#I know three of these are Smeg Ups | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kochanski · 1 year ago

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Study Buddy

Rimmer/Lister, rated E, no content warnings apply. Pre-accident fic. Rimmer is trying to study for his astro-navigation exams. Lister decides to distract him. (This is a repost so you can read while AO3 is down/for further archival purposes.)

"I haven't even said anything yet!" What a way to walk in the door on a Saturday morning. Lister only had a few hours to crash and recover from last night's drunken tomfoolery so he'd be prepared for tonight's drunken tomfoolery, and his roommate had carpeted the bunkroom in a colorful patchwork of neon squares. "What's all this?"

"Forget it, Lister."

"You know what they are," Rimmer hissed from the eye of the storm. "They're my revision timetables, and I was trying to organize them before you bungled into the room and destroyed an entire seven percent of all my hard work!"

Lister looked down. He'd stepped on one of the hundreds of papers Rimmer had strewn about the place.

"I thought you just failed the last exam. Don't you have months before you can retake it?"

"Exactly! I only have five months, twenty-eight days and three hours, so I have to organize my study time effectively or I'll never pass."

"Or," Lister offered, hesitant to even bring it up, "you could come out with me tonight. Me and the guys. Blow off some steam, y'know, maybe even take Kochanski's advice to heart and get laid."

"By who?" Rimmer snorted, gesturing at himself. "You've said it yourself- I have a snowball's chance of finding someone who'll put up with this."

"C'mon, man, you're not bad-looking. Just put on a short-sleeved shirt and keep your mouth shut."

"No thank you," Rimmer said. "Despite your best efforts to undermine me, Lister, I actually happen to have life goals that don't involve notches in my bedpost or setting the record for how many peanuts I can stick up my nose."

"I dunno, I think you could beat me at that second one by a long shot," Lister snickered, but he started towards his bunk, trying to tiptoe between the mess of paper and highlighters with little success. "You could do a lot of things if you just took a break from endless revisions and locking yourself in stasis."

"Forget it, Lister," he repeated. "Nothing you say or do can distract me. Go to bed."

Lister paused mid-tiptoe.

"Nothing?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"So anything I do, you're just going to keep on drawing squares with those stupid markers?"

"Yes!" He crossed his arms, nostrils flaring. "What don't you get about the concept? I am mentally shutting out everything and everyone that isn't a revision timetable, because I have to get this done today."

"Alright," Lister smirked, and he kicked up a cloud of pink and yellow on his way to grab his guitar.

"Very mature," Rimmer retorted, picking up the lime green and trying his best to ignore the situation.

Lister sat on Rimmer's thin mattress and twisted the knobs on the top bit of the guitar until the strings were as discordant from one another as he could make them. Rimmer wouldn't be able to tell the difference- he thought everything Lister played was trash- but might as well go the whole hog, anyway, right?

"Met me a girl, straight from Mars, and she spent all my money and broke my heart," Lister sang, savoring every last little crack in Rimmer's concentration. "Then I got me a date with a bird from Jupiter, yeah, fools rush in but I was stupider-"

It wasn't working nearly as well as he'd expected it would, though. Rimmer barely winced when he sang the verse about the bloke from Venus.

"Are you done?" he asked impassively when the song was over. "I'd like to put on some Tchaikovsky to cleanse my palette now, if you don't mind."

"What the smeg is a chai cough ski? A sport you do when you're sick in the Himalayas? D'you chug a cup of tea and try to keep it down while you're slalom-ing between the trees?" He mimed holding a pair of ski sticks and waggled his feet.

"For-get it, Lister," Rimmer said a third time, standing up and starting to walk to the locker where he kept his record collection. "I'm not dignifying your pathetic attempt at a joke with a response."

"You already have responded, though," Lister said, still unsure what exactly Rimmer had said. "I've won."

Rimmer paled and stopped in his tracks. Then, slowly, without disturbing his pile of highlighters, he silently sat back down and began furiously coloring in another of his squares.

"What? You're gonna just ignore me, then?"

No response.

"C'mon, Rimmer, I was just trying to loosen you up. You don't have to give me the silent treatment."

Nothing.

Well, Lister couldn't have that. He tossed the guitar up top and got down on the floor, peering over Rimmer's shoulder. Yeah, maybe invading his space was low-hanging fruit, but Lister'd always had stubby arms.

"Two hours for reviewing spherical trigonometry? You think that's enough?"

"Brush your teeth if you're going to talk directly into my ear," Rimmer said, but he shivered a little.

Hmm.

No, this was a horrible idea. And Lister was still clearly a bit buzzed if he was even considering it, and it seemed a bit on the cruel side as far as pranks went.

But Rimmer had said nothing would distract him. And that Lister could do absolutely anything.

"I thought you weren't s'posed to pay me any attention?" he murmured in a low voice, moving closer, so that he was sure his breath hit Rimmer's ear and neck.

"I'm not. I'm- I'm simply thinking aloud. To myself." His ears were red. "It just happens that I think you reek of watered-down beer."

"Well, you smell good, at least," Lister continued, leaning in to press his nose into Rimmer's hair. "You always smell kind of like laundry." It was a totally awkward attempt at flirting, horrible, but he was tired beyond belief. Lister's last good brain cells had gone on strike, and he was left with whatever half-witted scabs the boss had dragged up to do the job.

Not that it mattered to good old Arnie. He'd actually stopped coloring for a second, the ever-turning cogs in his head grinding to a violent halt. He leaned forward, brushing Lister away, and started scribbling like a madman.

"This is a losing game you're playing. All you're doing is making yourself look stupid and desperate. Time is of the essence, and I absolutely won't get mixed up in whatever slime-brained ideas you have about my sexuality."

"Hang on, who said anything about sexuality?" Lister grinned. "I just said you smelled nice, and then I smelled you."

"Ah, I'd forgotten, you and your Neanderthal friends think this type of behavior is normal. You all smell each other's crotches and pick fleas off one another in lieu of a hello or a handshake."

"Still just thinkin' aloud? 'Cause it sounds like you're having a conversation with me now."

"Troglodyte," Rimmer spat, and nearly put a hole in the paper with the pink highlighter.

Lister touched his back, lightly, just fingertips, and Rimmer flinched for a second but tried not to react.

"C'mon, Rimmer, relax. It's a Saturday. Saturdays are meant for lazing about and recoverin' from the long work week, not for stressing yourself out over a stupid exam that's six months from now."

Rimmer really looked like he wanted to correct Lister that it was five months and however many days and hours, but his mouth stayed shut. It was almost a shame, because normally Lister couldn't get him to be quiet for five minutes on a good day.

Lister moved his hand across Rimmer's back in soft strokes. His nose and mouth nuzzled into the corner where Rimmer's left shoulder met his neck. He could feel the skin get hotter, feel that Rimmer had forgotten how to think for a moment, the annoying marker-on-paper noise stopping entirely.

"Lister," he gasped, before remembering himself. "I- Lister! Look what you've done! Six o'clock on the fourteenth was supposed to be blue, and you've gone and made me fill it in with orange."

"Come on, Rimmer, just leave it."

"Can't you just go to bed and leave me to my misery like you normally do? Why torment me like this? Why today, of all days, when I'm doing something this important?" He sounded actually exasperated, somewhere between whining and pleading, and Lister might or might not have felt a tiny pang of guilt.

"Someone has to save you from yourself. Besides, if I went to sleep in here you'd either wake me up 'cause I was snorin' too loud, or I'd end up covered in timetable when you ran out of room on the floor." Lister wrapped his arms around Rimmer's waist from behind, leaning forward. "Just admit I've won, put the markers away, an' I'll quit bothering you. We can chalk the whole thing up to me being drunk, never speak of it again."

"No."

"No?"

Rimmer set down the highlighter and pulled Lister's arms apart, turning around to face him with this strangely calm look on his face. It was the same kind of weird serenity that usually happened right before he was about to do something insane, and Lister's stomach wrapped itself in knots.

"Lister, do you know what time it is?"

"What time is it?"

"One-thirty in the afternoon," Rimmer said in a monotone, "and according to schedule, I should have finished the timetables by one. Perhaps a few minutes I could have made up here and there, but half an hour?"

"So…"

"So I'm going to have to re-do all of it. All five months and twenty-eight days and so on. I'll have to write it all out and reschedule everything. Every last bit. And you-" Rimmer reached forward, grabbing Lister by the collar. "Help me," he choked, and it was more of a plea than the command he'd probably intended.

So Lister helped him.

He pressed his mouth squarely against Rimmer's, half-surprised when there was no resistance- but, yeah, no, Rimmer'd probably been relieved for an excuse to quit making himself miserable.

Rimmer had no clue how to kiss back, but his fist tightened around the fabric of Lister's shirt, yanking him closer, and that was good as anything. Lister broke the kiss, moving his hands up to cup Rimmer's face.

"Open your mouth," he said gently, and Rimmer opened it wide like he was at his annual checkup. "Alright, don't unhinge your jaw. Just-" He grabbed Rimmer's chin with his finger and thumb, moving his jaw upward until they were both properly positioned. It felt sort of like a movie kiss, like one of those black-and-whites, and he tried to channel Cary Grant as best he could as he pressed their lips together. He wanted this to be as perfect as possible, he thought, without really thinking about why he was doing any of it.

As Lister pushed his way into Rimmer's mouth, he was met with this little whiny sort of noise. God, he hadn't expected this to be so hot, but it was- Rimmer's whimpering in this context set all his nerve endings on fire. He stroked the side of Rimmer's face, slow, keeping rhythm. The kiss was the same way- Lister would lurch forward a bit, then pull back, scraping his teeth against Rimmer's bottom lip on his way out. If nothing else, he'd never been told he was a bad kisser. He only pulled away completely when he realized Rimmer wasn't breathing.

"You-" Rimmer panted, red-faced, letting go of Lister's shirt. He'd stretched out the neck of it beyond repair. "That isn't at all what I meant by helping."

"Well, I'm not about to spend the next ten hours doing the color-by-number from hell." Lister let his hands fall to Rimmer's shoulders. "I can think of better things to do, eh?"

"If you're asking my permission to- to have your way with me, I'm not going to just say it."

"Why not? What's the worst that can happen?"

"You're drunk."

"More hungover than anything," Lister argued, "and exhausted."

"Well, exactly. You're not in your right mind, as proven by the way you just forced yourself on me, so it's better if this doesn't go any further."

"Now hang on, that's not fair. We were both having a good time-"

"Having a good time. You thought that was good?"

"Wait, are you saying it wasn't good?"

"No, I mean- you thought it was good, you kissing me? That it was something you actually liked?"

"I don't know how to explain this, Rimmer, but you're not a hideous beast. Somebody might actually fancy you someday if you'd just let them."

"So this wasn't just a prank. You… meant to do this."

"It is a prank, but I also liked it. Smeg, it can be that simple." Lister slid his hands down from Rimmer's shoulders to his chest. "Come on. Give me a real reason we shouldn't."

"It's difficult to switch bunkroom assignments. As you well know."

"Why's that a problem?"

"Well, afterward, when you regret it, and you can't get rid of me." Rimmer said it without hesitation, in his same prim tone of disdain, like it was fact. Like it was some holy scripture somebody had carved on a rock ten thousand years ago, or some kind of scientific law everyone had memorized by primary school. E equals em cee squared. Nobody will ever like Arnold Rimmer enough to shag him twice.

It was depressing, was what it was.

"Look," Lister started, uncertain. This had all been completely impulse up to this point, and he hadn't come prepared to give Rimmer a pep talk. "We've been stuck together hating each other's guts for the better part of two years, right? What if we just tried something different for a bit?"

"Oh, like what? You can't expect me to believe you're actually, genuinely proposing-" He paled. "You are, aren't you."

"So?"

"You're just doing this because Kochanski dumped you, and she was the last woman on this ship with the unfortunate lack of self-respect to sleep with you sober."

"I dunno, you're sober, and you seemed pretty happy to have my tongue halfway down your throat a minute ago, didn't you?"

"You- I- well, who can have self-respect when they've gone and ruined their one chance at acing the exam? Anyone would feel depressed after that. You're the one taking advantage."

"Right, fine, then, I give up. I'm going to bed." Lister let go of Rimmer.

"Don't do that," he protested. "I haven't properly rejected you yet."

"Well, hurry up and pull the trigger. The bars open at four, so I only really have about two hours of good sleep before Petersen calls me up again."

"Alright, I will."

"Great," Lister said, shaking his head and pushing himself up into a squat, but in the next instant Rimmer had him flat against the floor, paper rustling beneath them. "Oh," he grinned.

"Don't say a single word."

"S'that an order?"

"I… maybe it is."

"You know I don't follow those."

"What if I make you?"

"Make me?" Lister echoed, delighted. Smeg, Rimmer was going to boss him around. How far could he push this? "You can't make me do anything. You're the second-to-last rung on the ladder."

"I'm the second technician," Rimmer insisted, "which means you're beneath me both literally and figuratively. You're a worm," he continued, moving his hands up Lister's chest, "and you should be grovelling at my feet, begging for your life like the insect you are."

He was good at this. Or maybe he earnestly believed it. Either way, whatever retort Lister had died in his throat and he nodded.

"Glad we finally understand each other." Rimmer took a deep breath, clearly trying to summon something. Courage, maybe. Or he was trying to ward off his disgust. "Er- what do I do next?"

Lister shrugged- not a single word, right- and pointed at his mouth.

"Not that again- not until you've brushed your teeth," Rimmer complained. "Somewhere else."

Lister pointed downwards.

"Oh, shut up," Rimmer said, grabbing his hands. "I'll figure it out."

He leaned forward, pushing Lister's chin back until it pointed towards the ceiling. He peppered soft kisses over Lister's neck, if you could call them that. They were less kisses and more Rimmer clumsily smushing his mouth and nose against Lister's skin, but it wasn't bad. Actually, it felt sort of nice, having Rimmer's full concentration leveled at him in a way that didn't involve yelling or a trip to the captain's office. He let out a sigh of contentment.

"You like that?"

Lister nodded.

"Can I…" Rimmer toyed with the too-loose neck of his poor ruined T-shirt. "I want this off," he said, quieter with each syllable.

Lister grinned, pushing Rimmer into an upright position. He shimmied out of his jacket with some difficulty, pulling his shirt up over his head and flinging it vaguely towards the hamper.

"Better," Rimmer said. "You're so eager to follow orders, now that you think you're getting something out of it. It's frankly disgusting."

"Yeah? You want me to start disobeying?"

"No. I'm just saying, think of all the time and effort we could have saved if you'd have listened to me from the start." His hands started exploring, and Lister's skin prickled everywhere his fingers touched. They were a lot softer than he'd expected, although it made sense. Rimmer never did any of the actual work, when would he have developed callouses? "Imagine. If I'd offered to have sex with you years ago, we could have been so efficient together. Why, we'd have rocketed straight to the top of the ladder."

"You think so? That's what was holdin' you back so long, not havin' proper access to my cock?"

"I-" Rimmer froze. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"I mean, I agree. Maybe if I'd been reamin' you every night, you'd be relaxed enough to score higher than a seven on your exams."

"This is why I wanted you to stay quiet," Rimmer said, and he leaned forward and pressed a shaky kiss to Lister's mouth. His hands didn't stop, cupping and squeezing Lister's chest like they were the best pair of knockers he'd ever felt up- probably true- and grazing his thumbs over both nipples. Lister squirmed.

"Feels weird."

"Isn't this what you're supposed to do?"

"Yeah, with girls. Nobody's done this on my tits before."

"Well, is it good weird or bad weird?"

"I can't tell." It felt vaguely uncomfortable, like when you hit the wrong spot digging lint out of your belly button, but on the other hand, that electric tingle seemed to feed right into the warm arousal happening in his groin.

Rimmer scooted down and kissed one of his nipples, the dirty bastard, opened his mouth and licked it, and Lister made up his mind very quickly that this was a thing he liked.

"Keep doing that," he breathed. Rimmer's tongue was hot, and when he moved to the other side Lister could feel cold air on the wet spot he'd left. His hips moved upwards of their own volition into Rimmer's stomach. "God, Rimmer, yes. Just like that."

"Keep still," Rimmer complained, grabbing Lister's hips, and of course that didn't help things. "If you keep fidgeting I'm not going to be able to concentrate on what I'm doing."

"I'm fidgeting because you're doing a good job."

"Well, I'm hardly going to be able to keep up my stellar performance if you squirm like that," he continued, clearly not getting it. "Just lay still."

"Rimmer, I'm not going to be able to lay completely still. I'm not Rachel."

"You- how do you know about Rachel?"

"C'mon, man, you're not subtle. I always have to keep an ear out for squeaking before I come in the door." Lister shook his head. "I'm the real thing, alright, I'm gonna move and react, and it's a good thing. Means you're driving me up the wall."

"I am?"

"Yeah," Lister said, dropping into a softer, huskier tone. "I want it bad, Rimmer. I want you."

"You want me," he repeated, skeptical, but his face was going pink again. "Are you- er- clean?"

"C'mon, you know they screen us constantly for that sort of thing."

"I meant physically clean, Lister, you idiot. I'm not going to take off these trousers if it means chemical warfare."

"I just showered yesterday morning," he protested. "You were there."

"Yesterday morning was before a night of debauchery and drinking."

"If you're going to be annoying about it, I'll make do with over-the-clothes, alright?"

"No," Rimmer said firmly. "I've already completely debased myself, there's no point in doing things halfway now."

"Look, do whatever's comfortable, not what you think you have to." Lister reached up, stroking the spot where Rimmer's jaw met his neck. "We're here to have ourselves a good time, and you don't have anything to prove, right?"

"I'd say there's a lot to prove, actually-"

"Rimmer. Turn your brain off. I want you and I like what you're doing."

Maybe being blunt did the trick, because he seemed to relax a bit.

"Alright. You first, and then me. Sound good?"

"Yeah, stellar."

"Lights off," Rimmer said, then fumbled in the dark with the fly of Lister's trousers. "Smeg."

"I've got it." Lister reached down and unzipped. He took Rimmer's hand, gently, and placed it over his crotch. Maybe there was something to the whole blindness-enhancing-your-senses thing, because he swore he could hear every minor change in Rimmer's breathing. He was either incredibly anxious or really aroused, judging by the way his breath hitched. Could be both.

"Lister," he started, hesitant. "How… I mean, obviously you just- how do I-"

"Move your hand up and down," Lister sighed. "Just pretend it's yours."

"Right, but if I can't feel it, how am I supposed to know if it's too rough? What if I… break it?"

"Break it?" Lister didn't know whether to laugh or zip his pants back up immediately. "How smegging hard's your death grip, man?"

"No, I mean, how do I know if I'm doing it right?"

"Well, if I'm not screamin' at you to stop, you're probably on the right track, yeah? I'm easy to please."

"Emphasis on easy," Rimmer retorted, and Lister was about to say something back, but Rimmer was peeling back his underwear.

He tested the waters, gingerly wrapping his fingers around Lister's shaft and applying light pressure. Then squeezed gently. Then a little tighter.

"That's good," Lister said. "Right there."

"It's wet," Rimmer complained. "You're over-excited already, aren't you?" He moved his hand slowly from base to tip and back, once, twice, three times, achingly slow. "You like this."

"Yeah, I do. I do," Lister repeated, grinding his hips up against Rimmer's fist. Any extra friction, anything to get him to pick up the pace. Lister's temperature was rising, unbearably warm, and his few remaining brain cells had all but melted away by this point. The only thought he could keep in his mind for more than a second was that Rimmer- his Rimmer, his annoying bunkmate, total straight-laced prick, had him lying naked on the floor arching his back.

"Tell me… tell me you like me," Rimmer tried, voice a little softer.

