gumnut-logic

[gumnut-logic]

Oh, this is all warmth and loveliness 😁😁💚💛

I’m in need of a massage now 😁

Just lovely FishTank. Kind and loving ::hugs you tight::

Nutty

(Thank you for all the warm fluff)

Hand Warmers

For @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt #279 Warm Hands.

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go Characters: Gordon and Virgil Word Count: approx 953 Domestic fluff (no warnings apply as far as I can tell).

Gordon was well known within his family for suffering from the affliction of cold hands.  Virgil in particular had fallen victim to icy fingers placed against warm skin on numerous occasions.  But, in his defence, Gordon found this particular big brother was the most effective heat source for warming frosty digits. 

Of course, it also helped that Virgil was often the only brother in range when this was needed, and despite the initial grumbling, he was also usually quite amenable to lending body heat to a little brother in need.

Virgil himself seemed to always have warm hands – at least in Gordon’s experience.  It didn’t seem to matter where he was, or what he was doing, if Gordon placed a distractingly cold hand anywhere on Virgil’s exposed skin there was glorious warmth to be shared. Then those familiar, big, warm hands would soon be deployed to enfold his own and work some much needed heat into them.

It kind of made sense.  Virgil’s hands always seemed to be moving – dancing across the piano keys, applying brushstrokes to canvas, or sketching on almost any surface, artfully deploying exactly the right tool for anything that needed fixing, or gently but deftly applying first aid. 

But for Gordon the most memorable thing those well-muscled and well-used hands could do was to give expert massages to sooth overworked swimmer’s muscles, or gently relax a cramp.  He couldn’t remember how or when it started, but it had been quite a regular thing between them.  Somehow Virgil always seemed to know exactly when he needed the sweet relief of warmth and pressure working all the tension out of his back, shoulders and neck, and would be there to provide it in exactly the right measure.

He'd often wished he could return the favour, and with today’s rescue being as rough as it was, Gordon could see that now was the perfect time to do so.  But he couldn’t even approach those heavy-lifting muscles without doing some important preparation first.

Luckily, preparation was something Gordon was very good at.  He usually employed this talent when planning pranks, but the surprise he was planning this time should produce a much more favourable response.  And preparation for this one had begun during post-flight checks when Thunderbird Two had returned to her hangar.

Under the guise of restocking the medical supplies Gordon had grabbed a couple of the tiny packets containing air-activated heat packs.  Later, once checks were completed, uniforms shed and he’d showered and changed into his regular attire, the packets were opened and shaken and then clutched in each hand.

After half an hour with the little heat packets kept within reach – in his pockets when not in direct contact with his hands – he deemed himself ready to put the next phase of the plan into action.

Virgil was sitting at their dad’s desk, most likely making a start on post-rescue paperwork when Gordon decided to make his move.  Making his stealthy approach from behind, avoiding the squeaky floorboard, he gave the little heat packs in each pocket one last firm squeeze each.

When he placed his warm hands on his big brother’s shoulders he felt the muscles tense at the unexpected contact.

“Gor- . . . Gordon?” Virgil’s voice started with the low warning tone that usually accompanied an unapproved activity, but quickly rose in pitch and inflection.

“The one and only!��

As Virgil tried to turn his head to face him, Gordon gently redirected the movement with one hand and started kneading tense muscles with the other.

“What are you doing?” Virgil directed his gaze forward again, allowing Gordon to knead with both hands.  “And how are your hands so warm?  They’re never this warm!  What did you do?”

Gordon chuckled.  “Don’t you worry about that.  Just relax and let me do this for you.”

Right on cue he found and pressed against a particularly tough little knot that had Virgil groaning and relaxing into the massage as the knot released.  There was an easy silence between them for a while, broken only by the soft grunts that let Gordon know he was finding all the right spots.

“Where’d you learn to do this?”  Virgil asked somewhat sleepily.

“Kind of from you.  I’ve been on the receiving end enough times.”  He paused a moment, concentrating his attention on another nasty knot.  “But I’ve always kind of wondered how you learned to be so good at giving massages.”

“I guess it started when you decided to get serious about swimming competitively.  I wanted to be able to support you, and I had an interest in medical treatments, so I looked into the kinds of medical complaints swimmers often experienced and how to treat them.  I mostly learned from video tutorials and trial and error on unsuspecting family members.”

Gordon laughed again.  “Well, I’m very glad you did.  Of all the massages I’ve had, yours are always the best.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Gordon.  There’s no way my efforts can compare with a professional.”

Gordon paused his thumb circles long enough to offer a playful tap to the side of Virgil’s head.

“I’m not kidding, Virge.  You’re massage skills are awesome, and I need you to know I appreciate every single one you’ve given me over the years.  And if the tension that was in these heavy lifting muscles is anything to go by, I think I need more chances to pay you back.”

It was Virgil’s turn to give a chuckle.

“If you think I’m bad you should try it on Scott.  When he’s tense his neck and shoulder muscles feel like steel girders.”

They were both laughing now. “No, I think I’ll leave Scott’s tense muscles to your magic fingers!”

[gumnut-logic]

Wonky Stars earrings in the gorgeous @threetreesfibrecrafts ‘Fire Spark’

[gumnut-logic]

Moments #6

Ooooh, lookie, it is past 3am :D Ooops.

Muse woke up and decided to write this little thing. it should be noted that my brain is in some kind of coma, so the result is, well…this.

Many thanks to @tsarinatorment​ and @janetm74​ for the read through ::hugs you both::

This is just a little Earth looking after the Sky. I hope you enjoy it.

-o-o-o-

Scott has sixteen grey hairs in his fringe and about twice that on either side.

Virgil knew this because he had counted them three times now.

He let his head drop back over the back of the sofa and sighed.

Scott had fallen asleep beside him an hour ago, too damned stubborn to go to bed. Virgil had suspected this would happen, so had stayed up beside him while sending the rest of his brothers to bed.

Grandma had squeezed his shoulder as she left. He knew she was concerned, but he valued her trust in him.

Virgil knew how to look after his older brother.

Even if it required a butt numbing wait.

The movie had been an old one they had seen many times before. Virgil had planned it that way in yet another attempt to get his brother to fall asleep.

And he had. Just not in his bed.

Scott slumped over, obviously fighting his own body’s needs, until his head dropped against Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil held ever so still. Scott sleeping anywhere other than his rooms was rare and the few times he did manage to collapse at their father’s desk amongst all the Tracy Industries holograms, he had been alone in the room…only to wake immediately once Virgil or one of their other brothers went looking.

Scott’s sleep was fragile and precious, and Virgil was willing to do anything to protect it.

So when his brother started snoring softly into Virgil’s flannel shirt, he kept as still and quiet as possible.

Eventually, Virgil got daring and gently manoeuvred Scott millimetre by millimetre until his head was resting on a cushion in his lap. For a moment there, he thought he had blown it, but his brother snuffled and curled up against him and dropped into a deeper sleep.

And so started his vigil.

Virgil didn’t mind. He had his tablet and a backlog of both engineering and art periodicals to wade through, but his attention kept being drawn back to his brother.

The plaster on Scott’s forehead was ever so white against tanned skin. It highlighted the grey in his tousled mess of hair.

Virgil found himself counting and listing an event to blame for each of them.

He ran out of hairs before he ran out of events.

He didn’t dare brush his fingers through Scott’s hair. Didn’t trust his brother’s sleep was robust enough. So Virgil settled for cupping his head gently with one hand, barely touching him, but meeting his own need to connect nonetheless.

Scott was so young.

Commander, president, leader…awake he exuded so much energy and determination. The man was never still, always moving, possessing a vitality that kept this family alive.

