Fanfic100, w00t!
I have been accepted to write David Lister for fanfic100! Hurrah! Here's hoping I make it to the big 1-double-oh. Not all fics will be Rimmer/Lister, but those who are (which, knowing me, and judging by the ones I've written so far, will be most of them) will be cross-posted here. If any of you are interested, my table is here. These are my first ventures into Red Dwarf fic, so please be gentle! ;)
Title: Food
Paring: Rimmer/Lister
Rating: PG
David Lister isn’t fat. He isn’t even porky, or well-fed, or any of those euphemisms fat people use to refer to themselves, that he uses to describe himself when confronted. He is healthy-looking. Truth be told, he looks good. Handsome, even.
Everyone on board Starbug than can eat, which is half the crew, not including Holly, is obsessed with food. All right, so the Cat might seemingly be more interested in finding a replacement for his broken trouser-press, but he isn’t fooling anyone. Of course they care about food; food means survival. Kryten cares about food because Cat and Lister depend on it, and Rimmer… Rimmer tries not to care, but old habits die hard.
Mealtimes are interesting. They tease Lister for his curry-obsession, but frankly, there isn’t much entertainment out here in deep space. If you can get your favorite dish as often as possible, who’s to say it won’t alleviate the ennui somewhat? Cat has more than a passing interest in fish, but no one teased him when he brought back an aquarium from the freighter they raided last week. Granted, they were probably too preoccupied with chasing down the mutant winged-piranhas that inevitably escaped from it, but even so.
Beer milkshake isn’t really that bad, once you’ve tried it a few times. You might even grow to enjoy it, given the odd millennium. It certainly looks better than the frankly disturbing concoctions Cat comes up with when left alone in the kitchen for half an hour. And who’s to say you can’t have grated onions on your cornflakes if you feel like it? Beats wetabix any day.
The fact of the matter is, seeing Lister eat is quite enjoyable, especially when you can’t eat yourself. Rarely would you find a man who more enjoys his meals, assuming they are hot enough. Kryten claims his tastebuds are all but gone from a combination of smoking and years of super extra hot chili abuse, but that can’t be true. Surely a man without the sense of taste could not achieve such seemingly unearthly bliss from the mere consumption of a mutton vindaloo? There are those who claim that food is rather like sex, in terms of enjoyment. A really good meal can be as satisfying as a roll in the hay, apparently. Looking at Lister’s face right now, as he devours the frozen chicken they found today, lightly simmered in a madras sauce, drowning it all in extra chilies, and smiling so hard his face seems about to be cut in half, making noises you’d normally expect to come out of the honeymoon suite at the Mimas Hilton, his eyes shining, and…
“Rimmer, what the smeg are you lookin’ at?”
“Well, to be quite honest, I was observing that stain down the front of your boiler-suit, and wondering when you’d stop eating for half a second, and notice it.”
Lister snorts, and Rimmer, silently, keeps watching.
Title: Food
Paring: Rimmer/Lister
Rating: PG
David Lister isn’t fat. He isn’t even porky, or well-fed, or any of those euphemisms fat people use to refer to themselves, that he uses to describe himself when confronted. He is healthy-looking. Truth be told, he looks good. Handsome, even.
Everyone on board Starbug than can eat, which is half the crew, not including Holly, is obsessed with food. All right, so the Cat might seemingly be more interested in finding a replacement for his broken trouser-press, but he isn’t fooling anyone. Of course they care about food; food means survival. Kryten cares about food because Cat and Lister depend on it, and Rimmer… Rimmer tries not to care, but old habits die hard.
Mealtimes are interesting. They tease Lister for his curry-obsession, but frankly, there isn’t much entertainment out here in deep space. If you can get your favorite dish as often as possible, who’s to say it won’t alleviate the ennui somewhat? Cat has more than a passing interest in fish, but no one teased him when he brought back an aquarium from the freighter they raided last week. Granted, they were probably too preoccupied with chasing down the mutant winged-piranhas that inevitably escaped from it, but even so.
Beer milkshake isn’t really that bad, once you’ve tried it a few times. You might even grow to enjoy it, given the odd millennium. It certainly looks better than the frankly disturbing concoctions Cat comes up with when left alone in the kitchen for half an hour. And who’s to say you can’t have grated onions on your cornflakes if you feel like it? Beats wetabix any day.
The fact of the matter is, seeing Lister eat is quite enjoyable, especially when you can’t eat yourself. Rarely would you find a man who more enjoys his meals, assuming they are hot enough. Kryten claims his tastebuds are all but gone from a combination of smoking and years of super extra hot chili abuse, but that can’t be true. Surely a man without the sense of taste could not achieve such seemingly unearthly bliss from the mere consumption of a mutton vindaloo? There are those who claim that food is rather like sex, in terms of enjoyment. A really good meal can be as satisfying as a roll in the hay, apparently. Looking at Lister’s face right now, as he devours the frozen chicken they found today, lightly simmered in a madras sauce, drowning it all in extra chilies, and smiling so hard his face seems about to be cut in half, making noises you’d normally expect to come out of the honeymoon suite at the Mimas Hilton, his eyes shining, and…
“Rimmer, what the smeg are you lookin’ at?”
“Well, to be quite honest, I was observing that stain down the front of your boiler-suit, and wondering when you’d stop eating for half a second, and notice it.”
Lister snorts, and Rimmer, silently, keeps watching.