Fic: Taste - R/L - PG-13
Title: Taste
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: If I owned Red Dwarf, R/L would be canon. Which is probably why I don't own Red Dwarf, and why I don't make any money from this either.
Notes: A sequel, of sorts, to Rain. Written as part of the fanfic100 challenge - my table is here.
He couldn’t rid himself of the taste. It was still in his mouth, no matter how much he rinsed it out, no matter what he ate, even biting his tongue didn’t help. Well, OK, that had been more by ways of a last resort; he hadn’t seriously expected it to work. He still tasted Rimmer. That was the long and short of it. The taste of smeghead was in Lister’s mouth, and he couldn’t wash it away.
Rimmer, true to form, pretended like nothing had ever happened. Like the two of them hadn’t shared an almost-kiss in the cramped confines of the shower cubicle in their sleeping quarters. He greeted Lister civilly in the morning, and even tossed a few insults his way during the day, chatting idly with the Cat and Kryten, neither of whom seemed to notice Lister’s acute discomfort around the hologram.
It had gotten to the point where Lister had begun to doubt whether it had actually happened. Because how on Earth could it have happened? How could Arnold Rimmer, a man whose absurd levels of homophobia even prevented him from looking at himself naked in a mirror, have actually kissed him? That wasn’t the scariest part though. The worst, the really, really, gut-wrenchingly horrible part was that Lister had enjoyed it. Not just enjoyed it, he’d loved it. He’d tried to ignore the messages his body had been sending to his brain, but the truth was he’d relished the feeling of Rimmer’s lips brushing against his own, relished the feel of the hard-light skin under tight clothing, pushing up close against the most intimate places on his body. He’d wanted to moan and sigh and pull Rimmer to him, which was why he’d suddenly snapped back to reality, panicked and broken away. And that’s when the hologram had looked at him with wide eyes, pushed him violently against the cubicle wall, and run away. And quite frankly, if Lister had been horrified, that had been nothing compared to the look he’d seen in Rimmer’s eyes.
The nights were a pain. Confused as he was, Lister didn’t really know if he was longing for Rimmer to climb into his bunk, or dreading it. He’d lie awake, unable to sleep, constantly listening for movement below him. It was intolerable. And annoyingly, Lister, who’d never been at a loss for words, seemed unable to find a way to breach the subject with Rimmer. What was he going to say, he asked himself; “so - are you gay then?” Rimmer would flip, he’d go spare! It was when he sat up in bed pondering this in the early wee hours of the morning, after yet another sleepless night, that the obvious solution came to him. After all, there was one form of communication they’d both always mastered. For the first time in days, a slow, wicked smile spread across his mouth and reached his eyes.
When Rimmer came back into the sleeping-quarters late that morning after his “work-out”, which involved running to the cargo-hold, taking ten sit-ups and then falling asleep behind the largest stack of crates he could find, Lister was leaning nonchalantly against the wall, idly leafing through one of his threadbare comics.
“You know,” Lister said, “I had no idea you were such a lousy kisser.”
To his credit, Rimmer didn’t flinch, although there was pure terror in his eyes. “Oh really?” he replied noncommittally. “And how would you know?”
Lister snorted, tossing the comic aside. “Wadda ya mean ‘how would I know’? How many people have you had intimate relations with in yer entire life, eh? Two? Three? I’m not far off, am I? All in all, I think it’s fair to say I’ve got a tad more experience than you in this field, yeah?” He flicked out a cigarette, and held it, unlit, between his fingers.
Rimmer crossed his arms over his chest, and smirked haughtily. “Ah, Listy,” he sighed, “as always you confuse quantity with quality. It’s not a matter of how many or how much; but how well. So far I’ve gotten no complaints.”
“Well you’re getting one now.” Lister lit his cigarette, and inhaled deeply, moving towards the hologram. “And I say that was by far the worst snog I have ever had the misfortune to experience!”
“Really?” There was a note of uncertainty in Rimmer’s voice.
“Yeah, really,” Lister lied, taking another drag from his cigarette. “And keep in mind I’ve played tonsil-hockey with slimy bug-monsters trying to suck my brain out, but even that was better than having your rancid breath on my mouth!”
“Rancid? Rancid?” Rimmer waved away the smoke emanating from Lister’s mouth, too annoyed to be afraid now. “And what about you with your smeg-knows-how-many packs a day habit; do you think that’s a particularly pleasant taste experience? Do you think I particularly enjoy the mixed flavors of curry, tobacco and stale beer?” He moved in closer, and snatched the cigarette from Lister’s hand, dropping it into an open can of beer on the table.
