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misssquidtracy · 4 years

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Laundry Duty

A short piece of Virgil-centric fluff for @fictivekaleidoscope to help her feel better after her op. I find Virg a challenge to write, so this took longer than the 10 minutes I originally promised XD.

Please excuse me while I scamper back to Gordon’s corner with my tail between my legs. Writing anything other than him is a bit like learning a foreign language for me.

Genre: Humour & fluff.

Characters: Virgil, Scott & John, with young Gordon and Alan in the background.

Summary: Virgil is the domestic househusband we all fantasise about, but with a dark twist...XD.

-x-

Virgil was not amused.

At all.

As if a solid week of back-to-back rescues garnished with a healthy amount of sleep deprivation hadn’t been enough, the massive pile of dirty laundry that was taking up two thirds of the floor was yet another nail in his green coffin.

Thunderbird Two’s pilot was flabbergasted at Scott and John’s laziness. Sure, he was guilty of not pulling as much weight as he usually did, but he was on his first day off in two weeks. Scott was into his fourth day of not being deployed and John had left EOS in charge of Five while he was planetside. Last time Virgil had checked, both brothers were perfectly healthy and as a result, more than capable of laundering their own clothes.

Scott had shrugged when Virgil had confronted him on the issue, not understanding why he couldn’t chuck all his dirty clothes into a pile and offload them onto Grandma. When John had suggested that he might do the same thing, Virgil had capitulated and very grudgingly offered to toss their clothes into the washer with his own. The embarrassment of one of his brothers getting deployed in an unwashed uniform for the entire world to see (and smell) would be enough to send him to an early grave.

Except, what had seemed like a good compromise an hour ago didn’t seem quite so good when it became apparent just how many items needed washing. There were the regular and spare iR suits, plus six days and five bodies worth of jeans, shirts, socks, pyjamas, t-shirts, swimwear…

Virgil scowled and resisted the urge to stamp on a particularly filthy looking shirt of Gordons. He was no househusband, but even he could tell that it would take at least six, possibly seven loads to get through this infernal pile. And considering each cycle took an hour and fifteen minutes to run, plus the fact that he’d probably have to pre-soak all of Gordon’s contaminated items, he was looking at between seven and ten hours of laundry on what was supposed to be his day off.

No way. Absolutely no way.

Anger completely overtaking logical thinking, Virgil grabbed an armful of clothes (instantly wishing he’d pegged his nose beforehand) and dumped them haphazardly into the nearest washer. Not pausing to consider material, colour or degree of dirtiness, he shoved everything in together. When the first tub was stuffed to capacity, he rummaged through the remainder of the pile and pulled out his own clothes before depositing them in the second washer. Heaven forbid he throw all his good shirts in with Gordon’s bright green swim trunks.

John’s white polo shirt was a different story.

Satisfied that the first washer was suitably stuffed (probably to the point where none of the clothes would actually get cleaned), Virgil double checked to make sure none of his own items were mingling with Gordon’s trunks and Scott’s socks. After finishing his inspection, he opened one of the cabinets and pondered over the choice of detergents.

Virgil quickly realised why laundry duty was the least favoured chore amongst his brothers – there must have been at least ten different types of detergent staring back at him. Scented dryer sheets, stuff for sensitive skin, perfume pearls, organic this and that, et cetera, et cetera…

Deciding to indulge in some petty revenge, Virgil selected the most ostentatious, sickeningly feminine detergent he could see; a bright pink bottle with a picture of a cloud on the front labelled ‘Sunset Marshmallow’. He popped the cap, inhaled deeply and nearly gagged at the cloying scent that assaulted his nose. It smelt like something a unicorn had vomited up.

Thunderbird Two’s pilot upended the bottle and tipped most of the contents into the washer containing his brother’s clothes. As the cherry on top, he also dumped in an entire container of scented pearls in the fragrance ‘Dusky Rose’, before slamming the lid shut and hitting the start button with an air of flourish. His mood rose considerably at the thought of his lazy ass brothers stinking like a garden.

Virgil’s own clothes were treated to a modest amount of regular lemon scented detergent and no fragrance pearls. Heaven forbid that he be caught smelling like a pre-teen girl.

Leaving both washers happily humming away, Virgil breezed out the door and allowed himself a small snicker of amusement.

‘Lazy suckers.’

-x-

Virgil didn’t know why, but somehow all his revenge attempts always ended up boomeranging back to bite him on the ass.

After his brother’s hideously perfumed clothes had finished their wash cycle and been tossed in the dryer with some more scented pearls for an extra dose of revenge, Scott and John had arrived to sort through and collect what belonged to them. Virgil, who had been fishing his own freshly scented (but not too freshly scented) laundry out of the second dryer had noticed some raised eyebrows and grimacing faces as the combined scents of Sunset Marshmallow and Dusky Rose hit both Scott and John square in the face (and nose).

All had seemed reasonably well up until that point. Scott and John had quickly caught wind of Virgil’s revenge act, but were both smart enough to realise that they had nothing to throw back at him. They had left their dirty laundry at his mercy, and now they (and John’s green polo shirt) were paying the price.

Virgil had insisted that they all eat lunch together before commencing their afternoon chores. Not willing to pass up the opportunity of free food, his brothers had agreed and were now sat around the kitchen island. Gordon was busy doodling on the sofa with a sandwich in his lap and Alan was taking a nap in Scott’s room.

What started as a fairly civilised family gathering began to disintegrate when John started to sniff and rub at his nose. Several minutes later, a light rash broke out on his neck and along his forearms. Several more minutes later, he was folded in half as a series of violent sneezes shook his frame.

“What – ACHOO– was – AH– in that – AH– stuff you put – AH– in our laundry? ACHOO!”

Virgil shrugged and resumed eating, “Don’t know. Price you pay for being lazy though.”

John wiped a tear from his eye as another sneeze took hold, “ACHOOOO!”

Scott grimaced as John directed a particularly powerful sneeze over his sandwich, “Argh, John! That’s disgusting! Cover your nose for god’s sake!”

“Virg,” John wheezed, doubling over into a flurry of slightly smaller, but no less violent sneezes, “Help me! ACHOO! Please! I – AH– can’t – ACHOO– stop! ACHOO!”

Virgil sighed and stood up from the table. He disappeared into John’s room and ferreted around in his brother’s ensuite before locating some foil wrapped tablets. Upon returning to the kitchen, he was mildly shocked to see the redhead tearing his shirt off and throwing it to the floor.

Virgil didn’t say anything, opting instead to hand John his tablets with a fresh glass of water. The medication disappeared down the middle brother’s throat in the blink of an eye, quickly followed by a large glug of water.

“How many of these do I have left?” John croaked, motioning to the wrapper in his hand before succumbing to another sneeze.

“That’s the last packet I could see,” Virgil replied, retaking his seat at the table, “Do you have some spares?”

John groaned and shook his head, “I’ll need to take – ACHOO– some more in about an hour – ACHOO– to get rid of the worst of it – ACHOO!”

Virgil sighed and dropped his head into waiting hands. He’d have to pick John up a fresh batch of antihistamines before the middle brother gave himself a nosebleed. The engineer kicked himself mentally, not out of guilt, but out of disappointment at his own stupidity. It was a well-known family fact that John was allergic to just about every damn thing on the planet. Peanuts, chamomile, celery, most types of pollen, kiwis, cinnamon and juniper to name a few. He’d even been allergic to the formula Alan had been given as a baby. Virgil had found that particular incident hilarious, but had retracted his humour after being informed that the redhead was honourably discharged from babysitting duty due being literally allergic to Alan.

‘Bad call, Virgil. You should have just shrunk all his clothes instead.’

Depositing his plate by the sink, Virgil picked up his phone and made for the hanger stairwell, “I’ll be half an hour, Scott. The closest mainland pharmacy is right on the Australian coast.”

Gordon hastily crammed the rest of his sandwich into his mouth before jumping up from the sofa and sprinting over, “Virg! Can I come with you? Please? I promise I’ll behave!”

Virgil didn’t have the energy to protest, “Fine, but don’t you dare wander where I can’t see you.”

Crumbs sprayed out of the little blonde’s mouth as he bounced up and down excitedly, “I promise! Let’s go!”

Scott snorted as Gordon rocketed out the door.

“Only half an hour, you say?”

In the background, John let out an exotic profanity as blood started to stream from his nose.

Virgil set his jaw.

“Half an hour.”

Revenge. Boomerang. Ass. Him.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds tag #thunderbirds are go #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #scott tracy #john tracy #alan tracy #grandma tracy

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olliepig · 4 years

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Waiting in the Wings, chapter 6

Massive thanks as always to @willow-salix for her endless help, support and editing of this.

As usual, the whole work can be read on AO3 here.

*********************

“What’re you pacing around like a caged animal for? They won’t be here for at least another half an hour.”

