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thcfountain · 4 months

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"When a fan wins a backstage pass to see BAD OMENS in concert, she ends up with more than she bargained for. A night of passion from her wildest fantasies ensues."

JOLLY KARLSSON X AFAB ORIGINAL CHARACTER (SHE/HER PRONOUNS) X NOAH SEBASTIAN.

threesome, reference to daddy kink, implied pre-established sexual relationship between Noah and Jolly, oral both male and female receiving, doggy style fuck. 3723 words.

banner by mikeykuns.

Her heart pounded with excitement - something it had also done a week prior when she had won a singular backstage pass for this show. She'd missed out on ticket sales - something not unheard of given that the ever-constant rise the band was on meant that ticket and merch sales were a battle royale based solely on luck to see who would actually manage it.

She, like many others, had not lucked out. Of course she was pleased for them when she heard they had managed to completely sell the venue out almost immediately but she was also disappointed to learn she would not be securing a ticket to the show. That was until the venue and a local radio station hosted a call-in contest. Become lucky caller number 9 and win a backstage pass to meet Bad Omens!

For once luck had been on her side.

Excitement and terror had created an unholy tincture in her chest and stomach the second she found herself face to face with the band as they readied themselves to go on stage from a backstage room as their opener played for the crowd.

Noah had, initially, seemed disinterested in her being there and although it dampened her mood for a quick moment, she decided to chalk it up to him preparing for the stage and the known fact that he was an introvert. His social battery probably hadn't been prepared to meet a strange fan backstage, even if he'd been forewarned of the contest.

Folio was the kindest, wrapping his arms around her in a bone crushing hug that erased all of the anxiety that Noah's reaction had caused inside of her. He told her that he was excited for her for winning and he hoped that she enjoyed the experience and she assured him that there was no way she could have a bad time.

Next had been Ruffilo and to her, he came across as a quiet, but perhaps secretly sage, older brother. He listened to her gush about her favorite song and about the contest while quietly giving her an encouraging smile - as if everything she had to say was immensely important and he wanted her to feel safe enough to spill her guts. Though realistically, he was probably riding a high too good to be bothered - the light scent of weed had definitely permeated the air between the two Nicks long before she'd arrived.

Last had been Jolly, who's eyes had lingered on her from the moment she walked in. His voice had been soft, practically whispering to her so she'd have to get close and lean in just to hear him. His remarks and then flittering touches against her arm and lower back had seemed flirtatious and she shook her head to dispel the notion. He probably acted like this towards everyone or she was putting too much into the interaction and being delusional.

It didn't help that Noah's demeanor towards her changed almost immediately when he took into account how Jolly acted. It was almost as if he'd been waiting for some unspoken cue from the older musician, waiting to see how Jolly reacted so he could copy. He became almost puppy-like in an instant, wrapping an arm across her shoulders and pulling her close so the three of them were huddled up together, as if in secret council. It didn't go unnoticed either the looks that Noah cast towards Jolly and she was hesitant to try and put meaning to them.

If she didn't know who they were, she might have assumed the two were a couple. If she weren't a fan, she might have taken the way they acted to mean they wanted to share her.

All too quickly she was released from the strange embrace as the band, one by one, left to go on stage.

Watching the performance from backstage was, undeniably, unforgettable. To hear them perform live was mesmerizing in a way she couldn't put proper words to and perhaps that was alright. The memory would live on in her head for years to come.

Jolly was the first to exit the stage and return. Covered in sweat from the performance he gave, he stalked straight towards her, a look in his eyes that made her think, for a second, that this is what it was like to be prey - to be hunted by a predator with one thing on his mind. His lips curled up in a smirk that made her think he could read her thoughts and as the distance closed between them, she struggled to find the words she wanted to say.

His hand wraps around her forearm, grip tight enough to show he has meaning but not so tight as to hurt her and he leans down just slightly as if to take her into secret council. Instinctively she leans up towards him, eyes searching his for some answer to a question not yet asked as his thumb rubs across her skin. Goose flesh raises in response and her mouth opens just slightly as if to question what's happening but she gets no chance to speak as Noah comes bounding in, interrupting the strangely intimate moment that had come and gone so quickly. Jolly's hand is removed from gripping her arm though he seems to give an apologetic smile for it.

Lifting the bottom of his black tank top, Noah brings it up to wipe sweat from his face, showing off his stomach for a moment before he gives Jolly a look that she's not sure how to decipher. “Did you ask?” he says to Joakim, speaking as if he hasn't noticed her presence.

