Fic: Rain - Rimmer/Lister - PG-13
Title: Rain
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I still don't own Red Dwarf, nor is there any money in this for me. Life is cruel!
Notes: Written as part of the fanfic100 challenge - my table is here.
“Lister, are you still in there?” Rimmer’s voice bellowed through the shower door like an annoyed bassoon, echoing from the soapy walls. Or at least they should have been soapy.
“Just a minute,” Lister replied, closing his eyes and letting the water fall all over and around him. Just a few minutes more. Maybe Rimmer would give up and walk away, he wondered hopefully, but there wasn’t much chance of that. The hologram had gone somewhat berserk with exploring the possibilities of his new, hard-light body, and took frequent showers even though he had no need for them. Dirt just seemed to bounce right off him.
There was a slight pause, before the voice sounded again. “One minute. Not a second more.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Lister mumbled, wondering when the hologram had become king of showers on board.
Hardly any time seemed to have passed at all when Rimmer’s voice echoed from the walls once more. “Come out, come out, Listy! Bath-time is over!”
“Smeg off, Rimmer,” Lister yelled, angrier than he had wanted to. But he felt it was rather unfair; granted, he had been in there for the better part of twenty minutes, but he was the only person on Starbug who actually needed water to clean himself. OK, so that wasn’t exactly what he was doing right now, but Rimmer wasn’t to know that. All the hologram wanted was the novelty of water running down his body, which…
“Look, if you are not out of there by the time I’ve counted to three, I’m jolly well going in there to get you!”
“You what?”
“You heard me!” Rimmer cleared his throat, in that artificial manner people do when they don’t actually need their throats cleared. Then he began to count. “One.”
Lister panicked. “Hang on, hang on!” He searched the small cubicle for something - anything. Soap-on-a-rope. Loofa. Small, disused sponge. No help there.
“Two. I really mean it, Lister!”
He’s not going to come in here, Lister thought desperately. The man can’t even undress himself while the light is on, he’s not coming in. It’s all a bluff.
“Three!” The door was opened with a sort of drawn-out sucking-sound, and suddenly Rimmer was standing in the doorway, staring at Lister. He looked absolutely stunned. “You… You’re wearing clothes,” he finally managed.
Lister stood up, trying to look as dignified as possible, under the circumstances. “So what if I am?”
“Well, I don’t know, does it strike you as a particularly sane thing to be doing?” Rimmer closed the door behind him. He was wearing some sort of ridiculous quilted bath-robe, and tartan slippers. A maroon towel was slung over his left arm.
Lister turned the water off, and leaned against the wall with his shoulder. “You’re going to laugh,” he cringed.
Rimmer seemed to consider this. “Yes,” he said, “I rather suspect I am. But do go on!”
Lister gave him a deadly glare. “I just miss… I miss the rain.”
“I’m sorry?” Rimmer looked nonplussed.
“The rain, man! Snow, sleet, wind, rain, hail, weather!” He shook his head, realized his dreads were soaking wet, and started wringing them out laboriously.
“What are you talking about, Lister,” Rimmer scoffed, “we get plenty of weather. There was that ice-planet two weeks ago, where we found those power-sleds. You know, the ones that exploded? And only last month we had to trek across a desert to find that emergency supply-pod Kryten detected. Plenty of wind there.”
Lister moved his shoulders underneath the wet overall, looking hurt. It was beginning to feel quite cold and clammy. He started taking the top off. “Yeah, but that’s not the sort of weather you enjoy. It’s not like… Like a walk through a park on a hot summer evening, when you’re completely plastered and too smegged up to think straight, and then the rain starts down to cool you off, like.” He struggled with the last sleeve. “Or running home after a day out when you’re feeling so good you don’t mind getting soaked to the skin. And then you start walkin’ slowly just for the hell of it, because you’re starting to enjoy it.” He paused, before bending down to take his socks off. “I miss that.”
Rimmer frowned. “So you’ve started taking showers with your clothes on.”
