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He doesn't like noticing when his bunkmate is off. That he can tell what that looks like speaks way too much of familiarity and Rimmer would like to pretend otherwise. But it still stands that he knows that something is wrong. Lister is quiet. Too quiet. To the point, he has to keep looking up from the desk to make sure he's actually still in the room.
Thinking perhaps it's just a simple matter and things will settle the other, he doesn't mention it. What was he going to say anyway? Best to just make no waves than have to try and talk around why he knew something was bothering the other.
Except it doesn't get better. And it follows into a shift that has him feeling like he's being followed by a shadow. And as much as he's told the other to shut up, that he doesn't want to hear him; the absence of anything makes it worse somehow. No humming, clicking, singing, nothing. Just a silent Lister who hands him things and just does as he's told.
Rimmer swears he's going mad to actually think this might be hell by mid-afternoon.
But he still has no idea what to say or how to start so he just forces himself to get through it. To have his silence while silently hating every minute of it. And for awhile, he wonders if the other was making some stupid point but no, he knew better than that. It was in the thin line of his face and the way Lister just wouldn't really look at him. Something was really wrong with his bunkmate.
Finally, the shift ends with no reports which he's sure has Todhunter staring between them worriedly and he just offers a shrug before heading back to their room. It feels weird and off, he realizes as he paces the room. What had happened? He could find one of Lister's companions as they might have an idea but he had to hope that Lister might be going instead and maybe that would help. Maybe...
His thoughts are interrupted by the door sliding open and Lister shuffling inside. Rimmer watches him toe off his boots before promptly heading for the bed to climb up and curl with his back facing him. So definitely not out with the others.
Rimmer watches for a bit because he knows Lister isn't asleep. How he knows this isn't important just that he does. “Listy,” he finally says trying to figure out the way to glean the answers and finally sighing and pushing on, “What is going on?”
“Nothin'. Why would anythin' be goin' on?” His voice is muffled but there is a flatness to it. It's not Lister. Not even close.
“Don't lie to me,” Rimmer chides him before softening his tone, “You have been off all day and do not lie because you have never once in your smegging time here not done something to infuriate me.”
“Maybe 'm learnin' ta behave.”
“And I'm the Queen of Sheba,” Rimmer says immediately before he moves closer to the bunk and pressing further, “You haven't been yourself. What happened?”
“Rimmer...” His name comes as a warning but there is something less flat in that tone which is better no matter what came next.
“You should know that I am hardly worried about your reaction to things. So what is it? Hmm? Last I checked life was fine and dandy. You and Ms. Kochan...” He doesn't even finish her name before the other has not just rolled over but done so, swung his legs over the bed and socked him square in the face.
“Back off!” comes the snarled words that Rimmer barely registers as he cups his now bleeding lip, “Yer a smeggin' git an' I am not talkin' to yer! Not about anythin'!”
The hit hurts but what truly stings is the reaction from the other. “If you hadn't noticed,” he says striving for a calm tone even though he's sure his voice is now shaking from both anger and upset, “I am trying to help.”
“Smeg off wit' yer smeggin' help, Rimmer!”
That the other looks quite capable of lashing out again, Rimmer decides that he might want to make himself scarce and exits the room before finding the closest washroom to inspect his lip. Definitely bleeding and noticeable that he'd gotten decked. He splashes his face before getting a towel to press against it with a soft sigh. He should be angry about the assault. He wishes he was. He wishes that he wasn't hurt at the blatant rejection of him reaching out.
He was just trying to help the gimboid.
The avoidance leads him to a quiet corner of one of the bars with a glass of wine and a bitter mood. Smegging Lister... The man was a damn nuisance. He should just let him wallow until it was noticeable and he got canned. What was it going to bother Rimmer? Wasn't his business if the smegging goit couldn't handle himself properly.
Except... He grits his teeth as his thoughts shift in directions he wishes they wouldn't. He wasn't close to anything resembling fond of that smeghead. Wasn't. He takes a large mouthful of the wine and tells himself that once he went back he'd just ignore him. Since nothing was wrong. He didn't need coddling didn't need...
“What happened to you?” Peterson's voice has his lips pursing.
“Nothing that concerns you lot,” he says without looking up knowing that no doubt Selby would be close by.
