Chapter Text
Marty had always known that being stuck in the 1880s would absolutely suck.
But, unfortunately, that had been an understatement.
Because being trapped here was, in fact, a pure nightmare.
The boy wasn't sure what bothered him more: The lack of sanitation, the lack of proper music, the absence of his family, the absence of Jennifer, or the absence of, well…Doc.
Of course, the scientist was still there. There in the way that he was, just as Marty, stuck in the 19th century for now. But he was not very present, if one could say so.
Marty was happy that Doc had found himself a girlfriend. After so many years of social isolation and loneliness, the inventor deserved that much. The only thing Marty wasn't happy about was the fact that Emmett seemed to be completely tossing Marty aside for her sake.
Doc was almost never in the stable, spending his days at Clara's house, and his nights somewhere in the meadows, gazing at the bright stars with her. Marty wasn't sure if one could really describe this feeling as jealousy - after all, he was not, God forbid, in love with Clara or Doc. He was jealous of the dates because he wished he could do the same with Jennifer, and he was jealous because he wished he could spend a day or two with his best friend, Doc.
But maybe, it was time to seek out a new best friend.
One that wouldn't abandon him so quickly.
The saloon seemed like a logical place to go when wanting to make new acquaintances. Deep inside, Marty hoped that maybe, Seamus McFly would be present that evening. Not only was Seamus his relative, but he also was a friendly man to be around. But he wasn't there, unfortunately, and so the first thing Marty did upon entering the saloon was ordering himself a drink.
And then another.
And another.
Chester was in the clear that the boy was on the verge of a blackout after his tenth or so shot, and ordered him to go back to the stable. When Marty refused, the man took it upon himself to drag Marty to the livery and leave him on the bed.
But Marty wasn't happy with that - because Emmett was still not home
“I'm so done with this,” he whimpered, stumbling out of the building. “I'm gonna go look for him."
After walking around for a quarter of an hour, Marty began to regret ever getting drunk. His vision was blurry, and his legs wobbly. He had to stop and grab the bridge of his nose in order to not trip over his own feet.
He couldn't prevent it from eventually happening, however, and after he had collapsed on the ground, he didn't find the strength to get up again.
Whimpering, he curled up into a fetal position, not knowing what to do with himself anymore.
It was then that he heard voices behind him.
After the people came closer, it became clear that the voices did, in fact, belong to Doc and Clara. Had Marty been in his right mind, he would have immediately jumped up and ran away, not wanting Emmett to see him in such a pathetic state. But his heavy limbs wouldn't let him, and so he was forced to wait until Doc practically stumbled upon him.
“Marty?!”
“Hi, Doc,” Marty weakly said, sounding utterly miserable.
“What- Marty, what on earth happened to you?”
“Alcohol,” was all the kid managed to reply.
Emmett stared at him in sheer disbelief. “What?!”
“I know, I know,” Marty replied, defeated. “I can explain. Just…” The boy took a shaky breath. “Help me. Please, Doc. Don't leave me all over again.”
Clara made her way into the conversation. “Leave you?”
“Yeah. For you. Because I'm just a stupid kid who happens to be his best friend and you are the love of his life.”
It was a rather amusing sight; Marty laying in the dry grass, looking up at the two adults hovering over him. But for Emmett, this was not amusing at all. Marty had gotten himself drunk because the scientist had figured that a little dating wouldn't do any harm.
Without thinking twice, Emmett reached out to scoop Marty up.
“Let's go,” he said, “Clara's cabin is not far away. We can take care of the rest there.”
Clara nodded and led the two along, Marty slumped over in Doc's grip. She unlocked the door and stepped aside so her partner could haul Marty over to the sofa and lay him down.
The boy was now clutching his stomach, instantly returning into the fetal position. “Shit hurts…”
Doc wanted to scold him for being so irresponsible, but Clara's gentle gaze told him that this wasn't the right approach. Instead, he took the hot water bottle that Clara handed to him - a souvenir her parents had gotten her from Britain ten years ago - and went over to the couch.
Marty was lying with the back to him, and so Doc took the liberty to carefully turn the boy around, the sight of Marty's tear-filled, red eyes a stab to his heart.
“Hey, Marty,” Doc said, brushing a hand through the kid's hair. “It's alright. Here.” The scientist handed Marty the hot water bottle, getting him settled. Clara, a quick thinker, soon came over with a quilt in her hand, and the scientist covered his young friend with it.
Marty, however, appeared surprised at the gesture. “Why aren't you yelling?”
Doc sighed. “I would be in the wrong to yell at you, Marty. I don't wish to cause you further harm.”
Marty rolled back around, being too ashamed to look the man into his eyes. “I should've been more understanding.”
“No, I should have been more understanding,” Emmett corrected him, “You're trapped in a completely strange time period and I'm going out with a woman.”
“You deserve to go out with a woman,” Marty said.
Emmett crouched down beside him, placing a hand on Marty's arm, hoping to provide some silent comfort. “And you deserve your best friend being there for you in this trying time.”
“I promise I won't touch whiskey again,” Marty whispered.
“I know you won't, kid,” Doc said with a smile, squeezing his arm. “But for now, just get some rest. Got it?”
“Got it,” Marty replied, already drifting off.
As much as he regretted this event, maybe it was the catalyst for things finally getting better.
He'd find out in the morning, Marty figured, and fell into a restful sleep.