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edutainer2022 · 1 year ago

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Oh goodness! How do I love this story? Let me count the ways... There not enough stars in any universe!

Short of quoting all 6000 words back, I must say it's such an intricate, sophisticated journey of anguish, and love. So much love! Woven as a throughline of linked hands. The way Star and Sky are brothers, such brothers. The way we glimpse little boys way back when, forging a special bond. The way Scott loves his brother, all his brothers, loving their passions. The way that's exactly what makes them thrive, and he doesn't even realise it. The way they love the sky - so differently. The way he's hesitant and self-conscious - he's too needy, he's nothing special, he's a failure, a fraud, why would his amazing genius brothers even want to hang out with him. He's certainly not their prefferred company of choice. Who would want him? Who would miss him? The way it's so fundamentally not true. He's Scott. He's the coolest, most amazing person they all know and the most coveted and cherished company in the economy of Tracy brotherhood. They're all aware of being a motley crew of more or less nerdy dorks - a shy arts and orchestra kid, a socially awkward ginger gifted program geek, a clown fish, and a homeschooled greenhouse kiddo whose social interactions are mostly in VR. And they're all brothers to Scott. The Scott. Guys like Scott usually don't spare kids like them a second glance or a second thought, yet somehow he loves them, and hangs out with them, and cheers them on. Scott's company is the seal of approval of their passions, and interests, and hobbies, and accomplishments. Of their very selves - unique and versatile. That Scott should think he's unwelcome... unwanted... I love the tender nuance of John tethering Scott and bringing him back from a meltdown. The journey of linked hands - Ariadna's thread from the labyrinth. The flashbacks of occasions when linked hands are their private thing could be from my own story notes - just so true to both these brothers! The way they both reassert the love and the shared doubts. The way Scott finds ever more guilt to pile on in every way his brother could be upset. The ending - with the stars, and the hug. They both get what they need of the companionship. And give even more. Perfect!

Stargazing

Sky and star!! Scott and John!!! Stargazing, honest talks on rooftops, some tears, and many hugs.

The tags copied from ao3 because Im pretty much too tired to see straight but I just finished this and Ive been working on it for a while now and here it is!!! Im very proud of it :)--Hurt/Comfort Angst Fluff its got all of them Stargazing which you just may have guessed given the title Hugs Crying Panic Attacks Self-Esteem Issues Scott's having a bit of a time of it and so is John but they've got each other there is much hugging and hot chocolate too and definitely some ADHD Scott and autistic John

Comes in at a scraping under 6000 words, so a nice long one!!

@idontknowreallywhy Thank you for all of your encouragement along the way. I doubt this would be what it is without you. Hugs :)

A headcanon in it, which you shall see, I believe originated from a fic by @edutainer2022 Sometime in 2023. The depths of tumblr. (cites sources)

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A thump followed by multilingual cussing out of the very concept of gravity were not uncommon sounds when John was earth side. Scott still looked up from his paper work in concern.

John was juggling a telescope, a blanket over his shoulder and his satchel while attempting to pick up several books. Massive, heavy astronomy books splayed out on the floor around his feet.

He swayed, nearly losing his balance and dropping the telescope at the same time. Scott leapt up to help. He crossed the comms room from dad’s desk to where John was in quick strides to get to his brother, worry blooming.

John straightened up when Scott reached his side, his brows pinched and face pale.

“Johnny, are you okay?” Scott questioned. He needed to know whether this was just a momentary thing or he needed to call Grandma and/or Virgil. He’d rather not have John fainting on him.

“I’m fine, just a bit dizzy.” John said, “Probably my blood pressure from leaning down too fast.“

Scott let out a relieved breath. John’s space-related health issues weren’t uncommon to be dealing with but Scott hated to see any of his brothers potentially sick or hurting. At least without a mission in the way, Scott could trust John was being truthful and not pushing past his limits.

“And don’t call me Johnny,” John added in disgust.

So John was just fine, with that level of vitriol. Just as it should be.

“Good to hear.” Scott put on a shit eating grin. “Johnny.”

It was his big brotherly duty to be infuriating, at least now his concerns had been allayed.

“Fuck you,” John said good naturedly.

Scott gathered the books up. John paused, hesitated, then stepped back to let him.

With both hands still full, John leant against the wall for support, eyes half closed and head tipped back.