“I was going to but someone rudely interrupted,” replies Jolly, a hint of amusement to his tone that makes Noah smile with, what seems to be, puppy like adoration. Jolly places his hand on Noah's chest, slowly trailing it upwards towards his neck, stopping short before he gets there. “I'm sure our little contest winner doesn't want to fuck you when you're sweaty,” eyes flicker down at her and the smirk returns. His words cause her breath to catch in her throat. “or when you're so desperate,” he continues and it was as if Noah's breath caught too.

“Um -” she stutters and stammers, not sure what to say and not sure if maybe she had just knocked herself out and was dreaming. “huh?” the word comes out, all question and confusion but she's not in the right mind to string together sentences because she's too scared that she's dreaming or somehow misinterpreting the situation.

“Dude they want to fuck you,” comes Folio's response from across the room and it's greeted by laughter from crew members who already could see what was going on.

Part of her wants to immediately say hell yes, to give into her wildest delusions for a night between Jolly and Noah but the other part of her feels conflicted - she wonders if they've mistaken her for some horny groupie, ready to fuck anyone holding an instrument. She forces herself to take a breath and let it out slowly. Her thoughts are a wild stream of do it and don't do it, all swirling around her head and making most thoughts feel cluttered.

“How about this,” Jolly's voice breaks through the panic of yes or no happening in her head, “we'll go check into our hotel and shower and you can decide in that time what you want to do.” It's clear even without him saying so that she won't be asked again. After tonight this offer won't make its way back around.

“We'd offer to take you to dinner first but the only thing open this late is probably Waffle House,” adds Noah, brown eyes looking her way.

“Okay,” she says, agreeing to Jolly's proposition but not sure where to go from there. “Should I go back to the hotel with you?”

There's a grin making its way onto his face, like he thinks she's one step closer to a yes. “If you'd like,” answers Jolly. “Everything is up to you, we would never make you do anything.”

So she nods her head, silently confirming that she'll go with them to the hotel. Never in her wildest dreams did she think this kind of thing would actually happen. Not to her at least - maybe to someone prettier or someone with a bigger social media presence or just … someone else.

The bus trip to the hotel is hectic. Somehow Matt puts her to work loading gear and although he doesn't say anything, she feels judged under his gaze, like he's sizing up whether or not she's actually good enough - even for a one night stand - with his friends. After everything is loaded and the bus packed, she finds herself almost forgotten on their bus as the boys talk about the show and the crowd and how close they are to heading home, given that they're on the last stop of the tour.

She has ample time to think, during those minutes to the hotel. Normally she might feel lonely, forgotten and ignored like this, but somehow she feels special. She knows the only reason she's not being given attention is due to the needed conversations happening now about hotel check ins and who in the band and crew would room with who and other such details. It felt interesting, to get such a personal view of how things happened behind the scenes, even with such mundane tasks.

Checking into the hotel seems to take them no time at all and before she knows it, she's sitting on a king sized bed, listening to the shower run in the bathroom. Jolly hadn't said much when he'd headed in to shower but Noah had giggled and immediately followed and she knew they were in there together.

‘Fuck it,’ she thinks, making the decision that she subconsciously knew she would. There would never be an opportunity like this again and so what if they thought she was just some band groupie? Before she can change her mind, she strips out of her clothes and leans back on the bed, against the pillows, hoping she makes for a sexy sight.

The shower shuts off and after a minute, the two musicians exit the bathroom, towels wrapped around their waists. She can't help but take in their tattooed bodies as one towel after the other drops to the floor when they take in the sight of her.

It's obvious who, of the two men, is in charge, as Noah follows Jolly's actions obediently, silently.

“If you change your mind at any point,” begins Jolly as he approaches the bed, leaning forwards and grabbing one of her ankles, “you can say so,” he finishes, letting her know that everything is up to choice. He rubs his thumb over her ankle, waiting for confirmation that she consents.

“Yes,” she whispers, followed by a “please,” and then when Jolly raises one brow at her, she adds “take me,” and he grabs her other ankle, pulling her down towards him. Her legs dangle over the edge of the bed and Jolly grins.

Fingers trail over her thighs and her focus is all on him, as if it's just the two of them. Hands slide up her thighs, over her hips and stomach, leaving goose bumps behind. She wonders what he has in plan for her and is pleasantly surprised when he cups her chin and leans down to kiss her.

A soft kiss that steals away her breath, leaving her wanting more and he obliges by running his tongue against the seam of her lips, wanting to deepen the kiss.

