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reddwarfslash2006-04-23 10:11 pm
kahvi.livejournal.com) wrote in reddwarfslash2006-04-23 10:11 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: Life - L/Koch, R/L (implied)
Title: Life
Pairing: Lister/Kochanski, Rimmer/Lister (implied)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own it not, I make no money from it. "It" being the delightful show that is Red Dwarf.
Spoilers: Better Than Life
Notes: A silly little companion piece to "Beginnings". Written as part of the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fanfic100 challenge - my table is here.
Lister climbed the stairs of the hotel on the beach in Paradise, whistling a song he’d forgotten most of the words to, much less what was called, long ago. So this was ‘Better Than Life,’ eh? Not half bad, not half bad at that. Alright, so he hadn’t been able to enjoy the food. Well, he couldn’t really fault the Cat for getting what he wanted to eat, could he? They were only getting started; there was so much yet to explore. The Cat had suggested going golfing, mostly because it would allow him to change into another outfit, and thus play with his fancy new wardrobe for a few hours. Lister had agreed because the only other time he’d been on a golf-course, there hadn’t actually been much time for playing. The memory made him grin. He liked golf-courses.
His room was exactly as he remembered it, gigantic guitar-shaped bed and all. He threw himself down on the leopard skin coverlet, staring up at the Marilyn Monroe posters stuck to the ceiling. The Cat was dating her now, apparently. He’d seen them sneak off somewhere at least three times already; although the feline seemed to be getting bored with the whole thing already. Lister snuggled down into the waterbed, and turned the vibration on. That was nice and all, but he couldn’t help thinking it’d be nicer if he’d had someone there to share it with. Come to think of it, Rimmer had gotten laid before he had! How was that even possible? How was that better than life; being up-staged by smeghead?
“Hi,” Kristine Kochanski said.
Lister tried to struggle himself upright on the moving surface, but found it was more or less impossible. He settled for draping himself across it in a manner he hoped was at least somewhat sexually appealing. “Hi,” he grinned, nervously.
She was standing by his bedside dressed in a blue, sequined, floor-length dress, tight enough to reveal quite clearly that she wasn’t wearing anything else. Her hair was loose, falling prettily down her gorgeous shoulders. Lister had always wanted to eat those shoulders, lick them silly, with some nibbling for afters. “Enjoying this game yet then?” That implaceable accent always used to drive him wild, but now it just made him more nervous. He picked at the coverlet, tearing loose tiny bits of fake fur.
“Yeah, I am. Yeah.”
She moved closer, placing one shapely knee on the edge of the bed, and leaning forward. Placing a hand on either side of him, she hoisted herself onto the water-filled mattress until she was straddling him, her hands on either side of his head. “Good. I’d like to make you happy, Dave.” She smiled that pinball smile, and Lister’s body started sending urgent messages to his brain. Exciting, thrilling messages.
“Erm… That’s good then.” Why was he always so helpless when it came to Kris? Any other woman he could play like a concertina, but something about Kris turned him into a gibbering idiot.
“Is anything the matter?” she asked, when he made no move whatsoever. “Don’t you like me?”
Like her? Oh smegging hell, like? She was... She was... His mind couldn’t get any further. “’Course I do,” he managed.
“What is it, then?”
His eyes glanced at the ceiling. Marilyn Monroe. Caviar Vindaloo. On-demand admiralty. Anything you want, to order, when you want it. He looked back at Krissie, and smiled. “Yer not real. The real Kris is dead. Yer just a shadow of the memory of her, inside my head, like.”
The Kris-memory shrugged those amazing shoulders. “So what? I’m here now, aren’t I? It’s like having a dream. You dream about me, don’t ya?” He nodded. Hardly a night went by that she didn’t feature in his dreams in one way or another. “Well then, what’s the difference?” She leaned down for a kiss, but he turned his head.
“I dunno. Just feels wrong.”
‘Kristine’ sat up, leaning on his legs. “You can have someone else, if you like. Anyone at all. The game knows, you know.”
Somehow, this made Lister’s spine shiver just a little bit. “It knows who I want?”
“Yeah, and gives ‘em to ya. Like with me.”
Lister considered this. “So why isn’t this place crawling with half-naked women covered in chili-chutney, then?” You got lonely in space. Lister, in particular, got very, very lonely.
She shrugged again, and moved off him easily. “Clearly that’s not what you really want, then. Just like me.”
“Oh, eh!” His body wanted to do things to her, endless, delicious things; but clearly his brain had put in a veto. She laughed. It made him laugh too, because it was just that kind of laugh. It was one of the things he had… He did love about her.
