#scott tracy needs a hug
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A cold, vicious cyclone caught me unawares in the middle of the city the other day, right as I decided it was too hot for the coat. So, naturally, Scott gets under the weather in NYC, quite literally (and is being a stubborn doofus about it). It's an Earth and Sky fluff, but in the end, John decided he wanted in, so Earth and Star have a good hearty chat too. Virgil and John are being very good brothers. Absolutely nothing hurts. A greatful boop to @idontknowreallywhy, @astranite and @janetm74 for soft fabrics and Top Gun featuring.
UNDER THE WEATHER
The perks of living on a tropical island included not only it being remote, secluded and perfect to house a state-of-the-art rescue operation. It was also the whole being TROPICAL deal. Whenever one stepped out - it was reliably warm. The downside of living on a remote tropical island was losing the habit to navigate the regular four-seasons weather. Or the fickle New York City climate.
Truthfully, Scott didn't miss it much. Of course, he'd be fondly nostalgic about Kansas and snow slides, or, would occasionally get caught up in the inherent wistful mood of early NYC fall. But he definitely didn't miss THIS - being caught up in the icy torrent and orange warning winds two blocks away from the Tracy Tower. In nothing but his dress shirt and slacks.
They were at Tracy Industries headquarters with Virgil for the better half of the week. Virgil was involved in pre-screening the latest batch of R&D pitches, before they would move on to Brains and John for the final approval and production. Scott was held hostage by the Department of Finance for budget amendments and redistribution.
When the opportunity presented itself, well into the afternoon, to escape his own untimely death by paperwork or premeditated murder of a high ranking employee, Scott ran for the hills, slipping expertly beneath the radar of Kayo's handpicked security detail.
His underlying motive was quite noble - to walk to that coffe-shop Virgil liked and get his brother and himself some decent coffee. Virgil loved coffee and Scott loved Virgil - the rationale for his sortie was ironclad. Of course, pursuing exclusively immaculate fraternal care didn't provide for ditching his earpiece and wrist com. The hasty retreat also meant his designer (and more importantly in his current predicament - woolen) jacket got left hanging on the back of his chair by the bay window. He forgot this wasn't Tracy Island, the sun outside the window and climate control in the offices and their penthouse at the top of the Tracy Tower lulled his vigilance. And now, without a comm to get a timely warning from Eos or to call a cab (or the security SUV with a profound apology, or One from the landing pad on the roof), Scott was caught in the sudden onslaught of a cyclone.
The prudent thing to do would be to go back to the Tower. So, of course, Scott decided in favor of the opposite and broke into a run for the rest of the distance to the coffee place. The relentless laws of physics - speed and resistance - made sure he was soaked through the very last thread of clothing on his body and chilled to the bone by the time he got there.
His hair plastered to the forhead, the supershiny gel having lost the round with the freezing downpour, rivers of water drained down from the top of his head all the way past the suit slacks and dress shoes splashed in muck. There were poodles of water INSIDE his shoes. His socks were wet. His shirt was drenched. The squelching of the fabric as he walked up to the counter suggested he was wet EVERYWHERE. Yuk! That, at least, he didn't know as he was getting numb all over from the cold.
Scott was aware he probably looked like a wet stray cat. It was that or his shirt became see-through in the rain - as a barrista with a cute smile tried to waive his fee for the coffee. Unacceptable! He paid for two extra large, extra strong brews, and rushed out, stifling a sneeze. Must have been the shirt, since one of the take-away cups had a phone number scrolled on the side. Which was a small consolation, as he broke into a jog again, making his way back through the raging elements.
***
The Tracy Industries front desk in the lobby, thankfully, didn't detain him, so he snuck into the elevator, not making eye contact with anyone. It was getting increasingly hard to hold the coffee cups - his hands were numb and shaking, and his teeth were clattering in time with full body shivers. Scott was sure he had hit the executive floor button, but the elevator made no stop, gliding all the way up to the private penthouse. Figures. He'd probably earned himself a lecture not only from the on site security team, but from John as well.
The door slid open on his approach across an antechember and he was welcomed in the hallway by a wall of flannel presided by furrowed black brows. Scott brandished the procured coffee cups like a shield, instinctively. He would sound more nonchalant if he were not stuttering from the cold.
"Hey, Virg, I got your favorite coffee!"
His face muscles were too frozen for a smile.
Virgil was holding a massive towel, or maybe a full body length terrycloth sheet, like an unfurled banner, and appeared completely unmoved by Scott's heroic endeavor.
"How very kind of you! Now step on the rug and strip. I'm not mopping after you!"
Scott looked down and found himself standing, indeed, on one of Gordon's old bright pool towels. It was already soaked halfway through with all the water Scott was dripping. He felt marginally ashamed as the elevator likely sported poodles too. But it was hard to maintain several self-deprecating emotions at once, being that cold and miserable.
The styrofoam cups were tentatively deposited on the glove table. Scott peeled off his soaked dress shirt and shed the trousers more than eagerly, toed off wet (and probably ruined too) shoes. Francesco the designer would bite his head off. But that could wait. He needed something warm off the rack now! A move off the towel was aborted, however, by the reappearance of the Eyebrows over the terrycloth edge.
"Uh-uh! Everything, Scooter! You're NOT wedging your undies behind the shower stall. Again!"
Scott sighed. That was ONE TIME! He was sneaking back past the curfew and tried to conceal evidence. Unsuccessfully, as it turned out. The moment the last wet cloth on him joined the pile on the floor, he was wrapped head to ankles in the sea of soft blue fabric and steered in the general direction of the shower.
"You know the drill! Try to warm up under hot water as long as you can. If you feel lightheaded - yell, I'll be right here."
The scolding shower helped somewhat. He could still feel the freezing grip around his ribs, but his extremities were not as numb anymore, at least. There was a stack of warm sleepwear waiting for him as he stepped out in the cloud of fog. Scott smiled - it was a motley assembly of his own clean trunks and sweatpants, a well-worn soft flannel shirt and a Denver Engineering hoodie, that swapmed his frame. Hair toweled off and curling every which way, he was mostly ready to venture back out into the colder world, but felt dead tired.
There was a nest of throw pillows and a blanket, assembled on the couch, unfolded to full length, in the living room. Scott made an immediate beeline for it and tugged the blanket around his shoulders, trying to fold his feet beneath as well. The shivers were crawling back. Virgil emerged from a door that was decidedly neither Scott's nor his own room, carrying a pair of fluffy bright orange socks and an extra comforter.
***
After some gentle, yet determined, coaxing, the orange socks were tugged onto Scott's icy cold feet and a second blanket was tucked snuggly around him. Virgil settled by his side against a couple of snatched pillows, pondering idly that they would need to get a spare weighted blanket for the penthouse too. They would also owe John more socks. The Scott-sized frozen burrito shuffled closer and Virgil wrapped an arm around his wayward big brother, offering more of his body warmth. The chills worried Virgil. Scott was fit and healthy, but he was chronically exhausted and hadn't been exposed to cyclones without IR-grade water-proof gear, or at least a raincoat, in a while.
"So... you wanna watch Top Gun?"
It was a rhetorical question, but Scott's face immediately shot up, beaming with a thousand suns. He also did an enthusiastic giant caterpillar wiggle, blanket and all. Virgil thought in that moment his core memory was probably Scott, all bright eyes, gap-teeth smile and dimples, bouncing with excitement and unbridled energy. He wished he got to revisit it more often.
The opening frames rolled on the holoscreen to the sound of the all too familiar Anthem. Virgil finally reached for so hard earned cup of coffee, now reheated, and couldn't contain a snort.
"Aw, Scooter, you actually scored a number for your troubles?"
It was obvious Scott wasn't going to last through the movie - his eyes were droopping and voice slurred, mostly muffled by plaid flannel.
"M'dashin'!"
A smaller hologram appeared at that exact moment on Virgil's comm. John looked way too amused:
"Actually, that's the number of a homeless shelter around the corner from the coffee shop."
Virgil's laughter full on rumbled at that. He raised a hand to ruffle the back of big brother's head:
"Oh yeah, you're a dashing idiot."
"M'cold."
The muffled complain was exemplified by a full body shiver.
"Sure, Scotty! You're a cold, wet, dashing idiot."
There was no protest to that, just a soft, slightly stuffed snore. Virgil adjusted the hold on the now sound asleep biggest brother to snuggle him closer.
***
The F-14A Tomcat was playing chicken with a MiG-28 on the screen. John's hologram lingered. Virgil could tell the space ginger was concerned more than he let on. John finally spoke.
"Is he gonna be alright? Should I cancel his Friday?"
Untamed by the gel, the now dry and fluffy ringlets made it difficult to reach Scott's forhead, but the back of Virgil's hand found the way, careful not to disturb. The skin was cool to his touch, no signs of fever.
"He'll be alright. He just needs to warm up and sleep it off."
He moved to rub a soothing circle over Scott's back as the big brother relaxed deeper into sleep. It was sorely tempting to clear Scott's schedule for the next day and mandate more rest. But Virgil was aware it would pose a risk of Scott, not held down by a cold, hairing off to the island in One, insisting to be back on the roster, if not on TI business. That would be a shame, as a big part of the weekend, Virgil had been looking forward to, was going to see Tosca at the Metropolitan Opera with biggest brother.
John was still hovering, unconvinced. Virgil siged, but smiled:
"Well, Johnny, unless you want to come down from orbit and join me at the box, I'd rather our reservation to a sold out six months in advance opera didn't fall through."
John looked appropriately appalled and quite earnest:
"I love you more than my life, brother, but I do draw a line at too many people doing too many loud things in a confined space. Call me Johnny and see how often I come down from orbit!"
Virgil stifled a huff of laughter, as Scott shuddered and groaned quietly, but, thankfully, didn't wake up. The warm-up circles over his back and shoulders resumed. Virgil hugged him closer. John shifted attention to the swaddled biggest brother in fond amusement.
"What did you bribe him with, anyway?"
Virgil didn't have the energy to protest.
"Apfelschtrudel from that place Gordon found. And he can preview the R&D projects I selected for Brains, if he gets bored. No call-outs, no reports, no work mail though."
The gazed Virgil fixed on John was full of fair warning. It was John's turn to smile.
"Don't worry. You love watching opera and Scott loves watching us doing what we love. He'll be fine. And locked out of his work accounts, for good measure."
