New Fic

[dimestore-hippy.livejournal.com]

Title: Warning: Flammable
Rating: K+, so that's like pg yeah? Could even be G, but to be safe...
Series: Goldie!Verse. (Which is just the name on my folder, and much like the actual Goldie, the name just stuck)
Summary: We all know Riley loves his Converse. We all know why. But what about the when and how? Riley had a bad day, but it ends with the start of the most important thing in his life: Him and Ben.
Spoilers: Uh, I'm going to say movie-wise no... but fic-wise you should read Rileys Converse first, if you want the ending of that to be a surprise.

 

AN: No idea if the bit about historic shoes is true. But from movies and books I’ve seen and read it seems like it would be. And the beginning observations are a total guess. I’m quite terrified of fire and wasn’t going to test any.

This isn’t Beta’d. But this is me, and really, that’s not surprising. I did read and reread it a few times.

Not really slashy, since they don’t get together, chronologically, for years yet. This happens in MIT, before NT 1 (and therefore before RC and Goldie) Fingers crossed my ICness is close. It’s been a while for me and the boys.

 

Warning: Flammable

Riley Poole never knew so many things were flammable.

Paper was a given, as were the various chemicals commonly found under a kitchen sink and pieces of wood.

He was mildly interested to find number 2 pencils hold a small licking flame for a while but pens don’t.

What surprised him, however, were rubber Nike souls. Melting sure. Maybe some singeing, but not bursting into flames.

He supposed that had something to do with the unknown puddle he stepped in, and the falling asleep with his feet propped up moments later in his chem. lab.

But really, who could blame him for his impromptu nap-time? His old roommate moved in with his girlfriend and took their Mr. Coffee. Riley mourned the dearly departed automatic drip; he wore black for two days and drank tea.

He’s since finished his mourning period but didn’t have time to get a cup ‘o Joe as he raced to his class.

(He had yet to replace Steve-the coffee maker; he named it after a confrontation the first mourning day-

“Yo Riley, you alright man?” Riley’s sometimes study buddy asked, looking the younger man up and down; taking in the all black and the tired and dejected look.

“Yeah. Fine. This is just my mourning outfit,” Riley added, seeing the appraisal of his wardrobe.

“Who died?”

Riley sighed and tilted his head down, in an almost prayer. “Mr. Coffee.”

“Mister…You’re coffee pot? Dude.” He backed away from the younger man, shaking his head. “Geniuses are weird,” was muttered under his breath before he tossed a “see ya later” over his shoulder and took off.

The next time someone asked about his clothes and mood, Riley thought quick and told them he was in mourning for Steve, and left it at that.

-And his new roommate wasn’t moving in until that night. If he even had one of his own.)

And though he could do his physics course with one hand and his computer science course in his sleep, he needed to be wide awake-with three shots of espresso in his system for insurance- to even consider tackling his chemistry.

Looking back, Riley fully blamed Kathy (the girlfriend) and whoever spilled whatever-they-spilled. He never did find out what it was which he didn’t much care at the time.

But whatever it was, was next to his table and his right foot stood right in it, sliding a bit.

His hand reached out to grab his table and keep his balance. He looked around to see if anyone noticed his almost-fall.

Only the professor was in the room… Riley frowned; he didn’t think he was that early.

He seated himself and kicked his feet up onto the table with a sigh. He could have stopped at Starbucks. Letting his eyes close, he relaxed as the class began to fill.

“Mr. Poole, no smoking in this lab!” The professors angry voice brought Riley out of his doze and he frowned over his shoulder, towards the voice.

“I don’t smoke…” his voice trailed off as his feet got suddenly hot. He snapped his head around to stare in open mouthed shock at his Nikes. They looked the same, only: “Those flames are new…”

“Mr. Poole!” The professor again, Riley supposed. But he was still staring at his a-flame footwear. He wondered, in the back of his mind, if the gum he stepped on earlier that morning was still in there somewhere.

The spray of a fire extinguisher finally seemed to make him fully aware of what was happening and in that, he started to panic.

xXx

 

“You’re feet seem to be fine, Riley,” the nurse said some time later. Riley leaned back on the exam table, letting his head fall with a dull thud.

“This is all Kathy’s fault.” He muttered darkly as he slowly sat back up. He waved off the nurse’s questioning look and slipped his only barely singed socks back on his feet.

“Thanks,” was all he said as he hopped off the table. His socks slid on the tile and Riley glared at them.

“She’s getting a radio that only plays show tunes, no matter the station,” he told them calmly before he bent and took them off.

He shoved them, a little less calmly, into his coat pocket. Nodding at the nurse, Riley walked out of the infirmary building with his head held high. There was very little dignity a barefoot post-grad could achieve while walking the half mile to his dorm, but Riley tried his best; he nodded cordially to classmates, even held a door open for a man with his arms full when he reached his building.

Yes, a barefoot Riley was the epitome of dignity. Until he stepped on a deceptively sharp rock someone had kicked in at some point, and did a good impersonation of a rabbit the rest of the way to his room.

And it was as he was hopping on one foot, holding his bleeding other, and in a much more sour mood then when he woke up, that Riley met his new roommate.

“Ben, Ban Gates.” The stranger he held the door open for said, extending his hand a second after Riley entered.

Riley just hopped in place for a second. Then said, “You better have a coffee pot.” He hopped to his small bathroom and plunked his bleeding foot in the sink.

“Do you need some help with that….?” The stranger who is Ben, Ben Gates, asked. Riley knew his trail off was to prompt a name, but he wasn’t feeling very giving at the moment and just continued bending awkwardly to reach the equally small first aide kit he kept under the sink.