“Goodbye, Dave,” she said, before starting to fade. “And don’t worry… You’ll get what you really want… If you dare admit it to yourself.”
Lister fell back onto the bed, his eyes closed in what felt like agony. Man! What was wrong with him? He punched the mattress, setting off a small tidal wave, which carried him unsteadily over to the other side. What was this all about? What he ‘really wanted’? He wanted sex! It wasn’t smegging complicated; he wanted to have sex until he needed urgent medical attention! He wanted to shag himself completely senseless, and then do it all over again when he came to, then have a short fag break, then do it all over again. How hard was that for a stupid game to be able to grant, eh? Not smegging hard, he should think! With a small groan, he slumped over onto his stomach. Part of him wanted to have a wank, but the other half of him just wanted a clear head. The first half tried to argue that this would invariably result from having a good wank, to which the other half pointed out that he would also be likely to fall asleep, and thus miss his golf-game. Besides, spending time sleeping in an AR-game was beyond pointless. The first half slinked away, sulking, leaving the other half to propel Lister reluctantly towards the bathroom and a very cold shower.
As the freezing cold water hit him, he tried very hard not to think of anything in particular. This place was starting to freak him out just a little. Yeah, it was a laugh, but he didn’t like stuff that messed with his mind. It was difficult not to try to figure out what on Earth Kris had meant though. Lister was terminally curious; if he knew there was something he didn’t fully understand, it ate away at him until he did something about it. What he really wanted… What did he really want, if hour-long sex-marathons weren’t it? Or at least not hour-long sex marathons with Kris? Something deep inside him rang out in warning, telling him to stop thinking about this right this instant. Still, Lister had never been one to listen to what people told him, even if it was himself doing the telling.
He couldn’t think about this.
He had to know!
He couldn’t think about this. More cold water; scrub the need out!
But he had to know, it was so smegging hard not knowing!
Desperately, he though about everything, anything that he knew would never in a million years arouse him. He though about eating his toenails. He thought about the last time he’d been out drinking with Petersen, when the Dane had managed to lock them both in the men’s room while he puked his guts out all over the floor. He thought about the disgusting shade of green in the infirmary where he’d spent long agonizing weeks when his back had been broken. He thought about Rimmer. He thought about…
Oh smeg.
Pairing: Lister/Kochanski, Rimmer/Lister (implied)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own it not, I make no money from it. "It" being the delightful show that is Red Dwarf.
Spoilers: Better Than Life
Notes: A silly little companion piece to "Beginnings". Written as part of the
fanfic100 challenge - my table is here.Lister climbed the stairs of the hotel on the beach in Paradise, whistling a song he’d forgotten most of the words to, much less what was called, long ago. So this was ‘Better Than Life,’ eh? Not half bad, not half bad at that. Alright, so he hadn’t been able to enjoy the food. Well, he couldn’t really fault the Cat for getting what he wanted to eat, could he? They were only getting started; there was so much yet to explore. The Cat had suggested going golfing, mostly because it would allow him to change into another outfit, and thus play with his fancy new wardrobe for a few hours. Lister had agreed because the only other time he’d been on a golf-course, there hadn’t actually been much time for playing. The memory made him grin. He liked golf-courses.
His room was exactly as he remembered it, gigantic guitar-shaped bed and all. He threw himself down on the leopard skin coverlet, staring up at the Marilyn Monroe posters stuck to the ceiling. The Cat was dating her now, apparently. He’d seen them sneak off somewhere at least three times already; although the feline seemed to be getting bored with the whole thing already. Lister snuggled down into the waterbed, and turned the vibration on. That was nice and all, but he couldn’t help thinking it’d be nicer if he’d had someone there to share it with. Come to think of it, Rimmer had gotten laid before he had! How was that even possible? How was that better than life; being up-staged by smeghead?
“Hi,” Kristine Kochanski said.
Lister tried to struggle himself upright on the moving surface, but found it was more or less impossible. He settled for draping himself across it in a manner he hoped was at least somewhat sexually appealing. “Hi,” he grinned, nervously.
She was standing by his bedside dressed in a blue, sequined, floor-length dress, tight enough to reveal quite clearly that she wasn’t wearing anything else. Her hair was loose, falling prettily down her gorgeous shoulders. Lister had always wanted to eat those shoulders, lick them silly, with some nibbling for afters. “Enjoying this game yet then?” That implaceable accent always used to drive him wild, but now it just made him more nervous. He picked at the coverlet, tearing loose tiny bits of fake fur.