"I like you," Lister babbled. "I like you so much. God, you're so weirdly sexy, I honestly didn't think I'd be this desperate, but you're just so-" Kissing. Rimmer was kissing him all of a sudden, sloppy, just kind of wriggling his tongue around in there- but it was good, even if Rimmer didn't know what he was doing in the slightest. He sucked Rimmer's tongue and was rewarded with another one of those shaky, whiny noises. Too bad the lights were off- he would have thrown away half his salary to see the look on Rimmer's face then they pulled apart.

"I'm- I'm going to try something, and you can't laugh at me if it goes sideways." His voice was a little more determined. Clearly, he'd gained confidence somehow.

"Yeah, I'm game. Anything you want."

A bit of shuffling as Rimmer repositioned himself between Lister's legs.

He hadn't really expected much of anything, certainly nothing shocking- maybe Rimmer was going to use his left hand instead of his right- but oh, oh, all of a sudden his cock was in Rimmer's mouth.

A wave of pleasure rolled through him. Rimmer's whole tongue-waggling technique was a hell of a lot more effective brushing rhythmically against his head. "Ahh- just- just watch your teeth, alright?"

"Mmph."

"Finally found a way to shut you up," Lister laughed, and that stopped Rimmer dead in his tracks.

"If I recall, this started because you wanted me to talk to you." He could picture the furrowed brow, the annoyed frown, maybe softened with a hint of fondness. Wishful thinking.

"I just wanted your attention," Lister admitted. "I like when you pay attention to me, Arn."

"You- I- shut up and let me do this," Rimmer snapped, clearly flustered. Ah- he'd hit some sort of nerve.

"I mean it," he struggled, trying to find coherent words in the tangled state of sensation his brain was in. Rimmer was licking up the length of him, exploring at his leisure, and Lister only half-managed to suppress a groan when he found a ridge on the underside to rub against. "Mmn- you're so good at this- driving me mad-"

Rimmer put him back in his mouth, sucking tight around his cock, and- his hips jerked forward- with a jolt of molten, white-hot energy, he felt himself tumble over the edge. Smeg. He'd meant to say something before shooting a load into Rimmer's mouth, but-

"Lister?!" Rimmer sounded horrified.

"Sorry, man, I wasn't- I didn't expect to-"

"I swallowed it."

"You what?"

"It wasn't on purpose! What do I do, I mean- should I try to make myself throw up, or-"

"It's not poison."

"Well, I don't imagine it's good for you, either!" A pause. "And it won't- well, of course it wouldn't- I don't have the parts…"

"You're not gonna get pregnant, you prat!" He couldn't help laughing. "What sort of sex education do they have on Io?"

"Not the same-sex kind," Rimmer mumbled, hurt. Lister sighed and leaned forward into the dark, a scrap of timetable stuck to his upper back. He found Rimmer's shoulders, then the collar of his shirt, and finally his jaw, pressing an earnest kiss against Rimmer's lips.

"It's alright. Promise I'll pay the child support."

"That's disgusting. You know what's just been in my mouth."

"So? Maybe I like it." Lister pulled his underwear back up and shifted into a more comfortable position, leaning against the bottom bunk. "Anyway, we agreed on taking turns. Come on. You're next."

"That's hardly necessary. Really. I think I've gone through my phase, I've had my experience, and I'm done."

"If you really mean that, then I'll go on and get me clothes back on, but… so far, you've been kind of shit at telling me what you really want. I mean, you accuse me of coming onto you and then jump my bones the next second."

"Well," Rimmer said, cautiously, "what if you just… held me while I did it?"

"Alright." He reached out again, swinging Rimmer's legs over his lap. Like this, Rimmer could lean against his shoulder- did, actually, and his cheek was red-hot. Lister smiled and wrapped his arms around Rimmer's waist, tight. "Feeling cozy enough?"

"Cozy." Rimmer scoffed. "Sure. Chocolate and marshmallows next to a roaring fire."

"Can I kiss you during, or is this a totally hands-off sort of thing?"

"Again, I have your… your sperm in my mouth."

"Can't be worse than what I had for breakfast."

"Fine, then." Rimmer lifted his head. "If you- if you really want to, I suppose you can kiss me."

"Brutal," Lister grinned, finding Rimmer's lips and nipping at the bottom one with his teeth. Rimmer seemed to like being bitten, the way he dug his fingernails into Lister's arm, squirmed. This was probably a first for him, right? Lister pulled away, nuzzling Rimmer's cheek, and worked his way back until he could get Rimmer's earlobe gently between his teeth.

"Lister, are you trying to eat me?" His tone was half-incredulous, but strained, and he'd dug his nails in again.

"Yeah, guess I am." Lister grabbed Rimmer by the jaw, tilting his head so that he could get at the skin of his neck.

"That…" The argument died in Rimmer's throat, replaced by a soft, meek "okay."

Rimmer still smelled good, like pressed laundry, like aftershave, though the room around them was starting to smell of sex. His skin was way softer than it had any right to be- probably the regular bathing, the constant exercise, the annoying bottles of moisturizing such-and-such that crowded his locker. Lister bit down a little harder. Maybe it felt better than it should have, ruining Rimmer's stupid perfect skin. Maybe he'd leave a mark, right above the collar, annoyingly hard to cover up without being obvious about it.

"Lister," Rimmer groaned, one hand digging into Lister's back. The other had started to move back and forth, slowly, and Lister realized with a twinge of arousal that he was feeling himself up through his pants. Smeg.

"Such a hypocrite," he murmured against Rimmer's neck. "You keep callin' me disgusting and easy and everything, but I bet you won't last more than a minute if I keep this up."

"That's beside the point," Rimmer argued.

"Which point? The part where you gave me a handjob, or the one where you sucked me off?"

"Lister-" His tone was angry, but his hand was moving faster.

"I mean it. You're a total whore, I mean, now that you finally have someone to mess around with. You've been dying for a chance to do this, haven't you? You been rubbing one out, thinking about how good my cock would feel in your mouth?"

"Yes," Rimmer choked. "God, I- there's no excuse- I just wanted-"

"It's okay," Lister said, moving the hand that wasn't supporting Rimmer down his chest. If they had time, he would have unbuttoned the ugly beige uniform, slipped his hand under the tight white cotton shirt he knew was underneath. Maybe switched the light back on so he could have a proper look. But Rimmer was probably pretty close, judging by the way he was whimpering. "You deserve this. You needed this. And I liked giving it to you. You're so handsome, Rimmer, and you're such a good lay, really," he continued. "You're so good at this. Even this- if I had a round two in me, Rimmer, be on my knees begging you for it, I swear."

"Please," Rimmer whined, probably only having processed the word begging. "Please, Lister, please?"

"Alright," Lister shrugged, and he caught Rimmer's skin between his teeth again, and Rimmer shuddered, letting out a pained moan.

It really hadn't taken much at all to get him off, and Lister was sorry he hadn't had more time to try things.

"Alright," Rimmer panted. "You've had your fun. You can go back to tormenting me now. Tell all your stupid little friends I'm desperately homosexual, take out an ad in the ship newsletter."

"Actually, this is normally the part where we get a pizza and a bunch of curries and stay in bed for three days straight."

"Ah. Right. The only times I ever got peace and quiet were when you'd bugger off to some bimbo's bunkroom for a week-"

"Well, now you get to be the bimbo." Lister really wished he could make out more than faint outlines- Rimmer's expression was probably priceless. Yeah, enough. "Lights on."

It was a disaster- Rimmer's study schedule was scattered around them, torn and wrinkled; Lister's pants were still pulled halfway down, and his shirt had somehow made it around the top of one of the chairs when he'd tossed it aside.

And Rimmer- red-faced, rumpled, his tie crooked, a definite damp spot on the front of his pants. Beautiful.

"I need a shower," he squeaked, "and before you say a damned word, you aren't invited."

"Aw."

"When I come out, I want all the paper off the floor, and I expect you to be- less naked. Then we'll… we can discuss the idea of me not immediately putting in a reassignment request."

"Works for me," Lister grinned. Rimmer started to clamber out of his arms, but he pulled him back in. "Wait."

"What?"

Lister gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"Right. Need to brush my teeth, too," Rimmer bristled, but he looked flustered-mad instead of angry-mad.

Hmmm. Lister threw his shirt back on, kicking the abandoned timetables into a messy pile by the hamper. All things considered, this had been one of the few times an impulse decision had worked out well. Maybe, when Rimmer got out of the shower, he could convince him to cuddle in the lower bunk and watch a movie or two. At the very least, he was sure Rimmer's mind was as far from the astronavigation exam as it could possibly get.

"Holly, can you send Petersen a quick message?" he asked. "Tell him I'm busy tonight. Last minute plans."

#red dwarf #rimster #writing

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anethara · 1 year ago

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I went to the mall today and I parked in the Macy's lot because it's easy and not so crowded. also I am a sucker for a little stroll through a department store before I do my real shopping. anyway, this particular entrance is dominated by a guest welcome center/checkout situation: impulse buys, velvet ropes for the lines, you know the drill. and of course, there are two enormous flat-screens behind the counter for big brother/promotional reasons. and guys. the very. first. ad that I see, greeting me in 1080p 4k HD, was for some kitchen appliances. they were beautiful: very retro, that kind of charming mid-century design, all chrome and pastel. clean curves in opposition to the current zeitgeist of sharp angles and box shapes.

h o w e v e r.

the brand name of these appliances left...something to be desired. in fact, I didn't even believe that I was actually seeing what I was seeing. I thought, "damn bitch, my eyes ain't what they used to be and that's on me." but. just out of curiosity. I took a detour three floors up to the homegoods section. and I found the fucking toaster. and uh, well:

I was trying desperately not to be fucking howling in the middle of a Macy's at 4:30 pm on a Monday. I am a grown man. surely I can control myself. except for how I was muttering to myself, out loud, on the escalator back down, "who let that past marketing? how did that escape?" because surely, I thought, surely even I am not so chronically disconnected from what the average person's base of knowledge is that the concept of smegma is obscure, actually, right? right?

well. I looked it up! the company has been around for three quarters of a century! they are not new! not even close. so that's the first excuse. the next, and perhaps more valid one, is that it is an Italian company. 'smeg' it turns out, is an acronym: Smalterie Metallurgiche Emiliane Guastalla ("Emilian Metallurgical Enamelling Works Guastalla"). can't fault them for a language barrier, although this does have the distinct feeling of being more like a language particle collider.

i'm gonna be real, folks. idk how to wrap this one up. all I can say is that if you ever see me in a Macy's, genuinely contemplating ponying up $200 for a toaster with 'SMEG' emblazoned across it, just lure me out back with a Wetzel's pretzel and shoot me.

#original recipe #story time #story time with emery

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stuairi675 · 29 days ago

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Entry 6: 31/10/24 - Smeg it; the Paradigm Daleks

Yeah, fuck it why not. I was gonna do this entry on the costuming (or rather the lack of armouring) when it came to female women jedi in The Clone Wars,* but I’ve lost my motivation for that topic. Perhaps it has something to do with Niamh shooting it down as an actual problem. I dunno, it’s a complicated discussion rife with ignorance on both sides; I know more about Star Wars, she knows more about feminism (one of us is doing significantly better in life than the other - guess which).

So yeah, not feeling the Star Wars equal rights campaign, but what I am feeling is daleks. I don’t even really wanna do an entry today, but it’s been a while since my last one and I gotta keep it up for the sake of my touch-typing practice, and I can, and probably do, talk about daleks in my sleep (I’m not actually ace, as it turns out, I just say that to assuage the embarrassment of driving off all my one night stands with my incessant, nocturnal ranking of dalek variants [the winner is the dalek emperor for those wondering, followed shortly by Rusty, the Girly Dalek - otherwise known as the dalek from Dalek** - Dalek Sec and then Dalek Caan]).

And prompted by a reddit post I saw asking why the paradigm daleks weren’t received too well, I feel like… answering it.

Ah, the paradigm daleks. Moffat’s new paradigm… daleks. Conceptually cool and, in person, intimidating, towering over even the lanky Mr Matt Smith. What happened? They should have been a slam dunk.

Well, it just so happens that their reveal was orchestrated in such a way that it undermined almost literally every effect the alterations were meant to emphasise.

For a start, they were massive. They were dominating. They were scary.

In person.

On camera… not so much.

For one, we never actually saw them next to anything other than other paradigm daleks, at least until the season finale. The Russel T Davies time war daleks present didn’t get to share so much as some gossip, let alone a shot, before being summarily EXTERMINATED, so there went the possibility of that comparison. And what certainly didn’t lend some much needed fear factor to their unwieldy bulk was the set in which they made their debut in. I mean, what happened, for god’s sake? This was meant to be a dalek ship, straight from the end of series four. What was this bleak, white industrial setting? The fucking dalek rec room? I’m fairly sure to make room for some of the sci-fi shit they had to move out a ping pong table.

The big boss man straight, white, cis supreme dalek is millimetres away taking out a light fixture (or something, I dunno what it is - it’s a big aluminium box hanging from the ceiling, it’s like a set Red Dwarf would try and flog as a spaceship), making them feel awkward and clumsy and cramped, which is funny because that was exactly the description the operators inside them gave when asked how it was to pilot the buggers. Yeah, turns out all that extra heft made them even more uncomfortable.

So they were heavier, fatter, hunchbacked, harder to control and this was all in service of an effect that was not only countermanded, but overpowered, by the environment they emerged into. Hey, I know the feeling; the world just ain’t built for tall people - I have to duck in my local pub or otherwise get brained by a beam.

And whilst all these issues were detractors, certainly, nothing quite dammed them like the colours. On reflection, it seems like nothing new - different colours denoting different stations in the echelon - but something about these ones… just stank. The boldness was admirable, but misguided, and nothing highlighted this blunder quite like the procession of their unveiling ceremony.

One by one, they came sliding out, like some weird car show for peculiarly shaped dodgems. And whilst I stand by the big boss man straight, white, cis dalek looking dope and acting as a serviceable alternative to the three-bulbed supreme dalek of yester-series, the choice to have an ambassador of each colour variant lined up in such a fashion as would be appropriate for the in-box toy line, turned them from a menacing council of evil, the latest in ethnic-clensing technology, into the mighty morphin power daleks. They look like their role on Skaro was to run the dalek branch of cbeebies.

(LOOK CHILDREN! CAN YOU SEE THE BIRD? YOU CAN?! THEN IT WILL BE EXTERMINATED!!! AND REMEMBER CHILDREN OUR LESSON FOR THE DAY: THE ONLY GOOD TIME LORD IS AN EXTERMINATED ONE.)

It’s a shame the show never got to expand on its intention to have different dedicated roles for each dalek colour, as it wasn’t initially evident that the main dalek foot solider was the red ones and that the red one present in this batch was just the show model, along with the blue strategist, the orange scientist, and the yellow eternal dalek, whatever that means (I’m almost certain even the people that came up with the yellow eternal dalek don’t know what the fuck he does). Maybe if they’d been able to emphasise the differing roles of the daleks, things could have been different. But even so, Moffat didn’t end up doing all that much with the daleks in general, so ultimately it doesn’t matter.

I’m not sure I’d really have gotten into the red drone daleks being the default foot solider. Gone was the rough, rugged, frankenstein-bolted exterior of the time war weathered bronze models, here were the daleks at gay pride. Something about the smoothness and the brightness of colour made them feel too toy-like (though the shiny chrome ones shown off in later episodes look dope as fuck - I totally think they worked better as an officer class).

But yeah, that’s about the long and short of it. It’s a comical blip in Doctor Who history, and a valiant attempt to shake things up, but I think returning to the bronze model was the right call, even if we’re definitely due an update. The tricky thing with dalek designs I feel is that they’re effective in their simplicity, so trying to make too dramatic a change could be playing with fire.

One underrated aspect I find with the daleks, particularly the classic ones, is that they age remarkably well. Even in their first ever episode back in the Hartnell years, for all the flak their basic looks garners, despite all the mocking lampoons about their ability to create stiff peaks with one hand and unclog a sink with the other, they maintain a certain kind of elegance. You look at a silurian back in the day and you laugh at the shoddy costume; a dalek back in the day just looks like a dalek, and in my mind that is the pinnacle of iconic and effective design. Good on you, Terry.

Ruairi

*In brief all the male jedi get outfit changes more reflective of the wartime era in the Clone Wars series - complete with altered battle robes and a present, if somewhat perfunctory, display of armour (usually vambraces) - whereas all the women are rocking the same gettups they were portrayed with in Attack of the Clones. I can only assume this is a case of the designers being too happy with how they looked in their base states and being unwilling to alter them to account for different environments - the sort of mentality that keeps women characters in high-heels at all times. What’s especially curious is that there’s a good mix of conservative outfits and slutty outfits, neither of which are particularly suited for a battlefield. They’re meant to be generals. And don’t get me started on Ahsoka’s first outfit.

**Niamh named her the girly dalek when it absorbed Rose Tyler’s DNA and claimed “this is not life. This is sickness” and Niamh was like “girl same”.

#openjournal #journal #diary #digital diary #touchtypingjourney #doctorwho #daleks #paradigmdaleks #eleventh doctor #dalekdesign #steven moffat #new who #11th doctor #whovian #dr who

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jerseydeanne · 2 years ago

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JD Max here. I Never doubted that Serena was Megan‘s friend but I know for a fact she’s part of that sunshine and sachs bullshit propaganda crap but the fact that they keep talking about the past Megan and will never MoveOn because she can’t stand the fact that nobody buys whatever the fuck she was trying/tried to sell but her moron bots and preschool sugars 😂😂😂😂 JD she really should just go back to yachting

Love ya Max-❤️

Hey Max!

You bring up an interesting point about SS and Serena, and then tell me what you think.

The rumor is that MM slept with Brett Ratner for party favors and a tiny part in his movie. Not sure if Brett was with Serena at the time. That was Enty, the entertainment lawyer.

The most recent one we all saw was when Smeg went to see Serena play, and she lost. The point is that Smeg is openly flirting with Serena's husband, Alexis Ohanian. On the blog, O made posts complaining about what's assumed to be Markle being fake, a user, etc.

The weird part was during our three blind mice period, we had anon insisting that said she didn't need Harry. She was hooking up with a millionaire name Alex. This was way before the engagement. We thought the anon was delusional, and we laughed.

Do I think they are besties? Hell no. PR stunt!

Now, ask why did MM need so many producers and engineers for a podcast? Since we know how difficult she can be to underlings. Maybe she sued Spotify for not being woke enough for her 25% black self. Perhaps they weren't supportive enough.

Why did it take so long to produce one podcast with shitty content?

Rumor has it they wanted out since Obama leftover Joe Rogan. Consider that Michelle Obama took the Queen's side and sent her well wishes at the Jubliee and now they finally produce one show about nothing but her struggle to be ambitious??

The chick isn't firing on all pistons. 🥴

All you can do is laugh and cringe.

Love ya , Max! 😜💋💋💖🤟🏻

#Meghan Markle #Prince Harry #Podcast #Serena Williams

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doctors-star · 3 years ago

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hi its me im back again #43 for lister/rimmer? (a non-cowboy alternative)

“I’ve never met a more stubborn person in my life.” “You like it.” “Do I?”

Lister taps his fingers against the iron girder. It’s painted the same red as the Dwarf, but chipping and loose - probably also like the Dwarf, only he’s not been out to have a gander in a while. Always seems to be something else to do these days.

He sighs heavily. Picks a flake of paint loose. Resists the urge to fidget.

“I spy-”

“Oh, Christ, we’re not that bored already are we?” Rimmer whines, and Lister allows his head to loll to his right. It puts his face within inches of Rimmer’s cheek, and though it makes him go a little cross-eyed to do so he can clearly see that yes, Rimmer is that bored.

