Fic: Domino - PG
Dec. 31st, 2007 12:11 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
smaych.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
reddwarfslashTitle: Domino
Pairing: Lister/Rimmer
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own Red Dwarf or make any money.
Spoilers: Legion
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kahvi
“So let me see if I've got this right. We have enough food to last a month, month and a half tops. Water, if we drink recyc, ten weeks. But it's not going to matter anyway because our fuel's so low we're going to be drifting in space by next Tuesday.” Rimmer's head was in his hands as he spoke.
Kryten's face was creased with guilt. “And just between you and me, sir, we're down to our last onion bhaji.”
Just relax, Rimmer told himself. Relax? Relax! He was floating in space with a deranged automated toilet attendant, a cat that should really, in Rimmer's opinion, be neutered, and barely enough fuel to fill a paddling pool. Oh, and a man who'd lose a battle of wits with a stuffed iguana. Speaking of which.
“You've not told any of this to Lister?”
“I thought it best not to, sir. I didn't want to cause any panic or alarm.”
Rimmer bristled. Why should his mental health be less worth preserving than Lister's?
“Look, bogbot, as far as I'm concerned the sooner Lister loses that smeg awful chirpiness and starts to accept the harsh realities of life, the better.”
Kryten gave him a look which clearly indicated how much of a Smeeee Heeeeeeeee he believed him to be. “We will be encountering a derelict in approximately three days. Preliminary scans show that it should contain enough fuel to see us well into next year, as well as food and other miscellaneous supplies.”
“So why are you telling me this?”
“Sir, your hard light drive uses almost as much fuel as the engines.”
“So?”
“Even soft light you are still a significant power drain.”
“So?”
“So, in the interests of conserving fuel, I strongly suggest we switch you off until then.”
Rimmer's jaw dropped. “Switch me off? You must be out of your goited mind!”
“But it's only a few days, you won't even notice it.”
“You'll never switch me back on again!”
“Sir, we had this argument when we first lost Red Dwarf. I am a mechanoid, and therefore incapable of taking human life, whether living or hologrammatic. I am obliged by my programming to revive you at the pre-arranged time.”
Rimmer still looked as if he wouldn't trust Kryten as far as he could throw him.
“What about Lister then? I thought you said you didn't want him to find out about any of this? I know we're talking about a man who finds join the dots puzzles mentally taxing, but won't he want to know why I'm being turned off for half a week?”
Kryten looked rather pleased with himself at this point. “You and Mr. Lister are scheduled to be on opposite shifts for the three days until we rendezvous with the derelict. I'm fully confident that Mr. Lister will remain totally unaware of your absence.”
Rimmer frowned. Slowly, his shoulders sagged.
“Oh.” He said.
He felt strangely deflated. He supposed it was true enough though. Now that he and Lister were no longer bunking together they barely seemed to interact at all. There was no reason Lister would notice he was gone. Which was good, wasn't it?
What he'd always wanted.
Kryten was still babbling smugly on, explaining how he'd cover his shifts in the cockpit and reboot him as they were approaching their destination. Rimmer had long stopped listening.
* * *
Three days later the derelict loomed large on the view screen. Rimmer was sullen and quiet, his expression illuminated by the silent flashing of the red alert bulb.
In front of him Lister sat, feet up on the console, scoffing down the last onion bhaji. Rimmer screwed up his face in disgust as the grease dripped onto Lister's hands and lips. Rimmer was certain he'd seen pigs with more social grace.
“Is it safe?” Lister asked, as two giant red squares with large white dots inside them came into view, painted on the vessel's ancient hull.
“Scans show no signs of life, sir.”
The Cat wrinkled his nose delicately. “I dunno, bud. Something smells off.”
“Of course it does, you feeble-minded feline.” Rimmer spat. “That's Lister's dinner.”
The Cat didn't even bother to turn round and look at him. “Listen goal post head, my nose-hairs are quivering like jellyfish in a jacuzzi. There's something funny about that ship, I'm telling you.”