“You tell me,” Lister said, his arms wide in exasperation. “You were obviously enjoying it, or you wouldn’t have kept at it like that.”
“Right, and you didn’t? So you pulling, nay, forcing me into that shower was clearly just my imagination; I’m clearly in the habit of hallucinating horny filthy scousers who are eager to suck my tongue out of my face, is that it?” Their bodies were inches apart now; Rimmer’s face hovering sinisterly over Lister’s, like some sort of neurotic vulture eager for a meal.
“Clearly you are,” Lister replied, leaning, without looking, towards the table to pick up the packet of cigs he knew was there. “Because I hated every disgusting second of it! What on Earth possessed you, man? I mean, I know you’ve gone long without a woman, god knows you’ve gone longer than me, but have you finally gone totally smegging insane?” Eyes still locked on Rimmer’s, he picked a cigarette out of the pack with his teeth, and fished in his pocket for a lighter.
Something caught fire in Rimmer’s murky-green eyes. His voice fell in and out of a shrill falsetto as he burst out; “You want to know why I smegging kissed you, eh? Is that what you want, you degenerate hamster-faced twonk, you pathetic dirty little son of a prostidroid? It’s because I love you, you goit, because I love you!” He smacked the unlit cigarette out of Lister’s mouth, and moved even closer, screaming the last bit of his tirade into Lister’s face.
“Yeah right,” Lister shouted back, his heart pounding from the influx of adrenaline and possibly something else he didn’t quite care to identify, “You love me, eh? Pull the other one! If you love me so smegging much, why don’t you sodding prove it, then?” His last words were muffled when Rimmer bridged what little gap there was left between them, and kissed him with a desperation and energy that left Lister gasping for breath when they finally broke apart.
Normally, in such a situation, and Lister had been in a fair few intimate situations with no idea as to what had gotten him there, his brain would start screaming questions at him. Questions like “what the hell are you doing” and “what the hell is he/she/it doing to you” and possibly even “oh my god, where are they trying to put that thing?” But all he was aware of now was feeling comfortable and at peace, and that still unfamiliar, somewhat tangy taste of Rimmer in his mouth. He could get used to this. Oh smeg, he could get used to this!
However, looking into Rimmer’s eyes, he saw the terror was back in full force. The hologram swayed somewhat unsteadily on his feet, and staggered a few steps away from Lister. He opened his mouth, trying to speak, but all that got out was a pathetic sort of whimper, like that of a newborn kitten, making him sound just as helpless.
“Lock,” Lister said quietly, but quickly, and the doors sealed themselves instantly. The terror in Rimmer’s eyes intensified, unaffected by Lister’s reassuring smile.
“I’m sorry,” Rimmer choked. “I’m sorry.” He found the back of a chair with his groping hand, and steadied himself on it.
“Don’t say you’re sorry, there’s nothing to be sorry about.” Lister shifted his weight from foot to foot, wondering whether he should try to move closer or not. Compromising, he leaned forward a little. “Look, I’m sorry. I was baiting ya, I wanted to get a reaction. It’s my fault.”
“No,” said Rimmer, looking steadier now, “It’s my fault. I lost control. It’s the hard-light drive…”
“Yeah,” said Lister, moving a little closer again, “it must be weird to be able to touch things again.”
“Oh, I’ve gotten used to it now. Got used to it weeks ago. It’s just… Now that I can touch, it’s hard… Not to.” He’d been avoiding Lister’s gaze, but now he met it full-on. And what Lister saw was fear and shame and guilt and disgust, with a helping of self-loathing on the side. “I was wrong to do what I did, and I shouldn’t have run away. Now please,” he paused, swallowing, “unlock the doors and let me out of here.”
Lister gave a weak smile. “If that’s what you want, mate,” he said, wondering why Rimmer didn’t just unlock the doors himself. Was he that distraught that he didn’t even remember that he could?
Rimmer laughed. It was an eerie sound, not pleasant at all; hollow and drained. “Want? When did I ever get what I wanted?” He shook his head. “Never mind. It’s what needs to happen; unlock the doors. Please.”
“And then what’ll happen? We forget all about this; pretend it never happened?” Lister, close enough again to do so now, gently touched Rimmer’s shoulder. Rimmer looked at him with deep suspicion. “You said you loved me,” Lister said, realization and wonder in his voice. His smile spread, became wider, threatened to stretch across the boundaries of his face. “I can’t just let that go, now can I?”
