tagsecretsanta - Tumblr blog

tagsecretsanta · 4 months

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From @tracybirds

From @tracybirds to @thundergirl007

Tobogganing + John + Things don’t go according to plan

Content Warnings: Discussion of grief and missing people at Christmas.

“I thought you said you’d done this before,” grumbled Penelope as they trudged around the township. “I was led to believe tobogganing involved less wandering around the shops and more sliding down mountains at breakneck speeds and fracturing a leg for your thanks.”

“There aren’t any real mountains around here, Pen,” said John absently. “And I don’t understand why all the sleds we keep seeing are so small.”

“Toboggans.”

“Sleds.”

Penelope sniffed, burrowing her gloved hands deeper into her coat pockets in an effort to keep out the cold. “I just would have thought the ‘sled’ was already available for use if you were planning to invite me to partake in this hare-brained adventure.”

“I don’t set up hare-brained adventures, we’ve just hit a minor bump in the road.”

“You call a missing toboggan on a tobogganing excursion minor?”

“You call a simple hour sledding an adventure?” Penelope pulled a face and John laughed. “How come you’ve never gone anyway?”

“I told you,” said Penelope. “My parents didn’t believe hurtling down mountains trying to get yourself killed was a good source of entertainment. You’ll find we never went skiing either.”

For a moment it was as though the world stopped spinning, leaving him hurtling on with no solid ground beneath his feet.

“Oh,” said Penelope. “Oh, I’m sorry John, I didn’t think.”

“It’s fine,” said John. He felt a million miles away, he felt every square inch of fabric against his skin, and maybe it could be alright if he could just convince his lungs to breathe.

Instinct took over and he turned on his heel, starting to babble his excuses.

“You’re right, this was a waste of time,” he finally choked out and turned on his heel.

“No, John, it’s not, it’s–”

He didn’t hear the rest of her cry, drowned out by the hustle and bustle of Christmas shoppers and the blood that was pounding in his ears. His ragged breath caught in his throat and he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the pavement in front of him. He knew that if he allowed the world to distract him for even a second, the tears would fall, tears he’d cried a thousand times in his lifetime but that never seemed to run dry.

John hated that they were always there under the surface.

His comm pinged, but he ignored it, not in the mood for clumsy apologies or stammered explanations. He knew he was being over-sensitive, but then it was Christmas and his mother was dead and if there was ever a good reason to be touchy about a subject, this would be it.

Everywhere he looked were families, complete and untouched, with mothers who were alive and fathers who stayed.

And brothers who came home.

His lungs constricted as he tried to breathe through the pain, blindly collapsing onto a bench, assaulted by a new memory, formed only last week when he’d called to say he wouldn’t be going home this year. He’d already known the reaction, knew he would dismay them all with his selfishness, but he couldn’t fly to that humid, tropical island where they’d cut their mom out for good.

At least here, in the snow, he could pretend to be somewhere she loved.

John sucked in a breath through gritted teeth. It wasn’t the same as Dad, he told himself. No-one could argue that Oxford terms weren’t intense, that the vacations and half-terms weren’t loaded with assignments and readings and more besides.

Still, Alan had cried.

He pulled out his comm, wincing at the missed call from Penelope. She hadn’t tried again. Instead, he pulled up the photos he’d been sent of their new home, the sparkling blue of the ocean and the verdant green overpowering in each image. The vibrancy nearly hurt to look at in the monochrome street, all whites and greys. In every photo there was life and love, and John felt small and sad and alone.

“He isn’t back yet?”

Penelope’s voice floated out of the crowd and John froze. He half wanted to hide, half desperately wanted to reach out to his friend, but instead he didn’t move, hardly daring to breathe.

“No, Scott, I’m sure, he was heading back to you. Yes. Yes, I know. I checked the usual spots along this route.”

John furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of the words. His brother ought to have been asleep on the other side of the planet. Penelope had never held any qualms about approaching him after an upset before; they’d had disagreements and missteps between them plenty of times in the past without needing a mediator.

Penelope sighed.

“I’ll head back to his flat now, then,” she said. “I’ll try calling him again when I get there.”

A few minutes later she walked past him, briefly glancing at him as she walked past the bench. He saw it the moment she realised who she’d seen and raised a hand, mouth twitching into a weak smile.

“Hey.”

“John Tracy, where were you?” she cried, hurrying to his side.

“Just here,” he said, feeling bemused. “I didn’t want to go home.”

Penelope pulled him into a crushing hug. “I’m so sorry, John, I–”

“Get off, Penny,” he muttered. “It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine, and both of them knew it, but John couldn’t stand to hear apologies when most of his misery was his own fault.

“I wish I’d gone to island,” he confessed. “I know it’s too late, and I shouldn’t have been so stubborn.” He checked the time. “Christmas will be over by the time I get there.”

“Oh, John,” said Penelope, hugging him once more. “You should have said something.”

“Better late than never, right,” he joked, but the words fell flat between them. He sighed. “It just feels like all Dad wants to do is forget about her. And everyone else is just going along with it.” He scuffed his shoe, listening to the crunch of snow against concrete. “I know it’s what got her killed, but she really did love this stuff. Dad might blame himself, but we’d have never gone if it wasn’t for her.”

“The things that your mother loved about this world isn’t what killed her, John,” said Penelope gently. “It was an accident.”

“It’s not like that’s any better,” snapped John. He bit his tongue, filled with immediate regret. “Sorry, I’m… sorry. I hate that island and I hate that there’s no snow and I hate that she didn’t get any say over any part of it.”

He huffed, drawing his coat tighter around him.

“And worst of all, I know she’d have loved it there. Just as much as anywhere. And my family’s all there, and sure they’ll miss me, but at least they’re together.”

Penelope didn’t say anything and the two sat in silence, shoulder to shoulder and watching the world as it hurried on by, eager to leap from preparation to holiday.

“Come,” said Penelope, dragging John to his feet. “Let’s go back. We can have hot chocolate and watch a Christmas movie together. I know it won’t be the same, but at the very least you won’t be alone.”

“I don’t feel like celebrating, Pen,” said John.

“Who’s celebrating? This isn’t a party, it’s a quiet evening in with friends.”

John huffed. “With you, that’s practically an open invitation for a party,” but he smiled all the same.

She caught his hand with hers and dragged his arm over her shoulders, so that they walked together in calming harmony.

By the time he stepped across the threshold, the warmth had begun to flicker once more in his chest, and the evening no longer felt too close around him.

Penelope flung herself onto the couch, flicking through options on the holoprojector, and shooed him into the kitchen.

“Same mug?” he called out to her.

There was no reply.

“Penelope?”

John stuck his head out and frowned. The living room was empty. He called again, this time hearing a scuffle coming from the bedroom.

He rolled his eyes, and strode across the room.

“Pen, what mug do you want?”

“Hmm?” she asked, sounding more flustered than usual. “Oh, the usual will be fine John. Can I borrow this book?”

John looked down. “My textbook on galactic evolution?”

Penelope’s eyes widened as she glanced down. “Oh, uh, I mean you always talk so fondly of the topic.”

John’s eyes narrowed. “What’s going on, Penelope?”

“Nothing,” she said automatically, just as there was a loud crash from the bathroom. She closed her eyes, as John looked between her and the closed door, uttering only a single word: “Boys!”

John pulled the door open and stared. Virgil and Gordon were frozen in front of him, looking somewhat like deer in headlights as they collected the hair products that had fallen from the counter. Scott saluted him with a grin from where he lay in the bath tub, and Alan bounded across the room, leaping at him for a hug with a shriek.

“Merry Christmas!”

“What are you all doing here?”

He didn’t get a response as his brothers crowded around him, swapping bits of the story and tales of the long trip, and demanding to know how he’d been, and John couldn’t tell where the questions stopped and the answers started, so he just laughed and hugged them all, too overcome with joy to take it all in.

There was however, one constant that he could make out.

“You did this?” he asked Penelope, who hadn’t stopped beaming at him in nearly five minutes.

She shrugged. “I may have suggested to Scott that you weren’t as bright and perky as normal. I believe he did all the heavy lifting from there.”

“Don’t let Scott take the credit,” piped up Gordon. “Virg overheard the fourth call and told Scott that he needed to learn to read between the lines and book us all a flight.”

He pulled a face. “Course, Virgil also got us caught, so don’t give him any credit either.”

“And what about Dad? Grandma?”

“Booked into a hotel down the street,” said Virgil, smiling. “Where I imagine we’ll all be staying too.”

“I want to stay with John,” protested Alan, and John ruffled his hair with a fond smile.

“You can share my bed,” he assured him. “And the couch is a pull out if anyone else wants to stay.”

“And we can argue over that later,” said Scott with a grin. “I heard you were making hot chocolate?”

John grinned. “I’m on it.”

He swung past Penelope and pulled her into a hug.

“Thank you,,” he whispered.

She hugged him back.

“Merry Christmas, John.”

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds fanfiction

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tagsecretsanta · 4 months

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From @tikatu

From @tikatu to @soniabigcheese

My prompts were:

1. Stuck in a chimney - any Tracy brother or maybe Jeff? 2. Herding Santa's reindeer - what do you mean Santa isn't real? 3. Star on the Tree - that's open for interpretation.

The last one spoke to me, so over 5500 words later, here it is! Hope y’all enjoy!

Merry Christmas!

Brianne Craig glanced up as the bell over the door to her studio rang as someone entered. It had been doing that all day; the Open Studios event brought much more foot traffic than she was used to. Her glance registered: male, adult, unlikely to break anything, possible sale.

She finished the line of solder and set her soldering iron into its bracket before smiling at the newcomer. "Welcome to my studio. Feel free to ask any questions you have."

"Thank you."

He browsed the shop, joining the few other visitors. She pulled out some more foil; the custom piece she was working on was nearly done. Engrossed in her work, she failed to notice when he came up to her work table, a small piece in his hand.

He cleared his throat. She started, glancing up.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." His smile was warm as he set the cardinal on the table. "I'd like to purchase this."

"Oh! Of course!"

He moved to see what she was working on as she processed the transaction and wrapped the piece securely for travel. "You do excellent work. I'm very impressed with your 3-D offerings."

She smiled, a touch of color on her cheeks, as she handed him his purchase. "Thank you."

His eyes remained on the worktable as he asked, "Do you take custom orders?"

"I do." Brianne waved toward the piece he'd been examining. "There's an example in front of you now. It's for an October wedding."

He swallowed before raising his brown eyes to meet hers. "Are you able to take a custom 3-D piece? I'd want it at the beginning of December."

"I'm… not sure." She paused to wave at the couple who left the studio. "Thanks for coming in!" Turning back, she was surprised to see he had a small holoemitter in one hand. The hologram was small but detailed, showing just what the possible commission would be.

"This is what I'm looking for." He gave her an abashed smile. "I'm an artist and also an engineer but sculpture isn't my forte—and I have no idea how to do this." He gestured toward the worktable. "Even if I did, my day job doesn't afford me much time to pursue it. I'd rather leave this in the hands of someone experienced."

She turned the hologram from side to side with a finger. "I can't see the colors very clearly."

"Would an exploded view help?" Before she could answer, he pressed a button and the piece grew in size, while the component parts spread out as in a blueprint.

"It helps me to see what you're asking for, but the blue tint still interferes with the colors." Leaning against the table, she folded her arms. "Can I ask why you want this?"

"Does that matter?" He closed down the exploded view.

"I'd be spending a lot of time on this; time I'd normally use to make smaller pieces to sell for Christmas. I also have at least one more commission to complete after this." She gestured to what she'd been working on. "Knowing the reason for a custom job often motivates me."

He drew in a deep breath, nodding as he let it out through his nose. "I can understand that." A small smile played about his lips. "This will be the first Christmas my brothers and I will have with our Dad in nearly a decade. In years past, we've not made much of an effort at home; either we've been working or we've spent the holiday at a friend's home in England." Turning off the holoemitter, he stuck it back in his pocket. "We usually topped our tree with an angel our late mother had crocheted…"

"Virgil!" Alan sounded upset as he climbed up to the mezzanine where Virgil was painting. "It's broken!"