A little whine causes Jolly to break their kiss and chuckle as he looks over at Noah, who seems to be suffering from the lack of attention. “Needy,” accuses Jolly with a smile before getting up. He crooks a finger in a beckoning motion and Noah crosses the distance immediately. She sits up on her elbows, watching the way Jolly holds Noah's hips, pulling him close so that they can kiss.

Noah's arms wrap around Jolly's neck and soft sighs of content manage to escape him despite their kiss being all tongue and teeth. The sounds he makes causes a little quiver to curl up in her lower belly, that telltale sign of being turned on by what she sees. Her eyes take it all in - the obscene kiss, the way that Jolly's grip is tight enough on Noah's hips that it will surely bruise, the way that Noah seems to want there to be no space left between them.

As she watches them kiss, she places one of her own hands on her chest. Fingers trail over skin, circling her left breast with her right hand in an almost teasing motion. She knows what she likes better than these two men would - knows how to tease herself. The tips of her fingers brush over her nipple and although the hotel room is pleasantly warm, her nipples begin to harden under her own touch. With her left hand occupied with her breasts, the right trails down her stomach, coming to a stop at her cunt. Middle finger slides down, gliding gently, teasingly over her clit and then between her lips, feeling the slick that's begun to gather. Soft sighs escape her and she doesn't notice the way that Jolly and Noah have begun to watch her.

“Aren't you a tease?” Says Jolly, voice bringing her back to the present and she only gives him a sultry smile. She watches as he gently smacks Noah's ample behind, gesturing him towards her. “Eat her out. Even from here I can see how wet she's getting. We can't let our little contest winner suffer, can we?”

Quick to obey Jolly's directives, Noah closes the distance between himself and the bed. He drops to his knees at the edge where her legs still dangle off, tattooed hands resting right above each of her knees as he looks at her. His skin is warm, fingertips calloused like Jolly's - a reminder that they've both spent years with a guitar, even if Noah's the vocalist of their band. He looks at her, dark eyes settled on her own and the intensity in his gaze earns him a little gasp from her. His hand that rests on her right leg grips a little harder and he leans down to place a kiss on her thigh. Soft kisses are pressed against different spots and she feels her eyes flutter closed, only to pop open again the second those kisses turn into bites.

She gasps, a little louder this time, as he bites her hard enough to assure that she'll bear proof of their encounter tomorrow. The kisses and bites are playful, albeit the bites get hard from time to time and she knows it's because he wants to mark her, but she's growing impatient and fast. “Noah,” his name leaves her lips and it's like he's read her mind because the second she's said his name, he swipes his tongue teasingly across her seam.

His mouth works wonders, miracles even, as he alternates between tongue fucking her and sucking her clit. He's spurred on by the sounds she begins to make, little noises and cries of pleasure and she doesn't know when but suddenly Jolly is there, his mouth on one of her breasts, leaving bite marks of his own against her soft flesh before closing his mouth around her nipple.

Her hands grip the sheets when Noah slides a finger into her wet core, teeth grazing over her clit and then she's pawing at Jolly, whining and panting her approval as he switches attention to her other breast. She's going to be covered in two sets of bitemarks come morning but the thought doesn't even register in her blissed out mind, especially not as that warm knot starts to form in her lower belly. She lifts her hips up, back arching under their ministrations as her breath comes quicker and cries come louder.

Noah can feel the way her walls flutter against his finger, knows she's getting close, so he adds a second and it's not long before she's crying out as her orgasm washes over her. He finger fucks her through it and when it's over he pulls his fingers from her core and puts them in his mouth, getting one last good taste of her.

“Good girl,” she hears Jolly praise as she catches her breath and she can hear Noah whining from his spot on the floor. Jolly places a hand in her hair, soothing it down comfortingly. “It's time that you repay Noah's favor,” he instructs.

She sits up, ready to take his place on the floor, to get on her knees for him, but Jolly stops her with a hand on her shoulder. “You'll do it while I fuck you,” he says and she can't help but shiver again. His voice is low, lips practically against her ear when he says it and she realises she's never wanted anything more than she does in that moment.

Noah crawls onto the bed, reclining against the pillows in a way that suggests they've done this before and he knows what he likes and she gets on her hands and knees, settling in between his legs. As she lowers her head, tongue taking a quick swipe over the head of his erect cock, she can hear the telltale sound of a condom being opened behind her, almost drowned out by Noah's little whimper.

She places a hand around his thick cock, down at the base, just as Jolly grabs a hold of her hips. She licks a stripe up Noah's shaft and feels the head of Jolly's cock press against her entrance from behind. He's teasing her and at the same time he's waiting for a sign that she wants this, that she's ready.

