whY Me CA?

It was fortunate that Lister awoke first, because if Rimmer had, he would have hit the roof. Lister's subconscious search for warmth during sleep had led him to snuggle up against Rimmer and Rimmer bizarrely had snuggled back, most likely from loneliness. He hadn't shared a bed with someone since he was a boy and even that was his Uncle Frank. So when Lister awakened he found his nose buried into Rimmer's chest and Rimmer's arm draped over his side, their legs entwined. Lister, not one to be bothered by such things, stole the blanket from Rimmer and rolled over. "Hnnmmgh?" Rimmer mumbled at the icy blast of air against his neck and arm. "You bastard!" Lister grinned and pretended to be fast asleep by snoring loudly. Rimmer tugged at the quilt. Lister's grip tightened and suddenly he released the quilt, sending Rimmer flying and he landed with a short and sharp thud on what little floor space there was. "Heheheheh," Lister's cheeky gerbil-face appeared from beneath the blanket. "GIVE IT TO ME, LISTER!" Rimmer yelled and dived up at him.

"Ahem," Howard coughed as he stared at them from the doorway.

"I erm... well it's not what it... we were... um... haven't you heard of knocking?" Rimmer said finally, untangling himself from Lister and the sheets.

"Haven't you heard of restraint?"

"What do you want anyway?" Rimmer snapped, shuffling as far away on the bed from Lister as possible. Howard smiled thoughtfully. "Breakfast is ready. I'm sure you're hungry."

"Hmph." When Howard had gone, Rimmer breathed a sigh of relief and rummaged through his drawers for some clothes. Lister reached for his shirt on the ground and was dressed in five seconds. "Rimmer, you're not very nice to your brothers. He was just giving you a wakeup call."

"You're the one who needs a wakeup call, Lister. They're monsters, okay? You just don't understand what it's like. They teased me constantly as a child. You go to sleep with the horrors of the days events and you wake up with them buried deep in your mind and for that first moment you're tranquil. But then you realise it's going to start all over again and... and you dread it."

"Yeah must be pretty shitty to wake up with a roof over your head and breakfast waiting for you. Hell, even."

"Just go to breakfast. I'll be out in a minute."

"Where're you going?"

"For a shower, Lister, that's what normal, clean people do in the mornings." Lister watched Rimmer storm off down the hall and a thought entered his head. This being such a Nostradamus-style event, he acted upon it immediately and began to nose through Rimmer's wardrobe, chuckling to himself.

"You're late," Mrs Rimmer tsked at her youngest son as he slinked into the dining room. "The toast has gone cold and the tea has stewed," she warned him. Rimmer wasn't listening. He'd gone an odd shade of puce because sat at the table in his favourite casual shirt and trousers was someone who really shouldn't be sat at the table in his favourite casual shirt and trousers. "LISTER!"

"S'up," he mumbled, chewing voraciously on a piece of toast, getting butter all over Rimmer's shirt. "Is there any more vegemite, please Mrs Rimmer?"

"Such a polite young man! You wouldn't think he was from Earth, would you?" Mrs Rimmer exclaimed happily to her husband, who was far more concerned that his grapefruit was 'giving him evils'.

"Earth is as Earth does, Mrs Rimmer."

"LISTER!"

"Oh come on, Arnie. You can't expect me to wear the same clothes as yesterday. I'm just doing what normal, clean people do." Rimmer sat down, defeated and fuming. His brothers found it hilarious. "Wearing each others clothes! That's the bedrock of a good relationship."

"Aww, you'll be together forever. We can tell."

"Not if he were the last human alive," Rimmer hissed into his cup of cold, strong tea. Lister nudged him. "So when are we going to grab some booze? I'm dying here, man. I could've been drinking last night on the Dwarf, you know." Rimmer flicked a piece of toast from the end of his nose. "Lister, don't speak with your mouth full."

"He's always saying that," Lister winked at Rimmer's brothers, who winced unhappily.

Rimmer wailed into his clenched hands, "Oh God... why me?"

