Fic: Weeks - R/L - PG-13
Title: Weeks
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Guess what? I don't own Red Dwarf or make any money from this. Who knew?
Spoilers: Ouroboros.
Notes: Written for the fanfic100 challenge - my table is here.
Lister waited until the banging on his door got loud enough to actually interfere with his enjoyment of the latest Rasta Billy Skank bootleg he'd been able to get his hands on. Perhaps enjoyment was the wrong word. He'd cranked the volume up as far as his cheap little plastic player would go, and was kind of hoping his eardrums would give out, so he could stop having to listen to anything at all for a while. Maybe get some sick leave, lie face down in his bunk and stare at the mattress until he could see through to the bunk below. This sent his mind down a track that led, inevitably, back to the banging on the door. Sighing, he got up off the floor, turned the music to a more tolerable level, and shuffled over, punching in the override-code Chen had gotten for him.
The door slid aside, revealing a flushed and irate-looking Rimmer. “Lister! What the smeg are you doing, locking a superior officer out of his own quarters?” He made a move as if wanting to push past Lister, but for some reason or another, he hesitated. Lister shrugged.
“Lay off, man. I needed some privacy.”
“For what; blasting your eardrums out?” Rimmer flared his nostrils in disapproval, looking as though he was trying to close his own ears to the music.
“I turned it down, already. Now what do ya want?”
“I want to get into my own smegging quarters!”
Then why didn't you just push past me, Lister thought. “Get in then. I'm not stopping ya.”
Rimmer chewed his lower lip, avoiding Lister's eyes. “Erm...” He looked about as awkward as Lister had ever seen him.
“What is it?” Not that Lister actually wanted to know; he had his own problems to brood over. Not only had his woman left him, but she'd taken the cat he'd gotten to help him through the heartache. How cruel was that? What kind of woman dumps a man, then takes his pet away, for smeg's sake? Not for the first time, Lister wished he had a bunkmate he could actually talk to and get some empathy from.
“I, eh...” Rimmer rummaged around in his pockets for a while, then came up with that stupid little card Lister had given him before. Smegging hell, was he still on that? “I've been trying to get in touch with this number,” he said, in what was almost a mumble.
“Rimmer, I gave ya that weeks ago!”
Rimmer's cheeks flushed - in anger, annoyance; Lister had no idea, nor did he care. “Yes, I know. It's taken me that long to trace the number.”
Lister raised an eyebrow. “You traced the number?”
“Well, I asked Holly to find it for me. He said it didn't exist. I told him where he could shove that kind of talk, and the insufferable digital git almost reported me for insubordination. To a computer!”
“What's yer point?” Lister was tired. He wanted to lie back down and let noise wash over him until it had scrubbed him clean of the hurt he was feeling. He wanted to be left alone.
“My point is, I'd forgotten about the goited thing until he woke me up early last Monday, while you were still snoring away, saying he'd found it. Seems it belonged to a confiscated phone.”
The music was still churning on in the background. Lister tried to focus on it; maybe if he did, he wouldn't slap Rimmer for avoiding the point like he was trying to tease it into submission. Hang on though... last Monday? “Rimmer, that's almost a week ago. What took ya so long?”
There was definitely something out of sorts with the man. Not only was Rimmer blushing; he was all jittery, arms and legs all over the place. He didn't seem to know where to look. “The thing is, you see, is... it's your number, Lister. It's from the phone I confiscated when you used it too many times during shift hours.” He looked Lister in the eyes for a moment, then dropped them. That little instant, however, was more than enough.
“You mean...” Lister would have laughed out loud if he wasn't feeling so low. “You didn't think I was asking ya to ring me up for a shag, did you?” Rimmer's pained, confused expression was answer enough. “Oh my god, you did! You though I wanted to shag ya!”
Throwing a quick glance over his shoulder at Lister's loud outburst, Rimmer hissed back; “well what the smeg did you expect me to think?”
“It was a joke! Man, you don't even know when yer getting the smeg taken out of ya.” Even now, shaking with anger, there was still some confusion in Rimmer's eyes.
“Goddamn you, Lister! That was a low down, dirty, goited thing to do!” Confusion, and... no. Not tears?
“Hey now...” Lister began, taking his arm down from the door frame, softening his body language on instinct. “I just wanted to mess with ya.” But Rimmer didn't reply; he just stood there, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Finally, Lister rolled his eyes. “Get in. Go on.”