On the biggest book, ‘ Dr J. G. Tracy’ was written across the planet pictured on the purple cover, followed by the extensive list of letters standing in for qualifications after John’s name. Scott smiled proudly to himself.

When he had them all, and they were heavy, how had John managed them with everything else, Scott reached out to take the blanket too, which was slowly but surely sliding from John’s grip.

“Thanks Scott. I thought I had it but—“ John gave floor where the former pile had been a glare.

“Gravity?” Scott smiled.

John rolled his eyes. “Yeah.”

Scott shifted the books up in his arms. “Now where do you want this all?”

Since he was carrying them already, he may as well help John the rest of the way. It was easier, honestly, he wasn’t just being a smotherhen.

“Uh. I was planning to go to the roof,” John admitted sheepishly.

Scott nudged him gently. “I should’ve guessed.”

Long ago, Scott had gotten used to how John took every possible opportunity to see the stars. He’d thought the constant fixtures of their childhood would disappear when John made his dream of living in space, but they’d stayed. The telescopes from John’s bedroom window, the expeditions to every nearby and not so nearby observatory, lying outside on picnic blankets waiting for meteor showers.

Turns out stargazing, even on earth, was just a part of who John was. The stars were constant in his universe and Scott loved how his brother loved them so much.

At night, out on the roof was always the first place Scott looked for John. In the day, so many times Scott had found John in his room, staring at the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling. Scott had helped him put up the first set, way back in Kansas when John was shorter than him because he hadn't been to space yet, and couldn’t reach even standing on a chair. When they moved to the island, the first thing John decorated his room with were more stars here too. Sometimes, when John was up on Five for long stretches, Scott would go sit beneath them, surrounded by John’s shelves of paper books and looking upwards.

They made their way out now, Scott matching John’s cautious footsteps, slow and unsteady. The balance issues from constantly being in space were worse when John was fresh down for orbit, though they never truly went away. It worried Scott, when he thought too much about it, but Thunderbird Five was never something he could take from John without breaking his heart. So Scott was always happy to slow down, to let John take his time to feel his way along, whenever he needed to. For his brother, Scott could take it slow.

The door to the roof and the wide, flat expanse were both very deliberate in their design. Having their own observatory wasn't going to stop one space brother or two from sitting up there.

Passing from the warmly lit villa into the night was sudden and jarring. Scott realised he hadn’t been outside of a building or a cockpit for too long. He took a breath, filling his lungs with cool ocean air. The clear view and barely there breeze would make landing a dream if he was flying.

Stars covered the sky, spread horizon to horizon. John stared up at them with open delight. He placed his telescope and bag down on the roof, then stretched out his arms as if to touch the inky purple expanse above them. When John glanced back at him, Scott repeated the gesture because this was something he understood. On a perfect blue day, as the sun shone, burning away the last whisps of white clouds, the skies pulled him in with the urge to be amongst it all. That was why he flew and John launched into space.

Scott spread the blanket out next to where the roof slanted sharply upwards, so they’d have shelter and were far away from the edge. He put the books down on a corner, preoccupying himself with neatly stacking them. John dropped to sit cross legged, immediately beginning to set up his telescope.

Scott lingered watching him as he attached it to its stand, screwing it securely in place. Long minutes passed while John fiddled with various knobs and dials. Scott knew he had a million other things he should be doing, the paperwork lurking at his desk to name one example, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

John wouldn’t want him here. He’d enjoy his evening far more without his older brother breathing down his neck. Scott should go. He made an awkward gesture at the door back off the roof, but made no movement towards it. He was probably driving John crazy just by being here, distracting him from his stars with his indecisiveness.

Shuffling the books around had already been a thin excuse once and messing with them more would be pushing it too far, no matter how the volume second from the bottom was botheringly skewed. He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms to resist straightening it. He was already pushing it too far.

Scott forced himself up, made it halfway to his feet when John pulled himself away from his telescope. His breath caught when John opened his mouth to speak.

Scott knew he was overly clingy.

The times people had called him suffocating stung. They still stung, even when he knew they were words hurled in anger and not truly meant. He couldn’t stand to hear more, because surely that’s what John was going to say. Maybe more diplomatically, more politely, but he braced himself anyway.

“Do you want to look at the stars with me?” John asked.

Scott’s mouth was glued shut. He just stared at John.

