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tsukinobun.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
reddwarfslash2009-04-23 10:27 pm
Living a Lie (R)
Rating: R (maybe NC-17? I don't know...there's only one sentence I'm concerned about, really. Marginally graphic).
Pairing: Lister/Catering Officer Tim (am I the first to do this pairing, ever? That would be lovely!)
Wordcount: 900
Notes: Angsty slash yearnings where you might not have suspected (but now you know better). One of, I hope many (I made myself a list to work from) fics pairing Lister with everyone imaginable from RD. No I do *not* have too many fics/plotbunnies going at the same time, and no my brain *won't* explode. I'll just keep telling myself that and hope for the best. ;)
Tim surreptitiously glanced at Kristine’s face as she passed him in the hallway. She looked happy. His heart fell even further into his stomach – it had been pushed lower and lower over the past few weeks since he’d broken up with her. He felt sure it would reach his lower digestive system next, and get strung along through his bowels by peristaltic pressure, eventually leaving his body. He fully expected to go to the bathroom one morning, relieve himself, and find that his heart was amongst the rest of his elimination.
It would serve him right. This was all his fault. He was the creator of his own worst nightmare.
He didn’t miss her the way he’d thought he would. He had been dreading the break-up and had labored over the decision for months. She was lovely. She was exactly what his parents would expect him to marry, and they would have deeply approved of her. She would’ve charmed them the way she charmed everyone around her – with her kindness, intelligence, and smile.
She even charmed me, Tim had thought humorlessly. Even I, someone who was never physically attracted to her, thought for a moment I might be in love.
No, he didn’t miss her really. And she had all rights to be happy. But not with him. Not with Lister.
When Tim had first noticed Dave Lister, about a year ago, he had been afraid to look at him too long. He seemed harmless enough, and friendly, sitting with his buddies, drinking rounds and laughing into the wee hours of the morning on the recreation deck. It wasn’t a life-threatening fear, more an identity-threatening fear. It was the kind of fear you associate with butterflies banging their wings against your stomach lining, and the realization that, even after trying so hard to like girls, you still felt those unnatural urges.
Something about that cold-coffee colored skin and rebellious locks made him crazy. Lister always seemed to be smiling, always seemed to be touching his friends, and always seemed blissfully unaware of Tim watching him. It was for the best, Tim told himself time and time again. What would he even say to the man? They came from different worlds, figuratively and cartographically. The scouser from Earth would never look at the snooty officer from Titan…nor was the officer allowed, by social etiquette at the very least, to look at the lowly third technician. Still, Tim did look. And longed for him.
With Krissie, he’d felt a lot of guilt for closing his eyes to climax during sex. Always, behind his eyelids, he imagined he was sliding between plump, brown buttocks, guiding the dreadlocked man to ecstacy, pumping his dark cock in time with his thrusts. Even in his imaginings, Dave was always drunk. Tim couldn’t imagine Lister agreeing to go to bed with him if he were sober, but that hardly put a damper on how much he relied on that image. He was always so careful to be silent when he came, his greatest worry being that he would cry out something that would expose his secret to the girl who panted beneath him.
Once the guilt had become too much, he had decided to accept that he was gay. It was unfair to lie to Krissie in this way and make her believe he could ultimately be satisfied with only her. It wasn’t her body he wanked-off to in the shower, and it never had been.
When he’d heard who Kristine was dating after him, he had not believed it. It was the most painful kind of irony. Surely god would not be so cruel! Ah, but maybe god was punishing him for his unnatural desires. Maybe this was payback.
He had drunk more that night than ever before in his life. At some late point in his epic pity party, he had decided that he would go to Kristine’s quarters. It was time he told somebody about this. She deserved to know! All of it. That he was gay, that he hadn’t been able to love her the right way, that her being with Third Technician Lister was the universe’s biggest, “Fuck you, Tim.” To his alcohol-addled mind, it had seemed like a good idea to tell her right away.
Having made it to her bunkroom door, thanks to the sturdy walls of the corridors buffeting him forward each time he ran into them, he had found himself unable to knock. There were voices inside. There was laughing – male laughing. God, it was Lister laughing. Comfortable, shared giggles (he now heard Kristine’s bird-like voice, too). And indecipherable words. No light shone out from under the bunkroom door. As he listened closer, he heard the familiar sound of a ship-issue mattress bumping against the wall. Oh, god. They were fucking.
He had gone back to his own quarters, sobered considerably by this experience. That night, though he struggled to resist, he had not been able to sleep until he rubbed out his frustration with the sound of Lister’s sensual giggle repeating in his head, and a sob in his throat.
The next day he had cornered Console Officer Kochanski and begged her to take him back. Some things were worse than living a lie, and the thing at the top of his list was living in a world where his ex-girlfriend was sleeping with the man he loved.
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jk, you know I *would* do it, but probably only accidentally.
Meanwhile, how's *our* little project going amongst all your deadly fanged plotbunnies who're breeding like rats and almost as scary?
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but i have not forgotten about our scrumptious rimmerfest. oh no. give it a day or two, and i believe we'll have something grand.
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It almost makes me want to think of it as a fuzzy polymorph. You know, like that little squidgy squelchy thing that squidged off down the corridor? BUT FUZZY
FUZZIER THAN A DEMENTED FUZZIGIG!
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I don't think I've ever seen this pairing before. Awesome.