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tracybirds · 1 year ago

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I love Christmas time, and I am writing allllll the fic for it :D Here be the start of the main thing I've been working on! Many thanks to @gumnut-logic for reading through! I hope you're all having a very happy end to your year with love and laughter and good cheer <3

[Day 1 - you are here] | [Day 2] | [Day 3]

Five Days Where Christmas Didn't Seem To Go As Planned

Day One

The villa had been in a state of disarray for weeks in the lead up to Christmas. Rescues didn’t stop for any holiday, and with half the world flocking to ski resorts and snowboarding towns, International Rescue had been kept busy.

Scott hardly minded though, not that now the Christmas decorations were finally up. He checked the date on his comm and smiled. With record time to enjoy it too, it would seem.

Festive streamers hung from the ceiling; red, white and green, matching the candy canes and other sweet treats Gordon had scattered around the room. Scott could even see a few tell-tale stripes of peppermint added to the Christmas tree that Kayo and Alan had chosen. Reportedly, they’d fussed and argued for over three hours over the height, the bushiness and finding that perfect shade of green.

Scott was only grateful that John had called him away moments before the family left the island to make the big decision.

Tinsel and matching ornaments hung on its branches, that Virgil had arranged and rearranged by until the perfect balance between eye-catching sparkle and soft greenery had been found.

Along the walls were Brains and John’s contribution; flickering holograms of stars, trees, bursts of holly, reindeer – a projection of a perfect Christmas scene straight out of a storybook. Scott couldn’t help but grin to see a new style of hologram had joined them. It was EOS’s first attempt and although clumsy in comparison, the geometric patterns she’d coded and brought to life held a joy of her very own.

Central to the design were the Christmas stockings, neatly attached to the fire well. Even Lady Penelope and Parker had one, ready and waiting for Christmas morning when they would join the family.

The decorations brought a warm glow that enveloped the villa, and Scott stepped back, surveying the living room with a critical eye.

“It looks great, Scott,” said Jeff, looking almost as pleased as Scott felt. “Much nicer than the chicken scratch I had to make do with out there.”

Scott felt his smile grow fixed, the air catching in his lungs at Jeff’s offhand mention of his long ordeal in space. For the first few months, no-one had dared reference the Oort Cloud at all, tiptoeing around the subject until Jeff had put his foot down. Despite the nonchalance, Scott had noticed his father was reluctant to speak of the place directly and he couldn’t help but imagine the endless dark that had accompanied Jeff.

“Thanks, Dad,” he said, forcing himself to speak. “I... well, thanks.”

Jeff looked at him closely.

“You did a good job,” he said slowly. “You’ve done a good job…”

He trailed off, as he often did nowadays, his eyes sliding off Scott and far away. Scott followed his gaze to the window, out beyond the watery pool lights and into the night.

Jeff shook himself slightly, his eyes refocused on the room in front of him again. “Sorry, Scott, got lost in my own head again,” he said. His brusque tone dismissed any attempt of concern, but did nothing to ease the turbulence in Scott’s own mind.

Jeff turned abruptly, and began to stride out of the room. He paused only once, his fingers resting lightly on the string of Christmas lights near the door.

“Do you remember those lights from when you were small? How strange that even Christmas lights are completely different.”

Then he left before Scott could say a word.

Scott gaped, his mind racing.

It seemed no matter how fast he turned things over in his mind, it wasn’t enough, his thoughts kept getting swallowed by the inky black that nearly swallowed him if it hadn’t been for his dad, and no-one was there to catch his dad for all those eight years, but Scott could do this now for him.

He didn’t really remember putting through the call to John but something must have convinced him because a few short minutes later he was flying over the Pacific.

The trip to the ranch and back went smoothly, and an hour later, Scott held his prize in his hands. He lugged the old box back up to the living room, smiling at the imperfect crafts that had served as their family Christmas decorations of yesteryear.