Rimmer looked as though he was about to throw up. He was hunched over, even paler than usual, with the expression of a man who has finally lost all hope. And something that had been lingering on the outskirts of Lister’s consciousness suddenly leapt into view, and he understood. He understood why Rimmer had pretended nothing had happened. He understood why Rimmer hadn’t acted on his attraction to him. He understood everything.
“Rimmer,” he said, “this isn’t Io. Everyone on Io died centuries ago! And I’m from Earth, man, England; Liverpool - d’you think I care who people fall in love with? D’you think Kryten does? Cat? They’re not even human!”
Rimmer pulled himself up a little, but his expression was just as grim. So many years, Lister thought. So many years trying to hide something so unimportant. And no one had told him. He hadn’t had any friends close enough to ask, and everyone must have assumed that he knew, because everyone knew, didn’t they? He must have felt almost relieved to have become a hologram stuck on a ship with people he both could not and did not want to touch; finally there’d be no more temptation. And when he’d started feeling attracted to Lister, well, what did it matter? He couldn’t act on it anyway, so what was the harm? Ah, but then had come the hard-light drive… And what had been the first thing Lister had done? He’d touched him. It must have been unbearable. Lister felt the anger rise in him.
“Listen; I know you were raised to think men shouldn’t love other men. But that’s bullshit, that is, it’s utter shite! No one else thought like that anymore, it was just one stupid goit-faced colony, and boy did they do a number on you!” He took hold of both of Rimmers arms, and forced the other man to face him. “You said you loved me. Well, I’m glad! Love is a good thing, Rimmer, a good thing! And anyone who says different is a smegging idiot!”
“I… So... You’re saying you don’t mind?” Still doubt, still shame.
Lister laughed. This was a good laugh, a loud, liberating laugh that made the Cat, way on the other side of the insulated doors, far off in the cockpit, shake his ears in confusion. And Lister realized that words were cumbersome, and over-rated, and only got in the way, and hugged Rimmer hard.
“I tell you what,” he said finally, as they broke apart, “I don’t know exactly what I feel about you yet, but I know I like this.”
Rimmer smiled. It was a careful smile, almost apologetic. “You like it?”
Lister could still taste that odd, sweet-tangy taste that was Rimmer in his mouth. He didn’t want to rinse it out now. “Oh yeah,” he grinned widely. “I like it a lot…”
The doors remained locked for some time.
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: If I owned Red Dwarf, R/L would be canon. Which is probably why I don't own Red Dwarf, and why I don't make any money from this either.
Notes: A sequel, of sorts, to Rain. Written as part of the fanfic100 challenge - my table is here.
He couldn’t rid himself of the taste. It was still in his mouth, no matter how much he rinsed it out, no matter what he ate, even biting his tongue didn’t help. Well, OK, that had been more by ways of a last resort; he hadn’t seriously expected it to work. He still tasted Rimmer. That was the long and short of it. The taste of smeghead was in Lister’s mouth, and he couldn’t wash it away.
Rimmer, true to form, pretended like nothing had ever happened. Like the two of them hadn’t shared an almost-kiss in the cramped confines of the shower cubicle in their sleeping quarters. He greeted Lister civilly in the morning, and even tossed a few insults his way during the day, chatting idly with the Cat and Kryten, neither of whom seemed to notice Lister’s acute discomfort around the hologram.
It had gotten to the point where Lister had begun to doubt whether it had actually happened. Because how on Earth could it have happened? How could Arnold Rimmer, a man whose absurd levels of homophobia even prevented him from looking at himself naked in a mirror, have actually kissed him? That wasn’t the scariest part though. The worst, the really, really, gut-wrenchingly horrible part was that Lister had enjoyed it. Not just enjoyed it, he’d loved it. He’d tried to ignore the messages his body had been sending to his brain, but the truth was he’d relished the feeling of Rimmer’s lips brushing against his own, relished the feel of the hard-light skin under tight clothing, pushing up close against the most intimate places on his body. He’d wanted to moan and sigh and pull Rimmer to him, which was why he’d suddenly snapped back to reality, panicked and broken away. And that’s when the hologram had looked at him with wide eyes, pushed him violently against the cubicle wall, and run away. And quite frankly, if Lister had been horrified, that had been nothing compared to the look he’d seen in Rimmer’s eyes.