Silence stretched for several moments, interrupted only by Scott's soft snoring.
Virgil looked down on the slumbering brother in his arms, then back at John.
"I wish he did more of what he loves. Just Scott. For himself - not for us, or for the company, or the world."
That wasn't an issue easily solved in a casual conversation through an impromptu movie night. If at all. John knew that too, all too well. The brother in orbit chewed on his lip, lost in thought.
"You could sugget he get coffee in that place again. She's a Hudson Uni postgraduate. Cultural Anthropology."
Virgil was mostly used to John's the Resident Genius thoughts veering in unexpected directions, but the ginger thoroughly lost him there.
"Huh? Who's a postgrad where?"
John rolled his eyes in exasperation commonly reserved to explaining things to the bristling rescuees and a five year old Gordon.
"The barrista that gave Scott a shelter number today. She works part time and volunteers there often. One time she even volunteered at the IR disaster site. Remember, the sinkhole? She seems nice."
Top Gun closing scenes were replaced by assorted social media pages and university profile pages. Virgil gulped.
"John! You can't go doxxing random people!"
John's hologram up in orbit shrugged:
"I have Eos run background checks automatically on anyone who comes in contact with you guys. We can't take any chances!"
There was sound and, sadly, field proved reasoning behind what nearly cost them barely averted tragedy on several occasions. But still... Virgil kept staring at a pretty blond smiling from the holoscreen.
"That gotta be illegal!"
"Only if I get caught."
Turquoise eyes twinkled in nothing remotely resembling remorse. He still didn't cut off the call.
"Do you wanna come down here for the weekend?"
Virgil suddenly felt the need to have more brothers accounted for and within reach. There was hope in the way John actually gave it a thought.
"Only if you don't make me go to the opera. I ordered you pizza, by the way."
A wave of warmth washed over Virgil and he tightened the grip on Scott's frame instinctively.
"You're my favoretest brother not asleep at the moment!"
He was graced with another eyeroll.
"You spend entirely too much time around Gordon. I'll have Eos screen the calls and land the elevator on the Tower tomorrow evening, your time, if there's no major catastrophe."
Virgil resisted the urge to fistpupm in the air. Definitely too much time around Gordon. Another thought occurred to him as he remembered a detail John mentioned when vetting the unsuspecting compassionate barrista.
"Hey, John! Could you..."
"Right ahead of you, brother. An anonymous donation was made to the homeless shelter and free kitchen an hour ago."
And they said Virgil and Scott were uncanny telepathic. Then again, it was to be expected. Anyone who was genuinely kind and considerate to their favorite Idiot, or attempted to course-correct his destruction path, inadvertently gained a lifelong ally in every one of them. Maybe he really needed to nudge Scott to go get more of the good coffee tomorrow. Equipped with an umbrella that time around.
#thunderbirds are go#scott tracy#scott tracy needs a hug#and gets one#scott tracy needs a cuff up his head#virgil tracy#did sign up for this#earth and sky#john tracy didn't sign up for this#earth and star#tracy brotherdom of love#my fic#thunderbirds 2015#methinks i have astronomy
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A particularly lovely chord progression somehow ended up with me driving a wedge between Earth and Sky and I promised I’d try to fix it.
Super long car journey today presented an opportunity but events got away from me and I accidentally made it worse. Oops… um… I’m sorry? Apologies to @ajpendragon @alexthefly @astranite @janetm74 @sofasurf and anyone else who asked for a fix and will remain disappointed for now…
Piano Angst - the aftermath
It had been nearly a week and Scott felt like he was missing a limb.
Virgil was definitely avoiding him.
It wasn’t that they hadn’t seen each other - they’d worked together perfectly normally on several rescues. They’d both joined in the usual banter over mealtimes. There had even been a family film night - albeit, instead of joining Scott on their usual couch, Virgil had squeezed in with the Tinies and spent the evening competing with Gordon as to who could wind up Alan the most about his movie choice.
But they’d not been alone in the same room. At least, not for more than the few seconds it took for Virgil to make some excuse and leave it.
He’d even apparently conscripted Gordon into constantly keeping him company whilst he did maintenance on Two. Despite all Scott’s loitering around the hangar, the Fish never seemed to get the hint to make himself scarce. Except that one time when Scott had hinted at the availability of leftover pizza in the kitchen but then Virgil had raced off hot on Gordon’s heels. Which would not have been of any note whatsoever if it hadn’t been for that momentary flash of panic Scott was sure had crossed Virgil’s face as Gordon jumped to his feet.
It wasn’t just the lost chance to really TALK to his brother either. There was a physical distance too which was almost more painful. It turned out that Virgil’s elbow nudges at dinner, his arm across Scott’s shoulders as they walked across the lounge, his habit of stretching out and throwing his feet over big brother’s legs when they had a moment to chill together on the couch… these felt as natural and as essential to Scott as eating or drinking and he missed it more than he could have explained. It made his jaw hurt.
He had figured he just had to give Virgil time and be available when he was ready. So he’d made a conscious effort to *not* be working whenever they had downtime, hovering in the communal areas and looking un-busy. He rushed through the paperwork later, once everyone was in bed and then stayed up for hours each night studying the last couple of month’s worth of mission logs and recordings, desperately trying to work out what had triggered… whatever it was… the other day.
He’d been lying, Scott was certain of that. Ironically that certainty had made him very uncertain of everything else - Virgil never lied to him. He was awful at it. Honesty usually shone out of his big puppy-like brown eyes. When he was withholding something they were clouded with guilt.
But to invoke their mother’s memory as a cover-up?
It must have been serious.
His research efforts turned up nothing at all out of the ordinary other than it had actually been a pretty successful run of rescues, a bit of a reprieve from the average. He couldn’t find any aspect of the scenarios they’d faced that seemed like it might have particularly upset his brother.
It had to have something to do with him. Virgil was acting perfectly normally with everyone else. He re-listened to every interaction they’d had over the comm. Had he been too brusque in directing the rescues recently? Was his tone wrong? He didn’t think he sounded any different although after a while his own voice really began to grate on him. Virgil’s responses seemed normal and he didn’t appear to react to anything in a negative way. Perhaps his brother was maybe a little quieter on the comm than usual… should he have noticed that sooner?
Or had he embarrassed him by making it clear he’d noticed him getting carried away that afternoon? But Virgil had never seemed to be worried about Scott witnessing his piano binges before - most of the worst more-recovery-than-rescue missions had been thrashed out on the piano over the years… No. The only way to find out was to ask him directly.
He hovered at the door of the hangar, took a couple of breaths to slow his galloping heart rate and pushed it ajar. He could hear Gordon talking at a mile a minute about something to do with aquaculture and Virgil was leaning up against a pod module with a politely interested look on his face. His eyes flicked briefly over to his eldest brother but didn’t linger, instead focussing firmly back on little brother with renewed focus.
Scott felt rather like he’d taken a grapple to the chest and backed out, closing the door softly behind him. He ignored the elevator and elected for the long slow trudge up the stairwell. By the time he made it to the lounge his vision was blurry and he had reached the limit of what he could bear. He found a sheet of notepaper from the desk drawer and scribbled a note. He folded it precisely in half, opened it again and checked it, then refolded it, running a shaking thumb among the edge. He tucked it underneath the door to his brother’s bedroom on the way to his own.
Virgil, I’ve upset you and I can’t for the life of me work out when or how it was in order to apologise properly - but please know I am so sorry.
I’ll be on my balcony the rest of the evening if you want to talk.
I miss you. S x
#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds#thunderbirds fanfiction#scott tracy#virgil tracy#gordon tracy#thunderfam#thunder angst#angst#earth and sky#earth&sky#piano angst#idontknowreallywhy fanfic#music is everything#scott tracy needs a hug
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It hadn’t been his best plan, he had to admit it. But the idea sprung up and he had been at his wits end with a head full of…stuff…and he needed a distraction.
He was pretty sure he could explain a motorised spinning clothesline. After all, wasn’t that what the washing machine did anyway? A few basic laws of applied physics couldn’t do anything but help get clothing dry in the tropics.
Could it?
Of course, he was bullshitting himself and every human in a hundred kilometre radius and he knew it in some dark, deep corner of his soul, but yesterday had been hell and he needed to DO SOMETHING.
Scott had banned him from the hangars due to injury.
Injury, sminjury, so he had a sprained wrist. He could still do stuff.
Even if it hurt to play the piano and the thought of holding a brush up wasn’t pleasant.
Now you’re just a hypocrite.
Oh, shut up!
So, Virgil Tracy grabbed his toolkit and a few important bits and pieces from his workshop…he went in the back way so he didn’t go through the hangars, so there, Scott! And, carrying them in his good hand lest he be arrested on the way back up, snuck…okay, he was sneaking, but that was because a certain brother was a worry wart!...out onto the lawn and crouched down by the clothesline.
What followed was several lovely hours of tinkering away and experimenting and playing, yes, playing, and he had a good time which was much better than sitting on his ass in his bedroom pouting.
He had to admit that by the time he had the solar panel assembled and the motor suspended at the right place, his wrist was hurting a bit more than it should be and the medic in the back of his head was having conniptions, but the mental health value of the exercise certainly outweighed anything else.
That was until standing back and admiring his work, he realised he had an audience.
Of two.
Aw, crap.
“Whatcha doin’, Virg?”
“Mind your business.”
“Ooooh, touchy. Need some coffee?”
Gordon was standing with his arms crossed beside Alan. While Alan had some actual interest in his eyes, Gordon was channelling a combination of sprung older brother and mischief.
“What do you want, Gordon?”
“I see you have motorised the clothesline.”
“Yeah, so what?”
“How fast does it go?”
Virgil eyed his brother. The smirk was practically acidic and started eating Virgil’s eyeballs. This was going to hurt, wasn’t it.
“Fast enough.”
“Round and round? Like a turbo charged merry-go-round, possibly?”
“Gordon…”
But Alan reacted to that. “Woah, that sounds like fun.”
Virgil rubbed his face and was punished for using the wrong hand. Maybe he could claim short term breakdown of his logic centres? An addiction to tinkering?
Why the hell did he need a motorised clothesline at all? They had a dryer for that exact reason.
Did sprained wrists reduce mental capacity? Or was it just that he had known this would happen and he needed it as much as his little brothers did?
Yesterday had been hell.
Screw the excuses, they now had a motorised clothesline and all that implied.