“I’m not pacing, I’m just... checking,” Scott retorted, leaving the window and heading down to the couches, sitting for 30 seconds before getting back up again.

“Right, that’s it. What’s going on? You’ve not stopped fidgeting and checking the time all day.” Selene had been drafted in to try to distract Scott by a fed-up Virgil after he had insisted on ‘helping’ with the routine maintenance on Two. He wasn't known for his ability to sit and wait for things to happen but he had been taking it to new levels today and, as his best friend, she wasn’t going to let him away with it.

“There’s nothing going on,” he huffed, “I just don’t understand why Parker insisted on bringing her in FAB1 when I offered to give her a lift.”

“Maybe because you’re on duty?” Selene, suggested innocently. “And don’t fob me off with that ‘there's nothing going on’ bullshit. I know she's your ex girlfriend.”

“Who told you that?” Scott hissed, finally quitting his prowling by the window and shooting down to sit next to her.

“Gordon. What? I didn’t think it was some big secret given that you’ve gone to London by yourself twice in the last couple of months. Unless you’ve been going out without me?” She feigned outrage and Scott knew he was beaten.

“Alright, fine, but this stays between us OK?”

“Of course,” she soothed, despite the slight irritation that he even felt like he had to ask.

“We dated for a year when I was in the air force. I stupidly ended it when I shouldn’t have and then we didn’t talk or see each other for a decade. We met again at that thing Penny invited Gordon and I to a couple of months back and we’re friends again but that’s it, OK? Nothing more.”

“OK, OK,” Selene soothed, holding her hands up, knowing full well that there was more to it than that but prepared to let it lie for now. Well, almost. “It’s just funny how you’ve been pacing around like Gordon does when he’s waiting for Penny to arrive.”

“I have not!”

“I respectfully disagree,” she laughed, unable to contain her amusement at Scott’s denial any longer. “Anyway, I thought you guys fell out?”

“We didn’t,” Scott countered, a little too quickly and forcefully to be believable.

“You did! You were in a right state when you called me after you left hers last time. Something about women never knowing what they fucking want if I remember correctly?”

“OK,” Scott’s shoulders slumped, ashamed to be reminded of his outburst to Selene after leaving Cat’s the last time they had seen each other. “We did fall out for a bit. But then she called me after Gordon’s accident and we talked and we’re friends again so please don’t mention it to her, Sel.”

“Of course I won't!” Selene gasped, genuinely shocked that he even thought he had to ask. Her loyalties were and would always be with her family, no matter what and there was nothing that would change that. “What do you take me for? All I want is for you to be happy, and if having Cat visit us makes you happy then I’m totally on board with that. I just wanted to make sure it’s really what you want.”

“It’s really what I want,” he confirmed with a smile that he hoped was reassuring enough for her.

“Well that’s OK then,” Selene soothed, standing up and starting to head towards the kitchen “I’m going to make some coffee. You want a mug?”

“Yeah, sounds good to me,” Scott smiled, trying to at least stay on the couch until Selene was safely out of sight.

“Oh, I think I can see them in the distance,” Selene commented innocently on her way past the window, grinning as Scott lost his battle for self control and shot off the sofa to look as she disappeared down the stairs.

******

“...and is Mr Scott treating you right, Miss?”

“Better than I probably deserve, Parker,” Cat answered, ignoring the doubtful look and raised eyebrow that were directed her way in the mirror as she settled back into FAB1’s leather seat, en route to Tracy Island. “I mean, we had a bit of a fallout last time we saw each other but that was entirely my fault.”

“I’m sure I don’t believe that, Miss.”

“No, it was. I pushed him with something I shouldn’t have and we had a stupid fight, but we’ve worked things out now and we’re friends again.”

“Just friends, Miss?”

“Just friends, Parker,” Cat replied firmly, smiling at the memories of all the times both she and Penny had had this conversation with the protective butler over the years, knowing full well that he had never believed her then either.

The pair settled into an amicable silence as the autopilot took them halfway around the globe, countries and continents shooting past underneath them until there was nothing but water as far as the eye could see. Letting the world go by outside her window, Cat leant her head back, closing her eyes and contemplating the week ahead and the events that had brought her here.

It hadn’t been an easy time since Scott had stormed out of her flat leaving her completely blindsided; when she looked back on their interactions with the benefit of hindsight, his feelings seemed so obvious that a child could have picked up on them, and the realisation that she had got this so, so wrong made cringe with embarrassment.

Unable to seek Penny’s guidance for fear of putting her in an uncomfortable position and unwilling to discuss it with her friends at work, she had let it fester for far longer than she should, losing track of the number of times she picked up her phone to contact him before putting it down again when she realised she had no idea of what to say.

Then Gordon had been injured and everything else had paled into insignificance. She knew Scott would be hurting and, if previous experience had taught her anything, that he would likely end up doing something stupid as a result, so she'd shovedher embarrassment aside and reached out.

At first their conversation had been clipped and to the point, focussed solely on Gordon and his recovery, but, as the days wore on, they had begun to relax with each other again and apologies were made from both sides.

With the realisation that there may be a potential to rescue his dad, Scott had taken on a whole new raft of stress but had remained adamant that she should still visit him, despite all that had happened. And so here she was. She had no idea what to expect of either the week or the rest of the family but she was determined to make the best of it. After all, it wasn’t every week that she was invited to the home of the Thunderbirds.

“... there it is, Miss Catriona. Tracy Island,” Parker announced, cutting into her thoughts as he sat forward to take back the controls and prepare for landing.

Cat sat forward, craning her neck to see her home for the week. At first, it looked just like a rocky outcrop peeking out of the vast ocean but as they got closer she could see the sun glinting off a glass structure perched high on the cliffs and the splash of blue that she guessed was a swimming pool. A beach came into view next, along with the lush green of trees and shrubs covering the lower levels of the rocky terrain.

“Woah,” she breathed, wondering what she had let herself in for. Scott had warned her that it was remote but she hadn’t quite imagined this.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Parker observed, carefully maintaining his neutral expression while watching her in the rear-view mirror for any sign of discomfort, more than happy to whisk her away before they even landed if he thought she was regretting her decision to come.

“Just a little.” Cat was flabbergasted. In all her wildest dreams she still could never have come up with anything that even vaguely resembled the island ahead of her. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s amazing.”

“On the final approach now, Miss.”

Parker expertly lined the car up with a tree lined runway and before Cat even felt the wheels touch the tarmac, they were down. If she had been surprised before, nothing prepared her for the experience of driving into the gaping cavern ahead of them and straight past the enormous hulk of Thunderbird 2, sitting waiting quietly for her next callout.

Scott hopped from foot to foot, unable to stand still as he waited impatiently for the car to come to a halt, having been waiting at the hangar entrance since his guest had started her descent. His eyes had zeroed in on the woman in the back seat as soon as he could make her out before dashing back into the shade of the hangar just as they touched down, so as not to appear too keen.

He’d been picturing this moment from the second he'd woken up that morning and his nerves had only intensified as the day went on, but now that the time had come he was surprised to find that he was calm. The worry that had filled him about her not liking the island for some reason or that he would mess up again and ruin any chance of a friendship with her left him, and he watched quietly as the pink car made its way into the hangar and came to a halt.

Hurrying over, disappointment washed over him that she wasn’t even looking in his direction, her attention obviously still captured by the giant Thunderbird.

Undeterred, he carried on, hoping to at least help her out of the car. However, the chauffeur got there first, nodding his greeting as he opened the back door and offered a hand to his passenger.

“Holy shit, that is absolutely fucking massive,” Cat exclaimed, finding it very difficult to focus on either of the men in front of her as she stepped out of the car, craning her head over the vehicle to gawk at the giant Thunderbird.

“Well hello to you too,” Scott grinned, putting himself in between her and the machine and managing to divert her attention for a moment.

“Hiya,” she grinned, her heart skipping at the intense blue of his eyes as they met hers before she was distracted again by the green monolith behind him. “Sorry, but you have to admit it’s pretty impressive.”

“Well, hello, Mr Scott, sir,” interjected Parker. “I trust we find you all well?”

“Yes, thank you, Parker,” Scott replied absently, his attention focused on maneuvering himself around the butler in a bid to get Cat’s attention back from the machine that he was uncomfortably aware he was currently jealous of.

“And how is Master Gordon now, sir?” Parker persisted, somehow positioning himself between Scott and Cat despite not making any obvious movement.

“He’s a lot better now. Starting to get moving again a little,” Scott replied, shifting his focus to the butler as he accepted that Cat was a lost cause for now.

“Oh that is good. Her Ladyship will be most pleased,” Parker said, his comment finally attracting Cat’s notice.

Her eyes caught Scott’s and they shared a look and a half smile that conveyed just how aware they both were of how happy Penny would be to hear that news.

“Now that I have your attention,” Scott joked, “would you like to come up and meet everyone or would you like a tour of the island first?”