But here, asleep, face slack, all Virgil could see was that big brother from so long ago, before everything happened, before life changed and hurt them so many times over. Before burdens bowed his big brother down under so much weight.

Back when they sat and did their homework together, Mom throwing out answers to questions while she tackled their younger brothers into the bath. Back when Virgil would sit out in the fields and draw, Scott hanging out with him despite the fact he couldn’t sit still. Eventually admitting that he just wanted to spend time with him.

Virgil had a sketchbook somewhere full of his brothers, and amongst those drawings were ones done out in those fields. His happy, smiling and smirking big brother.

Before the burdens.

Virgil couldn’t help himself. He touched one of the grey hairs, brushing it between his fingers.

Scott murmured in his sleep and frowned.

He snatched his hand away and his brother settled again.

Today had been another near miss, but Scott was safe, only a few scratches and bruises to show for it.

Virgil, of course, had more nightmare material, but then that library was so vast already, it would be shoved in with the rest and barely noticed.

But sitting here, looking down at his sleeping brother, he couldn’t help but try to think of ways to remove some of those burdens from his big brother’s shoulders.

They all took on their fair share. Virgil and John in particular took everything they could to help Scott. But still there were nights where Virgil had to drag the man away from his desk.

And he always protested. Why was everyone more important than Scott Tracy?

Virgil rested a hand on his brother’s arm.

Why did he need to give so much? Even now, the idiot refused to go to bed despite his exhaustion.

So stubborn.

Scott breathed ever so softly against red flannel.

Well, he was asleep now and Virgil had nothing better to do. His butt was already numb, but it was just part of the deal of being a brother to this…

Great man.

Another sigh.

The things he would do for the idiots he loved.

-o-o-o-

[gumnut-logic]

Moments #1

One of the ideas I had yesterday was for a series of simple scenes. Short not much, just moments in the boy’s lives. So here be one. Just tiny. Just a moment :D

Thank you to @janetm74​ and @tsarinatorment​ for the read through and support and for putting up with my writing deprived babble tonight :D

A little FishTank fluff. I hope you enjoy :D

-o-o-o-

Virgil sat on the couch scribbling in his sketch book.

He couldn’t call it drawing because the results were very ordinary and he wasn’t really focussed enough to do anything but doodle anyway.

Beside him lay Gordon, dressed in an old pair of pyjama pants and t-shirt, curled up like a pretzel. He was asleep with his face jammed into a cushion against Virgil’s thigh.

His soft breathing was a counterpoint to the rattling palms beyond the balcony.

It had been a long day, and while Gordon had protested that he was fine, it hadn’t taken much of the now-finished movie for him to fall sideways and curl up.

Honestly there was barely any room for a full grown man to sleep on one of these couches. Virgil knew it from experience. Much less with him sitting there almost halving the area available. But Gords seemed happy and Virgil couldn’t help but find some comfort of his own having his little brother close.

It was calming.

Gordon snorted in his sleep, a smile spreading across his lips.

Virgil arched an eyebrow, but couldn’t help but smile himself.

Gords.

What are you thinking?

He resisted the urge to brush his fingers through his brother’s hair, not wanting to disturb him.

As if reading his mind, Gordon’s hand suddenly reached up and slapped onto Virgil’s knee, nails catching as they dragged over denim.

For a moment, Virgil thought his brother was awake and messing with him. But no, the arm went limp, balancing precariously on Virgil’s thigh, his brother’s hand curling just a little more as Gordon relaxed further into sleep.

Virgil found himself smiling again. This time fondly and with memories of a much younger fish ever so long ago.

With the smallest of sighs, Virgil relaxed back against the couch, and, putting his sketchbook and pencil aside, he slid his fingers into the very ends of his little brother’s blond hair.

He stroked ever so gently.

Gordon murmured in his sleep and snuggled up a little closer.

Virgil only smiled more.

-o-o-o-

[gumnut-logic]

Moments #2

I am up so late. So gonna pay for this.

But anyway, have a little Scotty and Alan. Not read by anyone so all mistakes are mine. I really need to dash off to bed.

Oh, brief mention of a character and events from the Anna Kent series, but no need to read that to understand this.

I hope you enjoy this moment ::hugs to all the amazing Thunderfam::

-o-o-o-

Scott stared at layers and layers of holograms. It was the end of the business year and he had a huge pile of reports to sign off.

It was only his second year as president. The first had been hell of all kinds and while his mind was quieter this year, he was still concerned he might miss something or screw something up.

Of course, John would check his work if he asked, but it was important that he do this himself.

Like Dad would.

He refused to close his eyes at that thought, drawing instead on the inspiration his father gave him more than the recent grief.

That’s how Dad would do it anyway.

“Scotty?”

He looked up to find Alan walking across the comms room in his pyjamas. His twelve-year-old brother was wearing one of John’s old t-shirts, twice the size of him and sporting the slogan ‘Star of Science’, plus an equally old pair of pyjama pants with rockets shooting up his legs.

“Yeah, squirt?” He shoved three of the holograms aside to make room for his little brother as he leant up against the desk.

“Don’t call me squirt.” Alan glared at him. “I made something for you.”

“You did?” Scott’s eyes widened.

“Ms Kent assigned our art project last week and I wasn’t sure what to do. Rory got all excited, but I couldn’t decide what to draw. Art isn’t really my thing, you know. That’s Virgil’s stuff.” Alan wrinkled his nose.

“Did you ask Virgil for help?”

“Nooo…he gets all airy fairy and technical.” His little brother grabbed Scott’s hand as he was about to raise it to object on Virgil’s behalf. “I know he means well and he’s great and all, but I wanted to see if I could do it myself.”

“Okay. So did you find a solution?” Scott searched his little brother’s face trying to work out whether he needed to congratulate or commiserate.

“Kinda. Ms Kent helped me a little. Anyway, here. She said I should give it to you.” Alan held out a chit and placed it on the desk. Then to Scott’s surprise his little brother reached in and grabbed a hug.

Scott was ever so willing to return it, but then Alan abruptly said goodnight and scampered off.

Scott frowned. The comms room suddenly felt rather lonely.

But the chit was still sitting on the desk.

Swiping the rest of the holograms out of the way, Scott slipped it into the projector system’s receiver slot.

There were two files. One was labelled ‘art assignment feedback and grade’, the other ‘Alan Tracy’.

Scott tapped on the second file.

A three-dimensional holographic drawing of himself in his uniform, posing rather heroically in front of a rendition of Thunderbird One. It wasn’t a masterpiece, even Scott could see that his eyes were a little big and his arms a little too long, but there had been a lot of effort put into it. The holographic brush strokes were a little frenetic but it gave One an energy that made it look like the drawing was about to take off.

Scott’s jaw dropped just a little.

Leaving it open in front of him, he tapped the first file. The assignment popped up. Draw someone you admire. Try to include what you see in them that makes you admire them so much. There followed tips on how to go about such a drawing, basic anatomy and composition. Underneath were Ms Kent’s notes.

Alan, this is a beautiful piece of work. I know you thought long and hard about who to draw and why and your choice was very significant. Your technique shows true expression and passion. I know you had some difficulties with the hands and feet, but your corrections have proven effective. You have given this excellent effort and have definitely well earned this A+. Congratulations.

Scott swallowed, staring at the words and the drawing. He blinked rather suddenly and repeatedly.

Allie…

Alone in the comms room, Scott hurriedly copied the file to his private server, mentally clinging to it for a moment.

Alan had faced so many challenges over the last year. He still had nightmares.

Scott swallowed again before swiping the image closed before any other members of his family might walk in. He found himself wanting to keep it for himself, for whatever reason he did not want to examine too closely.

He pulled up the end of year financials again and got back to work.

It suddenly didn’t feel so daunting anymore.

