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Red Dwarf Fic Remix 2018
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Published:
2018-02-06
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1,428
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1/1
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10
Kudos:
30
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352

Cards on the Table

Summary:

Fluff. Game nights can get interesting when you’re in a ménage à trois.

This is a remix of felineranger’s Stuck In The Middle With You.

Notes:

  • Inspired by [Restricted Work] by (Log in to access.)

Work Text:

“I’m surprised at you, Arnold.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Rimmer replied lightly as he unbuckled his belt. “Don’t tell me you didn’t get up to worse at cadet school.”

Todhunter sniffed and crossed his long legs underneath his magazine. “Of course. But that was decades ago, give or take three million years.”

Cat looked with disdain at the plain, standard-issue belt that Rimmer had just laid down. “Don’t worry about it, bud. I know you’re just worried I’ll show you up. I mean, who wouldn’t be?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lister said with an eye-roll. “Come on, Cat, man, what’re you betting?”

A sparkling white glove fluttered elegantly to the middle of the table. “One glove.”

“A glove? Seriously?”

“I was wearing it, wasn’t I? It totally counts! Besides, those diamantés are hand-applied.”

“Fine.” Lister debated with himself for a moment before pulling off the multicoloured cord that had been holding his locks together. “One hair tie.”

Cat let out a strange sort of cry which sounded like a feline Yuck!.

“Hmm. Interesting choice.”

Lister turned around and looked at Todhunter. “You what?”

“Pardon? Oh, nothing. Just - interesting choice, that’s all.”

“He was hoping you’d take your shirt off,” Rimmer observed shrewdly. “You know, Frank, it’s not very sporting to watch without playing.”

Lister snorted. “Impatient smegger, aren’t you? It’s too early in the game for that.”

“I’m not really watching, Arnold. I’m reading, as you can see.”

“A likely story.”

“But hypothetically,” Todhunter added, turning a page, “if I were watching, I’d be equally glad of seeing you take your shirt off.”

Rimmer hummed as he slid a finger through his cards. “Is that so?”

“You guys are disgusting!” Cat exclaimed, making them all jump. “I quit.”

That finally made Todhunter drop his pretence of reading and look up. “Quit? Why? You’ve just got started.”

“Too late, tall monkey! These two might let you see them naked all the time, but you’re not getting a glimpse of this perfection that easily. You have to work for it!”

“Er, Cat, I don’t really - ”

“Bye!” Cat retrieved his glove and left the room so quickly that he appeared to vanish in a puff of smoke.

“…I really don’t,” Todhunter said sheepishly.

“Never mind, Frank.” Rimmer slowly stretched his arms out behind him, putting a bit of his stomach on display. “You know he thinks everyone’s dying to gaze upon his ‘perfection’.”

“And he’s quite mistaken,” Kryten interjected from the doorway. “I can state with absolute honesty that I have never desired to gaze upon Mr Cat’s nude form. Snacks, sirs?”

“Game’s off, apparently.” Nonetheless, Lister grabbed several canapés off Kryten’s tray. “Unless you’d like to join us?”

“Yes, why not? You can borrow some of my clothes, Kryten. You’d be at a severe disadvantage otherwise. Take whatever you need from my section of the wardrobe.”

“Oh, thank you, Mr Todhunter. That’s very generous of you.”

“By my count, Dave and Arnold are wearing about eight items each, including socks and undergarments. It’s only fair if you have that many as well.”

Rimmer sniggered. “Very generous indeed.”

“I think Frank’s really, really invested in us losing this game,” Lister stage-whispered, leaning in close. “Maybe we should play for higher stakes.”

The bed creaked as Todhunter lay down, sly smile barely concealed by the book he’d retrieved from under the mattress. “I haven’t the slightest clue what you’re talking about, Dave.”

-

Todhunter groaned as he straightened his back and legs. “Dave,” he called, waving one of the green cards he’d picked up off the floor at Lister, “I’ve just found these. This one is, let’s see, Free fuel. Get refuel for free and throw again. Hm.”

“Eh?” Lister looked away from the TV. “Oh, right, those are my cards. They must have fallen out of my pocket.”

“Your cards?”

“You know, to use in case of emergency. Don’t tell Rimmer.”

“I didn’t realise winning at Mine-opoly was so important to you.”

