Frankenstein was making noises. At first, Rimmer thought that maybe she was being annoying to cover for Lister. But she kept on doing it.
Rimmer hardly knew anything about cats, but the sorts of noises Frankenstein was making seemed to him like noises that were supposed to tell him something was wrong.
"Oh, what's wrong with you? I know for a fact you can't be trying to tell me someone's fallen down a well. So what is it?"
Frankenstein trotted over. One moment she was on the floor, the next, she was standing on Rimmer's lap. She must have jumped up there so fast that he didn't see it happen.
Rimmer jumped in shock, and stared at the surprisingly heavy little black cat. He didn't know what to do. Lister picked her up and interacted with her like it was nothing, but Rimmer was nervous. He knew cats had sharp claws and teeth, and she could really hurt him if she wanted to. Frankenstein blinked her big eyes at him and let out a loud, mournful meow.
Timidly, Rimmer lifted his hand and ran it along the cat's back. As he moved his hand to stroke her again, Frankenstein rubbed her cheek against his hand. It was amazing how this little creature reacted and seemed to like being touched. Maybe she just wanted attention. Rimmer leant forward and tried to curl his arms around her, but the cat sprung off his lap, rejecting his hug. He watched her go back and check on her kittens, and felt a bit silly.
Rimmer turned back to his work. And was promptly pulled away from it again by Frankenstein meowing.
"Do you want food? Is that it?" Rimmer said, wishing he'd asked Lister these things.
Rimmer got up and went down the corridor to a vending machine. Lister said he'd been sneaking meat and fish from the kitchen. The closest thing he could find in this particular vending machine was a tuna mayo sandwich.
When he got back to the room, he looked over at the nest Frankenstein had made out of Lister's dirty washing. Her kittens were there, but there was no sign of Frankenstein.
Rimmer took a sharp breath. His heart hammered. He instantly jumped to the worst possible conclusion. No. It couldn't be. What if he hadn't closed the door properly and Frankenstein had got out?
But then Frankenstein jumped down from Lister's bunk. Rimmer put his hand on his chest and took a few deep breaths.
Once he had calmed down a bit, he scraped the tuna off the bread. He was feeling a bit peckish, so he ate the bread himself, and gave the tuna to Frankenstein, which she ate eagerly.
Now finally he could return to his revision. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Frankenstein lie down next to her kittens and start washing them. But a few minutes later, she started meowing again.
Rimmer tried to ignore her, but it wasn't long before he started worrying. What if she was ill? What if he hadn't done something important? What if he'd done something he shouldn't have done? He really had no clue about taking care of cats. What if the tuna was a mistake? What if Lister came back and the cat was dead? Lister would never forgive him.
He tried to reassure himself that it was probably nothing. But he shot down the attempts at reassurance with fresh disaster scenarios. He sighed. There was only one thing for it.
Lister had lost count of the number of rounds they'd had. They'd got up to jump up and down and shove each other to the beat of a few songs, but returned to drinking after the burly man from earlier had threatened to knock Petersen through the wall after he bumped into him. People just didn't appreciate good dancing these days.
Now Lister was sitting alone with a half full drink and a cigarette. His mates were trying out some different kinds of moves on the dancefloor and attempting to impress girls. He watched them without much interest, a vague feeling of loneliness settling over him.
Kochanski was dancing with Tim. He'd seen her greet her new/old boyfriend with a kiss earlier, not that Lister had been deliberately paying attention or anything. They did look happy together. But if Lister was honest with himself he wasn't sure he was emotionally ready to be happy for her yet.
Lister stubbed out his cigarette and finished his drink, then lit another cigarette just for something to do. He was thinking about calling it a night. Cuddling Frankenstein and the kittens and winding up Rimmer seemed like much more fun than this.
As he sat and finished his cigarette, Lister noticed someone who looked totally out of place. Hair combed and gelled within an inch of its life, still wearing uniform, walking stiffly and soberly through the crowd. It could only be Rimmer.
"Rimmer!" Lister yelled, getting up and waving theatrically.
Rimmer spotted him and a look crossed his face. It wasn't quite a smile, but it was a look of recognition.
