#i think everyone in this fic who wants to take a shot at gordon should get one

[meanscarletdeceiver]

"Gordon, do you plan on explaining yourself in English, anytime soon? 🙄"

- Henry in Chapter 3 of Small World, maybe

[iwadori]

hii i saw ur taking requests and I wanted to ask if you could do a fic with the miya twins,suna and iwa comforting their s/o after they have a dream of them cheating on her? tysm!

Cheating Misunderstandings with the haikyu boys (Osamu,Atsumu)

Word Count:1.8K

Genre:angst,fluff

masterlist

AN: This was kind of on the lines of what you wanted, but I hope you enjoy it. Also you guys will see an ‘Empress appearance’ in this work....so don’t kill me.

Osamu:

You were walking to miya onigiri ready to pick up Samu to go home

But when you got to the front door you see Osamu in the shop winding touching another girl

You couldn’t see the girl or Osamu properly because of the angle you were at

But you wouldn’t say your eyes were decieving you, so you did what you should do turn on your heel and get out of there.

You were back at your apartment and you were fuming, you were at your desk and decided that distracting yourself with your mountainous amount of paperwork that you had for your job would be better than sitting down and stewing over watching your boyfriend cheat on you.

‘How long has this been going on,’ you thought to yourself ‘Who even is she? She can’t be a worker’ since you knew everyone that worked there and the manager Empress would definitely not let a worker get with Osamu since you were besties after all.

Distracting yourself, obviously didn’t work and you sent yourself into a spiral of social stalking, trying to find this girl. Which didn’t work, as you only saw her hair and her height which was around a foot shorter than Osamu’s. ‘Stupid Osamu’ you thought, how could he do this? Why would you do this?

You wanted to cry, you were going to cry. Outside you heard a car door shut, and looking out your window you saw Osamu walking out the car with his keys in his mouth and bags (presumably food) in his hand.  

You heard some knocking, well kicking at your front door and a light shout of “Babe, can you open the door my arms our pretty full here.” You didn’t answer, you didn’t even move cause you knew if you saw his face it’ll most likely be him saying ‘Y/N im sorry, but theres someone else’ the thought alone made you cringe. You were knocked out of your thoughts with again the kicking of the door and Osamu saying with a laugh “C’mon babe all you really gonna leave a guy stranded out here, ive got your favourite too and its going to get cold”

You reluctantly opened the door, not actually greeting Osamu and just going back to your room to pack away your paper work and close your laptop. To your surprise Osamu was behind you and gave you a quick kiss to your cheek, which you would usually smile and ease into but today you cringed and quickly moved. Making Osamu look at you with a side eye.

By time he was setteled in you were sitting down at the dinner table eating, with the sound of Gordon Ramsey’s Hell Kitchen filling your awkward silence. Osamu did try to speak to you but you always just responded with “yeah,” “sure,” or “maybe.” Short simple answers that Osamu definitely didn’t like.

When dinner was over and it was the time when you two usually watched a shitty reality tv show together, you decided to go to bed early to avoid any more awkward conversation with Osamu. But before you could clamber into bed, Osamu grabs your arm saying “Y/N, what’s wrong with you?”

“What do you mean Samu?” you say with a forced smile on your face even though he couldn’t see it, you just did so he didn’t see you start to tear up “nothing’s wrong with me.”

“Are you Y/N?”

“mhm” you murmured trying to shrug off his hold, you sniffled a bit (attempting to do it quietly) but he heard it.

“No y/n, what’s wrong can’t you just turn around.” The force of you pulling away and he pulling you close, left you falling onto your bed and the tears just started to fall. Osamu immediately crouched down to your eye line “whats wrong love?” he said with a tender voice.

You shook your head in response, “what’s wrong?? Please tell me Y/N.”

“Why would you do that to me?” you say your voice breaking as the tears streamed your face. Osamu started to panick seeing you cry.

“Do what Y/N, what do you mean?”

“You cheated on me? Was I not enough for you? Don’t you love me anymore.”

“Who Y/N!Who.?”

“You touched her, I saw you. I can’t believe you would do that. In public as well” you accused “How could you do that to me.”

“Y/N, baby listen I don’t know what you mean?”

“Don’t call me that Miya, you’re such a fucking liar oh my god.”

“Can you please explain to me what you’re talking about?”

“You. In the shop. I saw you, touching her” you say scowling saying the last line as if It was poisonous.

“In the shop? What do you-” a spark flashed in Osamus eyes before he stood up and started pulling you out the room “You need to come with me.”

“Miya, what are you doing? I’m not going anywhere with you.” you groaned

“Yes you are, and stopped calling me that.”  

He dragged you outside to his car and opened the door for you, standing expectedly waiting for you to get in. “Im not getting in,” you say folding your arms

“Oh yes you are. Just get in the car.”

“But im in my roblox pyjamas” you groaned again feeling like a child.

“And you still hot babe don’t worry” he said winking at you ushering you into the car “Just get in it’ll be a quick ride anyways.”

You pulled outside of onigiri miya and Osamu begin to drag you out again taken you to the office where the security cameras are. He did something on the community and pulled up a date and time which was the time you were at the store earlier.

Playing on the screen was the recording and the incident which you saw before, but this one was a differnet angle. You saw a girl walking one way and Osamu walking the over with a drink in his hand, him spilling the drink on her and cleaning her off with a paper towel. Which you thought was him groping and touching her.

Your cheeks heated up hard in embarrasment, as you realised how you acted and how you got it all wrong. You saw Osamu with a glint in his eye and smirk on his face and before he could say anything you said “Dont. Let’s get back to the car.”  

All was forgotten on your car ride home and you decided to discuss eachothers days (skipping out the ‘cheating’ part.) However after you watched you shows and finally gotten into bed, when Osamu was holding you right against his chest (so close where you could hear his heartbeat) he said, “Y/N, although we agreed to not talk about this incident...even though I will definitely be telling Empress, I just want to let you know that I will never even think about cheating on you let alone actually doing it, I love you so much that the idea of cheating is so uncomprehendable I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Love you ‘Samu, and I'm sorry for making this into a big old thing when I could’ve just asked you about it.” you say in response

“It’s okay babe,” he said kissing your forehead “It’s okay.”

Atsumu

You and Atsumu have been dating fairly recently meeting in your through your friend Empress who was the manager at Atsumu’s brother Osamu’s shop Onigiri Miya.

You’ve only been together 6 months and you’re ready to tell him that you love him

However you being the perfectionist that you are, wanted it to be perfect so of course you had to practice on friend, Empress’ boyfriend Hajime.

“Okay so go.”

“Atsumu, I think you’re a stand-up guy and you’re pretty cute can I love ya.” you said punching Iwa on the arm.

“Y/N, you can’t say that.” Empress said face palming.

“Okay, Atsumu I’ve fallen for you and I can’t get up?”

“No dad jokes Y/N.” Hajime said shaking his head

“Why theyre soo funny, what about Atsumu you’re a pain in my ass.” you said winking at Empress.

“Gosh Y/N! Take this seriously for once.” Hajime said blushing at your obvious innuendo.

“Well how did you two confess you undying love to eachother?” you asked and smiled at both their reactions, knowing that they definitely haven’t done that.

“Just say your confession Y/N,” Empress said rolling her eyes

“Okay Atsumu,” you said taking a deep breath “Ever since I met you after your brother spilt a drink on me at his shop and you tried to cheer me up with your terrible jokes I knew that you were the one for me. I love your passion, your drive your determination to make me feel better all the time even when I don’t need you too. I love being with you and I...”

Hajime looked at you expectedly, “I love you,” you said smiling “There I said it I love you!”

“Oh my gosh Y/N! That was so cute you should definitely sa-”

“What the fuck Y/N!” exclaimed a voice next to you “You love this clown.”

“Who are you calling a clown,” said Iwa squaring up to Atsumu making both you and Empress roll your eyes at the heeping testoterone filling the area.  

“Haji let’s go,” said Empress dragging her boyfriend away “and Y/N I'm pretty sure you two need to talk.”

When Hajime and Empress were an ear shot away, Atsumu looked at you with a glare. “So Y/N, is this what you’re doing now slu-”

“Don’t even go there ‘tsumu, you’re such an ass sometimes.” You say walking away “And by the way I was practicing with Iwa to say I fucking love you, you asshole.”

You already stormed off before Atsumu yelled, “Wait! You love me?”

“Of course I do you ass.” you say scowling.

Atsumu jogs over to you and says, “I love you too Y/N” he picks you up and tosses you about in the air, practically doing sommersaults, “Im so happy! Wait till I tell Osamu bout this he’s probably hasn’t told his girlfriend about this.”

“Babe, they’ve been dating for years” You said with a laugh “But go ahead ‘tsumu tell the world.”

“I’m sorry for misunderstanding things.”

“And...?”

“And I'm sorry for calling Iwa a clown, knowing he would definitely beat my ass.”

“And..?”

“And I'm sorry for being an ass.” he said with his head down.

“You are an ass Atsumu,” you said with a smile “But you’re my favourite pain in the ass.” You said winking at him making him burst out with laughter at your stupid innuedo.

Whenever Atsumu sees Osamu he tells him about how much you both love eachother, which always leads them into an argument about who has the better girlfriend and who loves their girlfriend more which always has you laughing.

AN: do you guys see the connection between the two?? Cause if you see the connection I’LL LOVE YOU FOREVER :3 Hope you guys enjoyed it, what do you guys think?

[gumnut-logic]

Census

After my little hissy fit last night about not being able to write, I spent all day today doing exactly that. 5000 words later and we have this rambling fic. I had to fill in our Census today, so I figured the Tracys could too. It went places I did not expect.

There are a couple of anachronisms in this fic. It is based in 2060 for census reasons, but I mention at least two characters interacting with the Tracys from later seasons. Please ignore and enjoy anyway :D

There are also a couple of vague references to ship, but no real ship, I promise.

Thank you in particular to @katblu42​ and @willow-salix​  and the other members of Thunderfam who kindly checked on on me last night while I was bemoaning my inability to write. Sorry if I was exasperating. I have a degree in that. If it helps, no one gets more annoyed with me than I do ::hugs you lots::

Rambly, mostly brotherly conversations and doesn’t really go anywhere, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

-o-o-o-

How Gordon got there first was no mystery. Virgil was just too damned tired after three rescues in a row and Scott had been tied up with Tracy Industries for most of the day. Grandma could possibly have been on it if she hadn’t been filling in for John who had broken out his exo-suit to yank a couple of free floaters out of the sky.

He was still muttering about idiots and safety. His mood was not improved by the fact Grandma insisted he come down for the night so he could be counted.

Consequently, his muttering also included cursing bureaucracy even though Virgil knew census night was a favourite of the astronaut.

Perhaps Gordon got to the form first because he knew everyone else was tired and grumpy and needed a kick in the pants. Virgil had to admit with a fond thought that his little brother was prone to throwing joke bombs amongst them when the mood was through the floor.

Virgil had no issues wondering why Alan wasn’t the one poking at the form. Their resident teenager wasn’t interested at all.

“Okay, guys. What is our address? What did we put last time?”

Alan didn’t even look up from his game. “Tracy Island.”

Gordon, who was sitting at Dad’s desk, staring at the holographic form, hesitated. “Did Dad register that with the powers that be?”

“What?” Alan really wasn’t paying any attention at all.

Virgil sighed. He was sitting on the couch with one of his uniform boots on his lap attempting to pick out several penetrating objects out of the sole. His last rescue had been a collapsed factory and he was still trying to work out what exactly it was that they made that could penetrate his specialist footwear.

Fortunately, despite multiple incursions, he only had a scratch on his left foot, more an annoyance than anything, but these objects were frustrating and suspicious.

“Dad did all the right things. Tracy Island is the official name now.” The pliers weren’t quite gripping the piece of metal properly. The grip slipped and Virgil swore.

“Now? What was it called before?”

“Deserter’s Rock.” Scott strode in from the kitchen, a coffee in hand, and grimace on his face. His usually perfect hair was scruffy, as if he had been running his hands through it.

Virgil frowned up at him. “You okay?”

His brother took the steps down into the lounge and sighed. “Nothing a holiday won’t fix.” It was Scott’s turn to frown. “What’s with the boot?”

“Deserter’s Rock? Really?”

It was John who answered, very much like Alan, staring into his tablet and barely paying attention. “Really. Three sailors were stuck here for months. Only one survived. That’s why there is a cairn on Tracy Peak.”

“I thought that was a pile of rocks put there by Dad.” Gordon seemed genuinely surprised. “You mean there are two dead guys on the Island?”

“Along with their ghosts, yeah.” John still didn’t look up.

“Ghosts?” Alan did look up at that, eyes wide. “What ghosts?”

“The one’s who keep stealing my Bailey’s ice cream.”

“Oh.” Alan went back to playing his game, his eyes definitely not darting between John and Gordon at all.

“Okay, moving on…so where do I put ‘Tracy Island’ in this thing? It’s not a suburb, state or territory…do we have a postcode?”

“It’s a locality. Shove it in there.” Virgil grit his teeth and yanked hard at the piece of metal embedded in his boot. A grunt and a flex of heavy lifting muscles and…it didn’t move at all. What the hell?

“Okay, whatever.” Gordon half sung ‘Tracy Island, Kermadec Ridge, South Pacific Ocean’ to himself as he entered it into the form. At least he was being specific. Virgil glared at his boot.

“Next. Who gets to be head of household? Oh, the Householder?” A pause in which Virgil poked at his boot, Scott sipped his coffee with closed eyes, Alan killed three zombies with a grin and John sat motionless still staring at his tablet.

“Okay, then. It’s me.” Gordon grinned to himself.

Nobody looked up, but all four other brothers said simultaneously and in chorus. “It’s Grandma.”

Virgil flexed his hand and picked up his pliers again. Peripherally, he watched Gordon’s shoulders drop. Even the Fish couldn’t argue with that.

“Fine. It’s Grandma.” He reached up and touched the box to open that section of the form. “Where is she anyway?”

Virgil tried to get a better grip on another chunk of metal in his boot. “Yoga. Don’t disturb her.” Yoga was Grandma’s mindfulness time and after today, it was well overdue. “Leave her be.”

“I wasn’t going to. Sheesh. So, name. Sally Tracy.” He typed in her name. “Person two?”

“Scott Tracy.” Okay, so Virgil had a bit of a thing about this. His brother deserved acknowledgement for everything he had done.

Gordon glared at him. “And so I guess the rest of us are in age order?”

Virgil flipped his boot over. “Whatever floats your boat, fishboy.” A glance in Scott’s direction and he had to wonder if his brother had fallen asleep, he was that still. The coffee mug in his hand was the only proof of consciousness.

Virgil fought the urge to save it. “Scott, you wanna go to bed?”

“Wha-?” His brother sat up. “I’m fine.” Fortunately, he put the coffee mug down. The chances of Virgil having to treat burns tonight dropped significantly.

“How do you spell ‘Hackenbacker’?”

Virgil did not grace that with an answer as it was obviously a stupid question.

John was apparently on auto as he spouted off the required letters anyway while still staring at his tablet.

Gordon poked at the form in silence for a little while and Virgil wondered what on Earth he was entering. He trusted his brother. This was an official document, after all, but he was still Gordon.

“Okay, guys, I need your information.”

Beside Virgil, Scott ‘woke up’. “What, no questions about Grandma?”

Gordon frowned at his eldest brother. “I’ll have you know that I know our grandmother very well. We have a special kind of relationship.”

Alan snorted.

“What? You got something to say, sprout?” The fish glared at Alan enough to torch him on the spot.

“I’m just saying that after that time with Grandma’s diver’s license, you should know Grandma’s details very well. Her birthdate, her ancestry, her suit measurements…”

A starfish plushie suddenly had a very short career as a ninja star and bounced off Alan’s head. “Shut up, Alan.”

Their little brother only giggled more.

John, still staring at his tablet, raised an eyebrow. “Allie, Grandma baked some cookies yesterday. I think there are still some in the cupboard. Would you like some?”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Alan threw the plushie at his fish brother, missing completely, and went back to playing his game. There was muttering about Gordon making jokes but Alan not being allowed to.

Virgil sighed to himself.

“Scotty, what’s your age? It’s 2060 for reference. Oh, and your gender.”

All signs of sleep fell away and Scott sat up. “Gordon…” It was all warning.

“Hey, I’m just giving you the opportunity to offer an alternative. After all, tonight you look at least fifty-six.”

“I’m thirty-one and you know it.”

Gordon poked at the form. “Thirty-one years young. Got it.”

Scott grunted at him.

“Virg, are we telling the truth this time?”

“Depends on whether you want me to leave you in the ocean next time.” Why the hell couldn’t he get this out of his boot?

“To threat level already, you are grumpy tonight.”

“Gordon…” Virgil echoed Scott from earlier to the note.

“Johnny?”

“No one named ‘Johnny’ lives here.”

Gordon signed. “John Glenn Tracy, how would you like me to record your age?”

“Accurately.”

“Fine.”

“If I say I’m thirty-two, do I get to go higher up on the form?” Alan looked hopeful.

“If you like.” Gordon moved things around on the display.

Virgil gave up. The locality of Tracy Island was destined to be a statistical anomaly anyway. At least it would be an interesting one.

Besides, John would probably hack it later and fix it. The fact he had hardly protested so far was eminent proof of that security factor.

“Scotty, are you the husband or wife of Grandma?”

Scott rubbed his face and didn’t bother to answer, picking up his coffee again and burying his face in it.

Virgil just wished he would go to bed. The man was a zombie.

Gordon took the hint and was quiet for a little while. Virgil went back to tugging on his boot. Maybe he should take this down to his workshop.

The thought of actually working more had his shoulders slumping enough to alert Scott. The concerned and questioning look shot in his direction had Virgil sitting up a little straighter to fend it off.

“John, where should we put your usual place of residence?”

“Here.”

“But you live in space.”

“So do you.”

“Pedantic much?”

“As necessary. Tracy Island is home. Thunderbird Five is merely in our astronomical backyard, not to mention secret.”

Virgil looked up at that. It was a simple statement, but it was good to hear that John still considered Tracy Island home despite his multiple protests over the years.

“Fine. Secret space station wasn’t an option anyway. I could flub it and use Global One but then that would spark all those rumours about you and that captain all over again.”

“Gordon, I can hack your bank accounts.”

“Go for it.”

“I can also hack your fish tanks.”

The aquanaut shot to his feet. “You touch my tanks and you’re dead, spacehead.”

John didn’t react other than to smile just a little.

Their space brother could be a right royal ass when he wanted to be. Virgil sighed. “John, you know the rules.”

He shrugged. “Didn’t break any.”

“You touch my tanks, I’m spicing up your atmosphere on Five. I’m not kidding. I have fart gas resources even you can’t find.” Gordon was still on his feet and actually appeared angry.

John shuddered. “TMI, Gordo. Not interested in your gas capacity, honestly.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Calm down, Gords, John’s not doing anything to your fish tanks. He knows the rules, don’t you, John.” He arched a prompting eyebrow at his brother.

“Never said I didn’t.”

Definitely an ass.

“Gordon, calm down. You can put John’s relationship to you in as ‘nemesis’ if it makes you feel better.”

“I can only put in our relationship to Grandma. I wrote favourite grandson in yours.”

It was Virgil’s turn to shrug. “I’m not going to complain. Sit down and finish the form.”

His brother didn’t answer, but he did sit down, albeit still glaring at John.

John had gone back to his tablet, doing who knew the hell what.

Definitely an ass.

Virgil turned back to Gordon. “What’s the next question, Gords?”

The glare switched to Virgil for a second before turning to the form. “Where were we born?”

“Kansas.”

“I know that. What about Grandma, Brains and Kayo?”

“Space.” Alan said it with triumph.

“What?”

“Where John lives. Isn���t that what the question was?” Alan stared between his brothers.

“Go back to sleep, Alan.”

“Grandma was born in Kansas, Brains was born in India, and Kayo was born here.” Scott proved he was still awake by suddenly providing information enough to make Virgil jump.

Gordon poked at the form, but nothing further was said on that front. Everyone knew Kayo was sensitive about her past, and while she wasn’t in the room, she would find out and partially kill anyone responsible.

“Kayo is here tonight, isn’t she?”

Virgil yanked on his boot again, slipped and managed to elbow Scott in the ribs. His brother grunted.

“Oh, shit, sorry. You okay?” He shoved the boot aside and the pliers along with it.

Scott eyed him and rubbed his side. “That answers your question, Gordon. Kayo is on a conference call with Captain Rigby.”

Virgil glared at Scott.

Gordon eyed the both of them. “Is there something you two aren’t telling the class?”

“Shut up, Gordon.” Virgil glared at Scott a moment longer, enough to have his brother’s expression fall into one of concern. Grabbing his boot again, Virgil went back to wrestling with embedded metal. Damned specialised rubber was amazing when it protected him but when its tolerances were overrun, it was a pain to fix. Maybe he should ask Max to give it a yank. “What entertaining religion are you using this time, Gords?” Any attempt to get the conversation off this topic.

Gordon stared at him a moment, obviously still trying to work out what the hell happened there.

Scott was dead later; Virgil was going to make sure of it. Tired or not, he had crossed a line.

A sideways look in his eldest brother’s direction and it was obvious Scott realised that. Okay, maybe he could let it go. It had been a long day and they were all tired.

Probably should go to bed.

He went back to fighting with his boot.

Gordon was still staring but even the fish knew when to shut up apparently, because the next words out of his mouth were entirely religious.

“I’m worshiping Neptune this year.”

Alan frowned. “I thought you said that last time.”

“Dad wouldn’t let me.”

That brought the whole room to a standstill. Last census was ten years ago. Flashback to that time brought everything that had changed into the bright glaring light. The biggest change being Dad’s absence. But even more, ten years ago they were still based in Kansas, IR was in development, but not yet a reality. Alan was only six, Gords eleven and with his body still intact…it was a completely different time. Virgil was still in college and had to fill in his own census form in Denver.

Gordon broke the looming silence with a determined smile. “This time the government gets the truth. Scott bows to the sky gods, Virg worships molemen, Johnny is a god, and Alan is Satan.

“Hey!” It was said by multiple brothers at once.

Only John remained calm. He even had a smile. “In that case, I want bagels every Sunday.”

“You get bagels every Sunday. Virg sends them up all the time.” Alan glared at his space brother – Alan did not like bagels.

John grinned wider. “I’ll take that as proof that I have at least one faithful worshipper.”

“Next time you can get your own bagels.” Virgil glared at his brother.

Gordon snorted. “Yeah, right, you old softie. John could blow up Two and you’d still send him his bagels.”

Virgil found himself glaring at Gordon again. It seemed to be a theme tonight. “Short pier, long walk, Gordon, go for it.”

He got a smirk for that. “Don’t mind if I do. A little night diving is quite spectacular around here.”

Virgil ignored him and went back to his boot…which he had made zero progress on for all the time he had been sitting here, damnit.

“Does Virgil ever ‘need someone to help with or be with him for self-care, body movement, or communication activities’?” Gordon typed into the form. “Before coffee.”

Virgil ignored him some more as Alan took the bait and snickered. “Better watch it, Gords. Won’t be long before ‘before coffee’ time kicks in. Look at him, he’s already brewing.”

The piece of metal in his boot finally shifted a little. Thank goodness.

“Long term health conditions.” Gordon slumped in his seat. “Well, isn’t this cheerful.”

“Just fill it in, Gordon.” Scott’s words were little more than a sigh.

That left a gaping silence. Gordon tapped a lot at the keyboard filling in far too much. More for himself, obviously, but then there was John and his space issues, and they all had been diagnosed with something on the list hanging above their father’s desk.

Except Alan, who could not be left out. Virgil pretended to not be able to read the word ‘zombification’ next to his little brother’s name.

“Schooling? Oh man, John, you can write all the letters after your name. I can never remember them all.”

“Not a problem.” The astronaut poked at his tablet and the hologram in front of Gordon sprouted half the alphabet.

“Really? Did you get a new one?” He stared at John. “When did you get time for that?”

John shrugged. “Made time.”

“What’s this one for?”

“Oceanography.”

“What?”

“You were in the ocean. I didn’t know enough to help. So I fixed the problem.”

Gordon just stared.

Virgil, of course, knew. He had been the one to field John’s version of panic the day he didn’t know enough to help Gordon. John was practical. He saw a problem, he fixed it. Oceanography wasn’t an obvious topic for the starman, but he was a genius and that genius could be applied where he wished it to be.

If Virgil had found himself helping John at a few points that intersected with his specialities along the way, he was just going to take a little comfort from being able to return the favour after years of borrowing his brother’s brains for other topics.

And besides, it had meant he had been able to spend a little extra time with John. Always a good thing.

Despite him being the occasional ass.

Gordon was still staring. “Is that why you bugged me to take you out in Four?”

John shrugged. “Partly. Didn’t mind spending a bit of time with you either. Good experience to familiarise myself with Four as well.”

The stare continued.

“Be careful you don’t catch any flies with your mouth open.”

The stare became a glare. “We’re talking about this. You and me.”

“Sure.”

Gordon looked like he didn’t know whether to yell at him or run over and hug his brother. Virgil was voting for the latter.

But everything was interrupted by a sudden snore and snort.

Virgil turned to Scott and found his brother startled awake, likely by his own snore.

“Wha-?”

“Scott, you need to go to bed.”

“I’m fine.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Do I need to pick you up and carry you?”

“I’m fine.” He waved Virgil away, sat up straighter and attempted to guzzle whatever was left of his probably cold coffee.

“Idiot.”

“What?”

“Go to bed.”

“No. We need to finish the census.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because I want to.”

“Why?”

“Can you stop that?”

“Can you go to bed?”

“No!”

“You need sleep.”

“I can manage my own health, thank you, Doctor Virgil.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I am an adult.”

“Sometimes.”

“Virgil!”

Gordon let off a loud snort. “That’s it. I’m putting you two in as married.”

“Gordon!” Both of them, in chorus. It was apparently a theme tonight.

“Well, you both argue like an old married couple, what can I do?”

“You can shut up and move onto the next question.”

Gordon poked his tongue out at Scott, but he didn’t stop grinning and Virgil was forced to hold back a smile himself.

Bratty little fish.

He was still smirking when he said, “Employment.”

