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secondtechnicianrimmer · 1 day

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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: Suggestive content

Chapter Fourteen: Starbuggin’

It had been a nice day.

This wasn’t particularly notable or odd; you’d settled very happily into life aboard Red Dwarf, and now Starbug. It’s just that the general day-to-day usually tended to involve running from an insane creature, something exploding, and quite a lot of arguing. Boredom was often just as dangerous. But, so far, today had been lovely.

You had been lying on your bunk for most of the afternoon, a book raised above your head, your arms outstretched in front of you. There wasn’t much to do in the tiny ship; thankfully you’d thought to stock up on activities before you lost Red Dwarf.

When the position grew too tiring, you lowered your arms until your elbows rested on the mattress, the book now too close to be comfortable, but you didn’t mind.

Across the room, at a low table in the centre of the sleeping quarters, Rimmer was sat with his hands inside a perspex box. He’d had it for years apparently. Kryten had found the specifications in the holosuite a few months after he came back to the ship. Rimmer had never really found a lot of use for it. Now, all you had was time, and Rimmer was finally setting some aside to enjoy himself.

Inside the Holo-Box, heavy black gloves covered his hands, allowing Rimmer to gingerly cradle an old-fashioned Airfix model.

As he carefully dabbed a paintbrush against the side of something called a Spitfire, you smiled fondly to yourself.

Yes, it had been a lovely day.

“I’m gonna say it.”

Rimmer didn’t even bother looking up.

“Don’t.”

“I’m gonna.”

“I’m concentrating.”

With a sigh, you turned back to your book.

“I just think you should know-”

“Darling…”

“You’re much artsier than you give yourself credit for!”

Rimmer finally turned his head towards you, very obviously trying hard not to roll his eyes. He’d always been a bit softer with you, and lately he’d been trying harder to be less of a dick, but he still had trouble sometimes.

“This isn’t art,” he said firmly. “This is… Engineering.”

Your fond smile only grew.

“You’re painting model aeroplanes, Arn.”

“Exactly! Aeroplanes. That’s technical stuff!”

He was so determined to ignore any sense of his own creativity, you almost didn’t want to argue with him. Almost.

Plus he looked handsome today, and who were you to argue with Rimmer when he looked so good? His short-sleeved red shirt was enticingly soft, and those braces pulled tight over his broad shoulders constantly played on your mind. Sometimes, you came close to asking him to put his puffy uniform jacket on, because the sight of his lithe forearms and strong chest was almost too much to bear.

“Okay,” You shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

You turned over on the bed so that you lay on your stomach, keeping your book open with your fingertips pressed against the twin swells of its pages.

“But maybe if you explored your creative side rather than berating yourself for not passing exams about things your brain doesn’t compute as well…”

Half-smiling and doing a bad job of hiding it, Rimmer shot you a weary look.

“That’s enough therapy out of you, Lefty. Let me concentrate.”

Grinning, you turned back to your book.

“Yes, dear.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Rimmer’s back straighten, just a little.

There had been a marked shift in his confidence, in the general way he held himself, since your matching confessions that night. You hadn’t noticed it immediately, Rimmer had always been a little gentler about himself when it was you he was talking to, he’d learnt his lesson, so it took you a while to realise the change.

You couldn’t touch him, but there were a thousand other ways to show your affection. So far, you’d discovered that warm words, sweet names, and soft compliments worked the best. They made Rimmer’s shoulders sink, his jaw relax, as if just having someone be kind to him for once in his life was enough to loosen the vice around his chest. And he smiled more now. That was perhaps your favourite thing of all.

You turned your head and watched him work. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his curls falling across his forehead. There, at the corner of his mouth, his tongue was sticking out ever-so-slightly.

You let out a sigh, long and deep, and sank further into the bed. Folding your arms over your book, you rested your head there and silently watched Rimmer work, just enjoying the sight of him relaxed, comfortable, happy.

