Fic: Io House - R/m, R/L - PG-13
Oct. 22nd, 2007 12:15 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
kahvi.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
reddwarfslashTitle: Io House
Pairing: Rimmer/male, Rimmer/Lister
Rating: PG-13
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
roadstergal
Disclaimer: I don't own Red Dwarf, or any of the characters thereof. I make no money from this.
Spoilers: Possibly Legion.
Notes: This has been rattling around in my brain for some time now, and finally came out. (No, not in a Dumbledoor sense!) Many thanks toroadstergal for her help with Rimmer's character. As always, please bring me concrit!
He had never told Lister about it. Not even after they had started having sex, fumblingly, reaching out for one another in the dark. Not even after Lister had told him he loved him, and Rimmer had nodded hesitantly in reply. He couldn't tell him. Because... He didn't want to think about why, but every time he looked into Lister's smiling face, it was there again, forcing him to think about it. He would never forget.
His brothers had taken every opportunity to remind him that the school was second rate, but going to Io House hadn't been all that bad, really. Not at first. It was nice not to have to go back to his parents at Christmas, even though the school was officially closed, and Rimmer was forced to share a room with the janitor. He didn't understand why the other children wanted to go home, and used to dread summer, when he was given no choice.
The other children confused him in general. They neither shouted at him, made fun of him, or tried to tie him to things, which were the only interactions he was used to from people his own age. He found he didn't know how to talk to them; they tended to get odd looks on their faces and walk away whenever he tried, especially when he started talking about model starships and strategy games. It was like they were speaking a different language, and none of them could be bothered to give him a crash course. Soon they were shouting at him and making fun of him, and at least that felt safe and normal.
It was easier to be alone.
And so, the years limped by. He managed to do decently enough, socially and academically, to keep just on the right side of complete and utter failure. When his last year came around, his main concern was the fact that with the grades he had been getting, there was no way he could ever get into Cadet School, which was what his parents kept telling him he was supposed to want. The last-years were shuffled into new classes, which was interesting, Rimmer thought in retrospect, because if he'd been held back a year, he would never have met Tyrone.
Rimmer had made a point of avoiding new people, because none of them were ever like him, and he had had quite his fill of people who were not like him. Tyrone, however, did not allow himself to be avoided. The dark haired, bright-eyed boy simply came over one day and sat down at Rimmer's desk, proceeding to tell him a long, complicated story about some girl he had supposedly shagged. Despite himself, Rimmer was impressed.
Tyrone was clever. He had a way of figuring out exactly which parts of the textbooks were important for tests, and read them until he knew them by heart. Rimmer tried to copy the system, but it didn't seem to be a system. Not that it really mattered, because Tyrone would let him copy from all his tests, and soon, Rimmer was getting good grades for the first time since they'd stopped valuing coloring skills in geography. It wasn't just the cheating; just being around Tyrone made you pick things up. He was always telling stories, like there were too many facts in his head, and he had to let them out somehow.
When he moved into Rimmer's room, Rimmer was ecstatic. He never had a room mate he could even tolerate, much less admire. Tyrone was good at everything. He excelled at sports, was liked and indulged by teachers, and for some reason, he knew how to talk to Rimmer. And he was always smiling. Rimmer couldn't understand what could possibly be so funny all the time, but when he asked, Tyrone just laughed. Like that was funny!
It was beyond comprehension. Because Tyrone liked Rimmer, and everyone liked Tyrone, the general attitude towards Rimmer at the school started to change. It was a gradual, sneaking thing, but soon Rimmer found himself being addressed by his actual name rather than 'bonehead', and was startled to find that when he was with Tyrone, people stopped trying to trip him, and hardly anyone pointed or giggled. It was an eerie, but not altogether unpleasant feeling. Actually, it felt smegging good. One night, he showed Tyrone his old geography charts, expecting him to laugh, but instead the boy looked at them eagerly, asking questions and marveling at all the different colors. When Rimmer pointed out that he hadn't always managed to stay completely within the lines, Tyrone had shook his head and slapped Rimmer on the back. “You're too hung up on rules. No one ever gets anywhere if they follow the rules all the time. Just relax a little, Arnie. You'll be fine.”
