#fishtankweek2024

[anthemode]

Sketching

"Make sure I look coolest, great painter!!"

"Unfortunately, I'm a realist. Stay still."

[whatgaviiformes]

FishTank Week 2024! - May 12-18

Well, you all asked for a rinse, repeat, and most of you wanted prompts ASAP, so welcome again to FishTank Week, 2024 edition! We had such a fun time last year bringing out all our yellow and green and fiiiiish and music. I hope 2024 brings new ideas, new inspiration, and always all the FishTank things.

FishTank? Yes, Fishtank, the name we use in the thunderfam for the brother relationship of Virgil and Gordon. Brotp for some, but otherwise still so fun to explore anyway!

When is FishTank Week? This year it'll run from Sunday May 12th through Saturday May 18th. The significance of the week? Loosely calculated as the day between their birthdays, but honestly any excuse 💚💛

How do I celebrate FishTank Week? Like last year, we are releasing a series of prompts (see below). If they inspire you to write or create art, you can choose to post those on the exact day or anytime that week. Fic, Reblogs, Recs, and Art are welcome and appreciated all week long. Anything's welcome, so don't forget mood boards, music, head canons. Whatever you can think of!

We'll be active that week as well reblogging, and with some QOTDs and daily posts reminding of the prompt(s).

I'm not interested in FishTank: *hugs* totally fine. Our tags this year will be #fishtankweek and #fishtankweek2024 if you want to block them.

Questions: Reblog, comment, or you are also welcome to reach out to me directly.

Thanks to @emtb319 and @idontknowreallywhy for collaborating this year. And @gumnut-logic for letting me use a daily dose screen shot for the below.

Prompts - we've added some options within the prompts and some alternates for you to use as you like. Inspiration is the goal, and the only guideline is FishTank. The others can make an appearance too. We won't make you clean TB 4 for having a wayward Tracy, Kyrano, Creighton-Ward, or others around for the fun. But definitely Virgil and Gordon.

12: Wingman

13: At the... Orchestra | Art Museum | Aquarium

14: Brothers Relaxing

15: "We're a team, always" | "Did you doubt me?"

16: Comfort Food | Food on the go

17: Memories

18: Pranks

Alts: Love and Laughter | Along the Coastline

Good luck fish wrangling, and happy creating!

See you on the 12th,

Gavii 💚💛

[idontknowreallywhy]

Very veeeeeery remotely linked to Day 2’s prompt (blink and you’ll miss it) but here is a bit of a sequel to Inebriated Fishtank… in which they have not entirely ceased to be under the influence…

💛💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛💚

An enthusiastic steel drum version of ‘Under the Sea’ blared out and Scott slammed his hand on to the comm, eyes still screwed shut… if he didn’t open them he wasn’t awake. And it could have been a butt-call…

He’d never prayed so hard for it to be a butt-call.

“Hey heeeeeeeey Scooooty-McNoodle!!!”

Scott pried an eye open to glare in the general direction of heaven…

“Hello Gordon. Which police station?”

“I am OFFENDEDED ancient brosicle! How could you pres… presufimicate such a thing?”

“You don’t need bail? Then why are you calling me? Go to bed you drunken fool.”

“Ah yea about that… “

‘What about it? Just sleep it off.”

“So… funny story! My fuzzy wuzzy beary pops actually did the whole arrangementing of beds thing.”

Wait.

Scott’s brain clicked up a gear from basic muscle memory to something resembling cognition.

“Gordon where is Virgil?!”

“He’s here!”

“Can I speak to him?”

“Um… noooooooooo”

There were several voices worth of giggling, none of which sounded like Virgil.

“Who’s with you? Where is Virgil?”

“Oh how rude of me over here we got…” There was a clatter and his brother’s voice faded out amongst some more distant giggling before Gordon returned, piercingly loudly:

“Stooopid floor. Anyways here we got Florrie, Alice and Alexi, say hi to Scooter ladies, he’s my biggest olderist bro and he’s even sexier than me and old dribbles here.”

A chorus of “Hi Scooter”

“Gordon! What’s wrong with Virgil?”

“You gotta say hi!”

“Gordon!!”

“You’re being rude! Say hi to the ladies!”

“Hi ladies” Scott muttered.

“NICELY!”

Scott knew an immovable squid wall when he heard it. Fine. He turned up the charm, and the volume, to max.

“Hello ladies!”

“Owie! Geez bro.”

“Virgil, Gordon?!”

“Yeah he’s pretty handsome. Look… see? He was on front’ve Vogue that one time. Still single too! Sure I can give you his number…”

“GORDON!!”

“Heeeeeeeeey bro. Love you bro. Love all the bros. Specially the grumpy turtle one.”

Scott tried another tack

“I love you too squid, but what happened to the grumpy turtle one?”

“Hezzzz a snooooozy liddle turtle.”

“So he’s in bed?”

“Nooo I toldja he’s here. Say hi Virgie.”

Silence.

“Awww he droolin’”

Scott was beginning to join the dots here.

“Gordon, please tell me Virgil wasn’t trying to match you?”

“I can one hunderb percival tell you that.”

“Would it be true?”

A pause and a definite snort in the background.

“Noooooooooooooooo”

Oh no.

If he’d consumed enough to make Gordon tipsy, there was no way Gordon and three women were going to be able to move the bear. He thought Virgil knew better.

Scott got up and put his trousers on. He could get to Brisbane in a few minutes in One…

There was more giggling and a deep bellowing laugh followed by a grunt.

“Omigosh I’m sorry I can help… gimme his arm… oopsy tha’s ‘is leg.”

More rustling noises.

“Oh I am sooooo bad manners! Scotty you gonna say hola to Juan too, he’s helping.”

“Hola Juan. Gordon, where are you? Do I need to come get you?”

“Naaaaw we goddim Scooteywoo”

“Then why are you calling Squid?”

“Need the bed place.”

“I don’t know where he booked Gords! Stay put I’ll come and get you.”

“Nawwwww I wanna take him to the art tom… tom… tomorning. Art ‘n waffles…. I pinky promised the Virg!”

Scott rested his head against the wall and counted to ten.

“What do you need Gordon?”

“T’get in his phone! I dunno his pass-thing! Need to find the resersermmmnn”

Scott did know it There were a million and one reasons why Gordon did not.

But he could either spill the beans now and take the consequences later, or head out to find them just in time for one or both of them to be sick on his shoes. Or in One. He shivered. No option really.

“Gordon you have to promise not to do anything bad with Virgil’s phone.”

“Yeah yeah I’m a good fishy”

“Gordon, pinky promise me.”

There was a tut and Scott could almost hear the eyeroll.

“I can’t reach your pinky to promise!”

“Fine. Pinky promise Juan then.”

Gordon did a stage whisper

“He doesn’ know a huge lodda English Scoobydoo.”

“Ok err” Scott racked his brains “could you put um, Alex was it? On the phone?”

Gordon huffed.

Rustling.

“Well hello there, handsome, this is Alexi.”

