I suck at titles... ;__;

He showed up at the door of the man's garage in the middle of the night with his skateboard under one arm and his tape player clutched in his hand, other hand holding the stretched, soaked fabric of his faded, black shirt in a futile endeavor to shield his head from the downpour. He didn't bother to knock on the front door. He knew Doc would be in the garage... he always was.

"Great Scott, Marty, what are you doing here this time of night? Get in here before you catch pneumonia!"

The younger man ducked his head under the garage door as the scientist made to pull it down, and just as he was shaking flecks of water out of his hair, much like Einstein had done just moments before when he trotted in behind him. A crackle of lightning split the sky and was followed by a deafening blast fit to make both men's toes vibrate under the oil spotted concrete.

"Or get electricuted..."

Doc shook his head in dismay and tossed Marty a towel.

"You're drenched. You'd better towel off and head for the heater. What on earth possessed you to come over here at-"

A quick glance to one of his watchbands, then the other.

"Eleven thirty seven at night, in the middle of the pouring rain? You should be in bed, don't you have school?"

"I've been a good little boy at school, Daddy, I swear! Can't I have spend a day with you just this once?"

Marty flashed a grin and pulled off his soggy tee shirt, wrapping it around his hands and wringing out a puddle onto the garage floor. Doc wrinkled his nose and rushed over to the DeLorean, diving into the driver's seat and leaned over with a tiny screwdriver, twiddling with the knobs of, to Marty's surprise, the radio. Marty walked over and leaned his head in the car to see what the man was doing.

"Whatcha up to? Since when do you care about whether the radio works or not?"

An irritated glance under the goggles Doc had pushed up his forehead and he lifted a brow in dry humor.

"Since you decided that the accoustics of Van Allen, or whatever they call themselves these days, was much more conductive to our escapades at time travel than, say, the immense energy it drains once the DeLorean hits 88 miles per hour."

Marty tried to keep his poker face but couldn't help but ask the question.

"1.21 gigawhat'sits isn't enough when the radio is involved? Explain, O' Enlightened One of Science Guy... how can that dinky little box affect time travel, when it can't even pick up three stations?"

Doc ran his fingers through his shock of white hair and looked up, eyes widening as little as they flickered over Marty's bare skin before snapping back to the front panel of the car with a light cough. The younger man, absorbed in the ruin of all his hard work, didn't notice the brief rush of pale pink that had bloomed across his friend's cheeks.

Hell, he had spent over a week trying to get the damn thing to pick up the local rock station, not to mention the painstaking task of rewiring the tape player without Doc's knowledge, and now he had to endure their travels completely free of Motley Crue, and, worse still, "Van Allen"...

"You still haven't explained why you risked drowning just to see me in the middle of the night, Marty."

A pair of dark eyes peered in Marty's direction through the window of the DeLorean, but seemed to purposefully stare just past him instead of at him.

"Oh yeah, Mom's kinda hitting the good stuff a little harder than usual tonight and I refuse to watch another episode of that damn Star Trek marathon that Dad's been glued to for the past eight hours. If I have to watch Captain Kirk bang one more green chick I swear I'll lose my mind. Besides, he's not fooling me, I can tell he really has a thing for Spock. I was wondering if I could, you know, hang out here for a while... I can afford to cut school tomorrow anyway and I need a break."

Doc shook his head and frowned a little.

"You're always welcome here, Marty, You know that, but running from your troubles only makes them worse later on..."

He caught the look on the younger's face and sighed, tossing his hands up in resignation.

"Well, I need you to help me with this damned thing, anyway. I never touch it, and I have no earthly idea what you've done here..."

He swiped his hand through his wild hair in frustration and stiffened a bit when Marty climbed into the DeLorean and right over Doc to get to the radio's patchy wiring.

"Aren't you cold at all?"

He asked as he took a shaky breath and struggled to keep his gaze from wandering. He failed.

"Nah, I'm alright, Doc."

He tugged on a wire and they both winced when an unsuspected scream of guitars wailed through the speakers for God Almighty Himself to hear.