Laying his palette aside and dropping his brush into a cloudy jar of water, he wiped his hands on his jeans, expecting to get pieces of something he could repair. "What do you have there?"

"Mom's angel!" Gordon followed on Alan's heels. "When we heard Dad could come home for Christmas, we went looking for the ornaments." He gestured toward the mass of shredded bubble wrap and tissue paper Alan held. "I think something got into the boxes."

The crocheted angel, made of well-stiffened white cotton thread, had been decimated. One wing was missing as was half the arm on the same side. Whatever had nibbled away it had also sat on it, crushing the long skirt. It was badly stained—Virgil could easily guess with what. He gently took it from Alan's hands, wrapping it up again to hide the damage.

"Can you fix it?" Alan turned a worried frown toward his older brother. Gordon put a hand on his shoulder as Virgil shook his head, eyes closing in sadness.

"I'm afraid there's no fixing this. Even if I had the skill to make another, it wouldn't be the same."

"It wouldn't be… Mom's." Gordon's voice was soft.

"Hey! What's going on up there?" Scott's voice carried from the lounge level.

Virgil sighed. He handed the bundle to Gordon. "Go show it to him. I'll be down in a minute."

"So, I want to replace that keepsake with another, one which will honor each member of the family. One that will hopefully come to mean just as much."

Brianne leaned her backside against the table, arms folded across her chest. She shook her head slightly. "I don't see how it could."

"But you see, the colors have meaning…" He pulled the holoemitter out again.

She shook her head more vehemently now. "I don't think you understand. Your mother put some of herself into that angel. That's what made it significant to you, to your family. What you've shown me… anyone could do it. If you want this new heirloom to have the same kind of meaning, you have to put something of yourself into the making of it."

He frowned at her, tucking the emitter away again. "The design, the colors are not enough?"

"Not for me." She countered his frown with a soft, compassionate expression. "Your mother likely found the angel pattern somewhere and worked it up from that. It was the love she put into it that made it special." Unfolding her arms, she turned back to the work table. "If you truly want to replace it, you have to do the same."

Neither spoke for a bit, then he let out a deep breath. "I won't take up any more of your time." Gathering up his purchase, he made for the door. "Thank you for considering my commission. Good luck with your work."

Before he could leave, she spoke up. "If you're willing, I could teach you how."

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. She gave a half shrug. "I have a beginner's class tomorrow night if you're available."

His response was to open his mouth as if to speak, a puzzled frown on his face. "Oh-kay. What time?"

"Seven pm. Right here."

"I'll be there." He turned, then swiveled back. "By the way, I'm Virgil. Virgil Tracy."

"Nice to finally get your name." She glanced up, a playful smile on her lips. "I'm Brianne. You can call me Bri."

He smiled. "Okay, Bri. I'll see you tomorrow."

"You certainly know your way around a soldering iron." Brianne glanced over his shoulder as he worked.

"In my line of work, I have to," he replied with a smile.

She'd started the class of four off with something simple, all right angles, easy to cut and piece together. Some of the equipment in her studio was familiar; he was sure he could use what he already had at home to serve the same purpose.

He found Brianne spent far more time keeping his fellow students focused on what they were doing than she did keeping tabs on him. They kept glancing his way, distracted by the presence of either a Tracy (billionaire) or a member of iR—or maybe even both. He fervently hoped they'd get used to him by the end of the class!

The protective gloves she'd insisted on were getting in his way as he soldered another seam. They were thicker than what he was used to--when he used any at all. Still, Brianne was a stickler for safety, which he appreciated. He decided to bring a pair of gloves from home for the next class.

"All right. Our time is up for today," Brianne announced. One of the students, a middle-aged woman, groaned as she straightened up.

"Now," Bri continued as she handed out shallow wooden boxes. "The frames you've been working in go inside a box. Careful there, Jeremy, keep it all together. That's better." Each person also got a small card. "Write your name on this to keep track of who's project is whose. Just tuck it in the box."

As everyone followed instructions, Bri came up to Virgil. "I have homework for you."

"Oh?" His interest piqued, he almost missed the box with his name tag.

"Can you make a full-sized model of the item you want to build? I think you'll get the hang of this…" She gestured to the work table. … faster than some of the other students." She handed him a small square of corrugated plastic. "I usually use this to build my models. You can find it at the craft store near the mall."

"Okay. I'll look for it." A stray thought hit him and he paused. "Would it be easier if I used 3-D printing to build the model? It would come out in one piece—or two, since I'd need both sides."

Brianne said goodbye to Jeremy before turning back to Virgil. "That might work. You'd have to scale the model down a bit if you want to build on top of it." She strode over to a shelf and took down a can of foam sealant. "I usually fill my prototypes with this stuff then build on it."

"Heh." Virgil grinned as he took the can from Bri. "This brings me back! If you only knew how many…" He shook his head. "Let's just say it was an inspiration in more ways than one." Handing it back, he gestured to it. "I'm glad to see it's been made safer."

"Me, too." She drifted back to the work table, taking a whisk broom to collect the leftover bits and bobs. "I'm sure we'll be tweaking it throughout…"

The pronoun caught his ear. "We?" he asked, his tone hopeful.

She shrugged. "Well, I will be teaching you each step of the way—though I expect you to do most of the work. The next two classes will give you the rest of the basics and I'm sure you'd like to hit the ground running after that."

Virgil grinned. "I sure will! Any other homework for me?"

Bri stopped to think for a moment, then nodded. "Yes." She ducked into the office at the back of the studio and came back with a card. "Take a look at these websites to get a feel for the colors you want. Don't order any yet, though. I'll want to look over your choices."

He took the card from her hand. "I will! Thanks!"

She walked him to the door. "See you next week—rescues permitting."

He chuckled. "My reputation precedes me, I see. Next week, then, unless my work interferes."

He stepped outside, hearing the lock engage behind him. Taking a deep breath, he let his shoulders relax. A grin spread over his face. He could hardly wait to see his family's amazement at the finished product.

"So, how was the date?"

Virgil rolled his eyes. "I told you, Gords. I'm taking a class."

Gordon, fresh from a supersoaker fight with Alan, tousled his hair dry. "Ah, but you didn't tell me what you're taking a class in!"

"You're right; I didn't." Pushing past his brother, Virgil headed for the piano. He had an urge to start playing Christmas carols. An urge he quickly squelched as being suspicious, considering they weren't really in the season yet. Still, there had to be something to scratch his itch…

As he went through the scores downloaded into the piano's holoemitter, he became aware of his younger brothers talking about him, loudly enough to for him to hear.

"What do you think, Al? Ballet? Tuba playing?"

"I dunno. Maybe making balloon animals or something." Virgil had his back to his brothers but he could almost see the expression on his brother's face through his voice. "I know! Ice sculpture! Or maybe chocolate sculpture!"

"Nah. Virge always said carving stuff wasn't his thing." There was a pause. "Well, except maybe for bushes." A snort. "How do you carve chocolate, anyway? You'd need a really big chunk of it!"

"Nononono!" Virgil could hear the leather on Thunderbird Three's chairs squeaking as Alan bounced. "Oh, man! There was this one guy…"

The alarm cut off his explanation. Virgil slid off the piano bench and headed to the sunken area of the lounge. Scott came running in from somewhere, a tablet in his hand, just as John's larger-than-life hologram shimmered into view.

"International Rescue, we have a situation…"

Later (much, much later to be honest), Virgil finally had time for his homework. As the 3-D printer chugged through his design, he browsed through the websites Brianne had provided. The offerings made his color-loving heart sing! He had multiple windows opened, choosing between several shades of red—loving the opalescent swirls here, the deep, saturated texture there. The blues—it was so hard to choose! There were ambers, both dark and light. Bright yellows and rich oranges. Teal or turquoise was harder to find, as was something silver, but they were available. And the greens! He had at least five favorites to choose from! He was even looking at various shades of purple.

"I'd better start making some choices here," he muttered, dismissing three out of the five green shades and adding the last two to a list.

The model finished printing. Brains chose that moment to enter the room.

"Wh-what's this?" He carefully lifted one of the pieces, turning it this way and that.

"Something I'm working on for that class I'm taking." Virgil put out a hand. Brains gave him the piece.

"Ah, the class your br-brothers don't believe you're, uh, taking." As Virgil double-checked the measurements of the model, Brains leaned up against the workbench. "Why this? Why now? I can guess wh-what you're doing…"

Virgil glanced at Brains, then lowered the piece with a sigh. "To replace Mom's crocheted angel."

"Ah." Brains cocked his head to one side a questioning expression on his face. "Why are y-you doing it yourself? Why not have it made?"

"Umm. Yeah." One side of Virgil's mouth quirked up in a half-smile. "About that." His eyes slid from Brains's face to gaze, unfocused, on the model. "My instructor reminded me that the angel was special because Mom made it. Poured something of herself into it. For this to truly replace it, requires the same." He turned his attention back to his companion. "So, I'm doing this—with help." His smile grew, became whole. "Learning a new art form is a plus." He paused. "I do want this to be a surprise."

Brains echoed his smile. "I see. Your s-secret is safe with me." He picked up the second part of the model. "Have you g-given thought to lighting this?"

"Some. I want to talk to Brianne—that's my teacher—and see what she suggests."

"I'll think on it, too, if that's okay."

Virgil grinned. "I welcome your input."

He was almost late for the next class; in fact, he had Gordon pilot while he got cleaned up and into civvies for a quick drop-off at a park three blocks from the studio. Because of the rescue's timing, he'd brought along his tablet and the model.

"How are you going to get back home, huh?" Gordon asked before Virgil disappeared into the pod.

"Don't worry; I'll find a way."

He caught his breath before entering the studio. Brianne was at the door, just about to lock him out.

"I thought you mightn't make it," she commented. "I heard you had to work today."

He nodded. "I had my younger brother drop me off."

Brianne's eyes widened. "Is he going to pick you up, too?"

He shook his head, chuckling. "He'd like to; he thinks I'm on a date. I'll probably call my sister instead."

The other students had their projects out already. Virgil dropped his bag in a corner and brought out his own. As they worked, Brianne talked more about the materials they were using. Virgil thought it was no coincidence, considering his homework.

When the class ended, Virgil took a minute to text Kayo. He didn't mind her knowing where he was; she kept secrets like no one else. She agreed to bring him home.

"So, what do we have?" Brianne asked. Virgil grinned and brought out his model.

After looking everything over, she rubbed her chin. "Some of your color choices aren't very festive."

"I know." He pointed to one of his selections. "That's for my sister. This red is for my youngest brother. I chose this for my father." Glancing up at her, he looked for comprehension. "I tried to tell you when we first met; this is all about my family."

She nodded, finally seeing his reasoning. "I remember." Putting the two pieces of the model together, she frowned. "At this size, you're going to end up with something too heavy for a tree. I think you should scale the size back by about twenty percent. Have you considered how this is going to be mounted?"

He paused to tamp down on his annoyance at her question. "Yes. That's why this end is open." He pulled the schematics up. "There'll be a clear tube here, perpendicular through the center, and the mount will attach vertically to the support."

"Why a clear support?" Her frown was more inquisitive than anything else.

"Lights!" He pulled out a sealed pouch. "These are rechargeable, remote-controlled LEDs; they shine cool, so don't need ventilation. I plan to run the charging dongle down through the mount." Her eyes narrowed, turning her inquisitiveness to a more incredulous expression. "Hey! We use these at work!"

"How are you going to create the support and mount?"

"Our 3-D printer will handle them." In fact, he planned on using one of the nigh-indestructible materials Brains had used in his Thunderbird.

There was a long silence as Brianne considered the idea. Her face relaxed a little; she'd decided it would work.