“Yes! What’s it to you, anyway? I know you don’t care, I bet there you didn’t get any rain-storms on Io, what with yer fancy climate-controlled domes.”
“Lister?” Rimmer asked suddenly, “Is there any particular reason why you’re taking your clothes off?”
Lister, who was about to step out of the last leg of the pants of his overalls, stopped in mid-stride. It suddenly occurred to him that had Rimmer not stopped him, he would have automatically stripped down to nothing without a second thought. He shook his head. He’d been cooped up with this madman for too long, way too long! When you started stripping in front of your bunk-mate, it was time to take some shore-leave. Problem was, there was nowhere to go now. And Rimmer, something at the back of his mind insisted, just walked in here expecting you to be naked. How’s that for space-crazy?
“Well, I suppose they are wet,” Rimmer mumbled, when no reply was forthcoming. “I’ll just wait outside then, shall I?” He reached for the cubicle door when Lister’s arm shot out and grabbed him.
“No! I mean…” Why had he grabbed Rimmer’s arm? What the smeg was he doing? “I’ve been in here long enough. Just let me, ah…”
“You want me to watch you undress?” The expression on Rimmer’s face was impossible to read. Nevertheless, it gave the impression of barely concealed horror.
“Of course not! Look…” Leading the hologram by the arm, Lister kicked the overalls off his left foot, and positioned them both under the nozzle.
“What are you doing?” He was definitely afraid now, Lister could feel him tugging on his arm. Not too strongly though. He’d stopped thinking about why he was doing this, concentrating instead on the actual doing.
“Just relax,” Lister said. “I just wanted to show you what it’s like.” He turned the water on, keeping a firm grip on Rimmer’s arm. The hologram flinched predictably when the water turned on, but he didn’t yell or try to break free. Gradually, Lister released his grip. Rimmer stood there, in the tepid water, closing his eyes, his face turned upwards. His unruly hair slowly flattened against his head, his mouth opening ever so slightly. “See what I mean?” Lister said quietly.
Rimmer stood very still for quite some time. Eventually, he lowered his face, and looked straight at Lister. “We did, you know,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Did what?” There was only barely room enough for two people in the cubicle, at least in the actual shower area, where they were standing now. With his back up against the wall, Lister was still almost touching Rimmer, his face less than an inch away from the other man.
“Have rain-storms. On Io. You have to really, for a healthy climate.” He was looking at Lister rather oddly, as though he was trying to figure something out. “And I do miss them. I miss a lot of things.”
“Yeah?” Lister had no idea what was going on, or how he was expected to behave. In the training films on cabin-fever they’d had to sit through three million years ago they had never mentioned “what to do in case you find yourself half-naked in a shower with a shipmate you thought you despised.” He shifted slightly, and felt Rimmer’s thigh against his own. He really didn’t want to analyze what his brain was telling him he felt about that situation.
Rimmer shifted too, and now their hips, and everything generally associated with that area were touching too. “You have no idea,” Rimmer half moaned, half whispered, “how good it feels to be able to touch again.” And in one swift movement, his lips were brushing against Lister’s, like the wings of a very nervous butterfly.
Ohsmegohsmegohsmeg, Lister’s brain was saying, but apparently Lister’s body hadn’t quite caught up with it yet. It stood there, quite still, allowing Rimmer to take his time. The hologramatic lips felt eerily real, the only difference being a weak tickling sensation, as though they were faintly static. However, when both of Rimmer’s lips wrapped around his lower, Lister could tell that they were wet on the inside, just like real human lips. There was even a feint, salty taste. Perhaps it was this that finally pulled him over the edge. “Rimmer man,” he exclaimed into the other’s mouth, “what the hell are we doing?”
Rimmer’s eyes opened wide, and he pushed Lister away, almost violently, crushing him against the wet wall. A pathetic sound emerged from his throat, like a small animal crying for help, as he rushed out of the cubicle, and from the sounds of it, kept on running. Shaking his head, Lister turned the shower off, and wringed most of the water out of his hair.