“Oh god.” Scott sank back onto the couch and rubbed his face with his hands.

There followed a book’s worth of employment activities.

“Rocket surfing is not an occupation, Gordon.” Virgil sighed.

“Why not? Both Scott and Allie surf rockets.”

“Alan rides a rocket sled and Scott is just trying to give me grey hair.”

“Has he succeeded yet?” Bratty fish.

“None of your business.”

“So is International Rescue paid or unpaid work?” Gordon was frowning at the form.

“Unpaid.”  Scott’s tone was sharp.

“So are we unemployed, employed or self-employed?”

“Self-employed.”

“How much do you earn a year, Scotty?”

Their eldest brother paused as if calculating, but then threw up a hand. “Stuffed if I know.”

John snorted and rattled off a number.

“There isn’t enough space for that many zeros here, John.”

“Give me a moment.”

The display in front of Gordon flickered and each of their names received a variety of numbers…except for Alan.

“Hey, how come I don’t have any earnings?”

“You are a minor.” John spoke calmly, as if speaking to a minor.

“But I do stuff for Tracy Industries, I do.”

“All your income is held in trust, you know that.”

“Then who is paying for all that popcorn I bought this morning?”

Scott sighed. “Don’t worry, you’re not going to bust the bank.”

“We own the bank.”

Scott stared at John. “When did we buy a bank?”

“I bought it for your birthday last year but forgot to give it to you.”

“Oh.”

“I’m writing obscenely rich next to all our names. Oh, except for you, Allie. You’re a pauper.”

“Hey! You suck, Fishbrain.”

“Remember who might need to lend you money in the next couple of years…”

“While Gordon remembers who lent him money in the past, who still helps him with his finances, and who also is the one to fish him out of the ocean after every mission.” Virgil pinned Gordon with his eyes.

Gordon blinked. “You have a point.” A pause as a smile crept over his face. “Who was that again?”

The hologram of the census form wobbled as a lounge cushion flew through it and hit Gordon squarely in the face.

“Right on target. Hmm, I’ve still got it.” Scott blew imaginary smoke off a finger gun.

Unfortunately, Scott may have still had it, but he wasn’t the best marksman on this census form. The cushion rebounded via aquanaut and hit Scott squarely in the face with an oomph.

This forced both Virgil and Alan to come to his defence and for a full ten minutes after that, it was an all-out pillow fight between the brothers. Even John was drawn in as Gordon came up behind him and tried to stuff one down the back of his shirt.

Which wasn’t advisable since his gravity support was still in play. But then John was king of the noogie and immediately grabbed a head full of strawberry blond hair, dragged it down onto the couch beside him and made sure it received the full-on noogie treatment.

Gordon did squawk quite a bit.

An extreme one-on-one joust erupted between Scott and Alan. It was that determined that Virgil had to back out. Alan, being the terrier he was, managed to get Scott on his back on the lounge and sat on him pummelling him with pillows.

Virgil had suspicions that the game was rigged.

In any case, he had to find somewhere else to sit and tinker with his boot.

Eventually, Gordon found his way back to the census form. Scott was still on his back and apparently Alan had decided he preferred that his big brother stay that way by sitting on him and playing his computer game. Scott at least had a remaining cushion under his head, but one foot had taken out a pot plant and the other was hanging over the back of the sofa. His brother really was too tall for lying on the seating arrangements, but he didn’t seem to care.

With a bit of luck he might fall asleep.

“Okay, let’s finish this. How did you get to work today?” Gordon grunted. “This form has no rockets, planes, submarines or space elevators on it.”

“Tick the ‘other’ box and let them work it out.” John let out a yawn.

Virgil eyed him.

John screwed up his face and poked out his tongue.

Wha-“ Virgil blinked.

“Hey, Virg, how many hours did you work last week?”

That distracted him enough to turn to Gordon. “How the hell do I know?”

“You worked them. I bet you know your flight hours.”

“Today’s. Not last week. That was last week.”

“Eos, send Gordon last week’s record?”

The AI chimed in at her father’s request. “Yes, John.”

Another document appeared in front of Gordon. “Wow, that much? Really?”

“The documentation is correct as recorded.” Eos sounded a little miffed. But then she never particularly liked Gordon on the best of days.

His fault, of course.

“Virg, you win, but only by a bit over Scott and that was because he twisted his ankle on Monday.”

“Sprained, you mean.”

“Twisted.” It came from the couch and was strangled by a little brother.

“Sprained. He should have been off for several days, but he’s an idiot.”

“You can’t talk, Mr Bruised-not-cracked.”

“At least I’m not Cracked-not-broken.”

“Sure.”

Scott might have said more but Alan whacked him with a pillow. “You guys are idiots. Gords, John and I are lucky our grey hairs don’t show.” Alan growled. “I’m sixteen, for crying out loud, and I know more about hospitals than I ever wanted to. Look after yourselves, you morons.”

Silence hit the room again.

“Way to go, Allie. You tell ‘em.” Gordon’s words were honest.

Of course, Scott was devastated and immediately questioning all his life choices. Virgil wasn’t far behind, but Scott, in particular had a sensitive spot where Alan was concerned.

“Hey.” He reached out a hand and rested it on their little brother’s arm. “Talk to me, Allie.”

Alan growled again. “I’m fine as long as you two look after yourselves. We kinda need you, you know.”

Scott grabbed his little brother and dragged him down into a hug. “I’m sorry.”

Virgil sat with his boot in his lap needing to grab both his brothers but not wanting to interrupt their moment.

He shouldn’t have worried. A second later Gordon jumped over the back of the couch, landed beside him and grabbed him, dragging him sideways into an oomph of a hug. “Don’t worry, my dear wingman, we still love you even if you are an idiot.”

“Gordon…”

“Admit it, you want a hug.”

“Shut up.”

Gordon didn’t say anything further, but he did squeeze tighter.

“When you get to the questions on whether any of us looked after children, Gordon, tick yes for all of us.” John’s tone was as dry as a desert.

“Will do.” Gordon grinned at him.

Scott actually fell asleep after that. It was about time. Apparently, Alan made a great teddy bear.

Alan grumbled about that for days, but Virgil knew his little brother treasured his relationship with Scott and the fact he fell asleep as well was rather telling.

But that fact pretty much ended the census form filling for that night.

The next morning saw all of them out on an earthquake and it wasn’t until two days later that Gordon realised they hadn’t submitted the form.

Grabbing Scott and Virgil, he ran them through the last of the questions, landing on the definitions of their dwelling.

“How many registered motor vehicles do we have at this dwelling?”

“Er, none? We have no roads.” Virgil frowned at the obvious answer.

“Three rockets, two planes and a submarine don’t count?”

An arched eyebrow. “Does it say anything about planes? Tracy Two and Three are registered in Aotearoa.”

“Aotearoa is not the United States.”

“But they are still registered.”

Scott sighed. “Read the form properly, guys. It says exclude heavy vehicles.”

“Well, that strikes Virg off the list, but your ‘bird’s a pansy.”

That earned Gordon a mocking whack up the back of the head.

“Gords, just write zero. The intent is there.”

“Fine. We have no motor vehicles. Stupid form.” A sigh. “Okay, how many bedrooms do we have?”

Scott answered that one. “Ten.”

“I thought it was twelve.”

“One went to an art studio and the other to a music recording room.”

Gordon glared at Virgil. “Way to take over the house, bro.”

“And how many fish tanks do you have in how many rooms? Not to mention the chunk of vegetable garden we had to sacrifice for Rover’s pond?”

“Leave Rover out of this. That wasn’t his fault.”

Virgil snorted. “Not his.”

“Shut up.”

Scott sighed again. “We have ten bedrooms.” He scanned the rest of the form, which thankfully wasn’t very long. “We own the place outright, and yes, they can archive our information for our grandkids to access. Tick the boxes and get this sent so I can go get some lunch.”

“Yes, Commander.”

Scott growled but Gordon ignored him.

Boxes all ticked, he hit the submit button.

“This form has already been submitted. You may not submit it again.” Underneath was the date of the day before census night. “What the hell? How could we open it if - ” Scott hit his comms. “John!”

John’s hologram flickered up beside the misbehaving census form. “I’m between a hurricane in Bermuda and an avalanche in the Pyrenees. How may I help you?”

“What?!”

“Oh, the census form. Eos submitted that three days ago.” Their space brother was distracted a moment out of pick up range as Scott’s jaw dropped. “Needed to get it done before Gordon got his hands on it. Besides, we can’t guarantee we wouldn’t have been called out anyway, so I got it done beforehand.”

“Then why the hell were we going through the damned thing on census night?”

John blinked. “You had fun, didn’t you? We shared an evening together.”

Virgil joined both his brothers at staring at John.

The astronaut just smirked back at them. “You did a great job, Gordon. Thanks.” The smirk turned into a grin. “Thunderbird Five out.” His hologram disappeared.

Scott’s face curdled. “I’m going to kill him.”

Virgil let his shoulders drop and sighed. “You said that last time he did something like this, and he’s still kicking.”

“I’m soaking his underwear in saltwater.” Gordon had that fire in his eyes that usually preceded a Tracy Island Armageddon.

“Gords…”

“He played me, Virg. He knew what I would do and played me. He thinks I’m predictable!”

“Yeah, but he obviously did it for the right reasons.”

Virgil found himself the target of two glares. “What? You want a group hug or something? C’mere.” And he grabbed the both of them, wrapping his arms around them. “Happy Census Night.”

The grumbling was worth it.

-o-o-o-

[chocolate1721]

I haven’t seen a lot of the class touring Arkham fics anymore, so here’s my prompt. Ok more salt and rogue trying to adopt Marinette.

So the class is touring Arkham. They were walking through the cafeteria or recreation room, their guide was rushing them because the inmates are due to come any minute. Lila slows down and trips Marinette, then she kicks Marinette’s sketchbook across the room. The class leave Marinette behind while she is scrambling for her book. When she looks up she finds two of Gotham’s Rogues in front of her.

Harley and Ivy weren’t expecting to have anything exciting to happen. There has been gossip about a foreign class touring Arkham, but other than that it’s been pretty quiet. They walked into the recreation room and froze. There is a child there. There is a child by herself there. They immediately went over to her, and they saw shock in her eyes when she saw them.

“Hey there girlie whatcha doing here by yourself?” Harley asks her gently.

“Uhm, my class and I are on a tour, but it looks like they forgot me.”

Harley and Ivy steered her towards an abandoned sofa and sat on either side of her. They soon got her to spill what’s happened. Harley went into ‘therapist’ mode. Marinette didn’t know how long she was talking about her problems, but she soon had her head in Harley’s lap while Harley strokes her hair.

Once all of the tears have been shed. Marinette showed them her designs. Some based on Gotham architecture, some based on the vigilantes, finally presenting outfits based on them. Ivy and Marinette start talking about making an eco friendly fabric. Harley knoticed what time it is and walks over to the door. She bangs on it a few times to get someone’s attention.

[[More]]

“What is it?”

“You know that French tour from earlier?”

“Yeah what about it?”

Harley moves enough for him to see Marinette talking passionately with Ivy. “I think that left someone behind.”

The worker pales drastically. They ran like a bat outta hell to get their superiors. This news ran up the chain of command until it got to Gordon.

Gordon was having a stressful evening. The Joker recently escaped, there were more muggings this past week than usual, and now he gets a call from Arkham. Only telling him to get over there as fast as possible. Not knowing what he is going up against he called Batman.

Batman and Red Hood arrived at Arkham. As they approach Gordon to see what’s going on they hear a worker panically describing how he found a French child in the room surrounded by the inmates. Red Hood demands to know which room. Once getting the info they both rush to the room. They were expecting the worse: torturing, beatings, crying. What they were NOT expecting is a small French girl braiding Poison Ivy’s hair while having Harley Quinn braid her own hair.

“The riddler should be shot and his clothes should be burned, then the ashes have to be scattered at the four corners of the world. The different shade of green on that man is more than a forest. Like, having a green themed outfit is fine. Wearing it everyday is fine. But what is NOT FINE is whereing every shade of green PLUS purple question marks. It’s like he’s asking to be slapped!” Marinette ranted.

Red Hood grabbed Batman’s shoulder and pulled him out of the room. He turned fully to Batman, placing both hands on his shoulders, he started shouting. “YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO ADOPT HER! DO YOU HEAR ME! SHE IS TOO PURE AND INNOCENT! I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO CORRUPT HER!”

Batman just brushes him off and (glides? Shadow melts? Skulks?) into the room.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but may I ask what is going on?”

Marinette yelps in suprise. Spinning around to come face-to-face with the dark knight himself. “Uh-um-I-I-I-“

“She won a scholarship for her class. They were taking a tour today and left her behind. She said she has been bullied by the class for a while, and there is this one girl lying about everything.” Harley intervened for Marinette.

“Hmmm, you won the Martha Wayne scholarship?” Marinette nods shyly. Batman kneels down to be eye level with Mari. “What’s your name?”

Marinette looks at him and smiles brightly. “My name’s Marinette.”

After being dazzled by her bright, sunshine smile. (Red Hood is in the background being the dramatic ass he is shielding his eyes and yelling “TOO BRIGHT”) Batman then speaks up. “Your class wasn’t supposed to tour Arkham.”

Marinette freezes. “I’m sorry, what?!”

“Arkham is far too dangerous to tour. Who decided that the class was to come her.” Batman questioned her as they walked towards the door.

Before she could answer Harley interrupted. “Oi, Batsy! You can’t adopt her! She is our baby!”

“That isn’t up to you Harley.” Batman retorted.

“I told you earlier Bats, you’re not adopting another one” Hood spoke up.

“B-b-but I already have parents” Marinette informs them.

“It’s ok sweet pea we adopted you emotionally.” Ivy soothes.

“Ok let’s go inform Gordon what happened.” Red Hood directs her to the commissioner while Batman stepped away to make a few calls. He then calls Marinette’s parents, and tells them what happened. They give him permission to watch over their daughter.

By the time he walks back to where Marinette is, both her and Red Hood are ready to go. Hood helps Marinette into the back of the Batmobile, then climbs in next to Batman. Batman then turns to Marinette. “I called Mr. Wayne and informed him of what happened. He told me to bring you to his house, he wants to know what made yours class think you had a to of Arkham.”

“Thank you Mr. Batman.”

Marinette gets out of the batmobile and meets Alfred at the door. Batman calls Red Robin. “Red Robin I want you to find out why the class went to Arkham today.”

“10-4 B”.

By the time everyone returned from the cave Red Robin had what he needed.

“So it turns out one of the students made a fake email, under your name and told the teacher that they had a tour that was left off of the schedule. Then sent an email to Arkham to have them expect them.”

“Who was the student?”

“A Lila Rossi.”

“Hmmmm it seems like we will have to keep an eye on the situation.”

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

Ok so now it’s a few days later and the class is at Wayne Enterprise taking a tour. When the Riddler suddenly takes them hostage.

“Which one of you is Marinette?” Riddlers demanded

The class has no hesitation when pushing Marinette into the him. Marinette quickly regains her balance and squared up to him.

“What do you want with me.”

The Riddler gets close to her face in a dramatically scary way. Then quickly backs up and shows off his outfit. “I heard you don’t think I’m stylish.”

This is all the invitation that Marinete needed. She lays into him. No mercy.

“Absolutely. It’s worse in person than in the pictures!”

The Riddler gasps dramatically. “How dare-“

“Oh I dare. I dare I can redesign your entire wardrobe and make it look 10 times better.”

As all the hostages are being saved the class tries to leave, only to be stopped by an officer.

“Ma’am I’m sorry but you have to stay and give your statements.”

Bustier was insisting that it was too dangerous for them to stay there. If the police want their statements then they can come to their hotel and get them. The officer motions to the bus driver to not leave. The bus driver is more than happy to stay put. He is sick and tired of this ungrateful class.

Not too long after, Marinette and the Riddler walk out. The Riddler looks excited about his new clothes. He is so ready he heads straight to Gordon. He asks Gordon if he can have a package delivered to Arkham. Gordon is suspicious until Marinette shows him her designs. Gordon agrees.

As everyone is giving their statements Lois Lane arrives. Alya is extatic, she thanks Lila for getting her an interview with her idol. Only to turn around and see her idol interviewing Marinette.

Lois marches towards the girl who seems to be at the center of all this. A small girl standing next to the Riddler. She approaches her and asks for an interview. The girl agrees but apologizes in advance for any miscommunication between them. Lois asks her what happened. Marinette explained how the Riddler came to see if she really didn’t like his clothes and how she ended up redesigning them.

“But how would he know you didn’t like them?”

“Maybe Aunt Harley and Aunt Ivy told him?” Marinette shrugs.

“Wait! As in Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy?! How do you know them?!”

“Oh we met when my class left me behind in Arkham.” Marinette says nonchalantly.

Everyone around them freezes.

Caline quickly comes over and starts telling Lois that “you can’t trust everything she says. We are from France, so she most likely misunderstood you.” She continues to try and pass of Marinette as incompetent, troubled, attention seeking, and being a bad role model for the other students. All of this is caught on camera.

Bustier then roughly guides Marinette back to the class.

As Lois is processing this, the officer that stopped the class from leaving came over and explained what the class did. Leaving that same student behind in a hostage situation, then demanding to leave. Lois is horrified.

Both she and the officer go to Gordon and ask if they can use the body cameras of the officers there in the story.

Gordon immediately agrees. Once he knows why.

The story ran that very night.

[lakesandquarries]

Tangled Up - Chapter Two

oh, i’m gonna mess this up

Benrey’s spent 26 years living in a tower - 27, tomorrow. When a thief breaks into his tower, he finds his chance to escape and takes it.

Alternatively: Tangled, but the AI is self aware.

(featuring art by @kenas-artstuff​ )

Notes: check ao3 for warnings and tags! “kane radio” is just gordon using a fake name. fic title from “tangled up” by caro emerald, chapter title from “shots” by imagine dragons.

AO3 Link

It’s nice to be back at Black Mesa. Well, mostly nice. Gordon shuts the door behind Benrey only to immediately spot a wanted poster, the only thing making it unrecognizable a bizarre mullet. Do people seriously think he looks like that??

“Hey, Mr. Radio!” a voice calls from behind the counter. Kane rips the paper off the door, rushing across the room. 

“Hi Darnold it’s great to see you shut the fuck up please -”

And that’s when he gets grabbed from behind. He barely sees Darnold’s eyes widen before he’s spun around, now facing an absolute mountain of a man. Behind him, he hears Darnold slap something - his forehead, probably - and mutter a quiet. “oh, right.”

He loves Darnold, he really does. Being friends with someone since you were kids will do that. Right now, though, he kind of wants to throttle him.

“Kane Radio, hm?” the main holding him says, ripping the wanted poster out of his hands. The thief glances around awkwardly, his eyes finally falling onto Benrey struggling to pull his hair back into his possession. 

"H-hey, he'd appreciate his hair not being touched, guys!", Kane exclaimed, to help his partner as well as pull away from his attention. It works for a moment, as Benrey tugs the last strands of hair away and marches up to the guy holding Kane, unintimidated despite the height difference.

“Hey,” Benrey says quietly as he walks up next to the man. “Put him down? Please and thank you?”

Mountain man snorts. “Not likely. I need the reward money. Hey, you! Go get the guards!”

One of the other men nods, slipping out of the tavern as an argument breaks out. Kane is pushed and pulled, various thugs grabbing him and insisting they need the money, they deserve it most, as the bar descends into chaos.

A loud, meaty thwack! breaks up the argument. Kane’s dropped on his ass, and when he looks up, Benrey has his crowbar against Mountain man’s arm. “I said put him down.”

Kane rolls off to the side, dodging another man’s grabbing hands, and stands up so he can dart back over to Benrey and push him out of the way. “Hey, appreciate that, don’t get me wrong, but - Benrey, what the fuck?”

Behind the counter Darnold is glaring, grabbing a cup and a spoon to try and get everyone’s attention. Black Mesa housed a fighting ring once upon a time, but that got stopped when Darnold took over. It doesn’t matter now - even with Darnold yelling, everyone’s too riled up. Kane has to duck down to avoid a punch, only to immediately get kicked in the face. A hand grabs his arm and he swings instinctively, stopping at the last second when he realizes it’s just Benrey, pulling him off to the side.

“What the fuck,” Kane repeats.

“Being polite didn’t work,” is Benrey’s only explanation.

Darnold is still yelling, trying desperately to get some sense of calm as the crowd beats the shit out of each other. And then - just as quick as it started, it’s over. Screams dissolve into laughter as the assembled patrons dust themselves off, seemingly satisfied with the amount of violence they've had. 

"It's been too long since we've had a fight like that," Mountain man says. "Nice job."

Benrey blinks up at him. "Whuh?"

Gordon agrees with him. Wiping blood from his nose, he mutters a quiet “What?” as well.

“Should’ve been longer,” Darnold complains. “You know I hate this kind of behavior! I have half a mind to throw you all out.”

"We'll clean it up, Danny, don't worry,” another, very skinny guy cheerfully responds, followed by a roar of laughter.

“Darnold,” the bartender corrects sharply as he sets to cleaning the place up, picking up overturned chairs and mopping up spills and sweeping up broken glass. 

Turning back to Mountain man, Kane asks, "Just to be clear. Does this mean you won't tear me and my friend apart anymore?"

“Are you kidding? That’s the most fun I’ve had in years! Darnold never lets us do stuff like that. Real shame, considering how this place st -“

He’s cut off by someone slamming the door open. “I brought the guards!”

Apparently ten seconds of peace is the max he’s allowed. “Shit shit shit,” Kane wheezes, grabbing Benrey’s arm as Darnold directs them behind the door. The massive dog from earlier, the one who had chased him through the forest and up Benrey’s tower, is here. And it’s pissed. Kane’s heart drops as he watches it sniff around, following the trail of his footsteps.

Darnold pulls on a lever, revealing a ramp down into a stone tunnel. “You’re lucky you’re my friend,” he says as he ushers them through it. Benrey hesitates, but Kane pulls him through anyway, into some kind of cave system. The walls are dark stone, rough and natural. This is something old, and hopefully, it’ll cover them. 

He exhales slowly, adrenaline still rushing through him. “Shit,” he mutters again. “That was close.”

“Who were those guys?” Benrey asks. The raccoon on his shoulder chirps.

“Guards. Royal guards. They, uh….they don’t like me much.”

“You stole something?” 

“Big something.”

Benrey nods, apparently satisfied with the answer. The raccoon chirps again, and Benrey mumbles something in response to it. Because his day is just going so normally, he needs to listen to his weird...escort mission talk to his fucking raccoon as they run from guards.

Metal clanks behind them, and Kane picks up the pace, until he’s running down the tunnel. It opens into a cliffside, with no way down. “Fuck!”

“There’s a guy down there,” Benrey points out, and Kane bites back another string of curses when he realizes it’s fucking Forzen. He’d abandoned him after stealing the royal helmet. Betrayal’s nothing new between them, but this is recent enough that Forzen’s probably still pissed.

“That’s Forzen. He doesn’t like me much either.”

It’s then that the guards burst out of the tunnel and several things happen all at once. Benrey shoves his crowbar at Kane, and before he can question why Benrey is giving him his only weapon, he’s tossing his hair across the canyon like a grappling hook and running off the ledge.

Before he can even ask why Benrey would possibly give him his only weapon, he watches in horror as his partner takes flight. He doesn’t have time to check if Benrey’s alright - the guards are on his ass. The crowbar makes a satisfying thwack! as he swings it, taking down the guards in barely an instant. “Fuck, this is handy. Need to get me one of these!” Kane comments to himself, looking to see who’s left. One opponent remains - the dog, who is now holding a sword.

Because his day just cannot get any fucking weirder.

“You should know this is the weirdest thing I have ever fucking done!” Kane yells to Benrey, as he battles the dog, sword to crowbar, until the dog knocks it right out of his hands and down the cliff. “Two out of three?”

A lock of black hair wraps around his hand. Kane grins, giving the dog a salute as he’s pulled into a free fall. “Ha! Get fuc - hhhh.” His words dissolve into a wheeze, as his trajectory slams him into an exposed beam, knocking the wind out of him.

Kane, struggling to get a grip of himself, only just manages to hold on to Benrey while he swings down with his support. His feet connect with the water pipes, sliding down unsteadily as they collapse underneath him, and then the entire dam breaks. It happens in a flash, an enormous amount of water - it feels like the whole ocean when Kane glances back - pouring down into the valley. Rocks fall, the last of the wooden constructions collapsing. With a couple of leaps, Kane reaches an already running Benrey, and scoops up the last bit of his hair flailing behind him. "Benrey! Benrey, into the cave!" he shouts, hoping the other would get understand the general direction they have to run.

---

Benrey grabs the crowbar as he darts after Kane, barely avoiding getting crushed by the massive rock that comes crashing down and seals them into the cave. The walls are stone, not like the bricks of his tower but a random arrangement of rocks and boulders forming a lumpy wall. There’s a puddle of water on the floor, only as he looks it starts to grow, up over Benrey’s feet, his legs, creeping higher and higher. He looks around the cave frantically, spotting the trickles of water coming in past the rock that sealed them in. The only obvious opening, but the water is like another force behind it, pressing it shut like Benrey used to try and hold his door shut. The rock is stronger than him. No matter how hard he slams with his crowbar, there’s not even a dent. He turns his attention to the rest of the cave, alternately smashing and prying at the walls, but they hold firm. There’s nothing. Not a single loose rock, nothing resembling a weak point, not even a crack he can widen into an exit. 

The water’s at his waist now. His breathing sharpens, small panicked inhales as he realizes there’s no way out. They’re trapped, with water climbing higher and higher. The water is murky, making the already dim space feel smaller and darker with each second. 

Zeki was right. Kane’s gonna die here with him in this stupid fucking cave, all because Benrey wanted to see some lights.

“This is all my fault,” he mumbles, tugging on a strand of hair. “I never should’ve - she was right, this whole time, I just -“ 

Kane’s hands grip his shoulders, firm but gentle, forcing him to look at the thief’s face. "Benrey, don't blame yourself. Sometimes things go bad...that's how life works. It's - it's gonna be ok." In a different context it might be comforting. Right now, they’re about to die, and Kane’s voice is shaking.

