Disclaimer:
We do not know Craig Charles or Chris Barrie; we only know the public image they present in various public appearances. This is an entirely fictional story, wherein is presented fictionalized versions of those publicly projected personalities. What is presented in this story does not necessarily reflect what I think even of those projected images. What the actors themselves are like, we have not a clue, and furthermore, it is none of our business. We would never suggest or presume to know anything about them, or their personal lives. Rather, this story takes their images and plays with them within a fictionalized universe. It is a fantasy, and nothing more. The same goes for any and all names and/or public personas used and/or mentioned in this story.

We are just fangirls with too much imagination, and we mean no harm.


Reshooting. Never a good feeling. Always a bit oh oh-yes-you-weren't-quite-good-enough, like when you're having sex, and you think you're done, and the bird gives you that I'm-not-finished look. Chris was therefore disinclined to be in a good mood. The foreboding sky, hardly a match for the scenes before, and Ed's constant call for retakes, were not helping. Chris just wanted this to be over, and of course that could not help but come through in his performance, wrecking the take, dragging this out, making him want even more for it to be over...

Deep breath, Chris. Stop the cycle. Ed called a break to consult with the crew about the weather, and Chris took the moment to breathe. He leaned back against the wall, cracking his knuckles. Craig walked over, his hands in his pockets. "Damn scene," Chris muttered. "One line."

Talking to me now then, Craig thought, slightly surprised to be addressed. He wasn't quite sure yet what Chris wanted from him now. Quite frankly, he wasn't sure about a lot of things when it came to Chris. Bloody confusing, stuck-up git. "Oh, eh." He cast sideways glances at Chris as the other man looked down at his clothes with resignation. Damn good-looking git though, at that.

Chris noticed the direction of Craig's stare, and his mouth quirked. "How do I look?" he asked, straightening his crappy costume with faux earnestness.

Craig gave Chris a look up and down, trying to keep his face neutral. Well. What could you say? "Tweedy." He kept the facade up for about five seconds, then collapsed into a snorting giggle. How did Chris manage to stay deadpan for hours at a time? "Nah, man, you look fine."

A quick laugh escaped Chris despite himself. "Thanks. You're looking very Listery yourself." He knew he was making horrid conversation. He didn't care. He felt rather horrid.

"Ye think so, eh?" Craig crossed his arms over his chest. 'Listery'? What the hell did that mean? He kept trying to tell people he wasn't like Lister.

"Lovely boxers those were, but it's a bit chilly for them." His own costume was far too hot, even for the cool weather. Or maybe he had just gotten used to acting in underwear. Craig's proximity was making him even more nervous about the scene, for some reason, and he rubbed his hands together briskly.

Craig laughed a little, because what else could he do. This was beyond awkward. What the hell did Chris want? "Yeah, I'm glad they didn't make me wear 'em." He looked at Chris's hands. "You cold?" Somehow, Chris being cold made him feel cold too.

"No." Chris glanced over at Danny, somewhat nervously. The man seemed to be off in a conversation with one of the crew members, joking and laughing heartily. Chris did not know why he felt so nervous around the man, lately. The way Chris would catch Danny looking at him and Craig, sometimes, when they left to wind their way to Chris's place, very drunk... no matter. That was all in the past. "What are you doing after?" he asked Craig. Being matey and friendly wasn't in the past, after all, and Chris had no desire to shuffle his way home after this shoot was done. Whenever it would bleeding well be done.

Dammit, why did such a simple question make him perk up like a happy puppy? Craig felt disgusted with himself, but no less excited. This was a surprise. "Erm... I..." Just say something, you idiot. But what if he said something wrong, made a fool out of himself in front of Chris? "Dunno." Yeah, that made you look well smart, that did. Tosser.

"We should head out after. Have a drink. Warm up." Even Chris could tell that his voice was brassy, overly chilly. Well, he was in a mood, after all. No need to appear more delighted about the circumstances than he actually was.

A drink. Yeah, but hang on, that didn't mean anything anymore, did it? Craig licked his lips, unaware that he was doing it. "Yeah. Yeah... We could do that. Should. We should do that."

Despite his mood, Chris could not help smiling at Craig's unconscious gesture. He could be so sodding adorable, sometimes, his looks belying his age and experience. Experience... in show business. Chris looked down at his feet. "If we ever get this bloody scene to His Edness's standards."

Craig looked up, his face somewhat askew. "Wasn't that bad, I thought." He didn't understand what the problem was; it was only one word! Since when couldn't Chris handle just one word?

Chris shrugged. Wasn't that bad? It was wooden. Almost painfully artificial. "Er, stilted, I think."

Craig nodded. Whatever. He just wanted this to be over with. Then they could go... drinking. Yeah.

"Supposed to be a moment of... vulnerability." He looked at his feet. That was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? It was easy to be vulnerable when it was a part. If Craig would only be Lister, it would be simplicity itself to be Rimmer, to be vulnerable and clueless and helpless. But no, the camera was over Craig's shoulder, and so he thought he had no responsibility to act. He would give Chris that stony, sarcastic look that was so very Craig, and Rimmer fled from Chris's mind. And so the scene came out... like crap.