“Yeah, I am. Yeah.”
She moved closer, placing one shapely knee on the edge of the bed, and leaning forward. Placing a hand on either side of him, she hoisted herself onto the water-filled mattress until she was straddling him, her hands on either side of his head. “Good. I’d like to make you happy, Dave.” She smiled that pinball smile, and Lister’s body started sending urgent messages to his brain. Exciting, thrilling messages.
“Erm… That’s good then.” Why was he always so helpless when it came to Kris? Any other woman he could play like a concertina, but something about Kris turned him into a gibbering idiot.
“Is anything the matter?” she asked, when he made no move whatsoever. “Don’t you like me?”
Like her? Oh smegging hell, like? She was... She was... His mind couldn’t get any further. “’Course I do,” he managed.
“What is it, then?”
His eyes glanced at the ceiling. Marilyn Monroe. Caviar Vindaloo. On-demand admiralty. Anything you want, to order, when you want it. He looked back at Krissie, and smiled. “Yer not real. The real Kris is dead. Yer just a shadow of the memory of her, inside my head, like.”
The Kris-memory shrugged those amazing shoulders. “So what? I’m here now, aren’t I? It’s like having a dream. You dream about me, don’t ya?” He nodded. Hardly a night went by that she didn’t feature in his dreams in one way or another. “Well then, what’s the difference?” She leaned down for a kiss, but he turned his head.
“I dunno. Just feels wrong.”
‘Kristine’ sat up, leaning on his legs. “You can have someone else, if you like. Anyone at all. The game knows, you know.”
Somehow, this made Lister’s spine shiver just a little bit. “It knows who I want?”
“Yeah, and gives ‘em to ya. Like with me.”
Lister considered this. “So why isn’t this place crawling with half-naked women covered in chili-chutney, then?” You got lonely in space. Lister, in particular, got very, very lonely.
She shrugged again, and moved off him easily. “Clearly that’s not what you really want, then. Just like me.”
“Oh, eh!” His body wanted to do things to her, endless, delicious things; but clearly his brain had put in a veto. She laughed. It made him laugh too, because it was just that kind of laugh. It was one of the things he had… He did love about her.
“Goodbye, Dave,” she said, before starting to fade. “And don’t worry… You’ll get what you really want… If you dare admit it to yourself.”
Lister fell back onto the bed, his eyes closed in what felt like agony. Man! What was wrong with him? He punched the mattress, setting off a small tidal wave, which carried him unsteadily over to the other side. What was this all about? What he ‘really wanted’? He wanted sex! It wasn’t smegging complicated; he wanted to have sex until he needed urgent medical attention! He wanted to shag himself completely senseless, and then do it all over again when he came to, then have a short fag break, then do it all over again. How hard was that for a stupid game to be able to grant, eh? Not smegging hard, he should think! With a small groan, he slumped over onto his stomach. Part of him wanted to have a wank, but the other half of him just wanted a clear head. The first half tried to argue that this would invariably result from having a good wank, to which the other half pointed out that he would also be likely to fall asleep, and thus miss his golf-game. Besides, spending time sleeping in an AR-game was beyond pointless. The first half slinked away, sulking, leaving the other half to propel Lister reluctantly towards the bathroom and a very cold shower.
As the freezing cold water hit him, he tried very hard not to think of anything in particular. This place was starting to freak him out just a little. Yeah, it was a laugh, but he didn’t like stuff that messed with his mind. It was difficult not to try to figure out what on Earth Kris had meant though. Lister was terminally curious; if he knew there was something he didn’t fully understand, it ate away at him until he did something about it. What he really wanted… What did he really want, if hour-long sex-marathons weren’t it? Or at least not hour-long sex marathons with Kris? Something deep inside him rang out in warning, telling him to stop thinking about this right this instant. Still, Lister had never been one to listen to what people told him, even if it was himself doing the telling.
He couldn’t think about this.
He had to know!
He couldn’t think about this. More cold water; scrub the need out!
But he had to know, it was so smegging hard not knowing!
Desperately, he though about everything, anything that he knew would never in a million years arouse him. He though about eating his toenails. He thought about the last time he’d been out drinking with Petersen, when the Dane had managed to lock them both in the men’s room while he puked his guts out all over the floor. He thought about the disgusting shade of green in the infirmary where he’d spent long agonizing weeks when his back had been broken. He thought about Rimmer. He thought about…
Oh smeg.
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Glad you enjoyed it. :D