“Hold the phone.” Lister spoke up. “Do we actually know what happened here? Why's a ship full of quality supplies floating abandoned in the middle of nowhere?”
Kryten shrugged. “GELFs, rogue simulants, space highwaymen, joyriders who eventually ran her down... There's no way of knowing without further information.”
Rimmer felt a nauseous, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Every fibre of his being was screaming at him to run away from the big, dangerous looking, abandoned vessel floating ahead. But what was the alternative? Certain death. To sit here as the power ran out before blinking out of existence. And once he was off, even if they somehow managed to find more fuel, there wasn't a chance in hell Lister would turn him back on again. He eyed the man in question darkly now. You livies hate us deadies, he thought.
He focused on the three days he had missed, and the potential of more to come, and spoke out. “Look, whatever happened happened years ago. Surely it must be safe by now.”
Lister looked at him as if he'd just requested a bite of his bhaji. “What the smeg? You're wanting us to go in there? I don't know Rimmer...” Lister began.
“Then shut up,” Rimmer replied testily. Lister's face fell, confused.
Kryten interrupted them. “Sirs, may I suggest that, as we are in need of some supplies, we proceed, albeit with caution.” Lister couldn't argue that dinners of poached asteroidal lichen were starting to get old, fast. When there were no immediate objections, Kryten stood. “I'll just prepare the bazookoids.”
* * *
Around them, the millennia old metal creaked ominously. They had entered the vessel in what appeared to be a large kitchen, lined with ovens along one wall, each of which seemed roughly the size of the old crew quarters back on Red Dwarf. The rest of the room was filled with long metal tables, presumably for food preparation. The place was clean enough to impress even Kryten.
They quickly followed the signs pointing out into a hallway, which read “Food Storage.” Soon they encountered a stack of thin cardboard boxes emblazoned with the bright red slogan “Hot and On Time!”
Kryten was in full smug mode. “Just as I suspected. It is a fully functional pizza delivery ship.”
They split into teams, Kryten and the Cat; Rimmer and Lister.
Rimmer had been sulking and dragging behind since then, pointedly ignoring all Lister's half-hearted attempts at conversation.
Lister approached a freezer door cautiously, trying to peer through the small, clouded glass view panel. He shrugged and gave up, turning the heavy metal release mechanism on the door. It swung open with a long, drawn out creak.
“Uh, Lister, what the hell do you think you're doing?”
“It's a freezer. There's bound to be food in it.”
“That doesn't mean we should just go blindly charging in.”
“You got a better idea?”
Cold air wafted from the open door. Little red lights flickered in a display on the frame.
“I don't know! Look at that,” Rimmer pointed to the lights. “I think you've started some sort of defrost process.”
Lister shrugged.
“Congratulations Listy, you've managed to endanger the whole mission in, oh,” he pretended to consult his watch, “just under thirty minutes. You just don't care, do you?” he ranted. “You never do. About anything.”
“Rimmer, what the smeg is wrong with you recently?”
“Oh so you've noticed something's wrong, have you? You've picked up on that? I am impressed.” Rimmer's voice dripped sarcasm.
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“I'll tell you what it's supposed to mean, miladdio, it means you never pay any attention to anything unless it's chilli flavoured!”
“Oh and what about you then, eh? You've been avoiding me for the last three days!”
That was it. The straw that broke the hologram's back.
“Avoiding you?” His voice was higher than Headbanger Harris after a week's shore leave. “You think I've been avoiding you!”
“Well where've you been then?”
“I've not been anywhere for the last three days Lister. I've not been at all.”
“Eh?”
“Kryten switched me off.” He paused dramatically to let this sink in.
Lister's confused expression deepened. “He switched you off?”
“So nice of you to notice.”
“Why?”
“Because, gimboid, we're running dangerously low on fuel and we had to be sure we'd make it to this crate.”
Lister looked stunned for a moment. He leant heavily against the door frame.
“Dangerously low on fuel?” He echoed in a small, hollow voice. “Why didn't you say somethin'?”