Pushing down the desire to bring about Gordon’s imminent demise, Scott had a sudden brainwave and put the charming voice on again. Yes, giving a total stranger access to his brother’s phone was a risk but less of one than allowing Gordon unfettered access without the security of a pinky promise - generally accepted to be the only law he considered himself bound by.

“Alexi listen carefully, I’m going to give you the passcode. Could you use it to find the reservation then lock the phone again please?”

“Sure, honey.” The reply was breathy. Intimidatingly breathy.

“Ok, you ready?”

“I’m all yours”

Shudder.

“Exclamation mark, eight, one, zero, zero, capital D, lower case Y, exclamation mark; capital F, one, five, lower case H, exclamation mark.”

“Ok honey that worked, I’m in. I’ll get your brothers to their hotel. I’ll leave my number on your brother’s phone just in case you need it later, ok?” She was essentially purring now.

“Oh that won’t be…” Scott paused. He needed all the allies he could get here.

He cleared his throat “That would be lovely, thank you for your help Alexi.”

There was a shriek and more unmistakable giggling as Scott hung up with a wry smile before collapsing back on to his bed and closing his eyes. Good luck Juan and co.

Aa he drifted off he considered how it was a shame Virgil would have to change that one tomorrow.

It was so apt.

💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛

[alexthefly]

Did I miss the relevant prompt earlier in the week? Maybe. Shhhh...

In honour of FishTank Week, and particularly the prompt 💛"We're a team, always"💚 please enjoy this reblog.

*******

Green Wool and Sunshine

What is that?!”

“What is what?” asked Virgil through a mouthful of cinnamon roll.

“That! That…thing you’re wearing!”

Gordon sat up slowly from the sofa, his face fixed in equal parts grin and grimace as he pointed with his good hand.

Virgil looked down at himself and surreptitiously brushed a few crumbs off his sweater. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked.

“Dude, it’s hideous,” said Gordon, eyeing the offending garment critically.

Virgil looked again. True, it wasn't in the best shape. Pale green wool, striped with white and yellow, and all of it faded and bobbled to within an inch of its life. One shoulder had a loose seam so that it looked almost as if the wool were melting. And at the centre of it all, the distinctive shape of Thunderbird Two rendered clumsily in darker green.

"Where did you get it?”

“Grandma made it for me one Christmas. You remember that vintage knitting machine Dad got her that one year?”

God, it had made a racket, like someone flicking a giant comb over and over again. Thank goodness she’d finally lost interest in that particular hobby, although in hindsight Virgil wondered if her subsequent rediscovery of her old cooking books might have been too high a price to pay.

“Anyway, I just found it the other day in the back of the closet.”

Gordon’s mouth twisted to one side. “...Any chance you could lose it back there again?”

A deep grumble. Okay, so she might not be the best at the domestic arts, but she was still their grandma and he loved that she tried. Virgil had actually thought the sweater was pretty good, in a homespun, one-sleeve-slightly-longer-than-the-other sort of way; his girl’s big, friendly turtle-face was unmistakable, and Grandma had even included a little dark-haired figure in blue and green waving out of one of her windows.

“Lay off. It’s comfortable. Anyway, I didn’t see you criticising when she made you that yellow submarine one you wore down to scraps.”

Gordon rolled his eyes. “First of all, I was a lot younger then and not so refined.”

Virgil snorted.

“Secondly, yellow is infinitely better than green. And thirdly, I can carry that sort of thing off. You…” - he wafted his hand up and down at his brother in the manner of a bitchy ballroom dancing judge - “...unfortunately, cannot.”

Virgil grunted and took another bite of his roll.

“Really? Mr ‘Hawaiian Shirts and Sandals Go With Everything’ is criticising my fashion choices?”

“They totally do go with everything! They’re a completely universal outfit; the quintessential capsule wardrobe.”

He puffed out his chest to show off today’s offering, complete with large ketchup stain down the front.

“Anyway, why are you even wearing a sweater when it’s 80 degrees outside? I know you tend towards layers, tropical climate be damned, but this is a bit much even for you.”

“I was down in the hangars,” Virgil shrugged. “It was cold.”

“You doing some maintenance?” His little brother’s face lit up.

“Two’s left air intake’s doing that rattling thing again; I thought I’d give her an overhaul,” he said, brain shifting seamlessly into engineer mode, “And her injectors need a spruce up. Thought perhaps I’d have a play with that new neo-PEM cell Brains has been going on about.”

“D’you want some help?”

The enthusiasm in his voice was unmistakable, and cut deep.

Virgil bit his lip. “Aww, I don’t think so, Fish. You need to rest.”

“I could rest down there? I promise, I’ll just sit and watch you."

The desperation in his brother’s puppy dog eyes felt like knives in Virgil’s chest.These last few weeks since the Marindata Ventfields had been hard on them all. Even now, with Gordy finally home from the hospital, Virgil still woke almost nightly with the sound of that emergency signal echoing in his ears, the silence of his brother’s comms stretching out in his mind until…

No, don’t think about that. He’s home. He’s safe.

But obviously Gordon had been hit the hardest. His ‘bird was a total loss, his body not much better, and he still had months of rehab ahead, bringing with it all the oh-so-unwelcome memories he’d worked so hard to bury. Regular visits from Penny had helped, and their sunshine boy was trying hard, but it was like the clouds had gathered, dimming that indefinable brightness that made him…him.

Virgil wished beyond wish that he could indulge his little brother if it would make him happy. But…

“I’m sorry Squid, Grandma’s orders. There’s just too many hazards down there. Fumes and stairs and things to trip over… I wouldn’t be able to watch out for you properly.”

Gordon sagged, and Virgil felt his heart clench painfully.

“But hey, how about I leave the maintenance and come sit up here with you instead? We could watch an episode of Buddy and Ellie?”

Anything to bring back the sun.

A shake of the head, eyes fixed downwards. “Nah, seen ‘em all.” Gordon looked up and smiled again; this time it didn’t reach his eyes. “Anyway, you don’t want to be stuck up here. Not when there’s oil and grime to play about in. Better watch you don’t get that sweater dirty though, or Grandma might knit you another one.”

Virgil opened his mouth to speak, but his little brother cut him off.

“Stop worrying Virg. S’no biggie. I’m fine, see?” He shrugged. “I’ll just see you when you’re done.”

He lay back down on the sofa carefully, looking so much smaller than he had a moment ago.

“Actually, I’m getting a little tired now. You just go do what you gotta do - I’m gonna take a nap right here.”

And with that he closed his eyes; conversation over.

Virgil lingered for a moment, scouring his brain for something to say but coming up blank. Inside his heart burned with guilt and impotence: his little brother was hurting, and he couldn’t do anything to fix it. All he’d done was make things worse.

Perhaps he should go.

“Okay then. Take it easy, alright?”

“Yup."

“There’s cinnamon rolls in the kitchen if you get hungry.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Thus dismissed, he turned and made his way towards the elevator, mind no longer on his ‘bird but instead on her grounded, miserable co-pilot.