She looks over her shoulder at him and nods her approval once before taking Noah in her mouth. His head falls back against the headboard immediately, hands resting on the back of her head as long fingers tangle in her hair. Jolly enters her slowly, stretching her, filling her until he bottoms out.

As he begins to thrust, ready to chase his own high, it becomes hard to keep rhythm. His cock feels better than Noah's mouth and her moans are muffled on the singer's cock. Jolly's speed slowly begins to pick up and if it weren't for Noah's hand on her head, guiding her to keep blowing him, she might have forgotten him in the pleasure of it all.

It doesn't take long for Noah to cum. He thrusts his hips upwards a little, catching her off guard as he cries out to Jolly, spilling warm seed down her throat. She coughs when he releases her, cum and spit mixed rolling down her chin but there's no time to deal with it as Jolly's grasp on her hips tighten and he pushes her head down, her cheek resting on Noah's lower stomach as Jolly chases his own release.

She feels herself getting closer to a second orgasm already and Jolly knows it. He begins coaxing her on, calling her a good girl, telling her to cum for daddy and holy shit she does. She lets out a cry, eyes closing, drool spilling out of her mouth and onto Noah's skin with the intensity of her second climax. The feeling of her walls fluttering and tightening around him brings Jolly to his own release which comes with a string of soft swears.

When he pulls his soft cock from her, she goes limp as she catches her breath and comes down. Noah's hands are in her hair, soothing her, they run down her back and after a few minutes, she's aware of him and Jolly helping her to get settled into the bed.

Jolly's giving her water and Noah's tucking her in and they may be essentially strangers, as much as they could be after fucking, but she feels safe. She feels almost loved. A heavy drowsiness settles over her much like the blanket Noah covered her with and she falls asleep fast.

The sound of movement, of soft whispers, are what wakes her. For a moment she doesn't know where she is - the events of the evening are still lost in a dream-hazy mind. Slowly the memories tumble into her thoughts, replaying past her closed eyelids like a too good to be true fantasy. She sets up, rubbing her eyes as she takes in the hotel room and then notices Noah, who holds out a tray of food towards her.

Items from the hotel breakfast, an assortment of foods since he doesn't know what she likes and her stomach growls loudly, earning her a laugh from Jolly as he sets a glass of juice on the nightstand for her. As she scarfs down food, it doesn't miss her attention that one of them had plugged her phone in during the night. They were thoughtful, they were surprisingly kind, even to a one night stand such as she had become.

After breakfast, she gets up and begins finding her clothes. No offers of sharing numbers are made, no promises that this was more than it was, and she didn't mind. “Hey wait, where are my panties?”

Jolly just grins and shrugs. “You don't need them,” is the only explanation he offers.

She pulls on her pants and bra and then walks over to his open suitcase and grabs a shirt. “It's only fair,” she counters before he's even had a chance to stop her. She laughs, pulls on her shoes and grabs her phone and bag, and then without even a second glance back at them, she walks out the door.

A few weeks later, the tour is over and she's seen about a million photos, tweets, and posts about them across social media and each one has made her smile because of her little secret night with Noah and Jolly.

A text chimes from an unknown number and she instinctively flicks the screen, pulling open the message.

“How's our little contest winner?” Asks the text and she laughs. Of course they'd gotten her number.

#jolly karlsson fanfic #jolly karlsson smut #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian fanfic #bad omens fanfic

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astranite · 8 months

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Close Call

Earth and Sky, angst, hurt/comfort and some ending fluff! 3723 words.

Might recognise some of the beginning from wip Wednesday! I finished it!

@idontknowreallywhy If this was a book it would absolutely be dedicated to you at this point. :)

Warnings because its better to be too thorough than not thorough enough? (feedback welcome, Id like to get better at these) -minor off screen character death, avalanche and mum fanon, injury to Scott, some medical stuff, needles, Bereznik allusions, ptsd, I think you'll need tissues.

But happy ending and hugs! Also crying and forehead touches.

-----

Virgil was waiting for him when Scott returned to Thunderbird Two.

He crunched his way through freezing snow, kicking drifts up with his boots, shivering in spite of his well insulated uniform. He had eyes only for his brother. Virgil, standing there with his broad shoulders hunched, arms hugged across his chest.

Scott broke into a jog.

He stumbled on the last step, usual surefootedness fled in his exhaustion. He would have fallen, slipping on icy metal, if Virgil hadn’t run down the ramp to reach him sooner. As it was, he crashed into Virgil hard.

Virgil wrapped Scott in a bear hug, tight enough to nearly knock the breath out of him. Caught him, held him. Scott clung on. He dug his fingers under the back of Virgil’s green baldric.

