#gordon is scott's kiddo too

[edutainer2022]

Power outages are wanky again after the night bombing. So I distract myself with a story instead of work, while the power is up. It's Gordon's 21st birthday and he gets a meaningful moment with Scott. Some sad memories resurface, but mostly it's all love all around.

Thanks go to @janetm74 for support and for cheering my recent craving of Gordon and Scott dynamics.

COMING OF AGE

The party, Tracy-style, was, of course, as bright, and fun, and loud an affair on the island as would befit Gordon's twenty first birthday. Rivaled maybe only by Gordon's eighteenth, several years back. Some details of that one Scott still didn't need to know about, for biggest brother's peace of mind. There were yet more festivities planned on the mainland, rescues permitting, including a get together with Gordon's swimming team buddies and a deep dive into the finest night club scene the world had to offer with brothers and Kayo. Some parts of those developments Scott probably too didn't need to know about.

Despite the general merry all around and copious amounts of good food on the offer, Scott had to be hunted down on the balcony, overlooking the ocean. Alone. Figured! Trust Scott to develop an empty nest syndrome despite all his little brothers and loved ones being around and accounted for, with no intention to leave.

Gordon plonked a tumbler of whiskey on the bannister, where Scott's hand was gripping it, and a gaudy neon cocktail, complete with a tiny umbrella and tinsel, for himself. Scott arched a brow quizzically.

"What? For the record, you do realize this isn't my first alcoholic drink?"

The arched brow slid into a slight frown, but Scott didn't take the bait.

"I'm also not a virgin."

The expression of abject horror on big brother's face was completely worth it.

Gordon pressed the glass into Scott's hand and raised his own concoction in a mock toast.

"Here's to me not being legally your problem anymore, Scooter!"

An instant flash of rue, across big brother's face, not concealed on time, was probably the crux of the whole moping on the balcony in solitude situation. If Gordon were honest, his own nonchalance was only half convincing.

Scott smiled the fond little-brother smile down at him, however, and Gordon felt something unwind in his chest he didn't know was coiled tight. Strong, sure arms drew him into a warm hug. Big brother rested his chin on the chlorine bleached mop and hummed.

"Aw, you'll always be my problem, Gordie!"

Gordon let himself relax a moment against the blue denim. The safest place in the world.

A memory surfaced and Gordon shifted to look up at Scott. Maybe not the best of his ideas to speak up that instant, but they hardly ever were.

"Hey, remember Mom's funeral?"

Scott frowned again, unsure where that was going. But Gordon was already immersed in reminisce.

"It was the morning of and Allie was crying as you put him in that tiny black suit. I was being difficult and you let me wear blue fish socks!"

[Scott, already in his funeral suit, made sure everyone was up and getting ready that morning, so that Dad wouldn't be upset more. He was at the end of his wits with Allie's meltdown, though. The toddler wriggled and cried for Mommy as Scott was trying to wrangle him into a tiniest mourning suit. On cue, Gordon flat out refused to put on the suit either and wanted to attend the funeral in his squid pijamas. Scott struck a deal with the pre-schooler that he could wear yellow socks with the blue fish print to go with the dress shoes. Mom's favorite.]

Scott's smile was sad again and Gordon mentally kicked himself.

"You weren't difficult, Gordie. You were six and Mom was gone. It's okay!"

It wasn't! That was the point Gordon was getting at, in a however roundabout way.

"You let me wear the fish socks and it felt like Mom was there with me. And then, at the wake, Allie was cranky again and you had to carry him. So I wanted you to carry me too."

[Tall and athletic at fourteen, Scott nonetheless couldn't pick up the toddler and the six-year-old little swimmer at the same time. So he found an unoccupied futon and hoisted both baby brothers into his lap. Virgil and John gravited near too, leaning both sides of him. Virgil, quiet and almost zoned out from all the tears. John - a translucent ghost from insomnia. People were swirling around, making smalltalk or making compassionate faces at their Dad, shaking his hand and patting his shoulder somewhere in the middle of the crowd.]

"There were all those people around! But they were there for Dad, not for us! I remember I looked up at you, Scotty, and you looked so completely alone. Like you were drowning. We had you, but you had nobody there."

In the present, Scott blinked away telltale moisture and tried for a reassuring smile. Ever the big brother.

"I had you lot, Gords! It's alright!"

"That's my point!"

Gordon didn't plan to be that intense, but maybe the dash of rum in the cocktail was getting to his head. He was clutching big brother's bicep for emphasis.

"You got us! I mean, I know Virgil and John help out, but I'm an adult now too, or whatever. You got me too! You don't have to be alone!"

Scott's next smile, Gordon could argue, was of the we'll-see-about-that variety, but there was genuine gratitude in the now wistful blue.

Another tight hug was the only response he got, for now, till somebody called them back into the lounge for a family photo.

[pareidoliaonthemove]

Vocal Chords

Virgil tried to work a finger into the collar that dug into the flesh of his neck. A sharp smack knocked his hand away, his own fingers slapping his jaw. “Ow!”

“Cut that out, kiddo.” Grandma was unrepentant, and started fussing with the collar, ensuring it sat to her satisfaction, before finally grasping the tie and reseating it firmly against his throat.

“Gah!” Virgil choked. “Can’t breathe, Grandma!”

“You can breathe fine, kid. I don’t know. You never used to complain when you had to dress up for piano recitals.”

A rasping sound had Virgil glaring at Scott. “Don’t you start. If you’d only listened when we told you to wait, you’d not have caught that cold, you wouldn’t have developed laryngitis, and I wouldn’t be here doing your job for you.”

Scott held up his hands defensively, before signing “Sorry”.

Virgil’s glare didn’t let up.

“I still don’t know why you couldn’t do it. We had enough recordings of you practising that you could have just lipsinced to it.”

“Because everytime Scott practised his speech, Gordon played his ‘subsonic’ sound effects in the next room. When they were played back, all you could hear was ghost noises, explosions and fart noises.” Kayo wasn’t even trying to pretend she wasn’t finding this amusing.

Virgil turned his attention to John. “And don’t you think for one second that the speed with which you ‘came down’ with the laryngitis isn’t suspicious. I don’t know what you've blackmailed Grandma with, but I will find out.”

Grandma sighed. “There’s no blackmail, Virgil dear. John just spends too much time in orbit, and his immune system isn’t up to spec.”

Virgil turned a dark look at John. “I am so revising your allowable flight hours,” he growled.

John shrugged and gave Virgil a look that was so clearly an ‘I dare you’ with promises of retribution that even Kayo stepped away from the line of fire.

The sound from the crowd hidden behind the curtain swelled to a roar, and Virgil paled and gulped.

“Why can’t you do it, Scott?” He asked, eyes a little wild. “You can sign and a translator can speak?”

Scott frowned. “We’ve been over this, Virgil,” he signed. “Just having a Tracy on stage isn’t enough, it needs to be a Tracy’s voice.”

Virgil’s shoulders fell. “Why can’t Grandma do it?”

“Wrong image, kiddo. This is about the future. Having some old fossil banging on about the future isn’t going to work.”

“You’re not old Grandma,” Virgil mumbled.

“You’re a good boy, Virgil. But yes I am, the hint is in the title: ‘Grandma’.” She tapped the underneath of his chin to lift his head. “I’m old enough to qualify for a new title: ‘Great-Grandma’.”

“Gordon wanted to do it,” Virgil was clutching at straws. “He even re-wrote the speech…”

John poked him sharply in the ribs, before signing, “He was going to announce the re-working of all aerospace and astrospace manufacturing facilities into marine engineering facilities. By this time tomorrow we’d be lucky to have the shirts on our backs!”

Scott pushed him back. “Gordon has a public profile that … isn’t compatible with this arena.” There was an apologetic expression on his face.

“It will be okay, Virgil. The teleprompter is there, just read off what it says. I’ll be right next to you there. We’re skipping the live Q&A in favour of a virtual one. The MC is making my apologies, and explaining the laryngitis. The stagelights are set to hide the audience. You won’t see them. Just go out there, and read what the teleprompter says.”

While Virgil was focused on Scott’s hands, Grandma had been rubbing soothing circles on Virgil’s back. And somewhere, amongst all that, without Virgil realising it, he was now standing on the edge of the stage, right by the curtain.

Virgil started as the huge yawning space between him and the podium stretched out into infinity. Somewhere, over the sound of the MCs slick professional patter setting out the agenda for the day he could hear the sounding of rustling, people moving, the occasional cough, the sound of breathing. Oh, god, he could hear them breathing. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t…

A soft chime sounded in his discreet earpiece. “Thunderbird Two, standby.” It was EOS, and the use of the callsign had Virgil’s breathing evening out, and his spine straightening.

“Thunderbird Two, deploy.”

And with Scott leading the way, and acknowledging the audience, Virgil Tracy – Thunderbird Two – stepped onto the stage.

Notes:

Work has been eating both all my time, and apparently, all my brain. But I’ve finally got a piece written for Febuwhump!

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.

[scramjettracy]

what are u looking forward to most about becoming an uncle(one day, not saying anyone is hiding anything!)

ALL OF IT

(I love kids, ok?)

You wanted something more detailed than that didn’t you? Alright…

First of all, mini versions of my little siblings would be the most adorable thing! And I don’t mean in a way just limited to genetic resemblance - we all know how fun it is to spot traits that are inherited by nurture too. Watching people grow and develop their personalities and interests is an incredible privilege and even if they decide not to raise their families on the island I hope they will let me visit often enough that I can enjoy seeing that development.

Second of all, seeing my siblings being parents - that look of absolute adoration in their eyes as they watch their tiny person. I remember seeing it on Mom and Dad’s faces and it’s the most precious thing. I know all of them would be excellent parents if that’s what they choose, and I will be so proud.

Third, being an uncle means I get baby cuddles, and then toddler cuddles and then kindergartener cuddles and then and then… well you get the point. More family = more people to hug.

Fourth - I want to help. I want to be the kind of uncle who is on hand to babysit when the parents are exhausted, to clear up the spit ups and the diaper disasters. To pace the floor if kiddo is grouchy and the parents need 5 minutes to scream at the sea. To tell them over and over again how good of a job they are doing.

Fifth - then later? I can’t wait to be Uncle Scott to these humans! I want to be the kind of uncle who they come to for stories, who they can confide in when they are stressed or scared, or plot surprises for their parents with, or who can help them (Safely! Honest!) do all the crazy adventurous stuff if they want to, and be their cheerleader for all their hobbies and achievements.