“Well, we’re trapped for the foreseeable future in a pile of rubble and girders in an abandoned derelict, with no comms and no hope of rescue until Krytes and Cat can be bothered to come lookin’,” Lister points out calmly. “We can play fortunately-unfortunately instead if you want, but I don’t think this is going to get less boring quickly.”

Rimmer sniffs and glowers at the ceiling of their weird rubble igloo. It had, of course, been heart-stoppingly terrifying for a while; Lister had smacked the door release idly with the side of his fist, the doors had opened, and he and Rimmer had entered, bickering all the while so enthusiastically that what had happened after that was still a mystery to Lister. The upshot, crucially, had been that the ceiling had fallen in in a shower of sparks and trailing wires and laid them both out flat under slabs of metal panelling, chunks of what looked like concrete, and a few girders for colour. One is neatly pinning Lister’s hips to the floor, there’s a large amount of concrete on his ankles, and Rimmer is buried in metal sheeting up to his sternum, but on the bright side they can both breathe and nothing seems to be broken. Not that Rimmer could break, anyway, being as he is entirely made of solid light.

This had not stopped Lister from being apocalyptically terrified for a good thirty seconds after impact.

“Is it rubble?” Rimmer asks at last, with a tone of deep dissatisfaction.

“I didn’t even tell you the first letter,” Lister says, trying not to grin at Rimmer.

Rimmer shifts his head to gaze, unimpressed, at Lister.

“It was, though, yeah.”

Rimmer looks as though he wants to laugh, and also to despair of him; it makes his face twitch like a ferret in a sack. Lister presses forward an inch to drop a kiss on the end of his nose, because that usually makes the twitching worse. “Menace,” Rimmer says, flinching back to glare, cross-eyed, down his nose at Lister. But, you know, affectionately. Lister beams. “I can’t believe we’re stuck here waiting for two mentally-incompetents to rescue us,” Rimmer sighs. He fidgets his shoulders, shifting the panelling, and winces.

“Stop moving, man,” Lister says in a voice which he hopes is calming.

It isn’t; Rimmer thrashes about a bit like he’s being electrocuted, which makes the whole rubble pile shake in a deeply worrying fashion. He does, however, manage to work his left arm free and shake it triumphantly in the air. “Dead arm,” he says in explanation - and then, very casually, so subtly that the motion occurs in neon with bells on, he rests the hand on top of Lister’s girder. Next to Lister’s fingers. And then Rimmer doesn’t look at his hand, the girder, or in Lister’s direction at all, so Lister takes the hint.

“Dead everything, mate,” he says helpfully, sliding his fingers under Rimmer’s palm and giving his hand a squeeze. Rimmer’s frame relaxes ever so slightly, as though that threatened slight rejection had worried him more than the whole mild peril of their situation. Neurotic bastard. “Speaking of,” Lister adds, rubbing his thumb over the back of Rimmer’s hand, “you don’t have to wait for Kryten and Cat. You could go softlight, wriggle on out, and go get ‘em.”

Rimmer’s hand tightens briefly on his before carefully relaxing. “No-o,” he says with forced casualness, “I’ll wait.”

Lister nods. “Very helpful. You just wait here to avoid the walk. Can’t have you tirin’ yourself out. If I starve to death, I want the lightbee every two weeks, alright?”

“I am not arranging a timeshare with our afterlife!” Rimmer objects sharply.

“You smegging well are,” Lister corrects cheerfully. “If you kill me through inaction, you owe me at least some of your time. You promised, remember-” he says smugly, pressing as close as he can until his nose is pressed into Rimmer’s cheekbone. “Spend the rest of our time together, forever-”

“Exactly,” Rimmer sputters, face turning a very impressive red at the reference to their little...agreement. “Together - which we won’t be, if only one of us exists at a time.”

“You’d better go an’ fetch us some rescue then, eh?” Lister says, smiling into Rimmer’s jaw to make him squirm. “Or else.”

He can feel the muscles in Rimmer’s face twitch slightly with the effort not to turn into Lister’s ministrations and give up on the argument - only that would mean losing said argument, and that usually requires more attention than Lister can give with his body pinned to the floor. By something that isn’t Rimmer, that is. “Ah, but you said we’d stay together,” Rimmer points out firmly, voice only ticking up half an octave when Lister starts kissing at the hinge of his jaw. “Death do us part, you said.”

Lister grins and picks up their joined hands, nudging them towards the small gap in the ceiling that a lightbee, and corresponding intangible human shape, could easily fit through. “An’ you’ve already kicked it, so off you pop,” he says brightly.

Rimmer sputters indignantly for a bit, but makes no move. After a moment, the grumbling resumes, and Lister can’t help a sigh. “Where are those two, anyway? Even they ought to have noticed by now-”

“Rimmer, mate you literally don’t need to be here,” Lister says, impatience bleeding into his tone as he pulls back slightly. He doesn’t miss how Rimmer shifts minutely into his space before reversing quickly.

“Well, I’m not going,” Rimmer says, fingers tightening around Lister’s.

He shakes his head and lies back, staring at the ceiling. “I’ve never met a more stubborn person in my life,” he says.

“You like it,” Rimmer retorts immediately.

“Do I?” he replies, voice tired and dry. But he rolls his head back to face Rimmer. He knows Rimmer better than anyone in the entire universe; of course he had caught the wheedling note in Rimmer’s voice, the flash of insecurity, the minute increase in the grip on his hand. And sure enough, Rimmer’s eyes are wide and slightly worried, and then his face turns quickly away, schooled into something snide. He wishes Rimmer wouldn’t do that; has no hope that he’ll ever stop. Lister picks up their joined hands and gently knocks their knuckles against the girder three times. “Well, it’s still annoying,” he says eventually. “But as long as I don’t starve here, I’d still rather have you with me than not. So.”

Rimmer waves a hand idly. “Eat your own leg, or something.”

Lister gives him a thumbs-up. “Will do.”

They lie quietly for a while, listening to the rubble creak and groan, and to a mysterious dripping sound which, every third drop, fizzes with a decidedly electrical sound. There’s a lump of something digging into his spine, and his foot is rapidly going numb, but Rimmer’s hand is pleasantly warm and solid in his own, his breathing regular and steady in the half-light, and it is - god help his standards for living - not half bad. Lister is, despite himself, quite glad that Rimmer is more stubborn than a bull-headed pig when he wants to be.

He’s glad, too, to be something Rimmer gets so stubborn over.

He is quite bored, though.

“I spy-” he begins again.

“It’s girder this time, I know it,” Rimmer says quickly. “I am not playing this with you.” Lister closes his mouth. “It was panel, actually - and look, what do you want to do? Arguing didn’t take up as much time as I had hoped-”

“You picked a fight to pass the time?!”

“Yeah, only, it was a really rubbish argument. Unfortunately.”

“Well,” Rimmer says, sounding as self-important as a man can when being crushed by sheets of metal, “fortunately, we love each other far too well to ever argue.”

“Unfortunately,” Lister says, grinning at the barefaced lie, “no-one with an IQ over seven would believe that.”

“Fortunately, I know my audience,” Rimmer says smugly, eyes dancing and smile so cheerfully obnoxious that Lister has to laugh, he just has to, not least for the way it makes Rimmer’s whole face soften into something gentler, and more fond.

He squeezes Rimmer’s hand and feels it squeeze back. “Unfortunately, you’re stuck with him,” he murmurs, eyes dropping helplessly to Rimmer’s lips.

Rimmer smiles, small and genuine. “I’ll survive,” he says.

#rimmer and lister need to discover cabin pressure flight deck games #only they would both be dreadful at them #can you believe! i've emptied my inbox of prompts. holy shit.#they've been there so long.#i am compelled to obtain more.#red dwarf #arnold rimmer #dave lister #lister/rimmer #this is your captain speaking

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veronica-rich · 4 years ago

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Life, Lister thought sadly as he glanced back at the small cabana tent he and Kryten had rigged up on shore, Cat lounging beneath its canopy, cocktail in hand, sucks.

He straightened up in time to catch the back view of Rimmer picking his way over the center seat to the other end of the small rowboat. The navy-striped long-sleeved polo tucked into white shorts pulled tight over said back view wasn’t quite enough to mitigate what was coming. As Rimmer turned and sat, he gestured at the other man. “Take up those oars, laddie.”

“Look, Rimmer-“ he tried, putting as much sigh into his tone as he could. “It’s a nice place, yeah? We’re here, off the ship, some shore leave. The woods, a nice calm lake - A SUN. Why can’t we just enjoy it? Why do we have to ‘optimize’ every smegging thing?”

Rimmer fixed him with a hard look. “Because you are not getting any younger, and this type of physical activity is almost impossible to come by on a spaceship. The fresh air’s good for you!”

“Yeah ... it is! That’s why I’d like to enjoy it while I can. Instead, you got me out chopping down little trees and logs and branches, and swimming laps like Greg Louganis is on my arse. Not everything has to be exercise and fitness, y’know.” He glanced at Rimmer’s taut thighs and pointedly between them. “Some things can be exercise AND fun.”

“Whatever you have to stare at to start those oars, come ON, let’s pick them up,” barked Rimmer. “No goodies for you until this is done.”

“This is SUPPOSED to be a vacation.”

“You can’t afford vacation,” Rimmer snapped. “Or have you forgotten your last physical?”

Lister picked up the oars for the third morning in a row. He really didn’t know why he’d consented to the hologram’s screwball idea to try to find a chore every day that could be turned into lengthy repetition, considering none of those activities so far had featured a bed or no clothes as he had initially hoped. (“Because that’s not exercise,” he’d explained each time Lister hinted at sex as replacement for some cleaning, reaching, stretching, overexerting piece of crap Rimmer put in front of him to do. “Oh, it is the way I do it,” Lister had tried to snap back, daring Rimmer to disparage his technique.)

However, the indulgence of affection only stretched so far, and five minutes into a steady stream of “PULL! PULL! PULL!” Lister paused to fix him with as much a glare as possible while blinking away sweat. “Don’t you have any other vocabulary?” he managed after a few seconds. Off Rimmer’s puzzled look, he rolled his eyes. “Snappy patter, man! You gotta say more than one word over and over!”

Rimmer huffed. “What do you take me for, entertainment? This isn’t a circus!”

“I don’t even know what the hell I’m supposed to be pulling!”

And so, when he resumed his rowing, the chant changed to a steady stream of “STROKE! STROKE! STROKE! STROKE!”

“FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!” Lister hollered back, breath chugging harshly. “I’M HAVIN’ ONE!”

******

Back on shore, Kryten wrung his blocky hands. “I hope Mr. Rimmer doesn’t overexert Mr. Lister too far. He’s not a young poult.”

Cat sucked loudly at his empty straw, then held up and shook the glass. “Scuse me, bud; my ice is lonesome! Another?”

******

The center of the small lake. Lister let his arms drop, trying to slow his breathing. His tee was soaked, and not for the first time he was tempted to use the edge of Rimmer’s damn axe to try to saw off his dreads and fling them into the depths of Lake Cardiac Arrest - the hair was no longer rebellious, but increasingly an impediment. “Three-minute rest!” Rimmer chirped.

Lister leveled him with the stinkeye. “Yesterday ... it was ... five,” he blew out.

“Yesterday is not today; you should be a little more fit today than yesterday.” Uncramping his fingers, Lister shot him an impolite salute. “Shame,” Rimmer intoned sadly, shaking his head. “All that youthful muscle tone, right down the plughole, Listy.”

“What’re you ... sayin’ ... to me?”

“Two minutes, Lister.”

He waited until he could speak something close to normally, then rejoined craftily, “Tell me ... which muscles of mine are your favorite?”

“If I could find any,” Rimmer quipped, arching a brow, “I would.”

Lister said nothing, but leaned back and fished in the pocket of his sweatpants. Smeg this, he figured, pulling out a lighter and cigarette for a rare indulgence these days. He ignored Rimmer’s quiet disapproval and cupped his hands around it as he fired up, took a long drag, and blew it out. He sat silently glaring back at the other man as he slowly smoked, deliberately counting in his head past two minutes. Mostly he made sure he pushed the smoke out the side of his mouth, but every so often he would exhale a stream directly at his torturer in the tight shorts.

“You are not distracting me, you great lug,” Rimmer finally told him. “Pick up those oars.” Lister eyed one pointedly, then Rimmer’s head, then looked back and forth a few times as he tapped off ash. “You know you’re not in the best shape you could be,” Rimmer relented, softening his voice. “I am fit, and you are not.”

“You are dead and I am not.”

“Nonetheless,” he smoothly continued, “when I wasn’t, I was in tip-top shape. I want you to be, too, so you don’t end up dead sooner than you’re supposed to.”

“That almost sounded like concern.”

“It very nearly was.”

Lister grinned, flicking the butt into the water and leaning forward. “So it’s my health you’re concerned with, then? Not the layer of pudge all around?”

“Please.” Rimmer rolled his eyes. “Calling you fat is like naming the Cat Einstein. You LOOK fine.”

“Fine?”

The man rolled his eyes across Lister’s torso, outlined by the soaking thin shirt. “Smegging good for fifty,” he amended.

He would take it. He crooked his finger, and Rimmer leaned forward too, rising onto his feet unsteadily to close the somewhat extra distance to meet that mouth. Lister closed his eyes, savoring that tongue lightly licking his upper lip, thoroughly engaging with his nose too, sliding the side of it against Rimmer’s until he heard the telltale tiny moan of arousal. He brought his hands up to brace toned upper arms, steadied his feet against the bottom of the boat - and pushed as he twisted his torso sideways, hard.

Wasting no time, Lister quickly picked up he ends of the oars and began pulling. He was probably four meters away when Rimmer’s head cut the water and he paddled around to look in his direction. “WHERE ARE YOU-“ he began.

“Come on, big man!” Lister called out before he knew he wouldn’t be able to speak as smoothly through the exertion. “Put that BSC, SSC to work!” He put effort into speeding up as the angry hologram starting paddling toward the boat.

******

“Oh, sir!” Kryten exclaimed as he returned to Cat’s chaise with a fresh mango julep, catching sight of Mr. Lister rowing like a madman back to shore, a cursing splash trailing several feet along. “What happened?”

Cat waved the drink to be set on the small table, never taking his eyes from expertly buffing his nails. “More confusing monkey foreplay.”

#red dwarf #fanfic #later series established relationship

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rimmers-swimming-certificate · 4 years ago

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Red Dwarf fanfic - Patience

The sleeping quarters on the new ship were bigger and a little more luxurious than the ones that Rimmer remembered. The last time he had been on Red Dwarf, or at least on Red Dwarf in this universe, it had been very different. This was an entirely new, upgraded model, rebuilt by nanobots for reasons that Rimmer still didn’t entirely understand, and from what he had seen of it so far, it was the kind of ship a second technician would have dreamed of being assigned to. Everything about it was better. Even the vending machines were more intelligent, better stocked, and probably much less prone to clogging.

In many ways — actually, probably in every way — it was better than the ship they had used to call home, but it was better in that ‘nice but not yet familiar’ way that a new car was better. It was going to take time to figure out what all the fancy new buttons did, and where to find the headlights and the windscreen wipers. It was going to take time before it felt completely comfortable. As someone who had spent years hopping between dimensions and encountering things and people that were familiar, yet subtly different from the ones that he knew, Rimmer was sure it was going to take time before it felt like home.

Lister didn’t seem to be having any such trouble. Of course, he had a head start on getting used to the place. To Rimmer’s relief, Lister, unlike the ship, hadn’t changed one bit. A little older, maybe, but otherwise identical in every way to the man that Rimmer remembered. He lounged slobbily on a sofa at the other side of the room, humming a tuneless tune under his breath as he casually flicked through the well-thumbed pages of a magazine aimed at women half his age and filled with celebrity gossip over three million years out of date.

All around him was a growing collection of junk. He had, predictably enough, already started to fill every available surface of the living area, and part of the floor, with things he had found around the ship. As though he sensed Rimmer watching him, Lister lowered the magazine and glanced over at him. “Hey,” he said, sounding genuinely pleased to see him. “You’re back in blue.”

Rimmer looked down at his clothing. It had been time. Now that the other Rimmer had left, and taken the Wildfire with him, it was official: he was himself again. It felt good; familiar, like putting on a comfortable pair of old shoes. Ace’s clothes had never felt like that. He nodded.

“What are you doing standing in the doorway?” Lister asked.

Rimmer took a few steps into the room, to allow the door to close behind him. “Just thinking I should get my stuff out of storage,” he said. He made a show of looking at the assorted junk. “While there’s still somewhere left to put it.”

Lister nodded. “You’re still planning on bunking with me then?” he asked.

Honestly, it had never even occurred to Rimmer not to. The ship certainly had enough quarters to spare; they didn’t need to be living in each other's pockets, but he just couldn’t imagine living any other way. For all he had used to complain about Lister's snoring, he had still occasionally had trouble drifting off to sleep on the Wildfire because it was too quiet. For years, when he had woken up in the middle of the night after a bad dream, or had some funny thought occur to him as he drifted off to sleep, he had instinctively tried to talk to Lister about it only to find himself alone.

He shrugged, attempting to give the impression that he didn’t mind one way or another. “Yeah, I’ll probably stick around here,” he said. A horrible thought occurred. He had just assumed he would be welcome, Lister had certainly seemed pleased to have him back on the ship, but what if he wanted his own space? “I mean… If that’s okay with you of course,” he added.

“Yeah, ‘course it is,” Lister told him. “I’ll help you move your stuff out of storage in the morning.” He grinned widely. “It’s not the same around here without your swimming certificates and newspaper clippings brightening the place up.”

Rimmer breathed a silent sigh of relief. “He didn’t have swimming certificates then?” he asked. “The other me?” He tried to keep the jealousy out of his voice, but he heard it anyway. It had been a shock to return home to find another Rimmer, a living Rimmer, no less, in his place. Not only a shock, but confusing too. For a time, he had been convinced that the computer was wrong and he had landed in the wrong dimension.

“Yeah, he did,” Lister told him. “But he took them with him.”

Rimmer nodded. He hadn’t had the opportunity to do that. When he had left, only Lister had known the truth, the others had thought he had died. It would have given the game away if Ace, who had happened to be there at the time, had mysteriously decided to take all of Rimmer’s keepsakes with him when he had headed back out into the unknown.

“I still can’t believe you convinced him to go,” Lister added. “I mean, considering how much work it was to get you to take the plunge. And he was a version of you with no experience at all of parallel universes and no clue about half the smeg he might run into out there.” Lister shook his head in apparent amazement. “When I first met him I thought he was exactly the same as you; you before you died, I mean. He changed a bit while we were in prison, loosened up a bit, if you can believe it, but I figured maybe not having to worry about duties and exams and all that stuff was good for him. Now, I think maybe he was different all along. I mean, he must’ve been, right?”

“How should I know?” Rimmer snapped. Honestly, he hadn’t known him well enough to say. For some reason though, it made him feel better that there might be differences between them. “He never met the real Ace. Maybe not knowing what an insufferable git he was helped.” Not knowing what he might run into out there had probably been a factor too. Rimmer wondered whether he should feel guilty about that. He hadn’t lied exactly, but he had emphasised having his own ship and being a hero side of things over the dangers.

Lister shook his head. “I don’t get it, Rimmer. You were Ace. How can you still hate him?”

“Easily,” Rimmer said. “Sticking on a wig and doing a silly voice doesn’t change who you are, you know. I wasn’t Ace, I was an Ace, just like your other Rimmer is now.”

Lister shrugged, then nodded. “Fair enough.”

Rimmer cleared his throat and folded his arms nervously across his chest. “Are you going to miss him?”

“Ace?”

“The other me.” What he really wanted to ask was, ‘did you miss me?’, but he couldn’t ask that. He couldn't bear it if the answer was no.