“It’s fine if you don’t.” John glanced down at his hands, now in his lap instead of on the telescope, fidgeting with his sleeves. “I just… We haven’t spent time together for ages.”

“What— what about last week?” Scott managed. John had been down last week, they’d seen each other last week.

“That was with everyone,” John said softly. “I meant just us.”

Oh. So John wanted— John wanted him to stay?

Scott tentatively settled to sit on the blanket, next to John. He couldn’t not. If there was the slightest chance John wanted him here, he couldn’t not take and take and take. But he had to believe John, in John’s words and soft, unsure tone of voice. That John knew what he was asking for and was saying it because he wanted this too.

After so many rescues and times in his life where John’s voice was his anchor at the end of a comm line, it was second nature to believe John. Maybe the waver in his voice was because he had trouble asking for this too.

Their knees bumped and John gave him a small smile.

Slowly, Scott unwound, letting out a breath and relaxing every muscle he’d tensed up. He leant back, bracing his hands behind him to look once more to the sky. The stars and moon seemed brighter now. What John was searching for up there, Scott didn't know, but he’d be here as he did, with John’s calm presence by his side.

He listened to the brushing of the breeze through the trees and the rushing whisper of sea against the shores, interspersed with the fluttering of paper as John turned the pages of his books.

John didn't need to reference his books to point his telescope at the right bit of sky, but he always brought them anyway. It was part of the routine, the ritual, a familiar comfort too weighty to bring to space. Flicking through pages of calculations, hands on the well worn covers, opening them where they fell, because they’d been read so many times before. It was another night, like this one but a long while ago, shared together when John had told him that was why he had them, connected all the way back to memories of John as a kid with mum’s astronomy textbooks, reading them by torchlight. For Scott, there was something reassuring about John surrounded by his books and his stars, his brother as he always was and was meant to be. It wasn't silly, he’d told John, that he brought old fashioned print books instead of even just a tablet, when they made John happy.

Tonight, without the usual jets coming and going, and people hustling to emergency alarms, the island was quiet. Calm, even.

Alan and Gordon were up on Thunderbird Five. Alan because he needed more training before he was prepared to run the station solo, and Gordon, who’d good naturedly volunteered to partner up, given John had long exceed his space hours this month. How it was going was anyone’s guess, particularly for Gordon’s mood, when Alan was likely using his temporary commanding status to full extent in bossing around his big brother. Scott snorted.

John turned to him at the sound. “What’s up? What is it?”

“Thinking of how Allie and Gordo are doing,” Scott replied. He relayed his thoughts about their younger brothers.

The corners of John’s lips turned up. “Eos is likely more trouble, even with the talking to I gave her.”

John’s code baby slash evil AI was thankfully now into causing the inconvenient type of mischief instead of the life threatening. She could be almost sweet when she’d gotten over the murderous tendencies and Scott got to know her better. He could definitely see the John in her.

“They’ll be just fine. Might even learn a few things.” Scott had faith in his brothers’ abilities, and in the restorative properties of the celery crunch bars he’d put in the care package for Gordon.

The conversation lulled for a moment as John refocused on his telescope, before John chipped in, “Do you reckon Virgil’s figured out his masterpiece yet?”

A paint covered Virgil had been briefly coaxed out of his studio earlier in the evening with the promise of dinner. He’d made distracted conversation with Scott and John, mind clearly still elsewhere, before shovelling the last mouthfuls of food in his mouth and running off.

Virgil hadn’t noticed the streak of violet across his forehead, emphasised by the expression he made, all raised eyebrows and gleeful realisation, when the new idea struck. To be fair, neither Scott nor John had chosen to point it out to him. He’d either see it eventually or he wouldn’t, and time would tell how many other colours joined it.

But a Virgil in his art zone, with music coming from beneath his door, was a happy one. Reassuring for Scott too, after the weeks and months and rescues they’d all had.

“He’s all good,” Scott said fondly.

John echoed it with a wider smile, both of their minds on their artsy brother in the house below.

“So, what are you searching for tonight?” Scott gestured to the sky and the telescope in a sweeping movement.

John startled. He paused to consider then asked, “Does that mean you actually want the whole version or just the five second summary?”

“Hit me with all of it,” Scott said. He was rewarded by John’s face lighting up.

John’s excitement as he explained his star stuff was contagious. Scott found himself grinning. The way John flickered his hands through the air, sketching out astronomical diagrams, was mesmerising, and the way he pulled facts and figures off the top of his head was astounding.