“You sure? 'Cause if someone actually got the gumption to punch you...I'd like to buy them a drink.”
He wants to be angry but what he is happens to be more tired of himself and still concerned about Lister. “Than you owe your dear pal Dave a round next time you lot hang out,” he mutters.
“Lister... Lister punched you?”
“You friends with any other Daves?” Rimmer retorts irritably, “Yeah, Lister socked me in the mouth. Sound so surprised. He hates me. Nothing new there.”
“Well...” Peterson sounds a bit strange before going, “What exactly did ya say to 'im?”
“I asked what was wrong,” Rimmer snaps as he finally glares at the other, “Th' total gimboid has said zero words to me all day so I knew somethin' was up an' I wanted to know and he lashed out and punched me!”
“Ahh...didn't tell yer that Kochanski dumped him did he?”
Rimmer goes still. “She...When?”
“Two days ago. She wanted to return to her ex...” Peterson trails off and gazes warily at him, “Why does it matter to you?”
“Because I work with him and when he's quiet I don't know if I need to worry about him trying to stab me,” Rimmer mutters but without real truth to it as he was mulling the information over before adding, “So...suppose he gets this one free. Gimboid. Can't even be dumped without making it my problem.”
“If you say so,” Peterson remarks clearly unconvinced, “But tell him the boys will buy him a round or two for punching you. Someone needed to.”
Them leaving him there gives Rimmer time to think more on the subject and he comes to the conclusion that Kristine Kochanski was both the smartest woman in the universe and the dumbest one for the same reason of losing one David Lister. And he hates that he thinks that at all.
He shakes his head. “Lister, what am I going to do with you?” he mutters, “Suppose I woulda hit me, too, if I spoke out of turn like that.” Didn't make it right per say but now he understood the violence. So he goes to the bar and gets a bottle of lager before heading back to the bunk room.
Expecting to find Lister still on the bunk, it surprises him to find him with what seems to be boxes on the floor and...packing them up? “Lister?” he queries as he carefully puts the bottle onto the desk, “What...are you doing?”
“Movin' out, what else would I be doin'?”
“Why?”
“What do ya mean, why? I punched yer. Figured ya went ta th' captain.”
“Lister, stop,” he says firmly as the other hasn't looked up from where he is and clearly hasn't noticed the bottle.
“Why? Best ta do this now rather than later innit?”
“I didn't go to th' captain, Lister,” he says immediately, “I went to get a drink and give you some time. And by the way, Peterson said the boys owe you a round for doing what they've been wanting someone to do for...well, I am sure a long time.” As he watches finally the other looks up and blinks a moment before there is a look of guilt that twists something deep in him. “Don't,” he says immediately, “It is fine, Listy. It's....” As he watches the other rises and comes to him and he can't help the way he wonders if he was going to get hit again but finds soft fingers cupping the side of his face.
“I never shoulda hit yer. Christ, Rimmer...”
“It'll heal,” he says immediately hating how warm the other's fingers are against his skin and the way it seems to make him feel warmer. “Peterson...explained. I'm sorry. I didn't know...”
“Of course ya didn',” Lister says quietly voice troubled, “I didn' say nothin' an yer still noticed an'...yer wanted ta help...”
“Well, yeah. We work together,” Rimmer points out, “I kind of am responsible for you.”
“Right...of course.” There is a sadness to his tone that Rimmer doesn't understand or like.
“Look, I know it's not usually the advice given but you need to sleep and then make a new plan of action,” he says quietly hating that the other withdraws his touch and seems to be pulling away again, “I got you some lager. You deserve a bit of just time to not think and rest. And then tomorrow you can unpack because I have no intention of learning some new slob's terrible habits.”
“Yer advocatin' drunkenness, ya?”
“Break ups and funerals are the only good reasons for being stupid like this,” Rimmer tells him as he offers the bottle, “And I can look after you. Or at least I will if you want me to. If not then I can make myself scarce.”
“Ya really...didn't rat me out?”
“No, but I am expecting to be asked why there has been a day that I haven't written up a single report on you so that might be a fun conversation,” Rimmer retorts. Something eases in him when the bottle is finally taken even if Lister decides to sit on the edge of his bunk to open it. Rimmer would forgive it. This time.
