reddwarfslash | Rarepair Drabble Tree

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Rarepair Drabble Tree

If you haven't done the drabble tree thing before, someone posts a drabble (a 100-word ficlet) and then in comments people posts new drabbles, using a line from the previous drabble in their drabble.

By request, here is the base of a rarepair drabble tree -- so for this drabble tree, make your pairing something other than Lister/Rimmer.

There was nothing like the chance to finally be alone. Starbug's cockpit was cramped but for the time being they didn't need him. Rimmer stretched out on the bunk, one command vanishing his clothes, another command calling in his favourite aid to self-gratification. The others were busy; he could really enjoy himself this time.

He was almost at the pinnacle of pleasure when Lister unexpectedly walked in. The Scouser's face was undeniably unimpressed as he took in all the details of the passionate scene.

'Can't you at least shut the door, man? That’s disgustin'.'

'Mr Flibble's very unfulfilled,' Rimmer grumped.

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Walking in on Kryten vacuuming around his quarters with a groinal-attachment gave Rimmer uncomfortably naughty feelings. His mind replayed, not for the first time, the scene he’d walked in on years ago. Lister writhing and grinding from the floor up into a kneeling, tugging mechanoid. He shivered.
When Kryten began poking around his bedsheets with it, Rimmer was unfairly tempted.
“Kryten, something needs doing that you’ve quite overlooked…”
He was almost at the pinnacle of pleasure when Lister unexpectedly walked in. The electric sucking sound was loud in the stunned silence.
Lister grinned smugly, “Oh how the mighty have fallen.”

His mind replayed, not for the first time, the scene he'd walked in on years ago. Monkey-boy sprawled on the bunk, lazily stroking himself; goalpost-head lounging against the wall, pretending to be casual, watching intently. He'd caught them a dozen times since then in their strange silent tableau, and each time said nothing.

All he could think about now was how that cock would fill the strange unfamiliar emptiness he felt. And it would have to be more fun for monkey-boy than just playing with himself, even with an audience.

The Cat showered and dressed carefully, and then went courting.

This great big buying-stuff place had everything. There were racks of clothes, a haberdashery, and some weird place where you could lift things or use stationary bicycles. In short, everything he needed.

The Cat showered and dressed carefully, and then went courting.

He was taking some flowers from outside a shop, when gerbil face caught his eye. He nodded to the poster underneath Cat's arm, shaking his head. The words 'Back To Earth' were just about visible, along with a face like Cat's own.

"But I'm the man of his dreams!"

"No," curry breath insisted, snatching the flowers. "Just no."

"No." Spanners spat, shoving the drunken man from his chest. "Just no." There were limits, he insisted, to what he would do to get his way, but more importantly, there was a limit to the number of times he'd do them. What had begun as a bargaining chip in his underhanded schemes to keep his best friend from committing suicide had become a regular affair, consummated each Friday, after the routine briefing.

Bongo stumbled over his tool kit and landed against his chest, his briefcase clattering from his grasp to the floor. Spanners glanced ruefully at the blueprints and made up his mind.The other regarded him with a shy, goofy grin, and Spanners sunk to his knees.

Edited 2009-04-23 23:12 (UTC)

Their 'meetings' always ended the same way; with Rimmer backing into a corner, waving his hands defensively, much as he was doing now. What an utterly, utterly revolting thing to suggest, he spluttered. There were limits, he insisted, to what he would do to get his way, but more importantly, there was a limit to the number of times he'd do them. This Rimmer said and did.

As for what Rimmer thought...

His eyes were wide, his lips were moist from licking, his pupils were dilated, and his body shook in anticipation.

Grinning, Ackerman began to unbuckle his belt.

‘But I’m the man of his dreams!’

‘You are a drunk, smelly, drunk, loud, drunk Danish moron, and you are blocking my doorway. Get out.’ Rimmer attempted to slide the door closed manually, but Petersen was an immovable object.

‘Lemme in!’

‘He’s not even here. He’s off with Kochanski.’

At this Petersen let out a long, lager-sodden wail, and attempted to collapse into Rimmer’s arms, except that Rimmer sidestepped and the Dane hit the deck instead.

‘I love him... I thought he loved me... didn’t he ever show you his tattoo? We got them to match...’

Rimmer shuddered. ‘Unfortunately, yes.’

Holly saw all that went on aboard Red Dwarf, though Rimmer and Lister did not know this. He'd caught them a dozen times since then in their strange silent tableau, and each time said nothing. It was not his place to judge them for their relationship. It reminded him of his past love.

The equivalent of the iMac for ship's computers really. A wonderfully attractive Jonathan Ive production designed to run ships. Cris. Of course, Cris got to run ships far more advanced than some hunk of JMC junk. He was out of Holly’s league. But Holly had loved him.

Excusing himself, Kryten left Mister Lister and Ms Kochanski in the mid-section. He busied himself with the washing up, ignoring the laughing voices. He was a mechanoid. It was not his place to judge them for their relationship.

So Ms Kochanski had a boyfriend in another dimension, and Mister Lister preferred people with other bits. Kryten had seen the way he looked at Mister Rimmer, and the picture of that red-headed man he kept under his mattress. So what? Who else was there for him now? Not Mister Cat. Surely not...

Kochanski giggled, and the dish in Kryten's hand broke.

Holly saw all that went on aboard Red Dwarf, though Rimmer and Lister did not know this. Cat knew.

When Cat had first crawled out of the cargo decks, Holly had been the one to greet him. As a kitten, he’d grown up talking to the strange head on the wall. Holly, the listener. Holly, the supporter. To Cat, who knew no others besides his father and the old priest, Holly was his only friend.

And Cat knew that at night, Holly saw him touch himself; heard him yowl out the computer’s name. On those nights, Holly whispered, “Sweet dreams.”

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Rarepair Drabble Tree

He was almost at the pinnacle of pleasure...

His mind replayed, not for the first time, the scene he’d walked in on years ago.

The Cat showered and dressed carefully, and then went courting.

"Just no."

There were limits, he insisted, to what he would do to get his way, but more importantly (...)

‘But I’m the man of his dreams!’

He'd caught them a dozen times since in their strange silent tableau, and each time said nothing.

It was not his place to judge them for their relationship.

Holly saw all that went on aboard Red Dwarf, though Rimmer and Lister did not know this.