Lister gestured at him to hand the cards over. “Normally I wouldn’t be that bothered, but he and I made a deal. If I win today, I can eat whatever, whenever, and wherever I want for a week and he can’t say anything, not a single smegging thing.”

“Really?”

“And I want to wind him up a little.”

“That’s not very nice.”

“Just a little, I promise,” Lister insisted, holding up his thumb and index finger pressed together. “I don’t know about you, but I was hoping for some quality time later, me, you, and him. We don’t want him too grouchy, do we?”

“Right.” Todhunter sat down next to him and put an arm about his shoulders. “About the other thing, are you sure you want to go through with this deal?”

“Well, obviously. Come on, no ice cream in bed? What kind of rule is that?”

“I - well, I can’t say I disagree with it, Dave.”

Lister gasped. “You traitor,” he whispered dramatically, a hand over his heart.

“No, I agree that some of his rules are overly restrictive, but ice cream in bed? It’s bound to melt and fall on the sheets, and then where would we be? There’s a reason we’ve avoided incorporating food unless we happen to be in easy-clean areas.”

“Oh, Frank,” Lister sighed. “You’re getting so…old in your old age.” To show that he was only teasing, he reached up to push some stray blond strands out of Todhunter’s eyes. “Live a little! I mean, think about it. Yeah, what you said could happen. You could lick melted chocolate off the sheets, fall asleep with the smell of artificial strawberry syrup in your nostrils…”

“Absolutely not,” Rimmer interrupted, poking his head in the door. “There will be no artificial strawberry syrup anywhere near these sheets.”

“Mm-hmm. You ready to be thrashed, Rimsy?”

“Five minutes, then I’ll come and thrash you both.”

“Can’t wait.” Lister blew him a kiss that was half-mocking, half-affectionate.

“Tell you what, Dave,” Todhunter said in a low voice after Rimmer had gone out of earshot. “If you win fair and square, I’ll back you up on the ice cream and whatever else you had in mind. But only if.”

“A challenge! I like it.” Lister planted a kiss on his nose. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Frank.”


“No, no, no, no, no! This cannot be happening!”

“Come on, man, it’s okay.” Lister reached across the table to pat Rimmer’s hand, face flickering between genuine sympathy and ill-concealed glee. “You win some, you lose some.”

“I never lose at Mine-opoly! My nickname in the Space Scouts was - ”

“Minotaur. Yeah, we know. But no one wins all the time, Arn.”

Rimmer covered his face with his hands. “I can’t believe it,” he moaned plaintively to Todhunter, who’d clapped a comforting hand on his back. “Our bedroom is going to become a pit of space weevils and despair.”

“I have to admit I’m not thrilled at the prospect myself…” Catching Lister’s glare, Todhunter cleared his throat. “…but it’s only for a week, right? Who knows, we could even have some fun with it.”

“How in the name of all that is non-insect-infested and sanitary could we have fun with it?”

“You’ll see.” Lister was already whistling as he glided out the door. “You’ll see.”

Some fifteen minutes later, they saw.

Todhunter raised his eyebrows. “Fruit? Really?”

“You don’t eat fruit,” Rimmer added, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Maybe I’ve decided to make more grown-up choices now that I’m fifty.” Lister very nearly lost his grip on the platter but managed to set it down with a clang, splashing small amounts of syrup on the table. “If it makes you feel any less weird, it’s all freeze-dried. I haven’t gone completely health-nutty.”

“And there’s less cleanup with freeze-dried. But I don’t know about the syrups and ice cream, Dave,” Todhunter said nervously. “They could get sticky. Yes, perhaps it’d be best to…” he trailed off as he unbuttoned his shirt.

Whistling smugly again at the sight, Lister slowly twirled a strawberry cluster in the dark chocolate syrup and held it out to Rimmer.

“You’re actually serious about this.”

“’Course I am. Want one?”

“Lister, it’s still drippi - look, it’s getting on my trousers!” Rimmer pushed his chair back with an undignified squeak, redirecting the droplets to the floor. “What have you done?”

“We can clean that next week. Go on…just one little bite?”

“Oh, fine,” Rimmer relented. “But first let me take these off. Make it easier for later.”

Lister smiled and sneaked a marshmallow for himself. It was all going according to plan.