#Scott Tracy needs a friend

[idontknowreallywhy]

Estera - Ch 30 - Introduce

It’s been a while… nearly a fortnight, but they’re back ;)

What went before

I struggled with this one, dunno why, but most of the good ideas and one-liners are down to @sofasurf! So much so I’m tagging her in for the next one.

This chapter is 100% silly friends being silly and daft brothers being daft because everyone needs to let their hair down once in a while… And they need a break before anything else falls on anyone…

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

…

The three “your contact is typing” dots bounced for a while then stopped. Then bounced again. Then stopped.

She put the phone down and continued to make breakfast but within moments picked it up again, intrigued. What was he taking so long to write?

…

…

How’s your day?

…

Did you know stress balls are not actually indestructible???

Um, yeah - I’m a primary school teacher. That’s basically day 1 of training.

Huh.

I sense there is a story behind this… sharing is caring you know?

THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO BE INDESTRUCTIBLE!

O….K…. Imagine me saying generic reassuring things and patting you on the shoulder.

My shoulder is covered in stress ball goop. But thank you, that weirdly helps.

🤭 oh dear… that stuff is a beast to wash out

Well there’s another Italian tailor I have to avoid for the rest of my life…

Not again!

I have glitter in my hair 😭

I’m sure it looks beautiful. I’ll ask one of your brothers to send me a photo.

I’m not getting out the shower until it’s gone.

You will literally starve to death.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

So today I had to confiscate an action figure which had Alan’s head, John’s torso and your limbs. Should I be concerned about these children?

That’s… horrifying. I’m never coming back to the UK. 😲

They all say hi by the way.

I’m too scared to say hi back to them now 😬

On the topic of the action figures…

Yes?

I have to know - what WAS wrong with Gordon’s novelty action figure of you? You never told me…

You don’t want to know.

Oh I really really do.

…

Oh go on, I’ll only be imagining worse.

…

The figure was making pancakes while wearing a frilly blue “Kiss The Chef” apron.

That doesn’t seem so bad?

Only the apron.

Oh my… 🤣

Speak of this to no-one.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Hey Estera, got any plans this evening?

Aside from vegging out with Bez and watching Celebrity Alligator Wrestling?

I mean I wouldn’t want to tear you away from that…

I could be persuaded… :)

Well, we happen to be in Europe right now (John had a thing) and Penny is visiting some Earl near Exeter and suggested we pop by and go out for a drink.

John’s not Earthside very often so she takes whatever chances she can get to catch up with him (they are old college friends, did I ever mention that?)

ANYWAY as it’s not far from you I wondered whether you might like to join us?

Oh wow thank you that’s very kind of you to think of me! It would be lovely to meet John and Lady Penelope if you’re sure I wouldn’t be intruding?

Of course not!

Virgil is with us too and says you have to come because he’s already bored with mine and John’s company.

Ok, I must now tell you that he did not in fact use those exact words.

Or to say that.

Apparently I am maddening.

Hi Estera, it’s Virgil. Please ignore what my idiot brother is saying. It would be lovely to see you if you’d like to come but please don’t feel any pressure.

Girjebvaxbnnnnn&&&&&&&

It’s Scott again, I’ve retrieved my comm. Sorry about my annoying TINY LITTLE BABY sibling who snatches things that aren’t his.

😂 I think I’m sold. I can get to Exeter in an hour? Where and when should I meet you?

John says the place is near the Cathedral - send a message when you get there and I’ll come and find you?

Fab! Ok I shall do that.

Ha!

What?

F-A-B is kind of a thing for us.

Oh! Oh I should have known that!

Reuben and Alex refuse to use any other affirmative words.

Why though?

Long story, tell you later maybe.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Estera rounded the corner of the cathedral and yelped as a strong gust nearly ripped her arm off in its determination to steal her umbrella. She wrestled it back and ducked into the shelter of the huge doorway only to conclude she should have let the wind take it as it was no longer any use to anyone other than as an art piece. “Mangled: A study in nylon and flimsy aluminium” perhaps. She tucked it under her arm and pulled out her phone:

Hi! I’m on The Green :) Don’t worry about coming out in all this, just let me know where you are and I’ll find you.

On my way!

Scott! It’s chucking it down! Just give me directions or somewhere to aim for.

I like the rain!

You’re a nutter.

A what?

… err British for ‘totally normal and rational’.

OK I will take your word for that and begin using ‘nutter’ regularly in a professional context.

Um… sure. I see no issues arising there.

😝 alright then

I think I see you!

She looked up and laughed as she spotted a lanky figure silhouetted against a streetlamp waving enthusiastically from across the green. She raised her arm in greeting, pulled her hood tighter around her face and then jogged towards him. She started out dodging the huge puddles with strictly limited success then gave up in favour of a direct route, swerving off course just the once to dump the useless brolly in a waste bin.

As soggy as she felt she was by the time their paths met, she wasn’t a patch on the drowned-but-grinning rat bouncing gently on his toes before her, hair plastered to his forehead and shirt clinging to him in a way she was relieved Barbara the receptionist couldn’t see.

Wait, shirt?

“Scott! I KNOW you own a coat.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “It always takes so long to dry the thing out. Cotton is fast.”

“Aren’t you freezing?”

“Nope!” He grinned and produced an umbrella with a flourish, pressing a button to automatically extend and open it and then raising it over her head in one smooth motion. The little squeak he emitted as he did so was anything but smooth however.

“Did I just hear an excited giggle from Mr Commander Tracy?”

“Also nope. Definitely not. Unrelatedly aren’t these just-press-the-button-and-SWOOSH-it’s-an-umbrella umbrellas just the best kind of umbrellas?”

Estera raised an eyebrow and wondered with amusement how many drinks he’d managed to put away already. “Certainly beats mine which I just ditched back there…” she looked at him smiling down at her from very much outside the umbrella’s zone of protection, water streaming down his face “although, given you have such a swanky brolly why did you not actually use it?”

“I told you, I like the rain.”

Estera raised an eyebrow. “Well, you’d do well living here then, we get a lot of it.” Shuddering slightly she shook water out of her sleeve. “Shall we get where we’re going before we grow gills?”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“He’s going to get absolutely soaked isn’t he?”

Virgil watched his elder brother stroll casually towards the doorway and then launch himself out into the rain like an excited puppy. He couldn’t help smiling fondly.

“You know what he’s like about rain, John. Anyway the wet shirt look isn’t going to do him any harm is it…?”

“VIRGIL! Honestly you’re impossible.” John’s facepalm was a masterpiece.

“Well, before he brings this young lady back, somebody had best update me on what, exactly, we believe her status is.”

“Virgil is convinced they are an item. Scott denies it.”

“I didn’t say that. I just think she’s good for him. He is happy. I like that. So I’m inclined to like her. And if we’re about to meet our future sister-in-law that’s fine by me.”

Penelope chuckled, Virgil the hopeless romantic was certainly living up to expectation. John was frowning slightly however and that intrigued her.

“What do you think, John darling?”

“I’m interested in what has him so… interested. They seem to spend a lot of time talking, yet all I can see they have in common is shared trauma and an unhealthy approach to adrenaline.”

“That is more than many people have when beginning a friendship, John. That doesn’t mean it is all there will ever be. Look at you and I, all we had in common was the inability to escape the weight of our surnames and yet we’ve had some superb times.”

John smiled and raised his lemonade in a silent toast.

“Well, I’m excited” Virgil commented. “Let’s not scare her by being too… you know.” he gestured vaguely.

“Excellent social etiquette tip, there, thank you Virgil.” his brother muttered.

Penelope smiled into her cocktail. This was going to be an interesting evening.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“You ok?”

Estera had slowed almost imperceptibly as they approached the door to the boutique pub Penny had selected and Scott paused as they reached the shelter of the porch, his hand resting on the heavy oak door.

“Yes! Uh, a little nervous I guess? Last time I spoke to John I was… rather embarrassing.”

“Aww, no you weren’t. You were just worried about me and that’ll go in your favour I promise. It’s pretty much a family pastime from what I can make out…” he pulled an exaggerated grimace and got a little smile in response.

“I can imagine.” She appeared to be steeling herself.

“They don’t bite, I promise. But…” he touched her shoulder lightly and ducked down a little to look her in the eye “if you’d rather not… we could go somewhere else and I can catch up with them later?”

“Oh goodness no. I’m looking forward to it. Honestly, I am! Let’s go inside, it’s freezing out here.”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“Hey look, John, Estera found a drowned puppy!”

“Goodness, doesn’t it look tragic?”

Penelope leaned backwards away from Scott as he responded to his brothers’ banter by shaking himself like a dog and showering the table with droplets from his hair before wringing his sleeve out down the back of Virgil’s collar who himself yelped like Sherbet in a snowdrift.

“Right for that you’re buying the next round big brother.”

“And this is novel, how?”

His friend hung back a little, watching the interaction with a mixture of amusement and mild confusion. Penelope gestured to Estera to take a seat beside her and cut across the brotherly jibing:

“Might it be an appropriate moment to introduce us Scott?”

The supposedly eldest and most mature of the pack looked up from where he’d flung his arms around John’s neck in what was clearly a weaponised soggy hug and smiled impishly before moving over and crouching down next to Estera’s chair.

“Estera, this is Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward - she is as lovely as she is fabulous and I’m sure you’ll get along.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that for a moment. And please call me Penny!”

Estera smiled and offered a hand which Penny grasped with both of hers and gave her a conspiratorial wink.

Scott cleared his throat importantly “Next, I am delighted to present for your approval Annoying-Little-Brother-One who also goes by don’t-call-me-Johnny”

“Ha. Ha. Scooter. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person, Estera, although why you are wasting your time in the company of this absolute fool I cannot fathom.”

“And last but very much not least, either in importance or sheer bulk, here is Annoying-Little-Brother-Two who we refer to as short-stuff, the-tank, care-bear or, occasionally, Virgil”

Virgil leaned across the table to shake her hand. “You do realise what an insufferable creature our eldest brother is don’t you?”

“Oh yes, spotted that one straight away.”

Scott clutched his chest and gasped “I am hurt! A plague o’ both houses! I am sped!” before collapsing on to his back with melodramatic flailing and a range of choking noises before lying still with his tongue lolling and eyes rolled back.

Penelope giggled delicately while Estera tutted and rolled her eyes.

“You still have a couple of paragraphs of monologue before you’re allowed to expire, Mercutio. C+ must try harder.”

Scott pouted while John held up his hand for a high five.

Penelope caught Virgil’s eye and he grinned.

“Death doesn’t get you out of your round big bro. Get your soggy butt off the floor and over to the bar while we fill Estera in on some key anecdotes.”

Scott’s expression of dread wasn’t melodrama at all.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[bericas]

↳ john steinbeck, east of eden

[edutainer2022]

There's a bit of headcanon backstory of Scott's disastrous trainwreck of a lovelife I always kinda mean to write out (shout out to @janetm74 and @liseylou!). So it features here. Gordon watches celebrity news. Fischler's brother (of all people!) gets married. Nothing goes as planned. Scott is NOT having a good time. Nor has he been for a while. Bereznik gets mentioned. An OC that might be relevant later gets mentioned. The GDF units I think may have IR on the radar get mentioned. Scott has great brothers and good friends. He's still not having a good time.

