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reddwarfslash2008-10-29 01:14 am
hazeltea.livejournal.com) wrote in reddwarfslash2008-10-29 01:14 am
Entry tags:
Fic: Masquerade (PG-13)
Pairings: Lister/Rimmer (imp)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Takes place during Balance of Power
Disclaimer: Of course I have no legal stake in this, I just do it for fun. Includes quotes from the script which I also did not create.
More than a drabble, less than a fic. Just a little something that came to mind when we were discussing how there weren't as many slashy hooks in earlier series.
It had seemed like such a simple plan, really. Not the cleverest he’d ever had, but how clever did one have to be to outwit a grotty space bum, really? Especially when it came to her. It was the best he could do in what limited time he had left.
Rimmer spent a few moments orienting himself with his new image, pacing back and forth, musing how odd it seemed to view the world from below. Everything about this body was small, from its petite height to its squeaky, raspy voice. He cleared his throat, mastering the pitch.
“I’m sorry, Dave. I mean, you’re such a nice guy.” Rimmer shot a remorseful look of pity at the mirror. Yes, he had that one perfected. He might not know much about women, but he knew damn well how they delivered the news! Oh, the look on Lister’s face would be priceless.
Lister was deep in concentration when Rimmer entered the teaching room. Every surface was cluttered with dirty bowls and mixing spoons, and vegetable oil was beginning to drip into the console. There was practically an entire jar of jam splattered across the floor, sticking to the underside of Lister’s left boot, causing a ripping sort of noise whenever he shifted his foot. Why wasn’t Holly stopping him? Must he be the only mature, reasonable person on this ship? Never mind, he would put an end to this nonsense soon enough.
Rimmer struck a provocative pose in the doorway, and cleared his throat. “Hello, Dave.”
Lister spun around in surprise, his eyes widening and his mouth hanging open in a stupor. After a moment, he yelped, dropping his casserole dish and shaking his singed fingers frantically, as though to cool them off. Rimmer allowed himself a small smile, but he couldn’t afford to laugh. Not now.
“I'm just doing this eh, I'm taking this … err, this is a surprise.” He stuttered, nervously regarding the mess as though seeing it for the first time.
“Dave, why didn’t you tell me how you felt about me while I was still alive?” A bit of salt in the wound builds character, after all.
Lister looked down, and shuffled his feet. ”Cos I'm a dope. And I'm a bum, and I'm stupid, and I'm an idiot, and I'm hopeless, and I'm useless…” Rimmer felt his confidence building. He didn’t think it would be this easy to save his life, let alone this enjoyable.
Rimmer looked up at Lister with mocking sympathy. “I'm sorry, but I just don't like you.” There! He’d done it. Lister couldn’t argue with that, could he? No, he couldn’t, it was a solid fact.
“Oh, hey. I'm really embarrassed now. I don't know what to say.” Lister swayed in place, biting his lower lip. Stupid twat, you’re not supposed to say anything, Rimmer seethed. You’re supposed to take your humiliation like a man and skedaddle the hell out of here.
“I suppose it's sort of pointless, you doing the exam now.” Rimmer casually hinted.
“Well, yeah. It's sort of pointless me breathing in and out, if you want to know the truth.” Lister sniffled.
Frustration and anger churned in Rimmer’s simulated stomach. What was it about this woman? What made her so smegging special that she deserved to exist, and he didn’t? “I could never love anyone like you, so you might as well pack up your pots and pans and off you go.” Rimmer snarled. “I need a man who's going places! Up, up, up the ziggurat, lickety-split.”
Lister raised his eyes then, and Rimmer suddenly felt small under the intensity of his gaze.
“So, it didn’t mean anything to you, then.” Lister murmured, not dropping his gaze.
Rimmer swallowed nervously. “What didn’t?”
“You know, when we made love on the snooker table behind the bins.” Lister replied, nonchalantly.
This wasn’t in the plan, Rimmer realized, panicking. This conversation was supposed to have ended ages ago! Not to mention the fact…
“You never told me that.” Rimmer sputtered, before he could realize his mistake.
“I though you might’ve noticed.” Lister was onto him. He had to think fast on his feet.
“Oh yes! Yes! I remember now!” Rimmer giggled, backpedaling furiously. Smeg, smeg, smeg!
“We've never made love. Go away, Rimmer.” Lister replied, flatly.
“Look, I’m a bit out of sorts at the moment; I’m having a woman’s period.” He tried.
“ A woman’s period? Women don’t speak like that! I don't know how you've done it, Rimmer, but that is not Kochanski.”
Rimmer felt the familiar surge of dread throughout his body. His simulated heartbeat quickened, until it was pounding in his ears. This time, there was more at stake than a title, however. His very existence depended on convincing Lister to not turn him off. What could he do?
Lister wanted Kochanski, didn’t he? Perhaps he could use her disk as a bargaining chip. This body wasn’t so bad after all, compared to not existing. Rimmer weighed his options. As a hologram, Lister couldn’t really touch him, but he would probably want other things, lap dances with peep hole bras, those dark eyes on him as he had a good wank to the image of his dream girl. Could Rimmer bring himself to do that?
If the alternative was death, he realized, then yes. He’d gladly spread his legs to survive. With that thought, Rimmer noticed his heart racing, and a faint tingling between his legs. What was happening to him? It had to be Kochanski. Her disk, this body… that was why. It had to be.
He managed a manic smile, remembering how much Lister had gone on about it. “It's Kochanski's body. It's Kochanski's voice. I mean, what's the difference? Come on!” Rimmer shook nervously.
