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pinktintedmonocle · 4 years

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Blue Is Not The Only Colour - A Red Dwarf FanFic - Chapter 1 - NSFW

Red Dwarf is under attack. All systems are down with no hope of recovery. The crew is doomed. And all Lister can think about is Rimmer’s new purple uniform. Fluffy smut for all your Rimster needs! Set after The Promised Land – spoilers for that episode.

Inspired by one of my favourite fanfics that I’ve recently rediscovered after many years – Catcall by Kahvi and Roadstergal. There’s a bit in that fic where Rimmer briefly changes his uniform purple and Lister really likes it, and it got me thinking…

Chapter 1: The Lift

“Status report!” screamed Rimmer, bracing himself against the side of the lift as the ship lurched violently to one side.

Kryten’s face appeared on the screen in the corner of the lift. “All principal and auxiliary systems are down, sirs, and all doors have been sealed shut. Mister Cat and I are doing everything we can to reboot the engines but the GELF ship hit us pretty hard.”

Lister attempted to stand up just as the ship started to shake again. He wisely decided to stay on the floor of the lift. “When you say you and Cat are doing everything you can, do you actually mean that you are doing everything you can while Cat is preening in front of a mirror?”

“Oh no Mister Lister, Mister Cat is not currently staring at himself in a looking glass.”

“Really?” asked Lister, incredulous. “You mean he’s actually helping?”

There was a pause while Kryten glanced over his shoulder. “Well, not exactly. At the present moment he is making a rather fetching pair of earmuffs out of one of those fur rugs we extracted from that luxury liner we raided last month. And while that may not seem particularly helpful at present if we do crash it will likely be onto that ice planet directly below us, so at least Mister Cat will have something to keep his ears nice and toasty.”

Rimmer threw up his arms in frustration. “Oh, well, that’s just marvellous, isn’t it? The rest of us will perish in sub-zero temperatures, but at least if another crew ever stumbles across our frozen remains they’ll find a pair of perfectly persevered ears to take away as a memento.”

“Hey Rimmer man, just try and calm down OK?” said Lister. “We’ll get out of this, just like we always do. Isn’t that right Kryts?”

It wasn’t technically possible for Kryten’s face to turn the sickly green pallor that a human face often does in times of extreme peril, but as Lister and Rimmer watched the mechanoid they both thought that he seemed to be giving it a jolly good try.

“Well, actually sirs, I’m not entirely sure that we will be able to get out of this particularly sticky situation. In fact, I calculate that our chances of survival are roughly the same as the chances of the UK entry coming in first place in the Eurovision song contest.”

Lister slumped forward and buried his face in his hands. “So we’re totally and utterly smegged, is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes sir, I’m afraid so. With no systems online we have no way of –”. Kryten’s image shuddered and disappeared on the screen.

“What’s happened? Where’s he gone?” Rimmer demanded hysterically.

Lister just groaned. “We must have lost contact with the science room. The missiles have probably fried the internal communication systems.”

Rimmer turned on Lister, nostrils flared to full capacity. “It’s your fault we’re stuck in here, you know. As soon as we got the attack alert I was prepared to take the stairs. It was you who said it would be quicker to get to the science room if we took the lift.”

“Well it worked last time on the Iron Star, didn’t it?” protested Lister.

“Barely! It was a miracle we got out of there.” Rimmer surveyed his surroundings, nose wrinkled in distaste. “You could have chosen one of the Xpress lifts rather than a bog standard service lift. At least then we’d have somewhere comfy to sit while the GELF fry my light bee and turn you into kebab meat.”

The screen flickered back to life and Holly’s gormless face appeared. “Hey dudes. What’s happening?”

The ship rocked dangerously and Rimmer was thrown off his feet, landing on his arse next to Lister. “What’s up?” he screeched. He managed to pull himself up into a sitting position and clung to Lister’s leg to stop himself from toppling over again. “You mean apart from being minutes away from certain death?”

“Oh yeah, I know about that” Holly replied calmly, looking somewhat bored. “I meant, like, apart from that.”

Rimmer tried and failed to look commanding from his position on the floor. He settled on just glaring at the computer screen. “Hang on; if all the systems are down why are you still running?”

Holly shrugged, which was impressive for a being without any shoulders. “Don’t know. Think I’ve just got lucky and the GELF missed my hard drive when they attacked.”

“Is there anything you can do to help us Hol?” Lister cried desperately. The lift was swaying back and forth continuously now and Lister was starting to feel very dizzy. He gripped Rimmer’s arm for some support.

