reddwarfslash | One Night

Part 2!

Lister was sprawled on his stomach in his bunk, watching a vid, when Rimmer returned from his run. He glanced away from the screen to give his sweaty bunkmate the once-over. Why Rimmer still bothered with the morning runs was beyond him, as the exercise had no bearing on his physical form. There was no point keeping fit when you were dead, was there? But, Lister mused, on the upside it gave Rimmer a sense of purpose and – he had to admit – he looked good in the running shorts.

He felt a familiar stirring within his own shorts and turned his attention back to the vid as Rimmer ‘showered’ and dressed. Brooding on those feelings was as pointless as Rimmer’s exercise regime, the time when they could have been of any use long gone. But it had been too long since he was touched, really touched, by anyone and Lister wasn’t quite ready to close himself off and accept that there were some things he’d never experience again. The universe was too full of possibilities and Lister was afraid that if he didn’t give those emotional muscles a flex every now and then, they’d be useless when he finally got a chance to use them.

It didn’t help that his freshest, most accessible memories of physical affection were connected so inextricably in his mind with his bunkmate, although Rimmer hadn’t been the one giving it.

He’d gone to the Copacabana with Peterson, Selby and Chen that night, hoping for some relief from the post-Kochanski blues. To say that his companions had been of little help was an understatement. They had only one solution to every problem known to mankind and Lister did not feel like drinking himself into a stupor. He’d watched them descend into gross inebriation, knowing he’d have joined in with them just weeks ago, and wondered what Kriss had ever seen in him. No wonder she’d decided she could do better.

Across the room he’d caught sight of Rimmer, half hidden behind a pillar wrapped in plastic ivy. He sighed inwardly. This was getting stupid. At first he’d believed the man’s flimsy excuses for stalking him. It would be typical of Rimmer to follow him around waiting for him to do something wrong so he could put him on report, but he’d gradually realised that there was more to it than petty spite. Particularly once he’d noticed that Rimmer only ever seemed to intervene in his evening if it looked like he was anywhere near to getting off with someone. Although there had been one night when it had come in useful.

Freshly dumped and emotionally whiplashed, he’d spent the evening drinking heavily with his friends. One by one, they’d succumbed to the booze and either wandered off or passed out, until Lister had finally looked around himself and realised he was alone. Alone, friendless and loveless. And drunk. He’d slumped to the table, sobbing. He didn’t really remember what had happened next, but he remembered Rimmer’s face, sliding in and out of focus. When he’d woken up the next morning, he was tucked up in Rimmer’s bunk under a blanket. There was a dustbin placed carefully next to the bed. It stank of vomit. Someone had removed his boots and left a glass of cold water on the bedside cabinet. Lister had barely had a moment to feel a wave of surprised warmth for his roommate, before the man himself had entered the room and started berating him – loudly – for his behaviour.

Since that night he’d held back on the booze, and started spending less time with his friends. And on the occasions when he did go out, he no longer felt annoyed when he spied Rimmer hovering on the far side of the room.

Just as he was debating whether to get up and leave the guys to their stupid game, and maybe confront Rimmer while he was at it, he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He looked up, surprised. “Oh, hi.”

“Hi there. Dave, right?”

“Yeah. Uh…Leon?” Lister quickly scrambled round his memory for the name.

“Yeah,” the man smiled warmly, “Mind if I join you?”

“No, go ahead.”

The man pulled up his chair and nodded to Lister’s companions, “You guys celebrating something?”

“Just the usual,” Lister replied, a hint of exasperation creeping into his voice, “Y’know, day with a ‘Y’ in it. Can’t let one of them go by without marking the occasion with a piss-up.” Leon raised his eyebrows,

“You’re not pleased it’s Friday?”

“Not as pleased as them.”

“Bad day?”

“Bad month. Is it that obvious?”

“You’re not your usual smiley self.”

Lister was taken aback. That wasn’t an observation he’d expect from a guy who he’d chatted to at the bar once, “How would you know? You hardly know me.”

“I’ve got eyes. I use them,” Leon said meaningfully.

“Is that so?”

“Let’s just say I’ve noticed you around,” he added, “I like the new threads by the way.”

“Thanks,” Lister said blankly.

“You look good in leather,”

Lister leaned back in his chair, both intrigued and slightly amused, “Are you flirting with me, man?”

“Little bit,” Leon replied frankly, “Is that okay?”

“Um…” Lister hesitated, somewhat flustered. Hell, it wasn’t the first time this had happened to him, although it had been a while. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d acted on it either– if he chose to – but that had been an even longer while. This was kind of a leap, considering he’d been contemplating marriage, kids and a cat less than a month ago. And his friends were sat right there, although he doubted they could hear his conversation over the music. They weren’t exactly homophobic - Peterson had punched a bloke in the face once for calling Bob in their poker group a ‘cheating faggot’ after a game hadn’t gone his way. “It’s not a big deal,” Bob had said afterwards, desperately trying to calm things, “I mean, you lot call me Bent Bob all the time!”

“Yeah,” Peterson had pointed out, “But we’re your mates. That’s allowed.”

However, Lister didn’t fancy spending the next two years of his life being known as ‘Bent Dave’. And he knew that Leon wasn’t the only person in this bar using his eyes tonight. “I’ll get back to you on that,” he told his new friend, smiling shyly. Leon smiled back. “Okay. So come on then, tell me. Why so glum?”

