frown of confusion, and John has watched him enough to know them all, be able to tell which is in evidence with just a quick look.
When he's sleeping, though... John can sit and watch him for hours when he's sleeping. His features relax and his hands go still, and the lines fade from his face to leave him looking years younger, more innocent, less weighed down by the pressures of his job, of life in Atlantis. He looks peaceful, and that's the look John likes best of all.