Their helmets met with a thunk. What would have been a press of foreheads was a collision hard enough to rattle his teeth. Scott was face to face with his brother. He had to face wide brown eyes, worried, centimetres away through visor glass.

“What did you think you were doing?” Virgil growled, “You idiot.”

“People needed rescuing. I did what I had to.” Scott couldn’t stop himself from going over after them.

Virgil shook him, roughly, gently, Scott didn't care. As long as Virgil didn't let him go.

He had to.

“Scott.”

“I had to.”

The way Virgil’s expression crumpled made him grimace, even as he took comfort in the way his brother was warm and solid, practically holding him up.

Scott turned his head away from Virgil as much as he could, staring down at the glaring white snow.

“I’m fine,” he muttered.

He ignored his thumping heart and throbbing shoulder. He barely registered them, his breath coming in fast pants. Between mum’s death and dad’s disappearance, maybe he’d forgotten how to say anything else.

Virgil’s voice was far too gentle. “They were already gone. John scoured every inch of this mountain for life signs.”

Scott flinched, hard, then pressed his helmet against Virgil’s shoulder.

Green and blue filled his field of vision, anything better than white, white, white, red. Snow, delicate crystaline flakes, spattered with droplets of scarlet blood.

Just because he couldn't hide his trembling from Virgil, didn't mean he had to make a show of it. Scott was better than this. He had to be. Someone needed to be able to hold his family together, and the only person left to do it was him. He was the eldest, no one else was left.

He had to stay strong for his brothers. He couldn’t break.

He raised his head and stood up straight. He squared shoulders, even as a pained hiss escaped between his teeth.

He walked up Two’s ramp, all stubbornness and pride. All stupid desperation.

But Virgil still followed him.

Even as he stood in the middle of Two’s module, at a loss for what to do, he could feel Virgil’s presence, hovering.

Scott swayed, taking all of his willpower to remain upright. His left hand drifted to support his right arm without his imput into it, to take the weight off his abused shoulder,

At least Alpine Recovery had taken the body bags. So he didn’t have to see them again except in dreams.

Didn't have to see her, as a frozen image overlaid from years ago. Mum.

His brother’s voice, usual soft baritone overlaid with an edge, snapped him out of it.

“Scotty. Med bed. Now.”

Scott obeyed. His limbs just followed through Virgil’s command without any conscious thought.

He still ended up in his usual position of perched on the side of the bed, ready for flight at any moment. Ended up staring at Two’s metal flooring, had Virgil turned the heat up? Certainly felt like it, the excess snow he’d carried in on his uniform was melting into dark droplets on the metal.

But he was still shivering.

Virgil was already flashing the med scanner over him. Scott blinked at the sudden amber light. Virgil’s jaw was set, harsh lines furrowed between his brows.

“I have to take a look at your shoulder.”

“No.”

“Scott.”

“It’s fine,” he said firmly, in spite of through clattering teeth.

Virgil’s eyebrows descended like storm clouds. “Then let me see it to prove that.”

Scott wasn't sure why he was stopping Virgil. It wasn't that bad. He’d had worse than the spiking, flaring pain radiating from the joint.

“Fine.”

He began the process of taking off the top part of his suit. Frozen fingers fumbled at the zipper. He managed to get his good arm out, all the while glaring at Virgil.

As soon as he tried to take the other out, the pain flared. His vision whited out, worse than in a blizzard’s storm. He gasped, like a punch to the gut.

When the blurry floor of Two came back into focus, Scott made another move to try to get the suit off, before Virgil gripping his good wrist stopped him.

“I’ll get the scissors, that’ll be easier,” Virgil said in his quiet, firm medic’s tone.

“No, I can do this.” He couldn't fail at anything else.

Virgil’s breath hissed from his nose. “Either I help or you let me get the scissors.”

No. He could do this. But his brother’s warm fingers were better than having cold blades near where it hurt. Too many memories sparked that way.

Scott shifted his body the tiniest bit closer to Virgil. He could trust Virgil, he reminded himself.

By the time Scott’s upper body was free from the skin-tight blue material, he was soaked in sweat and panting heavily. Virgil had uttered a thousand apologies.

He didn't argue when Virgil cut away his undershirt. Virgil was so careful to gently pull the fabric away, the metal never touched him once.

Scott couldn't look at his shoulder now it was bare. Virgil’s fingers brushed it and he shuddered. Something there was… wrong.

“It’s definitely dislocated. You need painkillers before I can set this,” Virgil said.

