"The equation for hyperspace is –"
"The mass of the universe times the speed of light squared over infinity." Rimmer looked at Lister who was perched up on his bunk with the hologram's astronavigation textbook resting in his lap. His eyes were wide and hopeful, listening intently for the third technician's response.
Lister grinned and put his hand up for a high-five. "You're right! You did it man!" Rimmer's mouth dropped open in shock and then pure, unadulterated joy shot through him like a lightning bolt.
He eagerly bounded up to Lister and slapped his hand to the other man's outstretched one. "I did it! I did it! I remembered something!"
"At this rate you'll be able to answer all the exam questions in no time," Lister put down the book and hopped down from the bunk, heading over to the new fridge he had had installed in the sleeping quarters. He pulled out a beer and turned to Rimmer who was positively beaming.
"Do you really think I can do it?" He asked the question like it was sacred.
Lister smirked. "We've already been through this, of course I do!" He opened the can and took a swig. "Just keep doin' what you're doin'."
Rimmer ran a hand through his hair and sat down on his bunk. His lanky legs sprawled out in front of him. He looked like a schoolboy excited for a present or an event he had been looking forward to for forever. "If I do become an officer…" he trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence.
"Then you'll have the run of the ship," Lister finished for him. "You already pretty much do, but I'm sure there'll be new things that open up for yeh when you get there."
"I'm happy."
Lister arched an eyebrow and took another swig of his lager. "That's good."
"No really," Rimmer insisted, "I haven't felt this way for years. There was always someone putting me down, making me believe I wasn't worth it – and if there weren't, then I would take up that job myself. But now everybody is confident in me, or at least they're acting like they are, and I don't feel the need to blame myself. I have a clear conscience. I can think, I can remember, I can study. I can become an officer. But right now, I feel like I would be content to just stay like this if I had to."
Lister walked forward and sat down next to Rimmer, can of beer still in hand. "I'm happy for yeh, man. You deserve it." There was a pang of pain in the curry-stained mans voice though. It wasn't because he wasn't sincere and thought Rimmer should get any less, or even because he had treated Rimmer so unfairly – although he probably should have still felt guilty about that. It was about the fact that he felt the way Rimmer did, like he didn't deserve anything he got. He was abandoned under a pool table for gods' sake, left to rot and probably for good reason. He had done nothing with his life, made no impression whatsoever and yet here he was, the last human being left in the universe, suddenly given the responsibility of repopulating his species. He didn't deserve this responsibility at all; he hadn't earned it, in any way. Somebody more competent should have ended up in this role, not a washed-out, pathetic spacebum like himself.
Rimmer heard the hesitation in Lister's voice and eyed him suspiciously. "You don't sound like you mean it," the hologram couldn't help being a bit doubtful, everything always ended up blowing back in his face.
Lister shook his head. "No I do mean it, I was just thinkin' about myself. I mean, I don't deserve what I've got, do I? I don't deserve to be the last human left, I'm a nobody and a nothing, why me? Somebody much better than I am should have ended up here."
The shock coursed through Rimmer. Lister had always been the optimistic, upbeat one. When he got depressed, it was usually over being lonely, not about being deserving, and he was most certainly never this ruminative. The hologram shrugged and fidgeted on the spot. "You didn't exactly ask for this, none of us did…" he turned to Lister who was looking at the ground, the lager can now lowered into his lap. "Nobody would have been better or worse in this role than you, because like you nobody would have been prepared for it. It's not everyday you become the last member of your species you know."
"I'm a sucky last member of our species," Lister breathed, putting his can of lager on the ground. He suddenly didn't feel like drinking anymore.
Rimmer hesitated, then slowly lifted his arm and placed it around Lister's shoulder. "You'll be okay, I think," he tried to say reassuringly. It felt strange trying to comfort somebody else, when he had scarcely been comforted himself.
Lister looked up at him. "Thanks man." Their faces were close, closer than was probably necessary or decent in fact. Rimmer's cheeks flushed a pale pink hue and he looked away, uncomfortable to say the least.
Lister glanced at his clock. It was eleven at night but he didn't feel tired. Rimmer lifted his arm off him and coughed nervously. The tension in the room was suddenly palpable and neither of them could understand the reason behind it. They had just been chatting, giving each other a bit of help. So why did it feel so intimate? Lister stood up and pulled the textbook down from his bunk. "Want to keep revising?" he sat down next to Rimmer again and opened up the book to the page he had been reading off before.
Rimmer nodded stiffly and Lister read out another question. "A quasar is-"
"An energetic and distant active galactic nucleus," Rimmer answered. He started twiddling his thumbs absently. Why did the atmosphere in the room become so thick? He could have cut it with a knife. He had not expected any of this to happen and he didn't know whether to complain or let it slide.
"Correct," Lister mumbled, growing increasingly aware of how close he and Rimmer were sitting. This was not possible, he did not feel that way about Rimmer; he could not feel that way about him. Nope. Absolutely not.
The thrill of getting answers correct had dissipated leaving a strange churning sensation in Rimmers stomach. He was not accustomed to feeling this way. "Well Listy, seems like I'm doing pretty well," he said weakly.
The third technician snapped his head up. Rimmer hadn't called him 'Listy' for the better part of a day. Somehow the nickname sounded foreign to his ears, even though the hologram used it on him regularly. "You can call me Dave you know," he found himself saying. Truly he didn't care either way if he was addressed by his first or last name, but he felt that he had been on close terms with Rimmer long enough that the whole space corps etiquette of addressing crewmen by their surnames could be scrapped. It was silly really, they had been living together with no one else besides the Cat, Holly and Kryten for so many years and yet they didn't even call each other by their first names.
