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secondtechnicianrimmer · 1 month

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Space Corp. Directive #1215225

For some ungodly reason, you fancy the second technician, but you'd be damned if you ever admitted it.

Pairing: Arnold Rimmer x (F) Reader

Warnings: None! Apart from some flirting

Chapter Twelve: Under The Console

“Right, so,” Rimmer shot you a wobbly smile over his shoulder. “You’re going to laugh at this.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“Am I?”

“Er… No.”

Standing in the doorway of Starbug’s cockpit, you tried to read the scanner over his shoulder, but the screen warped and fizzled.

Some bright idea this was turning out to be. Trying in vain to rebuild your relationship with Rimmer, you had invited him to go planet hopping, just to see what you could find and stave off the boredom of deep space for a while. It was just the two of you, which had been nice at first, but when Starbug had failed to take off again, you suddenly felt very alone.

“There's something wrong with the engine,” Rimmer narrowed his eyes at the screen, trying to make sense of the half-gibberish it spouted. “Scanner says the intake manifold is faulty.”

“What’s an intake manifold?”

“It supplies fresh air to the cylinders. It, the throttle body, the filter, and the fuel delivery system ensure the proper mixture of air and fuel is burnt by the engine.”

“Right, so…”

You let the names whirl around your head for a second before giving in. There was no point trying to understand any of that, maybe later when you were home safe and had the time, but definitely not now.

“We can’t take off?”

Rimmer shook his head.

“No.”

“And we can’t fix it because-”

“I can’t touch anything and you don’t know how.”

“And we can’t call for help because-”

“The comms are also down.”

“Right. Okay.”

You stared at Rimmer’s back, right between his shoulder blades. His new, puffy red jacket gleamed under the low lights.

There was a pregnant pause. You both seemed to be exhausting every possible ‘what now?’ in your head. Neither of you landed on an idea.

“You were right,” you said eventually. “I’m not laughing.”

Rimmer’s mouth twisted thoughtfully. He glanced at the windscreen.

“At least the view is nice.”

You heaved a sigh like a punctured tire.

He was right, you were on a lovely planetoid in a very peaceful quadrant. A real turn up for the books.

The northern hemisphere was all ocean, deep and blue and vast. The rest of the planet was made up of rolling, soft, creamy sand. Sometimes the dunes rose thirty to forty feet, marching south as the planet narrowed to its pole.

You’d been having a nice time. Actually, it was the easiest that things had been with Rimmer for a while. Since the psi-moon, you’d been on edge, always skirting around each other and never quite meeting the other’s eye. Slowly, gingerly, you had rebuilt yourselves.

Together, you had walked across the sands, keeping your gaze on the horizon, on the lookout for anything that might be of interest. While Rimmer made notes and spoke into his dictaphone, you took photos with the camera Lister had given you to mark your third year aboard Red Dwarf.

“Used to belong to a mate of mine. Peterson,” he’d said with a sad sort of a smile. “He loved this thing. Someone should get some use out of it, eh?”

So to honour the gift and Lister’s first friend aboard Red Dwarf, you’d taken a leaf out of Rimmer’s book and started to compile an album. You’d seen so many wonderful and terrible places, met so many strange creatures and faced so many mad adventures, you thought someone should start chronicling them all.

The camera now lay in Starbug’s co-pilot’s chair. Its one eye watched you, unblinking.

“So, what’s the plan?” you asked. “Just wait here until the others notice we’ve been gone too long?”

“For now.”

Rimmer seemed less than thrilled by the idea but it was the only plan you had.

With another pointless sigh, you sank into the pilot’s seat, grabbing your camera on the way down. You let your legs flop over the arm, wedging your back into the corner so that you could lounge comfortably in the old chair.

“How long do you reckon it’ll be?”

“Who knows.”

Rimmer slumped in the co-pilot’s chair, his back straight and his eyes forward, watching the waves wash upon the shore just a few metres away.

“Not long though, I should think,” he added hopefully. “They know we were only popping out. I suppose they’ll start missing you after a few hours and wonder where you’ve got to.”

“They’ll miss you too, Arnold.”

He didn’t bother arguing. Rimmer just scoffed and turned his head away, pretending to look out over the horizon.

In the distance, a cold blue sun was starting to set. In just a few hours, it would be nighttime, and who knew what might happen on this planetoid then.