“Oh, not really” said Holly. “I could play some chill out music though if you wanted. Or whale song; that is supposed to be very relaxing.”

“Wait a minute!” exclaimed Rimmer. “Holly, can you access the Hologram Simulation Suite and change me from hard to soft light? That way I can get out of this smegging lift!”

“Hang on!” said Lister. “You can’t just leave me here to die by myself!”

Rimmer rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic Listy, I’d come back for you. But if I switch between hard and soft light I can go inside the systems that have been hit and see how bad the damage is. Then if it’s fixable, I’ll report to Kryten and see if he can do some sort of system repair from the science room.”

Lister had to admit that as plans went, it wasn’t too shabby.

“That’s not a bad idea, actually” agreed Holly.

“Well, get on with it then you senile floppy disk!” snapped Rimmer.

“Oh no, I can’t actually do it”, Holly clarified in his usual monotone. “The controls to do that were damaged by the missile. I was just saying that it was a good plan, you know, like theoretically.”

“Brilliant!” wailed Rimmer, throwing his hands up in the air before quickly grabbing back onto Lister’s leg as the lift shuddered. “I’m going to die on this smegging ship a second time, cowering in an elevator with a grotty spacebum who thinks cornflakes covered in grated onion and vindaloo sauce is a healthy and balanced breakfast.”

“Hey man, don’t take this out on me!” protested Lister. “It’s not my fault those crazy GELF goits decided to bomb us again!”

In fact, Lister thought a little guiltily, it probably was partly his fault. The GELF had never forgiven him for abandoning Hackhackhack Ach Hachhachac on their wedding night. He fully expected Rimmer to point this out and continue his snarking, but instead the hologram deflated visibly and let out a long sigh.

“This is it then Listy, after all these years. I’ll be dead and gone, rather than just dead. We both will.”

Rimmer leaned in a little closer to Lister, and Lister’s brain registered for the first time that Rimmer’s arms were wrapped around one of his legs, while he was clutching one of Rimmer’s arms with both hands. The soft thrum of electricity emanating from Rimmer’s light bee was oddly calming, and holding onto Rimmer’s hologrammatic body made his hands tingle pleasantly. He had just started to think about how well defined Rimmer’s arm felt beneath his grasp when Holly interrupted.

“I can change the colour of your uniform though, if that helps.”

“What?” Rimmer asked, bemused.

“Well, I can’t change you to soft light, but I can send a signal to your light bee to change the colour of your uniform from blue to red.”

“And how the smegging hell would that help?” snarled Rimmer.

“Well” said Holly with all the enthusiasm of a sixty year old Geography teacher on the verge of retirement who had just been told they had to teach fourteen year olds about sedimentary rocks for another five years before they could draw their pension, “When you’re soft light, your uniform is red. So even though I can’t make you soft light so you can go and save the ship, I can make your uniform red so you can look like you’re soft light. That way you can at least pretend to be soft light and helpful so you can feel a bit better about the whole situation, like, psychologically.”

Rimmer fixed the monitor displaying Holly’s face with a venomously seething glare of such intensity that it would cause any sane sentient computer to immediately start wiping its hard drive just to be rid of the memory of such a glare. Holly however, being about as sane as an MP for UKIP, just smiled pleasantly back.

“See?” said the computer. Rimmer’s uniform shimmered from blue to red. A tiny jolt of electricity went through Lister as the change took place. It was actually quite pleasant and just slightly arousing, which, combined with Lister’s grip on Rimmer’s nicely muscled arm and the fact that the hologram’s hands seemed to be making their way slowly up Lister’s leg as Rimmer clung on for support, caused the beginnings of a stirring in Lister’s groinal region that made him very thankful that he was wearing his baggiest trousers.

“And it’s not just red I can do”, continued Holly, completely oblivious to the reactions of the occupants of the lift. “I can turn your uniform any colour you want actually.”

Rimmer’s uniform started to shimmer it’s way though the rainbow and every shade in between, from reds to oranges to yellows to greens to blues to purples-

“Stop!” yelled Lister, startling Rimmer. “Stop on that purple, Hol.”

“Alright”, said Holly. The flickering stopped and Rimmer’s uniform settled on a deep amethyst shade. “It’s a nice colour that. Good choice.”

“Yeah, it is.” agreed Lister, somewhat breathlessly. In that moment Lister thought it was probably the most alluring colour he had ever seen, and given the Cat’s penchant for beautiful fabrics he’d pretty much seen every other colour under the sun. But there was just something special about this colour; it complemented Rimmer’s pale complexion perfectly and brought out his soft brown eyes. That and the fact that Lister had received several dozen tiny electric shocks every time Rimmer’s uniform had changed colour meant that he was now as hard as a rock.