“I just got dumped,” Lister said frankly.

“Kochanski. Yeah, I heard.”

“So you use your ears too,” Lister remarked dryly.

“I haven’t been snooping. Everyone knows. You two were quite a hot topic for a while there.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, no offence or anything, but you weren’t exactly an ‘obvious’ couple.” Lister flicked a glance over his shoulder at his semi-comatose companions, “No,” he agreed flatly, “I suppose not.”

“I mean, c’mon,” Leon smiled, “You’re way too hot for her.”

“Yeah,” Lister replied, rolling his eyes, “She was really punching above her weight with a catch like me. I bet she’s lying awake right now regretting the terrible mistake she’s made.”

“If she isn’t, then she’s a fool.” Leon told him.

Lister took a sip of his drink, flattered but slightly embarrassed. “The question is,” he raised an eyebrow, “If you know all about me and Kriss, then what makes you think you’ve got a shot?”

“Call it a hunch.”

“Don’t give me that ‘gaydar’ crap, man.”

“I wasn’t going to. You just struck me as a nice enlightened 23^rd century guy who wouldn’t mind the offer.”

“Nice line,” Lister smiled, “I may have to use that.”

“Feel free. But clearly I was right, or I wouldn’t still be sitting here, would I?”

“Don’t get cocky,” Lister smiled, “Maybe I’m just humouring you out of curiosity.” “Curiosity can be a dangerous thing,” Leon smiled back. He leaned forward confidentially, “It can lead to all sorts of things.”

The guy was quite attractive, Lister decided. Well built, thick dark blond hair and hazel eyes that reminded him of someone else, but he couldn’t think who. What was more important to him right now was who they didn’t remind him of – and that was Kochanski. Maybe this was just what he needed. Another woman right now, any woman, would just be a desperate substitute. A placebo. Perhaps a night of something completely different would clear his mind. It had been a long time since he’d indulged in a bit of playful rough and tumble with another guy, the idea of it was very appealing suddenly. And it had been a long time since anyone had pursued him like this, made him feel…desirable.

“Oh really?” he asked, assuming his most innocent expression, “Like what?”

“That’s up to you. But it never hurts to be open to a little…experimentation.” Lister laughed, dropping the façade of naivety. “This wouldn’t exactly be an experiment for me,” he retorted. “This would be more like…a change of scenery.”

“Interesting. Well, that never hurts either. And if that’s what you’re after, then I’m sure my sleeping quarters would make an excellent change of scenery.” Lister’s pulse quickened slightly, “That’s very forward. You haven’t even offered to buy me a drink yet.”

“Do you want one?”

“No.”

“Would you like to come back to my room?”

Lister fought with himself for just a moment. He glanced over his shoulder at his friends, wondering how to explain to them that he was leaving with some guy. He needn’t have worried. They were all out for the count. He turned back to Leon, who was watching him patiently. “Yeah,” he said, “Okay.”

As they stood up, a movement across the room caught his eye. Rimmer getting to his feet. Oh, yes. He’d almost forgotten about him. Well, he could make something up to throw Rimmer off the scent if needed. Unless the smeghead followed them all the way to Leon’s room and then listened outside the door, of course. Lister wouldn’t put it past him.

As they passed through the doors of the bar, he felt the gentle press of Leon’s hand against his back. Not quite a caress, but something close. Lister’s cheeks flamed and he quickened his pace. Rimmer would have seen that, no doubt about it. He was angry with himself suddenly. Why should he care if Rimmer saw? There was no law against what he was doing. He was a grown man. A sudden streak of rebelliousness shot through his veins. If Rimmer was going to smegging well follow him about, then he’d give him something to see. Let him call him out tomorrow if he dared.

He spun to face Leon, grabbing his hand and pulling him into an alcove. The crowds of bar-hoppers surrounding them didn’t give them a second glance. “Kiss me,” he demanded. Leon raised an eyebrow,

“Here?”

“Right here,” Lister insisted, leaning back invitingly against the wall. Leon stepped up, firmly grasped his hips and covered his mouth with his own. Lister murmured with pleasure. This guy could kiss. This was going to be a fun evening. It had definitely been too long since he’d done this.

As they slipped out of the alcove and went on their way, Lister risked a glance back over his shoulder, hoping for a glimpse of Rimmer’s shocked face in the crowd. He couldn’t see him anywhere. He felt a slight stab of disappointment then shook himself. It didn’t matter, it had been a childish thing to do anyway. If Rimmer asked him about tonight he’d play dumb and see if he had the guts to confront him. Maybe if he did, then he’d finally have the guts to admit to Lister why he’d been following him in the first place. And who knew what might happen then….?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

bayliss.livejournal.com

I like this. I like the dueling views of the same event.
Very good. :-)

janamelie.livejournal.com

Clever. It's very Rimmer to keep a possessive eye on Lister from a distance and be in total denial about it. And how sweet that he looked after him when Lister needed it.

And Lister not realising who Leon's eyes remind him of is a nice touch. :)

kronette.livejournal.com

Very interesting and telling. The complete opposite of Rimmer, which is exactly what Lister is, yet telling for the both of them regardless. Interesting, also that Rimmer doesn't recall how he helped Lister back to his bunk after he'd fallen apart, but Lister does and remembers it fondly. You managed to capture their differing personalities and differing ideas in such a short space.