Oh Gordy. It will get better; I promise.

………..

As the sound of the elevator faded away Gordon opened one eye a crack to check the coast was clear. Then he slowly, painfully hauled himself up, intent on getting to the residential levels. No doubt his big marshmallow of a brother would be on the comms right now, asking someone - probably Scott - to come down and check on him, and there was no way he was hanging around for that.

Even if his body hated him for moving.

The journey from the sofa to his room used to take less than two minutes. Today it took him seven minutes twenty. What was worse was that objectively he should be pleased. Sub-eight minutes was actually an improvement on a week ago.

Goddammit.

Finally, he was able to close the bedroom door behind him and collapse onto his bed, aching and miserable.

This sucked.

He was lucky to be alive; he knew that. A few weeks ago he’d been lying at the bottom of the ocean with half a volcano on top of him. Now, because of his brothers, Penny and Parker, he was back in the bosom of his family, healing, getting stronger, gradually shaving the seconds off his bedroom run.

He should be grateful. He’d been through far worse, for God’s sake.

So why?

Why wasn’t he able to shake this off?

Why was it that whenever he tried to see the positive, all he could see was just how freakin’ useless he was?

He didn’t dare say that out loud, of course. His family would absolutely kick his ass if they heard him say something like that. Penny too. (Boy, would she!) He could hear them now, telling him to give himself a chance, these things take time, blah blah blah… Hell, he even tried saying that stuff to himself sometimes, like he would if it were one of his brothers in this position instead of him.

If only any of it actually worked.

Because no matter how much he tried to reason his way out of this funk he was in, it didn’t help, because this feeling wasn’t logical. It couldn’t be reasoned with.

It whispered to him in the dark.

You’ve let them all down.

Look at the slack they’re having to pick up.

Look how much they’re worrying.

Worse.

They don’t need you back.

They’re fine without you.

Every time his brothers went off on a mission without him, it hurt. Whenever someone else took his place co-piloting for Virgil - even Penny, who was only doing it for his sake - he felt cold inside. And when Scott had been the one to take his new Thunderbird Four out for her maiden voyage? The mission to recover the Zero X capsule, no less; the thing that had kicked off Operation Bring Dad Home? Well, he’d just wanted to curl up right there on that sofa and never move again.

The unfairness.

The guilt.

The fear.

He would never wish what had happened on any of his family in a million years. But at the same time, why was it always him that got hurt?

Perhaps he really was just useless.

Sad, exhausted, hurting in more ways than he knew how to handle, he turned his face to the pillow and let the tears come.

…………

The thing about uber-strength pain meds is that they can make a guy fall asleep in the middle of the afternoon and not wake up until the early hours.

He registered the dim not-quite dark as the world slowly came back to him.

Someone had drawn the covers over him at some point during the night, tucking them around him like he was a child, and didn’t that just sum up everything? Take a nap, take your meds, and maybe if you’re a good boy you’ll get a lollipop(!)

He shifted slightly and his hip complained. Gingerly he rolled over, tackling the manoeuvre in sections, trying to get comfortable. He was just settling again when something caught his eye on the chair by his bed.

A large package wrapped neatly in yellow paper.

Twisting carefully he reached out with his good arm and pulled the chair towards him. In the soft glow of pre-dawn, he recognised the paper as the same kind he’d had for his last birthday: bright yellow with blue seahorses and glittery bubbles. Scott had complained about the glitter getting all over his shirt, and they’d all spent the next hour randomly shaking the paper over each other’s heads until they’d sparkled like they were in a Las Vegas show.

He smiled at the memory and gradually pulled himself up until he was sitting, blanket wrapped around him in the cool, almost-morning air.

Holding the package on his lap, he delicately pulled it open at the seams, revealing unmistakable green wool underneath.

What the-?

In with the sweater there was a card written in Virgil’s big, swooping hand:

Seeing as you’re the only one who could pull it off anyway, you should have this, at least until you can make it back aboard the real thing.

She isn’t the same without you. V.

He read the card two more times, breath hitching on the last sentence each time, then he gently unfurled the sweater out in front of him to take a closer look at the design, now that it was technically his.

It took a few moments for him to notice it.

Something was different.

He squinted.

There, in the window of Thunderbird Two’s cockpit, carefully embroidered next to the tiny waving figure of Virgil, a second, blond-haired figure waved out at him in shades of blue and yellow wool.

How...?

...Virgil.

For a moment, he swore he could see the little co-pilot grinning. Or was that just his suddenly-blurred vision playing tricks?

He wiped his eyes and, discarding his blanket, pulled the sweater over his head. He couldn’t get his bad arm through the sleeve, so instead opted to keep it against his chest, nestled between the soft wool and his own thrumming heart.

Despite the way it looked, Virg had been right: the sweater was comfortable. So comfortable. Softened by repeated washing, with a clean smell of detergent and just a hint of Virgil’s cologne - sandalwood and bergamot, mellow and comforting - wearing it was like wearing a hug; warm and reassuring and just so snuggly.

Full of love.

Wrapping his good arm around himself and breathing in the calming, cozy scent, he picked his way carefully over to the window and opened the blinds. Dawn was just beginning to break over the horizon, painting the sky a hundred different shades of pink and purple and orange. As he watched, the sun slowly poked its head out over the gentle waves of his beloved ocean, bathing him in the warmth of its early morning glow.

It was going to be a beautiful day.

[emtb319]

This has been a lot of fun. @whatgaviiformes Thank you!!!

‘Mail’s here,’ Gordon announced to the house.  He and Grandma had just returned from a supply run.  ‘Hey Virg, box for you.’

‘Thanks Gords,’ he said, taking it from his hands and setting it aside.

‘What is it?’

‘None of you concern Gordon, just a little something that I needed.’

‘It’s pretty light,’ Gordon answered, trying to get an answer to his question.

‘Yes it is.  What’s your point?’

‘You know that I’ll just keep asking until you tell me, right?’

‘Bye Gordon’, Virgil said as he grabbed his coffee and left with his box.  Throughout the next few days, Gordon tried to sneak a peek at the box, but Virgil kept it too close to see what it was.

‘What could possibly be in that box,’ Gordon murmured under his breath.  He even resorted to asking Eos if she knew, but if she did, she refused to tell him.  By the 4th day, the box was still unopened and driving him batty.  ‘You’d think that he would have opened it by now.’  Gordon didn’t realize that anyone had approached him as he continued to mumble to himself.

‘Gordon…Earth to Gordon.  Time to go little brother, we need 4.’

‘Oh, ok.  Let’s go Virg.’  While on their mission, he forgot about the box.  The next day presented Gordon with his opportunity.  Virgil was called away and left the box on his work bench.

‘Ooooo, time to see what his big secret is.’  Gordon was giddy with excitement, he would finally know.  He opened the box, stopped, laughed, and sent his big brother a text message.

A piece of string, really?….you got me.  A few hours later, Virgil was done with his callout and gave him a quick reply.

Pull the string.

Virgil, even I know better than that.