Benrey’s voice is choked when he responds. “I’m sorry, Kane.”

"Gordon.” Benrey tilts his head, and Kane drops his hands from his shoulders with a sigh. “It's - my real name is Gordon Freeman. I made up Kane. You might as well know it now."

“Feetman?” Benrey asks with a shaky smile.

“If we weren’t trapped in a cave I’d hit you with your crowbar,” Kane - Gordon? - Gordon says. For the briefest of seconds, he smiles at Benrey. 

“I, uh. I have magic hair that glows when I sing,” he says. Keeping a secret doesn’t matter when they’re both about to die. Gordon furrows his brows, looking questioningly at Benrey, and a sudden burst of inspiration hits as he repeats himself. “I have - oh shit!” He starts singing, voice shakier than normal as he races through the song. “Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine -“ The water is still rising, and maybe it’s his imagination but it feels even faster. “Make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine -”

The last line gets cut off as the water fills the cave completely. He’s never tried singing underwater before, and for a moment he’s terrified it won’t work - and then his hair lights up, a bright neon teal, illuminating the cave. Gordon swims down to the bottom, pushing aside rocks desperately. He finds one that’s loose enough, dislodging it, and the rest follow suit. The wall starts to crumble before collapsing completely, launching the two of them into a river, the current quickly sweeping them downstream and onto a grassy bank. 

Benrey drags himself out, flopping limply onto the grass, taking deep breaths as he stares up at the sky. “We’re alive,” he breathes, looking over at Gordon. He likes that name better, now that he has a spare moment to think about it. Laughter bubbles up out of him, along with bright yellow-green. Olive means I’m glad to be alive.

Beside him, Gordon is less chill, elbows on the grass and hands in his hair. “His hair glows,” he’s mumbling. “He - hhh - his hair? Glowing - glowy shit - people don’t glow!” From there his words just get more and more incoherent as he stares at the ground.

With a huff, Benrey stands up, starting to squeeze the water out of his hair. Jefferem shakes himself dry, splashing water onto Gordon. “You good?” Benrey asks.

“Am I - are you good?? What the fuck was that? How long have you been - ow, fuck -” He pulls his right hand close to himself, and when he holds it out again Benrey sees blood, bright red against the brown skin. He must’ve cut himself on a rock or something. 

Benrey offers a hand to help Gordon get up, so he doesn’t put pressure on the injured one. “Lets, uh. Find somewhere to dry off first and then we can play 20 questions?” Or, maybe, if he stalls long enough, Gordon will forget whatever he wants to ask and Benrey can keep pretending like he’s a person.

[stillbandofbrothersthirsty]

I feel like Harry doesn’t get enough love and attention in the fandom 🥲 and since it is The Summer of Harry, could we get a small fic or headcanons about being best friends with Harry and getting into shenanigans with him?

xoxo

Omg yesss I love Harry, I agree he does not get enough love!!!

Here’s my unsolicited preamble: I truly adore him. In all honesty he’s the character I relate to most, personality wise. SO I had to do both a few headcanon’s and then a short lil fic that played those out. Not sure if this was exactly what you had in mind but this is what I picture being besties with Welsh would be like :) (p.s. sorry for any typos, I didn't do a lot of re-reading and I'm dyslexic sooo free pass)

- I feel like Welsh would be a very affectionate and physical love kind of friend because he seems really sure in his body language and physical space.

- He would be the kind of bestie you could cuddle with without any sort of apprehension over it being anything more than friendship.

- Welsh is the kind of friend that will lead you straight into trouble but charm your guys’ way right out of it.

- Welsh is the kind of friend to give really good advice but never the kind to pressure you or judge you if you don’t take his advice.

- At the same time he’s a bit of a hot mess himself but in such a confident, surly way that keeps him from becoming a basket case. Which means he’s not an exhausting friend to have. He gives energy to his friends.

There was a good chance that those who didn’t know you and Harry well would assume you had a flirtationship. Everyone knew about Kitty, especially after three months of having Harry as an Easy Company officer. So a judgmental look from an onlooking stranger wasn’t uncommon. But those who knew you well knew things could not be more platonic between you two. You and Harry had bonded from the beginning; like long-lost twins. You filled in each other’s gaps. You met each other note for note in every situation, from teasing Winters to sobering conversations about core values. Most dangerously, you fed off of each other’s mischief (much to Winters’ chagrin). That night wasn’t much different from the many you shared with Harry. The difference was that it was preceded by a particularly terrible day.

You were exhausted by the day's work. You had had the privilege of being singled out by Sobel who had berated you at length without real cause. You had very little energy to do anything except take a shower and go to bed. But it was a Friday, and Harry wasn’t about to let you get away with that.

“Good evening!” Harry skipped through the doorway of your barrack. He was cleaned up and dressed neatly in his khaki uniform.

“Hi Harry,” you said unenthusiastically from where you were stretched out.

“What’s up, cookie?” he kicked the side of your cot, trying to elicit a jolt of action from you.

“Crappy day.”

“Well come out and we’ll at least make sure it ends well.”

“Not in the mood.”

“Aw come on,” Harry whined, “I want to go have fun.”

“I’m in a bad mood, Harry,” you protested.

“Who put the bee in your bonnet?” he sat down beside you.

You wriggled slightly out of the way to make room for him. “Sobel.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “the guy’s a yuck, don’t let him ruin your night.

“Too late.” You knew you were just being a brat at this point. But Harry knew he was going to win you over.

“Come on, you’re getting up and we’re gonna have a great night. Dick’s coming out for an hour or so, you can’t miss that.”

“Is he drinking?” you sat up in shock.

Harry huffed, “pff, no, of course not. Still, it’ll be good to chat with him. Come on, get up.”

The pub was full of soldiers from all of the Airborne companies. Harry was leading you to the bar when you spotted him, Sobel.

“The hell is he doing here?” You asked.

Harry followed your eye line. “Gross,” he muttered, “come on.” He pushed forward.

“Harry,” you said reluctantly.

“Trust me,” he grinned mischievously. You recognised that glint in his eye and you couldn’t help but smile in excitement.

“Captain,” Harry addressed Sobel formally as he approached. The haughty officer barely acknowledged them with a nod but Harry began to spin his web.

“So rowdy in here,” he leaned on the bar conspiratorially, “so much reckless drinking.” He paused to make sure you were in on the conversation. “We were just discussing how drinking should only be done in fine taste, with quality liquor.” Sobel seemed to be listening despite his silence.

“We were,” you jumped in, “the ability to appreciate quality is a mark of superiority.” You matched Harry’s buttery tone, careful not to appear too direct with Sobel.

“That’s why Colonel Sink has all those beautifully decanted scotches in his office! Have you seen those?” Harry directed to you, across Sobel.

“Beautiful!” you enthused.

You two let those words hang there. Sobel had obviously taken in your words, you wanted them to settle.

“Anyways,” Harry said cheerfully, “can I buy you a drink, Captain?”

“Oh uh-,” Sobel stumbled, “I uh-,”

“I’m gonna get your strongest scotch, neat please,” Harry grinned charmingly at the bartender. Then he turned to Sobel, “should I make that two?” There was a challenging look in your friend's eye. You suppressed a grin but relished in the situation.

“Sure,” Sobel said curtly, then as an afterthought he turned to you, “are you getting one?” Had it been anyone else it would’ve considered him thoughtful.

“Oh no,” you said you said nonchalantly, “can’t stand the stuff. It’s wicked strong.” You swelled with sadistic delight as you watched Sobel’s eyes widen in fear.

“Cheers!” Harry handed the officer the dark brown drink with a mischievous smile.

To Sobel’s credit, he did take a generous sip of the liquor with only the slightest of flinches.

The two of you posted up at a table with Winters, Nixon, and a few of the other officers who had distanced themselves from the enlisted men. You sat chatting and drinking and generally having a good time. After a drink or two, you spotted Joe Liebgott in the crowd. He smiled over his drink at you and you couldn’t help but smile coyly back. He always seemed to catch your eye on nights out. Though nothing ever came from it you enjoyed the attention from the handsome man.

Welsh caught the exchange between you and Joe. “That boy is trouble.”

“What? I thought you liked Joe!”

“I do, great soldier.”

“But trouble?” you asked jokingly.

“Yeah, part of why I like him. Why don’t you go for someone sweet?” Harry scanned the crowd, “like Carwood?”

“Lipton’s married, Harry.”

“Oh right, Shifty then!”

You sighed, “you know I adore Shifty but..”

“You’re right, he’s too sweet for you. Better stick with, Joe.”

You and Harry stared at each other until you both broke into laughs.

“Thanks for the romantic advice,” you teased.

“Anytime,” Harry laughed into his drink.

The night progressed. Winters left early and eventually, Nixon retired as well. Soon enough, you and Harry were left alone at a table playing tiddlywinks with coins. Between the alcohol and the company, you were feeling good. The pains of the day had melted away.

Smokey Gordon, with the assistance of George Luz, began to lead the crowd of soldiers in song. It was a darkly humoured Irish ballad that Harry seemed to know well. From beside you at your table he belted out the words off-pitch, a cigarette burning away between his fingers, momentarily forgotten.

“You’re shit!” you laughed over the music, “you’re a terrible singer!”

Harry paused quickly to say, “shut up, I’m singing,” before launching his voice back into the chorus.

You laughed as the Easy Company men wrapped up their song in cheers. You smiled to yourself, grateful to be a part of such a great group of men.

You were feeling intoxicated late into the evening but nowhere near as intoxicated as Harry. He had had a fair amount to drink but luckily he held his alcohol well. He wasn’t a sloppy, sick or angry drunk. The alcohol only exacerbated his most questionable traits; characteristics you had grown to appreciate.

“You hungry?” you asked him as he polished off another beer.

“I can always eat,” he responded.

“Do you think they’ll serve us something here?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said, “I bet they’ve closed the kitchen. Probably hours ago!”

You eyed the bar. Things had died down slightly. Many people had gone home and the patrons who hadn’t were losing their energy. Conversational groups furnished with half drunk pints peppered the pub. “I bet we can make them serve us something. Surely something!” you said.

Harry looked deep in thought before saying, “you know, you’re right.”

“What’s the harm in asking?” you said with an alcohol-induced sense of confidence.

“You’re right! Let’s go!” Harry pulled you up from the table and the two of you made for the bar.

Harry leaned across the wood counter. “Can we get anything to eat? One of those pies maybe?” he asked the bartender.

“Ooh or eggs and bacon!” You interject. The thought of breakfast made your stomach rumble.

“Oh yeah, that sounds really good! Good call,” Harry turned his attention back to the exasperated bartender, “can we can some eggs and bacon please?”

“You think I got bacon?” The bartender asked dryly. “It’s midnight…during a war,” he explained like he was talking to idiots, which he kind of was.

“Mm good point,” you were quickly defeated in your inebriated state.

“Ah come on, Fred,” Harry said, “I know you have food! Please, for one of your most loyal patrons.”

It was true, Harry was a loyal customer. He had quickly become a regular at this pub. You had dragged him off a barstool more than a few times when he was meant to be elsewhere.

The bartender Fred eyed the grinning, gap-toothed man. “Fine, but you gotta eat it in the back. I don’t want everyone seeing I’m serving food or they’ll all want some.”

“Ah thank you Fred!” You thanked him exuberantly. He shot you both a stern look as you scrambled around the bar.

You two of you waited patiently perched upon apple crates in the back kitchen as Fred fried you up a couple of eggs and slices of ham. It wasn’t exactly bacon but it hit the spot. You had never tasted anything so good in your life.

“I could eat this for the rest of my life,” Harry said through a mouthful of food.

“Mm s’good,” you responded with equal impropriety. You swallowed, “thanks for forcing me out Harry.”

“Aw,” Harry wrapped an arm around your neck and gave you a sloppy kiss on the forehead, “anytime, cookie.”

[lastwagontrainhopper]

A little help goes a long way

I managed to finish this fic just in time before the end of pride, woohoo!

Summary:  

"Riza sighed and put her pastry down on the table. She looked him straight in the eye.

“I thought we had agreed, Colonel,” she said slowly, “on the fact that we do not have the same taste in women.” "

--

Roy is determined to find someone worthy of his Lieutenant.

(aka even when Riza and Roy are not together, they're still the otp)

Words: 2997

Tags: Royai ,Sort of?, Banter, Fluff and Humor, with just the tiniest speck of angst, Friendship, Riza is gay, Roy is an ally, They Gossip

read on aot

"Other than that, I spend most of my time helping out at my father's metalworking company. Do you know Gordon Industry? "

A few seconds went by before Riza realized she had been asked a question.

She took a long sip of wine to hide her surprise and promptly turned her attention to the young man in the brown suit who stood beside her. Casually leaning against the counter of the bar, he held a glass of whiskey in his left hand, a cigarette on the other.

"No, I’m not familiar," Riza finally replied with a contrite smile. "But I have to admit that, um, metalworking isn’t really a passion of mine."

The young man’s eyebrow shot up in genuine surprise. “Really, you’ve never heard of us?”

Riza had been upfront, but obviously not enough: the boy launched into a detailed description of the business’ operations, while she leaned further into the counter as she attempted to drink her boredom away.

Around them, the air was buzzing with conversations. The bar area was dramatically overcrowded: to reach the dancefloor in the next room, one had to elbow its way through the crowd - Riza had almost dropped her drink twice already from being pushed around. A tape recorder in the opposite corner was screaming out a blaring jazz tune, and a thick cloud of cigarette smoke was already beginning to form on the ceiling.

The Labor’s Day party was certainly not the fanciest celebration of the year, but it was nevertheless one of Riza's favorites. On this day, she was truly off-duty: there was no information to gather or higher-ups to compliment, and no reports to make at the end of the night. Besides, it was a rare opportunity for the military to mix with the civilians of Central, which led to some interesting encounters.

Well, most of the time.

Riza nodded idly as the young man continued his monologue. She had exhausted her repertoire of polite ways to end a conversation: this man was either incredibly tenacious or splendidly oblivious. He had even followed her to the bar when, on the pretense of getting a drink, she had tried to sneak away! For the umpteenth time, Riza’s thoughts drifted to the gun that was strapped on her right tight – sadly not a serious solution. She sighed and rested her chin against her left hand, her elbow on the table.

"Lieutenant! "

The interjection snapped her out of her reverie immediately. She raised her head and looked over her shoulder to see the Colonel - who else - who was just emerging from the crowd.

Riza hadn't seen him since the start of the night; he liked to keep busy on this type of occasion. But he didn’t seem in the mood to party at the moment: his expression was tense and he didn't even have a drink in his hands. As the Colonel reached the bar, he placed a hand on the counter between Riza and the young man, turning his back toward him as if he hadn't noticed his presence.

"Lieutenant, we just heard back from Havoc," he told her with a tone as serious as his face. "Target's on the move; we need to go now."

It did not take Riza long to understand. Without skipping a beat, she put her drink down, grabbed her purse and let her face fall back to its usual, serious appearance.

"Got it, sir."

Roy turned around and began to walk away. She went to follow him until a hand grasped her shoulder.

"Wait!" It was the young man - of course - looking dumbfounded, as if he hadn't followed what had just happened. "Can I at least get your number?"

This time, Riza didn't bother to fake a smile. "Maybe some other time."

With that, she twisted out of his grasp and ran after the Colonel who had already disappeared into the crowd.

She caught up with him as he exited the bar and entered the larger dance room. Riza took a few deep breaths; although the guests were just as numerous, the air here didn’t feel nearly as oppressive. The Colonel kept his rapid pace until they had crossed the sea of guests dancing in the middle of the room, swirling in all directions like raging waves.

When he slowed down and finally turned toward her, Roy wasn’t even trying to hide his self-satisfied smile.

"And you're welcome," he said with a half-mocking bow, stretching out the first word.

Riza took a moment to adjust the sleeves of her dress who had slipped off her shoulders – the garment wasn’t really made for this kind of wild chase.

"You know, people are going to become suspicious if you keep doing this," she replied as they started to walk again at a much more relaxed pace. "Besides, how do you know you didn't interrupt a perfectly lovely conversation?"

Roy threw her a knowing look. "Lieutenant, don't insult me. I could sense your annoyance from across the building." They were now entering the dining room, where guests could sit on small rounds tables to enjoy the buffet - not very fancy but quite filling – that laid on the counter along the wall. He smirked, putting his hands in his pockets. "That polite face of yours wasn't fooling anyone.”

"It was certainly fooling him."

"Men see what they want to see," Roy said whimsically. He glanced behind them, then pulled Riza by the arm. "Wait, let's sit. I think the guy might be looking for you."

They swiftly sat down on the first empty table they could see. Thanks to the people standing in small groups around them, their presence was hidden from most of the room.

Riza tried to look around, but couldn’t the young man's brown suit. She went to sip her drink and realized she had left it at the bar.

She sighed. “Guess I’ll need to lay low for a while. But thanks for the help, Colonel,” she added with a rare touch of honestly.

“Always my pleasure,” he nodded slightly. “Give me just a minute.”

Roy stood up and walked toward the back of the room. A few moments later, he returned with a plate filled with some of the few ragtag dishes that had survived from the buffet, and placed it down between them.

Riza suppressed a small smile. "You don't need to keep me company, you know."

Roy shrugged, mouth already full of shrimps. “I could use a break from the networking. Plus, being seen chatting with a beautiful blonde can’t hurt my image.”

“Except everyone knows that blonde is your subordinate,” Riza answered flatly, leaving the other problem unsaid. She reached out to grab a chocolate éclair. “This isn’t even a military event, and you’re still thinking about work?”

“Military event or not, many influent figures of Central are gathered tonight. Can’t miss that opportunity.” Roy licked the butter off his fingers, a gesture that contrasted with the classy black suit he was wearing. “But while we are talking….”, he turned his attention back to her, “there is actually something I needed to tell you. I’ve received intel on a certain individual, here in the capital, which seems rather intriguing.”

Riza fell back into soldier mode in the blink of an eye, straightening up on her chair. “What is this about?”

Roy raised a hand in front of him. “Relax. It’s not about the military.”

Riza frowned. Intel about someone from Central, without it being related to their work? What else could this be about?

It took a few long seconds for the realization to hit her. Oh.

“Sir….” she began warningly, hoping she was wrong.

Roy had a smirk on his face now, like a kid trying not to laugh at its own prank. “Now that I think of it, you in particular might find this person – her - interesting.”

Riza sighed and put her pastry down on the table. She looked him straight in the eye.

“I thought we had agreed, Colonel,” she said slowly, “on the fact that we do not have the same taste in women.”

He raised his hands defensively. “I know, Lieutenant, I know. Which is why this isn’t someone that I would date.”

Riza frowned, suspicious. “How come?”

“A bit too austere for my taste,” Roy answered offhandedly. She gave him a piercing look, and he caved in with a sheepish smile. “But mostly because she wouldn’t want to date me. You, on the other hand…”

Riza ignored his comically wiggling eyebrows and went back to eating her eclair.

“Do you even know if I’m her type?” If women were her type, was what this meant.

“My trusted source tells me so.”

He grabbed an olive and popped it into his mouth before leaning forward, his forearms resting on the table. There was a playful glint in his eyes.

“She’s in her late twenties, work as an investigative journalist – so smart, without a doubt, and with a touch of boldness. According to what I’ve read of her, she seems to have her heart in the right place too - you should see what she writes about Bradley’s administration. I didn’t even think it was legal to print this kind of thing!”

Riza hummed noncommittally. So far, so good.

“And I haven’t even got to the best part,” Roy continued, raising his index for emphasis. “My trusted source tells me she has not one, but two dogs.”

Riza raised an eyebrow. “Two? Sounds like a lot to handle,” she replied, keeping her tone neutral.

He smirked. “But you’re not the type to back down from a challenge, are you, Lieutenant?”

Riza sighed. She had forgotten how persistent Roy could be when he had good intentions. “God, you sound like your sisters right now.” A doubt crossed her mind, and she narrowed her eyes at him. “Did your sisters had something to do with this?”

Roy leaned back in his chair. “She goes to the same hairdresser as Bianca,” he admitted shamelessly. “They’re friends.”

“You are impossible,” Riza said with a half-smile, shaking her head. “I’ll think about it.” Roy nodded, apparently satisfied, while she grabbed the last piece of bread from the plate. “But what about you?”

“What about me?”

“I haven’t seen you with Madeline for a while.”

“Oh, well…” Roy looked away, his expression growing more somber. “Things were starting to get too serious between us. She wanted to move in with me.”

Riza felt her teasing smile fade off. “So, you broke it off?”

“No,” he replied a bit defensively, “we had a conversation about it like mature adults. I told her how I really feel about…all of that. And she decided to end it.”

It wasn’t the first time she had heard that story. Riza felt a pang of sympathy for him. “I’m sorry about that, Colonel.”

He shrugged it off, trying to appear casual. “It’s alright. I had a feeling it would end this way.”

Around them, the crowd had begun to dissipate, as guests wandered outside to enjoy the cool night air. Riza spotted two unopened beers lying on a table nearby that was now empty and got up to get them.

"You know," she said as she sat back down, placing one of the bottles in front of Roy, "there are plenty of women who would be happy with a casual relationship, no string attached."

“Trust me, Lieutenant, I am aware,” he replied with a smirk. “And I’ve had my share of that in the past. But I’m almost thirty, now; I’m not a young man anymore.” He popped the beer cap off on the edge of the table – his favorite party trick – and took a swig. “It’s only natural to seek something a bit more meaningful, someone with which I can drop the act.”

Riza raised an eyebrow as she searched through her purse for keys. “So, you want a serious emotional relationship with none of the practical aspect? Seems to me like you want to have the cake and eat it too.” She finally founded them and opened her own beer with a flick of the wrist.

Roy frowned. “Well, you seem to manage to get exactly that. You were with Rose for what, 2 years? Without any talk of moving, marriage, kids or whatnot.”

Riza gave him a flat look. “Yes, because if we had done anything like that and someone found out, she would have lost her teaching position – and I would have risked getting kicked out of the military. That’s hardly a pleasant reason.”

“Of course,” he nodded, “you’re right. But in our case, you have to agree that it is convenient. “

Riza hummed reluctantly. It was, in a way: she never had had to reveal the real reason why she didn’t want to  - or couldn’t - commit too firmly to a relationship. She was grateful for that; even among her most trusted partners, there weren't many who would have understood.

“But all is not lost!” Roy said after a moment, pulling Riza out of her thoughts. He set his bottle on the table with determination. “I have decided to try a new approach to dating, one that I think is promising.”

Riza looked at him, tilting her head with curiosity.

“I’m going incognito.”

She took a sip of beer. “Interesting. Any alias?”

He crossed his arms, musing. “Think I’ll stick to Roy. Just Roy, a simple guy looking for someone to spend the weekends with, without getting too engaged in each other lives. I’m sure some women are looking for that.”

“It will be a bit harder without your whole “Flame Alchemist” thing going on, though,” Riza notes, amused.

“I know,” he smirked, “but that’s the fun of it. You see, with my reputation, I can easily sway the most exquisite women in Central – except one, that is.“ Riza rolled her eyes at his sideways glance. “But the kind of women that are interested in me rarely is the one I’d like to end up with. In fact,” he chuckled somberly, “if someone falls for my “lazy, arrogant Hero of Ishval” persona, either they’re in it only for the prestige or they’re a terrible judge of character.”

Riza nodded slowly. “An unfortunate consequence of your strategy.” There was a short silence. Then she propped her chin in the palm of her hand, elbow on the table, and let out a teasing smile. “At any rate, I am looking forward to seeing how this will turn out. If only to know if you’re half as good as a seducer as you’ve always claimed to be.”

That made Roy laugh, throwing his head back. He looked at her with a fond expression, the type he only had after a few drinks. “You know, I’ll never get over how unfortunate it is that I’m not your type.”

She smirked. “I think it makes everything a lot simpler, actually.”

“Maybe,” he conceded. “But the best things in life rarely are the simple ones.”

Riza chuckled, and the two fell into a comfortable silence as they worked on finishing their beers. They were lukewarm, and not of the highest quality, but that didn’t matter - this was a night for familiarity and comfort, not luxury.

Suddenly, something in the room caught Roy's attention.

"Oh - I think I just saw her!" He craned his neck, looking at something behind Riza.

"Her?"

"The journalist. Come on!" Roy was already on his feet, motioning for her to get up.

Riza frowned as she pushed her chair back. "You mean she's here?"

Roy turned back toward her. "Do you think I would have told you all this if she wasn't? You underestimate my organizational skills, Lieutenant." She snorted, but let the comment slide. "By the way - have you seen what was on the news about Major Kingsman's trial?"

Riza tried to remember what she had read in the newspaper the previous Sunday. "I've skimmed through it, yes..."

"That'll do." He maneuvered between the tables, heading toward a woman who had just stopped by the buffet - or what was left of it. "Ms. Delacroix! We were just talking about you! I would like you to meet Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye - she's the subordinate I was telling you about."

The woman turned in their direction and smiled as she recognized the Colonel. Her outfit was simple but elegant, a linen shirt with a low-cut neckline and flowy black pants. Her brown hair fell down her back in a long braid, and her face was covered in freckles.

Riza felt like her jaw had just dropped. God. Did Roy even know how much she loved freckles?

The woman turned her attention to Riza as she came up beside them. "Yes, I remember! It's a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant."

Riza suppressed her sudden urge to rearrange her hair- which must have looked atrocious, after hours in those stuffy rooms - and stepped forward to shake her hand.

"The pleasure is mine, Ms. Delacroix," she replied warmly. For once, it really was.

"So," the woman began, looking at Riza with interest, "Colonel Mustang told me you had some questions about my recent article in The Central Times?

Riza swore internally. She made a mental note to take it up with him later. "That's right," she said with a small smile. "I'm afraid I'm not an expert in the subject, but your article certainly caught my curiosity."

Before Ms. Delacroix could respond, Roy glanced over his shoulder. "I'm afraid I heard someone call my name," he chimed in, not looking the least bit sorry. "I'll leave you ladies to it."

He bid them both goodbyes, bowing his head at Ms.Delacroix, and promptly walked away.

Over the journalist’s shoulder, Riza saw him look back after a few steps. He caught her gaze and gave her a satisfied grin, mouthing something.