“I don't know, Kryten didn't want to worry you about it. I swear he thinks he's your smegging nanny.”
Lister frowned indignantly, and opened his mouth to retort. He was rudely interrupted, however, by the ferocious snarling of a giant, monstrous, meaty creature Rimmer could later only describe as a Pepperoni Beast, as it emerged from the recently defrosted freezer.
Rimmer remembered fleetingly thinking “Why does this always happen to us?” closely followed by “This is all Lister's fault,” before blind panic took over and he ran.
He soon realised that Lister was running alongside him, his breathing ragged. He grabbed hold of Rimmer's arm, yanking him sideways into a corridor to their left.
“Lister! What the smeg are you doing?”
“Kitchens...” Lister panted. “Got to get to the kitchens”
Behind them the Pepperoni Beast roared. The sound made Rimmer want to cower under the nearest available table.
“Now is hardly the time to be contemplating a snack!”
Lister rolled his eyes and pulled harder on Rimmer's arm, at the same time bringing his radio to his lips.
“Kryters, can you hear me? Kryters!”
“Sir, what's going on? We heard screams.”
“We're being chased by an eight foot killer pepperoni monster!”
There was a short, static-filled pause. “Ah. It must have mutated from the stored food products and then become trapped in the refrigeration unit.”
“Why didn't the scanners pick it up?!”
“In all likelihood it has remained frozen until we appeared here on the ship, thus rendering its lifesigns undetectable. Sir, did either of you activate any of the auto-defrost mechanisms?”
Lister cleared his throat noisily.
“Look Krytes, I've got a plan, but you guys need to stay out of the way. We're headed to the kitchens. Stay outta sight!”
They plunged madly towards the kitchen where they had first come aboard. Rimmer was starting to get an idea of what Lister had in mind, and since he'd always found extreme physical danger strangely unpalatable he was trying to talk him out of it.
“Um, Lister, I think I know what you're planning. And if you're planning what I think you're planning then, well... you'll have to come up with another plan.”
“You're doing this, Rimmer.”
“Me?! Oh no, Lister. No no no. I think you'll find that I'm the ranking officer here.”
“We need a distraction. You're the only one who can...”
Rimmer interjected. “You won't turn me back on.”
“Rimmer, fer smeg's sake.”
They rounded a corner and burst into the sterile white room. Lister dove quickly under a table, and shouted over to Rimmer, “Get him in front of the oven, then turn yerself off. Your bee'll drop onto the floor and be safely outta the way of the bazookoid fire. Once he's trapped I'll turn you back on.”
Rimmer pulled one of the giant metal oven doors open. “That's if he's stupid enough to fall for it, if you manage to hit him, and if he doesn't manage to eat me first!”
Lister grinned. “You know your problem, Rimmer? You worry too much.”
Rimmer couldn't even find the words to convey how impossible he thought it was to worry too much when you were being pursued by an enormous homicidal pizza topping. Which was just as well, really, as the monster chose that exact moment to burst through the wide kitchen doors. It spotted Rimmer instantly and lumbered over to him, salivating unspeakably.
Rimmer, for his part, shrieked and turned an interesting shade of green before grabbing madly into his own chest and switching himself off, narrowly missing the volley of bazookoid fire which knocked the creature into the oven.
The next thing Rimmer knew he was lying on the floor, Lister's arm elbow deep in his chest. He blushed at the intrusion, and jerked backwards uncomfortably. So the smegger had seen fit to turn him back on, he thought to himself. Wonders will never cease. He stood up stiffly, switching back to hard light as he did. Off and on and off again and on again... He was beginning to feel like a light bulb in a compulsive obsessive's house.
Lister laughed, a loud, breathless, adrenaline fuelled laugh.
“We did it!” He jumped up and down on the spot jubilantly.
Suddenly, Rimmer remembered why he'd been off in the first place.
“The Monster...”
Lister beamed, obviously delighted with himself. “In there,” he gestured to the oven. “I set it to thirty minutes on Extra Crispy. Oughtta do it.”
The radio fizzed. “Sir? Mr. Lister, sir! Can you hear me?”