That night, after Tyrone had gone to sleep, Rimmer got out his crayons and a yellowing piece of paper, and, breathlessly, started to draw a picture of a lanky, dark-haired, grinning boy.
When Christmas break came, Rimmer counted the days until the holiday was over. After New Years, he waited by the station for every monorail that would arrive, pretending to be writing down their numbers as he scanned the crowds of disembarking passengers for a particular, broad, ever-grinning face. Finally, just two days before school was starting up again, there he was. Suddenly, Rimmer couldn't breathe. He didn't know what to do; should he walk over? Yell Tyrone's name? What would he say? 'Oh, hey, no; I didn't know you were coming today, actually; I've been coming here every day just in case.' But then Tyrone spotted him and ran over, and before Rimmer knew it, he was being scooped up in a crushing embrace that made his chest tighten. It was only when the glowing, hot-tight feeling didn't stop when Tyrone let him go, that Rimmer realized he hadn't broken anything. This was something else. Some... feeling. Hesitatingly, like he'd caught some shy woodland creature and was afraid it'd run away if he poked at it too much, Rimmer allowed himself to enjoy it all the way back to the school.
Tyrone was a night owl and Rimmer was an early riser, and yet, more and more often, he would force himself to stay awake just a little longer, to hear the rest of Tyrone's story, or ask him for another one. And sometimes, when they had talked and talked for hours, and even Tyrone ran out of words, Rimmer would pretend to fall asleep, lying very still with the covers over his face, hardly even breathing. And then, after what seemed like an eternity, would come vague rustling sounds, then rapid breathing, quickening by the minute, until it ended in a quiet moan and a stifled giggle. Rimmer, frozen stiff, unable to move, would lie there and whimper softly, long after it was over, wondering at the wetness in his groin.
Rimmer wanted to be good at sports. He couldn't understand why it was so hard; surely anyone could run around a track, or toss a ball about. But no matter how hard he forced himself to try, he could never really get anywhere. The problem was, Tyrone told him, that he wasn't enjoying it, which struck Rimmer as aburd and irrelevant. Nevertheless, Tyrone was the one who won the long-jump and the cycling competition, and got the swimming certificates. Rimmer couldn't even swim. He would sit by the pool, watching Tyrone and the others do lap after lap, frowning as they giggled and joked their way around. Surely swimming was serious business; you shouldn't be able to muck about like that and do well, yet Tyrone did. One day, when the others had left, Tyrone had taken Rimmer by the hand and helped him step into the shallow end, holding his hips as they stood waist deep in luke-warm wetness. Rimmer had looked down, seeing pale, lanky bodies with identical swimming trunks, their lower bodies distorted in the faintly blue water, and blushed. “Don't worry,” Tyrone had told him, “there's nothing to be embarrassed about.” And he had taken Rimmer's chin in his hand and tilted it up, looking into his eyes earnestly. “Don't you worry 'bout what other people say, Arnie,” he'd said, white teeth bared in a grin, “I like you for who you are. Smeg those guys!”
That was the moment Rimmer realized he was in love.
He had heard about love, of course. It was what happened before marriage. It meant finding someone suitable and settling down. There was something about attraction and bodies and a condom-covered banana in there too, but Rimmer had always been a little vague on the details. He had usually spaced out in sex education class, preferring to doodle on his self-erasing desk, or plan his homework schedule in his head. He hadn't expected bright, eager eyes, or busy, always-moving hands. He hadn't expected to want to feel those hands on him, or wanting to lick those full, expressive lips. He hadn't expected much at all. The stupid thing was, now that he knew what it was, he had no idea what to do about it. He kept hoping for Tyrone to make the first move all through spring term and into final exams week, battling rising panic as the end of year drew near, knowing it would take him away to cadet school – he had gotten the grades almost without realizing; he'd had other things on his mind – and away from Tyrone forever. Sometimes their eyes would meet as they sat side by side, studying, and Rimmer would think to himself now! But the moment would pass, and Tyrone would frown, an unreadable expression on his face.