PAGE SIX

Ever since Kat Kavanaugh buried a hatchet and wasn't chasing conspiracy theories about them on Global Holovision anymore, watching the news live was a once in a blue moon activity in Casa Tracy. They followed the major world events through John and Eos (maybe a bit of social media on a relatively quiet morning), and they were likely to be part of those in some capacity at least a third of the times. Sometimes a half. But it was one of those days. A relative lull in rescues compiled with the exhaustion of the previous fortnight streak of disasters bred mildly numb boredom. Batteries too low to pursue their usual hobbies, they gravitated to the lounge.

Scott was ever at the desk with holo screens full of quarterly budget reports, because their biggest brother did stock market numbers for LEISURE, apparently. Virgil was playing, as usual, but the music was slowly fading to a halt. Alan was gaming, or pretending to be while napping, his VR goggles on. Kayo was going through some specs, half leaning on the couch cushions. Even John was in a quiet lull up in orbit, his hologram just bobbing at the comms unit, hanging out with everybody, but not really a part of any conversation. That left Gordon scrolling lazily through newsreels. The sudden yelp sent Alan tumbling on the floor and Scott at least half an inch closer to a cardiac arrest under thirty. A keen observer would have noticed Kayo reaching for a knife in the ankle holster. The piano music keened on an abrupt note and stopped. Several pairs of VERY unamused eyes stared Gordon down.

The Fish was on his feet already, bursting with excitement, sending the news holo to the center of the lounge.

"Did you guys know Fischler has a brother?!?!"

The assorted grumps and groans across the lounge indicated that they not only didn't know, but weren't in the least thrilled by that information. Only John and Kayo shared a quiet look, because OF COURSE they would know.

Gordon surveyed the lounge in triumph, setting the stage for a punchline.

"He has a brother and he's getting married!"

"Who, Fischler?"

Alan was still scrambling up from his hardwood landing and making a show of rubbing an ouchie. Scott at least looked ready to switch gears to the full "hurt brother!" mode. Gordon was not deterred.

"No, dummy, not Fischer! His brother is getting married!"

"And that's any of our business how?"

Alan was still not ready to relinquish attention from his boo-boo. Not with so many big brothers in attendance. But John, Kayo and Virgil were already sharing concerned LOOKS. Any widely publicized event with cameras rolling and hundreds in attendance, involving Fischler, could potentially turn into a showcase of his latest "invention", or ten. Which would mean potential casualties and work for IR. They would need to be on the look-out and on standby. Scott waved at the comm to get the volume up.

The holo displayed a close pic of a younger and significantly more polished version of Langstrom Fischler, hair sleecked back, but a weaselly smile just a tad on the manic side. The celebrity news anchor was gushing about a "dashing fresh face on the World Senate, a philanthropist and patron of innovation, a devoted brother and a consummate athlete, setting off to be a force of a positive change in the world" and "his drop dead gorgeous fiancée, a once Miss Brazil runner-up, who dedicated herself to the selfless life of service, decorated for honor and courage". The picture on the screen changed for an official GDF snapshot of a tall young brunette in dress blues. The insignia on the collar indicated the rank of Captain and breastplanks - several high ranking awards for valor. The picture changed to a series of candid paparazzi snaps of the "happy couple". The show host droned on with one corny cliche after another about the "match made of dreams" and a " high profile dream wedding" scheduled to take place on a cozy remote island.

Gordon interrupted the stream of saccharine platitudes:

"Huh? How come we're not invited? Scott, you know like everyone in the World Senate!"

But his voice was drowned out by the deafening snap of the metal stylus, broken in Scott's fingers. The sound of the desk chair hitting the floor, as Scott stood up and all but ran from the lounge, was even louder.

"Huh?!"

Gordon, yet again, surmised the bewilderment of everyone present. Virgil was half out to follow Scott, when a ping came through on Gordon's comm. The sign flashed pink.

"Yay! Looks like I'm going after all! Penny needs a plus one! John, can I borrow your tux?!"

John half waved his brother off, brows furrowed and hands already flying over invisible files, when another pink ping came through. It was Kayo's turn for a "Huh?" moment.

"Looks like Penny needs a plus two, as well. I'm invited".

That deflated Gordon's initial excitement enough to notice Virgil leaving in the general direction of Dad's office, where Scott had locked himself. Before he reached the door to try and reason with big brother to talk about... whatever that was, John sent two files to his comm. One - a picture they all saw a hundred times on Dad's desk back in Kansas, but it didn't compute out of context. Scott's Airgroup Wing after a training flight. All hugging and laughing, still in flightsuits. Scott and the girl from the news today - Fischler Jr.'s fiancée - at the center. The other Virgil never saw before. It would figure since it was a screenshot from, what he recognized with some dread, was Dad's old phone. There was a picture sent to a private chat with Dad of the same girl, in a sundress, and Scott in a polo shirt, apparently both on leave. An almost ten years younger Scott was smiling like he could power up a sun. The message to Dad read "SHE SAID YES!!!". The date of the message indicated about a month and a half before Scott's mission to Bereznik. Virgil sank to the floor, leaning on the wall, never going through with the knock on the locked office door.

***

It was such an unbelievable cliché it felt surreal. The thunderstorm, the lightning, the lash of downpour across his face. Then again, it was fitting, as his world was going crashing down around him. Yet again. There was nothing surreal about the hard edges of Mom's ring she just gave him back. For about six weeks he was the happiest man alive. Dad's IR project was well underway, and he was to share that dream not only with Dad and brothers, but with the love of his life. He should have known better... The words were real too - hard and ruthless. About Dad yanking his leash, and expecting nothing but dutifully following in his footsteps and his vision, concealed by his looming shadow, and giving up what they both dreamed about and worked so hard for - test flights, command ranks, career in service. The echo came back to him often, in one dark hour or another, after his world shattered to pieces yet another time. Dad voiced his reservations clearly, but did agree to give him Mom's ring. "When you know, you know". Wasn't it how he and Mom got married? It WAS too soon, they WERE too young, and frateenization within a unit WAS an issue, but with IR lifting off that wasn't to be a problem, once he told her the full scale of the classified project. He should have known better...

He last remembered the ring yanked off his neck with the dogtags chain by a smirking Berezniki guard. He put up a hell of a fight for that and was beaten within an inch of his life. The first time. Next time he found it, inexplicably, in Dad's safe on the island, after the search for Zero-X was called off. He meant to ask Kyrano, as he wasn't conscious or coherent enough for the extraction op, or for months after, but the man never returned his calls anymore, sending in a resignation after half a year of following leads on the Hood. There wasn't much room in his mind or hours in his days to give it more thought for years after. Or more pieces for his heart to break into. He should have known better. And now she was getting married. To someone bright and promising, changing the world for the better, who wasn't him. He should have known better as well. The sound of glass shattering against the wall and a visceral scream finally sent Virgil in, wild-eyed, breaking past the lock.

***

John lifted an eyebrow in a perfect quizzical arch, putting the tablet down, as the "wedding party" poured, or rather, limped into the lounge. Gordon's tuxedo sleeve was torn clear off, his bowtie, undone, served as a makeshift tourniquet. Parker sported cuts, bruises and a glorious shiner. Penelope's elaborate updo was in disarray, one heel of a golden pump broken. Kayo's slip dress hem was torn, exposing a garter holster. As John hurried to the kitchen for the first aid kit, he heard her hiss something to the effect of "You should have seen the other guys".

The villa was quiet. Grandma had Alan on the mainland for the weekend. Virgil chased Scott up the volcano. There was a good chance biggest brother and his stormy mood was best quarantined at the Round House for the rest of the day. John was waiting in the lounge for the fallout, one way or another. He wasn't quite prepared to the sight on display, handing out ice packs.

Gordon hissed too and bit off a curse, as John set about cleaning the bullet graze on his arm.

"Pen, do all your friends whip out a standard issue gun at the altar and read the groom Miranda rights instead of vows?"

Lady Penelope was busy trying to look poised while breaking the second heel off a designer pump, to make them even.

"It was a deep undercover mission to round up a drug and slave trafficking ring. A destination wedding was a most fortunate venue for the occasion."

Kayo looked up from the kitchen isle at that, not pausing to stop extracting a considerable arsenal of throw-knives from her bodice.

"Looks like the Fischler brothers were bankrolled by mafia. The crazy inventions AND the World Senate election. In exchange for some... perks."

Kayo snorted and went back to her inventory of weapons.

Gordon perked up as the anesthetic cream kicked in and forgot to NOT wave the injured hand around to assist his narrative.

"It was actually kinda cool! The bride barked out "Hands up!" instead of "I do"! The bridesmaids all dropped their bouquets and brandished guns. The bridal party were all Organized Crime and Counterterrorism. Well, and us... A little  heads up wouldn't have hurt, Penny. Then all hell broke loose. Rose petals and confetti everywhere. You should have seen Fischler's face!"

Gordon was nearly flailing with excitement, so John's hands pushed him mildly back into the seat. Turquoise eyes found Penelope's line of sight:

"So... no wedding?"

"No wedding indeed."

Up on the Tracy Volcano Virgil's comm vibrated, switched to silent mode hours ago. John's message read "No wedding."

Virgil exhaled a sigh, but didn't yet know how to break the subject with a brother, seated next to him on the sun-warmed boulder, overlooking the ocean. Blue eyes were fixed on a point far away in the distance, or maybe far away in the past, Scott still wouldn't talk about.

[0-therw-0-rldly]

I’ll preface this by saying I’m not really a shipper. I just enjoy canon couples on TV Series/films.

Terms I’d like B*ddies to remove from their vocabulary because they don’t know how to use them correctly:

Media literacy: For a group that uses this term a lot you sure do misinterpret everything in this show.

Queerbaiting: Going to expand on this one. A show that’s already been pre established for having queer characters simply cannot queerbait.

Ship baiting: While sometimes you can argue that they could be doing that, that’s only if you look at the show in a very biased manner. You might think this is the case but the general audience doesn’t think the way you do.

Ship war: This isn’t a one tree hill situation where there was Team Brooke Vs. Team Peyton where the middle guy (Lucas Scott) had canonically been with both women. This is people not understanding fanon vs. canon and not being able to just watch the show. It’s like playing quarterback on Madden and thinking you could be better than Patrick Mahomes.

Plot device: everything’s a plot device. Move tf on.

Predator: You sound like crazy MAGA supporters calling everything regarding the LGBTQIA+ community as predatory. Sit down.

Co-parenting: I know this is a big one and discourse was brought up during the hiatus. Oliver and Ryan have loosely mentioned this years ago but it was never to be taken this seriously. Do y’all even know what co-parenting is or are you that big of a donut? Buck is someone who loves his best friend deeply and by extension, his kid too. Him taking care of him frequently does not make him a co-parent. Maybe he is a parental or uncle figure, but he isn’t a co-parent. Also, I swear y’all need to learn how a will works. He is a GODPARENT, not a GUARDIAN. Stfu.

Hag: This especially applies to women, but to say that someone 25-30+ is a hag for still being in fandoms or enjoying tv shows/films is inherently misogynistic. Men are never held to this much criticism for enjoying fictional media, but women aren’t allowed to?

Queer Coding: people of the same sex “looking at each other”, hugging, or having intimate moments all together doesn’t make them queer coded. It could mean that they just love each other that deeply platonically. While representation is amazing and just because you interpret a character as queer coded (just like my ship baiting comment) doesn’t mean others interpret it that way as well. In addition, network TV has stipulations, and also actors are allowed to decline storylines. Ryan has mentioned his character is heterosexual an abundance of times which means (at least for now) that he isn’t willing to go for this storyline.

