Personal Belongings
By Flaming Trails
A BTTF: PreTime/1955 Story
Disclaimer: I don't own BTTF. If I did, BTTF quotations would become part of our national vocabulary.
Notes: Written for the November BackToTheFanfic LJ challenge. This was inspired by the deleted scene where Doc55 goes through his future self's suitcase and some scene ideas I was having for another upcoming story, "Dusky Past." I have a bit of a dirty mind, as you can see. My friend Moose came up with the green boxer design.
Wednesday, November 9th, 1955
Hill Valley
1:34 P.M.
Doc watched from the garage doorway as Marty McFly drove his car to George McFly's house. After that little fiasco yesterday, with Lorraine pressuring Marty into taking her to the dance, Marty and Doc had needed come up with a new plan fast. Marty had finally hit upon the idea of pretending to get a little too 'personal' with Lorraine when they arrived at the high school, and having George come up and punch him out to 'rescue' Lorraine. Given Lorraine's attraction to strong men, it would be an excellent way for them to meet. "And hopefully, he'll pull out whatever kissing magic he had the first time and convince her to stay with him," Marty had summed up. "Otherwise, we're in big trouble."
It wasn't a perfect plan by any means, but it was the best one they had. Marty was heading out to catch George after school today and coach him on his role in the proceedings. Doc sighed as his Packard disappeared. Great Scott, I hope this works. With George McFly, it's going to be touch-and-go all the way.
He supposed that he should go inside and keep himself busy until Marty returned. Should I continue work on our Operation: Clock Tower? he wondered, shutting the door. He looked over at the model still sitting on his work table. No, I worked out everything I could before giving Marty that demonstration yesterday. It's in the hands of the fates now. Maybe watch that video again? He looked over at the TV and camcorder, then shuddered. No, I don't think so. That video frankly gives me the shakes. And it seemed to disturb Marty quite a bit as well. I wonder what in the name of Sir Isaac H. Newton happened at the end? What could have made my older self that scared all of a sudden? Doc frowned and shook his head. No. I can't ask those questions without learning potentially damning things about my future! Besides -- he looked over at the TV again -- I'm not sure if I want to know the answers.
His eyes strayed over to the DeLorean. Over the past few days, he'd been getting some strong urges to go inside and examine the inner workings of the time machine. It'll be fine, a little voice urged him. You built the darned thing. You'll forgive yourself for poking around a little. And it'll give you a head start on your designs. Go ahead and have a look.
No! Doc snapped at himself mentally. I can't! Besides the obvious possible repercussions on the future, what if I damage something? That would be a fun conversation with Marty. And even if it does help me with my design, I'll be frustrated by the incorporation of so much not-yet-invented technology! I did my poking around when I built the lightning channeler components. No more.
Still, the urge to investigate the car and learn some more about his future self and his inventions was getting nearly unbearable. Annoyed, Doc plopped himself down next to the table. Why was I cursed with such insatiable curiosity? I need something to keep my mind off things. Something like -- something like --
Something like scantily-clad women.
A mischievous smile appeared on Doc's face. He got up and retrieved his future self's suitcase from the DeLorean's trunk. He popped it open and started searching for the "Playboy" he had seen before. There was that hair dryer thing that Marty had used to scare George -- a hairbrush -- a toothbrush and toothpaste in a plastic baggie – spare clothes --
Doc paused as he started to search through the clothing. Then, succumbing to temptation, he took the clothes out and began examining them. What the hell. Somehow I doubt that my fashion sense will change that much in 30 years.
He was pleased to find the usual assortment of brightly-patterned Hawaiian shirts. He admired a bright yellow one with cowboys chasing a train. I wish I could keep a couple of these. Ah well, I'll just have to be content with knowing I will own them.
He was also happily surprised to find a number of khaki pants with many pockets lining each leg. How useful! My older self has good taste. He looked down at his own depressingly boring tan pants. Hmmm. . . . I know a little about sewing; maybe I'll make my own pair for home wear once this whole mess is straightened out.
Setting aside the shirt and pants in relatively neat piles, Doc came across his undergarments again. Apparently he had remained a boxer man, although his tastes had started to run toward the more wild side. Mixed in with the fairly conservative white boxers he had seen before were a number of rather flashy ones, including a pair striped red and white like the American flag; a black pair with little yellow smiley faces all over it; a blue pair covered in multicolored starbursts; and a green pair sporting atomic symbols.
Doc picked up this last pair and stared at it. Great Scott! I mean -- I know I enjoy rather eccentric and colorful clothing, but -- do I really wear these!
He examined them further for a moment. Then, looking around to ascertain that he was truly alone, he stepped into them and pulled them on over his pants. Truth be told, they didn't look that bad on. He chuckled as he imagined yanking them on after a hot shower. Perhaps I was just made for eccentric clothing.
He was about to take them off and resume the search for the "Playboy" when he noticed something sitting in the DeLorean's front seat -- Marty's miniature radio device. Marty must have tossed it back in there after using it to frighten George. Figuring Marty wouldn't mind if he had a listen -- it was funny how quiet it was now that Marty wasn't around -- he picked it up, slipped on the headphones, and turned it on.
The sounds that assaulted his ears were like nothing Doc had ever imagined. They were the sounds of instruments being mercilessly tortured. Doc yanked off the headphones, afraid that he if he listened for too long, his eardrums might explode. How can Marty listen to such music -- if you can even call it that! How can he like it? Does my older self like? No, there's no way I could -- could I?
After a moment's fiddling and recalling Marty's explanation of the device from yesterday, Doc found a way to fast-forward the tape inside and see if there was anything worth listening to. The eardrum-cracking instrumental gave way to voices that sang loudly and strangely about things like jumping. The music itself got a bit more enjoyable though, and soon Doc found himself humming along.
One song in particular near the end stood out. It was by a different artist than the previous songs -- the singer sounded different, at any rate -- and the topic of the song made Doc smile in a rather naughty way. Unable to stop himself, he began to sing and dance along to the lyrics. "Naughty naughty! Cute and horny! T-t-t-tease me! Take it easy! Hug and squeeze me! Naughty, naughty, naughty, I'm a naughty naughty guy!"
Enjoying himself immensely (This music isn't bad once you turn down the volume!), Doc spun around, ready to sing the next verse --
Only to see Marty staring at him from the doorway.
Doc froze. The music continued on, unnoticed. For a long moment, they just looked at each other. Then Marty started to smirk. "Sorry to interrupt, Doc, but -- but I -- I forgot -- my–"
The teenager dissolved into an almost helpless fit of laughter. Doc yanked the headphones off and shut the Walkman off. He had never felt so embarrassed in his life. "Your what? You forgot your what?" he demanded, red-faced.
"Never mind," Marty snorted. "It's not that important. I don't need it. I'll see you, Doc." He turned to go, then looked back. "You know, that green really brings out your eyes--"
"OUT!" Doc chased the laughing Marty out of the garage and into the Packard. Once the teenager was gone, Doc stalked back inside, pulled off the boxer shorts, stuffed them and the other items back into his suitcase, and slammed the lid closed. "Just another reason why you should never know too much about your own destiny."
The End