“Pro'ly gonna jus' chack it up to a miracle and hope that more days like that happen,” comes the still too flat response.
He slowly sits on the desk chair and watches him press the bottle to his mouth and swallow. It's definitely not a sip and shows that he really is off. And there are words and warnings that are on the tip of Rimmer's tongue but he forces himself to be silent on it. After all, Lister was clearly hurting so now was not the time to chastise him.
“Not sure a superior should be liquorin' up his subordinates as carin' fer 'em.”
There is something cutting in there and Rimmer isn't sure what the shift is as he gazes at him. “I'm not sure what you are getting at.”
“Yer did say was yer job right? Jus' another obligation?”
Puzzled, Rimmer cocks his head. “Lister, I am not sure how to answer that. I mean I do outrank you but right now; I'm your bunkmate. You're hurt and angry and...”
“See that's exactly m' point! What does it matter to yer?! Ya don' even like me! So why?!”
The words are tinged with anger and underneath all that...hurt? Rimmer blinks. “You think I don't like you?” It's both a question and a clarification of something he hadn't realized.
“I...Are ya daft or somethin'? I didn' even hit yer that hard! Of course ya don' like me! Ya write more reports on me than anyone in th' history of this company 'm sure an' yer make no secret of how yer see me! So what has yer suddenly concerned all of a sudden?”
He stares at the other a moment feeling strangely unwell a moment. “I...I think you may be a bit mistaken on a few things, Listy...”
“Am I? 'Cause everythin' points ta yer really wishin' I would quit existin' as it seems ta be such a smeggin' problem!”
He winces at that before shaking his head. “No, no that's not... Look, you are upset and now drinking so I don't think...”
“I can smeggin' hold m' liquor, Rimmer!”
He inhales slowly and deeply before exhaling and replying, “Yes, yes, I am aware of it. I'm not saying you are drunk. I am saying that moods and alcohol can be unpredictable. And I do not hate you. I hate some of your ideals, a lot of your actions, and question what makes you act as you do but...not you. It's why I am not letting you leave this room. It...Well, Red Dwarf wouldn't be the same. Without you. So no, I don't dislike you.”
“Have a crappy way of showin' it.”
“Well, it's not like you and your pals really roll out the welcome mat either is it?” he finds himself firing back, “Face it, you'd be less likely than anyone on this ship to be pally with me so don't you start! If anything, I know you loathe me and you don't see me fussing at you over it.”
“Selby and Peterson loathe you,” Lister retorts, “I get annoyed at yer strict adherence to rules, yer smeggin' snide way of talkin' down to nearly everyone, an' let's not forget that you do not actively try ta socialize. Too busy wit' yer studyin' an' furtherin' yer career. How's that comin' fer ya by th' way?”
The words hurt but he's sure Lister is actively trying to. He could be a bit sharp tongued on lager when his mood was a certain way though Rimmer is sure he has no recollections of it. But Rimmer had. So he manages a weary smile. “Finish your drink and go to bed, Lister.”
“Yer sound like a mother-hen.”
“Well, someone needs to save you from yourself,” Rimmer tells him quietly, “and since your so-called friends don't want to do it, it falls on me. So do as you are told. I'll have water and meds for the morning.”
“Don' need yer charity.”
“What you need is looked after,” Rimmer tells him sharply, “Because you clearly are terrible at it. Your way of dealing with things is to ignore and bottle it up until someone says the wrong thing and you explode. You're lucky it was just me and not someone important.”
As he watches Lister stills again and slowly lowers the bottle to stare at him which makes him a bit uncomfortable at the scrutiny. “Not...important...”
“That's what I said. You hit just me. It's fine.” Wasn't the first time emotions had someone lashing out at him. It was fine. Really.
“I...Rimmer...” The other looks aghast once again which he doesn't quite like to see.
“Look,” he says waving him off, “It's fine. Heck, from what Peterson and Selby suggested, was long-time in coming. Don't worry about it.”
And again he's in his space, his fingers again on his skin, brows furrowed. “How...How often has this happened?”
The question makes him blink. “How...What do you mean?”
“How often has someone hit yer, Rimmer?”
“Emotions are unpredictable,” he repeats, “It's nothing to worry about. Just don't make a habit of it with other people.” People who mattered.