Really?  Then why are you covered in glitter? I really don’t want to talk about it.  Virgil laughed so hard that he nearly fell out of his pilot’s seat.

[mrmustachious]

Fishtank Week 2024

I've written a lot of fishtank over the years, so for fishtank week here are a bunch of fics I've written for you to peruse and get your fill of the two best bros :D

Shaky Hands - Rescues didn’t always go as planned.

Human Shield - Virgil thinks Gordon is an idiot. Gordon just thinks he's a good brother.

Shackled - Rescues are hard when evil lies around every corner.

Unconscious - Sequel to Shackled. Virgil gets worried when there's no sign of Gordon, so he goes investigating.

Stitches - “I think you’re going to need stitches.”

Secret Injury - Gordon’s hurt, but Virgil needs him. He can set aside his own injuries if that’ll mean his brother is safe, right?

Fever - Gordon and tonsillitis.

Don’t Hold Your Breath - Gordon woke up trapped, underground, and running out of air.

Grow Up Fast - He thought that he was being helpful, that an older brother was supposed to protect a younger one from harm, but maybe doing so just made everything worse. Prompt: “I'm not a kid anymore so stop treating me like I am."

Out of Control - Something was wrong with his brother, Virgil just didn't know what.

All Trussed Up and Still Nowhere to Go - Virgil couldn't remember what had happened, but he knew one thing for sure. He wasn't going to let anyone hurt his brother.

My Spidey-Sense is Tingling - A rescue involving a chemical spill soon leads to some unexpected consequences.

Coughing Up a Lung - Gordon woke up this morning suffering from a cold. At least, he thought it was just a cold...

That’s Where the Blood’s Supposed to Be - A sea quake leads to a concussed brother and Virgil having to pilot a ship that isn't his.

Hide & Seek - After being captured, Virgil and Gordon know that if they have any chance of surviving, they must find their own way to escape.

You Will Go Down With This Ship - Gordon decides to take a walk around the island, but he never intended to end up stuck and injured in a hole with a storm looming overhead.

Six (or more) Feet Under - The ground slipped out from under him, and then a white blanket swallowed him whole.

More Than This - Gordon had dreams and plans for the future, but then one fateful day it all came crashing down. Plans changed, for both him and his family, and now nothing was the way it was meant to be.

Crushed Metal - Hanging your brother above a giant machine that was out of control would have its consequences.

Shrapnel - How did Gordon escape unscathed whilst the Mechanic tried to crush his ship with him inside? Maybe that's because he didn't.

Get Out of My Head - Virgil hurts Gordon in the worst way imaginable.

Disappearance - liesorlife requested: How about disappearance with Gordon

Artist AU - onereyofstarlight requested: Artist AU looks fun and Virgil is the obvious pick - maybe an AU where Kip Harris is an artist instead of a firefighter and Virgil's about to meet his No. 1 Art Hero?

Comforting Hug - Gordon and a therapy dog.

Loss of Sight - It seems like whoever led them into this trap wasn't done with them yet.

Over-the-Shoulder Carry - Gordon's an idiot, but what's new?

Trying to Wake Them Up - Virgil's hurt and won't wake up, so it's up to Gordon to get help.

Hair Matted with Blood - Virgil and Gordon want to spend some quality time together.

Animal Attack - Whilst out chasing rumours of a beast that lives out in the woods, Virgil and Gordon get more than they bargained for. Supernatural AU

Going into Shock - Quite often after a rescue, they were showered with gifts. However, not all gifts were wanted.

[gumnut-logic]

Cethair (Bit 5)

Óen | Cethair - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 | Bit 4 | Bit 5

Dashing out the door.

Many thanks to @onereyofstarlight for the readthrough and all the wonderful support I have received for this fic. I haven't forgotten it! So here is the next bit for FishTank Week :D

I hope you enjoy.

-o-o-o-

Pain.

There was only pain.

Somewhere beyond that, there were his brothers, but their touch hurt and grief burned.

Father.

His beloved father.

Gaat. He snarled the name. Begotten of worms and dung. Though he was doing shame to the worms and dung. Gaat was worthy of nothing that lived.

You have some fire in you, little one. Good. We will need it.

But above all, he was tired.

Tired of the pain. So much pain. It hurt to breathe.

Breathe, you need to breathe.

Máthair Chriona had been there. Virgil, too. There had been pleading, but he had not the strength.

You have the strength now. Breathe.

Something poked him in the belly. He opened both his eyes and his mouth without thinking and was bathed in golden light.

And water. So much water. It crawled into his lungs and he was drowning. A gasp for air and…

Count with me, little one, draw in the sustenance and let it give us the life we need…óen, dá, tri, cethair…

His body struggled with a density it wasn’t used to, pushing fluid in and out with a foreign strength.

Hmmm, yes, that’s good. Keep at it.

Panic began to wane and his senses finally came back with something other than pain.

He was floating in a golden light.

And there was a dragon.

All the gods!

There was a chuckle heard deep inside. No, I am no god.

It was only then he realised he was floating in water, breathing water, his belly burning with the effort.

How am I?

You needed breath, I gave it to you.

His eyes blinked slower in the water.

Why?

You needed it. The young one called for help. I could help.

But why?

The great golden creature hovered in the water column before him but didn’t answer. The light emanated from its scales. It lit up the water like a reassuring beacon in the deep.

And Gordon O’Treasaigh was breathing water with no pain, no terror.

And no clothes.

You have no need of the wrappings of the Above here.

That could be debated.

You have your skin returned to you. Your body is now part of the Below.

The Below?

The mother and cradle of all.

The voice was reverent.

Gordon was breathing water.

His mind churning memory and fact.

He looked into those large red eyes, unsure of what the dragon wanted or why, but sure of one thing.

I need to go back.

-o-o-o-

Virgil slept eventually, exhausted by grief. His brothers were curled up beside him, Cóic providing the feather pillow and warmth.

He did not know for how long, but the steady breath of the great dragon lulled him.

But his brothers were only three and his heart continued to ache for the fourth.

The spark of hope was there, but it hurt. By the gods, it hurt.

He did not know if he would ever see his little fish brother ever again.

Father…

No, NO! that way lay even more pain he could not afford.

Gordon…

Gods, please.

“Virgil?” His shoulder was gently shaken. “Virgil, all will be well.” John’s voice was as melodious and calm as ever.

Curses. He both hated and envied him for it.

And it fuelled that flame of hope he didn’t know he could afford.

“It is morning.”

“Wha-?”

A great white wing lifted off them revealing a cold blue sky still golden with the first rays of dawn over the hills behind them. The fine pebbled beach still muttered to the waves.

Reality and responsibility abruptly slid into place. Their clothes were still damp, though warm enough until the morning air had its way with them. This was something that needed to be remedied as soon as possible. People had died of less exposure than this.

Walking into the ocean had been foolish.

But what had been their choice?

John was sitting up with an arm around a sleepy Alan. The boy had tear streaks in the dust on his face. Virgil’s heart ached for the youngest. Alan, of all of them, had lost so much the previous day. He was still little enough to need his parents and now both were gone.