"All right. I'll go with it." She pointed at a blank spot at the center of each piece. "You've been pretty specific about everything else. What's going there?"

"Something to honor my mother." He rubbed the back of his head. "I know what I want, but I haven't found it yet. Not at this size, anyway. Making this smaller might help."

"What is it?"

Virgil told her. Brianne took another good look at the model and nodded slowly. Then she smiled, satisfied. "I think you've got a good plan here. Your color and material choices are good and once you have a size on that center object, I think I know someone who can provide what you're missing." She shook her head in amazement. "This will be gorgeous once it's done."

His shoulders dropped and he sighed in relief. "I'm so glad to hear you say that!"

There was a knock on the glass door. They turned to see who was outside. Kayo stood there, giving Virgil a small wave. He began to gather his things.

"I take it that's your sister?" Brianne glanced back and forth between the two of them. "You don't look much alike."

"Tanusha's a sister of the heart," he explained as they walked to the door. "So, what's my homework for this week?"

"Resize the model. Send me a list of materials; I'll order them—I can get things wholesale. Get me a measurement for the center item. Then come back for next week's class. We'll be working on framing."

"Got it!"

Brianne unlocked the door, opening it. Virgil stepped through. "Kayo, meet Brianne Craig. Bri, this is Tanusha Kyrano. We call her Kayo because she's knocked more than one person out."

Bri offered her hand. "Nice to meet you."

Kayo took it. "Same here. I hope he's not giving you trouble."

Bri laughed, shaking her head. "Nah. Though this project might."

"Really?" Kayo gave him a calculating look. "Now I'm intrigued."

"Uh-oh." Virgil's eyes flicked from one woman to the other. "I think I'm in trouble."

“That’ll depend on what you’re working on.” Kayo tugged on his arm. “Let’s get going.”

“Goodnight. See you next week!” Virgil called as she pulled him away.

“So, what’s this all about?” Kayo nudged him with an elbow as they headed for the parking garage where Shadow sat, invisible, on the top level.

Virgil told her. She nodded thoughtfully.

“I can see where you and Bri are coming from. Are you going to have time to finish this before the holidays?”

Virgil sounded upbeat. “Yeah, I think so. I should have time—depending on rescues.”

The following week, Brianne was surprised to see Virgil arrive early with his right arm in a brace.

“Pulled some tendons in my wrist,” he explained, his mouth twisted into a rueful expression. “Hazards of the job, unfortunately.”

“Are you all right? Is it painful?” Brianne took the bag he offered, setting it on the work table.

“I’m fine. It only hurts if I try to move it—or I fail to take my pain medication.” He shook his head, sighing. “I don’t think I can do anything at the class tonight, but I’ve brought my homework to see if you approve.”

He grabbed the edge of the bag with two fingers and drew out the shorter, squatter model pieces. Brianne took one of them and began to examine it.

“I did a little reading on doing this sort of thing. Since I figured we’d be making a mold to work on, I added the light tube and mounting base to the design.” He huffed out a laugh. “You can even put the two sides together and see how it’ll work.”

Brianne did just that, sliding the space for the light tube from one side into the other’s. “Yes. I think this will work well. The final product won’t be as heavy and your base should be sturdy enough, too.”

His face lit up with a grin; he pumped his uninjured fist. “Yes! This is really coming together now!”

Brianne chuckled. “This is just the beginning. There’ll be a lot more work to do.” She glanced at her watch. “I think we have enough time for me to show you the materials I ordered before people start arriving for class.”

“Then I can get out of your hair.”

She shook her head as she led him to a box in the corner of the studio. “I think you should stay. Even if you can’t work on your class project, you can watch and learn.”

Virgil considered this, lips pursed thoughtfully. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

It took three weeks until Grandma declared him healed enough to go back to his regular activities. Three weeks of anxiety, not just about this project but also other irons he had in his personal fire. As far as rescues went, he was allowed to ferry his brothers to and from the Danger Zone twice. As far as the project went, he managed to create the mold on which this grand replacement would be built.

“Are you sure about this teal?”

Virgil glanced up from where he was tracing a pattern to cut. “Like I said, the colors represent my family. The teal is for Kayo.”

“And the purple? Who does that represent?” Brianne was cutting small strips of said material.

“My grandmother. She’s been the rock of the family, which is why her color will go around the clear mounting base.” He turned his attention to the pattern. “It’s her favorite. She wears it every day.”

“Ah, I see, now.”

Virgil took a metal straight edge and began to cut through the streaky blue material. It reminded him so much of blue skies with white cirrus clouds. So very, very Scott…

“Shit!”

Brianne glanced up. “Virgil?”

“I’m okay. The shortest corner broke. Again.” He snagged the pattern and began to trace it out, not looking at his instructor.

“This is why I bought as much as I did.” She returned to her own cutting, the knife gliding smoothly across the surface. Upon reaching the end, she separated the cut piece from its surroundings and laid it carefully with its mates. Straightening, she arched back to stretch.

“I think we need coffee.”

“I can get this. I’m just pressing too hard.”

Brianne snatched the marker out of his hand. “We need coffee,” she said, her firm tone butting up against his fuming scowl. “Besides, I have something to show you.”

She drew him into the office where a coffee maker stood, a gadget that made one cup at a time. She filled the reusable pod, slid it into the machine, and set it to brew. As the aroma filled the air, Virgil drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes, and letting the breath out slowly. He did this twice more, his shoulders relaxing, his glower smoothing out. Brianne opened her small safe; she often worked with gold and her insurance company insisted on the security. Taking out a small velvet bag, she picked up Virgil’s hand and placed it in his palm.

“These came today.”

Opening the bag, he spilled the contents into his hand. The gasp was slight, barely heard over the gurgle of the brewer, but it was there nonetheless.

“They’re beautiful.” He picked one up between thumb and forefinger. “Better than I imagined.” He tucked the items back into their bag.

“A friend from Austria sourced them for me.” Bri handed him a cup of coffee and set to brewing her own. “Now, tell me about them.”

“They represent my mother, who died in an avalanche years ago.” He kept his gaze on his cup. “Like my brother, Scott, she was born in April.”

“So her birthstone.”

“Yeah.”

“You put them—you put her--in the center.”

There was a long silence. Bri sipped her coffee and waited.

Finally, he spoke. “It seems fitting. Even though she’s no longer with us, her influence remains strong. It’s my way of honoring her, I guess.”

Bri hid a soft smile behind her coffee. “I think it’s very fitting.” She sipped and swallowed. “And you were right out there. You were pressing too hard. Perhaps physically; most definitely emotionally. I told you from the first this would take time. But a lighter touch and a touch more patience will see us finish this in plenty of time.”

Finally, Virgil smiled. “Thanks, Bri. I’ll try to have a lighter touch, both with the knife and with my impatience.”

“Good.” She set her cup aside; no beverages were allowed at the work table. “Now you finish up with Scott and I’ll work on your grandmother. I’ll see you again next week.”

“Thanks for this, Brains!” Virgil held up the separate pieces of the lighting tube and base. “I appreciate you printing this out in clear cahelium for me.”

“You’re, uh, welcome.” Brains hitched a hip onto the workshop’s desk. “How’s it c-coming?”

“We’re almost finished! Today we’ll fit this in, install the lights, and cover the base with purple slices. Then just a few finishing touches and it will be done!” He shook his head. “I had no idea this was as fiddly and time-consuming as it is. But I’ve learned so much and, who knows? I might just take the intermediate course!”

They laughed. Brains knew very well the actual class was over; Virgil had finished his project there. Besides guiding and helping him finish his Christmas piece, Bri was gearing up for Christmas herself, fulfilling her other commissions and making Christmas ornaments for purchase. He’d satisfied the invoice she’d sent—a final bill with any further hours or materials would be due when the project was complete and she had a minute to breathe.

To be truthful, he was going to miss working on this.

“Are the lights charged?”

He clicked on the remote. “Yup!” Shaking his head, he murmured, “I can’t believe how great that looks.”

“I know! It’s gorgeous!” Bri nudged him on the upper arm. “You do good work, Mr. Tracy.”

“So do you, Ms. Craig.”

She pulled out a length of recyclable bubble wrap. “Let’s put this baby to bed and wrap her up for safe transit.”

Finally, his replacement project snugly packaged and gift-boxed, Virgil headed for home. Tomorrow they were supposed to decorate the tree—rescues permitting.

Decorating the three-meter-tall spruce was half-chaos and all fun. After finding the angel in such poor condition, Grandma, Scott, and Alan teamed up to go through all the other ornaments, discarding anything broken, repairing what could be fixed, and cleaning everything. As they worked, Scott or Grandma told Alan stories about the decorations—like how Grandpa insisted on a new, tall, utterly kitschy Nutcracker for each one of the boys. Or how Lucy crocheted several new snowflakes every year—never using the same pattern twice. And the reason they used beads for garland instead of tinsel—something to do with a cat who ate it and got sick.

Brains brought two anti-gravity lifts from the hangars so they could reach the top boughs. Gordon was banned from using one for nearly falling off and taking the tree down with him! John untangled lights and garland, handing them off to Alan and Kayo, who circled the tree to install them. Jeff put hooks on ornaments, bringing up the memories they provoked, and handing them off to Scott and Virgil to either hang or send up to Alan and Kayo.

“Now, where’s the angel?”

Jeff’s simple question brought the whole party to an abrupt halt. Alan looked at Gordon and Scott.

“Didn’t you tell him?”

Gordon shook his head. “I thought Scott was going to tell him!”

“Tell me what?”

“I’m sorry, Dad.” Virgil’s voice cut through the silence. “Earlier this year, we discovered something got into the ornaments.”

“I still d-don’t know what it was.” Brains sounded apologetic.

“Whatever it was,” Gordon picked up the thread, “did a number on Mom’s angel. Chewed some of it up, pooped on it…”

“That’s enough, Gordon.” Scott’s tone showed his disgust.

“What?! That’s what it did!”

Jeff sighed. “I get the picture, son. No need to continue.” He addressed Virgil. “I suppose it couldn’t be repaired.”

Virgil shook his head. “No, but… I’ve been working on something. Something different. A new tree topper that represents us all, and honors Mom, too.” He handed the gift box to his father. “I’d like you to open it, Dad.” He moistened his lips. “You might want to sit down.”

Jeff did as he asked. With the box in his lap, he untied the ribbon and lifted the lid.

“Oh my!”

From the folds of bubble wrap, Jeff drew a stained glass star.

Seven equal points spread out around it, with the base making a sort of eighth arm. Each arm had a panel of pebbled clear glass and a panel of colored glass, usually something opaque. The top arm had white shot through with silver, while the arm to its right had a blue with milky white streaks, like thin cirrus clouds. Next was a dark green, like oil paint smoothed over a canvas, uneven.

The arm to the right of the base was a fiery tangerine, invoking magma shooting toward the sky. To the left of the base was a teal, cool, and laced with a touch of gray, ranging from dark to light in swirls.

Yellow was next in line, bright and sunny, shot through with paler tones. To the left of the top stood red, resembling a nebula in space. At the base, slivers of wavy purple shades alternated with clear.

And in the center on both sides, faceted circles, shiny and clear as the top of a diamond.

“It’s… beautiful.” Jeff gazed up at his son. “Did you… did you make this?”

Virgil nodded. “With a lot of help from a professional who taught me how.” Gesturing to it, he explained, “As you can see, everyone in the family is here,” he tapped a nail on the gem, “even Mom.” He shot a look at Gordon, eyebrow raised. “This was the class I was taking, Gords. Not a date, as you can see.”

Gordon shrugged, a mischievous grin on his face. “For all I know, you could have been dating a stained glass artist.” “I thought sculpture wasn’t your thing.”

Virgil turned his attention to Alan. “Hacking away at stone or ice isn’t. But I’m very good at putting things together., once I know how.”