Lister almost tripped over his chair and squeezed past people to get to Rimmer. Someone jostled him and he wound up falling into his bunkmate. Rimmer grabbed his arms to steady him. Lister leant against him and gave him a squeeze.
"If I knew yer were comin' I'd've lent you a shirt," Lister said.
Rimmer was unsure whether or not he should put his arms around Lister. He felt like he should, but was that the normal thing to do in this situation? Standing still and letting him accost him seemed more awkward. But all these people here were making him nervous. Part of him worried that everyone would mock him. Mock them. Crowds of people having fun always reminded him of being at school and feeling left out. It's fine, they don't care, he tried to tell himself. But did he really believe that? "Lister, I only came here to find you."
"Aww, did you?" Lister said, shuffling forwards and snuggling in closer.
Rimmer felt his heart beating faster. Nervousness? Excitement? Fear? He really wasn't sure. He finally settled on putting his arms around Lister, if only to keep him upright. Something stabbed him, then he realised it was the sharp end of a paper umbrella. He carefully untangled it from where it was stuck in Lister's hair.
"I missed yer tonight, you know," Lister said.
Rimmer let those words sink in. Lister missed him? He could smell the alcohol on Lister's breath, he could hear how Lister very slightly slurred his words. Rimmer wanted to dismiss that statement outright just because Lister had been drinking, but what if he meant it? It was an odd feeling to be missed. To be actually wanted.
Suddenly Rimmer felt like he wanted to cry. Could he just pretend for a bit that it was true? But he couldn't handle showing that sort of vulnerability. Not in front of Lister. And certainly not in public. He rubbed Lister's back as he continued to hold him close.
"Lister, I need to tell you something," Rimmer said, feeling breathless.
"Yeah?" Lister said so gently.
Rimmer realised he couldn't say it out loud so moved his mouth close to Lister's ear. "It's Frankenstein," he whispered.
Lister giggled and writhed in his arms like he had been tickled.
Rimmer let go of him, and then Lister grasped his hand. "Come and dance," he said.
"No, Lister," Rimmer said, pulling his hand back but Lister wouldn't let go. "I think there's something wrong with-" and he mouthed 'Frankenstein'.
"Why didn't you say so?" Lister said, suddenly serious.
"I was trying to tell you, Lister!"
"Come on, let's go." Lister kept hold of Rimmer's hand and led him through the crowd.
Rimmer noticed a few people look at them as they squeezed past, and had the horrible creeping dread of being stared at.
When they got back to their quarters Frankenstein twined herself around Lister's legs, rubbing up against him. Lister picked her up. "Aww Frankie, did you miss me?" he said, cuddling her. The cat started purring in his arms.
Rimmer watched, anxiously twisting his hands together. "So what's wrong with her?"
"I dunno. She seems all right to me," Lister said, putting her down.
Frankenstein returned to her kittens and started giving one of them a bath.
"She wasn't like this ten minutes ago."
Lister shrugged. "Maybe she just missed me."
"That's all? She got me all worried over nothing?"
Lister couldn't help but smile.
"What?"
"It's sweet that you were worried," Lister said, reaching out and touching Rimmer's arm briefly.
"Well, anyone would have been," he said dismissively.
Lister was still smiling at him. "So, how did your revision go?" he asked.
Rimmer took a moment to think about his answer. He tried to recall a single fact or figure from earlier, but all he could remember was the incessant meowing. "I'm getting there," he said.
"Glad to hear it, man." Lister smiled, and then shook his head. "It really is too cute that you were worried about Frankie."
"All right, you don't have to keep going on about it."
"Aww, c'mere," Lister said, throwing his arms around Rimmer. He felt immensely happy when Rimmer curled his arms around him. He'd seen another side to Rimmer lately, one that he liked. A lot. And now, feeling warm and secure in his arms, Lister very much wanted to kiss him. His heart pounded in his chest as he thought about it. He wished he'd taken the opportunity earlier and kissed him in the bar, so he could pretend it was for show.
