#Brandon Berrenger

[shirubie]

WIP Wednesday

So, teeny-tiny snippets of a Alan/Brandon fic thats been bouncing in my head. For context, Alan and Brandon go snowboarding together and the Hood shows up to try to kidnap Alan.

---

Snippet 1:

"DON'T THINK SO, BALDY!" Brandon swung the snowboard with all his might.

WHACK!

Laminated wood and fiberglass solidly hit the criminal mastermind on the side of his ugly head.

Snippet 2:

"I'm dead!" Brandon said as he curled up in a ball on the bed. "The Hood must have, like, twenty hit-men on speed dial ready to go after me!"

He tugged the blanket over his head, as if the thin fabric could protect him from a potential assassin. His eyes scanned the room fearfully. Has that big potted plant always been in the room? Or was it the Hood in disguise ready to strike back?

"Brandon, calm down," Kayo said, pulling the blanket off the teenager's head and ruffling his red hair. "You think the Hood wants it known that he got knocked out by a vlogger with a snowboard? He'd be the laughing stock of the criminal underworld."

"You think so?" Brandon asked meekly.

"He'll keep this quiet, trust me."

[hebuiltfive]

Another ask as I enjoyed the last one so much!

oh no: [character] gets sick at the worst possible moment. With Alan

This is so much fun! Thank you for this ask too @janetm74!

Oh No (feat. Alan Tracy)

He had been training for this. In between college work and lending an occasional hand to his brothers with iR, Alan had been spending all his time training. Every waking hour was spent thinking of the best way to enhance his chances of winning the tournament, of how it would feel to stand on the top of that podium in first place, of how the cold metal of the golden trophy would feel being held in his hands because of course he’d win. He was Alan fricken’ Tracy, as Brandon had lovingly and constantly reminded him throughout these last few months. 

Alan Tracy was going to win his very first motor-race, and possibly break some records, because that’s what Tracys did.

There had been no pressure in those months leading up to the event, or at least, Alan hadn’t felt any. He enjoyed pushing himself to his limits in his little red motor-car, loved testing and seeing how far and how fast he could go.

Brandon had been a blessing in disguise. Alan wasn’t sure he’d have been ready for his first race so soon had The Bear not been around to help motivate and encourage him. Scott hadn’t been keen on Brandon being Alan’s unofficial coach. He had wanted to employ someone with more… suitable credentials, but work had been heavy since their father had returned from the depth of space and Scott hadn’t found the time to sort something out. Brandon was over the moon, naturally, and had got to work almost immediately on a strict schedule that they had stuck to religiously for months.

Now, it was the moment of truth.

Alan had awoken early that morning, though not by choice. He was restless, no doubt due to his nerves, and had rolled out of his bed, leaving his dorm before most of his fellow roommates had stirred from their party-induced sleeps. The race being on a Saturday had meant Alan didn’t need to worry about skipping any of his classes. It did mean he had to miss out on some parties but, given that Alan wasn’t very keen on attending them anyway, he figured he wasn’t missing much in that regard.

He met Brandon at the gates of the racecourse at their agreed upon time. Compared to his friend’s overly-excitable bounciness, Alan felt a pit in his stomach — or rather his chest — that made even simple breathing seem difficult. The morning seemed to drag on and on, and by the time noon hit, and the crowds had begun to gather in the stands, Alan was certain something wasn’t right.

“You alright, man?” Brandon asked, handing him his modified crash helmet.

Alan nodded. If he spoke, it would have interrupted his very important breathing rituals that usually helped him during moments of panic but were seemingly not helping him very much at this moment in time…

“This is going be totally awesome!” His friend seemed unconcerned by Alan’s feeble nod, and turned back to his monitor. 

Messages were rolling past the screen so fast it made Alan feel dizzy. He steadied himself with a hand on the workshop table behind him, closed his eyes and counted to ten. He was sure his breathing was becoming more strained and… was it getting hot in here? He was sure the temperature for today was a steady 68°… Why was he sweating? The idea of perhaps fetching a cup of water crossed his mind, followed by the slightly more terrifying realisation that Alan couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually drunk anything.

“Everyone is tuning in for this, dude. This is going to be legendary! Have you decided on the pose you’re going to do when you’re standing on the— Woah! Alan? Dude, you’re looking… Are you sure you’re alright?”

Even if Alan wanted to answer Brandon, he found his voice lacking any words. God, he felt stifled in here. Maybe he just needed some air. Air was good. Air would sort him out…

His vision blurred and Alan swayed unsteadily. Okay, so his feet didn’t seem to want to move. That was a problem.

He blinked only once and then was greeted by two fuzzy looking Brandon’s standing in front of him.

Advancing towards him. 

His friend yelled something over his shoulder, calling for something or someone maybe, but it was nothing more than a muffled sound to Alan’s ringing ears.

Alan tried to tell him that he’d be fine in a moment, that he had to be because he had a race to win goddamnit, but words still seemed to evade him. 

His legs gave out from under him. 

He felt like he was burning up. 

This wasn’t just a panic attack.

The last thing Alan remembered was Brandon catching him clumsily and then…

[gumnut-logic]

A little Virgil and Alan, and stupid mistakes.

Warnings: drug references.

-o-o-o-

It was a persistent beep that tore him from a weird dream of painting Two in Van Gogh style stars and suns. A swipe at his bedside table and something he had no care to identify crashed to the floor.

Blurry eyes found his clock and discovered numbers that shouldn’t exist. Four was one of them and immediately reminded him of Gordon, but it was the AM following it that hurt his brain.

“Virgil?”

John’s voice slapped clarity into his neurons and his body started moving automatically. Before he knew it, he was on his feet and halfway to his bedroom door.

“No incident.” John’s voice was sharp and obviously understanding regarding Virgil’s brain function at this time of the morning.

The words sunk in and Virgil wilted on the spot. “What?” One word was all he had.

“Sit down.”

That sparked worry. “What?”

“Sit down.”

Unable to really do anything else, he did what his brother asked as consciousness slowly seeped into awareness.

“I’ve received a call from Brandon Berrenger.”

“What?”

“Alan attended a party with Brandon last night.”

Virgil blinked slowly. He remembered dropping his little brother off in Auckland yesterday for his long-awaited award ceremony which then Virgil and the rest of his brothers had to miss because of the monsoon in the remains of Bangladesh yet again.

Virgil had been adamant that Alan not miss the event and had dumped him at his hotel which conveniently held Brandon as well. Security hadn’t been happy but Alan had been climbing the walls since the incident with Kayo. Virgil understood and talked Scott and Kayo down, giving his brother the space.