It hurt, badly, but Scott hated the whole process, the fuzzyness that came with meds. How they forced his guard down.

“Just give me a couple of ibuprofen,” he countered.

Virgil’s voice rose in a crescendo, “You need more than bloody ibuprofen!”

Scott ducked his chin to his chest, wincing. He’d worried Virgil enough.

“Just anything I can swallow then.”

Virgil frowned.

“Please.”

Scott knew some of his fear showed through, no matter how he tried to stop it.

He couldn't handle a needle slipping into his skin and muscles and veins, right now. Or that cold feeling of something being injected. Not even the near painless autoinjectors they kept around, fitted with the tiniest pediatric needles. Not even in his brother’s gentle hands. Not with the track mark scars running up his arms from that place.

Virgil stepped over to the medication cabinet, jaw set and lips pressed together, but he didn't protest.

He handed Scott a cup with what he recognised as the strongest meds they had in tablet form. Scott swallowed them dry before Virgil had a chance to get him water.

“I need a couple of x-rays while those kick in. Okay?”

Scott nodded. The exhaustion was fast pulling him down.

Virgil positioned the portable x-ray machine over him, and took them. Scott let his eyes slide half shut, just watching through the slits when he couldn't bring himself let the dark engulf him completely.

As Virgil read through the results projection, he mumbled, “You’re lucky nothing’s broken,” to himself.

Him, lucky? Scott’s luck extended only to not ending up in a body bag every time he should have. Every time everyone else did.

“What happened there?” Virgil said louder and more definitively.

Scott flinched before his brain caught up, that Virgil was asking about his shoulder, not there.

“Grapple cable as I went off the cliff,” he admitted. He didn't have the energy to lie. “Further than I thought. I— I didn't look. Just had to get down there.”

“Again?!” Virgil exclaimed, “That thing is meant to be clipped to your harness not held in your fucking hand!”

“I know. But I saw someone. And they were moving.”

“But they weren’t still, by the time you got there? No matter how fast you went.” A flat statement, not a guess.

Scott bit his lip, hard and nodded. Virgil got it. He’d been on rescues like this too. When all the pain was for nothing.

The silence stretched out between them. Scott could only hear his and Virgil’s breathing against the hum of Two’s heaters. Outside, the snow muffled everything.

Virgil cracked it gently. “The meds will have had enough time by now and the scans look okay.”

Scott knew what he was asking. It would hurt still. “Just do it.”

Virgil set his shoulder as Scott stared straight ahead. He didn't make a sound. Couldn't close his eyes. Just tried to breathe through it as best he could, even as each was fast and shallow.

When Virgil pulled away to reach for the supplies to strap his arm up, Scott curled into a ball, arm tucked against his chest. The pain tore at him through the muffled curtain of the medication, like a landscape through a sheet of snow fall, half visible, half not.

It took all the strength he had to let go for long enough for Virgil to check his shoulder over and immoblilise it with a sling. He still held the other over it protectively, even as his left was strapped against his chest and he couldn't move it.

His shoulder hurt less, but he was still shivering.

He refused the icepack Virgil tentatively offered him, but took the anti-inflammatory meds.

“The soft tissue damage is going to keep you out for weeks,” Virgil stated, softly as he could but it still hit Scott like a blow.

More work for his siblings. And they were already snowed under. It was his fault.

“You can’t keep going like this,” Virgil pleaded.

“I have to.”

“I can’t watch you do this to yourself anymore. Breaking yourself down against unyielding cliffs, over and over.” Virgil’s voice broke.

“I have to.” He had everything to live up to, with all he failed.

Virgil turned away, dashing his hands across his eyes. Scott’s heart clenched.

“I do it because I can’t not.” He had to make Virgil understand this part, somehow. “Everyone needs me. They needed me down there. Dad needed me. Mum did too.”

Virgil spun back to him, tears streaming openly down his face.

“Those aren't your fault! They never were. You’re doing your best but that was outside of your control.”

Scott swallowed hard.

Virgil kept going, “It still matters you tried, it always does. But you can’t tear yourself apart in the process.”

Scott clenched his jaw against every bitter word he could say against that. He tried, but it all still ended this way.

Virgil’s voice was rough with sobs. “We need you because you’re Scott, not because you’re a hero.”

Scott threw himself at Virgil.

Virgil caught him, like he always did, like he had for both their entire lives.

Reflex tears welled up in the corners of Scott’s eyes.

From the pain of jarring his shoulder in the collision.

Because he was all exhaustion and hurt.

All his stubborn desperation was worn threadbare, too thin to keep out the cold.