Part of him was aghast at what he had done, the other part was too busy grinning as both Gordon and Alan hurried past and examined his creation.
Everything was loud in his head, but at least he wasn’t sad anymore.
Of course, that was the point where Gordon found the On switch and with a whirring sound and a pair of squawks, launched both himself and Alan into a high speed orbit of the metal and concrete axis of the contraption.
In other words, they started the merry-go-round and clung to the metal bars of the clothesline while it swung them around at a speed high enough for physics to lift them almost horizontal.
It was at this point Virgil realised the complete lack of safety mechanisms.
It was also the point where Scott ambled out onto the patio and exclaimed in horror.
Scott really did know how to meet just the right pitch to communicate terror where his brothers were concerned.
Ever wanting to protect Scott and his brothers from absolutely everything, Virgil jumped into kill the power on the spinning contraption.
The switch was beneath the clothesline and he had to dart in under the pair of screaming brothers - either joy or terror – neither younger brother was as clear as Scott in communication – as they spun around and around.
Killing the motor was easy, but seeing the expression on Scott’s face as he came running towards them, only had Virgil panicking enough to leap up and try to catch his brothers and slow them down faster – fix the problem at speed.
He was a Tracy and Tracys love speed.
Unfortunately, that expression on his brother’s face was enough to short circuit Virgil’s brain regarding his own safety – wasn’t the first time, likely wouldn’t be the last – he had a sprained wrist for exactly that reason, after all, and it was a major component of why he had to DO SOMETHING this morning or go out of his mind.
So, without thinking of the logical consequences, Virgil stepped into the path of his spinning brothers, intending on using heavy-lifting muscles to catch them and slow them down.
Instead, he got kicked in the head twice and went down for the count in a lovely wave of darkness.
-o-o-o-
“Virgil, what the hell were you thinking?”
It was a tired Scott voice. One that spoke of insane brothers driving him around the bend and into his grave.
Virgil opened his eyes expecting to see a terrible two lined up for discipline. But the room – Virgil’s room – was empty except for one older brother rubbing his eyes.
It was very bright and Virgil’s head complained.
“Virg? You with me?”
A grunt was all he managed.
“When I said ‘no working’ did I really have to include the clothesline?”
Virgil scrunched up his face. “You didn’t say anything about it specifically.”
Scott’s sigh of exasperation was enough. “Brains has declared it a breakthrough by the way. Apparently, you got more power out of those solar cells versus however fast you got that thing to go than should have been theoretically possible.”
“Oh?”
“He says it was a logical step on from the project the two of you were working on in the HANGARS.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, oh.” Was Scott gritting his teeth? “You even have John excited due to some physics rule you broke in the process. He has Eos analysing our CLOTHESLINE.”
Virgil winced. “Please don’t yell.”
“I don’t possibly see how I can’t yell. You are the responsible one. Did you break something yesterday that you have failed to declare or have you always been this way?”
Virgil glared at his brother and tried to ignore how much frowning hurt his eyebrows. “You know the answer to that.”
It was Scott’s turn to grunt. “Don’t do it again. Gordon and Alan do not need encouragement. They have enough stuff to kill themselves with already.”
Virgil had to grunt at that as well.
“Sorry.”
Another disgruntled murmur was all Scott said after that.
But he did stay with Virgil and kept and eye on him and as time proved that there was no lasting damage from being kicked in the head by two brothers swinging from a clothesline, the holoprojector may have been switched on, Scott may have joined him on the bed and there may even have been some popcorn acquired.
At one point there was an enquiry from the door, but apparently Scott had locked it and Eos was the one who answered…for some reason in an English accent that said ‘Bugger off and leave them alone!”
Virgil just hoped it hadn’t been Grandma outside the door.
But for the moment, his mind was settled, his headache fading and he was quite happy sitting beside the brother he had sprained his wrist for by pulling him out of the air the previous day, and watching trash TV they could both poke fun at.
After all, who needed to tinker when he had all that?
-o-o-o-
#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds#thunderbirds fanfiction#virgil tracy#scott tracy#gordon tracy#alan tracy#nuttyfic reblog#yes I have more Sweetapple to write#already written a good 1300 words#but not enough to post#hopefully tomorrow#and then there is the 1500 words of thunderdragons I need to finish too#so in the meantime nuttyfic reblog#cos this is one of my favs#::hugs you all::
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Notes- Christmas TAG secret santa fic.
Because of this post and @janetm74 and @edutainer2022 here are my additional notes for my 2023 thunderfam secret santa fic.
It contains brainstorming that became part of the og fic and notes as a continuation for the car ride. It was actually these that I came up with first and intended to write but got side tracked with explorations of getting ready, especially given the prompt i was given was “Every day is a school day” with Jeff and Lucy. Also deadlines!
Mind that this is pretty much as is from my notes in its entirety, complete with spelling errors, partial sentences and utter lack of cohesion as I jumped between ideas.
Link for the fic proper on ao3.
---
“Every day is a school day” Jeff and Lucy. And everyone.
Car drive to spent christmas with Grandma and Grant at Gran Rocha. The preparing and road tripping shenanigans.
getting all five kids plus themselves and luggage into the car on time as chaotic as a school day. Jeffs line?
S15, J13, V12, G 6?7, A3
Wake-up call. Alarm going off Lucy tired and grumpy where Virgil gets it from. I’ll get the kids up and you can head straight to the coffee. Jeff fooling around like mock drill sergeant. Scott’s grumpy teenness and chucking a pillow at him with surprisingly good aim for supposedly asleep. Scott getting up. Bed hair mess that Jeff runs a gentle hand through pulling him into a hug. Virgil and John. John and Bagel the cat curled up together. Both hissing at him in unison. Virgil needed to be hugged and woken up more slowly.
Down in the kitchen. Jeff kissing Lucy and trying to steal her coffee. No you cannot steal my coffee Jefferson Tracy, you have your own. Lucy’s massive science pun mug. Hair in her face looking like little Virgil.
HURRICANE LUCY. Time skip to about to go?
packing- John wanting to fit telescope. Or “But I did leave my telescope behind” but bag full of books.
Last min shoving presents in. Neighbour to feed the cat.
Scott nabbed the car keys first on massive ** many different keychain so neither Lucy nor Jeff could lose them. Swinging them around his finger, “can I drive” Parental chorus of “No!” Doesn't have license yet but is learning to pilot. argument of Grandma lets me drive on the ranch. Thats the beat up old ute and theres nothing much out there to hit any way.
And they were done. Bags were in the car, kids were in the car, last final bathroom stops had been had. Lucy patted down her pockets. Keys! She didn’t have them, so Jeff must except that he didn’t. Surely the couldn’t have lost them with the neon pink rocket ship key chain attached to prevent this. Until they both spied Scott leaning against the drivers side door and swinging them around his finger.
“So, can I drive?” Scott asked as if he didn’t already know the answer to that question.
“No,” came the parental chorus.
Then the other kids repeating them, picking up on it slightly behind.
Scott grinning and tossed the keys in the air one last time then caught them. He passed them to Lucy’s waiting hand prompted by a stern eyebrow.
7 seater beat up car. Drive- Kansas to Texas. approx 9 hours to 8 1/2. Lucy english thinking its ages. at least america had good highways. and from her mothers tales at least kangaroo spotter was a redundant position.
Panic at dress clothes for Christmas day
someone packed no underpants. Gordon only packed underwear and swimmers. Trying to sort laundry at last minute. Jeff’s haphazard packing of his own clothes with getting everyone else in military order. Lucy remarking jokingly, “Mightve gotten to mars adn forgot your space suit.
Jeff the nerd, calling Grandma to tell on our way, “Houston we have take off”. Kids dramatic countdown. A “finally”. FOnd eye rolls.
John and Virgil at back seats. Johns already long limbs folded up.
Scott getting the dubious privelige of the middle row. but centre seat between Alan and Gords car seats and on big brother duty.
Lucy hoping but not expecting to get some rest on the trip. Up all night getting ready. has mystery novel to read. but trying to wrangle kids. Putting Jeff’s cowboy hat over her face to keep the sun off as she sleeps.
Stops for toilet breaks. Lunch fast food. “Do not let gordon have soda.” Johns burger order. Virgil picking pickles out to give to john. The chips stealing. Trying to eat and drive. sending older ones in to fish younger out of the play area. losing Scott to it too, send in John planning it like a mission.
Jeff adn Lucy discussion over what coffee is supposed to do. ADHD Jeff. starting with Scott asking for coffee, cheekily. No, we dont need you any more hyper. Jeff’s confident, “Coffee doesnt do that” Even same with Aa. spirited debate. JSSo that means I can have some? eff still saying no coffee for Scott.
Lucy driving at some point.
If Lucy had to hear one more rendition of baby shark she was the one who was going to get out and walk.
music and Lucy and Virgil comparing synesthesia.
John reading massive heavy text book, splayed out across knees. not getting car sick, serve well for astronaut. for fun, reminded he didnt need to study.
Scott bored and restless. tinies asleep. no phone signal. twisting around, being told off for seat belt, trying to see what Johns doing. seat swap and he and John are in the back doing maths and physics, heads bent together. virgil eyes closed but awake or leaning around car seats to look out the windows, bobbing head to music through headphones.
when John adn Scott get stuck, calling questions out to Lucy. Jeff snoring in front seat, head on lucy;s jumper, went from wide awake to clonked out even after the coffees.
Virgil using breath on fogged up windows to draw. Scott and John used it for math.
Gordon are we there yet. Alan copying him.
naming animals and animal sounds. then naming sea creatures. then sounds of sea creatures. some known, some gordon happily making them up.
car sickness. Scott getting car sick, in spite of crazy spins and flips but then hes in control. another reshuffle, Jeff wedged into the middle seat, Lucy laughing and looking in rear view mirror at tall, broad shouldered husband folded awkwardly into the back. John and Virgil back-back. Scott getting shotgun, window open and nauseous. Vomit bags in glove box because learnt from past fiascos and puke in hat story. Scott grumps would be fine if I was driving
some point tinies and Jeff all asleep. John and Virgil happy together. Lucy getting to check in and chat to scott.
on destination. everyone there, big family. Lee? Kayo adn Kyrano and Kayo mother. Jeff brothers? packed into the big ranch house. noise and merriment. hot dry texas air. smell of good food cooking. some slight odour of burnt.
explain lucy parents farm????
