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Entry tags:
.ficturespam: focus
Firstly, thank you so much to the anonymous person who sent me a Sheppardcat! He is adoooorable!
Secondly, I usually picspam when I'm cranky, and I was cranky earlier today because of productivity and futility issues, though Sheppardcat has made me happy, as has talking to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
summertea, dogeared, and sheafrotherdon. Still, though, I bring you intense! and focused!John picspam, because really, he was way too hot in "Reunion" for his own good. Or mine, for that matter.
Like the last one, this has a bit of fic woven into it. Ficturespam!
One of the things (other than his genius) that's helped Rodney get where he is today (another galaxy, surrounded by life-sucking aliens and self-replicating nanites and backstabbing psychopaths and space bimbos and probably a whole lot worse) is his focus. In grad school, he'd overheard one of the other students say something about how he was like a small dog with a bone, and he hadn't stopped until he'd made his life a living hell.
Good days, good days.
Anyway, his focus.
Get him on a project, and it's almost impossible to get him off. It comes in handy trying to save the city--and if he'd thought he was good at multi-tasking before, well, he's the champion of the goddamn universe now, because he's pretty sure not just anyone can reroute power conduits, power up a star drive, reprogram nanites, and explain everything to John Sheppard's satisfaction at the same time.
Speaking of Sheppard, and focus.
It's become very difficult, Rodney thinks, to focus on his actual work whenever Sheppard's around. Instead, his mind ends up zeroing in on Sheppard's stupid hair, his stupid slouch, his stupid questions, his stupid drawling hey, Rodney as he... he slinks up to Rodney and looks over his shoulder and asks what he's working on.
And Sheppard... Sheppard's pretty good at focusing too. He goes still and quiet and intent, and the more focused Sheppard gets sometimes, the more distracted Rodney becomes. He has no idea what Sheppard's seeing when he looks like that, when he looks at Rodney like that.
He's even starting to distract Rodney on missions, which can't be a good thing at all. Rodney's a bit upset that he'll have to dedicate his dying breath to telling Sheppard this is what happens when you look at people like that, instead of passing on his unified field theory or advice for power consumption improvements or this... this was for Atlantis, for the children.
The last straw, though, is when he's trying to sleep and instead of dropping off immediately like he usually does after twenty straight hours of work, his brain supplies him with erotic eyelid movies that don't feature Sheppard's hairy, weirdly hot body but instead it's just Sheppard looking at him, a lot of the images supplied by Rodney's very vivid memory and some from his even more vivid imagination.
Rodney really, really, really likes the ones with the guns. He's not sure he wants to know what that means, or if Sheppard's compensating for something.
After they managed to fly the city to New Atlantis or whatever they're calling it, Rodney had Sheppard-and-control-chair fantasies more or less constantly. It's how Sheppard sounds when he's in it, amazed and distant, his mind obviously elsewhere--and even though he's not paying much attention to Rodney (he'd been more like an anvil hitting the water than a goddamn leaf)--that, well... Rodney shifts uncomfortably in his lab chair.
It's Sheppard when they're out on a mission that occupies a lot of his time and uses up a lot of kleenex. Sheppard back when he'd taken the city back from the Genii, in a Wraith ship, Sheppard over his shoulder shouting Get it done, McKay, no trace of the guy Rodney hangs out with, but someone Rodney's not entirely sure Sheppard even knows exists, they're that different.
He, on the other hand... Rodney's not entirely sure what he looks like when he's focusing on something--and why would he? He has more important things to think about, but still, he probably doesn't look as hot as Sheppard (he knows he doesn't), and besides, he's going to need glasses anyway, after a lifetime of staring at numbers and overbright computer screens.
Eventually, the eyelid movies are nowhere near enough and Sheppard has become perpetually distracting to the point that Rodney is starting to fear for his intellect and his sanity, and so halfway down to the lab one evening Rodney changes his mind, changes directions, and heads for Sheppard's quarters.
He knows Sheppard's off duty--they all are for the next day--and before he can think that this is maybe a bad idea, he waves his hand in front of the door sensor.
"Hey Rodney," Sheppard says, staring straight at him, oh God, disreputable in an old shirt and battered jeans.
"Sheppard," Rodney says.