Virgil’s heart ached.

They would care for him, but they could never replace their parents.

On Virgil’s other side lay the Flaithri of their people.

Scott was still in slumber, his skin flushed.

Virgil swore under his breath, his hand reaching for the man’s forehead and finding it warm.

A fever.

Curses.

He should have stayed in bed!

Virgil was up and checking bandages and swearing further when he found the wound burning with heat. He needed to get his brother back to camp and Máthair Chriona as soon as possible.

There was a cough barely heard above the surf. A hacking, choking cough.

“Virgil!” John’s voice had so much hope, it cut through Virgil’s heart.

Scott stirred under his hands as he looked up.

A staggering figure was struggling against the waves.

“Gordon!”

Before Virgil could react, Scott was on his feet.

So fast.

“Scott, no!”

Óen warbled question off to his left, suddenly appearing with Dá. A short bellow urgent in its reprimand was ignored by his rider.

John was moving with Alan, and Virgil was running.

Down to the edge of the water. He slipped an arm around the waist of his wavering eldest brother as the surf curled around their boots.

But their eyes were only for Gordon.

Their fish brother strode purposefully through the water towards them. There was no sign of the golden dragon.

As bare as the day he was born, Gordon stepped up to them almost as golden in the dawn light as the dragon who had answered.

The burns on his body were gone, but there were scars. They glittered, shining in the sun.

He stopped several arm lengths away.

“Gordon?” Virgil felt that flame of hope burst into a wildfire.

“It’s me, Virg.” He frowned. “What’s wrong with Scott?”

Beside him, Scott straightened. “I am well. Gordon, what happened?”

Gordon’s eyes slowly blinked and Virgil frowned. There was something different…a membrane flickered over the surface of his brother’s eyes.

Oh.

Then he realised that not just the burn scars, but all his brother’s body was shining ever so softly almost as if he possessed the scales of the fish he loved.

Oh, Gordon.

“You’re different.” Virgil said it as his heart broke. What did it mean. Had he lost his brother forever?

Gordon nodded once. “Yes, I am.”

Virgil ached to run to him, but Scott’s weight kept him where he was.

“Gordy?” Alan’s voice was small and cut Virgil’s heart further.

“Hey, squirt.”

“What did the dragon do to you? Where is it?”

Young honesty. At least it asked exactly what they all wanted to know.

Gordon let out a sigh. “Cethair is not far.” Those different eyes looked back to Virgil and Scott. “He changed me. He had to. I was dying and he gave me life.” His shoulders settled. “His life. I am now bound to him.” His eyes caught Virgil’s. “And to the sea.”

Virgil reached out with his free hand.

Gordon took a few steps closer and grasped it in both of his.

His hands were cool and his skin different. There was strange webbing between his fingers.

But the warm brown eyes that stared at him with a hope that reflected his own were so Gordon…

“I am well, I promise. I need to go with Cethair for a while, but I will be back.” He looked to John and the Matriarch beyond. “Cóic will know where I am.”

John’s soft, ever knowing, ever loving smile said everything it needed to.

Gordon turned back to Scott and frowned. “You need to go home. You need Máthair Chriona.”

Scott reached out. There was a sob in his voice. “Gordy?”

Gordon drew that trembling hand to his cheek and held it there, bowing his head just a little. “I am well, Flaithri, and will always be your subject to command, ever honoured to stand with you.”

Scott shook in Virgil’s arms. “Love you, Gordy.”

Whispered on the wind. “Love you, too. Love you always.”

Óen bellowed distress as Virgil caught all of Scott’s weight, his body giving in, finally paying the toll for everything.

“Scott!” He scooped his brother into his arms. “Don’t you do this to me!”

As he ran towards Dá, conscious of yet another brother trying to die in his arms, he glanced back towards the ocean seeking the one who had survived.

But Gordon was gone.

-o-o-o-

Next

[sailing-on-a-puddle]

A FishTank Day Out

Loosely using the prompt at the Aquarium, but since that has passed I’ll also include brothers relaxing because they don’t get a day off very often!

This is based on a day out my family and I went on last month, although we never saw any Thunderbirds. The venue was the Lakeside and Haverthwaite railway which is at the bottom of Lake Windermere in the Lake District, UK, and there happens to be an aquarium at the lakeside end of the line.

I thought at the time it would make a great Virgil and Gordon day out, so for FishTank week I’ve turned it into a fic with some pictures at the end.

_____________________________

Thunderbird Two flew in over the top of the lakes and mountains. Unfortunately, there was low cloud and only the top of the mountains were visible from above. Nevertheless, Gordon had brought up a holographic image of the lakes below that he couldn’t see and was excitedly telling Virgil that only Bassenthwaite Lake was technically a lake.

Virgil smiled about how excited Gordon was. They lived on an island, they were used to being surrounded by water. But this water was different and full of different aquatic life. He’d known Gordon would do this, and thankfully the holographic map of the physical geography didn’t show the places he’d planned for them to go.

Virgil landed Two in a field several miles away and configured a pod to take to the car park. He’d learned many years ago that taking Two to car parks in tourist destinations wasn’t popular. When on rescues you could park anywhere you liked, but when you turned up with it as mode of transport there was lots of moaning about noise, rocket boosters setting fire to things and taking up 50 parking spaces.

A couple of minutes and they arrived at the car park.

“Er, Virgil, we’re not at the lake yet.”

“Nope.”

Gordon looked round to see the two rail lines behind him, and then he realised what the various sheds and buildings around him were.

“Virgil, have you brought me to another steam train?”

“You didn’t complain about the last one.”

“Well, that had the Harry Potter station, and there’s lakes, Virgil. We could be there, now, doing water things. I’m a FISH, Virg, and you’ve brought me here instead.”

Virgil smiled at him . “All in good time, we’re going to the lake, which is your thing, on a lovely piece of engineering, which is my thing.”

Right on cue, the train came in. Gordon was then subject to a full running commentary about how the wonders of this particular locomotive and railway setup. Something about side and saddle tanks maybe? Aren’t saddles on horses? His brother loved this technology that was over 100 years old, and although Gordon didn’t really understand the difference beyond this locomotive was red and the last one was black, he was delighted to see his engineering brother so happy.

Gordon had to admit it all looked very atmospheric on this cloudy chilly day, especially when the locomotive emerged from the tunnel to run round the train. Virgil took a photo with the intention of sketching it later.

They boarded the train and it set off on the journey, slowly making it’s way through the countryside and woods. Twenty minutes later the train pulled into the Lakeside station, and when Gordon got off his excitement reached fever pitch.

“Virgil! VIRGIL! There’s an aquarium!”

“Yup.”

“Can we go? Can we go? Pleeeeease?”

“If I said no, would you listen anyway?”

“Lalala, I can’t hear you and we’re going to the aquarium!”

Virgil just laughed at him, put his arm round his shoulder and they both skipped to the aquarium door. If anybody did stare at either of them they didn’t notice, they were used to that anyway.