“I'm right here Kryten, what's up?”
“Oh sir, you're alive! I was so terribly worried, I...”
“We're fine, Kryten, nothing we couldn't handle.” He grinned and winked at Rimmer, whose stomach did a little somersault. He turned quickly away.
“I'll just be investigating the, ah... investigating.” He gestured towards a storage room and wandered off.
“We've managed to locate the fuel supplies, sir. We'll start transporting them and then meet up with you and Mr. Rimmer.”
“Did yeh hear that, Rimmer?” He called. “Rimmer?”
Rimmer's attention was elsewhere. He had wandered towards the back of the room and was standing by a stack of boxes piled high against the wall. There seemed to be hundreds of them. He noticed, with a sharp, hot stab of panic, the unmistakable symbol for bio hazard stamped all over them.
One of the boxes stood open on the floor, and he reached in and pulled out a small white tub.
“What's this?” He muttered to himself, as he turned the tub slowly around. He grimaced as the label came into view.
“There you are.” Lister approached him, still grinning like a demented Cheshire cat. Rimmer sighed. “What?” Lister asked, now slightly concerned.
“Extra Hot Curry Sauce.” Rimmer read the words as if they tasted as bad as the contents.
Lister let out a loud yelp of pure glee and threw his arms around Rimmer, pulling him into a fierce, bone-crunching hug before legging it out the door, already blathering to Kryten over the radio about how long it'd take to get the lot back to the 'bug, and to bring the teleporter up sharpish.
Rimmer sat down quietly on the box. He stared vacantly at the empty doorway. He felt funny. His ribs tickled. He was sure he could still smell vindaloo, although on second thoughts that may have been the significant quantity of curry sauce he was now sat on. His skin tingled where Lister had hugged him.
Lister had hugged him.
Lister had smegging hugged him! Without so much as a by your leave! Just assumed that he was the kind of man who let other men drape their sweaty, slobby arms around them. The thought was enough to make him shiver. Shudder, he mentally corrected himself, shudder. With disgust. With nausea. He swallowed thickly. He definitely needed a shower, pronto. Who knew where Lister had been? He could catch something. In fact, he already felt feverish, his skin flushed and hot.
If Lister had still been there, he'd have given him a piece of his mind. He wasn't still there, was he? Rimmer peered out into the corridor, but all was silent and dark. He breathed out, loudly, without quite knowing why.
Well, he'd have to tell him off later. Good. That would give him plenty of time to work out his speech. Something along the lines of “Where I come from, squire, it's not acceptable for grown men to grab hold of each other like flaming nancies every five minutes.” Or maybe that should be seconds. Or maybe seconds would be overdoing it, after all this was technically the first time Lister had ever tried to hug him.
In fact, when he thought about it, it was one of the few times in his life he could remember anyone hugging him, thank smeg.
His skin itched. He scratched at it ineffectively through his thick, puffy blue jacket. A shower. A shower was definitely what he needed. He jumped shakily to his feet and stalked purposely, and nonchalantly as possible, back towards Starbug.
Later that night, in the solitary safety of his own bunk, he thought about Lister in the cockpit eating ancient pizzas dipped in curry sauce. Lister who ate raw onions on his breakfast cereal. Lister who cleaned his toenails with his toothbrush. Lister who thought nothing of risking Rimmer's life in a hare-brained scheme. Lister who had practically molested him because of a box of smegging curry.
Lister who had turned him back on.
He wrapped his arms around his knees, hugging them tightly to his chest, and tried his best to feel disgusted.
Pairing: Lister/Rimmer
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own Red Dwarf or make any money.
Spoilers: Legion
Beta:
kahvi“So let me see if I've got this right. We have enough food to last a month, month and a half tops. Water, if we drink recyc, ten weeks. But it's not going to matter anyway because our fuel's so low we're going to be drifting in space by next Tuesday.” Rimmer's head was in his hands as he spoke.
Kryten's face was creased with guilt. “And just between you and me, sir, we're down to our last onion bhaji.”