“Who’s going to put this on the tree?” John asked.

Gordon and Alan jumped up and down, shouting variations of “Me, me!” and “I will! I will!”

Jeff held it out to Virgil. “You should, son.”

Virgil shook his head. “No. Brains should. He helped me build some of the more fiddly bits.”

Brains blinked. “M-Me?”

“Of course you.” Jeff held out the star to his engineer. “Put it up there, Brains.”

John took charge of the star until Brains was securely on the lift. Then, as it rose slowly, Virgil tapped his dad on the shoulder, gesturing to the box.

“There’s a remote…”

Jeff dug it out. Brains secured the star to the top of the tree and descended again.

“On five… four… three… two… one!”

Jeff hit the power button.

Light blazed from the pebbled glass. The colored glass was backlighted clearly.

And the gems threw rainbows all over the room.

#thunderbirds are go #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction

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tagsecretsanta · 4 months

Text

From @alexthefly

From @alexthefly to @gaviiadastra

FUN AND GAMES NIGHT

The prompts:

A Tracy Island games night;

Something’s cooking in the kitchen;

Put the mess in domestic.

Rating: teen

Content warnings:

Moderate whump (fracture, soft tissue injuries);

Alcohol throughout (no drunkenness);

Flirting, including innuendo and one sex mention;

One instance of swearing.

Other warnings: a bit of Pen & Ink included in this one; hope that's ok.

**********

A familiar combination of thrusters, VTOL and a slightly-delayed sonic boom signalled Thunderbird One's return to the island. Gordon immediately felt his heart-rate leap a hundred beats.

“They’re here! Action stations! Alan, fluff the cushions; Virgil, get the food; Kayo…”

Whatever task Gordon had been about to assign to her fizzled away in a blaze of epic side-eye.

“...just kick back and relax, ok? No biggie.”

He backed away a few steps just to be safe, but his sister seemed satisfied, pointedly putting her feet back up on the coffee table before returning to her romance book.

Any other day the temptation to comment on her choice of reading material would be far too much to bear, however hazardous to his health such a comment might be, but today he had other things occupying his mind.

“What can I do?” asked John, making to get up just as Virgil - already on his feet - pushed him firmly back down onto the sofa.

“You can stay right there, Mister,” he said, voice full-medic stern. “You know the rules. First night down from Five means no unnecessary moving around.”

John rolled his eyes and muttered something in Russian, but thankfully stayed where he was.

Gordon flashed the big man a grateful smile on his way past to the kitchen. The last thing he needed right now was a certified space-case causing a danger to himself and others.

Not tonight.

“Shall I get some tunes ready?” Alan had already pulled his tablet out from behind a pillow and started tapping. “I’ve got a great playlist I’ve been working o-”

“Is it video game music?” asked Kayo, not even looking up.

“Yeah?”

“No!” The chorus was unanimous.

“Aww, but it’s not like normal video games. It’s this really cool mix of techno and-”

“NO!”

Alan pouted. “Oh, so I guess you'd all rather listen to Fish-boy’s sea shanties and Europop?”

“Hey!”

Gordon was all ready to defend his frankly impeccable musical taste, but John was clearly not in a mood for bickering.

“EOS, could you put on playlist P3 please?”

“Of course John.”

And with that the room was filled with gentle contemporary music - upbeat but not too raucous, neither intrusive nor dull - ideal for an evening with company. Obviously it was no Wellerman, but it wasn’t half bad.

“Would you like some ambient lighting as well?”

“Not right now, thankyou EOS” replied John, ruffling Alan’s hair as he sat back down with a huff. “Is everything okay up there? Any calls? I could dial in if you need me?”

“Absolutely not,” said Kayo, an edge of menace in her voice. “You’re staying right where you are. Grandma’s orders.”

John scowled.

“Really John, there’s no need,” continued EOS. “I’m perfectly capable of handling things for one evening.”

Gordon noted the slight drop of his big brother’s shoulders but decided not to tug on that thread just now. Gravity always did a number on John the first night down, and it had been known to make him grumpy and homesick.

Virgil wandered back in carrying a big bucket filled with ice water, bottles of beer, prosecco, and cans of soda. With every step another puddle of ice water sloshed over the side and onto the floor.

“Allie, get a cloth would you? And could someone get some glasses out please? I’m kinda weighed down here.”

Kayo and Alan each grabbed one of John’s shoulders, using them to both pin him down and haul themselves up. The older man started to object, but was distracted by a ping on Alan’s tablet beside him.

“Scott’s on his way up now.”

Oh god oh god oh god.

Gordon had the sudden and inexplicable urge to dunk his head in the bucket Virgil had just set down, but instead decided to busy himself with robustly re-plumping the chair pillows while bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

“So everything’s ready, right? Place is tidy, drinks are out, games are stacked, food’s in hand… Are we all set? Should I open a window? It’s kinda hot in here.” Am I sweating? “Maybe I should go change-”

“Breathe Gordon.” soothed Virgil, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The weight of it felt good. Calming. “This isn’t a state dinner; just a normal games night like we’ve done a thousand times before. Nothing to get worked up about.”

Gordon scoffed. “Except it’s not though, is it? ‘Cos those other times it was just us, not-”

There was a ding and the elevator doors slid open.

“Right through here Lady Penelope.” Scott Tracy, suave as always, smoothly waved their guest into the room. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable and we’ll get started.”

“Thankyou Scott. And sorry again that you had to come and collect me…”

And there she was. Penelope.

Perfection personified. The epitome of class and grace. A beautiful angel with a heart of gold and a spine of steel, whose voice was a song and whose smile could reduce whole armies to-

“Gordon, what on earth are you doing to that cushion?”

Huh?

He looked down at his hands to see the pillow he’d been fluffing, now scrunched and twisted over and over as if he were trying to throttle the poor thing. As he stared down trying to compute the mess of fabric and stuffing it suddenly disappeared from his hands, and then something was shoving him in the back, causing him to stumble forwards over his own feet. He recovered just in time to spot Virgil throwing the battered scatter cushion back behind the sofa, grinning from ear to ear.

Oh, there will be vengeance…

Right now though she was looking at him and oh god he needed to say something.

“Uh…”

Quick as you like, Tracy.

“Er…” His throat made a strange sort of rasping sound.

Any words will do!

“Lady Penelope!” he squeaked. “Welcome in! Come here! I mean come in. Welcome here. You’re welcome here. To our home I mean. This home. Where we…”

He glanced over and caught sight of Kayo, face in hand, shaking her head behind the temporary bar they’d set up for the evening.

“Drink!” he exclaimed, just a little too loudly. “Can I… Would you like a drink?”

The small, knowing smile she gave him was all at once thrilling and completely mortifying; a glorious little needle of light straight through his poor, mortal little heart.

“That would be wonderful. Thankyou Gordon.”

Cheeks burning, he slumped off to the bar and a consolatory shoulder nudge from Kayo while Scott showed Penelope to the seating area. Virgil scooted around them and disappeared back down to the kitchen, throwing him a sympathetic look on the way.

After getting their guest settled, Scott casually folded himself down on the sofa next to her. “So how come Parker didn’t join us tonight? He was more than welcome.”

Gordon loudly shovelled a scoopful of ice into a long glass and then reached for the schnapps.

Stupid Never-flustered Always-has-the-right-words Scott Tracy…

“He wasn’t feeling too good I’m afraid. He said something about Lilian’s casserole disagreeing with him, but to be honest I suspect it was probably more to do with the FA cup final showing on BBC.”

Cranberry, orange wedge…

Kayo cleared her throat softly. “So what drink was it you wanted, Lady Penelope?”

Gordon’s brain short-circuited, vodka in hand.

What.. drink?

He replayed the conversation - such as it had been - through again in his head.

…Dammit, he forgot to ask! He’d been so flummoxed he’d ended up mixing on autopilot.

“Oh, anything really. Whatever you’re all having.” Penelope looked over curiously. “What’s that you have there, Gordon?”

Aww hell.

“It’s a… umm… Sex on the Beach.”

Now it was John’s turn to facepalm while Alan snickered from behind his tablet. Even Scott snorted before passing it off with a hasty clear of the throat.

Lady Penelope, however, held Gordon’s gaze, expression inscrutable, then ever so slowly arched one perfectly coiffured eyebrow.

“Well, that sounds interesting. But perhaps just some wine for now and we’ll see how we get on.”

There was a squeak beside him, and Kayo ducked down behind the bar giggling. Alan snort-coughed and had to be hit on the back by John, who was at least trying - somewhat painfully - to keep a straight face. Scott just grinned at him.

Gordon stood there, stunned into inertia, though he wasn’t quite sure if it was his own mortification holding him back or the slight hint of mischief in Penelope’s eye, almost as if…

Nope, he was definitely imagining it.

Scott looked from one to the other for a moment then, chuckling to himself, jumped to his feet and strode over to the bar.

“C’mon Fish,” he said quietly, grabbing a champagne flute off the bar top and flashing his best, most reassuring, big brother smile. “Let’s go choose a game and get this thing started.”

Gordon nodded, dumbfounded. He grabbed his ridiculous but perfectly mixed drink, complete with little novelty umbrella, and trudged over to the seating area.

Alan was already giving the assembled group a run-down of the various choices lined up for the evening. “We’ve got all your classics like backgammon, chess, battleships, guess who…”

“Those are all for two people, Allie,” said Scott, grabbing himself a beer and pouring Penelope her wine. “How about something we can all play?”

“Clue then?”

“That needs six. We’ve got seven.”

“I don’t mind sitting out the first round if you need me to,” Penelope said gently, accepting her drink.

“Not a chance,” said John firmly. “You’re our guest.”

Alan looked around, confused. “Wait, who’s the seventh?”

Kayo passed him a soda from the bucket.

“Uh, Virgil(?)”

“Oh yeah.”

““Oh yeah” he says,” came Virgil’s voice over the ‘comms. “How soon I’m forgotten(!)”

“Sorry Virg!” Alan slurped his soda loudly, earning him a frown from both Scott and Gordon. “Guess I’m just too hungry to think. Where’s the food at?”

“It’s coming. Just waiting for the vol-au-vents to puff up.”

Alan nearly spat out his soda.

“Vol-au-vents?! What happened to our wings and chi- Oww!”

A pillow flew across the room and caught Alan right upside the head. He got back up and glared at Gordon, who was already gearing up for another throw.

“Whatcha do that for?”

Penelope looked from one to the other, realisation dawning.

“I do hope you didn’t go to any trouble, Virgil. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not at all. Really, it’s all in hand. I’ll be up in a few.”

And with that the comms blinked off.

John swayed forward in his seat. “Y’know, I might go give him a hand…”

“Sit down, John!” ordered Scott, clearly done with them all by this point.

John remained there for a second, possibly weighing up the odds of making a run for it, then sat back down, arms folded definitely-not-at-all petulantly.

“...Fine.”

“What about Monopoly?” suggested Penelope, clearly trying to change the subject. “That can have up to eight players.”

Kayo shook her head.

“Can’t.”

“Oh?”

“We’ve been banned,” Alan piped up. “Grandma said so.”

A pause. “...I see.”

“Well that doesn’t matter, does it?” urged Gordon, keen to get everyone playing before the whole evening went up in smoke. “Grandma can’t stop us from all the way in Gran Roca.”

“You sure about that, Gords?” asked Kayo, eyebrow raised.

He laughed nervously. “Heh…”

“In any case,” interjected Scott, “did you forget why Grandma banned it?”

“...Good point.”

The Great Tracy Anti-capitalist Revolution of 2056. In Gordon’s defence Scott had started it, buying up all those hotels like a dragon hoarding gold…

Alan held up a bunch of VR headsets. “How about something more modern? I’ve got Samurai Slasher, Twilight Ridge, Malibu Steade’s Epic Quest…?”

Scott frowned. “Not on John's first night down, Squirt.”

“Oh yeah. Gotcha.”