Now the roles from earlier were reversed and Gordon was talking continuously about everything in the tanks. Half the time he didn’t even need to read the signs, he knew exactly what it was. Something about an Axolotl? Was that something Alan talked about from Minecraft? Virgil did read the signs and listen, but mostly thought about how all the colours and shapes and took photos. He’d sketch, or maybe paint those later too.

After a couple of hours or so, when Gordon wanted to go round the aquarium for the fourth time to see what else he could see Virgil left him to it. He went and sat on a bench outside facing the lake, picking up a coffee for himself and some neon slush thing for Gordon from the cafe on the way.

A boat was just leaving the jetty, and the lake looked very atmospheric with the low cloud hanging in the cool air. Virgil once again regretted not bringing his art supplies but took a picture anyway.

He realised he’d been humming and daydreaming when his thoughts were interrupted by Gordon jumping over the back of the bench with a brightly coloured soft toy fish from the shop.

“You done?”

“I think they’re closing. I was the last one in. Are we going home now?”

“Yup. Thought we’d get some pizza to eat on the way home.”

“Sounds good.”

They picked their seat on the waiting train to take them back to the pod. Virgil produced some cake that he’d also picked up from the café, and Gordon’s eyes lit up and he started to eat it in a way that would have incurred Grandma Tracy’s wrath.

“Virgil?”

“Mmm?”

“Thanks for bringing me today.”

“You’re welcome, thank you for coming with me.”

_________________

Here's some of the pictures Virgil took, which are actually mine. Virgil would be a better photographer than me!

And a bonus one, the black locomotive in the Harry Potter Station Gordon references (Goathland on the North Yorkshire Moors Railway, photographed last year)

[tag-tag-reblog]

FISHTANK WEEK!

💛💚💛

💚💛💚

::::Emerges, zombie-like to reblog Fish Tank Week loveliness::::

This link will get you to everything I’ve found, whether original post or reblog, tagged with a variant on “FishTankWeek2024”

As before, all will have tag tag reblog tag as well as FishTankWeek2024 so feel free to filter if it’s not for you :)

[idontknowreallywhy]

Oh squiddy don’t cry, Virg has got you.

💚💛

Side note to query what on Earth Brains is up to…?!?

[anthemode]

Can't hide anything from big bro!

Another mini art for FishTank week. Yes I like the combination of whumpee Gordon and caretaker Virgil...

"Virg, I'm super fine! Let me go to the rescue!”

"Leave it to Scott and Alan. What you need now is a warm bed!"

[whatgaviiformes]

Ficlet: Stillness

A/N: for brothers relaxing, my second submission for FishTank Week. I'm not entirely happy with this one, and I may come back to it to make it better. For now - enjoy

Angst, btw

~*~*~*~*~

The pebble beach was as resonant as ever, water trickling over stone with an effervescent cascade towards the horizon and back again. At water’s edge, Virgil sat upon a larger boulder, his back to Tracy villa, and beside him was his ever reliable co-pilot, staring just as hard towards the place where the sky met the sea. They had found each other here, and Virgil had smiled as he settled in beside him with the same idea: Gordon in search of closure within the caress of life-giving ocean and Virgil on a mission of sound and seascape to erase the terrors lingering in his heart. 

This one hadn’t been kind to them. 

Tap, tap

“Gordon?” Virgil asked. “I mean this in the kindest way possible, but can you take just a minute to stop - for me please?”

Amidst foot-tapping, Gordon suddenly paused and studied him gently, before launching into a new rhythm with his fingers on his knee. “What are you talking about?”

“Ugh!” Virgil scrambled for the tapping hand, holding it like they once did as kids in effort not to lose each other. This time, it was to silence the energy. “Shhh!”

“But I wasn’t making any noise.”

“Just.” He sighed. “Shush, for a moment. This is supposed to be relaxing.” He released Gordon’s hand. 

The water was like breath, ebb and flow. Inhale exhale. And again.

Tap, tap tap.

“Gordon!” 

“Sorry! I don’t know what you want from me.” The younger man shrugged, the expression of “and I was here first” apparent, but unspoken. 

“I want you to be still for once!”

Virgil got his wish as Gordon clamped his lips tight, shifting to swing his arms around his knees in effort to keep his subconscious movements minimized. Finally in silence, Virgil closed his eyes, as he offered his memories to the tide. The stress coiled in his shoulders, pressing into his heart and stifling the movement of his lungs slowly eased, and in the waves he found his breath again. 

Expelled into tense silence. 

“Sorry, that was harsher than I meant it,” Virgil apologized. The figure beside him was stiff and still and vacant. “Are you ok?”

Gordon nodded mutedly, one hand clasping his opposite wrist, while his free fingers fluttered rhythm in the air, ghosting across his knee. The small position broke Virgil's heart. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, closing in to hug him around the shoulders. “I needed that.”

“I know.”

He squeezed harder; he wanted Gordon to feel how much he meant it.

 “Virgil, I-” 

“You what?” He released him part of the way leaving a hand on his shoulder in encouragement for him to look up as Gordon dropped his gaze back down to the waterline. 

“I-?” His voice was as quiet as a secret. “It’s not relaxing to me.”

“The quiet?”

“Yes? No?” 

“Gordon?”

“It’s the stillness, Virgil,” he admitted, resigned. “I don’t find being still all that relaxing. Would you?” he challenged. “If you were me?” 

His hurt thundered in Virgil’s ears. Not all of it from the present. Most of it was too recent to be considered distant-past, but too painful to be anything other than a time they used to know. A challenge once impossible, now overcome and part of history. It was all too easy for Virgil to focus on the here and now. Hell, most of the time Gordon was just as carefree about that too.

He would never take for granted Gordon’s perseverance. 

But he wasn’t the one still living it. And Gordon was good at secrets. Too good, especially with his own. 

“No, Gordon I would never -” Horrified, Virgil shook his head, miserable at the thought of what he’d said, what he’d implied. So far he feels from himself that he didn’t notice earlier, panicking at the knowledge that Gordon was only tight lipped until he wasn’t - until the thing he was holding close to his heart was impossible to ignore. “Is your back injured?!” 

“No.” Gordon shrugged him off, irritated. “No more than normal anyway.” 

“I’m sor-”

“Stop. I didn’t tell you to guilt you. For the record your worrying doesn’t help me relax either.” 

“So what does?” And this time when Gordon didn’t answer, Virgil got the message, quieting the questions stirring within him until Gordon was ready to share more, and at Gordon’s pace. 

After a beat, he shared, eyes empty as he stared out to sea. “Living. Laughing.” He glanced over at Virgil’s torn expression, “Days like this, I can’t,” his voice broke, “feel alive if I’m still. I just feel trapped.” 

“So move.” Virgil hopped up, careful of the water slick on the rock’s surface as he reached for Gordon’s hand to help him stand. “Here’s our music,” he said, gesturing to the rock and wind and bird call all around them.

Gordon flushed. “Are you sure? You won’t laugh?”

