Love and Jealousy 6

[felineranger.livejournal.com]

           

Lister marched along the corridor with his head down, hoping nobody would notice his teary eyes. He pulled his mini-messenger out of his pocket and dialled Alex. To hell with Rimmer and all his lousy suspicions, he needed his friend right now. The messenger screen flashed red and instead of the normal sight of Alex’s smiling face asking what was up, he was presented with a message. Alex is currently unavailable. Please try later. Lister swore and tried again. Alex never turned his messenger off, even at work; it had to be a signal fault. But no, same again. Lister shoved the device angrily back into his pocket and headed for the nearest lift. Alex was bound to be out of work and back at his quarters by now. He would just have to find him there.

            He tried the messenger twice more in the lift with no success. He let his head thump back against the lift wall, and content that he was on his own in here for at least ten minutes, he gave in and let a few tears escape. If anyone had told him even a year ago that a few sharp words from Rimmer could make him cry he’d have laughed out loud. And now here he was, sniffling and hiccupping pathetically in a lift because the two of them had had a fight. How ironic. 

            He wiped at his eyes. In all fairness, it had been more than a fight; it had been more like a nuclear war. He still couldn’t believe that Rimmer had really said half of those things, it stung to realise just how little the man he loved actually thought of him. You’ve always been a slut for anyone who’ll have you. Lister’s face burned as he replayed the insult in his head. Well, there were a few advantages to being a slut, weren’t there? And Alex had always been very appreciative of them all. Lister narrowed his eyes and smiled bitterly. Yes, why not? It was what Rimmer expected after all, wasn’t it? If he was going to be accused of infidelity, he might as well enjoy it. Maybe he was a slut, but tonight he would be Alex’s slut and Rimmer could stick that where the stars don’t shine.

            He stepped out of the lift and made his way purposefully to Alex’s quarters. He was more than a little perturbed to find them empty. It was unusual for Alex to have gone out without inviting him along; even if he was seeing other friends he normally let Lister know where to find him. Frustrated, he tried his messenger again. Still no reply. A nasty suspicion started to grow in his mind.

            What if Alex had actually taken Rimmer’s threat seriously? He knew it was ridiculous but treacherous uncertainty nagged at him. Was Alex actually avoiding him? Feeling extremely downhearted, Lister decided to head to Neutron Nights. If Alex had gone out he was likely to turn up there at some point in the evening. Maybe he could catch him then and find out if there was a reasonable explanation for this disappearance. 

           

            Six floors above Lister, Alex was sitting in Sir Isaac’s, a wine bar that they usually avoided. He sipped at a sour glass of white wine and sighed miserably. On the table his messenger buzzed again and he looked at it guiltily. ‘You have...eight...missed calls from...Dave...’ it informed him in its cheerful but oddly disjointed female voice. Alex picked it up and toyed with it uncertainly. He really wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing. He reminded himself for the hundredth time that he wasn’t doing this to comply with Rimmer’s odious request – if you could call it such - and it irked him to think that the git would probably assume that was the case. 

            He’d had an inkling that Rimmer wouldn’t be able to keep their argument a secret for long, and that there would probably be some fireworks tonight when Dave found out what had happened, and he’d decided that it would be best if he stayed out of it. If Lister and Rimmer had a row, Alex knew what would happen. Dave would come to him to drown his sorrows, Rimmer would have another hissy fit and nothing would get sorted out. If he kept out of the way this time then eventually Dave would have to go home to Rimmer; and then maybe the two of them might finally work something out so that they could all get along.  It was certainly way overdue. ‘You have...nine...missed calls from...Dave...’

            Alex sighed again and put the messenger back down on the table. Way, way overdue, he reminded himself once more.

             Lister found himself a quiet corner in Neutron Nights where he could see who was coming and going. He was almost certain that Alex would show up at some point in the evening. With a heavy sigh, he leaned back into his seat and lit a cigarette. He was more or less done with the tears now, but the lighter shook slightly in his fingers as he lifted it; and the tight knot in his throat warned that they might yet make a reappearance if he thought too much about what had transpired earlier this evening. If only Alex would show up...

            A small guilt pixie somewhere in his stomach gave him a sharp kick. If you go ahead with this, it shouted, you’re no better than Rimmer said you were. All you’ll do is prove that he was right all along!  Lister drowned it with lager. If that was really how Rimmer felt then good luck to him, he thought fiercely. He could go back to being lonely and bitter if he wanted, but Lister couldn’t do it. He’d had enough of loneliness to last him a lifetime. If Rimmer didn’t want him then he was sure Alex would. Okay, their relationship had been strictly platonic for the last three months and they hadn’t spoken for six months before that, but Lister felt fairly certain that wouldn’t be an issue. Alex had been more or less in love with him before he left for his scout mission, and he’d made it clear when he’d returned that the six months apart had done nothing to change that. And if Alex did have any lingering reservations...Well, he was sure he could overcome them with a little persuasion...

            The guilt pixie obviously wasn’t quite dead yet, because at this point in Lister’s train of thought it managed to get its head above water and shriek out the word Slut! Lister poured some more lager on it and it gurgled and went silent.               