With a glare Lister was sure could have killed, had it not been for the wetness in the eyes that was giving it, Rimmer stepped inside. Straightening his back and then his uniform, he stood in the middle of the room, immobile. Lister turned the music off, then walked over, calmly.
“There. Now tell me what it is that made ya that upset over a stupid prank.”
“I'm not upset.” Rimmer folded his arms, looking steadily at the door, which Lister had closed behind them.
“Yeah, you smegging are upset! Yer almost crying. Now, come on. It can't be as bad as all that.” Lister didn't know why he was bothering with this. It wasn't like he cared for the git. Maybe it was that dealing with someone else's misery was a nice change. Yes, maybe that.
“Do you know,” Rimmer told the door, “how much time I spent fretting over this? What I would say; what I would do? The man I was sharing a room,” he raised a shaking finger, “no, a bunk with, was gay! And not only that, but he wanted to shag me! What would you have done, eh?”
Lister raised his shoulders noncommittally. It was a fair point, but he wasn't quite ready to admit it. “Dunno.”
Ignoring him, Rimmer ranted on. “I'll tell you what I did. I spent every waking moment - which was most of the time, because how could I sleep with you above me like that - every moment, wondering if you were going to molest me when I least expected it.”
This was the height of homophobic paranoia, even coming from Rimmer. “Hey now, I wouldn't do that. Ya know I wouldn't do that!”
“How should I know?” Rimmer snapped. “How should I know what gay people do; what they feel - it's not like I'm gay! It's not like I spend my time lusting after the people I share a room with; hoping I'll catch them coming back from the showers, because sometimes they don't dry themselves properly, and their shirts get a little wet, so you can see their nipples, and the water's cold, so they sort of stand...” He stopped, abruptly, the color draining from his already milky pale face.
Oh.
It was funny; the world had turned upside down, but Lister didn't feel dizzy. In fact, he felt much better than he had a moment ago. “Go on,” he smiled.
Rimmer looked about ready to spit at him. “You sodding go on!”
“It's OK,” Lister said, really feeling it. It was OK. Something in his manner must have made an impact on Rimmer, because he tilted his head, frowning.
“Did you hear what I just said?”
“Yeah.”
“And you're saying that's...” his face made an awkward grimace, “OK.”
“Yeah.”
They stood there, for a few quiet moments, as reality seemed to reorganize itself around them. When Lister broke the silence, it felt almost rude.
“Isn't today Friday?”
“Yes?” Rimmer's voice was oddly breathless.
“Weren't you supposed to check on the drive plates on Friday?”
Rimmer's face went white, and his voice caught in his throat. “Smegging hell...” Barely pausing to open the door, he rushed out, leaving Lister alone with his thoughts.
Well. That was interesting. It bothered him a lot less than Lister would have thought. In fact it was rather... appealing. He snorted. Smeg it all; he might be....
The world went white. Then the world was no more.
“Welcome back, Dave.”
Lister opened his eyes, blinking at the unexpected brightness of the room he was in. “Holly? Where am I?”
“This is going to hard for you to accept, Dave, so I'm going to break it to you gently - you're dead.”
Lister, who had nearly managed to regain his vision, almost tripped over the leg of a nearby chair. “That's breaking it to me gently? I'd hate to see ya being brutally honest.”
“Sorry. Been on my own for rather a long time. You forget your manners, after a while.”
“So...” Lister looked around, trying to get his bearings. “I'm dead. What; you mean I'm a hologram?” He prodded at the chair he'd just about managed not to trip over. His hand went right through it. He wouldn't have tripped at all.
“Exactly.” Holly beamed. “And they say you're slow!”
“They what?”
“Never mind. There's someone who wants to see you.”
Lister hugged himself, more for the fact that his body was the only thing he could touch than for any other reason. He was a hologram. Dead. Which meant... Well, he was the lowest ranking officer on the ship, so if he was resurrected, that must mean everyone else was dead. He shook his head. No, that didn't make any sense. Besides, Holly had said there was someone who wanted to see him. Maybe... his heart skipped a beat. Nah. The universe didn't work that way. He bit his lip, staring at the door, trying not to hope. Presently, Kochanski appeared in the doorway.
She beamed, looking a little shy. “Hi, Dave.”