He heard the man sigh and then his hand was being batted away and he had to grip the counter to keep his balance.

“Why aren’t you wearing shoes? This a fraternity type thing?”

Riley snorted. Like the popular smart guys would pledge him or whatever its called.

Actually, he didn’t even know MIT HAD a Greek system…

“Allen moved out, Steve left me in a perpetual lethargic state, tea should be left to the British- I don’t think we do it right, Pepsi just isn’t the same after you hit 10, someone decided the floor right by my desk in Chem. was a hazards waste-disposal receptor, my shoes decided to take up pyrotechnics as a hobby, and Kathy has proved to be the root of all evil.”

Riley said in a monotone. He blinked owlishly as his new roommate who nodded to himself.

Riley didn’t think he liked his new roommate. He still didn’t say if he had a coffee pot. That could be the deciding factor.

“Alright. Allen was your old roommate. The British most certainly do tea better then us, but you haven’t tasted my dads- he does a pretty good job of it. Someone spilled something by your desk in your Chem. Lab… Your shoes caught fire from it?” Ben looked up at him, and Riley found himself nodding.

“You asked if I had a coffee pot, so I’m going to guess that tea and Pepsi have been your source of caffeine… So your old roommate took the one from your room with him. Now, what I’m stuck on is Steve and Kathy. This is going to sting,” he added and set the cotton ball of disinfectant on the cut.

Riley hissed through clenched teeth. Maybe he should invent a disinfectant that didn’t sting so bad… He looked up and looked at his new roommate closely.

Ben continued as he cleaned around the cut. “Kathy, I’m going to hazard a guess and say is Allen’s reason for moving out, and thus the reason you no longer have a coffee pot. She is, therefore, the root of all the trouble you’ve had today because you didn’t have coffee.”

Riley quit his scrutinizing and stared at Ben in fascination. No one understood and followed his rants so well right off…

“Now Steve. He could either be your friend or your boyfriend who dumped you,” he mused as he rummaged for a band-aide.

“Hey!” Riley protested, almost pulling his foot away. Ben looked up from finding a bandage. “What makes you think I was the dumpee? I could have dumped him!” Riley paused, mouth open. What was he saying? Steve wasn’t even real! Riley glowered. “If you must know, Steve was the coffee pot.” He said, but he still felt a blush rise in his cheeks.

Ben “hmm’d” and put the band-aide on the cut. “Try not to shuffle your feet.”

“That’s it? You’re not going to make fun of me for naming a coffee pot?” Riley asked, frowning.

“I named my microwave once,” offered Ben. Riley followed him out of the bathroom, almost speechless.

He sat on his bed and watched as his new roommate shifted through the boxes.

“So, did I get the rest right?” He asked later, and Riley started. He’d been dozing, the noise of Ben unpacking and moving around somehow comforting. He firmly told himself to get a grip.

“What? Oh, Yeah, you did…” Riley let a small smile form, “Uh, hey Ben, Ben Gates?”

The older man rolled his eyes and Riley was satisfied that he could still annoy someone he found comforting.

His expression sobered. “So do you? Have a coffee pot, I mean. See I cant afford one. All my money’s gone on lab fee’s and I haven’t had time to get a job yet.” He cocked his head. “Hope you like Ramen.”

Ben just opened another box, and after a few seconds where Riley thought he’d done something wrong, he lifted something wrapped in a pillowcase.

“Do you know what this is?” He asked and it was Riley’s turn to roll his eyes. What was he, three?

“That’s a mini Transformer wrapped in a pillowcase.” He said. Ben just smiled and pulled off the black casing.

Riley’s eyes grew suspiciously wet. “Mr. Coffee!” He exclaimed and almost jumped up. Only the ever-present sting reminded him not to.

He turned his full smile on the older man and watched him falter a bit. If he hadn’t been so glad to see the giver of coffee, he would have wondered. As it were, Riley just kept smiling.

“I even have some coffee,” said Ben.

xXx

“Looks like you’re all moved in,” Riley said a few hours later. He took a glorious sip of his third cup of coffee.

“Just about,” Ben said from where he was bent over a very old looking trunk he’d placed at the foot of his bed. Riley didn’t think anyone actually used trunks anymore.

He sat at his desk and watched in silence for a while. He was not admiring a view. Absolutely not. The angle was all wrong anyway.

Riley stopped himself from leaning to gain a better angle and took another drink, looking out their window.

“Here,” Ben said. Riley looked up, eyes wide. When did Ben get so close?

“What’s this?” He asked as he took the scuffed plain white shoe box.

“Well traditionally shoes are in shoe boxes.” He waited until the younger man took the box before going on. “Although historically, shoes weren’t for sale like we know them today. Only the rich and well off could afford sturdy shoes regularly and they went to a shoemaker to get them tailor to their feet alone.”

Riley stared at him. “That’s great Ben.” He shook the box. “But what’s that have to do with you handing me this?”

Ben reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, “I got a size to small. They should fit you…” He cleared his throat. “Not really my style shoe anyway.” He concluded, and Riley closed his gaping mouth.

He lifted the lid and paused. He always wanted- but he could never afford- “I can’t…”

“Yes, you can. I won’t be wearing them, and I can’t return them since I don’t have the original box anymore. You need shoes.”

Riley stared at the other man, then decided Ben was right: he really did need shoes.

He lifted the brand new, still smelling of crisp leather and material Converse from the box.

“Riley,” he said after a few moments of staring at his new shoes in awe. He looked up at Ben and smiled. “My name’s Riley.” 

fin

AN2... Converse Chronicles was also an option when naming my folder. Which do you like?

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