 It was just a sway with the seaspray in the shimmering light of the sun off the ocean, but it made Virgil’s heart dance.

“I feel stupid.”

“But you feel alive.”

“I do.”

“Then, keep dancing.”

[idontknowreallywhy]

FishTank Week Day 1 for prompt “Wingman”

This started silly and got sillier. I make no apology because I am horribly sleep deprived and writing anything at all under (self-imposed) prompt pressure is usually impossible so even nonsense is better than nothing 😂

Featuring my headcanon that Virg is not in the same drinking league as the military bros…

And also a terrible cheesy earworm.

💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛

Everybody’s lookin’ for that SOOOOMEEEETHIIIIIING…

Virgil’s forehead sank onto the bar and squelched slightly. One of the saturated green-and-yellow-striped spill mats (the very ones his little brother had insisted were A SIGN that this was the place they should spend their rare evening off) oozed stale beer into his eyebrows.

He’d been adamant, despite the fact the place’s kitchen was closed for renovation and was almost empty as a result..

In retrospect three handfuls of peanuts plus the many lime wedges from the many beers he had consumed were insufficient stomach lining for a night out with an ex-WASP. He wasn’t even a massive fan of pale lager, particularly not by the bucketload. But, again, Gordo had been militant about his theme and had been so adorably excited about the “little green ship in a big yellow glass! It’s us in opposite-se-sez-sies!”

Yeah that should probably have been their cue to go home.

Well to the hotel.

Which was sort of home. Temporary home? One-night home? Where was the hotel anyway? Had they booked one? He frowned and there was another distracting squelch.

Virgil sat himself up and tried to subtly wring out his eyebrows.

Ooof, may have poked himself in the eye a little there… he blinked rapidly.

The barmaid gave him a look and Virgil did his best effort at a charming grin straight out of the Scott Tracy handbook.

She did not appear charmed.

Damnit. Stupid dimples. Dimples was cheating.

The barmaid walked past and unsubtly removed the glass containing the last third of his 13th pint. 14th? What even was a pint anyway? Imperial measures made zero sense.

Wait! He waved frantically and she returned with a wary expression. Virgil inserted his index and middle finger into the glass and extracted the lime wedge before giving her a wonky thumbs up and dropping it on the bar.

He shrugged and ate it anyway. Interestingly they weren’t even sour anymore.

When you’ve found that special thiiiiiiing…

His brother had covered at least three keys in one line there.

Maybe Virgil should have saved the limes to cram into his ear canals?

He rested his elbow on the bar and propped his chin up on his first and tried to give his brother a Look that meant “stop torturing my ears and let’s go back… to wherever.”

Gordon winked at him theatrically and refused to understand the Look.

Realistically Virgil was sleeping here anyway.

Because his tiny little baby brother who frankly should still be sleeping in a cot and wearing diapers could apparently drink like a fish as well as swim like one and he was in no way done yet. And Virgil had to keep up because he was bigger and it was a matter of pride and he had to keep an eye on the fish. Because the fish was very precious.

A precious fishy idiot who Virgil couldn’t help but love.

A fishy idiot that was now doing his utmost to drive the few remaining customers from the bar by monopolising the karaoke machine.

A simple line can make you laaaaaaugh or cry

Ouch.

The annoying thing was that Gordon could sing. Properly. Well, actually. Virgil enjoyed listening on the rare occasion Gordon didn’t realise he was being overheard.

But he refused to do it when he was in public. Instead they got… this.

Virgil had to acknowledge it took some skill to deliberately remain that out of tune.

At least he’d moved on from the rapping. Virgil’s eye twitched. Some therapy would be required to recover from that.

Although the ballads were not much better - the combo of the twinkly synth string backing and a screeching squid was a match made in hades.

The music swelled and Gordon caught his eye, stood up from the stool he’d perched on, boy band style, and pointed a slightly wobbly finger at his big brother. Ah ha! He wasn’t invincible after all! He was beginning to succumb.

Virgil was jolted back into the present with the realisation Gordon had suddenly forgotten to sing out of tune:

You'll find it in the deepest friendship

The kind you cherish all your life

And when you know how much that means

You've found that special thing

You're flying without wiiiiings.

Virgil sniffed and cursed his drunken brain for being cheesy. Gordon grinned at him then turned to lead a group of middle aged ladies in a passionate and atonal rendition of the middle eight.

He was impossible. Irascible.

Completely idiotic half the time.

Not quite invincible enough for Virgil’s liking.

As he slid slowly off the barstool, Virgil smiled sappily and proudly told the barmaid that Gordy was HIS special thing.

[idontknowreallywhy]

💚💛

Reblogging this wonderful fishtank fluff for Fishtank week!

Dinosaur Bandaids

I am totally blaming thanking @womble1 for inspiring this one, with one little line from her Sweetapple Slice 8 fic.

Also many thanks to @gumnut-logic for the read-through and help with the piece that was missing.

CW for mentions of blood/bleeding (nothing gory)

Virgil fumbled the opening of the box, contents spilling to the floor as he attempted to grab what he needed with just one hand.  He cursed himself for his clumsiness.  Again.  It was clumsiness born of distraction that had necessitated the raiding of the little first aid kit to begin with.

Just a simple slip of the screwdriver and his left hand now had a nice bloody gouge in it.  Not deep, and not longer than a few millimetres, but bleeding profusely, and a little painful.  He had immediately wrapped a somewhat clean rag around his hand to staunch the bleeding while he fetched a bandaid to put over the wound.  Next stop would be the sink to clean the area before applying the sticky plaster.  If he was quick no one else would be any the wiser about his little mishap.

Of course, his hopes on that front were dashed as he bent to pick up the mess.

“Hey Virg!  Watch doin’?”  Gordon asked with mock innocence.

Virgil simply huffed in reply as Gordon scooped up the handful of little paper packets.

“Dinosaur bandaids, huh?”  A raised eyebrow to rival one of Virgil’s own was deployed, along with a knowing grin.  “Here, let me help.”

Plain beige sticking plasters were a rarity on Tracy Island.

The older residents of the villa would say it was because the Terrible Two had always demanded bright colours and fun designs on their wound dressings when they were little, and no one had ever bothered to change the habit during re-stocking purchases.

The Two in question would complain and say it was because said older residents had never admitted that the little ones were now adults.

There were some practical reasons too.  A brightly coloured sticky plaster that had fallen off while performing tasks like food preparation or some types of maintenance would be more easily visible than plain beige.

If Virgil was honest with himself he’d say the real reason was because they all sometimes needed the little mood lift the bright designs provided.  It was part of the magic ability bandaids had to make small injuries better.

Virgil allowed Gordon to take his hand and begin the process of cleaning and dressing the injury.  Once done, Gordon gently smoothed the sticky plaster’s edges down one last time before looking up and locking eyes with his big brother.

“There you go.  All better.  The dinosaurs will take care of that little scratch.”

Virgil matched his little brother’s smile and thanked him with a hug before returning the box of bandaids to their rightful place.