He was shivering. But Virgil was warm.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

Virgil’s voice rumbled through his body, drowning out the rest.

“I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”

Scott leant into him. But he still mumbled into Virgil’s uniform, “I can’t just give up.”

Gently, ever so gently, Virgil’s arms tightened around him, holding him closer.

“Needing to rest isn't giving up. Being human isn’t giving up.”

Scott shook his head. “I can’t. I have to—”

Virgil took Scott’s head in his hands, tilting it up to look at him. Scott sucked in a shaky breath.

“You don't. I’m here for you. We all are.”

Brown eyes caught his. Brown eyes filled with tears, utterly unmovable in their conviction.

“You’re not alone in this,” Virgil said, “Never will be. You don’t have to tackle the world on your own anymore. Lean on us, we can take the weight.”

“I don't think I remember how to do that,” Scott whispered.

“Then we’ll figure it out together.”

Virgil swiped his thumbs across Scott’s cheeks. Scott hadn’t even noticed the moisture that had gathered here.

He’d been too exhausted to cry before. As if the cold numbness from the snow had gotten into his bones and frozen there. All the pain in his past had only taught him to hide it, to never give in and let them know they’d won. Too many lessons learnt there.

And fear, fear was something his brothers were never allowed to see. He had to be strong for them, had to be brave. Because no one else was going to stand between his little brothers to protect them from the world.

But no one was there to protect him.

But Virgil was here now.

Of course it was Virgil showing him another way.

Scott could lean on him before he broke. Somehow he’d forgotten a fundamental core of how the world worked.

Virgil had his back.

All his brothers had his back.

He just had to let them in.

Scott leant forward and pressed his forehead against Virgil’s, pouring all the love and fear he had into the simple gesture.

Virgil’s hand found the nape of his neck easily, pulling him closer.

Scott had to shut his eyes against the tears. More tears.

From all the grief finally catching up to him. From the pain. From the terror that had frozen him before the mission, before he leapt from One, before he leapt from the cliff, falling gracelessly until the wrench of his shoulder when the grapple caught him.

Because he didn't have to do this alone anymore.

Maybe the running in the dark, running, running, pushing himself desperately further when he thought he couldn’t go on, maybe that didn’t have to be his every day. His whole life.

Hope was crushing. But Virgil wiped the tears as they ran down his face, with calloused fingers slightly rough and completely gentle. Even when all Scott was was the jagged scars he’d had for years now. It was his brothers who taught him he was more than that.

Virgil had always been Scott’s rock, the wall for him to break against, to catch him when he falls, the strength and sense when he fails. He trusted Virgil’s judgement more than his own sometimes.

He trusted him now.

Virgil was warm and solid, forehead still pressed against Scott’s. Their tears mixed and fell away. They cried together; Scott could feel Virgil shaking. He was shaking too, but neither of them had to hide it.

They’d weather out the storm, survive the blizzard because they’d make it through this together.

The edge of Virgil’s sash dug into Scott’s chest, but nothing could force him to let go. Not when Virgil was clinging to him too, the hand wiping the tears away moving to an arm wrapped around him when the tears flowed too thick and fast. Not when he could hear the way Virgil’s breaths caught with every sob, raw and torn.

Scott found Virgil’s side with his still working arm even with his eyes shut, then tucked it around Virgil, rubbing at his brother’s broad back soothingly.

He’d scared Virgil. Badly. Virgil had been angry too, emotions warring in low piercing words, a clenched jaw and soft brown eyes made sharp beneath thunderous dark brows. What it took to push past the terror. Virgil was the most even tempered of them all. Scott knew for sure he’d gone off the edge, figuratively and literally this time. It hadn’t been fine. He hadn’t been fine.

But Virgil caught him in the after. Scott clawed his way back to him for Virgil to pick up the pieces, the dance a familiar routine by now. After everything.

This was what Scott needed. Not more mountains to climb, or the frigid air flowing past him, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he jumped. But his brother, holding him close. To be able to hold onto him too. No more running for what was sliding from his grip. Virgil was here, right now. Scott didn’t have to anymore.

They could work the rest out later. Minutes passed by, as their hearts beat more steadily, the air growing warmer from Two’s heaters, the Thunderbird sheltering them from the outside.

She wasn't Scott’s own, but Virgil big green ‘bird held some of the same reassurance in her cahelium frame. The Thunderbirds were as different as their two pilots but, like them, were made of the same stuff.

Scott opened his eyes when both of their breathing was deep and even, while they leaned heavily on each other.