Just relax, Rimmer told himself. Relax? Relax! He was floating in space with a deranged automated toilet attendant, a cat that should really, in Rimmer's opinion, be neutered, and barely enough fuel to fill a paddling pool. Oh, and a man who'd lose a battle of wits with a stuffed iguana. Speaking of which.
“You've not told any of this to Lister?”
“I thought it best not to, sir. I didn't want to cause any panic or alarm.”
Rimmer bristled. Why should his mental health be less worth preserving than Lister's?
“Look, bogbot, as far as I'm concerned the sooner Lister loses that smeg awful chirpiness and starts to accept the harsh realities of life, the better.”
Kryten gave him a look which clearly indicated how much of a Smeeee Heeeeeeeee he believed him to be. “We will be encountering a derelict in approximately three days. Preliminary scans show that it should contain enough fuel to see us well into next year, as well as food and other miscellaneous supplies.”
“So why are you telling me this?”
“Sir, your hard light drive uses almost as much fuel as the engines.”
“So?”
“Even soft light you are still a significant power drain.”
“So?”
“So, in the interests of conserving fuel, I strongly suggest we switch you off until then.”
Rimmer's jaw dropped. “Switch me off? You must be out of your goited mind!”
“But it's only a few days, you won't even notice it.”
“You'll never switch me back on again!”
“Sir, we had this argument when we first lost Red Dwarf. I am a mechanoid, and therefore incapable of taking human life, whether living or hologrammatic. I am obliged by my programming to revive you at the pre-arranged time.”
Rimmer still looked as if he wouldn't trust Kryten as far as he could throw him.
“What about Lister then? I thought you said you didn't want him to find out about any of this? I know we're talking about a man who finds join the dots puzzles mentally taxing, but won't he want to know why I'm being turned off for half a week?”
Kryten looked rather pleased with himself at this point. “You and Mr. Lister are scheduled to be on opposite shifts for the three days until we rendezvous with the derelict. I'm fully confident that Mr. Lister will remain totally unaware of your absence.”
Rimmer frowned. Slowly, his shoulders sagged.
“Oh.” He said.
He felt strangely deflated. He supposed it was true enough though. Now that he and Lister were no longer bunking together they barely seemed to interact at all. There was no reason Lister would notice he was gone. Which was good, wasn't it?
What he'd always wanted.
Kryten was still babbling smugly on, explaining how he'd cover his shifts in the cockpit and reboot him as they were approaching their destination. Rimmer had long stopped listening.
* * *
Three days later the derelict loomed large on the view screen. Rimmer was sullen and quiet, his expression illuminated by the silent flashing of the red alert bulb.
In front of him Lister sat, feet up on the console, scoffing down the last onion bhaji. Rimmer screwed up his face in disgust as the grease dripped onto Lister's hands and lips. Rimmer was certain he'd seen pigs with more social grace.
“Is it safe?” Lister asked, as two giant red squares with large white dots inside them came into view, painted on the vessel's ancient hull.
“Scans show no signs of life, sir.”
The Cat wrinkled his nose delicately. “I dunno, bud. Something smells off.”
“Of course it does, you feeble-minded feline.” Rimmer spat. “That's Lister's dinner.”
The Cat didn't even bother to turn round and look at him. “Listen goal post head, my nose-hairs are quivering like jellyfish in a jacuzzi. There's something funny about that ship, I'm telling you.”
“Hold the phone.” Lister spoke up. “Do we actually know what happened here? Why's a ship full of quality supplies floating abandoned in the middle of nowhere?”
Kryten shrugged. “GELFs, rogue simulants, space highwaymen, joyriders who eventually ran her down... There's no way of knowing without further information.”
Rimmer felt a nauseous, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Every fibre of his being was screaming at him to run away from the big, dangerous looking, abandoned vessel floating ahead. But what was the alternative? Certain death. To sit here as the power ran out before blinking out of existence. And once he was off, even if they somehow managed to find more fuel, there wasn't a chance in hell Lister would turn him back on again. He eyed the man in question darkly now. You livies hate us deadies, he thought.