-o-o-o-

[gumnut-logic]

Moments #3

Have another moment while I go out and get takeaway :D

I hope you enjoy a little Alan and family ::hugs you all:: Thank you for all your amazing support::

-o-o-o-

Alan loved being part of this family.

Like how many kids got to see their big brother disappear into a wall and sixty seconds later take off in a rocket through the pool? C’mon, you didn’t get much cooler than that.

Alan stood at the edge of the comms room just as the glass balcony doors did their click thing and automatically closed. They met in the middle just as the pool finished disappearing under the villa.

All was silent for one still second and then an explosive rumble vibrated through the soles of his feet as a grin split his face in half.

Thunderbird One shot up through the hole where the pool used to be in a fountain of steam and fiery gases and was gone. A lone snap of broken sound barrier in the distance her only calling card.

It was so coooool! He was almost bouncing on his feet. This would never get old.

An arm wrapped around his shoulders as the balcony doors clicked again and began to slide open, letting in the faint afterburn of biofuel. The pool meandered back into place.

“C’mon, squirt, help choose the movie.” Virgil’s deep voice was little more than a smiling rumble.

The movie? “Oh, can we watch Zombies vs Aliens II?”

Virgil’s face wrinkled up in disgust. “Do we have to?”

“It’s school vacation. My turn.”

His brother’s groan was more operatic like one of those stupid Shakespeare plays he had been studying. Comedic even.

He stuck him in the ribs. “C’mon, you secretly love aliens bashing up zombies.”

There was another groan followed by a retaliatory grabbing and Alan found himself being right and royal noogied by his heavy lifting brother. “Augh! Ge’orf!”

Virgil’s chuckle was almost worth the humiliation.

Untangling himself as they walked back to the sunken lounge, Alan straightened himself out. “You suck.”

Gordon grinned at the both of them. “Definitely. Like a vacuum cleaner, but we keep him around nonetheless. Useful at times like when we need to move furniture.” Gordon ducked as Virgil swiped at him. There followed a very short chase around the holotable that ended with Alan stepping just enough in Gordon’s way on the return loop in order for Virgil to catch him up and deliver a very entertaining noogie fest.

Bro betrayal, yes, but totally hilarious all the same.

John was sitting on the couch rolling his eyes. Recently down from Five, there was no way he was up for any game of chase the fish. So while Virgil tortured Gordon, Alan plonked himself down beside John.

His star brother smiled at him. “Zombie vs Aliens II?”

“Yep.” Alan grinned. “Have you seen the shorts?”

John nodded once. “Looks like they actually threw some money at the special effects this time.”

“Yeah, so totally cool. Rory said the aliens in particular have really cool teeth this time.” Alan grinned. “Wanna bet Virgil jumps at least once?”

“Not taking that one. He startles every time something jumps out of the holoprojector.” John eyed him. “And you wonder why he hates these movies.”

“He watches them anyway.”

“For you.”

Alan frowned at him. “Way to make me feel guilty, bro.”

John smirked and wrapped an arm around his little brother, drawing him close. “It’s the sacrifices we make.”

Alan grumbled. “Shuddup.” But he didn’t pull away. John hugs were too rare for that.

“Okay, boys, Scott will be back in five. Get the table ready.” Grandma really was good at marshalling the troops. Probably because no one would ever ignore her. Virgil, in particular, was ever her minion. Burnt biscuits and all.

Cos she was Grandma and all the cosy, loveable moments that phrase implied. Even though she was also quite bossy.

“Up, squirt. Go find the napkins.” Virgil was waving him up.

“Aww, why do we need napkins?”

“Because you miss your mouth hole too often, rocket boxers.”

“Shuddup, Gordon.”

“Boys!”

“Yes, Grandma.” It was a chorus.

There was grumbling and scampering and acquisition of multiple items out of the kitchen and into the comms room.

By the time the balcony doors clicked into their closing cycle again, there were drinks and cutlery and nibbles and a general feel of anticipation.

Alan hurried over to the doors again, eager to see his brother returning. Before the pool had even fully retracted, Thunderbird One shot into their airspace with a roar. A blink and Scott had her vertical and lowering down into her hangar. With a 1 D R I B R ED N U H T, her red cone caught the light and she disappeared below.

The exhaust cloud dissipated on the wind and once again, as if nothing had happened, the balcony doors clicked and cycled open again as the pool slid back into position.

So, so, cool.

Five minutes later, Scott express delivered the pile of pizzas and garlic bread to the comms room before disappearing again to change out of his uniform.

He didn’t miss ruffling Alan’s hair on the way out though.

But the youngest Tracy did not mind in the slightest.

How many other families had rocket delivered pizza, anyhow?

-o-o-o-

[gumnut-logic]

Moments #4

A quick middle of the night fic. stupid muse, had all day, but no, it has to wait until 4am.

Not proofed by anyone but my insomniac head. I hope you enjoy it.

Fluff, with just the tiniest dash of past whump.

-o-o-o-

Scott was ever so tired, but when John requested he not return Thunderbird One to her hangar, but instead park her on Two’s runway, he had to do as his brother asked.

John’s reasoning didn’t involve words, just a photo that had Scott hitting the brakes over Tonga and gliding in as quietly as he could.

The fact Virgil was behind him only had him waiting longer as the cargo ship needed to touch down before One could park securely. After all, the whole reason they hid the Thunderbirds like they did on their deserted Island was to protect them from accidentally being seen. There were holographic shields and security networks galore protecting the Island, but ultimately, if a fishing boat either wandered in or needed safety, it was a good idea to keep the Thunderbirds much less than obvious.

In summary, they didn’t tend to leave the sports car on the lawn for the neighbourhood to gawk at.

So instead, Scott set One to hover a respectful distance away while he waited for Two to catch up.

And try not to fall asleep in his pilot’s chair.

Fortunately, Virgil wasn’t as far behind as he could have been and the green behemoth soon appeared on One’s sensors. Scott stared as his younger brother glided in under minimal power and set down with a short spurt of VTOL in a rather impressive manoeuvre. It was the closest to landing silently that Two could probably get.

Scott let One follow almost immediately. She wasn’t as quiet as Two, the fact she had had to hover removing any chance at a glide out of the equation.

In any case, he slipped One in behind Two and stashed her in the massive hangar so Two could still deploy if necessary and One could as well, albeit a touch slower than usual.

But considering her pilot was a zombie, it wouldn’t matter for another eight hours at least.

Climbing out, he met an equally tired Virgil and they plodded to the elevator together, drowning their exhaustion in the showers, and throwing on pyjamas that Grandma had obviously left out for them.

Scott’s t-shirt had the slogan on the front ‘Born to fly’, which he found appropriate, but the shirt having come from Gordon, the back followed up with ‘Farts in the sky’.

But he was too tired to care right now. Shoving it on and pulling the pants up over aching hips - he really shouldn’t have jumped from that cliff – he stretched to finally get any of the remaining kinks out of his system.

Only to find Virgil wearing a slightly too small t-shirt also obviously of the Gordon purchase pile that pectorally declared, ‘Warning: Do not decaffeinate, may decapitate’.

Well, perhaps, Gordon did have a point there.

Scott sighed. “Want to check on them?”

Virgil’s answer was only an eyebrow, but it clearly declared Scott an idiot for asking such a stupid question.

That ended all energy for future verbalisation and, finishing up, Virgil fell into step beside Scott as he headed off towards the lounge.

Because Allie was injured.

That fact, that entire concept, cut into Scott’s gut like a blunted knife.

John’s frantic yell the week before had aged the commander several years in a matter of seconds. Allie had been up helping a space freighter that had lost power and was in the process of losing orbit along with it. It should have been simple, but some high-speed space trash had collided with the vessel while Alan was out repairing a ruptured fuel line.