"You're welcome."

Riza bit down a witty retort and instead turned her attention back to Ms.Delacroix. The Colonel could wait; she had more important matters in front of her.

[olliepig]

Hog-Malarkey part 2

The conclusion of @willow-salix and I’s not so short New Year fic for you all. Hope you enjoy it!

The first part (posted yesterday) can be found here 

Or of you’d prefer, the full thing is available on AO3 here.

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

“TEN, NINE, EIGHT, SEVEN…” the assembled crowd chanted as they watched a large clock start counting down the seconds to midnight. The Tracy party had managed to stay huddled together as they were pushed and shoved from all sides as the crowd surged forwards like salmon swimming upstream, towards the doors that led to the courtyard outside.

“FOUR, THREE, TWO…”

“Gah,” Gordon yelped as someone trod on his foot and tried to remove him from the protective bosom of his family. He’d never admit it but he was pathetically grateful that Virgil had grabbed his hand and was refusing to let go.

“ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!” the crowd screamed in unison, the loud cheering deafening to the ears. All around them couples embraced, indulging in many kisses for luck or hugging their neighbours. The two couples that were actually in attendance wasted no time in joining in, continuing the custom, their lips meeting as the air was filled with the noise of fireworks exploding overhead, painting the sky with colours.

“Happy New Year,” Scott murmured to Cat, holding her close for a moment longer before releasing her and turning to pull Alan into a hug.

Following the crowd they had found themselves out in the cold night air, staring up at what had previously been a rather dull sky. A breeze had picked up over the course of the evening, blowing the clouds away and leaving a perfect night for the celebrations that were going on around them.  

Whichever way they looked, the sky was filled with colour, the explosions filling their field of vision as the shockwaves hit them in the chest, leaving them slightly breathless.

“Get me out of this crowd,” John hissed in Selene’s ear, nudging her to get her to move. Rolling her eyes, she took his hand and led the way, winding through the crowd, smacking at an errant hand that tried to pet his head again.

“Stop ruffling my husband!” she yelled at the innocent old man that had unfortunately stepped in front of the tiny scottish lady who had dared to touch the Tracy goods.

Dragging him away she found an enclosed little nook where they could still see the fireworks but were pretty much out of sight of the crowd and out of temptation range of anyone who wished to feel him up again.

“Thank you,” he sighed, dropping his head to her shoulder, tugging her into his arms. She wasn’t fooled, she knew he was using her as a human shield. The romance astounded her sometimes. “I was worried that they would succeed in their quest to rip a piece off me if we’d hung around there much longer.”

“It’s your own fault for being so good looking in your highland finery and possessing such a beautiful head of hair,” she answered, smoothing down said hair, attempting to finger comb it back into some semblance of its usual neatly swept style.

“Yes, how dare I wear clothes that were forced upon me and look semi decent in them, what a scoundrel I am.”

“Total scoundrel,” she agreed, kissing the tip of his nose.

“Lower.”

Selene lifted one eyebrow at his demanding tone. “Well, you do look really handsome tonight, so I suppose one little kiss couldn’t hurt.” Leaning in she pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, smiling against them when his arms tightened around her waist, pulling her closer while backing up further into their corner.

“I think I neglected to tell you just how beautiful you look tonight.”

“Why, Mr Tracy, how scandalous, you really are a scoundrel of the highest order. And me, a sweet, young, innocent...stop laughing!”

“Sorry, let me make it up to you.”

Try as she might she couldn’t help the giggles that bubbled up inside her as he captured her lips again.

“Where’ve John and Selene gone?” Scott asked, realising that two of the group were conspicuous by their absence, his eyes sweeping the crowd in a vain bid to try and find them.

“I have no idea, but if they’ve ditched us then I think they’ve got the right idea,” replied Cat with a glint in her eye, grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the crowd, keen to find a similarly secluded spot where she could get him to herself for the first time since they arrived.

As they rounded the corner, safely away from prying eyes, she felt a tug on her arm, stopping her in her tracks. Turning in surprise, Scott slammed into her, wrapping his arms around her as his warm lips found hers with an intensity that left her breathless.

“I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he grinned, pulling back to meet her eyes, the reflection of the fireworks making them seem to dance in the night. “Have you got any idea how good you look in that dress?”

“Probably about as good as you do in that kilt,” Cat shot back with a smile, reaching up to kiss him again, more gently this time, pressing herself against him as she savoured the moment of calm that they had managed to find in amongst the craziness of the night.

“Touche,” Scott laughed, kissing her forehead before spinning her round and pulling her into his chest, his arms wrapped securely around her waist again as they quietly watched the fireworks high above them, enjoying the sensation of her fingers intertwining with his own.

                            ***

“Remind me again why we came with couples?” Gordon groused as a quick head count revealed that their party was missing four members.

“Because you invited us?” Virgil shrugged, unconcerned by his missing brothers. They were adults and generally the most sensible ones he possessed, so he wasn’t that inclined to worry.

“They always do this, sneak off like that, every time we go somewhere,” Alan said, joining in with the bitching.

“They’ll be back soon enough,” Virgil soothed. “And frankly, I’d rather they sneaked off than putting on a display in front of everyone every time.”

“Ugh, yeah,” Alan said, pulling a face. “Nobody needs to see that.”

“Nobody needs to see what?” Scott asked, reappearing behind them, his arm securely around Cat.

“Nothing,” Alan replied quickly, hoping that the blush that he could feel creeping up his neck wasn’t visible in the dark.

“What now?” Gordon asked as the last firework exploded in the sky with a deafening bang.

“Back inside I guess,” Virgil shrugged, watching as the other guests filed back into the hall, their voices seeming muffled in his ears after the assault that the noise of the fireworks had waged on them.

“Seems as good an idea as any,” Selene agreed, materialising with John. “It’s bloody freezing out here so I’m going in even if you lot want to stay behind.”

Back in the hall, the group were mystified to find that instead of returning to their tables, the guests had formed a large circle around the dancefloor.

“Please tell me this isn’t some kind of dance?” John whispered to Selene, clinging tighter to her like she could anchor him to the spot, his eyes darting here and there like he expected a stampede of old ladies to rampage towards him intent on grabbing any piece of him they could reach.

Selene patted his arm where it was hooked around her waist, lacing their fingers for extra support.

“I don’t think it’s a dance,” Cat said, watching the proceedings.

All around the circle people reached out to take the hand of the person next to them.

“No idea,” Cat shrugged but joined in anyway, moving into the gap that someone made for them. Seeing the opportunity, Selene dragged John in too, who glared at the others until they too, admitted defeat.

The sound of bagpipes starting made them all jump but the familiar tune soon made the girls realise exactly what was going on and they joined in, singing along as best they could, stumbling over the slightly unfamiliar version of the lyrics as their arms were swung to and fro, forward and backwards in time to the music.

“Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And never brought to mind?

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And auld lang syne!”

Even though they were used to the English version rather than the original and more traditional Scottish, it was still comforting and familiar enough to make them smile and, when they accidentally slipped into the English and the Scottish man next to Scott still smiled at them, they relaxed and simply enjoyed. This wasn’t about getting the words perfect, it was about the celebration, the keeping of a tradition that spanned centuries.

“For auld lang syne, my jo,

For auld lang syne,

We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet

For auld lang syne.”

Guests all around the circle moved as one, letting go of the hands they were holding to cross their arms in front of them.

“And there's a hand, my trusty fiere,

And gie's a hand o' thine.”

“What are they doing?” Scott asked quietly, turning to Cat and Selene only to find them grinning.  Cat offered her right hand to him, while Selene accepted her left. Scott slipped his hand into her’s, finding his free hand being grabbed by a happy looking drunk man beside him.

“And we'll tak a right gude willie waught

For auld lang syne!”

Selene flapped her left hand at John who groaned, knowing he’d never get away with escaping now. Not having a clue what he was doing he copied her moves, crossing his arms and taking her offered left hand in his right, leaving his left hand free for the next participant, who happened to be Alan.

Scott, seeing what was going on, took the hint and joined in on Cat’s other side, catching her hand,

“I still have no clue what is going on,” Alan complained as Virgil’s meaty hand engulfed his own.

“It’s Auld Lang Syne,” Cat told him.

“It’s what now?”

“Auld Lang Syne,” Selene repeated, joining in the conversation. “Watch and learn, try to keep up.”

“For auld lang syne, my jo,

For auld lang syne.”

“Why is everything so weird here?” Alan whispered to Gordon, leaning over Virgil to do so.

“Hey! It’s not weird, it’s tradition!” Selene shot back, rolling her eyes at Cat. “We’re in love with uncultured swines.”

“We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet

For auld lang syne.”

“Excuse me, in my defense, I didn’t insult it,” John pointed out as Selene and Alan enthusiastically bounced his arms up and down.

“Me neither, so unless you’re in love with someone else, I think you owe us an apology,” Scott grinned, obviously thinking he had won that argument. Little did he know.

“Sorry to break it to you,” Cat deadpanned, keeping her face perfectly straight. “But you had to find out some time, didn’t he Virgil?”

“For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne,” Selene sang loudly, acting as if she’d heard nothing.

“What?” spluttered the innocent engineer, having been so busy trying to keep up with Alan’s arm bouncing and the song words he’d lost the thread of the conversation.

“We'll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne,” Cat sang along with Selene, ignoring the wheezing laughter coming from Gordon and Alan and John’s soft chuckle.

A loud cheer went up as the music came to its end and everyone let go of their neighbours hands

The girls cracked up laughing, unable to keep a straight face any longer, one look at Scott’s indignant scowl breaking their control.

"That was mean,” Scott scolded Cat, trying to stay serious as the girls howled, collapsing into each other's arms, each holding the other up as they laughed hard.

“It wasn’t that funny,” Scott huffed but his lips twitched once, twice and then he cracked.

“Come on, trouble maker,” John hauled Selene away from Cat as the band started a lively song,  sacrificing himself in aid of his brother by sweeping her into his arms for a dance.

“That seems like a good idea,” Cat grinned, knowing he couldn’t stay mad at her as she looped her arms around his neck and pecked a kiss on his cheek.

                                       ***              

“My feet hurt,” Selene whined, lifting one leg and dropping her foot into John’s lap so he could help her.

“You were the one that kept wanting to dance,” John pointed out helpfully, receiving a scowl for his troubles as he unbuckled the thin strap of her shoe and slipped it off, holding out his hand for her other foot.

“It was a party, there was music and drinks and that leads to dancing,” Cat added, coming to her friend’s defence as she returned from the bedroom having retrieved the remains of the champagne from earlier. “Nightcap?”

It had been a tired but happy (and slightly tipsy) party that had wound their way back to the hotel with various degrees of stability, some far more steady on their feet than others. They had collapsed the moment they entered the shared lounge, commandeering every couch and chair available.

Maybe the nightcap had been a bad idea, because although everyone was what Selene called physically tired, they weren’t mentally tired, which led to them helping to polish off the champagne (and a few other drinkables that the minibar provided) and chatting for a few more hours. And so it was rather late, or early depending on how you look at it, when they eventually fell into bed and slept the dreamless sleep of the inebriated.

That inebriation didn’t partner well with a loud knocking that shook the suite door at an hour that none of them cared to be awake to see. Five bedroom doors cracked open and heads poked out to see what the noise was about but nobody was willing to move further, each looking at each other in confusion before focusing on Scott until he took the hint and answered the call.

“Yes?” he croaked as he opened the door, eyeing the smartly dressed member of staff on the other side with suspicion. The world seemed to be spinning quicker than he was used to, and, although he would never admit it, his hand resting on the doorframe was only there partially out of habit.

“Lady Creighton-Ward left instructions for you to be woken in good time for the event this morning, and to that end, I am here with your breakfast,” the concierge informed him, indicating a trolley behind him piled with covered platters.

“OK…” replied a bemused Scott, moving out of the way to allow the man entry, his eyes tracking his every movement as he placed plate after plate of food onto the table, the smell making him feel slightly queasy.

“Does anyone have any idea what event he’s talking about?” Alan asked once they were alone again, piling bacon and sausages onto his plate.

“Nope,” Virgil replied, eyeing the food with suspicion before settling on a large cup of coffee instead. “Gordon? Any ideas?”

“Oh, it might be that swimming thing Penny mentioned?” Gordon mused, trying to get his brain to focus on a half remembered conversation from several weeks before.

“Mmmf?” questioned John, his eyes barely open as he made his way gingerly across the room. Taking a seat at the table, he reached for the coffee pot, pouring himself a large cup and cradling it in his hands as he waited for it to cool.

“Yeah, she said there’s some sort of tradition to go for a morning swim on New Year’s Day to clear the hangover,” Gordon continued, feeling more confident now his brain had woken up a little bit.

Scott’s stomach lurched at the thought of bobbing around in a swimming pool. “I think I might give that one a miss this morning, Gords,” he shuddered, reaching for a glass of water to settle the nausea that rolled over him.

“Nnnngh,” groaned John, shoving his coffee aside and resting his forehead on the table.

“I think that means John’s out too,” Alan helpfully translated, taking in John’s now nearly translucent form. “I’m up for it though. Virgil?”

The engineer swirled his remaining coffee in his mug, considering his options carefully. “I’m in,” he eventually declared, the thought of plunging into cool water seeming strangely appealing to him.

John groaned again, shuddering like he was in the last throes of death.

“Alan,” Scott whispered, not wanting to speak louder now that his headache was catching up with him. “Get Sel, will you? I think he needs to go back to bed.”

Alan, as the only mostly sober, bright eyed and bushy tailed one of the five, set his full plate down on the table beside John’s head and jumped up, ignoring the gagging noise that came from his brother when the smell of sausages wafted up his nose.

“SEL!” Alan yelled in through the open bedroom door.

Virgil groaned as the noise drilled into his aching brain. “We could have done that, can you try to be a bit quieter?”

“Oh, sure, sorry,” Alan winced, realising that his usual volume probably wasn’t the best option. Snagging a cushion off a chair he took careful aim and threw it at the bed, hitting Selene on the head. “Score!”

A muffled string of curse words floated out of the bedroom, but the sound of rustling sheets and creaking springs announced the arrival of the witch.

“Sup?” she muttered, rubbing her eyes, smearing a little mascara around that she’d neglected to take off the night before.

“John’s dead,” Alan shrugged, going back to his plate, apparently unconcerned by his expired brother.

John lifted a hand weakly, extending his middle finger to point at his brother.

“He seems fine to me,” Selene commented, stealing John’s coffee and taking a sip. Putting the cup down again she lifted her man’s head and pushed on his shoulders to return him to an upright position, holding the cup to his lips. “Babe? Ya good?”

“Such sympathy from my loving wife and family,” he groaned, but took the cup from her and scooted back from the table enough to allow her to perch on his lap. Hotel rooms never had enough chairs.

“At least your loving wife is here and looking after you,” Scott groused, glancing to his bedroom door that remained resolutely closed. “My girlfriend hasn’t even gotten out of bed to see if I’m still breathing. Last she knew there was someone pounding on the door. I could have been kidnapped,” he finished melodramatically to snorts of laughter from Selene.

“That wouldn’t happen,” John assured him, “no one would be stupid enough to want you.”

“Oi,” Cat exclaimed, appearing from the bedroom with perfect timing, wrapping her arms around Scott and leaning over his shoulder to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Are you calling me stupid?”

“More misguided.”

“Fair enough,” she shrugged, picking up a sausage from the platter on the table and taking a bite before continuing. “And you’re at least partially right. Someone might kidnap him but they’d definitely bring him back again.”

“And I thought you were on my side,” Scott protested, clutching his heart. “You wound me.”

“Oh shut up and drink your coffee, you big idiot,” Cat told him, pouring two mugs and pushing one over to him before taking another bite of her sausage..

“I’d keep you,” Selene promised him. “You always sniff out the best snack in any location, you’re a useful asset to have on the team.”

“Can we please stop talking about food!” John yelled, dropping his head back into his hands.

“If no one but Alan wanted food, why did you guys order it?” Selene asked, snagging a slice of toast and laying a piece of bacon on it before folding it in half.

“We didn’t,” Scott replied, tentatively taking a sip of coffee. “It just arrived with instructions that we have to be up for some event this morning.”

Cat and Selene exchanged slightly guilty looks, unable to keep the smiles off their faces.

“What’re you two looking at each other like that for?” Virgil demanded, instantly on alert.  

“Us?” Selene squeaked innocently. “No reason, why would there be a reason?”

“There’s always a reason,” John replied, watching them both carefully. “What do you know that we don’t?”

“How much I love you?” she answered, fluttering her eyelashes at John.

“Bullshit,” Scott cut in, totally unconvinced at Selene’s attempts at diversion. “Cat? What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she squirmed, suddenly finding her coffee very interesting.

“C’mon sweetheart,” Scott pressed, standing and gently running his hand around the small of her back, pulling him into him before kissing her neck where he knew would make her powerless to resist. “Whatever it is, you can tell us.”

Selene rolled her eyes, knowing her partner in crime was lost to her now. Weak ass ballerina.

Sending Selene a look preemptively asking for forgiveness, Cat crumbled. “It’s a costume thing,” she mumbled, hanging her head in shame at how easily she had been bought.

“Nope!” John said, refusing immediately.

“Absolutely not,” Scott agreed as he shook his head firmly, promptly regretting it as his brain seemed to slam against the inside of his skull.

“Costumes? Cool,” Gordon exclaimed, even more enthusiastic for the swim now. “Did you bring them with you?” “What do I get to be?” chimed in Alan, jumping up and eyeing up the door to Cat and Scott’s bedroom as if the costumes might magically appear.  "Maybe a superhero."

John’s arms were wrapped around Selene’s waist, holding her on his lap, his head resting on her shoulder, and if the soft snoring was any indication, he wasn’t planning on moving any time soon.

“I think you’re gonna have to do it without him,” she told Gordon.

“Rubbish, it’ll do him good,” Gordon poked his sleepy brother until he roused himself enough to slap his hand away. “Anyway, he’s not really asleep. He’s just pretending because he’s too scared I’ll look better in a costume than him.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Virgil replied doubtfully, stifling a yawn of his own. “He does look pretty tired.”

“Are you besmirching my husband's honour?”

“Oh, big word for so early in the morning,” Scott grinned, needling her just a little bit more, just  because he could.

“John,” Selene nudged her almost comatose space man. “All your brothers are picking on us, can I curse them?”

“Sure,” he mumbled. “Just do it quietly.”

“Aren’t you even going to ask what they did to deserve it?”

“Nope, I trust your judgement.”

“You’re going to let your wife fight your battles for you?” Gordon teased.

“Yes.”

“Well, there’s no shame in that, is there, Scott?” Cat asked.

“Sure there is. He’s just being a wimp.”

“What is your problem today?” John growled, lifting his head to shoot a squinty eyed glare at Scott.

“It’s just a little swim in a costume and you’re wimping out.”

“I don’t see you agreeing to it.”

“Fine! I’ll do it, there, happy?”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“God, you men are ridiculous,” Cat groaned, looking at Selene for support, who simply shrugged, more than used to it.

                                                                              ***

“Just a little swim, he said,” Scott hissed, glaring at Gordon.

“Costumes are cool, he said,” John joined in, appearing to have forgotten that Scott was mostly the reason he was there in favour of throwing his own glare at Alan.

Selene and Cat wrapped themselves up tighter in the blanket they were sharing, watching their menfolk as they stood shivering on the riverside, dressed in costumes that they would never have chosen even if they had a gun to their heads.

“Well, I hate to say it, but I’m not sure Scott has the legs for that tutu,” Selene whispered to Cat.

“Don’t tell him I agreed with you,” Cat laughed, pulling Virgil’s jacket closer around herself under the blanket, shivering against the cold breeze that whipped around them, finding its way into every gap.

“Do you think mine looks better in that dress than I do? It’s kinda hard to breathe in a corset at the best of times but, and call me biased, I think he makes a pretty sexy witch.”

“He is looking good, I’ll give you that one. Although he’s not quite got the cleavage for the top,” Cat agreed, casting a critical eye over John.

“He's got the thigh muscles to keep him locked to a broom, though.”

“Come on, guys, it’s not that bad,” Gordon could be heard defending himself. “Look at my tail!”

“I have no idea how he can even stand up in that, let alone walk,” Cat whispered to Selene.

“Describing what he’s doing as walking might be pushing it to be honest,” Selene laughed, watching as Gordon waddled towards the crowd, his mermaids tail glinting in the sunlight.

“I’m too hot,” Alan complained, pushing back the hood of his teddy bear onesie.

“Wait until you’re freezing cold and waterlogged,” John sniffed. "Then you won't be complaining."

“I’m OK at the moment,” Virgil added with a shrug, his bulkier frame apparently throwing off more body heat than his more slender brothers, even though he was wearing nothing but denim hot pants and a knotted plaid crop top.

“This is so scratchy,” Scott complained to Cat, fiddling with the underside of his tutu. “How the hell do you wear these all the time?”

“Well, it’s not my fault you wouldn’t wear the tights,” Cat shrugged, totally unconcerned at his discomfort. “I did warn you.”

“This boning is flattening my lungs.”

“That’s because you have a manly chest, my love,” Selene called back to John, pouring herself a cup of hot chocolate from one of the flasks the hotel had provided along with toweling robes and sweatpants.

“You’d better get going, everyone’s lining up ready to go,” Cat said, giving Scott a shove towards the water, choosing to ignore the look of betrayal that he shot her. “Can’t let Gordon get in ahead of you in the line and beat you into the water now, can you?” she added with a glint in her eye.

“I knew I’d lose something delicate to frostbite by the end of this trip,” John muttered darkly as he begrudgingly accepted a small kiss for luck from Selene then, like a man going to the gallows, he moved to join his brothers.

Cat and Selene stood guarding the pile of belongings, staying a safe distance away from the water and crowds, just in case anyone decided they might require a dunking. They had both learned from experience that you could never be too careful.

The crowd was huge, they guessed somewhere in the region of three hundred people participating and an even bigger crowd watching, ready to cheer and offer moral support.

“Think they’ll hate us after this?” Selene whispered to Cat.

“To be honest, I think they hate us already,” Cat murmured, catching sight of the baleful looks Scott was still throwing her way.

“Guess we’ll just have to make it up to them with lots of hugs and warm things.”

“I’ve heard worse ideas,” Cat giggled.

“The sacrifices we make for these boys.”

“It’s a very hard thing, but someone’s gotta do it,” Cat mused, before realising what she’d said and exploding in laughter.

Selene snorted in response. “With that amount of cold water? I doubt we’ll ever see a boner again.”

“That would be sad. We’ll just need to make sure we get them nice and warm later, won't we?”

“Again with the sacrifices, what do they do for us, huh?”

“They get nice and warm…” Cat tailed off with a shrug.

“You do realise that our flight clearance is in an hour?  So we’ll have to deal with cold, wet boys all the way back to the island before we can look after them properly?”

“Fuck. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“We must remain strong,” Selene started, only to be interrupted as the crowd began to chant a countdown. On the final word the crowd moved as one, surging forwards, dragging the unwilling members of the Tracy crew along with them.

The girls heard an almighty splashing, immediately followed by screams and curses as the cold water hit the swimmers hard.

“Welp,” Selene sighed, popping the ‘p’ “Happy New Year.”

“And to you.” Cat risked the invasion of the cold as she pulled Selene into a one armed hug. “Who knows what this year will bring, but here’s hoping it won’t be anywhere near as weird as this.”

“It’s a weird family, but you get used to them,” Selene laughed, hugging her back. “And as for what it’ll bring, you can never tell, so I guess we just have to wait and see.”

The girls watched as their drenched boys struggled their way out of the water, gasping for air, cursing under their breath. Selene shrugged as she grabbed a robe ready for Gordon who was the first one out. As weirdness went, this was pretty low down the scale, but she didn’t want to tempt fate.

[tsarisfanfiction]

2020: A [Fandom] Summary

2020 was a pretty rotten year, let’s face it, so now I’m safely away from it for good I’m stealing something @gumnut-logic​ mentioned to me and summarising all the things I managed to make this year!  Let’s start 2021 on a nice positive note... look at all the things I managed to do in the world of fandom!

FANFICTION:

In 2020...

I published 69 works, 66 of which are complete - all for Thunderbirds Are Go

Which came to a total of 268,863 words (Tumblr-only scenes and short stories came to a further 29,764 words which put my grand total up to 298,627!)

My most popular fic on tumblr was Out Patience with 60 notes (wow!!)

My most kudos’d fic on AO3 was Bedtme (Should Not Be 4am) with 62 kudos!

My most favourited fic on FFN was Grounded with 13 favourites!

My longest fic was Long Way From Home, which is incomplete but on 30,902 words published so far (longest complete fic was Grounded on 21,100 words)

(I have not included Tales From The Heart as everything that was posted this year on my blog was written and archived on AO3/FFN in 2017-2019)

FANART:

In 2020...

I posted 12 completed drawings, across 6 fandoms (and across 3 blogs...) - Bleach, D.Gray-Man, Marchen Awakens Romance, Naruto, One Piece and Thunderbirds Are Go

My most popular was “Return of the Dragon” with 114 notes (over a hundred!!! How???)

In conclusion, Tsari has been one very busy bee this year!  Links to everything are below the cut if anyone’s looking for a refresher, or thinks they missed something!