Dead naming: Y’all construing the fact that Buck wants people like coworkers and some of his former love interests, to saying Evan is his dead name is inherently transphobic because do you even understand what a dead name is? Evan Buckley is shown as being fine with being called Evan by both Tommy and his sister. I’m pretty sure some of his love interests have called him Evan as well.

Fetishizing: You guys saw two hot guys who “looked at each other” and for 6 seasons have wanted nothing but to see those two make out with each other. Those of us who enjoy Tevan saw Buck giddy at the thought of Tommy and have wanted domestic fluff for them since.

Anything to do with racism, homophobia, and misogyny: I’ve seen the way you guys have conveniently weaponized Henren and by extension Aisha/Tracie when you didn’t get the Ryan/Oliver interview, don’t try to act like you’re morally superior. Not to mention wanting a canonically gay man to die in a show and not even holding those who use your ship name to write CSA fics accountable because you’re petty and want to throw hissy fits. Anyone looking at your comments as an outsider would think you’re homophobes and yes queer people can be homophobic.

I do hope you can expand your vocabulary. 🤍

[gumnut-logic]

“They did what?!”

Pete took a step back. “Hey, man, they’re fine. The teachers broke it up.” A snort. “Though I have to say, your little brothers know how to kick ass. I don’t think Bullneck is going to walk straight for a while. Gordon may have taken out his chances at fatherhood.” I had been quite a sight seeing that dickwad waddle off with the principal.

“Where are they now?”

Pete took a step back as Scott straightened. His friend had been out of town all day with cadets. Still in uniform, he cut a definite military vibe.

Was it weird that he’d asked Pete to keep an eye on his four brothers? Possibly, but then Pete only had two sisters, both older and all into make up and boys. He shuddered inside. It would be so cool to have a little brother.

Apparently having four was an extra challenge.

“They’re with the principal.” And Pete found himself having to skedaddle backwards as Scott shot off in the direction of the main school building.

Oh shit.

Pete grabbed his bag, and hurried after him. “Scott! They’re fine. Virgil had it under control.” Was that a scoff? A grunt? “He gave Rogers a black eye. John is okay. Hell, Gordon is a weapon of mass destruction. You Tracys are scary.”

This time there was no acknowledgement at all. Scott threw the main door to the school office and strode through.

Pete caught it on the back swing and scrambled in after him.

It was like a military review. The three younger Tracy brothers appeared to all be standing at attention in a line while the Principal spoke…strongly to them…something about physical violence in the school yard.

Virgil, sporting a split lip, was glaring up at the man, one foot in front of Johnny, as if to block access to his little brother. Johnny’s red hair was a mess, there was dirt on his pants, and he was staring at the ground.

Gordon…Gordon was poking his tongue out and making faces through the door across the room. A room full of caterwauling and injured bullies, apparently.

When Pete finally caught up with Scott, he almost wished he hadn’t. The eldest Tracy looked fit to carve someone a new one.

“Mr Tracy.” Principal Stevens apparently had a death wish. “Is your father with you?”

“No, sir.” It was cold and sharp, blue eyes darting over his brothers.

Pete didn’t fail to notice the second eldest Tracy relax just a little, his shoulders dropping, as he caught sight of Scott.

“Is he available? I’ve attempted to call him, but he hasn’t responded. This is serious.”

“He’s busy.”

“Your grandmother?”

“At the surgery.”

“I need to speak to a responsible adult about this. This can’t keep happening.”

“It shouldn’t happen at all.”

Pete stared at his best friend. You can’t speak to a teacher like that, much less a principal. “Uh, Scott?”

The eyes that hit him…okay…. Pete straightened. Apparently they were doing this and Scott was his friend so…uh…let’s do this.

What happened next was just plain weird. Not only did Scott manage to get his brothers out of that room without the principal further demanding a parental presence, but also had him admitting the school was at fault and needed to fix the problem.

The glare Scott sent Bullneck on the way out was enough to cause the kid to whimper out loud.

Shit, man, Scott was lethal.

Maybe it would be way cooler to have an older brother.

Out in the parking lot it was a Tracy-only fest. Pete stood to one side as Scott performed his own military line up…and checked each brother for injury.

Gordon started yelling, Virgil talking over him.

Johnny just stood there.

But Scott did that something he always seemed to be able to do. He took control. A hand on Virgil’s shoulder quietened the worry there. A hug strangled little Gordy’s anger.

A soft word pulled Johnny’s eyes up from the ground. Pete swore something passed between the two of them, Johnny’s shoulders straightening as Scott’s lips thinned.

Yeah, a big brother would be amazing.

-o-o-o-

[forest-falcon]

The Butterfly Effect

Chptr 14

🧡❤️🩶💛🚒🐦‍🔥

"So what's the plan?" Rigby jogged up alongside John.

"Here," John pressed a button at his wrist and the rock face in front of them opened; much the way a garage door might.

"Impressive," Rigby mused aloud. He let out a long, low whistle as he stepped inside.

"We need to clear a path around the pool. Jetpacks just won't cut it if we're gonna try n' stabilize One," John pointed to his brother's green Bird.

"Need me to pilot her?" Rigby's face held more than a trace of excitement.

"Oh...no, sorry," John scratched the back of his head.

"You'll be driving one of her pods. When we've cleared enough of the debris, and the villa has been stabilized; I may need you in Phoenix's carrier to help with moving One."

Rigby straightened and gave a nod.

"Time is scarce. Reports say Alan's okay, but we have a further three people in the villa who may require urgent medical attention, and I can't risk McCready's team in there until we know they have a chance at making it back out again," John sighed.

Rigby cleared his throat; his face visually construing a silent inner-debate.

"What?" John urged, then winced inwardly at his tone. Adjusting to Earth's gravity appeared to be even more wearing when fearing for your family's well being.

"You know, you can call them by name - Virgil and Gordon. We...we have your back," Rigby gave John an awkward clap on the back.

The clap echoed around the cavernous hangar.

John swallowed hard to staunch impending tears. There was a second's pause, before the astronaut stepped into his missing brother's Bird.

*. *. *.

"Knock, knock!" Parker called to signal his arrival outside of Alan's door.

"Erm...am I supposed to say who's there?" Alan's young voice came back.

" 'Oo's there? Well, hI'm glad to see that yer haven't lost your sense of humour along with yer bedroom!" Parker chuckled as he worked the lock on Alan's door.

There was a satisfying sound of the latch clicking, and the door swung open.

"Looks like you could use an 'and, Master Alan," he smiled, extending a hand.

"F-A-B-," Alan enthused, hauling himself up, and into the corridor, with Parker's help.

The teen cracked his back.

"Welp, I think I now hold the Tracy Island record for the longest pull up!"

*. *. *.

"We had to make an 'ole in Master Gordon's window to get to you. 'Fraid your brother's parking had made somewhat of a mess," Parker gestured towards Gordon's rooms.

"Didn't you teach him to drive?" Alan grinned.

"Cars, young Master Tracy, not rocket ships! And, I'll 'ave less of yer cheek! Scott might not be firin' on all cylinders at the moment, but you mark my words - I 'ave a memory like an elephant!" Parker chuckled, wagging a finger.

"You look like one too!"

"Oi!" Parker swatted at the teen as he ran.

*. *. *.

John and Rigby had made light work of clearing the debris surrounding the villa, and the structure was stabilised enough for a team to head up to help locate Virgil, Grandma, and Gordon.

"HELLO? VIRG? GRANDMA? GORD-"

"-OVER HERE!" Gordon hammered a small rock against a metal support beam.

The team tentatively picked their way over splintered floorboards and around mounds of rock that lay strewn across what was left of the comms room.

"Allie, is that you?"

"The one and only! I've brought some friends with me. Didn't wanna hog all the glory, y'know?"

"Phoenix?"

"Yup!"

Jonesy took a step closer, with a small hydraulic whine from the suit.

"Jonesy?"

"S'up Gords? I like what you've done with the place. You're kinda lacking in the door department though."

"Well y'know what Virgil always says; if you can't find a door, make one!" Gordon called from behind the fallen rocks.

"My thoughts exactly!"

"WAIT!" Tycho was almost pulled forwards into the rock face as he tried to stall Jonesy's suited arm.

"The structure's too unstable. Any attempt to move these boulders risks the whole lot coming down on top of Gordon," Tycho gesticulated wildly.

"Yeah, let's not do that." Gordon deadpanned.

"So what's the plan?" Jonesy couldn't deny that the thrill of using the exosuit had him itching to use his new superpower again. Two tonne boulder? No problem! He'd just shifted it like....kapow!

Tycho dragged his hands down his face as he thought.

"Hmm...we need to get a better view of what we're dealing with. Right here, we can only see half of the puzzle." Tycho pensively ran a hand down the largest boulder.

"And how are we gonna do that?" Jonesy was under the distinct impression that Tycho wasn't referencing the exosuit.

"I think I have just the thing!"

The scientist bent down and unfastened the clasps of a small metal case he'd carried down from the carrier.

"Jonesy, meet Mini Max.”

[astranite]

WIP oh-it-is-actually-Wednesday

This started from a prompt that I now can't find the post of and some ideas of @edutainer2022 's, and then my own, becoming John violently protecting an injured Scott from someone who wants to finish off the job. Warning for injury and hospital setting but we dont get further than that yet. Also general angstyness.

---

John’s chin slipped off his fist for the fifth time in not as many minutes. The hospital was simultaneously eerily quiet and noisily threatening in the liminal way they all were, no matter how many time zones you crossed. 

Nurses footsteps sounded across the endless maze of identical halls outside their little room, always on their feet. Call bells screamed at John that something was wrong and he needed to act on it, no matter that they weren’t for him. He wasn’t on Five. He wasn’t in uniform. He only had one duty here. 

Other patients clattered and machinery clamoured, the cacophony scraping against his skin, swirling into a single mass where he couldn’t tell apart friend from threat. The world spun as John jerked upwards again, after slipping into the jaws of sleep. He pried them off with a Tracy’s determination. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Scott. His eyes blurred, itchy with exhaustion until he rubbed at them with his knuckles.

The private room at the end of the building was too quiet, if taken on its own. Any room that contained Scott shouldn’t be this silent, John was nauseous even thinking about it, but there was his big brother swathed in pale hospital sheets, lying limply on the mattress instead of tossing, turning and pacing even in distress. He wasn’t meant to be still. If he was happy, he’d be in constant motion, in constant, running flight. He’d fidget, he’d lazily sprawl across the couch one second then dash across the room the next and wind up perched on a counter or desk, and when he had to stand in the same place he’d be even then wriggling his toes and shifting his weight between his feet, swinging his arms between broad gestures and parade rest. If he was upset, the movements would be louder, suddenly explosive even but he’d be moving. 

This was the antithesis of a joyful Scott. Unnatural consciousness wasn’t something John hadn’t seen before, he’d seen Scott knocked out and concussed, or dosed up to his gills with painkillers. This here wasn’t even that, Scott’s body needed the rest with words such as hypovolemic shock thrown around too few hours ago. 

John should only be glad he was getting some sleep. Should stop being such a child that he wanted to tug on Scott’s hand, to yell talk to me, play with me, let’s read about piloting space shuttles together, to wake him up. Selfishly, he wanted to drag Scott right back to him. No matter that it was John’s fault he was here, when came down to it. John could run every calculation so that the answer pointed back to himself.