“The eagle has landed” finding rooms, unpack car. eldest three in together. youngest.
John overwhelmed after trip, not wanting to talk to anyone. near tears at thought of going into party. going to stable to spent time with horses.
Virgil running up to Grant and talking his ear off, to much delight of both parties. Grant, still broad shouldered and strong from farm work, charcoal black hair now salt and pepper grey.
Achievements getting caught up with. Jeff telling grandma about scotts, Scott proud but a bit uncharacteristically shy, leaning into a side hug.
the comments of how big the kids were all getting, and theyd better not be having more. Lucy laughing and very nope five is plenty enough.
somewhat tired cranky, sticky dusty kids. Gordon spilling something sticky on him in the last hour, waiting to get there to wash him off. Recovering excitement at bath.
grandma’s welcome cookies.
——- other fic. Graduation. car crash. Injuries—the bruises. Scott burst into tears with brothers because he wants mum
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Hi, it's me!
Okay, so there’s probably a lot you don’t know about me. So just in case you’re in the least bit interested:
I try very, very hard never to read incomplete fics. Purely selfish, and the result of reading far too many heart-grabbing stories that never got finished. If you need kudos or encouragement or anything else to continue, I’m here and over the moon excited to read anything you’d like to throw at me. Just let me know what you want in return - comments, critique, suggestions, hugs, encouragement, emojis, whatever ...
I posted one fic a chapter at a time, and I doubt I’ll ever do it again.
Characterization is everything.
If you’ve noticed an absence of Brains, Grandma, Lady P, Havoc, etc… in my fics it’s because I don’t give a twit. Perhaps one day I will evolve beyond this simplistic state.
I suck at prompts, challenges and deadlines. My muse is never in the right headspace at the right time.
I have a ridiculous need to keep it believable when really, the stuff that goes on in the show – no matter how much I adore it – is often somewhat miraculous.
It’s the future, people, I’m allowed to invent things.
In real life, I write kids’ books.
To the best of my knowledge, I’m the oldest member of the Thunderfam. Challenge me if you think you can claim the title.
The first thing of importance I ever wrote was a full length Star Trek Next Gen novel which I submitted to a few select New York publishers (oh, the innocence of youth) . Surprise, surprise, many of them actually read it and sent back comments written on famous restaurant napkins.
So, in light of all of the above, I’m once again doing my own thing. Inspired by the recent “10 opening lines from 10 recent fics” post I’m changing it up to “10 opening lines from 10 WIPs”. I mean, seriously, I’m a newbie here and have far more WIPs than I do finished fics. So here’s what’s – pray to the anti-depression, anti-chronic pain gods – coming up …
A WHOLE LOT OF SUPERFICIAL
The uniform discarded in a heap on the floor outside the showers was expected – the purple neoprene wasn’t.
(Virgil, Scott, shaping up to be humour)
THE LAST ZOO ON EARTH
“Say again, John. I thought you said we have a situation at a zoo.”
(All brothers, major rescue, major whump, pissed off Gordon)
THERE ARE NO CANNIBALS ANYMORE
“Sir! I need you to calm down!”
(Hurt Virgil, this one could go graphic in a hurry)
IT DOESN’T HURT
Virgil glanced up from the piano keys, searching for inspiration but instead witnessing his fish brother's spectacular dive off the board – a dive that would leave his re-built back in shambles.
(Fishtank, chronic pain)
TIGHT ROPE
“I’m sorry, John, but if she’s dumb enough to try and pull off this ridiculous stunt, I see no reason why we should save her from her own stupidity.”
(rescue gone sideways)
STARSTUCK
Alan Tracy had been looking forward to this moment for a very long time.
(Hurt Virgil, guilty Alan, Thunderbird 3 whump)
STELLAR
“Hey, John, what’s this?”
“It’s personal, that’s what it is!”
(Guilty John, comatose Gordon, poetry, John has a secret)
CASPIAN
John Tracy blinked open his eyes, breath catching when he discovered the most beautiful thing in his universe mere centimetres from his face.
(John, OC-John’s lover, angst, Marks and Wings, John is not only a telepathic Ave but he’s bi!)
PSYCHOTIC MEDIUMS
The probe entered Earth’s solar system broadcasting a symphony of alien sound that instantaneously drove the half-a-million or so humans who were listening insane.
(Virgil centric, angst, sci-fi)
THE JOHN-CODE
“Hey, Eos, you wanna help me test this new game?”
(Alan, John, Eos, virtual games gone wrong.)
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Scott Tracy, a drabble:
Scott yawned and stretched, arching his back as it cracked from sitting at the desk for too long.
He smiled as he looked across the room. Virgil was laid out, boots kicked carelessly on the floor beside him, on one of the sofas. The snoring vibrated the floorboards.
Gordon was sleeping on the next sofa over, a vintage romance novel covering his eyes where it had fallen from his grasp.
Scott stood, and groaned. The previous rescue had meant moving tonnes of rubble. Sure the pods and Virgil’s exosuit had helped, but sometimes things had to be moved by hand or risk further injury to the rescuees.
He heard a foot tapping behind him, turning to see Grandma, arms crossed across her chest. “You need to take better care of yourself” she scolded.
“Yeah”, Scott sighed. “I will.”
Grandma shook her head but sighed fondly, giving him a warm hug. Scott gave her a kiss on her hair, before heading upstairs.
The massive spa bath filling was a welcome sight. He added some generous scoops of bath salts, and set the jets to maximum. Some soothing music over the speakers and lights dimmed, he slid into the warm soothing water.
He let the water take his weight as the jets worked on his sore muscles, letting out a contented sigh.
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Negotiations
Read on AO3 here
Fandom: Thunderbirds
Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality @thundergeek59 @janetm74 @katblu42 @liseylou @amistrio @uniwolfcorn (Please ask if you would like to get alerts when I update or post new stories.)
Thundertober Day 3: Armour
Alan thinks they may have gone a little too far with the armour on his uniform.
Continuity: TAG
------
“Are you sure I need all of this…?” Alan asked, still a little uncertain as he waddled out of the fitting room.
“Yes.” His four older brothers and grandmother in front of him chorused, causing Alan to grumble.
He huffed. “I can barely move in this thing.” He was only vaguely able to gesture at the full body armour currently situated over his uniform. “And it’s really heavy…”
Scott grinned. “Good. That means it’ll work.”
“Yep.” Virgil nodded. “Some of Brains’ finest work, if I do say so!”
“Plus,” John cut in. “Everything feels lighter in space anyway. It’s perfect for Thunderbird 3 missions.”
Alan sighed. “That still doesn’t mean it’s good for missions on Earth, Johnny…”
“Sure it does.” The older astronaut argued. “You’ll be on Thunderbird 2’s support crew; you need heavy duty stuff for that.” As an afterthought, he muttered, “And don’t call me Johnny.”
Gordon nodded in agreement. “When I tell you about all the scrapes and bruises me and Virg have gotten just for handling some of that equipment…”
“Yeah!” Alan tried to protest. “But you guys weren’t given full body armour to wear!” At that moment, Kayo walked into the room. The Tracy’s watched as their adoptive sister took one look at Alan, and immediately had to stifle a giggle. Alan frowned. “See? She thinks it’s too much. Hell, Brains probably thinks it’s too much! You guys are being way too overprotective…”
“And is there anything wrong with that young man?” Grandma Tracy interrupted. “Your brothers and I just want to make sure you’re safe…”
“I know but…” Alan sighed. “Maybe we can compromise on it? I don’t need this much armour.”
“Alright kiddo,” Scott took charge of negotiations. “What do you wanna get rid of?”
Alan smiled innocently. “Is everything an option?”
Scott deadpanned. “No.”
“Eh. It was worth a shot.” The teen shrugged. “I’ll wear the shoulder pieces. Honestly, I think they make me look cool.” He admitted.
His older brother hummed. “Wear the chestplate too and we’ll call it even.” He held his hand out. “So, Mr Tracy, do we have a deal?”
Alan was quiet for a good few minutes. On one hand, he could try to get just a bit more out of this. On the other hand, Scott was serious about this. All of them were. And when someone in his family was serious, it meant they weren’t messing around. Scott wouldn’t budge. He never did when it came to safety. Alan smirked, reaching his hand out to accept Scott’s. “We do indeed…” The teen winked. “Mr Tracy…”
Scott rolled his eyes as he let go of Alan’s hand, pulling him into a hug and ruffling his hair. He was glad Alan had agreed to at least part of the armour, because if anything happened to him, he'd never forgive himself for not convincing him to wear more of it…
#thunderfam#thunderbirds#thunderbirds are go#alan tracy#scott tracy#virgil tracy#john tracy#gordon tracy#grandma tracy#kayo kyrano#thundertober#thundertober 2023#sky writes stuff
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It's a little two-part glimpse into Dad Jeff going away into the sky. And Scotty being not happy about it. Baby Virgil features briefly too. Jeff Tracy tells himself things that tide him over more difficult times (but are not necessarily true).
SEPARATION ANXIETY
It was unbearable. The little face of the boy in his arms was wrought with boundless grief. Bright blue eyes full of tears and fear.
"Daddy, no gooooo! No gooooo!"
Tiny hands were clutching the collar of his uniform. The boy's voice was choking on sobs and Jeff felt his heart being ripped out. He was due at the base for a pick up and relocation for training before the Moon mission. He was a breath away from calling in his resignation right then and there and never leaving his son ever again. He forced himself to exhale and hoisted the child higher, bringing their forheads together. That gave Jeff a chance to blink away tears of his own:
"It's okay, Scotty. It's okay. Daddy will be back soon. I have a very important job for you, Bluejay. Look after Mommy and Virgie, when I'm gone, okay? Can you do that for me?"
The child's sobs halted for a moment it took him to nod very earnestly. Jeff leaned in to kiss the boy's forehead and then kiss away the tears from the blotchy little face as best he could. He turned to his wife with an apologetic smile.
Lucy was hovering in the doorway all this time, ready to intervene. Dad's departure for the Moon was a matter of wide-eyed wonder and endless enthusiasm till it was actually time for Jeff to leave. Then it quickly dissolved into a Greek tragedy. Her own hands were full with the baby. Little Virgie didn't yet understand what was happening, but he developed an uncanny ability to pick up his brother's moods. So to echo Scotty's desperate pleas, the baby's tears were now inconsolable.