His suit had been compromised by what was basically a small meteor of human origin and for a bit there it had been damned scary.

But Brains made above average spacesuits and a certain self-healing polymer invented by a smart brother automatically resealed the suit.

Not before the damage to Alan’s leg had been done, however. A gash the length of his calf with both hot and cold burns leaving his leg a mess and their little brother grounded for weeks.

Scott was just happy to have him safe, and those weeks gave Scott the time to process the fact that, ultimately, he would have to let Alan out into space again.

But for now, he was safe at home.

Keep reading

[gumnut-logic]

Moments #5

Further proof that this is not a beading blog. I actually wrote something!

Not much, just a fluffy scene, but I hope you enjoy it anyway :D

-o-o-o-

It was late. The villa was quiet and Scott was tired.

But this wasn’t a situation where he was struggling with paperwork or tackling the other-side-of-the-planet business. Wasn’t even a rescue.

Well, not an International Rescue one, anyway.

He was currently sitting on a massive bed belonging to his eldest brother, in a dark room, with the holoprojector the only source of light.

That source of light was definitely a B-rater and all Gordon’s fault, as usual. How the fish got movie night rights so often, Scott really should ask John or Eos to investigate because there was a definite case of rigging there somewhere.

But really, right now, Scott was too tired to care.

He let his head drop back against the headboard and his eyes closed a moment.

The light flickered red through his eyelids. Fortunately, the sound had been lowered the moment Virgil fell asleep. Virgil sleep was precious at the moment and they were all happy to oblige whatever it took to get him there.

His engineer brother had been clobbered by a massive wooden beam two days ago and was still experiencing the effects of a nasty concussion. Vertigo, exhaustion and headaches were the reason the holoprojector was so dim and the room so dark.

It was also the reason why Scott was surrounded by all of his brothers and not just Virgil in Virgil’s bedroom.

Alan was sprawled across Scott’s legs, his head almost in a ball of popcorn as he drooled, mouth open, on Gordon’s jeans.

His fish brother was curled up next to Virgil, but halfway down the bed, and had faceplanted into the covers. Scott was wondering if he should give him a prod just in case he was suffocating in the quilt.

The snores from that direction pretty much comforted Scott on that front, and chances were a good prod would startle the fish enough to faceplant on the floor and honestly, though it would be highly amusing, Scott wasn’t that mean.

Well, not tonight.

Of course, whatever snoring Gordon was orchestrating, it barely compared to the brass section currently playing on Scott’s collarbone. Virgil was legendary in that department, but considering the difficulties his brother had been having with his sleep, Scott was happy to be his sounding pillow for the moment.

If he had slipped his arm around Virgil at some point earlier in the night, it was as much for Scott’s comfort as Virgil’s.

Every injury scared Scott silly, no matter the severity. He was just happy to have his brother home and recovering, if slowly.

Even John was down for this one. His astronaut brother was lying on Scott’s other side, sharing the Alan blanket. John, being John, was much more elegant in repose. He actually had acquired one of the pillows and was using it for its designed purpose.

John didn’t snore. He just whispered from time to time and asked Eos incomprehensible questions. Who knew what the AI thought of this or how often it happened. John had always been a little prone to talking in his sleep in varying languages, much to the amusement of his brothers, but he hadn’t actually tried to have full on conversations before.

Scott made a mental note to interrogate Eos on the subject.

The ‘projector flickered over to credits and both John and Gordon stirred.

Scott held his breath, poking at the controls to start another movie and even out the soundscape. Skipping credits and title sequences alike, he ended up on some old detective movie.

His brothers settled and Scott let out a quiet sigh.

Virgil snorted in his sleep and curled up closer, Scott an obvious source of warmth.

Scott pulled him tighter.

His other hand might have nudged up against John. His legs were pinned by Alan and Virgil was a mass of brother all down one side.

The only one he couldn’t quite reach was Gordon. But suddenly, as if the fish had read his thoughts, his arm shot out, reached over Virgil, and landed on Scott’s knee.

It squeezed once before falling limp, fingers caught in the cotton of Scott’s pyjama bottoms.

Scott couldn’t help but smile, biting his lip.

On the ‘projector, some guy was found dead and all the characters were dramatically concerned.

Scott didn’t notice, he relaxed back against the headboard again and closed his eyes.

It was late. The villa was quiet and Scott was tired.

But he was also happy.

-o-o-o-

[gumnut-logic]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now? What was it called before?”

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

Virgil frowned up at him. “You okay?”

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

“Deserter’s Rock? Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you spell ‘Hackenbacker’?”

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

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

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

“Okay, guys, I need your information.”

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

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

Alan snorted.

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

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

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

Their little brother only giggled more.

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

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

Virgil sighed to himself.

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

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

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

“I’m thirty-one and you know it.”

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

Scott grunted at him.

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

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

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

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

“Johnny?”

“No one named ‘Johnny’ lives here.”

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

“Accurately.”

“Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Here.”

“But you live in space.”

“So do you.”

“Pedantic much?”

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

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

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

“Gordon, I can hack your bank accounts.”

“Go for it.”

“I can also hack your fish tanks.”

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

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

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

He shrugged. “Didn’t break any.”

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

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

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

“Never said I didn’t.”

Definitely an ass.

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

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

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

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

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

Definitely an ass.

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

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

“Kansas.”

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

“Space.” Alan said it with triumph.

“What?”

“Where John lives. Isn’t that what the question was?” Alan stared between his brothers.

“Go back to sleep, Alan.”

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

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

“Kayo is here tonight, isn’t she?”

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

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

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

Virgil glared at Scott.

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

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

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

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

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

Probably should go to bed.

He went back to fighting with his boot.

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

“I’m worshiping Neptune this year.”

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

“Dad wouldn’t let me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

John shrugged. “Made time.”

“What’s this one for?”

“Oceanography.”

“What?”

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

Gordon just stared.

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

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

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

Despite him being the occasional ass.

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

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

The stare continued.

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

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

“Sure.”

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

But everything was interrupted by a sudden snore and snort.

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

“Wha-?”

“Scott, you need to go to bed.”

“I’m fine.”

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

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

“Idiot.”

“What?”

“Go to bed.”

“No. We need to finish the census.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because I want to.”

“Why?”

“Can you stop that?”

“Can you go to bed?”

“No!”

“You need sleep.”

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

“Sometimes.”

“Virgil!”

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

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

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

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

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

Bratty little fish.

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

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

There followed a book’s worth of employment activities.

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

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

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

“Has he succeeded yet?” Bratty fish.

“None of your business.”

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

“Unpaid.”  Scott’s tone was sharp.

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

“Self-employed.”

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

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

John snorted and rattled off a number.

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

“Give me a moment.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We own the bank.”

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

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

“Oh.”

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

“Hey! You suck, Fishbrain.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gordon did squawk quite a bit.

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

Virgil had suspicions that the game was rigged.

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

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

With a bit of luck he might fall asleep.

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

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

Virgil eyed him.

John screwed up his face and poked out his tongue.

Wha-“ Virgil blinked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His fault, of course.

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

“Sprained, you mean.”

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

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

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

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

“Sure.”

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

Silence hit the room again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gordon…”

“Admit it, you want a hug.”

“Shut up.”

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

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

“Will do.” Gordon grinned at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aotearoa is not the United States.”

“But they are still registered.”

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

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

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

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

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

Scott answered that one. “Ten.”

“I thought it was twelve.”

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

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

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

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

Virgil snorted. “Not his.”

“Shut up.”

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

“Yes, Commander.”

Scott growled but Gordon ignored him.

Boxes all ticked, he hit the submit button.