When he showed Scott the contents of his books, Scott barely knew where to start with the calculations, because this was John’s area, not his own field of mathematics. Half the concepts went over his head until John explained them, bit by bit.

Scott asked questions, because it had been a while since he’d looked to the stars and he was rusty on most of the finer points other than those used for emergency navigation. John was more than happy to answer them.

They bounced questions and answers back and forth; John got to talk about his stars and Scott got to listen to his brother’s joyous excitement which he hadn’t heard for far too long. He reminded himself to call John up more often, even if it was just on the holo, to listen to him ramble about his latest research.

“You wanna see?” John asked. “The telescope is set up and tonight’s has the best conditions there will be.”

Handling any of John’s telescopes was usually a privilege reserved for a very careful Alan. Several childhood instances of toppled stands leading to cracked lenses had instituted the rule of no brothers allowed anywhere near touching range. Or, Scott cringed to think about, amateur soccer range.

When Scott agreed, John flashed a rare grin, delighted to share the stars with him.

The stars weren’t Scott’s domain the way they were for John. Both of them loved the sky but the difference was the distance. Scott much preferred to remain within the atmosphere, outside of it wasn't for him. But the sky was for them both. Him and John, who were the first ones to love it, before any of the others came along.

Scott looked through telescope to see what John sees.

It was… he could only describe it as beautiful. Bright pinpricks of light forming their constellations against navy sky. The planets and the stars seen from their own tiny planet in the galaxy. All brought closer by the telescope than he could see with his eyes, brought closer by sharing this moment with John.

When Scott pulled himself away from the telescope, John was watching him in nervous anticipation, twisting his hands in his lap.

“So, what did you think?”

“They’re amazing John, thank you for showing me.” Scott poured all his honest wonder into the words.

John looked up. “They really are.”

“I missed you,” Scott blurted out.

Immediately, he wanted to take the words back. What made him admit it, even on the solitary rooftop where no one could overhear them? Not because they weren’t true, it was always going to be true that he missed John when he was away. But usually that was something he kept close to his chest, an ache curled around his heart. His family spent plenty of time with him, even John, they just… hadn’t lately, that was all. He was being needy, asking for too much and wanting more, more, more after people already gave.

He swallowed back the lump in his throat. The stars were blurry as he looked away.

Scott flinched when John gently took his hands in his own.

John squeezed his hands, slender fingers wrapping around Scott’s as he automatically squeezed back.

Gripping John’s hands, holding onto him, was a lifeline built up over years and years. So deeply ingrained in who they were that it could pierce through Scott’s racing, sharp edged thoughts.

Looking back, him and John holding hands had started when they were kids. The first time he remembered was on a trip to an aeronautical museum, with Mum telling them they had to stick together, to hold hands and not let go. Because as a kid, John would wander off out of curiosity and get left behind when he slowed down to read all of the informational signs. It had happened many times before. In hindsight, Mum was probably trying to keep Scott from running around and climbing everything too, by recruiting him for big brother duty.

Later the gesture was an anchor for John, to lead him out of overwhelming situations, where Scott could see him shrinking in on himself at every sound that made him want to press his hands over his ears but he couldn't for appearances sake.

For Scott, when he’s falling apart too. For John to pull him aside with a polite excuse, then away from old guard board members at Tracy Industries meetings, and out of the surveillance of crowds and reporters alike at the awful high society galas PR made it necessary to attend. Away from where people wanted, no expected, Jeff Tracy and all they got was his son, and the cordial smiles of how much he resembled his father tore Scott as deeply as the thinly veiled whispers of how much he didn’t, and he couldn't keep it up any longer.

And right now, he was falling apart, in a different place for different reasons but the chunks of his careful facade of fine fine fine are breaking off and clattering to the ground. John bears witness to it, within touching distance, within the blast radius, instead of a million miles away.

Scott could blame his emotionalness on exhaustion. On too many caffeine fuelled late nights bleeding into early mornings this week. On hard rescues in poor conditions. Anything instead of this boiling hurt that builds and builds.

He blinked quickly, his tears stuck to his eyelashes, hot and stinging as they welled up. He tipped his head back in hopes he could keep them from running down his face.

If he let go of John’s hands, he could wipe them away, and he and John could both pretend they were never there. But he couldn’t let go of John.

