Fic: Green - Rimmer/Lister (implied), Lister/Kochanski - PG
Title: Green
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister (implied), Lister/Kochanski
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I still don't own Red Dwarf. This makes me no money, only a deep, spiritual sense of fulfilment. Ahem.
Notes: Written as part of the fanfic100 challenge - my table is here.
Lister has always had a thing about green eyes. He told himself he wasn’t looking specifically for girlfriends with that physical attribute, but really, it was always at the back of his mind.
Kristine Kochanski had wonderful, sparkling green eyes. The kind you think can’t be real, that have to be some kind of color contacts, or eye-drops, or gene-tailoring. From what she’d told him though, they’d been real. She’d thought his fascination with them rather funny, and often teased him about it. He’d rave about them to other people, who invariably seemed rather unimpressed when they finally met her. Peterson, for one, had muttered something about “bloody hype,” and claimed later that they were a sort of muddy light grey. Lister didn’t care. To him, they were emeralds.
Rimmer’s eyes are green too, although not in the conventional sense. In fact, Lister has never seen a pair of eyes quite like Rimmer’s before; brown, yellow and several shades of green all at once. There’s even some blue in there if you knew where to look. Not that he looked at Rimmer. It was just that you couldn’t help noticing when the hologram stood in front of the mirror for hours, trying to perfect his side-parting and never getting it quite right, or fretting over some non-existent skin-problem which wouldn’t have mattered to holograms anyway. The man was obsessive about his looks, much more so than Cat, when it got right down to it. The difference was, if you ruined one of the Cat’s outfits, he’d get upset - after he’d killed you - but he’d bounce right back, convinced that he was the sexiest being in existence. Rimmer, on the other hand, saw every failing of his clothing and appearance as a sign of his own inferiority. And there were times, few and far between, mind you, that he would turn towards Lister and those strange green eyes would look straight into his, and he would ask how he looked. And Lister would say “shite,” because what else was there to say?
Sometimes, in his darker moments, Lister would reflect upon the fact that in all likelihood there were no green-eyed people left in the entire universe. Cat people, possibly. GELFs in a pinch. But no humans. No blue eyes either, or grey, or lavender, or anything in between; just the dark brown tones of his own. And sometimes this really gets to him, because he gets it; he understands. Because even though you know you’re the last human being alive, it’s hard to keep that fact in mind, because you just can’t. You just can’t fathom it. And if you do, for some brief moments, it gets you down and drags you through the muddy waters of your mind until there’s no escape, and you want to rage and cry and scream against the evil universe that did this to you. And finally, you despair, because what else can you do? But then, ah, then Rimmer would come barging in with some complaint or boring story or nervous breakdown of his own, and suddenly there was something else to occupy him.
And yes, there were also those times when all seemed right with the world, and there were no emergencies or supply shortages, and they hadn’t had time to get bored yet. He’d sit by the window in his quarters and look out at the stars, and be full of optimism and anticipation of what was to come. And then, if Rimmer happened to come by, he would look into those odd green eyes beneath the shiny “H”, and consider himself almost happy.
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister (implied), Lister/Kochanski
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I still don't own Red Dwarf. This makes me no money, only a deep, spiritual sense of fulfilment. Ahem.
Notes: Written as part of the fanfic100 challenge - my table is here.
Lister has always had a thing about green eyes. He told himself he wasn’t looking specifically for girlfriends with that physical attribute, but really, it was always at the back of his mind.
Kristine Kochanski had wonderful, sparkling green eyes. The kind you think can’t be real, that have to be some kind of color contacts, or eye-drops, or gene-tailoring. From what she’d told him though, they’d been real. She’d thought his fascination with them rather funny, and often teased him about it. He’d rave about them to other people, who invariably seemed rather unimpressed when they finally met her. Peterson, for one, had muttered something about “bloody hype,” and claimed later that they were a sort of muddy light grey. Lister didn’t care. To him, they were emeralds.
Rimmer’s eyes are green too, although not in the conventional sense. In fact, Lister has never seen a pair of eyes quite like Rimmer’s before; brown, yellow and several shades of green all at once. There’s even some blue in there if you knew where to look. Not that he looked at Rimmer. It was just that you couldn’t help noticing when the hologram stood in front of the mirror for hours, trying to perfect his side-parting and never getting it quite right, or fretting over some non-existent skin-problem which wouldn’t have mattered to holograms anyway. The man was obsessive about his looks, much more so than Cat, when it got right down to it. The difference was, if you ruined one of the Cat’s outfits, he’d get upset - after he’d killed you - but he’d bounce right back, convinced that he was the sexiest being in existence. Rimmer, on the other hand, saw every failing of his clothing and appearance as a sign of his own inferiority. And there were times, few and far between, mind you, that he would turn towards Lister and those strange green eyes would look straight into his, and he would ask how he looked. And Lister would say “shite,” because what else was there to say?
Sometimes, in his darker moments, Lister would reflect upon the fact that in all likelihood there were no green-eyed people left in the entire universe. Cat people, possibly. GELFs in a pinch. But no humans. No blue eyes either, or grey, or lavender, or anything in between; just the dark brown tones of his own. And sometimes this really gets to him, because he gets it; he understands. Because even though you know you’re the last human being alive, it’s hard to keep that fact in mind, because you just can’t. You just can’t fathom it. And if you do, for some brief moments, it gets you down and drags you through the muddy waters of your mind until there’s no escape, and you want to rage and cry and scream against the evil universe that did this to you. And finally, you despair, because what else can you do? But then, ah, then Rimmer would come barging in with some complaint or boring story or nervous breakdown of his own, and suddenly there was something else to occupy him.
And yes, there were also those times when all seemed right with the world, and there were no emergencies or supply shortages, and they hadn’t had time to get bored yet. He’d sit by the window in his quarters and look out at the stars, and be full of optimism and anticipation of what was to come. And then, if Rimmer happened to come by, he would look into those odd green eyes beneath the shiny “H”, and consider himself almost happy.