Lister frowned thoughtfully. “I mean, it’s only been a couple of days since he left,” he said. “And I’ve got you back… I mean we’ve got you back, so it’s not the same as when you left.” He shrugged. “But yeah, I probably will, a bit.”

Rimmer nodded. That was good. Someone should, and he knew that the others wouldn’t. He brushed a hand down his uniform tunic, then glanced around the room again. “Nice junk collection,” he said.

“It’s not junk,” Lister told him. “It’s salvage.”

“Salvage means things rescued from a shipwreck, Lister. This is junk you found while rooting through the belongings of your former crewmates.”

“Yeah well whatever it is, don’t worry I’ll make room for your stuff,” Lister promised. “You’re lucky it’s all still there, by the way. The others wanted to throw it out.”

A stab of irritation struck him at the thought of that. “Throw it out? My stuff? Why?”

“They thought you were dead, man.” Lister shrugged. “And I guess they’re not as sentimental as I am.”

Translation: they hated him, and they had wanted to get rid of any reminders of his existence. They had probably tried to eject it from an airlock the instant he had left the ship.

“We were still all living on Starbug at the time, don’t forget.” Lister added. “We didn’t have as much room and, well, most of it wasn’t stuff we had any use for.” Lister hesitated. “I think Cat might have been interested in Rachel, but don’t worry, I kept her safe for you.”

A muscle began to twitch just below his left eye at the thought of Cat and Rachel. Not that he had touched her since well before he had died, not even after he had got his hard light drive. Lister was right; Starbug was small, and he wouldn’t have been able to bear the embarrassment of someone walking in on them. He couldn’t imagine wanting to try it now, either. Rachel had been good to him, but it was over between them. Still, the thought of Cat touching her turned his stomach. “Thanks,” he said.

Lister nodded. “Maybe in return you can tell me a bit about what you got up to while you were off being a hero.”

Rimmer didn’t reply. He glanced around the room, looking for a way to change the subject. He strode over to a shelf filled with Lister’s things and picked up a packet of playing cards. The backs of the cards showed soft porn images of women, and he knew instantly that Lister had liberated them from Petersen’s quarters. He quickly checked the pack for anything disgusting, Finding it clean, he held it up to Lister. “Fancy a game?” he asked.

Lister looked at him suspiciously. “I’m going to get it out of you, Rimmer.”

“It’s not a secret,” Rimmer insisted. “I’ve just got back. Give me some time to be myself again before you make me talk about pretending to be him. Now, gin rummy?” he suggested. “Speed? Or how about snap?”

Lister shook his head, still looking suspicious. “Not with those cards. They’re useless. Every single one has a different picture on the back, so all you have to do is memorise which set of breasts belongs to each card. I’ll play later though, with a real pack. In fact, let's have a poker night tonight. All four of us. It’s been a while.”

Rimmer nodded. A quick glance at the deck confirmed that Lister was correct about the cards. He shuffled the assorted sets of breasts, sat down at the table and started to deal himself a game of patience.

“What’re you doing?” Lister asked.

Rimmer glanced over at him again. The magazine was discarded on the floor now, next to a dirty, curry-smeared plate and one — not a pair, just one — dirty sock. Lister was peering at him over the back of the sofa with apparent interest. “Patience,” Rimmer told him.

Lister got up from the sofa. He stepped around the magazine and old plate, and made his way over to the other side of the room, where he folded his arms and leaned against the wall, watching as Rimmer continued to arrange the cards on the table.

Rimmer watched him out of the corner of his eye, as he turned over a card and started to play. Lister continued to stare down at the game as though it was the most interesting thing that had happened aboard the ship in months, and it was a little distracting. “Lister, what are you doing?” Rimmer asked, finally.

“Watching you,” Lister told him.

Rimmer put down the card he had in his hand, and turned to look at him. “Yes, I can see that. What I meant was, why are you watching me?”

Lister shrugged. “I just wanted to see what you were going to do.”

Rimmer turned over another card. He couldn’t use it, so he dropped it on the reject pile and picked up another. “I told you what I’m doing. I’m playing patience.”

“Oh!” Lister grinned and shook his head. “Right, that makes sense. I thought you were telling me to be patient. I thought you were going to do something interesting.”

Rimmer looked up at him incredulously. “The game is called patience, Lister. You know, solitaire? Did you switch brains with the Cat while I was away or something?”

“No, I just…” Lister gave him an embarrassed grin. “I just thought maybe you were going to do a card trick or something.”

Rimmer turned over another card and placed it on top of one already on the table. “Lister, the whole time we’ve known each other, have you ever once seen me show the slightest interest in performing card tricks?”

“Well, no.” Lister pulled out the chair at the opposite side of the table and sat down. He looked down at the cards. “But you’ve been away a while, haven’t you? I figured maybe you picked it up while you were off being Ace.”

Rimmer turned over another card, placed it on the table and made several more moves. “I didn’t,” he said.

“Well you can’t blame me for not knowing that,” Lister told him. “You’ve been back nearly a whole week now and you’ve barely said a single word about what you got up to out there.”

“And so you leapt to the obvious assumption that I’d spent my time learning how to do sleight of hand tricks?”

“Well, no. Not until I thought you were about to do one.”

Rimmer shook his head dismissively and turned over another card in his game. “I did a lot while I was away,” he said. “Far too much to tell you about in just a week. Dozens of heroic rescues, overthrew a couple of fascist dictatorships, organised an uprising or two.” He shrugged in what he hoped was a modest way. “Nothing special.”

Lister smirked.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, it’s just you did that hair flick thing again. It just looks a bit silly when you don’t have the wig on.”

Had he? He hadn’t noticed. He glared at Lister, just on the off-chance that he was messing with him. “No I didn’t,” he said.

“Rimmer, you did. You do it about five times a day. Maybe you should just start wearing the wig again, at least that way you’d have enough hair to have to actually flick it out of your eyes.” He shrugged. “Or you could grow yours out.”

Rimmer shook his head. “Lister, there’s a reason that Ace decided to wear a wig; my hair just doesn’t do that. Anyway, I passed the wig on to the other Rimmer.” Like passing a baton in an endless relay race around the assorted parallel universes, he had handed over the wig to the living version of himself that the nanobots had created in his own universe, and sent him on his way. “And like I was saying, I did loads while I was away, and I’ll tell you about it one day. I’ve just been too busy settling back in.”

“Right, absolutely, makes sense,” Lister told him. “Well, except for the part where you haven’t even got your stuff out of storage yet. Anyway, you’re not busy now.”

He gritted his teeth. Technically, he supposed Lister was right; he wasn’t busy. That didn’t mean he wanted to talk about it. Not yet. One day, maybe. If it ever came up in conversation naturally, rather than when he was being grilled for information. And if it never did, well, maybe Lister would tire of asking after a few years. He pointed at the cards on the table. “I am busy.”

Lister looked decidedly unimpressed as he looked at the game. “Come on Rimmer, the only reason people play that is to kill time because they’re bored. And it’s not even a good way to kill time. Why don’t you watch a film or something, like a normal person?”

“I’m not ‘killing time’, Lister. I play because I enjoy it.”

Lister looked unconvinced. “Okay then, so how come I never saw you play it before?”

Rimmer turned over another card. “When did I have a chance before?” he asked. “Before I died I was always busy. When I wasn’t on duty, I was revising, or trying to convince you to pick up after yourself. I didn’t have a lot of time for sitting around playing games.”

“Yeah, okay.” Lister shrugged. “But I never saw you do it after the crew got wiped out either.”

Rimmer sighed in frustration and slammed another card onto the table. “Lister, why are you so interested in why I’m playing a game? I just wanted to.” God, Lister was infuriating. He could be a master irritant when he wanted to, skilled in the not so subtle art of being annoying. And what was worse, was that he revelled in it. Once he got an idea in his head, he would keep going until he got his way. Rimmer had missed him, more than he had ever realised he would, but he definitely hadn’t missed this. “Can’t you just smeg off and read your magazine, leave me to it?” he tried, knowing that Lister wouldn’t.

Lister didn’t smeg off. Instead, he tucked his chair a little further under the table, rested his chin in a hand and looked down at the cards on the table as though he were the one playing the game.

Rimmer watched him for a moment then sighed. “Fine. If you must know, the reason I didn’t play then, was because I was still soft light. Not being able to pick things up doesn’t exactly make it easy to play cards, you know. Just enlisting the skutters’ help to let me play poker was bad enough, and that doesn't take half the dexterity that this does.”

“Dexterity?” Lister shook his head dismissively. “I thought you said you weren’t doing card tricks. How much dexterity does it take to turn over a playing card and put it down in the right place?”

It took a lot more that Lister could ever realise, and a level that a skutter just didn’t possess. Not unless you were willing to spend about twenty minutes on every move. Rimmer shook his head. “Lister, until you know the frustration of spending hours coaching some idiot of a skutter to perform a simple task that should take two seconds, only to have to watch them screw it up over and over again, I’ll thank you to keep your mouth shut on the subject.”

Lister looked at him, and for a moment Rimmer thought that he was going to argue. Instead, he frowned, then reached for the pile of cards. He moved slowly, as though paying attention to every minuscule movement of his hand and arm as his fingers slid the card from the top of the pile and turned it over. “Okay, yeah,” he said, and handed the card to Rimmer. He looked thoughtful for a moment. “It’s probably a bit like that fake arm Kryten gave me that one time,” he said. “Took me forever just to make the stupid thing pick up a smegging ball. Something like this? There’d have been no way.”

Rimmer looked up at him sharply. “What?”

“Well, until Kryten upped the sensitivity, but that wasn’t any good either, ‘cos then it had a mind of its own.”

Rimmer tried to make sense of what he was hearing, but he couldn’t. He looked at Lister, specifically at Lister’s arms; they both appeared normal. They were covered by the sleeves of his jacket, making it difficult to be sure, but as far as he could tell, they looked exactly the same as they had always done. He allowed his gaze to move to Lister’s hands, where he could see bare skin. They both looked fine too; completely normal. “Lister, what are you talking about?” he asked. “What fake arm?”

“Oh, right,” Lister said. “You weren’t here for that.” He shrugged like it was unimportant, and pointed to one of the cards already turned over on the table. “You can move that one,” he said. “To there.”

Rimmer ignored him, and instead continued to stare at Lister’s hands. They both looked real. They both moved like they were real. If one of them wasn’t, it was the best prosthetic he had ever seen. “Lister, are you trying to tell me that you have a prosthetic arm?” he asked.

“What?” Lister grinned as though that was the funniest thing he’d heard all year. “Of course I don’t.” He flexed the fingers of his right hand compulsively. “Rimmer, have you ever seen those things? Trust me, if I did, you’d have noticed by now. He reached for the card he had told Rimmer to move, and moved it himself.

“Lister, don’t do that!” Rimmer snapped. He snatched the card up and moved it back to where it had been before.”

“I was only helping!”

“Well don’t. This is a one man game; you’re not supposed to help. For all you know, I was saving that move for later.” He looked at the cards, desperately trying to find another move to make first; any other move, just to prove his point. Typically, there were none. He scowled at the cards as though they had done it on purpose, then grabbed the one Lister had moved, and moved it again. “So if you didn’t lose an arm, what were you doing with a prosthetic?” he asked.

Lister shrugged. “I never said I didn’t lose it. I just kinda…” he shrugged, “found it again. But technically I didn’t lose it actually. I knew where it was, it’s just that Kryten hacked it off with a laser scalpel and flushed it out the airlock.” He winced and flexed his fingers again. “Anyway, stop changing the subject.”

“Yes, because the subject of exactly how many times I’ve played a particular card game in the past is infinitely more fascinating than the story of how you lost and somehow found an arm. Come on, what happened?”

“Actually, the subject was what you got up to while you were Ace,” Lister corrected. “Talking about your stupid card game came later.”

“Lister, I want to know how you lost an arm,” Rimmer demanded.

Lister frowned thoughtfully. “Oh, do you?” he asked. “Okay, let’s trade. If I tell you this story, you’ve got to tell me one of yours. Deal?”

Rimmer sighed, the idea that this whole thing might have been a setup suddenly occurred to him, but he really did want to know. He folded his arms and glared at Lister admonishingly. “Okay, fine,” he agreed. “But it better be a good story.”

“Killer virus,” Lister told him. “Got snogged by a three million year old corpse, caught this thing called Epideme.” He shrugged. “Kochanski and Kryten got the idea that they could chase it into my arm, then cut it off.”

Rimmer blinked. “You got snogged by a what?” he frowned. “Wait a minute, that wouldn’t work. You can’t just chase a virus into one part of the body and lop it off, or else they’d have been able to cure everything that way.”

“Turns out you can,” Lister told him. “Or you could with this one, anyway. Except for a few bits of the virus escaped back into my body, so I ended up armless for nothing. In the end they actually had to kill me so Epideme left, then they brought me back to life.”

Rimmer blinked. “Right. So you died?”

“Well, I mean not really. Not like you did, anyway. It doesn’t count if it’s only for a minute or so.”

That was a lot to take in. “And getting the arm back?”

Lister shrugged. “Nanobots. You know that part already.”

“I knew they rebuilt the ship and the crew. You neglected to mention the part where they also rebuilt you.“

“Out of the whole thing, honestly that seemed like the least interesting part.”

Rimmer shook his head. “It’s a part of the story, it’s relevant. And how could you think I wouldn’t be interested in you agreeing to let Kryten cut off your arm to save you from a deadly space virus?”

“Honestly? It wasn’t exactly something I was eager to relive. I only brought it up now because I figured I’d be able to get a story out of you in return.”

“So you did trick me,” Rimmer said. “You lured me in with a hint of a story, knowing I’d want to know more, just so that you could wheedle information out of me in return. I knew it!”

Lister grinned. “Yeah.” The grin faded. “But having one arm sucked like you wouldn’t believe. I couldn’t play the guitar.”

Rimmer smirked. “Well in that case I’m surprised you found anybody willing to help you track down the nanobots. Personally, I’d have been completely willing to sacrifice your arm in order to silence your guitar.”

“Smeg off. You would have as well, wouldn’t you? It was my right arm too. Do you know how crap I am at everything with my left hand? I could hardly do anything for myself.”

Rimmer turned over another card in his game of patience. “You’d have learned. It was only one arm, so it’s not that bad, is it? I didn’t have any arms at all — any body at all — for years, and you didn’t hear me whinging about it.”

“Seriously?” Lister stared at him incredulously. “Rimmer, you used to whinge about it all the time.”

“I didn’t. Not all the time, anyway.” He thought back to the time after he had first been activated. “I mean, maybe I complained a little bit at first, but all things considered I think I handled the whole thing pretty well. Better than you would have done, anyway. And even if I had complained, I’d say that was a whinge-worthy problem. Losing one arm, not so much.”

“This is why I didn’t tell you about this before,” Lister told him. “I knew you’d find some way to trivialise it.”

“I’m not,” Rimmer assured him. “I’m sure the whole thing was very traumatic for you. How terrible it must have been, having to brush your teeth with your left hand.”

Lister shook his head. “Fine. Go on then, you owe me a story. And it better be a good one too.”

Rimmer mulled over his options. He had stories, of course he did. The issue wasn’t thinking of a story, it was thinking of a story that would paint him in the right light; one that Lister would be impressed by, but that didn’t make him sound too much like that insufferable git Ace. He needed something that would remind Lister why he, Rimmer, the Rimmer without a wig, was the superior Rimmer.

He couldn’t think of a single one.

“You’re right, you know,” he said, hoping to fill the time. “I didn’t play patience before. I picked it up while I was off being Ace.”

Lister nodded. “Yeah, I figured,” he said. “It couldn’t have been all daring missions and rescuing the damsel in distress, could it?”

“Sometimes it wasn’t a damsel, men needed rescuing too, you know. In fact, they needed rescuing more than the women because they have a tendency to do more stupid things and get themselves into trouble.”

Lister shrugged. “Fine, so it couldn’t be all rescuing the damsel or,” he hesitated, “…or damson in distress.”

“I don’t think that’s the right word.”

Lister waved a hand dismissively. “My point is, there had to have been some downtime in between. And it’s not like you had us lot around to talk to, so you would’ve needed something to do.”

“I kept myself busy enough.”

“Well yeah, but I bet because you’re, well, you, even though you probably could’ve spent the night in bed with whatever lucky sod you just saved, you’d’ve probably convinced yourself they didn’t actually like you or something, and decided to spend your nights alone in your ship. So you needed something to do, so you got yourself a pack of cards.”

Rimmer sighed. On the one hand, it was nice to be back around someone who understood him. On the other, sometimes it would be nice if Lister didn’t know him quite so perfectly. “I didn’t have to ‘get’ the cards, they were already there, left behind by a previous Ace.”

Lister shook his head. “That wasn’t really the point.”

“Fine. Well if you must know, Lister, I did have a few liaisons. I even had to turn down a couple of marriage proposals. But in-between all that, there was still a lot of time alone. There were times when I would jump into dimension after dimension and find them completely empty. I don’t know whether humans just never evolved there, or whether they wiped themselves out before I arrived, or if I was just in completely the wrong part of the universe. All I know is, there were times that I went for months without speaking to another person. So I had to find something to do.”

Lister nodded. He was quiet for a long moment, then folded his arms tightly and nodded. “Sounds lonely,” he said quietly.

It had been. Long stretches of loneliness and boredom interspersed with the occasional terrifying situation.

Lister was looking at him now with something approaching sympathy in his expression. Lister understood loneliness; a man who had surrounded himself with a large group of friends, who had been friends with everybody, who had thrived on and drawn energy from the social interactions that left Rimmer drained and anxious. A man who had found himself marooned in deep space, the last survivor of the human race.

“It was fine,” Rimmer assured him. It was only a partial lie, half of the time it really had been. Well, a bit less than half. More like a quarter. Or fifteen percent? He shook his head. “Okay yes, it was a bit lonely. But it’s your fault.”

“Mine? How’s it my fault? Because I convinced you to go?”

Actually, that was a good point too, but not the one Rimmer had been trying to make. He shook his head. “No. It’s your fault I couldn’t hack the solitude. Over the past however long it’s been, I must have got used to having you around.”

“So you’re mad at me because you missed me?”

Rimmer shook his head. “I‘m not mad at you, and I didn’t miss you, not specifically. I just missed not being alone; having someone to talk to.”

Lister grinned. “You did. You missed me,” he said.

“Fine. And what about you? Did you miss me?” He hadn’t meant to ask that, but now it was out there, he couldn’t take it back. He held his breath and waited for the reply.

Lister folded his arms. “Yeah, of course I did,” he admitted. He glanced away and dropped his voice to a mumbled whisper. “Even had a couple of dreams about you.”

Rimmer nodded in satisfaction. Lister hadn’t even been on his own. For some of that time, he had had a whole crew to keep him company, not to mention a version of Rimmer himself, and yet he still admitted to missing him. He smiled to himself, confident that he had come out the victor in this competition. “Wait,” he asked. “What kind of dreams?”

“Just dreams, not important.”

He decided to let it go for now. “So, your turn,” he said. “What else did I miss while I was off being a hero? Did Kryten hack off anybody else’s body parts?”

“One arm wasn’t enough for you?”

“Okay, maybe that’s enough dismemberment, but something else interesting must have happened while I was away.”

Lister frowned. “What, other than the entire crew, including you, coming back to life?”

“Other than that. I already know about that.”

“Well yeah, plenty happened,” Lister told him, “but you haven’t held up your side of the bargain yet, have you? A story about you sitting around in your ship playing cards on your own doesn’t exactly count, you know.”

“Of course it does. You never specified what the content of the story needed to be.”