What you wouldn’t give to run your hands over those strong shoulders, to slip your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck and tug slightly, just to see what he’d do. You couldn’t help imagining Rimmer’s eyes rolling back into his head, his taut back arching as you slipped into his lap and rocked your hips against his. He really was torture sometimes.

“What’s your book about?”

Your mind still swimming with thoughts of all the lovely sounds Rimmer might make as you grazed your teeth against his neck, it took you a moment to realise what he’d asked

You hummed, trying to cast your mind back. You couldn’t even recall the title of the novel you stole from a chef’s quarters all the way down on C Deck.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you admitted. “I haven’t been concentrating, really.”

“Hm? What were you thinking about?”

“You.”

You beamed at Rimmer when he turned to look at you, surprised.

“Me?”

You hummed, smiling.

“Y’know. What it’ll be like when I finally get to kiss you. Touch you.”

A pink tinge made its way across Rimmer’s cheeks and down his neck, almost blending into his bright red shirt. He visibly gulped, obviously thinking along the same lines as you. Then he looked back down at his model aeroplane, at the lengths he had to go to for something so simple.

“You really believe that’ll happen?” he asked softly.

“Don’t you?”

“I… I’m not sure. I used to. I hope it does.”

Rimmer went quiet then, his gaze still fixed on his model.

You carefully closed your book and slipped off the bed, curling up in the chair beside his instead.

“It will,” you said firmly. “I know it will. And until then, I have a very active imagination.”

To your delight, that made Rimmer glance up. He raised his eyebrows, a smirk tugging gently at the corner of his mouth.

“Is that so?”

You hummed and watched Rimmer’s gaze grow unfocused.

“You just wait. And, I mean, there’s always Better Than Life? I could touch you there, couldn’t I? We could have all sorts of fun.”

You watched, beaming, as his cheeks, then his ears, slowly began to turn bright red. Oh, he was fun. It was almost too easy, but it was fun.

Rimmer was sweet but he would always have a stick up his arse, it’s just how he was raised. Getting a physical reaction out of him, especially when he didn’t even have a proper physical presence, was always a brilliant game.

You leaned over the table a little more, sliding your elbow across its surface and resting there in his eye-line, so that he couldn’t help but look at you.

“Oh, Arnie, you’re blushing.”

“I am not.”

“You are!”

Shaking his head, Rimmer tried very hard to pretend to concentrate on his model.

“I don’t think I can blush.”

“Oh, honey,” You grinned. “You definitely can.”

He shot you another weary look but he was still smiling.

“It’s a lovely idea,” he spoke with an unexpected gentleness. “But I think I’d rather wait.”

“Hm?”

“When I kiss you, I want it to be real. I want to be able to feel you properly.”

The air in the room shifted. Suddenly, you couldn’t remember what you’d been teasing him about.

All around you, outside the emerald, pockmarked hull of your adopted home, galaxies and stars whirled around each other, intertwining and exploding and dying and creating, over and over again. And here, in your stark grey quarters, in the middle of it all, Rimmer wanted to kiss you so badly, he was willing to wait for the impossible.

You watched as his smile grew. Rimmer’s eyes were fixed somewhere near your mouth, any vain attempts to hold your gaze long-forgotten.

Laughing softly, you pressed the backs of your fingers to your cheek.

“You’re going to make me blush.”

“Well, now, there’s a turn up for the books.”

Rimmer looked pleased with himself. Again, you considered how far he’d come. It wasn’t enough just to show him some positive reinforcement. Even when the boys were kind to him, Rimmer either didn’t think he deserved it or refused to believe they were being genuine. It had taken a lot of time, effort, and soft words to cultivate that lovely smile.

“I don’t mind waiting, you know.”

You nodded your head to the side, gesturing for him to remove his right arm from the Holo-Box.

“I love you, Arn. I don’t need anything physical. Even though I am constantly insanely horny.”

As you slipped your hand inside the leather glove, Rimmer gaped at you.

