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tracybirds · 2 years ago

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So @squiddokiddo and I got to chatting about aroace Gords bc it's super fun to play with and thus a fic was born :D

This be fic no.2 to say happy birthday Gords and a big thank you to Squiddo for both reading over said fic and for making a wonderful piece of artwork that accompanies it <;3

Enjoy and hope you're having a lovely day celebrating Gords, celebrating your family and friends and however else you like to love those around you!

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There was a certain irony to the day, Gordon knew that. People had expectations about your love life when you were born on Valentine’s Day after all and sometimes it felt like he’d never escape it. It grew tiring explaining over and over that romance had never really clicked for him, having to endure the same reassurances he’d never asked for again and again and again.

It was easier if he just treated it like the great joke of his life, eyes brimming over with mirth when he told people.

“Yeah, Valentine’s Day. I know right! But think about it – right? – the day was already stuffed to the brim with romance, they’d run out by the time it came to giving me some attraction, you know?”

Laughing about it, laughing at it gave him a certain power over the day and one he’d happily exploit.

It didn’t hurt that any new partner in romance that joined their family soon learnt that there was no such thing as Valentine’s Day in the Tracy household, his family binding around him to celebrate a much more important occasion in Gordon’s entirely unbiased opinion.

His birthday gave him a chance to focus on all the people in his life that he loved, no need to create a meaningless hierarchy of relationship.

Still, there was something about Valentine’s that appealed to Gordon, an expectant pause as the world held their breath and believed (just a little more than usual) in love.

He could get behind that at least, even if the whole romance thing didn’t really sit right.

Much more important, in his opinion, was the ever-enduring holiday tradition of making garish homemade cards for all his friends just in case they needed a Gordon Original to remind them of his love.

Gordy was the name and gaudy was the game.

He looked down at the stack of cards he’d made already – an explosion of reds and pinks and paper snowflakes cut into hearts – and narrowed his eyes.

The gold lettering had been a nice touch but really, he knew he needed more sparkle.

“Virgil!” he yelled, darting from the kitchen table and racing the steps two at a time.

His socks slid across the slick floor, sending him careening into the wall more that once before he burst into his brother’s studio.

“Virg, I need your glitter glue, it’s an emergency.”

“Would it kill you to knock,” grumbled Virgil good-naturedly, still poring over his own artwork, not sounding remotely surprised to see Gordon.

“The door was open,” said Gordon with a shrug. “That means you’re available.”

“Not for ‘glitter-glue’ emergencies, I’m not. You’ll have to wait.”

Virgil’s words began to trail off even as he spoke, a deep frown line evident between his brows.

Suddenly he looked up, frowning for a new reason.

“I’m sorry, ‘glitter-glue’?”

“For my valentine cards,” said Gordon impatiently. “Kayo said she and Grandma were flying to the mainland tomorrow morning so long as there weren’t any rescues going and…”

“And it’s already ten p.m. Gordon,” said Virgil with a groan.

“Virgil, please!” squeaked Gordon, hopping up and down on one foot. “I know I’ve left it late, but I didn’t mean to – there was that caving group in Mexico, then there were the seamount explorers last week, and that lab, what was going on there did we ever find out?”

“No, we did not,” said Virgil.

He stood and stretched, his joints cracking loudly as he yawned and peered around the dimly lit room.

“Alright, I’ll go find it, just don’t touch anything.”

“Red or pink if you’ve got it,” called Gordon, but Virgil had already disappeared into the towering storage that held his art supplies.

He looked around the room more out of habit than curiosity, taking in the neatly stacked canvases and the bright floral arrangement at the centre of the room. Virgil had clearly been working it into one of his larger pieces; scattered papers displayed pencil sketches of the bouquet from a variety of angles and now that Gordon was looking for them, he could see glimpses of the flowers all around the room.

Gently he tugged the thick card Virgil had been working on towards him and his eyes widened to see the delicate and crinkled petals of roses beautifully displayed before him in dreamy watercolour.

“I thought I said not to touch anything,” came Virgil’s voice from behind him and Gordon spun on his heel, trying not to look guilty.

Virgil looked more exasperated than angry however, as he handed the supplies over, and Gordon felt himself relax.

“Sorry,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards in a sheepish grin. “They’re beautiful. Almost alive.”

Virgil said nothing, only cocked his head to one side as he assessed the work himself.

“Almost,” he said at last. “But not quite.”

“Well the day your painting resurrects someone, let me know. I reckon we could make good money out of that.”

Virgil didn’t crack a smile, barely seeming to listen the Gordon.