“Suit yourself,” Lister told him, and turned over another of Rimmer’s cards. He placed it exactly where Rimmer would have put it, which allowed him to make five more moves and take two cards out of play. He moved to pick up another card.

“Fine,” Rimmer told him. “I’ll tell you one more story.”

Lister looked up.

“I rescued you once,” Rimmer told him. He hesitated. That wasn’t true, strictly speaking. “Well, no. Not you but another version of you. And it wasn’t much of a rescue either if I’m honest.”

“Great story, Rimmer. I’m on the edge of my seat!”

Rimmer scowled at him. “It was a couple of GELFs with a grudge, and they — the other crew — would have probably handled it fine if I hadn’t shown up, but I did, so I thought it was only right to lend a hand.” As he spoke, he heard himself slip unthinkingly into the Ace Rimmer accent he had perfected over the years. He cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I kinda like it.”

Rimmer rolled his eyes and continued in his own accent. “He was a lot like you, the other Lister. If I hadn’t known better — well, if I hadn’t had a ship’s computer that could tell me better — I’d have genuinely believed I was home. It turned out his Rimmer had already left to become Ace, years earlier. When I showed up, the other Lister thought his Rimmer had come back.”

Lister winced. “Did you tell him he hadn’t?”

“I didn’t want to,” Rimmer admitted. He looked away. “Telling him that, was basically the same as telling him that his Rimmer was gone.”

“Yeah,” Lister said. “If I was him, I don’t know how I’d have…” He folded his arms and stopped talking abruptly.

Rimmer nodded. “This thing is, it was a bit more delicate than that. They’d been…” he hesitated, “They were pretty close. Closer than you and I.”

Lister frowned. “Closer than us? Rimmer, the only way they could possibly have been closer than us is if they were…” His eyes widened as understanding dawned. Rimmer nodded, and slowly a smile spread across Lister’s face. “Oh, right,” he said. “Right.”

“It turned out they’d been together for quite some time before he went off to be a hero,” Rimmer said. He shook his head. “The idiot.”

“Hey!” said Lister. “You’re saying sleeping with me makes him an idiot?”

Rimmer shook his head. “No. Well, yes, obviously he must have been. But what I meant was why would a version of me who had someone that loved him, give it all up to go off and be Ace? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Lister shrugged. “You did it.”

Rimmer looked at him for a long moment, trying to figure out exactly what Lister had meant by that.

Lister cleared his throat. “So, what did you think about that particular revelation?”

He considered the question. “Mostly, I thought that I really didn’t want to have to be the one to tell him his boyfriend had died. For a moment, I even thought about playing along, being his Rimmer for a day or two then telling him I had to go off and be a hero again.”

“You didn’t, did you?”

Rimmer shook his head. “Of course not.” He was still Ace at the time, and that would have been a cowardly move. Another time, another circumstance, maybe he would have done. “It wouldn’t have been fair to him.”

“Yeah,” Lister agreed. “Definitely not.”

Rimmer picked up another card, and rather than putting it down, he began to fidget with it, turning it over nervously in his hands. He cleared his throat. “I thought another thing too,” he said.

“Oh yeah?”

“I thought about how glad I was, that there was at least one universe out there where I’d been brave enough to accept who I was.”

Lister nodded, and Rimmer got the impression that he wasn’t telling him anything he hadn’t already known. “So how’d he take it?” he asked. “When you told him you weren’t his Rimmer?”

Rimmer continued to fidget with the playing card. “I think he already knew, really. I mean, I think he hoped I was his Rimmer, but he didn’t really believe it. He’d already accepted that he was gone. That’s how it works, isn’t it? As soon as you get into the ship and make your first jump that’s supposed to be it. It’s meant to be a one way trip, and he knew that.”

Lister nodded. “Meant to, anyway.”

“He asked me to stay,” Rimmer continued. “Not to replace his Rimmer or anything like that, just to make a home there. Stop leaping dimensions and just… just be me again. It was tempting, too.” In fact, he had stayed for a little while, but he had found that he needed to move on. “When I told him I needed to go, he’s the one that told me I should try to get home. I think he could tell my heart wasn’t in it anymore.”

“And so you came back,” Lister said. He smiled warmly. “I’m glad. No offence to the other Lister, but if you were going to settle down somewhere, it had to be here.”

“It wasn’t quite as simple as just ‘coming back’,” Rimmer told him. “It was actually very difficult. You can’t safely jump between similar dimensions, you know. It involved multiple jumps, a fair amount of danger, and a lot of luck. Of course, if I’d known you’d gone and made yourself a brand new Rimmer, I might have just stayed where I was.” He could hear the jealousy in his voice, and he didn’t care

Lister shook his head. “Come on, you know that wasn’t planned. Anyway, he wasn’t you. I mean, he was you, but he wasn’t you you, was he?”

That was the kind of thing that Rimmer might have rolled his eyes at, once upon a time. Now, it made perfect sense. He had met a lot of people who both were, and were not, people he had known. It was a strange feeling, one that he had never quite got used to. “Still, I was surplus to requirements around here, wasn’t I?” He was fishing and he knew it. He didn’t care.

Lister seemed to know it too. It was obvious that he was playing along as he shook his head sympathetically. “Of course not!” He paused, then shrugged, “I mean, two of you would’ve been a bit too much to handle, but you’re always welcome here, Rimmer. Always.”

Satisfied, Rimmer nodded. “And I suppose it’s good that you replaced me,” he said. “Because then I could replace Ace. If there hadn’t been another me here, it would’ve meant the chair was broken.” He shrugged. “Not that that’s exactly a tragedy though. Does the universe really need some smug git in a wig flying around being heroic? Really?”

“I didn’t replace you,” Lister insisted. “And I think the universe probably does need an Ace. Just like it needs an endless ouroboros cycle of List…” he stopped, then smiled. “Okay, my turn,” he said. “While you were off being a smug git in a wig, I found out who my parents were.”

Rimmer stared at him. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. And you’ll never guess who they are.”

Rimmer resisted the urge to groan. “It’s going to be something ridiculous, isn’t it?” he said. “Like you’re actually related to royalty or something.” He was never going to hear the end of it; Lister was going to be constantly lording it over him. “You’re the illegitimate son of some King or Queen, dumped in a pub by a jealous relative whose claim to the throne your birth put at risk.”

Lister grinned and shook his head. “Er, no. Not exactly,” he said.

Rimmer breathed a silent sigh of relief. The only thing worse than finding out something like that would be… oh smeg. “You’re my brother, aren’t you? Like in that reality we hallucinated when we encountered the despair squid.” Oh, that was all he needed, just when he was beginning to come to terms with the idea that he might like Lister. It was typical, and so in-keeping with his luck that he couldn’t believe he hadn’t figured it out sooner. “How the smeg did that happen?” He rested his head in his hands. “I didn’t even know my mum had been to Liverpool.”

Lister laughed and shook his head. “I have to give you this much, Rimmer, you’ve got a good imagination.”

“So we’re not brothers?”

“No, of course we’re not.”

Rimmer began to breathe a sigh of relief, then hesitated. “And not half brothers? Or cousins? Second cousins once removed?”

“We’re no relation at all. Well, at least as far as I know.”

Rimmer exhaled slowly. “Right. Good.”

“It’s even weirder than that, actually.” Lister paused, either for effect or to make sure Rimmer was listening, Rimmer wasn’t sure. “It turns out I’m my own dad.”

Rimmer frowned. That couldn’t be right. He looked at Lister, searching for any hint that this was some kind of a joke, but he couldn’t see any. Finally, he shook his head. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. But it’s true. Me and Krissie had a baby, and it was me. Then I…”

“Wait,” Rimmer interrupted. “You and Kochanski?” He tried to ignore the stab of jealousy that came with that particular revelation, and failed. “I thought you said you never got back together with her. You said she was too hung up on the other Lister. You said…”

“Hey.” Lister stopped his words with a gentle hand on his arm. “Relax. She was still too into the other Lister, and I can’t really blame her either. I mean, they were together a long time; as long as me and you. And over that time she’d moulded him into some kinda weird, opera-loving anti-Lister. I mean, I was never going to live up to that, and I didn’t want to either. All I had to do was make a… uh, a genetic donation, and she was planning on raising the baby with him.”

“Oh,” Rimmer said. “Well, good. Not that I care, of course.”

“Nah, ‘course you don’t,” Lister agreed. “Anyway, it’s probably for the best that she wasn’t into me; I was a bit too hung up on somebody else myself too, if I’m honest.”

Rimmer wondered who it could have been. Lister’s own Kochanski, he supposed. After all, the one that had ended up aboard Starbug with them had been a different Kochanski from a different dimension. If the years they had spent together had changed the other Lister to the point where he was almost unrecognisable. Maybe there had been differences between the two Kochanskis that Lister hadn’t been able to see past.

“Anyway, that doesn’t matter,” Lister continued. “So when the baby was born, we raised him for a couple of months until he was about the same age I’d been when they found me, then I went back in time and left him under that pool table so that he could be found, grow up, get stranded three million years in the future, work this all out for himself and then do the same thing to his own kid." He paused, then frowned. “Who will be me as well.”

Rimmer pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head slowly from side to side as he tried to make sense of what he was hearing. Of all the nonsensical things that they had encountered during their time in space, this had to be one of the most improbable, for so many reasons. “Lister, before I dignify this with an answer, tell me, are you being serious?” he asked.

“Well, yeah. Of course I am. You don’t think I could just make up a story like that, do you?”

He probably could but it didn’t sound like something he would do. For all he had always pretended not to mind, Rimmer knew how much not knowing the truth about where he came from had bothered Lister. He also knew how much it had hurt him having to give up the twins; he wouldn’t joke about giving another child away.

“So, if you’re your own dad,” he said in an attempt to break the tension, “that makes Kochanski your mum, right? So is that why you never got together?”

“What?” Lister pulled a face. “No. Why would it be?”

“Well, because she’s your mum,” Rimmer repeated. “I mean, you’ve got to admit it would be a bit weird.”

Lister folded his arms. “It’s not like that though, is it? She’s the kid’s mum, not mine.” Even as he said it, he didn’t sound convinced.

“But the kid is you.”

“Yeah, but…” Lister shook his head.

“Technically, it sounds like she’s your grandmother too,” Rimmer added, with a smile to show that he was joking. He wasn’t, actually, but Lister didn’t need to know that. “And your great grandmother.”

Lister folded his arms and rolled his eyes. “Smeg off,” he said. “You’re just happy because you think you’ve got a chance with me now, like that other Rimmer did.”

Rimmer sat back in his seat. He genuinely hadn’t thought he was being that obvious. He looked at Lister, trying to decide whether he was joking, or whether he was feeling particularly empathic today. “No I’m not,” he lied.

“Oh,” said Lister. “Well that’s too bad.”

Rimmer blinked.

“So, did you ever figure out where the universes diverged?” Lister said.

It was such an abrupt change of subject that it took him a moment or two to realise that Lister was talking about the other him again. “More or less, yes. It was around the time I got my hard light drive. Remember that night we stayed up all night drinking and talking about things?”

Lister nodded. “I remember you talking for hours about different textures and temperatures, trying to make me understand why it was so great to be able to feel for the first time in years.” He smiled. “Must’ve been amazing.”

It had been. It still was, even if he sometimes took it for granted now. “Well, from what I can gather, that night played out a little differently in that universe, and ended up with the two of us… well, the two of them…”

“Gotcha.”

“What I couldn’t figure out is why that happened. There must have been something before that that changed things enough that we felt able to do that, but whatever it was, it must have been so small that the other Lister and I couldn’t figure it out.”

Lister shrugged. “Might be because there wasn’t anything,” he said. “Sometimes things just happen, you know. I bet I can guess exactly how the whole thing started out; Rimmer put his hand on Lister’s, to feel it I mean, and Lister grabbed hold of it, pulled him in closer and kissed him. Right?”

Rimmer blinked. “I don’t know,” he said. “I never asked for a play-by-play. Why?”

“Because that’s what happens, isn’t it? When realities split. You have a choice, you make it, and the other version of you makes the opposite choice.”

Rimmer nodded. “More or less.”

“So here’s the thing,” Lister told him. He picked up the pile of unplayed cards on the table and ran his fingernail down the side of the stack. “In this reality, when you touched my hand I was… well, I was kinda tempted to pull you closer and kiss you, but I chickened out.”

Rimmer stared at him, trying to process what he was hearing. “Why?”

“Because you were talking about all these different sensations you’d been missing out on, and how amazing it was, and I thought you might want to experience another one.”

“Not why did you want to, you gimboid. I meant why didn’t you?”

“Oh…” Lister hesitated. “Well, like I said, I chickened out. I thought you might not like it, or you’d turn me down. And maybe you would have. I mean, if anything that could happen did happen in one universe or another, there must also be a universe where I kissed you, but instead of whatever happened in the dimension you landed in, you freaked out over it and things got really weird between us. So I mean, maybe I dodged a bullet.”

Rimmer pursed his lips. He wanted to insist that wouldn’t have happened, and maybe he was right, but there was a good chance he wasn’t. After all, he already knew that theirs wasn’t the reality where they had ended up together. Not then anyway. He sighed. “You’re probably right.”

A shadow of disappointment fell over Lister’s face.

“No, I mean, it was different then,” Rimmer stammered. “It was a long time ago. Just because I might have reacted badly then, doesn't mean I’d do the same thing now, does it?”

“I dunno.” Lister looked at him like he was trying to figure out whether Rimmer was serious, and if so, how serious. “Does it?”

Lister put down the playing cards and rested his hand on the surface of the table. Not breaking eye contact with Lister, Rimmer slowly slid his hand across until the tips of their fingers touched. He kept going, until his hand rested on top of Lister’s. As he moved, he tried to remember how he had felt that night, when everything had been so new and every touch had felt amplified a hundredfold. He concentrated on the warmth of Lister’s skin in comparison to the cool air of their quarters, the difference between the texture of the soft back of his hand and the rougher skin of his knuckles.

He had been so afraid that night, convinced that the hard light drive wouldn’t last; that his bad luck would kick in and he would revert to his usual, soft light form, deprived once again of the ability to feel. He remembered thinking how much worse it was going to be, having experienced touch only to have it snatched away again, and he remembered how desperate he had been to cram as much sensation as he could into every second, before it was too late.

He had become complacent, he realised, as he pressed the tips of his fingers a little harder into the back of Lister’s hand, feeling the bones and tendons beneath the skin. He had become too used to it; started to take it for granted. He closed his eyes and savoured the sensation in a way that he hadn’t done in years.

After a moment, Lister placed his own free hand on top of Rimmer’s and simply held him for a while, Rimmer’s hand encased in Listers, feeling the warmth of his skin. Then, gently, he turned it over. When his hand lay palm upward on top of Lister’s, Lister began to trace the lines of Rimmer’s palm with his fingertips, then, when that was done, began to move his finger in slow, lazy circles. It felt good. It felt incredible, but it wasn’t what he had been expecting. He opened his eyes and looked at Lister, questioning.

“What? I wasn’t just going to grab you and go for a snog,” Lister told him. “I’m a bit more subtle than that. I mean, not much, but a bit.”

Slowly, he pulled Rimmer’s hand a little closer to him, lifting it from the table and toward his lips, then gently kissed his fingertips one at a time. Finally, he moved his grip further up Rimmer’s arm. Holding tightly at his arm at the elbow, he tugged gently. His grip was firm enough that he could lead Rimmer closer to him, but not so firm that Rimmer wouldn’t be able to back off if he wanted to. Rimmer didn’t want to.

Lister pulled him closer until he leaned far enough across the table that Lister could easily close the distance between them, then he touched his lips to Rimmer’s. Their lips brushed gently together, barely a kiss, barely even a touch. It left him wanting more. Rimmer leaned closer, trying to get more sensation, but Lister moved further back. He smiled and shook his head. “Wait for it,” he whispered. Rimmer felt his breath on his skin.

He moved a little closer, a fraction of a centimetre, and allowed Rimmer to feel the warmth of his skin and the softness of his lips as they pressed, slightly open, against his own. Lister’s hand snaked slowly around the back of his head, his fingers parting Rimmer’s curls as they worked their way through his hair. At the same time, Lister’s tongue teased Rimmer’s and Rimmer felt himself respond in kind.

For a moment, everything around then faded away. The living quarters, the ship, the years that they had been apart, everything but the moment. Rimmer was lost in sensation; drowning in it.

And then, it was over. All concept of time had abandoned him, and Rimmer had no idea how long it had been before they finally came up for air. At some point, he didn’t know when, he had closed his eyes. He opened them now to find himself staring directly into Lister’s eyes. Lister smiled nervously, and shrugged. “So, it’d have probably been a bit like that,” he said. “If I hadn’t chickened out that night, I mean.”

“Right,” Rimer said. He nodded, and sat back down again, unsure what he was supposed to do or say now. His game of patience was ruined, the cards scattered over the tabletop and on the floor. He tugged on the bottom of his uniform tunic, straightening any creases that might have appeared, and quickly ran his fingers through his hair in a futile effort to undo any damage Lister might have done to it. “Right,” he said again.

He could feel his own simulated heartbeat pounding in the hard light projection of his chest. His skin tingled everywhere that Lister had touched him, and he wanted more.

“Right,” he said, for a third time. He realised that he really should think of something else to say, but for some reason he was drawing a complete blank. He opened his mouth to speak again, and this time, closed it again.

“Well?” Lister asked. Rimmer could hear the apprehension in his voice, and see it on his face.

Rimmer took a slow, deep breath and tried to force his mind to regain the ability to speak. “That was…” he began, then faltered. He didn’t have the words to describe what that had been. Anything he might say would pale into insignificance in comparison to the real thing. He took another breath, slowly in and out. He needed to say something or it was going to start to get weird. “Lister, if you’d done that the day after I first got my hard light drive, you’d probably have shorted the damn thing out,” he said.

“What’s that mean?” Lister asked, appearing worried now.

Rimmer reached for him again. He grabbed clumsily at his hand before intertwining his fingers with Lister’s. “It means it was incredible,” he said. “But it would have been too much for me then. When I hadn’t been able to feel for all those years, suddenly experiencing something like that… it would have been overwhelming.” It was almost still too much for him now, but at the same time it hadn’t been enough. He wanted more. If Lister could do that with a few gentle touches, Rimmer wanted to know what else he could do.

“I mean, I’ve had a bit of time to think about it, so maybe it wouldn’t have been exactly like that,” Lister told him.

“So you’ve been thinking about it?”

“No.” Lister said, far too quickly. Then he shrugged and glanced away. “Well, you know, just now and then. Not all the time or anything like that. Just when I had nothing to do and my mind wandered.”

In other words, he had been daydreaming about it. About him. Of all the things Lister had told him about the things he had missed while he had been away, the deadly virus, the resurrection of the crew, finding out that Lister was his own father, somehow the revelation that Dave Lister had been daydreaming about him was the most unexpected. And the most wonderful.

“So,” Lister said. “It might have been too much for you then, but what about now? You’ve had a couple of years to get used to touch again, and I bet you had more than a couple of kisses while you were off being a hero, so…” his question tailed off, leaving it hanging in the air between them.

Rimmer thought about it. “It was still overwhelming,” he said honestly. “But I think…” he hesitated. “I think being overwhelmed now and then might be a good thing.”

“Want to try again?”

Rimmer nodded.

Lister got to his feet and pressed the manual lock on the door to their quarters. He offered a hand to Rimmer as he walked back past him, and when Rimmer accepted, steered him in the direction of the sofa. “Might be a bit comfier over here than leaning across a table,” he said.

He sat down and Rimmer sat next to him. He glanced down at his hands awkwardly, not sure what he was supposed to do.