And trusting in Brie, Alan’s security specialist.

The award was for a video game design. Alan had spent quite some time putting his little Indie game together and it had become a hit in a very short period. Virgil was so proud.

His little bro deserved a little fame all of his own.

“What’s wrong?”

John wouldn’t be contacting him at 4am if there wasn’t something wrong.

“I’m calling in the debt from your first art show.”

Virgil’s eyes widened and he shot to his feet. “What? What happened?”

“You can’t tell Scott.”

“Fine! Tell me what happened and where I am needed!” He headed towards the door.

“Take Two, but leave her at the airport and pod out for minimum disturbance. Brief you enroute.”

Virgil was halfway to the hangers and his auxillary launch chute. “FAB.”

Two was in the air before John would tell him anything. During that time, every scenario that could possibly be linked to his blasted first art exhibition raced through his head.

It had been a low point in his life. College and his rainbow of hair colours and multiple piercings as he tried to discover who he was, struggling to conquer demons of his own. He’d fallen into the dark side of the college scene for all of two weeks before John dropped in unexpectedly; and Virgil had the shame of his little brother having to pick him off the floor because Virgil’s ‘friends’ thought it might be funny to ‘celebrate’ his exhibition.

It had to have been the shortest trip into the college drug scene ever. Virgil still had the scars from the piercings. Shortly after that, he had switched from art college to engineering.

His hair had been black ever since.

And no one but John knew of the incident.

Damn.

The dots connected.

“Aw, hell, Alan.”

Two roared into Aotearoan airspace and he was given clearance to land. He was of two minds whether to take the pod or grab a car. But he was still on call and as far as the family knew he was on a simple rescue…

“It will be a dud callout. Act grumpy when you get back.”

“You’re going to take flack for that.”

“Not the first time, Virgil. Go get our little brother.”

It took further clearance to launch into Auckland’s airspace, but John handled it smoothly and Virgil was quickly darting over rooftops and skyscrapers to reach the hotel.

“You might want to hurry.”

John’s tone had Virgil landing the dragonfly quietly on the roof of the hotel and jumping out, medkit in hand. Everything was quiet and oddly un-emergency-like.

The rooftop door unlatched as he approached and Virgil was darting down the stairwell into the hotel. Fortunately, he didn’t have to go far. Perk of always renting out the penthouse.

The door to his brother’s suite opened before he could reach it, but this time it wasn’t John’s doing. Brandon, worry on his face, darted out into the hallway. The moment he spotted Virgil, he rushed over.

“Hey, Virg, I’m glad you came. Alan, well, he’s cool, you know, but not that kind of cool, maybe?” He was scratching the back of his head as if he had lice. He looked Virgil up and down. “You came in Thunderbird Two? Full-on International Rescue? Oh, god, Scotty is gonna kill me!

“Where is he?”

Virgil hurried past him. Fortunately, he didn’t have to go far. Alan was sprawled on the sofa in the main room, Brie beside him.

“Virg-il!” His little brother swung out an arm in greeting and nearly knocked Brie flying. Her reflexes solved the problem by darting out of the way. “Come and sit with me. Take a load off.”

Virgil blinked and hurried forward, landing beside Alan. An attempt to take his vitals was derailed by Alan suddenly throwing himself at Virgil and wrapping him in a floppy hug. “Virgie, big bro, smotherhen, I am so happy to see you!”

Virgil found himself almost choking with the enthusiasm strangling his neck. His eyes darted to Brandon and the mix of guilt and worry nesting there. A glance at Brie and he made it clear there was going to be one hell of debrief after this.

The security guard swallowed.

That and he hated the name ‘Virgie’.

“Alan, I need you to sit back for a minute. Okay?”

But his little brother was cuddling into Virgil’s shoulder and muttered something of the negative variety complete with a protesting ‘Virgie”.

Brandon was fidgeting where he was standing. “I think, but I don’t know, you know? That Al might have had one of the special pieces of cake.”

Virgil narrowed his eyes at Brandon. “Special?” He knew exactly what the boy meant, but clarity was important in all situations.

“Uh, yeah, I think there might have been some weedcake.”

Alan snuggled up more and muttered ‘I love you’ into Virgil’s uniform.”

“You think?”

“Um, yeah. But! I thought he knew, you know? And then he was super happy and dancing with all the girls, and well…” Brandon’s shoulders drooped. “He was having fun.”

Virgil unconsciously stroked Alan’s back.

“Brie?”

She straightened in her seat. “Mr Tracy began acting erratically.” She swallowed. “When he started taking his clothes off, claiming he was hot, I decided to remove him from public view.”

It was only then Virgil, focussed on the health condition of his brother more than anything else, realised that Alan was dressed in clothes slightly too big for him.

“We managed to get him back to the suite before he became entirely naked, but he did not want to leave the party.”

“Why was he at a party in the first place?”

“Hey, he won an award, bro! For creating the coolest game ever. The boy deserved a celebration.” Brandon tipped his head a little. “I know some people.”

Obviously the wrong people. Virgil frowned and Brandon took a step back.

“Hey, no, man! The people who did this weren’t my friends. Honest!”

Taking a deep breath and forcing himself to focus on Alan rather than the predicament, he used a little muscle to separate himself from his little brother. It was easier than expected as Alan had all but fallen asleep.

“Love you, Virgie.” His eyelids were drooping as Virgil yanked out the mediscanner and ran it over him. As expected, vitals pointed to intoxication, likely from marijuana.

He grabbed a testing kit and, with a swab from his brother’s mouth, activated it. It would take a few moments to do its thing, so he put the test aside to wait for the results. It wasn’t often they needed to test for drugs on a rescue, but since an incident that had nearly cost Scott his life, the tests had been a mandatory part of their kit.

“Virgie? Sing me a song? Like Mom used to sing you?”

“Alan, how are you feeling?”

Alan blinked at him. “Tired. Sing me a song?”

“Why don’t you lie down and rest?”

“I want you to sing.”

Virgil eyed Brandon, but surprisingly found no humour there, only honest worry.

“Okay, Allie, you lie down, rest, and I’ll think of a song.”

“Yay!” His little brother was immediately animated enough to curl up on the sofa, eyes hopefully staring up at Virgil.

The test beeped positive.

Virgil grit his teeth.

Fortunately, it didn’t appear to be a high dose, but he would be happier double checking with a blood test.