Commencement came and went, Rimmer's parents failing to appear, as expected. His mother sent a short letter, congratulating him in somber words, and informing him they would send him tickets to go straight to cadet school. Rimmer read it, sitting on his bunk, knowing he would soon have to pack. Tyrone had packed already, and was saying goodbye to his mother, father, sister and two brothers, all of whom had stayed an entire weekend. This afternoon they would both go to the station, heading in different directions. Tyrone had graduated with honors, and was being sent to law school on Earth. The thought of being alone again tore at Rimmer's chest, making him bite his lip until it bled. No emotions. That's what he'd been taught all his life. But no one had told him there were people like Tyrone in the world!
“Hiya, Arnie!”
The cheerful voice made Rimmer cringe. He looked up, sullenly. “Tyrone.”
“What's the matter?” He probably had that concerned, stupidly helpful expression, Rimmer guessed, not looking directly at him.
“Nothing.”
“Hey, come on... 'course it is something. We're mates, right? I know when you're down.” The softness of the voice, and the words it spoke; Rimmer couldn't take it anymore!
“I love you,” he shouted, jumping to his feet, and grabbing Tyrone in a desperate, clumsy hug. His eyes were screwed shut and his lip was bleeding, and something wet was on his face.
Tyrone laughed. Smeg the bastard to hell; he laughed! “Hey man,” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around Rimmer, “I love you too!”
It was too much and not enough by far for a hormone-filled sixteen year old. Bursting with what he could only presume was joy, Rimmer pulled back just enough to see Tyrone's beaming face, then opened his mouth just a fraction, and pressed his lips to those tempting full ones.
The world was spinning. Rimmer felt Tyrone gasp and wriggle in his grip, and he couldn't stop even if he wanted to. This was it; this was right, and what on Io had taken him so long? His penis, encouraged by the goings-on, began to stir, and he pressed himself even closer to that warm.... struggling other body? Rimmer had just about time to get confused by that fact before arms much stronger than his pushed him across the room angrily. His head hit the edge of the upper bunk, hard, and Rimmer fell onto what was no longer his mattress, a throbbing, searing pain beating in his skull.
“What?” He managed, poking at the spot where the bunk had impacted. It was wet, and stung like hell when he touched it. Normally, this would have been enough to scare the pants off him, but it was nothing compared to the look in Tyrone's eyes.
“Pervert,” he hissed, fists clenching. For a moment, Rimmer was convinced he was going to go after him again, and yelped, crawling further back against the wall.
“S... sorry,” he tried, beginning to sniffle. What a time to get a cold, part of his mind told him, irritably.
Tyrone moved closer, leaning over until he filled Rimmer's entire view. There was nothing in his face but pure, seething anger and disgust. “If we were still in school, I would have had you expelled. Fucking fag!” He spat on the last word, narrowly missing Rimmer's chin.
“But...”
“But what, cock sucker?”
“I thought you liked me,” Rimmer said, pathetically. It sounded stupid even to him.
Tyrone snorted, picking up his bag. “Yeah,” he said, walking away, “until I found you were a fucking perv!” And with that, he slammed the door.
Rimmer sat in his former bunk for a good long while, trying very hard to think of nothing at all. When his brain was appropriately empty, he stumbled out, and headed towards the little desk in the middle of the room. Willing his hands not to shake, he pulled out the drawing he had put there, many months earlier, and carefully and methodically tore it into tiny, equally sized pieces.
He would dream of it from time to time. Someone would be standing over him, laughing and calling him a perv, and tiny fragments of paper would fall down in front of his eyes, like snow on a television set that wasn't working. Sometimes, even now, he would wake up abruptly, mumbling something about being sorry and not meaning it, and Lister would pull him closer in his sleep, wrapping his arms around him tighter.
And Rimmer, his heart in his throat, would look at those arms, and feel that warmth, and wonder how long it would be real... this time.
Pairing: Rimmer/male, Rimmer/Lister
Rating: PG-13
Beta:
roadstergalDisclaimer: I don't own Red Dwarf, or any of the characters thereof. I make no money from this.
Spoilers: Possibly Legion.