Sixth - ALL of these kids are gonna make it all the way to Falcon. The First Tracy Island Rescue Scout Troop is going to be EPIC. 🥰

Lastly, for now… have you SEEN how adorable baby clothes are? I could never get excited about buying clothes for me (as Gordon points out frequently I am very very dull on that account) but I warn my accountant right now that when there are mini Tracys on the horizon: UNCLE SCOTT IS GOING SHOPPING.

[forest-falcon]

The Butterfly Effect

Chptr 5

⚠️ Trigger Warning for whump, angst and potential major character injury.

💜💚💛

"Vir-l"

It was barely a whisper.

Sally coughed. Silt shrouded her mouth and scorched her lungs.

The raining rubble had fallen quiet, and a humble breeze ruffled the palms, which sang freely once more, unperturbed by the neighbouring devastation.

Dust rained from her eyebrows as she carefully opened her eyes, and tried to derive sense from the unimaginable.

One moment, she had been prizing her welded baking from its tray; the next...well, she wasn't entirely sure what had happened.

Virgil had hooked an arm around her, and...

the caldera...the caldera had exploded around them.

Her glasses. She needed her glasses.

She went to move her hands, hoping to locate her frames nearby, but found herself pinned under the unconscious weight of her grandson.

As far as she could tell, she was uninjured, but breathing was becoming increasingly difficult; her lungs still constricted by the two muscular arms, refusing to let her go.

She needed to know if he was okay - that her family were okay.

"Virg-" she didn't recognize her own voice.

"Grandma?"

"Gord-n? You okay kiddo?"

"I'm okay - take more than a rocket-induced landslide to take me out. You?"

"Am'okay. Help -irgil. He's out cold."

There was some audible scrabbling and the clatter of smaller rocks hitting the floor.

Sally waited.

Gordon swore.

"These rocks are too heavy to move without the right kit."

Sally struggled to free her arms again. If she could just -"

"Thunderbird Five? Thunderbird Five, come in?"

Gordon's voice carried an air of desperation it usually lacked when out on missions.

Sally listened for a response, her body exhausted from her thwarted efforts to free even a finger.

"John?"

...

"Scott?"

...

"Alan?"

...

"What are we gonna do, Grandma?

[scribbles97]

The Nightmare Come True - Part 4

TW: POW, Torture Scott's POV 1 | Part 1 | Scott's POV 2 | Part 2 | Scott's POV 3 | Part 3 | Scott's POV 4 Thanks @loopstagirl for the ongoign support and cheerleading with all of this, it's been an emotional rollercoaster but so very worth it!

Jeff had slipped out once his eldest three had settled into a more lighthearted conversation. He was certain there would be more tears shed before they all found themselves back on an even keel, and he’d sworn to himself as he’d held the three in his arms that he would be there for them through it all. 

Despite the heavy emotion in Scott’s room, he could help but feel just a little lighter as he headed in the direction of the cafeteria. Scott had smiled and laughed, he was back where he belonged, amongst the chaos that came with having five brothers together in one room. It was what Scott had needed and what Jeff himself had needed even if he hadn’t realized it, all of his boys finally in reach. Later he would have to thank Val, perhaps even offer her a holiday. 

“Dad!”

Jeff didn’t hesitate in catching his youngest as he sprinted across the cafeteria, savoring the fact that he was still willing to show Jeff such vulnerability. 

“Is Scott--” Alan looked up to him, eyes wide as he chewed on his lower lip.

“He’s fine, kiddo, just having a minute with Virgil and John.” He shifted to straighten, guiding Alan back to where Gordon was still pouring over the snacks on offer, “You find any good stuff to take up there?”

The youngests shoulders immediately dropped under Jeff’s hand, a breath leaving him as he nodded quickly towards the tray Val was carrying for him.

“Yep. I got chips and cookies, but Gordon said we should get fruit too. Does Scott still like apples?”

Gordon was looking over the fruit on offer, his hand hovering like he wasn’t quite sure what to pick up.

“I think he’d love an apple from you guys.” Jeff nodded to Gordon in encouragement.

“Dad?” Alan’s frown was deep, concerned, as his hand snuck into Jeff’s own, “Scotty is gonna get better, right?”

Jeff sighed, glancing across to Gordon as the swimmer turned at the question. A cafeteria was hardly the place for such a conversation, but delaying it would only worry the pair more, and where else would he find in a military hospital that would be any better? Crouching to level with them both, he squeezed each of their shoulders.

“You remember what I told you when I found Scott? That he was hurt real bad and needed a lot of sleep and rest to feel better?”

Alan nodded solemnly. 

“A coma.” Gordon murmured, “Grandma said he was in a coma.”

Jeff swallowed, the memories of those long weeks still too fresh in his own mind. They were a long way past that, Scott was upstairs, awake and talking. There was still a long way to go but his eldest was so far from where he had been. 

“But now he’s awake.” Alan stated, “So he’s better, right? He can come home.”

“No, Alan.” Gordon looked to his younger brother, “You saw, he’s still hurt.”

Tears welled in the eyes of the youngest, “But--”

“It’s like when you fell out of that tree Allie, when you broke your arm,” Jeff cut in, “Even when it was healed, you still couldn’t use it properly for a while, right?” 

“Yeah, you made me go to physio.” Alan nodded again.

“Well, that’s kind of what it’s like for Scott too.” He swallowed, wishing it were all just as simple, “Except Scott needs some time, he’s dealing with some things that he won’t want to talk about and he might not be entirely himself for a while.”

“But,” Alan glanced to the pile of snacks on the tray, “He’s still our Scotty, right? He’s still… him?”

And how was he meant to answer that?

Scott was, of course, still Scott. 

But the son Jeff had sat with on the back porch before his deployment was not the same son that was sat upstairs.

“He’s still your big brother in every way that matters.” Val cut in when Jeff’s hesitation lasted too long, “He still loves apples and chocolate, still wants to hear all about your day and show you all the cool stuff he knows, he still loves his family with every fiber of his being.”

It was Gordon who narrowed his eyes, “I sense there’s a but.”

“But he’s not the same person that left home in the Spring.” Jeff nodded, “There might be parts of him that you don’t recognise.”

Alan’s frown deepened, “I don’t understand.”

Jeff sighed, wishing there was a way for them to see without needing to.

“You will Allie, one day.” Gordon offered, looking back to the tray with a hard swallow, “I think we need more chocolate.”

Jeff stood as the pair turned away, mouthing his own thanks to Val as he grabbed a couple of juice boxes to add to the pile alongside the bottles of water. Scott had been willing enough to quietly ask for help across the room in front of his brothers, but Jeff was sure his vulnerabilities wouldn’t stretch as far as an explanation as to why water wasn’t his preferred beverage any more. 

Hugh had met them at the elevator and Jeff had been hard pressed to hide his surprise as they had headed back up to Scott’s room. The Englishman had introduced himself to Alan and Gordon as a family friend, but the older of the pair had understanding on his features as he had hung back when the elevator doors opened. 

“Thank you, sir.” Gordon had nodded, his brow dipping into a frown as he had looked up to Hugh, “We, uh, we owe you.”

Hugh’s chuckle was soft as he held out a hand to Gordon, “You owe me nothing, son, it was the right thing to do.”

Gordon’s smile was brief before he turned and scampered ahead to Scott’s room. 

“So,” Hugh started as they followed at a more sedate pace, “How is he?”

And wasn’t that a million dollar question? 

“Better.” Jeff sighed, “For now.”

They both knew how healing wasn’t linear, how a laugh and a smile today could just as easily be screaming and tears the next day. 

“He’s like his father,” Hugh shrugged as they reached the threshold to Scott’s room, “He won’t take no for an answer.”

Alan had clambered back up onto the bed, clearly chattering away about something that held the attention of his three eldest brothers. Gordon was standing by the bed table, his hand reaching out over the tray with a selection of fruit clearly ready to offer something to Scott. Val was in the armchair, arms folded as she relaxed back with a grin on her face, her glance drifted to the doorway and held Hugh’s eye for a long moment, something clearly passing between them. 

Scott caught it too, still a little on edge and very much aware of all his surroundings. The eldest straightened, frowning for a moment before smiling easily, “Hey Dad, we’re good here. You go and get some proper rest.”

Jeff froze at the suggestion, surprised and unsure. 

He hadn’t left since Jen had visited, and even that had only been for an hour at most. 

Scott was less vulnerable now, but still had moments. Jeff knew he would have to leave him eventually, his son didn’t need a shadow to protect him forever. His reaction to the Dog Tags was still fresh in his mind though, and his brothers didn’t know the triggers and what helped to settle them.

“Val’s here,” Hugh nodded from Jeff’s side, as if hearing his thoughts, “she’ll keep them out of trouble.”

Jeff looked to her, and she raised an eyebrow in response. She didn’t need to speak for him to know she was challenging him to find an excuse.

“You’ll come back tonight, right?” Scott asked, just as Jeff was beginning to form an argument.

Hugh’s hand clapped Jeff’s shoulder, “I’ll bring him back myself and swap him out for the troops here.” 

John looked up, “Did you speak to--”

Hugh’s laugh cut him off, “I was in the room when you spoke to Penelope, Son, none of you ever need to ask for a place to stay here.”

John smiled in response, nodding a quick response. 

Jeff could only see the genuine smile Scott was giving him, as well as the pointed look towards Val and his brothers. 

As Hugh guided him away, all he could think of was how he had promised to be there, had promised to stay with him even when he hadn’t been sure of what Scott had needed. It was a minor reassurance that he seemed ready for what came next, ready to allow different people back into his life, ready to leave that place behind. 

It was a step forward. 

And Jeff knew he had to let him take that step.

***

Time had gone on and Scott had come home to the farm house, returned to his old room that held memories less haunting than a military hospital. He’d admitted to Jeff that the move had seen him sleeping better, with only the occasional night where he ended up walking the hallway to check on the other residents in their own rooms. The physio and talking therapies both tired him, and Jeff wondered how much each played into the eldests exhaustion. 

There had always been a tiredness in Scott, something that had sat heavy on his shoulders long before he had gone off to war. Jeff had a feeling it had settled there about the time they had lost Lucy, when Scott had taken on far more than his fair share of the burden and never once really questioned it. He hid it well when Gordon and Alan were around, but Jeff knew it still hovered just waiting for him to let his guard down. It was something he longed to ask his son about, to find out if there was anything he could do to help in ways that he hadn’t already. 