Gordon nodded. Way too much potential for injury.

“Ugh!” John threw his hands in the air. “You guys are like a flock of mother hens. I’m fine! Look…” He rolled to his feet before anybody could tell him not to. “Nice and steady. No wobbles, no stumbles. Nothing. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Uh, Johnny…”

“John darling...”

“Nope, I’m not listening,” he barked, striding purposely out of the seating area towards the stairwell, “Comfort breaks are necessary, so I don't care what you s-”

“John!”

“Food’s here!”

“Look out!”

There was an “oof” and a crash as spaceman, heavy-lifter and a platter of freshly-made vol-au-vents collided in a mess of limbs and pastry before tumbling out of sight down the kitchen stairs.

“John!”

“Virgil!”

Everyone was on their feet as a series of thuds, grunts, clatters and clangs echoed from the stairway, followed by one very plaintive “Oww.”

The place immediately erupted into total uproar. Ever the level head, Kayo immediately ran to get the first aid kit and the medi-scanner. Meanwhile Scott - always the quickest to leap into action - practically flew down the stairs after the pair of them in a frenzy of big brotherly concern, with Alan, Gordon and Penelope following closely behind.

The two fallers themselves were actually relatively uninjured in the circumstances. Both were a mess of bruises and grazes and smooshed pastry, but at least they were fully conscious and coherent enough to be thoroughly embarrassed by the whole thing. John had twisted his ankle and had a walnut-sized bump on his forehead, and Virgil (who had slid most of the way down the steps backwards) ended up with a bruised tailbone, strained shoulder and one broken finger.

The kitchen, unfortunately, hadn’t fared quite so well. Total disaster was the most accurate description.

Best they could figure, the metal serving platter Virgil had been carrying had reached the ground floor airborne, bounced off the doorframe and had landed right in the middle of the countertop, sending plates, bowls, jars and spoons scattering and smashing all over the place. The situation wasn’t helped any when MAX, having heard the commotion, came speeding into the kitchen brandishing a mop and broom, skidded on a stray patch of vol-au-vent filling, slammed into the fridge and sent ice cubes from the dispenser shooting across the floor, then got confused and started spinning on the spot, taking out the stand mixer and two cupboard doors in the process.

Eventually they managed to get things back on a somewhat even keel. After a thorough checking over and an even more thorough mothering from Big Bro, both casualties were helped to their feet and safely installed back on the sofas with strict instructions not. To. Move.

Penelope kept herself busy fetching drinks and ice packs for the patients and generally trying to soothe frayed nerves while Gordon, Alan and Kayo set to work fixing the kitchen back up, but after twenty minutes Scott - aware of the time and the presence of their guest - called everyone back to try to enjoy what was left of the evening.

And so instead of vol-au-vents, chips and dips were retrieved from various stashes in various rooms, drinks were replenished (non-alcoholic for the two injured parties, eliciting low grumbles from one and shrug of “stupid gravity” from the other) and in lieu of further disagreements a couple of packs of cards was produced.

The rest of the evening was spent enjoying rounds of Go Fish, rummy, and playing poker for bottle caps, with plenty of jokes, stories and good conversation enjoyed in-between. Towards the end of the night - and to Gordon’s delight - Penelope even taught them a game from her university days called Shithead.

Finally, after most of the others had said their goodnights and wandered off to their rooms, Gordon and Penelope sat side-by-side on the sofa finishing their drinks alone, save for Alan who was snoring softly on the floor beside them.

Penelope swirled the last of her drink with her straw. “Do you think we should move him? That doesn’t look very comfortable…”

Gordon shrugged. “Nah, that’s how he normally sleeps. It’s a teenager thing,” he added, chewing on his orange slice garnish.

Penelope beamed. “I really have had a lovely time tonight. It’s been the most terrific fun, injuries notwithstanding of course.”

Her eyes seemed to sparkle in the warm mood lighting that EOS had finally persuaded John to put on an hour or so earlier.

“And this drink of yours really is delicious by the way.”

Gordon laughed.

“See? I knew you’d like it. Maybe one day I’ll open up a bar of my own right on the beach and serve them out of coconut shells.”

He removed the little paper umbrella from his glass and started opening and closing it like he was in a tiny Hollywood musical.

She laughed. “Well if tonight’s anything to go by, any bar of yours would never be dull!”

Gordon grinned and presented the tiny decoration to her with a flourish, all hint of his earlier embarrassment gone. He was here, she was here, and it was all just… right.

She accepted it with a smile.

Really though Gordon, it’s been the most wonderful night.”

There was a pause while she twirled the umbrella in her hand thoughtfully.

“You know, it’s not always easy to relax around other people, especially in my line of work.” She sighed. “So many functions, so many people, but it can all sometimes feel just a little bit…”

She shook her head.

“I’m not making any sense. It’s just that being here with you all, everything feels so… easy; so fun.”

Gordon leaned forwards, willing her to go on. It was like a wall somewhere was shifting, and he could finally catch a small glimpse of what was actually going on behind that perfect smile of hers.

She looked up at him, eyes shining.

“I suppose what I’m trying to say is, thankyou so much for inviting me.”

A breath. A moment that seemed to stretch out between them, soft and fragile.

“Thankyou for coming.”

-------------------

The next morning, as Penny yawned and stretched out in the extra-soft, gloriously comfortable guest bed, luxuriating in the distinct novelty of waking up with nowhere particular she needed to be, her eye fell on the little yellow umbrella laying, just as she'd left it, on top of the nightstand beside her.

She smiled, her stomach fluttering.

So fun…

From downstairs there was a sudden commotion and a voice:

“WHAT IN GOD’S NAME HAVE YOU KIDS DONE TO MY KITCHEN?!”

#thunderbirds are go #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction

34 notes · View notes

tagsecretsanta · 4 months

Text

From @misstb2

From @misstb2 to @katiedido2

Afraid I’ve only done one as I just don’t have time to do a suit set :(

Christmas Virgil.

I hope you like it, sorry for only doing one.

#thunderbirds are go #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction

42 notes · View notes

tagsecretsanta · 4 months

Text

From @ajpendragon

From @ajpendragon to @emtb319

Happy Holidays!

Secret Santa

“John, what is this ‘Secret Santa’ that you have in your calendar? I know about Santa, but he is not a secret?”

John paused where he was buried headfirst in an electrical panel. “Secret Santa is a Christmas tradition we do. Each person is in charge of buying a present for someone else in the family, but no one else knows who is buying for whom. It’s a supposed to be a surprise, but we always try to guess who has your name.”

“Can I play too?”

“You’ll have to play fair. No peeking through emails or computers to see who has your name, no finding out and telling people who has them, no using the security cameras to watch everyone.”

“But I need to have access to the security cameras in case of emergency.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t use them. Just don’t use them to cheat.”

“Ok.” The AI sounded oddly offended that John would question her.

“And no looking at search history or orders to figure out the gifts, no trying to analyze everyone to see who they have, no trying to figure anything out!”

“Ok, ok.” She huffed loudly. The familiarity of the sound was concerning, and John made a mental note to stop her hanging out with Gordon. He was clearly a bad influence.

“I promise not to cheat.”

*****************************

They drew names for Secret Santa the next day. EOS managed to randomize the names, draw one for herself, and then print out the rest onto slips of paper, which Scott folded carefully and passed around.

She observed them with interest, watching the way they barely glanced at the name before hiding it again. Gordon even went so far as to eat the piece of paper so no one could see who he had. They all sat lost in thought for a few minutes, clearly trying to think of gift ideas already.

One by one, they excused themselves, each heading off back to their normal day. “John.”

He turned back. “Yes?”

“I may require some assistance. Would it ruin the surprise if I required your hands at some point?”

“I think we can allow it. Let me know when you need me to help. I’ll be in my room for now, trying to come up with some good ideas.”

EOS waited in the lounge for a few minutes before tracking Scott’s signature. He was moving around in his room, but appeared to be on his way out for a run. She waited for a few more minutes to ensure he wasn’t coming back before switching to the camera inside his room.

She had a vague idea of what to get him. She knew he liked old books, but which book in particular to get was the harder question. She stared at his shelf for a while, memorizing titles and comparing genres to figure out what he liked. And then she found the perfect one. The middle of a shelf was filled with a series, all beautifully bound and matching except for one paperback shoved in the middle.

A quick glance at the title and brief internet search later, and she had found the perfect gift. It was fairly expensive, which was probably why Scott hadn’t bought it for himself, but it was nowhere near the price limit John had given her.

The old bookstore that was selling it promised that it would arrive in plenty of time for Christmas, and so she ordered the book, and settled in to wait for its arrival.

*******************************

When the package arrived, John was roped into wrapping it according to her specifications, which were extensive. John had to remind himself once again to talk to Gordon about their interactions, because he had clearly given her tips on wrapping. The original small package, about the size of a large book, was wrapped, put into a bigger box, wrapped, etc…

It ended up being the biggest package under the tree. EOS was incredibly proud of herself, and waited eagerly for Christmas morning.

******************************

“Good morning, Scott Tracy.” EOS’ voice startled Scott, and his jump (that he would deny if anyone asked) splashed batter over the edge of the bowl.

“Good morning, EOS.” Scott wiped the drips from the counter, and turned back to his mixing. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!” The AI sounded excited, and Scott smiled. She had grown so much since they had first met her, and John had done well teaching her. It was almost like having a niece, although one he couldn’t see or touch.

“What are you doing in the kitchen so early? You normally go for a run at this time.”

“It’s Christmas.” He replied, turning the griddle on to start pre-heating as he finished the batter. “We all do things a little differently on Christmas.”

“John told me about this. You call them traditions, right?”

“Yes. Try looking it up.”

EOS went silent for a few minutes, and he started pouring circles of batter onto the griddle. He had covered half of the cooktop before she spoke back up.

“These all seem very interesting. But quite a few of them seem to conflict. How do you do all of them?”

Scott dropped blueberries onto half of the pancakes, and scooped up chocolate chips for the rest. “No one can do all of the Christmas traditions in the world. Each person or family choose which ones they want to follow, usually the same ones their parents or grandparents do, although sometimes people add new ones.”

He paused to flip the pancakes, then resumed his explanation. “We always do Secret Santa, which you already know about, and then we have pancakes for breakfast before we open presents. Dad used to make them, but since he’s gone, I make them now. Each person has their favorite flavor.”

EOS was silent for several minutes, and Scott focused on flipping the finished pancakes onto a plate and pouring new ones.

“What do pancakes taste like?” She finally asked.

“Uhhhhhhh…” He trailed off. “I’m not really sure how to answer that. They’re usually pretty fluffy. Some of them are sweet, if you put chocolate chips on them. They blueberry ones are a mix of sweet and sour. I don’t really know…”

He cut off as Virgil entered the kitchen. “Virgil, perfect! You’re good with words and uh…describing things. EOS wants to know what pancakes taste like.”

Virgil shot a glare at his older brother, who smiled smugly and went back to his pancake making, ignoring any attempts to draw him back into the conversation.

*****************************

By the time Virgil had satisfactorily explained the taste of pancakes, breakfast was ready. Everyone gathered around the table, grabbing plates and helping themselves to the stacks of food, scooping fruit and whipped cream, pouring syrup, spreading butter and peanut butter. The table was quiet except for the sounds of eating.

The pancakes that had taken nearly an hour to cook disappeared in less than twenty minutes. Plates were piled in the sink, but the rest of the cleanup was left for later as they all eagerly hurried to the lounge.

Scott gave his gift first, a set of old star maps in perfect condition for John. Alan got tickets for a racing event he had been talking about for months from Virgil, and John built an incredible underwater camera for Gordon, allowing him to get amazing footage on his next dives.

Gordon had drawn EOS. He had spent hours working on and coding a video of his best pranks, as well as compiling all the best videos off the internet. It would have been so much faster if he had asked John for his help, but he had insisted on doing it himself.