"Come in?" Sheppard gestures to his room and steps back a little, focus fading into a smile that Rodney returns.
Secondly, I usually picspam when I'm cranky, and I was cranky earlier today because of productivity and futility issues, though Sheppardcat has made me happy, as has talking to
summertea, dogeared, and sheafrotherdon. Still, though, I bring you intense! and focused!John picspam, because really, he was way too hot in "Reunion" for his own good. Or mine, for that matter.Like the last one, this has a bit of fic woven into it. Ficturespam!
One of the things (other than his genius) that's helped Rodney get where he is today (another galaxy, surrounded by life-sucking aliens and self-replicating nanites and backstabbing psychopaths and space bimbos and probably a whole lot worse) is his focus. In grad school, he'd overheard one of the other students say something about how he was like a small dog with a bone, and he hadn't stopped until he'd made his life a living hell.
Good days, good days.
Anyway, his focus.
Get him on a project, and it's almost impossible to get him off. It comes in handy trying to save the city--and if he'd thought he was good at multi-tasking before, well, he's the champion of the goddamn universe now, because he's pretty sure not just anyone can reroute power conduits, power up a star drive, reprogram nanites, and explain everything to John Sheppard's satisfaction at the same time.
Speaking of Sheppard, and focus.
It's become very difficult, Rodney thinks, to focus on his actual work whenever Sheppard's around. Instead, his mind ends up zeroing in on Sheppard's stupid hair, his stupid slouch, his stupid questions, his stupid drawling hey, Rodney as he... he slinks up to Rodney and looks over his shoulder and asks what he's working on.
And Sheppard... Sheppard's pretty good at focusing too. He goes still and quiet and intent, and the more focused Sheppard gets sometimes, the more distracted Rodney becomes. He has no idea what Sheppard's seeing when he looks like that, when he looks at Rodney like that.
He's even starting to distract Rodney on missions, which can't be a good thing at all. Rodney's a bit upset that he'll have to dedicate his dying breath to telling Sheppard this is what happens when you look at people like that, instead of passing on his unified field theory or advice for power consumption improvements or this... this was for Atlantis, for the children.
The last straw, though, is when he's trying to sleep and instead of dropping off immediately like he usually does after twenty straight hours of work, his brain supplies him with erotic eyelid movies that don't feature Sheppard's hairy, weirdly hot body but instead it's just Sheppard looking at him, a lot of the images supplied by Rodney's very vivid memory and some from his even more vivid imagination.
Rodney really, really, really likes the ones with the guns. He's not sure he wants to know what that means, or if Sheppard's compensating for something.
After they managed to fly the city to New Atlantis or whatever they're calling it, Rodney had Sheppard-and-control-chair fantasies more or less constantly. It's how Sheppard sounds when he's in it, amazed and distant, his mind obviously elsewhere--and even though he's not paying much attention to Rodney (he'd been more like an anvil hitting the water than a goddamn leaf)--that, well... Rodney shifts uncomfortably in his lab chair.
It's Sheppard when they're out on a mission that occupies a lot of his time and uses up a lot of kleenex. Sheppard back when he'd taken the city back from the Genii, in a Wraith ship, Sheppard over his shoulder shouting Get it done, McKay, no trace of the guy Rodney hangs out with, but someone Rodney's not entirely sure Sheppard even knows exists, they're that different.
He, on the other hand... Rodney's not entirely sure what he looks like when he's focusing on something--and why would he? He has more important things to think about, but still, he probably doesn't look as hot as Sheppard (he knows he doesn't), and besides, he's going to need glasses anyway, after a lifetime of staring at numbers and overbright computer screens.
Eventually, the eyelid movies are nowhere near enough and Sheppard has become perpetually distracting to the point that Rodney is starting to fear for his intellect and his sanity, and so halfway down to the lab one evening Rodney changes his mind, changes directions, and heads for Sheppard's quarters.
He knows Sheppard's off duty--they all are for the next day--and before he can think that this is maybe a bad idea, he waves his hand in front of the door sensor.
"Hey Rodney," Sheppard says, staring straight at him, oh God, disreputable in an old shirt and battered jeans.
"Sheppard," Rodney says.
"Come in?" Sheppard gestures to his room and steps back a little, focus fading into a smile that Rodney returns.
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