The pine cones dipped in silver and gold he placed in a bowl in the centre of the coffee table, the reindeer made of clothes pegs he propped up around them. There were paper snowflakes and popcorn kernels in a jar with some needles and thread, there was colourful card for the annual paper chain competition, there were woollen ornaments that Scott could remember his mother making with her friends on the cold, dark winter nights when Jeff was travelling to a new world. There was even an old Advent calendar in the shape of a tree that their Grandpa had made, numbers carved by hand into each wooden box.

And right at the bottom, wrapped up in a neat coil were the Christmas lights they’d hung over the fireplace.

A whiff of stale cinnamon and pine floated from the box and Scott staggered slightly, for a moment six years old on the other side of the globe. The lights were soft and warm, the long bulbs twisting over each other and twinkling brightly in the night. The long December nights were no more, not in this part of the world, but Scott still remembered how endless it felt, how the sharp, cold of daytime was never enough to push back the darkness.

It was nothing next to the endless nothing of the universe, but the Christmas lights had helped, and Scott knew that they’d help now. He found an old extension cord, scrabbling behind the sofas for the nearest power point and plugged them in.

Nothing happened.

Scott’s face fell.

Of course, the box had been jostled so often over the years, of course one of the bulbs had fallen out of alignment.

He sat down with a sigh, his back against his father’s desk, and began to check for loose bulbs.

“Now those, I haven’t seen in a long while,” said Grandma Tracy quietly, and Scott jumped.

“Grandma!”

“Oh hush, you’re halfway under Jeff’s desk. I can’t help sneaking up if you’re the one hiding.”

“I’m not hiding,” said Scott defensively.

“Then what are you doing, kid? And where’d you find these old things anyway?”

“At the ranch.”

Grandma Tracy paused for a moment, then slid to the ground next to him. Without a word, she untangled the other end of the coil and began to methodically check the lights with him.

“You’d better hope that’s all it is, a loose bulb,” she said. “If one’s blown, I’m not sure they make this kind anymore. It’s all LEDs and the like these days.”

“We’d make it work. Brains could solder the ends of something.”

“Hmm,” was all she said.

Together they worked in silence, one step closer with every twist.

“What made you go and get these, Scott?”

He shrugged. “Dad liked the decorations.”

“He didn’t like the new ones?”

“No, no he said it looked good.”

“He liked what you had, so you had to race off to get the old ones? We all noticed One dashing off, and you’re saying it was just for these old things? Tell me why that doesn’t add up, kid.”

Scott flushed. “There wasn’t any reason, I just wondered if we had more lights.”

“That’s a reason. Why’d you think we need more lights?”

His hands stilled.

“Dad mentioned the Oort,” he said, bracing himself for her response.

Grandma Tracy looked at him, her eyes searching for something in his expression. Scott didn’t know what, indeed hardly recognised the flash that was less than fear and more than mere concern that shot through him when he remember those long dark years without their Dad.

“I see,” she said. “Did he say anything else?”

She was cautious now, not willing to initiate discussion on anything his dad might have kept confidential, and Scott understood that, he did, he did, and yet…

“He won’t talk to me about it,” he said, the words dull in his mouth. “He doesn’t trust me, I know that.”

Grandma Tracy clucked her tongue and reached out to gently smack him. “Get that thought right out of your head, Scott Tracy. Your father’s done his best to keep that boundary in place for a reason. He’s not fool enough to rely on you for this, not after what happened when your mother died.”

Scott ducked his head, suddenly very interested in the lights that ran through his fingertips. He felt just as helpless as he did all those years ago, that first, long Christmas without their Dad.

“I just wanted to push the dark away. I keep imagining it, all those years without the sun…”

He broke off with a shudder, wrapping his arms around him tightly.

Grandma Tracy tugged him close, rubbing soothing circles as she held him.

“Now, Scott, don’t go inventing trouble when you’ve already got plenty of your own,” she said softly. “You’re going to have to trust me, and your father for that matter. We’ve got things handled.”

“But,” he began, but she shook her head.

“No ‘buts’, this one isn’t on you, kiddo. Your only job is to enjoy that we got our own Christmas miracle this year. He’s home, and he’s not going anywhere for a long while yet.”

Scott let out a slow, even breath. His hands uncurled, and he reached once more for the Christmas lights.

