Fic: Sight - PG - R/L and assorted L/? pairings
Title: Sight
Pairing: Lister/Kochanski, Lister/female, Lister/Petersen (implied), Lister/other female (implied), Rimmer/Lister (implied)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own Red Dwarf. I don't make money from this.
Spoilers: Out Of Time and the book Infinity Welcomes Careful Drivers
Notes: A very silly little thing. ;) Much thanks to lady_draco for inspiration and help! Written as part of the fanfic100 challenge - my table is here.
There was this about David Lister; he had no idea what just the sight of him could do to people. Take Kristine Kochanski, who could not pass him in the hallway, long after they had broken up, without needing to go and have a quiet sit-down and try to think very hard about cold showers. Sometimes, when she sat close by him in the disco, he would look up from his drink, and meet her eyes just so, and she would get a sudden yearning for a fresh change of underwear.
Take the cute little redhead bartender on Mimas, whose name Lister had never even bothered to learn (it was Helena), who, after he'd felt her up 'round the back one drunken night, would have to excuse herself whenever he came barging in, sick of the desperate situation he had landed himself in, meager savings burning a considerable hole in his single pair of trousers.
Or take, perhaps, Lise Yates, who had been forced to glue shut the pages of her photo album in which he featured. She'd considered burning, or throwing the pictures away, but she always changed her mind at the last moment. And every once in a while, she would tear the pages apart again, curl up in her favorite chair and sit there, staring; wondering just where the two of them had gone wrong.
You could also take Olaf Petersen, who would sit behind Lister in the shuttle headed back from planet-leave, staring at the other man’s legs and wondering if he still had that tattoo; if he remembered why he’d gotten it, and what had really happened that night. And when Lister would turn and crack a joke, he would laugh along, and down yet another can of whiskey. He never showed Lister his tattoo.
And take Edie Hamilton, the only girl on Z-shift that could keep up with his drinking, and smoked as much as he did. Did he never notice those hungry looks she gave his butt when he got up to buy the next round, or the way she would always fall and lean against him when they shuffled their way back to their respective quarters? Disregard the drinking factor, and there were many Edie Hamiltons, all wrapped around Lister’s finger with charm with little or not conscious effort from him. And did he notice? Did he kittens.
He had an absolutely horrendous effect on Arnold Judas Rimmer. As if being dead and incorporeal wasn’t enough, Rimmer was now faced with an existence in which the mere sight of David Lister made him want to curl up inside himself and hide under his bunk. Well, it made him want to do a whole host of other things, mainly; the curling up and hiding was mostly there to prevent him from actually thinking about those all that much.
And so when Lister stood in front of the mirror and frowned at his silhouette, clearly displeased with what he saw, Rimmer would always jump at the chance to belittle and mock his appearance, shape and style, because that helped him to get away from the fact that what he really wanted to do was lick those smegging overalls off that strong, tan body; to keep going until Lister screamed for mercy, so that Rimmer could make him pay, make him suffer for the way he’d made Rimmer want to lick him in the first place.
Yes, there was this about Lister. And if he ever got a body, Rimmer swore, the first thing he would do was punch that smegger out before he had time to look at him properly.
God only knew what might happen if he didn’t. Because there was that, about Lister.
Pairing: Lister/Kochanski, Lister/female, Lister/Petersen (implied), Lister/other female (implied), Rimmer/Lister (implied)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own Red Dwarf. I don't make money from this.
Spoilers: Out Of Time and the book Infinity Welcomes Careful Drivers
Notes: A very silly little thing. ;) Much thanks to lady_draco for inspiration and help! Written as part of the fanfic100 challenge - my table is here.
There was this about David Lister; he had no idea what just the sight of him could do to people. Take Kristine Kochanski, who could not pass him in the hallway, long after they had broken up, without needing to go and have a quiet sit-down and try to think very hard about cold showers. Sometimes, when she sat close by him in the disco, he would look up from his drink, and meet her eyes just so, and she would get a sudden yearning for a fresh change of underwear.
Take the cute little redhead bartender on Mimas, whose name Lister had never even bothered to learn (it was Helena), who, after he'd felt her up 'round the back one drunken night, would have to excuse herself whenever he came barging in, sick of the desperate situation he had landed himself in, meager savings burning a considerable hole in his single pair of trousers.
Or take, perhaps, Lise Yates, who had been forced to glue shut the pages of her photo album in which he featured. She'd considered burning, or throwing the pictures away, but she always changed her mind at the last moment. And every once in a while, she would tear the pages apart again, curl up in her favorite chair and sit there, staring; wondering just where the two of them had gone wrong.
You could also take Olaf Petersen, who would sit behind Lister in the shuttle headed back from planet-leave, staring at the other man’s legs and wondering if he still had that tattoo; if he remembered why he’d gotten it, and what had really happened that night. And when Lister would turn and crack a joke, he would laugh along, and down yet another can of whiskey. He never showed Lister his tattoo.
And take Edie Hamilton, the only girl on Z-shift that could keep up with his drinking, and smoked as much as he did. Did he never notice those hungry looks she gave his butt when he got up to buy the next round, or the way she would always fall and lean against him when they shuffled their way back to their respective quarters? Disregard the drinking factor, and there were many Edie Hamiltons, all wrapped around Lister’s finger with charm with little or not conscious effort from him. And did he notice? Did he kittens.
He had an absolutely horrendous effect on Arnold Judas Rimmer. As if being dead and incorporeal wasn’t enough, Rimmer was now faced with an existence in which the mere sight of David Lister made him want to curl up inside himself and hide under his bunk. Well, it made him want to do a whole host of other things, mainly; the curling up and hiding was mostly there to prevent him from actually thinking about those all that much.
And so when Lister stood in front of the mirror and frowned at his silhouette, clearly displeased with what he saw, Rimmer would always jump at the chance to belittle and mock his appearance, shape and style, because that helped him to get away from the fact that what he really wanted to do was lick those smegging overalls off that strong, tan body; to keep going until Lister screamed for mercy, so that Rimmer could make him pay, make him suffer for the way he’d made Rimmer want to lick him in the first place.
Yes, there was this about Lister. And if he ever got a body, Rimmer swore, the first thing he would do was punch that smegger out before he had time to look at him properly.
God only knew what might happen if he didn’t. Because there was that, about Lister.