Fic: Diamond - Ace Rimmer/Lister
Feb. 17th, 2006 12:12 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
kahvi.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
reddwarfslashTitle: Diamond
Pairing: Ace Rimmer/Lister
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Red Dwarf isn't mine. No one gives me money to do this, but I do it anyway!
Notes: Written as part of the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fanfic100 challenge - my table is here.
It was seeing Ace framed in the doorway, his hands on his hips, his hair flowing effortlessly down to his shoulders, his eyes looking at him questioningly, invitingly, that finally made Lister blurt out what he’d been thinking since he first laid eyes on Rimmer’s double.
“Look man,” he said awkwardly, “I dunno how to say this but… If yer interested…”
“You’ll be in the sleeping quarters later, covered in madras sauce?”
Lister blushed from head to toe, but felt more surprised than embarrassed. “How on Earth did you know?”
“I saw you sneak a jar of the stuff from the kitchens earlier.” He grimaced. “I wouldn’t recommend it, stings like crazy when you rub it on the wrong places.”
“Oh,” Lister’s face fell, “so you’re not interested then?”
Ace smiled. He looked his best when he smiled, and he seemed to know it. “I didn’t say that. Normally I’m strictly a tandoori man,” he lowered his eyebrows conspiratorily, “but that’s not to say I’ve never been interested in any sauce-on-sauce action, so to say.” He gave Lister a coy, sidewise look, which seemed impossibly erotic.
Lister shook his head, and rubbed his eyes with his hand. “I honestly have no idea what’s come over me. I’ve never thought about another man like this, it’s disturbing!”
“Really?” Ace’s expression revealed nothing.
“Yeah, really.” There was a note of defensiveness in Lister’s voice. What did Ace know, anyway? Why did he have to come barging into Lister’s life and make everything so bloody complicated?
“OK.” Ace lit a cheroot calmly. “I’d be willing to take you for a ride, Skipper,” he said, and Lister’s spine felt like it had been suddenly been bathed in liquid nitrogen. “Just make sure it’s what you really want.” He winked, tossed his hair gracefully, and was gone.
An hour or so later, Ace knocked gently on the closed doors of the sleeping quarters. There was no reply. He knocked again, somewhat firmer this time. There came a muffled sound from within, and Ace sighed. Why did they always have to cover themselves in condiments, he wondered. It got awfully sticky, for one thing, and for another it was dashed impractical. Oh well, one made sacrifices. He tapped the security lock on the side in three places in a particular staccato rhythm, and the panel opened like the legs of a prostidroid. One quick flick with his fingernails on a wire, and the door opened while the panel shut itself closed again.
“I feel I must warn you,” he said as he entered, “I’m not terribly fond of Indian food. This may take some…” He noticed the figure on the bed “…getting used to?”
“Kryten took the jar back,” Lister said apologetically. “This was the best I could do.” He was fully dressed, but the top of his boiler-suit was un-zipped, revealing, for once, a naked chest, on top of which two cans of Leopard Lager had been balanced rather awkwardly. “I was thinking of stuffing one down my pants, but I figured that might get a bit cold.” He was propping himself up on his elbows, his eyes darting between Ace and the cans, which were wobbling a bit.
“Yes, I expect it would, rather,” Ace replied in a daze. He was, of course, amazingly sexually experienced, but this was terra incognita, even for him. Clearing his throat, he walked over to the bunk Lister was lying on, and sat down next to him. When Lister tried to move to give him room, both cans fell to the floor almost immediately.
“Sorry,” Lister said, trying to look relaxed and failing miserably, “I’ve never done anything like this before.” He retrieved the cans, opened one, and offered Ace the other.
“Not to worry, Skipper old chum,” Ace said, accepting the can, “it can happen to the best of us.” It was an automatic reply. He wasn’t sure it quite fit the situation, but it would have to do.
Lister turned his can round and round in his hands, and took another, long pull from it. Then he seemed to make up his mind about something, and lunged at Ace, beer still in hand, caution and lager flying to the wind.
Ace wasn’t really caught off guard, because he very rarely was. In one swift movement he put down his own can, removed Lister’s from his hand, put them both on the floor, and embraced the other man, all with his injured arm. Lister was kissing him like a madman, which is to say he seemed to have no idea what he was doing. Ace reciprocated as best he could, but it was hard to follow Lister’s movements. Finally, he came up for air, and gently pushed the other man slightly away from him, firmly but reassuringly.
