Fic - Lister's other dad

[felineranger.livejournal.com]

In response to Saylee's delightful fluff, I went the other way and wrote some angst.  Sorry.

        

Dad had come to visit. Rimmer spotted the signs as soon as he entered the sleeping quarters – the empty glasses crowding the table top, the message alert blinking steadily on the viewscreen, and the now almost empty bottle still clutched tightly in Lister’s hand as he stumbled around the room. “Look at the state of this place,” Lister was grumbling incoherently, scooping up dirty clothes, magazines and any other carelessly discarded items he could find, “It’s a smegging pigsty.” He staggered over to the far wall, dropping approximately half of the collection on his way, and began trying to pile it all into the already overstuffed locker. His haphazard approach and the fact that there was very little room for anything else meant most of it immediately tumbled back out onto the floor. Lister cursed and whisky dribbled forlornly out of the bottle as he bent to retrieve the fallen items. “That boy,” he slurred disapprovingly, “Never cleans up after himself.” He resumed trying to cram the junk into the locker in vain.

           Rimmer sighed deeply. “No,” he agreed and went over to help Lister force the locker closed. The contents would spill out again the moment it was opened, but that was a problem for another day. “Come on,” Rimmer coaxed, taking the bottle from Lister’s hand and putting it aside, “It’s late. Kryten will clean up the rest, you know he will.”

“That is not the point,” Lister said, enunciating each word slowly and carefully, as if checking each one was correct before speaking. He tottered over to the table and started to gather up the empty food cartons, “He’s got to learn. He’s got to start shaping up. Looking after himself.”

“Yes. Yes, he does,” Rimmer replied wearily, “But you need to go to bed now.” He steered Lister towards the bunk and started to help him out of his jacket and boots.

           This was happening more and more often. What had started out as an annual tradition was becoming more of a monthly occurrence, sometimes more. “What am I going to do with him?” Lister continued morosely, “I mean, it’s not like he’s not smart. That kid could go places if he put his mind to it.”

“What places?” Rimmer asked irritably, “There’s hardly a wealth of opportunities to be had out here.”

“He’s just so smegging lazy,” Lister continued, as if Rimmer hadn’t spoken, “And stubborn. He never does anything I tell him.”

“I wonder where he gets that from?” Rimmer remarked pointedly.

“I just want what’s best for him, that’s all.” The sadness in Lister’s voice made Rimmer soften a little. “I know,” he said more gently. He eased Lister down into the bottom bunk and sat down next to him, “So do I.” He bent over and kissed Lister’s forehead, then slowly set about removing the rest of his clothes.

           The first time this had happened, Rimmer had put Lister to bed with every intention of leaving him to sleep off the booze, but as he’d stood up to leave, he’d felt a hand close around his and hold on tight. He’d looked down in surprise and found Lister staring up at him, pleading silently for something that Rimmer couldn’t identify. “What’s wrong?” he’d asked brusquely.

“I can’t do this,” Lister had whispered and his eyes had started to fill up with tears.

“Can’t do what?”

“I can’t do this by myself. I need your help. He needs your help.”

“He,” Rimmer had replied bitterly, playing along with the ridiculous charade for the sake of it, “Has never listened to anything I have to say.”

“But if we work together,” Lister tugged him down onto the edge of the bunk, “Maybe he will.”

“When have we ever managed to work together on anything?” Rimmer asked, exasperated.

“Maybe it’s time we tried it,” Lister replied earnestly, “He needs us. And I need you. I can’t do this alone. And I don’t want to. I don’t want to be alone anymore.” He tentatively pulled Rimmer closer. Rimmer’s heart did a strange dance inside his chest and he gulped hard.
“Lister,” he asked quietly, “What are you saying?”

Lister’s response had not been in words.

           The next morning, when Lister had finally awoken, all memory of the previous evening had clearly been obliterated. Rimmer, who deep down had been expecting as much, said nothing. But the next time Dad had dropped by, it had become clear that he remembered very well, and he was in this relationship for the long-haul.