“He’s really here, isn’t he?” he asked, eyes on the bulbs.

Suddenly, the whole string lit up, red and yellow and blue and green, glowing orbs that trembled as he lifted the lights with a smile.

Grandma Tracy gripped his shoulder tightly, her eyes shining in the dancing light.

“He really is.”

[Continue to Day Two]

#scott tracy #jeff tracy #grandma tracy #thunderbirds are go #sometimes i fic #i have debated back and forth about posting bc the fic is not exactly.... finished lol #but it's not far off and I'm excited for it #so I am sharing <3 #fanfic 🥰#scott 💙#grandma 💜#jeff 🚀#thunderbirds #collected works (mine)#🎄🎄🎄#family feels #2015

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tracybirds · 1 year ago

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I know I said this yesterday but it's beginning to feel like Christmas for real with my Sydney family having arrived! I was SO happy to see them last night and we're hanging out all day today and I haven't seen them since before covid so this is the most special thing!! Thank you to @gumnut-logic for reading through the first part of it, although I must admit to running wild this morning with the last part so any weirdness there you can blame squarely on me haha <3

[Day 1] | [Day 2] | [Day 3 - you are here]

Five Days Where Christmas Didn't Seem To Go As Planned

Day Three

Gordon shoved Alan’s shoulder roughly as he walked past, causing Alan to yelp as he overbalanced, nearly falling out of the chair.

“Gordon, play nicely,” said Virgil, frowning.

Typically, Gordon ignored him, tapping his brother’s cheek.

Alan groaned. It had been a long night, called out in the early evening only to return home as the sun peeked over the horizon once more.

“It’s comfy here,” he muttered, turning to nestle his cheek into the curved edge of the chair.

“Yeah, sure bud,” said Gordon, rolling his eyes. “Come on, let’s go Al, those showers have our names on ‘em.”

Virgil yawned.

“I can carry you if you like,” he offered, perfectly earnest.

Alan’s eyes flew open. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he grumbled. “Kayo laughed at me for a week the last time, don’t you dare pick me up.”

He dragged himself across the cockpit, staring blankly into thin air in a daze. Preoccupied with the thought of a hot shower and a morning nap with the sea breeze flowing through with windows, he hardly noticed the figure waiting for them impatiently as the hydraulic lift lowered them into the hangar.

“Scott?” asked Virgil, and Alan snapped back to attention. He’d expected Scott to vanish long before Two made it back to Tracy Island, with no issues that arose during the mission and debrief scheduled for later that day.

Freshly focused, Alan could tell that something wasn’t right, enough that Scott had waited for them and was now speaking urgently to them all. Alan blinked, trying to shape the sounds into words, and it was only when he yawned widely and his ear popped that things fell into place.

“I just needed to head you off before you head upstairs,” said Scott, looking mildly disgusted. “I got out of the elevator and had to come straight back down, it was only luck that she didn’t spot me.”

“Well, we’re all experts in hiding from Grandma and her baking now,” said Gordon, grinning. “Hey Virg, let’s go crash in Brains’ rooms, he’s been wanting to marathon those old school scifi-horrors.” He wriggled his fingers at Virgil. “Oooh, I’m a space alien here to take over your mind. Go forth, do my laundry for a week.”

“He’ll uninvite you if you’re going to be annoying about it,” said Virgil, with a long-suffering sigh. “Thanks for the warning, Scott. We’ll stay low for a few hours.”

Alan, meanwhile, was thinking hard.

He swayed a little, fighting the temptation to close his eyes, searching every scrap of memory, because something about what Scott was describing sounded uncomfortably close to home.

“Grandma’s been baking?”

Scott and Virgil exchanged a glance.

“Keep up, Al,” said Gordon impatiently.

Only Alan had one piece of information that his brothers didn’t.

When the siren had gone off and they’d gathered in the living room, Alan had been baking cookies for Christmas. He’d meant for it to be a surprise.

And he’d turned the oven off, he was sure of it, even through a distorted haze of exhaustion, he could remember the temperature dial spinning under his fingers before he raced upstairs, but maybe it hadn’t gone all the way and even as they’d flown out, his cookies were slowly starting to brown, then blacken into a crisp.

