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“Why’dya always call me fat?”
“What?” Rimmer asked, looking up from where he was hunched over the table of the bunkroom, papers with astronavigation nonsense scattered about him. Lister met his gaze from where he was sprawled on the top bunk.
“I said why’dya always call me fat?” Lister repeated, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on an elbow.
“I do not,” Rimmer sniffed indignantly, turning back to his papers.
“You compared me to a hippo at least twice this week.”
“Yes, well, I can hardly be blamed when I’m forced to witness you trying to shovel as much curry down your gullet in one bite as possible. It’s inhuman.”
“It’s Tuesday.”
“Do you have a point?” Rimmer snapped, clenching his pencil so tightly it seemed on the verge of snapping.
“I just think that if you’re gonna insult me, it should be on something that I actually am,” Lister shrugged. “I’m not fat.”
Rimmer wrinkled his nose, shooting Lister the most disdainful glare he could manage. “Well you certainly aren’t fit. Don’t think I can’t hear you panting just from walking from here to the galley.”
Lister rolled his eyes so hard they almost retreated into his skull. “I’m not saying that I’m the peak of physical fitness, but I’m not fat. I’m just… softer.”
“That’s what they all say,” Rimmer scoffed derisively, setting his pencil down and swiveling his chair to face Lister fully. “It’s always ‘oh, I’m not that big’ and then suddenly you’re ballooning up and you’ll need a seatbelt extender to buckle up in the cockpit.”
“What’s your issue?” Lister frowned. “It’s my body, man.”
“And you pollute it,” Rimmer shot back. “You’ve got a perfectly good body and here you are, shoveling curry and lager into your mouth and soon you’ll be even more disgusting than you already are!"
Lister opened his mouth to retort, but he was cut off by a pitiful growling sound. It took Lister a second to realize where it was coming from: Rimmer’s stomach. Rimmer turned a brilliant shade of red, crossing his arms tightly across his stomach and clenching his jaw.
“What was that?” Lister cocked an eyebrow.
“Nothing,” Rimmer replied too quickly.
“Really? Because it sounds like you’re hungry.”
“I’m not,” Rimmer protested, holding himself tighter. “I’m a hologram. I don’t need to eat.”
“That doesn't mean that ya don’t feel hunger,” Lister countered.
“Why don’t you go back to pigging out, Lister?” Rimmer snarled. “Some of us have work to do. Some of us don’t stuff ourselves silly for doing nothing. Some of us think we ought to earn the right to comfort!”
“Woah, woah, woah. What?”
“Forget it.”
“Nah, mate, I’m not just forgetting that. Earn the right to comfort? Is this your father’s stupid smeg?”
Rimmer’s downward gaze said more than words might have. Part of Lister wanted to yell and fight and argue with Rimmer about how the man’s incessant judgements on his body drove him mad, but Lister was starting to feel that Rimmer’s motives behind it might have been a bit more than simple condescension.
There was silence for a few moments before Rimmer broke it. “You’re not fat,” he mumbled under his breath.
“What?”
“You’re not fat,” Rimmer repeated. “You’re pudgy, certainly, but not exactly fat.”
Lister prickled at the way Rimmer managed to still make it sound like an insult, but he held his tongue and tried to begrudgingly accept Rimmer’s small acquiescence. “Why’re ya saying it now? Why’d you spend years calling me fat if you didn’t mean it?”
Rimmer grimaced, trying to swallow the bile that came with honesty and emotional conversations. “Because I’m a smeghead,” he settled on.
“The real reason, man.”
In theory, Rimmer could refuse to answer, but Lister had a way of coaxing things out of him, whether through annoyance or other methods, so it was easier for him to get it out of the way now.
“Because I’m jealous, alright?” Rimmer bit, frustration coloring his tone. “I’m jealous that you don’t hate yourself. I was so damn jealous that I wanted to get you to hate yourself. I’m a terrible, spiteful, vindictive bastard. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“Jealous?” Lister gaped. “Of me?”