Notes: This has been rattling around in my brain for some time now, and finally came out. (No, not in a Dumbledoor sense!) Many thanks to
roadstergal for her help with Rimmer's character. As always, please bring me concrit!He had never told Lister about it. Not even after they had started having sex, fumblingly, reaching out for one another in the dark. Not even after Lister had told him he loved him, and Rimmer had nodded hesitantly in reply. He couldn't tell him. Because... He didn't want to think about why, but every time he looked into Lister's smiling face, it was there again, forcing him to think about it. He would never forget.
His brothers had taken every opportunity to remind him that the school was second rate, but going to Io House hadn't been all that bad, really. Not at first. It was nice not to have to go back to his parents at Christmas, even though the school was officially closed, and Rimmer was forced to share a room with the janitor. He didn't understand why the other children wanted to go home, and used to dread summer, when he was given no choice.
The other children confused him in general. They neither shouted at him, made fun of him, or tried to tie him to things, which were the only interactions he was used to from people his own age. He found he didn't know how to talk to them; they tended to get odd looks on their faces and walk away whenever he tried, especially when he started talking about model starships and strategy games. It was like they were speaking a different language, and none of them could be bothered to give him a crash course. Soon they were shouting at him and making fun of him, and at least that felt safe and normal.
It was easier to be alone.
And so, the years limped by. He managed to do decently enough, socially and academically, to keep just on the right side of complete and utter failure. When his last year came around, his main concern was the fact that with the grades he had been getting, there was no way he could ever get into Cadet School, which was what his parents kept telling him he was supposed to want. The last-years were shuffled into new classes, which was interesting, Rimmer thought in retrospect, because if he'd been held back a year, he would never have met Tyrone.
Rimmer had made a point of avoiding new people, because none of them were ever like him, and he had had quite his fill of people who were not like him. Tyrone, however, did not allow himself to be avoided. The dark haired, bright-eyed boy simply came over one day and sat down at Rimmer's desk, proceeding to tell him a long, complicated story about some girl he had supposedly shagged. Despite himself, Rimmer was impressed.
Tyrone was clever. He had a way of figuring out exactly which parts of the textbooks were important for tests, and read them until he knew them by heart. Rimmer tried to copy the system, but it didn't seem to be a system. Not that it really mattered, because Tyrone would let him copy from all his tests, and soon, Rimmer was getting good grades for the first time since they'd stopped valuing coloring skills in geography. It wasn't just the cheating; just being around Tyrone made you pick things up. He was always telling stories, like there were too many facts in his head, and he had to let them out somehow.
When he moved into Rimmer's room, Rimmer was ecstatic. He never had a room mate he could even tolerate, much less admire. Tyrone was good at everything. He excelled at sports, was liked and indulged by teachers, and for some reason, he knew how to talk to Rimmer. And he was always smiling. Rimmer couldn't understand what could possibly be so funny all the time, but when he asked, Tyrone just laughed. Like that was funny!
It was beyond comprehension. Because Tyrone liked Rimmer, and everyone liked Tyrone, the general attitude towards Rimmer at the school started to change. It was a gradual, sneaking thing, but soon Rimmer found himself being addressed by his actual name rather than 'bonehead', and was startled to find that when he was with Tyrone, people stopped trying to trip him, and hardly anyone pointed or giggled. It was an eerie, but not altogether unpleasant feeling. Actually, it felt smegging good. One night, he showed Tyrone his old geography charts, expecting him to laugh, but instead the boy looked at them eagerly, asking questions and marveling at all the different colors. When Rimmer pointed out that he hadn't always managed to stay completely within the lines, Tyrone had shook his head and slapped Rimmer on the back. “You're too hung up on rules. No one ever gets anywhere if they follow the rules all the time. Just relax a little, Arnie. You'll be fine.”
That night, after Tyrone had gone to sleep, Rimmer got out his crayons and a yellowing piece of paper, and, breathlessly, started to draw a picture of a lanky, dark-haired, grinning boy.
