#babies are just feeding machines of course their gonna go for whatever nipple is in reach

[believerindaydreams]

crude, lewd, and gentlemanly

in which Lister pines for a roadside assistance lady. yes I am writing slash for an advert. crack played straight

well, sort of straight. not actually that porny, tragically, but I had a lot of fun anyway 

"Sir. Sir, I don't know that you want to hear this..."

"Feel free to leave off then," Lister says, not looking up. The keen and eager gaze currently being devoted to a copy of Big Easy Read Ganymede is one, Kryten can't help noting with alarm, one usually reserved for only the most pungent vindaloos and the music video of "Five Hundred and One Fun Things to Do In Liverpool When It's Raining (Which is None)" by the Spice Anti-Assigned-Sex-But-With-Female-Presenting-Nipples (ASSBUT).

In short, it is one doozy of a gaze.

"Well, it's a very small matter, sir. Possibly none of my concern, but.... well, we all can't help noticing that in the last week, you've managed to involve yourself in no less than fourteen major crashes."

"Uh huh?"

"To say nothing of the minor ones."

"Uh-huh."

"Ah. Well. Glad to see you've noticed," Kryten says, with a highly characteristic combination of hasty relief and mildly hesitant irritation.

Lister sighs, puts down the atlas. "You know what rule one is of picking up girls, Krytes? Don't do it when they're on the clock."

"As I recall, the last time you told me rule one, it was to never confuse the whipped cream bottle with the lubricant-"

"Forget all that," Lister says. "You've got eyes- okay, you have sensory diodes or whatever they are, I've got eyes. And what my eyes see is the most beautiful woman since- since- well since that time I fucked myself from a parallel universe, okay? Heh. I am such a good lay."

"What about Kochanski?"

"Maybe it's different for robots, Krytes, but humans tend to go off a woman when it turns out she's your mother."

"Or Holly?"

"...sorry? You think Holly, hello-I've-got-computer-senility, oops-that-black-hole-is-actually-a-carbon-smear, is more attractive than that dazzling star who can strip a photon drive inside of four minutes flat?"

"It depends on your point of view, sir. One of the snack machines on Level Nine confided in me once, that the right set of electro-fibres could just get them just so gnarly in the morning-"

"...Kryten, love to hear about the coffee dispenser's unrequited love some other time, not now. But you get the problem, yeah? She's got an AA time-hopper that locks on to the scene of an accident, as soon as she gets us fixed up it yanks her back three million years again, what's the point even asking for her phone number? All I can do is keep getting into accidents while playing the smoothest jazz in my collection, and just- hope for the best."

"We are running out of operable Starbugs, sir."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Lister says, fondling a set of jumper cables with something approaching rapture. "I can always crash Red Dwarf instead. Considering everything she's survived, the ship can handle a few knocks."

Something, Kryten decides, is really going to have to be done about this.

*******

"...his wingman?" the AA lady says.

"That's me!"

He is, the Cat reflects, looking smooth. More than smooth. These grandiose, sequined shoulder pads stretch out miles.

"Literally, I take it." She hits a computer module with a rubber mallet. "So if he wants to take me out for a little zero-gravity exploration while this sat-nav patch finishes downloading, why doesn't he just ask? The way he pilots, he hasn't exactly been short of opportunities."

The Cat screws up his face, thoughtfully. "Oh. Old Box Head said something about waking up to be told your whole species is dead causes psychodrama, blah blah blah, - now I’ve been there, and I can say, I wouldn't be like that! If I wanted you, I'd be all, hey gorgeous, aren't you one wozie hum-dinger of a flyer, what say we go and have ourselves a little fun...."

"But you're not doing that?" the AA lady asks after a moment.

"Lady," the Cat says, almost sentimentally, "you wear overalls. You think a fine looking specimen of a Cat like me is going to be caught dead waltzing the two step with you? All I can say is, keep on dreaming baby, cause dreaming is all you're going to get."

"...while Lister, I take it, has no objection to my fashion sense." Her mouth's twitching.

"Nope! What can you expect of a guy who thinks curry stains are a fashion accessory- so hey, you two are pretty well matched. That's one good reason for you to pair off. And another one is that it'll annoy Rimmer-"

"Will it?"

"Oh, sure," the Cat says breezily. "It'll get right up those hologrammed nostrils."

The AA lady whips the door open.

Somewhere, not terribly far distant, somebody is playing "Penny Lane" on a guitar.  

"Hey, Listy! Interested in a good fuck?"

The guitar music stops. "Thought you'd never ask!"

******

"You know, I really didn't think that approach would work. So much for plans B through W," Kryten says, stuffing down twenty feet of computer ribbon down a recycling chute. 

"Are you kidding? You just have to look at old HoloHead and pow! Hatred of him is a force stronger than gravity or those little packets of Martian sriracha," the Cat says, fiddling with the volume control. The sound of heavy breathing and a Liverpudian lilt whispering sweet nothings intensifies.

"I'm still not sure it's polite for you to be doing that," Kryten fusses. "Just because they're enjoying the ship's Exhibitionist, Squash And Frilly Umbrellas spa facilities, doesn't mean they necessarily expected anyone to watch-"

"Then be of good cheer, Kryten, because nothing untoward is going to happen." Rimmer's stride is firm, his holo-uniform freshly reprogrammed with gold braid and the E-Spacebay Blue Peter badge. "At least, not with her."

"Now Mr Rimmer, I really think-"

"It's time that Lister gave way to the inevitable," Rimmer says. "The man he's quite literally spent half his life with."

"...you mean me?" the Cat says, his tone veering somewhere between polite interest and general disgust.

"I mean me! The one who Holly decided was his perfect life's companion, out of all the possibilities on this ship. The Morecambe to his Wise, the automatic sprocket attachment to his...whatever it is sprockets attach to, I suppose. My god, we were roommates."

"Just saying? Between you and Mr Vacuum Groin over here, I'd pick the vacuum first," the Cat says.

Rimmer ignores him. "It's time I faced up to my destiny, too. Reached out and grasped the man right in front of my nose, this fried egg and chutney sandwich out of which I must take my first, mellow, unstinting bite-"

"Guys, you do realise you left the intercom on both ways," Lister calls.

Rimmer jumps. 

Falters. 

Looks at the microphone with nervous determination. 

"Lister? I think you should know. That faced with the prospect of- actually, genuinely, losing you, I've decided it's time to be brave. To say out loud, no takebacks, that I love you."

There's a pause. "Rimmer, that is just about the nicest thing you've ever said in your life."

"Wasn't it?"

"But if you think I'm gonna stop halfway through the windup for the best fuck I've had in years, just because you've finally wised up and decided that you're queer now, you need a reboot and a lie down in a quiet room somewhere."

"...does that mean, you're telling me no?"

"Course not! I'll get to you, I'll get to you- but first come first served. So we’re starting with- uh- what was your name again, sweetheart?"

"Thought you'd never ask," the AA lady says, rather coyly. "It's-"

Rimmer reaches out and switches off the feed. "Well, damn. How inconsiderate can you get? How? I ask you-"

"It's just possible, sir, that your sense of timing's off," Kryten says. Almost humming with contentment.

With two humans, a hologram, and possibly-or-not a sequin-shedding cat to get in on the action, it’s just occurred to him there’s bound to be all sorts of exciting new messes to clean up soon...

#red dwarf #orange #blue hellsite #fic