“I really do that to you?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yes, actually!”

Your fingers now safely nestled inside the thick, sturdy glove, you twisted your wrist and tapped your index finger against the back of Rimmer’s hand.

“Well, you do. I’m always thinking about you.”

He flinched. You couldn’t blame him, it had been so long since he’d been able to touch, Rimmer was probably starting to forget what it felt like.

The Psymoon where you'd first kissed felt a million years ago now. Every second since had been filled with a dull ache, a wistfulness for something you weren’t able to really appreciate at the time.

You could half remember how he tasted, that his lips were soft and that his hands had felt heavy and awkward and painfully endearing as they hung from your hips. It was wonderful, but so quick and full of fear. You’d give anything to have another go.

Slowly, carefully, so as not to overwhelm him, you slipped your hand around Rimmer’s and awkwardly fitted your fingers together, fidgeting left and right until finally, your gloved hands interlaced.

“You should know by now, honey. I’ve got all sorts of ideas,” you said, grinning.

As if transfixed, Rimmer stared at your entwined hands. A muscle, slim and overworked, twitched in his jaw as he swallowed hard.

What it must be like to have no senses to guide you. He couldn’t taste his favourite foods, couldn’t read his favourite books, couldn’t leave Starbug without a hollow tug in his chest.

Ever since you lost Red Dwarf, the fear of shut down had been hanging over your heads. Whenever the old ship met a new threat to its survival, you could feel cold dread seeping through your veins, long after you knew you were safe. And you couldn’t comfort each other.

Worst of all, with everything he’d spat about his family over the years, you didn’t think Rimmer had ever known a gentle touch. And now he finally had someone who wanted to take care of him, to love him, and he couldn’t feel it.

Well, you’d never been one to back down from an argument, and arguing with the universe was about all you had, three million years from home.

Rimmer’s fingers tightened between yours, then folded, his fingertips resting against the back of your hand.

“Better Than Life is looking more and more appealing,” he mused.

You squeezed his hand.

“I think you’re right.”

“Another turn up for the books. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

“We should wait,” you went on, laughing softly. “Just think how good it’s going to feel when I finally get to touch you.”

“Oh believe me, I do. Often.” Rimmer raised his eyebrows. “Several times a day.”

That made your heart trip over itself in its hurry.

It wasn’t like you to be shy around Rimmer. He was ridiculous, it was impossible to be intimidated by him or to ever feel like you didn’t have the upper hand. You could tease him all you liked, annoy him, laugh with him, but it was all a distraction from just how much you really, properly fancied the pants off him. And as embarrassing as it was, sometimes he did manage to fluster you.

It was rare that you’d admit it, though. Somehow, Rimmer managed to maintain a massive ego despite also carrying more self-hatred than anyone you’d ever met. He was complicated, but loving him wasn’t, and neither was finding him so stupidly fit, it did seem like some kind of cosmic karma that you couldn’t shove him onto his back and ride him till the bunk’s slats snapped.

But then something Lister had once suggested popped into your head. It had seemed stupid at the time, back when you were sure there was more chance of Kryten fancying you than Rimmer. But now…

“Well, you know,” You squeezed his hand again, finding the gloves awkward and uncomfortable, but you were grateful all the same. “We can’t touch each other but… We can touch ourselves. That could be fun.”

Rimmer looked like he might pass out, then suddenly he was beaming like a kid at Christmas.

“You mean… You’d want to..?”

“Yes, Arnie.” You leaned closer until your nose was almost pressed against his, your lips forced to stay just millimetres from touching. “I want you.”

You meant to say ‘to’. I want to. But ‘you’ was more accurate anyway, and it made Rimmer’s eyes slide shut with a sigh.

You watched his chest rise and fall heavily beneath his scarlet shirt, watched the fingers of his free hand tighten over the curve of his knee.

When he finally opened his eyes again, they were clouded with a kind of frustration you’d both come to accept. This was life now. Loving but never touching.