Lister's thumb brushes closely. “Yer used ta this...” The words are quiet and there is something in his voice he doesn't like.
He shrugs. “Not the first time. I'm hardly made of glass, Listy. I'll heal. I'm adept at that.” One of the few things at least he could handle; a bit of roughing up.
“Rimmer...” Lister shakes his head, “Yer all sorts of screwed in th' head if yer think that, man. Smeg.”
“Life, m'laddo,” he corrects, “Sometimes it's not pretty. But...It is fine. No harm, no foul.” Lister doesn't seem happy about it though. And Rimmer isn't sure what to do with it at all. He's trying to help and even when he does that, clearly it's the wrong thing to do. “Look, don't make this into a thing, okay? It's not. You were high strung and I pushed. That's all it was.”
“Yer should be mad about it. Yer shouldn't accept it like 's a normal thin' fer someone to just lash out and hit yer.”
“I have three older brothers, Listy,” he reminds him, “I am very used to being swung at.”
“Still don' make it right.”
“It makes it what it was. Now if you are done inspecting my injury which will heal, you should really rest. Then I'll help you unpack in the morning.”
Lister's touch lingers a few more excruciating minutes before withdrawing which is somehow once again worse but Rimmer doesn't really want to think on it. “A'ight. If yer insist.”
“I do,” he murmurs, “A good night's sleep will help. And Lister? It's her loss. Anyone would be lucky for your attention.”
The other pauses and gives him an unreadable expression before climbing up into his bunk and settling in.
Rimmer settles once more at the desk with a book until he hears the familiar deep breaths that soon turn to loud snores and he shakes his head. “Gimboid,” he mutters softly as he rests his unmarked cheek against his palm. “You should be so lucky that I do like you.”
But he can't seem to shake the way Lister had reacted to his words. The man looked so horrified and baffled by it though he just chalks it up to differences in upbringing. Worse is the lingering heat and echo of his touch; so much softer than he'd expected considering the strength and violence earlier.
It's a feeling that lingers long after he carefully makes his way to his own bunk carefully moving the boxes that he would indeed help Lister unpack in the morning so that he can settle in. It has him laying on his back staring up at the top bunk with far more questions than answers. He's just sure none of them would ever be answered mostly because he doesn't have the courage to ask any of them.
Trying to sleep just seems to make him less tired and he sighs heavily. Seemed he was going to be the one not getting rest and he hadn't been dumped. Slowly he sits up considering his options before noting the bottle sitting on the floor. Picking it up, he realizes that there was a little bit left. Seemed a shame to waste it so he goes to wipe the mouth but pauses and considers. Lister was asleep and wouldn't know if he didn't. If he just...
The idea of putting his mouth on anything that Lister had should make him get a psyche exam immediately but he just pushes it away as he brings it straight to his mouth with a soft sigh. If nothing else, an indirect kiss still counted didn't it? He'd count it.
Swallowing it down has him grimacing but the warm alcohol settles in his stomach and he sets the bottle down before laying back down. He gives a silly smile with the thought of his lips and Lister's and...Sleep draws him down relatively quickly.
**** Next Day, Lister's POV ****
Waking up, come morning, is a little easier Lister finds only until the events of the day before replay and he realizes he's nearly pressing his own teeth into his palm in a very familiar show of shame and embarrassment. He'd really and truly struck Rimmer. And as much a smeghead as the man could be, he truly hadn't deserved his volatile reaction. He'd hoped that the worst of the bad feelings had gone. Rimmer had just mentioned her name and it had him responding out of a rush of feelings.
And he had honestly thought that was it and he was definitely going to end up not just in a lot of smegging trouble but also moved out of the bunkroom. And honestly, Lister wouldn't even blame Rimmer for any of it. He'd been so far out of line...
But instead, the other had come back and seemed almost offended at the idea of it with a bottle of lager of all things. And that was something he hadn't expected. Actually none of it he expected. Especially not the fact that he'd been privy to some dark truths about his bunkmate. Slowly, he shifts and gazes down and finds the other still asleep. The wound still looks raw but better a bit. Thankfully it was a weekend but it still makes him grimace to see. But Rimmer's flippancy about it not being done to someone important...