Jeff just didn’t know how.

Not when Scott was smiling more, getting more mobile, throwing himself back into family life and cooking dinner and helping younger brothers with homework. He called Virgil and John at their respective colleges on an almost daily basis, checked in with Jeff himself multiple times a day when he eventually started to stay away for longer business trips. If any of the others voiced their appreciation for the action, Jeff wasn’t sure, but he made sure that he made the calls himself just as often. 

It was after one such business trip, on the long drive home from the airport to the house, that Scott had called him asking if he could pick Gordon up from the pool. Jeff hadn’t hesitated in agreeing, it was on his way after all.

The son he met at the entrance wasn’t full of his usual enthusiasm after a training session though, instead Gordon had scowled when he had spotted Jeff and hunched in on himself.

“How was training?” He asked as both fell into step back towards the car. 

“Fine.” Gordon had shrugged in response.

If the scowl hadn’t set alarm bells ringing, the response most certainly did. Gordon always enthused or ranted about his sessions, depending on how well or bad they had gone. Jeff wasn’t sure he had ever had a one word answer relating to swimming.

“Gordy?” He paused as the kid pulled the car door open, “What’s wrong?”

He threw his bag into the seat, back turned on Jeff as his head dropped, blonde strands still damp from the shower.

“He won’t come to the pool.”

Jeff almost didn’t hear the uttered words, but he was glad he had. There was no bitterness in them, no anger or hatred of something that Scott couldn’t yet do for him because of things beyond both of their control. He could tell though that Gordon still hurt because of it.

“It’s not because he doesn’t want to.”

“I know.” Gordon turned back to him, his sneaker scuffing against the asphalt as he looked down, “I read about it.”

That caught Jeff off guard. 

“Y-- you read about it?”

Gordon shrugged, finally looking up to him with pursed lips, “Thought about going into the WASPs, thought I should know what-- what could happen.”

Jeff had already almost lost one son to the Forces, even as his brain offered the benefits to the idea of his most wayward son joining an institution as strict as WASP, he selfishly hoped Gordon had changed his mind.

“Is that something you’d still like to do?”

“They do a summer camp.” Gordon shrugged, “Figured after the Olympics I could see what it was like, that was until…”

Until Scott, went unsaid. 

“A summer camp isn’t exactly going into a war zone.” Jeff conceded slowly, “How about we get the Olympics under our belt first though?”

Gordon brightened at his suggestion, eyes widening as he nodded quickly. 

“As for Scott,” Jeff sighed, “He’ll be there when it matters, when he can.”

Gordon sniffed, shaking his head, “I don’t wanna be mad at him Dad, but he does all this stuff with Alan and I just--” 

Jeff held his arms out in offering, “I know, you want to have your brother back too.”

Gordon threw himself at him, “It’s not his fault.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It’s not fair.” 

“I know,” Jeff sighed, rubbing the kids back, “but we got him back, and things will get better.”

It was a mantra he had repeated to himself in the long weeks Scott had spent in the coma, when he too had wanted to scream at the world for being so unfair. Was it not enough that he had lost his wife and the boys their mother? 

Kyrano had told him to focus his sights forward, to think about what came next and how things would get better as Scott did. Their Project had been pulled from the back-burner, a supersonic jet that he just knew Scott would be dying to get his hands on just as soon as he found out about it. It was a goal that still felt too far away, but looking at where they had come from, Jeff knew the older man had made a valid point. 

“When?” Gordon sniffled, pulling back to wipe his face on the arm of his sweatshirt. 

“I wish I knew.” Jeff shrugged, crouching to the kids level, “But I know he’ll be so glad to hear about it, even if he can’t be here.”

Gordon had swallowed hard at the suggestion, nodding fiercely as he turned to climb into the car. It hadn’t fixed anything, but it had opened up the conversation, talk of Gordon’s swimming had dominated dinnertime. Alan had enthused about not only having a brother headed to work for NASA, but another brother headed for Olympic stardom, allowing Gordon the chance to ask Scott the all important question.

“You’ll be there, right? If I make it to the Olympics?”

Scott’s face had fallen briefly before he had hidden his feelings away and thrown an arm across the swimmer’s shoulders, “We’ll all be there, I won’t miss it for the world.”

***

It was later that night, after the younger pair had finally been sent off to bed and Jeff had been headed in the same direction, that he found Scott hunched over the bathroom sink. The kid’s eyes were screwed tightly shut, his knuckles white against the porcelain as his damp hair fell over his face. He only had a towel around his waist, emphasizing each shuddering breath from his still too slim torso. 

“Scotty?” He murmured softly, knocking lightly on the door, “Can I come in?”

He didn’t look up, but his nod was quick and sharp in response. 

Jeff hesitated, glancing down the hallway to the room Gordon and Alan still shared as he debated whether or not to shut the door. The youngest pair didn’t need to see their oldest brother in such distress, but there was obviously a reason Scott hadn’t shut the door fully.

“Don’t--” Scott’s broken word drew Jeff’s attention back to him, “Leave it open.”

Jeff did as he asked, stepping fully into the room and hearing the running water for the first time. A glance over to the bathtub had him moving quickly around Scott to turn off the faucet before the water began to overflow. 

As the last drips dribbled into the warm water, he heard a heavy exhale from Scott. 

Jeff perched on the edge of the tub, watching as his son’s hands gradually loosened their grip on the sink edge. 

“Where are you?” He asked softly, starting the checklist the therapist had advised. 

“Home.” Scott choked out, “I’m home.”

“What can you feel?” 

He caught the movement of Scott’s feet against the fluffy strands of the bathmat, how his toes scrunched against the fabric as another breath came more steadily.

“What can you hear?”

It was only after he asked the question that he realized Scott’s phone had fallen down next to the toilet, playing a soft piano tune that could have easily been one of Virgil’s recordings. It was a new habit he’d gotten into, something that had started when he had first been facing the showers in the hospital. Jeff reached down to the phone, picking it up to set carefully next to the sink so Scott could hear it better. 

“What can you smell?”

The kid’s lips quirked at that, something that he could smell clearly triggering safer, happier thoughts. 

“What?” He couldn’t help but ask with his own smile. 

“Your aftershave.” Scott snorted, “Always your aftershave.”

“Suppose that’s what you can taste too.” Jeff teased gently, relieved when Scott chuckled softly and looked over to him.

“I didn’--” Scott started on his next breath, looking past him to the still full bath, “Thought I’d be okay, I was okay.”

Jeff nodded, “Want to talk about it?”

“Thought I’d have a bath,” Scott shrugged, eyes glancing to the faucet as it dribbled water again, “Sorry, should’ve warned you what I was doing.”

Jeff sighed as he stood, taking the single step across to stand next to Scott. He would have appreciated the warning, that way he could have at least anticipated any problems before they arose. Maybe he wouldn’t have found Scott in such a state if he’d known earlier. 

“You’re not wrong, but I found you anyway and I’m here to help you. That’s what’s important right now.”

Scott’s brow dipped for a brief moment before he stepped back from the sink and ran a hand through his hair. 

“How can I help?” 

He swallowed, looking down with a heavy sigh as he wriggled his fingers, almost as if he were testing their mobility. 

“Hot cocoa?” He asked after a moment, looking to Jeff hopefully. It reminded him of long forgotten years when he’d seen the same look after nightmares had woken a much younger boy and Jeff had been trying to comfort him. 

“Of course.” Because he never had been able to say no to that look. 

They reconvined back in the lounge, once Scott had changed into an old Yale sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants, Jeff had handed him his preferred mug and joined him on the sofa. For a moment there hadn’t been a need to talk, Scott clearly lost in thought as he held his drink in both hands against his chest. Jeff didn’t push, knowing from experience that he would talk if he needed to and once he was ready. 

Instead he sipped at his own drink, grateful that they at least had that moment. How many nights had he wandered the house, wishing for just such a time when his boy was home safe? How many times had he looked over Scott and longed for the day where they could sit together and share a drink as they had done before his deployment? 

“I--” Scott started, frowning down at his drink as he hesitated.

He waited for a long minute before prompting him gently, “Scott?”

Twisting in his seat, Scott folded his legs up under himself as he turned to face Jeff, “You thought I was asleep in the hospital, before Virgil’s recital.” 

Jeff nodded, remembering the night well. He’d been wondering just how out of it Scott had been since he had mumbled a confirmation that he had wanted Jeff present for the debrief. 

“You said something to Aunt Val.” Scott continued, “I didn’t know how to talk to you about it before, I’m still not sure I do.” 

Jeff reached across to his son’s knee, “I’m here to listen, son, whenever you’re ready.”

Scott looked up to him, holding his eye for a moment before looking away again, “You were right, you didn’t find me.”

Jeff sucked in his own breath, surprised but not shocked by the comment. The words weren’t bitter, there was no anger or hatred aimed at him with the statement. He had been sure that any conversation surrounding that day would have left Scott wanting nothing more to do with his father, not once he realized the reality of what he hadn’t been able to do.

“You found a prisoner, a shell of a man who had lost who and what he was…” Scott’s frown deepened as he continued, “I-- I think maybe part of that was true even before the war started.”

Jeff heard the unspoken, knew that it had been when the boys’ mother had died and Scott had stepped in as a parental figure that the kid had started to lose sight of the person he wanted to be. Another fault of Jeff’s, one that he had been trying to fix for so long but never felt like he could get any further forward with. The way Scott worded it though, still without hurt or blame, like he somehow didn’t blame his father at all.

“But you pulled me out,” Scott looked back to him, eyes glistening in the low light of the lamp,  “and you stuck with me, and never let me give in to any of the things that threaten to take me down.” 

He reached to set his mug on the coffee table before resting a hand over Jeff’s on his knee, “I knew that you’d be there, Dad, like you always have been when I’ve needed you. I knew you’d be there to save me, even when they made me believe I wasn’t worth saving.”

It was that which made Jeff’s heart twist sharply in his chest, his own half finished mug following Scott’s to the coffee table as he leant closer to his son. 

“I never believed you were gone.” He murmured, holding his son’s eye, needing him to hear each and every word, “Not when they told me you were MIA, not when every contact I had came back to me with nothing to go on, I was going to make sure you came home son.” 