First he needed to get his little brother home. “Hey, Allie, want to go for a ride?”

Alan frowned up at him. “Do I get a song as well?”

“Sure.” Virgil packed his kit away, all the time running through possible symptoms for the inevitable crash his brother was likely to go through in the next few hours.

It was going to take so much to keep this hidden from Scott.

Virgil hated hiding things from his big brother.

But there were some things Scott was just better off not knowing.

Alan flung his arms out. “Carry me?”

A blink, but Virgil realised that there was no way he was prepared to let his high little brother attempt to walk out of here.

Without a word, Virgil stood up and scooped his little brother into his arms.

So much lighter than Scott.

Yet so much heavier than he used to be.

Alan once again curled into his shoulder as Virgil shimmied him into a comfortable hold. He eyed both Brandon and Brie. The former hurried to open the door, while Brie jumped up, cut in front of both of them, and peered out into the corridor as the security force she was supposed to be.

Virgil made his way up through the stairs and onto the roof to the dragonfly pod. It took some manoeuvring and heavy lifting to get his brother into the backseat as by this time he was drifting into sleep.

Hopefully sleeping it off would be the cure. In any case, Alan was grounded for the next couple of days at least until the stuff was out of his system.

Climbing into the front seat, he eyed both Brie and Brandon, who had scrambled up the stairs after him. “I expect a confidential report from you, Brie. Brandon, I believe John wants to talk to you again.”

The redhead went white as a sheet. “Okay.”

Brie stood as militarily straight as she could. Virgil was of two minds as to whether Kayo needed to be informed. Would she tell Scott?

That was something that could be discussed with John. Tomorrow.

As he launched the pod skywards, Alan shifted in his seat. “Love you, Virgie.”

Virgil sighed.

“Love you, too, squirt.”

-o-o-o-

[alexthefly]

You wrote this while sick?!? And airborne!??!?

Obviously please don't have another reaction for the sake of fic (are you okay now, btw? 🫂), but can we get you in the air again soon, because this is amazing!!!

Seriously, you've captured all my favourite SpaceBears vibes, with just the right mix of mild exasperation, comedy and love. I must have kicked my feet and squealed at least half a dozen times!

Every voice sounded authentic; every conversation rang true. And then the feels! Oh, the feels!! There's so many complex feelings at play here and you make them all sing!

Seriously, it's a masterpiece.

I was so determined to write something for this week’s @thunder-pride bingo square that I literally wrote this fic while having a minor allergic reaction on a plane - in other words there are definitely mistakes in this but please pretend not to notice them oops. Anyway, this is a longer fic than I'd usually post on here, so I recommend reading it on AO3 but I know some people prefer Tumblr, so here we are :))

AO3 link

Stray glitter itched under his left eye, his flag kept getting snagged on his baldric, and he could feel sweat prickling at the base of his spine despite the temperature regulator in his suit, yet Alan had never felt more comfortable in his own skin. His cheeks physically ached from so much smiling. He didn’t think he’d stopped grinning since he’d landed Tracy One on American soil two hours earlier – and no, that wasn’t just because he’d been reunited with his boyfriend. They hadn’t intended to spend practically three months apart – which had been a difficult adjustment after sharing an apartment for the past year – but the end of Alan’s semester meant he was officially back on the IR roster for the summer… just as a busy spell of rescues struck.

Technically, he was here on Official International Rescue Business: representing them at one of the world’s largest Pride parades. Usually, Gordon would have played the role, dressed up in yellow, pink and blue with an unholy amount of glittery body spray decorating not only his skin but his uniform. This year, Alan had taken up the reins. He secretly suspected his family had conspired to give him some downtime – because summer break was supposed to be restful, especially when you were an overachiever who’d decided to double major – and a chance to hang out with Brandon. He’d been instructed to have fun. Literally, Scott had texted him so.

Scotty: Have fun and enjoy your chance to be a dumb 20-year-old.

Scotty: Not too much fun though. You’re representing IR.

Alan had replied: so, on a scale from John to Gordon how much fun can I have?

Scotty: My level of fun only minus the daredevil risks.

Scotty: Just don’t get arrested, that’s all I ask.

“Coming to you from the Pride event of the year,” a loud voice declared dangerously close to Alan’s ear, jolting him out of his thoughts, “I’m here with a bi icon AKA my boyfriend-”

“Really?” he interrupted. “That’s how you’re introducing me?”

“Oh my god, fine.” Brandon hooked an arm around Alan’s neck and dragged him within view of the camera. “I’m here with International Rescue’s one and only Alan Tracy.”

“Better,” Alan accepted, trying to repress the urge to sneeze as Brandon’s flag drifted across his face. “Are you filming or livestreaming right now?”

“Filming,” Brandon assured him. “I’ll edit stuff out later, so you can relax.”

Alan flung his arms out to let his own flag billow in the light breeze. “Oh, I am so relaxed.”

Brandon, on the other hand, looked set to launch into orbit. He’d downed nearly a litre of soda since he’d met Alan at the airport and had chased it down with cotton candy and churros; he still had cinnamon dust on his face and it looked like extra freckles. The sugar rush had hit him around the same time as his adrenaline spike when music had begun to blare from speakers up-and-down the parade. He’d already had several fans come up to him for selfies and signatures which had only added to his energy levels. Even now, he was bouncing on the spot.

“Brand,” Alan tried to hiss, then raised his voice to be heard above the clamour of music and chatter and the swell of live instruments around them. “Brandon, dude, chill.”

“I am so frickin’ chill,” Brandon announced gleefully. He grabbed Alan’s hand and laced their fingers together, rising onto his toes – he hadn’t stopped complaining since Alan had hit the growth spurt that had placed him above Gordon and Virgil – to pull him into a kiss. “See? Chill.”

“Uh huh,” Alan deadpanned. “Super chill.” He frowned at the taste of sugar. “Did you find more candy? Where? And how? I swear you haven’t left my side.”

Brandon levelled the camera with a conspiratorial look. “All geniuses have their ways.”

“I’m cutting you off.” Alan reconsidered his words. “Ew, gross. You’re making me sound responsible.”

Brandon flicked his red baldric. “I feel like responsibility and IR are a joint package.”

“You’ve seen my astroboard stunts.”

“Good point.”