The man thought so little of himself. That is what he'd been saying. He'd had it done so much because either he'd earned it or it was all he was good for. And it's not the kind of thing Lister liked to think about for someone else. And the simple truth was as much as they fought, argued, and annoyed each other it still stood that they were in this place together and it felt...right in a way he wasn't sure either of them could explain to themselves much less anyone else. So he doesn't like to think of anyone mistreating Rimmer especially not himself. That he would have to make up to him which he'd figure out how to do. Somehow. So, he slowly climbs from the bunk wanting the other to sleep as much as he needed and carefully starts to unpack and replace the items where they had been prior to the mess. To his surprise, Rimmer sleeps through it all and Lister even gets the boxes broken down without rousing him.
It is only until he finds the bottle of lager that he knew had a third left now empty that it makes sense. He gazes at the man and shakes his head with a bemused smile. “Ya smeghead,” he whispers as he reaches and pulls his blanket over him properly, “Decided to get yerself tipsy, too, huh? Suppose ya needed it. I wouldn't blame yer.” He carefully picks it up and puts it in the garbage as well before carefully changing and finding paper to leave a note on the desk before slipping from the bunkroom needing to figure out how to handle his new information and do damage control with Peterson and Selby. Having this circulate would only make things worse if anyone thought that punching the man was a sensible reaction to his nonsense. But he doesn't want Rimmer to think he was doing something entirely foolish hence the note promising to be back and that he was not in fact leaving their room.
Their room. It has a strange feeling as he goes to find his mates and he's still not sure how to feel about it. But it isn't the time as early or not, he finds the group at a table. Peterson sees him first. “Ahh, I see you haven't been ejected from an airlock. He must be so upset 'bout that.”
He shakes his head. “Look, I know he's a smeghead but even I know was too far.”
“Well, hopefully it'll make him think twice though probably a good idea not to do that again.” That there was agreement says so much and he slowly sits down.
“Yer job in caterin' leads to a lot of gossip don' it?”
Olaf gives him a strange look. “What's with the curiosity suddenly?”
Lister sighs. “Jus'...wanna know what's th' gossip 'bout Rimmer. 'S all.”
There is a pause. A long pause. “I haven't exactly asked but for you...I can ask. Anything in particular?”
“History, that sorta thin'. He's...strangely okay wit' bein' hit.”
“He...Come again?”
Lister purses his lips. “I really can't...”
“Lister, whatever you say has never left our group. You know this. What's goin' on? I mean I didn't think you'd ever be so quick to pop him, either so definitely wanna hear this.”
“He jus'...he got upset wit' me 'bout wantin' ta leave. I thought he'd go to th' captain but...he didn'. He also insinuated that 's fine 'cause...I didn' hit anyone important.”
“Well,” Selby offers, “You really didn't. I mean it's Rimmer.”
Lister is about to say something when strangely Peterson flashes him a look and he quickly goes back to his drink. “A'right. Let me see what I can find. But really...Rimmer?” It's the way he asks that has Lister blinking.
“I mean...I owe it to th' guy at this point. I decked him. In th' mouth.”
“You would be the one to feel bad about it,” Peterson chuckles before shaking his head and sliding a glass, “Drink. You'll feel better.”
He glances at it before shaking his head. “I need ta make it up to him. Not sure how but...He deserves that.”
Again, a strange look and a chuckle before Peterson laughs. “Suit it yourself then. But like I said; really?”
It's both his amusement and the question that follows Lister back to the bunkroom because he wasn't sure what to make of it. Olaf seemed almost to be suggesting...what? That was the new smegging mystery. Entering finds Rimmer still sleeping soundly and Lister carefully throws the note away deciding that for now, he'd just let him rest. It had been a strong drink so no doubt that it put Rimmer being someone who didn't particularly do well with harder stuff deeply asleep. And as he watches, he realizes that the other man looks so much less severe when asleep. That and his curls are far more fluffy as he hasn't had time to 'put himself together' and Lister finds himself really tempted to get close enough to see if they truly were as soft as they looked. The desire comes as some sort of a surprise because he wasn't used to such curiosity about the other.