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

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

“What?!”

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

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

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

Virgil joined both his brothers at staring at John.

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

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

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

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

“Gords…”

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

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

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

The grumbling was worth it.

-o-o-o-

[gumnut-logic]

The Tracys as X-men 😁

Scott as Cyclops?

Virgil as Wolverine….maybe a nicer Wolverine 🤣

What about the other bros?

[gumnut-logic]

Today’s effort 😁 The question is if it is good enough to duplicate and make a pair of earrings? Gorgeous yarn is mostly from @threetreesfibrecrafts but also includes @malabrigoyarn from @skein.machine 😁

[gumnut-logic]

Summer stars 😁 Made from @threetreesfibrecrafts ‘Summer Sunset’ sock yarn. It really is a gorgeous yarn and not just because of the colours. It’s so soft and the strands blend together beautifully. This pattern is stable now and I just need to make a few more versions to get the details ironed out. Who knew I’d have to do some tacking to keep my stitching straight. Maybe my high school sewing teacher knew what she was talking about 😁

[gumnut-logic]

Jeff Tracy lost his wife in childbirth, giving him only one son, but fate gave him so much more.

-o-o-o-

It was a day to end all days.

The meteorite took out his father’s cornfield and the tractor shed.

It also landed only a week after he lost his wife in childbirth. All the technology they had and still…

His first born slept quietly in his arms as he stepped out onto the porch. His mother was fortunately still asleep. She had taken it all as a personal failure and was exhausted.

A destroyed tractor shed was minor in comparison.

If he had been himself, he would have rushed to put the fire out and save everything he could. But he wasn’t. Grief had him bowed over his little son who didn’t know what had been taken from him yet. Little Alan, so fragile and precious.

All he had left of Lucille.

The flames flickered orange light over his sleeping face.

He stood their staring at the shed as it eventually came down in a pile of burning rubble. It was loud enough to wake both Allie and his mother.

He was still trying to settle his upset little boy when Jeff was joined by his mom.

“What the hell happened?”

“Would you believe a shooting star?”

She stared up at him in the orange darkness. “You’re kidding.”

He shook his head and rocked Allie a little more. That drew his mother’s attention to their newest family member.

Consequently, neither of them saw where the young boy came from. About ten years old he stepped away from the wreckage and approached the Tracys, determination in his eyes.

He said something in a language neither of them could understand. But he led them towards the smoking ruins and a capsule in a crater half buried under the remains of their prize tractor.

Three more young boys were curled up asleep inside what was obviously not a meteorite.

Jeff couldn’t see the colour of his eyes in the darkness, but morning revealed their startling blue.

And a considerable intelligence. The eldest boy was speaking English before the sun rose and his story was of a dying planet, the need for refuge and dead parents.

His visage cracked just a little as he mentioned Jor El.

He had three younger brothers, the youngest little more than a toddler.

It was like Lucy had sent him the family they both wanted from beyond the grave.

When asked why they had landed in the Tracys’ backyard. The answer was simply ‘Eos’.

Jeff didn’t know when the decision to keep the boys was made, how he was going to hide them from the authorities, who, no doubt would be on his front lawn first thing…perhaps it was the dark-haired younger brother crying on the eldest’s shoulder, the toddler drawing circles in the dirt with his finger, or maybe the middle youngest with hair of red-gold that stared at him with no emotion, yet every emotion on his face at one time.

Jeff had worked for the government. Jeff had been in space. Jeff knew what would likely happen.

The eldest had flame in his eyes.

But for whatever reason, the decision was made and Scott, Virgil, John and Gordon Tracy joined their little family and Alan had a whole set of big brothers to look after him.

To protect him for life.

-o-o-o-

Parenting four sons of non-terrestrial origin had its challenges. Scott was his biggest ally and to be honest, Jeff had no idea if he would have been able to manage it without him.

There was also his mother, Kyrano and Ohana, there were plenty of parental figures. But his boys were blatantly more than human.

The day little Gordy fell in the dam and didn’t come out sprouted more grey hair than Jeff thought he was capable of growing. Learning that, for his sons, breathing was optional…

Once Gordon discovered it, there was no keeping him out of the water at all.

Fake scuba diving equipment was invested in eventually, but for years, Jeff and Scott managed to cover for him.

Virgil’s artistic tendencies were another matter. They discovered the apparent ability to throw some kind of laser-like heat beam from their eyes the day Virgil burnt a rendition of the Mona Lisa into the living room wall.

There was a painting spree after that.

But it was John who revealed the most important skill they possessed.

The boy was obsessed with the stars. Jeff wondered if it was a determination to find a way back to where they had come from. Scott spoke rarely of what had happened there, but it was obvious all four boys were traumatised.

John cried out in his sleep, dreams wracking the six-year-old from the very first night in their new home.

He and Scott talked a lot. Jeff tried his best, but there were limits. So sometimes all he could do was be there and hold him as he cried.

As he grew older, the dreams grew fewer, but they always returned.

So it was with a little fear that Jeff watched his third eldest stare up at the stars.

But being the supportive father he was, he built an observatory on the roof. John was often to be found up there, listening to Eos as she spoke of stars humans hadn’t even discovered yet. Sometimes he perched precariously on the railing as if he was a bird who could launch himself into the sky and fly away.

And one day he did.

Perhaps not quite as elegantly as he could have. Jeff had just arrived home from a business trip late one night just in time to see his little stargazer fall off the damned roof.

He fell out of sight and Jeff was out of his car and running for his life. Only to find John spread-eagled mid-air, floating with surprise on his face.

It was chaos after that.

His boys took to the sky like a flock of birds. Even Scott who proved more a natural than should be possible.

The boy found freedom up there.

By this time Jeff had met Hiram Hackenbacker and at the risk of everything, he had let the young scientist in on the secret.

Jeff had needed money to keep his family safe and protected. It was the capsule that provided that income – unbeknownst to the world at large. Small technologies built patents and Jeff, with his business and aeronautical background, Scott’s and Eos’ help, was able to build Tracy Industries and earn far more money than he had initially expected.

The Tracy farm became a fortress of his family’s safety.

Outside its boundaries, they had to act human. Inside, his boys could be themselves, use their skills and play.

But as they grew, it became obvious it was not enough and Jeff began looking for another solution. His boys were good, they wanted to help…everyone.

Hell, Virgil was banned from watching the news and John had blocked him from all the news internet sites.

They hurt him too much when he knew if he was there, he could have helped, saved, all those people.

His boys were good and kind.

So, using the one thing he had that could help, he bought a distant island in the Pacific and with Hiram, who had a heart of gold, and Kyrano, whose heart was even softer, built the infrastructure that would enable them to do good and stay safe at the same time.

International Rescue was born.

No one needed to know the thunder of the sound barrier being broken wasn’t from the rocket engines built into Hiram’s miraculous machines, but from his sons pushing from inside, using the specially designed superstructures built into the craft.

Of course, all the brothers had a different skill set. Scott was obviously made for the sky. Gordon fell in love with the ocean the moment his eyes landed on it. The boy even built his own underwater habitat just to the south of the newly christened Tracy Island. Declared it his ‘fortress of solitude’ just inside the privacy barrier encircling the Island.

And then promptly invited Alan down there for a movie night.

Jeff just rolled his eyes and chuckled.

Perhaps he should have been worried. After all, Alan was simply human and did not possess the various skills of his older brothers.

But if there was anything the four eldest cared about beyond helping people, it was Alan.

Alan had four brothers who would do anything for him. He had to be the safest human on the planet. The four Krytonian children may have been adopted by Jeff and his mother, but they had adopted Alan in return and for all his human frailty, he was safe in their hands.

He flew with Scott and Virgil, swam with Gordon and stargazed with John.