You stared out at the slowly darkening sands. There could be all sorts of creatures out there. After everything you’d seen, you wouldn’t be surprised if the beaches opened up and swallowed Starbug whole. Another ship, lost.

“Are you okay?”

Your worry must have started to show. Rimmer’s soft hazel eyes crossed your face, his brow creased with concern behind his H.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “Just this is reminding me of the crash. A bit. I think.”

“Do you miss them?”

“Mm?”

“The crew.”

“Oh. Er, sometimes.”

His question surprised you. The boys tended to steer clear of the subject. They hadn’t really mentioned it since the day they found you. There was just always something else going on, you supposed.

And you liked that, you liked that they didn’t dwell on things, and maybe it had helped you get over everything that had happened to you, in a way. But not a day went by where you didn’t think about that night and mourn your other life.

“We’d only known each there for a few weeks before we were put in stasis. I suppose we had a laugh while we were doing basic training.”

Rimmer leant back into the chair and let his head roll towards you, his arms crossed over his chest.

“You don’t ever talk about it.”

It was a question and a statement all wrapped up in one.

You started to fiddle with your camera, any excuse to look away.

“No one ever asks. And I don’t like remembering, really.”

“Maybe it would help.”

“Talking about it? Maybe. But who’d wanna listen to that?”

Rimmer blew out a long breath.

“Well, there’s always the automated psychiatrist in the med bay, I suppose.”

“Great!”

He smiled slightly, watching as your fingers fidgeted with the dials and buttons on the back of the camera.

“I want to listen,” Rimmer said eventually.

You scoffed.

“You?”

“Why not?”

“You don’t care about other people’s problems, Arnie.”

Laughably, he looked offended.

“I do! I know it may seem like I don’t but…” He let his head roll to look out of the windscreen for a moment, then turned back to you. “I do care about you.”

You watched him, waiting for a sign that he was kidding, that he was lying, but Rimmer merely watched you back, waiting for you to speak.

Finally, you let out a long breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding.

“When I was assigned, I knew I’d be leaving everything behind. We were travelling to the other end of the universe. I had to say goodbye to all my friends, my family. I was never, ever going to them again, apart from through video messages. But at the time, it felt worthwhile because I would be doing something incredible. For the greater good, you know? Something that mattered. Now I’m stuck here. And it wasn’t worth it at all.”

“There must be some things you like about us.”

“Well, I love you all, don’t get me wrong.” You shot Rimmer a wry smile that he faintly returned. “But I have no useful skills, no future, no purpose. I don’t even know what an intaker manifold is.”

“Intake. It’s a-”

“I know, I know.” You waved a hand. “I just mean, I… I feel like a spare part.”

Rimmer, to his credit, seemed sympathetic. It also seemed like he wasn’t sure what to say to that. And fair enough, it was a worry that had been nagging at you for years. You weren’t expecting any sort of insight, it was just nice to say the words out loud and formulate them into a solid thought.

That said, you were still surprised when the first thing Rimmer said was,

“Spare parts.”

You frowned.

“What?”

He perked up, his eyes wide and excited. Suddenly he was out of his chair and tumbling out of the cockpit.

“Come with me!”

Rimmer led you to a shelf, raised high above your head in Starbug’s living quarters.

Standing on the couch, you reached up and pulled down a grey box. Written across the front in messy black pen were the words ‘Kryten - Emergencies Only’.

“I’d say this counts as an emergency,” Rimmer grinned. “Forget that rubber-headed Akela.”

Laying side by side beneath the console, your legs sticking out and almost tangling, you prised a rectangular cover away from the underside of the controls.

Beside you, Rimmer hummed to himself, taking in the myriad of wires and strange blinking lights.

You didn’t question him out loud but a small part of you couldn’t help worrying. Rimmer had failed his exams countless times and really didn’t have a knack for electronics. If pressed, you would’ve said he was much better suited for something creative, what with all his big ideas and colour-coding skills. But he would never in another three million years admit that.

There was one light not shining. Next to it ran a long number: 839/28027.M_COMMS.765

“Alright,” Rimmer squeezed his eyes shut, wracking his brains. “This isn’t so different from the maintenance work I used to do. It shouldn’t be too difficult?”

He looked at you, practically begging for reassurance.

You smiled and raised your hands.

“You’ve got this, Arn. Just tell me what to do.”

“Didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that.”

You bit your tongue, keeping an instinctive suggestive response trapped behind your teeth.