He paused and swallowed against the lump in his throat, “An--And I’m sorry it wasn’t sooner, I’m sorry I didn’t do more to get you out of there. And I’m sorry if you ever thought you had to follow the path I took.”

Scott shook his head quickly, “Dad, I wanted to go into the Air Force. That’s-- all I ever wanted was to fly and help people, I didn’t-- it was never--” He paused, shaking his head again, slower that time, “I wanted to make you proud, but Mom made sure I knew I could do that without having to follow your footsteps.” 

Now that was news to Jeff. 

“She did?”

“Yeah,” Scott swiped at his cheek, “Right before… when you were on your way home from Mars, John had started talking about wanting to be an Astronaut and all I ever talked about was jet planes, she sat us down and told us to do whatever made us happy. I didn’t really get what she was saying at the time, but … after you came back to us, I remembered.”

Scott’s hand squeezed over his, “The Air Force was as inevitable for me as NASA is for John and the Olympics are for Gordon, this wasn’t your fault.”

His instinct was to argue, to insist that he should have done something more, something different, something better. 

Except, Scott hadn’t left him a single leg to stand on. 

A single assurance didn’t get rid of the nightmares that had plagued him for months. He was sure they would still come as they had done before, and had continued to do so despite having Scott home safe. Perhaps, it was the start of a change though, a step towards changing the ending of his dreams.

“I’m so proud of you.” He stated instead, reaching to clasp Scott’s shoulder, “Your Mom would be too, you’re so strong son. You were fighting all the way through, all that time you were determined to survive.”

“Surviving was easy.” Scott swallowed, pressing his lips together, “It was the thought of everyone here that kept me going. It was all of you that I tried to survive for.”

He looked to the stairs, clearly thinking of his youngest brothers soundly asleep in their room. 

“And you did.” Jeff murmured, moving his hand to his son’s cheek, willing to remind him a thousand times over if he needed to, “You left that place behind and you got to come home to us, and now, you get to do whatever it is you want to with your life.” 

Scott’s smile was slow but sure as he sighed, “I wanna fly again Dad, perhaps not next week, but when I’m better.”

The thought of his Project was the first thing that crossed Jeff’s mind at the admission, he had been intending to wait a while longer before sharing it with any of the boys. The designs were all too vague, the plan barely more than a series of bullet points in a journal he kept locked away. 

It was almost inevitable that Scott would be discharged though, even if nobody had stated as much yet, and Jeff knew that no other agency had planes quite like the air force. 

If the plans all fell into place, he’d perhaps be able to give Scott something better than anything he had flown before.

“Come with me.” He stated, shifting to stand from the sofa, “I have a little Project I’d like to share with you.”

[skymaiden32]

Negotiations

Read on AO3 here

Fandom: Thunderbirds

Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality @thundergeek59 @janetm74 @katblu42 @liseylou @amistrio @uniwolfcorn (Please ask if you would like to get alerts when I update or post new stories.)

Thundertober Day 3: Armour

Alan thinks they may have gone a little too far with the armour on his uniform.

Continuity: TAG

------

“Are you sure I need all of this…?” Alan asked, still a little uncertain as he waddled out of the fitting room. 

“Yes.” His four older brothers and grandmother in front of him chorused, causing Alan to grumble. 

He huffed. “I can barely move in this thing.” He was only vaguely able to gesture at the full body armour currently situated over his uniform. “And it’s really heavy…”

Scott grinned. “Good. That means it’ll work.” 

“Yep.” Virgil nodded. “Some of Brains’ finest work, if I do say so!”

“Plus,” John cut in. “Everything feels lighter in space anyway. It’s perfect for Thunderbird 3 missions.”

Alan sighed. “That still doesn’t mean it’s good for missions on Earth, Johnny…”

“Sure it does.” The older astronaut argued. “You’ll be on Thunderbird 2’s support crew; you need heavy duty stuff for that.” As an afterthought, he muttered, “And don’t call me Johnny.”

Gordon nodded in agreement. “When I tell you about all the scrapes and bruises me and Virg have gotten just for handling some of that equipment…”

“Yeah!” Alan tried to protest. “But you guys weren’t given full body armour to wear!” At that moment, Kayo walked into the room. The Tracy’s watched as their adoptive sister took one look at Alan, and immediately had to stifle a giggle. Alan frowned. “See? She thinks it’s too much. Hell, Brains probably thinks it’s too much! You guys are being way too overprotective…”

“And is there anything wrong with that young man?” Grandma Tracy interrupted. “Your brothers and I just want to make sure you’re safe…”

“I know but…” Alan sighed. “Maybe we can compromise on it? I don’t need this much armour.”

“Alright kiddo,” Scott took charge of negotiations. “What do you wanna get rid of?”

Alan smiled innocently. “Is everything an option?”

Scott deadpanned. “No.”

“Eh. It was worth a shot.” The teen shrugged. “I’ll wear the shoulder pieces. Honestly, I think they make me look cool.” He admitted.

His older brother hummed. “Wear the chestplate too and we’ll call it even.” He held his hand out. “So, Mr Tracy, do we have a deal?”

Alan was quiet for a good few minutes. On one hand, he could try to get just a bit more out of this. On the other hand, Scott was serious about this. All of them were. And when someone in his family was serious, it meant they weren’t messing around. Scott wouldn’t budge. He never did when it came to safety. Alan smirked, reaching his hand out to accept Scott’s. “We do indeed…” The teen winked. “Mr Tracy…”

Scott rolled his eyes as he let go of Alan’s hand, pulling him into a hug and ruffling his hair. He was glad Alan had agreed to at least part of the armour, because if anything happened to him, he'd never forgive himself for not convincing him to wear more of it…

[see-you-in-the-sky]

Hey Scott, crazy to see you here on tumblr! But nice!!

Um, sorry if this is an awkward one but it’s been bugging me for so long cos I look up to you guys and, well every kid I know does too. So, um it’s this:

International Rescue are at the cutting edge of safety and health research but every time I see publicity shots of you guys at least one of you is smoking or drinking alcohol! I mean… we need you guys around a long time, you know? Shouldn’t you be looking after your bodies a bit better and setting an example?

Hi there!

Nah, you don’t have to worry about any awkward questions, kid! It’s actually a very mature thing you’ve thought of there!

We don’t often get seen in public, but yes, most of our publicity pictures or the paparazzi have us looking like we’re either smoking or drinking. Sometimes we do have a bit of alcohol for a celebration (only when off duty! Don’t drink and fly, kids!), but 99% of the time what we’re drinking are non-alcoholic versions or just normal drinks. We… well it’s a bit embarrassing but we just really like the glasses. They’re nice. But more often than not it’s just water with one of Gordon’s electrolyte concoctions!

As for the smoking… you’ll find those are on the older side. I’ll admit, I did smoke for a little while - I was in a rough patch mentally - but have since gone clean. And boy is it much better! As for my brothers, well I’ll let you in on a little secret…

We really like getting a rise outta folks. There is nothing funnier to us than when those obnoxious a-holes who stick cameras in our faces get the most pearl-clutching expressions on their faces! We’re not actually going to jeopardise our health for a joke though, so we use fakes! A little bit of tech hidden in some paper can be very convincing ;)

Yeah, we could do with knocking it down a level, we’ve got reputations to consider and are seen as role models (somehow). You’ll be happy to know that in reality, we put a lot of effort into keeping healthy, and our father would hang us from our ears if we actually wandered around drinking and smoking all the time!

That was real good of you to ask, kiddo, and I hope I’ve calmed some of your fears!

[scramjettracy]

“Oh I agree but…” Scott stopped himself but it was too late, he could feel his brother’s eyes sharpening on the back of his neck. He pulls up some fuel efficiency stats on the holodisplay and pretends to be checking them whilst desperately searching for a way of expressing his concern without making it sound like he was doubting Gordon’s judgment or ability.

“You’re a good man, Gordon. I should have thought of it. I should have offered to visit him. I can play backgammon and do chit chat. It… it shouldn’t need to be you.”

There’s no reply but Scott can’t turn back right to see his brother’s reaction right now as they were finally approaching their destination and he wanted to decelerate smoothly enough not to leave Gordon feeling shaky before he even got in the door. Or, well, more shaky than he already was.

Creeping up on the base was unusual: a rather distinct change from his usual habit of appearing at any GDF facility with a roar and a boom. The rocket plane equivalent of a handbreak turn. Truthfully he’d take advantage of One’s ability to appear seemingly out of nowhere and then his own ability to exit the craft entirely unphased immediately afterwards knowing full well every pilot on the base knew exactly how many Gs he’d just voluntarily inflicted on himself. He’d never admit it but it gave his confidence a little boost… Before he found himself out numbered and on the back foot again just where they wanted him.

This time One tiptoed into a landing, polite as anything. “Alright, kiddo. Back before midnight or One might turn into a squash.” He landed and lowered the passenger ladder and the pilot’s seat simultaneously, catching up with Gordon as he hopped off the ladder, bag clutched in his hand.

“You forgot something.” Scott opened a pocket on his baldric and pulled out the desiccated handful of seaweed he’d found in his lower aft storage locker a few days prior. Gently batting his little brother in the face with it, he then tucked it into the front of his baby brother’s rucksack.

“A little fish told me this brings you luck. The second you’ve had enough you get out ok? I’ll just be out here… pacing and stuff.”

The rules of backgammon, as it happened, were easier to remember than Gordon had recalled.

It had been years since his grandfather had sat on the dock with him as a young boy, the red and black pieces each smooth under his small fingers. The Kansas summer sun warm, two fishing lines set alongside them, packed sandwiches since abandoned in favour of competition and the older man’s cheery whistle.

Maybe that was why Gordon had chosen a bright yellow sweater for the occasion. A pair of jeans and low sneakers rounding off what was a more casual outfit than when he usually sat in a Thunderbird. He wasn’t here as International Rescue today though - his foot caught the heavy rucksack on the floor next to him as if in reminder.

The same wooden board safely tucked at the top of his bag, rattling softly with each movement of the ship.

Why was he here?

He’d held out the olive branch - that meant it was the right thing to do. That instinctive offer, that gut squid sense impulse, meant it was the right thing to do, even if last minute nerves were beginning to creep.

You don’t need to do this, Gordon.

I think I do though, Pen. For me, as much as for him.

Please just be careful.