This was stupid; Chris seemed almost anxious! Chris! Oh, Craig would never let him hear the end of this. "Not nervous, are ya?" What was there to be nervous about? Damn straight that Craig wasn't nervous, no sir! He could do real difficult things like standing entirely still in fields for ages, he could. It was called 'acting', that; Chris should try it some time.

Chris frowned. "Trying to get in touch with my inner vulnerability," he said, trying to let sarcasm saturate his voice. And you are not helping one bit.

Craig kept looking, calmly. The silence made Chris look up, and he saw Craig looking at him. What was this? He raised a questioning eyebrow. Craig smiled faintly. Chris twisted his lip. "Right."

"We gonna do this right then, and get out of here?"

Get out of here. Leave the characters behind for a while, and just be ourselves. Not a bad thought, that. "Yes..." Chris cringed as that came out almost... breathy.

Craig was about to say something, but he was left standing with his mouth slightly open. What was this about? What kind of mind-game was Chris playing? Was he trying to turn Craig on, or something? Well, that wasn't going to work. He'd just stand there, that's what Craig'd do. Stand there and be demonstratively unshaken. Yeah. That'd teach him.

Chris found he could not look away from that mouth, unless he looked in Craig's eyes, and flitted back and forth between the two. There was no Lister here, at all. Just Craig, as brash as ever, almost daring Chris to do the scene. Him, not Lister, standing right there. Standing with his mouth almost open. Soft lips, a long tongue inside. Nothing Chris needed to bother with, anymore, but they were rather interesting to look at.

"Am..." Craig coughed slightly. Chris was starting to creep him out. "Am I doing something to set you off wrong? Or..." he added lamely, "something?"

"Oh..." Chris was startled to find that his mind had been drifting. He brought it back to the present. Set him off? God, Craig was doing everything to set him off wrong. Throwing away any pretense of acting, sitting there, staring, making Chris act with nothing. But no matter, was it? Chris was a fucking professional. He could do one goddam line without Craig's help. "No, no, not at all. Just me. Yes."

"Oh, eh. Right then."

Chris looked out at the crew, who seemed to be getting their shit together, finally. "Let's see if I," he could not help stressing that 'I,' "can do this right."

Hah, right Chris! That was real subtle that was! You'd have to be a right idiot not to catch that jibe. Craig tried to snigger discreetly, but realized rather quickly that there was no such thing. Still, he managed to keep most of it in.

Chris glanced over, frowning. "What?"

"Nothing." Craig's answer, at least, was deadpan. He was getting better at this; it was spending all that time. With... With Chris. Yeah.

What the hell was the man on about? No matter. No matter any of it. Acting with a block of wood. He could do it. One line, just one line; get it right, Chris, and you can call an end to this already-far-too-long day and go get a fecking drink. His frown smoothed out as he walked to his mark.

Craig followed, to his mark. And that was where he'd bloody well stand, until the cows came home. Damn straight.


Chris reached over and grabbed Craig's arms. Lister's arms, he reminded himself, but dammit, it was still Craig, with sauciness and cockiness slathered over his face, almost daring. Daring him to do what, Chris did not know, but he was bloody sick of this! Give me something to work with, he tried to plead, god damn it, Craig, give me something to work with! Desperation started to saturate him, and the one word he had to say dribbled out of his lips in a pathetic squeak. Hell, we've fucked it up again, and don't you care? Chris found himself coming closer, closer, yet closer to Craig, as if the man would finally see if he were close enough - until he came back to himself, pressed up against Craig, his own nose pressed to the young scouser's. Touching. Craig's lips were only a hair's breadth from his, and their breaths were mingling. God, they were close, and a new desperation was building up inside of Chris, one that had nothing to do with the show or with Rimmer or Lister, or Ed or the crew standing around. His lips quivered as he realized that all he would have to do would be to move one fraction closer, and their lips would touch, and the things that would happen then that they had agreed would never happen again...


Oh, now... This was something else!

Craig struggled to keep deadpan as Chris grabbed his arms, pressing close against him, and reminding him of times spent in an very different location, entirely without cameras. This certainly wasn't in the script, he thought, as Chris pressed their faces close enough together for their noses to touch, a desperate, very familiar look in his eyes.

Yes, Craig knew that look. It was the look Chris would get when they were on their way to his place from the pub. The look he would get as Craig suggested that he should probably get home, and Chris would turn towards him looking like that, and well... what could Craig do but follow him inside?

Oh, but we've agreed, haven't we, Chris? Craig felt the corners of his mouth curl upwards slightly, and fought hard to keep them down. Yeah, Chris had made it pretty clear they weren't doing this anymore, with his eyes, with suggestive words, with not-quite-said sentences. So what was he on about? Couldn't keep his hands off, eh? Funny that. Hilarious!

Still...

No, it was funny. Craig didn't care. So what if Chris wanted him? Craig was stronger than that. He had this little thing called willpower. Yeah, ever heard of that, eh Chris, he shouted, mentally, as those fascinating eyes drew even closer. As those lips quivered oh-so-close to his. As he felt his own tongue slip towards the front of his mouth, as if it knew better than him what was coming. Shit. No. He could resist. He would resist, dammit!

Where was the 'cut'? Why the hell wasn't anyone yelling 'cut'?


"Cut." Ed smiled. "Nice one, lads."