Scotty settled to hug Dad's neck, so Jeff beaconed his wife with Virgie to step into the embrace. She leaned her head on his shoulder as he reached to kiss the baby.
"Are you really gonna be okay?"
She smiled up at him. So beautiful.
"We'll miss you like crazy, Flyboy. But we'll be alright. We're in good hands."
She lifted a hand to rub soothing circles on Scotty's back. The baby calmed down too and looked ready for a nap. Jeff gave himself extra minutes to just hold them all together. He didn't know yet he was already holding three sons in that embrace. Baby Johnny was to arrive while he was still thousands of miles away on the Moon. But in that moment he needed to capture the perfect memory of balance and fulfillment that would tide him over a long night in space. They were going to be alright.
***
It was unthinkable. The whole situation was his worst nightmare come true. The hijacked Zero-X was obviously speeding up and overheating. He ran a quick math and the fallout would quite easily cause an extinction of life on the planet. Unacceptable - his sons lived on that planet. His mother and friends. What made matters worse was giving in to Scott's big blue pleading eyes to let him come with him in One and watch the T-drive launch. Little Allie definitely learned to step up his puppy eyes game from the best. So Jeff was now stuck with the impossible variables of his son in the blast zone and One's still untested autopilot.
"Scott, I need you to take over the controls for me!"
He was halfway out of the pilot seat, leaving One on hover. Bright blue eyes, flooded with horror, shot up at him from where Scott was adjusting the harness by the cargo doors (oh, goodness, the boy was actually prepping to board Zero-X himself!)
"Dad! You can't go down alone!"
There it was. Daddy, no gooo! Jeff had to brace himself to enter full Commander mode.
"I need you to follow Zero-X flight path, align in formation. Once I board the hull, you will bank and scout the possible fallout zone perimeter in a thousand miles radius. I need you to shoo, tow or scare away anything that will be flying or floating there, understood?"
Jeff was sorely tempted to set the milage at a farther distance (as far and as fast away as possible, just fly away, Bluejay!), but he couldn't risk Scott questioning his intent in the moment. Blue eyes were still flooded with disbelief, pleading and barely concealed tears.
"Dad, please! Let me come with you! You'll need help!"
Daddy, no goooo!
"That's an order, Thunderbird!"
When he'd come to in the Zero-X wreck, in the middle of the galactic nowhere, and for endless years to come, he'd try and soothe himself with the knowledge Scott obeyed the order and got safely away from the blast. From that point on Jeff would try to convince himself he was not worried. Scotty knew what his job was. He'd look after his brothers and Grandma. They would be alright.
#thunderbirds are go#scott tracy#jeff tracy#scott tracy needs his dad#jeff tracy needs a hug#mom tracy and baby virgil are there too#so is zero-x#methinks i have astronomy#my fic#thunderbirds 2015#scott tracy needs a hug
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#hugs needed#obviously I hugged the tree#scott tracy endorses this tree’s message#thunderbirds are go
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Virgil hugs came in many flavours.
So, okay, Scott was the eldest and technically speaking, he was the least likely to need any hugs from his younger brother. In fact, Scott took pride in branding his own big brother hugs because, let’s face it, he was the eldest and nobody wanted to knock him off that throne. Virgil had been quite adamant about it on several occasions.
So only Scott could give the eldest brother hugs and they were very useful for distressed younger brothers, sad younger brothers and even on those occasions where the hug turned into something that could more be considered strangling younger brothers.
Scott wielded his hugs just like any other tool in his arsenal. Expertly and precisely. But it had long been declared that Virgil gave the best brother hugs and if he was honest, Scott was quite happy not to compete.
What exactly made Virgil hugs better than any other Tracy hugs had yet to be determined. The fact that Virgil was the biggest brother probably helped. Not the tallest. Scott and John were still discussing that title. No, his sheer mass enabled the biggest, warmest, softest, cosiest hugs of them all. Virgil was just buff and meaty.
Scott groaned. Meaty. That was a Gordonism, a subject that required a whole other essay to discuss. His fish brother had a way with words that sometimes curdled the stomach.
But hugs, yes, Virgil with his well worn ever so soft flannel and big meaty…Scott groaned again…arms gave the best hugs.
But, as stated previously, they came in many flavours.
The most common was the fond hug. An arm would snake around the victim brother and literally drag him into Virgil’s embrace. You could be standing alongside him, politely minding your own business and for some reason the engineer would just reach out and grab. Occasionally the arm wouldn’t make it all the way around and Virgil would clamp onto a body part and yank. Arms, chunks of uniform or clothing, a random ribcage. There was the time Virgil had actually pulled Gordon out of the pool by one leg. Possibly in revenge. But after Scott had suffered a cardiac arrest, Gordon had somehow ended up sprawled on top of Virgil on the grass. It had cumulated in laughter and a pile of noogie to Gordon’s hair, grins all round.
Yes, his brother had a hug zone around him and if you stepped into it at the wrong time, you were toast.
One of Scott’s favourites was the ones that defied gravity. Those big arms were strong and, on occasion, a little over enthusiastic. Ribcages creaked, hoarse voices begged to breathe, and feet left the ground.
Yes, even Scott had been tackle hugged and picked up off the ground and spun around. It had been after a particularly long deployment in the Airforce. He had been out of contact with his family for a long time. The day he finally got home, Virgil had barrelled into him in the farmhouse hallway, grabbing and lifting both him and his bags off the floor in an excited embrace that spun them around almost twice.
Scott had dropped his bags in surprise and squawked. His uniform bunched up against the ribbons on his chest and the world went around.
“Virg, my god!”
Dropped to his feet once more, he found himself wrapped in a brother who seemed much bigger than he had been when he left.
And he was clinging.
“Virgil?”
His brother cleared his throat, face buried in Scott’s jacket. “Missed you.”
Scott had returned the embrace wholeheartedly.
No words were possible after that as the two youngest realised their biggest brother was home and all hell broke loose as they and the rest of the family congregated.
But the genuine love in Virgil’s eyes as he stepped back to let the ratbags in on the party had stayed with Scott for a very long time.
Of course, there were other hugs that were much less joyous. Ones where everything was dark and hurting and Virgil would pick it up like he had radar or something. Could be linked to his legendary medic-sense. After all, mental health was exactly that. Just another form of health.
There was the time Alan vanished. Up and completely disappeared. This is a somewhat challenging thing to do on a rather singular rock in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Scott had been on the verge of calling John for a location, but a hand had landed on Scott’s tense shoulder and squeezed gently. They had been standing out on the balcony. Virgil gestured quietly and, looking up, Scott saw the tiny figure of his littlest brother curled up on the cliff just below the roundhouse.
There had followed a mad rush up the peak to make sure Alan was safe, find out what was wrong…because something was definitely wrong…and fix it.
Turned out some asshole online had been bullying Scott’s little brother, ruining the game contest he had been so excited about three days earlier.
Scott saw red and deployed John. The culprit had been found and eliminated.
Very eliminated.
John particularly hated online predators.
But after that conversation, Scott had turned around to find Alan curled up in Virgil’s arms sobbing.
Jammed up against the wall of the roundhouse, Virgil himself had wet eyes and was combing his fingers through Alan’s hair. As Scott sat down beside them on the floor, Virgil pulled Alan in a little tighter. The engineer buried his face in his little brother’s hair and closed his eyes.
In those moments it was like his brother was bleeding something of himself into the person he was hugging. His expression almost willing comfort into Alan.
Of course, Alan eventually dove in for a Scott hug as well, the thirteen-year-old dragging both of his brothers into a comforting pile that was able to push away the nasty experience and eventually bring back their confident little brother. But it was Virgil who performed the hugging first aid while Scott hunted down the person responsible – whether it be via John or other means.
It seemed to be their roles in the family.
And it wasn’t limited to family.
Out in the field it was more caring hands and reassuring touches and words, but it was Virgil’s way of comforting the injured. If he had time, he would talk with the rescuees. Warm and kind words asking gentle questions about their lives, distracting them from the bleeding, the screaming and the horror.
And ultimately holding those they couldn’t save, giving parts of himself to make those last minutes a little less terrifying.
It was after those rescues, those moments, when Scott would have to hunt Virgil down. Sometimes he would find him at the piano pounding emotion into the keys. Other times locked in his studio.
They had a running tally of how many times Virgil had had to replace the lock on that door. Scott rarely took ‘no’ for an answer when he knew a brother was in distress.
But the worst times often led Scott on a hunt across the Island to a remote beach, cliff or other lonely landform. Thunderbird Five’s scanners had been used several times. Times where Virgil was determined to be alone to suffer by himself.
Sure, Scott could respect that…if that was what Virgil needed.
It wasn’t.
Because the hug machine that was his brother needed hugs in return.
Sure, he had methods to refuel other ways, but honestly, these were the times Scott felt a direct transfer of energy was warranted.
Those were the days he would hunt his brother down, grab him and hold him until the trembling stopped. He would sit with Virgil staring out across the ocean either just being quietly beside him, or answering the raging questions of injustice.
Those were days he would drag him back to the couch and they would fall asleep together in front of a movie neither of them was watching. A hand or an arm continually in contact.
Those were the days where touch was needed to give back what was so freely offered at all other times.
Scott’s hugs may be tactical but they were no less full of love.
And love his brother, he did.
Ever so much.
-o-o-o-
#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds#thunderbirds fanfiction#Virgil Tracy#hugs#thunderfluff#nuttyfic reblog#Scott Tracy#I am soo tired#long day#crawling into bed#one more day of work and then holidays for two weeks!#I really need it#faceplants on bed
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"snoozeville" with Alan? (although that's normal for him, so if you're not sure what to do with that, I don't mind if you pick someone else instead)
Thank you for the prompt and for your patience :D Alas, Alan's pov for this one wasn't quite working, but I hope you enjoy this alternative :) (now off to snoozeville myself!)
snoozeville: [character] falls asleep somewhere that isn’t their bed.
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Scott groaned, shoving away the reconnaissance reports as he scrubbed at his eyes. The dim light of the tablets formed an oasis in the inky dark and the villa was silent but for the faint crash of waves against the cliff. The night was clear and calm and he padded over to the windows to gaze out at the rippling reflection of the moon above. The stars twinkled as he picked out constellations, the instinct from his scouting days as present as ever. He winced as he spied Orion in the east, its steady rise enough to tell him how late the hour had become.