Grandma and all the doctors and nurses said that Scott needed to rest. Virgil had said it as he left the room at the beginning of their nightshift turned over to John, brushing Scott’s curls off his forehead with a gentle, unsteady hand, blue eyes trying to follow him, dark bruised stamped beneath dark brown eyes. Virgil had been the one with Scott when it happened, the one to hold him stable by his fingernails, packing the gaping hole in his side around the shard of metal that had once been part of a home, as Gordon flew Two to [auckland general??] as if chased by all the hell hounds of the underworld. John had been the one to cut off camera feed to Allie sitting on the Island doing his school work. He had arranged the trauma surgeons to be ready upon touchdown. 

Virgil had murmured Please don’t let anything happen to him, towards the windows at the back of the room beyond Scott’s bed, looking out to the stars. John didn’t know if it was meant to be a prayer to the universe at large or to him. When it all came back to it, it meant him. Virgil had squeezed his shoulder lightly before he left; whether he was seeking comfort or to comfort John, John had ran his hand down Virgil’s arm to grip his wrist, fingers rubbing at the protruding bone beneath flannel cuff.

Scott hadn’t moved since then, stirring only when nurses woke him up like John didn’t get to to check his responsiveness and note it down on their charts. The endless glowing boxes had twisted and melted the harder John tried to decipher the number, orange, black and blue bleeding into each other. 

One had paused in their rounds to drape an extra blanket around John. He hadn’t noticed he was shivering. The nurse had a rainbow sticker and googly eyes stuck to their identification badge. The eyes wobbled with their every step. John wobbled with his every step when he came in, wasn’t that special.

He and Scott were still in the same places.

His brother looked dead. 

John flinched from the thought. 

He so easily could’ve been because someone had done this on purpose and the others might be oh so grateful they didn’t ‘succeed’ but to John this looked pretty fucking like success. Scott was hurt. John had been supposed to keep him safe, to see the threats and deal with them before this happened. Therefore he had failed. John had. Not Scott, never Scott, not even when he’d fallen on the pile of debris after fighting an armed and armoured assailant until the aggressor fled.

Was it bad luck that a twist of metal roofing had broken Scott’s fall? Was it good luck it wasn’t immediately fatal, was it good luck that it had missed his vital organs, taking only blood? 

Did the universe, no matter how much John loved it, simply not care?

The room blurred, not only from exhaustion or his terrible eyesight again but John blinked the sparkles away and continued to stare at Scott.

[tracybirds]

Happy @thunder-pride to @knyee!! I'm your giftee and I hope you enjoyyyyyy <3 Aroace Scott and some background Pen and Ink :)

---

Gordon flopped down onto the lounger beside Scott, reaching into the cooler for a drink. Scott raised his own bottle in acknowledgement, his eyes not leaving the horizon.

“I’m sorry we had to drag you away from your date,” said Scott. “You call her yet?”

“Nah,” said Gordon. “It’ll be the middle of the night now. We’ll make it up some other time.”

He glanced sideways and grinned. “Beside, you know Penelope. She’ll be thrilled we owe her a favour. You know how she’s always trying to get everyone ‘out in society’ and all. Tell her you’ll do a double date to one of those charity galas and she’ll forgive you in an instant.”

Scott gave a wry grin. “I think you might want to ask someone else for that favour.”

“Oh come on,” said Gordon. “We both know Virgil’s hopeless at getting a date, and Alan’s far too young.”

“John?”

Gordon gave him an incredulous look. “We can barely get John to visit us.”

“At least he has a standing date already,” said Scott with a shrug.

“John does? Who?!” demanded Gordon. Amber liquid sloshed out of his bottle, spilling onto his lap as he sat upright. He shook his head and pointed at Scott. “Never mind, you’re trying to distract me so you can worm out of this.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“But why?” asked Gordon. “People love you and I hate to admit it, but you look pretty spectacular when you’re dressed to the nines and someone else has styled your hair.”

Scott glared at him.

“I don’t want to spend an evening charming someone into thinking I want something I’m not interested in giving,” he said shortly. “And I want to participate in uninspired conversation with diplomats and world leaders while you disappear to woo your Lady even less.”

“Alright, alright,” said Gordon, rolling his eyes. “Geez, what’s with the sour grapes, I’m the one who lost their evening. Although maybe if you spent a few more nights off this island, you’d be less snappy.”

 Scott flinched. Warring emotions swirled in his head, instinctive anger slowly beaten back by a dawning realisation.

“Are you just saying that to be a jerk? Or do you not know?”

Gordon looked at him strangely. “You’re a jerk, jerkface. I was being serious.”

“Real mature,” muttered Scott. He stood and stretched, looking down at Gordon with an unreadable expression.

“What?” demanded Gordon. “Come off it Scott, I was just messing around. Sorry if it struck a nerve.”

“I’m aroace,” said Scott.

“Oh.” Gordon blinked. “Oh! Oh shit, I didn’t know… wait, how did I not know?”

“I guess I’m just too charming and good-looking,” said Scott dryly, and Gordon barked a laugh.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“It’s not a secret,” said Scott. “I thought you knew, we had a whole party about it when I was in high school.”

“Oh, right, so you mean when I was like five,” said Gordon, unable to hold back his laughter. “Yeah, that was a real formative memory for me, one of my boring older brothers hanging out with his boring friends and not wanting to play in the sprinkler.” He grinned. “I was probably just there for the cake.”

“I certainly was,” said Scott. He picked up his empty bottle. “Right, I’m turning in. Don’t stay up too late talking with Penelope.”

“I will,” said Gordon grinning. “By the way, do you want me to get her to back off on the whole society scene?”

Scott laughed. “I’d like to see you try. It’ll take a miracle to convince Penelope that the Tracy bachelors aren’t cut out for her kind of party.”

Well,” said Gordon. “I feel like I worked some sort of miracle to start going out with her. I might have another one in me still.”

“Save it,” advised Scott. “You’ll be needing it at some point I’m sure.”

[idontknowreallywhy]

WIP Wednesday

A very silly thing based on a silly idea I had about how the Tracys might approach food which has already caused two people to declare they felt physically unwell at the thought of it…

He’s an active boy and needs the calories… honest…

🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟

“Howdie and welcome to Top Friez! What can I get y’all?”

“May I have a Tomcat fries but no pickles please? Oh, and an F-14 lemonade?”

“Sure, darlin’. And for yooou…oooh… uh… hi!”

‘Another one bites the dust’ Estera noted to herself and pressed her tongue hard against the back of her teeth in an effort not to laugh out loud at the poor woman. Scott, as ever, gave the appearance of not having noticed the waiting staff dissolving into jelly in front of him.

“I’ll get a Darkstar Shake, and a Maverick’s Madness with everything, please.”

The waitress paused, her finger hovering above the tablet.

“E-everything?”

“Everything.” Scott insisted with a cheeky smile and the waitress collapsed into giggles.

“Wow I don’t think there’s a button for that! You might need to give me a minute to tick all the boxes…”

“Take as much time as you need.”

The waitress started tapping frantically and Estera paused mid-eyeroll to double-check the full list of toppings.

“Scott you cannot have EVERYTHING… there must be at least 12 different sauce options alone not to mention all these cheeses and…”

“I’ve considered the options and made my choice.”

“But… bbq pulled pork, beef brisket AND shredded Asian chicken? Together?!”

“Yep.”

“AND BACON?”

“Oh, good point” He touched the waitress lightly on the elbow and apologised when she leapt into the air: “I’m so sorry, could I get extra bacon please.”

The waitress kept an admirably straight face as she scrolled back to make a note.

“Surely not 4 variants of slaw, Scott… that’s… they’ll clash…”

“Complement.”

“Curdle more like. Oh and they’re going to go so very very nasty with the gravy.”

“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

“I’m pretty sure I won’t get a chance and nor will you because you’ll be arrested for crimes against gastronomy any minute now.”

“Welcome to the Land of the Free, my friend” Scott responded with a grand sweep of an arm “There are no such crimes here.”

🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟

[pareidoliaonthemove]

Child Care

Jeff snorted. “Okay, so you saved the day, and they took you in like a stray dog. So what do you do?”

“What do I do? I do plenty! I plan out their away missions, oversee maintenance of the complex, sorted out how to defend against solar flares and radiation damage, and …” Lee trailed off, his face reddening.

Jeff raised an eyebrow. “And?” he prompted.

Lee’s drink was apparently the most fascinating thing in the world. He mumbled something softly.

“Uh, Lee?” He looked up. Jeff pointed at his ear. “These don’t work so good anymore. What ya say?”

His face bright red, and unable to look his friend in the face, Lee muttered, “Help look after the kids.”

The was a long silence.

“You … help …” Jeff said slowly, his voice sounding strangled. “… look after … kids?”

“Yeah.”

“Human … kids … not … … goats?”

“Yeah.”

Jeff Tracy laughed.

It started out as a belly laugh, and gradually morphed into near hysterics, as tears rolled down Jeff’s face, and he was forced to double over, clutching his chest and belly as muscles long unaccustomed to this activity protested vehemently.

The sound drew attention, and pretty soon the rest of the island’s occupants were edging closer, alarmedly considering the need for a medical evac, and trying to determine symptoms.

Gradually, the laughter subsided into hiccoughs. And Jeff lay limp on his sun lounger, panting to regain his breath and manage the pain.

Lee sat rigid, staring at the horizon, the picture of dignified bearing of wounded pride.

“Ya finished?” Lee asked gruffly, when his friend finally fell into silence.

“Yep.” A stray giggle betrayed the lie.

“Um … everything all right?” It was Scott who found his voice first.

“All good boys. Lee here was just filling me in on what exactly,” another giggle, “it is he does with the colony on Mars.”

“Oh-kay.” Scott looked back at his family for assistance.

Grandma spoke up. “So what is it you do, then, Lee?”

Lee sighed. “I oversee authorised,” he eyed Virgil and Alan, “expeditions. I help ‘em with the maintenance, sorted out their long term problems with solar flares and the like, and I help look after –” he eyed Jeff “– the kids.”

Jeff snorted a laugh, but with effort managed to restrain himself.

His family was mystified.

All but one.

Grandma smiled widely, “Well, I guess those kids don’t have much in the way of art supplies.”

Jeff gave a strangled howl, before giving into a fresh round of laughter, as Lee leapt to his feet, and pointed an accusing finger at a startled Virgil.

“This is all your fault!”

Virgil stared. “Me! How …?!”

Lee glared back at Jeff, before continuing in a high-pitched sing-song voice, “‘Uncle Lee, can I paint the baby?’” His voice dropped back to its normal, albeit indignant, register. “How the hell was I supposed to know you didn’t mean you wanted to paint a picture of the baby?”

Gordon and Alan glared suspiciously at Virgil, who was looking sheepish even though he clearly didn’t remember the incident referred to, as everyone else joined Jeff in laughing.

Grandma pulled out her phone, and after a minute, pulled up picture. “Here.”

The photograph showed absolute chaos. Lucy was clearly berating a defensive Lee (the buzz cut and moustache had never changed), a smirking Jeff was scolding a distraught, paint-splatted Virgil … and Scott and John were surveying a sleeping new-born baby, whose every inch of exposed skin (and much of his surrounds) were covered in brightly painted spots, stripes, and abstract shapes.