“Hey, by the way,” Lister said as he edged himself a little closer and snaked a hand around Rimmer’s shoulders and then up into his hair again. “Don’t you think this gets you out of telling me stories. I still want to know everything you got up to when you were out there being Ace.”

Thank you to @coney-island-blitz for the beta on this!

#red dwarf #red dwarf fanfic #my fic #long post #dave lister #arnold rimmer #rimmer/lister

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pinktintedmonocle · 4 years ago

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Red Dwarf – The First Three Million Years Ep 3 thoughts

· Poor Craig actually having to walk backwards into the river in Backwards and then getting stuck in there because his biker boots filled up with water and having to be pulled out - “I nearly died”. And then just completely shrugging it off “Good fun though, we went back and did it again. We just taped up me boots!”

· Seeing Danny as the rat never fails to crack me up – genius!

· Loved Ed talking about Chris and the Ace wig – “He won’t thank me for saying this but I think he wore the wig for a little bit too long. You know, like, did he really have to wear it home?”

· I already knew that Craig slapped Chris’ horse on its arse during Gunmen to make it run, but I didn’t know that all the horses then starting running! And then Robert saying that he could see people running from all directions to an open gate that led onto a busy main road to get it closed before they reached it!

· Love David Ross talking about playing Talkie Toaster – “It was the pinnacle of my career, playing a toaster. I mean who wants to play King Lear and Richard III? Give me a toaster any day of the week!”

· Craig talking about the actor who played Lister in the American pilot made me laugh – “So good looking I would’ve shagged him.” Oh Craig, never change!

· Really liked the cast talking about all the amazing fans and costumes, especially the four generations of women from the same family who all turned up at a convention with an H on their heads!

· That clip of Craig and Robert crawling across the stage to try and hide after a kid in the audience asks what smeg is! I’ve never seen that before and it had me in stitches!

· Overall really enjoyed this three part series. Fingers crossed we get some more episodes in the not too distant future.

#red dwarf #dave lister #arnold rimmer #arnold j rimmer #the cat #kryten #doug naylor #craig charles #chris barrie #danny john jules #robert llewellyn #red dwarf the first three million years

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cilliansaccent · 4 years ago

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The Peaky Designer - Cillian Fanfic, Chapter 24

Hello, welcome back. Below is the next instalment of my fanfiction!

Leave a like or a comment if you liked it, or if I can do anything better! Please, it would mean the world and to understand if anyone is enjoying my writing. Also, sharing/reblogging would be even better.

PLEASE READ:

I will not be including Cillian’s family as it’s kinda weird since he has children lmao. Just a mention of his parents and a previous lover.

I will indicate in a chapter if there is smut in the beginning and before the actual scene!!

I will add trigger warnings if there is any!!

There is a variety of levels of swearing during a chapter, I will not hold back, everyone swears.

The timestamp for the Fic is now 2016 and onwards!!

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Background: Gabrijela Babic is a Croatian girl from Sydney, Australia. She is born in the year 1991 on the 24th of December. She studies a Fashion degree in a University with a major in Game Design as well. Her teacher in the fashion designer class managed to nail an Internship on the set of Peaky Blinders with the shows very own Costume Designer, Allison McCosh. There, she travels to London for under a year to learn how to be one, working alongside the actors as well the man she admires, Cillian Murphy. But, her platonic feelings for the man begins to grow into something more, and she wonders whether she should pursue them or let him go for fear of her strict parents and her three older brothers…

Characters:

Swantje Paulina as Gabrijela Babic (swalina on Instagram)

Cillian Murphy

Word Count: 5,235

!!Warnings!!: Mention of abortion near the end

Date: February 2017

Chapter Name: Maya’s Wedding Day

Brief Chapter Outline: The pair attend’s Maya’s wedding, it’s all nice and happy until Lucia ruins the surprise for Gabrijela. It ends with the following day after-party at Maya’s parents house.

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It was an early start for Gabrijela and Cillian. They took another shower, Gab going first since she had to be ready quicker and she took her time when it came to doing her hair and make-up.

"You look fine without all of that on." Cillian mused.

She huffed, "Yes. You've told me many times. But it's only for these special occasions I'll go full out. Or if I'm streaming a game." She was combing her wet hair once she was out of the shower.

"I have yet to see you do a stream," Cillian said.

"Well, I do plan on a stream next weekend. You can watch." She giggled.

"Sounds like a good idea." He nodded and went into the shower.

Gabrijela dried her hair and worked on it. It was a half up half down style with a braid, the loose ends were in soft waves as her hair was like that naturally. She cleaned up her jewellery next, she had found some earrings that could match her necklace, they were simple gold sunbursts with a little opal in the middle. She still had that Claddagh ring on and admired it. She truly loved it. She popped on their shared music playlist as she set on her make-up. She kept it quite natural, when she would come back she would add more to match her evening dress. Her dress for the church was an off the shoulder, white top section with the skirt a rose gold with four big white flowers. She wore flats with a small heel.

Cillian was ready in his suit, he was fixing up his collar as Gabrijela came over and did his tie, "You look dashing, babe." She adjusted his tie and collar and rubbed down his jacket.

"And you look stunning." He held her forearms gently.

"Thank you. Can I take a photo?" She grinned.

"Okay." He chuckled and they posed before the mirror as she snapped a pic. "Oh, we look good."

"We do. A perfect couple." She leaned up and kissed his cheek gently.

They pulled away and she grabbed her bag, checked for anything she was missing and off they went. Her family were finishing up and the kids mucked around near the parking lot. They all greeted each other before they all got into their own cars. Her parents would join in her car, she would lead her family to the church.

Once everyone got to the church, they mingled with the rest of the guests and Gabrijela found her group of friends. They all greeted each other.

"How was the drive?" Elijah asked.

"Good. I'm tired since we left right after I finished work." Gabrijela laughed. "Don't give me that look you kinky asshat. No. I'm not tired because of that." She punched his shoulder.

He grinned, "Sure thing. Hey, I gotta tell you something though."

"Oh? What is it?" Gab asked.

"Before we all knew what Lucia had done to you and the shit she caused us, she is still coming to the wedding. Maya wanted to tell her not to come but she felt way to bad. You know how she is." Elijah said.

Gab sighed heavily, "Thanks for telling me. I'll make sure I keep away from her."

"No problemo. I think she's just coming to the reception so you got time to get yourself ready if she ever tries to face off with you." Elijah patted her shoulder.

"Yeah. Again, thanks." She smiled.

It was time to head into the church and she took Cillian's hand. Together they sat near the front with her family and friends. Ben was standing up at the front with his mates, looking very nervous. Twenty minutes passed before the bride had arrived. The guests all stood as the little flower girls, both Maya's and Ben's, walked down the aisle, throwing flowers along the way but were giggling and kept getting distracted. Then it was the ring boys who were close to the girl's ages, followed by the three bridesmaids. The music began as Maya and her father walked together down the aisle. She had a beautiful lace dress which had a Queen Anne collar and short flowing sleeves. The bodice was hand made and had little crystals sewn in the middle of the flower designs. She looked absolutely stunning and very happy.

The ceremony continued on, it was seriously perfect. Their vows were their own and it brought tears to both their eyes. Gab felt Cillian slip his hand in hers and squeeze gently. She looked up and he smiled at her, she returned it. She looked back when they exchanged rings... She wondered if she was ever going to get married.

Once the ceremony ended, the Croatian band started and played music as they walked out followed by the bridal party then soon after the guests. Everyone gathered in front of the church and took a photo, then a big circle was formed and the bride and groom danced to the music. People clapped and cheered, more photos taken and people congratulated them. The bride and groom eventually left to go have their photos taken, some people headed back to their hotel rooms or straight to the reception that was being held at the Hunter Valley Gardens.

Gab and Cillian headed back to their hotel with her parents in tow. They all relaxed in the garden as it was cooler, Leo had brought drinks and they had some. Gab stuck with her lemon lime and bitters. Music played from the boom box she brought along, the kids asleep, the air warm but not to much to cause you to sweat. Then it was time to get ready, Gabrijela changing into her other dress, Cillian helping with the lace back. She laughed when he gripped her hips and pulled her close, kissing her shoulder then to her neck. She tangled her fingers in his hair, "Don't, babe. You know what will happen."

"Just don't think about it." He said, coming to her jaw.

"Bastard." She was turned around to face him and she planted her hands on his chest. "I. Love. You."

"And I. Love. You. Too." He leaned in and kissed her softly, "You look really beautiful."

"Thank you. You look really handsome." She smiled and fixed his hair.

He took her face in his hands gently and he smiled, "Shall we go?"

"We shall." They kissed and pulled away and headed out and soon left to go to the gardens. It was done outside with a huge marquis that was decked out in a very boho, natural theme. Pretty lightbulbs hung from the beams above (which looked like branches), the poles were designed to look like tree trunks with curling flowering vines. The tables had three types of designs, one had the red wattle, yellow kangaroo paws and the eucalyptus flower with leaves sprinkled on the tables. The bridal table was similar but much more extravagant with flowers draped at the front with fairy lights woven between them and as the backdrop to.

Gabrijela took the stem of rosemary from the basket, it had a red, blue and white ribbon at the end and she pinned it to Cillian's jacket lapel.

"What is this for?" Cillian asked.

"All Croatian weddings have this. Each guest gets it. Tradition says it wards off evil spirits and that guests then give money." She pointed to the box. "Though, you would give a card instead of just dumping it in." She held the card up and grinned before she put it in the box. "I already bought her a gift, a Smeg Toaster that will match her other Smeg items in their new house."

Cillian chuckled, "Nice." He took her hand as they walked to their table. They were seated with her friends, Elijah at her side.

"Please tell me she won't be on our table?" Gab asked Elijah.

"Sadly she will be, but don't you worry. We got you." He hugged her a little and squeezed her shoulder. "Also you look fantastic. You both do."

"Thanks, Eli." Gab smiled a little before she sighed. "Ah fuck." Gab cursed when she saw Lucia walk in what looked like a much older man.

"Now that is a first," Karsyn said with a raised brow, he was seated beside Cillian.

"What the hell." Gab groaned.

"It's going to be okay." Cillian gripped her hand, touching her face, "I love you."

Gab smiled and touched his hand as Lucia beamed, "Hi guys! Good to see you all." She exclaimed.

"Nice to see you too," Elijah said with a tight smile.

Karsyn only ignored her and talked to his fiancee.

"Well, this is David. My boyfriend." She introduced the sketchy looking dude. Lucia told him each of their names before they sat down. The vibe on the table was weird since no one was really talking to Lucia. Gab kept her attention on Cillian, showing him something on her phone.

"So! Gab-gab, how have you been?" Lucia chimed in, beaming.

Gab looked up, "It's Gabrijela. I've been fine." She leaned into Cillian's side, gripping his thigh.

David seemed intrigued but he didn't talk, keeping mostly to himself.

"That's good. You like my handsome boyfriend? He's super sweet. He's also from Ireland to. We both have guys who got in common. Should hang out." Lucia nodded.

Gabrijela bit her bottom lip and took a quick glance at her friends who also seemed like 'WTF'. "Uh, don't know. I'm quite busy."

"I'm sure we will find a day! I'll message you. Did you change your number? Been trying to get back to you." Lucia frowned.

"Uh. Yeah-"

"Oh then please, give it to me. I want to organise a day-" Lucia started.

"No. I will not. I'm busy, Lucia. I have no time to meet up with you." Gabrijela already felt annoyed and she felt embarrassed for her boyfriend who was trying to tell Lucia to stop.

"Why not? I want to see you again." She pouted, tears in her eyes. "I miss you!" She cried. David grabbed her and hushed her, whispering fast to her and she was whimpering.

"Jesus." Gabrijela turned away from her, shaking her head. "I'm already fucking sick of her." Gabrijela felt that second-hand embarrassment.

"It's okay. I'm here for you." Cillian rubbed her arms gently then took her hands and brought them to his lips. He looked at Lucia who was staring at him with clear vile anger. He only looked back to his love and kissed her forehead.

No one talked to Lucia despite she was trying to chat up the ladies on the table. Very light conversation before she finally got the gist of it.

Eventually, the bride and groom had arrived. The bridal party went first in, each couple had their own song they danced to as they entered followed by Ben and Maya. They picked a lovely Croatian song and they danced together in the middle of the dance floor. Then they parted after it was done and took their spots on the table.

Their MC, Maya's cousin, welcomed everyone and complimented the bridal party and the couple before he sneaked in some jokes before he departed. The first-course meal was then brought out soon after, people were chatting, music was playing. There was going to be a live band, she could see it. She loved live Croatian bands, and these guys were good.

Lucia got up to go talk to some people she saw, leaving poor David alone.

"Hey mate." Elijah spoke up, smiling at the man, "I gotta ask, what are you doing with her?"

"With Lucia? Like anyone else, dating her." David sat a little straighter.

"Right. Right." Elijah sat back.

"I'd like to ask why you all gave her such a cold greeting. Are you not her closest friends? Especially you?" David looked at Gab.

"Was. She's no longer our friend." Gabrijela said. She wondered if Lucia had even told David why they never spoke. It looked like he was quite confused.

"That doesn't mean you should give her the cold shoulder." David frowned, "She's proven to be an actual lovely girl."

"Oh? So you know what she did?" Gabrijela asked, tilting her head to the side.

"Yes. She told me she made a mistake with sleeping with your now ex. She truly wants to make it up to you." David replied.

"Yeah. No. She did not make that mistake. She wanted it." Gabrijela scoffed, shaking her head. Cillian gripped her thigh, squeezing to remind her to stay calm.

"Have you ever spoken to her about it? She said you just dropped her." David cocked an eyebrow.

"Of course. I won't be dealing with people who cheat. I've dealt with people like that, don't need it in my life." Gab replied smoothly.

"But you should-" David began.

"Listen, mate. She said she doesn't want to be friends with her. Drop it. Besides, how long have you been dating Lucia?" Elijah cut him off.

"Three months," David said.

"Right. And you understand that she was causing some shit with us, as well?"

"Yes but-"

"No buts here. Just understand that she's cut deep wounds with us all and we aren't the type to just happily oblige her just because she throws a tantrum. You just saw it yourself." Elijah said, his eyes hard.

David frowned and glanced at Gabrijela and her man then sighed and sat back, arms crossed.

Gabrijela looked away and saw Maya looking at them, she gave her a smile of reassurance and a promise they would talk later.

It wasn't long when it came to the first dance. Gabrijela explained to Cillian the meaning behind the song and how much it meant to Maya and Ben. He found it quite romantic as they watched the pair dance. The rest of the bridal party danced until anyone else may come up.

"Shall we?" Gabrijela turned to Cillian.

"Dance?" He asked.

"Yeah. Come on, my love." She said as she stood up and took his hands. They walked to the dance floor and he spun her before he pulled her close. They swayed to the music, her head resting on his chest. She imagined them on their wedding day like this.

"You make me so unbelievably happy, Cillian." She said, her eyes shut.

His lips brushed her forehead, his thumb ran over her knuckles slowly, "I can say the same for you. You are truly a woman I love."

She loved that word in his accent, it made her shiver, "My Cillian." She looked up at him and leaned up to kiss him softly.

He smiled and they pressed foreheads. Maya made an 'aw' sound as they came close.

"You two are so cute!" She beamed and broke away from Ben to hug Gabrijela.

Gab laughed as she hugged her friend back as Cillian shook hands with Ben, "Congrats. You look so good! Ugh!"

"Thanks. Oh my god. I love this dress. It suits you so well!" Maya beamed. The girls gushed over each other before they danced, their men stood off to the side to talk.

"I have something really important to tell you and the gang," Gab said to Maya as they twirled.

"Oh? How important?" Maya asked with a smile.

"Very. After all the formalities are done we all meet under the willow tree." Gab giggled.

"Oooh, secrets. I love secrets." Maya mused.

They parted as the dance ended and they all took their seats once more. It was time to do the speeches, which were very sweet, a lot of tears from both Maya, Ben and Maya's dad and Ben's best man. The speeches really tugged at the heartstrings. Even for Gabrijela. Then it was time to cut the cake, which of course almost turned out into a food fight but Maya wasn't having it. Once the cake was taken away and people calmed down it was time to throw the bouquet and Gabrijela was up on her feet.

"Hey! You aren't single!" Elijah shouted.

"Don't care!" Gab stuck her tongue out as all the girls gathered. Music played as Maya swayed and messed around... Then threw the flowers. The girls cried out and reached for it... Gab caught it as she tittered to the side and fell down as she laughed.

"Woo!" She yelled as Cillian rushed to her side.

"You okay my love?" He asked, eyes wide.

"I am. I am." She giggled and kissed him as he helped her to her feet. "Now it's your turn." She said as Maya came over.

"You good? Holy crap you were determined." Maya laughed.

"Yep! I was!" She nodded as they took a picture together.

"What do you mean it's my turn?" Cillian asked as they pulled away.

"You'll see." Gabbie pulled him back to the table as it was now Ben's turn.

Ben had done a whole 'Magic Mike' kinda dance for Maya who was red as a tomato. He stripped and paraded around her before he got to his knees and went under her skirts. She laughed and giggled as he finally took out the garter.

"Up you go, babe. Go catch it." Gab whispered to him.

"Oh, God." He laughed and stood to join the boys.

"Don't you hurt him!" Gab yelled, pointing at Ben's brothers and cousins.

Ben also did the teasing before he threw it. Gab gasped as the group surged forward... Cillian came out victorious! He laughed as he was bear-hugged by the group and Gabrijela was called up. They took photos together then with the bride and groom before Cillian and Gabrijela began to dance. It was an old tradition that they would do this. They did a bit of a jig together and laughed and mucked around, people cheering and clapping.

It was time to sit down as dessert came out, chocolate fudge cake. Gabrijela groaned as the dish was set before her, Cillian getting some type of ice-cream and some other cake. "Let's share," Gab said and they did, going half and half with their dishes.

Gab waited when Lucia decided to leave and she whispered to Elijah and Karsyn to follow her. They all got up, including the wives as they walked out to the willow tree. Gab waited back as her friends had all gathered there and looked up at Cillian, "You still okay with me telling them?" She asked him. They had discussed on the drive that Gabrijela would tell her friends about her being pregnant. They both agreed they would do it tonight.

"I'm perfectly fine with this. I swear it. Your friends deserve to know and I am more than happy to tell them." He squeezed her hands.

Gabbie beamed and together they went to their group of friends.

"Spill it, girlie." Maya grinned.

"Well..." Gabbie glanced at Cillian then back at her friends. "I'm pregnant!"

There was a moment and Maya was the one who gasped, "Really? Oh my god!"

"Yep! I am!" Gabrijela laughed as she was crushed against her friend's body in a tight hug.

"Congratulations!" Karsyn and Elijah said as they all hugged each other.

"When are you due?" Maya asked.

"Don't know. Maybe October or November if my calculations are right." Gabrijela giggled as Cillian pulled her close.

"Are you excited?" Ben asked Cillian.

"Oh very much so. I can't wait." Cillian grinned and looked down at Gabrijela.

There was excited chatter among her friends, and they eventually found out they were all first to know before her family. That was another obstacle to get across.

"What's all this excitement?" Lucia had wandered over and looked at everyone, "And why was I left out of it?"

Everyone turned to look at her, "None of your business." Elijah smiled.

"Is someone pregnant?" Lucia continued, "Who? C'mon, tell me." She crossed her arms.

"None. Of. Your. Business." Elijah said again, "No one needs to tell you anything."

"I wasn't asking you." She snapped at Elijah. "Ladies? Someone gonna tell me?"

"No." Gabrijela frowned, "Elijah is right. We don't need to tell you shit." She said, "Come on, let's go back inside." Gab said and walked with Cillian, holding his hand.

Everyone followed inside, leaving Lucia alone.

