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reddwarfslashTitle: Falling into you. 1/4
Pairing: Lister/Rimmer
Warning: Fluff, minor angsting
Timeline: Series 8, before “KrytieTV”; mentions of past events, so spoilers.
Summary: Rimmer misses the ‘old’ Lister, but doesn’t know why; and Lister must use all his skills to rebuild a relationship he never had with the old Rimmer with the new Rimmer…
Disclaimer: They’re not mine, they belong to the BBC and Grant / Naylor. More’s the pity.
Words: 1.312
Rating: overall NC-17
Beta by the lovely![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
missflibble - thanks!
~ Falling into you ~
~ One: I dream of Fiji
Arnold Judas Rimmer always got the short end of the stick. It was the way his life worked. The universe hated him. He found that out shortly after his fifth birthday and the infamous noodle incident that had involved his bed, his brothers and a really angry snake they had found in the gutter. It must have been around that time that the universe had decided to make life as ridiculous and distressing as possible for Rimmer.
And here he was, two decades and three million years later in a prison cell on board a mining ship he had never wanted to be on in the first place and the universe had done it again. It had robbed him of the only constant he’d had: it had taken Lister away from him.
He shook his head; no, that didn’t sound right. He tried again: the universe had taken the old Lister, the one he was used to, the one he knew inside out, the one he could spend days on end teasing about his slobbiness – the universe had taken that man from him and had replaced him with a new Lister. One who had travelled space for a long time, one who had changed, one who had spent many years with another, holographic, version of Rimmer. One who was almost recognizable as a human being.
He wanted the old Lister back. This new person who shared a cell with him was unsettlingly insightful, nice even. Just three days ago they had had an actual conversation that hadn’t ended in one of them hitting the other one over the head with the nearest possible object.
It was annoying and frustrating and it changed everything. Rimmer hated it when things changed. Change was messy. He hated messy. A soft sigh escaped his throat.
Lister, who sat across from him at the table in their cell, stopped staring into his plate of whateveritwassupposedtobethisweek and looked at Rimmer.
“What are you thinking of?” he asked.
“Better food” Rimmer replied. He was so used to lying about mostly everything concerning his thoughts and feelings that it didn’t even register as a lie to him. It was more like broadened self-protection.
“Yeah, me too. This stuff’s smegging horrible. I can’t even tell if I’m eating the potatoes or if this is already the pudding.”
Lister turned his attention back to the food in front of him and resumed prodding it with his spoon. He looked forlorn, Rimmer noticed (yes, he did notice things like that, he just rarely acted on his insights). Infinitely touched by something and even, well, sad. Three million years away from home. Probably more.
Rimmer decided he wasn’t hungry anymore. Instead he put down his spoon and announced with gravity, “Look, Listy, I’m sorry about Fiji.”
Lister looked up in confusion, “You’re what?”
“Your five year plan that has now turned into a three million year plan. And even though it’s the dumbest, most ludicrous plan in the entire multiverse, I’m still sorry it won’t work out for you.”
Lister’s expression changed. The forlorn gaze shifted and something else crept into his eyes. A rebellious glimmer.
“And who says it won’t work out, man?” he replied, “You just wait and see. I’ll get to Fiji. I’ll get me farm and me sheep and me cow. Just you wait, Rimmer!”
Rimmer smiled. That was more like it. Now, if only he could get his hands on a Risk game – surely that would make Lister’s day!
~
“Have you heard about the Spring Ball?” Rimmer asked a few days later.
The Canaries were out on a mission to check out an asteroid. Cat, Kochanski, Kryten and the rest of the team had turned left at a pear shaped rock, Rimmer and Lister had accidentally missed them and turned right.
They’d fallen down a steep slope and were currently making their way back up again.
Lister was climbing not two feet above him. He halted and looked down to Rimmer, eyes wide behind the glass of the helmet.
“We’re climbing for our lives and you want to talk about the smegging Level 13 Spring Ball?”
Rimmer grinned triumphantly, “So you have heard about it, then.”
“Course I have. What a weird idea. A spring ball! In prison! And we don’t even know it’s really spring on Earth – for all we know, today could be Christmas!”
Lister resumed climbing and Rimmer struggled to keep up. Space suits were not made for this kind of activity and Rimmer was neither the most graceful nor the most adept human when it came to physical exercises. Which was why Lister was ahead of him.
“Oooh, Listy,” he managed in a patronizing tone of voice, failing to blank out his panic of heights and his fear of falling, “Listy, Listy, Listy. When the Captain says it’s spring, we dig out the shorts and shades. It’s as simple as that.”
Rimmer grabbed for a piece of rock to pull himself up, but it came loose under his fingers. He gave a panicky yelp as he skidded back down the slope.
“Watch out, you gimboid!” Lister shouted after him, which of course didn’t help much. If anything, it added emotional bruises to Rimmer’s already scarred ego.