There was no way to hide his tears from John.

Scott hunched his shoulders. He closed his eyes. He still didn’t want to know what John really thought of him.

John’s hands gripping his own were the only point of reference he had. Scott was failure after failure, drowning in them, and John was too clever not to realise it soon enough.

“I missed you too.” John entwined his fingers with Scott’s before he could pull away.

The urge to tug his hands back, to take them away from John, whether in shock, or surprise or disbelief because the voice inside his head screamed he’s lying, he’s lying. Or so John couldn't pull away first, because he would, it was only a matter of time. It was always just a matter of time until everyone found out how messed up he was. Then—

Scott didn’t know anymore. He shuddered, curling in on himself, making himself smaller, making himself less of, of everything that he was.

But John was still there. Gently holding his hands. Not letting go.

Even as Scott felt tears dripping from his chin, the tracks burning down his face. Even as he shook, heart pounding, breaths catching loud and raspy, shattering the quiet of the night.

But why, but why but why would John miss him? The thoughts whirled, as cutting as blizzard ice, through his head. And mumbled aloud, falling unbidden from his lips, they were just as awful, the same slicing edges, now out where they could harm.

John’s voice washed over him, quiet, soft words he couldn't make out. They were buried beneath the howling thoughts.

But why?

There was no reason.

No reason at all.

Nothing was left in the dark, but Scott’s worst fears, tearing him apart with no up or down or direction, his own avalanche eating him alive.

Then something broke through. Reached out into the dark to rescue him. John squeezed his hands, pulling him out of the snow, never letting him go.

And John’s voice was gentle, filtering back in like a lost radio connection.

“Because there are as many reasons we all love you as there are stars in the sky.”

“As many reasons as stars I have yet to discover.”

“More reasons than all the stars, in all the universe, that ever were or ever will be.”

John paused for a moment, taking in a breath. “Because you’re Scott.”

Slowly, Scott opened his eyes. John was close, a blur of pale face and red hair that swam into focus as he blinked. Wide, earnest turquoise eyes that saw right through him.

Heartbroken was far too easy an expression to recognise on John, not when you knew him. But so was love. His expression was a mixture of both Scott wasn’t sure what to do with.

He stared until something jagged lodged in his chest and he forced himself to look away.

To the stars. Then down at their interlocked hands, where his own still trembled.

He watched as John’s fingers tightened briefly. His vision blurred.

“You back with me?” John asked. The same tone he’d heard him use over comms on scared rescuees and brothers alike, but now without the static.

Scott nodded slowly. He wasn’t sure he could make his voice work.

Somehow, John understood. Somehow John understood him and that hadn’t sent him running.

“You want to take a few deeps breaths, and then we can talk?”

He nodded again, listening for John’s count. He pushed his thoughts towards the back of his mind as hard as he could.

He tried, to time his inhales and exhales to John’s voice, he really did.

But his chest hitched, sobs tearing from his throat on every breath.

He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t do it.

He couldn't even breathe calmly, not even with John counting for him, John was wasting his time.

Except John said, “Scott, Scotty. Listen to me. However long it takes, it’s okay. I’m here.”

Scott was still crying, and this wasn't how the evening was supposed to go. John was meant to be watching his stars, not having to hold Scott’s broken mess together.

Scott probably wasn't meant to be here at all. He was meant to be doing mission reports, he should have stayed doing mission reports. Reliving awful memories of wrenching metal and screams to put lives saved and lost into official sounding sentences, at least would’ve only hurt him.

It took far too long for his sobs to lose their edge.

Too long to get his breathing back to shaky hiccups instead of hyperventilating.

For him to be left exhausted, with tears still flowing that nothing he could do would stop.

Over and over, John repeated, “You’re okay, we’re okay,” and, “I’m here.”

Because he was still here, with Scott, and he wasn't leaving.

And maybe that meant something.

Scott couldn’t hide his tears from John, but maybe he didn't have to. Not when John was so close, not when he cared. Because John still had his hands in his own. Because John showed him the stars that were his entire world. Everything said he cared about Scott, no matter what he did.

“Would you like a hug?” John asked.

The contact would be nice. But whether John wanted a hug, when he so often kept himself far apart. Scott shook his head then nodded. He didn’t know. He could barely think in the come down from his emotions.

But he didn’t have to figure it out as John pulled him close.