The night continued with more dancing and taking silly photos in the photo booth. Gabrijela and Cillian headed into the garden again where they kissed under a tree for some time where things began to grow hotter until Elijah, Karsyn and Ben ruined the fun. Gab was happy her friends were super supportive of their relationship, the boys loved Cillian, they acted mature but also had heaps of fun.

Gab couldn't get her eyes off Cillian the whole time, and Maya kept teasing her about it.

"Shut up." Gab rolled her eyes, shoving her friend a little.

"Nah. Not when you got googly eyes and drooling all over yourself." Maya laughed.

"Sorry, can't help that my boyfriend is a total snack." Gabbie mused.

"And cheers to that!" Maya beamed and they clinked glasses.

The girls chatted with each other before Gab spotted her parents looking around before their gazes fell on to Gab and wandered over.

"Gab, we need to chat." Her father said with a firm tone. "Alone."

Gabrijela frowned but her friends all got up and left, Maya mouthing 'Come to me if you need it' and turned to go.

"Okay... What's up?" Gab was confused as to why her father looked so grim. And angry.

"Well, is there something you'd like to tell us?" Her father stared at her, his scowl was clear.

"Tell you... What?" Gabrijela seemed more confused than anything.

"Gabrijela, don't play dumb. We know you are pregnant." Her father snapped.

Gab winced and her eyes widened, "What?" She had no words.

"Lucia told us. You told your friends first without consulting with us." Her father continued.

"You should have told us so we can discuss whether you will be keeping it or not." Her mother added.

"Well, I was planning to." Gab restrained her anger, "But I wasn't going to tell you yet. I wanted to make it a surprise. But it seems you both are not happy I am pregnant, am I correct?"

"Of course not. I've never been happy with this relationship either, I do not see a good future with this man at all. Why couldn't you be with someone closer to your age? Why must you waste away your life-"

"First of all," Gab cut her father off, glaring at him, "It is none of your damn business on who I date. I love Cillian, for who he is. Not because he is an older man. I never cared about it, I care about how he treats me and how we are together. You should be happy he makes me happy." She said with a clear, hard voice. No way would she let her parents trample over her like this.

"And does he know about you being pregnant?" Her mother scoffed a little.

"Of course. And we have a plan about when I am due, he will spend the few weeks here with me. Supporting me." Gab straightened her shoulders. She wouldn't let them shit on Cillian either.

Her parents let out a sigh, "And through it? How will he support you here when he isn't here?" Her father asked.

"Of course he can't come with me to the appointments so I have Maya to help me with it. Why does it matter? He is dedicated to me and with this baby, he will do whatever he can to help me." Gabrijela said.

But the next words that came from her mother hurt the most, "Darling, I do not think this is a good idea. How will your child grow up with an old man who won't be able to keep up? I know this is hard but we can talk to a doctor about-"

Gabrijela stood, tears forming in her eyes, "How dare you! Don't you talk to me about aborting my child! Of all the people, I thought you'd be happy or at least kind about this! I cannot believe you'd think I'd choose to rid my child."

"Baby, what's going on?" Cillian had rushed over when he heard her raised voice and had seen the trio interact.

"I just- God! You are unbelievably cruel!" She was crying now, tears streaming down her face.

"Damnit Gabrijela, you are ruining your life! This whole thing is a mistake, why couldn't you just behave yourself?" Her father stood, "I do not accept what you have with this man, or what you are carrying. You are no daughter to me."

The words speared her heart, "I HATE YOU! FUCK YOU!" Gabrijela screamed and turned and ran off.

Cillian turned to her father, having had enough of this, "How could you say that to your own daughter?" Fuck being nice. This was his love and future mother to his child. "What a terrible thing to say, you should be comforting her and aiding her. Not turn her away." He shook his head, "I love her, I love our child. There is nothing you can do about it. I'd like you to reconsider your words to her and make peace if you have the heart to do so." Cillian turned and ran after Gabrijela.

Her parents were in shock but had not said anything else after him.

Gabrijela was in the bathroom, crying in one of the stalls. Maya was there, trying to comfort her and hold her. Cillian didn't care and came in, "Gabbie? My love?" He came to the closed door, he could see Maya's white dress underneath it.

Maya opened the door and let Cillian in, who gathered Gab into his arms.

"I hate them," She cried into his chest, "I can't believe they even had the guts to say such cruel things."

"Shh, I'm here now. I'm not going anywhere." He stroked her hair gently, rocking her a little.

They spent like that for a bit before he managed to walk her out, they headed out of the venue where he cleaned her face up, Maya and the rest of her friends there with her.

Though, Elijah was inside with his fiancée who was trying to calm him down and not go after Lucia who was smirking like a cat. But he didn't need to as Maya came over with her husband and told Lucia to leave.

The girl made a huge deal and a tantrum, her boyfriend super embarrassed as he had to literally lift her and carry her out of the place.

When Gab seemed to recover, Cillian held her hand as he sat beside her, his jacket around her shoulders. "I love you." He said softly, cupping her cheek and turning to face him.

She smiled a little, "I know. I love you too." She rested her head on his shoulder and he kissed her head.

"Nothing will stop me from loving you. Or our child." His hand slid over her stomach.

"You are perfect, Cillian. You really are." She looked up at him, "My handsome love." She kissed him deeply.

His arms slid around her and they kissed passionately, "When we head home, I'll make you a fantastic bath." He murmured against her lips.

"Yeah? Will you be in there, a bow on your head?" She giggled softly.

"Sure, if we have one." He pecked her lips.

She was feeling a little better but she was still hurting, "Well, long as you are there, that matters most."

"Mmm, yeah." He leaned back in and kissed her again.

"Hey, come on you two. We're going to say good-bye to Maya and Ben." Elijah broke them up.

The pair stood and walked back in, hand in hand. Everyone stood in a circle as the newlywed couple went around to each person to say good-bye. Her brothers had already left earlier because of the kids and they had a long drive home tomorrow.

Eventually, they had left after another dance and the party continued on.

Gab danced with Cillian and her other friends, not meeting her parent's eyes. By midnight the party finished and Maya's remaining family cleaned up, as well as Gab and Cillian and her parents. Once that was over they drove back to the motel in total silence. Cillian took to the wheel despite Gabrijela telling him not to.

Now at the motel, Gabrijela didn't say goodnight to her parents and simply went to her room with Cillian. She undressed as he prepared a bath, cleaned her face and combed her hair before tying it up in a bun.

Cillian had finished with the bath and she wandered over, he was undressing as well and she couldn't help but watch him. "Sexy." She purred.

He laughed, facing her full-on, "That's you. Come on, let's get in." He said and helped her in before he slid behind her. He set up some music for them to listen to as they relaxed in silence. Cillian could feel Gab falling asleep and woke her up before he washed her. He got out with her and dried her and dressed her in one of his shirts and boxers.

Together they slipped into bed, him being the big spoon.

"I love you." She murmured softly.

"I love you too." He replied gently, kissing the back of her neck.

They both eventually fell asleep.

The Next Day...

Gab was glad her parents weren't coming in the same car to Maya's after-party at her parent's house. Cillian had agreed as well as they packed the car. Soon they were on the road to the country house where they were able to stay the night as well.

The party was only close friends and family, it was a clear but hot day. It was all outside but undercover thankfully. A Croatian band was playing and a little dance floor was set out.

It was nice, Gab thought. She loved weddings and always dreamed of being married to someone she loved, and she gazed at Cillian once more with that cute, small smile.

"What?" He asked as he looked at her, they were dancing.

"Nothin'. Just admiring you." She said. She wore a short yellow summer dress with white polka dots. She still had his necklace he gave her all those months ago.

"Uh-huh." He said and kissed her softly as they swayed.

The afternoon continued on with plenty of laughter, food, dancing, singing and drinking. The majority had gone home by four, but the party kept going well into the night.

Gab had fallen asleep in the egg chair as her friends chatted around her, and Cillian had come over to pick her up and take her up to the spare bedroom. He undressed her and went back down to say goodnight to everyone before he joined his love in bed.

She had rolled and snuggled close to his side, mumbling something but kept on sleeping.

He stayed awake a little, watching her peaceful state. He let his mind think and wonder, feeling totally blessed to have her with him. Tomorrow, he thought, he needed to go out to the shops and buy a few things before they left to go to their camping trip on Wednesday.

He knew what he had to do and he was nervous about it.

#cillian murphy #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #cillian murphy fanfic #fanfiction

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kochanski · 1 year ago

Text

Crimson & Clover (rated T)

No major content warnings apply, Kochanski/Lister focused. Mild flirting/sexual content, very PG13 lol

Summary: Kochanski falls in love with Lister, over and over. A short anthology set in four alternate universes; Series 1 Kochanski meet-cute, Deb/Kochanski stuck in an escape pod, Holo!Lister/Kochanski roommates, canon-ish series 7 Lister/Kochanski sharing food

Chapter One: I Don't Hardly Know Her

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Kochanski glanced over her shoulder. She'd seen him around, usually fiddling with a malfunctioning vending machine. Occasionally he managed to actually fix the problem.

"Soup guy," she smiled.

"Yeah, that's me. Regular soup-erman." He scratched his neck, nervous. Aw. He was nervous to talk to her.

"Well, you do an essential service 'round here. What would we have without our chicken noodle?"

"Less diarrhea, probably," he quipped, before realizing what he'd just said, eyes wide. "Smeg- I didn't mean to say that. I had better material before I walked up here, swear."

"Mhmm. You gonna ask me if I have a map, then? If it hurt when I fell from heaven?"

"Yeah, I like your outfit, but it'd look better on me floor." He snorted and offered his hand. "Dave Lister."

"Kristine Kochanski. But call me Kris. My friends do."

"D'you like pool, Kris?"

"Only if you like losing," she grinned.

The night was still early, and they more or less had the place to themselves. Quiet, beyond a few scattered conversations and the tinkling of an arcade game waiting patiently for its next victim. Dave's eyes were warm and dark, sparkling in the dim light, a cocky smile spreading across his face. Alright, he was gaining confidence. Kochanski might have been worried if she hadn't been hustling since year eleven.

"Care to gamble?"

"Yeah, sure." Lister lifted the little triangular rack, each ball in its right place. "I'm flat broke, so I'll have to owe you, but-"

"Wait, really? So how were you intending to pay for my drink? Or yours?"

"Well, you think the bartender'd let me pay him with me body?" He struck a goofy pose. Alright- Lister did have a nice body. Soft in all the right spots. Shame she'd have to take the bartender's sloppy seconds unless someone bailed him out.

"Tell you what. If you win, I'll pay your tab. If I win… you have to do whatever I say for five minutes."

"Guess I'd better order a few more, then. Take advantage. Ladies first?"

"Alright," Kochanski nodded, and with a satisfying crack the cue ball crashed smack through the middle of the triangle Lister'd set up. Good break. She'd already sunk the three ball, and two others were lined up beautifully next to the corner pockets.

"You're gonna ruin me, aren't you," Lister murmured.

A couple rounds later, a couple stolen glances at Lister's arse as he crawled halfway over the table for his "perfect shot," a couple terrible dirty jokes, and Kochanski had indeed come out ahead.

"Too bad," she said, slinging an arm around his waist. "I guess you're mine for the next five minutes."

"Only the next five?"

"Mm. Well, first off-" Kochanski dug around in her pants for the battered red leather wallet she'd kept since middle school, stuffing a wad of dollarpounds down the front pocket of Lister's horrible Hawaiian shirt. "I suppose I could pay our tab. It's the least I could do after thrashing you so horribly."

"I barely lost!" Lister complained, but the toothy grin hanging off his face didn't falter. "Besides, I was distracted-"

"No excuses! I was distracted too, and I managed just fine."

"You were?"

"I've only been ogling you all night. Couldn't keep my eyes off you to save my life," Kochanski laughed. That did it: stupid smirk gone, Lister's mouth hung halfway open, clearly flustered. "Alright, first command. Ready?"

"Nope," Lister said. "But go for it."

"Kiss me."

And he did. The crush of people around them, the chatter, the tinny music blaring through the speaker of the regulation jukebox, the clinking of glasses half-full and half-empty- all of that melted away. Lister's lips were a little chapped, but his mouth was warm and he seemed content to follow her lead. He was the perfect height for Kochanski to wrap her arms around his neck, feel his heart beating fast against her skin.

She wondered if he knew she was just as nervous as he was. This felt like the beginning to something special- this felt fun, easy, perfect- and the thought of it ending a few hours from now felt absolutely heartbreaking.

"Wow," Lister puffed after they separated.

Kochanski traced a finger down his cheek, delighting in just how little it took to make him breathless.

"This place got crowded fast," she sighed, trying to maintain her façade. Stay cool. Seem witty. "How would you feel about coming back to mine? Or- I guess that'd be a waste of my four minutes, walking all the way there."

"Hey, tell you what," Lister said. "You can have all the time you want if you show me how you made that last shot."

"You sure you can handle a whole lecture on trigonometry?"

"I can handle anything you want me to," he shot back.

"Hah. We'll see," Kochanski chuckled, and she grabbed his sweaty hand in hers.

This was definitely something special. Maybe it was just the alcohol talking, maybe the adrenaline of kissing a bloke she barely knew, maybe the relief of a bright spot in the monotony of space- but whatever it was, this was something she didn't want to let go of anytime soon.

And to his credit, Lister held on for dear life as she pulled him out the door.

Chapter Two: I Think I Could Love Her

"I can't believe out of all the people in all the universes, I'm going to die with you." Kochanski would have torn her hair out, but leaving a pretty corpse was probably the last scrap of dignity she had to hold onto.

Deb smegging Lister. She'd fallen through time and space and ended up stranded with Deb- which, as it turned out, wasn't short for Deborah at all, but Debauchery. Seriously! Whose idea had that been? It was like the polar opposite of those old Puritan names; fitting, Deb would've made a perfect witch. Though, Kochanski supposed, they probably burned warlocks in this universe.

But anyway, none of it mattered anymore: not finding her way home, not finding her way off Starbug to some non-existent greener pasture, and certainly not the well-seasoned grudge brewing between them.

"C'mon, you worry too much. Sure, we're stuck drifting through space in this tiny, cold escape pod, and our only hope of being rescued is Arlene and the kids and Dog and Kryten findin' us-" Deb stopped herself. "Okay, yeah, I get why you're mad."

"The only reason I'm not strangling you right now is because I'm on the fence about if it's even worth the wasted effort," Kochanski huffed, and then, guiltily, "and maybe because I don't want us to end things on a sour note."

"How's about a sweet note, then?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well- I know I've been a bit awful to you-"

"You ate the last of my lipstick."

"That wasn't on purpose- I was drunk! I thought it would taste good!" Deb shifted in her seat. "And it did, by the way."

"Wow, Deb, that makes me feel so much better."

"No, c'mon. Let me make it up to you. Really, I'm sorry. I can be such a smeghead." She reached forward, and Kochanski didn't pull away as she threaded their fingers together. "Look, it's cold out there, and dark, and scary, and you of all people deserve to die someplace warm, alright?"

"Comforting thought."

"I dunno. It's all I ever wanted, myself."

"Fiji. Right." Kochanski sighed, scooting closer. They were sat on opposite sides of the cramped little pod, knees touching, bathed in the hot, harsh light of a nearby star. Deb had spent the first twenty minutes having a miniature panic attack, but by now she'd managed to pull herself together somewhat.

Her hands still trembled slightly, so Kochanski gave them a tight squeeze. They were softer than she'd expected. There were calluses from playing guitar, and from riding that damned bike, sure, a few scrapes and scars, but Deb's long, lovely fingers fit perfectly between hers.

"Let me be your Fiji for a little bit," Deb said softly. "Y'know, like… maybe I'm not your Lister, but I don't mind if you just want to pretend for a while. Just to… to not die alone, right?"

"And I'll be your Kochanski?"

"Nah. You're twice as beautiful as my Kochanski. He could never pull off that jumpsuit."

"Stupid." How Deb could manage to pull a laugh out of her even now, she had no clue.

Exhausted, tired of being terrified, Kochanski decided to kill off the last of her common sense, leaning forward to bury her face in Deb's shoulder. She smelled like cigarettes, burnt hair, pine-scented air freshener- probably what she used instead of doing her laundry- and masala chai. But… well, if Kochanski really stretched her imagination, maybe she could smell the ocean in Deb's sweat. Maybe that artificial pine could be the smell of palm trees. Fiji. Lost dreams.

"Wanna do something stupid?" Deb murmured.

"I am."

"I mean, stupider. Since we're practically dead and all anyways."

"I'm not going to have sex with you just because we're lost in space, Deb," Kochanski sighed.

"Hang on! That wasn't what I was about to ask," she huffed. "I mean, unless…"

"No."

"What I was going to ask was- well- it's me last cigarette. Thought I'd offer you half." She produced it from her inner jacket pocket, a crumpled, pathetic little thing.

"That's going to cost us precious oxygen, you know," Kochanski grumbled, but she took it, hands shaking, and let Deb flick open the lighter.

"Hey, look at you. I knew you were corruptible, deep down."

"What can I say? You bring out the worst in me." Kochanski balanced the cigarette between two fingers, exhaling and pushing the filter end between Deb's lips.

This wasn't the worst way to go. Well- they'd start asphyxiating in a few hours, and she might change her mind about things then, but at the very least she wasn't alone. At least, out of all the people in all the universes, Deb was sort of… alright. Or, she was kind, sometimes, gentle, thoughtful enough to want to take care of Kochanski even in the face of total annihilation.

Maybe, if they survived this-

No. Definitely not, Kochanski thought, frowning as she burrowed deeper into Deb's jacket. No way she could fall in love with someone like Deb Lister. Not in three million years.

Unfortunately for her, she would in fact live to find out.

Chapter Three: I Wanna Do Everything

It wasn't fair.

Nothing in life was, as evidenced by the fact that they were here, a bloated metal pimple staining what could otherwise be a perfectly serene field of stars, and she was the last human left besides Dave.

Dave.

God, Dave.

He'd been doing absolutely horrible things to her lately, without even really trying. What's the point of taking a shower when you're a hologram? But he would walk into the kitchen in his fluffy blue bathrobe, dripping wet, like it was completely normal. It had to be on purpose. He had to know he was torturing her, didn't he? But in the interest of not being a complete shrew, she'd kept her mouth shut.

Then she'd started dreaming about it. Her and Lister, kissing, touching, laughing, in impossible bedrooms, in moonlit Mars lagoons, in the long elevator trips she used to take to work. Even her subconscious was conspiring against her, and all because Lister was allergic to pants.

"You can't treat this like a bachelor pad," she finally complained. "I mean, yeah, there's nobody left to gripe about it but me, but it doesn't mean I like seeing you run around naked."

"Alright, alright. I'll get Holly to pixelate me bits, and then it won't matter what I wear, eh?"

"No- keep the robe on, or I swear I will swap you out with Second Technician Rimmer again."

"Look, if it's really makin' you uncomfortable, I'll quit it, but I just don't see what the big deal is. I mean- I'm fully covered, right?"

Sure. Most of the time. But then he'd move the wrong way or bend down to do something, and Kochanski had to deal with the ache that accompanied catching a glimpse of his bare thighs or round arse, or find herself mesmerized by the way a simulated droplet of water slid down his chest, disappeared beneath the loose collar of the robe. Like now, for example.

It was too much.

"Let's just make a compromise. You can walk around in pajamas all you like, and I promise I won't bother you, alright?"

"Alright," Dave nodded, and with a snap of his finger, he was clad in a pair of ratty long johns that were somehow so, so, so much worse. Nothing left to the imagination. She could almost feel the thin fabric under her fingertips- if he were corporeal she'd rip it apart in an instant.

"Nevermind," Kochanski groaned, her head thumping against the table. "I give up. Pixelate your bits."