When Christmas break came, Rimmer counted the days until the holiday was over. After New Years, he waited by the station for every monorail that would arrive, pretending to be writing down their numbers as he scanned the crowds of disembarking passengers for a particular, broad, ever-grinning face. Finally, just two days before school was starting up again, there he was. Suddenly, Rimmer couldn't breathe. He didn't know what to do; should he walk over? Yell Tyrone's name? What would he say? 'Oh, hey, no; I didn't know you were coming today, actually; I've been coming here every day just in case.' But then Tyrone spotted him and ran over, and before Rimmer knew it, he was being scooped up in a crushing embrace that made his chest tighten. It was only when the glowing, hot-tight feeling didn't stop when Tyrone let him go, that Rimmer realized he hadn't broken anything. This was something else. Some... feeling. Hesitatingly, like he'd caught some shy woodland creature and was afraid it'd run away if he poked at it too much, Rimmer allowed himself to enjoy it all the way back to the school.
Tyrone was a night owl and Rimmer was an early riser, and yet, more and more often, he would force himself to stay awake just a little longer, to hear the rest of Tyrone's story, or ask him for another one. And sometimes, when they had talked and talked for hours, and even Tyrone ran out of words, Rimmer would pretend to fall asleep, lying very still with the covers over his face, hardly even breathing. And then, after what seemed like an eternity, would come vague rustling sounds, then rapid breathing, quickening by the minute, until it ended in a quiet moan and a stifled giggle. Rimmer, frozen stiff, unable to move, would lie there and whimper softly, long after it was over, wondering at the wetness in his groin.
Rimmer wanted to be good at sports. He couldn't understand why it was so hard; surely anyone could run around a track, or toss a ball about. But no matter how hard he forced himself to try, he could never really get anywhere. The problem was, Tyrone told him, that he wasn't enjoying it, which struck Rimmer as aburd and irrelevant. Nevertheless, Tyrone was the one who won the long-jump and the cycling competition, and got the swimming certificates. Rimmer couldn't even swim. He would sit by the pool, watching Tyrone and the others do lap after lap, frowning as they giggled and joked their way around. Surely swimming was serious business; you shouldn't be able to muck about like that and do well, yet Tyrone did. One day, when the others had left, Tyrone had taken Rimmer by the hand and helped him step into the shallow end, holding his hips as they stood waist deep in luke-warm wetness. Rimmer had looked down, seeing pale, lanky bodies with identical swimming trunks, their lower bodies distorted in the faintly blue water, and blushed. “Don't worry,” Tyrone had told him, “there's nothing to be embarrassed about.” And he had taken Rimmer's chin in his hand and tilted it up, looking into his eyes earnestly. “Don't you worry 'bout what other people say, Arnie,” he'd said, white teeth bared in a grin, “I like you for who you are. Smeg those guys!”
That was the moment Rimmer realized he was in love.
He had heard about love, of course. It was what happened before marriage. It meant finding someone suitable and settling down. There was something about attraction and bodies and a condom-covered banana in there too, but Rimmer had always been a little vague on the details. He had usually spaced out in sex education class, preferring to doodle on his self-erasing desk, or plan his homework schedule in his head. He hadn't expected bright, eager eyes, or busy, always-moving hands. He hadn't expected to want to feel those hands on him, or wanting to lick those full, expressive lips. He hadn't expected much at all. The stupid thing was, now that he knew what it was, he had no idea what to do about it. He kept hoping for Tyrone to make the first move all through spring term and into final exams week, battling rising panic as the end of year drew near, knowing it would take him away to cadet school – he had gotten the grades almost without realizing; he'd had other things on his mind – and away from Tyrone forever. Sometimes their eyes would meet as they sat side by side, studying, and Rimmer would think to himself now! But the moment would pass, and Tyrone would frown, an unreadable expression on his face.
Commencement came and went, Rimmer's parents failing to appear, as expected. His mother sent a short letter, congratulating him in somber words, and informing him they would send him tickets to go straight to cadet school. Rimmer read it, sitting on his bunk, knowing he would soon have to pack. Tyrone had packed already, and was saying goodbye to his mother, father, sister and two brothers, all of whom had stayed an entire weekend. This afternoon they would both go to the station, heading in different directions. Tyrone had graduated with honors, and was being sent to law school on Earth. The thought of being alone again tore at Rimmer's chest, making him bite his lip until it bled. No emotions. That's what he'd been taught all his life. But no one had told him there were people like Tyrone in the world!