Their hands were pinned awkwardly between them because Scott still couldn’t let go, but he leant into John, tucking his face into John’s neck, hidden from sight.

John was wearing a navy blue hoodie which had gone through several brothers and might once have been Scott’s own, given the peeling aeroplane decal, but it was difficult to tell beneath the paint stains.

The soft fabric soaked up his tears. Eventually he let one hand go, carefully, bit by bit and John wrapped his arm securely around him.

Okay, he was okay. John was here. He just had to keep telling himself that.

John didn’t pull away to ask, “Do you want to tell me what happened there?” He just spoke quietly, chin still resting on top of Scott’s head where he was curled around him.

Scott swallowed. “Not particularly.”

“Is that because you actually don’t want to or because you think you’re fine.”

Scott shook his head. Even he had enough awareness to know he wasn’t entirely fine right now. Not with tear tracks barely dry on his cheeks. Or clutching John like his world would fall apart otherwise because something inside him told him it would.

“It’s I don’t know what you’ll think of me,” he mumbled into John’s hoodie.

John’s arm tightened around him. He whispered, “Oh, Scott.”

Scott tensed up.

“I’m not going to be upset with you, no matter what you’re feeling,” John added, quickly, tripping over his words to reassure Scott.

“Promise?” Scott asked, stupidly, childishly, because he couldn't help it even though it wasn't something John could promise.

“I promise,” John said solemnly.

The words, their words, went all the way back to their childhood, of Scott gripping John’s hands, making him promise not to tell mum and dad where Scott’s super secret fort was built in the backyard. John had never broken one of their promises. Not even as they got older and it was a teenaged Scott crying his heart out in the far too tiny tree house, because he didn't want dad to see him getting upset over little things like trying hold their family together and looking after his siblings.

Their exchange soldified something between them. Their bond that had always been there and maybe he could believe always would be there. It let Scott lower his walls inch by inch, until he found the courage to speak, even if it was barely audible and he still wasn't looking at John.

“It’s fine. It’s just… You never seem to want to spend time with me anymore,” he admitted.

“Of course I want to spent time with you,” John stated gently, “Why would I not?”

Scott choked on bitter laughter. “Why would you want to?”

He felt the moment John’s breath caught. How John hugged him close, pressing Scott to his chest.

“Scotty,” John asked apprehensively, the childhood nickname coming out for the second time tonight, “Is this really how you think of yourself?”

Scott shrugged against John. “What does it matter.”

John’s voice was thick, “It matters because somehow you’ve got it in your head that there’s no reason I’d miss you, and that’s not true and never will be true. It’s so, so not true.”

“When you’re earthside, you still spend all your time with the others,” he muttered in ugly, hurt words.

The sharp intake of breath from John was another regret.

Scott was torn between running where he’d never hurt John again and holding him closer.

As he pulled away, John’s hand still in his own brought him back. John always brought him back. So he clung on to John too, and starlight glinted from both their tears.

He held on, and they were both shaking now.

John’s “I’m sorry—I’msorrysosorry—’msosorryScotty,” was distressed and near silent.

“But why?” Butwhybutwhybutwhy?

“I thought you wouldn't want to star gaze with me!” John burst out.

It was Scott’s turn to squeeze John’s hand. To have John’s trembling fingers gripping back.

Scott swallowed hard. This was on him. He’d upset John. His own fresh tears cooled on his face, the sea breeze picking up to give them freezing bite. Scott had failed. Like he always did. But this was at the one thing that mattered above all others, of keeping his brothers safe and happy.

Guilt laced John’s voice, heavy and suffocating. “Alan loves space nearly as much as I do, so I try to take him out whenever I can. Virgil will draw anything whether or not it sits still for long enough and he wanted to try painting the sky with watercolours.”

Scott almost didn't want to ask, “What what about Gordon?” Because why was it just not him?

He heard John sniffle. “We usually sit near the beach. Gordy watches the waves and I watch the stars. Then he wanted to know about the stars because apparently they look kinda like the constellations of bioluminescence in the deep sea.” John’s words got stuck and he choked out, “I’m so sorry Scott.”

“It’s— it’s fine,” Scott said, effect ruined by the break in his voice. By how he couldn’t let go of John’s hand, even as he felt more tears trickling down his cheeks. “You don’t need to worry, just spend your time with the others, I know you don’t get much.”

He wouldn't want to hang out with himself if he had a choice about it.