Yes, it was a funny old universe. “Hi,” Lister replied.
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Guess what? I don't own Red Dwarf or make any money from this. Who knew?
Spoilers: Ouroboros.
Notes: Written for the fanfic100 challenge - my table is here.
Lister waited until the banging on his door got loud enough to actually interfere with his enjoyment of the latest Rasta Billy Skank bootleg he'd been able to get his hands on. Perhaps enjoyment was the wrong word. He'd cranked the volume up as far as his cheap little plastic player would go, and was kind of hoping his eardrums would give out, so he could stop having to listen to anything at all for a while. Maybe get some sick leave, lie face down in his bunk and stare at the mattress until he could see through to the bunk below. This sent his mind down a track that led, inevitably, back to the banging on the door. Sighing, he got up off the floor, turned the music to a more tolerable level, and shuffled over, punching in the override-code Chen had gotten for him.
The door slid aside, revealing a flushed and irate-looking Rimmer. “Lister! What the smeg are you doing, locking a superior officer out of his own quarters?” He made a move as if wanting to push past Lister, but for some reason or another, he hesitated. Lister shrugged.
“Lay off, man. I needed some privacy.”
“For what; blasting your eardrums out?” Rimmer flared his nostrils in disapproval, looking as though he was trying to close his own ears to the music.
“I turned it down, already. Now what do ya want?”
“I want to get into my own smegging quarters!”
Then why didn't you just push past me, Lister thought. “Get in then. I'm not stopping ya.”
Rimmer chewed his lower lip, avoiding Lister's eyes. “Erm...” He looked about as awkward as Lister had ever seen him.
“What is it?” Not that Lister actually wanted to know; he had his own problems to brood over. Not only had his woman left him, but she'd taken the cat he'd gotten to help him through the heartache. How cruel was that? What kind of woman dumps a man, then takes his pet away, for smeg's sake? Not for the first time, Lister wished he had a bunkmate he could actually talk to and get some empathy from.
“I, eh...” Rimmer rummaged around in his pockets for a while, then came up with that stupid little card Lister had given him before. Smegging hell, was he still on that? “I've been trying to get in touch with this number,” he said, in what was almost a mumble.
“Rimmer, I gave ya that weeks ago!”
Rimmer's cheeks flushed - in anger, annoyance; Lister had no idea, nor did he care. “Yes, I know. It's taken me that long to trace the number.”
Lister raised an eyebrow. “You traced the number?”
“Well, I asked Holly to find it for me. He said it didn't exist. I told him where he could shove that kind of talk, and the insufferable digital git almost reported me for insubordination. To a computer!”
“What's yer point?” Lister was tired. He wanted to lie back down and let noise wash over him until it had scrubbed him clean of the hurt he was feeling. He wanted to be left alone.
“My point is, I'd forgotten about the goited thing until he woke me up early last Monday, while you were still snoring away, saying he'd found it. Seems it belonged to a confiscated phone.”
The music was still churning on in the background. Lister tried to focus on it; maybe if he did, he wouldn't slap Rimmer for avoiding the point like he was trying to tease it into submission. Hang on though... last Monday? “Rimmer, that's almost a week ago. What took ya so long?”
There was definitely something out of sorts with the man. Not only was Rimmer blushing; he was all jittery, arms and legs all over the place. He didn't seem to know where to look. “The thing is, you see, is... it's your number, Lister. It's from the phone I confiscated when you used it too many times during shift hours.” He looked Lister in the eyes for a moment, then dropped them. That little instant, however, was more than enough.
“You mean...” Lister would have laughed out loud if he wasn't feeling so low. “You didn't think I was asking ya to ring me up for a shag, did you?” Rimmer's pained, confused expression was answer enough. “Oh my god, you did! You though I wanted to shag ya!”
Throwing a quick glance over his shoulder at Lister's loud outburst, Rimmer hissed back; “well what the smeg did you expect me to think?”
“It was a joke! Man, you don't even know when yer getting the smeg taken out of ya.” Even now, shaking with anger, there was still some confusion in Rimmer's eyes.
“Goddamn you, Lister! That was a low down, dirty, goited thing to do!” Confusion, and... no. Not tears?
“Hey now...” Lister began, taking his arm down from the door frame, softening his body language on instinct. “I just wanted to mess with ya.” But Rimmer didn't reply; he just stood there, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Finally, Lister rolled his eyes. “Get in. Go on.”