When they finally made it (Lister had to drag Rimmer up and over the edge of the cliff, something the old Lister probably wouldn’t have done quite so quickly and willingly), Rimmer heaved himself into a sitting position to catch his breath.
For a moment they just sat there, next to each other, and admired the view they had over the valley and the stars above it.
“So,” Rimmer began again, because he needed to make sure some things never changed, “I suppose you have already asked Kochanski whether she’ll accompany you to the ball and she has declined not so politely, repeatedly, and told you to smeg off, hm?”
Lister looked at him with an expression in his eyes Rimmer had never seen before and therefore couldn’t comprehend. It took him half a heartbeat longer than usual to reply, and when he did, his voice was soft and serious.
“Nah, I haven’t.”
Rimmer lifted an eyebrow in disbelief.
“You see,” Lister explained, “she and I, it wouldn’t work out. I know that now. I mean we get along better than in the beginning, but she misses the Dave from her dimension and quite honestly, it doesn’t feel right. Not anymore. Not since…”
“Not since what?” Rimmer prompted him when he didn’t finish his sentence.
Lister gazed into the star-spangled emptiness of space, “Never mind.”
Then he did the most awkward and curious thing Rimmer had ever seen him do: he reached out and patted Rimmer’s arm. He couldn’t feel the touch through the thickness of the glove and the fabric of the space suit, but it sent shivers up Rimmer’s spine nonetheless. Lister never touched him. He never touched Lister. It was a silent but mutual agreement. No touching. Jostling and kicking didn’t count, obviously.
Rimmer huffed in annoyance. Great. More things changed. Why couldn’t the universe leave him in peace? What had he ever done to deserve this?
“Come on, Rimsy, let’s head back and find the others.”
They helped each other get up again (smegging, god-awful space suits!).
“If you tell anyone I fell down a cliff and you had to climb down to help me, I will make your life a living hell.”
Lister laughed, “But it’s such a great story! You lying down there on your back, wriggling your limbs like a topsy-turvy ladybug! A-smegging-dorable!”
“One word, Lister, and you’re space weevil fodder.” Rimmer threatened him, but only half-heartedly. He doubted the new Lister would belittle Rimmer in front of the others like that. At least that was an improvement.
They shoved each other a bit.
“Merry Christmas, you goit.”
“You, too, smeghead.”
~tbc~
Pairing: Lister/Rimmer
Warning: Fluff, minor angsting
Timeline: Series 8, before “KrytieTV”; mentions of past events, so spoilers.
Summary: Rimmer misses the ‘old’ Lister, but doesn’t know why; and Lister must use all his skills to rebuild a relationship he never had with the old Rimmer with the new Rimmer…
Disclaimer: They’re not mine, they belong to the BBC and Grant / Naylor. More’s the pity.
Words: 1.312
Rating: overall NC-17
Beta by the lovely
missflibble - thanks!~ Falling into you ~
~ One: I dream of Fiji
Arnold Judas Rimmer always got the short end of the stick. It was the way his life worked. The universe hated him. He found that out shortly after his fifth birthday and the infamous noodle incident that had involved his bed, his brothers and a really angry snake they had found in the gutter. It must have been around that time that the universe had decided to make life as ridiculous and distressing as possible for Rimmer.
And here he was, two decades and three million years later in a prison cell on board a mining ship he had never wanted to be on in the first place and the universe had done it again. It had robbed him of the only constant he’d had: it had taken Lister away from him.
He shook his head; no, that didn’t sound right. He tried again: the universe had taken the old Lister, the one he was used to, the one he knew inside out, the one he could spend days on end teasing about his slobbiness – the universe had taken that man from him and had replaced him with a new Lister. One who had travelled space for a long time, one who had changed, one who had spent many years with another, holographic, version of Rimmer. One who was almost recognizable as a human being.
He wanted the old Lister back. This new person who shared a cell with him was unsettlingly insightful, nice even. Just three days ago they had had an actual conversation that hadn’t ended in one of them hitting the other one over the head with the nearest possible object.
It was annoying and frustrating and it changed everything. Rimmer hated it when things changed. Change was messy. He hated messy. A soft sigh escaped his throat.
Lister, who sat across from him at the table in their cell, stopped staring into his plate of whateveritwassupposedtobethisweek and looked at Rimmer.
“What are you thinking of?” he asked.
“Better food” Rimmer replied. He was so used to lying about mostly everything concerning his thoughts and feelings that it didn’t even register as a lie to him. It was more like broadened self-protection.
“Yeah, me too. This stuff’s smegging horrible. I can’t even tell if I’m eating the potatoes or if this is already the pudding.”