“Look, old chum,” Ace breathed, “we don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to. I can tell your heart’s not in it. There’s no shame in changing your mind.”
Lister looked up at him with wild eyes. “What do you mean?” he asked, trying to catch his breath.
“It’s like this, Skipper; when you’ve had the pleasure of the intimate company of as many people as I’ve had, you get a sense for these things. Is there something you want to get off your chest?” He smiled encouragingly at Lister.
Lister ran his fingers through his hair, and shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know.” Suddenly, he turned back towards Ace, confusion and anger in his voice. “How’s it possible?”
“How’s what possible?”
“You and him, man. You started off as the same person, but look at how you turned out! Ace, you’re a diamond! And Rimmer… Rimmer’s just a lump of coal.” Lister flung himself back on the mattress in frustration, his hands clasped behind his back.
Ace cleared his throat politely, pretending to adjust one of the cuffs on his shirt. “It’s all carbon in the end, Skipper my man,” he said carefully.
“There you go again, defending him, even though you know he’s a smeghead! You’ve seen him, man. He’s nothing.” Lister sighed.
Ace swept a lock of hair away from his face, and gazed thoughtfully at Lister for a moment. “Part of me IS him, Dave.”
“What part; the…”
“The part that makes me human,” Ace interrupted. He paused, straightening his posture. “I should go.”
“Ace man, I’m sorry…” Lister sounded confused.
“I told you; no need to apologize.” He rose, heading for the door. “Just think about what I said, OK?” He gave a faint smile.
Lister watched the door closing, and fumbled with unseeing hands for the cans lager on the floor. Catching one, he downed most of it in a single pull, shaking his head afterwards like a wet cat. He’d offended Ace somehow, but he couldn’t understand how. Crazy, man. This whole thing was crazy. Still, Ace’s words rang in his mind; it’s all carbon in the end.
Eh, what did he know. Ace just hadn’t spent as much time with Rimmer as he had. That was it, that was all it was. Lister fumbled for the second can, and began drinking it, thoughtfully.
Pairing: Ace Rimmer/Lister
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Red Dwarf isn't mine. No one gives me money to do this, but I do it anyway!
Notes: Written as part of the
fanfic100 challenge - my table is here.It was seeing Ace framed in the doorway, his hands on his hips, his hair flowing effortlessly down to his shoulders, his eyes looking at him questioningly, invitingly, that finally made Lister blurt out what he’d been thinking since he first laid eyes on Rimmer’s double.
“Look man,” he said awkwardly, “I dunno how to say this but… If yer interested…”
“You’ll be in the sleeping quarters later, covered in madras sauce?”
Lister blushed from head to toe, but felt more surprised than embarrassed. “How on Earth did you know?”
“I saw you sneak a jar of the stuff from the kitchens earlier.” He grimaced. “I wouldn’t recommend it, stings like crazy when you rub it on the wrong places.”
“Oh,” Lister’s face fell, “so you’re not interested then?”
Ace smiled. He looked his best when he smiled, and he seemed to know it. “I didn’t say that. Normally I’m strictly a tandoori man,” he lowered his eyebrows conspiratorily, “but that’s not to say I’ve never been interested in any sauce-on-sauce action, so to say.” He gave Lister a coy, sidewise look, which seemed impossibly erotic.
Lister shook his head, and rubbed his eyes with his hand. “I honestly have no idea what’s come over me. I’ve never thought about another man like this, it’s disturbing!”
“Really?” Ace’s expression revealed nothing.
“Yeah, really.” There was a note of defensiveness in Lister’s voice. What did Ace know, anyway? Why did he have to come barging into Lister’s life and make everything so bloody complicated?
“OK.” Ace lit a cheroot calmly. “I’d be willing to take you for a ride, Skipper,” he said, and Lister’s spine felt like it had been suddenly been bathed in liquid nitrogen. “Just make sure it’s what you really want.” He winked, tossed his hair gracefully, and was gone.