In fact, Jeff was pretty sure it was Alan who kept John on the planet and not amongst the stars he so loved. There was a reason why Thunderbird Five was built, beyond John’s love of those far off points of light.

It was because Alan followed him.

Perhaps in the footsteps of Jeff who had gone to space himself, but here was a brother who could reach the stars unaided.

So, Allie became part of International Rescue, albeit with the protection of the elder four.

Jeff managed the business that kept them hidden and supplied while his boys went out and saved human lives.

It was a good life.

Until one day after a business meeting in London, Jeff met a man by the name of Hood.

Who smiled as he picked Jeff by the front of his shirt.

With one hand.

-o-o-o-

Supermen AU

[gumnut-logic]

Quick words before work

Supermen AU

This one was suggested by @onereyofstarlight ::hugs her tight::

I'm feeling crappy this morning with brain pain and a day of work ahead of me, so have some words ::hugs the lot of you::

-o-o-o-

This far out the sun was much smaller and he could feel it.

The harshness of space crawled across his skin as the solar wind blew through his hair. His earthly clothes had flaked off before he passed Mars and despite his fury, there was a spark of ever grateful directed at his adopted grandmother as his underwear stayed intact.

But the spark wasn’t enough to burn off his reasons for being out here. He almost wished it was, but there were some things that cut too deep.

Some humans…

A rock tumbled by and he slammed it with a fist.

It shattered against his fingernails.

Some humans were so kind. Dad, Grandma, Alan…

But then some were just horrid.

Johnny was the most troubled of them all. Krypton had left its mark, despite Scott’s best efforts. His brother struggled with nightmares and often kept to himself, happy to play with his telescopes.

But to fit in with Earth society, Scott had to drag his brother out into the world.

Jon had no trouble with learning. Of all of them, Jon took to Earth education the most, Kryptonian or not, he soaked up knowledge like a sponge and enjoyed it.

But people were cruel and Jon was different. Not only in his interests, but his lack of the need to socialise and the quirks brought on by past trauma.

So when his past wasn’t haunting him, his present took over.

Scott had the fear that one day Jon would just crack and leave Earth for good. Take off into the darkness and escape to a place Scott could not find and they would lose him.

A spinning ball off rock tumbled into his path and he ploughed through it, blasting fragments across space and creating thousands of mini-asteroids. Some spun off into darkness, others collided with the nearest dwarf planet size chunk of space rock.

He watched one piece turn end over end before idly zapping it to dust with a sharp flash of red from his eyes.

Part of him wished he could do the same to the bullies who made Jon’s life hell.

He and his three brothers were virtually invulnerable on Earth. Nothing could physically injure them…nothing they had encountered so far. But there were different types of hurt and words were more powerful than any weapon.

Sometimes.

Another asteroid disintegrated under his fist.

TBC?

[gumnut-logic]

My dear and lovely @idontknowreallywhy you are remembering the math!Scott series 😁 which you could technically say this fic also belongs to 😁

The ‘argument’ between math!Scott and engineer!Virgil is an echo from a discussion between @onereyofstarlight and I. I will let you work outwhich of us took which side 😁

::hugs you tight:: So, so glad you enjoyed this 😁💚🍎

Nutty

(Late for dinner)

Lego Volcano (Part 6)

Alexander Sweetapple series | Lego Volcano - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

I wrote more :D And this was fun :D

Still @idontknowreallywhy, @sofasurf @womble1 and @sailing-on-a-puddle and other wonderful Thunderfam peeps’ fault :D

Extra special thanks to @onereyofstarlight for actually writing a few small bits of this as I fell out of my knowledge zone and needed serious help, and also for Kiwi advice regarding Alex - gotta help an Aussie speak Kiwi because I miss lots of things. We all speak English, but differently :D Couldn't do this without you.

All the hugs to those who commented and reblogged yesterday's chapter. You guys keep Alex alive :D

This little fic is now nearly 10,000 words long, like 9,950+

M/M and full of fluff still.

I hope you enjoy this bit :D

-o-o-o-

o-o-o-

Scott woke groggy and hot.

It was to be expected. Apparently he was sick. Damnit. Anger and frustration flared in his belly and most of the groggy part of waking up was washed away.

A tickle in his aching throat had him swallowing hard.

He opened his eyes to the infirmary. He sighed. Grandma and Virgil were going to be intolerable.

His throat tickled again and he shifted on the bed, looking for the expected cup of water. Sure enough, there it was on his bedside table. Virgil was wonderfully predictable at times.

He reached out and his body creaked as he sat up, but the cool water was a balm on his throat and worth every movement.

His tablet was sitting beside the water and he grabbed at it eagerly. He needed to reply to Jack, their lawyer, regarding the latest suit from Fischler. Jack quite enjoyed tossing Fischler’s lawyers around the courtroom, but Scott would prefer a quick end to the latest shenanigans, both he and Jack had better things to do.

His tablet lit up…in green. Oh, damn.

John has restricted your access. Play a computer game, read a book, or watch a movie. International Rescue and Tracy Industries are all being expertly handled. Carly has her instructions. John and I have your back. Relax, Scooter.

Scott let air out between his teeth.

PS: Please look after Alex for me.

Huh? Scott frowned. But as if to answer his unspoken question, a snuffle alerted him to the fact there was someone else in the room.

The tablet landed on the sheets as he realised Alex Sweetapple was sleeping in the chair beside his bed. The lanky engineer was sprawled haphazardly across the furniture, blond hair sticking out in all directions.

Virgil had obviously snuck in at some point as there was a pillow in the man’s lap.

The thought of Virgil sobered him. His brother had been so sick, and now Scott was off rota…damn. He shifted on the bed, frustrated.

Alex muttered something, curled around the pillow and onto his side, now looking even more uncomfortable than before.

He snorted in his sleep.

Scott eyed the man. He couldn’t ask for a better employee, but he was a walking hazard, mostly to himself and apparently he was hazardous in his sleep as well.

And Virgil loved him.

The thought brought a small smile to Scott’s face. It was so good to see Virgil so happy. Alex was smart, goofball or no, and seemed to be able to match his brother on engineer topics - the two of them could babble excitedly for hours.

He was also very loyal. Tia’s reports were shining, Alex was definitely an asset, he worked hard.

The worship in his eyes was occasionally hard to handle. ‘Mr Tracy’ wasn’t sure he could live up to the reverence accorded him.

But Virgil loved Alex.

And that was enough.

He sighed again and let his gaze rest on the ceiling. The very worst part of being sick was the boredom.

His tablet bleeped.

He grabbed it.

A system of equations filled over half the screen.

Oh, so that is how it is, John? Going to distract me with math, are you?

But even as he thought it, the numbers started taking shape. He'd need a Jacobian matrix to approximate the first part of the solution, unless he applied an RK4 numerical method... knowing John, he'd need a justification showing the minimisation of error.

His lips curled up to one side. Okay, let’s do this.

-o-o-o-

Alex woke to humming.

He cracked open an eyelid to find he had shoved his face into a pillow at some point - explained the struggle to breathe.

His neck creaked as he moved and as his body came online, he realised he had fallen asleep on the wrong furniture again. Erica probably had photos.

Again.

The humming was interrupted by a dry cough, but after a moment started up again.

It sounded happy.

Alex unfolded and found himself in a hospital room? Wha-? But then his brain booted fully, supplying him with details of last night and Mr Tracy-

Mr Tracy!

Alex sat up straight and the chair teetered. A wobble, two feet on the ground and he managed to prevent himself from falling on his head, but it did all get the blood pumping and consciousness clear and functioning.

Mr Tracy was sitting up in bed and…writing on the bed sheets.

Wha-?