Rimmer stared at Lister as if he had a polymorph stuck to his face. “Have you gone completely loopy? Has space rot finally taken hold of your brain after one too many beer milkshakes? We’re on the verge of certain death and all you can think about is the hue of my clothes? I expect this kind of behaviour from that imbecile”, Rimmer jerked his head in the direction of Holly, “but I wasn’t expecting you to go completely senile for at least another five years or so.”

Lister shifted in a way designed to bring Rimmer’s hand slightly further up his thigh. “Can’t I pay you a compliment before we die?” he asked huskily.

The lift shook again and Rimmer grabbed Lister’s other leg to stop himself from being thrown against a wall. Lister felt quite faint; he honestly didn’t know how much more contact he could stand with the hologram before he either passed out or came in his pants. Or both.

Rimmer frowned. “You’ve never paid me a compliment like that before.”

“I must have done,” said Lister, barely holding on to consciousness.

“You definitely haven’t. I would have remembered.” sniped Rimmer.

“Well, I’m paying you one now.” The lift shook again and although Lister wasn’t unbalanced by this particular shudder he still took the opportunity to grab hold of Rimmer’s other arm. They were properly holding each other now and Lister couldn’t help but be aware of how close their lips were. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself. “I’m just saying that that colour really suits you. It really, really suits you. Although maybe not quite as well as the diamond light suit.”

“Oh?” asked Rimmer, who had been distracted from thoughts of impending death by the incredibly rare occurrence of someone saying something nice about him. “And what was better about the diamond light suit?”

The whacking great codpiece thought Lister, although he didn’t say it out loud. “It looked good, is all.” And you looked good in it. So, so good. “Hey Hol, give us a moment will you?”

“Ok”, replied the computer. He paused for a second. “There. That was a moment.”

Lister rolled his eyes. “I meant give me and Rimmer a moment alone Hol. In other words, smeg off!”

“Oh right”, said Holly, sounding a little offended. “You could have just said. You didn’t have to be so rude about it.” The screen went black.

“You’ve annoyed him now.” stated Rimmer. “He’ll probably wake you up tomorrow at six with those cockerel sounds he loves so much.”

“There won’t be a tomorrow”, Lister said distractedly, thinking about the word ‘cockerel’. In particular the first syllable.

“Oh God, I almost forgot!” Rimmer exclaimed. “I’m going as mad as you. Must be my memory files shutting down. I’ll probably be nothing but a drooling mess in a few minutes!”

Lister could tell that Rimmer was on the verge of a full blown panic attack, so he removed his hands from the hologram’s arms (somewhat reluctantly) and grabbed his face instead. The lift gave another shake and somewhere in the distance several alarms started to sound. It was amazing that the cables holding them in the lift shaft hadn’t snapped yet and sent them plummeting to their deaths. Lister tried not to think about that. Or the word ‘shaft’.

“Rimmer”, he said softly, letting his thumb gently rub circles on the hologram’s cheek. “I know we’ve had our disagreements over the years-”

“We have disagreements every day, Listy”, Rimmer said, although he didn’t try to move away from Lister. “Most days we’ve had at least seven before you’ve even had your mid-morning curry.”

“Yeah, I know man”, said Lister. The lift was shaking uncontrollably now. Lister titled his head forward slightly, his lips only an inch away from Rimmer’s. “But there’s a reason I like to wind you up so much. There’s a reason I tease you until you get all flustered and your cheeks turn red and you stomp off and I watch your lovely arse as you walk away.”

Rimmer blinked. “I’m sorry, did you just refer to my arse as ‘lovely’?”

“Yeah, Rimmer, I did. Because there’s something I need to tell ya, something I should have told you a long time ago but I was just too much of a coward. Because the thing is Rimmer, I lov-”

All of a sudden the lift stopped shaking, the distant alarms grew quiet and the lights in the lift turned back to full brightness. The screen flickered back to life and Holly’s face re-appeared. “Is this a good time, or are you two still having your moment?”

Rimmer pulled away from Lister’s embrace and stood up, leaving Lister’s arms feeling horribly empty.

“What the smeg is going on Holly?” Rimmer demanded. “Why aren’t we dead yet? What about the GELF missiles?”

“What missiles?” asked Holly, looking puzzled.