She was delighted, downloading it as quickly as possible. John tried to protest, worried about the inevitable consequences of giving an incredibly powerful child access to so much potential for trouble. But before he could voice it, the download was complete, and EOS and Gordon were busily chattering away about what pranks they were going to try.

John made another mental note, joining his long list that he really needed to start getting completed. No leaving his door unlocked for the foreseeable future, and no eating anything that Gordon gave him.

The last of the gifts were passed out, but they all stayed in the lounge, enjoying the rare downtime and each other’s company. Gordon and EOS spent for too long plotting for anyone else’ comfort, Alan joining in eventually with a few ideas of his own, but the amount of joy they were finding was rare enough that no one had the heart to stop them.

John, Virgil, and Scott retreated to the kitchen, watching their brothers and daughter/niece plan. “We’re going into hiding for the next few months, right?”

Virgil and John nodded. “I’ll prep Two.”

“Grab some supplies. Meet down there in twenty minutes.”

They split up quickly, the plotters in the lounge too busy to notice. John knew it wouldn’t last for long. EOS would notice as soon as Two took off, but at least they had a head start.

They were going to need it!

#thunderbirds are go #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction

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tagsecretsanta · 4 months

Text

From @mrmustachious

From @mrmustachious to @godsliltippy

A/N: Happy Holidays everyone! I was originally going to just write a fic, but then I decided to do something a little different for my gift. Hopefully my recipient likes it! The prompts I was given were:

- Gordon and a cramp

- Bros-mas with Gordon and Fuse.

- "Sorry I can't be there." (either said to/by Gordon)

I tried my best to incorporate them all. This is set in a universe where Fuse got his redemption arc and ended up becoming best friends with Gordon like we all wanted.

I really hope my recipient enjoys their gift and is having a great holiday! <3<3<3

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Gordon slipped his phone into his pocket when he saw the man making his way towards the small cottage. Fuse had an armful of logs and he was looking down at his phone, but Gordon could see the moment that Fuse read his latest message, because his head shot up towards the direction of the cottage. Even from a short distance away, Gordon could see the smile that stretched across his face when he spotted him, and Gordon knew his own face matched.

Gordon let the other man get closer before he then barrelled down the porch steps. Fuse barely had time to drop the logs before Gordon lept on him, wrapping all his limbs around the other man like a squid.

Fuse expelled a lungful of air at the surprise, but he didn’t falter, and his arms were around Gordon in an instant to stop from dropping him. Gordon could feel as well as hear Fuse break out into a laugh, his whole body rumbling.

“Hello to you too.”

They stayed like that for a moment. Gordon soaked in the warmth of the other man, as he wasn’t lying when he said his hands were getting numb, before he finally let go.

“You’re lucky you get a hug after leaving me stuck outside,” Gordon said as his feet hit the ground, but he grinned at the other man so he knew he wasn’t serious.

“How about I make it up to you by getting the fire on?” Fuse asked as he started to pick up the discarded logs.

“Throw in a hot chocolate too and we have a deal.”

Fuse laughed, but he couldn’t say no to Gordon.

“Sure.”

Gordon let out a small cheer, before he helped Fuse pick the logs out of the snow before they got too wet.

“So, what do you have planned for tonight?”

It was Fuse who had planned this whole evening. He’d come up with the idea and rented the cabin, and all Gordon had to do was show up.

“Once we get the fire going, I was thinking Christmas movies and baking. I know an amazing gingerbread recipe.”

“Sounds good. It’ll be nice to have something that wasn’t baked by my Grandma for once.” Gordon shivered as he remembered her latest creation just the night before.

“Yeah,” Fuse grimaced, as he had been subjected to her cooking on more than one occasion, and he knew far too well what Gordon was talking about.

As they chatted, they finished gathering the logs that Fuse had unceremoniously dumped on the ground thanks to Gordon, and then they made their way into the cabin where the promise of warmth waited.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Gordon let out a little huff of laughter as he placed his phone on the kitchen worktop. He felt bad for Alan, but only to an extent. Lady Penelope’s holiday galas were rarely boring, and if they were, there was always some drama about to kick off to liven up the night. And even if that didn’t happen, he had access to basically unlimited food and drink, not to mention their family was there too. He would be fine.

Gordon turned to Fuse, who had just finished placing their gingerbread people on a cooling rack.

“So, how long until we can start decorating them?” Gordon leant on the worktop next to him to peer at their cookies. They looked really tasty, and he was desperate to try one.

“We should wait a few minutes until they cool down, but I can never wait that long.” Fuse seemed to contemplate it for a few minutes, before he shrugged. “I mean, what can go wrong?”

He grabbed a few colourful tubes of icing and handed them to Gordon, then grabbed the rest for himself. Gordon was also not a fan of waiting, so he joined Fuse in creating a colourful collection of characters made of gingerbread.

“Hey, squid, check out this guy.”

Gordon looked up and over at the gingerbread man Fuse was holding, and chuckled at the dorky look on the little guy’s face.

“I don’t think you need to add any more to him. He’s perfect.”

“Some of my greatest work, I think.” Fuse placed him back on the tray and then pulled his phone out to take a picture.

“Y’know, I was thinking that maybe in a bit we should go down to the lake or something,” Fuse spoke as he typed something on his phone, before putting it back in his pocket. “Might be fun to have a wander.”

“Yeah, that sounds great!” Gordon was quick to agree. This cabin was in a beautiful spot and he didn’t want to go home before he’d had a chance to explore, and he couldn’t say no to a lake. “But not before we try these little guys.”

“Of course!”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Gordon rubbed his tired eyes. This was not the way their evening was supposed to end, but it wouldn’t be the first time he or Fuse ended up in the hospital after seeing each other.

Perhaps walking across a frozen lake wasn’t the best idea, and Gordon definitely knew better, but he had at least been sensible. It was Fuse who had fallen in first, the ice abruptly cracking beneath him, and Gordon had to dive in after him to get him out. His training made it easy to get Fuse back up onto the ice, but things took a turn for the worse when Gordon got a cramp in his leg.

By that point, he knew he had been in the freezing cold water too long, and he couldn’t remember his training for such a situation. He couldn’t get himself up onto the ice as his legs failed to kick beneath him, and he started to slip under the surface.

However, Fuse’s grasp around his wrist was all that kept him from slipping completely under, and together they got him out of the water too.

After that, they dragged themselves back to land, where they sat shivering in the snow. Gordon wasn’t aware of Fuse calling an ambulance, nor did he remember the ride to the hospital. He only remembered waking up in this bed, his head pounding and beneath a million blankets but still freezing cold.

Gordon was brought out of his thoughts when there was a knock at his door, and he called for the person to come in as he sat up slightly.

Fuse peeked his head around the door, and then stepped into the room.

“Hey.” Fuse gave him a small wave as he walked over to the bed. “I would ask how you’re feeling, but I imagine it’s similar to how I’m feeling right now, which is awful.”

He fell into the seat next to the bed and put his head in his hands with a groan.

“I was told not to get out of bed, how did you get out of your room?”

Although it was a relief to see that Fuse was alright with his own eyes, Gordon didn’t want him collapsing in the middle of the room.

Fuse dropped one hand from his face to send a look to Gordon that answered his question. Compared to what Fuse had done in the past, just a few nurse’s orders would be nothing for him. Though Gordon was sure they would give him a run for his money if they caught him here.

��I let your brothers know you were here, by the way,” Fuse said as he dropped both hands to his lap.

“Oh, thank you.” To be honest, Gordon hadn’t even thought to do that. He wasn’t even sure where his phone was. Probably with the rest of his things. “What did they say?”

Gordon dreaded to think about what they would say about all this and how he ended up in the hospital, again, after doing something idiotic.

“Honestly, I’m too scared to look. I told them where you were and then turned my phone off, but they should be here soon.”

Then, Fuse abruptly stood up.

“Speaking of which, I’m gonna head back to my room. Nurses orders and all.”

“Fuse.” Gordon knew what he was doing.

“Good to see that you’re awake. Don’t let your brothers murder you after I saved you.”

“Fuse!”

“Speak soon!” And with that, he slipped out of the door and disappeared from sight.

Gordon shook his head, and would have laughed if he didn’t know it was going to hurt his chest and send him into a coughing fit.

Coward.

Not that Gordon could blame him. He would hide away if he could too.

But, despite it all, Gordon didn’t care that the night had ended disastrously. He’d had an amazing day with Fuse, and if anything, he had several more to come. He would be off duty for at least a week, maybe more, which just gave him an excuse to spend more time with Fuse.

He would just have to deal with several angry brothers first.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

#thunderbirds are go #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction

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tagsecretsanta · 4 months

Text

From @scribbles97

From @scribbles97 to @angelofbenignmalevolence

It was cold.

There was ice in the air and snow promised in the heavy clouds that blanketed the city.

If it weren’t the week of Thanksgiving, Scott might have felt that the atmosphere was perfectly fitting for Christmas. Sure, he’d been to New York plenty of times over the winter months, but that had always been for work and had involved fancy cars ferrying him from meeting to meeting. He’d missed the crisp air against his cheeks that he remembered from his childhood, and the way the city lights seemed to shine all the brighter against the backdrop of snow clouds.

Though he had to admit, of all the cities in the world, Edinburgh hadn’t ever been high on his list of favourites. The antique charm built up around the castle was something John had always been one to appreciate, and was probably one of the reasons his brother continued to agree to guest lecture at the university.

A city with a historic relationship with the arts, and a university that excelled in both arts and engineering -- Scott was sure there was another brother that would have been better suited to walking the historic streets.

Hell, even Gordon might have been better, if his chatter about Sports Science at the college a few months prior had been anything to go by.

“I still don’t get,” Scott huffed, watching the ghost of his breath float away in the crisp winter air, “Why you wanted me to come with you?”

John tutted, digging his hands deeper into the pockets of his long woolen coat, “Come on Scooter, you were the only one that used to even try to keep up with my mathematics.”

Scott smiled as his mind cast itself back to far simpler times, when getting through the school day without a brother getting in trouble had been his biggest concern, and math class had been a straight race between he and his younger brother as to who could finish their work first. He remembered teachers and parents alike rolling their eyes at the quiet sibling rivalry, John had always acted like he didn’t care, but Scott had seen the fond smiles that crept through when both had stood at the same time to hand in their papers.

Never in a million years did he anticipate simple races would end in his brother cajoling Scott to join him in Edinburgh for a week of guest-lectures.

He had been promised he would enjoy the time away, not that he would spend the time in Astronomy lectures that went eighty percent over his head.

Not that he would complain, despite the below freezing temperatures of the city, it was nice to get away for something non-work related. Dad had a handle on the business, and their new GDF recruits had demonstrated exceptional capabilities in supporting International Rescue.

For the first time in years, he and John could sit and enjoy their coffee without the looming threat of some disaster.

Well, they had been, until John had realised the time.

He had rushed them both out of the little shop and along the streets towards one of the older buildings that reminded Scott of their university days and long forgotten visits to Oxford.

“This is the math building?” Scott frowned, catching the sign drilled into the brickwork next to the oversized old oak door, “You’re not lecturing in math this week.”

John rolled his eyes in that fond exasperated way he always had in school when Scott had lost their races due to rushed silly mistakes.

“Well, big brother,” He smiled, leading them up the stone stairs, turning to look at Scott as the doors opened automatically, “You might not know this, but having a name for yourself and being pretty good in your field means you can pull strings to get what you want.”

Scott paused, hand on the railing, as he looked to John, “What did you--”

John didn’t wait, stepping into the building as he explained, “Did you know Doctor MacGregor is doing a guest lecture here today, presenting her work on Banach Space and the Invariant Subspace Problem?”

Scott had known MacGregor was due to give a guest lecture on her work in the city. What he hadn’t known was that it had coincided with their trip.