And he knows he shouldn't because what if Rimmer wakes up and really makes a scene? It's definitely a serious concern because right now everything between them feels a bit tenuous and at risk. However, his fingers seem to move against his own wishes reaching and lightly brushing through them. And they are soft as he thought they might be which makes him smile. And it's compounded when the other makes a noise and it takes him a moment to realize it's a soft sigh of pleasure. Blinking, he repeats it and watches Rimmer, still asleep, shift against his fingers with a happy sigh and finds himself far more endeared than he was expecting to find that his bunk mate clearly likes his hair played with. It's a risky move but he can't help the way that the other sighs and nuzzles into his hand so continues making himself comfortable as he watches him. The way his eyes flutter behind his eye lids and it seems to soothe him is certainly something that Lister realizes he's quite partial to. So he can't help himself and chances it for a few minutes until the other snuggles deeper into his blankets.
Smeg, he was cute.
The thought has him stilling. Had he really just thought... And it's followed by the recollection of Peterson's amused query. And as he stares at his sleeping bunkmate and rolls it around in his mind, he has a moment of perfect and startling clarity. Yes, he absolutely thought Arnold Judas Rimmer was cute. Smeg indeed.
Thankfully, the other slowly rouses and Lister immediately makes himself busy or at least tries to look busy as Rimmer sits up. “Wh-what time is it?”
“Late since someone decided ta get 'imself drunk,” he teases, “So yer lucky 's Saturday. Don' have a headache do ya?”
“If I do should I blame the drink or you?” The words might be a barb but for the teasing undertone.
Lister snorts before he walks over to inspect his lip. “Well, at least now yer an' Macgruder have somethin' in common if yer wanna chat her up 'gain.”
At that, Rimmer wrinkles his nose. “No thank you. Had my fill of...that.”
“What a charmer,” he murmurs with a chuckle before repeating, “Headache?”
“Maybe a little. Why are you so interested in that?”
Lister snorts before moving and getting a couple of pills and some water, “Oh, I dunno, maybe th' drunkard yer chastise now an' again knows how ta handle those hangover times. Here take 'em.”
Slowly, the other does so before leaning back to gaze at him a moment. “You going to just look after me today as what, some sort of penance?”
“Figure I might as well considerin' 's my fault yer sportin' that headache an' busted lip.”
Rimmer makes a noise before looking around and realizing that he had been sleeping through the clean-up. “Well, at least...you did unpack. Would have helped, you know.”
“Not yer place ta fix my mistakes yer know,” Lister returns as he settles onto the chair by the desk, “So 'm th' one doin' clean-up. So what can I get yer fer breakfast? Somethin' on yer stomach will definitely help.”
Rimmer blinks at him before snorting. “Oh, so this is how I get you to behave? Just upset you enough that you punch me and then feel bad about it after?”
“Really would not suggest that,” Lister huffs but not really and truly annoyed before repeating, “C'mon now, food; whaddya want?”
Rimmer considers before his lips curve. “Guess if you think you can.”
Blinking, Lister stares at him. “Ya want me ta go an' guess at yer breakfast?”
“Mmhmm. Let's see how many times it takes you to get it right.”
Lister snorts before shaking his head. “Gonna have me runnin' a bit aren't ya? Fine yer got this one time. Make it count, ya git.” Strangely though, that Rimmer's laughter following him out the door is less nuisance and more welcome. Smeg what was wrong with him?! This was ridiculous even for him to be offering breakfast when he knows he's about to be out credits because Rimmer is going to send him back at least once.
But he still makes an effort with what he knows about his bunkmate as well as what would be good for sobering him up. Topped with his favorite coffee order that he got when he was able to. Yes, he realies, he's trying too hard for some reason but if he had the way to do it might as well. Besides, he wasn't just making up for the punch it was also for the hair petting that he was not about to ever admit to. But honestly could not regret in ways. Man's hair was too damn soft and inviting...
Entering, he is fully prepared for the other to turn his nose up and tell him he was terrible and instead watches him gaze almost surprised before slowly approaching. “You...know my coffee order?”
“Well, yer get it often,” Lister remarks, “An' yer might...be more tolerable when yer have it.”
“More tolerable?”
“Well, yer certainly in a better mood,” he clarifies, “So clearly 's somethin' yer like.”