“Hiya, Arnie!”
The cheerful voice made Rimmer cringe. He looked up, sullenly. “Tyrone.”
“What's the matter?” He probably had that concerned, stupidly helpful expression, Rimmer guessed, not looking directly at him.
“Nothing.”
“Hey, come on... 'course it is something. We're mates, right? I know when you're down.” The softness of the voice, and the words it spoke; Rimmer couldn't take it anymore!
“I love you,” he shouted, jumping to his feet, and grabbing Tyrone in a desperate, clumsy hug. His eyes were screwed shut and his lip was bleeding, and something wet was on his face.
Tyrone laughed. Smeg the bastard to hell; he laughed! “Hey man,” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around Rimmer, “I love you too!”
It was too much and not enough by far for a hormone-filled sixteen year old. Bursting with what he could only presume was joy, Rimmer pulled back just enough to see Tyrone's beaming face, then opened his mouth just a fraction, and pressed his lips to those tempting full ones.
The world was spinning. Rimmer felt Tyrone gasp and wriggle in his grip, and he couldn't stop even if he wanted to. This was it; this was right, and what on Io had taken him so long? His penis, encouraged by the goings-on, began to stir, and he pressed himself even closer to that warm.... struggling other body? Rimmer had just about time to get confused by that fact before arms much stronger than his pushed him across the room angrily. His head hit the edge of the upper bunk, hard, and Rimmer fell onto what was no longer his mattress, a throbbing, searing pain beating in his skull.
“What?” He managed, poking at the spot where the bunk had impacted. It was wet, and stung like hell when he touched it. Normally, this would have been enough to scare the pants off him, but it was nothing compared to the look in Tyrone's eyes.
“Pervert,” he hissed, fists clenching. For a moment, Rimmer was convinced he was going to go after him again, and yelped, crawling further back against the wall.
“S... sorry,” he tried, beginning to sniffle. What a time to get a cold, part of his mind told him, irritably.
Tyrone moved closer, leaning over until he filled Rimmer's entire view. There was nothing in his face but pure, seething anger and disgust. “If we were still in school, I would have had you expelled. Fucking fag!” He spat on the last word, narrowly missing Rimmer's chin.
“But...”
“But what, cock sucker?”
“I thought you liked me,” Rimmer said, pathetically. It sounded stupid even to him.
Tyrone snorted, picking up his bag. “Yeah,” he said, walking away, “until I found you were a fucking perv!” And with that, he slammed the door.
Rimmer sat in his former bunk for a good long while, trying very hard to think of nothing at all. When his brain was appropriately empty, he stumbled out, and headed towards the little desk in the middle of the room. Willing his hands not to shake, he pulled out the drawing he had put there, many months earlier, and carefully and methodically tore it into tiny, equally sized pieces.
He would dream of it from time to time. Someone would be standing over him, laughing and calling him a perv, and tiny fragments of paper would fall down in front of his eyes, like snow on a television set that wasn't working. Sometimes, even now, he would wake up abruptly, mumbling something about being sorry and not meaning it, and Lister would pull him closer in his sleep, wrapping his arms around him tighter.
And Rimmer, his heart in his throat, would look at those arms, and feel that warmth, and wonder how long it would be real... this time.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-10-22 03:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-23 08:09 am (UTC)Glad you enjoyed it; thanks for feeding back!
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Date: 2007-10-24 02:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-25 09:32 am (UTC)Heh, as I keep telling
no subject
Date: 2007-10-22 06:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-23 08:11 am (UTC)Thanks for feeding back!
Nicely done!
Date: 2007-10-23 01:00 am (UTC)Re: Nicely done!
Date: 2007-10-23 08:49 am (UTC)Remember that we're seeing Tyrone through Rimmer's eyes - I'm not sure if he's quite the superman Rimmer makes him out to be. And really, given the strength of his reaction, don't be too sure if he didn't secretly fancy Rimmer himself. ;)
Glad you enjoyed it - thanks for reading and feeding back!