An hour or so later, Ace knocked gently on the closed doors of the sleeping quarters. There was no reply. He knocked again, somewhat firmer this time. There came a muffled sound from within, and Ace sighed. Why did they always have to cover themselves in condiments, he wondered. It got awfully sticky, for one thing, and for another it was dashed impractical. Oh well, one made sacrifices. He tapped the security lock on the side in three places in a particular staccato rhythm, and the panel opened like the legs of a prostidroid. One quick flick with his fingernails on a wire, and the door opened while the panel shut itself closed again.
“I feel I must warn you,” he said as he entered, “I’m not terribly fond of Indian food. This may take some…” He noticed the figure on the bed “…getting used to?”
“Kryten took the jar back,” Lister said apologetically. “This was the best I could do.” He was fully dressed, but the top of his boiler-suit was un-zipped, revealing, for once, a naked chest, on top of which two cans of Leopard Lager had been balanced rather awkwardly. “I was thinking of stuffing one down my pants, but I figured that might get a bit cold.” He was propping himself up on his elbows, his eyes darting between Ace and the cans, which were wobbling a bit.
“Yes, I expect it would, rather,” Ace replied in a daze. He was, of course, amazingly sexually experienced, but this was terra incognita, even for him. Clearing his throat, he walked over to the bunk Lister was lying on, and sat down next to him. When Lister tried to move to give him room, both cans fell to the floor almost immediately.
“Sorry,” Lister said, trying to look relaxed and failing miserably, “I’ve never done anything like this before.” He retrieved the cans, opened one, and offered Ace the other.
“Not to worry, Skipper old chum,” Ace said, accepting the can, “it can happen to the best of us.” It was an automatic reply. He wasn’t sure it quite fit the situation, but it would have to do.
Lister turned his can round and round in his hands, and took another, long pull from it. Then he seemed to make up his mind about something, and lunged at Ace, beer still in hand, caution and lager flying to the wind.
Ace wasn’t really caught off guard, because he very rarely was. In one swift movement he put down his own can, removed Lister’s from his hand, put them both on the floor, and embraced the other man, all with his injured arm. Lister was kissing him like a madman, which is to say he seemed to have no idea what he was doing. Ace reciprocated as best he could, but it was hard to follow Lister’s movements. Finally, he came up for air, and gently pushed the other man slightly away from him, firmly but reassuringly.
“Look, old chum,” Ace breathed, “we don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to. I can tell your heart’s not in it. There’s no shame in changing your mind.”
Lister looked up at him with wild eyes. “What do you mean?” he asked, trying to catch his breath.
“It’s like this, Skipper; when you’ve had the pleasure of the intimate company of as many people as I’ve had, you get a sense for these things. Is there something you want to get off your chest?” He smiled encouragingly at Lister.
Lister ran his fingers through his hair, and shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know.” Suddenly, he turned back towards Ace, confusion and anger in his voice. “How’s it possible?”
“How’s what possible?”
“You and him, man. You started off as the same person, but look at how you turned out! Ace, you’re a diamond! And Rimmer… Rimmer’s just a lump of coal.” Lister flung himself back on the mattress in frustration, his hands clasped behind his back.
Ace cleared his throat politely, pretending to adjust one of the cuffs on his shirt. “It’s all carbon in the end, Skipper my man,” he said carefully.
“There you go again, defending him, even though you know he’s a smeghead! You’ve seen him, man. He’s nothing.” Lister sighed.
Ace swept a lock of hair away from his face, and gazed thoughtfully at Lister for a moment. “Part of me IS him, Dave.”
“What part; the…”
“The part that makes me human,” Ace interrupted. He paused, straightening his posture. “I should go.”
“Ace man, I’m sorry…” Lister sounded confused.
“I told you; no need to apologize.” He rose, heading for the door. “Just think about what I said, OK?” He gave a faint smile.
Lister watched the door closing, and fumbled with unseeing hands for the cans lager on the floor. Catching one, he downed most of it in a single pull, shaking his head afterwards like a wet cat. He’d offended Ace somehow, but he couldn’t understand how. Crazy, man. This whole thing was crazy. Still, Ace’s words rang in his mind; it’s all carbon in the end.
Eh, what did he know. Ace just hadn’t spent as much time with Rimmer as he had. That was it, that was all it was. Lister fumbled for the second can, and began drinking it, thoughtfully.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}