The rain had stopped.
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I still don't own Red Dwarf, nor is there any money in this for me. Life is cruel!
Notes: Written as part of the fanfic100 challenge - my table is here.
“Lister, are you still in there?” Rimmer’s voice bellowed through the shower door like an annoyed bassoon, echoing from the soapy walls. Or at least they should have been soapy.
“Just a minute,” Lister replied, closing his eyes and letting the water fall all over and around him. Just a few minutes more. Maybe Rimmer would give up and walk away, he wondered hopefully, but there wasn’t much chance of that. The hologram had gone somewhat berserk with exploring the possibilities of his new, hard-light body, and took frequent showers even though he had no need for them. Dirt just seemed to bounce right off him.
There was a slight pause, before the voice sounded again. “One minute. Not a second more.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Lister mumbled, wondering when the hologram had become king of showers on board.
Hardly any time seemed to have passed at all when Rimmer’s voice echoed from the walls once more. “Come out, come out, Listy! Bath-time is over!”
“Smeg off, Rimmer,” Lister yelled, angrier than he had wanted to. But he felt it was rather unfair; granted, he had been in there for the better part of twenty minutes, but he was the only person on Starbug who actually needed water to clean himself. OK, so that wasn’t exactly what he was doing right now, but Rimmer wasn’t to know that. All the hologram wanted was the novelty of water running down his body, which…
“Look, if you are not out of there by the time I’ve counted to three, I’m jolly well going in there to get you!”
“You what?”
“You heard me!” Rimmer cleared his throat, in that artificial manner people do when they don’t actually need their throats cleared. Then he began to count. “One.”
Lister panicked. “Hang on, hang on!” He searched the small cubicle for something - anything. Soap-on-a-rope. Loofa. Small, disused sponge. No help there.
“Two. I really mean it, Lister!”
He’s not going to come in here, Lister thought desperately. The man can’t even undress himself while the light is on, he’s not coming in. It’s all a bluff.
“Three!” The door was opened with a sort of drawn-out sucking-sound, and suddenly Rimmer was standing in the doorway, staring at Lister. He looked absolutely stunned. “You… You’re wearing clothes,” he finally managed.
Lister stood up, trying to look as dignified as possible, under the circumstances. “So what if I am?”
“Well, I don’t know, does it strike you as a particularly sane thing to be doing?” Rimmer closed the door behind him. He was wearing some sort of ridiculous quilted bath-robe, and tartan slippers. A maroon towel was slung over his left arm.
Lister turned the water off, and leaned against the wall with his shoulder. “You’re going to laugh,” he cringed.
Rimmer seemed to consider this. “Yes,” he said, “I rather suspect I am. But do go on!”
Lister gave him a deadly glare. “I just miss… I miss the rain.”
“I’m sorry?” Rimmer looked nonplussed.
“The rain, man! Snow, sleet, wind, rain, hail, weather!” He shook his head, realized his dreads were soaking wet, and started wringing them out laboriously.
“What are you talking about, Lister,” Rimmer scoffed, “we get plenty of weather. There was that ice-planet two weeks ago, where we found those power-sleds. You know, the ones that exploded? And only last month we had to trek across a desert to find that emergency supply-pod Kryten detected. Plenty of wind there.”
Lister moved his shoulders underneath the wet overall, looking hurt. It was beginning to feel quite cold and clammy. He started taking the top off. “Yeah, but that’s not the sort of weather you enjoy. It’s not like… Like a walk through a park on a hot summer evening, when you’re completely plastered and too smegged up to think straight, and then the rain starts down to cool you off, like.” He struggled with the last sleeve. “Or running home after a day out when you’re feeling so good you don’t mind getting soaked to the skin. And then you start walkin’ slowly just for the hell of it, because you’re starting to enjoy it.” He paused, before bending down to take his socks off. “I miss that.”
Rimmer frowned. “So you’ve started taking showers with your clothes on.”