He focused on the three days he had missed, and the potential of more to come, and spoke out. “Look, whatever happened happened years ago. Surely it must be safe by now.”
Lister looked at him as if he'd just requested a bite of his bhaji. “What the smeg? You're wanting us to go in there? I don't know Rimmer...” Lister began.
“Then shut up,” Rimmer replied testily. Lister's face fell, confused.
Kryten interrupted them. “Sirs, may I suggest that, as we are in need of some supplies, we proceed, albeit with caution.” Lister couldn't argue that dinners of poached asteroidal lichen were starting to get old, fast. When there were no immediate objections, Kryten stood. “I'll just prepare the bazookoids.”
* * *
Around them, the millennia old metal creaked ominously. They had entered the vessel in what appeared to be a large kitchen, lined with ovens along one wall, each of which seemed roughly the size of the old crew quarters back on Red Dwarf. The rest of the room was filled with long metal tables, presumably for food preparation. The place was clean enough to impress even Kryten.
They quickly followed the signs pointing out into a hallway, which read “Food Storage.” Soon they encountered a stack of thin cardboard boxes emblazoned with the bright red slogan “Hot and On Time!”
Kryten was in full smug mode. “Just as I suspected. It is a fully functional pizza delivery ship.”
They split into teams, Kryten and the Cat; Rimmer and Lister.
Rimmer had been sulking and dragging behind since then, pointedly ignoring all Lister's half-hearted attempts at conversation.
Lister approached a freezer door cautiously, trying to peer through the small, clouded glass view panel. He shrugged and gave up, turning the heavy metal release mechanism on the door. It swung open with a long, drawn out creak.
“Uh, Lister, what the hell do you think you're doing?”
“It's a freezer. There's bound to be food in it.”
“That doesn't mean we should just go blindly charging in.”
“You got a better idea?”
Cold air wafted from the open door. Little red lights flickered in a display on the frame.
“I don't know! Look at that,” Rimmer pointed to the lights. “I think you've started some sort of defrost process.”
Lister shrugged.
“Congratulations Listy, you've managed to endanger the whole mission in, oh,” he pretended to consult his watch, “just under thirty minutes. You just don't care, do you?” he ranted. “You never do. About anything.”
“Rimmer, what the smeg is wrong with you recently?”
“Oh so you've noticed something's wrong, have you? You've picked up on that? I am impressed.” Rimmer's voice dripped sarcasm.
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“I'll tell you what it's supposed to mean, miladdio, it means you never pay any attention to anything unless it's chilli flavoured!”
“Oh and what about you then, eh? You've been avoiding me for the last three days!”
That was it. The straw that broke the hologram's back.
“Avoiding you?” His voice was higher than Headbanger Harris after a week's shore leave. “You think I've been avoiding you!”
“Well where've you been then?”
“I've not been anywhere for the last three days Lister. I've not been at all.”
“Eh?”
“Kryten switched me off.” He paused dramatically to let this sink in.
Lister's confused expression deepened. “He switched you off?”
“So nice of you to notice.”
“Why?”
“Because, gimboid, we're running dangerously low on fuel and we had to be sure we'd make it to this crate.”
Lister looked stunned for a moment. He leant heavily against the door frame.
“Dangerously low on fuel?” He echoed in a small, hollow voice. “Why didn't you say somethin'?”
“I don't know, Kryten didn't want to worry you about it. I swear he thinks he's your smegging nanny.”
Lister frowned indignantly, and opened his mouth to retort. He was rudely interrupted, however, by the ferocious snarling of a giant, monstrous, meaty creature Rimmer could later only describe as a Pepperoni Beast, as it emerged from the recently defrosted freezer.
Rimmer remembered fleetingly thinking “Why does this always happen to us?” closely followed by “This is all Lister's fault,” before blind panic took over and he ran.
He soon realised that Lister was running alongside him, his breathing ragged. He grabbed hold of Rimmer's arm, yanking him sideways into a corridor to their left.