John pulled his face away from where it was tucked in the crook of Scott’s neck. He still didn't look at Scott.

“I know you don’t want to spend time with me,” John said in a small, wet voice, “I’m boring. All I can talk about is astronomy and most normal people don’t care about it. I’m just weird and wobbly and awkward.”

“John—” Scott tried.

“When I’m not in space, I only slow you down,” John continued.

“Johnny!”

That got John’s attention. “What,” he snapped.

“I do want to spent time with you,” Scott said, “Of course I do, I always do.”

“But I didn’t really know. Most people don’t like me,” John stated, far too matter of fact.

That hit Scott like a punch to the gut. “You’re just like me,” he whispered.

Something he didn't want for any of his brothers.

“You feel like this too,” John whispered back, low so not even the stars could hear them.

Like they were both back in that tree house, amongst their old promises. Tangled together because that was the only way they would both fit now they weren’t children anymore. All lanky limbs, knees and elbows and sharp edges digging into each other.

At the same time, in the same motion, he and John hugged each other tighter. They were still the same jagged edges that fitted as closely as puzzle pieces, if they lined it up right.

“It’s why— why I thought you wouldn’t want to spent time with me,” Scott said, unsure now. “Because why would you.”

Scott took a deep breath and quoted, “Scott’s too clingy. Too needy. Too much, going too fast.” He kept his voice soft, pouring out old hurts, recent hurts, for only John to hear.

“And here I was trying not to drag you down when I could’ve held you close instead,” John murmured.

“Yeah,” Scott said thickly, “I could’ve been there for you.”

“For you too.” John’s voice gained an edge, “That you can’t think of a single reason I’d miss you means I must be doing something wrong.”

“It’s not your fault.” If there was something Scott was adamant about, it was this.

John raised his head to look Scott in the eyes, brief, burning turquoise. “Then it can’t be yours either.”

“But for everything…” Scott trailed off.

“I’m not going to love you less. None of us are. Not for being you.”

“I failed.” He had to say it, had to make sure John knew.

“No,” John said vehemently, “You were hurting too.”

Scott could feel John’s thundering heart pressed against his chest.

“Neither of us knew and we’re both trying, that matters,” John continued, “There’s also what we do now.”

John was Thunderbird Five, but he was also John Tracy. He knew. He knew Scott. Scott had to trust him.

“We make each other stronger. And we hold each other up,” Scott said quietly. Because of who they were, not just in spite of it.

For John, with John, maybe it was just one day possible.

They stayed like that, fused together in a hug, surrounded by John’s stars and Scott’s sky, for a long time. Scott couldn't remember when he’d last hugged John like this. To keep each other close, like they’d promised they would. He needed to do it more often.

When they finally moved, because sitting in one place on a rooftop for so long wasn't exactly comfortable, neither of them went far.

John dragged his satchel nearer and pulled out a thermos flask.

“I’ve got hot chocolate,” he smiled, opening it to take a sip then holding it out for Scott.

Scott took it, wrapping his hands around the warm thermos before raising it to his lips.

Closing his eyes, he savoured it. No one made hot chocolate like John. No one except mum did.

He pressed his shoulder against John’s in silent appreciation.

They passed the thermos back and forth, no words needed.

When it was empty and they were both full of hot chocolate, the night was late, the stars turning overhead. They perhaps should have gone in, would’ve on another evening without all the everything that had occurred tonight, but Scott had worked up the courage to ask John to stay, just for a little while longer, and John wanted to.

John returned to his telescope and Scott settled close, with John happily leaning back on his chest, Scott’s arms wrapped around John’s middle and chin on his shoulder. John could still look at his stars and Scott got to hug him so it was a win for them both.

The ocean breeze was picking up, becoming chilly in shirtsleeves when Scott hadn't brought a jumper because he didn't think he’d get to be out here so long. But John was warm and his hoodie soft, plus Scott could stick his hands in the front pocket, partially to annoy John ever so slightly, but also because his fingers were cold.

He got a close up of that characteristic irritated but fond expression, caught in a John half smile, when John tipped his head to look at Scott. Scott couldn't help but smile back.

Then John also stuck his absolutely freezing hands in the hoodie pocket with Scott’s finally warm fingers, vibrating with laughter because he did that on purpose.

They both settled back, hanging onto each others hands again, staring upwards at their sky and stars.

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