Marty ended up sprawled partly outside the vehicle partly across Doc's long legs in his mad lunge to shut off the music and Doc eased his horror by clapping his hands painfully to the sides of his skull and mentally screaming curses and oaths in languages he'd almost forgotten he knew.

The screeching guitar solo had reverted to a loud crackle of static and they both reached out for the volume dial at the same time, much to the scientist's chagrin. Marty's fingers ended up coming in contact with Doc's sleeve and Doc's thumb brushed incidentally over the boy's bare collarbone, damp from the slow drip of water from his hair. Shit.

"I got it..."

Marty laughed as he hit the button and dropped the noise down a few decibles and Doc breathed a sigh of relief, plunging his shaking hands into his coat pockets before they betrayed just how twitchy their closeness made him. The twitchy feeling had always been there during his interaction with the boy... but in the beginning it was just the fact that the Doc was simply unused to human contact.

The twitchy was natural back then. But these days the twitchy was there, magnified tenfold, and whispering suggestions into the man's ears. And at that very moment, it was making those little suggestions even louder. Yodeling it, more like, and the echos were going to get him in the clink for the rest of his natural life for ravishing a minor. Even if it was Marty's birthday in a few weeks. Beautiful.

It hadn't been a sudden occurance at all. Emmett Brown didn't wake up one morning with the knowledge that he had feelings for Marty. Even if he did wake up with the sudden realization that he lusted for him. He certainly hadn't hit his head and had a vision of the boy being madly in love with him, despite the fact that he caught himself indulging this personal scenario (and many other more intimate fantasies) when he least expected it.

Dammit, he was a sixty four year old man. Marty was seventeen. Yet Doc was the one who woke up in the middle of the night sweating and shaking from erotic dreams he had never experienced so vividly even when he himself had been a horomonal teenager. Whenever this happened, he was so confused and aroused to the point of near pain, images of the dream Marty doing the most unspeakably maddening things to him...

It was all he could do not to cry out the boy's name as he reluctantly slid his hand down the front of his pajama trousers.

At first, Emmett had tried to will his desire down the first time it happened. He mentally recited the laws of physics, answered terribly complex algebraic equations in his head. Accurately too, he had thought with dry satisfaction. Marty would have stared at the problems written out on paper and pushed it aside with a negative shake of his head.

And there it was. Right back to Marty and the scene from the dream where he had tossed his head back and wrapped his bare legs around the older man's waist, sucking on the elder's fingers for comfort...

Damn.

A bead of sweat had trickled down his neck to slide down his sternum under the open night shirt and made him think back on his dream and how the boy's tongue had flickered over his breastbone before clamping down on his nipple in a rough bite.

Doc had choked back a gasp and felt his hips twitch when he had slid his thumb over the swollen head of his erection. With all of his knowledge of biology and science and almost every other subject known to God and man, he had so little experience regarding physical pleasure.

It was almost saddening, but love had never been as much of an interest to Emmett as science was. He had never really given it much thought before... certainly not enough to label himself sexually the way society demanded. Male, female, heterosexual, homosexual or both, perhaps neither? At the moment, it hadn't meant a damn thing to Doc.

At the moment, he had been too busy imagining the hand so tentatively stroking his length was Marty's, the fingers pinching his left nipple to the point of exquisite agony belonging to his young protegee. He wasn't sure how to please himself this way on his own. But he could think back on the dream and remember what his dream Marty had done to him.

All he had been able to do was turn his tear streaked face into his pillow and bite down on the coverlet to muffle his yell as his hand was striped with pearly white.

"Doc? Hey, earth to Doc, you there? Yoohoo?"

Marty's fingers snapped smartly from between his friend's eyes and Doc blinked back to the present with a jerk.

"Yes Marty, I'm sorry... what were you saying?"

The brunette grinned and shook his head. "I said that you don't have to worry about the radio anymore."

Doc ran his hand through his flyaway hair and knocked his goggles askew, noting with a pang of relief and regret that Marty had slid out of his lap while he had been reminescing. Then he noticed the radio wires and frowned.