His boss had a black marker in his hand, had spread out the sheets on the bed and was methodically making notations.

While humming some triumphant overture, his voice cracking here and there, proving he was still the sick man Alex had caught early this morning.

What was he writing?

With yet another creak, Alex quietly pushed himself to his feet and every muscle complained. Wasn’t the first time he had slept awkwardly, wouldn’t be the last, but he was more concerned with the numbers Virgil’s brother was writing down…was that a Jacobian matrix?

His eyes danced over the somewhat smudged digits on the bed. Numbers and letters lined up in chains, reading them…omigod…

“That’s beautiful!”

The humming ended in a squawk. “Alex!” The ‘A’ in his name cracked and Mr Tracy sounded more like his youngest brother than himself as his voice skipped up an octave.

But Alex only had eyes for the work on the sheets. “How did you get such a perfect solution?”

“Wha-? Oh,” he cleared his throat again, “John likes to distract me with math.”

“I’d say he succeeded.”

Mr Tracy grunted and coughed again.

There was a smudge of black ink on his cheek.

The numbers were just amazing. “How did you get that solution?”

Mr Tracy’s eyes darted between Alex and the numbers on the sheets “You can read that?”

“God, yeah.”

He stared at Alex a moment longer before pointing out a particular section. “John thought he could catch me here. The variable could easily be switched out and replaced with a static whole number - it would solve it perfectly, but a bit on the boring side. If you input an exponential function here, however, it creates a whole array of possibilities.”

Alex focussed on the equations. Whole number, yes, he could see that, the answer was clear. But if he threw in the function…the numbers just danced. “That’s so elegant. The pattern is perfect.”

“Yeah.” Scott was grinning.

Alex looked up to see those tired bruised eyes lighting up.

John was apparently right.

Scott liked maths.

Now this was a language Alex could speak.

“What happens if you put in a polynomial?”

-o-o-o-

Virgil yawned. He really wasn’t up to it, but he had to do it. Much better than Scott killing himself.

Two would be landing momentarily, with a furious Gordon aboard, and he needed to help his brothers with post-situation protocol…and possibly talk Gordon down from something vicious…that John had probably already enacted…yeah, his brothers were chaos itself.

But their hearts were in the right place.

Earlier he had checked on his biggest brother and found both him and Alex asleep in the infirmary. Grandma had left firm instructions with John adding his own version of early morning events.

Fortunately, while Scott was still very warm, he was finally getting some rest. The bed readings provided some reassurance.

Alex was a gymnast in sleep as usual. The man could sleep anywhere in some of the most outlandish positions. It certainly wasn’t the first time Virgil had needed to dig up a pillow or picked up his boyfriend and haul him off to bed.

He was adorable when he was asleep.

Of course, mentioning this when Alex was awake brought on all the flushed embarrassment which had its own adorableness that always needed to be kissed away - any excuse, really.

So Virgil was smiling when he gently tucked the pillow under Alex’s head.

And the thought had him smiling right now.

But before Two landed and almost inevitably disturbed Scott, Virgil wanted to check on him.

To his surprise, as he approached the infirmary, laughter was echoing down the hall.

“He really thought that?”

“Yeah, to infinite decimals and beyond.”

That prompted more laughter which suddenly dissolved into coughing and had Virgil hurrying into the room.

Which was not the room he had left earlier.

The infirmary was draped in bedsheets, a cupboard left askew where they had originally been folded neatly. Now they were stuck up on the walls with surgical tape and draped over the curtain rails.

And covered in mathematical notation.

At the centre of the room sat Scott in bed scribbling with the black markers Virgil had left behind earlier in the hope that John would be able to trigger a math distraction.

Apparently, he had.

But he hadn’t thought his boyfriend would end up with black smudges all over his face and hands.

Because Alex was beside his brother, holding the bed sheet so Scott could write on it.

“I think we should cube this.” Alex pointed at a spot on the sheet. “It will look good.”

“Hmm, I think a factor of…seven will be prettier.”

Prettier?

“You could be right. It definitely needs to be an odd number. Even would be too regular.”

“Yeah.” Scott scribbled something. “What if we cube this and seven that. They’ll work nicely together.”

“Oh, I like that. Follow that one through.”

As Virgil watched, Scott jotted down several lines in his smooth precise hand. His tongue was sticking out the side of his mouth as his eyes darted back and forth, calculations bouncing in the blue.

Alex’s eyes were following the numbers and every now and again, he would make a suggestion or ask a short question…

“Oh, I see what you mean. The seventh iteration is just perfect.”

“The third isn’t that bad either. That’s why they work so well together.”

Virgil found himself grinning like a loon. He knew Alex could speak math. You didn’t get to do any engineering without math. But he had no idea he could speak at Scott level math. Hell, even John got lost sometimes at Scott level.

And to see the two of them so relaxed in each other’s presence…

“Virgil?” Scott was suddenly frowning at him. “You okay?”

“Virgil!” Alex dropped the sheet and hurried over. “Are you okay? I’m sorry, I was helping Scott and then fell asleep and then…did you know Scott likes maths? Not just maths, but real maths? The fun stuff?” His boyfriend was positively vibrating.

Virgil couldn’t help but grin. He placed his hands on Alex’s arms. Seriously, the man was bouncing. “I’m fine. And yes, Scott likes math. I didn’t know you liked to play, though.”

“Oh, um, sometimes.” His eyes darted back to Scott for a moment. “Usually I stick to applied math, and I’m certainly not at Tracy level.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” He leant up, kissed Alex gently on the cheek and whispered in his ear. “If you can keep up with Scooter here, you’re definitely up there.”

“You sure you’re okay?” Alex brushed his fingers across Virgil’s left temple.

He let his head drop against his boyfriend’s shoulder. “I’m tired, but I’m fine.” He looked over at his brother. “I’m more concerned about Scott.”

But his big brother was peering at the sheets again, eyes wide. It was obvious he had thought of something.

The marker came down and scribbled another line.

“But then again, he’s resting and amused.” Virgil’s ears picked up the approach of Thunderbird Two. He looked up at Alex. “Keep him distracted a little longer?” Alex really did have dark eyes, Virgil could stare into them all day.

“Sure.”

Scott was muttering something about a polynomial.

“Thank you.” Thunderbird Two roared into land as Virgil leant up and kissed Alex, clinging just that moment longer before letting him go.

“Hey, Scooter, zero point nine to infinity still doesn’t equal one.”

“Virgil!” His brother’s outrage was echoed by Alex’s sudden ‘What?!”

Virgil just laughed as he left them to it.

Their discussion of his lunacy followed him down the hall.

-o-o-o-

TBC

[gumnut-logic]

Latest credit card accident happened at @jodiericrac where I purchased this lively palette of 100% wool felt for embroidering, both yarn and beads 😁 I went a bit nuts in the reds and pinks, may need to go back and grab some more blues and greens 😁 ::rubs hands together eagerly::

[gumnut-logic]

Lego Volcano (Part 7 and The End)

Alexander Sweetapple series | Lego Volcano - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

At this point, it should be remembered that this fic, whcih is now complete at over 11,000 words, originated in a post that devolved into bathing in Lego and how much whumping that would involve :D

This is why fault belongs to @idontknowreallywhy, @sofasurf @womble1 and @sailing-on-a-puddle and other wonderful Thunderfam peeps. it would not exist without them.

@onereyofstarlight has also kindly kept me on the straight and narrow and all improvements belong to her :D

So thank you to all of the above and to all who have encouraged this little fic, that didn't stay little, along the way ::hugs you all::

this bit is very much M/M because Virgil is feeling so much better :D If that isn't your jam, this isn't your bread. There is also buckets of fluff :D

I hope you enjoy :D

-o-o-o-

“Do you think he likes me?”