The parade began with an explosion of colour that reminded Alan of the infamous occasion when Gordon had accidentally upended Virgil’s palette mid-painting session. International Rescue had been assigned to the group of NGO floats, so he wasn’t expecting many people to point him out from the crowd. Maybe he’d gotten too used to his life on campus; after the initial buzz, no one cared that The Alan Tracy of International Rescue was a part of their ranks. But to his surprise, there were easily hundreds of people cheering and waving banners directed at him – or at IR or at his family: at least two signs asked for Kayo’s phone number – as the procession marched through the streets. Brandon captured everything on camera, including Alan’s shellshocked expression which prompted several internet comparisons with various memes.

“Hey, hey, Alan, look up.” Brandon cupped Alan’s face, tilting his head to glimpse the livestream of the parade on the giant screens above them. “Better smile, dude!”

“Oh my god.” Alan’s voice pitched into a humiliating squeak. He cleared his throat and fixed a grin on his face as the cameras stayed on him. “Okay, so this- this is a thing that’s happening. Cool. Cool, cool, cool.”

“Breathe,” Brandon teased. He raised their linked hands into the air, prompting another chorus of cheers from the crowd. “People love us! And they really love you, so quit freaking out.”

“I am not freaking out,” Alan protested, then proceeded to do exactly that as a weight crashed into his legs from his right. He staggered and caught his balance against Brandon’s shoulder.

“Woah,” Brandon mumbled, switching off the vlog. “Hey, lil dude. Where’d you come from?”

If the fact that Brandon had turned off the camera weren’t warning enough, his sudden change in pitch from overexcited delight to soft concern would have informed Alan that the new limpet clinging to him was definitely child shaped. He glanced down to glimpse a mop of tawny hair and an adoring, toothy smile. The kid had to be around eleven, certainly no older than twelve, with rainbow face-paint and a shirt emblazoned with Thunderbird Three.

“Hey,” Alan greeted, struck by the baffled urge to laugh. He knelt down to place himself at the kid’s level – honestly, his new height just kept causing problems. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Leo.” The kid – Leo, Alan mentally corrected himself – rocked on his heels as his grin grew impossibly wider. “Sorry for… you know. Running at you and jumping onto the float and stuff. But I really wanted to say hi, ‘cos you’re, like, super cool and you’re kind of my hero, so, um, yeah.”

Brandon leaned down over Alan’s shoulder to whisper teasingly, “Aw.”

Alan elbowed him. “Shut up.” He turned back to Leo. “That’s awesome, buddy! It’s great to meet you. Are you here with someone? I don’t want them to think you’ve gone missing.”

Leo gave an emphatic nod. “My mom.” He pointed in the vague direction of the crowd. “She’s out there somewhere.”

“Oh, boy,” Brandon whistled. “I know where this is going.”

Alan tousled Leo’s hair, then stood back up. “So, I’m thinking…”

“…We should search for the kid’s mom?” Brandon concluded with a fond eyeroll. “Yeah, okay.”

After a brief discussion with the other representatives on the float, Alan made his excuses, then clambered down with Leo perched on his shoulders and Brandon close behind them. The kid kept chattering, hands anchored in Alan’s hair and his heels drumming against Alan’s chest; it brought back treasured childhood memories of the times Alan had sat on Scott’s shoulders as his brother picked paths through crowds. He was aware of Brandon sneaking photos of their silhouettes to send to the family, all dressed up in sparkles and flags and IR blues.

Leo’s mom looked suitably ruffled. Her face was flushed with a mixture of humiliation and horror beneath the shimmery sheen of glitter spray. She fretted her hands in the hem of her t-shirt – pale blue with a supportive motherly caption that made both Alan and Brandon look away – as she began to utter so many apologies that they tripped over one another.

“I am so, so sorry.” She caught Leo’s eye with a warning stare. “He didn’t mean to disturb you. I only took my eyes off him for a second- Leo, have you apologised? Say sorry right this instant. I can’t apologise enough. Thank you so much for bringing him back. It’s just that you’re his hero, you see. He’s been obsessed with the Thunderbirds since he was only so high-” She gestured at her hip. “-and when you came out… Well, you’ve been a healthy role model for him. His hero, really, and- And I should stop rambling and let you get back to the parade. Leo, get down here.”

Alan crouched down to let Leo clamber from his shoulders. He wasn’t sure how to act in the face of such praise – the word hero was tossed around frequently by civilians but it was usually addressed towards elder brothers and on rescues, not a public setting – so settled for some terrible pun outta Gordon’s handbook and laughed nervously while Brandon rolled his eyes.

“Don’t worry about it.” Alan offered Leo a fist bump which the kid readily returned. “He’s been no trouble.” He feigned a serious tone. “I have an important question though: which is the best Thunderbird?”

“One,” Brandon declared and instinctively jumped outta reach before Alan could kick his shins.

Leo wrinkled his nose. “Three, duh.”

“Correct answer.” Alan patted him on the head. “I just had to check.” He grinned at Leo’s wide-eyed, starstruck expression. The kid kept looking at him as if he were a dragon, although perhaps a unicorn would be a better comparison given the rainbows painted onto his baldric. “Maybe don’t run off without telling your mom next time though, okay?” He lowered his voice to a secretive whisper. “I think you scared her. You might want to say sorry.”

Leo’s face fell. “Sorry, Mom. I wasn’t thinking…”

“Clearly,” she replied dryly. “But I think we can let it slide just this once.” She straightened up, craning her neck slightly to meet Alan’s gaze – and nope, he still wasn’t used to that one, it was so weird, how did Scott and John live like this? “It’s his first Pride.”

“Oh, heck yeah,” Brandon cut in. He held up a hand. “High five, lil dude! That’s awesome!”

Leo met his high five with a resounding smack. Alan observed their interaction, fully aware that he probably had the heart-eyes that he’d been accused of on so many occasions by nosy siblings, but hey, whatever, sue him, it was a cute sight. He tugged absently at the edges of his flag as warm affection spread outwards from his chest. Cameras clicked around him as people filmed – hey, it’s the guy from International Rescue – but somehow it didn’t bother him anymore.

“Really,” he continued, forcing himself to turn back to Leo’s mom. “Leo’s a good kid. You should be proud of him. I got super overexcited at my first Pride too. It can be kind of overwhelming.”

She gave a light laugh. “It’s all he’s talked about for the last three months.” She lowered her gaze, voice softening as she hesitated, then confessed, “He was scared to come out to me. I don’t know how I ever gave him that impression – Lord knows I kick myself every day for making my baby think I wouldn’t accept him – but when you came out… He said that if you could be brave enough to tell the world, he could be brave enough to tell his mama. So, thank you, Alan. Truly.”

And-

Wow.

Okay. That was… a lot.