It was always so easy to flirt with him. Maybe because he was always so receptive. Maybe because you just loved doing it. Maybe because every time you did, Rimmer would look at you all dopey and flustered, his eyelids heavy and his lips parted. But you didn’t think you could take a look like that right now, not when you were in such close proximity.

“So,” You wriggled your shoulders, getting more comfortable on the cold, hard floor. “What’s first?”

Together, you slowly, nervously fixed the comms. While Rimmer tried to remember everything he’d learnt from his textbooks, you waited for each instruction patiently, only moving when he was sure of what to do next.

You unscrewed a tiny panel, checking each part to make sure they weren’t fried, switched out wires and cogs and an all manner of other bits and bobs until finally, Rimmer seemed satisfied.

“Connect this wire to here.”

He pointed at a threatening red wire, then a stubby copper cylinder.

You shot Rimmer a cautious sideways glance.

“Are you sure?”

You were putting an awful lot of trust in a man who had killed himself and several thousand others because of a mechanical fault he failed to fix. The H on his forehead - “A mark of Able,” Rimmer had once said. “Rather than a mark of Cain.” - was a constant reminder of that mistake.

You expected him to hesitate but Rimmer nodded, his gaze steady. And you realised you trusted him, without a shadow of a doubt.

You wrapped the frayed wire around the cylinder until it was secured, then tucked your fingertip over it and gave an experimental tug, but it didn’t give way.

“That’s it,” Rimmer murmured, and you could hear the smile in his voice before you turned your head to him. “That’s perfect. You’re amazing.”

You were glad it was so dark under the console, your face was starting to burn.

“Now what?”

Rimmer shrugged.

“Hold your breath, count to three and make a wish.”

So you did. You pulled in a long breath, then reached up and flipped the comms switch. The light flickered, then began to burn a bright glorious green.

Grinning, you turned your head to Rimmer, only to find he was already looking at you. Wedged under the console, there was hardly any room between you. His head was level with yours and if you’d been able to, you knew your body would have been pressed up against his.

The lights above you scattered colour across Rimmer’s face, catching in his hair, his eyes, the corner of his mouth. You’d read about old Earth traditions, about how your ancestors would hang mistletoe in doorways and kiss to celebrate the turn of winter. That’s how it felt, just you and Rimmer under the warm lights, pressed up against each other, practically sharing one breath. You were halfway out of the dark.

“What did you wish for?” you whispered.

Slowly, though without any hint of shyness or uncertainty, Rimmer’s gaze fell to your lips.

Heart racing, you had to force yourself not to wriggle around too much, but you weren’t used to being looked at so closely.

If you could send a message to yourself - to the you that spent her first few weeks aboard Red Dwarf terrified and confused - you thought you might try and warn her that she’d soon be falling for the moron who, at the time, had avoided you like the plague. She wouldn’t believe you, that you knew for sure.

“You know you glow, don’t you,” you said quietly.

Rimmer frowned.

“Just a bit,” you added quickly. “You’re- I know your light bee projects- You just- When it’s dark, you glow.”

It was something you only noticed after a few years of knowing him. If you caught him in the right light and he was, for once, fairly still instead of jittering and fussing about the place, the light Rimmer gave off was soft and oddly ethereal for someone so intensely irritating.

Rimmer still hadn’t looked away.

“No one’s ever told me that before,” he murmured.

“Oh,” Embarrassed, you gave him a weak smile. “Maybe it’s just me who notices.”

Rimmer opened his mouth but a whining, fizzling chord of static shot out of the comms, so abruptly and so sharply that you jumped and clunked your head on the underside of the console.

“Ow, fuck!”

“Rimmer? Lefty? Is that you?”

You watched Rimmer’s eyes widen as you both recognised the voice at the same time.

“Lister!”

You scrambled out from under the console and slammed your hand down in the receiver.

“Dave, can you hear us?”

“I hear you, loud and clear! How’s the honeymoon, guys?”

“Lister, we’ve broken down,” Rimmer sighed. “We need you to come get us.”

“No way! Why didn’t you say? Have you got coordinates?”

After relaying all the relevant information, Lister signed off with his typical happy-go-lucky cheer, and you were alone again.

“See?” Rimmer grinned at you. “Not so useless, after all.”

“I didn’t do anything. You knew how to fix it, I was just a pair of hands.”

“We make a good team.”