And because I am only human and love validation - if you have a favourite thing I’ve written (or drawn) this year, tell me what it is!  Can just be the  name (although if you want to tell me why that would make my night, I can’t lie), I’d just love to know what people particularly loved :D

COMPLETED WORKS:

Phobos John looks at his brothers, and worries. Rated: Gen/K+.  Family.  John, Scott Words: 1k; published January 2020

Treasured Family Scott’s day hadn’t gone well, and was about to get worse. John doesn’t care for that, and Alan makes a good accomplice.  Episode tag: 3.22 Rated: Gen/K+.  Family.  John, Scott, Alan, Gordon Words: 2k; multichap - completed January 2020

Wax and Feathers Sometimes limits need to be broken. But a limit is there for a reason, and breaking them has consequences.  Episode tag: 3.20 Rated: Gen/K+.  Family.  Scott, Gordon, Virgil Words: 4k; published February 2020

Hero They say you should never meet your heroes. Failure to comply may result in getting tongue-tied, or a failure of the brain to mouth filter.  Episode tag: 3.24 Rated: Gen/K.  Friendship.  Outsider PoV, Scott Words: 1k; published February 2020

Fall He’s not there, until he is.  Episode tag: 3.25 Rated: Teen.  Angst/Hurt/Comfort.  Scott, Jeff Words: 900; published February 2020

Bedtime (Should Not Be 4am) The first night home should be relaxing, but for Jeff it’s anything but as he readjusts to being back on Earth, and five sons who’ve grown up without him. Episode tag: 3.25/26 Rated: Gen/K+.  Family.  Jeff, Gordon, Scott, John Words: 3k; published February 2020

Blank Slate Jeff finds that there’s one relationship he can build from scratch.  Episode tag: 3.25/26 Rated: Gen/K.  Friendship.  Jeff, The Mechanic Words: 1k; published February 2020

Apple Juice How hard is it to get a drink?  Harder when younger brothers insist on interfering. Rated: Gen/K+.  Family.  Scott, Virgil, Tracy brothers Words: 1k; published February 2020

Firelight For Buddy and Ellie, camping is a beautiful way to live. Rated: Gen/K.  Romance.  Buddy, Ellie Words: 500; published March 2020

An Important Part John’s care packages sometimes contain a very special box. Rated: Gen/K.  Family.  John, Tracy brothers Words: 1k; published March 2020 

Grape Juice or Wine A function that serves alcohol and a teenage brother. Just what Scott needed. Rated: Gen/K.  Family.  Scott, Alan Words: 700; published April 2020

Chess Master Gordon has a prized possession. Rated: Gen/K.  Family.  Gordon, John, Tracy brothers Words: 700; published April 2020

Heroes Made of Gas A spaceman and his stars. Rated: Gen/K.  Family.  John, Jeff Words: 700; published April 2020

Caretaker Scott’s week from hell couldn’t just finish without throwing him a final twist. Rated: Gen/K+.  Hurt/Comfort/Family.  Scott, Tracy brothers Words: 1k; published April 2020

Riding the Dragon | Return of the Dragon Part 1: Scott was excited, and John was not, but who really got the last laugh? Part 2: Ten years later they’re back, and this time Alan’s up for the challenge. John isn’t about to let Scott forget about their last adventure, though. Rated: Gen/K.  Family.  Scott, John, Alan, Tracy brothers Words: 4k; multichap - completed April 2020

Fresh Air When the standard methods of dealing with Scott don’t work, Virgil has to resort to something a little more creative. Rated: Gen/K.  Hurt/Comfort/Family.  Virgil, Scott Words: 2k; published April 2020

Unexpected When it came to the next generation, Scott didn’t think it would happen quite like this. Rated: Gen/K+.  Family.  Scott, John, Gordon, EOS Words: 1k; published April 2020

Awe The Shelbys were probably expecting a certain beautiful Lady when Gordon asked to bring a plus one, not an older brother. Rated: Gen/K.  Family.  Virgil, Gordon Words: 1k; published April 2020

Thrill Seeker “Launching a rocket into space most days not enough of an adrenaline kick for you, kid?” Rated: Gen/K.  Family.  Alan, Grandma, John Words: 1k; published April 2020

The Tale of Scotty-Bear When Lee Taylor bought a bog-standard teddy bear for his best friend’s baby, he probably didn’t expect it to be quite so popular. Rated: Gen/K.  Family.  Scott, Tracy brothers Words: 1k; published April 2020

I Just Can’t Wait To Be Free When Scott gets stuck, Gordon’s the only one around - too bad he can’t stop laughing. Rated: Gen/K.  Family.  Gordon, Scott Words: 1k; published April 2020

Splatter Scott was going to regret leaving him to handle Gordon alone, especially when paint got involved. Rated: Gen/K.  Family.  Virgil, Gordon, Scott Words: 2k; published April 2020

Revenge (Should Be Piping Hot) The only aspect of his appearance Virgil cared about was his hair. Rated: Gen/K.  Family.  Virgil, Scott, Tracy brothers Words: 1k; published May 2020 

The Rules of Engagement Even acts of immaturity between brothers have to follow rules. Rated: Gen/K.  Family.  Scott, John, Virgil, Gordon, Alan Words: 1k; published May 2020

Night At The Opera Surely an invitation to the opera was better suited for Virgil? Or one of his other brothers? No? Okay, then. Wait, what do you mean he had to wear a suit? Rated: Gen/K+.  Friendship/Family.  Scott, Lady Penelope, Parker, Tracy family Words: 10k; published May 2020

Nothing See: Was space supposed to be this dark? A mission to rescue the crew of a freighter goes horribly wrong. Rated: Teen.  Hurt/Comfort/Angst.  Scott, Tracy Family Words: 8k; multichap - completed June 2020

Strays Her Ladyship collects strays. Rated: Gen/K.  Friendship.  Parker, Penelope, John, Gordon Words: 1k; published June 2020

Pulse Touch: Earthquakes suck. Badly. Especially when you’re still in an unstable building when the world crashes down. Rated: Teen.  Hurt/Comfort/Angst.  Scott, Gordon, Tracy Family Words: 11k; multichap - completed June 2020

Melt Smell: Snowy rescues are always the worst. Always. Rated: Teen.  Hurt/Comfort/Angst.  Scott, Virgil, Gordon, Tracy Family Words: 11k; multichap - completed June 2020

Silent Taste: They say you should ask for help when you need it, but what can you do except suffer in silence when asking for help will destroy your family? Rated: Teen.  Hurt/Comfort/Angst.  Scott, Tracy Family Words: 12k; multichap - completed June 2020

Tremor Hear: Not everyone worships the ground International Rescue walk on. Rated: Mature.  Hurt/Comfort/Angst.  Scott, Hood, Tracy Family Words: 14k; multichap - completed July 2020

Hollow Sixth Sense: Two teenagers and a night hike in the middle of nowhere is a recipe for disaster. When trouble strikes the clock starts ticking, but there’s no International Rescue around to pull off a miracle. Rated: Teen.  Hurt/Comfort/Angst.  Scott, John, Jeff, Tracy Family Words: 11k; multichap - completed July 2020 

The Six Foot Club Outgrowing Gordon was an inevitability, but Alan hadn’t given much thought about the respective heights of his other brothers. Rated: Gen/K.  Family.  Alan, Virgil, Gordon Words: 800; published July 2020  

Out Patience There are three Tracys in the hospital and only one of them should be out of bed. Rated: Gen.  Family.  Alan, Scott, Virgil Words: 4k; published July 2020

Grounded Scott didn’t enjoy the trash mine rescue at all, but he enjoyed the consequences of it even less.  Episode tag: 3.22/23 Rated: Teen.  Hurt/Comfort/Family.  Scott, Tracy Family Words: 21k; multichap - completed July 2020

Human Scott needs to stop taking his helmet off first chance he gets - one day, his luck will run out. Rated: Teen.  Hurt/Comfort/Family.  Gordon, Scott, Grandma Words: 4k; published August 2020

Not Alone John makes a miscalculation with unexpected consequences. Rated: Gen.  Family/Friendship.  John, Scott, EOS Words: 4k; published August 2020

Cracks Under The Surface History likes to repeat itself and the human brain likes to find patterns. Rated: Teen.  Hurt/Comfort/Family.  Scott, Jeff, Virgil Words: 4k; published August 2020

Divided, United Waking up bound in a dark room is never good news, but the absence of the brother he saw shot in front of him just makes it worse. Rated: Teen.  Angst/Hurt/Comfort.  Scott, Virgil, John Words: 6k; published August 2020

For A Brother When it came to protecting family, there were no limits. Rated: Teen.  Angst/Hurt/Comfort.  Virgil, Scott, Kayo, John Words: 7k; published August 2020

The Only Course of Action John’s job is to watch and listen, but sometimes he’s also the last resort. Rated: Teen.  Angst/Hurt/Comfort.  John, Scott Words: 4k; published August 2020

Noise Was that racket supposed to be blaring from their comms?  Alan hoped not. Rated: Gen/K.  Family.  Alan, Virgil, Tracy brothers, Kayo Words: 1k; published August 2020

His Collection The Hood knows what he wants, and will stop at nothing to get it.  International Rescue have other ideas. Rated: Teen.  Humour.  Hood, Scott, Virgil Words: 1k; published August 2020

3am A desire for water in the early hours of the morning leads Sally Tracy to a revelation. Rated: Gen/K.  Family.  Grandma, Scott, John Words: 600; published November 2020

Liminal After the rain comes the sun, but there’s a special moment in between. Rated: Gen/K.  Friendship.  Parker, Scott Words: 1k; published November 2020

One More Stuffed Toy The arcade is loud and chaotic, but John doesn’t care, because his brothers are with him. Rated: Gen/K.  Family.  John, Tracy Brothers Words: 1k; published November 2020

After Sundown Scott didn’t let Alan help with the big things, but he didn’t say no to the small things. Rated: Gen/K.  Family.  Alan, Grandma, Scott Words: 1k; published November 2020

Same Old Song and Dance Dealing with a sick Scott was a challenge that Virgil had honed into an art. Rated: Gen/K.  Family.  Virgil, Scott Words: 1k; published November 2020

First Time It should be Dad, but it’s John instead and he wouldn’t change it for anything. Rated: Gen/K.  Family.  John, Alan Words: 800; published November 2020

At The End of The Day After a long, tiring rescue, Virgil just wanted coffee, a shower, and his bed. Gordon had a better idea. Rated: Gen/K.  Family.  Virgil, Gordon, Scott Words: 1k; published November 2020

Deserving Who looked at the world and said “this deserves to be saved?”  A family of youngsters who’d lost too much already. Rated: Gen/K.  Family/Friendship.  Colonel Casey, Tracy Family Words: 800; published November 2020

His Sons Jeff had been gone eight years.  He’d missed his sons growing up into young men, but that didn’t mean they weren’t still the same boys he’d left behind. Rated: Gen/K.  Family.  Jeff, Tracy Brothers Words: 900; published November 2020

Faulty It was supposed to be a pleasant, quiet evening.  Then the multilingual tirade started in the kitchen. Rated: Gen/K.  Family.  Virgil, John, Tracy Brothers Words: 1k; published November 2020

Indescribable The sky is blue, the grass is green, Scott Tracy is a big brother. Rated: Gen/K.  Family.  Scott Words: 700; published November 2020

Simple Success Any success is worth celebrating, even if it isn’t one of the biggest, most impressive feats in IR history. Rated: Gen/K.  Family.  Scott, Tracy Family Words: 1k; published November 2020

It Calls Me Scott was born to fly. Rated: Gen/K.  Family.  Scott Words: 700; published November 2020

Words Not Said (But Still Heard) Gordon didn’t remember much about his time in the hospital, but he remembered the song. Rated: Gen/K.  Family/Hurt/Comfort.  Gordon, Scott Words: 1k; published November 2020

Unexpected, Not Unwanted It might not have been her intention to end up with five sons, but that didn’t mean she loved them any less. Rated: Gen/K.  Family.  Lucille, Tracy Family Words; 1k; published November 2020

Snap There was a whole mountain of paperwork, but a certain annoying younger brother refused to leave him in peace long enough for him to get it done. Rated: Gen/K.  Family.  Scott, Gordon Words: 1k; published November 2020

The Box In The Locker Reuniting families is one of the best feelings in the world, especially when one of the ‘family members’ is the child’s best friend. Rated: Gen/K.  Friendship.  Virgil Words: 800; published November 2020

Night Out Gordon learnt two things that night: Scott was an affectionate drunk, and sometimes people throw bar stools for no good reason. Rated: Teen.  Family.  Gordon, Scott Words: 2k; published November 2020

In Your Shadow “Tomorrow, they’re not gonna say ‘that’s Gordon Tracy, the Olympic Champion!’ Tomorrow, they’re gonna say ‘that’s Scott Tracy’s little brother!’, and I’m gonna say ‘damn straight I am.’” Rated: Gen/K+.  Family.  Gordon, Scott Words: 2k; published December 2020

The Sound of Thunder(birds) The sound of a Thunderbird should be a sound of hope and reassurance, but not everyone hears it that way. Rated: Gen/K.  Friendship.  Scott Words: 1k; published December 2020

Too Far It’s not normally Virgil that Scott has to pull up for misconduct.  Episode Tag: 3.06 Rated: Teen/K+.  Hurt/Comfort/Family.  Virgil, Scott Words: 2k; published December 2020

Steady Hands One boat. Two brothers. A life-or-death game of Jenga. Rated: Teen.  Family/Friendship.  Virgil, Gordon, Scott, Chaos Crew Words: 8k; published December 2020

Get Some Sleep, Scott There was no cure for self-destructive idiocy, but Virgil still had a trick - or rather, a last resort - up his sleeve when Scott went too far. It hadn’t failed him yet. Rated: Gen/K.  Family.  Virgil, Scott, Gordon Words: 1k; published December 2020

ONGOING WORKS:

Desert Sands On the way home from a rescue Thunderbird One and Scott disappear from Thunderbird Five’s sensors, leaving International Rescue scrambling to both discover what happened and find them. Rated: Teen.  Hurt/Comfort/Family.  Scott, John, Tracy Family Words: 13k; Chapters: 7/?; updated September 2020

Long Way From Home His brothers are missing. In their place is a family of strangers, the only explanation that makes any sense is beyond comprehension, and the only solution is impossible. Scott Tracy’s never been so far from home. Rated: Teen.  Family/Friendship.  Scott, Tracy Family Words: 30k; Chapters: 7/?; updated November 2020

Toffee Gordon is a lover of many things.  Toffee is not one of them. Rated: Gen/K.  Family.  Gordon, John, Grandma, Scott Words: 8k; Chapters: 4; updated November 2020

TUMBLR-EXCLUSIVE WORKS:

Dream A FabFiveFeb2020 ficlet using the prompts Scott+Dream Characters: Scott - February 2020

Short Snippet An abandoned wip with implied character death Characters: Gordon, Scott - April 2020

Heavy Metal  A short ficlet inspired by the episode of the same name. Characters: Alan, Scott - April 2020

Random Scene   A short scene with dark!John and EOS Characters: Jeff, John, EOS - May 2020

Random Scene   A Thunderbirds/Detective Conan potential idea Characters: Gordon, John, Scott - May 2020

Random Scene   A Thunderbirds/Percy Jackson potential AU Characters: Percy, Gordon - May 2020

Random Prologue  Where Scott ends up in jail for murder Characters: Col. Casey, Scott - July 2020

WIP #46 Scott gets caught in an avalanche. Characters: Virgil, Scott, John, Grandma - November 2020

WIP #47 Scott gets caught in a serious plane crash. Characters: Gordon, Scott, Virgil, Alan, John, Col. Casey - November 2020

WIP #48  The original, and terrible, version of my published work Grape Juice or Wine. Characters: Alan, Tracy Brothers - November 2020

WIP #55   A post-series fic focusing on the aftermath of Jeff’s return home Characters: Jeff, Gordon, Grandma - November 2020

WIP #56  A sequel to my published work Hero. Characters: Neil (OC), Henry, Bee, Scott - November 2020

WIP #59a |  WIP #59b |  WIP #59c  A squabble between brothers results in a whole pile of angst. Characters: Scott, Alan, John, Gordon, Virgil - November 2020

That One Scene | That One Scene #2  Two scenes from a movie rewrite Characters: Jeff, Hood, Scott, Gordon, Virgil, Alan, John - November 2020

Is- Is That My Blood? Scott’s trapped in a cave-in, and there’s too much blood Characters: Scott - November 2020

Random Scene  AU Crime drama-esque scene with canonical character death Characters: Grandma, Scott - December 2020

Random Prologue Where Scott is Not Okay and just wants to go home Characters: Virgil, Scott - December 2020

Crack When a storm gets too intense for Thunderbird One to fly, Scott has to hunker down and wait it out. Characters: Scott - December 2020

Holey Scott There is a hole in Scott where there shouldn’t be Characters: Virgil, Scott - December 2020

FANART:

Dragon!TB1 A dragonified drawing of Thunderbird One, based on a Flight Rising fandragon - January 2020

Return of the Dragon A snapshot moment from my fic of the same name - July 2020

Night Out A snapshot moment from my fic of the same name - November 2020

The Missing Hair Gel An imagining of Scott without any hair gel - December 2020

Six Boys, Six Fandoms A collection of six drawings of six favourite boys from six favourite series! - December 2020

Dragon!TB2 A dragonified drawing of Thunderbird Two, based on a Flight Rising fandragon - December 2020

[weathergirl8]

Pranks and Tempers (3/3)

I thought about adding more to this, but for now I like where it ended. Enjoy! I’m in college and working fulltime, but trying to work on a sequel to my story Always the Hero. I’ve also got another disaster angsty Alan and Gordon fic in the back burner that hopefully some day I’ll finish.