He was beginning to feel awkward, glitter-glue in his hands – red and pink as he’d requested and more colours besides.

The urgency of his own task beckoned but still, he couldn’t help but linger.

“When did you pick up watercolour again?” he asked, trying to prod his brother into conversation.

“I’ve been taking some classes,” said Virgil, quietly. “Online, at your own pace.”

“Ooh, that sounds like fun,” said Gordon. “Do they have live get-togethers at all?”

There was a beat of silence that stretched out just long enough for Gordon to sit up and pay attention.

The slight uptick in breathing, the distinct pink undertones to his skin, the way his brother’s eyes slid down and avoided his gaze.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Who are they?” said Gordon, only too delighted to have something to weasel out of him. “Go on, what’s their name? What have you talked about? Do they know you’re an internationally recognised hero who could sweep them off their feet?”

“It’s none of your business, Gordon,” groaned Virgil, burying his face in his hands.

“It is too my business,” he retorted. “We need a new relationship to root for, none of you’ve been dating anyone for months and I need something to gossip about with Grandma.”

“Well, you can keep your mouth shut for now, I’m not telling you anything until I’ve had a chance to talk to the guy.”

“Oh, so it’s a guy,” said Gordon, cackling in delight. “Someone artsy, likes working with his hands maybe, has a good appreciation for nature, perhaps?”

“Oh, yeah right, like you could know any of that.”

Gordon reached down and tapped the watercolour card.

“You’re painting him flowers Virg, and you clearly care that they’re the best you can do.”

He grinned suddenly. “Plus, I know your type.”

“And you can leave now," announced Virgil, his cheeks burning as he pushed Gordon out of the room. “Go make your friends their cards.”

“Thanks Virgil,” called Gordon, waving the glitter-glue as the door was promptly shut in his face.

He grinned and opened his comm.

“Hey, Grandma? Want to help me make my Valentines?”

“If that means you have dirt on your brothers, then say no more kid.”

#gordon tracy #virgil tracy #thunderbirds are go #a very happy birthday to he :D #sometimes i fic

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vintage-squid · 5 years ago

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Oh How They Gay-ze Upon Him

Summary: Have you ever seen someone so stunning, so gorgeous, that they took your breath away and cradled your very heart with their smile? Patton, Roman, Virgil, and Dee have, and they're lucky to call that someone their boyfriend.

Pairing: DLAMP Warnings: kissing, swearing, one innuendo On AO3

Indulgent Logan-loving fluff for my squiddos on discord - specifically @blinksinbewilderment ^3^

(Logan’s dress, and the inspo for this fic <3)

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The odd group of five had become a staple in the cafe’s reading nook on Sunday afternoons, after the lunch rush and before the evening close. The group would sweep inside, a whirlwind of energy and smiles as they elbow-nudged one another out of the way for the right to cover the others’ drinks that week. Hot chocolate, teas, and caffeinated warmth, some made the same choice, some chose a new flavour palette each time. One never spoke to the baristas, but his order was never missed. Drinks in hand, occasionally accompanied by baked goods from the display case, the group moved as one to their corner of multicoloured bean bag chairs, cushions, and a pair of comfortably broken in love seats. Laughter, chatter, flirty banter and squawks of indignation - it followed them like a rambunctious pup at their heels. Flopping into their favourite spots and snuggling in, the group let themselves unwind together, enjoying their treats and the company of their love.

This week, Logan had brought along the murder mystery he was close to finishing, too excited for the climax of the plot to leave the book at home. The skirt of his dress (a birthday gift he adored for its chemistry lab pattern and the texture of its fabric) flared around his knees as he wiggled himself into the cradle of a large floor cushion, the “impractical” seating he chose every time they came here. His flats were discarded in favour of the thick reading socks (another gift, this one practical for downtime and comfortable to wear) he had carried in his messenger bag, feet now cozy and tucked beneath his bum so he could begin to read. He let the voices of his boyfriends soothe over him as he was enveloped once more by the wiles of Sherlock, uncaring of the loose hairs sliding free from the pen that had kept them in place in a smart bun as he leaned forward in suspense.

So caught up in the tales of his favourite detective, Logan didn’t notice the lull in conversation as his boyfriends stared at him with hearts in their eyes. He didn't notice as his nose unconsciously buried itself closer to the pages, his ankles crossing, his body tensing. If he had been more aware of his surroundings, he definitely wouldn’t be biting his lip. But Logan was gone to the world, riveted as he turned the page.