"Knew it," Lister laughed. "You've been thirsting after me, haven't you? What happened to 'not if you were the last man on Earth?'"

"I'm allowed to change my mind. Besides, you… you've gotten better lately. At listening. Being an actual friend to me, instead of getting mad when I'm not that perfect person you built up in your head."

"I've been trying." Lister took a seat next to her, drawing his lips thin. "Turns out, dying makes you put things into perspective a bit, yeah? I mean, I wasn't exactly cut out to be a philososophist or anything, but… I think maybe having to let go of all the physical stuff makes me appreciate the simple things a hell of a lot more than I used to. Like friendship. Just… cherishing each moment we have, right?"

"That's pretty thoughtful," Kochanski nodded. "But full disclosure- if you weren't dead right now, I'd already have you pinned to this table."

"Yeah, to smeg with philosophy," Lister said, tugging at the collar of his long johns. "Least now I can get out of these in about an eighth of a second."

"No," Kochanski smiled, leaning back in her chair. "Do it the old-fashioned way. As slow as you can. No pixelation necessary."

"Yes, ma'am," Lister grinned, eagerly unfastening the top button.

Chapter Four: What A Beautiful Feeling

Grueling work, keeping them all alive.

Starbug's engine had been stalling out again, and as the only person aboard with basic literacy who wasn't wasting it reading laundry tags, Kochanski had taken it upon herself to crack open a motor control textbook and try to fix the issue.

It wasn't too difficult to identify the problem- a part in the gigantic alternator had worn down. The difficult part was finding the tools and materials to fix the damned thing. Apparently, scrapping derelict ships meant searching for curry spice, flashy-looking textiles, and lemon-scented disinfectant, and not essential things like oil, coolant, spare parts, or welding equipment.

Still, she was doing her best. At least the thing still ran- barely- and life support was still online when it didn't.

"Kris," came Dave's uncertain voice from behind her, and Kochanski quickly switched off the soldering iron. She lifted her makeshift face shield, wiping away the sweat. At least Lister had clapped a hand over his eyes in some attempt at keeping his vision intact. Kochanski had given him a lecture and a half the last time he'd walked in on her tinkering.

"What's wrong?"

"Well…" The hand came down, revealing an apologetic expression. "I sort of need you to come check on something over in the midsection."

"Really? Again? How many times is the Cat going to try mating with that chair?"

"Until he gets it pregnant."

She glared at him.

"His words, not mine!"

"Fine, I'll come fix the smegging chair again. Give me a second."

Normally, Dave walked through the hall with his head hung low in situations like these, but today he seemed almost happy about the prospect of cleaning up after the Cat's liaison. It sparked a bit of annoyance, actually. If it was so trivial, if he was so chipper about it, why didn't he try to fix the damn thing? Work, work, work, and all she ever had to show for it was-

Oh.

All the furniture in the room that wasn't bolted down had been shoved off to the side, and a few blankets were draped over the table to form a lopsided tent. A couple silver crinkly sleeping bags lined the floor, and Lister had hooked a spare monitor up to a precarious chain of extension cords to get it inside.

And impossibly, even though they'd run out weeks ago, there was a little bowl of cottage cheese, with a heaping of beautiful yellow pineapple chunks dripping over the top.

"What is this?" she gasped. "It's not my birthday- is it?" No way to tell, really- it all sort of blended together after a while.

"No, no. I just- well- you need a break. You've been workin' down there for thirty-two hours straight, and that can't be good for you, can it."

"I've what?"

"So," Lister said, gently guiding her towards the tent, "let's watch a movie, yeah? How to Steal a Million? It's a classic."

"I guess I could rest for an hour or so," Kochanski reluctantly nodded. "I might have better luck making that part with fresh eyes."

It was perfect.

Lister closed the blankets as soon as they were properly settled, and then it was like they weren't even on Starbug anymore. Just the comforting buzz of the screen, in between bites of creamy, sweet, tangy cheese curds, both of them lying on their stomachs like children at a sleepover.

"Thanks," Kochanski murmured, leaning her head against Dave's shoulder. "I really needed this."

"Of course. I have to look out for you, y'know? You're my best friend."

"Don't say that! I think Kryten might actually murder me."

"Ah, c'mon. There's enough of me to go 'round, the both of you can learn to share."

A stomp disrupted their little cocoon.

"And what am I, bud? Chopped tuna?"

"Cat-" Lister poked his head out of the tent.

"Forget it. I came here to visit my girl, and I got her. I'm leavin'." A sound like a chair being scraped against the floor. Yep.

"Well, he'll get over it," Dave assured her, but Kochanski was stifling a yawn. The oversaturated twentieth-century colors were starting to bleed together on the screen, hazy and dreamlike.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "It's not the movie- I just think I might be tired."

"Yeah? You've only been awake for a day and a half. Here- finish the last bite of that, and I'll put the dish away and leave you to it."

"Actually… I'm full," Kochanski lied, handing him the bowl. One last piece of pineapple.

Lister hesitated.

"Really?"

"Really."

He smiled, wide, his eyes bright, and scooped the last spoonful into his mouth.

It was the tastiest bite she'd never eaten.

#red dwarf #writing #what is the ship name for this... I cannot tag it listerine #lister/kochanski #??

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tinyphantomsalad · 4 years ago

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Shit My Friends And I Say On The Group Chat:

k so because our group chat is full of comedy geniuses i’ve compiled this list of zero context sayings that you lot need to see

enjoy this monstrosity :

@unhealthily-obsessed-and-ranting

- “oh fuck was that confidence? unsubscribe”

- “I can’t get over the fact that there’s a whole sky movies channel dedicated to Tom fucking hanks”

- “I still want to know what happened to Gen Y”

- “ughhhhh my tongue hurts”

- “WE HAVE ESTABLISHED MULTIPLE TIMES THAT HE IS A BAD IDEA”

- “my brother reckons our cat used to be Tupac in a previous life”

- “I just ate the sexiest salad alive like it tasted so good”

- “i know how i want to dress but how i want to dress is not socially acceptable”

- “God intended for you to sleep on the floor??”

- “there’s clapping outside and it sounds like bad sex”

- “can you imagine a goth bbq?”

- “hello there” [unfortunately was not met with General Kenobi]

- “everybody hates each other and it is beautiful”

- “JOE KENDA IS AN INTERNATIONAL TREASURE”

- “yah he’s just murdering villagers”

- “I’m the biggest bitch in Britain”

- “just existing and waffle”

- “I nearly choked to death on a Yorkshire pudding during dinner just cos my stepdad made me laugh so much by saying we should have called the cats “spaff” and “smeg” (“smegma” for full)”

- “Spaff Allen?”

- “Imagine that cat running away and you having to go round the neighbourhood yelling “SPAFF! COMMERE SPAFF””

- “the only incriminating things i have are on my laptop and phone or in a secure P.O. box in Loughborough”

- “why would i voluntarily do work that other people will do for me?”

- “that’s the shirt of the gays”

- “I MADE A SCHEDULE AND I FUCKING STUCK TO IT”

- “Why are we saying random words?”

- [about cookies] “there's worst addictions to have”

- “lmao there’s gonna be a horrible histories episode about 2020”

- “I would make a great prime minister”

- “jesus fucky ducky doo i’m tired”

- “there’s cats you can get from the rspca called “Catrick Swayze” and “Catilie Portman””

-“those sound like answers on jeopardy”

- “also I’ve found the greatest sentence ever written: “vaginal eggs are no more real to me than penis toast or anal pancakes””

- “last time i drank gin i woke up in a park hanging off the monkey bars”

- “if i tell you guys “i’m gonna smack some scrambled eggs” i get three wildly different replies from each of you in varied degrees of excitement i love it”

- “I just woke up confused”

- “I’m either the skeletons thrilled by their recent impulse purchase or Virgin Mary regretting all her choices”

- “SMARTIES ARE JUST PLASTIC SHIT WITH SUBPAR CHOCOLATE THAT DOESNT EVEN TASTE LIKE CHOCOLATE” [and i’m fucking right]

- “tell him to fuck off like the nasty little gremlin fucker he is”

- “my brother just described mange tout (tiny lil pea things) as “a pathetic excuse for a green bean””

-“and he’s absolutely right”

- “you can smack it and it’ll wobble”

- “a dilf if i ever saw one”

- “so i wacked myself witch a big stick

and not the good kind”

- “Couples come dine with me always consists of the same three types of couple: the gays, the couple where one is old enough to be the others parent, and the forty-somethings trying to inject some life and happiness into a loveless dying marriage”

- “The guy spent half his life in prison and the other half doped up on opium.”

- “sounds like my kinda man”

- “Dr Christian jessen has eyebrows more expressive than my entire being”

- “who would willingly read animal farm again lmao”

- “i had a nightmare about fucking Mario” [ensue very confused replies]

there are so many more

#long post #shitpost #textpost #funny #humour #shit my friends say #group chat #text #txt #comedy gold #comedy #shit we put on the gc #jim shitposts

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mahalkitajohnnysuh · 5 years ago

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Resolution

As promised, here’s the next part of my previous post. Although things look like they can wrap up here, it’s only just the beginning for Johnny and Essie.

Since I don’t write chronologically most of the time, please expect to read snippets before and after their relationship in the coming posts.

Without further ado, here’s a long read that has a lot of commas and the word ‘really’. Please don’t turn this into a drinking game, okay? Johnny in the GIF will look at you disbelievingly if you do. But then, he might join you just for shits and giggles.

Mahal ko kayong lahat! :)

–––

Summary: Johnny and Essie continue to be an awkward mess that their other best friend, Kibum, notices this change. He decides to help the two by ‘counseling’ them, and settle their differences – is there any at all? – once and for all.

POV: 2nd person still. I started writing the bulk of my stories using this perspective before I switched back to 3rd.

Word count: 2,100 + words

Genre: Romance, and a teeny weeny bit of angst and hurt that you probably won’t feel it. At all.

Warning: Mentions of someone smoking, if you’re uncomfortable with characters doing so. And I could use a couple because Lord knows it’s been two months since I’m clean of it.

–––

Kibum is such a mom, you thought. You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes as he set a huge plate of pasta on the table. He cooked spaghetti with crabmeat sauce, which has edged chicken pesto out as your favorite pasta dish. You couldn’t help but clap your hands in glee as you saw the steam coming out from the plate.

“Well Essie, can you not fawn over the pasta and set the table?” Kibum was annoyed at your dilly-dallying and you immediately got to work by bringing out the fine china.

After all, he was at your apartment with him. The time has come for you to confront your problem with him, and Kibum was generous enough to give some of his time to ‘counsel’ you two.

“Youngho, can you check if we have drinks in the fridge?” The older guy ordered, and the person he asked lazily shuffled towards your red Smeg. “Hmmm, just water and a bottle of red wine. Is that okay? Or should I get some soda or something else?” He said a moment later, his hands running over the tops of the water pitchers.

“No, that’s okay. Bring them out, please,” Kibum said, returning to the table with a wooden board filled with cold cuts and cheese.

You ‘ooh’-ed at how wonderful your meal looked like, with the pasta, cold cuts, cheese, and steak. As Johnny placed the bottle of red wine in the middle of the table, you went to sit at your usual place. He sat across you, and Kibum settled in the middle.

“Thank you, Bumkey!” You and Johnny said in unison, which made the two of you look at each other. You felt your cheeks flush since it has been a while that the both of you said anything at the same time. You looked at your plate, and he did the same.

“Okay, guys? I really need to start this ‘counseling’ session since I don’t want things to become more awkward than they are,” Kibum grumbled, moving closer to the table. “So, what happened to the two of you? Why are you acting like you’re shy of each other?” He continued, hands spread wide to refer to his friends.

When no one answered, he grabbed the bottle of red wine and poured each glass. “Maybe this will loosen you up,” Kibum muttered, taking a sip of the Sangiovese you purposely reserved for special occasions. Although you consider this the opposite, maybe it’s about time that you drink it with your closest friends.

You took a sip and Johnny mirrored you, eyes shyly looking at each other. Kibum groaned again, getting frustrated with the situation. “This! It’s as if you guys are––” he paused as if something in his mind clicked.

“Are you guys in love with each other or something?”

You almost spit the wine you were drinking, and Johnny coughed. He hit the nail on the head, you thought. You set the glass on the table and slowly sank in your seat, wanting to disappear.

“Yeah, Kibum hyung. Well, I’m in love with her, but I’m not sure how she really feels for me,” Johnny said, now playing with the knife and fork. He was trying his best to be engrossed with the utensils, but then you caught him looking at you from time to time.

“You haven’t given him an answer, Essie? And what, it’s been like two weeks since we’ve been hanging out with this awkward air around us!” Kibum was near hysterics, his small eyes becoming bigger with each word that came out of his mouth.

“I’m sorry!” You started, sitting up straight this time. “Well, I really don’t know…I mean, I do love Johnny with all my heart, but I’m not sure if this is the time to start a relationship?” Your voice faltered at the end, and you couldn’t look at them both in the eye after your admission.

“Why not, Essie? You have been single for long,” Johnny said, eyes intently looking at your face.

“Yeah, dear. You haven’t dated in ages, and I don’t mind if the two of you will do so,” Kibum interjected.

Their answer made you feel how lonely you were for the past years, being single after dating a guy on and off until he ghosted you completely. You felt tears running down your face, and you covered it, ashamed at how you were feeling right now.

Since the guy across you does really love you, he went to your side immediately and wiped your tears with his handkerchief. “You really didn’t need to do that,” you mumbled in between his wiping, and he pinched your nose gently.

“But I want to,” he said softly, now wiping the snot under your nose. “And it hurts me when I see you crying.” He patted your head, and you couldn’t help but lean against his touch.

“Not that this is cute, but are we good now? And what were you crying about, dear?” Kibum interrupted your moment, a smirk gracing his features.

You rolled your eyes at his cheeky grin and batted Johnny back to his seat. “You guys had to remind me how lonely I’ve been, and my tears couldn’t help it,” you chuckled, wiping the last of your tears with your thumb.

“Aw, we’re sorry. But you know Johnny’s here, he’s going to take real good care of you!” The older guy said cheerfully, clapping his hands in glee like what you did earlier.

“But won’t us being together affect our dynamic as LBF?” You asked. You saw Johnny roll his eyes, and you slapped a hand on your forehead, realizing that it was a stupid question to ask.

“Well, the dynamic has changed with the two of you being weird for the past weeks. But nothing stays the same, dear. If you two get together, I might feel out of place due to my lack of love life,” Kibum’s honesty made you blush, and you looked at Johnny to see his reaction. He retained a poker face, his right hand cradling his chin.

“But that doesn’t matter. As long as I see you two being your usual annoying selves, then I’m happy,” the blond continued. This made you smile, and the guy across you as well.

You were glad that your closest friends are the most supportive people you have ever met, despite the times they make fun of you as if it was your last day on earth. You stood up, enveloping Johnny in a bear hug, and he returned it with the same intensity.

“I love you, baby,” he said, squeezing your sides.

You laughed first before returning the words he wanted to hear. “I love you too, you dork.”

“Okay…why don’t we eat? The food I cooked for you is now becoming cold!” Kibum once again interfered with your moment, clapping his hands loudly before digging into the pasta in front of him.

You let go of your lover and return to your seat, happily stacking your plate with steak, cheese, and pasta. As all of you load up your plates, your chatter returned to normal: the music you’ve been listening to lately, any art exhibits you can check out now, and even accessories for Kibum’s fabulous dogs.

Your insides felt warm as you watched Kibum laugh in his iconic way, with Johnny biting his lip in the corner trying not to burst into tears. You didn’t mind if you looked ugly while laughing; it has been a while since the three of you had this much fun over dinner.

///

After your scrumptious meal, the three of you hung out. Johnny’s arms were looped around your waist as you stared into the starry sky at the balcony.

Kibum was taking a call inside, which both of you understood as a private moment for him.

“So, Kibum hyung had to convince you otherwise to take a chance on me, eh?” He asked, nuzzling his head on your shoulder.

You tried to shrug but couldn’t since he was so close to you. “Well, it’s not that he’s the reason why we’re like this right now, but…I had to confront my feelings once and for all,” you replied.

He hummed in response, burying his head deeper into your shoulder. You can smell his cologne in this position, and you couldn’t help but turn around and kiss the top of his head.

“You smell really nice,” you started, wrapping your arms around his neck. “And so do you,” he replied.

You know that the two of you can get touchy with each other, but this was a whole new level. You guys have reached lover territory, which you still haven’t fully grasped yet.

Your foreheads were now touching, and he led you to slow dance. Even if there was no music playing, the sound of the city served as the beat to your movements. Your bodies pressed closer to each other, and your hands clasped tighter.

It was a moment you would never forget, and you hoped that he would think the same way too.

When he stopped swaying, he kissed your forehead. You were a bit startled, and he didn’t notice it. Instead, he continued to kiss your face – your eyes, your nose, your cheeks, your chin, until he settled for your lips at last.

It was a chaste peck, and you felt all fuzzy when his lips left yours.

“You’re awfully being too sweet, dear,” you said softly, looking at him straight in the eye. “I always am, especially to you,” he replied, returning the same intense gaze you were giving him.

He was about to kiss you again when you heard knocking on the glass door. Both of you turned around and saw Kibum enter, looking apologetic.

“I’m so sorry to ruin your moment again guys, but I have to leave. There’s an emergency I have to tend to,” he said.

You nodded in response, and Johnny had to pull away from you so the two of you can send the older guy off to his agenda. The three of you exchanged your last pleasantries until you waved him off outside your door.

“Congratulations, you lovebirds! I’m happy for you, but please, don’t make out in front of me and our friends,” were Kibum’s last words before he sped off to his car.

The two of you weren’t able to react to his statement, and he left you two dumbfounded. You looked at each other and laughed at how specific Kibum was about not making out.

“But I will want to make out with you, even if you smell like cigarettes,” Johnny said, pulling you back into his embrace. You felt embarrassed with his revelation and covered your face with your hands.

“No, Youngho, please don’t. Let me have some mint first before you do,” you said, slowly uncovering your face and meeting his. You loved it when he looked at you amusedly as if you were a puzzle that he has yet to solve even if he had already played it a thousand times.

“It doesn’t matter if you take a mint or not, but I also want you…” This time, he leaned so close against your ear that you can hear his slow and loud breathing, “To call me daddy when we’re alone,” he finished, kissing the side of your ear.

You just did not hear him suggest that. You pushed him away and crossed your arms over your chest. “Oh, come on, Johnny! Not that! Anything, but that!” You protested, pouting at his suggestion.

He doubled over in laughter at your reaction, and he even slapped his thighs for effect. “Oh no, baby, I know you will call me that sooner or later,” he said in between fits, “But now, I’m fine with anything you call me.”

“No, I won’t call you that! It sounds as if I’m really calling my dad! And you, sir, are not my dad,” you emphasized, hands on your hips this time.

“I will be when you become the mother of my children,” Johnny said suggestively as he tackled you for another bear hug.

“Johnnyyyyyy!” You were flustered at the way your conversation was going and buried your head on his shoulder. “You’re making me feel so embarrassed right now!”

“But I do mean all the things I said, baby!” He replied in the same high pitch as you before he kissed your temple.

You stayed silent in his embrace, and he rocked you gently. The movement of your bodies relaxed you, and you closed your eyes in contentment.

This is how life is going to be now with him by my side, you thought. You opened an eye to look at him and saw that he had his eyes closed, but with a smile on his face.

–––

FIN

#nct drabbles #nct scenarios #johnny drabbles #nct 127 fanfic #nct johnny #nct fluff #nct au #johnny suh fluff #johnny suh #johnny suh imagines #johnny scenarios #johnny suh fanfiction #johnny suh au

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