“You’re so emotional,” Brandon teased, prodding Alan’s bicep. “This is why Goose says you have golden retriever energy, dude.” He skimmed his thumb over Alan’s palm, a swift, inconspicuous show of support. “We should probably get back to the parade, but it was awesome to meet you.”

“Of course.” Leo’s mom snagged her son’s shirt. “Say goodbye, Leo.”

“Bye,” Leo chirped, then threw his arms around Alan’s middle. “Thanks for… everything.”

Alan let Brandon lead him through the crowd to a café. They found a quiet corner at the very back, tucked away in a shadowy alcove beside a potted plant and an old Pacman machine. Brandon briefly vanished, then returned with a glass of water and a chocolate chip cookie. He slid both across the table to Alan, then waited expectantly, all wide eyes and furrowed brow.

“Thanks,” Alan replied after a minute. He took a sip of the water, then drained it in one as he realised how dry his mouth had become. “I don’t know why that threw me so much. Like, it was a really nice thing, so why am I…?” He held up a shaky hand. “…you know?”

“’Cos it’s a big deal,” Brandon said quietly. He bumped his sneaker against Alan’s beneath the table. “You’re allowed to be rattled by it, Al. It’s a good thing, but it’s still a lot. Like, I can still remember the first time one of my viewers told me I’d inspired them. I’m pretty sure I threw up afterwards, so you’re doing better than me. Then again, I was like fifteen, so…”

Alan split the cookie. “Want some?”

“It’s like you don’t even know me,” Brandon sighed, grinning as he snatched up half. “Let’s chill here for a few minutes, then we’ll head back out, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Leo was right, you know?”

“What d’you mean?”

Brandon’s smile was the soft, secretive kind, usually reserved for places without the threat of cameras. Alan had gotten to see it almost daily since they’d moved in together when he’d started at MIT, but it still left him mildly breathless.

“You’re a good role model to a bunch of kids like him.”

Alan ducked his head. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Brandon corrected. “Now eat your cookie so we can get back out there.”

Much, much later, after they’d flown back to the island and washed off most of the glitter, Alan had chance to process everything. It made him happy but also nervous at the same time. Like, woah, he was someone’s role model? Kids considered him to be their hero? That was wild. He said as much, airing his thoughts aloud while Virgil clattered around the kitchen and Scott picked at the bowl of chopped pineapple that was intended for the evening’s pizzas.

“It’s just so weird,” Alan continued, drawing his legs up to sit cross-legged on the bar stool. He’d changed into sweatpants and a hoodie that he was pretty sure he’d stolen from John at some point after his sixteenth and had subsequently grown into. There was still glitter caked onto his cheek despite the fact that he’d attacked it with a makeup wipe. “Like, me? I still feel like a kid.”

“You’re Scott’s twenty-year-old child,” Gordon joked as he sidled through the patio doors and made a beeline for the pineapple. “He’s never gonna see you as an adult. Trust me, I’d know.”

“I’m not that bad,” Scott protested half-heartedly.

Gordon patted him on the back. “Smotherhen.”

“Irresponsible guppy.”

“And I wear that title with pride.” Gordon dropped onto the stool beside Alan. “Speaking of pride, how was it? Brandon didn’t give me any of the good gossip. I need details, Allie-gator.”

Alan frowned. “Did you torture my boyfriend? Is that why I haven’t seen him all evening?”

“Nah, that’s ‘cos Penny abducted him. They’re conspiring. We should both be scared.” Gordon tossed a cube of pineapple into his mouth and shot Virgil an innocent smile when his brother heaved a grand sigh and stared pointedly at the pizza bases. “Anyway. Pride. Details. Go.”

“A little kid said Alan was his role model, so Al’s spiralling,” Kayo summarised from her perch on the opposite counter, nursing something strongly alcoholic. “Now you’re all caught up.”

“Aw.” Gordon propped his chin in his hands. “That’s kind of adorable.”

“That’s what I said,” Virgil interjected. He prodded at the bowl of cake batter in his hands, then reached for a baking tray. “Do I leave this as vanilla or add cocoa powder?”

“Add chocolate.” Alan dropped his head onto the counter with a groan. “It’s weird though. I feel… like a fraud, I guess. I don’t have my life together. I survive on pizza pockets and Red Bull.”

Scott glanced up. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Only during finals. I’m mostly a functional adult the rest of the time.”

John’s hologram blinked into life above the projector. “Before you spiral any further, you should know that the internet loves you. Footage of the parade has ended up online. You’ve not just inspired one kid, but a lot of people.”

Alan tossed his hands up. “How is that supposed to make me feel any better? That’s so much more pressure.” He slumped onto the counter. “I just… You guys were my role models, right? And you did a pretty good job-”

“Thanks,” Gordon said, just as Kayo added, “Everyone apart from Gordon did a good job.”

“-so, I’m really happy to be inspiring people but also I don’t want to mess up.”

A contemplative silence settled over the kitchen.

“You’re not going to mess up,” Scott said after a moment. He slid the pineapple out of Gordon’s reach, then moved to stand beside Alan’s seat. “Hey, look at me for a second?” He placed his hands on Alan’s shoulders and offered him a reassuring smile. “All you need to do is keep being yourself. Try your best, stand up for your beliefs, and you’ll do just fine, Allie. Besides…” He tousled Alan’s hair. “You’ve been our hero for just as long as we’ve been yours.”

“Gordon’s not included in that,” Kayo called. Gordon made a crude gesture in her direction. She flung an arm at him. “See? He’s just not role model material.”

Scott ignored them. “You’re doing great, Al. I’m proud of you.”

Alan swallowed the lump of emotion in his throat, then asked, “Can I make a Pride joke?”

Scott sank onto a bar stool beside him and dropped his head onto the counter. “Wake me up when the pizza or the cake is ready, I can’t cope with the terrible puns that are about to happen.”

“Oh, but Scotty,” Alan began.

Gordon let out a wild laugh. “This is gonna be so much fun.”

[thunderbirds-showdown]

Which Thunderbirds Are Go episode is better?

Vote on which episode you think is better. Episode synopses below the cut.

Relic: When a meteor shower is projected to hit the decommissioned Shadow Alpha One Moon base, concern arises with the discovery the base is still inhabited by a lone crew member - Captain Lee Taylor, an old friend of Jeff Tracy. Scott and Alan take Thunderbird 3 on a rescue mission after attempts to warn him fail, but when Scott boards the base, he's surprised to find Taylor attempting to maintain its defence system against meteors. After initial attempts to defend the base against continuing waves of meteors start to fail, both Scott and Taylor are forced to abandon the base to meet Thunderbird 3 at a rendezvous on the moon's surface that is itself threatened by the meteor shower.

