Hands of Mass Distraction

[januar]

For misslucyjane's love-a-thon. Based off this prompt. Great idea, hon. Mwah.

"I hate your hands."

Rodney blinked up from his computer to see John there, leaning against the desktop. "Excuse me?"

"Your hands," John said, using one of his own to point at Rodney's which were resting on the keyboard. "I really hate them."

"Um. Okay," Rodney said, frowning. "I would ask if you had a good reason, but you'd probably make up some story about space spores or something."

John lifted an eyebrow. "Space spores?"

Rodney scowled and waved a hand in the air. "You know what I mean."

John watched the waving hand, then looked away and shifted his feet.

Lifting his chin, Rodney crossed his arms so that only one hand could be seen. "Okay, mister I-don't-like-to-talk-about-stuff-but-I'll-bring-them-up-anyway. Spill."

John shifted his feet again, still not looking at Rodney. He reached back with one hand and scratched the back of his head. "They just..."

"Yes?" Rodney prompted, leaning forward slightly. "They just what? Save all of us everyday from a painful death? Are causing world hunger, because that would be Ronon's hands, the caveman eats like a horse. What?"

John sighed and finally looked at Rodney. "They distract me."

Rodney blinked. "What?"

"The way you're always waving them about and using them," John said, looking away again. "They're never not moving. Whether you're talking, or eating, or messing with some sort of Ancient thingie-ma-bob..."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Thingie-ma-bob. Sheesh, Sheppard. Got anymore more great words in there?"

John frowned. "You know what I mean. They're just..." John waved his own in example, "...there. Distracting me."

Rodney studied John for a moment as the other man shifted uneasily. "Let me see if I have this straight. My hands distract you. Now, in my utterly brilliant mind, that can mean only one three things. One," he said, holding up one finger, "they distract you enough that you can't do your work, and that's not true, since you can still shoot and fight the bad guys while I'm attempting to save everyone's lives.

"Two," he said, holding a second finger, "they are the ugliest things in the world, and I've been told that I have very nice hands by at least a couple of people, well, at least Marie Thompson, she was very nice, had great, um..."

"Rodney..." John drawled, crossing his own arms and lifting an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, yes. Yes. Um. Where was I? Oh, yes, and three," Rodney said, holding up a third and final finger for John to see, "you have a secret hand kink. And since you're completely straight and wouldn't want to have sex with me even if we were the last two people in the galaxy..."

Rodney trailed off as he noticed John looking away again and scratched the back on his head bashfully. "Oh my god," he said, starring at John with wide eyes. "You have a secret hand kink and want to have sex with me!"

"I don't want to have sex with you, McKay," John said, but the look on his face said otherwise.

"Yes! Yes you do!" Rodney said, pointing at John. "That's why you hate my hands! Because they distract you and make you think about having lots of hot sex with me." Rodney blinked, then put a finger to his chin. "It probably would be hot sex, too. You with sexy, flexible military body, me with my sexy, flexible scientific brain..."

"Rodney," John said again, although this time he was smiling a little bit.

Rodney snapped his fingers a couple times before pointing at John again. "We should have sex." He grinned and wiggled his fingers. "You know, there are other things I can do with my hands."

John placed his face in his hand, moaning. "I really don't think that will help me with the distracting-hands thing."

"No, probably not," Rodney said, smirking, "but it will be more fun." He snapped his fingers again and made a "let's go" gesture. "Okay, sex time. What are we waiting for?"

"I really hate your hands and you, McKay."

"Oh, you do not."