“The missiles that hit the ship and were in the process of killing us, you goit!” Rimmer shrieked. Lister couldn’t help think that he looked very sexy when he got all worked up.

“Oh right”, said Holly. “See, the thing is that there weren’t actually any missiles in the first place. Or any GELF ship.”

Holly’s words hit Lister like a ton of bricks and snapped him out of his lustful reverie. He scrambled to his feet to stand beside Rimmer. “Hang on a minute, Hol! What the smeg do you mean there weren’t any missiles or a ship?”

“It’s probably best I let the others explain”, said Holly.

The screen flickered and Kryten’s face appeared on it, looking guiltier than OJ Simpson. “Oh Mr Lister sir!” exclaimed the mechanoid. “It’s so good to see you again. When we lost contact I was terrified you might have been knocked unconscious, what with the ship shaking so violently and things flying everywhere.”

“I’m fine, Kryts. But what did Holly mean when he said there were no missiles or no attacking ship?”

“Hang on!” interrupted Rimmer. “Why did you only ask Lister if he was OK? What about me? Why does no-one care about me?”

I care, thought Lister. His cock, still half hard, gave a twitch of agreement. In fact, one part of me seems to care about you very much.

Kryten pretended not to hear the hologram. “Well, you see, Mister Lister sir, what we thought was an attack from a GELF ship turned out not to be a real attack at all but in fact just a very realistic simulation. It seems that when Red Dwarf was being built it was fitted with newly designed emergency protocol simulation software. The idea was that once every few months the immersive simulation would be activated so the crew could practice what to do in case of a GELF attack, like the fire drills I believe they used to have back on Earth.”

“Hang on”, said Rimmer. “I’ve never even heard of an immersive emergency drill before, let alone done one aboard Red Dwarf. When we did a practice drill there just used to be a little alarm that sounded and we all pretended an attack was taking place and lined up in a corridor so a man with a clipboard could tick our names off on a register.”

“That’s because the idea was scrapped before Red Dwarf ever launched”, Kryten continued. “There was another ship built to the same specifications that took off just before Red Dwarf, but tragically all crew members were killed during the first week of their voyage. You see, they were so busy doing the simulated attack that they failed to realise that they were actually under attack and the ship was blown up. So the function was never used on Red Dwarf, although the controls to activate it remained.”

“So how the smegging hell did it get activated after three million years?” asked Lister.

Kryten shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I believe Mister Cat may have been responsible for that, sirs. You see, the button to activate the simulation is very large and red and shiny, and I believe he just couldn’t resist pressing it.”

The Cat’s face appeared next to Kryten’s on the monitor. “Actually, I was trying to prise it off the wall to use as a brooch. Pressing it was just an accident.”

“So all that panic and stress we just went through was so the Cat could get a twinkly new accessory?” Rimmer threw up his hands in disbelief. “I nearly had a heart attack just so that feline imbecile could deck himself out like Liberace?”

“Well, sir, as you don’t actually have a heart you aren’t technically capable of having a heart attack –”

“Shut up Kryten!” Rimmer snapped. “No one cares about your technicalities! Holly, can you please just open the door to this damn lift.”

Holly’s face reappeared on the screen. “Can do, Arnold.” The doors of the lift slid smoothly open and Rimmer stalked out.

“I’ll be putting you all on report for this!” Rimmer said as he started to walk down the corridor. “There’s going to be so much paperwork to fill out. It’s going to be marvellous.”

Lister watched the hologram’s retreating figure with mixed emotions. It would be so easy just to let him go, to go back to their usual routine of sniping and gripping and repressed feelings. But did he really want that?

“Hey Rimmer”, he called out. The hologram stopped in his tracks and turned back to face Lister.

“What?” Rimmer said. Lister hesitated, trying to find the right words. Rimmer tapped a foot impatiently. “Well, spit it out. I haven’t got all day. Those forms aren’t going to fill themselves out.”

“Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?” Lister blurted out.

Rimmer blinked. “What?”

Lister took a deep breath. “Dinner. With me. Tonight. Seven-thirty. Parrots on G deck.”

“But I don’t eat, Lister, what with being dead for the last three million years. Or had you forgotten?”

“We can get Holly to programme some hologrammatic food for you. Something dead fancy, like lobster or something. I’ll avoid soup though, promise, hot or cold.”

Rimmer’s face creased in confusion. “But why go to all the bother of creating fake food for a dinner that I don’t even need to eat? Why would you-”

“It’s not about the smegging food Rimmer!” Lister cried, throwing up his arms in frustration.

“Then what is it about?” asked Rimmer, looking utterly perplexed.