Virgil frowned down at the man lying in his arms. They had thrown some pillows and a blanket onto a fold up daybed and were whiling away a few hours as the sun was setting across the sea.

The Island was quiet. Grandma and Dad were still on Aotearoa, Gordon and Alan were torturing Scott in the infirmary, and, as always, John was watching over them from far above.

His star would become visible once the sky was dark enough.

“Who?”

“Mr Tracy.”

He had the urge to ask which Mr Tracy, but where Alex was concerned, there was only one Mr Tracy. “Scott likes you fine. Always did.”

Alex fidgeted in his arms. “I feel like a klutz around him.” He looked up at Virgil - something that only happened when they were lying down and Virgil was quite happy about that. “I just know how important he is to you and, well, I don’t want him to feel I’m intruding.”

“You’re not intruding.”

Alex looked away. “I’ve seen you on rescues. All of you are special, but there has always been something extra between you and the Commander. There are rumours.”

Virgil frowned. “About what?”

“That you’re telepathic, that you can read each other’s minds and move as one.”

“You’ve been talking to Gordon.” The Fish had been ribbing them about that for years.

“No…well, yes, but not about that. It’s in the fandom. It’s common knowledge.”

“You’re in the fandom?”

Now Alex was definitely looking away. “Well, yeah, been a fan forever, and there are like-minded people out there.” He looked back up at Virgil and grinned. “You are very nice to watch.”

The arm Virgil had draped around his boyfriend, quite conveniently reached his ribs, which were apparently very ticklish.

The two of them tussled and giggled a moment, Alex finding a few ticklish spots in return. But it was broken up when Virgil’s laugh turned to a cough. Alex caught him and pulled him close.

Virgil cleared his throat and smiled. “So you’re a card carrying fan?”

“You knew that.”

“I did.” He kissed Alex’s messy blond hair. “But then, I’m a fan of you, so we’re even.”

Alex snorted, but sobered. “Seriously, it’s important that I’m not…messing things up with your brother…with any of your brothers.”

Virgil sighed. “Alex, you’re fine. Scott approves, and even if he didn’t, you’re my boyfriend, not his.”

“I know. It’s just I don’t want to mess with the magic.”

Oh, god. “You’re not messing up anything. All my brothers are happy for us. It’s fine.” He pulled Alex in close, kissing his hair again. “Especially for me.”

But even as he said it, he knew his man and this was probably one of those bones his brain would chew on if it wasn’t taken away. “So you like math?”

“I’ve always liked maths, I’m an engineer.”

“Well, yes, of course, but that wasn’t engineering math.”

Alex shrugged. “It’s just fun stuff. I play with patterns sometimes.”

Virgil stared down at him a moment. “Scott enjoys math.”

A snort. “I noticed. He can run rings around me. He makes some beautiful stuff.”

“He does?”

“Yeah? Didn’t you see that last result - it was like a field of origami flowers.”

Virgil blinked. “Flowers?”

That earned him a frown. “You couldn’t see it?”

“I could see elegant math. Scott writes a good solution.”

“He does, but it is how he does it.”

“Should I be worried?”

“About what?”

Virgil’s lips curled into a smile. “If my brother has caught your eye.”

“Oh, ho, ho, yeah, right. Mr Tracy is straighter than an Australian railway line.” It was Alex’s turn to smile. “Besides, he’s not you.” Alex reached up and caught Virgil’s lips with his own.

Conversation stopped for a while as Alex made it very clear which was his favourite Tracy brother.

The sun finally reached the horizon and lit up the ocean, coating everything in that beautiful gold only Sol could provide. A gentle breeze wafted off the caldera and wrapped around them, clapping palm leaves and pōhutukawa branches alike.

“Thank you for looking after me. It has been a relief having you here.”

“Next time let me know. I don’t want you suffering in silence. People pair up for a reason.” He cleared his throat.

Virgil brushed a strand of hair behind Alex’s ear. “Okay, I’ll make sure to send the Fish earlier next time.”

“So Gordon is your gopher?”

“Uh-huh.” Alex’s skin was a little flushed in the light of the sunset and very distracting.

“Does he know this?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You are feeling better, aren’t you.”

“Uh-huh.”

Alex smiled and his dark eyes glittered in the golden air. “C’mere.”

His lips were soft.

Virgil lost more time.

So very, very distracted.

It was getting dark by the time they bothered to check their surroundings again. The breeze was cooler, and Alex shivered as it drifted over them.

Virgil’s stomach was rumbling - a good thing since eating hadn’t been his favourite activity recently.

Since there was no sign of Gordon or Alan, or anyone else for that matter - probably giving him and Alex space - it looked like Virgil was cook tonight. So as they finally climbed off the bed and began packing up, he mentally recalled what was in the fridge, the freezer, and what could be quickest to prepare.

“Where should I put these?” Alex had the pillows in his hands.

“Chuck them on the sunken lounge. If you feel like a movie we can use them later.”

“Sure.” But Alex hesitated, frowning a moment before, turning to walk inside.

“Alex? You okay?” Virgil had his hands full of blanket and folded day bed, but something wasn’t right.

“Um…I don’t…” Alex was stumbling sideways, pillows falling to the floor.

Everything slowed and Virgil was moving, but not fast enough.

Alex struggled to keep his feet, but one bare foot caught in that damned Lego sculpture and then it was all slow motion deja vu.

Lego scattered everywhere, tinkling on the hardwood floor as Virgil slid in to catch Alex. The Lego volcano exploded in all directions as his body collided with it, arms full of lanky, falling engineer.

Time and speed caught up.

“Alex!”

Shocked dark eyes looked up at Virgil. “I don’t feel very good.” His eyelids fluttered closed. “Dizzy.”

“Alex!”

“Uh…” He screwed up his face. “Dizzy.”

Virgil’s heart climbed into his ears thudding away all sound as he lowered Alex gently to the floor, brushing away stray bricks and cushioning his head with one of the dropped pillows.

Scrabbling to his feet, Virgil dashed across the comms room and grabbed the first aid kit, yanking out the medscanner and flashing yellow light across Alex’s prone body.

The machine beeped, and delivered its prognosis.

Oh, hell.

His shoulders dropped.

Alex groaned and tried to roll over.

“Hey, stay put. You’re sick.”

“Wha-?”

“Thunderbird Five?”

John popped into being in the middle of the room. “Tracy Island, what can I- ? Alex? Virgil, report.”

“Please let Māhia know that Alex won’t be returning for at least another week. He has the flu.” Virgil brushed hair out of Alex’s eyes.

“FAB.”

“What? I have- I can’t, I had all my shots.”

“You know it doesn’t work like that.”

“But-“

“Your turn to rest, love.”

“But I have to…goddamnit!”

Virgil couldn’t help but smile through his concern. “You can play math with Scotty in the infirmary.”

Was that a challenged cant to a grumpy eyebrow?

“But I have to-“

“Rest.”

“Viiirgil.” He coughed.

Virgil continued to stroke his hair as both Gordon and Alan came running with a hoverstretcher in tow.

“Not the Lego again?” Alan looked both worried and exasperated at the same time.

As Virgil’s bare foot came down on a very sharp and hard brick while crouching to lift a wriggling Alex onto the hoverstretcher, he only had one solution to that problem. “Yeah, please pack it away this time. I think we’ve had enough Lego this month.” Ouch, he stumbled over another one. “Possibly for decades.”

Alex was muttering something about Erica laughing her ass off and excuses to lengthen his stay on Tracy Island.

Gordon was grinning and agreeing.

Heart still beating just that little too fast, Virgil limped after the hoverstretcher.

New bruises keeping him company.

Damn Lego.

-o-o-o-

FIN