“I’m not happy about it either,” Rimmer grumbled. “Its not like I want to be jealous of such a layabout. But you… you’re happy with yourself. When you eat, you’re not thinking about if you earned it or if you’ll end up fat and disgusting and hated by everyone because you decided to indulge yourself just once. You’re just eating because you’re hungry and you don’t want to be hungry anymore. I can’t do that, Lister. I can’t.”
Lister didn’t quite know how to respond. He’d heard bits and pieces of Rimmer’s trauma before, mostly while they were both properly sloshed. To hear Rimmer make such an admission while not under any influence was sobering.
“Hey,” Lister said softly. “Everyone gets jealous, yeah? Nothing to be ashamed of-”
“Don’t pity me,” Rimmer scoffed.
“It’s not pity,” Lister shot back, hopping down off the top bunk and approaching. “I wanna help you, okay? You’re a smeghead, yeah, but you’re my bunkmate and if we’re going to be stuck out here together for who knows how long, I don’t want you spending all your time stewing in jealousy.”
Rimmer didn’t have a retort for that.
“C’mon,” Lister coaxed. “You’re hungry, yeah? D’ya want something to eat?”
A look of nervousness came across Rimmer’s face. “I- erm- I’m quite alright.” As if to spite him, his stomach let out another plaintive growl and he curled further into himself.
Lister walked over to the pantry and opened the cabinet, rifling through it. They’d recently raided a derelict with a lot of salvageable food, so Lister didn’t feel too worried about encouraging Rimmer to eat some of it. Finally, Lister found what he was looking for: a half-eaten box of chocolates. Lister had eaten all of the milk and dark and marshmallow ones, leaving only the cherry ones and the ones that tasted like toothpaste, but chocolate was chocolate. He grabbed the box, walked back to the table, and tossed it in front of Rimmer.
“What is-”
“Chocolate,” Lister answered before Rimmer could finish his question, popping the lid off the box. “Go ahead.”
Rimmer blinked owlishly at the box before gazing up at Lister. “But I haven’t earned it.”
Lister frowned. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. You don’t need to earn food. You can have it because you’re hungry.”
“I’m not supposed to,” Rimmer mumbled, but his hand twitched at his side, wanting to reach out.
“It’s okay,” Lister encouraged. “You don’t have to earn it. One piece of chocolate isn’t going to turn you into me.”
Rimmer huffed a small laugh at this and Lister watched as he hesitantly reached up and grabbed a chocolate out of the box. He held it carefully between his thumb and forefinger, lips pursed. Lister didn’t interrupt Rimmer this time. He wouldn’t pretend to understand just how hard this was for Rimmer, but Lister knew that it couldn’t be easy to try to get past years and years of conditioning.
With a deep breath, Rimmer squeezed his eyes shut and popped the chocolate into his mouth in one bite. His eyes slowly fluttered open as he chewed, shining with emotion.
“S’it any good?” Lister asked, taking a seat beside Rimmer.
Rimmer didn’t respond. He just kept chewing, but slower, as if just now trying to savor it. His eyes were welling up with tears but Lister didn’t comment on it.
“S’good,” Rimmer mumbled after swallowing.
Lister leaned closer, pressing into Rimmer’s side in silent support. Rimmer leaned back, letting out a soft sniffle.
“What flavor was it?”
“It tastes like toothpaste,” Rimmer laughed wetly. “Chocolatey toothpaste.”
“Yeah, those ones are sort of crap,” Lister agreed, laughing along with him.
“Still chocolate,” Rimmer mumbled, staring at the open box on the table. Lister watched as his hands curled against his legs.
“It’s probably only the smeggy flavors left in there,” Lister admitted.
“Still chocolate,” Rimmer repeated, tilting his head to look at Lister. “So… you don’t want them, then? The rest?”
Lister’s eyes widened in surprise at what Rimmer’s question implied. “I don’t want ‘em. All yours, if you’d like.”
“I- I suppose I’d be foolish to let it go to waste,” Rimmer justified. “And if you’re not going to eat them…”
Lister grabbed another one out of the box and placed it in his palm, offering it up to Rimmer. Rimmer’s lips quirked up into an awkward smile as he slowly reached up and took it.