RD fic ... in progress
Aug. 2nd, 2011 06:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
veronica_rich"You're working on TWO fics at once?" you're saying. "Are you CRAZY?"
Well, I might be. But I had two concurrent ideas for Red Dwarf stories, so I thought, what the hell, it's not like I have to meet a paid deadline. I'll start 'em both and see if they go anywhere. (And hey, at least I haven't succumbed to writing "X-Men: First Class" fanfic. Things could be far worse.)
So some of you may have been reading the one I've been posting, that's Listerish/Rimmerish. Well, this one is het - I was listening to some songs one day and Pink's "U + Ur Hand" came on, and it's just a fun song, and I had this mental image of Yvonne McGruder and a female friend in a bar on Mimas or Titan or whatever on shore leave, and some testosteroned jerk hitting on her friend and not going away, and finally McGruder has enough and slugs him. Then, she and her friend have to beat a hot trail out of the place amid chaos. (Yes, it's possible Lister and Rimmer are there somewhere, on their own sojourn. Lister might see her as some dame fleeing a jerk and throw himself on the guy to hold him back; I sort of envision Rimmer sitting at the bar with his back to it all, studiously ignoring it. *G*)
Anyway, it occurred to me that maybe there's a story there, told in a series of scenes, from her POV, about how she first comes across Rimmer, etc., and up through the point either where she leaves to find her new life as a single mom, or where Michael finally gets to meet Dad ... three million and some years later. So I wrote the first little bit and am in no great hurry for the next scene, so figured I'd post for the hell of it. Unbetaed.
The first time she saw him wasn’t a particularly good time. The vending machine on her floor, in her quadrant, was completely out of chocolate. No matter how much she smacked the heel of her hand against the side and front, it would not dispense so much as a stray, stale M&M. In a PMS fury, she took the drastic step of bypassing a text to Maintenance and phoning the central office directly, barely keeping a civil tone to the desk monkey taking her complaint. Fortunately, it was another woman.
“Someone will be there at the earliest availability,” the employee smoothly assured her.
“Yes, well – there may not be a machine by then.” Vonnie stuck out her bottom lip and blew a short, hard sigh of air up into her bangs. “This isn’t the first time it’s happened, and it’s the wrong time for it to cock up yet again.”
When she provided her name and rank as requested, there was a pause, then a soft chuckle from the other end. “I believe I understand,” the woman said conspiratorially. “I’ll see what we can do.”
Less than thirty minutes later, Vonnie tucked a towel around her and was wrapping her dark hair up in a towel. A tepid shower had done wonders for the on-off-on-oh-my-word hot flashes this time of the month brought. Hearing sustained noise in the corridor, she went to her door and unself-consciously palmed it open to see the source of the fuss. Someone was on one knee in front of the vending machine, across from a couple of doors down, muttering the tail end of something that was probably about self-important twonks who thought their rank should get them chocolate any time of the day or night.
“C’mon, man. What else’ve you got that’s so pressing?” This from another man, leaning casually over the cart while watching the first. “Refilling cigars at the Officers Club?”
“There’s an order to repairs, Lister. Doing them according to time of report is the fairest way to assure they are completed in order of disrepair.”
“Oh?” The one named Lister reached up into the brim of his cap for a cigarette. “What if something’s been broken for a week and someone just found it, but something else was broken first, but reported first? How’s that fair?”
“You’re being deliberately obtuse,” the other technician barked, straightening. “There. It’s fixed.”
Vonnie took the opportunity to stroll down the hall, glad she’d remembered to slip on her thick-soled slippers before stepping out on the metal grating of the walkway. “Ahh, fixing the chocolate, I see?” She stopped a few feet away, hands on her hips.
Both technicians turned, the taller one standing swiftly and jerkily, the one leaning on the cart smoothly and with a widening grin. “Whatever you wanna call me, sweetheart,” he answered lazily.
She felt an eyebrow lift automatically and was about to answer when the other tech hissed at him. “Lister! These are officers’ suites!” The tall, rangy fellow snapped to attention and gave her a weird little circular salute, his spine ramrod. The one called Lister rolled his eyes, and she decided to have a little fun.
“Yes, I am.” She crossed her arms and stared at him expectantly. He stared back, then looked over at the other technician, then straightened from his slouch and managed a halfway decent regular salute. “Ma’am, yes sir, I mean, ma’am-sir.” It was terribly insincere, but she noticed it made the taller tech smirk a little – not unattractively.
She nearly told them to stand down, but instead, padded around behind the taller tech to regard her old metal nemesis. “Chocolate bar, solid, seventy percent cocoa,” she ordered briskly. Something rattled in the narrow tray, and she leaned over to pick it up, glancing sideways at the taller tech’s back. Hmm, nice ass, she thought. Straightening, she confirmed the bar did indeed look like what she’d ordered; just to be sure, she unwrapped one end and took a small bite, circling back around to where she could see both technicians. “Mmm,” she said for their benefit, nodding gladly, licking her lips as she chewed and swallowed – and felt the calming influence of rich cocoa butter almost immediately. “Brilliant, that.”
