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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years ago

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Hello! I hope I'm not too late 👉👈

The angst wheel said: bruised ribs + bathroom, with John please ^_^

No Escape

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: John, Scott

Not too late at all! My askbox is always open for prompts, and I get around to all of them eventually! It just takes me a little while sometimes.

Now then... John’s turn in the firing line, apparently? Muses are jumping a little at good old Skyhook for this, so we’ll see how that pans out...

A certain smother brother decided to jump in, apparently.

Spin the wheel of whump and give me a character!

Ow.

Fischler was finally gone, off his space station and headed back to planet Earth, where he would remain forever more, and John was finally free to address whatever damage had been done to his ribs by Thunderbird Five’s rather ridiculous stunt. Not that a certain big brother could really comment, when he did worse on the regular, but John had been very careful not to let slip that despite his reinforced space suit, his ribs killed.

It was only in the safety of Thunderbird Five’s miniscule bathroom, cut off from both EOS’ prying camera eyes and anyone else who might try and check up on him on the sly, that John could safely relax and strip off his uniform.

While he had no intentions of worrying his family any more than strictly necessary, he also refused to emulate certain brothers’ stupidity and disregard for their own health. A cursory glance in the mirror showed that everything looked fine, with no lumps and bumps where there shouldn’t be, which gave John some hope that he really was mostly fine and there would be no need to contact his family.

The scan, taken by a little handheld thing he might have at some point disconnected from the main network so Tracy Island couldn’t access the results, confirmed no lasting or dangerous damage. It was going to smart for a few days, and he should probably keep Thunderbird Five at 1G for a while to give his body the optimum physical conditions under which to repair itself - even if he wasn’t particularly enamoured with the idea - but there was nothing that wouldn’t recover just fine without medical attention.

No need to inform his family. Perfect.

John retrieved some painkillers and swallowed them dry, before shrugging his spacesuit back on and letting it seal, vacuum-tight, against his skin again. Satisfied that everything was as it should be, he opened the door to return to EOS, and family-observable areas.

Only to collide with a solid chest.

“Wha-?”

A glance showed the large red shape of Thunderbird Three docked, despite him receiving no indication that she was even launching - and indeed, with a damaged engine, she shouldn’t have - but Alan’s rocket wasn’t the concern right then.

That dubious honour went to the big brother standing in front of the bathroom door, arms crossed and sharp blue eyes pinning him like something under a microscope. John had seen that look before. John had been on the receiving end of that look before. He knew exactly what was coming, but that didn’t mean he was going to meekly obey.

“I’m fine,” he said, short and curt. “Go home, Scott.”

“Grandma will be the judge of that,” his brother said, arms still crossed and body language broadcasting a mix of commander and worried big brother in that unique way Scott had. “You’re grounded until she says otherwise.”

Over the years, Scott had got very good at balancing the commander-big brother mix so that the right bit dominated at the right moment. Those words were commander, and something John couldn’t actually ignore - even though he wanted to.

“I ran a scan,” he said, because he could still make his point, even though it would be ultimately futile. He even offered the results up without prompting, and watched as Scott absorbed the information.

Scott’s shoulders slumped a little, big brother coming to the fore and being at least partially pacified by the proof that he wasn’t about to somehow drop dead, but there was no rescinding of the order. “Come on, spaceman,” he said, stepping to the side. He didn’t touch him, although the desire clearly crossed his mind, but John still found himself herded towards the airlock and the waiting Thunderbird. “Let’s get you home.”

Alan, unsurprisingly, was in the cockpit, and gave him a bright smile. Seeing no reason to worry this little brother beyond whatever he’d adsorbed via osmosis off of Scott on the journey up, John returned it with his own reassuring smile and made a beeline for his rightful place in the co-pilot chair.

Scott made an aborted move to stop him, big brother never liking being deposed from shotgun, but John raised a single eyebrow in his direction. Alan expected him to co-pilot, because he was the other IR astronaut and therefore trumped any and all hotshot pilots, even if one of them was their big brother and commander. If he gave up the seat to Scott, their little brother was going to worry.

Watching Scott silently concede the point and slink his way into the passenger seat was satisfying, and also a little reassuring - if Scott was seriously concerned about him, worrying Alan would have been considered a necessary sacrifice.

“Everyone ready?” Alan asked once he was settled, harness pulled down securely.

“We’re ready, Alan,” Scott replied, blue eyes daring John to disagree when he looked back at his brother. “Take us home.”

“F.A.B.”

John watched the giant grappling arms disengage from his Thunderbird and then they were floating away, leaving her suspended in orbit, empty of all human habitation.

He’d be back soon. Just as soon as Grandma gave him the all-clear and Scott stopped smothering.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #john tracy #scott tracy #alan tracy #drabbles #thunderwhump #thunderfluff #the-futuristicstarchild #behind the scenes

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