Long gone were the days when Gordon or Alan would come running to a big brother because of some perceived injury that was completely invisible.  The application of a blue bandaid covered in brightly coloured fish, or a black one with little red rockets, and a kiss to make it better was all it took to have a little brother smiling and running off to do more mischief.

Mom had done the same for the older boys when they had needed their bumps and scrapes tended.  And Dad and Grandma had done their share of both patching up, and sticky plaster purchasing.  There had never been boring beige ones as far back as Virgil could remember.  And there had often been a variety of sizes and shapes in the medicine cabinet.

The habit had stuck so fast (not unlike the plasters themselves) that it had even affected the restocking of the Thunderbirds. Plain bandaids in a variety of sizes and skin tones were carried in every kit and medbay, but there were almost equal numbers of the patterned ones in the larger first aid kits.

Offering an injured child a choice of dinosaurs or aeroplanes was sometimes just the right kind of distraction from the fear and confusion of whatever event they had just been through.  Virgil had even patched up a few beloved dolls and plushies with their own teddy bear plaster.

But, the novelty bandaids worked equally well on adults. 

There had been so many occasions when Virgil had treated a rescuee with only minor cuts and scrapes, but with the tell-tale tremble and haunted expression that prompted him to offer the choice of plain or patterned.  Without fail the glassy eyes would focus on the various designs, the tension in their bodies would ease and the bandaid magic would begin to take effect as they made their choice.

After all, when you’ve been through an event traumatic enough to require a Thunderbird to the rescue, doesn’t everyone deserve their very own superhero or fairy princess plaster to patch their wounds and lift their mood.

[alexthefly]

In honour of 💛FishTank💚 Week and this prompt - *Food on the Go* - please enjoy a little reblog snippet from Lone Star (which I promise I haven't abandoned, honest!)

***********

Thunderbird Two’s pre-flight routine was so familiar to him by now that Virgil didn’t even need to think about it. Which was unfortunate, because right now he was trying to consciously remember where he’d gotten to and drawing a blank.

“Gordon, will you please stop staring at me? You’re putting me off.”

He turned and glared at his co-pilot, who was scowling back at him from the rear of the cockpit.

“I can’t believe you did that.”

Virgil shrugged. “I was hungry.”

The scandalised look of betrayal on his little brother’s face was almost comical. “It was my last bar!

“Yeah,” he grunted, “You said.”

Repeatedly.

“It’s your own fault. I warned you last week that we were running low.”

“‘Running low’ is not ‘run out’,” grumbled Gordon, stalking to the front, “I was saving it.”

“You were not. You forgot it was here.”

“Did not!”

He scoffed. “Okay, fine then. Next time you want to ‘save’ something, save it on your own ‘bird. You leave snacks lying around my ship, you should expect them to get eaten.”

Gordon opened his mouth to argue, but then closed it again; instead he flopped into his seat and pouted dramatically. “I trusted you. You’re supposed to be the nice one.”

“I’ll try not to take that personally,” said John, his wry smile materialising in front of them from the console.

“Johnny!” Gordon sat upright, an immediate grin plastered across his face. “My new favourite brother! Please tell lunkhead over here that I’m not speaking to him.”

Virgil blinked. Lunkhead?

“Nope, tell him yourself. And don’t call me Johnny.”

The grin disappeared into a pout again. “But if I tell him... the not speaking… Ugh!” Gordon flung himself back into the chair with a whumph. “That’s it, I have no brothers!”

Virgil rolled his eyes. So much drama over one little snack!

John turned to face him, apparently totally indifferent to the threat of being disowned. “Could you please do something about him? I can hear his whining even with the comms off.”

“...I don’t whine,” muttered Gordon into his chest.

He always looked much younger when he sulked; so much harder to resist giving in to.

Virgil chuckled. “Okay, fine. But only because it’s you.”

He reached into one of a multitude of little cubbies around the console, pulled out two hidden celery crunch bars, and tossed them into Gordon’s lap. “Don’t say I never do anything for you.”

Gordon gave a little whoop of joy. “I knew you were holding out on me,” he exclaimed, falling on the snacks like a starving vulture.

“Yeah, well, don’t forget to chew,” replied Virgil. “I’m pretty tired, and the Heimlich takes effort, so…” An involuntary yawn cut off the end of his sentence as if to prove the point.

For a moment all was peaceful save for the sound of chewing.

[emtb319]

Day 4 of Fishtank week-prompts ‘we’re a team, always’ or ‘did you doubt me?’

Gordon didn’t like to sit still.  Even now, from the couch with his leg in a brace and all, he was trying to walk his biggest brother through the sea sludge that held the escape capsule.  He could hear Scott’s annoyance, but he had to do something to help them.  If only his body would heal faster.

After they successfully recovered the capsule, they busied themselves with its data.  Gordon found himself feeling left out again.  It was a lot of engineering speak to see if they could even recover the data, let alone see and interpret it.  The boredom of healing was only making it worse.

After a particularly restless night, he found himself sitting on a couch overlooking the pool.  He wanted to swim laps, but the braces wouldn’t allow for it.  So, he sat on the couch, stewing.  He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t hear Virgil come into the room or sit next to him.  It wasn’t until stuff was put in his hands did he realize that he wasn’t there alone.

‘We’re running low.  Purple or orange?,’ Virgil asked.

‘Huh?’ was the only response he could utter.

‘We’re running low on our little crochet animals for the kids.'

‘Oh,’ Gordon answered, finally realizing.  ‘Give me the purple please and that white.’  A few hours later, they had a nice handful of little crochet animals.  Virgil got up for a moment to get the stuffing that they’d need to finish them.

‘I know it’s been hard for you Gords.’  Gordon huffed at him.  How could he possibly understand how bad this was for him?  The sitting still, the boredom, watching his brothers go out there to help people while he stayed behind, useless.  Virgil handed him a bag of the stuffing.  ‘We’re a team, always, even if that looks a little different right now.’

‘A little different…Virgil you know that I can’t sit still.  This is driving me crazy.’

‘I know, I know.  I remember when Mom was pregnant with you.  Even then, you didn’t do still.  You used to drive the technicians crazy.  All they wanted to do was measure you, and on top of it all, you tried to make your grand escape, 11 weeks early.’  Gordon chuckled.

‘I remember the stories.  Isn’t there a picture somewhere of me blowing a kiss to my nurses?’

‘Yea, I’ll find it for you.  You still came early and small.  Not even an hour old, you were stealing everyone’s hearts.’  They kept working on their stuffed animals, until John called down.  Virgil and Scott were needed.

‘Go Virg.  Thank you for this, I really needed it.  I’ll have these done by the time you get back.’

‘Thanks Gords,’ Virgil said as he gathered the ones that were done to store in 2.  ‘We can always use more of these.’  Virgil took a moment to grasp his shoulder before leaving.  ‘It won’t be much longer.  You’ll be back in your seat on 2 as my co-pilot soon.  I promise.’

‘I know.  Now go before John starts to worry and be careful.’ ‘I will.’