Title: Tell Me

Summary: Cat and Lister share a conversation. It just happens to be a little different.

Rating: PG

Spoilers: Slight for S7 episode 'Duct Soup.'

Warnings: Slashy qualifications, and a load of gobbledegook that I'm afraid is relevant to the story.

Author: EllieET

Disclaimer: I don't know – you invent a great sitcom and then Grant and Naylor pinch it from you.

Tell Me

"What're you reading?" Kochanski sat at the table in the parlour as she that Lister had his nose buried in a book. Without glancing up from his book, Lister flipped it so that she could read the front.

"The Dictionary of Catnese and Cloisternese," Kochanski read. She blinked. "Why are you trying to learn Cat's language?"

Lister shrugged. "I found the book in the engine-room; thought I'd give it a read. It's quite interesting, actually."

Kochanski raised an eyebrow. "Have you learnt anything?"

"Yeah, I have, my derring Kris," Lister preened, beaming at her. "That's 'darling Kris' in Cloisternese," he added quickly, seeing her confused face. "I think the cat-race couldn't quite understand what humans were saying, so they took all the English words and wrote them in the way they thought they were spelt and pronounced. They called it Cloisternese in honour of their God, who happens to be me."

He could tell by the look on Kochanski's face and the automatic nodding that she was completely lost and chose to hide his reddening face behind the book.

"I see," Kochanski murmured slowly, standing up. "Well, I'd better get back to the cockpit. Tell Kryten to come in and take over from Cat, would you, he needs a break."

Lister nodded, and went down to the laundry-room to get the mechanoid, still consulting his book. A grin spread over his face as he thought of all the possible ways that Cat might react; maybe surprise, or pleasure, or just plain confusion. Either way, it would be fun, Lister rationalized, as he opened the laundry-room door.

When he returned with Kryten, the first thing Lister saw was Cat leaning against the parlour table, yawning and running his fingers through his hair.

"Hi, buds. Thanks, Kryten." Cat nodded to the mechanoid as Kryten walked past him into the cockpit. He raised his eyebrows in greeting at Lister as he stretched himself. Straightening out, he spotted the book under Lister's arms and blinked.

"OK, I don't know who you are or where you're from, but you'd better return my bud right now!" he snapped, gesturing towards the book. Lister smiled at him sarcastically.

"I'm entitled to have a read, thanks! Anyway, you've got great bags under your eyes – where's your mascara?" he mocked, a little too forcefully.

"What?" Cat rubbed his eyes before grabbing a mirror from his pocket. Inspecting his eyes, he groaned. "Oh, my gosh!"

"Cat, you're just tired," Lister offered, an apologetic tone in his voice. "You've been up piloting half the night. How 'bout we take a walk?"

"Fine."

Lister gestured him over to the door at the back of the parlour, opening it up. Cat followed him inside and the two began to walk down the steps leading to the first level of the engine-room.

It was a little cold, and quite dark. Lister felt Cat bump into him repeatedly from behind and he himself had to carefully look where he was putting his feet as they continued to descend the stairs. It wasn't until they reached the bottom that he felt he could breathe easily again.

The Cat whistled as he glanced around at his surroundings. "Wow. Seems so long ago now that this was just a small engine-room with three levels; come to that, the whole ship seems so much bigger." He glanced at Lister.

"You're not – y'know, claustrophobic down here, right?" he asked cautiously.

Lister shook his head. "Nah. I wasn't when we came up against the Psirens, remember?"

"Oh, yeah."

Lister glanced at him. "Actually, Cat, I've got something to tell you."

Cat's head snapped up to look at him; he was frowning. "Yeah? What?"

Lister opened his mouth, hesitated for a moment, and then finally said, "I fink ya've get grat teeps."

Cat blinked. A grin started to spread over his face.

"You – you managed to tell me I have great teeth. In Cloisternese!"

Lister widened his eyes at him hopefully. "Did I do it right?"

Cat nodded eagerly. "Yeah! It's been ages since I heard one of my old languages. How'd you learn that?" The two walked over to a railing, and leaned over it, glancing down at the engine room and the other levels beyond.

"I found an old dictionary down here," Lister replied. "I remember now – when I was studying your race years ago at Red Dwarf, I picked up a book of your language. I never got round to reading it, but then when we went on that disastrous fishing holiday – y'know, the first time we met Ace? – I took it with me but left it in the engine-room when I went to inspect a couple of pipes. Then I found it again last night."

"How much have you learnt?" Cat asked.

"Enough. Be tha wey, that sebra-ztripe jaket ya've warring is nace."

Cat bounced on the spot. "You did it again! You told me my zebra-stripe jacket is nice. This is great!"

Lister grinned as Cat spoke in Cloisternese back to him.

"End ye're a ceever giy." (And you're a clever guy).

"Ey, ey, ey, nat zo fost. Ims ztill leaning." ('Ey, 'ey, 'ey, not so fast. I'm still learning).

Cat shrugged and switched back to English. "Sorry – it's just good to hear one of my own languages again. I mean, normally, cats spoke in English, but at really big occasions like parties or – er – parties, they spoke to each other in Cloisternese, as thanks for having a good time. The language was named after you, y'know."

"Yeah, I know." Lister couldn't hold back a smirk. "Sorry – yeeh, I new."

"What about Catnese?" Cat asked. "I'm telling you, there's a language I'd like to hear again. It's one of the few things I know and it's a lot more common – my ancestors used it when cat couples hung 'Do Not Disturb' signs outside their doors."

Lister blinked. "Why?"

"Well, as far as I know, during the cat war, many couples were split up because they fought for different sides. Speaking in Catnese when couples get together is a sign of reunion. Have you learnt any?"

"Iz zo mooch harter." (It's so much harder).

"Geve it a tra." (Give it a try).

"Oh, OK, you win." Lister squared his shoulders, hesitated and then spoke in stumbling Catnese.

"Mew, meow, meee-ooow, purr – er – ah – meow!" Lister bit his lip on finishing. Cat raised an eyebrow, held up a palm and gave it an involuntary wriggle.

"I'll give you credit for trying."

"Why, what did I say?" Lister asked.

"You said I have a grated toothache."

"Oh. Oh well." Lister shrugged. "I leik Cloisternese zo mooch beeta." (I like Cloisternese so much better).

Cat hid a smirk of his own, turning his back on Lister as he leaned sideways on the railing. Lister bit his lip.

"Cat? Are you OK? I haven't upset you, have I?"

"Nah," Cat said cheerfully, turning back to face the human. "I just haven't heard my old language for ages – I'd almost forgotten all about it, actually."

"It's just – so I can say thanks." Lister smiled coaxingly at him and shrugged his shoulders again.

"Thanks?" Cat blinked. "Thanks for what?"

"Fer listning ter me whan I teld ya abot ma clastropobia." (For listening to me when I told you about my claustrophobia).

Cat grinned, fangs shining white. "Hey, no problem. I know what it's like to have a phobia – I have one in which I imagine that I've worn the same suit twice – 'fitaphobia,' I call it."

Lister rolled his eyes again as he stood up straight. "Well, 'ey, why don't we grab some, er, meow."

"No thanks, I'm not really in the mood for toothpaste," Cat replied, tongue in his cheek. "How about some grub – I'm starved."

He stood up from the railing and turned to leave, but not before throwing a quick glance at Lister.

"Keep trying," he winked. Lister folded his arms, unsure whether to feel insulted or amused. Then, feeling a bit of both, he followed Cat out of the engine-room and back up the stairs, into the well-lit parlour.

Fin.