Part 1 | Part 2

~~~~~~~~~

Jeff sat quietly at his desk as he tried to process the morning’s events. Running an exasperated hand over his face, he composed himself. Turning to the computer monitor, he initiated a line with Thunderbird 5.

“Hey, Dad,” John’s cheerful image appeared upon the screen before him. “A little early for our noon update, aren’t we?” the blonde inquired as he noticed it was barely eleven o’clock in the morning Tracy Island time.

Jeff chuckled. “Got anything to report?”

“Not much,” the astronaut informed. “There’s a typhoon off the coast of the Philippines heading for the open ocean, and a 2.1 magnitude earthquake hit Japan, but the authorities have it under control.”

“Looks like our quiet streak continues for now,” Jeff acknowledged.

“It does!” John smiled, watching his father. Hidden lines of worry were etched upon the patriarch’s face. “This isn’t just a formal call, is it, Dad?”

Jeff smirked at his always insightful second born. “No, John. It isn’t.”

“What happened?” John frowned.

Jeff sighed for what felt like the umpteenth time this morning. “Gordon is on medical leave for the next twenty-four hours at least, and then light duty for a few days after.”

“Is he okay?”

“He will be,” Jeff reassured as he met John’s concerned features. “He has a mild concussion. He and Alan got hurt during an altercation.”

“Altercation?” John asked, confused. “Between each other?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have all the facts yet, only Scott’s account of things,” Jeff explained. “It appears Gordon pulled a prank on your older brother, and as you can imagine, it wasn’t well received.”

John gave his father a curious look. “What’d the little creep do this time?”

“Paint in the showerhead,” Jeff chuckled, unable to hide his amusement.

“My new paint I just ordered, I might add,” Virgil’s voice suddenly echoed as he walked up, joining them.

John shook his head, picturing the image. “Let me guess, it was yellow?” the blonde said, putting a hand to his face.

“How’d you know?” Virgil questioned from behind Jeff.

“While you were heading to the cockpit on the last call, Gordon was securing the equipment. I might’ve allowed him to vent about Scott’s nit-picking on the previous rescue. He was pretty adamant about making our older brother pay for his remarks about Four and his criticizing.”

Virgil groaned. “Of course, he was.”

“So, what happened, and how did Alan get involved?” John asked, still trying to understand the situation.

“Well, as Dad had Scott’s point of view, I got Alan’s,” Virgil said, putting a hand on his father’s chair. “Alan told me Scott confronted Gordon right outside his bedroom. When Alan opened his door to see what was going on, Scott started in on the two of them. Words were said, and Scott shoved the two of them on his way to tell Dad. Both were standing on the ledge of the landing and lost their balance. Gordo smacked his head on the old armoire. Alan hit his back on the edge of the other table and has some cuts and scrapes from a glass vase that broke.”

“Wow,” John whistled, amazed. “That definitely could’ve gone better. How are Scott and Alan?”

“I had to separate them,” Jeff said. “Both were ready to go at each other.”

“They’re too much alike,” John replied, rubbing his neck.

Jeff nodded in agreement. “I’m giving everyone a moment to step back, and then we will talk about what happened. You boys know I don’t like violence. This can’t happen again.”

“Do you want me to talk to Scott?” Virgil asked, looking down at his father.

“No,” Jeff shook his head. “Let’s just let them be for now. Both Scott and Alan do better if you just give them space to cool down.”

“Gordon say anything to you, Virg?” John wondered.

“Not much. Gordy’s feeling pretty guilty, and dare I say stupid at the moment,” Virgil answered honestly.

“Never a dull moment around here is there?” John said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Never,” Jeff exhaled, grinning.

“This too shall pass, Dad,” Virgil said, squeezing their father’s shoulder.

“It’s been a rough week and a half of tough rescues. Tensions are just high. These last few days have been our first real break in some time. Something was bound to happen,” John said. “We’ll be laughing about this by next week.”

Jeff allowed a small smile to graze his features, grateful for their words. “I can only hope.”

-TB-  

Alan walked along the beach, taking in the warm late afternoon breeze as he was making every effort to distract his mind. He watched each wave roll toward the shoreline, it’s sound relaxing him.

As he strolled along the sand, he felt his foot land on a rock. Pausing, he went to reach for it but stopped as he looked at his bandaged hands. Groaning in annoyance, he kicked the object instead, knowing Virgil wouldn’t be happy with him if he got his hands infected with sand.

Noticing he was approaching the path that led back to the house, the youngest Tracy followed it. He’d spent a solid hour wandering the island, and the blonde knew that if he didn’t return soon, Virgil would send a search party.

It had taken some coaxing and sneaking to get his older brother to allow him out of the house. Alan knew Virgil was just overcautious and concerned. Whenever the medic went into doctor mode, nothing was safe from scrutiny. Alan loved his brother for caring, but as he calmly tried to explain, his injuries were superficial. Just a bruise on his back and a few small deep cuts on his hands and knees. He wasn’t dying anytime soon, and a walk around the beach wouldn’t hurt anyone.

He was fine.

Gordon was the one Virgil needed to fuss over. Alan had only been allowed to see Gordon once since the early morning events, and it frustrated him beyond words. It was no secret how close he was to the swimmer of the family, and Gordon was the main person he went to when he needed to vent. Unfortunately, his person was off-limits right now as the ginger’s aching head needed some peace and quiet.

Sure, he could’ve reached out to John as a substitute. John was a great listener and generally had a way with words. An asset the youngest Tracy had utilized often while he had been away at school. Today, Alan didn’t feel like troubling John with his issues. He didn’t need another brother getting drawn into it.

Walking up the steps that led to the pool deck, Alan froze as he came face to face with his eldest brother. The pair stared at one another, unsure who should speak first. Alan made a quick decision and moved to side-step Scott, intent on heading inside without a word.

“Alan, wait,” Scott pleaded.

“Not now, Scott.”

“Alan, would you just quit and listen for once?” Scott cried in frustration.

Alan stopped and immediately turned around. “I’m the one that needs to listen?” the youngest scoffed. “That’s really rich, Scott. Especially coming from you on today of all days.”

“I said I was sorry. What more do you want from me? It’s not like I did it on purpose!”

“No, but it happened didn’t it,” Alan muttered.

“If you two would just grow up and quit your stupid immature games, maybe it wouldn’t have,” Scott fumed.

Alan walked toward his oldest brother, meeting him head-on. “Don’t tell me I’m immature and need to grow up, when after today you are no better. I might get angry and blow up, but I’ve NEVER hurt anyone.” Alan clenched his fists in an effort to keep himself in check, backing away marginally from Scott. “You always do this, Scott! You’ve always made it us against you. Gordon and I labeled just too young and immature to ever understand or be on your level when something doesn’t go your way. I’ve been putting up with it for years, and I’m done!” Alan yelled.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Scott seethed.

“It means I’m sick of it! I can’t speak for Gordon, but something has to give. All I’ve ever wanted is to be seen as your equal and damn it all if I haven’t tried, Scott. I’m definitely not perfect, and I’ve made my fair share of mistakes, but you can’t always hold them over my head. I might be the youngest, but I’m not an idiot. I’m not a kid anymore, and you can’t keep treating me like I am.”

Scott remained silent as he took in his baby brother’s words. Relaxing his body, he ran a weary hand over his face. “Is that what you really think? That I think so little of you?”

“Why not?” Alan scoffed. “Ever since I returned from college, you’ve made it hard not to see otherwise. Almost every decision I’ve made on a mission you’ve shot down, rebuked, or called crazy. For the record, there’s more than one solution to a problem. I might not always be right, but haven’t I earned the right to at least be heard?”

“Does Gordon feel the same way?” Scott asked quietly.

Alan shrugged. “I can’t say for certain, but he’s vented to me after a few calls when I was at Harvard.” Alan watched his older brother as Scott took in his words. “Look, Scott. I’m not trying to make you feel like an ass, but I’m just stating facts. You tell me I need to listen more, but so do you. You accused me of being apart of Gordon’s prank this morning when I didn’t have a single hand in it. You wouldn’t even let me get a word in. You had your mind made up, and that was it. What happened after that was well…” Alan paused as he fiddled with the bandages on his hands. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt Gordo and me, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I feel betrayed.”

“I feel horrible, Alan. I would never intentionally hurt one of you, but it appears I’ve been doing just that for a while,” Scott said solemnly. “Allie, I had no idea you felt that way. I’ve been an idiot.”

Alan looked up at Scott in shock. “Scott…”

“No, Al, I have,” Scott started, meeting Alan’s eyes. “You’re right, this is all my fault, and I need to listen more. I need to step back. It’s not easy...”

“Believe me, I know how hard it can be,” Alan smirked.

“When did you get so wise?” Scott said with a suspicious stare.

“I’ve always been, you guys just never let me show it,” Alan chuckled.

Scott studied his baby brother’s features once more. Closing the gap between them, he placed a hand along Alan’s left shoulder. “Allie, I guess it boils down to the fact that it’s hard for me to accept that you are as old as you are. That you’ve become an adult and that Gordon is an adult.”

“Sometimes,” Alan laughed.

“Yeah, sometimes,” Scott smirked, returning the laugh. “To me, you’ll both always be my kid brothers - especially you, Allie. I just want to protect you at all costs, and in doing so, I lose sight of what’s standing right in front of me. It’s my job as field commander to make sure all of you make it home from a rescue, and sometimes that blinds me. I’ll work on it, okay? It’s not going to be easy, but I’ll try. Deal?”

Alan smiled. “Deal.”

“Come here,” Scott said as he enveloped Alan in a hug. “Thanks for giving me a kick in the pants and sorry for hurting you guys.”

“It’s okay, Scooter,” Alan replied, returning the hug.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” the brunette asked, as he pulled Alan away to get a good look at him. “Dad forced me out before I saw the rest of the damage I inflicted.”

“It’s nothing but a raised bruise that Virgil is making a thing out of,” Alan laughed. “I’ll live.”

Scott scowled. “Hands?”

“Again, I’ll be fine,” Alan said, swatting away his brother’s hand as he reached for the bandages. “Honestly, there’s maybe four or five cuts that are worth all this white gauze. If you ask me, it’s overkill.”

Scott smirked. “That’s our Doc. Virgil is anything but not thorough.”

“Yea. Um,” Alan paused as he looked at his watch. “Speaking of, Virg. If Gordon is feeling better, he should be released from the infirmary by now. If you wanted to see him, that is.”

“I need to talk to him too. Clear the air, you know,” Scott acknowledged.

“I could go with you,” Alan offered. “Maybe help keep the peace for once.”

“Now there’s a first,” Scott bellowed, ruffling the youngster’s blonde mop.

“Fine, I take it back,” Alan pouted.

“Thanks, kiddo, but I think this is one I need to handle on my own,” Scott said, putting an arm around Alan’s back as they headed inside the house.

“Okay, well, you know where to find me,” Alan said. Both looked up to see their father approaching them with a questioning gaze. “Hey, Dad!”

“Everything good here?” Jeff questioned warily.

“All good, Dad. Sorry again about all this,” Scott said.

“Me too,” Alan agreed. “Won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” Jeff said sternly. “I won’t tolerate violence in any form from any of you. Especially at home.”

“Have you seen Gordon?” Alan asked.

“I just came from the infirmary. Virgil allowed him to leave the infirmary as long as he took it easy. Gordon said he was headed to his room for a bit. He wasn’t too keen on the pool being off-limits to him until tomorrow,” Jeff said. “I’ve got a business call in my office if you need me. Be good, boys.”

“No pool, huh?” Alan grimaced as they approached their bedrooms. “Are you sure you want to go it alone?”

Scott playfully shoved his little brother into his room. “Don’t rub it in, brat. I’ve got this.”

“Alright,” Alan smirked. “But if I hear shouting, don’t expect me to come running this time.”

Scott glared at him as Alan quickly shut his door before he could comment. Taking in a deep breath, the brunette knocked on Gordon’s door. “Gordon?”

After a few seconds, the redhead opened the door. “Scott?” he asked, surprised.

“Hey,” Scott greeted. “Can I come in?”

“Sure, I guess,” Gordon responded, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’m not here to yell,” Scott tried to reassure. “I’m here to apologize and to check on you.”

Gordon took a seat on his bed, remaining quiet. He was unsure of how to respond. “Have you spoken to Alan?”

“I have,” Scott said, leaning against Gordon’s door. “We’re good, Gordon. Now I need to make it up to you. I never meant to hurt you, kid. I never should’ve reacted that way.”

“It’s not entirely all your fault,” Gordon added, studying his brother.

“No, but I’m the reason you’ve got that headache,” Scott replied. “Alan also made sure to remind me how much of an idiot I’ve been.”

Gordon looked up at his eldest brother in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“It’s been brought to my attention that I’m a horrible listener,” Scott smirked, earning a chuckle from his brother. “Allie pointed out I’ve also been a tyrant in the field lately.”

“What else did Alan say?”

“He made it pretty clear I’ve been a jerk all around, Gordo. To you and him,” Scott said, as he moved forward to join Gordon on the bed. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel anything less than a valued member of the team. That was the last thing I meant to do.”

“The rescues over the last few months, unfortunately, have required a lot of tough calls on my behalf. It’s not an excuse, but it’s my job to make sure you make it back here, Gordon. In performing that job, I also got in my head. Bottled a lot of the bad stuff up, and it just exploded. Sadly, you bore the brunt of that. I can’t tell you how sorry I sincerely am for hurting you and Allie.”

“I accept your apology, but only if you’ll accept mine as well,” Gordon replied, meeting his brother’s sapphire eyes. “Wow, that must’ve been some talk the Sprout gave you,” Gordon chuckled.

“More screamed at me, but he opened my eyes,” Scott sobered. “I mean it, Gordon. I’m going to try to be better at listening to you guys. I never want you to feel like your opinion doesn’t matter on a call. I might not always see the merits to your perspective, but as Alan pointed out, you deserve to be heard.”

“Even when you’re an asshole?” Gordon asked, honestly.

“Yes, especially then,” Scott simpered. “I’m sure you’ll be the first to remind me.”

“You bet I will,” Gordon smiled with glee.

“How’s the head?” Scott asked as he placed a gentle hand on his younger brother’s forehead.

“Throbs every once and awhile, but I’ve dealt with worse,” Gordon confessed. “Quit beating yourself up about it. What’s done is done. I’ll be good as new in a day or so, and this will just be another cherished memory.”

“It could’ve been worse.”

“Scott, just let it go,” Gordon groaned. “Or do I need to find Allie to knock some more sense into you?”

“No, I’m good,” Scott laughed. “Can’t let Alan get too big a head, now can we?”

“I think that ship sailed long ago, big brother.”

Scott chuckled and stood up from the bed, making his way toward the door. “I’ll let you get some more rest. Need anything?”

“No, I’m good. Besides, I give Virgil an hour before he checks in on me,” the redhead reassured.

“Take it easy and don’t give Virgil too hard a time,” Scott ordered, giving his brother a knowing look. “I’m headed to do some work in the silos. Never know when we’ll get our next call.”

“F.A.B,” Gordon saluted, earning an eye roll from his older brother. “Oh, and Scott? Just remember who has the better Thunderbird,” the redhead winked as Scott left his room, muttering about him being delusional.

Maybe another prank was in his future….

FIN 

[strongerwiththepack]

Sensory Sunday: Touch

Whoops I’m a bit late but here’s my ‘touch’ fic for @gumnut-logic's new challenge. The boys weren’t cooperating with me today but I think it turned out alright in the end!

Hyperthermia vs. Hypothermia 

“Do you two coordinate your disasters just to irate me?” Virgil asked in exasperation as he warmed up another heating pad between his hands.

Scott just shrugged but Gordon grinned at him. “Just keeping you on your t-toes bro.”

The joke was kind of lost in the sound of chattering teeth so Virgil just rolled his eyes and placed the final heating pad onto Gordon’s chest. His little brother hissed slightly at the startling change in temperature. Virgil eyed him wearily, he was still pale and his lips had a slight blue tinge to them but at least he was shivering again which meant he was warming up.

He crossed the infirmary to examine how his other patient was doing. Scott, in complete contrast, had a cooling blanket draped over him with ice packs around his neck and armpits. Virgil removed the cold compress from his brother’s forehead and held his hand over it, cringing at the heat still coming off him.

Somehow Scott had come back from his rescue with severe heatstroke and then he’d had to go and pick up Gordon because he’d managed to get hypothermia. It was almost laughable. In fact he had laughed, and now he was regretting all his life choices as he yoyoed between heating and cooling treatments.

“You’re dehydrated, you need to keep drinking Scott.” He reiterated, eyeing the still full glass of water he’d left by his brother’s bed. “Don’t make me put an IV in.”

“Don’t even think about it.” Scott grumbled, grabbing the glass, a little too aggressively, and drinking a few sips.

Scott’s skin was sunburnt and irritated and Virgil could see it starting to peel at his hairline and cheeks. He’d already put cream on them so there wasn’t much more he could do.

“Don’t blame me, you were the one who decided not to wear your UV shielded helmet.” Virgil shot back with a hint of annoyance in his tone because this could all have been avoided if his older brother wasn’t such an idiot.

Scott just glared at him and Virgil rolled his eyes. He knew his brother was regretting that decision now that he was confined to the infirmary and off duty for 48 hours. He’d argued about the amount of time but Virgil was not budging on that one. He knew the dangers of heatstroke and he wasn’t risking his brother going out before he was ready.

“Hey V-Virgil, seeing as I kept my helmet on, do I w-win this one?” Gordon called.

“Seeing as you were at the bottom of the ocean, I’m glad you made that decision.” Virgil replied with a smile shaking his head.

Scott piqued up then, apparently putting the dots together. “How did you end up with Hypothermia anyway Gordon? Your suit should have protected you from those temperatures.”

Trust Scott to jump on the big brother train first opportunity he got. Gordon just grinned sheepishly.

“Well I said I kept my helmet on, I never said anything about the rest of my suit.”

“What!? Gordon, report.”

Virgil sighed. “Scott you’re supposed to be resting. You’re both supposed to be resting.”

Scott narrowed his eyes at Gordon.

“Fine.”  He said getting comfy on the bed. “Let’s call it a bedtime story then, on you go Gordon.”

Virgil frowned but didn’t stop Gordon as he dove into the story with all his usual dramatics. He was pretty curious as well, he’d only heard a condensed version from John earlier.

***

“I’ve just got one more to get John” Gordon told his space monitor brother as he prepared to swim across from Thunderbird 4 to the downed submersible once again.

John popped up looking slightly distracted. “Okay Gordon. Listen, Scott’s got himself in a bit of trouble, think you’ll be okay to navigate solo?”

“FAB John.”

Gordon felt some concern rising for his oldest brother, but John would’ve told him if it was serious. He turned his focus back to the rescue. 3 crewmen aboard a research submersible in the Arctic Ocean that had been hit by a Bowhead whale.

Gordon was familiar with the mammal, Bowhead whales have a massive triangular skull to help them break through the ice in these waters so its unsurprising that it was able to do so much damage to the tiny sub. The entire vehicle was flooded, luckily the crew all had dry suits and breathing apparatus. The problem was getting them from their vehicle to Thunderbird 4 through the strong currents in the water. Due to the unpredictable waters he wasn’t able to dock safely to the vehicle.

So, now he was free swimming across with the researchers but he had to take them one at a time in case the currents were too strong for them to make the swim. It was a fairly standard rescue. He should be done soon. John had directed him to the divers in the first place but he knew where to go now.

Gordon swam through the outer hatch once more, battling his way across to the submersible. These definitely weren’t recreational waters, the current was strong. He really had to pump through the water hard to get through. It was a cross current so he was swimming pretty much diagonally to where he wanted to go, pushing against the current while also propelling himself forward. It was slow work but his hand finally found a rung on the research vessel.

Pulling himself through the opening he’d made previously he swam through the flooded hallways to where he left the last researcher.

“Final call for dry land.” He called out as he turned the corner. Luckily the woman was right where he’d left her and she smiled gratefully.

“What would we do without you International Rescue.” She said in a relieved tone, her Icelandic accent coming though strongly.

“All in a day’s work ma’am” Gordon replied with a smile as he attached a line between them. It was always nice meeting kind people on the job. It was pretty rare when everyone you met was going through what was likely one of the worst experiences of their life so he usually shrugged off any unsavoury characters.

They were almost at the door when the compulsory disaster every rescue seemed to contain occurred. The whole station started to flip on its side and they were thrown into the wall. Gordon felt a searing pain in his side as a piece of bent metal cut into his suit. It was a shallow cut but that wasn’t what Gordon needed to worry about. He hissed as a flood of sub-zero temperature water flooded into his suit. It felt like daggers against his bare skin.

Okay. That puts a time limit on things.

He sucked in a sharp breath, trying to stop his heart racing from the shock of the cold water and turned to the researcher.

“Are you alright?” he gasped out.

“I’m fine.” She seemed a little dazed before noticing the tear in his suit and widening her eyes. “Your suit?”

“I’ll be fine.” He shrugged off. “Let just get you out of here.”

She looked at him with uncertainty but complied, nonetheless. Oxygen wasn’t an issue, he doubted it would leak into his helmet to that extent before they got back to Thunderbird 4. He wasn’t stupid though, he knew the risks in these temperatures but the best thing to do would be to just finish the rescue as quickly as possible.

He started swimming with the researcher swimming behind him. None of the research team would have made it through the currents alone, the connecting cable pulled taunt every time and he ended up propelling himself and his passenger through the water. It was what he expected though, the required level of swimming ability you needed to obtain an underwater vehicle license was pretty low.

The swim was definitely harder this time though, the cold seeping into his suit seemed to be burning his skin and his limbs were feeling sluggish. It didn’t help that the rip was near his chest, it would be reducing his core body temperature a lot faster. He was surprised John wasn’t already screaming at him.

His muscles were burning by the time he was able to latch on to his bird and he took a second to catch his breath before opening the outer hatch. He let the researcher in before him and gave a sigh as the water drained out of the compartment. Usually he’d be completely dry under the suit at this point but the soaked fabric clung to him and he shivered violently.

He secured the last researcher with her colleagues, leaving them with a reassuring smile, that probably wasn’t vey reassuring considering how bad his teeth were chittering, before heading to the cockpit and letting out a sigh. He was freezing.

“Thunderbird 4, your suit readings are showing a sharp decline in body temperature. What’s your status?”

John had popped up on the comm, his brow furrowed. Gordon was feeling pretty rubbish but he didn’t want to distract his brother if Scott still needed help.

“I’m okay Thunderbird 5, go help Scott.” He assured.

“Scott’s fine Gordon, he’s back on Tracy Island now. What’s your status?”

Gordon sighed in relief, realising he’d been holding on to some stress about his brothers situation subconsciously.

“My suit was compromised while in the water John.” He reported. “I may be in the beginning stages of hypothermia.” He replied sheepishly.

What he didn’t expect was an amused smirk from John and the questioning tone. “Hypothermia?”

Gordon was confused now, he was in the Arctic Ocean with a ripped dry suit, of course he was hypothermic. He must have let some of that confusion show on his face because John just shook his head and muttered. “It doesn’t matter, just know Virgil is not going to be happy.”

“Can you make it to the drop-off point?” John asked him, changing the subject.

Gordon was still confused at his brothers questioning but replied. “Yeah, I’m only 20 minutes off the port, but I may need a pick-up from there.”

“FAB Gordon, I’ll notify Virgil. Let me know if it gets any worse.”

“Thanks John.”

***

“And then Virgil came to rescue me and brought the warmth with him.” Gordon ended, snuggling down into his pile of blankets and heat pads.

“John called me exactly 30 seconds after I had got Scott settled and treated for heatstroke telling me that you had hypothermia and needed a picked up.” Virgil interjected shaking his head in mock disappointment.

“You know you love us.” Gordon grinned and Virgil was glad the colour seemed to be coming back to his cheeks. He repositioned the heat packs that had fallen out of place during his brother’s theatrical hand gestures.

Scott groaned. “Urghh, just looking at those heat pads is making want to throw up again.”

“Again? I think it’s story time for you now big brother.” Gordon piqued up.

Now it was Scott’s turn to look sheepish. “Wellll I was in Mongolia helping with earthquake evacuations and bear in mind here that this rescue took over 10 hours”

***

“Okay John, I’m moving on to Sector G now.”

“What? Scott you just finished searching Sector G.”

“Oh. Sector…” Scott had to do a quick run through of the alphabet to figure out what came next. “…H then. Sector H.”

John noticed the pause.

“There is no Sector H Scott. You’re done.”

“Uh…Great. I’ll head back to One then” Scott said looking around about him. He was glad to be done, he’d had a pretty bad headache for a couple of hours now but it had started to subside.

John frowned at him but replied anyway. “FAB Scott.”

Scott slowly made his way back to his bird. He was desperately looking forward to a nice long, cool shower when he got home. It had been a long day and he technically hadn’t needed to stay past the last aftershock but the local aid services just didn’t have the equipment they did. It was a much faster evacuation with him helping. He had been out in the sun all day though and he could feel the heat on his face.

Gordon was so going to laugh at him for getting burnt and he could already hear Virgil’s lecture on wearing sun cream.

“Scott, where are you going?” John questioned as he popped up on his watch.

Scott looked around himself. He had no idea where he was going. Huh.

“Uh, I might be a little lost Thunderbird 5.”

John frowned at him again. One of those frowns that said you’re acting weird.

“I’ll send through coordinates.”

“Thanks John.”

His brother signed off again. Scott knew Gordon was on another rescue so he didn’t bother his space-bound brother again, even though it took him way longer to calculate a path from the coordinates than it should have.

Finally setting eyes on his bird was a relief. The insulated metal encasing that promised a cool environment inside. Except when he did step inside, and the cool air hit him, all that greeted him was a strong feeling of nausea. He barely had time to grab a bin bag before he was emptying the contents of his stomach into it. He sank down onto his knees and heaved over the bag as the feeling failed to pass.

“-ott what’s wrong?” He finally registered.

Bringing his arm up he was met with a worried looking John which managed to shake him out of the nauseous daze he’d ended up in.

“John. M’fine.” He mumbled. It didn’t even sound convincing to himself.

He pushed himself off the floor but was met with worrying double vision before it tunnelled and he ended up on his knees again, slumping sideways into the wall of his bird, trying to blink the spots out of his eyes.

“You’re not fine, Scott. Stay down.” John ordered. “When did this start?”

Scott sighed, moving to sit with his back against the wall, resigned to his fate as John quizzed him. He was usually pretty good at pretending to be fine but not being able to stand up was a bit of a giveaway.

“I don’t know John. When I got to my bird, I just felt really ill.”

John’s lips pursed but his attention got pulled to something on his left.

“Hang on Scott, it’s Gordon.” He made to blink away but turned back warning. “Don’t move.”

Scott started to stand up as soon as his brother was gone. In his defence, he did take it very slow this time. He leaned heavily against the wall as he stood, breathing deeply to try and dispel the nausea. His skin was tight and irritated, he rested his cheek against the cool metal of his bird and sighed at the relief it provided. His skin was on fire. That probably gave him an indication of what was making him feel sick. Virgil was going to murder him.

He stumbled up to the cockpit and sat down heavily in the pilots chair. John popped up on the dash.

“Scott. What did I say?”

Scott just smiled innocently. “Sorry bro.”

John growled in annoyance. “It’s not funny Scott. You could have passed out and hit your head. And you are not flying home.”

“John I’m fine.” Scott tried to reassure. “It was just a dizzy spell.”

“Scott, I am remote flying One home and Virgil is going to be waiting for you at the other end to take you to the infirmary because we are pretty sure you have heatstroke.”

Yeah he was pretty sure on that as well so he just groaned and leaned his head back against the chair. He tried closing his eyes but the world spun around him every time he did so he focused on a spot on the roof and fought to keep the contents of his stomach as John flew him home.

***

“Ha! You’re way more of a screw up than me.” Gordon boasted as soon as Scott was finished. “I’m here because of an unavoidable accident whereas you’re here cause you’re just an idiot.”

Scott scoffed at the statement but Virgil just raised his eyes in amusement. At Scott’s look of betrayal he stated. “What? He’s not wrong.”

“Virgil I was busy!”

“Not too busy to take care of yourself. All you’ve accomplished is John having to monitor your sun exposure and water intake from now on.”

“John doesn’t have time for that.”

“Exactly! So, stop making it a necessity.”

Scott huffed in frustration but Virgil just glared at him. He could see Gordon out of the corner of his eye itching to break the awkward silence but he gave his brother a slight shake of his head. He was not letting Scott get away with this one. He could understand one mistake but this was not the first time this had happened. Scott needed a reminder that they were not invincible, especially to the forces of nature.

He was pretty sure that in Scott’s mind the only dangers were the stuff that could actually hit you. That’s why Virgil had to be the one that watched out for the more subtle heath concerns of their job but he was tired of Scott not listening to him.

“Okay.” Scott finally conceded. “I’m sorry, I was being stupid.”

“Good.” Virgil nodded, accepting the statement. He was pretty sure that was all he was going to get out of his stubborn eldest brother.

Scott flopped his arms over his eyes and Virgil winced, knowing Scott probably had a horrible headache at the moment.

“The ice in those packs has probably melted by now. I’ll swap them out.” Virgil reasoned heading to the door so he could replenish their supply of ice from the kitchen.

“Good idea, I feel like a furnace.” Scott replied, arms still covering his face and mumbling his words slightly.

“That’s it.” Gordon suddenly declared. “I’m coming over to cuddle.”

Scott deadpanned him. “We are not cuddling Gordon.”

Gordon was already climbing out of his own bed though, keeping one of his blankets clutched tightly around him as he shivered. “Too late. Gimme some of that heat”

Virgil just laughed as he swiftly made his exit. It honestly wasn’t the worst idea in the world. He could still hearing his brothers bickering as he walked down the hall though.

“Just so you know, I kick in my sleep.”

“Gordon get off my bed!”

[halorocks1214]

ბარტერი (a Thunderbirds fic)

Chapter 1: გატაცებული

AO3 Link

Word Count: 3892