He could have burnt the house down.

He sat down suddenly, right there on the floor.

“Alan!” cried three voices, and he batted them away.

“You’ve gone white as a sheet,” said Virgil, frowning as he crouched next to him. He reached out a hand, feeling for his forehead and Alan rolled his eyes.

“Get off me, I’m just tired,” he said, feeling slightly sick. He couldn’t let them find out, he needed to get out of here.

“Look, Grandma won’t ambush me like this, she’ll just want me in bed. Which is where I want to be too, so if you guys want to hide away instead, be my guest.”

He wasn’t even lying, and he rubbed at the grit forming in his eyes, allowing a yawn to take over his entire body.

“I’ll take you,” said Scott reluctantly, and Alan felt a twinge of irritation twitching below his eye.

“You don’t need to escort me,” he snapped, getting back to his feet. “I can manage it.”

He scowled at each of them, putting as much fierceness into the glare as he could.

For a second, he thought Scott and Virgil would continue to argue, but Gordon leapt in before they had the chance.

“You guys promised you’d treat him like an adult when he’s wearing the uniform,” he reminded them. “Are either of you going to start volunteering to be supervised in the shower and tucked in tight? I’ll do it, I don’t care.”

Alan shot Gordon a grateful look.

“I’m going to bed then,” said Alan, and he spun on his heel and walked slowly and calmly towards the elevator door.

That is to say, he bolted.

When the doors next opened, Alan found Scott hadn’t been kidding about the smell, the smoke still evident despite the air being cleared.

He ran down the steps two at a time, holding his breath as he skidded into the kitchen.

Kayo looked up from the magazine she’d been reading and put it aside.

“So,” she said. “These are yours. I’m assuming they’re not chocolate.”

She swung around a plate of dark brown cookies, burnt black where the butter had melted onto the tray while baking.

Alan collapsed onto the barstool next to her.

“Is it bad?”

Kayo shrugged. “They’re just burnt. Nothing major.” She grinned, her eyes sharp and mischievous. “I saw Scott making his escape earlier. Did he come down to warn you all away?”

Alan could only nod miserably.

“Do you think it’s genetic?” he asked. “I just wanted to do something nice.”

“The only thing you did wrong was not pull the tray from the oven when you turned it off,” Kayo said cheerfully. She chose one of the cookies and neatly broke it in half. “See? They’re not burnt burnt, they’re just a tad overdone. I spotted them when Grandma was preheating the oven earlier and rescued them for you.”

Alan lifted his head, hope stirring in his chest. “So, the smoke?”

“Oh, that was all Grandma.” She bit into the end of the cookie and pulled a face. “These aren’t that great either, if I’m being honest.”

“Well, thanks,” said Alan, feeling stung. He yawned. “I suppose we should just chuck them then.”

“We can probably save them for something,” said Kayo. “Make them into ornaments or something.”

She jostled his shoulder. “What’s up though, Al? You didn’t come racing up here because of bad biscuits.”

“I kinda did,” said Alan. “I dunno, I thought maybe a fire had started. Like if something went wrong here, it’d be all my fault.” He yawned again. “I guess that seems silly.”

Kayo slung an arm around him, pulling him into a hug.

“We can handle your mistakes, Alan. Best part of being one of the youngest is everyone else has already made them and they’ll help you out. It’s not all on you.”

“Does that mean the others have all nearly burnt the house down?”

She grinned down at him. “Oh, the stories I could tell if I weren’t sworn to secrecy.”

Alan grinned back, a spark of mischief shaking off the bleariness momentarily. “I can keep a secret. Was it Virgil? John?”

“You’re getting nothing out of me,” said Kayo with a laugh. “Go to bed, Alan. We’ll fix these when you can sit in that chair without falling onto your face.”

He slipped down from the stool and stumbled, the sway of exhaustion rushing up to meet him once more.

“I might need a little help,” he admitted. “Promise you won’t tell Scott?”

Kayo mimed locking her lips and smiled at him, fond and warm.

“I promise.”