“The fact that I’m smegging in love with you!” screamed Lister.

The silence that followed Lister’s statement was so absolute you could have heard a skutter drop a pin.

Rimmer went very still. “What did you just say?” he asked slowly.

Lister sighed. There was no going back now. In for a penny, in for a pound as his Gran used to say. “That I love you, you smeghead, alright? I have done for a while now, but I’ve just been waiting for the right moment to tell you. But when we thought we were gonna die back there in the lift I realised that there is never going to be a right moment. So I’m telling you now; I, David Lister, am in love with you, Arnold Judas Rimmer. And I think that you might feel the same way about me. And it’s time we talked about that.”

Rimmer opened his mouth to respond but no sound came out. He opened and closed it for several seconds as if doing an impression of a guppy before he just let it hang open and stared at Lister in shock.

“So seven-thirty, yeah?” asked Lister. “Then we’ll talk about it?”

Rimmer regained enough motor function to nod mutely.

Lister wasn’t sure if the nod was an acknowledgment of Rimmer’s feelings for him or simply an indication that he would see Lister at seven-thirty. Hopefully it was both. Lister smiled. “Ok, see you then.” As he walked away, he had a thought and called back over his shoulder. “Oh, and wear that purple uniform. It’s very sexy. And maybe see if you can add a codpiece to it.”

As Lister turned a corner he heard Rimmer make some sort of high pitched choking sound. As he sauntered away, grinning from ear to ear, he wondered if that was the kind of noise Rimmer might also make in bed. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too long before he found out.

#Red Dwarf #reddwarf #arnold rimmer #david lister #dave lister #kryten #the cat #holly #reddwarffanfic #red dwarf fan fic

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ancientbooshartifacts · 5 years