“I think a tour if that’s OK?” decided Cat, her heart fluttering dangerously at the thought of being alone with Scott again. “I’ve been sitting down a long time and it’d be nice to stretch the old legs.”

“Your wish is my command. Step this way,” Scott smiled, with an exaggerated bow and the offer of an arm that Cat accepted with a giggle. “Parker, would you be able to bring Cat’s bags up to her room please?”

Parker nodded in agreement, watching Cat and Scott heading for the lift. He had always had a particular fondness for Penny’s friend, having first met her as a shy but determined 11 year old with almost entirely absent parents. He’d lost track of the number of times he had comforted her over the years, filling the role her own father should have and it was perhaps this that made him feel particularly protective over her.

“Mr Scott sir?” he called, waiting for Scott to retrace his steps, before lowering his voice and continuing. “Be gentle with Miss Catriona, sir. She’s been through a lot and I would hate for her to get hurt again.”

Scott smiled, pleased to see that Cat appeared to be under Parker’s protection as well as his own. “I will, Parker, don’t you worry. You have my word.”

With that, he turned back to his guest, taking her arm again and leading her into the lift that would take them to the living areas of the villa and out into the fresh air.

******

“How was your last performance by the way?” Scott enquired. “With everything going on I don't think I ever asked.”

They had been walking for what felt like miles around the island, covering every path that Scott could think of to prolong the time he had Cat to himself. He knew that everyone else would want to meet her as soon as they were in the house and, while he was looking forward to introducing her to everyone, he really wanted to keep her all to himself for just a little longer.

He couldn’t deny that he’d been worried about seeing Cat again after the way things had been left the last time. Being with her in person always felt different to messaging and calling each other and, going on what he could tell so far, this time seemed to be no different.

The familiar spark of attraction was most certainly in attendance and he was very much enjoying feeling it whenever she caught his eyes and smiled at him, while still asking sure he was being respectful of her boundaries. The disaster of their last meeting was as fresh in his mind as hers, so he was determined to be himself, trying to balance his usual flirting with her desire for friendship.

“It’s really no problem,” she smiled, coming to a halt and taking his offer of a seat on a rock looking out over the ocean, “you had slightly better things to be thinking about. It went really well though. Penny and Gordon came to see it actually and they seemed to really enjoy it anyway.”

“Oh, did they now?” Scott grinned, a twinkle appearing in his eyes as he sat down on the rock next to her, very happy to resume their previously favourite pastime of gossiping.

“They sure did. And she’s still maintaining that there’s nothing going on there,” Cat revealed, grinning at the closeness that had suddenly sprung up between them. It hadn’t exactly been stilted since she had arrived but they had lost some of their easy manner around each other and she felt that Scott had, perhaps understandably, been very cautious in how he was acting so this return to old ways was a welcome relief to her.

“Sounds familiar. He’s denying everything too.”

“Hmm… interesting,” Cat said in an outrageous Russian accent, enunciating every syllable as she raised an eyebrow and stroked her chin as if it were a beard, pretending to contemplate this new information. “Ve-ery interesting.”

Their eyes met and they both managed to hold it together for a moment before dissolving into laughter, any lingering awkwardness between them disappearing in an instant.

“God, I’ve missed you,” Scott admitted when he was able to speak, wiping his eyes and trying to pull himself together again.

“I’ve missed you too,” Cat admitted, catching his eyes and feeling the familiar rush that their blue depths always sparked in her. “I’m sorry about last time. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that.”

“It’s OK, and I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have reacted that way, it wasn’t fair of me. Are we friends again then?”

“Definitely,” Cat smiled, a small pang of loss in her chest taking her by surprise as she spoke. It wasn’t something she had even considered before, but she suddenly realised that there was a part of her, deep down, that hoped that he still felt the same way as he had a few weeks prior. “Seriously though, I’ve never seen Penny as scared and upset as when she told me about Gordon’s accident. Whatever’s going on there, it’s obvious that she really cares about him.”

“I can relate to that. I was pretty scared myself,” admitted Scott, his eyes giving away a lot more than he intended.

“I’m not surprised. It sounded awful. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to have to rescue your own brother. Is he doing OK now?”

“Yeah, he’s on the mend. Not completely mobile yet but getting there.”

“Well that’s good news at least,” Cat reflected. “And how’re you doing?”

“Me? I’m fine,” Scott stammered, automatically giving his standard answer for whenever anyone asked how he was before remembering who he was talking to. “I mean, it was scary when it happened but it turned out relatively OK in the end.”

Cat said nothing, just fixed him with an unwavering gaze and raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“I’m not sure I believe you,” she commented. “Based on what you and Penny told me at the time and the stuff Parker said on the way over here, it sounds like Gordon could have died and you’re just brushing it off. It’s not like you.”

“I know,” Scott slumped where he sat, running a hand through his hair and finally letting the weight of what had happened over the last few weeks show. “I’m not really OK with any of it to be honest. We’ve just got so much to sort out if we’re going to rescue Dad that I just can’t take the time to process it right now.”

“I totally understand that. If you ever want to talk to someone about it though, I’m your girl,” Cat met his eyes and smiled, shocked but unsurprised at the swirling mix of emotions that she could see in them. “Any time. I have zero experience of anything like what you’re doing, and I can’t really imagine what any of it must be like but I’m good at listening, remember?”

“I remember,” Scott said softly, holding her gaze and smiling. “You were always the one I went to when we were together and it would be nice to have that part back. I’ve got Selene to talk to now but it’ll be good to have someone who’s not on the island to get a bit of perspective from. Thank you.”

“Any time. I’m always here,” Cat smiled back at him, glad to see the emotions in his eyes calming as he straightened up again and regained his usual composure.

Cat knew how privileged she was to have been allowed to witness him looking anything other than in complete control. Weakness was not something that Scott Tracy showed willingly or easily and the fact that he was still prepared to show it in front of her even after their argument made her heart swell a little. Despite her fears, it seemed that she hadn’t ruined their relationship irreparably.

“Right, I think I’ve been hogging you for long enough. Time to introduce you to everyone,” Scott broke the moment, standing up and offering his hand, feeling the pleasant tingle spread through him as her skin touched his.

“Sounds good to me,” Cat grinned as they set out down the path towards the villa. “I’m glad we’ve had this chance to catch up though. After how we left things last time, I wanted to be able to speak to you properly before we were in the midst of everyone.” “Yeah, I think it was a good idea too. I’m just glad you still wanted to come really - I was afraid you’d say no after what I said.”

“If I’m honest, I did have to think about it,” Cat admitted, hating the way Scott stopped walking and seemed to sag slightly at her statement.

Whichever way he looked at it, Scott was devastated to realise that his actions really could have cost him this week. He’d accepted that there was a likelihood of it as the weeks had passed without any contact from her but once they were on better terms and he’d felt it was the right time to make the offer again, those fears had largely been allayed. To discover that they could have come true was a blow he wasn’t expecting.

“Not because I didn't want to,” she continued quickly, desperate for him to understand and hopefully feel better. “Please don’t think that. I just didn’t want to risk hurting you so I wasn’t sure how sensible it was to start with. I’m really glad I did come, though, I think we’re going to be just fine.”

“Me too,” Scott smiled, reassured by her words and relieved that her reasoning didn’t appear to include that she felt uncomfortable because of his admission. “Before we get back to the house though, I need to tell you something.”

“Anything,” Cat assured him, wondering where on earth this might be going, given their previous conversation.

“Right, listen carefully because this is the most important piece of advice I’m going to give you this week.”

“OK… I’m all ears.” Cat’s interest was well and truly piqued by the cryptic manner in which Scott was speaking.

“Never, and I mean never eat Grandma’s cooking, OK? It could easily be described as biological warfare and it’s most definitely not fit for human consumption,” he explained earnestly, holding her eyes and willing her to understand, not wanting her to be a victim of food poisoning on her holiday.

“I understand,” Cat laughed, both relieved and disappointed that it wasn’t a revelation about something more personal. “If she offers something I’ll decline politely and find a snack later.”

“Good call. Shall we do this thing then?” Comfortable that she understood his warning and would take it seriously, Scott offered his arm and the pair continued down towards the house and dinner.

*****

“Here we are, fresh from the takeaway,” Virgil announced, trooping into the kitchen with a box full of delicious smelling food in his arms, Alan trailing behind him similarly laden.

“We thought we’d get something in seeing as it’s your first night here,” Scott explained with a smile, jumping into action and helping to unpack the containers of food onto the centre island in the kitchen, ready to be served and distributed onto the table.

“Sounds lovely. What’re we having?” Cat grinned, relieved to have been spared Grandma’s home cooking for at least one night of her stay.

“Indian. Scott gave us your order, I hope that’s OK?” Virgil checked, suddenly conscious that perhaps they should have waited to ask her directly and hoping that she wouldn’t be offended by Scott assuming that he knew what she’d want.