Lister turned his attention back to the food in front of him and resumed prodding it with his spoon. He looked forlorn, Rimmer noticed (yes, he did notice things like that, he just rarely acted on his insights). Infinitely touched by something and even, well, sad. Three million years away from home. Probably more.
Rimmer decided he wasn’t hungry anymore. Instead he put down his spoon and announced with gravity, “Look, Listy, I’m sorry about Fiji.”
Lister looked up in confusion, “You’re what?”
“Your five year plan that has now turned into a three million year plan. And even though it’s the dumbest, most ludicrous plan in the entire multiverse, I’m still sorry it won’t work out for you.”
Lister’s expression changed. The forlorn gaze shifted and something else crept into his eyes. A rebellious glimmer.
“And who says it won’t work out, man?” he replied, “You just wait and see. I’ll get to Fiji. I’ll get me farm and me sheep and me cow. Just you wait, Rimmer!”
Rimmer smiled. That was more like it. Now, if only he could get his hands on a Risk game – surely that would make Lister’s day!
~
“Have you heard about the Spring Ball?” Rimmer asked a few days later.
The Canaries were out on a mission to check out an asteroid. Cat, Kochanski, Kryten and the rest of the team had turned left at a pear shaped rock, Rimmer and Lister had accidentally missed them and turned right.
They’d fallen down a steep slope and were currently making their way back up again.
Lister was climbing not two feet above him. He halted and looked down to Rimmer, eyes wide behind the glass of the helmet.
“We’re climbing for our lives and you want to talk about the smegging Level 13 Spring Ball?”
Rimmer grinned triumphantly, “So you have heard about it, then.”
“Course I have. What a weird idea. A spring ball! In prison! And we don’t even know it’s really spring on Earth – for all we know, today could be Christmas!”
Lister resumed climbing and Rimmer struggled to keep up. Space suits were not made for this kind of activity and Rimmer was neither the most graceful nor the most adept human when it came to physical exercises. Which was why Lister was ahead of him.
“Oooh, Listy,” he managed in a patronizing tone of voice, failing to blank out his panic of heights and his fear of falling, “Listy, Listy, Listy. When the Captain says it’s spring, we dig out the shorts and shades. It’s as simple as that.”
Rimmer grabbed for a piece of rock to pull himself up, but it came loose under his fingers. He gave a panicky yelp as he skidded back down the slope.
“Watch out, you gimboid!” Lister shouted after him, which of course didn’t help much. If anything, it added emotional bruises to Rimmer’s already scarred ego.
When they finally made it (Lister had to drag Rimmer up and over the edge of the cliff, something the old Lister probably wouldn’t have done quite so quickly and willingly), Rimmer heaved himself into a sitting position to catch his breath.
For a moment they just sat there, next to each other, and admired the view they had over the valley and the stars above it.
“So,” Rimmer began again, because he needed to make sure some things never changed, “I suppose you have already asked Kochanski whether she’ll accompany you to the ball and she has declined not so politely, repeatedly, and told you to smeg off, hm?”
Lister looked at him with an expression in his eyes Rimmer had never seen before and therefore couldn’t comprehend. It took him half a heartbeat longer than usual to reply, and when he did, his voice was soft and serious.
“Nah, I haven’t.”
Rimmer lifted an eyebrow in disbelief.
“You see,” Lister explained, “she and I, it wouldn’t work out. I know that now. I mean we get along better than in the beginning, but she misses the Dave from her dimension and quite honestly, it doesn’t feel right. Not anymore. Not since…”
“Not since what?” Rimmer prompted him when he didn’t finish his sentence.
Lister gazed into the star-spangled emptiness of space, “Never mind.”
Then he did the most awkward and curious thing Rimmer had ever seen him do: he reached out and patted Rimmer’s arm. He couldn’t feel the touch through the thickness of the glove and the fabric of the space suit, but it sent shivers up Rimmer’s spine nonetheless. Lister never touched him. He never touched Lister. It was a silent but mutual agreement. No touching. Jostling and kicking didn’t count, obviously.
Rimmer huffed in annoyance. Great. More things changed. Why couldn’t the universe leave him in peace? What had he ever done to deserve this?
“Come on, Rimsy, let’s head back and find the others.”
They helped each other get up again (smegging, god-awful space suits!).
“If you tell anyone I fell down a cliff and you had to climb down to help me, I will make your life a living hell.”
Lister laughed, “But it’s such a great story! You lying down there on your back, wriggling your limbs like a topsy-turvy ladybug! A-smegging-dorable!”
“One word, Lister, and you’re space weevil fodder.” Rimmer threatened him, but only half-heartedly. He doubted the new Lister would belittle Rimmer in front of the others like that. At least that was an improvement.
They shoved each other a bit.
“Merry Christmas, you goit.”
“You, too, smeghead.”
~tbc~
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Date: 2011-02-14 01:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-14 05:14 am (UTC)