The one named Lister smiled a little wolfishly, but it was the way the other tech’s face flushed a deep pink that intrigued her. She tried something else. “Thanks for getting to this right away; I’ve had such a hard day, and nothing hits the spot like a block of good, sweet chocolate.” She directed this at the taller one and watched him blink and swallow slowly, with a tiny nod. “I’ll be sure to put in a good word with Ferguson,” she fairly purred, referring to Hollister’s maintenance lieutenant.
Ah, the way that made the tall one’s expression light up! Not a bad smiler, this one, when he put effort into it, even if the transition from stoic to pleased did at first remind her of biting into a lemon. “Thank you, ma- um, Officer,” he answered with only a bit of a squeak.
“What’s your name?”
He glanced to the other man, clearly for help, but Lister was licking the seam of a hand-rolled ciggy and only shrugged, just as clearly amused. He cleared his throat and faced her again, shoulders squared. “Rimmer. Arnold Rim- ah, I mean, Second Technician Arnold Rimmer. First!” he corrected himself. “First Technician. Almost forgot that bit.” He fidgeted a little, but at least the tiny stutter was gone.
The other tech gave her a little nod. “Dave Lister. Not a First Technician.”
She nodded at them both, flashing a smile at the cute one, and turned to head back to quarters. Vonnie had excellent hearing, though.
“Hey Rimmer,you gonna give her a call, man?” Lister stage-whispered.
“Did you see a bloody name tag?” he hissed back, just as clearly trying not to be heard.
“Nope. But I saw plenty else there.”
“Don’t be so crass.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you never are!”
This was still going on when she meandered into her quarters, palmed the door shut, and allowed a full, deep laugh as she leaned over and shook the towel off her longish dark hair.
Well, I might be. But I had two concurrent ideas for Red Dwarf stories, so I thought, what the hell, it's not like I have to meet a paid deadline. I'll start 'em both and see if they go anywhere. (And hey, at least I haven't succumbed to writing "X-Men: First Class" fanfic. Things could be far worse.)
So some of you may have been reading the one I've been posting, that's Listerish/Rimmerish. Well, this one is het - I was listening to some songs one day and Pink's "U + Ur Hand" came on, and it's just a fun song, and I had this mental image of Yvonne McGruder and a female friend in a bar on Mimas or Titan or whatever on shore leave, and some testosteroned jerk hitting on her friend and not going away, and finally McGruder has enough and slugs him. Then, she and her friend have to beat a hot trail out of the place amid chaos. (Yes, it's possible Lister and Rimmer are there somewhere, on their own sojourn. Lister might see her as some dame fleeing a jerk and throw himself on the guy to hold him back; I sort of envision Rimmer sitting at the bar with his back to it all, studiously ignoring it. *G*)
Anyway, it occurred to me that maybe there's a story there, told in a series of scenes, from her POV, about how she first comes across Rimmer, etc., and up through the point either where she leaves to find her new life as a single mom, or where Michael finally gets to meet Dad ... three million and some years later. So I wrote the first little bit and am in no great hurry for the next scene, so figured I'd post for the hell of it. Unbetaed.
The first time she saw him wasn’t a particularly good time. The vending machine on her floor, in her quadrant, was completely out of chocolate. No matter how much she smacked the heel of her hand against the side and front, it would not dispense so much as a stray, stale M&M. In a PMS fury, she took the drastic step of bypassing a text to Maintenance and phoning the central office directly, barely keeping a civil tone to the desk monkey taking her complaint. Fortunately, it was another woman.
“Someone will be there at the earliest availability,” the employee smoothly assured her.
“Yes, well – there may not be a machine by then.” Vonnie stuck out her bottom lip and blew a short, hard sigh of air up into her bangs. “This isn’t the first time it’s happened, and it’s the wrong time for it to cock up yet again.”
When she provided her name and rank as requested, there was a pause, then a soft chuckle from the other end. “I believe I understand,” the woman said conspiratorially. “I’ll see what we can do.”
Less than thirty minutes later, Vonnie tucked a towel around her and was wrapping her dark hair up in a towel. A tepid shower had done wonders for the on-off-on-oh-my-word hot flashes this time of the month brought. Hearing sustained noise in the corridor, she went to her door and unself-consciously palmed it open to see the source of the fuss. Someone was on one knee in front of the vending machine, across from a couple of doors down, muttering the tail end of something that was probably about self-important twonks who thought their rank should get them chocolate any time of the day or night.
“C’mon, man. What else’ve you got that’s so pressing?” This from another man, leaning casually over the cart while watching the first. “Refilling cigars at the Officers Club?”