“Not a problem,” Cat smiled at him. “Scott knows I eat pretty much anything anyway, so he had a pretty easy task so I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

As Virgil turned back to help with the preparation, Cat felt a little lost in the midst of the family setting up for dinner, chatting and joking together. It was a world away from her quiet flat where most nights it was just her cooking and eating alone after rehearsals and she was a little unsure as to what she should be doing. Her instinct was to help, but not knowing where anything was meant that she worried she would be more of a hindrance. Equally, just sitting down and waiting at the table seemed rude and she didn’t want to give the impression that she was lazy or expecting to be waited on.

Just as her overthinking was starting to get the better of her, Gordon came hobbling into the kitchen, taking his seat and motioning for her to come and sit with him while the others got everything ready.

Cat gratefully accepted his offer and the pair chatted amicably until everyone else was at the table too. Scott took the seat on the other side of her, making her feel a lot more comfortable being sandwiched between the person who had invited her and the only other one she had spent any time with before.

“So, tell us about yourself, dear,” Grandma Tracy opened, as soon as the food was served and relative calm had descended upon the table. “Scott's told us nothing so I’m afraid we don’t really know anything about you.”

Scott’s heart sank, realising that it was his desire for privacy that had led to Cat’s questioning. He could almost feel the fear coming off her as he turned to give her a smile and a nod of reassurance, hoping that would be enough for her to forgive him for inadvertently putting her on the spot.

Catching his eyes, Cat was surprised to see that Scott looked worried. She couldn’t even begin to think what might be the cause, but she appreciated the smile anyway and returned it gratefully. Being in the presence of arguably the most impressive family in the world had made her feel rather small and insignificant and she found she was almost embarrassed to talk about herself in their presence.

“There’s not much to tell really, Mrs Tracy,” she stammered, suddenly forgetting everything she’d ever done now that she had been put on the spot. “I come from Kent originally, I stay in London now and I dance with the Royal Ballet. That’s about it really.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Gordon interjected, beating Scott to it and earning a grateful look from his older brother. “You don’t just dance with the Royal Ballet, you’re like their superstar ballerina.”

“I wouldn’t go quite that far,” she deflected, a flush appearing at the bottom of her neck and radiating upwards as she felt everyone staring at her. “I dance the main roles but I’m not a superstar or anything.”

“So, if you’re a ballerina does that mean you can dance on your toes?” interjected Alan.

“It sure does,” she smiled at the youngest, grateful to have a question that was more about her profession than herself, knowing that she could easily talk about that all day.

“That’s so cool. Doesn’t it hurt though?” he pressed, following the same line of logic that thousands before him had used, including his biggest brother when they had first met.

Looking around the table at all the faces eagerly awaiting the answer made Cat realize that, for all their amazing talents and abilities, they were still exactly the same as everyone else, making them seem more human and approachable somehow.

“Yep, it sure does,” she laughed, finally feeling at ease and wondering why she had been so in awe of them all just moments before.

“Did you say you live in London?” Selene asked, realising that the evening could now easily turn into a question and answer session about ballet and end with them still not knowing anything about Cat.

“Yeah, I’ve got a flat in Highbury, not that I’m there much. I spend most of my time working,” Cat replied, to laughter from around the table.

“I think we all know that feeling,” chuckled Virgil, before motioning to Selene to continue as he reached across the table for another poppadum.

“Aww, I’m in Camden. We should get together sometime and go out.”

“Yeah, that would be fun,” Cat grinned, warming to Selene instantly and happy to feel included so quickly. “We’ll get something sorted once I’m home and I know what my schedule is like.”

“Fun though that sounds,” John cut in, shooting Scott a look that was equal parts scared and impressed at the speed at which the girls had seemingly made friends, “maybe Cat could enlighten us on how she met our esteemed older brother, seeing as he’s been keeping very quiet about it?”

“It’s not a very exciting story I’m afraid,” she started, directing a glare at Gordon, daring him to contradict what she was about to say as he snorted in mirth beside her. “We met in a bar about 10 years ago, dated for a year after that and then split up when Scott was deployed and I moved to London.”

“We didn’t see each other again 'til Penny invited us both to the same function a couple of months ago and we’ve become good friends since then,” Scott continued, doing what he could to take the heat off his guest. “Seeing as Cat’s not got rehearsals for a few weeks I thought she might like to come and get some sun for a week so here she is,” he finished with a smile at Cat that, once again, made her heart flutter dangerously.

“Well, we’re all very glad to have you and I’m sure Scott here will make sure you have a lovely week.” Virgil grinned. Cat smiled, looking round the table at the friendly faces, before fixing her gaze on Scott, sending his heart rate into orbit. “Yes, I think he will.”

All Scott could do was grin back. Nothing else existed in that moment apart from the woman beside him. He heard his grandma speaking and wrenched his attention back to the conversation, just in time to feel his blood run cold.

“And what about your family, dear? They must be very proud of you,” Grandma asked, blissfully unaware of Cat’s history.

“I don’t know how they feel to be honest,” Cat shrugged, trying to be very matter of fact and keeping a braver face on it than she felt. “I’ve not seen my dad since he walked out on us when I was 5, and I’ve not spoken to my mum in nearly 6 years after she proved, yet again, that I’m at the bottom of her list of priorities unless she wants something.

“It’s OK though,” she added, looking around the table to see the usual sympathetic expressions that formed on the faces of anyone present whenever she talked about her family and relieved to feel a squeeze of support on her arm from Scott beside her. “I’ve got good friends, that’s all I really need.”

As she spoke, she turned to give Scott a dazzling smile that both melted his heart and made him feel 100 times worse than he already did about not warning everyone that family was a touchy subject for her. He had to admit that he was impressed at the way she’d handled it; she never shied away from giving an honest answer to a direct question and the fact that she could be simultaneously so vulnerable and so strong was a huge part of his attraction to her, whether she knew it or not.

Realising that his hand was still on her arm, he hastily removed it, hoping that it hadn’t attracted too much attention from his brothers. It felt like he had been sitting there for an eternity, lost in her smile but in reality, he had to concede that it was likely to have been less than 30 seconds when she turned away at the sound of another voice beside her.

“Right, I think we’ve maybe asked enough questions for now. Poor Cat hasn’t had a chance to eat yet and I’m guessing she might want to,” suggested Gordon, earning himself grateful smiles from both Cat and Scott for taking the focus away from the ballerina. “Does anyone want to share this last naan with me?”

With the rest of the table’s attention diverted by the task of dividing up the remaining food, Cat flopped back in her chair and stifled a yawn, suddenly realising just how tired she was, very grateful not to be the centre of attention any more.

“How’re you doing? You OK?” Scott whispered, leaning into her to afford them as much privacy as he could in case she wanted to make her escape, enjoying the fleeting scent of her hair as she flicked it out of the way over her shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she assured him, feeling the butterflies in her stomach awaken at his closeness and once again wondering if she was really supposed to feel like this for someone who was just a friend. “It’s just been a long day, that's all. It’s coming up for morning London time and I’ve been awake all night.”

“Oh God, so you have,” Scott exclaimed, pulling away suddenly as he berated himself for his thoughtlessness. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve realised. I knew Parker would take a rest before he headed back but because you’re staying I didn’t even think about you.”

“It’s fine, really,” she tried to reassure him. “I’m used to crossing time zones to perform. Usually it’s an overnight flight, a couple of hours sleep then straight into rehearsals so this is already a million times better. I think I will go to bed after dinner though.”

“Of course. If you want to bail then just say the word and I’ll get you out of here.”

“Like my knight in shining armour,” she joked, leaning back in toward him so as not to be overheard. “Let me finish and then I might take you up on that.”

“Your wish is my command,” Scott murmured, as he closed the gap between them further, their foreheads almost touching as his eyes betrayed more than he would ever admit aloud.

Cat smiled her agreement, holding his gaze for just a second before looking away and going back to her dinner, her heart racing. Any doubts that she had about his continued feelings for her had evaporated in that moment; all she needed to work out now was whether she felt the same and, if she did, whether he was worth the risk of a second chance.

#Scott Tracy #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds are go

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willow-salix · 4 years

Text

Day 96 of Isolation on Tracy Island and I did something today that I never thought I would and I’m sure that I will be regretting it for months, OK, maybe years to come.

It all started when I entered the lounge, which is honestly an everyday occurrence, I walk in and those little sods start acting up, but this time it was John that caught my attention.

“What was that?” I demanded to know.

“What was what?” he asked innocently.

“That face you just pulled.”

“What face? This is my normal expression.”

“No it wasn’t! It was the same face you pull when Gordon tells a bad joke or when Alan convinced you to try Marmite on your bagel, that one that is a cross between disgust and what the hell was that. And I want to know why you directed it at me!”

“I did no such thing,” he sniffed, turning back to his book.

I whipped the book away, tossing it onto the coffee table. “Yes, you did. Now, explain.”