“Yeah, right.” You snorted as you flopped back down in the pilot’s chair again. “I’m just your- What’s them sticks with the grabber at the end?”

“Grabbers.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Rimmer made himself comfortable in the co-pilot’s chair again.

He looked much more at ease now that he knew help was on the way. You wondered if there was still a part of him, even now, that felt responsible for you, even though you weren’t even officially part of his crew and, actually, a few rungs higher than him. Actually, you were practically on a completely different ladder but you thought it best not to mention that.

“You’d be good at that,” Rimmer smirked. “I remember you being pretty grabby on that psi-moon.”

The air in Starbug shifted. Your smile vanished with the warm atmosphere, like someone had opened the cargo door mid-flight.

You hadn’t talked about the kiss since it happened. Rimmer hadn’t brought it up after the way you snapped at him, and you couldn’t even really believe it had happened.

You could still feel it though, when you went to bed at night and everything was calm and quiet and dark. Your body remembered the way he had pressed into you, the way his mouth had moved against yours so urgently, how Rimmer had chased your lips and moaned into your mouth when you squeezed his waist, the first physical contact he’d felt in millennia.

Cheeks burning, you sneered back.

“And you were pretty grabby on the Enlightenment from what I remember.”

It was a low blow. For the most part, you’d let the hurt of Rimmer’s abandonment go. It was years ago now and the pain had dulled; it was poor form to use it against him like that. But sometimes a sharp uppercut was the only thing that made Rimmer think about what he was saying.

His smirk sank into a look so guilty, you almost apologised. But you didn’t. Instead, you pushed through the cold fog to pick at the old wound.

“How did it feel to have sex for the first time in three million years?” you asked quietly, hoping a bit of humour might grease the wheels. “Be honest.”

Rimmer shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Oh, it was… It was okay.”

“Just okay?”

“Well, I was- You know she was nice. I just don’t think I was really in the right state of mind. Or even in my right mind. I don’t know. You go from feeling excluded and pointless to suddenly being able to feel and eat and- It made me go a bit mad, I think. Like when we swapped bodies and I ate that entire Christmas dinner.”

“Yeah, I didn’t appreciate that one.”

“But you remember how it felt? To be a hologram?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it was-” You hesitated. For some reason, you felt the urge to confess. “I looked.”

Rimmer frowned.

“Looked where?”

“I asked Holly to- I looked.”

“Oh.”

It went quiet again. You watched colour rise up from under Rimmer’s jacket.

“Oh, well,” He swallowed hard. “That’s… That’s alright.”

Suddenly, Rimmer could look everywhere apart from you.

You smiled.

“You looked too, didn’t you.”

“Yes, but only very briefly and it was dark.”

Silence fell again.

You didn’t think you’d ever seen Rimmer look so deeply uncomfortable. The redness had risen up to his cheeks now. He was almost the same colour as his jacket.

“So,” he said after a moment, clearing his throat. “What did you think?”

“Honestly?” You tilted your head, pretending to think about it just to make him sweat. “Good.”

Rimmer brightened.

“Good?”

“Yeah, very good. Great, even.”

“Really?”

“And, er…?”

“Oh, yeah, Io, amazing. Marvellous.”

Before you knew it, you had burst out laughing.

“Amazing? Really?”

“God, yes. You’re- Well, I’ve always thought you were beautiful but…”

He seemed to realise what he’d said long after the words had left his mouth, but to your delight, Rimmer didn’t try to backtrack or bail, though he did look a little sheepish.

Again, your mind wandered to the man you met all those years ago. That Rimmer would have made that fun choking, squeaking sound he used to make whenever he accidentally showed a bit of humanity. He would’ve legged it or changed the subject or muttered something insulting. Not now though.

The man sitting across from you was still as stubborn and arrogant as ever. He got on your nerves at least three times a day and he was never happy if he wasn’t belittling the people around him. Rimmer was so highly strung you could run a bow across him and play Vivaldi. He was ill-tempered and smug and- He made you smile. He made you laugh. When you were with him, you didn't feel quite so lost and alone. He thought you were beautiful. And when you kissed him, he kissed you back.

Lister was right. That smarmy git. He was always right.

“Rimmer, I-”

A low, grumbling sort of sound interrupted you.

You sat up, throwing an arm around the headrest so that you could twist around in your seat. You couldn’t see anything but it seemed to be coming from deep in the ship.