"Uh, okay, Dave." The name sounded wrong on Rimmer's tongue, like it shouldn't have been uttered and did not belong in his vocabulary. "I suppose you can call me Arnold then, if you have to that is," he managed to throw in the obligatory scorn that he usually attached to his interactions with Lister. It didn't feel the same though, almost wrong in fact. He must have been going soft.
"Am I interrupting anything sirs?" Kryten popped his head into the sleeping quarters to see Rimmer and Lister sitting on Rimmer's bunk, looking at a textbook.
"Not at all, Krytes," Lister answered with relief at having somebody finally break up the tension.
The mechanoid smiled and disappeared for a moment, before reentering with a trolley with two plates on it. "I've come to give you dinner sirs, I know it's quite late but seeing as you two don't really have a fixed sleeping schedule I thought it wouldn't be that much of a problem." The robot lifted up the silver lids that had been covering the plates to reveal one chicken vindaloo with multiple papadums and another plate with a piece of grilled beef and some vegetables. "Oh and I know you don't have to eat Mr Rimmer sir, but I thought I'd whip something up for you anyway."
Rimmer was startled, nobody really did things for him out of the kindness of their heart. Of course Kryten was a mechanoid and programmed to serve, so he didn't really count as acting out of kindness - but Rimmer would take what he could get. "Thank you Kryten," he muttered, standing up and walking over to the trays of food. Lister followed behind him.
"I also brought you a can of lager and a cup or orange juice, I think you know which is for who." The mechanoid bowed slightly and stepped away from the trolley. "I'm going to power down for the night sirs, see you in the morning." With that Kryten disappeared leaving the other two alone again.
Lister picked up the plate of his curry and hopped up onto his bunk to begin to eat, while Rimmer sat down at the metal table and pulled his plate over to him. "I forget what it's like to be hungry," he commented as he started to cut off a piece of the beef.
Lister nodded. "Ah yeah, I guess you don't feel hungry since you don't need food. SO what's it like eating? Do you get full?"
"It's strange," said Rimmer, "I don't feel hungry, I'm never in need of food. When I do eat I can taste it, but I never feel full or empty. It's just the sensation of eating really. I get no gratification in the end."
Lister put down his curry and jumped down again. He walked over to the hologram that was now chewing a mouthful of food. "You only get the sensation of eating? I wonder if it's the same fer everything else."
Rimmer swallowed. "What do you mean?" He looked up at Lister who was now standing over him.
The other man shrugged. "Is everything your hardlight body can do only sensation?"
Rimmer stood up. He was unsure of everything about this situation; he and Lister being civil, Lister taking an interest in him, Kryten making him dinner. It was overwhelming. It was unnatural. He couldn't forget those few passing moments though, when Lister had defended him. That was all he needed, just a little bit of confidence from someone, and when Lister gave it to him, he swore he felt bulletproof: like nothing ever could or would hurt him again. How did you thank someone for making you feel that way?
He swallowed. Bending down he grabbed Lister's shoulders gently, the shorter man looking up at him in confusion. "Rimmer, what are ye-" but Lister never got to finish the question. Rimmer pressed his lips to the other mans, Listers eyes widened considerably. It was oiley, and Listers stubble grazed his cleanly shaven lips. The shorter man tasted of curry and cigarettes, and something that was distinctly Dave. It was bitter and salty and so many other wrong things that Rimmer could only describe as bad; yet like a fried-egg-chilly-chutney-sandwich, all the things that were plainly wrong about this kiss somehow combined to make one big right. His heart raced, his curls stood on end, his breathing accelerated. Lister had gone rigid in shock at first, but to Rimmers surprise he also began to melt into it, like he was enjoying himself just as much.
A few more seconds and Rimmer pulled away, gasping for breath. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt and looked away, a visible blush rising to his cheeks once again.
Lister blinked and looked at the ground, trying to understand the situation. He went over the main facts in his head: Rimmer kissed him, kiss felt good. Everything after that was wrong and disgusting and needed to be blocked out of his mind forever, because he would never admit thinking anything even remotely romantic about the smeghead he shared his sleeping quarters with.
Rimmer was just about to address Lister again when the Cat came into the room grinning from ear-to-ear. "Hey guys, look what I found in the locker bays!" He held up the sack Lister had been collecting his load with earlier happily, ignoring the complete awkwardness emanating off the other two at full force.
Lister's eyes widened. "Give that to me now!" He lunged for it, but the Cat pulled it out of his reach and shook his head.
"These are MY things, bud. I found them." The Cat reached his hand into the sack and pulled out the little brown leather-bound book. "And look at this! It's a book written my Alphabet-head!"
Rimmer nostrils flared and he snatched the diary out of the Cat's hand. "How did you find this? It was in my –" he cut himself off. He knew the answer. Only Lister had mastered the art of breaking into lockers, the Cat didn't even know how to go about it and Kryten would never dream of it. He turned to the rasta-plaited man. "You took it from my locker. You read it, didn't you?" His face crumpled into an ugly scowl. "All of this was just because you felt sorry for me wasn't it? You pitied me? And to think I actually thought you may have matured a bit and finally accepted me." He threw the diary at Lister angrily. "Here, have it. Read every page. You've already caused enough damage that I'm sure anything in there wouldn't make any difference."
With that the hologram stomped out of the room, but with his hardlight body he didn't even get the satisfaction of a thumping sound as he brought his feet heavily down on the floor. Lister was left staring aimlessly at the doorway, too stunned to respond. The Cat, once again ignoring the circumstances surrounding him simply shrugged and went back to the bag containing 'his' things.
To Be Continued…
I have taken the leap. Yep, I decided to do a bit of slash, so sue me. Of course I'm all for the bromance and/or friendship as well.
