(no subject)
Title: Waiting for the Jump (6/7)
Rating: PG
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister
Summary: In which fate intervenes (hey, someone had to)
Disclaimer: I don't own Red Dwarf. If I did, I'd make a spin-off about Ace jumping through dimensions and meeting multiple Listers...it'd be a lot like this fic, actually.
The thing Rimmer had always feared was that if he acknowledged that feeling, that annoyingly constant Lister feeling, then something would change. But it actually kept things the same. It was easier to stay away from Lister when he knew why he had to. And he felt better once he'd admitted it to himself. He was in love with Lister. Fine. Now he could ignore it, because it wasn't important and would go away in time. And the day-job was a perfect distraction.
He could've stayed like that for years, avoiding facing Lister and only thinking of him in the rare moments he allowed himself, only fate intervened. So it was only a few days after what Rimmer had termed The Realisation that he got the distress call.
He could have ignored it. It would have been heartless, but Rimmer was dead, he didn't have a heart. And they could probably escape without his help. They usually did. Still, it was his job to help people whether he wanted to or not. It was part of being a hero, even though he didn't feel like one.
Of course, none of this mattered because it was Lister, his Lister, and Rimmer was there, fighting the Simulants and throwing them out of the airlock before he could even think about running away.
He stood panting, that ever-present feeling so much harder to ignore now that Lister was right in front of him. The last time, Rimmer told himself weakly, this will be the last time I see him. And then he sighed and bent down to untie the rope binding Lister's wrists.
“You took your time,” Lister said, breaking the silence.
“Hmm?” It was distracting being close to Lister like this. Rimmer could smell him, feel his warmth, would be breathing the same smegging air if he'd needed to. After a few fumbles, he finally got the knot undone and stood back as Lister freed himself and turned to face him.
“It's been months, man. Where the smeg have you been?”
Rimmer crossed his arms, suddenly irritated. “The world doesn't revolve around you, Listy. I do have a job to do.”
“Sorry to get in the way of your big heroic lifestyle,” Lister replied sarcastically. “Next time I'll just die quietly, all right?” He rubbed his sore wrists. “I'd better go check on Cat and Kryten.”
The message was clear: if you want to leave, go now. And Rimmer should have, should have escaped when he had the chance, but he didn't. Instead he walked, boots clanking, along the ship's corridor, down into Lister's room.
Afterwards he didn't know why he'd done it. It was such a pathetically soppy thing to do, and Rimmer wasn't that kind of man. Only the room smelt like Lister, that oddly comforting mix of sweat, beer and curry, and Rimmer couldn't stop himself from grabbing his pillow and having a good long sniff.
Anyone else would have gotten away with it, but Rimmer had found that things always went badly where he was concerned. So, of course Lister had to come in to find him smelling the pillow like a lovesick teenager.
There was a long moment in which no one said anything, and Rimmer slowly (and slightly reluctantly) returned the pillow to its place on the bed. Then Lister's face broke out into a huge grin.
“You love me,” he said happily.
“No I don't,” Rimmer replied quickly. Denial had always been the best form of defense.
Lister's grin just widened. “Yeah, you do. You were smelling my pillow.”
Rimmer glared at said pillow as if expecting it to corroborate Lister's story. “No, I wasn't.”
“I saw you, Rimmer.”
Rimmer stood up from the bed, for some reason thinking of a Lister in a dimension not too much different to this one. “You must be seeing things. All these years in space, it wouldn't be surprising if you'd gone a bit mad.”
“Maybe I have, yeah.” Lister stepped closer. “Would explain why I love you back.”
Rimmer had a horrible feeling his light bee was malfunctioning. “Sorry, I must have misheard you. I thought you just said-”
“Yeah, I did.” Lister stepped even closer.