           Now, as Rimmer entered him, rocked against him, felt him gasp breathlessly against his shoulder again and again, he wondered if there had ever been a relationship this screwed up in the whole history of time. Lister wrapped his legs around Rimmer’s waist and squeezed him tight, and Rimmer decided he didn’t care. “I love you,” Lister panted softly.

“I love you too,” Rimmer murmured into the top of his head.

“Take care of him. Take care of him for me.”

“You know I will.”

“Help him find Krissie,” Lister whispered breathlessly, running his fingers through Rimmer’s hair, “Help him find what we have.” Rimmer closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, but carried on. “Yes. Okay.”

“I’m so glad I’ve got you,” Lister told him tenderly, right before he came in Rimmer’s arms.

           The next day, when Lister finally emerged from under the blanket, he was immediately confronted by the sight of Rimmer standing over him with folded arms. “What time do you call this, miladdo?”

“Gimme a break,” Lister croaked, sitting up, “I must have been on a right bender last night, man. I don’t remember a thing.”

“Well, that’s just typical. You might at least have the decency not to end your revolting, self-indulgent, drinking binges by passing out in my bunk. Stark naked, none the less!” Lister pulled the blankets around himself sheepishly.

“Sorry, man.” He caught a glimpse of the blinking message alert and groaned pitifully. “Oh, not again! Ugh, what’s the old codger got to say for himself this time? I bet this is because I never finished that robotics reading he set me.”

“He’s wasting his time,” Rimmer remarked, “And so are you. You’ll never pass that exam. And even if you did, what would it accomplish? It’s a bit late for a career change, Listy. You’re nothing but a filthy space-bum and you always will be.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Lister grumbled, “Get out of here, will you? I’ve got no clothes on.”

“It’s a bit late for modesty too,” Rimmer snarked as he headed for the door, “I’ve seen it all before. Now get up and have a shower, for heaven’s sake. You’re a disgrace!”

           He shakes his head in disgust as he walks out into the corridor but, despite appearances, his disgust isn’t really aimed at Lister. He’s disgusted with himself. These mornings always make him feel more wretched, more depressed, than anything that’s gone before. Because Rimmer knows that he has failed.

           Lister is not sane anymore. Lister is not even sober. And Rimmer knows that when he catches Lister trying to revise later, in atonement for last night’s sins, he will distract him, ridicule him, discourage him. He knows that before long Dad’s little pep talk will wear off and Lister will start to get that look again - that sad, despondent, hopeless look - and when that happens, Rimmer will ensure that there is a fresh bottle of whisky in the cupboard. Because Lister may be a schizophrenic alcoholic but, so long as he remains that way, Rimmer has something he’s never had before in life or death. Rimmer has a partner who loves him. He has an immature layabout of a son who needs him. He has a family. And Rimmer can’t give that up, because he doesn’t want to be alone anymore either.

Comments

[derien.livejournal.com]

It is dark. But rather believable.

[saylee.livejournal.com]

Oh, that's sad and dark and plausible! The poor, poor guys. Well done.

[bayliss.livejournal.com]

This is heartbreaking, but oh so believable.

[missflibble.livejournal.com]

In a strange twist of logic that can only exist in this fandom, this makes complete and utter sense.

[sallycandance.livejournal.com]

Yes, go on, go ahead, tear my heart out and step on it, will ya, do a little dance on it and sing the Pina Colada Song, well done, full marks for making me choke and angst in my little corner.

But seriously, well done. I love the twisted logic that completely works for this scenario. I will save this story for ever on my harddrive.

[veronica-rich.livejournal.com]

Oh, that is so smegged up. Awesome.

[kronette.livejournal.com]

*mouth hangs open in astonishment* Wow. Just, wow. That is seriously messed up, but it fits so well into the disfunction of Rimmer and Lister.

[janamelie.livejournal.com]

It's scary how plausible this is. Disturbing but excellent. :)

[kathie-d.livejournal.com]

This is exactly the kind of messed up smeg that goes on aboard the Red Dwarf. So hang on, Lister's boyfriend is his other Dad although he doesn't know about it, and his boyfriend/Dad made a promise to him/his Dad to try and help him get back together with his Mum?

My brain, it hurts.