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Sex And Xooberon

Author: Kahvi

Year: 2008

Rating: PG-13

Characters: Naboo, Bollo, Vince, Howard, The Moon, Venus

“Whoa there; where'd you think you're going, little man?” Howard's voice rang out from the kitchen of Naboo's little flat, his hand outstretched like he was Diana Ross, or possibly one of the Supremes. Already clutching the doorknob, Vince stopped to roll his eyes in irritation. “What d'you think I'm doing? I need the loo!” “Well, that's just going to have to wait. Naboo's in there, taking a shower.” Vince shrugged. “That's his own lookout; I'm not pissing in the sink again.” “You can't just...” Howard narrowed his eyes, catching the tail-end of the sentence. “What do you mean, 'again'?” “Right; the water stopped running. I'm going in.” “I do the dishes in there!” “No you don't; Bollo does. I'm going in, Howard.” Vince pulled the door open, and Howard winced in horror. “Vince! It's not right – a man shouldn't see another man's...” But Howard got no further, as there came a piercing scream, followed by a Vince-shaped blur zooming right out the door again and into his and Howard's shared bedroom. Shortly afterwards a puzzled Naboo emerged, hair wrapped in a towel turban, unlike his body, which was wrapped in nothing at all. Howard's eyes ran, entirely without his consent, down the tiny shaman's body, screeching to a halt when they reached his groinal area. “Well,” Howard conceded. “I suppose that's all right then.” Rapping his knuckles against the bedroom door, Howard paused to roll his eyes. Sometimes life with Vince was a bit like looking after a hormonal teenager. Something about that idea disturbed him on levels he couldn't quite grasp, so rather than dwell on it, he cleared his throat. “Vince... this is ridiculous. You've missed your tea.” “I'm not going out there.” The door muffled Vince's voice, but could not hide the rise in pitch that made him sound even more like he was fourteen. Howard started tapping his foot nervously. “Vince, you've got to come out. You can't stay in there forever.” There was a pause as Vince seemed to consider this. Then; “I'm not coming out. You can come in, though.” Howard's eye twitched. “Oh, for... All right.” There was a shuffling sound from inside, and then the minutest of clicks as the door was unlocked. Then there came a rushed slicking of heels and a muffled thump. It was with some apprehension Howard stepped inside. It felt sort of wrong to be in Vince's bedroom like this, which was absurd, because it was Howard's bedroom too, and they were alone in there together every night. “Close the door behind you,” Vince commanded, from the safety of his guitar-shaped waterbed. The sequined curtain normally surrounding it had been drawn back sloppily; part of it was now partially draped over Howard's tweed bedspread. “What's gotten into you?” Howard demanded, pulling the door shut in irritation. Vince bit his lip, clutching a heart-shaped pillow. The pillow, Howard noted, had little arms like it wanted to hug you back. “You saw him! He's a freak!” “What; 'cause he's got no...” “All right! I don't need reminding, do I?” Vince shuddered, hugging the pillow tighter. Frowning, Howard stepped a bit closer, contemplating sitting down on the guitar's squashy edge. Worried that the resulting waves might knock Vince's slight frame off the bed, he decided against it. “I don't see why that bothers you so much. You've got a friend with a cube for a head, and you're none too bothered about creatures made entirely out of chewing gum coming into our room at night and watching us sleep.” The heart-shaped pillow narrowly avoided Howard's head. Vince had never been a good throw. “You leave Charlie out of this! He's just looking out for us.” “Yeah, well, the point is, Vince, you're not exactly A4 yourself, are you?” For one thing Vince still had his boots on while in bed, but that seemed a minor point at this time, and Howard hesitated bringing it up. “If stuff like that doesn't bother you, how come Naboo's...” “I don't want to hear it.” “How come this is such a big deal?” Sighing, Vince began to examine his nails. As he did that all the time, Howard didn't realize he'd been mulling things over until he heard a soft “Howard...” And looked up sharply. Vince was looking at him askew, patting the mattress beside him. “Come sit down.” The prospect of sitting next to Vince in Vince's bed made Howard's stomach do little nervous twitches. Either that, or his heart. He had a hard time telling the organs apart much of the time. Then again, sitting next to anyone made him nervous nowadays, after what had happened with Old Gregg at his birthday party. He kept expecting them to tear their faces off and try to rape him. Adjusting his hat, and drawing courage from the action, Howard crawled onto the bed, and maneuvered himself close to Vince. “You know me, right?” Vince was smiling at him oddly. “I'm the confuser. Confuse myself now and again. I look in the mirror sometimes, and I see a girl, and that's fine, fun even, 'cause inside, you know, I know I'm a guy. Plus, I can always do this,” with unexpected force, Vince put his hand on his crotch, cupping himself firmly. Howard jumped. “And there's no question is there? So I see something like that, and I'm thinking, how does he know? 