Summary: And here they thought getting their father back was the least of their worries.

i make no promises for this fic. the upload schedule will be totally willy nilly because i havent really been feeling the whole writing thing and because of my other fics and projects and irl shit. i hate to admit it but im on the fence on whether or not this will actually be completed, BUT, i still am surprisingly proud of this so im posting it anyway. hope yall enjoy!

“Okay, what’s the dealio?”

Gordon easily skipped around his younger brother with a slightly faux-naive voice. They were currently out in the field, damn tsunamis not being picked up by the D.A.R.T. soon enough, and while Gordon knew better than to talk about personal things during a rescue, it was the first time in a while he even had the chance to talk to Alan.

Who was currently more forlorn than Gordon was aware he could be if the way he watched his toes kick whatever small rock they strutted past was any indication. It took a moment for Alan to register his older brother’s question, but when he did, he blinked a few times before looking at Gordon with a raised eyebrow, “What?”

Gordon was going to play this slyly. Treat it as banter, not an interrogation. Gordon idly leaned over and picked up a stick. He started to twirl it, never meeting Alan’s gaze directly, “I don’t know, you seem off. Just wanted to see if it was anything I could help with.”

Alan went back to kicking the pebbles, shrugging his shoulders in a way that said ‘this was a big deal but I don’t want you to know that’, “Oh, sorry, just tired. It’s not my fault I was having a wonderful nap in the closet only for John to make me tumble out of it due to the alarms. The fact that we’ve been out here for God knows how many hours doesn’t help.”

Gordon’s chuckles at that statement were slightly fake. Alan was hiding something, and if Gordon had to imitate Scott, well, then it was only Alan’s fault, “Yeah-huh. Sounds good.” He focused on the stick, pretending it was a wand and waving it around as such, “Decided on a college yet?”

Alan still didn’t look up, and Gordon could hear the noises of rocks getting kicked and traveling a foot or two. Alan answered him monotonously, “Uh, not really. I’ve narrowed it down to three. I haven’t brought them up with anyone other than Grandma though since the last thing I want to do is create a World War between our older brothers about which one is better.”

Gordon snorted but then got serious again. Dammit, Gordon, you are not letting him worm his way out of this. Again, “If I promise Scout’s Honor will you tell me them?” He cheekily grinned at Alan, which got a small smile out of the younger brother. Nice, getting closer. Now Gordon was doing that rubber pencil trick with the stick, way more immersed with the visual illusion than he probably should be, “Hmm, is it girl trouble?”

Alan rolled his eyes, but Gordon could tell he was getting annoyed, which meant the older brother was getting close. Alan kept his facade up, crunching a stick underneath his feet as he started walking just a little faster, “If you mean ‘Kayo chased me for accidentally spilling paint on Shadow’s nose’ then yes, I’m having lots of girl trouble.”

Gordon winced wholeheartedly and sympathetically. He remembered when he accidentally tripped and spilled water all over the front of her one night. He wasn’t aware she was a fan of throwing them into the pool just as much as he was until that night. It was in annoyance, but still, Gordon considered it a similar hobby between them regardless, “Yeesh, sorry for bringing up traumatizing memories bro.” Squinting at the stick he was playing with, he put it over his lips like a faux-mustache, lightbulb dinging in his brain with joyful glee, “Boy trouble?”

Alan groaned at started walking way faster than Gordon. Once he was about three feet away from Gordon, he shouted while still facing forward so Gordon could hear him, “Oh my god, let it go, Gordon!”

Bingo, Gordon thought he hit the jackpot. Throwing the stick away and keeping his distance from Alan, his grin went ear to ear with excitement at what he thought was figuring it out, “Oh man, okay, wait, hang on, is it that Bear kid? The one Scott rescued for the umpteenth time last week? Or, wait, didn’t Conrad visit you up at ‘Five two weeks ago during your rotation?” Giggling, Gordon rubbed his hands together mischievously, “Allie, how dare you. Romantic or not, it’s my job to help you out with these things--”

Suddenly and abruptly, and shutting Gordon up, Alan turned around and glared at Gordon while his fists were haphazardly clenched at his hips, “Fine, Mr. Nosey, you wanna know? It’s about Dad, okay?!”

Well, there went any ability to joke in this situation. Gordon lost his smile completely and stared mindlessly at his younger brother, who was breathing heavily and still glaring, but Gordon could tell there was a hint of anxiety behind his eyes.

Dad had been back for about two-and-a-half months now, and the Tracy family seemed to be settling into a new routine with him. Everyone was happy Jeff was back in one piece, none more so than Jeff than himself. They quickly figured out how to slowly integrate him back, starting with daily chores, reaching him having permission to help out with IR, and now they were getting ready to reintroduce him back into Tracy Industries.

The anxiety in Alan’s features was suddenly all Gordon could see in them, followed by Alan shaking his head and turning back around, “Shit-- forget I said anything, that’s not why--”

Before he could even think, Gordon shot his arm out to grab Alan by the wrist, his amber eyes wide with careful thought. He needed to think these words through. The idea that Alan was nervous regarding talking about his own dad was... “Allie… I know you didn’t have as much… time with him, but he’s your father too. You don’t have to hide any opinion about him for me, for us.”

Alan still wasn’t looking at Gordon, but the older brother definitely saw the tiny and hidden flinch the younger brother made at your father too. Gordon barely held back the sharp inhale he wanted to make. Okay, that was an entire suitcase, one he, unfortunately, couldn’t unpack right now (as much as he loathed to admit it that was a Scooter problem), so he focused the first problem he figured out, “Allie, are you upset Dad is back or?...”

That got Alan to turn around, “No! Jesus, Gordon, of course, I’m happy he’s back. The only reason I graduated right before we left was that Scott and John both told me to go do something while we waited because “the way you’re bouncing on your toes is going to burn a hole in the ground and Grandma won’t like that,” remember? I’m ecstatic he’s alive and back home.”

Letting Alan gently go, Gordon took a deep breath to reorganize his thoughts, “Okay, then what about Dad has got you so worked up?”

Alan was suddenly much younger than the fresh, getting-ready-to-go-to-college, young man Gordon saw this morning, “You remember that argument between Scotty and Dad, right? The one about five weeks ago that we shouldn’t have listened in on but did anyway?”

Gordon flinched, not wanting to remember that argument.

The two have made up since then, but it was a shock to just about everybody on the island, including John and Virgil, who the blondes nervously told the morning after so they could get some kind of reassurance the world wasn’t ending. In the Tracys’ quest to have their Fairytale Happily Ever After, it never occurred to them that their father might not like how they were running things.

Scott made a decision that didn’t sit well with the older man, and he let his son know that in tactless, Jeff Tracy fashion. Scott’s decision wasn’t the best per se, certainly not the worst, but he could’ve waited for some better options, but Jeff couldn’t just say that outright, that he was concerned about his son taking risks like that. He had to immediately jump to the idea that Scott’s leadership might be lacking suddenly.

It also didn’t help that Scott couldn’t just fucking say that, while he was sorry for being slightly rash, he didn’t like being undermined after years of successful leadership. He went straight for the fact that Jeff had been gone for the past eight years. Scott didn’t blame the man for it, God no, but the insinuation that Jeff wasn’t any better than Scott because of it stung everyone in the room. Because being reminded of the fact that Dad was technically a dead man for a big portion of all of their lives wasn’t bad enough.

Gordon forgot that Scott could be too much like Jeff for his own fucking good, as well as the fact that Scott did get it from Jeff Tracy of all people.

Adult men Gordon’s ass, two old and stubborn as hell mules more like it.

They were both stuck on the fact that now there might have to be challenges of authority, and frankly, now that the oldest outside of Grandma put that idea on the table, it bothered everyone else barely more than those two combined.

Jeff apologized for how he acted after Grandma ripped him a new one, and Scott apologized for jumping the gun a little bit too (after Grandma yelled at him as well), but there was no promising no second fight, least of all one like that.

It was a little like being a kid and watching Mommy and Daddy fight for the first time.

Long story short: it sucked ass.

Alan took a shuddery breath and brought Gordon down from that memory. Alan then proceeded to wrap his arms around himself, rubbing up and down in a weak attempt to ground himself, “I just… what if he had all these ideas about me while he was up there, and what if I’m completely different from those ideas and it disappoints him?”

Oh, sweet Jiminy Cricket.

What the hell was Gordon to say to that? Jeff was a loving a supportive father, more so than others. Gordon remembered all of his swim meets and such for a good reason, so his first response to that statement was easily of course he would be proud of you!

But there was an ever so tiny thing that grabbed Gordon’s tongue from saying that outright. It was honestly minor, so he wasn’t sure why it kept hitting him like a fucking truck.

Eight. Years.

Jeff Tracy was a remarkable man, and even more remarkable father, but nobody spent eight years in isolation, let alone spent it thousands of miles up in space, without it having some kind of consequence. Jeff would never outright disown his sons for anything as long as it wasn’t illegal or got themselves or others hurt, but he was human, and he had preferences just like the rest of them had.

So, disappointed? Hell no. But potentially shocked and uninterested? Less supportive than other endeavors? Gordon loved his father, but he had to admit that he was at a loss. There weren’t Dead Men for Dummies books anywhere, and it sucked to say it, but Jeff was different. They were different, and the only way they would know how this Jeff reacted to things would be an in-the-moment experience, and if Scott’s and his argument was the first concrete example they had...

With how different Gordon was to the rest of his family, he always worried that he would never fully fit in. When Jeff came back he was excited just as much as Alan, as the rest of his family, but Gordon was always worried about his dad the most. He cheered him on at his swim meets, sure, but Gordon was always keenly aware of how the man, outside of taking him to and from them and, well, cheering, lots and lots of cheering, never really asked more than How did it go, sport?

Gordon wanted to be the only Tracy with that fear. It sucked, but in the end, his family always came through even if they weren’t aware of his anxieties. Now that Alan has them, over his father no less…

That just brings them right back around to the start: Gordon would be lying to himself if he knew what Jeff thought of him, let alone Alan.

Alan was a perceptive person, and if Gordon lied to himself, Alan would see that and know Gordon was lying to him as well, and that would very easily make the situation worse.

However, before Gordon had any chance to say something, words pulled from his ass or otherwise, anything to ease his baby brother’s low thoughts, footsteps rustled in the distance, causing the two blondes to snap their heads to look to the side. What they saw were two men, one larger and older, another younger and seemingly out of his comfort zone, in a sense. Gordon was going to chalk it up to ‘being a rescuee after a tsunami’, but his squid senses were tingling, and he felt himself easily go slightly taut.

The younger stranger blinked a few times before snapping his head up to look at the two IR Operatives in front of him. His eyes lit up, and Gordon suspected it wasn’t because he was about to be rescued.

“Oh, shit, these guys are young. How much do you think they would sell for?”

And just like that, Gordon’s gut twisted into a killer pretzel and was dropped off a five-story building. This had to be a joke, had to be. These kinds of people were only supposed to exist in horror stories. In the dark parts of the internet that are mainly regarded as myths, created to scar the poor children who snuck onto their parents’ laptop without permission. Even if they were real, Gordon and Alan couldn’t have had that bad of luck to--

“Remember what we said about famous people? Forget the ages, these guys are International Rescue. Most clients will throw physicality to the wind if something famous is involved.”

Gordon also thought that your pupil shrinking to the size of the tip of a needle when you’re terrified was a myth, but as the blood completely drained from his face and left him white as a sheet, he had to concede he was wrong about multiple things tonight.

Holy hand grenade in a fucking handbasket.

The state of shock his body was forcing him to enter was bad, like, shock-blankets-are-required level bad, but trembles from a different body right next to him snapped him back into attention.

Alan was trembling, his grip on Gordon’s arm so tight that the older brother wouldn’t be surprised to find bruises when his outfit was finally taken off. There was only a marginal amount more color compared to Gordon behind those freckles, and Gordon couldn’t tell if his brother’s pupils were any smaller with the way the kid was flicking them around like crazy, “Wha-- what are they talking about?”

Ah, shock was one hell of a bitch.

Alan was 18 years of age, an adult. He flew a rocket into space for a part-time job. He also lived on an island where he was mainly homeschooled and was soon to be off at some kind of college (maybe even online classes). As embarrassing as it could be, his family wasn’t going to be the puritan fam that shoved the mere thought of sex to the sidelines. Alan had four older brothers who spent a significant amount of time on the mainland around other people more than the youngest could ever dream of. Most time of which was spent in their respective high schools (or Olympics fields, ‘cause Gordon wasn’t exactly of age when he still had school over there) with hot girls and boys-- similar hobbies or not-- that had the same level of hormones flying about.

They knew things and weren’t afraid to answer any question Alan had.

Also, Alan had a huge internet hobby; video games, browsing social media, you name it. The kid’s probably heard stories that would give Scott hernias for days. Alan had to have stumbled across the topic of human trafficking somewhere, whether it was the plot of a teen-rated video game or something as simple as a news article. At the end of the day, this kind of thing was something everyone was subconsciously aware of, but you didn’t think about it because A, it was awful, and B, more often than not, it didn’t happen to you.

But the way Alan stared at Gordon like the prankster held the stars in his palms-- as if he could snap his fingers and bring them to safety in the blink of an eye reminded Gordon that Alan was always a little bit more sheltered than any of them could help it. Alan was one of the last things their mother gave them, and the way John and he essentially became her just split into two people hurt more than any of them would be willing to admit.

Alan knew the horrors of the world firsthand, but he never had to fully grasp it because his older brothers would be there to shoulder it for him.

Always.

Like hell Gordon was going to drop that tradition today.

“Alan, run.”

With a shove and a half, Gordon ripped his little brother’s hand from his upper arm and sent him in the other direction. Gordon also ripped his own heart in half as he ignored the somewhat naive cry of Gordon! as it got quieter and quieter. Despite the guilt, Alan listened and booked it. Like a baby calf being told to run away from starving lions while the mom stayed behind to protect it. Gordon, mostly satisfied that his bro was safe, turned around and swallowed the bile that was rising in his throat.

He was hoping his glare could be as scary as Scott’s or even Virgil’s, but the way the creepy strangers just chuckled as if the threat he posed was no bigger than a tiny kitten filled Gordon with both anger and fear. They knew he was from IR. If they weren’t scared of him, what did that mean they were prepared for?

The older man stated an order, one that had Gordon’s blood run cold, “Go after the other. I got this one.”

Gordon got out half an angry “Hey!” before the man that spoke suddenly charged at him. On reflex, Gordon put himself into a fighting stance and prevented both of them from toppling over. He hardly considered it a victory, though, as the other guy who was ordered to run after Gordon’s baby brother was gone and out of sight before Gordon could even look up after nearly having the wind knocked out of him.

Gritting his teeth and shoving the man off of him, bringing his arms up and curling his fists with a glare brighter than his hair, the only plan he could go with was the one where he took this guy down as quickly as possible. Right now, the only solace Gordon had was the fact that his brother was a quick puppy. He didn’t only need ‘Three to move at the speed of light.

C’mon, Alan, show me why Track was worth it.

Focusing completely on his enemy, Gordon figured the man was intentionally slimy with his words, as the only thing he did in response to Gordon tensing like a cornered animal was to chuckle in cold amusement, “You’re a wily one, they’ll like that.”

Don’t throw up don’t throw up don’t throw up don’t--

Gordon reinstigated the fight with a snarl, landing a punch that didn’t cause as much damage as he wanted, but it was enough for him to gain a slight upper hand. The man wasn’t thrown off balance, nor did he majorly flinch back from the recoil, but he did understand that he had to play more defensively. It was like two stubborn stallions fighting over the mare in the area.

One young and smaller and quicker, his age not a roadblock but an easy strength. If he hit just right his opponent would topple over as quickly as he could throw his fists. The older one, however, was still larger, and while he might have been slower and less agile, his age allowed more wisdom and understanding. He’s probably seen (and kidnapped) many like Gordon, so he knew exactly how to play him like a damn fiddle.

It was hard to say who would win until one of them was either running for the hills, beaten and bloody, or dead at the victor’s feet.

Gordon wasn’t sure how long they went at it, but he knew it was longer than he liked.

He was somehow barely winning it regardless, and he was fully prepared to give Penny a big heckin smooch for the lessons that were currently saving his life, but even with her endless knowledge and background, she couldn’t prepare Gordon for dirty tactics. Stallions fighting over mares usually just involve two of them.

Right as Gordon was able to grab the man’s arms and wring them around his back, a magical third person appeared, different to the second one that went after Alan, like a freaking wizard with his own magic wand.

Which was also known as a cattle prod to most.

The pokey object was jabbed into his side. Fire filled his body, making him scream out in pain. Gordon remembered when he and Virgil messed with one back on the farm as kids and how they learned their lesson the hard way. He was hoping to never “learn” it again. Yet as a couple thousand volts flared throughout his abdomen, even with the suit, he had to relent and let go of his makeshift hostage. His body was on autopilot and it said get away from source of burning pain.

His body tried, oh, it tried, but what was previously his prisoner managed to stand in the blink of an eye and swing a fist into the side that wasn’t being tortured by an agricultural device. With another short, cut off scream, Gordon fell over onto his ass. His wheezes were brutal, the air not wanting to come back into his body despite itself. At this point, the logical part of his brain was telling him he wasn’t going to get away and he should save his energy to withstand whatever these people were going to do to him, but as always, the emotional part was overriding everything.

Shit, guys, help! Scotty, Virg, Dad--

He turned around to be on his hands and knees and scrambled to try and run as Alan did. He might be faster in the water than on land, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t one quick son of a bitch when he wanted to be. It was enough for his gym classes, it was enough when he needed to run away after a successful prank, it was enough when his grandma needed a new test subject...

But it wasn’t enough here.

The cattle prod was shoved into the back of his neck, and with it came darkness and a growing sense of dread.

Please, Mom, get Allie to our family.

[pop-culturereference]

Like We Were Before

a fic for Dickbabs week 2020 day 1: history

Summary: Babs and Dick, what things were like before, what they’re like now, and how they’ll be in the future. Because Rebirth is frustrating and I’m never sure what the characters do and don’t remember.

The night was settled and smooth, with streetlamp light seeping through the blinds of her apartment. Babs and Dick had dragged themselves in after a night of high-energy crime fighting and immediately shaken off the Nightwing and Batgirl getup to run it through the washer. Babs had been waiting up to switch it to the dryer, and now that that was done, she could go to bed. Dick was haphazardly sprawled on her bed like a pair of discarded socks. She pressed her lips together against a smile. Even while he was drooling on her pillow, he was so completely him that she couldn’t help but find him adorable.

Babs lightly shifted him over to his side to make space for herself on the bed. She didn’t have a couch in her new apartment yet, so if she wanted to sleep at all, she’d have to share the bed with Dick, she told herself. But, the soft stillness of the night made her honest enough to admit to herself that she didn’t mind. It was nice. 

“Babs?” Dick asked softly.

“Yeah?”

“I can sleep on the floor if you want.”

“No, I don’t mind.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Seriously, don’t worry about it. I only shoved you over because you were taking up a little too much space. You’re like…an invasive plant species, taking over my bed like-“

“Hey!” Dick was more awake now.

“No, no, hear me out,” Babs cut in before he could object. “Like, you just sprawl everywhere, but it’s not bad. You’d be a GOOD invasive plant. Like morning glories, or ivy.”

“Ugh. Not ivy, ever,” Dick muttered into the pillow.

“Gotcha, morning glory.” Babs tugged the blanket up and rested her arms above her head. She relaxed into the mattress and breathed deeply. 

It was a good night. There was a reaching peace inside her, the kind that usually came after a light workout that relieved aches and worries, and before a day with no obligations. She stared up at the ceiling and played with that thought. That was becoming more common, as of late. She couldn’t remember a time in her life when she’d been so consistently happy. 

She had recently climbed out of a rough patch. Her mind had been a jumble of conflicting memories. Or, rather, it still was, but now she was starting to make sense of them. Before, it had felt like two different versions of Barbara Gordon were trying to reconcile with one another. She’d been in constant turmoil. She didn’t know which memories to believe and to act on. Which Barbara remembered Lady Blackhawk? Was Cassandra Cain ever Batgirl? Was Babs being selfish by keeping that from her now?  Which of Tim’s personalities was the real one?

Eventually, she had put it together, piece by piece. It was like everything happened in a timeline. First, she had been permanently in a wheelchair. Then, all of a sudden, she was walking and running and Batgirl-ing again, with no explanation. It had made no sense, but at least it fit together nicely.

Babs tried to return to the contentment she had been feeling. With a sigh, she rolled to her side, leaving her facing Dick’s back. Did he ever think about things like this? Most people didn’t realize anything was different in their memories, but she’d learned that most heroes had the same issues she did. Dick probably had an even more jumbled mess than she did. His hair poked out funny over the bullet scar, and she itched to run her thumb over it. After a few more seconds of the itch, she slowly reached out and tenderly smoothed his hair.

She felt a tingling current. She used to do this, before, but it had been so long since she and Dick had been so close. Back then, 

he hadn’t had a bullet scar, and she’d been a little bit more in love with the world. Did Dick remember that? 

Her breath caught when she remembered that he was right next to her and she could ask him if she really wanted to. 

“Hey…Dick?”

“Mm hmm?

“What do you… remember?”

Well, that was vague.

“In the sense that…do you feel like you’ve lived two lives? Are your memories all…split?”

Dick rolled over to face her and blinked at her. “Hmm. Yeah. I’m not a huge fan.” He curled in to bring the blanket up to his chin and his head lower on the pillow so their faces were level. It made Babs feel like they were kids again, curled up and close. Dick sighed. “It’s been awhile since my brain made any sense at all,” he said with a rueful laugh. And sometimes, all I can remember is the bad stuff, like, the crime syndicate.”

Babs took a sharp breath as a memory suddenly flashed through her: Dick, chained up and tortured, secret identity revealed. 

Apparently Dick was more used to that memory than she was, because he kept talking, his words picking up momentum.

“What’s crazy is that I actually remember more since I got a bullet to the head. When…I remembered…I had all these memories, and I didn’t realize I didn’t have them before until a few days later. It was- I- I was thinking about you, actually, and I remembered something that I knew I didn’t even know before.” Dick squinted.  It was something they both did when they were thinking hard- as if squinting pointed their eyes at their thoughts. 

Dick used to visit her from Blüdhaven—that was from Memory Timeline #1. He’d swing into the clocktower window. She’d usually be doing Oracle work, and he’d bring her something- usually coffee or pastries- along with a hacking request. He’d start working on one of his own cases, but they’d ask each other for help and  usually both end up working on the same one. She would realize she was squinting, then look over at Dick and he’d be doing the same thing. “You’re doing the squinting thing,” she’d say with a grin, and he’d say, “Don’t act like you weren’t doing the squinting thing just a minute ago, oh high and mighty Oracle.”

She laughed and told Dick, “Hey, Boy Wonder, you’re doing the squinting thing.”

He broke his squint with a laugh. “What ever happened to ‘Hunk Wonder?’ Have I been downgraded?”

Her heart skipped a beat. He remembered, then. 

“We-“

“Some-“

They started speaking at the same time.

“You first,” Babs said.

Dick sighed. “Sometimes I wish I could go back.” She expected him to wistfully stare off into the distance as he elaborated, but instead he looked straight into her eyes and held her gaze, waiting for her to say something.

“Things were better,” she solemnly agreed.

“You were in a wheelchair!” Instead of sounding puzzled by her agreement, Dick sounded sounded teasing.

Babs took this as a good sign, and, without letting herself think her way out of it, quickly worked around the knot in her throat to say softly, “We were engaged.” 

Dick nodded, not breaking her gaze. “That’s why I wish I could go back.” Before Babs could say anything, his next words tumbled out in a rush. “When I remembered, I was still with Bea. I did love her, and she’ll always be special to me, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Babs. I remembered how we were before, and I compared it to how I was at the time. I was slowly, slowly getting back to how I was before the brain injury, but I realized I didn’t like who I was even before I got shot. I was a flake. I got too absorbed in myself to care about what was going on around me. I made stupid decisions and then refused to admit any responsibility or fault.”

Babs laughed. “Well, look at you, a new man already, taking responsibility and admitting fault at the same time.”

“I was dealing with a lot. I’m not trying to make excuses, but I had a lot on my plate. I was tortured to death, brought back to life, Bruce convinced me to fake my death, Damian was dead, then he wasn’t, everyone hated me for pretending to be dead, and then when I finally started to get things figured out, boom. Bullet to the brain.”

Babs opened her mouth, but Dick cut her off before she could say anything.

“I don’t like talking about it, and that’s all I’m going to say. Moving on. Anyway, I realized that I was not happy like that. I didn’t feel like myself. And I realized… I feel the most like myself when I’m with you.” He kept his gaze on hers expectantly.

“Dick- I-“ she started, but she couldn’t choose what to say. After a breath, she tried again. “This isn’t going to be nearly as sweet and sappy as what you just said, but thank you, everything you said means a lot. Wow. I-” She had to take a break to get her voice under control and to quickly blink her teary eyes. She was smiling now. She kept trying to bring her lips together to push it away, but it was hopeless.

“When I’m with you, I feel content. Like, right now, I’m thinking, how long has it been since I felt so at peace, and so happy with my life? And I realized, oh, it’s actually been this way a lot recently. The last time I felt this was actually last week, when we were tracking Mudman through the sewers together and you kept squealing whenever you saw a rat. Even the most disgusting thing is good if you’re there.” 

Babs didn’t feel dumb about smiling anymore, because Dick had an equally corny grin on his face. He shifted closer and put his head on Babs’s pillow. “I love you,” he whispered. 

Babs tangled her legs with his and brought up an arm to twist his hair with her fingers. “Let’s get engaged. Again,” she said.

“Barbara Gordon, did you just propose to me? In your pajamas?”

“So what if I did, Hunk Wonder?” 

“Well,” he said with a sly grin and scooted closer to her under the covers. “I’m not complaining, if it gets me promoted to Hunk Wonder. I’ll be the perfect trophy husband. When you get elected president, everyone will say I’m the handsomest first man the nation has ever seen.”

“Is that a yes? We’re not even dating,” she pointed out. 

Dick got serious again as he said, “Babs, I don’t need to date you again to know that I’m 100% certain. You’re my best friend, isn’t that what everyone says? You should marry your best friend? Plus, it helps that every time I see you, I want to sweep you off your feet like in some sappy romance movie and kiss you.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Do it then, you coward.”

Later, as Dick’s heartbeat and his arms around her lulled her to sleep, Babs let go of her longing for the past and was carried off by dreams of the future.

[gumnut-logic]

6. Which scenes did you cut, and which were added in Gentle Rain?  (for @janetm74 )

Okay, I can cheat somewhat with this one as I routinely keep a file for chunks of text I cut out of fics while writing. So I actually have a few of the scenes this question asks about (probably a good thing since my memory is useless).

One thing I must say is that the clincher scene where Virgil collapses in Thunderbird Two in Chapter Twelve didn’t originally happen there. I knew he was going to collapse from about Chapter Two or Three onwards, it was a target scene I was writing towards. However, he was originally supposed to collapse in Two’s hangar and be found later. The problem with that was the condition he developed (which evolved as I wrote) would have killed him if that happened. He needed someone there to save his life (sorry, Gords). So he didn’t make it back to Tracy Island before he found he couldn’t breathe.

As for scenes cut out, there were several, most of which don’t make much sense reading them now and some are just lines, but here are a few.

One of the initial challenges was finding a way to get Em and Scott to actually meet beyond the initial incident. Initially, I had Scott eager to meet her, but realised pretty quickly that the eldest Tracy wasn’t going to be that easy.

Scene: Em’s hospital room shortly when Kayo initially introduces herself.

The woman opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a beep. She sighed. “Yes, I am Kayo. Please excuse me.” And she turned away, holding her wrist up.

There was a flicker of light and a familiar voice spoke. “Kayo, have you found her yet?”

“Scott, have patience.”

“Kayo-“

“You are aware that she can hear everything you are saying?”

Em had to smirk.

“I would be if you had told me.”

“I would have told you if you hadn’t interrupted me before I could say anything. And no I haven’t asked her yet.”

“Kayo-“

“Patience, Scott.” And there was the click of an ended transmission. Kayo turned to face Em again. “My apologies. As you can hear, he is recovering well.”

“Still an argumentative brat apparently.”

“It’s one of his strengths.” She took a step back towards the bed. “He was wondering if you would be willing to meet with him. He wants to thank you for everything you did.”

Em blinked. “What?” She shifted her shoulders. “Um, er, okay.” Oh so confident and professional of you there, Emaline. She kicked herself internally.