''Marty, the thing is still wired to the time machine, why didn't you disconnect them?"

"Because the thing just died on me. I figured it had just given it's life so that you may live without Van Halen."

He shrugged and Doc fidgeted, averting his eyes from the boy's naked torso and the way the water from his hair still dripped down his smooth skin. Marty narrowed his eyes as he watched the older man furrow his brow, clamped his teeth down on the plastic handle of the little screwdriver, and poke delicately at the wires, deliberately avoiding looking at him.

"Doc, what is it? You've barely said anything to me since I got here and you won't even look at me!"

Doc's frown grew deeper and he poked even more fervently at the wires.

"There is nothing wrong, I'm just a bit preoccupied lately. This damned radio has been interfering with-"

The younger man opened his mouth to cut off the scientist's oncoming ranting but was cut off by a crackle of electricity from the wires running into Doc's hand, the deafening crash of thunder outside and the sudden pitch of darkness that was power outage surrounding them entirely.

Both cried out in surprise and Marty hear the dull thump of Doc's back hitting the leather seat of the passenger side and the crack of the back of his head against the window.

"Doc! Doc, you alright! Hey!"

Silence for a moment then,

"Uuuunnnhhnn....Damn."

It was official. Marty was freaked.

"Hey, Doc, you still alive?! That was a nasty thud I heard!"

He reached out in his friend's direction and felt his hand press down on Doc's chest. The left side, judging by the escalating thud of his heart under his palm. Good.

"Goddammit, Doc, say something!"

A sharp tap on the older's man face caused him to stir a bit before Marty heard a low groan and felt a hand slide blindly up his shoulder, across his neck to rest shakily on his lips.

"Lower....your decibles...."

"I like the decibles where they are!"

Another shriek of lightening and Marty nervously shifted up slightly and closed the open door of his side of the DeLorean.

"Doc, is your head okay?"

He asked as he partly stood and edged closer before his foot caught the scientist's neglected goggles, slipped, and came down completely across Doc's body with an audible "OOF!", knee wedged uncomfortably between his friend's thighs.

"Aaawww, shit. Have I killed you yet? I'm trying not to, I really am..."

The warm body under him moved and Marty struggled to get off but the older man had clamped his hand on his naked waist and held him still.

"Don't move. The slightest jolt makes my head spin. Just...be still, alright? Give me a moment..."

Oh, it was the biggest, most incredible lie ever told and they both knew it. And, perversely, they both accepted it. Marty knew exactly what was wrong with Doc the moment he felt the man's fingers brush across his collarbone, saw the look in his eyes and it ignited a little flame in his brain.

Doc Brown wanted him.

Emmett Brown, who could win a scientific debate with Albert Einstein and still be unsatisfied with his own side of the arguement, couldn't even be comfortable around Marty when his shirt was off. It was strange...and so incredibly sweet...

Of all the people in the world who had ignored Marty, or just wrote him off as another nobody, another no-good punk, Doc had been the only person who treated him like a decent person aside from his family, and they usually ignored him in order to wallow in their own misery.

He had never spoken to Marty like he wasn't intelligent. In fact, Doc almost constantly rambled on about his latest experiments to the boy as if he could understand every word that was passing by his lips. It was completely different from what Marty was used to. It was pretty obvious that Doc was lonely and Marty had been like a fresh breeze in a sweltering desert to him.

It was odd that the only real friend the man had ever really had was a seventeen year old boy, and Marty had heard people tell him more than once that Emmett Brown was a loony and should be avoided at all costs, that Marty shouldn't be hanging around him because the scientist's eccentricities would only rub on off Marty. He sneered in the dark. Those bastards didn't know a damn thing about anything. For all Marty cared, they all could go to hell.

He pressed a shaky, unsure hand to Doc's chest, feeling the heartbeat through the warm cashmere sweater and labcoat and lowered his head closer to his friend.

"Doc..."

He sucked in a breath.

"Don't say it... I already know..."

Marty bit his lip and pressed his forehead to Doc's, drawing a startled gasp.

"Oh, no you don't. You have no idea..."