Roman made a sound from the back of his throat as he watched on, but Virgil, already tucked against his side on the couch, snapped a hand up to cover his mouth. “Don’t you dare ruin this,” he muttered lowly, unable to look away from their normally stoic Logan letting go of his control to thoroughly enjoy his novel.

Patton had been dozing with his head in Dee’s lap as the other played with his hair, but was jolted awake when Virgil accidentally kicked out in his lunge to muffle Roman. He blinked his eyes open, rubbing a hand under his glasses, only to be greeted by the sight of an angel.

Oh, it was Logan.

...

Same thing.

And Logan, their dear, gorgeous Logan, was unaware of anything other than the impending reveal of the murderer - which he had deduced correctly in the fifth chapter! Cheering aloud, he pumped a fist in the air with a wide grin, glasses knocked askew in his excitement. Adjusting the frames, he finally glanced up to see the others staring at him.

Clearing his throat, he shifted in his seat, a soft blush dusting his olive skin. “Is there something on my face?”

Dee hummed, “Just a little bit, right here-” Leaning around his lap full of Patton, he pressed a sweet kiss to Logan’s cheek, leaving a lip print from his dark lipstick.

The blush that darkened Logan’s cheeks now coloured over his nose and up to the tips of his ears as well. His boyfriends collectively sighed, smitten with this Greek god that was theirs - fitting, considering their true love hailed from Greece.

“Yes, well,” Logan cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses again, despite their already settled position on his nose. “I think you missed.” Shifting to keep his page with one finger held between the pages, he leaned forward to gently take Dee’s chin with his other hand and tilt him up to plant a kiss sweeter than Patton’s smile on his lips.

“Much better,” he whispered, caressing Dee’s jawline with his thumb. The rest of the group blinked, dazed and smitten, as Logan leaned back from the kiss with a pleased grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Oh? I don’t believe I’ve seen you so speechless before, my darling snake,” he all but purred.

“Holy fuck that was smooth, L,” Virgil gaped.

“Language!”

“Of romance!” Roman called back to Patton’s scolding, throwing a lopsided grin at their puffball of a boyfriend.

“Well,” Logan's grin smoothed with his calm self confidence, “Someone has to keep you all in line, and I have discovered there are much better ways to be occupying your mouths than with inane banter.”

The temperature in their corner of the cafe jumped a few degrees. Virgil gaped wordlessly while Roman let out a strangled noise and buried his face into the back of the emo’s shoulder. Dee and Patton, who were closest to ground zero, were faring no better. Pat had hidden his face into his palms and squealed, his hands unable to hide the wide grin covering his face. Dee was the definition of disaster gay, face still cradled by Logan’s gentle touch, mouth dropped open and pupils blown wide. He was also the quickest to recover, shock dropping into a smirk as he shook his head.

“You are unbelievable,” Dee murmured, leaning up for another peck.

“No, I am Logan." He cocked his head to the side. "And also hungry; what time is it?”

“Hi hungry, I’m dad!” Patton popped up from Dee’s lap, hair in disarray as he smiled proudly at Logan’s groan.

A chuckle sounded from over their heads. “Alright buttercup, enough harassing our nerd; let’s head home and make some dinner.” Roman stood and stretched, bending to share a soft kiss with Patton before linking his fingers with Virgil’s.

“Nah, Patton is definitely Bubbles, not Buttercup. There’s not a mean bone in his body. Plus, blue is his favourite colour, it just works,” Virgil smirked, laying his head on Roman’s shoulder again while standing, unwilling to be parted from his warm pillow for a moment longer than he had to.

“Since when do you watch Powerpuff Girls?” Dee teased, rolling to a stand as well and lending a hand to both Patton and Logan.

Virgil shrugged a shoulder, a blush tinting his cheeks under his foundation. “Emile had it on the last time Remy and I were hanging out. It’s pretty chill to listen to while doing our nails.” His sheepish expression took on a sly air. “How did you know I was talking about the Powerpuff Girls?”

Before Dee could defend himself, Logan stepped in, flats on, book and socks safely in his bag. “This is exactly what I meant about inane banter.” He shook his head fondly, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, unable to stop himself from smiling at his group of dorks. “Come along, it’s Roman and Dee’s turn to cook, and I’m in the mood for nachos tonight.”

Four sweet kisses were then placed on their lips, and Logan turned around smartly with a flounce of his skirt, swaying his hips as he walked out the door, knowing his life’s truest loves were close behind.

#ts dlamp #romantic dlamp #sanders sides #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #deceit sanders #fanfiction #squid scribbles

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