He’d known what that comm had meant. Because while there was little that could feasibly happen surrounded by GDF and in their facility, that didn’t mean the ripples of their meeting wouldn’t find other shores. Didn’t mean it couldn’t feed, instead of subdue, the twisted shadows that gave chase in the depths of his nightmares. Ending predictably, each night they occurred, with Gordon trembling, terrified, until one hand or another found him and brought him back to the now-

Now, where the other side of that day sat in a prison cell, alone. Separated from his only family. Trying to do better. Repenting and repaying his debt.

If Fu- no, Clarence could do that, then Gordon could sit across a table from him and repeat what he had said in the message. Apologise for what he’d attributed, in sheer arrogance, to a man who couldn’t defend himself.

Forgive a man who was, by all accounts, scarred by the very same day he was, and he had meant what he had said - neither of them deserved those momentos.

Maybe facing the very real face of his nightmares would do nothing for stopping their torment for him- but maybe Clarence deserved that chance too.

What was that Jeff Tracy favourite saying? Sometimes the right thing isn’t the easiest thing?Face your fear, and it lifts it’s mask?

Old man had definitely borrowed that from somewhere.

Gordon had kept the meeting a secret from everyone else until it could no longer be - Penny once he’d needed to ask the favour with Casey, John once his brother had too many questions about his comms - and then somebody needed to give him a ride to the meeting.

Hence the dark head of hair in the pilot’s seat ahead of him, who had been less than happy with Gordon’s initial lack of reasonable explanation, but had agreed on the singular condition that it was him in the cockpit. It was an agreement seemingly based on the elder’s ability to trust his little brother’s judgment - or at least, he hoped so.

So far, Gordon had managed to avoid any questions by choosing a pensive silence, genuinely in thought for the start of the flight. Now though, the silence outside of the engine hum was oppressive. The fact that his brother was going at barely half speed said he felt so too.

“Thanks for bringing me, Scott… creeps me out, all this GDF secrecy. I don’t trust them with the things we do know about, never mind all this black ops style justice, y’know?”

[ooc: @scramjettracy]

[thatkidwholikesthunderbirds]

(Sea) Squirt Tracy

Nicknames:

Squirt (obviously)

Kiddo

Shorty

Guppy

Thunder-fledgeling (a name given to them by the media)

Relationships:

An unexpected encounter with IR ended with Squirt being taken back to Tracy Island while a safe place to stay was being found for them. Unfortunately for the Tracy family, Squirt was estranged from most of their family and had very little contacts, what was supposed to be a few days stay turned into weeks. Over time bonds were being formed and dropping them off into social care was ultimately decided against, they were there to stay.

It's fair to say that they get along with everyone fairly well despite rocky first impressions. For a long time Scott and especially Kayo were suspicious of Squirt's presence, they knew the Hood wouldn't be opposed to using a literal child as a spy just to make IR drop their guard.

Squirt loves everyone but they absolutely adore Gordon and they try to spend as much time as they can with him. Gordon sort of just accepted being the rock for this limpet but then got equally attached to them, giving them the nickname Sea Squirt. They have a very close sibling bond and are completely devoted to eachother, if you see one of them, the other likely won't be far behind.

Personality:

Squirt is usually very shy and quiet but thanks to Alan and Gordon's influence, they're a feral little trouble maker at home. With a vocabulary like a sailor, an adventurous spirit and a habit of getting themselves hurt some way or another they drive Grandma and Scott mad.

Out of their comfort zone is different though, they struggle with social situations, especially with strangers, and Gordon or Virgil usually has to do the talking for them. They also very much don't like being touched unless you're family, then cuddle away.

Work/school and home:

Squirt lives on Tracy Island with their family, they study the basic school subjects in the UK (Virg and Lady P usually find time to drop them off and pick them up)

They're also IR's first cadet, they're training to become an aquanaut by shadowing Gordon and Virgil in the field. Because of their job with IR they only attend school 2 out of 5 days a week and study at home the rest of the time.

Though they're just a kiddo they have a few future ambitions outside of IR too, when they grow up they want to go to college, explore the workplace and discover exactly who they want to be.

[katiedido2]

Star Watching

So I seem to be inspired to write after I read anything by @willow-salix. I hope you enjoy this snippet of life on Tracy Island with smol kiddos.