He yawned, turning off the tablet screen and making his way up to his room by the light of his communicator.
The habit of checking in on his family hadn’t always been as compulsive as it was now, but Scott didn’t think it did him any harm. It was needless reassurance perhaps, but at each door as he listened to soft breathing and the murmurs of dreams, he could feel his own heartbeat starting to slow.
Gordon’s room was closest to the lounge, with John’s opposite, to compensate for their sunrise and nocturnal activities respectively, so as not to disrupt the heavier sleeper in the family.
Scott nudged the door open, suppressing a smile to see Gordon sprawled across the bed and hugging a pillow with one arm. The aquarium light through the water gave the room an eerie glow like a underwater grotto. This was as silent and still as Scott ever saw his brother and he took a moment to enjoy the peace.
He backed out of the room quietly and turned to John’s room. He laid a hand on the solid oak door to ground himself, knowing John wasn’t there and resisting the urge to check all the same. A small part of Scott felt guilty not including him in the nightly ritual even when he was absent, but John loathed any perceived invasion of his privacy and it wasn’t worth the inevitable argument when EOS tattled on him. So he compromised, hand on the door, and called up Thunderbird Five.
“You’re late tonight,” observed EOS. “He’s already asleep.”
Scott grimaced, remembering the long, arduous evening he’d left behind.
“Tell him I’m sorry,” whispered Scott. “I lost track of time.”
“He worries.”
“Ditto, then.”
EOS said nothing and Scott sighed.
“I’ll catch him tomorrow, I promise. He’s really sleeping?”
“Three hours and seventeen minutes. He has entered his third sleep cycle tonight.”
“Good,” said Scott softly. “He needs it.”
“So do you, Scott Tracy.”
“Goodnight, EOS.”
He shut down the call without waiting for a response.
Alan’s room was dim and dark, carved into the side of the mountain with no natural light except from that which was funnelled down through the rocks as a skylight. These provided a link to the outside world, the sky and stars that he loved, and a much needed release from his endless video games.
Scott peeked in, hardly noticing the empty bed. It has been a long time since he’d given up on wrestling his youngest brother into bed each night and Alan genuinely seemed to prefer the floor. Scott wrinkled his nose at the musty smell, making a mental note to ask Alan to do a spring clean of the place. There was no sound, not even Alan’s usual quiet snuffling, and Scott frowned, stepping forward into the room fully.
“Allie?” he called softly, picking his way across the floor where gaming gear lay abandoned and dirty clothes were strewn wildly. The moonlight shone through the skylights, illuminating the empty space where Alan normally slept.
“Alan?”
Scott swore to himself, his heart rate spiking as he hurried into Virgil’s room.
“Virgil,” he hissed, “Virgil, wake up.”
“Whaa-?” mumbled his brother, one hand already groping for his comm as he struggled upright. “Is there an emergency?”
“Alan’s gone,” said Scott. “He’s not in his room.”
Virgil blinked blearily at Scott.
“Oh,” he said. “Alan’s in your bed.”
Scott froze.
“He’s what?”
“Yeah, I guess he wasn’t feeling well.”
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
Virgil shrugged. “You looked busy. Don’t worry I took a look at him. Just needs rest now.”
Scott felt the words slice into him, although he knew Virgil was merely stating fact, not placing blame.
“Thanks, Virg,” he said, swallowing down the guilt that stuck in his throat. “Get some sleep, I’ll look after him.”
Virgil grunted, asleep again before his head touched the pillow and snoring lightly as Scott turned out the light.
He crept towards his own room, not bothering to turn on the lights. Everything was organised with military precision. The only anomaly was Alan, and Scott felt carefully for him before climbing into bed.
Alan stirred beside him, curling into Scott’s chest as he wrapped him in a gentle hug.
“Hey, sprout,” said Scott. “Not feeling so good, huh?”
Alan shook his head silently.
“What type of hurt are we dealing with?”
“Throat,” whispered Alan. “Head. Everywhere.”
Scott held him close, humming as he thought.
“Virgil said he gave you something? When was that?”
Alan shrugged.
“I can get you something else,” began Scott, but Alan shook his head once more.
“Please,” he croaked. “Just stay. And sleep.”
Scott thought he could do that.
[feel free to send me a prompt plus a character!]
(yes I still have a fair few to write but they're so fun!!)
#scott tracy#sometimes i fic#thunderbirds are go#alan tracy#idk there's a few in there#have fun <3#fanfic 🥰#scott 💙#alan ❤#2015#family feels#h/c#sleepy sleeps 💤#thunderbirds#collected works (mine)
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Respite (Spun Glass and Golden Light)
Scott and John, or sky and star!
It's another long one at a bit under 5000 words! Tags copied from ao3 as look, I really should be asleep already.Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, theres a fair spectrum of emotions here, Brothers, Thunderbird Five (Thunderbirds), Nightmares, John is also pretty not okay here too as well as Scott but they are both working on it, space metaphors thrown in for good measure, Cuddling & Snuggling, because everyone needs a hug of course, another fic where John and Scott drink hot chocolate!, they are both also learning they can let each other in and Scott is realising this.
Many thanks to the fab @idontknowreallywhy for all the cheering on and wonderfulness!
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“Do you want to come up to Five?” John asked.
Scott answered far too fast. “Yeah.” His voice broke in the middle.
John thought it would take more convincing, it always did to get Scott to accept anything approaching help. But this time…
He caught one last flash of blue eyes made bluer, meeting his and piercingly desperate, before the hologram shut off from Scott’s end and John was blinking away the after images in the suddenly dark comm hub.
Scott, in rumpled day clothes at 2:47am Tracy Island time, hair falling across his forehead in uneven waves of curls. Scott, whose dark circles under his eyes had startled John into thinking they were bruises, his sharpened features thrown in harsh relief by the dim lamp by dad’s desk. The hologram was fuzzy at the edges, all noisy static between him and his brother, but John couldn’t miss the way Scott looked over his shoulder like he expected something to be there. Or someone.
Ghosts of his past, John thought, then shook himself.
Scott had nightmares, they all knew it. But he always pretended he wasn't shaken by what he saw. Tried to carry on like they didn't happen, like nothing ever happened, and Scott was as invincible as the legend he’d built around dad was.
John saw, more often than the others. There was a reason he monitored the villa feed for movement outside of usual hours when the rescue alarms hadn't gone off.
He’d caught a few funnier moments for blackmail, namely Alan and Gordon attempting to steal storebought baked goods from the fridge and getting them mixed up with Grandma’s latest creations in the dark. Repeatedly, because they’d never figured out how Scott and Virgil conspired together to swap the containers.
But there were worse ones for all of their family. Nights Alan slept on the couch because being in his room, alone inside close walls was too much. Gordon making his subdued way through the halls, cheerful facade gone with gasps of pain unable to be stifled, going to get painkillers from the infirmary for his back. Kayo, prowling on silent feet, checking, triple checking security feeds for any slightest threat, not able to believe in the safety of their island anymore. Jagged notes of piano, near silent from keys barely pressed, while Virgil had tears on his face.
And Scott, of course Scott who had it the worst of all of them, who was the bravest of them but couldn't see it. Late nights, ending slumped ragdoll-like over endless paperwork from endless responsibilities put on his shoulders. Agitated pacing, wearing only socks so he wouldn't wake anyone, ragged breaths louder than his footsteps. The times when Scott was a trembling ball of tears, curled under dad’s desk where he barely fit anymore, hands over his head blocking everything out.
Sometimes John talked to them, offered company and comfort, other times he let the moments pass silently. He was used to witnessing things he could never speak of again; his own moments of pain rarely had anyone but he made sure his siblings’ did, just in case they needed someone reaching out for them.
Watching over Scott in particular to make sure no harm came to him was an unsaid duty John took as his own. Virgil was there in the day, with him on the ground during rescues, but John amongst his stars kept the nights within his reach.
He’d already sent the space elevator down and now he waited, marking careful timings as Eos quietly spoke them. Scott was suiting up. Scott was finishing pre-launch checks. Scott had reached the Kármán line, the beginning of space.
John drifted through a gravity-less Five, switching to lights that gave off a soft, golden glow. They filled the Thunderbird up like she was one of those ancient incandescent bulbs, long since obsolete. Like she was delicate spun glass as well as cahelium strength, two opposites the same, together complete where glass could break and cahelium bend. She was different from her sister ships, a different purpose and way of approach, but in the end she was the same. Rescue. Salvation. Pulling them all back from the void.
He couldn't take the nightmares away, the fear and pain scarred deep in his brother’s bones, but he could offer respite. Warmth and light and safety, with some distance from it all. A set of arms to hold Scott close and a shoulder to cry on when it was needed. It was something, it was everything, in the rare times Scott could reach out and take it.
And John needed it too. He could watch over Scott from afar, he always would, he couldn't not. But he also needed his big brother close enough that he could feel his heartbeat, how his chest rose and fell with each breath, not just as numbers on a screen, but here and real and close. Maybe he wasn't the touchiest person generally, but his brothers wrapped up in a hug or sides pressed together where they sat, their soft voices in the bubble of quiet, that meant safety. With only arm’s reach to check if they were okay, especially for looking out for Scott. There was a reason that otherwise he had to have all of the data. But right now he needed Scott.
John waited for the familiar clunk of the space elevator docking, for Eos to give the all clear for her checks for the airlock being correctly pressurised, before the doors opened.
They silhouetted Scott in their frame, stuck halfway between the warm lights of Five and the cooler, harsher ones in the space elevator.
Scott hesitated, like he always did here, a hand blue-gloved in space issue suit gripping the edge of the airlock.
John opened his arms, because Scott needed this as much as he did. They were the same this way.
He was met by a brother tumbling towards him, clumsy out of their element, in a crashing hug. For a moment, John almost expected it to be Alan, eager and young, those blue eyes— But Alan was nearly as graceful up here as John these days. And his eyes didn't hold the same nightmare bright intensity and John hoped they never would.
Scott hit him in a collision of bodies and John had to stop their combined momentum, a foot finding a wall to slow them until his shoulder slammed into a bulkhead cabinet anyway. Automatically, he wrapped himself around Scott.
“Just a bit of a bump, nothing that hasn’t happened before. You gotta have a lighter touch when you kick off in micrograv,” John said cheerily. Scott was still mumbling repeated apologies under his breath.