Jeff, still chuckling, heaved himself up from his lounger, and made his way to his middle son, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “There really wasn’t much we could say to you,” he grinned. “After all, you did have permission, and for some reason at no point had your mother and I thought to forbid you from using Gordon as a canvas.”

He turned to Gordon, whose expression now promised many many vengeance pranks in Virgil’s future. “And I don’t know why you’re so upset. You had your first bath after that,” Jeff shook his head. “We’ve been struggling to keep you out of the water ever since.”

Jeff turned back to Lee. “We should have known better than to ask you to watch the boys while we had a nap. You’d have thought we’d have learned after you babysat Scott, for us.”

Scott’s laughter turned to alarm as he eyed his father’s – very sheepish – best friend. “What did he do to me?!”

Notes:

Yeah, so … when babysitting kids, make darn sure you know EXACTLY what it is they’re asking before you give permission.

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the Original Series, the Movies (both Supermarionation and Live Action), or the Thunderbirds Are Go Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.

[edutainer2022]

It's a little two-part glimpse into Dad Jeff going away into the sky. And Scotty being not happy about it. Baby Virgil features briefly too. Jeff Tracy tells himself things that tide him over more difficult times (but are not necessarily true).

SEPARATION ANXIETY

It was unbearable. The little face of the boy in his arms was wrought with boundless grief. Bright blue eyes full of tears and fear.

"Daddy, no gooooo! No gooooo!"

Tiny hands were clutching the collar of his uniform. The boy's voice was choking on sobs and Jeff felt his heart being ripped out. He was due at the base for a pick up and relocation for training before the Moon mission. He was a breath away from calling in his resignation right then and there and never leaving his son ever again. He forced himself to exhale and hoisted the child higher, bringing their forheads together. That gave Jeff a chance to blink away tears of his own:

"It's okay, Scotty. It's okay. Daddy will be back soon. I have a very important job for you, Bluejay. Look after Mommy and Virgie, when I'm gone, okay? Can you do that for me?"

The child's sobs halted for a moment it took him to nod very earnestly. Jeff leaned in to kiss the boy's forehead and then kiss away the tears from the blotchy little face as best he could. He turned to his wife with an apologetic smile.

Lucy was hovering in the doorway all this time, ready to intervene. Dad's departure for the Moon was a matter of wide-eyed wonder and endless enthusiasm till it was actually time for Jeff to leave. Then it quickly dissolved into a Greek tragedy. Her own hands were full with the baby. Little Virgie didn't yet understand what was happening, but he developed an uncanny ability to pick up his brother's moods. So to echo Scotty's desperate pleas, the baby's tears were now inconsolable.

Scotty settled to hug Dad's neck, so Jeff beaconed his wife with Virgie to step into the embrace. She leaned her head on his shoulder as he reached to kiss the baby.

"Are you really gonna be okay?"

She smiled up at him. So beautiful.

"We'll miss you like crazy, Flyboy. But we'll be alright. We're in good hands."

She lifted a hand to rub soothing circles on Scotty's back. The baby calmed down too and looked ready for a nap. Jeff gave himself extra minutes to just hold them all together. He didn't know yet he was already holding three sons in that embrace. Baby Johnny was to arrive while he was still thousands of miles away on the Moon. But in that moment he needed to capture the perfect memory of balance and fulfillment that would tide him over a long night in space. They were going to be alright.

***

It was unthinkable. The whole situation was his worst nightmare come true. The hijacked Zero-X was obviously speeding up and overheating. He ran a quick math and the fallout would quite easily cause an extinction of life on the planet. Unacceptable - his sons lived on that planet. His mother and friends. What made matters worse was giving in to Scott's big blue pleading eyes to let him come with him in One and watch the T-drive launch. Little Allie definitely learned to step up his puppy eyes game from the best. So Jeff was now stuck with the impossible variables of his son in the blast zone and One's still untested autopilot.

"Scott, I need you to take over the controls for me!"

He was halfway out of the pilot seat, leaving One on hover. Bright blue eyes, flooded with horror, shot up at him from where Scott was adjusting the harness by the cargo doors (oh, goodness, the boy was actually prepping to board Zero-X himself!)

"Dad! You can't go down alone!"

There it was. Daddy, no gooo! Jeff had to brace himself to enter full Commander mode.

"I need you to follow Zero-X flight path, align in formation. Once I board the hull, you will bank and scout the possible fallout zone perimeter in a thousand miles radius. I need you to shoo, tow or scare away anything that will be flying or floating there, understood?"

Jeff was sorely tempted to set the milage at a farther distance (as far and as fast away as possible, just fly away, Bluejay!), but he couldn't risk Scott questioning his intent in the moment. Blue eyes were still flooded with disbelief, pleading and barely concealed tears.

"Dad, please! Let me come with you! You'll need help!"

Daddy, no goooo!

"That's an order, Thunderbird!"

When he'd come to in the Zero-X wreck, in the middle of the galactic nowhere, and for endless years to come, he'd try and soothe himself with the knowledge Scott obeyed the order and got safely away from the blast. From that point on Jeff would try to convince himself he was not worried. Scotty knew what his job was. He'd look after his brothers and Grandma. They would be alright.

[lenfantdeverone]

Turning thirty

“I’m thirty.” Scott suddenly exhaled, hands deeply buried in his dark locks.

“Actually, you’re 29 years and 11 months old.” John distantly replied, his eyes fixed on the sky peaking through the window. He tried to sound light-hearted, he tried to lift the heavy mood crushing the three of them down, yet Scott only sighed frustratingly in reply.

“You know what I mean.” The eldest’s voice was firm and stern, yet it ever so slightly cracked revealing a much deeper, much more hidden feeling of discomfort.

“What is going on with you today, Scott?” Virgil rested a gentle, warm hand on Scott’s back.

The three brothers had momentarily retired upstairs in John’s room, escaping for a couple of minutes from the loud party going on in the main hall. It was Alan’s eighteenth birthday, and despite having invited just a couple of friends, teenagers always managed to be way too noisy and chaotic. It was way too much for the three eldest Tracy brothers, yet apparently there was a deeper issue troubling Scott.

“I just…” the eldest tried to make eye contact with his younger brother, yet he only managed to stare pathetically at the wall. “Time flies so fast and I just can’t keep up.”

“What do you mean? You’re doing amazing, big brother, you’re literally one of the most successful people on the planet.” Virgil tried to reassure his brother with a big smile.

“If not THE most successful person in the GALAXY.” John added, sitting right next to his brothers.

“Alan is an adult now.” Scott tried to explain, biting his lips. “And what an adult he is. He’s smart, resourceful, kind-hearted, responsible and so talented. He’s going to flourish and accomplish so much, and he… he doesn’t need me anymore.”

“Oh Scott, no don’t go there…” Virgil tried to stop his brother, hold him and make the darker thoughts disappear, but Scott kept explaining himself, desperate to let years of doubts out.

“And dad is back, and his presence just brightens the whole world, you know what I mean? He’s back and everything is fine, and he fixed everything that needed to be fixed, and he just makes everything better and I… I have nothing else to give to you guys.”

John and Virgil were holding Scott’s hands, listening carefully and letting their eldest brother have his moment. They knew it would happen at some point, years of pressure and responsibilities stacking on top of Scott’s hands were inevitably going to crush him one day or another.

“I’m getting older and older and I haven’t accomplished anything on my own.” Scott sighed, tears in his eyes.

“I’m gonna stop you right here, Scott, what are you talking about?” Virgil wrapped his arm tightly around Scott’s shoulders, shaking his big brother a bit to dispel the negativity away. “You accomplished a lot? You’re an amazing person, a great brother, a wonderful commander and a respectable CEO. What more do you want from yourself?”

“I wish… I wish I could get that feeling again.” Scott’s shoulders were tense, his eyes shyly wandering around. “That feeling of holding a little thing in my arms and raising it, you know.” He admitted, his voice thin. “Maybe have a child of my own. But I’m getting older, and I haven’t found a girl yet and I fear I never will.”

“Scott you said it yourself. You’re thirty. Actually, you’re still twenty-nine for another whole month. Your life just started. You’re a young, thriving man.” John attempted the warmest, sincerest and softest smile in his repertoire. Scott couldn’t help but melt at the sight.

“And maybe, now that you don’t have to look after us anymore, you will have more time to look for the right one and make us all uncles.” Virgil patted the eldest brother on the back, chuckling.

“Yeah…” Scott adored how caring his baby brothers were with him. “Yeah, maybe I will. Now let’s go downstairs, it’s time to blow out some candles.”

[gumnut-logic]

The Awards (Part 2)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Alexander Sweetapple series

This one was a challenge and being Australian and not a Kiwi, I beg forgiveness if I've messed up anything. Many, many thanks to @onereyofstarlight I owe her Haighs chocolate for consultation fees on this one (she actually wrote the intro).

Being a Sweetapple fic, this is m/m, and although they don't go beyond the occasional kiss and hug, if that isn't your thing, this isn't your fic.

I hope you enjoy it :D

-o-o-o-

“Tēnā koutou katoa.”

The room was already silent for the man’s mere presence on the stage. Scott Tracy stood tall, gazing out at the audience, and if he was honest with himself, Alex couldn’t help but feel proud to be an employee, sitting here in the audience, and represented by him.

“Ko Aerana te whakapaparanga mai. Nō Ngā Whenua Tōpū o Amerika au.” Scott straightened just a little. “My ancestry is from Ireland and I am from the United States of America.”

“Ko reo kōrero ō Tracy Industries ahau. I am the spokesperson of Tracy Industries.”

“Ko Scott Tracy tōku ingoa. My name is Scott Tracy.”

His eyes raked the room.

“It is the difficult and the horrifying that remind us of who we are. When circumstances threaten us and those we love. It is those times our hearts must be strong. To reach out and help family, friends and strangers alike.”

“You are a community which has seen terrible loss and heartache. But you are also a community of strong and defiant people who saw suffering and stepped up to help.” A pause. “I know. I was there.”

The room rumbled in acknowledgement.

“This is an opportunity to thank those who were pillars in their community, the iwi leaders who organised food and shelter, those who volunteered their time and energy to look after one another."

“Every one who saw a need and offered to help, all of you should be proud to be a part of Te Tai Rāwhiti because the sun does indeed dawn first on a very strong and caring people.”

He paused a moment and the room was full of an echoing silence as if everyone was holding their breath, simply hanging on the words of Mr Scott Tracy.

“So, it was with great honour I accepted this opportunity to open the Tairāwhiti Super Hero Awards 2065. While International Rescue might make a dramatic entrance,” the crowd murmured and Mr Tracy smiled just a little, “we should never forget the real heroes amongst us - those who step up and do what needs doing.”

For the briefest of moments that blue gaze settled on Alex before drawing the rest of the room in behind him.

“So thank you to all of you, for great service rendered.” Another small smile. “Ngā mihi nui.”

Mr Tracy stepped back from the lectern and the room erupted into applause. Alex found himself clapping like a lunatic.

But then this was Scott Tracy, Thunderbird One.

Beside Alex, Virgil was clapping just as hard, but he was grinning at Alex, not his big brother.

Scott shook the hand of the Master of Ceremonies and quietly walked off the stage as the lights shifted, heralding the opening performance of the night.