John saw Selene having fun with a nephew and wanted his turn.

~~~

The little boy made his way into the lounge on silent, socked feet. He spied his uncle and aunt comfortably snuggled on one of the sofas. He smiled. Daddy had told him it was a clear night and the stars would be easily seen from the lounge's balcony. He looked back to see if either of his parents had noticed he wasn’t asleep. He didn’t see them and, listening intently, didn’t hear them either. Likely, they were involved in getting his older brothers ready for bed. Good. He wanted to stargaze with his uncle by himself. Kip was too restless to sit still, and Alex insisted on bringing paper and crayons to draw with and then bemoaning it was too dark to see the paper. He shook his small head. He loved his brothers fiercely, but sometimes he needed quiet time to just stare at the night sky and think. He knew he’d be able to do that with his Uncle John.

Selene was the first to become aware of the small boy’s presence in the room. She nudged John and whispered, “Ginger, three o’clock.”

John glanced at his wife and subtly peeked over the tip of his tablet. A small, red-headed five-year-old stood huddled next to the side table at the edge of the room. “Three o’clock is the balcony, my love. The ginger is at eleven o’clock.” Selene rolled her eyes.

“Should we acknowledge him?”

John thought for a second. “No. Let’s see what he does.” She nodded, and they returned to their reading, though John kept half an eye on his nephew.

Virgil and Rebecca had three boys. Their eldest, Kip, with his curly black hair and soulful brown eyes, was his father in miniature. Great-grandma Sally gleefully produced baby and childhood photos to confirm it. Alex had been born with his mother’s blond hair and blue eyes. However, by his third birthday, his hair darkened and his resemblance to his Uncle Scott was uncanny. But the resemblance to father and uncle, respectively, was only physical. Kip had inherited his uncle’s Yolo adventurousness and Alex, his father’s cautious, methodical, compassionate soul. They couldn’t have been more different, yet they were inseparable, with Kip dreaming up grand adventures and Alex working out the logistics to make them happen. One was off in the clouds, and the other was calmly grounded. Their mother called them Earth and Sky. Their little brother, however, was of a reserved disposition. 

Virgil’s youngest was a quiet child who enjoyed his own company. A precocious child, he had learned to read at three and proved to be a piano prodigy, like his mother. But space fascinated him, and he loved looking at the night sky. He eagerly absorbed Granpa Jeff’s and his astronaut uncles’ stories about the stars, the solar system and their adventures in space. The ginger hair had been a surprise at first, but since she seemed to be replicating Jeff’s sons, Rebecca had chuckled and said the baby should be called John. Virgil had immediately agreed but asked if they could call him Jack. And Jack Tracy he was.

(When later asked by an eager great-grandmother if there would be more babies, Rebecca had kindly and firmly said no. Since she had reproduced Scott, Virgil and John, then next would surely be a Gordon, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to be the one to unleash another Loki-like ray of sunshine on the world. She would leave that honour to Scott or Gordon. Thus far, the two men - and their wives - had produced smart, happy boys who had taken after their mothers.)

Now that he was aware of the small boy’s presence, John was hyper-aware of his movements. He heard small feet quietly, carefully pad down the steps into the sunken lounge and was not surprised to find bright turquoise eyes looking intently at him when he glanced up from his tablet a moment later.

“Hello, Jack.”

“Hi, Uncle Jay.” Jack looked very serious. John hid a smile.

“How may I help you?”

Small ginger eyebrows rose. “Star watch?”

It was Selene’s turn to hide a smile. Jack was as obsessed with space and the night sky as Kip was with flying and Thunderbird One. John smiled at his namesake, set aside his tablet and rose, taking a small hand in his.

“Okay. But do your parents know you’re here?” Jack shook his head. “Well, we’ll have to let them know before we go outside.”

Small shoulders slumped. “They’ll say no.”

“How do you know?”

“Mummy said no, 'cause it was my bedtime.” A pout was added to his downcast expression. John’s lips twitched.

“I’ll ask, and maybe she’ll say yes. Okay?” Jack looked dubious but nodded his head in agreement.

John touched his comms. “Rebecca?”

“Yes, John?” Rebecca’s normally crisp British accent sounded worn and tired. He could hear Virgil talking to the twins in the background.

“It’s a beautifully clear night, and I was thinking of taking Jack outside to star watch.”

“I’m sorry, John, but Jack’s sleep.”

John looked at his nephew. “No, he’s here with me.”

“He’s what?!” Jack huddled closer to his uncle. John could almost see Rebecca’s eyebrows raised in surprise. To the surprise of both gingers, she chuckled. Sighing, she said, “Okay. But only for a half hour, Jack. You’re so cranky if you don’t get enough rest.”

Jack nodded as if his mother could see him. “K, mummy.”

“You two have fun.”

“Thanks, Becca. We will.” John smiled at Jack, scooped him up in his arms and spun him around, the boy's giggle tickling his soul. Smiling, the two headed outside. Selene dimmed the room’s lights and went to the kitchen to make cocoa for the stargazers.

John set Jack on his feet. “Crisscross applesauce?” John nodded and sat with his legs crossed. He patted his thigh, and the little boy settled into what he called his ‘Uncle Jay chair’, reclining against John’s chest, his head neatly tucked under John’s chin.

“What do you recognise from the last time?”

Small fingers pointed to tiny pricks of light in the night sky, confidently naming the stars his uncle had taught him. “That’s Altair…and Vega…and Deneb. They’re the Summer Triangle.”

“Very good.” John pressed a kiss on the little boy’s head, momentarily overwhelmed by how much he loved this small person.

When Virgil and Rebecca learned that it would be unlikely for John and Selene to have children following her accident, they had, in unison, asked the couple to be Jack’s godparents. Since they weren’t a religious family, John had asked what role they were meant to play as godparents. “Love him,” had been Virgil’s response. “Love and care for him if we’re unable to.” And John did. That surprised him the most - how much he loved this child. And his logical mind couldn’t find a reason to help him understand why he loved Jack as much as he did. Why he loved him more than his other nephews. Was it their shared love of the stars and space? Was it because they were both third-born? Was it because they were both quiet and preferred solitary activities? Was it because they were gingers? Was it the way he seemed to trust John implicitly?

John had discussed it with Selene, and she had suggested that he was overthinking it. “There doesn’t have to be a single reason you love Jack. You love him because he’s him.”

“But why do I love him more than the others?”

“Maybe he fills that part of you that longed for a child of our own?”

“Sele-”

“We opened our hearts to the possibility of a child, and it was taken from us.” She wrapped her arms around him. “We’ve accepted we’re a family of two, but that doesn’t mean your heart has completely healed.” She shrugged and looked at him. “Maybe Jack fills the space that was left? ”

“Maybe.” John had kissed his wife, grateful as always that they had found each other.

“Uncle Jay?” The small voice brought him back to the present.

“Yes, Jack?”

“Should I show you the others I remember?”

John hugged the small boy. “Yes, show me what you remember.”

As if sensing his uncle’s disquiet, Jack twisted in John’s lap and kissed him on the cheek. He resettled himself, and clutching one hand in his small one, he pointed out the other stars he remembered. Wrapping an arm around the boy in his lap, John kissed the top of his head as tears filled his eyes. He swallowed, trying to keep them from falling. Selene approached and sat next to him. She set a tray with three cups of cocoa on the ground and looked at her husband.

“Are you okay?”

John nodded, feeling silly for being so emotional. He shifted a little to wrap an arm around his wife. He held both of them close to him.

“John?”

“Uncle Jay?”

John sniffled, kissed Selene and kissed Jack’s temple. “I’m good. I’m better than good. I’m perfect.” Selene wiped away a rogue tear on his cheek. “Jack, do you see that winking star over there?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s named after your grandmother. Let me tell you all about it.”

-fin-

[edutainer2022]

Many thanks to @janetm74 for her deeply moving and insightful story Grief: The Compass, and for putting up with my ramblings about the symbolism of Grandpa's compass and its meaning to Scott, as well as to Scott and Virgil going forward (especially after the revelations of Recharge). I had this little dream-like sequence in mind since the very early days of my return to TAG fandom as a intro to a larger story. Scott Tracy is, of course, very much not okay. It might not be obvious from the start, but it's true. He needs to find his way.

TRUE NORTH

The wind was ruffling early blossoms in the trees and his hair, as he jogged eagerly across the front yard to the farmhouse. Soft spring grass was tickling his bare feet. Mom was inside, he knew. He was so excited to see her.

The quiet hallway was filled with a soothing scent of cinamon and ripe late summer apples. Mom was probably in the kitchen, baking an apple pie. His favorite. He followed the wiffs of delicious smells, but the kitchen was empty. Each utensil in its place, exactly as Mom liked it. He needed to find Mom. The sense of urgency increased, as he passed the sunlit kitchen to the backdoor, out onto the porch and across the backyard. He shivered once, then twice, as a gust of vicious wind threw a handful of fallen leaves into his face. Golden and red, just like Mom's hair. Mom wasn't out back either and he was anxious now. On instinct, he followed the well-worn path to the meadow, stretching behind their old farmhouse in Kansas. Rough edges of pebbles dug into his feet so they were probably bleeding, but he kept going. He needed to find Mom!

His frantic paces came to a halt at the very edge of the meadow, though. As far as eye could see was cast in a swathe of pristine white. Snow. He knew deep down in his soul Mom was across that expanse of white. But he had no clue which way to go. Where to start. He stood at a loss, shivering, at the very edge of ice, licking his bare toes, the freezing numbness creeping up from the ground to his heart.

Then he remembered! Grandpa's old compass that Virgil made a point to give him for the duration of a rescue, would show the way. Ever since their heart to heart in the Arctic, Virgil would  give him the compass before each mission so he would find his way home safely. Just like that day. He was home now, but Mom wasn't there. He dug into a pocket, and, sure enough, his fingers curled around a solid cool weight of the antique gadget. Grandpa's compass would show him the way to Mom! But something odd was happening. As soon as he opened the lid, the arrow went haywire, turning in place, never resting on any one point. Despair and exhaustion nearly choked him and his knees were ready to give. He couldn't get to Mom no matter how much he longed to! No matter how much he missed her!

He was about ready to step into the unforgiving snow and take his chances, when heavy hands landed on his shoulders, pinning him in place.

"It's not yet time, Bluejay!"

The husky whisper was close to his ear. Dad!

"It's too soon, kiddo! You have to let me go first. You can then follow in my footsteps, but not just yet! Not for a long, long time. How about we go home now, son, eh?"

He wanted to protest. Mom was there, all alone, across the field of snow. He could find her, even if the stupid compass was not helping! He needed to be with Mom! But the voice failed him, caught up on a blinding pain in his chest. Strong arms were already steering him back to face the farmhouse again.

Even from afar, he could see all his brothers standing on the back porch, watching him. Allie seemed so scared, baby blue eyes wide and full of tears, clutching the railing. Gordon was standing apart, hunched over, his face dark and lost - he appeared so small and so young. John was ghostly pale, his eyes a green sea of pain. Scott could swear his ginger brother was swaying with each gust of wind. But it was Virgil who made him gasp. Standing one step down the porch stairs, his best friend was glaring daggers at him - the always soft face contorted with fury and anguish, kind brown eyes brimming with liquid fire. What made Virgil so angry? Had he done something stupid? He hadn't lost Grandpa's Compass! Right! The Compass! He looked down at his hand, still clutching the brass shell, and the arrow had miraculously settled, pointing due North. At the center of the porch of their home. At Virgil.

He felt an insistent nudge to start moving, as the voice by his ear spoke again, soft, but urgent.

"Let's go home now, Bluejay! Just like that, one step at a time! Your brothers are waiting."

He tried once more to twist and catch the sight of Dad, but thought better of it as a sharp pain pierced through his torso again. He still needed to make it home and give Virgil back the compass, so Virgil wouldn't be so angry with him. So Virgil wouldn't go looking for him all the way by the desolate cold white meadow. He also needed to find out what made John so upset, and he certainly needed to hug the Tinies. He sneaked a peek at the compass again - it was pointing firmly Home.

[squiddokiddo]

Konnichiwa! I know I'm a bit late, but for the ask game, what is your opinions on Virgil Tracy?💚 :)

Hi, no ask is ever too late, although I'm definitely late in replying.