The nights were a pain. Confused as he was, Lister didn’t really know if he was longing for Rimmer to climb into his bunk, or dreading it. He’d lie awake, unable to sleep, constantly listening for movement below him. It was intolerable. And annoyingly, Lister, who’d never been at a loss for words, seemed unable to find a way to breach the subject with Rimmer. What was he going to say, he asked himself; “so - are you gay then?” Rimmer would flip, he’d go spare! It was when he sat up in bed pondering this in the early wee hours of the morning, after yet another sleepless night, that the obvious solution came to him. After all, there was one form of communication they’d both always mastered. For the first time in days, a slow, wicked smile spread across his mouth and reached his eyes.
When Rimmer came back into the sleeping-quarters late that morning after his “work-out”, which involved running to the cargo-hold, taking ten sit-ups and then falling asleep behind the largest stack of crates he could find, Lister was leaning nonchalantly against the wall, idly leafing through one of his threadbare comics.
“You know,” Lister said, “I had no idea you were such a lousy kisser.”
To his credit, Rimmer didn’t flinch, although there was pure terror in his eyes. “Oh really?” he replied noncommittally. “And how would you know?”
Lister snorted, tossing the comic aside. “Wadda ya mean ‘how would I know’? How many people have you had intimate relations with in yer entire life, eh? Two? Three? I’m not far off, am I? All in all, I think it’s fair to say I’ve got a tad more experience than you in this field, yeah?” He flicked out a cigarette, and held it, unlit, between his fingers.
Rimmer crossed his arms over his chest, and smirked haughtily. “Ah, Listy,” he sighed, “as always you confuse quantity with quality. It’s not a matter of how many or how much; but how well. So far I’ve gotten no complaints.”
“Well you’re getting one now.” Lister lit his cigarette, and inhaled deeply, moving towards the hologram. “And I say that was by far the worst snog I have ever had the misfortune to experience!”
“Really?” There was a note of uncertainty in Rimmer’s voice.
“Yeah, really,” Lister lied, taking another drag from his cigarette. “And keep in mind I’ve played tonsil-hockey with slimy bug-monsters trying to suck my brain out, but even that was better than having your rancid breath on my mouth!”
“Rancid? Rancid?” Rimmer waved away the smoke emanating from Lister’s mouth, too annoyed to be afraid now. “And what about you with your smeg-knows-how-many packs a day habit; do you think that’s a particularly pleasant taste experience? Do you think I particularly enjoy the mixed flavors of curry, tobacco and stale beer?” He moved in closer, and snatched the cigarette from Lister’s hand, dropping it into an open can of beer on the table.
“You tell me,” Lister said, his arms wide in exasperation. “You were obviously enjoying it, or you wouldn’t have kept at it like that.”
“Right, and you didn’t? So you pulling, nay, forcing me into that shower was clearly just my imagination; I’m clearly in the habit of hallucinating horny filthy scousers who are eager to suck my tongue out of my face, is that it?” Their bodies were inches apart now; Rimmer’s face hovering sinisterly over Lister’s, like some sort of neurotic vulture eager for a meal.
“Clearly you are,” Lister replied, leaning, without looking, towards the table to pick up the packet of cigs he knew was there. “Because I hated every disgusting second of it! What on Earth possessed you, man? I mean, I know you’ve gone long without a woman, god knows you’ve gone longer than me, but have you finally gone totally smegging insane?” Eyes still locked on Rimmer’s, he picked a cigarette out of the pack with his teeth, and fished in his pocket for a lighter.
Something caught fire in Rimmer’s murky-green eyes. His voice fell in and out of a shrill falsetto as he burst out; “You want to know why I smegging kissed you, eh? Is that what you want, you degenerate hamster-faced twonk, you pathetic dirty little son of a prostidroid? It’s because I love you, you goit, because I love you!” He smacked the unlit cigarette out of Lister’s mouth, and moved even closer, screaming the last bit of his tirade into Lister’s face.
“Yeah right,” Lister shouted back, his heart pounding from the influx of adrenaline and possibly something else he didn’t quite care to identify, “You love me, eh? Pull the other one! If you love me so smegging much, why don’t you sodding prove it, then?” His last words were muffled when Rimmer bridged what little gap there was left between them, and kissed him with a desperation and energy that left Lister gasping for breath when they finally broke apart.
Normally, in such a situation, and Lister had been in a fair few intimate situations with no idea as to what had gotten him there, his brain would start screaming questions at him. Questions like “what the hell are you doing” and “what the hell is he/she/it doing to you” and possibly even “oh my god, where are they trying to put that thing?” But all he was aware of now was feeling comfortable and at peace, and that still unfamiliar, somewhat tangy taste of Rimmer in his mouth. He could get used to this. Oh smeg, he could get used to this!