“I didn’t do anything, I looked at you the same way I always do, with love, great respect and a little bit of thankfulness."

I raised an eyebrow at that. Space man was lying through his teeth. Considering I’d just gotten dressed after a leisurely bath and actually bothered with makeup I didn’t think I looked too bad. Apparently I was wrong.

“She doesn’t look like she believes you, bro,” Scott grinned, stretching out full length on the couch, arms behind his head, clearly settling in to watch the show.

“Do I look offensive today? Do I smell? Did I snore all night? Give me a hint here, babe, ‘cause I’m getting a wee bit paranoid.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong and you certainly aren’t offensive-” John started.

“Not all of her anyway,” Scott added in his loudest side whisper.

“Not ALL of me? So part of me is?” I crossed my arms defensively, feeling a huff coming on.

“No, not a part of you,” John promised, but I know when he’s deflecting and that was a definite deflection, the same tone he uses on prank callers and people being dramatic while he waits for the local authorities to answer the call.

I turned my glare on Scott. I’ll give him his due, he held out longer than I expected before he cracked, a whole ten seconds at least.

“He hates that top you’re wearing.”

“What?” I glanced down at my top, one of my favourites. It was a vintage number from somewhere in the 1980’s depicting cartoon characters of a band called Queen. It was baggy, saggy, ripped in places, fraying at the collar where I’d hacked it off and at the arm holes where I’d cut off the sleeves. It hung off one shoulder and sagged on the other and it was sooooo cool and comfy. It was just the best shirt ever.

“What's wrong with it?”

John made a face and crossed his legs protectively. I raised an eyebrow at that, don’t tempt me, dude.

“It’s just…” he paused as if trying to pick the least offensive way to describe it.

“He thinks it’s ugly.”

“Scott, stop helping!” John groaned, dropping his head into his hands.

“Oh!” I squawked, totally shocked and utterly appalled. “It is not ugly.”

“It is a little. It’s obnoxious, the cartoons are weird and it hurts my eyes to look at it,” John admitted. Scott burst out laughing, earning him a glare from both of us.

"Let me get this straight," I uncrossed my arms and dropped my hands to my hips, as sure sign I was getting annoyed. "You, the one who's favourite shirt makes you look like a rodeo clown. You who owns a dressing gown that looks like it mated with a 1970's couch, you who probably only keep it because you can actually see the damned thing from space, think my shirt is ugly? You are judging ugly?" I was utterly flabbergasted.

There was a thump as Scott rolled off the couch but still didn't stop laughing. We both ignored him.

"Yes, I'm judging ugly and those things on your chest are ugly."

I looked down at the twins in horror.

"You know it didn't mean those!"

Breathless wheezing was all Scott could manage as he gave up trying to haul himself back into the couch and just accepted his fate, laughing so hard that he was now incapable of making any sound at all.

I nudged him with my foot but it did little good so I just stepped over his flailing legs and advanced on John.

"This shirt is an album cover, it is a classic, it is an amazing album and I love it!"

"And I love my rodeo shirt…" he paused, realising what he had just said. "Not that it is a rodeo shirt," he backtracked hurriedly.

"Who are you trying to convince here?" I asked.

"Hey, what are you guys yelling about?" Gordon asked, coming into the room and skidding to a halt as he caught sight of one brother rolling around on the floor and another looking like he wished he was anywhere but there at that moment. His eyes slid to me and widened.

"Gordon!" John seized on his brother's presence gratefully, obviously needing backup. "Can you please tell her that my shirt is not ugly, nor is that dressing gown you gave me for Christmas."

"And please tell him that this shirt is cool and in no way obnoxious or ugly, not like his couch print nightmare!"

Gordon's eyes darted between us and he backed up a few steps.

"What's that Grandma?" he called over his shoulder. "You made fresh cookies? Sure, I'd love to try them!" he was gone before we could blink.

Scott gasped for air, wiping the tears from his eyes as he attempted to pull himself together.

I dived straight back into the fray, I'm a woman, we don't back down when we know we're right.

"Your things are so hideous they deserve to be burnt to put them and us out of our misery!"

"I'll burn my things when you burn that baggy sheet you call a shirt!"

I had a split second to make a decision, do I keep arguing, do I back down or do I make a sacrifice for the good of mankind (and my own eyes)?

No way was I backing down.

"Deal!" I yelled triumphantly.

"Fine!" he yelled back. "But you have to pick one, if you're only burning one thing so am I."

“Fine!” I agreed, nodding as if it were a done deal. “Burn that dressing gown, I can live with the clown shirt.”

“Fine! But now I’m going to wear that shirt every day and buy more to make sure I don’t smell!”

“Dude, how was that a threat?”

He paused. “I don’t know, but it was.”

“Fine.”

“Go and get that ugly thing!”

��I will.”

“Oh, and can you be amazing and grab me another shirt since I will apparently be needing one?”

“Sure,” he stalked away, then paused at the door and turned back to look at me. “What shirt do you want?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, just pick anything that takes your fancy, surprise me.”

He nodded and left again.

“Oh God, Oh I can’t breathe!” Scott gulped, taking deep breaths and letting them out slowly in an attempt to calm himself. “Even when you two are arguing you completely miss the point and end up being nice to each other and it’s hilarious.”

I nudged him with my foot again. “Get up, Chuckles, we need to build a fire.”

***

"What's going on?" Alan asked, wandering over.

"John finally admitted that he hates her shirt," Kayo told him.

"Does everyone know you hated it? Why am I always the last to know?"

John shrugged, obviously not willing to risk speaking and annoying me further.

“Are you two sure you want to do this?” Virgil asked, tossing another log onto the fire that he and Scott (when he finally pulled himself together enough to stand upright) had made in the firepit on the beach. Yes, we have a firepit, they are men, they like to make fire, it makes them feel all cave man and grrrr. Like speeding around the world in rockets wasn’t enough.

By the time we had emerged onto the beach, each gently carrying our precious sacrifices, the entire family had turned out to watch. Obviously lockdown had been so boring that anything was entertainment to them, even us doing a clothes barbecue.

I rubbed the hem of my shirt between my finger and thumb, feeling the soft material. It had been washed so many times and almost worn to death that it was super soft, broken in, more comfortable than anything else I owned. It was comfort clothing. You know what I mean, like when you slip on your favourite pyjamas and cuddle up under a blanket and then suddenly the world doesn’t seem so bad? Yeah, that was this shirt to me. I could wear it with leggings and slouch around the house as I had done today, or I could team it up with a pair of tight jeans, a studded belt and a few accessories, tie it at the corner to make it a little more form fitting and I’d be acing the rock chick look. It was multi purpose! Not like that disgusting dressing gown that seemed to exist just to spite me. That thing served absolutely no purpose at all.

I looked down at my shirt again. Could I really do this? Could I really destroy something I loved because he hated it? I glanced over at him, dressing gown rolled up and tucked under his arm. Yes, yes I could, if it would make him happy.

The offensive gown was just as hideous when you couldn’t see the shape of the thing. How was that even possible? OK, so maybe it did serve a little purpose, if only to annoy me. It’s kinda always been there, you know? I know when he’s having a bad day when he comes home and gets changed into that thing. Because it’s soft and silky and sometimes gravity is just a little too harsh after more than a week in space and all other clothes seem too heavy for him to deal with. I’m used to finding him in the kitchen at random times of the day making a sandwich while wearing it, or first thing in the morning when he’s hunched over a big mug of coffee, or when there’s an emergency call and that’s the first thing he grabs so he's dressed when he answers. Hell, I’ve grabbed it too, I’ve worn it when I’ve felt crampy and sick because it smells like him and that's comforting and I've lost count of the times that it was the closest thing to hand and I had the sudden urge for chocolate at 3am. And when I’ve come home and it’s not hanging up in the bedroom I know he’s home too and that’s just the best thing ever.

I stupidly risked a glance at his face and saw the utter devastation there. Nooo, why did I do that? Why did I look?

No! Be strong! I could buy him another that was just as soft and comfy, maybe even more so, I’d buy an even better one. One that actually has a nice pattern, or better yet, no pattern at all, a nice midnight blue one that would look amazing on him. He’d love it in the end. And I’d make him buy me like twenty cool new shirts to make up for this one.

“How are they going to do this?” Alan asked as we stood side by side beside the flickering fire.

“John should go first because he started this by not being able to lie properly,” Scott decided after John and I stared at each other for a few seconds, completely baffled. What can I say, burning clothes is a new experience for me. I’ve only done it once and that time I’d actually planned it.

“Fine, I can go first,” he set his shoulders and balled up the offensive gown. “A deal is a deal.”

“Is he actually going to do it?” Alan whispered to Gordon.

“If he doesn’t I’m going to tease him forever,” Kayo admitted, joining in the conversation.

I heard John take a deep breath and step forward. He inhaled slowly then threw the gown.