 

            Rimmer tossed his textbook aside and stared at the empty bunk. “Huh,” he said moodily and stomped over to the drinks cabinet. He poured himself a white wine spritzer and drank it with a sour expression. Then had another. And another. “Hmph,” he added bitterly, and stomped to the vid-screen. Flick. Flick. Flick. Nothing on. “Bah,” he grumbled and sat down at the table with his arms folded. He looked at the clock and fidgeted. It was getting late. He’d spent the last two hours expecting Lister to come back at any moment in floods of tears, begging for forgiveness. It hadn’t happened yet. He tapped his fingers impatiently on the table. A little guilt pixie of his own was doing what felt like a Keith Moon drum solo on his stomach wall, and it was threatening to smash its instruments at the end of the set. Maybe, Rimmer finally admitted to himself, just maybe he’d gone a little teensy bit too far.

            Now that he’d calmed down, he could see that he’d let his temper run away with him. He’d said some things he didn’t mean. He‘d said some things that were perhaps unfair. Let’s be totally honest here, Arn, the guilt pixie screamed; You were an utter bastard and you’ll be damn lucky if he ever comes home again!!! Rimmer stood up and paced. Okay, he’d been out of order, but Lister hadn’t been entirely blameless in the whole thing. And anyway, he knew what Rimmer was like. He wouldn’t have taken all those things he’d said completely seriously. Would he?   

            Go screw your heart out with that arrogant bastard! Go and be another notch on his bedpost! Rimmer winced at the memory. Not the smartest thing he could have said, certainly. Had Lister taken him up on it? Was he even now, right at this moment, naked underneath that obnoxious pretty-boy? Breathless, helpless with pleasure, slick with sweat, giving him what he’d never given anybody before Rimmer? It might have seemed a small, even petty thing, but in moments of jealousy Rimmer had always treasured the knowledge that despite everything Lister had done with Alex, there was one privilege only he had ever enjoyed. Alex had never been inside him. Alex had never felt the blissful tightness of Lister’s perfect ass round his cock. He’d never possessed him completely, both inside and out. Only Rimmer had ever known that pleasure. It was an honour that he cherished, and he’d always thought that it meant something to Lister as well. He bit his lip in anxiety. Would Lister throw away something that special out of spite?                     

            A spring of panic was starting to bubble up in Rimmer’s guts. He grabbed his jacket, meaning to go and find Lister and stop him from doing whatever he might be doing, but he hesitated. What if Lister came back to make up and he wasn’t here? What if he assumed that Rimmer didn’t care about their fight and had gone out to have fun without him? If he wasn’t already with Alex, then that would send him there without a doubt. He sat back down again and decided to try Lister’s messenger. Dave...has...temporarily...barred your number...

            Rimmer slumped back in his chair. That meant wherever Dave was, he was still angry. He shot another uncertain glance at the door, wondering if he should risk leaving their quarters to try and find him. He decided against it. As Lister had pointed out to him, there was a little thing called trust. He would have to trust that sooner or later Lister would calm down and come home, and that he wouldn’t do anything they’d both regret in the meantime. 

 

            Lister drained another pint glass and lit a fresh ciggie. His hands wavered again slightly, but this time it wasn’t because he was upset. There was a forest of empty glasses in front of him. There had been no sign of Alex and by this time he was starting to give up hope. It seemed more and more likely that his friend was deliberately avoiding him. He hadn’t answered any of Lister’s messages – unheard of – and he’d disappeared off to a part of the ship where he was unlikely to find him. Lister felt betrayed. He’d thought that Alex cared enough about him to ignore all of Rimmer’s bullshit, he’d certainly put up with enough of it before now. Maybe Rimmer was right after all. Maybe Alex didn’t give a damn about being his friend. Maybe he had only wanted to get him back into bed. Maybe he’d decided that all this was way too much grief to go through for someone who wasn’t putting out.  He traced the JMC logo on the glass with his fingertip, trying to distract himself. He felt like he might start crying again.

            Damn the pair of them! Why were they doing this to him? The worst part was that there was nobody else for him to go to. How could he explain this mess to Kryten, or the Cat? Kriss might be sympathetic – eventually – but it would be torture spelling the whole sorry tale out to her.  And anyway, it wasn’t sympathy he wanted. What he wanted was a shag. A dirty, filthy, mind-blowing shag that would wipe his brain clear of everything else for the night so he wouldn’t have to think about all this smeg.

            “Are you okay?” He looked up in surprise and saw Lauren hovering over him, with an empty glass in her hand. “I was on my way to the bar,” she said, “And I saw you sat over here looking like you wanted to smash that glass to bits and slit your wrists with the shards. What’s wrong?” Lister forced a smile,

“I’m okay. It’s just been a real smeg of a day.  You know...”

“The whole Rimmer/Alex debacle went Krakotoa, did it?”

“Something like that,”

“And now you’re in here hiding from the fallout?”

“I guess so.”

“Want some company?”

            Lister looked her over. She seemed concerned, but only mildly. She didn’t really care too much about whether his ‘mates’ had fallen out. So what was her agenda? She did seem like she cared whether he asked her to stay or not. She gave him a tentative smile and then he knew with certainty that it wasn’t his problems she was interested in. Hell, who needed Alex anyway? He could make his own entertainment for the evening without relying on his charity! He gave Lauren his most charming smile. “Sure,” he said warmly, “You fancy another drink?”