With a glare Lister was sure could have killed, had it not been for the wetness in the eyes that was giving it, Rimmer stepped inside. Straightening his back and then his uniform, he stood in the middle of the room, immobile. Lister turned the music off, then walked over, calmly.
“There. Now tell me what it is that made ya that upset over a stupid prank.”
“I'm not upset.” Rimmer folded his arms, looking steadily at the door, which Lister had closed behind them.
“Yeah, you smegging are upset! Yer almost crying. Now, come on. It can't be as bad as all that.” Lister didn't know why he was bothering with this. It wasn't like he cared for the git. Maybe it was that dealing with someone else's misery was a nice change. Yes, maybe that.
“Do you know,” Rimmer told the door, “how much time I spent fretting over this? What I would say; what I would do? The man I was sharing a room,” he raised a shaking finger, “no, a bunk with, was gay! And not only that, but he wanted to shag me! What would you have done, eh?”
Lister raised his shoulders noncommittally. It was a fair point, but he wasn't quite ready to admit it. “Dunno.”
Ignoring him, Rimmer ranted on. “I'll tell you what I did. I spent every waking moment - which was most of the time, because how could I sleep with you above me like that - every moment, wondering if you were going to molest me when I least expected it.”
This was the height of homophobic paranoia, even coming from Rimmer. “Hey now, I wouldn't do that. Ya know I wouldn't do that!”
“How should I know?” Rimmer snapped. “How should I know what gay people do; what they feel - it's not like I'm gay! It's not like I spend my time lusting after the people I share a room with; hoping I'll catch them coming back from the showers, because sometimes they don't dry themselves properly, and their shirts get a little wet, so you can see their nipples, and the water's cold, so they sort of stand...” He stopped, abruptly, the color draining from his already milky pale face.
Oh.
It was funny; the world had turned upside down, but Lister didn't feel dizzy. In fact, he felt much better than he had a moment ago. “Go on,” he smiled.
Rimmer looked about ready to spit at him. “You sodding go on!”
“It's OK,” Lister said, really feeling it. It was OK. Something in his manner must have made an impact on Rimmer, because he tilted his head, frowning.
“Did you hear what I just said?”
“Yeah.”
“And you're saying that's...” his face made an awkward grimace, “OK.”
“Yeah.”
They stood there, for a few quiet moments, as reality seemed to reorganize itself around them. When Lister broke the silence, it felt almost rude.
“Isn't today Friday?”
“Yes?” Rimmer's voice was oddly breathless.
“Weren't you supposed to check on the drive plates on Friday?”
Rimmer's face went white, and his voice caught in his throat. “Smegging hell...” Barely pausing to open the door, he rushed out, leaving Lister alone with his thoughts.
Well. That was interesting. It bothered him a lot less than Lister would have thought. In fact it was rather... appealing. He snorted. Smeg it all; he might be....
The world went white. Then the world was no more.
“Welcome back, Dave.”
Lister opened his eyes, blinking at the unexpected brightness of the room he was in. “Holly? Where am I?”
“This is going to hard for you to accept, Dave, so I'm going to break it to you gently - you're dead.”
Lister, who had nearly managed to regain his vision, almost tripped over the leg of a nearby chair. “That's breaking it to me gently? I'd hate to see ya being brutally honest.”
“Sorry. Been on my own for rather a long time. You forget your manners, after a while.”
“So...” Lister looked around, trying to get his bearings. “I'm dead. What; you mean I'm a hologram?” He prodded at the chair he'd just about managed not to trip over. His hand went right through it. He wouldn't have tripped at all.
“Exactly.” Holly beamed. “And they say you're slow!”
“They what?”
“Never mind. There's someone who wants to see you.”
Lister hugged himself, more for the fact that his body was the only thing he could touch than for any other reason. He was a hologram. Dead. Which meant... Well, he was the lowest ranking officer on the ship, so if he was resurrected, that must mean everyone else was dead. He shook his head. No, that didn't make any sense. Besides, Holly had said there was someone who wanted to see him. Maybe... his heart skipped a beat. Nah. The universe didn't work that way. He bit his lip, staring at the door, trying not to hope. Presently, Kochanski appeared in the doorway.
She beamed, looking a little shy. “Hi, Dave.”
Yes, it was a funny old universe. “Hi,” Lister replied.