John took the moment, in spite of his words, to just cling to Scott, like Scott was clinging to him, burying his face at his brother’s neck. A moment, a minute, a respite.
Finding handholds on Five’s inner surfaces was as easy as it was familiar. John could find every one of them blind, oxygen-deprived, with no Earthly directions as a frame of reference. He had, before.
He shifted to get his fingers around Scott’s wrist, a quick tap on his hand to warn Scott first, then Scott’s locking around his own in a rescue grip, to pull them through a quietened Five as one.
To the galley. Hot chocolate wasn't quite the same when it came in a foil pouch with a straw as opposed to Earth’s ceramic mugs, but it was chocolate and you could still warm your hands around it.
John made up two, passing one off to Scott where he hung about against what was nominally the wall, though the orientation didn't matter without gravity’s bounds.
“Thanks.” Scott tried for a smile. He was still gripping the hand hold with the white-knuckles-beneath-gloves grip of someone unused to being without gravity and scared to drift away.
John settled on the ceiling in arms reach, with just his toes tucked under a bar.
Quiet lulled between them. John’s favourite type of quiet, with just the soothing hum of the life support systems, the ever-present undercurrent of Five, and their own breathing.
Technically, it wasn't hot chocolate, but nutritionally-complete chocolate-flavoured drink didn't have the same ring. It wasn't the same as a proper meal but a stressed Scott barely ate, John wasn't exactly sure how many hours had passed but it’d be too many if he counted, and right now Scott needed something sweet and calorie-dense and easy to get into him.
It was fine until Scott shifted, his hand slipping momentarily with a sharp intake of breath and that all too familiar flash of panic swiftly hidden. Except up here that split second where he flailed before freezing up and stopping himself sent him into a spin.
John caught Scott’s outstretched arm to steady him. He moved next to Scott with a graceful twist to be against the same wall so Scott could hold onto him. Taking the hot chocolate from him, John gently guided Scott’s hands, one to the grab bar, the other to his baldric.
“You can’t fall up here, not really. Even if it feels like it sometimes,” John said. Reassured. Because this was his sleep-deprived big brother he was talking to, not the perfectly put together Commander.
Scott’s eyes searched his face, latching on to John’s with the same unbreakable trust that let John lead on missions where he could see more from above and Scott actually listened.
“Okay,” Scott said, like it was that simple, like anything in their lives was simple. Because he believed John.
They were close enough that John could see how the strands of Scott’s hair were matted together by old gel not yet washed out. More grey was flecked around his temples, his hair surrounding his head in a floating halo from the lack of gravity and the way it caught the light.
Scott flinched at the soft click-rush-clunk of ventilation systems cycling as they should be, a sound unusual for Scott but not enough to normally be a threat. Scott’s fingers tightened on John’s baldric.
Both of them breathed slowly and carefully, to a steady rhythm of calm until the moment passed.
With how Scott was obviously still struggling with the lack of gravity, John quietly decided to make it easier for him when he wouldn't ask.
“Eos? Gravity back on please,” John murmured aloud to ensure Scott had some warning.
The lights around her camera blinked, flashing to a sunset tone in acknowlegement.
“Will do, John,” Eos said.
The gravity ring mechanisms whirred as they accelerated to the appropriate velocity, providing a force at what would soon be slightly less than Earth standard gravity.
“Hello, Scott Tracy,” she added in greeting. John had noticed they’d been getting on better recently, he was glad of it.
Gently, he guided himself and Scott until their feet touched the floor. Until they could sit next to each other on the ground, cross-legged with their knees bumping, to finish their hot chocolates.
When Scott slumped with relief, letting out a long, shaky exhale, John knew he’d made the right call.
They stared out at the stars now ‘below,’ stretching out into infinity. Always captivating.
Scott hadn't looked out there, eyes carefully averted until he’d shuffled even closer to John, and John had tucked an arm around him to hold on. Because while Five and her warm glow, her connection to everything meant safety like any Thunderbird did, for Scott the gaping void of space held only danger and the need for rescues. Only with John it became their sky again, like they were stargazing on the roof of the farm house on Earth, far beneath them and years ago.
“You want to talk about it?” John asked softly, an opening so that Scott knew he could share and he’d listen.
“Uh. I don’t know. Maybe?” Scott’s usually well hidden uncertaintly bubbled to the surface.
“I’m here for you. Either way it’s okay,” John reminded gently, because Scott needed to hear him say it aloud even though it was always there implicitly.
“Nightmares. It was the snow again.” It was a sign of how far Scott had come that he would talk about what was on his mind, instead of burying it deep inside in a misplaced attempt to protect them. John found Scott’s hand and gently squeezed it.
Scott shuddered, continuing, “Probably from the rescue the other day, the entire mountainside came down. But it was with all of you guys instead and it looked more like the skii slope from the avalanche and mum, but I was too late and I couldn't save you, there was nothing I could do, you were all gone and I was alone—” Scott’s voice rose, distressed.
John could feel him shivering against his side, had only to glance to see the tears building in the corners of Scott’s eyes, the way he had his teeth sunk into his trembling lower lip, the same as he always did when he was trying not to cry. John’s heart broke at that, it always did. He gripped Scott’s hand, tightened the arm around him in a wordless effort to make sure Scott knew he wasn't alone, John was here and he wasn't going anywhere.
Scott took a deep breath and went on. “I know it wasn't real, but it felt like it.”
John made a quiet, empathetic noise. In the moment, in the haze where the lines blurred between sleep and wakefulness, nightmares did feel real. And in the sick feeling after when you just couldn't shake it. He’d been there too.
John could imagine the warmth of Scott’s hand through their space rated gloves as Scott squeezed his. “No matter what happens I’ll always fight for you all and I know you’ll all do everything you can to make it back home to me. And we have systems and procedures in place, and better equipment designed for bad conditions, and everything to make sure that never happens. But it still scares me,” Scott admitted.
“It scares me too.” Usually he didn't say that part aloud though with the work they did and the consequences they saw it never hadn't been in mind. “But we hold onto hope and each other and never let go.” John’s voice came with a fierceness he hadn't quite realised was still buried inside him. They had to believe in it. Or they were already broken.
“We’re Tracies. We’re not going to stop trying to make it home.” Scott returned with a fire John had missed before he dropped quieter but no less determined. “All of us. Even— even me.”
John hung onto him because he knew how long it had taken, how much it still took for Scott to say those words. To mean them.
He pressed his forehead against Scott’s temple. The fear of losing Scott to his own sacrificial, heroic recklessness bit at John even now, along with the need to somehow protect him from the world.
But they both were alive, here and now, in spite of the odds so far.
Scott leaned into John.
The feelings, the fears were there, but together up here amongst the stars they lost enough of their power that they could sit with them and they would soften, the raw edged terror of nightmares washing away.
Five was a bubble of light surrounding them, sheltering them from both the void of space and all that was outside. He and Scott were wrapped up in their own little world, as tiredness itched at John’s eyes and Scott lay his head on his shoulder. John pulled his big brother closer, not that there was really any space between them anyway. They were safe as much as was possible in this big, vast world. More importantly, they were here together.
John waited, not wanting to break the moment for as long as possible, wanting in a childish way to stay here with Scott forever, until his legs were numb and achy from sitting on them, until his eyes were threatening to slide shut, until Scott’s weight against his shoulder was resting heavily against him. Even then he was loathe to move.
A gentle poke and repeating his name had blue eyes blinking sleepily up at him from how Scott was slumped.
“Bedtime, big brother.” John trailed a hand through Scott’s hair, brushing back the stray strands fallen over his forehead.
“Mmmph,” Scott grumbled, tucking his face further into John’s neck.
Scott’s characteristic instant alertness come online a couple of seconds later and he pulled away. All for that he hadn't been properly asleep, merely content and dozy, a rare sight John treasured.
They walked, pressed shoulder to shoulder, to John’s tiny bedroom, tucked away on the nearer side of Five’s gravity ring. Reduced gravity made their footsteps lighter but the company did that too.
Scott hesitated at the door of the second cabin, mostly used on the occasions when Alan was up for training, put there because Five wasn't initially designed to be manned alone which John purposely didn't think about.
When Scott shrank a millimeter closer to John, John pretended not to notice the display of what Scott would call weakness in himself but never in anyone else, and nudged him with a casual, “C’mon. Puppy pile?”
“Does it still count without everyone?” Scott replied, following him though.
“Mmm,” John thought, “Yeah.” He knew he missed out on plenty on Earth too.
A hug pile of just them might be just what they needed. Both of them at this point. Memories of the whole family in a tangled, happy heap were some of John’s fondest and he knew that went for Scott too. But it was a lot and right now Scott needed calm and quiet to rest and not to feel as if he had to put on a brave face in front of everyone.
John pulled pyjamas out of his cupboard for them both, tossing an obligatory space pun t-shirt and pair of comfy sweat pants at Scott. Sharing clothes with Scott was easy given they had the most similar builds of their siblings, tall and slim, with Scott being slightly broader across the shoulders and John running more awkwardly lanky. IR space suits were comfortable but not the most for sleeping in, despite how often John ended up doing so.
They changed into pyjamas in silence, except for when John yawned midway through peeling his suit off, then Scott did too, causing them both to giggle in the way of the well past tired.
John smiled to himself while he put on a pair of socks, watching Scott poking about his room, trailing fingers over the spines of his paper books, then inspecting the stickers on his window and the handful of glow-in-the-dark stars John had up here because they reminded him of home even with the real ones right outside. His big brother’s curiosity even over these tiny details of his life, a facet he didn't often see with John up in orbit so much, made him warm inside. Especially with the way Scott was so relaxed up here in what was John’s space, a stark contrast to earlier and the staticky comm feed. The dark circles beneath his eyes remained though.
With a jaw-cracking yawn, John tipped backwards to lie on his bed. He wriggled his galaxy patterned duvet out from from beneath him where he’d landed on top of it, unattaching it from the side of his bed where it fastened to formed more of a sleeping bag to prevent him from drifting away when he left the gravity off. Which he probably did too often when the days blurred together, rescues and downtime without separation.
Stars, he was tired. Too many rescue calls, not enough sleep for— he no longer kept track of how long, but that was another day’s problem. Right now, he was here and Scott was here, so John could believe everything was going to be okay. Provided they both got some shut eye sometime soon.
