Chapter Text
Well, that just about wraps it up for the year, doesn't it? It had a sort of schoolboy thrill to it, finishing work finally just in time for summer. Had Arnold Rimmer still been in his school years, he would have been dreading the next six weeks he'd be forced to spend at home, largely only supervised by a cheaply hired governess while his parents went off to whichever of Saturn's rings was still considered classy.
Not this year, though. This year would be different. For once in his life, Rimmer was going on holiday, and not just to the east of his home moon, lo. This year, he was going abroad at the courtesy of the Space Corps. The planet they had chosen was one he would have decided on himself, had he groped his way far enough up the ziggerol to have the authority to make that choice. Green, watery, and full of fluffy clouds... yes, this year, he was going to Earth.
Fine, so maybe it wasn't quite as fashionable as it used to be, a few centuries ago. What little of the land hadn't been eroded was now a sludgy grey instead of green, and the water was filled with sewage just about everywhere, and the clouds were mostly grey from all the pollution the place had been subjected to over the years. However, putting this all aside, Earth was still by far the most iconic land in the universe, the original home to the human race, the only known planet where life had been spawned and natured, and he was going to visit it, yes he was, miladdo-
"Will you shut up about it already?" interrupted Lister, who was lying in the bunk above. "I'm trying to get some kip, here."
"When are you not."
"Hey, but it's important tonight!" he protested. "We've got to be up at the crack of dawn tomorrow!”
Oh, right, that. Since neither of them had earned enough wages to get their own place to stay during the summer, various arrangements and arguments had been made between them. To put it briefly, they'd both finally settled on getting a hotel room in Liverpool to share, so Lister could see his hometown and friends, and Rimmer could miserably follow him around.
"I get up at the crack of dawn every day." huffed Rimmer indignantly.
In the top bunk, where Rimmer couldn't see him, Lister grinned to himself. "Yeah, before you tell Holly to turn off your alarm so you can go back to sleep."
"I only do that on weekends."
"Sure you do." Lister replied sarcastically, before rolling over to lie on his side. No matter how much he tried, lying on his back just wasn't comfortable. He didn't know how Rimmer managed it, lying rigid straight every night, arms by his side all the time as he lay silently below him. Not that Lister looked, of course. "Now, can we please go to sleep? I know what you're like when you're tired."
There was no spoken response from the bunk below, other than a half-hearted grumble and a rustle of sheets as Rimmer lay down. Lister paused, waiting a few more moments just to see what annoying quip his bunkmate would say next, but he was greeted with silence. Content, he muttered, 'Lights' and the room went dark.
Now that the room had gone quiet, finally, Lister felt himself able to drift off to sleep easily, despite the excitement of the upcoming day. Earth was his home planet, and even though all it had to show for it was the polluted wreckage that mankind had left in their trace, he still loved it, and was looking forward to the trip. Other than the issue of Rimmer being there, of course.
It had given Lister quite the surprise when Rimmer expressed his eagerness for visiting Earth. Normally, Rimmer would have taken any chance he got to insult Lister, commenting on anything from his scruffy clothes to his curry-tainted breath. His home planet would have been no exception to this, only for the past two weeks, he’d done nothing but compliment Earth. Perhaps it was the fact that it was the Space Corps who’d elected this planet for their shore leave – Rimmer’s apparent inability to criticize their company came above his overly-enthusiastic pastime of criticizing Lister. But this was what filled Lister with an ounce of hope for this year’s shore leave: maybe, just maybe, Rimmer wouldn’t be a complete arsehole this week. Who knows, he might even be able to persuade him to go on a pub crawl with him. And so, Lister smiled happily to himself as he fell asleep, thinking this year’s summer wouldn’t be quite so bad as he thought.
*****
“Come on, come on!”
“Hold on, just gimme a second, Rimmer!”
Lister rummaged frantically in his bag, hands flying over an empty water bottle, a resealable bag containing suncream, and his favourite hat. Everything was there except what he needed.
“We’re going to be late; the disembarking gate closes in half an hour!” Rimmer complained, checking his watch compulsively for what felt like the fiftieth time this hour.
“Yeah, and rushing me to find my passport isn’t going to change that!”
Bag now completely searched, Lister patted his jacket, felt something in an inside pocket and reached his hand into it. His fingers landed on a small book, and he pulled it out triumphantly. Rimmer did not share his cheerful smile.
“And it only took you five minutes.” he jibed.
“Faster than it takes me most of the time.”
Rimmer’s brow furrowed. “You’re not serious?”
Lister grimaced. “You haven’t seen me most days.”
“I see you every day.”
“Still.”
With that confusing conclusion to their disagreement, and with Lister holding his passport smugly, the two walked through disembarking control, the security guard giving Rimmer a wink and nod towards Lister. “Husbands, am I right?” he joked.
Rimmer spluttered like a fish out of water. “No, you’re not right. We’re not-“
“Ignore him,” Lister butted in, addressing the guard, “He talks a lot of nonsense. Arguably, too much.”
“I do not! I was simply correcting him, who has got completely the wrong idea and frankly, who I think is-“
Sensing that this could quickly get out of hand, Lister took Rimmer by the arm, dragging him out of sight and hurriedly saying, “Lovely to meet you,” to the bewildered security guard as they left. Once they were on the escalator and a good distance away, Rimmer turned to him.
“What the smeg was that?” Rimmer exploded, now they were out of earshot and there were none of his superiors listening in. “You just left that man think that we’re- that I’m-“
Lister shrugged. “He clearly didn’t care what we were as long as we had our passports. Chill out, man, we’re supposed to be on holiday.”
“Everyone knows the holiday doesn’t really start until you’re off the plane.” Rimmer told him. He paused, remembering their whereabouts. “Or spaceship, or whatever.”
He beamed. “Oh, eh? Then how come I have this in my bag for you to wear while disembarking?”
Lister once again reached inside his bag, this time pulling out a rather squashed fedora from the bottom of it.
“No. Nononononononono-“
Rimmer feebly argued while Lister did all he could to put the wretched thing on the taller man’s head. He faced a little difficulty as he had to reach up, on his tiptoes, but finally, he managed to place it on top of Rimmer’s unruly morning curls, and got the thin black cord under his chin. The fedora looked more than a little idiotic on him, such a large yellow hat for such an irritable, lanky smeghead, but then again, perhaps it would work better if he took that angry expression off his face. Lister was smiling smugly, Rimmer glared at him, infuriated but stubbornly refusing to do anything about it.
“Satisfied?”
“Totally,” he replied as he linked one arm with Rimmer’s, profusely ignoring the way this caused Rimmer to squirm uncomfortably and struggle to get his arm away. “Now, don’t we have a ship to get off, hubby?”