To hell with it, he thought. Lister tilted his head back and pressed his lips against Rimmer's, then pulled away to look into his hazel eyes and gauge his reaction. He was fascinated by the way the electric light cast amber highlights in his eyes. In that moment Lister could have looked into his eyes forever.
"Lister!" Rimmer hissed.
Lister wondered if he was up for another kiss. But Rimmer's brow was furrowing and his face was tensing up as if Lister had done something horrible to him. It had never been this difficult and confusing with anyone else.
"What on Io are you are doing?" Rimmer said, pushing him away.
That was a no, then. "Sorry man. I was thinking of… someone else," Lister lied.
"Were you?" Rimmer said, unconvinced.
Lister shrugged his shoulders. "I've been drinking, gimme a break," he said.
"Moved on? I knew that was absolute tosh."
Lister wanted to say something but had to stop himself in case the truth came out.
"Oh don't be horrible to me, Rimmer," he said.
"I'm not being- oh, forget it."
Lister sat down on the floor with Frankenstein and her kittens and started making a fuss of them. He kept thinking of the previous steamier kisses he and Rimmer had shared, and felt disappointed that there might not be any more of them. Had he been an idiot to think this pretence would continue?
The cats were here and safe and he was glad about that. He tried to focus on how cute and soft they were, and the comforting simplicity of little creatures who loved him and he loved back.
He glanced at Rimmer, who was furiously turning the pages of his textbook. It'd been easier when all they did was get on each other's nerves. But things had changed since Rimmer first kissed him. It wasn't just acting for him, well maybe it had been at first but things had changed. There was no chance he could get Rimmer to understand that. Rimmer wouldn't kiss him just because he liked it too. Would he? No, he needed some sort of excuse. Rimmer didn't do anything just because he enjoyed it, it all had to be part of his five year plan or whatever.
Then why had he helped Lister hide Frankenstein in the first place? Why did Rimmer have to be so difficult? Or maybe that was the draw. Maybe Lister really wasn't over Kochanski and he knew that he couldn't have Rimmer, so liking him was safe because he wouldn't get hurt again. Oh smeg, he really did like him. He could be difficult and nasty sometimes, but Lister wasn't sure he really meant it. He could also be really sweet and thoughtful. Maybe this had been his fault, Lister thought. He shouldn't have kissed him. But oh, he wanted to do it again.
Lister put his arms around the cats. Sometimes he got all depressed like this when he drank. In the morning he'd be a bit hungover, but these weird yearnings would have gone away. At least he hoped they would.
It was fifteen minutes before their shift started, so as usual Rimmer had just got back from his morning jog and Lister had yet to get out of bed. Unbeknownst to Rimmer, Lister was watching him do his stretches with one eye open, feeling vaguely guilty about it. This was the only time he ever saw Rimmer show the slightest bit of skin. Even that time the thermostat was on the blink and temperature was stuck at a balmy thirty degrees, Rimmer still wore long sleeved pyjamas to bed.
There was a knock on the door. Rimmer looked at Lister, who pretended he had just woken up.
"Er, who is it?" Rimmer called.
"It's Petersen," came a voice from the other side of the door.
"All right, gimme a sec!" Lister said, jumping down from his bunk. He looked around quickly, and grabbed a towel and threw it over Frankenstein and her kittens.
"Hey Petersen, what's up?" Lister said, blinking groggily.
"Did you forget something last night?" Petersen asked.
Lister looked at Petersen. He was wearing a new jacket, one that looked very similar to his own leather jacket. Same badges and everything. "Ohhh!" he said in realisation.
Petersen laughed and took off Lister's jacket, then handed it to him. "Thanks, man."
"Good to see you, Rimmer," Petersen said.
"Is it?" Rimmer said suspiciously.
"Anyway, I'll leave you two to it," Petersen said with a wave.
"Yeah, see ya," Lister called, and shut the door.
"Has Petersen had a personality transplant?" Rimmer said.
"What do you mean?"
"Good to see you Rimmer," Rimmer imitated in a toadying tone that Petersen hadn't used.
"Oh, well," Lister said, glancing at Frankenstein who had wriggled her head out from under the towel. "About that. I suppose there's somethin' I gotta tell yer."