💚🌟💚🌟💚🌟💚🌟💚

First impression:

"Hmm, he's pretty cool, this one is probably going to be my favourite unless a character I like better is introduced" Then I was introduced to the squid.

Impression now:

He's a grizzly bear who takes no sh*t but does no harm. He's an emotional rock, entire family would be completely lost without him. He's sensitive, kind, emotional and loving. He's the surrogate mother figure for his brothers.

Love him. I love how he isn't your typical buff jock bro stereotype.

Favourite moment:

It's gotta be that first scene in Ring of Fire where T2 dramatically emerges from the clouds and Virg pulls off that balloon rescue with an epic orchestral track.

Yes.

Idea for a story:

Oh no. I'm really bad at these.

I'd said before that one of my headcanons was his bros getting him a novelty apron with Mama Bear printed on the front, he wears it whenever he's helping out with dinner because he knows how much it amuses his brothers.

So I think maybe my idea for a story would be either the nickname's origin or the apron's origin story.

Unpopular opinion:

Virgil hugs are great, Gordon hugs are better.

Favourite relationship:

I love fishtank team ups, they know and love eachother so much, they're so close.

I like Virg and Cass McCready platonically, I feel like they would become really good friends and he'd become "Cool Uncle Virg" who comes over to babysit Cass' kiddos sometimes.

Favourite headcanon:

I like the idea that Virgil was close to his Grandpa and had adopted all sorts of values and morals from him. Like his work ethic, keeping a cool head when under pressure and showing kindness even to the most horrible people.

💚🌟💚🌟💚🌟💚🌟💚

✮✮✮✮✮

Scott

John

[ak47stylegirl]

The Fish Prince (Royal Tracy Au) - Chapter 3 -

Okay guys here’s the next bit and I just want to thank you guys for all of your support with that comment, it really meant a lot to me ❤

Okay I hope you guys enjoy. 

Prev | Next 

---

As the car drove through the gardens that adorned his home, Gordon spotted his family lined up outside the palace entrance in their winter clothes, his father front and centre.

Wow, they’re really throwing out the red carpet, Huh? Gordon thought with a grin, barely resisting the urge to jump up and down in excitement like a child on Christmas. 

He missed them so much! 

Gordon almost jumped out of the car the second the footmen opened the car door but restrained himself, getting out at a speed more suited for someone of his status. 

Like he cared about that...but his father did, so….

Gordon came face to face with his stoned-faced father, his brothers standing to attention slightly behind him. Other than the fact that Scott was holding Alan on his hip, (the kid looked like he had just been woken up from a nap or desperately needed one) the air was thick with a formality that their life adhered to. 

He took a deep breath and gave his father a salute, barely able to keep himself from grinning like a loon. “Gordon Tracy, reporting for duty, sir..” It was so weird to salute his father, but his father was the king, which meant that he was his superior and commander. 

His father nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching up, “we missed you, son..” His Dad chuckled, laying his hand on his shoulder and the formal spell was broken; his brothers quickly broke ranks to tackle him with hugs.

“We missed you fish, I almost forgot what it was like to be pranked!” Virgil grinned, messily ruffling his blond hair. 

“Ahhh no! Not the hair!” Gordon pulled away with a laugh, fixing his hair up while the others laughed. “It took me forever to get it right…” 

“Oh, I thought you just woke up like that..” John teased with a smile, coming to stand next to him, laying his hand on his arm. “It's good to see you, Gordon…”

“It’s good to see you too, Johnny!” Gordon grinned, the corners of his mouth starting to hurt with how much smiling he was doing, “So how have the stars been? Seen any aliens lately?” 

John rolled his eyes with a slight chuckle, “Remind me again why we missed you?-”

“I think it’s a mild case of insanity..” Scott commented with a grin, reaching out to ruffle Gordon’s hair, messing it up again; this time beyond repair. Alan shifted in Scott’s arms, the kid starting to wake up. 

“-And don’t call me Johnny…” John's grumble went ignored. 

“Gordy?” Alan wondered softly as he sleepily rubbed at his eyes, “Gordy!” Alan cheered, a big grin adorning his little freckled face, ”Scotty! Put me down!” Alan cried, starting to wiggle in Scott’s arms, seeming to have bounced wide awake in his excitement.

Dad frowned. 

“Woah! Woah! okay, okay! Stop wiggling before I drop you, kiddo...” Scott yelped, doing his best not to drop Alan, who was doing his best to counteract that. “you’re happy now?” Scott asked slightly sarcastically as he set Alan down, who ignored him in favour of torpedoing Gordon.

Dad’s frown deepened.

“Gordy!” Alan tackled his waist, causing Gordon to take a step back to stop himself from falling over. Gordon would have for sure fallen over if it was for Virgil catching him slightly. 

“Wow! Where did this little gremlin come from?!” Gordon teased with a grin, wrapping his arms around Alan, whose head barely came up to his waist. “Did you shrink while I was gone?” 

Alan pulled away from him with a look of distaste; his button nose scrunched up. “I didn't shrink! You're the one that's short!”

“Alan…” Scott warned, raising an eyebrow. 

Alan froze and blinked up at Scott, before crossing his arms in a pout, “Sorry..” Alan muttered, averting his eyes away but while no one was looking, Alan quickly stuck his tongue out at him. 

Gordon grinned, about to retaliate when-

“Alan Tracy!” Dad snapped, causing Alan to jump and look over at Dad; the kid’s eyes wide with fear. “Don’t stick your tongue out at your brother! He is your senior and deserves your respect! Apologise right now!” 

“Dad, calm down...” Scott said, looking at their father with a slight frown. “He was just messing around, you don’t need to yell at him like that...” 

Dad’s eyes narrow slightly at Scott, grunting in distaste. 

Okay, so the weird power dynamic between Dad and Scott when it came to raising Alan was still very much a thing, Gordon thought with a slight frown feeling the tension in the air as Scott and Dad had a whole conversation with just their stares. 

And so was the fact that Alan’s relationship with Dad was still on rocky grounds if the kid’s reaction was anything to go by, Gordon sighed deeply, watching as Alan inched his way behind Scott’s legs, away from Dad’s glaze. 

Gordon really didn’t understand why their Dad was so hard on the kid, Alan already had it hard enough with his health causing him so much misery. Allie didn’t need the added pressure from Dad. 

No wonder the kid flocked to Scott…

TBC

[seathesilverlinings]

Inspired slightly by watching Endgame (movie, not the episode) and I couldn’t resist!

Not horrible, I promise, it’s kinda fluffy, kinda bittersweet, a little dose of wee!Alan and Scott.

Written on my phone, in parts, in a rush so I apologise for any mistakes!

//

“Alan!?”

Silence. Always suspicious with a nine year old.

“Alan?” Scott called as he approached the bedroom door of his youngest brother. “Dinners ready! Virgil made it, not Grandma,” He added, reaching for the door handle.

A clatter and a crash came from inside the room, and Scott opened the door in a flash.

He almost stumbled backwards when he was greeted by the tip of one of Gordon’s wooden pirate swords a few inches from his face, coupled with a distinct child like yell.

“Halt alien invader! State your business!”

Scott wished he could say that it was the image of Alan stood atop four piled up laundry baskets that stopped him in his tracks, but no. It wasn’t even the mess of the bedroom behind him. The familiar silver-grey baldric, far too big for its current host, slung across his baby brothers tiny frame was what took his breath away from him and made his heart squeeze in his chest.

He hesitated for a touch too long and received a sharp prod in the centre of his chest with the sword.

“Hey! Ow!”

“State your business!”

He wanted to form a quick reply and quip back to sink into Alan’s game for even a few minutes, they didn’t have much time for this at the moment, but words still failed him.

“I asked you a question, alien.”

Scott reached out and touched the baldric, the integrated circuitry hummed with warmth under his fingers.

“Where did you find this?” His voice was quieter than he expected.

“Oh!” Alan dropped the sword down by his side. “In the hangar!”

It wasn’t that they had given up on Dad's dream. No, never. But with everything that happened…

He couldn’t meet Alan’s eyes, transfixed by the IR logo underneath his fingertips.

Things had needed to be put on hold. Just for a little while, not forever. He screwed his eyes shut and forced himself to look away, shaking off the images of the three great beasts sitting in the hangar gathering dust for the past few months. The little yellow sub bobbing away in her tank hidden away from the currents she should see. A space station devoid of its monitor and awaiting reactivation. John had shoved his nose so far into research Scott was surprised he wasn’t gasping like a fish on dry land every time he was without a book.

“Were you looking for this?” He asked, thumbing over the logo and finally meeting cornflower blue eyes.

“No,” Alan looked down at where Scott’s hand rested and tugged on the baldric slightly himself before looking back up, a proud grin on his face. “No, but I found it though!”

“You sure did.” Scott’s smile was small. “Come on Sprout,”

He lifted Alan down from his self constructed and very wobbly tower. The moment the small blonde was placed on the floor he grabbed for his big brother's hand.

“Scotty?”

“Yeah kiddo?”

“What is this?” Alan pulled on the baldric to pull it up and over his head.

“That was part of our International Rescue uniform.” Scott took the baldric when it was handed to him. “This one belonged to Dad. Mine was dark blue, John’s was orange, and Virgil’s was going to be green,”

Scott thought of his artistic younger brother, so excited at the prospect of piloting the great green behemoth laying dormant downstairs.

“Okay, cool.” Alan nodded along as they walked together back upstairs. “What was Gordon going to be?”

“Yellow,” Scott allowed himself another smile, remembering the fish’s insistence on matching his sub.

“Okay,” Alan nodded again.

They walked in silence for a few moments before Alan spoke again.

“You know what colour I want? I want red. Red is a good colour for an astronaut.” The nine year old nodded decisively.

Scott’s insides twisted momentarily at the thought of his little baby brother in the pilot seat of Thunderbird Three. But only for the briefest second before pride took over.

Maybe they had rested for long enough. Maybe it was time. Dad's dream hadn’t been supposed to die with him.

Maybe, it was time for a talk.

[weathergirl8]

Master of Deflection - Part 6

Finally found time to post this sucker during this crazy week of graduation prep! Graduation practice tomorrow and actual ceremony Friday night for my associate's degree!

This is for you @ak47stylegirl and anyone else who enjoys Alan whump/smothering. Of course, there will be some extra Virgil in there too, because I just love the big guy.

@misssquidtracy @gumnut-logic @godsliltippy Thank you for your support on this fic!!

I bring you some Sky Turnip and Land Cabbage 💙💚

As a friendly reminder, I originally came from the TOS and TB 2004 era. I’ve tried to write a few TAG point-of-views, but my comfort zone is the previous. This will take place with Gordon as the redhead, and Virgil as the middle bro. Sorry!

Summary: Being the youngest of five is always hard, especially when they pounce at the slightest hair out of line. Sometimes the art of deflection can sting.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Virgil tried to suppress a yawn as he grabbed the needed medication from the infirmary. Alan’s fever had climbed nearly another degree. The medic of the family instinctively made the call to start antibiotics quickly. Virgil was confident they were now dealing with more than the common cold and that a bacterial infection was beginning to set in.

Entering Alan’s room, the middle Tracy was concerned to see the bed empty. Only the sight of the strewn sheets and a pile of used tissues remained. “Allie?”

“I’m in here,” Alan’s hoarse voice called from the bathroom.

Virgil sat the meds down and met the crumbled form of his baby brother. Alan sat on the bathroom floor, the wall seeming to be the only thing holding him up. “Sick again?”

“Yup,” Alan grumbled as he reached to flush the toilet. Virgil handed him a towel to clean himself up. “Thanks.”

Virgil helped him up but quickly took hold of his younger brother’s waist as the teen’s legs nearly crumbled. “Alan, you okay?”

“Yea,” the teen panted as another cough erupted from him. “Brain and body just don’t want to cooperate at the moment.”

“C’mon, let’s get you back in bed,” Virgil urged as they made the short walk to Alan’s bed. “If you don’t start keeping things down, I’m going to have to start an IV, kiddo. I’m worried about dehydration.”

“You’re preaching to the choir. This isn’t exactly a party,” Alan wheezed, letting his head sink back into his pillow.

Virgil observed him as Alan coughed and tried to take in a deep breath. “How long has that been going on?”

“I dunno,” Alan shrugged. “Awhile, I guess. It’s not like I’m writing all of this down.”

The middle Tracy handed Alan two pills, motioning for the teen to take the antibiotics. “When you’re not exerting yourself, is it hard to breathe?”

Alan gave his older brother a weird look but decided against the first thought that entered his mind. He wouldn’t exactly call laying in bed exerting himself, but who was he to judge? “If you call breathing with my mouth mostly, then sure.”