But then she realised exactly what she now looked like. She bit her lip.

-o-o-o-

Em initially reacted completely differently to Kip’s sudden presence in the Tracy’s living room.

“What you be doin’ here, honey.”

“It’s Em, as you well know. And I’m here as a guest. What are you doing here?”

“Same.”

And the conversation ended there.

The silence was ominous. The Tracys in the room stared at each other.

Alan arrived on the scene a few moments later having secured Tracy Two. He stared at the tableau. “Okay.” He held up his hands. “I’m just going to back away quietly.”

Penny stepped around Em. “Crispin, dear, have a seat. Emaline, I advise you to do the same.” The aristocrat walked calmly into the sunken lounge and took her own chair. “Alan, do be a dear and find us some tea. I am absolutely parched.”

Alan appeared quite happy to play Parker if it would get him out of the room. Grandma and Kip took a seat together almost directly opposite from where Em came to a halt inside the circle.

Scott made a note to create a space in the lounge for ease of access, for either TB imPatient or Em’s hoverscoot. He himself pulled up beside Em and reached once again for her hand.

She responded and shot him a worried smile, her fingers curling around his.

The motion did not go unnoticed, but frankly Scott didn’t care.

Penelope, of course, was a picture of respectability.

-o-o-o-

At some point Gordon was appreciating his brother, but I’m not sure exactly what scene this was cut from. has some good lines though.

Virgil was the kind of guy you could tell your deepest problems to and he would simply listen, no judgement, no censure. Sure, get him before his coffee and you may leave minus a body part, but the man would sew it back on for you later.

Gordon and Virgil were so different, yet it was what made it work.

Of course, everyone raved about the ‘bond’ Virgil had with his older brother, sure. But Gordon liked to think that he had something with the Tracy bear, too. Something a little different, a little unique. And he knew Virgil trusted him, despite the pranks and the jokes and snide remarks. They were brothers and it went beyond all that.

So when Virgil sat down beside him at the helm looking like death that hadn’t been warmed up...

-o-o-o-

Originally, when Kay left Virgil’s hospital room when she told him she couldn’t handle him giving his life to IR, Virgil lost it and had to be sedated. This proved to be completely ridiculous and OOC and was dumped (I think one of my beta readers nabbed me on that one). The scene I have has been partially rewritten, but the remnants are there.

“What the hell was I supposed to do? If Brains dies, International Rescue dies with him!”

Kayo had tears in her eyes. “And what do you think would happen to International Rescue without you?”

His heart stuttered and it had nothing to do with his injury. He reached out to touch her but she stepped away. That hurt even more. “Kay? Please?”

“No, Virgil, you have to understand this.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “Without you, there is no International Rescue.” She swallowed and another tear drifted across her beautiful skin. He so wanted to touch her. “It shouldn’t be that way. I can’t share you that much. I want to share your life, you...you can’t give it all to iR. Please, Virgil.”

He reached for her again, desperate to touch her. “Kay!” She took another step back. Her head was shaking ‘no’, tears running freely. “Kay, no, don’t, please don’t!”

“It has to change. Things have to change. I can’t...I can’t...” Whatever she was trying to say dissolved into a sob and she turned away. “I can’t.” She ran from the room.

“Kay, no!” The machinery monitoring him screamed as he tried to get out of bed. A mob of nurses came running and he was buried under a sea of medical white.

“Mr Tracy, calm down!”

“Kay!” His face was wet. He struggled against hands. “Kay!”

“Mr Tracy!”

“Kay, please!” But his heart was hammering in his chest and he was gasping for breath. Spots danced in his vision. He couldn’t.

Please, Kay, I’ll do anything...anything...

“Mr Tracy, if you don’t calm down, I will be forced to sedate you.”

He stared at the blonde haired nurse so opposite from his Kay.

He let all his muscles go, falling slack back against the bed. A sound far too much like a whimper passed his lips.

Kay?

God.

Anything for Kay.

-o-o-o-

Words passed over his head, he ignored them, he needed to get to Kay.

But something flooded his system, a calming, sleep inducing cold. It wrapped around his mind and pulled him down. “No! Kay!” His voice was fading. He had to get to Kay. Please, Kay, I’ll do anything...anything...

But the cold seeped into his mind and took it away.

-o-o-o-

The Epilogue was rewritten a couple of times. I had an argument with it. In the process I killed off an entire original character, Frederico. Poor Frederico. I should revive him in another fic.

“Virgil’s a target?” Scott’s whisper was fierce. They were standing outside a meeting with the Colonel Casey, Lauren Davis and a representative of both the Western Australian Police and ASIO.  

John bit the inside of his lip. “Kayo tagged Em with one of Virgil’s trackers. The timing was just too perfect, too coincidental. Either the bombers were after Em or Virgil. Probability puts Virgil at the top of the list.”

“How did they get the frequency?”

“Unknown.”

“Re-scramble everything. I want everything changed. Start with the frequencies, but speak to Brains, I want everything upgraded, even the subcutaneous.”

John gave him a single nod. That was going to hurt. “Already in progress.”

“Have you told Kayo?”

“No, but I have no doubt she is fully capable of putting the pieces together.”

Scott nodded, but his expression changed, even more concern deepening his frown. “If they wanted Em or Virgil, why bomb a bridge?” He swallowed. “Why not just kill or capture? And it would have been obvious it was coming from Em not Virgil.”

The knot in John’s gut only twisted tighter, his brother was thinking out loud. “Perhaps they wanted to see how we would react? How important Em is to the organisation?”

There was so much anger in Scott’s stance, John fought the urge to take a step back. “Goddamnit.” He clenched a fist. “I want to know who, how and why. Full resources, John. Get Kayo and Penny on this. I want it fixed and I want them found.”

“FAB.”

-o-o-o-

Virgil found her in her office, hissing at one of their agents. “Frederico, so help me, if you don’t take this seriously, I’ll strip you of your IR credentials and throw you in the Atlantic.”

“Is that a death threat?” Virgil couldn’t help but smile. Frederico never took anything seriously, much less a death threat from his boss. He did, however, do an exemplary job at finding information to not be serious about.

-o-o-o-

But one of the scenes I had to cut quite hard was the scene where Em and Scott woke up in the same bed. Apparently, they were ready to take their relationship much further than I was and I had to draw their amour to an abrupt halt before it got entirely out of hand.

God, she was beautiful. Breaking off, he kissed her jawline, tracing it around to her ear and nibbling on her lobe.

Her fingers teased the hair on the nape of his neck, while her other hand slipped under his jacket, brushing across his shirt, around his ribcage to his back, fingertips digging in at his ministrations.

“Scott Tracy, you know how to drive a girl wild.” Her voice was rough and he took it as permission to continue a trail of kisses down her neck, nuzzling her collarbone.

His reward was a gasp at his touch. His left hand had found the bare skin of her back once more and was denting that softness enough to hold her close. His other hand was at her waist, satin between his fingers.

“You are one gorgeous man.” And her tongue was in his mouth again, urgent against his.

-o-o-o-

Please keep in mind these are all trash can scenes and were cut for good reasons.

I hope they provide a little amusement.

As for what was added to the fic...I write very haphazardly and by the seat of my pants most of the time. The whole fic was added after the first chapter really :D

Thanks for asking and for reading all that :D

Nutty

(Who should write more Em, I miss her)

[thegreenfairy13]

No Country For Heroes (Part 9)

Read the full story here.

Notes: Yes, you have seen this post before! But as @whomerlockwood pointed out, the ending of my fic came too sudden so I took it down.Sorry for the resulting inconvenience. But then I love writing this story so much I’m actually glad I can keep working on it (so there will be one or two more chapters after this). 

Plot: the GCPD turns Jim in for Oswald’s protection. He takes the opportunity to bend the detective to his will. Features torture, mind control and dub con. Originally written for the prompt ‘beg’ by the wonderful @justsimplymeagain who always encourages me <3! Also, a special thanks to @one-eyed-bossman as well! 

And Finally the 9th chapter:

Oswald doesn’t react the way Jim expects him to. He was prepared for rage, violence, not a moment of quiet consideration. The mobster smirks, almost sadly, before sitting down next to the former cop.

“James?” he asks softly while reaching for his hand. Jim wants to jerk away from his touch but once he feels those long fingers wrapped around him, he goes limp. He thinks he should feel fear and desperation - he only feels numb and docile. Jim’s aware of his bravado being nothing more than a fleeting spark at this point. There’s not much fight left in this weakened body, or in his exhausted mind. His prior words, though spoken with vigor, lack conviction. Oswald probably knows, too.

The Penguin can hardly hide the victorious little gleam in his eyes. It would be easy for him to overpower Jim, to hurt him for his rashness.

“Naked and humiliated,” Oswald states, almost reverently, as he presses his other hand over Jim’s heart. His touch feels hot on his skin, and the detective wonders why it doesn’t hurt. “I have to admit, I admire you,” he whispers. “You’re barely hanging on, but there’s still so much anger in you.” Leaning in, he kisses Jim’s knuckles.

The blonde stiffens, breath caught in his throat.

“That is what you want, isn’t it?” he carries on. “To fight until your last breath, remain proud and strong even when you’re already down, broken, and bleeding.”

Jim grits his teeth, can’t contain the angry snarl about to escape his mouth.

The mobster is unfazed though, only studies him with a mildly bemused expression.

“Let me go!” he hisses when Oswald’s hold tightens. He’s so sick of their dance, yet he can’t seem to stop it. Not in the past, not now. Cause this is what they have been doing for years, isn’t it? Getting close while desperately trying to get away from each other. At least it is was Jim has been doing.

The smaller man shakes his head solemnly, purses his lips. “And then what?” he asks back. “The moment you’d walk outta here, they’d put a bullet in your head,” he states, shuddering in disgust. “They made you responsible for the mess we’re in,” he reminds Jim, smiling compassionately. It sounds wrong though, as if he was mocking the cop.

Jim finally pulls his hand free, only to regret it immediately. Without the distraction of Oswald’s touch, he can’t keep his fingers from trembling. He raises his hands, lets them fall back into his lap. “Then let them,” he whispers, barely audible.

Closing his eyes, the Penguin stretches beside him languidly. “I should have known breaking you would be different,” he mutters. “It’s such a sweet task,” he adds, smiling innocently. Lazily, he covers his eyes with one arm, gets comfortable. The way he acts doesn’t indicate Jim only moments ago threatened to take him down. If there was truly some fight left in Gotham’s knight, he’d choke the life out of the gangster. Yet even now, he can’t. The thought doesn’t cross his mind even though it would be the most reasonable thing to do. If he’d murder his torturer, the worst that would happen would be his own death.

Instead, he mulls Oswald’s words over and over in his head, tries to decipher their meaning. Turning his head, he stares down at the Penguin’s unfazed form. He can barely get his words out as the panic slowly catches up with his brain.

Everything up until know only served to stall for time. Once the mobster gets up, once he pulls him from the room and across the hallway, he’ll be chanceless, give in, become Oswald’s puppet, his zombie - of that he’s certain.

“Why aren’t you granting me the mercy you gave this other man?” he blurts out. “One blow and it was all done,” he chokes out, thinking about the blood coating the floor only mere minutes ago.

Oswald removes his arm from his eyes and sits up. Biting his lips, he reaches out. Cupping Jim’s face between his palms he asks, “How could you ever ask me to murder you? You of all people?” The Penguin blinks back tears as he speaks, his voice is so hoarse he can hardly get his words out.

“But,” Jim protests, and at last, the long-awaited slap paints his cheeks red.

“But how dare you comparing yourself to this worthless thug!” Oswald hollers, all but jumping from the bed.

Frantically, he starts pacing the room, dragging his bad leg behind him, even pulling at his perfectly-styled hair - it’s something Jim has never seen him do before.

Spinning on his heels, he attacks, pins Jim down once more with his entire weight, eyes glistening feverishly. It takes him almost no effort to overpower the other man.

Taking a moment, he listens to the cop’s frantic heartbeat before he starts laughing. It’s a crazed sound, almost maniacal, animalistic. It subsides, eventually, until it’s nothing more but a slight sob.

“I’d hate to put you through another round,” he finally confesses. “We’re close, so close,” he gushes. “If you’d only see !”

“See what?” Jim snaps back, trying fruitlessly to fend off the mobster restraining him.

“What you really want !” Oswald screams, clearly exasperated. “Of all the things I showed you, what did you learn? What did you see?”

Jim struggles in the gangster’s unyielding grasp, bucks against the weight holding him down, yet achieves nothing. He’s powerless beneath the murderer, unable to help himself.

“Let me go!” Jim tries again. “Let me go. Let me go. Let me go.” He barely registers the moisture coating his face.

“And then what?” Oswald challenges, not relaxing his grip. “Then what? My death? Your death? Leave Gotham and live a normal life with a family of your own? Two kids and picket-fence? What, James, what?”

The cops stills, lets his head fall back against the pillows. Panting heavily, he stares into two orbs of green. Oswald looks as broken as he feels.

“You want freedom,” he reminds him. “But what would you do with it?” he asks, emphasizing his point by patting Jim’s nose lightly.

Jim snaps.

It’s this tiny bit of hope that Oswald keeps wielding in front of his nose, like a carrot, that infuriates him, fills his heart with rage. “Kill you!” he spits. “Put a bullet in your head, put a bullet in anyone’s head who deserves it, who pushed this city to the brink of destruction, who destroyed the souls and hearts of people like Barbara, and Lee, and...” his voice breaks off as he hears himself speak it out loud, horrified by the realization how badly he wants it, to just let go, to choke the life out of everyone who keeps dragging this city down with them, who keeps maiming and killing the innocent and the guilty and everyone in between. Jim wants this to end, to start all over, to be who he used to be.

Oswald, in turn, lets go of him. “And?” he inquires softly.

Jim inhales through his nose, tries to get his heartbeat under control. He’s back under Tetch’s spell, is fighting against this urge to simply destroy the madness that has befallen everyone around him, to just run off with nothing but a loaded gun and his determination.

He can’t let Oswald have this victory, can’t allow for him to set his inner demons free. He must not succeed where Tech failed.

“But I won’t,” Jim finishes stubbornly.

“But how else could you save this city?” the Penguin presses. Judging by the way he looks at Jim, he thinks Oswald knows how badly he just wants to give in. The blonde huffs out a laugh. Of course, he knows. He had been in his head.

The pressure on his chest increases when he doesn’t answer. Jim opens and closes his mouth, tries gasping for air, but it’s to no avail. Everything hurts and he’s about to lose his sanity, the part that ultimately defines James Gordon.

Leaning in, Oswald lovingly brushes a strand of sweat-sodden hair from his forehead. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful to just let go?” he whispers. “To do what I’m doing? This man, this thug... didn’t I merely serve justice when killing him for suggesting he rape you?”

Oswald’s shoulders sag and finally, he lets go off Jim. “You gave your all to make Gotham a better place, but where did it lead you? The moment you had your pathetic little victories, you would go and betray me, time and time and time again…”

“But you always knew that!” Jim interrupts frantically. “You always knew how I’d act, what I’d do!” he hollers. His head is swimming, hurting. They had this conversation before, hadn’t they? “You knew me,” Jim challenges, pressing his fist against his eye-sockets. The light is blinding once the pain is back, once everything starts throbbing anew. “You knew I’d try being good whenever I had the chance, to abide by the law.” His voice breaks off when the headache overtakes every rational thought.”

“Blaming the victim,” Oswald tzks. Pursing his lips, he agrees, though.  “That’s right, I know you,” he admits bitterly. “That’s why I knew I could do this ,” he confesses softly.

Jim’s head snaps up at those words. Belatedly, he realizes how in everything the mobster says and does since Jim arrived, there’s a clue hidden, a hint he can’t grasp.

Extending his arms, Oswald gestures at both of them. “It took me a while to understand it. And when you shot me, I got so angry.” His voice cracks slightly. Leaning over, he grabs a fistful of the blond’s hair. Tilting Jim’s head back, he murmurs, “It took me a while to understand,” he grouses. “ I’m truly your exception, ain’t I? You’d never go for my blood, not really, would you?” he urges and Jim slumps again.

“Why state the obvious?” he snaps back, tilting his chin defiantly, even when he’s shaking with fear.

“Why do you want to stop me?” Oswald presses.

He reaches for Jim, shakes him slightly, before climbing back into his lap as if he belonged there. Despite himself, Jim catches his slender waist, presses him close. One hand tangled in the criminal’s hair, he starts rocking him as if he was truly his lover.

If this warmth, this touch right here will be the last display of affection he’ll ever receive, he’ll soak it up. Besides, it was true. He does love, or maybe did love, Oswald. His lenience with the gangster had always been controlled by his emotions, by a desire to rather see him free than bound. Or by utter madness.

He is, after all, everything that is wrong with this city. He’s greedy, selfish, violent, ruthless. But he’s also driven, full of determination, and powerful. Jim should have shot him as Harvey commanded him to do so. Yet, he can’t even hurt him now. It’s ridiculous.

Jim looks up, takes in the slender frame, the pointed nose, those sharp eyes. Oswald is beautiful. And he tore Jim apart, violated him in ways he can’t even begin to comprehend.  The cop doesn’t know why he needs to haul him into a brutal kiss, only registers what he’s doing when he tastes copper. It’s his time now, to draw blood from the monstrous man that clings to him, that seemingly fragile being.

Jim thinks again how he should break his delicate neck now, end this misery, save himself and the city all the pain the Penguin is inevitably about to bring down upon them.

“You’ll lose your empire again,” Jim threatens between kisses. Oswald merely shrugs, wraps his arms around him like a vice in response. “Comes and goes,” he states. “I always get it back, eventually.”

Jim accepts the statement easily, it’s true. Maybe not even death could stop him, not in a city like this. Prison definitely couldn’t. His hold on the other man tightens.

“What do you really want?” Oswald asks him again, and Jim stills, stops working on the buttons separating him from the warmth and touch he craves in his wrecked state of mind. He wants him gone from power so much, and all the others like him. And he just wants him , too.

“I should kill you,” he pants, even as he slides the belt from his waist. Oswald nods in agreement.

Oswald chuckles in response. “The fire,” he states, biting his lip flirtatiously. Oswald hooks his arms around Jim’s waist, pulling him easily with him. “You truly can’t stop poking the bear, can you?” he asks appreciatively.

Belatedly, Jim realizes how he’s being maneuvered towards the hallway again.

“You should put something on,” the Penguin notes, winking seductively when Jim finally realizes that he’s still naked. The cop blushes.

“There’s really nothing to be ashamed about,” Oswald laughs as he traces the blonde's perfectly defined abs. “I’d just rather keep you to myself,” he adds, tilting his head.

Leaning back against the door, he offers his neck for Jim to press a kiss against his jugular. “It’s such a shame,” he sighs. “Shame, shame, shame,” he mumbles while running his fingers through Jim’s hair. In his insanity, the cop thinks to indulge Oswad’s desires might save him after all, tries forgetting what is at stake.

Oswald smiles affectionately at him. “How come I can have you but will never be able to keep you?”

Pulling back, the cop looks down at the other man. “Is this one of Edward’s riddles?” he wonders out loud before his brain catches up with him again and the fear slams back into his body with the force of a freight train.

“But I do love you,” Jim tries to bargain.

“I know,” Oswald replies as he wraps his arms around Jim once more. “But we both know that would never be enough, don’t we?” Drawing patterns into his skin, Oswald pulls him against the door. “What is that worth if we can never be together?” he asks when Jim starts mutely crying against his shoulder.

His legs give out beneath him. Bonelessly, he slides down to the floor until he’s at the Penguin’s feet. All Jim can focus on is a pair of shiny shoes. Reaching for Oswald’s ankles, he starts sobbing without restraint. “Please don’t,” he begs, knowing full well how futile it is.

“I can’t turn back now,” Oswald replies, almost apologetically. “Just once more,” he consoles, patting Jim’s head. “And the pain will stop and you’ll have everything you could have ever wish for,” he vows.

This time, Jim follows him down the hallway without kicking and screaming.

[hedwigstalons]

The Tracy Prize - part 19

A boring afternoon at work led to the creation of Claire, the rather grumpy and tech-phobic chemist.  I never expected the little fic she spawned to run to over 25k words.  I may also dig her out in future as there were other scenes that didn’t really fit this story.

 Thank you to everyone that came along for the ride.  Each like, reblog and comment was very much appreciated. @willow-salix thank you for digging me out of several plot holes.  And thanks to @gumnut-logic for opening the door and welcoming me in to this fandom, I probably wouldn’t have attempting writing Virg if it wasn’t you.

  So now…the final part.

Here are the earlier parts for those that want to go back to the beginning: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18

xoxoxox

Claire sat on a bench in the locker room near the hangers, wrestling with a rust coloured boot.  After a determined tug her foot popped around the bend in the heel and she was able to close the seals around her calf.  

The synthetic fuel had been cleared for field testing.  She knew Virgil was already in the cockpit of Thunderbird Two, waiting for her to suit up.  She didn’t want to keep him waiting.  She was looking forward to spending some time with the engineer.

She wondered how her life had managed to take such a surprising change in direction. Just a few short months ago International Rescue was just a name that appeared in news reports.  Anonymous heroes who swooped to the rescue.  Now it meant a houseful of people who risked their lives on a daily basis to help whoever made the call.  People that she was proud to call her friends.  Her thoughts lingered on one particular operative that she wished was more than just a friend.

As she adjusted the prototype uniform she reflected on exactly how this particular development had come about.

It had been a difficult day for all of them.  One of those days when the tension in the villa thrummed like an over tightened guitar string.  One of those rare days when Scott had announced he was out of his depth and called for outside assistance over the comms.  He had made an error and needed help dealing with the fallout, both literally and figuratively.  It had fallen to Claire to guide him through the process of decontamination from the material that coated himself and his body cam, obscuring Claire’s view of the tools and substances at his disposal.  That coating had turned out to be lithium hydride, a tricky substance that had the tendency to spontaneously ignite in humid air.  It was a tense time as she talked the First Responder through the clean up procedures, all the while hoping he wasn’t about to catch fire.

When Scott had finally made it home some 20 hours later he looked distinctly older than when he had set out.  He had announced that perhaps there would be times when it would be useful to take the chemist out in the field to try and avoid these situations occurring in the first place.  Claire had been inclined to agree with him; if Scott had paused and consulted her before charging into the factory he would never have got coated in the volatile substance in the first place.

What followed was a whirlwind of sketches, concept design and finally the prototype uniform.  

A uniform that was currently highlighting its flaws and would definitely need a redesign.

She would gladly have gone on the test flight in her usual clothes but Scott has insisted that, since she had a uniform, she should wear it when going off-island on International Rescue business.

Claire gave up trying to get the zip on her back done up.  She picked up the helmet and rebreather kit that turned her uniform into a grade two certified hazmat suit and headed towards the hangers.

xoxoxox

Virgil looked up from his pre-flight systems checks as Claire entered the cockpit. Technically he could have taken this test flight alone but he thought the chemist ought to get the chance to experience the result of her hard work first hand.  

If he was being completely honest he found himself seeking out opportunities to spend time alone with Claire.  He pushed those thoughts out of his mind.  Claire was dedicated to her work.  She seemed to enjoy his company but had given no indications that she was interested in him being anything more than a friend.  She was a professional to the core.

“I hope we won’t be needing those” he said, indicating the helmet and rebreather in her hands.

“You and me both, but Scott said to keep all the parts to hand.”

Virgil knew the sense in that.  You never knew what could happen when out on a mission and it paid to be prepared. His own helmet was close at hand.

“So how does it feel?  Does everything fit?”

His eyes raked up and down the petite form, currently clad in the ruddy tones that marked her out as one half of International Rescue’s scientific division. Of course it fitted perfectly. The full body scans taken as part of her medical had ensured that the garment was perfectly sculpted to her form.

He forced his eyes back to her face, hoping she hadn’t noticed his lingering gaze.

“Well the material is a little stiff.  I think the polymer coating is reducing its flexibility.  It also takes far too long to get on.  The biggest problem though is this.”

She spun around revealing the triangle of bare flesh at the top of her back.  

“If the main fastening stays at the back I’m going to have to get changed into uniform en-route so one of you others can buddy check my seals.  I just can’t reach it right.  Please can you finish doing me up?”

Virgil felt a lump form in his throat.

Claire held her ponytail out of the way so Virgil could finish closing the zip without snagging her hair.  A firm hand then ran slowly up her spine from base to neck, sealing shut the protective flap that covered the zip.  Claire’s body tingled in response.  Her mind wandered, imagining those same strong hands reversing the action later and freeing her from her uniform.  She gave herself a mental shake.  This was Virgil.  A colleague. It was…inappropriate.

Virgil returned to the pilot’s seat while Claire took the co-pilot’s side that was normally occupied by Gordon.  

This would be her first time being piloted by Virgil but not her first time flying in Thunderbird Two.  That first trip was tainted with bad memories.  Her first flight had been spent in worried silence.  Gordon at the controls.  Virgil in the med bay, out cold from the dart she had been responsible for shooting. She was still haunted by visions of Virgil crashing to the floor of the conference centre, the dart stuck in his chest.

The atmosphere in the cockpit today was excited rather then worried, but still serious.

The ability to control the Thunderbirds remotely meant that several test ignitions had been trailed but this would be the first true flight using the new fuel. The chance to test if reality lived up to expectations.

Virgil opened the comms link to both island control and Thunderbird Five.

“Pre-flight checks complete.  Everything responding as expected.  Thunderbird Two is ready for take off.”

“I’ll be keeping a running watch on your systems readouts and I’ll keep comms open,” John responded, his hologram floating above the control console.  “Stick to you pre-programmed route I’ve sent you. I’ve alerted the GDF that you are on manoeuvres so we can expect a call from Aunt Val later.”

“Why are the GDF involved?” Claire asked.

“Just common courtesy.  We give the GDF a rough flight plan and they alert any military operational in the area. It saves any cases of mistaken identity. We don’t want Two shot down again.” John replied.

Claire looked alarmed.

“That only happened the once, Johnny.”  Virgil had still never truly forgiven the US Navy for crippling his beautiful ‘bird.

“Yeah, well that was once too many.”

Scott’s voice cut in.  “If you two have quite finished…”

The rock wall disguising the hangar entrance lowered as Scott activated the mechanism from inside the villa.

Virgil taxied his Thunderbird out on to the launch pad.  The pad tilted upwards and the view from the cockpit changed from one of sea to one of sky.

Virgil directed power towards the thrusters.

An intense roar filled the cockpit.  Vibrations built up in intensity.  The mighty craft slid forwards and took to the skies.

“Thunderbird Two is go.”

xoxoxox

Virgil concentrated intently on the flight.  He had spent so many hours flying Thunderbird Two that he was fully attuned to her quirks and moods.  He felt each difference in response and behaviour without the need to check the instruments for confirmation.  The engine pitch was slightly lower.  The vibrations slightly stronger.  He tried a few turns and altitude adjustments and was pleased to see that Two responded just as well as before.

It was time to test her for speed.

Virgil eased the throttle forwards.  Scott’s voice came over the comms, reading out their velocity in increments.

“6,000 kilometres per hour.”

“6,500 kilometres per hour.”

“7,000 kilometres per hour.  Approaching previous top speed.”

Virgil continued to push the throttle.  He could feel that Two had more to give.

“8,000 kilometres per hour.”

“9,000 kilometres per hour.”

As each increment was read out the tone became excited.

“10,000 kilometres per hour.”

Claire looked across at Virgil.  A huge grin was plastered across his face at the raw power under his control.  It was as if Two was singing to him.  She hummed as he pushed the throttle to the maximum.

“!0,200 kilometre per hour” he whooped.  “Maximum throttle reached.  Easing off now and returning to base.”

“FAB Virgil.  See you back home soon.”

The pure delight Virgil was experiencing was evident.  He practically bounced as he guided the craft back over the Pacific Ocean. Their island home was soon visible again.

Virgil switched to VTOLs and brought them in to land.

xoxoxox

The two occupants of the cockpit grinned at each other, their eyes shining.  They were buoyed by the thrill of success.

Harnesses were released.

Claire found herself enveloped in one of Virgil’s bear hugs.  The air nearly crushed out of her body by his exuberance, her body held firmly against his chest.  She found herself returning the hug, wrapping her arms around his waist, burying herself in those powerful muscles.

“You did it!  You actually did it!”

Virgil was still riding the high of emotion.  Claire’s feet lifted off the floor in the engineer’s delight.  When she was placed back down she felt a kiss planted on the top of her head.

The pair of them both stilled and stiffened as the action registered.  

Claire looked up to meet warm brown eyes that looked ashamed, scared…hopeful?

Virgil cursed his lack of self-control.  In that one unguarded moment he had risked everything.  Claire had changed a lot since coming to the island but she could still be prickly on occasion.  Her flares of temper were becoming less frequent; there was more laughter, more enjoyment in being part of a team, but she had never invited him to cross this line.

Virgil braced himself for the backlash.

The backlash never came.

Their eyes remained locked.  Neither let go of the other.  Arms continued to encircle bodies pressed close together.

Claire found herself sinking into those chestnut depths.

Lips tentatively met, at first hesitant with the fear of rejection, then pressed more firmly as each explored the object of their secret desires.  Neither wanted to that moment to end.  Blue pressed against rust, the colour the only way of distinguishing the entwined bodies.

When they finally broke apart, eyes bright and cheeks flushed, Claire reflected that she might not have got the research grant but she had surely won the greatest Tracy prize of all.

-FIN-