High Strung: John detects a high altitude balloon heading straight for the Southern Alps in New Zealand and is unable to contact the pilot. At first everyone suspects that Francois Lemaire is the pilot but when Scott boards the craft he discovers that the pilot is a teenager named Brandon Berrenger, who works for Lemaire. When the balloon crashes on top of a mountain Scott and Brandon have to use Brains' new invention, RAD, to get down.

[whatgaviiformes]

Trick or Treat! :)

It's morning now, so have a small Tracy morning.

His alarm was a drag.

Not as loud as the klaxon, not as inspired as the melody Gordon chose for such a thing, the alarm was a simple annoying sound, made more irritating by the fact it woke him the ugly hours.

Alan rolled onto his back. He wasn't sure what had sent him to the floor this time, but it left him with a crick in his lower back that hadn't been there the day before. He definitely had fallen asleep in the bed last night. Whoops.

As he stood, stretching his muscles, John called in. His second alarm.

"Good. You're up."  His older brother, in typical fashion was multi-tasking, glancing his way but hands moving at quick speeds in the periphery of the holoscreen.

"Barely," he yawned.

"You excited for your visit?"

And suddenly he remembered why he'd set his alarm in the first place. It wasn't for a supply run or a school exam, but an invite from one Brandon Berrenger to "just hang."

Oh Lord! He needed to get ready!

[jbarkerstargazer]

Hi!

How about "I would never want to meet them" for the character bingo.

Thanks!

Right as this was asked by @myladykayo I guess I should stick to Thunderbirds Are Go but to be honest the first character to come to mind was Dr Pulaski from season 2 of Star Trek The Next Generation. God I hated her as a kid. How could you be mean to Data? As an adult I just felt that they were trying to shoehorn her character in and none of her interactions with the crew felt real.

Well back to thunderbirds... Its Brandon Berrenger. I know so many of you love him and ‘ship’ him with Alan. WHY! Maybe I could see them together if Alan was gonna work to make him a better person but baby Alan deserves so much more. Look in the 2 too many Brandon episodes, he is shown as the prime example of a self absorbed teen. The whole of High Strung his constant annoyance of Scott is just to get Scott to acknowledge how cool Brandon believes himself to be. Of course Scott doesn’t do this, he has a job to do and isn’t self adsorbed.

And then we come to Avalanche, his constant dismissal of Alan is clearly just jealousy and yes I know he does admit this. But also in that same conversation he admits to being nothing compared to Alan so of course he was never gonna include Alan in a video ever. How could he, he wouldn’t measure up. It would be a sincere moment if it wasn’t for Brandon covering Alans face in the final scene of the episode. Brandon shows no willingness to grow and change, I would never want to meat him. But I would love to see a fic with revenge on Brandon. Maybe in John and EOS hijacking Brandon’s blog and ending each of Brandon’s live streams with an Alan update. The comments would quickly become all about Alan with people begging Brandon to hurry up and finish so they could see what Alan was getting up to.

[selene-tempest]

So, this happened today and I don't know if I want to laugh or cry...

Who am I kidding, I can do both and laugh until I cry.

Let me set the scene for you.

Alan and Brandon are chilling on the couch, watching another vloggers live stream. All cute and squished up together, when someone else decided to join them.

Armstrong pranced through the lounge, leapt up onto the back of the couch and tight rope walked his way over to them.

Alan : Hey, Armie, wanna come sit with me? *Pats his lap temptingly*

Armstrong: *watches him with equal parts interest and distain, then ignores him in favour of sniffing Brandon*

Brandon: *stills, not wanting to scare the cat* What's he doing?

Alan: Just checking you out, don't make any sudden movements.

Brandon: *takes him at his word and stiffens as the cat finishes his snuffly inspection and climbs onto his shoulder.*

Armstrong: *slinks his way down Brandon and lands on his lap*

Brandon: *is now a statute* What do I do?

Alan: Just stay quiet and still, no sudden movements and he'll settle down. *Turns back to the live stream having lost interest now he had been rejected*

Armstrong: *turns in circles, pads his thighs, makes some biscuits on his lap then flops down, draping himself across Brandon like a furry, purring rug*

Brandon: Dude. *Vibrates with excitement*

Alan: Congratulations, you have been chosen.

Brandon: *whispering* Can I touch him?

Alan: *glances over* Oh, yeah he likes to be pet.

Brandon: *slowly, tentatively, lifts his hand and begins to gently pet the cat, who stretches out even further, his eyes closed happily.* I'll never move again.

A few hours later.

Brandon: *squirming slightly with a pained look on his face*

Alan: *a bit concerned by the wiggling, shifting, grunting going on next to him* You OK?

"Brandon: Yeah... *shifts a tiny bit more, Huff's out the breath he was holding* No.

Alan: What's up? Are you sick? *Looks over to the other couch where I'm in much the same position as Armie (like owner like pet) legs draped over the hubby, effectively pinning him in place. John cares not, he's totally absorbed in his tablet and whatever he's working on*

Me: * summoned from my phone by the Alan stare, looks over at Brandon who looks like he wants to cry* Bran, babe, what's up? Are you feeling OK? Need me to get Grandma?

Brandon: No!

John: *finally noticing, looks up with a frown*

Brandon: *squirming even more now that everyone is staring at him* I just... *Turns bright red* Man, I gotta pee so bad I think my dicks gonna inflate like a water balloon.

Me: *slaps my hand over my mouth*

John: Then go!

Brandon: I can't move *points at his lap where Armstrong is curled up in a tight ball*

Alan: *nods, we've all been there* Paralysed by cat butt.

John: *rolls his eyes and shoves my legs off his lap. Gets up and stomps over. Slides a hand under the cat, managing the herculean task of not reacting when Brandon yelped and closed his eyes in fear, lifts the cat up and steps back*

Brandon: THANK YOU! *Leaps up and races from the lounge*

John: *drops the cat on my stomach* And people wonder why I don't come home.

[tsarinatorment]

TAG Ask Game

2: Who is your favourite one-off/minor character?

TAG Ask Game

You want me... to pick one?