"God? Ha! The universe was created by hats. Why do you think there are so many? No one actually wears hats! They exist because they are existence itself!" They all stared at Mr Rimmer for a short while before continuing to consume their post-waking, pre-afternoon meal. Afterwards, Rimmer dragged Lister away for a severe reprimanding. "Get out of those clothes, now!"

"Babe, please! Wait until we get upstairs."

"You know Lister, I'm wondering if you're not enjoying this."

"It's just a lark, Rimmer. Don't take it to heart. It's not like anyone I know can see me."

"I see you."

"Yeah, but your opinion doesn't matter."

"Thanks.(!)" Rimmer felt another headache coming on and rubbed his temples, mumbling a mantra. "Alright, I'll tone it down a bit. Just trying to make it realistic. You don't want them to get suspicious, do you?"

"I'm suspicious," John said to Frank and Howard as they cleared the table. "That David Lister... he seems alright. Why would he go out with bonehead?"

"If you ask me, I don't think he's gay at all. Look at his hair! And he obviously doesn't moisturise."

"Howie, you're the only bloke I know who does!" Howard flipped John off and handed him a stack of plates to take to the kitchen. "So, let's say he's not gay. Why would he pretend to be?"

"Who knows, Frank. Maybe he owes bonehead some money or something."

"Have to be a hell of a lot of moolah," John called out from the kitchen. "Maybe it's got something to do with alcohol. He's always asking for it, have you noticed? Oh, I know! He's an alcoholic and that's why he likes bonehead. Like when Frank got so drunk he got off with Chantelle from Radar Division."

"Shut up!"

"Guys, come on. Let's just go find out what the deal is by following them."

"Tonight? What if they are gay? I'm not going into a gay bar. If any of my colleagues spot me, my career is dead," Howard whined. John laughed kindly at his little brother. "Don't worry. I've got a cunning plan..."

"Rimmer, is that golf set in your room expensive?" Lister called from the top of the stairs. Rimmer admired his crisp shirt in the hall mirror. It wasn't often he went out to bars. If he ever did he went in alone, and went out alone. Far too depressing. Still, he had a proxy friend to chill with and even though Lister had all the charm of a monkey with leprosy, it looked as though he was in for a good night. "Rimmer?"

"What?"

"Do you like your golf clubs?"

"Yes. Why?" There was a loud metallic clanking followed by a yelp of pain. "No reason." Lister bounded down the stairs, hiding a U-shaped club behind his back. "What did you do!"

"Nuffin. But really, man. You'd think a 9 iron would be strong enough to use as a vaulting pole."

"Honestly! It's like babysitting for a Juvy. Are you still wearing my clothes?"

"Yeah, these are pretty stylish. Yer mum pick them out for yer?" Rimmer scowled at Lister and moved out of the way so that Lister could check his reflection. "Yeah I look dead good. Shame I can't pick anyone up. I bet you're the jealous type."

"Just don't get drunk and vomit on my shirt. And don't dance either. I don't want your sweat all over my clothes."

"You can wash them later when my boxers are done."

Rimmer combed his unruly hair to one side and smiled unpleasantly, "You're washing your underwear? I'm impressed. Hang on... If your boxers are in the wash... Lister if you're wearing my underwear I swear I'll-"

"Of course I'm not. I'm going commando. Oooh, hang on I forgot me hat." Lister ran over to the stairs. "I think I'll take these two at a time. No, actually, I'll see if I can stretch over three."

"I'LL KILL YOU!" Rimmer roared. Lister dived away from the golf club-wielding Rimmer and made for the safety of the kitchen. Rimmer raised the club above his head and was about to smash it over Lister's head when he caught his brother's conversation. "Bonehead? I'll get those bastards."

"Heh, don't worry man. We'll get them."

"How?"

"We''ll actually go to a gay bar. Don't look at me like that! We'll hang around until they get scared, then we'll get a few guys to hit on them. They'll bugger off quicker than a French guy at a castration clinic. Then we'll go to some proper clubs." Rimmer grinned and to Lister's relief, he put the 9 iron away. "Lister, this could be the start of a beautiful friendship."