“The difference,” Lister cried, “Is that you’re in there! Ugh!” Lister shivered in disgust, and Rimmer found himself oddly offended.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Takes place during Balance of Power
Disclaimer: Of course I have no legal stake in this, I just do it for fun. Includes quotes from the script which I also did not create.
More than a drabble, less than a fic. Just a little something that came to mind when we were discussing how there weren't as many slashy hooks in earlier series.
It had seemed like such a simple plan, really. Not the cleverest he’d ever had, but how clever did one have to be to outwit a grotty space bum, really? Especially when it came to her. It was the best he could do in what limited time he had left.
Rimmer spent a few moments orienting himself with his new image, pacing back and forth, musing how odd it seemed to view the world from below. Everything about this body was small, from its petite height to its squeaky, raspy voice. He cleared his throat, mastering the pitch.
“I’m sorry, Dave. I mean, you’re such a nice guy.” Rimmer shot a remorseful look of pity at the mirror. Yes, he had that one perfected. He might not know much about women, but he knew damn well how they delivered the news! Oh, the look on Lister’s face would be priceless.
Lister was deep in concentration when Rimmer entered the teaching room. Every surface was cluttered with dirty bowls and mixing spoons, and vegetable oil was beginning to drip into the console. There was practically an entire jar of jam splattered across the floor, sticking to the underside of Lister’s left boot, causing a ripping sort of noise whenever he shifted his foot. Why wasn’t Holly stopping him? Must he be the only mature, reasonable person on this ship? Never mind, he would put an end to this nonsense soon enough.
Rimmer struck a provocative pose in the doorway, and cleared his throat. “Hello, Dave.”
Lister spun around in surprise, his eyes widening and his mouth hanging open in a stupor. After a moment, he yelped, dropping his casserole dish and shaking his singed fingers frantically, as though to cool them off. Rimmer allowed himself a small smile, but he couldn’t afford to laugh. Not now.
“I'm just doing this eh, I'm taking this … err, this is a surprise.” He stuttered, nervously regarding the mess as though seeing it for the first time.
“Dave, why didn’t you tell me how you felt about me while I was still alive?” A bit of salt in the wound builds character, after all.
Lister looked down, and shuffled his feet. ”Cos I'm a dope. And I'm a bum, and I'm stupid, and I'm an idiot, and I'm hopeless, and I'm useless…” Rimmer felt his confidence building. He didn’t think it would be this easy to save his life, let alone this enjoyable.
Rimmer looked up at Lister with mocking sympathy. “I'm sorry, but I just don't like you.” There! He’d done it. Lister couldn’t argue with that, could he? No, he couldn’t, it was a solid fact.
“Oh, hey. I'm really embarrassed now. I don't know what to say.” Lister swayed in place, biting his lower lip. Stupid twat, you’re not supposed to say anything, Rimmer seethed. You’re supposed to take your humiliation like a man and skedaddle the hell out of here.
“I suppose it's sort of pointless, you doing the exam now.” Rimmer casually hinted.
“Well, yeah. It's sort of pointless me breathing in and out, if you want to know the truth.” Lister sniffled.
Frustration and anger churned in Rimmer’s simulated stomach. What was it about this woman? What made her so smegging special that she deserved to exist, and he didn’t? “I could never love anyone like you, so you might as well pack up your pots and pans and off you go.” Rimmer snarled. “I need a man who's going places! Up, up, up the ziggurat, lickety-split.”
Lister raised his eyes then, and Rimmer suddenly felt small under the intensity of his gaze.
“So, it didn’t mean anything to you, then.” Lister murmured, not dropping his gaze.
Rimmer swallowed nervously. “What didn’t?”
“You know, when we made love on the snooker table behind the bins.” Lister replied, nonchalantly.
This wasn’t in the plan, Rimmer realized, panicking. This conversation was supposed to have ended ages ago! Not to mention the fact…
“You never told me that.” Rimmer sputtered, before he could realize his mistake.
“I though you might’ve noticed.” Lister was onto him. He had to think fast on his feet.
“Oh yes! Yes! I remember now!” Rimmer giggled, backpedaling furiously. Smeg, smeg, smeg!
“We've never made love. Go away, Rimmer.” Lister replied, flatly.
“Look, I’m a bit out of sorts at the moment; I’m having a woman’s period.” He tried.
“ A woman’s period? Women don’t speak like that! I don't know how you've done it, Rimmer, but that is not Kochanski.”
Rimmer felt the familiar surge of dread throughout his body. His simulated heartbeat quickened, until it was pounding in his ears. This time, there was more at stake than a title, however. His very existence depended on convincing Lister to not turn him off. What could he do?
Lister wanted Kochanski, didn’t he? Perhaps he could use her disk as a bargaining chip. This body wasn’t so bad after all, compared to not existing. Rimmer weighed his options. As a hologram, Lister couldn’t really touch him, but he would probably want other things, lap dances with peep hole bras, those dark eyes on him as he had a good wank to the image of his dream girl. Could Rimmer bring himself to do that?
If the alternative was death, he realized, then yes. He’d gladly spread his legs to survive. With that thought, Rimmer noticed his heart racing, and a faint tingling between his legs. What was happening to him? It had to be Kochanski. Her disk, this body… that was why. It had to be.
He managed a manic smile, remembering how much Lister had gone on about it. “It's Kochanski's body. It's Kochanski's voice. I mean, what's the difference? Come on!” Rimmer shook nervously.
“The difference,” Lister cried, “Is that you’re in there! Ugh!” Lister shivered in disgust, and Rimmer found himself oddly offended.
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Probably my favorite story of yours, for a whole host of reasons. And sure it's a fic! :D
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I like sifting through Rimmer's denial and supressed fetishes. A lot.
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This story was great! I can't wait for your next "little something". For me it's very big "something"!
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