“There’s an order to repairs, Lister. Doing them according to time of report is the fairest way to assure they are completed in order of disrepair.”
“Oh?” The one named Lister reached up into the brim of his cap for a cigarette. “What if something’s been broken for a week and someone just found it, but something else was broken first, but reported first? How’s that fair?”
“You’re being deliberately obtuse,” the other technician barked, straightening. “There. It’s fixed.”
Vonnie took the opportunity to stroll down the hall, glad she’d remembered to slip on her thick-soled slippers before stepping out on the metal grating of the walkway. “Ahh, fixing the chocolate, I see?” She stopped a few feet away, hands on her hips.
Both technicians turned, the taller one standing swiftly and jerkily, the one leaning on the cart smoothly and with a widening grin. “Whatever you wanna call me, sweetheart,” he answered lazily.
She felt an eyebrow lift automatically and was about to answer when the other tech hissed at him. “Lister! These are officers’ suites!” The tall, rangy fellow snapped to attention and gave her a weird little circular salute, his spine ramrod. The one called Lister rolled his eyes, and she decided to have a little fun.
“Yes, I am.” She crossed her arms and stared at him expectantly. He stared back, then looked over at the other technician, then straightened from his slouch and managed a halfway decent regular salute. “Ma’am, yes sir, I mean, ma’am-sir.” It was terribly insincere, but she noticed it made the taller tech smirk a little – not unattractively.
She nearly told them to stand down, but instead, padded around behind the taller tech to regard her old metal nemesis. “Chocolate bar, solid, seventy percent cocoa,” she ordered briskly. Something rattled in the narrow tray, and she leaned over to pick it up, glancing sideways at the taller tech’s back. Hmm, nice ass, she thought. Straightening, she confirmed the bar did indeed look like what she’d ordered; just to be sure, she unwrapped one end and took a small bite, circling back around to where she could see both technicians. “Mmm,” she said for their benefit, nodding gladly, licking her lips as she chewed and swallowed – and felt the calming influence of rich cocoa butter almost immediately. “Brilliant, that.”
The one named Lister smiled a little wolfishly, but it was the way the other tech’s face flushed a deep pink that intrigued her. She tried something else. “Thanks for getting to this right away; I’ve had such a hard day, and nothing hits the spot like a block of good, sweet chocolate.” She directed this at the taller one and watched him blink and swallow slowly, with a tiny nod. “I’ll be sure to put in a good word with Ferguson,” she fairly purred, referring to Hollister’s maintenance lieutenant.
Ah, the way that made the tall one’s expression light up! Not a bad smiler, this one, when he put effort into it, even if the transition from stoic to pleased did at first remind her of biting into a lemon. “Thank you, ma- um, Officer,” he answered with only a bit of a squeak.
“What’s your name?”
He glanced to the other man, clearly for help, but Lister was licking the seam of a hand-rolled ciggy and only shrugged, just as clearly amused. He cleared his throat and faced her again, shoulders squared. “Rimmer. Arnold Rim- ah, I mean, Second Technician Arnold Rimmer. First!” he corrected himself. “First Technician. Almost forgot that bit.” He fidgeted a little, but at least the tiny stutter was gone.
The other tech gave her a little nod. “Dave Lister. Not a First Technician.”
She nodded at them both, flashing a smile at the cute one, and turned to head back to quarters. Vonnie had excellent hearing, though.
“Hey Rimmer,you gonna give her a call, man?” Lister stage-whispered.
“Did you see a bloody name tag?” he hissed back, just as clearly trying not to be heard.
“Nope. But I saw plenty else there.”
“Don’t be so crass.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you never are!”
This was still going on when she meandered into her quarters, palmed the door shut, and allowed a full, deep laugh as she leaned over and shook the towel off her longish dark hair.
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no subject
Date: 2011-08-03 12:29 am (UTC)I've got an image in my head now of Yvonne sauntering towards Lister and Rimmer, hair in a towel and a flirty gleam in her eyes. Nice. :D
no subject
Date: 2011-08-03 02:52 am (UTC)I think Yvonne has to be fairly aggressive, sexually and otherwise (how else would you get Rimmer into bed?). But my favorite part of the scene was imagining it through Lister's eyes. If I were him, I'd probably have to bite down on something not to laugh.
no subject
Date: 2011-08-03 01:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-03 02:49 am (UTC)I wouldn't mind writing XMFC but damn, every story that can be told is being written already. It's like early POTC fandom, geez. (Not that I'm complaining. I'm a reader. *G*)
no subject
Date: 2011-09-19 06:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-30 04:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-03 05:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-06 10:37 pm (UTC)(Package received today. Will ponder on how to present and/or alter suitably.)
no subject
Date: 2011-09-19 08:25 pm (UTC)Eeeeeee! How did I miss this? Fab stuff! Continue!
no subject
Date: 2011-09-22 04:34 am (UTC)