“Arn?”

“I heard it.”

He had sat up ramrod straight, his eyes wide. Rimmer glanced at the scanner beside him. It appeared to produce no useful information, and out of range of Holly, you had nothing more to go on.

Like startled animals, you slowly picked yourselves up out of your chairs and headed deeper into Starbug.

Surprisingly, Rimmer led the way. He stuck his arms out like a scarecrow to keep you back by a pace, and if you hadn’t been so nervous, you might’ve fallen in love with him a little bit more.

The engines growled as they rolled and chewed up what little fuel remained. The low, steady hum of machinery that usually accompanied Starbug sitting in neutral had shunted up an octave, punctured by a rough, grating sound, like a rock tumbler in an empty oil drum.

“Is that the… Integer manifest?” you whispered.

It felt like you were watching a dangerous animal, and to move too suddenly or to make any noise might startle it into attacking.

“Er…” Rimmer had gone pale. “No. No, I don’t think so.”

He took a tentative step forwards and almost immediately, the engines whirred harder and spat out a spray of sparks.

Panicking, you tried to grab his arm to pull him back, but stopped before your hand passed through him.

“Be careful!”

“It’s fine, I know what I’m-”

The engines sparked again. Suddenly, the hurdy-gurdying flew up to a pitch so high, you had to cover your ears. You stumbled back as the engine roared. Smoke poured out and pooled around your feet.

“Oh, smeg,” Rimmer muttered.

A shriek of electricity, looking for a home, shot out of the engine and into the floor by your feet. It was a close call. Then suddenly, another bolt shot out.

You didn’t have time to react. Before you could stop him, Rimmer jumped in front of you, his arms spread wide. Then he was gone.

“No!”

You stumbled to the floor, landing unceremoniously on your arse. But your eyes stayed fixed on the small, cylindrical chunk of metal that fell to the floor at your feet. Rimmer’s light bee.

“Oh, you fucking- You fucking idiot, Arnold.”

The engine gave in, collapsing in on itself and finally, finally giving up the ghost. It hissed and groaned as it began to cool, and you tumbled forward to scoop up Rimmer’s light bee.

“Oh, God. Oh, God, your-”

You cradled it between two hands, more precious than any diamond. The shell was cracked and splintered, and from in-between the fissures leaked a small puff of grey smoke.

“You stupid man. What have you done?”

You sat back, collapsing against the wall of the ship. Holding Rimmer’s light bee aloft, you tried to catch any sign that it was still working, that he was still alive. There was a faint light within, a dim glow, just an ember, but it was something.

With a sob, you pressed it against your chest, your instincts telling you to keep him close, to keep him warm. You squeezed the light bee in your palm, so hard that you were almost afraid of making the cracks worse.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,” you whispered. “I don’t know if this thing is even working. But if it is, and you can, I want you to listen to me closely, Arnold Rimmer.”

You pulled the light bee back so that you could look him in the eye. Held tightly in your hand, it seemed so small and helpless.

“If you wake up,” you said. “If this thing blinks into life again and you appear, yapping and snarking about Io knows what, I promise I will kiss you so hard you’ll see stars.”

As if to prove you weren’t lying, you pressed your lips to his light bee, then again just to be sure.

You stared at it, as if it were a magic lamp, as if kissing it might break the spell and wake him up again, like in the fairytales you’d grown up with. But he didn’t.

“Just come back.” You pressed the light bee back to your chest, hoping he’d be able to hear your heartbeat and take solace from it. “Please come back.”

It was hours before they found you.

Night had fallen completely and the ship was still and cold. You didn’t want to miss the others if they passed by, so you stayed in the cockpit rather than heading to the sleeping quarters.

You were just starting to nod off, Rimmer’s light bee still clutched tightly to your chest, when you saw a flash of white light pass by the ship.

Just a few minutes later, the door slid open and Lister stepped in, a cigarette perched debonairly between his smiling lips.

“Y’alright, miss?” He removed his ciggie so he could grin at you. “Your taxi’s here.”

You had never been so relieved to see anyone in your life. But you had only one thought as Lister came over to you.

You held the light bee up to him, tears blurring your vision.

“Help him.”

Master List

#red dwarf #arnold rimmer #chris barrie #my post #arnold rimmer imagine #arnold rimmer reader #arnold rimmer smut #arnold rimmer x reader #arnold rimmer x you #arnold rimmer you

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