Virgil now wished he had kept the kid in the infirmary so he could ease his mind and have all of his equipment at his disposal. Knowing it wasn’t something the baby of the family would do, he opted for what he had in front of him. “Alright, if it gets worse, let me know immediately. Here’s something that will help with nausea, and something to hopefully help with that cough,” he said, handing Alan the tiny pill and cup of cough suppressant.

“Why do these always have to taste so gross?” Alan complained as he quickly swallowed several gulps of water.

“That’s how you know it’ll work,” Virgil smirked, winking at his annoyed sibling.

-TB-

The sunrise was Scott’s favorite part of his morning run. The smell of the morning dew across the island jungle and the colorful orange and yellow hues that rippled across the water.

He slowed his pace to a jog as he came across the broadest part of the beach on the Island. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, the oldest Tracy paused as he noticed a figure ahead. Confusion met him as he recognized the build of the person. Scott quickly jogged forward, calling out to his younger brother. “Virgil?”

“Hey, Scott,” the chestnut-haired Tracy greeted, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a towel.

Scott struggled for a moment. He knew he was treading on thin ice for his brother to be up this early. Virgil was always active, but athletically the medic was more of a gym guy. He found more solace in lifting weights and punching bags. Sprinting and running were always something the other brothers had enjoyed, barring John. It was rare to catch Virgil on a run outside of the gym, especially on one before the sun had been up for at least one hour in the sky.

“Pretty view, huh?” Virgil interrupted his thoughts, almost sensing his brother’s unease.

“Always is,” Scott smiled in appreciation. “No sunrise seems to be the same.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Virgil replied, taking a seat along the sand.

Scott’s concern only increased, but he followed his brother along the cool sand. His blue eyes searched the ocean while taking small glances at Virgil.

“You can ask,” Virgil exhaled, surprising the elder. “I know you’re wondering why I’m out here so early.”

Scott tried to suppress the grin that he knew was also on Virgil’s face. “Didn’t want to push.”

Virgil nodded in understanding, letting his hands rest on his raised knees. “Bad dreams and worried about Alan,” he stated plainly.

“I checked in on the kid before I started my run. Al was sound asleep, but he still felt warm and sounded congested. I think that humidifier might be helping,” Scott said, watching Virgil as he stared out into the water. “I didn’t want to disturb him. He needs his rest.”

“Allie’s exhausted,” Virgil admitted. “Between the coughing, vomiting, and congestion, his sleep has been interrupted. I gave him a round of antibiotics and something to help with the other symptoms. Alan’s definitely caught something bacterial for sure. Those cold waters from the rescue didn’t do him any favors.”

“I’m sure those will help,” Scott reassured. “He just needs time for the meds and his immune system to work.” The elder Tracy studied his brother once again. “Do you want to talk about the dreams?”

Virgil sighed as he threw a rock he had been playing with toward the water. “It was about the last mission.”

“I figured,” Scott added. “I would’ve been surprised if you didn’t. I know what it felt like being on the receiving end. I can only imagine what it was like in the moment physically.”

“Definitely won’t be in my top 20,” Virgil chuckled solemnly.

“Who said it was getting past the top 50?” Scott laughed, nudging Virgil.

“Point taken,” the middle Tracy smiled.

“All jokes aside,” Scott started. “Are you okay?”

“Okay is a relative term, Scott. We compartmentalize and move on-“

“-Virg, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“I do,” Virgil acknowledged meeting Scott's intense gaze. “Look, you know what happened. I don’t have to tell you again. I just…. I can’t get the image of the gun shoved against Alan’s neck out of my head and that look on his face. That look… Damnit, Scott. He’s too much like you!”

Scott tried not to laugh but empathized.

“I could tell Alan was scared, but the kid refused to show it. He was so trusting. Trusting of me to get us out of that situation.”

“You did, Virgil. Allie is safe because of you, and so are you. I was just as worried about you as I was our baby brother,” Scott countered. “You did what you had to, and no one was harmed.”

“That’s not the point, Scott. You have no idea how close it came.”

“What do you mean?” Scott asked, confused.

“There’s a bullet hole in the floor of the rescue platform. A hole that was inches away from hitting Alan when he hit the deck.”

Realization dawned on the oldest Tracy. “Is that what your dream was about? That the bullet actually hit Alan?”

Virgil remained silent as he collected his thoughts. He felt Scott turn to face him, the older pilot’s knees resting against one of his own. “Mostly, but what stuck with me most was that look. Like I said, having a hard time getting it out of my head.”

Scott placed a comforting hand along Virgil’s knee, squeezing it. “I know you don’t need me to tell you about how great you are when quick decisions need to be made. That goes without saying, but Allie trusted you with his life because so would I. Any of us would. The next time a lunatic threatens one of my brothers with a gun, he’ll wish neither one of us were around.”

Virgil smiled. “Thanks, Scott.”

“Anytime. You good?”

“I’ll be fine,” Virgil replied. “We probably should head in. Breakfast will be started soon, and I need to check on Alan and make sure Dad isn’t camping at his side.”

“Dad was still asleep when I checked on Al,” Scott said as they began to walk up the path that led to the main villa. “Besides, he has an early call with one of the new brokers, if I remember correctly.”

“Good, that should keep him occupied,” Virgil grinned.

TBC…

[whatgaviiformes]

Turning Circles

A/N: Okay, so this is the last idea I had in my head for Olympics stuff, and it’s the one that kind of did what it wanted to do. Remember how I said I don’t write ships.... well Gordon had other plans. 

So Pen and Ink - and I abandoned the summer Olympics for the Winter. Because, fun fact, I don’t know anything about the other sports. But what I do know is ice skating. 

So you can tell me if you enjoy this or if this is weird. I dunno. 

I don’t write ships, this is weird for me. please beniceomgomgomgomg

-----

TURNING CIRCLES  

It was official.

Gordon had a crush on his brother’s pairs partner.

By all rights, Penny should be representing Great Britain, not the US. But loopholes with her mother’s ancestry aside, it was obvious she and John just fit as a pairs team, and their ease with each other translated beautifully into their performances.

Their fit hadn’t been immediately obvious; it took Coach Moseley reaching out to John directly and asking him to just come give it a try. What could be the harm? Up until then, John had considered himself a singles skater. But in his past competitive performance, his programs had just felt flat, and dispassionate. The World Stage knew it.

And Penny – well she was, rightfully so, a little –uh, selective after her previous partner was willing to abandon her safety for the thrill of the win. The partnership of Fischler and Creighton-Ward had dissolved a few years ago, right before the national championship, in a major upset that reached even the most remote television screens.

There was video of the qualifiers, and Gordon fumed thinking about Penny’s fall. Pairs was about trust, about knowing each other’s cues and speaking silently, soul to soul. Penny hadn’t been prepared when Fischler changed the throw to a more difficult one that would score them a higher technical score. He hadn’t warned her, and she hit the ice hard with a cry that still sent goosebumps up his arms when Gordon thought about it.

Then again, that could just be the cold of the rink this early in the morning. He rubbed his gloved hands together to spread a bit of warmth up his frozen limbs. Gordon had bundled himself into a pair of long jeans and a thermal bomber jacket, with faux fur adorning the hood for this morning’s visit to their family’s Ice Arena and Sports Complex.

In comparison, Penny and John wore their practice outfits, and for Penny that still meant tights and a cobalt blue skating dress with a sheer skirt and rhinestones framing her chest -stop looking, Gordon. John wore a pair of black joggers and a long sleeve grey Henley. His red hair was messy from their warm-up, looking like absolute bed head in comparison to Penny’s immaculate high ponytail.

They kept warm somehow, but then again, they were the ones currently practicing the salchow. Gordon was just the one who ran for drinks.

Penny’s rotation was a bit faster than John’s. Coach Moseley echoed it as he thought it, clapping her hands together and shouting, “Again!”

The pair started with the footwork sequence right before the triple salchow, setting up the back left inside edge that started the jump. They turned, one-two-three (and it had taken Gordon a few months to get comfortable recognizing the rotations, but it was obvious now), and then landed on an outside edge on the right leg.

Better that time.

From his jacket pocket, Gordon pulled out his phone and the stylus he used to make notes and opened his digital notepad for John. He’d lost some height in his jump - an increase in his calf exercises should help correct that.

Coach Moseley skated over to the edge of the rink to greet Gordon and gestured for the pair to join her as they finished off their edge with the next few steps of the next sequence.

“Did you get that, kid?”

“Yep,” he confirmed. “All right here.” He tapped the stylus against the side of his phone. So, in all truth, he did more than bring drinks. It took a village, and John and Penny had Coach Moseley, a Choreographer, a ballet teacher, and, well, Gordon had the honor of being their nutritionist and personal weight trainer.

“I’d like you to work with Penny on her forearms, too,” Coach Moseley added. “They had a wobble in their twist lift yesterday.”

Gordon’s heart jumped. “Is she ok?”

“She didn’t fall, kiddo. John held firm. I’d just like to be a bit on the safe side.”

He understood that. A few taps with the stylus later and the note was added into Penny’s file. Then he pocketed his phone to greet his brother and his partner with a grin.

“Morning!”

“Gordon, Darling.” Penny reached for the pink thermos he offered. It was filled with warm green tea to start her day. “Thank you,” she hummed. “You’re a Godsend.”

He ducked his head as his cheeks flushed, pretending to check the other two drinks to make sure he had the right ones for each.

“Ah – here you go, John. Black with honey and cinnamon.” Pen and John were allowed natural sweeteners only. And for their coach – “Caramel macchiato with hazelnut.”

“Thanks, Gordon,” John said, humming happily into his coffee as he took a sip.

“I brought some honeycrisps too.”

“Wonderful. Okay kids, take five,” the Coach said. “We’ll drop jumps down to doubles when you get back. I want to focus on footwork this morning.”

He noticed John’s galaxy blade protectors sitting to his right on the barrier of the rink, so Gordon slid them over to his brother, stepping closer to the rink doors just in case he needed a hand. John had a habit of tripping when transitioning from gliding on ice to the awkward process of walking in heavy skates.

For Penny, taking five meant she went right back to what she was doing. Turning circles, weaving grooves of figure eights onto the smooth ice, beautiful like crystal and as hard as glass.  Much like the woman herself.

She’d taken her thermos and abandoned it on the other side of the rink.

Gordon watched her skate. And saw resilience, strength, intensity. When she first came to them, there’d been a shield around her, and slowly John and the rest of their family had started to help her bring that shell down.  Much the same as when Kayo joined their fold.

But Gordon knew Penny could still cut him down with just her words and her stare. And though she knew it was a power she held, Gordon tried his hardest to hide the extent to which he knew she could truly and utterly break him if she wanted to.

If she knew.

A crunch to his right startled him; he jumped as Virgil came up beside him and bit into one of the apples he’d washed this morning and thrown into the thermal bag.

Virgil had his pair of hockey skates draped over one of his broad shoulders, and his red flannel was rolled up a bit at the sleeves. He casually leaned forward over the edge of the rink to mirror Gordon’s position, watching Penny as she skated freely.

“We need a fourth for even teams,” Virgil offered. He placed a hand on Gordon’s shoulder, turning to look him in the eye. “What do you say? You and me against Scott and the Sprout?”

“That’s hardly fair.” Virgil was a tank as goalie, and Scott had yet to figure out Gordon’s tricks for finding openings where there didn’t seem to be any.

“I wouldn’t underestimate them, Gordo. Alan’s been getting quicker on his feet. Which you would know if weren’t spending so much time out here lately.”

Gordon shrugged Virgil off and grabbed an apple for himself as well, taking a bigger bite than he probably needed.

“Gordon.”

“What? What are you trying to say, Virgil?”

Virgil sighed, sitting back on the bleachers behind them. “Nothing. Just – when you’re ready we’ll be over on rink two.”

“Sure.”

He slid back and grabbed his hockey bag by the door. “Don’t be too long.”

And as Virgil left, John returned. They whispered a few words to each other in the doorway, and Gordon tried to ignore the way his ears burned, even in the cold air of the rink in the morning

End Note - if it feels very “The Cutting Edge” it should. Turning Circles is a song from the movie, and the concept is....eh, similar. and Moseley is the last name of a character