#walks into without head# I have had to abandon my head because a walrus named Ferdinand has taken a shine to it and is trying to mate. Thus I have saved you the horror of watching such an act. So here we are; the last two chapters of 'To Slash Or Not To Slash'. Now the reason it is called this is because I wrote three endings - one where they do, one where they might, one where they don't. I shan't tell you which I have chosen, but the reason I have chosen it is because I have plans for a sequel. I have had just too much fun writing Mr Rimmer not to. Who knows - he may get his own spin-off like Frasier.

And now on with the story.

Bad Touch

The fight had begun very well. Motivated by their renewed disliking for one another, they had performed with gusto. Frustrations were expended with words, disappointment was masked by profanities. Lines were hammed, gestures were exaggerated, exclamations were exclaimed. And then it got to the finale:

"As soon as we get back I'm getting a transfer to another room with a new bunkmate. A cool bunkmate who hates organ music and lampposts and RISK. And as soon as the Red Dwarf docks on Earth I'm leaving and I hope I never see you again," Lister yelled, reached for the door knob and heaved open the huge doors. And then it hit Rimmer. Hit him like 'Spotty' Cohen in fifth year when Rimmer told Spotty's girlfriend that he wet himself on Father Christmas's lap once.

"Wait..."

Lister's hand hovered on the handle. What was Rimmer doing? It was going perfectly. This was just how he wanted it. Wasn't it? Lister's head raced. He'd changed his mind. That's what had happened. He'd changed it back and he wanted them to stay together. Rimmer's hand took his away from the door. "What the smeg are you doing?" Lister whispered.

"I've changed my mind again."

"I guessed that. I meant about the rules, smeghead," he waved their hands at him. "No touching of any kind, remember?"

"The rules can smeg off to Pluto," he said. Mrs Rimmer saw what happened next.

"Seriously? Right in the hallway?"

"I'm telling you Frank, they're kissing. They're at it like 13-year-olds before third period Design and Technology class. I feel quite faint. Get my smelling salts. No, actually, some Port." She sat in Mr Rimmer's wheelchair and downed it like a vodka shot. John shook his head, sadly. "Honestly, it's disgusting. A man of his age snogging a bloke in his parents' home. Still, at least they're not shagging, right Howard?"

"Er, yeah. That'd be really... bad."

"John, don't! Howard has gone pale at just the thought of it."

"I didn't want to believe it," said Frank, pouring his mother another Port and then one for himself. "But it's true. He's a raving queer. I hope it's not catching. Janine would be most upset if I went home a poof."

"Stop it!" Mrs Rimmer barked at him. "It's not like being around whoopsies makes you gay. If one walks up to you and offers you a drink it's not like you invite them home and drop your trousers. Howard dear, that's a nasty cough you have there. Go take some lemon drink from the medicine cabinet."

"I told you," Mr Rimmer yelled from his wicker chair in the corner. "I told you not to let him watch 1980's cartoons as a child. A normal boy would have watched modern shows with cowboys and dinosaurs and space heroes and bad guys with dumb sidekicks. What did he watch, hm? Bloody He-man. A muscular man called Adam that wore fur and swung a sword about."

"Let's not play the blame game here. And anyway you were the one who bought Viagra from peddlers off the street nine months before his birth. Who knows what chemicals were in them."

"STOP IT BOTH OF YOU!" John screamed. "It doesn't matter how or why. For the love of St Mike, can't you just concentrate on the matter at hand? Which is - how can I get my coat and leave with those two making a Picasso with their lips out there?"

"What two?"

"Oh bloody hell, dad... Hang on a tick. Where have they gone?" Mrs Rimmer spotted their absence just as John spoke and dashed past him into the hallway.

"They're gone? Seriously?" Frank wandered after his mother as she swept about the empty hall.

"They're as gone as Elvis. Completely vanished," Mr Rimmer muttered. Howard patted him on the shoulder with unbending composure. "Now dad, you know perfectly well that Elvis was found in an 18th century cottage in Kent in 2009 and is now cryogenically frozen on Venus."

"But where could they have gone?" John scowled, kicking the rug over as if he expected them to be hiding under it. They all stood in nervous silence for a while until Howard said what they were all thinking. "Upstairs?"

"They wouldn't!"

"Anyone notice the door?" John said suddenly, and they all followed his gaze to the wide open doors, swinging in the synthetic breeze.

Moments before...

Rimmer released Lister from his oral prison and asked breathlessly, "Are they looking?"

"What?" replied the dazed Lister, not entirely sure what had just happened.

"Are they looking? They're in the dining room, I just know it. I saw a sliver of light on the floor from the doorway." Lister looked down at the floor and followed the ray towards the dining room door which strangely at that moment slammed shut. So they had been watching after all. And Rimmer had taken his acting skills to the limit. "You mean you... because... ah..."

"Why did you think I did that?" Rimmer broke their embrace and scuttled backwards, knocking over a vase in embarrassment. "The whole point of this was to do it when they were watching."

"Oh, no don't worry man. Of course that's why. Ignore me. I'm still a bit pissed from last night."

"Oh," breathed Rimmer, relieved. "Wait, so why did you...?"

"Just playing along, y'know? When in Rome."

"Oh. Right," said the sceptical Rimmer. "So... was I any good?"

"Oh come off it! You can't ask me that."

Rimmer sighed sorrowfully, "Translation: I was crap."

"No, you were good. Not that I have any blokes to compare you with. You could use your tongue a bit more," Lister suggested.

"Ah see, I never know what to do with my tongue."

"I could show you later. Well, you know. Explain. Verbally. Not... y'know. Unless you'd find a demonstration easier."

"Oh, well either way is fine. Erm, thanks very much." Rimmer admired Lister's subtlety. Lister had changed his mind as well.