First instinct is Ned Tedford and Gladys, because he makes me laugh but also while he's comic relief, once you start to think about him... that man is amazing. He's got the qualifications to be space-rated and work solo in space (and off the top of my head, the only other characters we see in the series that do that are John and Lee, I believe), also got the qualifications to operate machinery deep under water, and obviously manages to get into the Military and be given command of his own outpost. Ned might be a joke-character, but he's competent (barring that one mistake he makes in Undercover).

I also adore Brandon, the Lemaires and the Pendergasts, and Kinnear doesn't deserve all the problems he got involved in!

None of those are one-offs, though, so for a one-off I'm going to go with Road Hog!

[tsarisfanfiction]

Thunderbirds please

🌹

This is another untitled one, but I got Scott&Brandon feels a while back and started writing something for the pair of them. It still needs a lot of work, but in the meantime looks a bit like this.

Brandon poured it all out, sniffling and wiping his nose on his sleeve as tears spilled down his face, and Scott stayed.

For every “🌹” i’ll post one random sentence of a random WIP

[gumnut-logic]

Five times Virgil tackled loopy family members, and one time they tackled him (Part Four)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

The last time I wrote anything for this fic was in January, so I hope you enjoy this continuation despite being so long a wait.

This fic also owes so many thanks to @onereyofstarlight​ @katblu42​  and @gaviiadastra​ as they basically plotted it with me :D It was great fun. Thank you also for the various reading of bits and all your encouragement.

Warnings for drug use.

Many apologies to Allie, sorry Squirt :D

-o-o-o-

It was a persistent beep that tore him from a weird dream of painting Two in Van Gogh style stars and suns. A swipe at his bedside table and something he had no care to identify crashed to the floor.

Blurry eyes found his clock and discovered numbers that shouldn’t exist. Four was one of them and immediately reminded him of Gordon, but it was the AM following it that hurt his brain.

“Virgil?”

John’s voice slapped clarity into his neurons and his body started moving automatically. Before he knew it, he was on his feet and halfway to his bedroom door.

“No incident.” John’s voice was sharp and obviously understanding regarding Virgil’s brain function at this time of the morning.

The words sunk in and Virgil wilted on the spot. “What?” One word was all he had.

“Sit down.”

That sparked worry. “What?”

“Sit down.”

Unable to really do anything else, he did what his brother asked as consciousness slowly seeped into awareness.

“I’ve received a call from Brandon Berrenger.”

“What?”

“Alan attended a party with Brandon last night.”

Virgil blinked slowly. He remembered dropping his little brother off in Auckland yesterday for his long-awaited award ceremony which then Virgil and the rest of his brothers had to miss because of the monsoon in the remains of Bangladesh yet again.

Virgil had been adamant that Alan not miss the event and had dumped him at his hotel which conveniently held Brandon as well. Security hadn’t been happy but Alan had been climbing the walls since the incident with Kayo and Virgil understood and talked Scott and Kayo down, giving his brother the space.

And trusting in Brie, Alan’s security specialist.

The award was for a video game design. Alan had spent quite some time putting his little Indie game together and it had become a hit in a very short period. Virgil was so proud.

His little bro deserved a little fame all of his own.

“What’s wrong?” John wouldn’t be contacting him at 4am if there wasn’t something wrong.

“I’m calling in the debt from your first art show.”

Virgil’s eyes widened and he shot to his feet. “What? What happened?”

“You can’t tell Scott.”

“Fine! Tell me what happened and where I am needed!” He headed towards the door.

“Take Two, but leave her at the airport and pod out for minimum disturbance. Brief you enroute.”

Virgil was halfway to the hangers and his auxillary launch chute. “FAB.”

Two was in the air before John would brief him properly. During that time, every scenario that could possibly be linked to his blasted first art exhibition raced through his head.

It had been a low point in his life. College and his rainbow of hair colours and multiple piercings as he tried to discover who he was, struggling to conquer demons of his own. He’d fallen into the dark side of the college scene all of two weeks before John dropped in unexpectedly and Virgil had the shame of his little brother having to pick him off the floor because Virgil’s ‘friends’ thought it might be funny to ‘celebrate’ his exhibition.

It had to have been the shortest trip into the college drug scene ever. Virgil still had the scars from the piercings. Shortly after that, he had switched from art college to engineering.

His hair had been black ever since.

And no one but John knew of the incident.

Damn.

The dots connected.

“Aw, hell, Alan.”

Two roared into Aotearoan airspace and he was given clearance to land. He was of two minds whether to take the pod or grab a car. But he was still on call and as far as the family knew he was on a simple rescue…

“It will be a dud callout. Act grumpy when you get back.”

“You’re going to take flack for that.”

“Not the first time, Virgil. Go get our little brother.”

It took further clearance to launch into Auckland’s airspace, but John handled it smoothly and Virgil was quickly darting over rooftops and skyscrapers to reach the hotel.

“You might want to hurry.”

John’s tone had Virgil landing the dragonfly quietly on the roof of the hotel and jumping out, medkit in hand. Everything was quiet and oddly un-emergency-like.

The rooftop door unlatched as he approached and Virgil was darting down the stairwell into the hotel. Fortunately, he didn’t have to go far. Perk of always renting out the penthouse.

The door to his brother’s suite opened before he could reach it, but this time it wasn’t John’s doing. Brandon, worry on his face, darted out into the hallway. The moment he spotted Virgil, he rushed over.

“Hey, Virg, I’m glad you came. Alan, well, he’s cool, you know, but not that kind of cool, maybe?” He was scratching the back of his head as if he had lice. He looked Virgil up and down. “You came in Thunderbird Two? Full-on International Rescue? Oh, god, Scotty is gonna kill me!

“Where is he?”

But Virgil was hurrying past him into the room. Fortunately, he didn’t have to go far. Alan was sprawled on the sofa in the main room, Brie beside him.

“Virg-il!” His little brother swung out an arm in greeting and nearly knocked Brie flying. Her reflexes solved the problem by darting out of the way. “Come and sit with me. Take a load off.”

Virgil blinked and hurried forward, landing beside Alan. An attempt to take his vitals was derailed by Alan suddenly throwing himself at Virgil and wrapping him in a floppy hug. “Virgie, big bro, smotherhen, I am so happy to see you!”

Virgil found himself almost choking with the enthusiasm strangling his neck. His eyes darted to Brandon and the mix of guilt and worry nesting there. A glance at Brie and he made it clear there was going to be one hell of debrief after this.

Brie swallowed.

That and he hated the name ‘Virgie’.

“Alan, I need you to sit back for a minute. Okay?”

But his little brother was cuddling into Virgil’s shoulder and muttered something of the negative variety complete with a protesting ‘Virgie”.