“Lister! What the smeg are you doing?”
“Kitchens...” Lister panted. “Got to get to the kitchens”
Behind them the Pepperoni Beast roared. The sound made Rimmer want to cower under the nearest available table.
“Now is hardly the time to be contemplating a snack!”
Lister rolled his eyes and pulled harder on Rimmer's arm, at the same time bringing his radio to his lips.
“Kryters, can you hear me? Kryters!”
“Sir, what's going on? We heard screams.”
“We're being chased by an eight foot killer pepperoni monster!”
There was a short, static-filled pause. “Ah. It must have mutated from the stored food products and then become trapped in the refrigeration unit.”
“Why didn't the scanners pick it up?!”
“In all likelihood it has remained frozen until we appeared here on the ship, thus rendering its lifesigns undetectable. Sir, did either of you activate any of the auto-defrost mechanisms?”
Lister cleared his throat noisily.
“Look Krytes, I've got a plan, but you guys need to stay out of the way. We're headed to the kitchens. Stay outta sight!”
They plunged madly towards the kitchen where they had first come aboard. Rimmer was starting to get an idea of what Lister had in mind, and since he'd always found extreme physical danger strangely unpalatable he was trying to talk him out of it.
“Um, Lister, I think I know what you're planning. And if you're planning what I think you're planning then, well... you'll have to come up with another plan.”
“You're doing this, Rimmer.”
“Me?! Oh no, Lister. No no no. I think you'll find that I'm the ranking officer here.”
“We need a distraction. You're the only one who can...”
Rimmer interjected. “You won't turn me back on.”
“Rimmer, fer smeg's sake.”
They rounded a corner and burst into the sterile white room. Lister dove quickly under a table, and shouted over to Rimmer, “Get him in front of the oven, then turn yerself off. Your bee'll drop onto the floor and be safely outta the way of the bazookoid fire. Once he's trapped I'll turn you back on.”
Rimmer pulled one of the giant metal oven doors open. “That's if he's stupid enough to fall for it, if you manage to hit him, and if he doesn't manage to eat me first!”
Lister grinned. “You know your problem, Rimmer? You worry too much.”
Rimmer couldn't even find the words to convey how impossible he thought it was to worry too much when you were being pursued by an enormous homicidal pizza topping. Which was just as well, really, as the monster chose that exact moment to burst through the wide kitchen doors. It spotted Rimmer instantly and lumbered over to him, salivating unspeakably.
Rimmer, for his part, shrieked and turned an interesting shade of green before grabbing madly into his own chest and switching himself off, narrowly missing the volley of bazookoid fire which knocked the creature into the oven.
The next thing Rimmer knew he was lying on the floor, Lister's arm elbow deep in his chest. He blushed at the intrusion, and jerked backwards uncomfortably. So the smegger had seen fit to turn him back on, he thought to himself. Wonders will never cease. He stood up stiffly, switching back to hard light as he did. Off and on and off again and on again... He was beginning to feel like a light bulb in a compulsive obsessive's house.
Lister laughed, a loud, breathless, adrenaline fuelled laugh.
“We did it!” He jumped up and down on the spot jubilantly.
Suddenly, Rimmer remembered why he'd been off in the first place.
“The Monster...”
Lister beamed, obviously delighted with himself. “In there,” he gestured to the oven. “I set it to thirty minutes on Extra Crispy. Oughtta do it.”
The radio fizzed. “Sir? Mr. Lister, sir! Can you hear me?”
“I'm right here Kryten, what's up?”
“Oh sir, you're alive! I was so terribly worried, I...”
“We're fine, Kryten, nothing we couldn't handle.” He grinned and winked at Rimmer, whose stomach did a little somersault. He turned quickly away.
“I'll just be investigating the, ah... investigating.” He gestured towards a storage room and wandered off.
“We've managed to locate the fuel supplies, sir. We'll start transporting them and then meet up with you and Mr. Rimmer.”
“Did yeh hear that, Rimmer?” He called. “Rimmer?”
