Drabble: "Funky Cold Medina"
Jul. 21st, 2010 10:54 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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"Funky Cold Medina" (Shoot me - I couldn't resist)
Rating: PG-13
Chars: Lister, Rimmer, S8 women; slash and het
Disclaimer: Grant and Naylor are geniuses. I'm not entitled to their cash.
Summary: 300 words written for
debris_k, who gave me the prompt "Lister/Rimmer (can be gen, I own a pair of excellent slash goggles *g*), jealous!Lister (oblivious!Rimmer optional" on my LJ to help me write
A/N: I couldn't think of a better title, since every time I hear that song now, the scene that inspired this is what runs through my mind.
“Coffee – three creams, three sugars,” Rimmer told the intake officer's assistant, when he polled the new prisoners about meal beverages.
“Coffee?”
Rimmer didn't look up from reading Floor 13 and You: A Guide for Model Prisoners. “Yes, coffee.”
“Coffee?”
At that, Rimmer glanced up. “Coffee, Lister. You know, hot, sweet, sort of blackish-brownish?” He mimed holding a cup, sticking a finger in it, and shaking off a burn.
Unaware he was glaring, Lister recalled what he'd overheard in the medi-bay when getting his incarceration innoculations. A few women in the next room had been gossiping about the mystery of the Dwarf being in the neighborhood of a quadrillion miles from Earth, the new prisoners whose incredible story might explain it, and Hollister's dinner party. One brought up going for coffee with the new guy there; another chuckled dirtily. “Oh yes, coffee,” she simpered.
“So, how was it?” another asked.
“Yes, how was 'coffee'?”
“You tell me; you had 'coffee' too,” came a half-snarky, half-amused reply.
Lister had grinned at the prospect of juicy details he could use in his bunk-bound fantasies, until he overheard, “Oh, coffee was okay.” Pause. “But Rimmer … DAMN.” He'd nearly slid off into the floor, startled, as they compared notes.
Hot.
Flexible.
Beastly.
Kinky.
BLESSED.
That he'd had a jones for the hologram became clear to Lister after the smeghead had skuppered off into Acehood. This new Rimmer taunted him by existing, by being here. And, apparently, a right hussy.
But not for Lister.
You like coffee? Lister thought later in the Tank, unstoppering the tube of sexual charisma virus and sprinkling it over Rimmer's shoulder, stepping back as other male prisoners turn lustful eyes upon the man. There you go, man – Starfucks.
Rating: PG-13
Chars: Lister, Rimmer, S8 women; slash and het
Disclaimer: Grant and Naylor are geniuses. I'm not entitled to their cash.
Summary: 300 words written for
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
A/N: I couldn't think of a better title, since every time I hear that song now, the scene that inspired this is what runs through my mind.
“Coffee – three creams, three sugars,” Rimmer told the intake officer's assistant, when he polled the new prisoners about meal beverages.
“Coffee?”
Rimmer didn't look up from reading Floor 13 and You: A Guide for Model Prisoners. “Yes, coffee.”
“Coffee?”
At that, Rimmer glanced up. “Coffee, Lister. You know, hot, sweet, sort of blackish-brownish?” He mimed holding a cup, sticking a finger in it, and shaking off a burn.
Unaware he was glaring, Lister recalled what he'd overheard in the medi-bay when getting his incarceration innoculations. A few women in the next room had been gossiping about the mystery of the Dwarf being in the neighborhood of a quadrillion miles from Earth, the new prisoners whose incredible story might explain it, and Hollister's dinner party. One brought up going for coffee with the new guy there; another chuckled dirtily. “Oh yes, coffee,” she simpered.
“So, how was it?” another asked.
“Yes, how was 'coffee'?”
“You tell me; you had 'coffee' too,” came a half-snarky, half-amused reply.
Lister had grinned at the prospect of juicy details he could use in his bunk-bound fantasies, until he overheard, “Oh, coffee was okay.” Pause. “But Rimmer … DAMN.” He'd nearly slid off into the floor, startled, as they compared notes.
Hot.
Flexible.
Beastly.
Kinky.
BLESSED.
That he'd had a jones for the hologram became clear to Lister after the smeghead had skuppered off into Acehood. This new Rimmer taunted him by existing, by being here. And, apparently, a right hussy.
But not for Lister.
You like coffee? Lister thought later in the Tank, unstoppering the tube of sexual charisma virus and sprinkling it over Rimmer's shoulder, stepping back as other male prisoners turn lustful eyes upon the man. There you go, man – Starfucks.
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Date: 2010-07-22 06:13 am (UTC)FAN-tastic. Love it ^__^
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Date: 2010-07-22 02:23 pm (UTC)Glad you liked it. :-DD
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Date: 2010-07-22 02:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-22 06:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-22 02:21 pm (UTC)Glad you hearted it!
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Date: 2010-07-25 07:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-22 07:02 am (UTC)P.S. I think you forgot an lj-cut?
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Date: 2010-07-22 02:19 pm (UTC)I thought about cutting it, but then I thought "I dunno, 300 words ...?" Is it toying badly with your f-list view, though?
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Date: 2010-07-22 04:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-22 04:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-22 10:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-22 02:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-22 11:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-23 05:14 am (UTC)Thanks for reading and letting me know - it was a hoot to write.
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Date: 2010-07-23 05:23 am (UTC)