Alex’s eyes widened as students from the local high school, one of the most damaged by the quake, stepped onto the stage and into the rhythm of haka and welcome.

Knowing exactly how these people had been affected, and to see them here, proud and defiant, Alex’s heart swelled.

He lost himself in the lights and sound.

At some point, Scott slipped in on the other side of Virgil. The two brothers acknowledging each other unspoken, but throughout the ceremony Virgil held Alex’s hand.

And it was ever so warm.

At the end of the welcoming ceremony, the Prime Minister took to the podium, her stance as strong as her speech. Her acknowledgement of those lost, those who suffered, those who stepped up, and those who saved - and yes, she mentioned International Rescue particularly - Alex squeezed Virgil’s hand. It was heartwarming, politician or no.

And then came the awards.

The Prime Minister stood beside the MC and as names were announced and people stepped up from the audience, stories were told of heroic deeds.

The woman who sheltered three children with her body as a building collapsed over them. Thunderbird Two had pulled them out, finding her physically holding a slab of concrete from falling.

Her hoverchair separated from the crowd and hissed down the aisle to the stage.

A mechanic who had set up a care centre in his backyard, gathering locals who had lost their homes, finding blankets and bedding, and offering shelter from the weather in his workshop.

Amongst the recipients there were those who could not attend and those who had lost their lives helping others. Family members and friends accepted the awards from the hands of the Prime Minister.

The mood was both somber and proud.

“Alexander Sweetapple.” Alex startled and suddenly found both Virgil and his mother ushering him to his feet. “Caught in the Tairāwhiti museum collapse, Alexander was able to save the thirteen people caught with him before the building slipped into the Taruheru River.”

Alex was walking down the aisle towards the stage. He stepped up into the light, the Prime Minister’s smile all for him, and he shook her hand and accepted the trophy and tried his best to smile and not drop it.

His fingers fumbled.

Not drop it.

“Thank you for your service.” Her brown eyes were sincere and both her hands clasped his. “Thank you.”

He managed a smile and a nod, before turning back towards the audience. Somewhere out there, in that haze of bright light, was his mum, Messrs Tracy, and Virgil.

The thought of his smile…and what happened after saving those thirteen people…

Alex really didn’t need the piece of plastic in his hands.

So, of course, that was when he dropped it.

The thud as it hit the wooden stage floor was loud, the echo bouncing around the theatre.

A rumble of amusement from the crowd swelled as he stumbled to pick it up.

Grab the piece of plastic and get off the stage.

He managed it with as much decorum as he had left, only tripping on the stairs once in his haste. Walking up the aisle again, however, all he could see was fond amusement in the eyes that caught his and it mollified him a little. That feeling of just ‘being in it together’ reassured his thudding heart.

His mum and Virgil welcomed him back to his seat, both hugging him, one after the other.

The gentle kiss to his ear as heavy lifting arms wrapped around him was enough to slow his heart rate down a notch…okay, not slow, really, but more redirect its passion from terror to…other things.

The rest of the ceremony was a blur. Panic was exhausting and he found himself resting his head on Virgil’s shoulder as hero after hero accepted their award.

At some point Scott climbed out of his seat and walked back down to the stage to accept a thank you to International Rescue from the Prime Minister - everyone knew IR didn’t accept awards, but Aotearoa had every right to say thank you.

Mr Scott’s smile and Erica’s favourite dimples charmed the audience and the Prime Minister…who, come to think of it, was single…

But the thank you was the last speech of the night. Scott returned to his seat again and the final performance roared onto the stage. Alex was quite comfortable with his head on Virgil’s shoulder, almost snuggled up beside him.

Sure, someone could photograph them, but at this point Alex didn’t care. Besides, it wasn’t like they were trying to hide anything. A good percentage of the world had already seen them playing tonsil hockey on social media, this was small time in comparison.

Virgil turning and kissing him gently on the forehead just sealed the deal.

But eventually the ceremony came to an end and the audience took to their feet. Alex straightened up, but his hand did not leave Virgil’s, even as they filed out with the crowd.

Iz, of course, appeared from nowhere, she and Kayo bracketing their party as they moved into the foyer where a buffet had been set up.

Alex brightened. A little kai and definitely some coffee would help.

Well, it would have if some of it hadn’t been thrown at them.

-o-o-o-

TBC

[astranite]

Protective is an Emotion

John and Virgil, with younger Tracies. This started off with me wanting to write John being the protective big brother and went from there. Might be a 2nd and 3rd chapter as there be ideas for them. Rather angsty so far but there shall be some hurt/comforting. John and Virgil are both autistic as I am always writing them that way tis just more obvious here.

Warnings for bullying.

---

John walked through the crowded school yard, head down, one hand tightly wrapped around the shoulder strap of his backpack. The cacophony of bodies and noise pressed in on him, the typical state of students at break time, rowdy, clamoring and far too numerous. 

He wouldn't have stopped usually, have kept pressing through until he got to the doors of the library and inside, where it was finally, thankfully quiet and he could breathe. But something caught his eye, an aberration in the pattern of swirling students and harried staff members. 

At the base of the concrete stairs leading to the art block building was a knot of students. It wasn't out of the ordinary for teenagers to gather there, half blocking the walkway for people who wanted to get past until a teacher inevitably told them off and then they inevitably returned to position as soon as said teacher was out of sight. But it still pinged in John’s brain as an important detail even before he quite realised. 

The teenagers looked to be a couple of grades below him. They formed a wall of bodies against the art building, intention all focused inward. John caught a glimpse of dark hair and flash of colourful canvas between them.

The final piece of the puzzle: Virgil had started attending the same highschool as Scott and John, beginning this week.

It could be fine, maybe it was fine, maybe the kids in Virgil’s grade would treat Virgil better than John’s supposed peers had ever done to him.

But John preferred hard evidence and he didn't put much stock in the good of humanity when it came to teenagers forced into close proximity by the mass education institution known as a school. 

Best case scenario, John could say hi and check in on Virgil, then leave him to hang out with his new friends without his weird ginger brother butting in on the conversation, and ask Virgil to tell him about them and how his day was on the bus home from school.

Worst case scenario? Well, that was why John was striding towards the group, chin up and shoulders back, doing his best to use his lanky height to get through the crowd and mimic Scott when he had something to prove. Because he was the big brother here and if there was the slightest chance Virgil needed him, that meant John was all the way in a heartbeat.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” John smiled, showing his teeth. 

Start nice, start friendly, better not to let them see a potential threat coming. If there needed to be a threat, which John sorely hoped there wouldn’t.

Several of the students jumped, whipped their heads around.

“Who’re you?” One challenged.

John made full eye contact with the teen. “I’m John Tracy.” 

The other boy looked away first. 

“We’re just talking. What’s your problem?” Another teen, closest to Virgil and pressing in on his personal space as Virgil leaned away added.

“Yeah, we’re talking,” A different student, John couldn't keep track of the faces. Then directed at Virgil: “Aren’t you going to tell us what you drew?”

They all looked to Virgil, like this was some kind of gotcha instead of an innocent question as John’s instincts screamed this was a trap.

He’d been here before. John swallowed hard.  They weren’t— It wasn’t— Appearances could be deceiving and some people didn't know when to stop because they liked the feeling of having power over others.

“Come on, give us an answer. Or is it music again, which is a sound that you hear?” A voice twisted to mocking.

Virgil was clutching his sketchbook and a canvas covered in vividly painted patterns to his chest. The concrete stairwell wall was up against his back, blocking off the exits as pleading brown eyes found John, lips mouthing his name. 

Virgil was scared, these teens were taunting him, even though there was nothing he would have done to deserve it, no one deserved it, especially not his kindest brother who wore his heart on his sleeve and wanted to help everyone. He wasn’t as strange or sharp-edged as John…

“Stop. Just stop,” John said. Blurted out, because he wished Scott was here, Scott would know what to do to fix this. John needed his big brother right now too.

One of the teens nudged Virgil in the ribs quicker than John could cross the circle to get to him. Virgil flinched and shrunk further inwards on himself, humming under his breath, the pitch rising. 

John saw red. He forced his way through the gathered teens to put himself between them and Virgil, protectiveness surging enough to take his breath away. He’d tear them apart with his teeth if that would make them leave Virgil alone. 

But it wouldn’t. And he wasn’t Scott, he was just John. He could calculate the forces involved better than he could throw a punch because he was too clumsy to be on the sports teams and didn't really want to be anyway, and he was tall like a plant that grew too fast without enough sun instead of tall and athletic, and he was only a year older than these kids no matter that he was in Scott’s grade, and he’d never won a fight when it was him because it had never ended.

Analysing variables was his language: a) he and Virgil would never win now if it came to fighting because bullies liked to outnumber you, b) getting himself suspended trying would only mean he wasn't there to protect Virgil and it would be another thing Scott would have to deal with dumped on his shoulders, and c) the smart option was to get out now.

The teens were between laughter at them and indignation, a volatile combination. Spilt rocket fuel in the school yard. 

John dropped any semblance left of the polite expression he’d been wearing. Gave the blank, emotionless, nothing look, because he knew it unnerved people even though it was just his normal face. Stared unblinkingly into the eyes of the teen directly in front of him, because apparently it was uncanny even when he didn’t mean it as a threat, the same intimidation of a barn yard cat eyeing up its prey. Somewhere that hurt but it was buried amongst John’s roiling emotions. He could use it though.

“We are going,” he stated flatly. He couldn’t think of anything else to say, the protagonists in John’s books always had a snappy line at this point except he didn’t.

He tried to give Virgil as much warning as he could, saying his name before seizing his hand.  

John broke the path, somewhat dragging Virgil with him even as he did his best to be gentle because he really didn't want to hurt his brother and he knew how scary it was, but getting away was more important right now. 

He pushed past the other students, shuddering when a grab was made at his arm and shaking it off. The boy in question loudly played what they’d done to Virgil like it was a big, friendly joke, like it wasn’t one hundred percent purposeful, couldn’t any Tracy just take a joke.

“Can’t even say anything about his own stupid drawing,” The same teen muttered to their retreating backs. 

By how Virgil’s grip went suddenly crushingly tight on his hand, John knew he had heard every word.

[hebuiltfive]

N/B: It's up on AO3 with the news work skin, if you'd prefer to read it there. If not, I present to you Jeff and Scott's join POTY interview (the date is flexible, shush).

TIME’s Person of the Year 2065

Jefferson and Scott Tracy: A Hero’s Return

By Lila Ward.

Rumours have swirled and gossip has flourished in the months following the return of Jefferson Tracy. Questions have been asked, both in public forums and behind closed doors, on his suitability to return to his work, as a face of the good and the honourable, but none of that has seemed to stop him. 

Unless you’ve been living under a rock for the last eight years, the world knows the story of the great Jeff’s Tracy’s demise. For eight whole years, the world had thought Jeff had perished in one final battle of good versus evil; a heroic death for an extraordinary man. 

The truth was not so simple, as it rarely ever is.

Jeff Tracy had not succumbed to an early grave, but had been exiled in the far reaches of space. For nearly a decade, Jeff Tracy lived out a life in the stars; a solitary existence for a man who deserved better.

The universe, however, smiled upon him favourably and sent the blessed International Rescue to save him from a cold and lonely demise, an organisation that Jeff had set-up years prior.

How had he survived? 

What state was he in? 

Did he really make it home unscathed? 

Is he really capable of carrying on where he left off?