'Cause if he doesn't know, maybe I can't know either, or, you know, maybe my knob might fall off, or something.” Forcing his eyes away from Vince's hand, Howard started again. “What?” He wasn't supposed to look at Vince like that, he chided himself. They were done with that sort of thing; they'd both made that abundantly clear. “How does Naboo know?” “How does Naboo know you're a guy?” “No, you nonce,” Vince cuffed Howard on the side of his face, lightly. The bed wobbled. “How does he know he's a guy?” Trying very hard to keep his eyes somewhere in the vicinity of Vince's face, Howard shrugged. “I think you'd better ask him, really.” When Howard made his exit a few minutes later, Bollo nodded to him from across the room. The ape was monopolizing the hookah-pipe in Naboo's absence, and was clearly making the most of it. “Vince coming out?” Howard nearly did a double take before he grasped the question. “Oh. Right. No. Not yet.” Bollo nodded. “Him still worried about seeing Naboo naked. Bollo knows. It traumatic experience.” After a brief internal debate, Howard decided it was probably best not to ask. “It is a bit... unusual.” Shrugging, Bollo took another long drag of the pipe. “They all like that 'round Xooberon way.” “Yeah?” Howard tried to imagine all of the frankly disturbing people he had met on the planet naked, and gave a shudder. It was not a pleasant lot of mental imagery. “That what Naboo say.” “All right, Howard? Move over, would you, Bollo?” The shaman himself appeared in a cloud of purple smoke, strolling over to the sofa like nothing untoward had happened. (Though to be fair, that sort of thing did seem to happen fairly often in this household.) Bollo grunted, and passed the pipe to Naboo, who sucked the smoke in eagerly. Howard scratched his head. “Hey, Naboo...” It was something of a delicate subject to broach, wasn't it? “You wouldn't mind sorting Vince out, would you?” Naboo raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? You want me to sort him out after he sneaks up on me in the shower?” Vince, Naboo, shower... Howard's head was starting to spin. “He's not coming out!” This time, Bollo snickered, turning his head and pretending like nothing when Howard shot him an angry glare. “He's not coming out of his room.” Naboo shrugged. “He can't stay in there forever.” “That's what I told him, but he missed his tea.” This seemed to catch Naboo's attention. “What did you make? Not egg in soup again?” “No,” Howard grumbled – what was wrong with egg in soup? It was a perfectly nutritious and aesthetically pleasing meal. “I made pancakes. I even made his into little funny shapes.” Not animal ones, because Vince refused to eat those. Never mind that he would scarfer down sausages without a second's thought; he didn't like eating something that 'looked like it was supposed to be alive.' Come to think of it, that had been his problem with egg in soup. “With the pink food-coloring in?” “Pink and blue. I even tried mixing them up to make purple. And I put little sprinkles on. The pastel ones, without the brown in.” “Right.” Naboo rose, dusting his robes off unnecessarily. “I'll see what I can do.” He turned to Bollo, whispering just loud enough that Howard would overhear. “Work, work, work.” Bollo grunted in reply, taking the pipe from his hands. “It won't be easy. He only just let me in there.” Howard shifted his weight, glancing back at the bedroom. He didn't like the idea that Naboo would be able to get to Vince when he – Howard Moon – had not been able to. What sort of a man of action would that make him? Naboo grinned. “I have my ways.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small leather pouch, which, when opened, appeared to be full of purple-colored sugar. “Travel dust,” he explained, seeing Howard craning his neck towards it. “Lets you go anywhere, this stuff. I'm beta-testing it. Works a charm, near as I can tell.” Howard regarded the dust doubtfully. “It's a bit Harry Potter, isn't it?” Naboo rolled his eyes. “Think you're the first one to point that out, do you? You want me to help or not?” When Howard nodded, Naboo threw a pinch of the stuff in the air, and soon, purple smoke enveloped the two of them. Howard was suddenly overcome by a sensation of drowning in fairy floss, but it passed in an instant, as the smoke disappeared, and they reappeared sitting on Vince's bed. Howard, to his acute embarrassment, found himself sitting more or less on Vince's lap. “Howard!!” Vince squealed, grabbing Howard by the waist, and trying to hide behind him, then half-turned to Naboo. “How'd you get in here?” “Magic dust,” Naboo replied, nonplussed as ever. “That's a bit Harry Potter, don't you think?” Howard could hardly hear what Vince was saying. There were too many other sensory impressions to contend with. There was Vince's smell, which was like licorice bootlaces and hairspray, and the warmth of his skin against his back, and the feel of his leather jacket rubbing against Howard's shirt; the tickle of his breath against his neck... “I'm a shaman, all right? I work with what I've got.” “Yeah, well, the trouble ain't what you've got, mate; it's what you haven't!” Vince gripped Howard's waist a bit tighter, and Howard found he couldn't breathe. Not because the grip was too tight, it was just... “Vince...” Howard croaked. “Oh, right. Sorry.” The grip relaxed a bit, and Howard inhaled, deeply. “If you two have quite finished showing off your unresolved sexual tension...” Naboo crossed his arms, looking like a stern teacher. “I don't know what you mean,” Howard mumbled, defensively. “Never mind. You wanted to know how my anatomy works, is that it? Should I draw you up a diagram?” Naboo fixed his eyes on Vince, who shifted a bit behind Howard. “Well, no... just... How do you know?” Uncertain, Vince absent-mindedly began to stroke up and down Howard's arm. Howard really wished he wouldn't do that. Then he stopped, and Howard really wished he hadn't. “How do you know... you're a guy?” Naboo shook his head. “Christ; you lot! You're so stuck up on silly little ideas. 