However, looking into Rimmer’s eyes, he saw the terror was back in full force. The hologram swayed somewhat unsteadily on his feet, and staggered a few steps away from Lister. He opened his mouth, trying to speak, but all that got out was a pathetic sort of whimper, like that of a newborn kitten, making him sound just as helpless.
“Lock,” Lister said quietly, but quickly, and the doors sealed themselves instantly. The terror in Rimmer’s eyes intensified, unaffected by Lister’s reassuring smile.
“I’m sorry,” Rimmer choked. “I’m sorry.” He found the back of a chair with his groping hand, and steadied himself on it.
“Don’t say you’re sorry, there’s nothing to be sorry about.” Lister shifted his weight from foot to foot, wondering whether he should try to move closer or not. Compromising, he leaned forward a little. “Look, I’m sorry. I was baiting ya, I wanted to get a reaction. It’s my fault.”
“No,” said Rimmer, looking steadier now, “It’s my fault. I lost control. It’s the hard-light drive…”
“Yeah,” said Lister, moving a little closer again, “it must be weird to be able to touch things again.”
“Oh, I’ve gotten used to it now. Got used to it weeks ago. It’s just… Now that I can touch, it’s hard… Not to.” He’d been avoiding Lister’s gaze, but now he met it full-on. And what Lister saw was fear and shame and guilt and disgust, with a helping of self-loathing on the side. “I was wrong to do what I did, and I shouldn’t have run away. Now please,” he paused, swallowing, “unlock the doors and let me out of here.”
Lister gave a weak smile. “If that’s what you want, mate,” he said, wondering why Rimmer didn’t just unlock the doors himself. Was he that distraught that he didn’t even remember that he could?
Rimmer laughed. It was an eerie sound, not pleasant at all; hollow and drained. “Want? When did I ever get what I wanted?” He shook his head. “Never mind. It’s what needs to happen; unlock the doors. Please.”
“And then what’ll happen? We forget all about this; pretend it never happened?” Lister, close enough again to do so now, gently touched Rimmer’s shoulder. Rimmer looked at him with deep suspicion. “You said you loved me,” Lister said, realization and wonder in his voice. His smile spread, became wider, threatened to stretch across the boundaries of his face. “I can’t just let that go, now can I?”
Rimmer looked as though he was about to throw up. He was hunched over, even paler than usual, with the expression of a man who has finally lost all hope. And something that had been lingering on the outskirts of Lister’s consciousness suddenly leapt into view, and he understood. He understood why Rimmer had pretended nothing had happened. He understood why Rimmer hadn’t acted on his attraction to him. He understood everything.
“Rimmer,” he said, “this isn’t Io. Everyone on Io died centuries ago! And I’m from Earth, man, England; Liverpool - d’you think I care who people fall in love with? D’you think Kryten does? Cat? They’re not even human!”
Rimmer pulled himself up a little, but his expression was just as grim. So many years, Lister thought. So many years trying to hide something so unimportant. And no one had told him. He hadn’t had any friends close enough to ask, and everyone must have assumed that he knew, because everyone knew, didn’t they? He must have felt almost relieved to have become a hologram stuck on a ship with people he both could not and did not want to touch; finally there’d be no more temptation. And when he’d started feeling attracted to Lister, well, what did it matter? He couldn’t act on it anyway, so what was the harm? Ah, but then had come the hard-light drive… And what had been the first thing Lister had done? He’d touched him. It must have been unbearable. Lister felt the anger rise in him.
“Listen; I know you were raised to think men shouldn’t love other men. But that’s bullshit, that is, it’s utter shite! No one else thought like that anymore, it was just one stupid goit-faced colony, and boy did they do a number on you!” He took hold of both of Rimmers arms, and forced the other man to face him. “You said you loved me. Well, I’m glad! Love is a good thing, Rimmer, a good thing! And anyone who says different is a smegging idiot!”
“I… So... You’re saying you don’t mind?” Still doubt, still shame.
Lister laughed. This was a good laugh, a loud, liberating laugh that made the Cat, way on the other side of the insulated doors, far off in the cockpit, shake his ears in confusion. And Lister realized that words were cumbersome, and over-rated, and only got in the way, and hugged Rimmer hard.
“I tell you what,” he said finally, as they broke apart, “I don’t know exactly what I feel about you yet, but I know I like this.”
Rimmer smiled. It was a careful smile, almost apologetic. “You like it?”
Lister could still taste that odd, sweet-tangy taste that was Rimmer in his mouth. He didn’t want to rinse it out now. “Oh yeah,” he grinned widely. “I like it a lot…”
The doors remained locked for some time.