Shuffling over to the wall made more room for Scott, even if John usually curled up right in the middle. The bunks on Five were larger and far more comfortable than the narrow and too short for anyone who wasn’t like, Gordon height, ones he remembered not so fondly from his NASA days. Still, not exactly sized for two people both over the six foot mark but they could make do.
“Promise I won’t push you off,” John joked.
Piling all of their siblings, because if one person was getting cuddles everyone suddenly wanted them, onto beds and couches definitely not designed for so many had led to the occasional person falling off the side, usually facilitated by shoving from the victim of a grievous crime such as ate the last sweet.
Scott rolled his eyes and repeated John’s motion of flopping down onto the bed, long limbs all everywhere, complete with tossing an arm over John’s chest and a foot over his ankles. He let out a dramatic sigh, looking to John out of the edge of his vision for his reaction.
John couldn't even pretend to be annoyed. This was Scott messing around playfully and John had missed this even as he still didn't take breaks from monitor duty and all his emotions were bubbling up in his chest until he was laughing, until there were tears in the corners of his eyes.
And Scott was laughing too, John could feel him shaking with it. Nothing was even that funny but here they were, giggling like a couple of careless, carefree kids, the sound echoing off of the walls. Five filled up with their laughter, contained it in a cocoon of light and air and protective walls between the vacuum outside where no noise could travel.
They were both left grinning exhaustedly at each other as the world came back to the reality that it was well past 3am, they needed to actually sleep especially with Scott having come down from the adrenaline crash of a nightmare and rushing up here. John rubbed at his gritty, tired eyes.
A word to Eos in addition to a goodnight had the lights switching off, the room only illuminated by the stars outside the window. Shutters would automatically close when Five’s rotation would put them facing the sun, but for now John could look out and marvel that he was here as he used to do every night, reaching up to touch one of his glow in the dark stars, a familiar green on the wall.
Scott watched him and John gave a half-shrug before shuffling closer. And he wasn't alone.
John shook his head to clear it before rolling onto his side, holding out his arms to Scott.
Big brother immediately went in for the hug, burying his face at John’s shoulder, clinging to him with maybe a little left over fear or maybe just because John was near. He wrapped his arms around Scott tightly. Took a moment, another moment just to be.
Wondering how long it had been since he’d been part of a cuddle pile with any his siblings, instead of an outside observer in holographic format was not something he wanted to waste time on right now. Or how it still took a horrific nightmare for Scott to seek respite from all the pressures of the world that seemed gathered around dad’s desk. Or for John to get respite from falling on the wrong side of the distinct divide between solitary and alone. Not that he could ask for it, he and Scott were too similar in that way. Instead, John let himself sink into the hug.
“You alright, John?” Scott’s concern was not unusual, he always found a way to check up on them.
“I’m really glad you’re here.” It could be interpreted in several ways, glad for Scott, glad for himself. That’s all John had, the rest he couldn't possible articulate but it was enough for now. He tucked his nose into Scott’s hair.
The sun shutters slid over the windows exactly as they were supposed to. They were left with the green glow of his own stars.
Scott’s chin was digging into his collarbone. Neither of them would likely have slept enough to be safe to fly tomorrow with the hours they were running to.
He shifted, making a quiet noise. Gently rearranging them was easy when Scott willingly followed through with John’s actions, guiding him to lie with his back to John’s chest instead. John wound his arms around Scott, ending up with his hands resting over Scott’s stomach, able to feel the rise and fall of it with each breath. He bumped his forehead against the back of Scott’s neck.
“‘M not the little spoon,” Scott protested even as he snuggled against John.
“Reality would suggest otherwise,” John returned, an observation, with the edges filed off as his deadpan humor had turned accidentally cutting these days.
It was rare that their positions were not reversed no matter the little brother involved. This made sense on a surface level, Scott’s height was greater than anyone else’s, long arms to pull them close, wrapped up safe. He was big brother, the eldest, their leader, he was the one who protected them from the world.
But John could also be there for him. Usually that meant from afar, a hologram projected from a wrist comm they always kept on them or beside flight controls, a voice in his ear, an extra set of eyes. All the data at his fingertips and a Tracy’s determination to keep their family safe. He didn't know whether anyone realised how many crises he averted before they became problems. He protected Scott, and it was far easier now he would let them in.
Scott was warm and something tightly wound inside John loosened. They were there for each other, it was a balance, this was how the world worked. Now that Scott let them take some of the weight instead of carrying the whole universe on his shoulders, it was easier to lean on him too because they shared things like this. To not follow Scott’s less than stellar example of hiding struggles, but from a big brother who tried to do and be everything instead of the little ones, because John couldn't bear to add anything else to the pile. Scott trusted him, he could trust Scott too.
John was just about to drop off to sleep when Scott suddenly tensed up.
“I don’t want to go to sleep. I don't want to have more nightmares.” The words came out jagged and scared, whisper quiet.
Scott was exhausted but the fear was stronger, unpredictably resurging just when everything seemed alright. John had seen how Scott would try to escape it before passing out into uneasy unconsciousness. He found Scott’s hands, sought them gently and linked theirs together.
“I can’t make them stop but I will be right here if you have one,” John said, “I promise.”
“I know.”
Scott settled again, letting out a deep breath.
John felt Scott fidgeting with his hands, carefully curling and uncurling his fingers, tracing over his knuckles, pressing their palms together, as the fear ebbed again.
The sounds of Five washed over them, humming softly as if breathing with them too. Familiar and home. John’s family was also his home. He needed them too. They needed him. He and Scott were rest and safety for each other as much the Thunderbird was for the world.
John made sure to give an, “I love you,” to his big brother while he was still awake to hear it because these things were important to be said and to be heard in reply.
Slowly, ever so slowly the grip of Scott’s hands relaxed, remaining loosely entwined with John’s as sleep finally came.
John kept holding onto Scott. A Scott who knew he could come to John for anything and had come to him tonight. Scott was here, they were both here together on Thunderbird Five amongst the stars. The rest of John’s thoughts trailed off at sleep’s approach but they were filled with a quiet hope.
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Legacy
The warm tropical sun shone through the windows of the villa. Lucille Tracy sat at her desk. She let out a sorrowful sigh. I can’t believe that it’s his death date again. Lucille thought bitterly. Her vision blurred as tears spilled from her eyes. It had been years since her husband died, but grief felt like new. An ache pushed against her heart. He was her other half, the one whom she shared all her secrets with. He was gone, and all she could do was weep into her hands. She was so deep in her sad thoughts that she didn’t notice that she had company.
“Oh, mother,” said Scott, full of sympathy for his grieving mother. The oldest Tracy had an inkling that he needed to check on his mother. It was lunchtime, so Scot grabbed lunch for his mother. He set down the plate on the desk and went to give his mother a huge hug. Lucille leaned into the hug, and she couldn't help but cry even harder. They stayed like that for a good minute before the eyes in the third oldest son’s portrait started to glow.
Lucille looked up from her hands. She gave Scott a mournful smile. Gosh, he could have been Jeff’s twin. A new wave of sadness hit Lucille like a Tsunami. She swallowed the lump in her throat, but tears rimmed her eyes.
Scott let go of his mother. He flipped a switch on his mother’s desk and was greeted with the concerned face of one John Tracy.
“Ma, how are you doing?” John asked.
A sad sigh Escaped Lucille's lips as sadness flitted across her face.“I’m doing as well as I can be.” Scott stood beside Lucille. He gently squeezed her shoulder as if to say, ‘I’m here, mother.’
John’s heart twisted as he watched on from Thunderbird Five. In moments like these, John wished that he wasn't up in Thunderbirds Five so he could comfort his grieving mother.
‘I miss him terribly.” John said the whole family was grieving on this day. John himself had grieved in his own way. He had spent almost all morning talking to Virgil. They had talked about the bitter-sweet memories of their late father. He had found himself mourning the death of his father too.
Lucille gave a glum smile.” Your father came up with the idea of International Rescue. He told me about his wonderful organization that would save people. I was on board the moment he spoke the words "International Rescue.” There was a pause, a lump formed in Lucille's throat. “He told me about his International Rescue a few hours before his death. I made myself a promise when I saw Grant and his frozen bodies. That promise was to make International Rescue real so that no one else had to go through the pain that I went through losing my husband and father-in-law.”
After another pause, Lucille shuddered, holding back a sob. She gestured with her hands to the room around her. “Scott, John, this is your late father’s legacy, “ Lucille said,” if it wasn’t for your father’s ideas, none of this would be possible. At that moment, Lucille wished that Jeff could be here to see his sons now.
“He would be so proud of you guys,” praised Lucille as she wiped her tears with the back of her hand.
“Mother,” said Scott,” Father would be proud of you. It takes a lot to run a billion-dollar company. He would be proud.”
John nodded in agreement and added,” You’re also a great author. You made three mystery novels, two of which were on the bestseller list. Father would be so proud of your novels too.”
Lucille gave John a sad smile. She let out a sigh. The pain of loss was still there, but the pain was less.
Before they could continue talking, something caught John’s attention on Thunderbird Five. “Ma, I think I’m getting a call in for International Rescue, be right back.” With that, John hung up, and Lucille sat staring at John's still Portrait.
Thirty seconds later, John's face reappeared in the portrait. “Ma, that was the California Fire Department. They need help fighting a huge forest fire.”
Scott stood beside his mother, ready for action.
“Tell them that Thunderbirds One and Two are on their way.”
“F.A.B.”
With that, John ended his second call. Lucille checked the clock that hung on the wall beside her. It was noon, and the rest of the Tracys were enjoying lunch. There wasn’t time to walk to the kitchen with fire rescues every minute counts. So, she did the next best thing. Lucille slapped a red button on her desk, and all of a sudden, an alarm rang throughout the island.
Virgil was the first one to arrive behind him, Gordon and Allan. They stood by the desk, ready for their mission
“Boys, there is a wildfire in California," stated Lucille. ”Launch Thunderbird One and Two, Gordon, you go with Virgil. Alan, you stay. You might be needed on another call.”
With that, the boys rushed to their Thunderbirds, and Alan went out onto the patio to watch the launch. Rubbing the last tears from her eyes, she glanced up at the heavens.
“Keep watch over them, Jeff.”
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Here my first fic of my Role Swap AU, where Jeff dies and Lucille lives. It has been sitting my drafts for a while, Enjoy.
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