I don’t know why I did it, I don’t even think it was a conscious decision, my arm was moving before I even registered what was happening. I didn’t even know I could move that fast, usually I’d be hard pressed to outpace a sloth. But my hand shot out and I snatched the gown from certain death, dropping my own shirt in the process.

“Why did you do that?”

I looked down at the bundle of poop brown and gold ick that had magically appeared in my hands.

“I don’t know.”

“Then give it back.”

“No!” I tucked it away behind my back. “You love this ugly mess.”

“But you hate it.”

“So? What does that matter? This isn’t about me, it’s not mine.” I pushed it into his hands and snatched my shirt off the ground, balling it up ready to throw.

It was his turn to snatch. “What are you doing?”

“Duh, burning the offensive shirt, I made a promise,” I tried to tug it away from him but he held firm.

“You’d still burn it even though you won’t let me burn mine?”

“Sure.”

“But you love it.”

“Yeah, and you hate it,” I shrugged. Simple enough concept. No one wanted to walk into a room and be hit with the stink eye because they were wearing something that was apparently ugly.

“You’re not burning the shirt, it’s your favourite. We can’t like everything, that makes life boring.”

“So you’re agreeing to disagree?” Alan groaned. “This was the most ridiculous waste of time.”

Everyone nodded their agreement, Virgil and Scott looking sadly at their fire, now unused for the purposes for which it had been built, it would receive no sacrifice today.

WHUMMMP! Flames leapt up as something landed in the middle of the fire and quickly took hold.

“What the-?”

A shirtless Gordon shrugged. “Well, someone had to do it.”

So yes, I may have made a big mistake because I’ll never be able to complain about the thing again now that I’ve saved its life. It's going to haunt me forever more.

#john tracy #That dressing gown #scott tracy #Scott is being a shit #Selene is pissed #Thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 1965 #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds tos #tracy island #isolation island #thunderbirds in isolation #social isolation #self isolating #isolation

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tagsecretsanta · 4 years

Text

From Ak47stylegirl

to @Onereyofstarlight

Secret Santa doesn’t own this work, full credit to the author above!

Growing up on a tropical island meant that a lot of his Christmases happened in the summertime. Which meant it was hot and sunny, perfect weather for swimming or an outdoor BBQ.

So he never experienced a white Christmas, or a ‘traditional’ Christmas like his older brothers have, with snow and cold weather or Drinking Hot chocolate around a fireplace on a cold December eve...

Though he definitely still had the hot chocolate with marshmallows on top, hmmm chocolate, he loves chocolate… especially at Christmas time, because instead of gathering around a fire, his family would put a Christmas movie on and they would all drink hot chocolate as they watched it!

Well almost everyone had hot chocolate that is, Scott and Virgil would sometimes coffee instead or even add coffee to their hot chocolate which was disgusting!

Why ruin a perfect cup of hot chocolate? Just ugh! It was disgusting, but Scott and Virgil seemed to enjoy it! Which was weird!

Anyway back to the white Christmas thing, as he said before he never experienced one before…

Until now…

Lady Penelope had invited them to stay at her place for Christmas and Gordon had jumped at it, begging Scott to say yes...

It was hilarious, Gordon followed Scott around nearly constantly over two whole days, continually giving him puppy eyes. There was a point where he swore that Scott was actually hiding from Gordon.

By the end of the second day, Scott was nearly ready to snap and wring Gordon’s neck, through in a friendly manner because Gordon was his little brother but still wring his neck!

Honestly, he surprised Scott agreed to this after what happened with Gordon but the fact that Lady Penelope was really looking forward to having them over and John’s and Virgil’s decisive and calm nature may have played a factor…

Through Scott did get his revenge by putting Gordon on cooking duty with grandma, which was the worst! The worst! Worst than getting your games taken away or being grounded!

Through those were also pretty bad too…

It was a week before Christmas, and they were at the Crighton Ward estate, EOS monitoring rescues calls from thunderbird five. She was relaying them to local rescue teams, so they could have this holiday. They did have their ships with them still, so if an emergency happened that they could only deal with happened, they’ll be ready…

Emergency being...you know, Like an asteroid heading towards earth, the normal stuff...

But until that happened, and providing no idiot straps a rocket to an asteroid…

They were on holiday, and he intended to enjoy the time off with his brothers and family. They barely had time off normally, so really, he was going to enjoy this week...

——

He didn’t really understand at first why his brothers were so set on making sure he brought warm clothes. Sure, he has heard that it could get pretty cold in England in wintertime, but it couldn’t be that cold, right?

Oh, how wrong he was...

He was hugely grateful that Scott checks his suitcase a day before they left and promptly tipped it all out and started to repack it with even warmer clothes than the ones he had originally packed. Clothes that he barely wore but somehow still fitted him perfectly...

Through at the time when Scott did this, he was understandably annoyed by this. He wasn’t a ten-year-old Scott! He had thought as he stood in the corner of his room, arms crossed and pouting…

Through now…

“So…” Scott said, looking down at him with a smug smile, “guess you’re glad you got those warm clothes, huh?”

His face, which was already red from the cold, went a couple shades redder. “Maybe…” he pouted as he pulled his scarf tighter around his neck as the wind picked up. “It’s...it’s not that cold…” He shivered, hugging himself to keep warm.

“You’ll keep kiddo..” Scott chuckled, shaking his head “you’ll keep…”

——

He couldn’t believe his eyes...he only through Christmas trees like this existed in movies! He thought as he stared open-mouthed at the giant, expertly decorated, Christmas tree in one of Penny’s living rooms.

“You got a real tree?!” He asked excitedly, quickly looking at Penny before looking back at the magnificent tree again. “Wow! It’s so cool!”

“Thank you, Alan, dear..” Penny smiled at him while behind her, Parker chuckled in amusement. Scott and Virgil also seemed pretty amused too, sharing a look between themselves.

Through he noticed nearly none of this, too excited by the big tree in front of him. Who knew he’ll be excited over a tree?

“It’s so big?! And it’s…. it's so big!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air, flabbergasted by the tree before him.

How did they get it inside? How did they decorate it? They would have had to use a lift like they had in the hangers back home, right? Surely they couldn’t have done it any other way…

He had so many questions, which started spilling out of him like clockwork…

“How did you even decorate it?!” He asked excitedly, looking at Penny with wide, curious puppy eyes. “It’s so big! You would need a lift to decorate it!”

“H’It took h’more than a lift.,” Parker said dryly as he filled up Penny’s teacup. “Didn’t it m’ lady?”

Penny nodded, “yes indeed it did, Parker..” Penny said as she took a sip of her tea. “it’s a real team effort to get the Crichton Ward Christmas tree ready every year, but it’s sure is worth it, isn’t Alan dear?”

He nodded, his eyes still trained on the tree. There was one question really bugging him through…

“Why have a real Christmas tree?” He asked softly, tilting his head to the side like a curious puppy, “Wouldn’t it be easier to just have a fake tree? Less work?”

“Well yes, it would be easier, but it's a tradition in the Creighton-Ward household to have a live tree for Christmas” Penny smiled at him, “plus live trees have such a nice aroma, wouldn’t you agree Scott ?”

“Huh?” Scott looked up from his coffee startled, having zoned out a couple minutes before. “oh yeah, it smells re-“ Scott yawned, “-ally nice Lady P..”

“You had to yawn, didn’t you? Now I’m going to start yawning” Virgil said, giving Scott a glare before yawning himself, “there it is…”

He snickered, trying to hide his laughers from his brothers, though he wasn’t doing very well. Penny was also amused by this brothers antics, but she hid her laugher better them him.

Scott shook his head, rolling his eyes at Virgil before turning to look at Penny “We had a lot of rescues run really late into the night yesterday and with the-“ Scott yawned again, this time making him yawn as well…

Why were yawns so contagious?!

“-the chaos of making sure everything and everyone was ready to come here today, we haven’t been able to get much sleep, unfortunately..” Scott finished, sounding as tired as he said he was. “I think John, Gordon and grandma may have already hit the hay…”

Now that he was calmed down from his hype for seeing the tree, he was starting to feel mega tired too... It has been a big day...

“I don’t blame them..” Virgil yawned, rubbing his eye with his fist. “I’m thinking of joining them…” Virgil said, standing up.

“Well, in that case, I think we all should call it a night..” Penny said, standing up as well. “I’ll see you boys in the morning, don’t be afraid to sleep in a little bit..”

“Will do…” Scott chuckled as he stood up, “come on Allie, bedtime..” Scott said as he wrapped an arm him, starting to lead him out of the room.

“Night Lady P, Parker...” He yawned, letting Scott lead him out of the room. He could definitely say this has been a good first day of their holiday...

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #tag team secret santa #secret santa 2019 #Gordon Tracy #Lady Penelope #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Virgil Tracy #alan tracy

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dontfeeddaelves · 5 years

Text

Quoth the Raven

A Thunderbirds (are Go!) fanfic

Read on AO3.

