Chapter Text
Rimmer, unbearably, found it necessary to schedule his Me-Time, despite 1) the staggeringly cosmic solitude of their situation, and 2) the fact that a grown man having "Me-Time" sounds deeply perverse. Rimmer's customary "Thursday night Me-Time" was scheduled to begin at 20:00. Lister's customary "barge in on Rimmer to catch him doing something embarrassing" time began at 20:11 sharp, a time carefully selected to lull Rimmer into a false sense of security. He tiptoed up Starbug's rickety stairwell to their shared bunk and quickly opened the door.
"Oi!" Rimmer exclaimed, slamming his book cover-side down on the bunk. "Get out, Lister! You know I schedule this hour as my-"
"Yeah, yeah, your smegging girly wank hour, I know." Lister nodded.
"It is not!" Rimmer replied in a shrill voice. "Alone time is vital to- to hone the mind! To sharpen one's iron wits! To-"
"To buff the bishop, to choke the chicken, and to furiously flick your smegging bean?"
"You're a sick one, Lister."
"You're the sicko, mate. Who wanks to a book?" Lister asked, swiping the offending item off the bunk. Upon closer inspection, the book was small and paperback, well-used, the edges of the pages feather-soft. Lister absentmindedly ran his thumb down the side as he read aloud from the back cover.
"Captain Arthur Rimsworth of Kentlingshire has no interest in marriage nor the petty dramas of the townsfolk. But when a scandal threatens his family's reputation, the roguishly handsome Viscount Davis Listwood may be his only hope. As the unlikely pair fall deeper together into a tangled web of secrets, will the Viscount's charisma and the Captain's unspoken desires lead them down a treacherous path, or will their pursuit of truth find them at the precipice of ultimate ecstasy?"
There was a pause, but Rimmer recovered faster, snatching the book from Lister's grasp. "Give me that, you nosey, overfed gerbil!" he shrieked.
Lister was frozen in place. He recognized those names. How did he recognize them? What other time had he ever encountered any Regency era bodice ripper romance? Had they made a movie version? Or-
Smeg.
His favorite VR game The Viscount's Seduction.
There are times in life to be honest, and there are times to be a hypocrite. Lister enthusiastically opted for choice B, figuring that mockery was the only way of getting through this conversation without revealing his rather intimate knowledge of the events of the story.
"Ooh, Rimmer," Lister laughed uncomfortably, "this takes your girly wanking to another level, man. Getting off to some hand-holding tossers from the eighteenth century?"
"Nineteenth century, you swine. And for your information, this is a highly educational piece of historical military fiction."
"Oh, I'm sure. Teaching you how to work a big musket, eh?"
"Shut up."
"How to handle all those balls?"
Rimmer swatted him with the book. "Get out of my room!"
"Our room," Lister reminded him, grinning as he sidestepped out of whacking distance and into the doorway.
"Leave! Shoo! Don't you have some fungus to be growing?"
"Nah, that's Wednesdays. Thursday nights are for me-time," Lister winked, closing the door on his way out. The pen that Rimmer had chucked at Lister's head pinged off the metal door.
Rimmer sighed, opening his book to his bookmark (an old astronavigation studying notecard, covered back to front in squashed copperplate handwriting and incomprehensible equations). It had just been getting good, and that smeghead had to burst in and ruin the moment. Rimmer shook his head and resumed reading.
Arthur sat in his drawing room, perched uncomfortably on a chaise longue. His mother was sat opposite him in a high-backed floral chair which Arthur had always hated, centrally due to its crime of being the preferred seat of his hateful mother. She was openly glaring at him, all pretense of them reading in silence forgotten, and her mouth had just opened to no-doubt begin her relentless upbraiding of his entire existence when the door burst open. It was none other than Davis, trailed by a bemused butler.
"Viscount Davis Listwood, sir and madam," the butler announced wearily, closing the door.
Wordlessly, Arthur's mother stood and vacated the room as well, leaving Arthur and the Viscount alone.
"My entrance was uncouth. I see I have offended the lady. Please give her my sincerest apologies," the Viscount said, his dark eyes meeting Arthur's in a searching gaze.
"In all honesty, I ought to be thanking you. She was moments away from a monologue that could've incinerated me where I stand."
"Shame," Davis replied, a sly grin tugging at his full lips. "You're the kind that needs some melting."
Rimmer let out another sigh. If only he were marooned in space with a true gentleman like the Viscount, instead of a man whose idea of a romantic evening involved blowing snot into his own shirt because he cried at the ending of Pretty Woman again.