Too Much - PG - R/L (imp)
Title: Too Much
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister (implied)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Don't own any of these characters, nor that fine setting which is Red Dwarf. I make no money from it either.
Spoilers: Legion.
Notes: For noirenails Written for the fanfic100 challenge - my table is here.
All they had was cold milk and cereal.
It was all right for the Cat. He would eat anything as long as it was provided for him at regular intervals, and Rimmer and Kryten didn't have to eat at all. But Lister did. At least the milk was plain old regular cow's milk. At least the cereal had been packed in stasis-crates, so it wasn't three million years worth of stale. At least it was 'enriched with multi-vitamins and wholegrain to provide your body with everything it needs to get a fresh start.' At least Lister was going slowly insane from eating the same damn thing day in and day out, so he hardly noticed the monotony of it anymore.
The refrigerator had not been working for two months, but the milk was still cold. The milk was cold because everything was cold; the thermostat had broken down shortly after the fridge, allowing for a few optimistic days of 'at least the cheese won't go bad' jokes before it became clear the situation would be a lasting one. Well, in all honesty, Lister had been the only one providing the jokes, and they had been half-hearted at that. Kryten had laughed, of course, but then Kryten was convinced they would find the parts they needed to repair every broken machine on the whole rickety ship on the next derelict. And when they didn't, there was always the next one, and the next one, and the next one, and the one after that, and surely sir, in a few months we'll have... Meanwhile, it was cold.
They all tried. Kryten put little post-its with inspirational messages up on everything that didn't work, offering alternatives ways to boil water, fry an egg, press a pair of trousers, clean oneself, and lately, just plain keep warm. Rimmer claimed that the best way to achieve the latter was to tear them all down and set fire to them. He never did, though. Cat slept. He crept into narrower and narrower nooks and crannies, spending less and less time awake. He hardly even showed up for his shifts, lurking in the shadows wearing several of his best suits at the same time, his hair bristling. Rimmer complained, as he always did. It seemed to help him. His tirades grew longer and more eloquent as time went on, and he seemed to get nastier too. He stopped merely sniping at Lister, and began to outright ridicule and mock him, finding more and more ingenious ways to put Lister down and pull himself out of the deep, dark hole he was in. Now that he could touch, he could kick and hit and bite and claw, but he never did. He just glared, with such pure, undiluted hatred in his eyes, as though there was still something he could not quite reach. But Lister was in that very same hole, and all he could do was try to look on the bright side. And he tried. He really, really did.
But one day it would be too much.
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister (implied)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Don't own any of these characters, nor that fine setting which is Red Dwarf. I make no money from it either.
Spoilers: Legion.
Notes: For noirenails Written for the fanfic100 challenge - my table is here.
All they had was cold milk and cereal.
It was all right for the Cat. He would eat anything as long as it was provided for him at regular intervals, and Rimmer and Kryten didn't have to eat at all. But Lister did. At least the milk was plain old regular cow's milk. At least the cereal had been packed in stasis-crates, so it wasn't three million years worth of stale. At least it was 'enriched with multi-vitamins and wholegrain to provide your body with everything it needs to get a fresh start.' At least Lister was going slowly insane from eating the same damn thing day in and day out, so he hardly noticed the monotony of it anymore.
The refrigerator had not been working for two months, but the milk was still cold. The milk was cold because everything was cold; the thermostat had broken down shortly after the fridge, allowing for a few optimistic days of 'at least the cheese won't go bad' jokes before it became clear the situation would be a lasting one. Well, in all honesty, Lister had been the only one providing the jokes, and they had been half-hearted at that. Kryten had laughed, of course, but then Kryten was convinced they would find the parts they needed to repair every broken machine on the whole rickety ship on the next derelict. And when they didn't, there was always the next one, and the next one, and the next one, and the one after that, and surely sir, in a few months we'll have... Meanwhile, it was cold.
They all tried. Kryten put little post-its with inspirational messages up on everything that didn't work, offering alternatives ways to boil water, fry an egg, press a pair of trousers, clean oneself, and lately, just plain keep warm. Rimmer claimed that the best way to achieve the latter was to tear them all down and set fire to them. He never did, though. Cat slept. He crept into narrower and narrower nooks and crannies, spending less and less time awake. He hardly even showed up for his shifts, lurking in the shadows wearing several of his best suits at the same time, his hair bristling. Rimmer complained, as he always did. It seemed to help him. His tirades grew longer and more eloquent as time went on, and he seemed to get nastier too. He stopped merely sniping at Lister, and began to outright ridicule and mock him, finding more and more ingenious ways to put Lister down and pull himself out of the deep, dark hole he was in. Now that he could touch, he could kick and hit and bite and claw, but he never did. He just glared, with such pure, undiluted hatred in his eyes, as though there was still something he could not quite reach. But Lister was in that very same hole, and all he could do was try to look on the bright side. And he tried. He really, really did.
But one day it would be too much.