'Am I a boy, am I a girl; who do I shag, should they have tits'.” He threw his arms wide. “I don't get it. Why complicate things?” Howard cleared his throat. “So it's not like that on Xooberon, then?” He liked rules; rules and neat categories. Otherwise, how would you know where you fit? You'd just be drifting randomly. Like Vince. Who was currently pressing up against his back like a frightened woodland animal. “Of course not! It's not like that anywhere else in the universe. I mean, 'gender'; what is that? You've got lumps on the front of your chest, so you're allowed to wear skirts and make cupcakes, but if you've got hair on your face, you've got to like football and get off your face on beer. How does that make sense?” “Well, it doesn't,” Vince began, but...” “And then there's sex – it's not enough to want to shag someone; no, you've got to figure out why. And if you suddenly want to shag someone who's not shaped the same way as the type you wanted to shag before, you have a mental breakdown trying to figure out what's going on.” Naboo took a deep breath, almost panting with exasperation. Howard had hardly ever seen him so agitated before. “Why bother? Why do you care so much?” Vince was breathing more calmly now; Howard could feel it. He was just leaning against him now, like... well, like he enjoyed doing it. “I don't, really,” Vince said, and Howard's heart caught in his throat. Or possibly his stomach. Again, it was hard to tell. “Right,” Naboo agreed, patting Vince on the shoulder, “'cause you're sensible.” “Sensible??” Howard spluttered. Vince still had his boots on; couldn't Naboo see that? Boots! In bed!! “Shut it, Howard,” Naboo and Vince said in unison. The sheer force of it was enough to trigger Howard's over-developed respect for authority. “Right, sirs. Shutting up, sirs.” “So that's why you don't, like, have a... penis?” Vince inched out the word like he was afraid it, having escaped, was going slap him in the face. And you wouldn't want a word like that slapping you in the face. Naboo seemed almost insulted. “Of course I've got a penis! Why wouldn't I?” Vince and Howard exchanged glances. “Then why...” “I don't want to go around waving it about, do I? You know the crowd I hang with. You saw what Dennis was like at Howard's party. Saboo had to tranquilize him with a blowpipe from across the room. And with Kirk around, frankly, none of your extremities are safe, so it's best to have as few of them as possible, really.” Howard swallowed. He was getting warm in all sorts of places, and not all of it was to do with the stupid level of heat Vince insisted they keep in the bedroom. His head was full of angry head shamen and rooftops and stray penises, and he couldn't think straight. “I don't get it,” he mumbled. “It's very simple,” Naboo explained patiently, sliding off the bed. “It doesn't matter what shape your genitals are, and you don't need them at all to know what you are, right?” “Right,” said Vince, nodding vigorously, and grinning from ear to ear. Howard was glad one of them had gotten something out of the conversation. “You're not going to freak out on me again then, are you?” Naboo waved an admonishing finger. “'Course not.” “And don't go sneaking into my shower again.” “I won't. Cheers, Naboo!” Vince gave a little wave, and Naboo threw his powder in the air again. Once the smoke cleared, Vince shook his head at Howard. “Could have used the door, couldn't he? The little show-off.” Howard watched him carefully. He was playing with his hair, and the long fingers of his other hand were running along the seams of Howard's shirt, as if trying to figure out how he could alter it to fit current fashion. “So you're all right now, then?” “'Course I am. Makes sense, doesn't it? It's like you said; it's what's inside that counts, yeah?” Howard nodded. He didn't know what else to do. He was still in Vince's lap, and part of him worried that he was crushing his legs. “Yeah. I'll just get going then...” Vince caught his arm. “Howard?” Vince's bright blue eyes shone with question, and not a little bit of mischief. “What?” “I'm not entirely sure I'm a man.” Spinning. The world was spinning. Forget fairy floss; looking into Vince's eyes was like drowning in that syrup they used to make blue raspberry slushies. “Oh, no?” “No. I think I need to make sure. D'you think you could help me out with that?” Through the oceans of illogically colored raspberry, Howard felt a hand reach out and grab his own, pressing it to a warm, bulging... oh god... After a while, neither of them really cared what they were or what they were doing, beyond the fact that it felt bloody fantastic, and right. “All right then; you ready?” Appearing in the lounge again, Naboo adjusted his turban, nodding at Bollo. “Where we going?” The ape looked quite comfortable where he was. Typical, Naboo sighed to himself. He really should think about getting a familiar upgrade. “Clubbing. Like I told you. Now get a move on, I'm not waiting around all night for you to get your face on.” Bollo gave him a pleading look. “Not Xooberon again? I never know what I'm getting when I pull over there.” Stupid bloody Earth creatures, Naboo thought. Repressed, the lot of them. “Don't get your crotch-fur in a twist. We're going to the Velvet Onion.” “Oh. Velvet Onion,” Bollo echoed, immediately cheering up. “Right. I go get ready.” “Don't bother. We're late as it is. You can fix yourself up in the club.” As Bollo followed him, grunting half-hearted complaints, Naboo concentrated, and something around groin-level shifted almost imperceptibly beneath the cloth between his legs. He grimaced, reaching down to adjust himself. “Should have done that before I put my trousers on that tightly, really.” And without further incident, shaman and familiar left the shop, vanishing in unnecessarily sparkly purple smoke shortly after walking out the door. Above them, the moon shone, smilingly. “When you are the moon, it don't matter if you're male or female. 'Cause you're just a face. A big white face. Yeah. Don't got no genitals or nothing. Got nowhere to put them. Mars, he keeps saying he's all that, but I don't see where he gets off. Ain't nothing more between his legs than mine. He don't have no legs either. Always hanging around that Venus. Venus, she don't care. She's after better things, ain't that right, Venus?” “Shut your face, you pasty bastard!!” “Yeah... she loves me. I'm the moon.”

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