Dates of lectures were things that had long since vanished from his radar, too busy on all fronts to consider having or taking time for things that wouldn’t actively contribute to his work.

“That isn’t even your early Christmas present.” John grinned, clearly smug with his plot, “Now, come on, I don’t plan on being late.”

He headed straight for the original stone staircase, clearly already knowing where they needed to be and how to get there.

“But--” Scott stuttered as he went to dart after his younger brother, unphased by the grand architecture of the old building, “But Doctor MacGregor! John! Do you--”

“I do.” John’s smile was wicked as he dipped a hand into his satchel, “Which is why Virgil sent me with this.”

Both ducked to the side as students tried to pass them, clearly unimpressed by being held up on their way to their own lectures.

Scott was transfixed on the data-pad John was holding out to him, something already brought up on the screen with his own familiar scrawl adorning the margins.

Scott’s annotated version of MacGregor’s previous paper.

As soon as recognition dawned, John snatched away the tablet, turning to continue up the stairs.

Scott was quick to follow, not daring to be late as his brother had said.

“But, she’ll have places to be--”

John paused at the top of the stairs, letting Scott catch up before heading down a hallway, “If by places you mean dinner on Princes Street with us, then yes, she will.”

“But--”

His younger brother raised an eyebrow as they stopped outside a lecture theatre, the doors pegged open and students still filling seats. When Scott glanced in, he could see the Doctor in question chatting to a member of faculty.

They were about to listen to a Doctor MacGregor lecture, live and in person.

John’s hand on his shoulder grounded him before Scott could die on the spot.

“Few people enjoy math as much as you do, big brother. Besides, MacGregor was quite keen to discuss your annotations with you, though she did ask why you hadn’t pursued the area further.”

“You gave her my notes?”

Never mind, he was ready to die on the spot.

Those notes weren’t meant to be read, they’d been rough and full of silly mistakes like those John had used to roll his eyes at. He had meant to go back after he had slept and correct them, but rescues had happened and he had all but forgotten them.

As first impressions went, it hadn’t been the one that Scott had wanted to make.

“It’s your Christmas present, albeit a month early,” John shrugged, glancing into the theatre before looking back to Scott, “You don’t get out enough, perhaps you’ll take this as a hint to do the things you enjoy more. Doctor MacGregor was quite eager to help me convince you to go back to school.”

Scott had to admit, the astrophysics lectures that week hadn’t been the worst thing in the world. It had been soothing to listen to the explanations given of various theories, and refreshing to take the time to learn something that had nothing to do with his lines of work.

Judging from the smug smile John had let slip again, that realisation had been part of his plan all along.

Scott couldn’t help but be grateful, not that little brothers needed to know as much.

Folding his arms, he fought his own smile, “You’re a shit.”

John nodded, eyes drifting to the people within the theatre, “I love you too.”

Scott reached across to him, waiting for him to meet his eye before nodding himself, putting everything that he could into the words, “Thank you.”

For all his little brothers could be a pain in his butt, he knew that they looked out for him as much as he did them.

“You’re welcome,” John’s shoulder rolled under Scott’s hand, “Can we hurry up now? We’re going to be late.”

Chuckling to himself, Scott gestured for his brother to lead the way.

If he stumbled slightly on the steps down to the front row seats, that was between him, John, and Doctor MacGregor.

#thunderbirds are go #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction

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tagsecretsanta · 4 months

Text

From @emtb319

From @emtb319 to @vitanirigatoni

“It’s Time”

Prompts:

Welcoming a new family member Christmas Day

Picking the right tree

All we want for Christmas is mother and father

No preferences on people

Characters:

Kyrano family

Tracy family

Cass McCready

Penelope Creighton-Ward

Parker

-Christmas Eve-

Cass McCready hadn’t expected to see Virgil or his brother today. This was supposed to be a fun little holiday for her and her rock obsessed son. Her son Derek had a rather keen interest in fluorescent rocks. A few weeks ago, he discovered a small town that was known as the Fluorescent Mineral Capital of the World, so he had to see it. She reached out to a local travel planner. She happened to be related to the captain of the local fire department and mentioned that she could also arrange some ride-along time for Cass. It didn’t take long for them to be invited to stay with the Fire Department Captain Babcock and his family. This would save them the time of having to travel 25+ minutes to the nearest hotel. Cass always liked the opportunity to visit other fire departments, and this one was in a rural area. It would be very different from her city department. Her visit would give her a chance to practice some seldom used skills and maybe she would learn something new.

While Derek was on a museum tour, the fire sirens rang. This department had one of those very old fashioned audible alarms, the ones that rang so loud that you could hear them from across town. Many fire departments had them before they had portable radios, but few departments actually used them anymore. One of the mines had collapsed and there may have been some people trapped inside. While the department mobilized, Cass discovered that Derek was safe. He told her that a few people had talked about going into a closed part of the mines.

“Mum. I haven’t seen them,” he said. “What if they’re in there?”

“Don’t worry Derek. Stay with the group. We will find them.” As the search began, Cass and Captain Babcock realized that they may not have the apparatus or time needed to get to the trapped people. They used drones and found the group in a deep part of the mines. This part of the mines was prone to flooding and water had started to seep inside. They estimated that the trapped people had about 3 hours before they were submerged, but it would take at least 5 hours to get to them with the equipment and the manpower that they had. The town had closed this mine off many years ago because of the water issue. Even locals who were highly trained cave climbers would not enter this mine. It was simply too dangerous to allow people to walk around there. This group took a huge risk and got trapped. Captain Babcock weighed his options, but he couldn’t see how they would get to the trapped people in time. Cass called International Rescue. It didn’t take long for her to hear the familiar roar of Thunderbird 2’s engines.

“You’ll see Captain Babcock. These boys are great,” Cass assured the fire captain.

“I’m sure they are,” he answered, “I’m just not used to having to call them for help.”

“It’s ok. I know how that feels, but they really just like to help people. They’re a nice family. Highly trained too,” she said as she saw Virgil and Gordon approach them. A short while later, with the help of International Rescue, they were able to get the trapped people out of the mine and close it off.

Virgil left the tourists with the local emergency medical services. They were more rattled than injured, but they needed a quick once over. He thought about the mines and the little museum that he saw near the entrance. This place was supposed to be known as the Fluorescent Mineral Capital of the World, but it didn’t appear to be a protected heritage site.

“Captain Babcock, these mines, are they a heritage site yet?” Virgil asked him.

“No, they are not. I wouldn’t know where to start to get them declared that way,” he answered.

“That’s what I thought. Let me get you the contact information of a friend of mine over there,” Virgil started. “Lady Penelope would be happy to help you. If you can get the mines declared a heritage site, the World Heritage Foundation would help maintain them, so that something like this doesn’t happen again.”

“That would be wonderful! I’d be happy to pass on her info to the history people here in town.” They talked about the history of the mines and the minerals, as they packed up their gear. Gordon’s attention turned to the fire department’s parking lot. He really wanted something. Virgil saw Gordon’s energy change.

“Gordon, whatever it is, I’m tired and ready to go home,” Virgil said with a sigh. He was really tired. It had been a long day for all of them, and they would be over their flight hours soon.

“Come on Virg. Can you imagine the smell tomorrow morning?” Gordon said/whined, while he bounced. It took a moment for Virgil to realize what grabbed Gordon’s attention.

“Gordon, there’s nothing wrong with the tree we already have at home. And, we don’t have to worry about it becoming a fire hazard after you forget to water it,” Virgil retorted while Cass and Captain Babcock looked between the two of them and silently giggled. Then came the puppy eyes. Cass had to excuse herself to laugh out of earshot of Virgil. Captain Babcock used her as an excuse to step away for some coffee and a snack. He was trying his best not to laugh in front of Virgil and Gordon. Virgil saw them slip away and looked back at Gordon and sighed. He could argue and lose tired, or he could let Gordon take a few minutes to get his tree. On the bright side, it would support the local emergency services and his little brother would be happy, so Virgil gave in.

“Fine, but be quick,” Virgil didn’t even get to the word ‘but’, before Gordon shot off. Virgil turned back towards Gordon and yelled, “just make sure it’s not a Frasier.”

“I know, I know,” Gordon yelled back, as he bounced across the lot in search of his tree. There were a few reasons why they didn’t typically do fresh trees at Christmas. It wasn’t just a fire hazard, but the wrong one could bring back smells and memories that belonged well in the past. Tomorrow was for them as a family, and it will be a good day. Virgil and John would make sure of it. It was their dad’s first Christmas home after his long trip to the Oort Cloud. Even Colonel Casey made arrangements so that they would not be bothered. International Rescue had a rare day off. Colonel Casey promised not to call them unless the world had fallen apart.

Cass returned to Virgil’s side, having regained her composure. She grasped Virgil’s shoulder and said, “I love his energy. Let me buy you a cup of coffee.” They went off towards the fire department auxiliary’s tent in search of some coffee. With coffee in hand, Cass went over some tree basics with Virgil and even got him the base that they’d need for it.

Gordon was happy that Virgil let him get a real tree. He wanted this Christmas to be extra special. He and John had worked really hard on their surprise for everyone, and things needed to be perfect when that gift arrived at the island tomorrow. A fresh tree would make it more special. As he made his way through the rows of trees, a fire department cadet approached him and offered to help.

“Just trying to find the right one. Big day tomorrow,” Gordon answered.

“Hmm,” the cadet started. “How big? What color? Anything you don’t want?”

“No Frasiers,” Gordon said a little too quickly. The cadet looked at him a moment, then decided that it was better not to ask.

“Okay. We have some really nice Spruces this year,” he said, as he guided Gordon to another side of the lot. They made small talk, as Gordon looked through the trees. He told Gordon a lot about the local history. His own family had been on the department for over 140 years.

“Maybe something a bit fuller,” Gordon said, as they looked through more trees. “We have a tall ceiling and lots of room in our lounge. It doesn’t have to be too tall, but maybe wider is better.”

“Oh! I know the one. It’s over here,” the cadet responded. He grabbed Gordon’s arm and led him further down the row of trees. The kid was right. It was the perfect tree. A nice, hearty Blue Spruce. Not too tall, nice and full. The cadet tagged the tree for him and asked some other helpers to wrap it up.

“Thunderbird 5 from Thunderbird 2.” Virgil needed to check in with John and let him know about the delay.

“A fresh tree,” John said. “Really? He’s not getting a Frasier, right?”

“No he’s not,” Virgil answered. He looked over his shoulder to see if he could spot the squid. “Looks like he’s by the spruces right now. Don’t tell anyone about the tree please. I’m pretty sure he wants to surprise everyone.”

“Understood. Dad is trying to help Kayo with the decorations.” That statement earned John a look from Virgil. Virgil’s medic mode immediately kicked in.

“Dad should not be carrying things like that yet.”

“He knows,” John answered. “After 1 trip, he realized his error. He just wanted to see if he could do any of it.” John stopped a moment while he checked on the island, “Right now, he’s in the lounge. Looks like he’s detangling lights.”

“Wait,” Virgil interrupted. “Detangling lights? I thought we put them away well last year. What happened?”

“We did, but then Dad touched something. And now,” John gestured, “tangled mess. So, he’s in the lounge, trying to sort them out. On the bright side, it’s good exercise for his hands and fingers.”

“True,” Virgil answered. “That works. He’s staying out of trouble and exercising a little bit. I take it Grandma’s keeping eyes on him?”

“Oh yeah,” John said. “She’s been giving him that look.” Virgil chuckled at the comment. They talked for a few minutes until Gordon hollered for Virgil to come over and see his pick. Cass smiled ear to ear as she watched the boys. It didn’t take long to package up his tree, and the next thing Virgil knew, they were in the air, on their way home.

“I can’t wait for Penny and everyone to see it.” Gordon’s excitement continued.

“Yea little brother. It’ll be nice. Now, let’s get home. We both need showers before we help decorate,” Virgil responded with a stifled yawn. Coffee or not, it had been a long day, and he looked forward to a nice shower and some down time.