I’m a piece of shit who fandom hops every week, sorry ya’ll.

Virgil knew that all hope was lost when Gordon’s fingers started tapping against the hood of the car he was sitting atop.

To be completely fair, he had lasted much longer than Virgil had thought. After being stuck out in the middle of nowhere for three hours, two of which he, Virgil, and John had been left alone while Scott and Alan walked back the way they had come for help at the gas station.

Just as well that they were all stranded without reception.

Still, Gordon had been blessedly quiet… until he became bored.

It was only a matter of time. Virgil let out a sigh from where he was leaning against the driver’s door, chin dropping to his chest. John’s blond head did not move from its position against the passenger’s headrest, the door wide open to let in the cool breeze. His eyes were closed, and Virgil envied his brother’s cool detachment from their predicament.

Gordon’s finger tapping got louder, no rhyme or reason behind it. Gordon himself didn’t even seem aware of the tick, copper eyes staring out into the desert horizon, mind a million miles away. It wouldn’t have bothered Virgil so much if there was an actual beat to the taps, but the rhythm was completely random and out of time and Virgil was going to go crazy if they didn’t stop soon.

But, he reasoned, if the finger tapping stopped, then Gordon would be forced to find another outlet for his energy, and Virgil cringed at that thought.

They were in the middle of nowhere, and Virgil and John were the only people Gordon could… annoy.

Scrunching his eyes tight, Virgil was weighing his options when his thoughts were interrupted.

“Don’t feel sorry for yourself,” John’s voice floated through the open window at Virgil’s back. He started slightly, craning his neck to look around his torso at his brother. “Only assholes do that.”

On the hood, Gordon’s head snapped around, eyes wide as he stared at John. To his credit, John hadn’t opened an eye, and if Gordon hadn’t reacted the way he did, Virgil would have been sure that he had imagined the blond’s words altogether.

“What?” he asked.

But as it was, John seemed to have Gordon’s full attention now. Virgil turned so that he was facing the car, arms folded across the top, the metal warm under his skin.

John opened an eye, but instead of answering Virgil, he focused on Gordon. Virgil let his eyes slide over; Gordon was staring at John, expression unreadable.

“Tomorrow is always fresh,” Gordon said after a still moment, “with no mistakes in it yet.”

Virgil blinked. Had Gordon just quote Anne of Green Gables?

“It does not do well to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that,” John replied a minute later.

Gordon burst out laughing. “Harry Potter?” he chuckled. “Really?”

John merely grinned in response.

“What are you doing?” Virgil asked, frowning. “Gordo, I didn’t know you read Anne of Green Gables…”

Gordon’s reply was a shrug, eyes flicking briefly to Virgil before resettling on John.

Okay… that was odd. As far as Virgil had been aware, the only books Gordon had read were 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and Moby Dick.

“Your move, George.”

“Please, I am at least a James,” Gordon scoffed, though there was a hint of a grin on his face. Thoroughly confused, Virgil’s flabbergasted brain nearly stopped when Gordon went on to say, “It sounds plausible enough tonight, but wait until tomorrow. Wait for the common sense of the morning.”

H. G. Wells?

John actually sat up at that, at full attention while Gordon remained smirking on the hood of the car. John’s eyes narrowed.

"No man, for any considerable period, can wear one face to himself and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true."

As Virgil watched, Gordon’s smirk dropped like a ton of lead. He glared at John’s smug face.

“What is this?” Virgil asked.

But, alas, he was ignored in favor of Oscar Wilde.

“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.”

John’s eyes flashed. “You’re going there, huh?”

Gordon held up his hands in mock surrender. “You started it, not me. All’s fair in love and war, Johnny.”

Pointing at finger at Gordon, John growled, “Wait your turn.”

Virgil was stood staring, thoroughly confused and questioning his place in this world.

Gordon shrugged, lowering his arms and leaning back on them, unfolding his legs from under him and stretching them out on the car. John was quiet for a moment before he answered.

“When a stone is dropped into a pond, the water continues quivering even after the stone has sunk to the bottom.”

Gordon catapulted himself into a sitting position, face distorted in a way that Virgil had never seen before. He glanced at John, and the blond seemed briefly apologetic… but that was before Gordon retaliated with, “It’s better to look at the sky than live there.”

Before he could even say a word, John was on the offense. “So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”

Gordon slammed a hand on the hood, causing Virgil to jump. Without waiting, he practically spat, “There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

Shakespeare… huh…

John seemed to pause, regarding Gordon with a cool, calculating look. The silence was tense, and Virgil was about to speak, to ask, once more, what in the world was happening, when John finally spoke.

“In spite of everything, I still believe people are really good at heart.”

Virgil threw up his hands, looking to sky for answers. The orange of the sunset did nothing to comfort him when Gordon replied with Steinbeck.

“And now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good.”

“She says nothing at all, but simply stares upward into the dark sky and watches, with sad eyes, the slow dance of the infinite stars.”

“And in that moment, I swear, we were infinite.”

John burst out laughing this time, a rare occurrence that had Virgil questioning everything else he thought he knew. Gordon watched with a proud smile.

“Okay, okay,” John said, returning the grin when he collected himself. “You win.”

Win?

Gordon pumped the air. “Yes! What’s that make it, thirty-six to thirty five?”

John waved a hand in the air, settling back down in his previous position, shutting his eyes once more. “Yeah, yeah, go ahead and gloat.”

“Good round, though,” Gordon said, shifting himself so that his back was against the windshield as he crossed his arms behind his head and bent his knees. He propped one ankle on top of the the other knee and gently bounced his foot.

At least he wasn’t tapping his fingers any more.

“I have to say, I’m impressed with the Oscar Wilde. I wasn’t expecting that one.”

Virgil reached a hand to his forehead and rubbed at the spot between his eyes. He was going insane, that was the only explanation.

“I’m surprised about the copious amount of young adult genre you had,” Gordon said. He tilted his head slightly. “What’s up with that?”

John shrugged. “Alan left a bunch of books up on Five and I finished all mine before I came down. I had nothing better to do.”

Gordon grinned widely and shut his eyes as well.

“Are you two going to tell me what just happened?” Virgil asked, raising his head and looking at his two younger brothers.

“A game,” they replied in unison.

Now Virgil was positive he was losing it. And they called Scott old. “What?”

“A game,” Gordon said slowly, turning to look at Virgil. “Something one plays for entertainment.”

Not in the mood for his brother’s antics, Virgil simply glared.

It seemed that John took pity and explained. “When Gordon… was in the hospital....” code for: hydrofoil accident… “He got bored when everyone was out and the only books the hospital had were children’s books. I lent him some of mine and we’d spend some time discussing them.”

“And then we’d pick out our favorite quotes,” Gordon added, settling back down against the windshield. “At first we tried quoting it and having the other guess the author. But it was too easy, so we upped the ante.”

“Retaliate with quotes,” John resumed. “Nothing’s off limits. But sometimes, the quotes hit too close to home, and those times end in a draw if it can’t be resolved. First person to admit defeat loses.”

Virgil looked between his two lounging brothers, utterly flabbergasted. He had no idea that John and Gordon even talked, let alone did… this. It was rare that the two got along, their interests and personalities clashing more often than not. Gordon was loud, outgoing, and clingy. John was quiet, introverted, and didn’t like human contact. Gordon loved the sea and John adored the sky. The two of them were rarely seen alone, and it was even rarer to seem them talking voluntarily together outside of business-related affairs.

The two of them just clashed in every way, but to see them playing a game-a literary game-was enough to make Virgil’s head spin.

“And you two do this all the time?” he asked, frowing.

“Yup,” Gordon said, popping the “p”.

“Is that a problem?” John asked, and the slight defensive tone of his voice had Virgil blinking.

“No, not at all,” he said. He scratched the back of his neck. “I’m just surprised that Gordon voluntarily reads past the tenth grade level on his own.”

“I’m not stupid,” Gordon frowned, sitting up and leveling a stare at Virgil.

“That’s not what I meant,” Virgil replied, backtracking. Finding himself on the end of two angry brothers who normally did not team up was suddenly unsettling.

“Then what did you mean?” John questioned.

“Just… that Gordon, you surprised me, is all. I wasn’t expecting it. Why didn’t you say something, I love H. G. Wells.”

Gordon grinned at him and held up a finger. “One must be careful of books, and what is inside them, for words have the power to change us.”

Virgil threw up his hands at the loud laughter erupted from his brothers and decided the world had gone mad.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #john tracy #as usual theres no beta so yeah #im a fucking mess when it comes to writing and inspiration le sigh #fanfic #i wrote a thing

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flauntpage · 5 years

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Should the Flyers Trade Wayne Simmonds… and then Bring Him Back?

Wayne Simmonds was pissed off and rightfully so.

The Flyers were trying to furiously come back from another three-goal deficit against Tampa Bay when it seemed Sean Couturier had cut the lead to one with 47 seconds remaining in the game.

