skeddy_kat (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
skeddy_kat) wrote2005-11-29 09:55 pm
skeddy_kat) wrote2005-11-29 09:55 pm
Hands
Stargate Atlantis. 190 words on John's hands.
John Sheppard sits in his dimly lit room staring at his hands. They’re human again, but otherwise unremarkable. In a crowd, they won’t stand out. Not like Rodney’s. Rodney has beautiful hands—long fingered, expressive, animated. Rodney’s hands are open and honest, revealing everything. John loves watching those hands punctuating Rodney’s conversations or flying over a keyboard. They’re the hands of an artist or maybe a pianist. He wonders if Rodney had ever put brush to canvas or played the piano. Rodney’s hands don’t or can’t lie; John’s not sure which. He envies Rodney’s hands.
John’s hands aren’t honest. Like John himself, they become whatever is needed. His hands are competent killers; they no longer tremble at the prospect. Those same steady hands have traced paths of pleasure on sweaty bodies in darkened rooms; lovers, strangers, and some in between. John’s hands manage the cyclic of a helicopter and a guitar pick with equal skill. They can disassemble and assemble a P90 blindfolded. Here in Atlantis they make things come alive. He looks at his hands and no longer knows who they’re supposed to be, who he’s supposed to be.
John Sheppard sits in his dimly lit room staring at his hands. They’re human again, but otherwise unremarkable. In a crowd, they won’t stand out. Not like Rodney’s. Rodney has beautiful hands—long fingered, expressive, animated. Rodney’s hands are open and honest, revealing everything. John loves watching those hands punctuating Rodney’s conversations or flying over a keyboard. They’re the hands of an artist or maybe a pianist. He wonders if Rodney had ever put brush to canvas or played the piano. Rodney’s hands don’t or can’t lie; John’s not sure which. He envies Rodney’s hands.
John’s hands aren’t honest. Like John himself, they become whatever is needed. His hands are competent killers; they no longer tremble at the prospect. Those same steady hands have traced paths of pleasure on sweaty bodies in darkened rooms; lovers, strangers, and some in between. John’s hands manage the cyclic of a helicopter and a guitar pick with equal skill. They can disassemble and assemble a P90 blindfolded. Here in Atlantis they make things come alive. He looks at his hands and no longer knows who they’re supposed to be, who he’s supposed to be.
no subject
*pets Shep* He has very pretty hands too..!
john's hands
Nice.
no subject
no subject
Re: john's hands
no subject
I'm glad you liked it. Thanks for the feedback.