“Yes! What’s it to you, anyway? I know you don’t care, I bet there you didn’t get any rain-storms on Io, what with yer fancy climate-controlled domes.”
“Lister?” Rimmer asked suddenly, “Is there any particular reason why you’re taking your clothes off?”
Lister, who was about to step out of the last leg of the pants of his overalls, stopped in mid-stride. It suddenly occurred to him that had Rimmer not stopped him, he would have automatically stripped down to nothing without a second thought. He shook his head. He’d been cooped up with this madman for too long, way too long! When you started stripping in front of your bunk-mate, it was time to take some shore-leave. Problem was, there was nowhere to go now. And Rimmer, something at the back of his mind insisted, just walked in here expecting you to be naked. How’s that for space-crazy?
“Well, I suppose they are wet,” Rimmer mumbled, when no reply was forthcoming. “I’ll just wait outside then, shall I?” He reached for the cubicle door when Lister’s arm shot out and grabbed him.
“No! I mean…” Why had he grabbed Rimmer’s arm? What the smeg was he doing? “I’ve been in here long enough. Just let me, ah…”
“You want me to watch you undress?” The expression on Rimmer’s face was impossible to read. Nevertheless, it gave the impression of barely concealed horror.
“Of course not! Look…” Leading the hologram by the arm, Lister kicked the overalls off his left foot, and positioned them both under the nozzle.
“What are you doing?” He was definitely afraid now, Lister could feel him tugging on his arm. Not too strongly though. He’d stopped thinking about why he was doing this, concentrating instead on the actual doing.
“Just relax,” Lister said. “I just wanted to show you what it’s like.” He turned the water on, keeping a firm grip on Rimmer’s arm. The hologram flinched predictably when the water turned on, but he didn’t yell or try to break free. Gradually, Lister released his grip. Rimmer stood there, in the tepid water, closing his eyes, his face turned upwards. His unruly hair slowly flattened against his head, his mouth opening ever so slightly. “See what I mean?” Lister said quietly.
Rimmer stood very still for quite some time. Eventually, he lowered his face, and looked straight at Lister. “We did, you know,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Did what?” There was only barely room enough for two people in the cubicle, at least in the actual shower area, where they were standing now. With his back up against the wall, Lister was still almost touching Rimmer, his face less than an inch away from the other man.
“Have rain-storms. On Io. You have to really, for a healthy climate.” He was looking at Lister rather oddly, as though he was trying to figure something out. “And I do miss them. I miss a lot of things.”
“Yeah?” Lister had no idea what was going on, or how he was expected to behave. In the training films on cabin-fever they’d had to sit through three million years ago they had never mentioned “what to do in case you find yourself half-naked in a shower with a shipmate you thought you despised.” He shifted slightly, and felt Rimmer’s thigh against his own. He really didn’t want to analyze what his brain was telling him he felt about that situation.
Rimmer shifted too, and now their hips, and everything generally associated with that area were touching too. “You have no idea,” Rimmer half moaned, half whispered, “how good it feels to be able to touch again.” And in one swift movement, his lips were brushing against Lister’s, like the wings of a very nervous butterfly.
Ohsmegohsmegohsmeg, Lister’s brain was saying, but apparently Lister’s body hadn’t quite caught up with it yet. It stood there, quite still, allowing Rimmer to take his time. The hologramatic lips felt eerily real, the only difference being a weak tickling sensation, as though they were faintly static. However, when both of Rimmer’s lips wrapped around his lower, Lister could tell that they were wet on the inside, just like real human lips. There was even a feint, salty taste. Perhaps it was this that finally pulled him over the edge. “Rimmer man,” he exclaimed into the other’s mouth, “what the hell are we doing?”
Rimmer’s eyes opened wide, and he pushed Lister away, almost violently, crushing him against the wet wall. A pathetic sound emerged from his throat, like a small animal crying for help, as he rushed out of the cubicle, and from the sounds of it, kept on running. Shaking his head, Lister turned the shower off, and wringed most of the water out of his hair.
The rain had stopped.