Thunderclouds

[felineranger.livejournal.com]

I been watching series 6...:-)

Thunderclouds

 

 

            Lister wriggled restlessly in the narrow bunk for a while before deciding he wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep. He kicked off the thin, itchy blanket with the bright ‘Titan Hilton’ logo and climbed out of bed, stripping off his clothes with visible agitation. The mood onboard Starbug these days was increasingly black. Supplies seemed to be constantly low, one thing after another seemed to go wrong with this tin can of a vessel and nobody was getting enough sleep. They were all tense and snappish and his relationship with Rimmer – never a bed of roses – had become nigh-on unbearable. It felt like there was a dark, swollen thundercloud hovering in the air between them these days and any time now the heavens were going to open; spitting lightning and pissing it down good and proper on anyone who happened to be in the vicinity. And Lister knew what the problem was.

            It was that smegging hard-light drive. It had changed everything. He and Rimmer had spent more years than he cared to count screaming threats and abuse at one another, safe in the knowledge that whatever happened their arguments would not – could not – go any further than that. Now that safety-net had been taken away and suddenly every put-down and insult came with heavily loaded implications. And as put-downs and insults were more or less the only way that he and Rimmer communicated, the atmosphere had quickly escalated and now the air was thick with the unspoken threat of things becoming physical.

            Lister had seen it time and time again in bars when a fight was brewing; two guys circling each other, every seemingly innocuous remark becoming a thinly-veiled challenge as they wait to see who’s going to be the first call it, who’s going to be the first to snap. Then all it takes is one spark and before you know it they’re at each other like a pair of wild animals and it’s not about who started it or why. It’s just about who’s on top when it’s over.

            Lister stepped under the shower and started to clean himself briskly. Already this week Kryten had separated them twice – albeit verbally – before a fight had really begun and he hadn’t failed to notice that the mech seemed to be finding excuses lately to keep them apart. But Starbug was too small for them to get any real distance from each other. There was never any real time to cool off, so every fresh grievance came with resentment still smarting from the last. And on and on it went. Things couldn’t continue this way. They really couldn’t.....

 

            Rimmer marched down the corridor to Lister’s sleeping quarters. He knew full well that Kryten had harboured doubts about sending him on this errand but, with the Cat in the pilot’s seat, he’d had little choice but to ask Rimmer to fetch Lister back from his break. Rimmer didn’t blame the twitchy metal bastard for being uneasy. The way things were at the moment a fist-fight was likely to break out over a remark as innocent as ‘Pass the salt’. Actually going into Lister’s sleeping quarters and waking him up was going to be akin to slapping him in the face with a duelling glove.

            Lister was just stepping out of the bathroom towelling his hair when Rimmer walked in. They both froze. For a moment, Lister contemplated covering himself with the towel but a rush of stubbornness overcame him. Why should he have to act modest in his own room? Hiding behind the towel seemed like an act of weakness suddenly. He tossed the towel onto the bunk and faced Rimmer squarely.

            This wasn’t a big deal, Rimmer told himself. He’d seen Lister naked before, more than once. Not for a very long time but what did that matter? There was no reason for Lister to get touchy about this; it wasn’t as though Rimmer had wanted to come in here in the first place. How was he supposed to know that Lister would be showering and not asleep like he should be? If the shameless little goit went around showering with the door open, what did he expect?

            Still neither of them had spoken. This was getting stupid. Lister drew his shoulders back. “What,” he said very coldly and deliberately, “Do you want?”  Rimmer sucked in a deep breath and straightened himself up pointedly to his full height. “They need you in the cockpit,” he replied crisply. Lister didn’t move. Neither did Rimmer. 

            All it takes is one spark and before you know it you’re at each other like a pair of wild animals......

            Lister paused for just a fraction of a moment more. Then, without breaking eye contact, he reached for the black t-shirt crumpled on the chair and pulled it over his head; then stepped into his black jeans, not bothering with underwear and zipped himself into them. Rimmer watched him silently. Finally, Lister pulled on his boots and walked to the door. Rimmer moved just half a step aside to let him pass. Lister fixed him with a look as he drew near. ‘One word,’ he seemed to be saying, ‘Just one and you will regret it...’

            Well fine. Rimmer could live with that. He had nothing to say to Lister anyway, with or without his clothes on. But why should he have to bite his lip just because Lister was in a mood? What was he – a UN Peace Envoy on a diplomatic mission to Planet Slob? He knew he shouldn’t make things worse but this damned tension was too much. He had to do something...say something...anything....

            “Put on a bit of weight, haven’t you?”

Lister stopped sharply, approximately one inch from Rimmer’s nose. His eyes were flashing dangerously. The heavens were well and truly about to open and they were both going to get a thorough soaking....But then Lister took a deep breath and let it out very, very slowly. “Smeg. Off,” he hissed through gritted teeth. He barged past Rimmer, knocking hard into his shoulder as he did so. Rimmer listened as his footsteps died away down the corridor, his heart pounding. He let out his breath all at once, seeming to crumple slightly as he did so. He went into the room and picked up the damp towel off the bunk. He held it for a moment, turning it over and over in his hands, then tossed it angrily into the laundry basket and threw himself down on the bed.

            This tension was driving him crazy.....

Comments

[sunny-bexster.livejournal.com]

I must say the idea of Lister and Rimmer engaging in a proper full-on fist fight is really enticing, and yet in this fic, the mere threat of it, that impending tension is even more fascinating.

You can pratically taste the tense muscles! :D

[queen-fiend.livejournal.com]

Oh my. That was excellent! Rimmer just can't look away, can he? :P

[hazeltea.livejournal.com]

Reallynice tension.

[felineranger.livejournal.com]

I like to think that next time Lister's looking in the mirror, even though he doesn't care about any of Rimmer's stupid smeg of course, he might suck in his gut just a little...And I KNOW that next time Rimmer sees Lister in the cockpit, he's going to find himself wondering if he's wearing any underpants....

[ereshkigal2.livejournal.com]

"all it takes is one spark and before you know it they’re at each other like a pair of wild animals and it’s not about who started it or why. It’s just about who’s on top when it’s over."


FANfreakingtastic.