These are some of those questions that have been asked. I, myself, had been one of the many who was curious about the answers too once upon a time but any and all worries are dispelled the moment I set eyes on the man for the first time. 

It’s a cold, rainy November day in New York. I had half-expected to greet a man who looked like he’d spent the last eight years in space, but that wasn’t the man I met. Jeff isn’t frail or in need of any sort of help. He looks his age, he sounds ever-so cheerful and his energy is boundless.

Over the course of his impressive career, Jeff Tracy has had a number of “firsts” —he was the first man to step foot on Mars; the first man to travel at Mach 20; the first man to survive an eight year stint in space with nothing but the remnants of a test-plane and the clothes on his back — but what I want to hone in on is his achievement of being named Time's Person of the Year for the fourth time — a record breaking feat which he can add to his list of “firsts”.

"I can't say that it was a record I was setting out to break.” Jeff confesses to me when I ask him what it feels like to hit yet another milestone. “It is nice though, I won't lie, to be up there with the greats.”

The first time Jeff was named Person of the Year was all the way back in the late 2020s, when Jeff first took over his family's business. "I had no idea what I was doing back then.” He admits to me with a twinkle sparkling in his eye. It makes me wonder if he's telling the truth or not. "I was just a baby trying to find his way. God... 2029! I don't even think I was married at that point."

His second Person of the Year feature was, like this one, a joint piece. Back then, Jeff was joined with Captain Lee Taylor, a close friend and colleague, after they had both recently returned from their two-year mission to become the first Men on Mars. 

"Lee always joked that it was the highlight of his career; not the mission but the magazine, the title. I said to him, "Lee, you cannot be serious. You wouldn't be here if it wasn't for the mission!" But he was deadly serious about it, telling me firmly that it was the greatest moment of his life. I’m still not sure whether he was trying to pull my leg or not with that.” 

Was it an honour to be named Person of the Year alongside his friend? "Of course it was, Lila! It was an honour to be named Person of the Year the first time. Being able to do it with Taylor? That was an even greater honour. The greatest, of course, if being able to share it this year with Scott.”

His third time being named Person of the Year was for his creation of the philanthropic organisation, International Rescue. "That... was a tricky one." Jeff remembers with an almost sour expression. "The world had only just found out some of the identities involved in that work — we had tried very hard to remain anonymous at first, but alas it wasn't meant to be — and some of the world didn't like the idea of who was behind it."

Some tabloids ran with obscene headlines that claimed International Rescue wasn't an organisation for the people due to the billionaire who had founded the group. Others claimed that their attempts of secrecy meant the team were hiding something nefarious. We know now that all of those rumours were based in nothing but opinions, but at the time, Jeff recalls it doing damage.

"It didn't hit me hard, but I remember Casey becoming increasingly more frustrated by it. Taylor too, if I'm being honest.  To me, so long as it didn't impede my ability to get out and help people, I didn't care what they wrote. It didn't matter. I was in a position to help people and so I did. 

“There were times when our help was refused, purely because people had believed what they’d read in the tabloids, but… there was nothing we could do except keep trying to do better and prove ourselves. We should never have needed to prove ourselves but I guess we managed it.”

In the years that followed, and in his subsequent years trapped in space, two of his sons managed to follow in Jeff’s footsteps and attain the title for themselves.

John Tracy was first, being named Person of the Year the same year Jeff disappeared. At the time, he was one of the youngest to obtain the title, a fact that makes Jeff chuckle. "He told me about it when I got home. He didn't seem to speak fondly of the experience but I'm sure that was just John. He’s never been keen on interviews and I don’t think that’s changed much. I know he was proud of it, though; he wouldn't have told me if he wasn't."

The second was Scott Tracy a few years later. 

I turn to Scott who is sitting beside his father. This year, as joint Person of the Year alongside Jeff, marks Scott's second time being awarded the title. I ask him whether it’s different the second time around.

“The first time was bizarre and, at the time, I felt a little like an imposter. I think it was a couple of years after we thought we’d lost Dad, and to be named Person of the Year for all the work I was doing in Dad's name, with his companies, all without him being around to witness, or even claim the title himself... it was a little weird.

“It’s a lot less weird this time, though. I think I’m able to actually enjoy it this time around.”

Both of them have just come back from their accompanying photoshoot and are still dressed in the last ensemble Wardrobe had trussed them up in. Jeff wears a dark navy blue trimmed suit, his silver hair gelled in a style that makes him appear younger than his actual years. Scott wears a similar cut of suit, though his is in a shade of lighter blue. The resemblance between the father-son duo is much more prominent in person than in the glossy photos were accustomed to seeing.

Scott, along with the rest of his family's organisation, were the reason Jeff arrived home safe and sound, and the reason I'm able to sit down and chat with the great hero himself, but it must have come as a shock when they discovered the truth about what really happened to their father?

"It certainly wasn't the news we had been expecting to hear." Scott answers with a grim expression. I assume he's remembering that fateful day. "But when we heard there was a chance that Dad was still alive, we all knew there was no choice but to try. That’s all we ever do at International Rescue; we try for the best option, deal with whatever hand we're dealt."

It’s safe to say that International Rescue are probably experts when it comes to dealing with whatever hand their dealt at this point. Not only do they have to adjust plans whilst out on their rescues, but this very operation of rescuing Jeff nearly ended in more tragedy. 

"We did encounter a few problems." Scott goes on to tell me, detailing how their arch-nemesis — the international criminal known as the Hood — tried to abandon them in the depths of space. I wonder aloud how it feels to have someone considered an arch-nemesis, but Scott laughs.

"I wouldn't recommend trying to find one. It might sound cool but they're more trouble than they're worth."

So, after the mission they’d essentially been unknowingly preparing for all their lives, what’s next for International Rescue and the Tracy family? Is Jeff planning on heading into retirement?

"Oh, no. No, no, no." The determined shake of the patriarch’s head is enough to emphasis his point. "No plans of that whatsoever. I've still got life in me, come on! I think people expected me to come back as this weak, older man who had given up hope over the years ago, but that isn't me." 

Jeff is proud of that fact, I can tell. He lifts his head and those crystal blue eyes pierce mine. "I've got plans. The world thought they'd said goodbye to Jeff Tracy years ago, but it was just a see you later. There might be a lot of people who would like to see me fade away into the shadows — actually, there’s probably a fair few — but that ain’t happening anytime soon."

The plans Jeff claims to have are a tightly guarded secret, however. Even Scott doesn't know the scope. 

"We've not had a full discussion yet, but I think I know the direction Dad wants to go. There's still a lot to be ironed out but it's very exciting and it's definitely going to help International Rescue, and the world at large really, in the near future."

[amatchinwater]

So, hey. 👀 I have a prompt. 👀 Actually, I have two, and I hope it's okay I'll send them in one 🥰

"“i’ll kiss you right now to prove i don’t feel anything for you” but the kiss proves the exact opposite"" for Stisaac

"i’m watching you date all these other people and i don't know what it is i'm feeling but it's definitely not jealousy" for Steo (preferably with jealous Theo because I love jealous Theo 😍 But you don't have to. I'm gonna love it either way. 🥰 )

Gods, I don't even want to think about how old this ask is 🤦‍♀️ but I finally got the second one done!! Thank you, babes 💚💚

Pairing: Steo

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Theo Raeken Mason Hewitt, Tracy Stewart, Corey Bryant, unnamed OG male character,

Warnings: drinking, rejection, mentions of past Sterek, Stiles thinks he can drink and fuck the breakup pain away, irritated Theo, jealous Theo

Words: 3033

Prompt: jealousy prompt in ask, thanks again, Laura 💚

Ao3 link Masterlist

---

Do you know what it feels like to have happiness? True happiness. Only to have it yanked away from you with no hope of stopping it?

Stiles does.

Twice in his life, aside from his mother’s death, has it happened. Once in the form of his childhood best friend and schoolyard crush Theo moving away shortly after a death in both of their families. Right when they probably needed each other the most. The second, and arguably the worst, was Derek Hale breaking up with him and also leaving town…and the country. 

At least Theo kept in touch, Derek cut him off cold turkey. 

It hurt like a mother fucker.

Even now with a healthy pack and a good life, six months later, Stiles still doesn’t feel quite whole. Like the wound is still fresh without an ounce of scar tissue in sight. 

“Are you coming tonight?” Tracy asks, flopping on the couch next to him and setting her feet in his lap. “Or are you finally staying home?” 

He doesn’t miss the suggestion in the kanima’s tone. That Stiles should stay home tonight. But the fox won’t. A fact they’re both more than aware of. 

Stiles will go to the club like every other time. Searching for someone with a hero complex insisting they can help him forget his ex. They mostly do. For the duration they’re in the fox’s bed at least. The moment the post-coital haze clears, Stiles is missing Derek all over again. Feeling guilty for what he’s done for the hundredth time. 

Because that’s the thing about rebounding with a bunch of strangers that no one tells you about. You’re still the same broken shell of a person afterwards. Nothing changes just because you had an orgasm. You’re still hurt. 

“Of course he’s going,” Theo huffs, all but stomping off the last step.

And he’s right. Even though Stiles knows it won’t make him feel better, he can’t stop.

“When are we leaving?” The fox asks, making Theo scoff. “What’s your problem?” He asks, rolling his eyes towards his Alpha.

“Nothing at all,” Theo mumbles in annoyance from the kitchen. “I’m staying home tonight, let me know when you guys are heading back,” the Alpha stalks back upstairs without another word.

Right. Okay, Stiles should probably back up a bit. He mentioned having a healthy pack now. With Derek gone, it’s obviously not the Hales. But Scott isn’t his Alpha either. When Theo came back to Beacon Hills at the beginning of their senior year, he and Stiles reconnected as if he’d never left. He was an Alpha and quickly built a pack of stray supernatural creatures both Scott and Stiles didn’t even know existed. 

Well, they knew about kanimas. But not raijus or that were-jaguars were a thing. Or that there were creatures that could turn invisible! Nor that kids they went to school with were supernatural and right under their noses. Granted, Stiles was a human at the time and literally never would’ve known. 

What bothered Scott the most is hard to say. Unclear to which straw finally broke the camel’s back. It’s always possible that it was just a culmination of everything that got to the True Alpha. In part, it definitely had to do with the fact that Theo wouldn’t relinquish his title as Alpha because Scott asked him to. And he shouldn’t have either, in Stiles’ opinion. The coyote got his power fair and square by his Alpha passing it on. 

Then it boiled down to how close he and Theo became.

They were best friends before Stiles even met Scott. Even over the years when they stayed in touch, there never felt like distance between them. There’s nothing that Theo doesn’t know about. No secrets. 

At first it started with Stiles already having plans with the coyote. But eventually it progressed to Stiles forgetting about pack nights because he was with Theo. And then the Alpha asked if he’d think about joining his pack since he sees Scott so little and seems happier with Theo.

Saying yes had never been so easy. 

He even accepted the bite.

Because Theo was absolutely right. After Allison, there was always an uncomfortable air around Scott and Stiles. On the surface, the fox was happier.

Not happy. But happier.

So off to Sinema he goes. Pack in tow save for their Alpha.

“What are the chances I can get you to be my wingman tonight?” Josh asks, looping an arm around the fox’s shoulder. “I need some of that luck you always seem to possess.”