No longer so lost blue eyes found vulnerable brown eyes. Scott was close enough to see how tears clung to Virgil’s lashes. His face was red and puffy, and Scott knew his own couldn't be any better.

“Virge.”

“Scotty,” Virgil rasped out.

“We’ll be okay, right?” Scott had to ask, because of the ever present threat of icy fear trying to drag him back.

“Yeah. Always.”

Scott swallowed and gently knocked his head against Virgil’s in place of finding the words.

“Love you.” There were words after all, easy ones, frequently said.

“Love you too,” Virgil replied, lips tilting up at the edges.

Warmth filled up the places the cold had been. Scott realised his shivering had stopped a while ago.

When Virgil pulled away, he didn’t go far. Just an arms length reach, to get Scott in view to check him over. Still the medic, and who was the smotherhen in the family, really? Right now, Scott didn't even mind the fussing.

It meant Virgil stayed close.

And letting Virgil help seemed to calm him too. The need to look out for each other was a family trait, and letting them in was something Scott could do that would help, he realised.

Virgil momentarily turned his back to rummage through the storage lockers.

Scott watched him across the module room, so he saw how Virgil’s fingers tightened in the red flannel of the shirt he held.

“You’ve been pushing for months, Scott,” Virgil blurted out, “Late nights, early mornings, longer and longer rescues.”

“I didn't think you noticed,” Scott admitted.

Virgil sucked in a pained breath, “I didn't think you’d let me in. And I was helpless to stop you.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. But at least now we can fix it. Together.”

“Together.”

Scott took the shirt from Virgil, briefly gripping his hand. He let Virgil help him settle it around his shoulders and negotiate the sling.

The flannel was soft and comfortably too large. Very plaid and very Virgil. There were clothes of his own stored away in Two’s lockers, Scott knew, but Virgil had chosen to give him something of his own. He buried his nose in the collar. It even smelt like his brother, of paint, engine oil, coffee and Virgil.

Their well worn silence was comfortable too, as Virgil also changed out of his uniform. It settled around them and filled Two up, letting Scott’s aching body sink into the med bed’s pillows.

Fastidious Virgil dropped his sash and harness in a pile on the floor, on top of his fallen over boots. So he could get back to Scott sooner. The near unthinking gesture struck Scott deep.

“We’d better call John,” Virgil eventually said, standing close again, wearing his own flannel, “Let him know how we’re going before he worries himself sick and works out how to get here himself.”

Scott wouldn't put it past John. He’d cross the earth for his siblings; John would cross the skies from the stars.

He nodded. “I want to go home,” he said softly

“Let’s go home.” Virgil’s words overlapped his.

Home. To the island, to their family.

Virgil glanced toward the cockpit, but instead tapped on his communicator.

John responded immediately to Virgil’s hail, voice drawn out thin. “Thunderbird Two.”

“John, I need you to remote pilot Two out of here.”

John’s hologram looked around, catching on Scott on the med bed.

“He’s okay. We’ll be okay,” Virgil reassured.

John acknowledged everything with a quiet, relieved, “FAB.”

By the time Virgil grabbed a pile of blankets and made it back to the med bed with Scott, Thunderbird Two’s VTOL engines had begun their warm up rumble.

Scott knew Virgil hated allowing anyone else pilot his ‘bird, especially remotely, as much as he did. But he was letting it happen, for Scott. To be with Scott.

They were going home. As far away from falling snow as they could get.

Exhaustion and warmth were making his head fuzzy.

Scott moved with Virgil as he wrapped blankets around him. He ended up covered in one in his favourite shade of sky blue.

Blinking tiredly, slowly, Scott twisted around to see as Virgil settled himself behind him.

Virgil smiled fondly at him and patted his chest, “Lean on me.”

So Scott did. He let himself lean on Virgil, let Virgil take his weight.

Virgil tucked his arms around him securely, careful of his shoulder, as Two shifted into flight. Scott snuggled closer, lulled by the rise and fall of Virgil’s breaths. By the hand finding its way into his hair.

Stroking his hair when he was sick or hurt had been Mum’s thing, until it became his brothers’ thing. Virgil’s gentle fingers were as familiar as hers. Sleep crept in, as quiet as footsteps and a door opening just to check in on him.

Scott curled up against his brother, eyes gently closing, surrounded by warmth and love.

John watched over his two closest brothers from the comms as he and EOS remote piloted One and Two. Both were asleep now.

He’d make sure they got home safe.

In the mean time, he’d let them rest. He kept a screen open, just to see they were okay, until Scott and Virgil were back on Tracy Island and he could take the elevator down to be with them himself.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #virgil tracy #astrawrite

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