“So,” You smiled as you tilted your head the other way, your gaze fixed on Rimmer’s mouth. “Are you going to come back to bed with me, love? Or are you going to keep playing with your aeroplane all on your own?”

Rimmer stood up so fast, you were sure he would’ve knocked the table over if he’d been able to.

At exactly the same moment, a shrieking alarm pierced through the thick atmosphere, tearing it in two.

Rimmer groaned.

“Smegging hell.”

The lights flickered, then died altogether with a sickening whoosh.

You whipped around, your heart in your mouth. For a moment, you were back on the Atalanta, terrified and alone. But Rimmer’s voice sparked like a Catherine wheel in the dark. You followed the sound of your name, half blind with fear, until he’d brought you back to reality.

The lights blinked back to life, unsteady and anaemic, but enough to see by as you charged through to Starbug’s tiny cockpit, where the others were already seated.

“What’s going on?” you asked breathlessly.

“Swirly thing alert!

Cat was at the main joystick, while Lister jabbed at the communications and navigation controls.

“Where?” he asked, frantically searching for something, anything, out there in the dark.

Cat shook his head.

“It’s not on the radar yet but I can smell it.”

Kryten took his place at the rear, overseeing the shipboard systems and long-range sensors. You stayed in the doorway, watching over Rimmer’s shoulder as his short-range sensor readers remained blank.

“Nothing here,” he reported back.

“Nothing on long-range,” Kryten agreed. “Sir, is it possible you could have made a mis-smelling?

Immediately and predictably, they fell about arguing. As Cat took umbrage at Kryten’s suggestion, Rimmer and Lister began to bicker over whether stepping up to Blue Alert was worth the effort of flicking the switch.

Still stuck in the gangway without a seat, you clutched the doorframe, your arms out at your sides like a bird in flight, and prayed that whatever was out there would just bugger off so you could go back to seducing your boyfriend. One day of peace, was that really too much to ask for?

“Wait!” Kryten suddenly cried. “I've got something. I'm punching it up.”

Leaning over Rimmer to see his monitor better, you held your breath.

Set against the stars and the endless cold night, a bright orange streak ricocheted across the screen. If there hadn’t been so many alarms flaring, you might’ve thought it was a comet.

“Too small for a vessel,” Lister said. “Maybe some kind of missile?”

“A missile?” You frowned. “Who would fire a missile at us? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

Kryten shook his head.

“It's impossible to tell at this range. Whatever it is, they clearly have a technology way in advance of our own!”

“So do the Albanian State Washing Machine Company.”

Working as a team, Lister and Cat steered Starbug out of harm’s way. The little ship groaned as it suddenly jerked onto a different path but did as it was told.

You gripped the back of Rimmer’s chair, your gaze fixed on the monitor.

“Arn…”

He looked up at you, his jaw set. You could see he was frightened but he forced a grim smile.

You hadn’t told the others yet. It wasn’t a concious thought, you just didn't act any differently around each other and the boys hadn’t noticed. You weren’t sure if that said more about how long you’d so obviously been infatuated with each other, or about their observational skills.

He wanted to comfort you but there wasn’t time. You wanted to kiss Rimmer’s cheek and tell him he was doing well, but you couldn’t. Instead, you shared a thin smile and prayed this wouldn’t be it.

“You should buckle in, darling.” He nodded back into Starbug’s hold, where there were plenty of safer places to stand. “This might get-”

As if to prove his point, the ship rolled to the left, throwing you against the doorframe.

Instinctively, uselessly, Rimmer’s hand shot out to grab yours.

“It's still with us!” Lister cried. “It's some kind of heat-seeker. We can't outrun it!”

The ship rocked again, then heaved a sickly groan as it veered onto yet another course.

Rimmer looked pale.

“What on Io was that?”

“Some kind of suction beam. We're being dragged down!”

Next Chapter

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#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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