Re: Nicely done!
Date: 2007-10-26 03:02 am (UTC)Re: Nicely done!
Date: 2007-10-26 05:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-24 06:20 pm (UTC)Love the detail of the self-erasing desk (clearly an innovation we could use), and Rimmer's vague idea of a condom-covered banana being involved somehow. And his insecurity about coloring outside the lines.
(Did you see the "Mister Lister" in TCR's opening titles last week? There's a Dwarf fan on the staff, I'll bet you.)
no subject
Date: 2007-10-24 10:49 pm (UTC)And yes, I did! I wanted to icon!
Glad you enjoyed it; thanks for reading and feeding back!
no subject
Date: 2007-10-25 07:24 pm (UTC)For me when I read it I thought about Rimmer's jibes about Ace being gay, and thought that maybe since Ace hadn't had that experience he wouldn't be so hung up about being gay. Don't know if that makes any sense or if I'm just rambling. I think what I mean to say is that Rimmer is very uptight and insecure, and this would be a hell of a reason for that.
Thanks for writing this, I like it a lot. I've wanted to read about Rimmer's school experiences for a while.
no subject
Date: 2007-10-26 09:48 pm (UTC)And yes - that's exactly what I had in mind! It would be an (additional) reason for him to be uncomfortable around Ace.
no subject
Date: 2007-10-26 10:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-31 05:49 pm (UTC)It was nice not to have to go back to his parents at Christmas, even though the school was officially closed, and Rimmer was forced to share a room with the janitor. He didn't understand why the other children wanted to go home, and used to dread summer, when he was given no choice.
He found he didn't know how to talk to them; they tended to get odd looks on their faces and walk away whenever he tried, especially when he started talking about model starships and strategy games. It was like they were speaking a different language, and none of them could be bothered to give him a crash course.
Such great Rimmerness.
He had a way of figuring out exactly which parts of the textbooks were important for tests, and read them until he knew them by heart.
soon Rimmer found himself being addressed by his actual name rather than 'bonehead', and was startled to find that when he was with Tyrone, people stopped trying to trip him, and hardly anyone pointed or giggled.
This, too. What Rimmer feels is awesome is so pathetic...
The silly Rimmer-feeling of love!
The masturbation! Tyrone is such a bisexual in denial. I know someone who would be good for him...
The problem was, Tyrone told him, that he wasn't enjoying it, which struck Rimmer as aburd and irrelevant.
Such a perfect bit of Rimmer-characterization. And again, eerily close to reality.
He had heard about love, of course. It was what happened before marriage. It meant finding someone suitable and settling down. There was something about attraction and bodies and a condom-covered banana in there too, but Rimmer had always been a little vague on the details.
Perfect.
His mother sent a short letter, congratulating him in somber words, and informing him they would send him tickets to go straight to cadet school.
Straight. Snrk. I bet that's what they were hoping for. "Just as long as he doesn't turn out like uncle Ernie. The one who ran off to Europa with that man..."
We knew what was coming, but it's still sad. And it all fits in so perfectly as a past with the Rimmer we see - the almost desperately homophobic one, the one who shags women like it's a stop on a route planned by someone else.
And Rimmer, his heart in his throat, would look at those arms, and feel that warmth, and wonder how long it would be real... this time.
As long as it takes to hit SMAC...
no subject
Date: 2007-11-01 06:22 pm (UTC)HAH! This is one of the reasons why I always love your commentary; my Lister had been hiding this fact discreetly behind his back. I needed your Rimmer to point it out for me.
The funny thing is, I didn't set out to write Tyrone as interested in Rimmer at all. But he sort of... slipped. I like how people are seeing him.
I am now officially establishing Europa as the gay capital of the solar system in my personal RD fanon. Win.
Thank you! I did try to make it fit, with everything. So glad you enjoyed. :)
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Date: 2008-08-05 06:19 am (UTC)It's so very well written...it's one of my favourite fics of yours that I've read.
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Date: 2008-12-31 06:08 pm (UTC)