Rimmer's attention was elsewhere. He had wandered towards the back of the room and was standing by a stack of boxes piled high against the wall. There seemed to be hundreds of them. He noticed, with a sharp, hot stab of panic, the unmistakable symbol for bio hazard stamped all over them.
One of the boxes stood open on the floor, and he reached in and pulled out a small white tub.
“What's this?” He muttered to himself, as he turned the tub slowly around. He grimaced as the label came into view.
“There you are.” Lister approached him, still grinning like a demented Cheshire cat. Rimmer sighed. “What?” Lister asked, now slightly concerned.
“Extra Hot Curry Sauce.” Rimmer read the words as if they tasted as bad as the contents.
Lister let out a loud yelp of pure glee and threw his arms around Rimmer, pulling him into a fierce, bone-crunching hug before legging it out the door, already blathering to Kryten over the radio about how long it'd take to get the lot back to the 'bug, and to bring the teleporter up sharpish.
Rimmer sat down quietly on the box. He stared vacantly at the empty doorway. He felt funny. His ribs tickled. He was sure he could still smell vindaloo, although on second thoughts that may have been the significant quantity of curry sauce he was now sat on. His skin tingled where Lister had hugged him.
Lister had hugged him.
Lister had smegging hugged him! Without so much as a by your leave! Just assumed that he was the kind of man who let other men drape their sweaty, slobby arms around them. The thought was enough to make him shiver. Shudder, he mentally corrected himself, shudder. With disgust. With nausea. He swallowed thickly. He definitely needed a shower, pronto. Who knew where Lister had been? He could catch something. In fact, he already felt feverish, his skin flushed and hot.
If Lister had still been there, he'd have given him a piece of his mind. He wasn't still there, was he? Rimmer peered out into the corridor, but all was silent and dark. He breathed out, loudly, without quite knowing why.
Well, he'd have to tell him off later. Good. That would give him plenty of time to work out his speech. Something along the lines of “Where I come from, squire, it's not acceptable for grown men to grab hold of each other like flaming nancies every five minutes.” Or maybe that should be seconds. Or maybe seconds would be overdoing it, after all this was technically the first time Lister had ever tried to hug him.
In fact, when he thought about it, it was one of the few times in his life he could remember anyone hugging him, thank smeg.
His skin itched. He scratched at it ineffectively through his thick, puffy blue jacket. A shower. A shower was definitely what he needed. He jumped shakily to his feet and stalked purposely, and nonchalantly as possible, back towards Starbug.
Later that night, in the solitary safety of his own bunk, he thought about Lister in the cockpit eating ancient pizzas dipped in curry sauce. Lister who ate raw onions on his breakfast cereal. Lister who cleaned his toenails with his toothbrush. Lister who thought nothing of risking Rimmer's life in a hare-brained scheme. Lister who had practically molested him because of a box of smegging curry.
Lister who had turned him back on.
He wrapped his arms around his knees, hugging them tightly to his chest, and tried his best to feel disgusted.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-12-31 01:16 am (UTC)Anyway, brava!
no subject
Date: 2008-01-01 06:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-31 01:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-01 06:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-31 01:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-01 06:01 pm (UTC)Nothing says love like...
Date: 2007-12-31 04:21 am (UTC)Awww... :D
Re: Nothing says love like...
Date: 2008-01-01 06:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-02 12:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-02 11:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-12 11:40 pm (UTC)Lister who had turned him back on.
Love. My heart thumped.
I laughed myself silly at "Extra Crispy" - will Lister eat this monster afterward? *grin*
Nice job! Really liked the Rimmer characterization.
no subject
Date: 2008-01-13 12:06 am (UTC)Lister did eat the Vindaloo monster, so he obviously has no problem with it. Waste not want not! :)
I'm glad you liked the Rimmer. I love him, and I love writing him.
no subject
Date: 2008-01-13 12:08 am (UTC)LOL yes, this is why I asked - I felt sure you'd say yes!
no subject
Date: 2008-01-15 12:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-09 12:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-17 06:59 am (UTC)