Rimmer glances at it and then at him which tells Lister he's definitely calculating what he might get if he disagrees with the choices. Honestly, Lister is more than willing to leave the coffee with him if he feels like running him around for awhile and finds himself relieved and strangely pleased when Rimmer just takes the tray as is. “That'll clear up yer hangover properly,” he offers.
“You are just lucky I don't want to room with a different slob.”
Lister chuckles. “Suppose I am. So drink yer coffee so yer likable today, smeghead.”
And just like that, things felt back into place at the snorted look of reproach and amusement flashed at him as Rimmer settles to eat. He hums as he carefully polishes the wood of his guitar. “Don't you dare decide that breakfast comes with musice...”
He laughs at the warning and glances at him. “Yer sure? I mean 'm pretty ready fer a good song m'self but don' really think yer headache would appreciate it. 'M definitely not tryin' ta see if yer gonna actually give yet another report on me.”
There is a soft chuckle from the bunk and Lister decides it's so worth it for those sounds alone. Really, how had he missed it? In all their bickering and strange talks and just...being. How had he missed what it really was? Maybe he hadn't and just hadn't wanted to let that thought encroach because of course he'd be so far gone as this. He goes back to humming and working. It feels settled in those moments, familiar. And he's glad because he truly thought his loss of temper was going to lose him the one thing he might actually care about. After a moment even as the silence wasn't heavy, he murmurs, “Did yer mean it? What yer said?”
“About it being Kochanski's loss? Of course I did. Anyone would be lucky, I mean if you like a deranged slobby man with no drive who bites his own toenails and is terrible at guitar then absolutely you are a catch.”
He finds himself laughing. “Gee, what a charmer ya are. Suppose that should be a glowin' review from one Arnold Judas Rimmer. But really breakin' m' heart that yer think so little of me.”
“Little? Lister, I have lived with you and if I can manage that then you are clearly marriage material. I haven't killed you yet. That should be enough of a glowing review.”
Embolded a little bit, he remarks, “Ya sure thin's don' work 'cause we're the couple?”
Silence. A long silence that makes Lister regret it for a few seconds before he hears, “Us? A couple? Lister, did you hit your head as well somehow? Exactly how would that work?”
The question isn't a rebuff so Lister decides to run with it in more of a comedic way. “Well, Rimmer,” he says, “When two men love each other very much...”
“That's entirely besides the point!” Rimmer says except there is a flush that definitely gets Lister's attention.
“Is it? You did ask how this would work. Ya really need ta listen if ya want...”
“That wasn't the answer, ya goit!”
A piece of toast ends up lobbed at him and he catches it with a smirk before he takes a bite and asks, mid chew of course, “Then what answer were ya lookin' fer?”
“N-not...I do not need an education on what two men can or cannot do!”
“Are ya sure? 'Cause yer did imply that...”
“Lister!”
He grins at him as finishes the toast. “C'mon, man, ya gotta be at least a little relaxed 'bout such thin's. Nothin' wron' wit' two men, two women, whatever. Love is love. Figured by now we got passed th' dumb hang-ups.”
“Still...and in any event, that would imply you liked me and we both know that's not true.”
“Hmm, someone who is prickly, prudish, stuck up, flares his nostrils at different increments to show what level of displeasure that he's at, and absolutely cannot be without a pen or the universe or somethin' might end? Heavens no, what would I do wit' such a man?”
“I don't think you would know what to do, to be honest.”
Lister cocks his head and looks at him curiously. “Did yer...jus' say that, Rimmer?”
“Yes, yes, I did. Do I need to repeat it?”
It was a very dangerous door the other was opening and Lister was sure he should laugh it off, make it just a funny talk. That would be safer. What he was considering would probably be like lobbing a live grenade into the room and was far more dangerous than touching the other's curls without permission. “What I was getting at was askin' if that was a challenge, Rimmer.”
“A challenge?” There is that laugh; that familiar disbelief. “Listy, come now, we both know better than that. You have no idea.”
“Wanna bet on that?”
“Do I...You want to wager?”
“Yer th' one that threw out th' challenge, man. Do you wanna bet?”
Rimmer rolls his eyes. “Why not? It's not like you could surprise me that much, Listy.”
Lister finds himself grinning before murmuring, “Finish yer breakfast. Yer gonna definitely regret those words.”