Brandon was fidgeting where he was standing. “I think, but I don’t know, you know? That Al might have had one of the special pieces of cake.”

Virgil narrowed his eyes at Brandon. “Special?” He knew exactly what the boy meant, but clarity was important in all situations.

“Uh, yeah, I think there might have been some weedcake.”

Alan snuggled up more and muttered ‘I love you’ into Virgil’s uniform.”

“You think?”

“Um, yeah. But! I thought he knew, you know? And then he was super happy and dancing with all the girls, and well…” Brandon’s shoulders drooped. “He was having fun.”

Virgil unconsciously stroked Alan’s back.

“Brie?”

She straightened in her seat. “Mr Tracy began acting erratically.” She swallowed. “When he started taking his clothes off, claiming he was hot, I decided to remove him from public view.”

It was only then Virgil, focussed on the health condition of his brother more than anything else, realised that Alan was dressed in clothes slightly too big for him.

“We managed to get him back to the suite before he became entirely naked, but he did not want to leave the party.”

“Why was he at a party in the first place?”

“Hey, he won an award, bro! For creating the coolest game ever. The boy deserved a celebration.” Brandon tipped his head a little. “I know some people.”

Obviously the wrong people. Virgil frowned and Brandon took a step back.

“Hey, no, man! The people who did this weren’t my friends. Honest!”

Taking a deep breath and forcing himself to focus on Alan rather than the predicament, he used a little muscle to separate himself from his little brother. It was easier than expected as Alan had all but fallen asleep.

“Love you, Virgie.” His eyelids were drooping as Virgil yanked out the mediscanner and ran it over him. As expected, vitals pointed to intoxication, likely from marijuana.

He grabbed a testing kit and, with a swab from his brother’s mouth, activated it. It would take a few moments to do its thing, so he put the test aside to wait for the results. It wasn’t often they needed to test for drugs on a rescue, but since an incident that had nearly cost Scott his life, the tests had been a mandatory part of their kit.

“Virgie? Sing me a song? Like Mom used to sing you?”

“Alan, how are you feeling?”

Alan blinked at him. “Tired. Sing me a song?”

“Why don’t you lie down and rest?”

“I want you to sing.”

Virgil eyed Brandon, but surprisingly found no humour there, only honest worry.

“Okay, Allie, you lie down, rest, and I’ll think of a song.”

“Yay!” His little brother was immediately animated enough to curl up on the sofa, eyes hopefully staring up at Virgil.

The test beeped positive.

Virgil grit his teeth.

Fortunately, it didn’t appear to be a high dose, but he would be happier double checking with a blood test.

First he needed to get his little brother home. “Hey, Allie, want to go for a ride?”

Alan frowned up at him. “Do I get a song as well?”

“Sure.” Virgil packed his kit away, all the time running through possible symptoms for the inevitable crash his brother was likely to go through in the next few hours.

It was going to take so much to keep this hidden from Scott.

Virgil hated hiding things from his big brother.

But there were some things Scott was just better off not knowing.

Alan flung his arms out. “Carry me?”

A blink, but Virgil realised that there was no way he was prepared to let his high little brother attempt to walk out of here.

Without a word, Virgil stood up and scooped his little brother into his arms.

So much lighter than Scott.

Yet so much heavier than he used to be.

Alan once again curled into his shoulder as Virgil shimmied him into a comfortable hold. He eyed both Brandon and Brie. The former hurried to open the door, while Brie jumped up and cut in front of both of them and peered out into the corridor as the security force she was supposed to be.

Virgil made his way up through the stairs and onto the roof to the dragonfly pod. It took some manoeuvring and heavy lifting to get his brother into the backseat as by this time he was drifting into sleep.

Hopefully sleeping it off would be the cure. In any case, Alan was grounded for the next couple of days at least until the stuff was out of his system.

Climbing into the front seat, he eyed both Brie and Brandon, who had scrambled up the stairs after him. “I expect a confidential report from you, Brie. Brandon, I believe John wants to talk to you again.”

The redhead went white as a sheet. “Okay.”

Brie stood as militarily straight as she could. Virgil was of two minds as to whether Kayo needed to be informed. Would she tell Scott?

That was something that could be discussed with John. Tomorrow.

As he launched the pod skywards, Alan shifted in his seat. “Love you, Virgie.”

Virgil sighed.

“Love you, too, squirt.”

-o-o-o-

TBC

[inactive-seathesilverlinings]

🐻

[maximumsaladexpert]

This is a trend now

Have some Brandon and Born this way

Enjoy

[cg29]

My TAG rewatch with screenshot sharing continues. This time we have S2′s High Strung - Or in other words the ‘Scott is just done!’ episode  😂

45 pics in total and couldn't sacrifice any so sharing first 15 then rest are below the cut... Enjoy.😃

SCREENSHOTS CONTINUES BELOW THE CUT

[justactsupernatural]

Fictional Kiss Prompt: SpaceBears Edition #4

4.  Throwing their arms around the other person, holding them close while they kiss.

It was their anniversary, not the first one they had but the first one they celebrated outside Tracy Island. Alan had asked Scott for a few days off to spend together in small cabin in Alaska, and the commander of IR agreed as long as they didn’t do anything stupid that could get them hurt or arrested (they were both public figures with reputations and responsibilities Alan, you represent International Rescue wherever you go, and Brandon represents you).

So, after a long week of rescues and meetings with the Lemaires, they managed to run away together for a romantic weekend in the freezing, cold and frigidly lovely Alaska.

  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 They had been snowboarding all day long, taking advantage of the empty slopes and lack of people (given the season it wasn’t really a surprise). Thankfully, no one appeared to be aware of their presence there and everything had been peaceful so far.

Going to their cabin and taking turns in the hot shower to warm up their bodies, the two of them ordered dinner through room service and watched some reruns of an old TV show that the holoprojector was playing.

Turning down to look at his boyfriend, looking just about ready to fall asleep, Brandon tightened his hold around the blond and pulled him closer, feeling Alan’s arms tighten their hold around him as well.

Kissing the vlogger softly, the blond closed his eyes and relaxed against the warmth that Brandon’s body offered, completely ignoring the other half of the king-sized bed and sticking to his boyfriend’s side.

Falling asleep on his bedroom floor would never be this comfortable.

[selene-tempest]

Brandon: Do you think bugs are born knowing they can walk up walls or do they just do it by accident one day and be like 'yoooooo'?

Alan: Dude?

Brandon: Dude!

Scott: Dude alert.