“Oh.” Definitely malfunctioning then. It was a nice kind of malfunction, though, like being a little bit drunk or comfortably insane. It didn't matter anyway, because Lister was kissing him and that sent all other thoughts from his mind.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister
Summary: In which fate intervenes (hey, someone had to)
Disclaimer: I don't own Red Dwarf. If I did, I'd make a spin-off about Ace jumping through dimensions and meeting multiple Listers...it'd be a lot like this fic, actually.
The thing Rimmer had always feared was that if he acknowledged that feeling, that annoyingly constant Lister feeling, then something would change. But it actually kept things the same. It was easier to stay away from Lister when he knew why he had to. And he felt better once he'd admitted it to himself. He was in love with Lister. Fine. Now he could ignore it, because it wasn't important and would go away in time. And the day-job was a perfect distraction.
He could've stayed like that for years, avoiding facing Lister and only thinking of him in the rare moments he allowed himself, only fate intervened. So it was only a few days after what Rimmer had termed The Realisation that he got the distress call.
He could have ignored it. It would have been heartless, but Rimmer was dead, he didn't have a heart. And they could probably escape without his help. They usually did. Still, it was his job to help people whether he wanted to or not. It was part of being a hero, even though he didn't feel like one.
Of course, none of this mattered because it was Lister, his Lister, and Rimmer was there, fighting the Simulants and throwing them out of the airlock before he could even think about running away.
He stood panting, that ever-present feeling so much harder to ignore now that Lister was right in front of him. The last time, Rimmer told himself weakly, this will be the last time I see him. And then he sighed and bent down to untie the rope binding Lister's wrists.
“You took your time,” Lister said, breaking the silence.
“Hmm?” It was distracting being close to Lister like this. Rimmer could smell him, feel his warmth, would be breathing the same smegging air if he'd needed to. After a few fumbles, he finally got the knot undone and stood back as Lister freed himself and turned to face him.
“It's been months, man. Where the smeg have you been?”
Rimmer crossed his arms, suddenly irritated. “The world doesn't revolve around you, Listy. I do have a job to do.”
“Sorry to get in the way of your big heroic lifestyle,” Lister replied sarcastically. “Next time I'll just die quietly, all right?” He rubbed his sore wrists. “I'd better go check on Cat and Kryten.”
The message was clear: if you want to leave, go now. And Rimmer should have, should have escaped when he had the chance, but he didn't. Instead he walked, boots clanking, along the ship's corridor, down into Lister's room.
Afterwards he didn't know why he'd done it. It was such a pathetically soppy thing to do, and Rimmer wasn't that kind of man. Only the room smelt like Lister, that oddly comforting mix of sweat, beer and curry, and Rimmer couldn't stop himself from grabbing his pillow and having a good long sniff.
Anyone else would have gotten away with it, but Rimmer had found that things always went badly where he was concerned. So, of course Lister had to come in to find him smelling the pillow like a lovesick teenager.
There was a long moment in which no one said anything, and Rimmer slowly (and slightly reluctantly) returned the pillow to its place on the bed. Then Lister's face broke out into a huge grin.
“You love me,” he said happily.
“No I don't,” Rimmer replied quickly. Denial had always been the best form of defense.
Lister's grin just widened. “Yeah, you do. You were smelling my pillow.”
Rimmer glared at said pillow as if expecting it to corroborate Lister's story. “No, I wasn't.”
“I saw you, Rimmer.”
Rimmer stood up from the bed, for some reason thinking of a Lister in a dimension not too much different to this one. “You must be seeing things. All these years in space, it wouldn't be surprising if you'd gone a bit mad.”
“Maybe I have, yeah.” Lister stepped closer. “Would explain why I love you back.”
Rimmer had a horrible feeling his light bee was malfunctioning. “Sorry, I must have misheard you. I thought you just said-”
“Yeah, I did.” Lister stepped even closer.
“Oh.” Definitely malfunctioning then. It was a nice kind of malfunction, though, like being a little bit drunk or comfortably insane. It didn't matter anyway, because Lister was kissing him and that sent all other thoughts from his mind.