Referee Graham Skilliter called off the goal, however.

As a regular observer of hockey, I can tell you I’m not sure Skilliter initially knew why he was waiving off the goal. It wasn’t done emphatically, and as soon as the Flyers seemed to voice their complaints, he held them at bay saying he was going to discuss it with the other officials.

Then, the four zebras gathered near the scorer’s table in a huddle, talked for a moment and then decided to rule it was no goal because of goaltender interference.

An easy out would have been that Skilliter lost sight of the puck and was about to blow his whistle. But, considering the Flyers were burned last week in a game against the Penguins on a poorly timed ref’s whistle, you could see a moment of trepidation by Skilliter waiving it off. So, they had to find a different call. And they went with goaltender interference.

The reason? It’s a call that can be challenged. Knowing Flyers coach Scott Gordon would likely issue that challenge, the officials knew they could get another review of the play on video and then they could make the correct call.

Welcome to professional sports officiating in 2019, where the decisions being made on the field, court or ice aren’t necessarily what you saw or thought you saw, but rather a vague possibility that could elicit replay review so the officials can get a second look at a play they missed and don’t have to suffer the slings and arrows of a blown call.

The problem this time though was that even after looking at a replay, which was clear as day that this should have been a goal and there was no interference, the officials still got it wrong.

Can someone tell me where is Goalie Interference on the Flyers#Flyers #TBLvsPHI pic.twitter.com/cC8LN2IqG0

— David Malandra Jr (@David_Malandra) February 20, 2019

They said the call on the ice was “confirmed,” although there isn’t one person who can clearly identify what constitutes interfering with a goalie anymore.

Even Couturier was flabbergasted afterwards saying, “I don’t know what goalie interference is anymore.”

And he’s right. No one knows. The NHL has a problem much like the NFL did with determining what constitutes a catch before this past season, or what actually is roughing the passer, which is the latest rule that seems completely and utterly arbitrary and without any shred of common sense applied to it.

But this isn’t about that missed call. After all, the Flyers would have still needed another goal in the final 47 seconds just to tie Tampa, so there’s no guarantee there. And, to be fair, the eventual 5-2 loss to the Lightning was not the result of bad officiating, but rather a terrible first period for the Flyers that was littered with turnovers and mistakes – the same turnovers and mistakes they were able to get away with in games against a team like Detroit who they swept last weekend but that will kill you against the Stanley Cup favorites in Tampa.

No, this story is about the first guy I mentioned. Wayne Simmonds. Because Tuesday night very well could have been his final game at the Wells Fargo Center as a member of the Flyers – and if it was, it was not one for the photo albums.

Simmonds, who has been an emotional leader during the Flyers’ resurgent past month, had an off night.

His line, with Nolan Patrick and Scott Laughton that had been so good for the past several games, was mostly invisible. Simmonds was frustrated early – because the Flyers were behind 3-0 in a blink of an eye and couldn’t solve Lightning backup goalie Louis Domingue for the first two periods, including a second period in which the Flyers played a strong 20 minutes of hockey.

But in the third period, Simmonds was whistled for two minor penalties, first for roughing Tyler Johnson after not taking kindly to being interfered with – although if he controls his reaction there, maybe the Flyers get a power play.

After serving that penalty, Simmonds was quickly whistled for hooking Nikita Kucherov. It was an admittedly weak call, and Simmonds was hot. He stood at the door of the penalty box and screamed at the referee (I didn’t note if it was Skilliter or Jake Brenk) incessantly until the ref responded by blowing his whistle and pointing at Simmonds to close the door and get in the box. Simmonds still delayed and was lucky not to get an additional minor for unsportsmanlike conduct or even a 10-minute misconduct.

The Lightning went ahead and scored while Simmonds was in the box, which only ate at him further.

Then came the goalie interference call, and finally, with the net empty, the Lightning put the game away with one final goal. Simmonds let some verbiage fly that resulted in a game misconduct:

What could be the last time Simmonds steps off the ice at the WFC in a Flyers jersey. pic.twitter.com/9KxMbehL0h

— Broad Street Hockey (@BroadStHockey) February 20, 2019

Oh, did I mention Simmonds was on the ice for three of the five Tampa goals as well?

His final stat line had 18:42 of ice time, 14 minutes in penalties and he was a minus-3.

Certainly not the way he wanted to go out.

But the question remains – is he on his way out?

I’m still hearing the answer to that is likely yes, that he will be traded before Monday’s deadline. This could mean there are two more opportunities to watch Simmonds play in a Flyers jersey – on television Thursday night when they are in Montreal or Saturday (maybe Sunday, depending on the weather) at the Stadium Series game against Pittsburgh at Lincoln Financial Field.

The Flyers were able to stay within six points of a playoff spot despite the loss to Tampa because Columbus lost in Montreal.

The target team continues to change for the Flyers – it’s been Pittsburgh, Columbus and Carolina at various times in the past week – and don’t forget Buffalo is in this mix as well. But for now, the final wild card spot belongs to the Blue Jackets – who also happen to have a game in hand on the Flyers and seven more regulation wins than the Flyers – which is the first tiebreaker.

So, in essence, the Flyers could be as many as nine points out of a playoff spot without even playing another game.

General Manager Chuck Fletcher is aware of that, which is why he will wait through the weekend to make any trades final, but realizes the Flyers need to win the next two game sand get some help to really think they have a shot to make a run to a playoff berth – and even that might not be enough to save Simmonds from being traded.

There is an abundance of teams interested in Simmonds. More names crop up almost daily. Whether all those reports are to be believed or its agents/teams using the media to drum up interest/better offers remains to be seen.

For what it’s worth, the latest I heard was Boston is really interested.

But, if there are that many teams interested, the Flyers should bring back a return that is better than could have been expected when the calendar flipped to 2019.

And yet, there are those who say there should be caution for any team trading for Simmonds.

Bob McKenzie of TSN tweeted out last week that several scouts are cautioning that Simmonds might no longer be what you expect when you hear his name:

Pro scouts have been cautious with their recent reviews on Simmonds. https://t.co/KTlEdYiESt

— Bob McKenzie (@TSNBobMcKenzie) February 14, 2019

I texted with a pro scout after the Tampa game (who was not at the game, but who has seen Simmonds play a few times recently) and this is what he sent back:

“You can see he still has the motor, but I’m not sure all the cylinders are firing on every shift. There are times when you can see the Wayne Simmonds everyone knows, and then there are times where he’s more like a hologram – kind of there but really not.”

If these are the scouting reports other teams are getting, then maybe Fletcher won’t get the kind of return he thinks he will for Simmonds.

Either way, it’s pretty well accepted that Simmonds has two games to go as a member of the Flyers, and then he’ll be somewhere else – whether the Flyers are chasing the final wild card spot or not.

The big question then is, do you bring him back next season?

Russ and I talked about this a bit on the pre-game Press Row Show prior to the Lightning game. It’s a very real question without a very good answer.

There’s no questioning what Simmonds brings to the locker room, the team and the organization. Those intangibles alone are worth considering bringing him back in July.

But, at what price? And where does he fall on the list of priorities?

Those are the key questions.

It’s likely that Simmonds’ desire for a long-term deal will not be met. Maybe there’s a team out there willing to spend “stupid money” (©Middleton, John) on him and the Flyers just walk away and start planning the tribute video for when he returns.

But, in lieu of that, Simmonds could be an attractive addition to next season’s version of this team if it comes in the way of a two-or-three-year deal at a reasonable salary cap hit.

I say that because these Flyers are closer than you think, and if Simmonds is a part of a bigger re-tooling plan, then it could be a deft play by Fletcher – trade him away for value and then bring him back four months later.

However, Simmonds can not be a priority. That’s important. The timing of free agency is critical. If a player is willing to wait a couple days, great. But most players want to sign on July 1. That’s when all the big money is being doled out.

As such, depending on what the Flyers do between Monday and the draft in June, there could still be question marks entering July 1.

Will the Flyers have added speed and scoring to a forward lineup that lacks those traits? Will they have added a veteran and reliable defenseman to help stabilize an inconsistent core or rearguards?

Will there be a prospect who they feel can move into the lineup next season and have an impact?

All of those questions need to be answered before considering bringing back Simmonds.

If he’s the final piece of a puzzle that can give you 15-18 minutes a night and provide some power play scoring, some third line depth, his usual grit and sandpaper and stand out leadership in the locker room and is willing to take a shorter-term deal. Then yes, he checks off enough boxes, and you bring him back.

But if he’s being expected to bring more than that to the table and you are crossing your fingers and hoping, or you are forced to sign a longer-term deal, then you just have to walk away, unfortunately, no matter how popular a player Simmonds has been, is and always will be in Philadelphia.

And if that’s the case, then it’s a shame the last time he was seen in a Flyers jersey at Wells Fargo Center was under such sucky circumstances.

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