Any other night, Stiles probably would’ve said yes. But for some reason Derek is at the forefront of his mind tonight. And there’s something clearly pissing Theo off. So for the sake of not thinking about either Alpha, the fox knocks back his fourth- fifth?- wolfsbane infused drink courtesy of Hayden.

Throwing a wink at the raiju, Stiles says, “watch and learn young padawan.” He can’t focus on fully helping Josh right now. But if he pays attention, it could work out for him.

It did with Corey and Mason.

Grated, Mason was so far gone on Corey, he didn’t really need to do much to get the human. 

Feeling that last cocktail settle in his blood, Stiles makes his way towards the dancefloor. It wasn’t until after Derek that the fox realized just how much he likes dancing. Or the fact that once he loosens up, Stiles is actually pretty good at it too. Moving through the sea of gyrating bodies, he finds himself a nice little space off the center.

That’s his trick. He’s close enough to the outside that someone sitting down can see him. But he’s also enough in the crowd that people on the dancefloor have eyes on him too. The more visible you are, the more chance you have of taking someone home. 

It takes no time at all for someone’s hands to find his waist. Stiles doesn’t even bother to push people away anymore. Company is his goal after all. So when the person pulls him close, grinding the fox against him, Stiles lifts his hands up, curling his fingers into their short strands. 

When the song changes, the body behind him makes no effort to move. So Stiles takes the initiative to turn around, see who’s interested. He’s surprised to find someone who looks like they could be Derek’s body double. It’s almost scary. But it deals the deal for the fox. Determination setting in to take this guy home. Maybe one last hook up, this time with Derek Lite, will be just what Stiles needs.

“Hey, handsome,” the fox lightly slurs over the music, “what are the chances I can get you to go home with me?”

Blunt and to the point.

Works every time.

The hands fall from his waist, the stranger’s face softening. “I’m sorry,” he leans in, not knowing that Stiles can hear him perfectly. “I was just looking for someone to dance with and you’re really good. You’re not my type, sorry.”

“Right. ‘Course, have a good night,” Stiles says, biting his remark away. The ‘you rub your boner on me but I’m not your type, huh?’ stings the back of his throat. The fox leaves the dance floor, making a beeline for the exit. 

That always works.

It didn’t work on Derek either.

Okay, that’s just fucking rude. The voice in his head has no right to say shit like that. Derek wasn’t some guy in a club. He was a good Alpha and brother who left town to protect his sister.

That doesn’t help it sting any less that an essential carbon copy of the Alpha rejected him.

The fresh air hits his face and all of the alcohol Stiles consumed makes itself known He’s not going to throw up, but he feels how much he had to drink. The fox doesn’t stop moving until he gets to the alley on the side of the club. Crouching down, Stiles puts his head in his hands.

He should be over this by now. Why the fuck does it still hurt so much? The fox’s eyes sting with tears. Drunk or not, he’s not going to fucking cry.

He won’t.

A hand rests on the fox’s shoulder, Josh’s scent filling his nostrils. It’s a comfort like no other. Stiles doesn’t know what he’d do without the raiju. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“He broke me,” Stiles snaps, looking up at his best friend with blurry eyes. “I’m broken, Josh,” the fox sobs, tears spilling down his cheeks. He said he wasn’t going to cry, dammit. But here he is, one simple question from the raiju- one he could’ve said no to- and Stiles’ drunken brain releases the floodgates. 

He feels pathetic.

“But you’re not,” Josh speaks softly.

“Yes, I am!” Stiles sniffles, angrily wiping his face dry. “I’m not his type,” the fox scoffs, “Derek left me.”

“Okay, well fuck both of them. They’re idiots if they can’t see how great you are.” Josh looks at him earnestly, “but I also don’t think sleeping with a bunch of nameless faces is going to make you feel better. Kinda seems like it’s been doing the opposite.”

“Excuse me?”

“Look,” the raiju sighs, “I’m not trying to piss you off or control you. I’m just trying to help you. It’s kind of my job.”

Josh is right. Stiles knows that. But how else is he supposed to get by? Who else is going to want someone as damaged as him?

“How about instead of hooking up with everyone you can,” Tracy rounds the corner of the building, “you take a look at what’s right in front of you.”

Stiles, rather drunk and confused, looks at his best friend who is indeed in front of him. 

“You mean Josh?” Don’t get him wrong, his best friend is rather easy on the eyes. But that’d be like dating his brother. No, thank you.

The raiju laughs.

“Oh my god,” Tracy groans, scrubbing her face in aggravation. “You are not that dumb or blind,” the kanima scoffs. Stiles gives her a blank stare and shrugs. “For the love of- Theo! He’s in love with you, you idiot!”

Stiles’ heart stops.

“Bullshit,” he snorts. “Theo doesn’t even look at me like that.” If he did, Stiles would’ve tried something with his childhood crush a long time ago. Theo’s hot and nice and actually cares about him. He gently hits Josh’s arm, “tell her to stop fucking with me.”

Josh pulls a face, lifting a shoulder, “she’s not.”

Stiles’ heart stops again.

Then he laughs. A full on giggle fit that doesn’t stop even when they get him in the car. Laughs as he explains his behavior to Mason and Corey. But when they pull into the driveway and they give him the same look Josh had, Stiles sobers up real quick.

They’re home.

And Theo’s inside.

Theo.

Who doesn’t like, but loves him. 

What’s breathing? Stiles has forgotten how to do it, but he’s pretty sure it’s something that’s supposed to be automatic, not a conscious choice of inhaling and exhaling.

“Uh, hey guys,” Mason’s voice echoes beside him in the back seat, poking his shoulder.

“What?” Josh asks, putting the car in park.

Tracy actually turns around, “oh shit.”

“What?” The raiju repeats, looking behind him, “shit. Stiles?”

The fox is frozen, staring at the house. Full of alcohol and nervous energy. “He’s going to think I’m a whore,” Stiles mutters, his brain running a stomach churning montage of all of the people he’s slept with. 

All the while Theo knew about and said nothing in the way of disapproval. Unless you count his attitude. 

Gods, Stiles feels like such an idiot.

The kanima cackles. Actually cackles, “oh, honey. If anything Theo is just jealous and upset you’ve never let him grace your bed.”

“Why do you think he was so upset tonight?” Mason asks, rubbing the back of the fox’s neck. Even as a human he understands how to calm them down.

That would explain the Alpha’s attitude, sure. But still, “Why did he never say anything?”

Everyone in the car gives him a shrug.

“Guess you’ll have to ask him yourself,” Corey says, leaning over Mason and Stiles to open the car door.

“What?” The fox looks back and forth and before he knows it, the couple shoves him out of the car. If not for his supernatural reflexes, Stiles would’ve eaten the concrete.

“We’ll see you in the morning,” Josh yells through Tracy’s open window.

What?

The car door slams closed, tires squealing in its haste to get out of the driveway before the fox can react.

“Dicks,” Stiles mumbles, turning and facing the house. 

His body really wants to go into flight mode. Guess it’s time to put his big boy pants on. His heart picks up, fingers shaking trying to use the key to unlock the front door, one thought nagging him.

Has he been hurting Theo this whole time?

“Dammit,” he squeezes his eyes closed, pushing open the door. The only sound inside the house is his Alpha’s heartbeat. Too quick to be sleeping. A page turns. “Theo,” Stiles calls out, closing and relocking the front door.

Please don’t ignore him.

Please.

There’s a pause followed by a sigh, “In my room.” 

His heart is thundering in his chest. Yes, the revelation from the pack sobered him up, but the fox isn’t sober. There’s still a buzz in his head and a slight wobble to his legs. Stiles very carefully walks up the stairs to the Alpha’s room. The one right next to his. At least their walls are soundproof, so unless a door is open, you can’t hear shit. 

Meaning Theo never had to hear Stiles with the people he brought home. 

The smallest of consolations because Theo still knew they were there.

When Stiles makes it to the Alpha’s room, Theo is propped against his headboard reading Catching Fire. No shirt on and gray joggers. He is a sight to see. Why the hell did Stiles never even flirt with the guy? He’s more than aware of how hot Theo is. Maybe the fox just didn’t want to ruin their friendship. Or step over any pack bounds. 

Excuses, honestly.

“Hey,” Stiles says a breath above a whisper. His tipsy brain says the best course of action is why not try for some flirtatious humor to break the tension? “You waitin’ up for me, handsome?” The fox leans against the doorframe with a grin.

“No one warming your bed tonight?” Theo asks in a sour tone. Not even bothering to look up from his book, simply turning the page. 

Alcohol takes control of Stiles’ tongue, “I was hoping you would.” 

It’s unmistakable. The rush of arousal coming off the coyote. His fingers twitch against his book. “So they told you.” But Theo still doesn’t look up.

“They might have informed me that I’m a moron,” Stiles says, stepping over the threshold. “That I had someone much better right here the whole time.”

That gets Theo’s attention. He looks up from his book, eyes flickering red for the smallest of seconds.

He’s getting to Theo.

“I don’t want your pity,” the Alpha closes his book. “You’re only here because it’s convenient. A fall back because no one came home with you.” Theo’s voice is full of something Stiles can’t quite place. Anger? Sadness? His words hurt just the way that Theo must hurt when he says, “You don’t actually want me.”

The fox snorts, filter nonexistent, “Are you jealous that people come home with me?”

Theo tosses his book on the nightstand, getting up from his bed. The fox is ready to drool. All he needs is to get his hands on the coyote. But Theo stays just a step away, “I’m watching you fuck all of these other people and I don’t know what it is I’m feeling,” Theo’s heart skips. “But it’s not jealousy.”

“Liar,” Stiles says confidently. Never once feeling so bold and so fucking nervous at the same time.

The Alpha scoffs, giving him a tongue in cheek smile. When their eyes meet, Theo crosses his arms to his chest, stepping closer, “I’m not lying, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

Stiles’ mouth dries out. Throat clicking when he swallows. Does the Alpha realize how he looks and sounds? He is growing determined to get Theo to crack. He’s putting on a face so that Stiles won’t know he’s getting to him.

As if he can’t smell it.

Unless Theo’s trying to be done.

The fox gets an idea. He nearly purrs at the thought. If Theo wants to drop it, he’ll let him. But if he doesn’t…

“Okay,” Stiles quips, “if that’s what you really want. For the record, it’s not pity, I’d never have stepped foot in the club in the first place had I known you had feelings for me too. But I guess I’ll just leave you be then” He turns to leave, ready to walk away if that’s really what the coyote wants. 

No matter how much it might hurt.

Theo’s hand curls around his wrist. “Don’t you dare walk away from me,” the Alpha growls, words charged and breath thick. “I can’t-” Theo takes a controlled breath, sounding small and vulnerable, “I can’t watch you walk away again.”

“Then don’t,” Stiles whispers, unable to properly breathe either. “I’m yours…if you want that,” that fox turns around meeting rubies. 

“Not just for the night, sweetheart,” Theo sounds like he’s begging, yanking the fox close. His arm wraps around the small of Stiles’ back, keeping him there.

Stiles gulps, imagining this very situation since he was a kid, “However long you want me.”

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep,” Theo tells him, eyes still glowing red, fingers twitching against his back. 

“Try me,” Stiles retorts, kissing Theo’s response away. 

The Alpha doesn’t pull back other than to drag Stiles to his bed. 

Needless to say, Stiles doesn’t return to Sinema again unless it’s with Theo on his arm. Nor does he sleep in his own room anymore. Theo’s room became theirs.