Chapter Text
“You know, no one uses the word “hooligan” anymore.”
“It’s what they are, isn’t it?” Emmett shrugged and let the door swing shut behind him. “Besides, I’m not sure if you noticed, but I’m not— down, boy! Go lie down!- I’m not exactly preoccupied with what everyone says.”
Tiff laughed.
It was such a surprise it almost made him jump. Quickly, he forced a neutral expression onto his face— something told him she wouldn’t respond well if he called attention to it. He’d never heard her laugh before, and he wanted her to feel comfortable enough to do it more often.
“So, is there any particular reason you dropped by, or were you just looking to hang around outside my gate all day?”
“Just wanted to get out of the house.” The girl flopped onto his couch, making him grin. Were all teenagers incapable of sitting properly? “You, uh. Told me last night that…”
“Yes, yes, of course! You’re welcome any time.” Cursing himself inwardly, he frantically backpedalled. Far be it from him to make her feel like she had to have a reason to come. Wanting to avoid that father of hers was as good a reason as any. “If there’s nothing you need, do you mind if I go back to work?”
She looked surprised at the question— likely, surprised that he’d bothered to ask. “Yeah, ‘course. Don’t mind me.”
When Emmett had first met Tiff, he’d subconsciously compared her to Marty. He’d focused on the resemblances— both were teenagers looking to get away from their unfortunate home lives, both did not get along with their peers, and both were completely unafraid of him—and decided that the two were fairly similar. The next few hours made him re-think this decision.
For one thing, Tiff was quiet.
Marty was a whirlwind of activity and noise at any given point in time, to the point where the scientist was able to tell when the boy was sick simply because he would finally sit still for once. Not that it bothered him—quite the contrary! He loved the energy and life that the boy had brought to his garage.
Having Tiff in his garage while he worked was a different experience entirely. She was so quiet that he almost forgot she was there. He had a pretty good idea why she behaved that way, and he hated it, but he didn’t know what to do about it. She didn’t ask any questions and seemed to provide her own means of entertainment— when he looked over after an…indeterminate amount of time (yes, he’d lost track), he saw her organizing the papers scattered around everywhere.
He’d tried to protest; told her that she didn’t need to, but she’d insisted that she wanted to.
“I like organizing,” she admitted. “Too much mess is…I just like organizing.”
Well. In that case, he wasn’t going to stop her.
This also marked another difference between her and Marty, who seemed to revel in the chaos of the garage even more than Emmett.
It was still possible that they might get along, he mused, though he made no claim to understanding how relationships worked, especially between teenagers. To this day, he had no idea how he’d stumbled into his friendship with Marty. He was grateful for it, of course, but the accidental nature of it meant that he had no idea how to replicate the events.
“Dr. Brown?”
He glanced over at Tiff, who was staring out the window. “Someone’s at the door.”
I can’t think of anyone who’d be here except…ah. Oh dear.
As if on cue, the door swung open and Marty strolled in, his skateboard slung over his shoulder. “Hey Doc, how’s it…going?”
Emmett tried to school his expression into a less concerned one, but it was too late. Marty had always been remarkably quick on the uptake and started examining the garage to see what was wrong. He and Tiff locked eyes, and Emmett saw all his hopes for a friendly interaction between the two fly out the window.
“What the hell is she doing here?” Marty lunged forward, placing himself between the girl and the inventor. “She’s not—Doc, I’ve told you about her! She’s the one who’s always picking on Jennifer! She’s a Tannen, for Christ’s sake!” Despite seemingly accusing Emmett, the boy kept his back to him and faced Tiff, never taking his eyes off of her.
“I’m well aware of who she is, Marty—”
“Then how could you let her inside your house?” For the first time, Marty looked up at his friend, concern filling his eyes. “Wait, did she break in? Is she threatening you? Why—”
“No one is being threatened! Would you please calm down so I can explain—”
“I can leave.”
The pair looked up at TIff, both startled, but for different reasons. In contrast to Marty, who hadn’t stopped moving since he’d arrived and kept his heart on his sleeve, she had completely shut down. Arms crossed against her chest, she stared back at them with an unreadable expression. “I can leave,” she repeated tonelessly. “I get it. You were here first.”
Marty crossed his arms, mirroring Tiff. “You’re gonna leave, just like that? Why were you even here in the first place?”
“He invited me,” she replied, jerking her head in Emmett’s direction. “But I’m not gonna step on your turf, McFly. I’m not looking for a fight.”
“That’s a first.” Glaring, he stepped towards her confrontationally. “Whatever happened to ‘I can go where I want?’ Or ‘you shouldn’t have gotten in my way?’”
Emmett’s eyes widened. He’d suspected that they might not get along, but for all his insistence that he’d known who Tiff was when he invited her in, he hadn’t realized the previous animosity between the teens. If he didn’t move quickly, he might have a physical fight on his hands.
Oddly enough, Tiff wasn’t offering a single word in her own defense. She didn’t even react—she just stared woodenly at the angry young man.
This only seemed to infuriate Marty further. He charged towards her, eyes snapping. “If you think I’m gonna believe that Doc just invited you in— if you’ve hurt him—”
“Marty, calm down!” Grabbing his friend by the shoulders, Emmett made sure he was at the boy’s eye level before continuing. “TIff is not harming me in any way. I did invite her and yes, I knew who she was when I did so.” Sort of.
The fury in Marty’s eyes ebbed away, replaced by confusion. Turning towards Tiff, the scientist tried to include both teens in the conversation. “You can certainly leave if you want to, but by no means are you required to. This is no one's turf,” he said sternly, putting air quotes around the word, “it is my house, and I say that both of you are welcome. However, if you’re going to stay here, you’ll have to find a way to get along. So…” he waved his arms fruitlessly, suddenly running out of steam. “Figure something out.”