SO SMEGGING HYPED YOU GUYS/GIRLS/NON-BINARY IT IS MERE HOURS AWAY NOW AAAARGH

~based on a discussion had a while ago about whether or not it was necessary or politically correct to emphasise Lister's accent (TL;DR - very good points made on classism, racism, etc), combined with a pun from the Goodness Gracious Me live show~

Barely beta'd, slammed out whilst watching cartoons because why not.

Officer Kristine Kochanski blinked large but calm ice-water eyes at the bristling second technician that had marched up to her desk, thrown down several sheets of paper and barked, "You have to speak to him!" With a fierce upward jerk of one of her eyebrows, he immediately tacked a, "Ma'am," at the end of his request.

"What did he do this time, Rimmer?"

"Read these." He pushed the papers towards her. "If you even can. It looks like a cluster of spiders lubed up with ink and had an orgy on the pages."

Kochanski was well-versed in reading her ex-boyfriend's handwriting from all the half-baked (but sweet as the pie they were meant to be) songs he wrote for her. She shuffled through the notes carefully deciphering the childish scrawl. "They're wedding vows?"

"I know that," he howled in exasperation. "Have you actually READ them though?"

She skimmed the prose again. "I don't see the problem."

"Of course not." Rimmer turned on his heel and pinched the bridge of his angular nose as if the pain might distract from his current headache. "Your pronunciation of certain words is not dissimilar to that of the Ionian accent. A sensible accent."

"Got a problem with my mouth? You don't normally, Rimmer."

Kochanski giggled at the smug figure hanging outside her office. "Come in, Lister. Sit down, both of you," Kochanski commanded and they both slunk into the chairs opposite her; Rimmer pouting and Lister twirling on the castors both frighteningly reminiscent of children. "What's going on? Rimmer, you first. And no more vagueness."

"As you are aware, ma'am, David Lister and I are in the process of becoming bound by law through a matrimonial ceremony."

Kochanski sighed softly. "One can be both clear and concise, Rimmer."

"Getting hitched," Lister clarified for him. "You should know Krissie; you're walking me up the aisle."

"Technically, you could go up alone, as you are your own father," Rimmer pointed out.

Lister shrugged apathetically and Kochanski saw it as an opportunity to get back on track. "The two of you are getting married, and you appear to be writing your own vows? Is that it?"

"I thought it would be romantic."

"It should be," Rimmer snapped. "But you're ruining it as usual."

"I am not!" Lister said crossing his arms defensively. "Krissie, you read them, do they sound ruined to you?"

"It all looked rather sweet to me."

"See." Lister leant back in the chair triumphantly.

Rimmer narrowed his eyes. "Then read it out loud."

"Eh?"

"Read it to her."

"I'm saving my voice for the night."

Rimmer made an annoyed 'ahem' sound and addressed Kochanski again. "You may have noticed, ma'am, a particular theme running through the vows."

"Theme?"

"A certain phrase keeps popping up." He narrowed his eyes again, focusing on his grinning soon-to-be-but-not-if-he-kept-up-this-nonsense husband. "Several times."

"So?"

"So he…" Rimmer shifted in his seat, back going rigid. "He's deliberately mispronouncing it."

"I'm not mispronouncing it. It's just my accent, you snob."

"Obtuse cretin."

"Inbred prig."

"I am a scion, there's a difference."

Kochanski rubbed her forehead. It was hard to believe even after all these months that this sort of thing was a regular occurrence and by the evening the two men would be practically melting into one another with wanton need. She handed the tea-stained papers to Lister. "Read me your vows, Lister."

Lister tapped the sheets parallel to the desk and with a throat-clearing that any GELF would be proud to call their child he proudly began, "Arnold ever since I realised how much I loved you and I realised our souls were meant to be-"

Kochanski's hand flew up to stifle a snigger. Rimmer growled.

"Problem?" asked Lister innocently.

"No, no," said Kochanski with a choke.

"Where was I?"

"Talking about…" She bit her lip and couldn't look at Rimmer's dark red complexion. "Your souls."

"Oh yeah, our souls." Lister's shoulders shook with laughter when he heard a second snort burst from Kochanski.

Rimmer leapt up. "You see! And it's in there over and over!"

"What is?" Lister blinked up at him.

"YOU KNOW WHAT!" he shrieked back.

"You mean our souls? What's wrong with our souls? I thought you liked our souls."

Rimmer clamped his hands over his ears with a mortified wail. "Why can't you take any of this seriously?"

"Oh Rimmer, calm down." Kochanski, ever the mediator between her boys, had already left her desk and begun to rub Rimmer's shoulder. "It's just Lister having a bit of fun."

"That's exactly the problem. If he can't even take the wedding seriously, the most important day of our lives, then… what about…" He trailed off miserably.

"Is that what all this fuss is really about?" Lister tutted, though not in an unkind fashion. "I wasn't trying to de-emphasise the importance of anything. I was just trying to rile you up like I always do."

"Well, it's not always funny."

Kochanski stood aside so Lister could have and hold his beloved smeghead. "I'm sorry, Arnie, honest. I was just having a giggle. I thought you would too."

"I suppose it was mildly comedic, to persons with a more base sense of humour." Rimmer nuzzled Lister into a kiss and Kochanski dutifully looked away with a shake of her head. Rimmer drew back slightly to murmur in his fiance's ear, "Listy?"

"Yeah?"

"Sorry for being an 'our soul'."