The ride home didn’t take very long. Gordon was excited to announce to everyone that they had brought home a fresh tree, as he dragged it in behind him. “Can’t wait to get her up,” he chirped. Scott gave a glance towards Virgil, but Virgil’s expression gave him all the answers that he needed.

“Come on boys, go get washed up and changed. It’s time to get this tree up and decorated,” said Grandma Tracy from the kitchen, as she wiped her hands on her apron. Max helped her cook popcorn and hot chocolate, while Kayo brought up the last of the decorations from storage.

While he waited for everyone to freshen up and come back to the lounge, Virgil reminisced about their mom and some music that she liked to play and hear around Christmas time. He tried to remember where she had gotten the music, but he couldn’t remember the name of the song or artist. He sat down at his piano and tried to recreate the songs in his head. John listened in from Thunderbird 5. He was about to take the elevator down to join the rest of his family. John always liked to listen to Virgil play, so it was no surprise when John interrupted his thoughts.

“That’s TSO,” John said.

“TSO?” Virgil questioned.

“That music. It’s from a group called Trans Siberian Orchestra,” John answered. “Mom loved their Christmas show. She would play it for us around Christmas time. Want Eos and I to try to find it?”

“Yes please. I think it would be nice to play it while we’re decorating the tree, don’t you think?”

“It’ll be nice,” John replied. “It shouldn’t take us too long.”

With TSO in the background, the boys got to work on the Blue Spruce. Virgil showed them all what Cass and Captain Babcock showed him about the set up and upkeep. He reminded everyone that they didn’t want a fire. By the time the Christmas show was over, they had the lounge and the tree all decorated. They ended their evening with hot chocolate and fresh popped popcorn.

Once in his room, Gordon reached out to Penny. “Is everything set?”

“Of course. He’s here for the night, then will come with us in the morning. Are you sure she doesn’t suspect anything?”

“The only other person that knows anything is John. Kayo doesn’t suspect a thing.”

“I’ll see you in the morning my love. Happy Christmas.”

“Love you too.” It didn’t take long for Gordon to fall asleep. By the time they’d wake up tomorrow, Penny would be well on her way with a very special gift for everyone.

-Christmas Day-

He looked at the old picture. It was the same picture that he looked at every day. His girls. It was taken during a nice day at the wolf preserve. This particular preserve was dedicated to the wolves that needed long term rehab or the ones that wouldn’t survive in the wild. When they were done with their tour, they each got a small ice cream cone and sat on a bench overlooking one of the enclosures. Only 3 copies of the photo were ever made. The one he kept, the one he gave to his daughter, and the one that he buried with his wife.

Years ago, he left them all behind because of grief. He just couldn’t stay there any more. All he could see was his lost friend. After Ohana died, his friend was the rock that kept him alive. With him gone, he couldn’t handle it. In every person he saw on the island, in every corner, with every sound of the waves. At first, he tried to stay strong for his daughter and his dear friend's kids, but he couldn’t even stay strong for himself, so he left. Now, he’s not even sure if this is the right thing to do. It had been too long. Parker and Penelope have tried to assure him over and over that it will be alright. They all miss him, and if he’s ready to come back, they’d all be there for him. No matter when (or if) that day may come. He had debated coming back, but it was Parker that pushed him to this moment. He didn’t know if today meant to stay forever or just for a little bit, but he wanted to be with the people that he loved and missed dearly. He pushed his nerves aside and got into FAB 1 with Parker and Penelope.

As they took off, he looked over at Parker. He silently thanked him. It caught him off guard when Parker had shown up on his doorstep a few days ago. Parker said only a few words, but it was all that he needed. He needed his family just as much as they needed him. Parker was right, it was time, and now he was in the sky and on his way home. Parker smiled back and returned his focus to the skies in front of them.

It would take them a little while to get to the island from England, so he sat there with his thoughts. His mind wandered to all of the missed moments, and how he would never be able to get them back. Penelope saw the change in his face. She knew where his thoughts had gone.

“Stop worrying. And don’t try to tell me that I don’t know what you’re thinking. I can see it all over your face,” she said. “They love you and miss you. She loves you and misses you. It’s time to come home, to be together, to heal together, to move forward together. It will be ok, you’ll see.” He considered her words, nodded, and held his head high for the rest of the trip. He could do this. The decision was made. They were right. It was time. He thanked Penelope and watched the water as they flew closer to his old home.

-Meanwhile on Tracy Island-

With Grandma and Max on pie duty, Jeff and Scott cooked Christmas pancakes for everyone. John manned the proteins, and Gordon made the coffee and juice. The smell of food brought down Alan, and the smell of strong coffee brought Virgil. As Gordon sat down, John quickly whispered to him that their package was on the way.

“Thanks John, “ he responded quietly. Gordon looked around the room, “say, where’s Kayo?,” Gordon asked.

“I haven’t seen her yet this morning,” John answered Gordon.

“I’ll go look for her,” Scott said. “You guys relax.”

“Thanks Scott. I’m worried about her. She seemed a little off the last time I saw her,” John said.

“It’s the season John. She really misses him. I wish that she’d let us look for him.”

“Yea Scott. Maybe this year will be different.”

“I can only hope. I’ll go find her and see if she wants to join us for pancakes.” With that, Scott went off in search of Kayo.

Kayo tried to use the boys’ holiday energy as a distraction, but it didn’t work very well. She didn’t like this time of year anymore and needed some alone time. Over and over, she told herself that her dad needed space. She wouldn’t look for him. When he was ready, he would come back to them. She was determined to respect his wishes for space to grieve. John and Scott both offered to find him multiple times, but she always refused. She was determined to respect his wishes, but with each day, each holiday, each missed moment, it got harder and harder to do,

It was no secret that Jeff was back now. They tried to keep it quiet for a while, but it didn’t take long for 1 person to make an innocent comment and for the wrong person to hear it. The next thing they knew, Jeff was in the news. Public Relations was on it right away, but they couldn’t stop what was already reported. Jeff improved little by little every day. He even started to help with Tracy Industries and International Rescue. The family was sure to keep an eye on him to make sure that he didn’t overdo it, but Jeff watched himself and made sure to tell them if things were too much.

She wished that her dad would come back. Jeff had asked about him, but Kayo explained what happened after the accident and why she hadn't gone after him. Jeff understood and respected both Kayo’s and her father’s decisions. Jeff wanted his old friend back too. He assured her that if her father wanted to come back, that it was ok. Whether it would be a visit or permanent, there would always be room there for him.

She heard Scott enter, but she couldn’t look up from the picture in her hands. She didn’t know why, but this year felt different. It wasn’t just her father’s absence that made her sad. She missed her mom too. All of the things that she wished that she could ask her, the things that she wished that her mom could teach her, but she was gone. Grandma Tracy tried her best, but she missed her mom, and with her dad gone too, it had become a little too much.

It didn’t take long for Scott to find her. He found her in the library that overlooked the ocean sunrise. Kayo was focused on something in her hands that Scott could not see.

“Kayo,” he said quietly, but she didn’t answer him. “Tan,” he said a little louder as he approached her and placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him with unshed tears in her eyes. He saw what was in her hands. He recognized the people in the picture. It was Kayo, her dad, and her mom, shortly before they lost her mom. “Breakfast is ready, if you want to come down,” he told her.

“Thanks Scott. But,” she started, but she couldn’t find her words. Scott saw her distress and sat down beside her.

“You miss him.”

“Yea. I wish that he’d come home. I don’t care that he ran away. I just want him back.” Scott brought her into a side hug and held her as she shed rare tears.

“You never know Tan, maybe he’ll be ready soon. The offer to try to track him down is still on the table for you. If you want me to find him, I will.”

“No Scott. I don’t want to push him. Losing your dad, then watching us grieve was a lot. I understand why he left. He needs his space, and I will give it to him.” She tried to be strong, but her eyes told him the truth.

“But dad’s back now. We can go find yours too and bring him home.” She had it in her head that she needed to give her father the space that he needed. Everyone processes grief differently, but Scott is right. Jeff is back. He’s downstairs right now, at the table ready to have Christmas breakfast with his family. That’s why she was up here in the library today. She wanted to be selfish, but was it the right thing to do? She wanted him to come back because he was ready, not because she went and dragged him back.

“I’ll let you know Scott. I don’t want to push him any further away.” Scott gave her a squeeze, then let her go. Kayo excused herself and took a moment to wash her face. After that, they went to join the rest of the family in the kitchen and arrived to utter chaos. The tinies had decided that the pancakes needed whipped cream and sprinkles. So naturally, the entire kitchen had become a sticky mess. Everyone was covered in something and their laughs filled the whole house. Scott and Kayo took in the scene and joined them.

After breakfast, they started on the clean up. Once most of the mess was cleaned, Grandma shooed everyone to get showered. The cleaning robots could handle the rest.

Once showered, they came down to the lounge to relax together. Presents would wait until later that day, but Gordon decided that the tree needed something. It wasn’t quite right yet. Before anyone knew it, glitter was everywhere. Gordon’s idea of what the tree needed didn’t mean more sparkly tinsel, it meant sparkly glitter. Lots of sparkly glitter, which exploded on everything. This was the scene that their guests saw as they walked in. Kayo was too busy with a very sparkly/annoyed/mad Alan, so she didn’t notice them arrive.

Kyrano didn’t know what to expect when he arrived with Penelope and Parker. The kids were all covered from their heads to their toes in glitter. Grandma and Jeff looked at them with twin looks of astonishment. The kids had all grown, but they were still as he remembered them. He couldn’t contain his laughter. It took a moment for everyone to realize that there were more people in the room than before. As Kayo turned her head, she couldn’t believe her eyes. Barely a moment later, she ran into her dad, and nearly knocked him over. John and Gordon smiled, the same smiles that Penelope and Parker had on their faces.

Gordon came up behind Penelope, hugged her from behind and gave her a kiss on the head. “Thank you,” he whispered into her ear.

“Of course my love. They deserve this.” She looked around the lounge and pointed “Glitter? Really?” Penelope didn’t need to ask which brother did this. Yes, Alan has his playful side and routinely helped Gordon with mischief, and they both learned their mischievous ways from their next oldest brother John, but this glitter bomb had Gordon’s name all over it.

“Yup,” he said, with some extra emphasis on the ‘p’ and a huge grin on his face. Penelope smiled and sank deeper into their hug.

Lots of tears and many hugs later, everyone settled into the lounge to finish the tree. After Gordon declared that the tree was perfect, Grandma and Max brought out the pies and ice cream.

They exchanged gifts. Little things, made from the heart or found. The boys always made it a point to carefully pick their gifts for each other. They didn’t have many rules about gift giving per se, but the boys all seemed to agree that the presents should come from their hearts, not their wallets. Gordon held onto 1 special gift for Penelope for later. Today was about Kyrano’s return home. That was the big gift for everyone. Tomorrow, so long as Penelope accepted of course, they’d announce that she’d become a Tracy in the near future.

-Later that evening, on the balcony outside the library-

“I am so sorry Tanusha. Nothing can excuse my actions. You should tell me to leave.” Kyrano rambled. He had a lot to say, but he couldn’t seem to get the words together, so he rambled. He hoped that his words would come together enough to make some sense.

“Dad, stop please” Kayo started. She gently grabbed his face so that they were eye to eye. She needed him to stop for a moment, so that he could listen. “I’ve missed you. When we thought we lost Jeff,” she paused to collect her thoughts, “we each handled it in the best way we could. I don’t blame you. I hoped that with him home that you would too. I hoped that it would bring you out of your ‘retirement’, but I didn’t know where you went or if you wanted any of us to even look for you. So, I waited. Scott and John both offered to look for you a few times, but I wanted to give you the space that you needed. I’m glad you’re here now. After Jeff came home, he asked about you, and I explained what happened. He didn’t hesitate to tell me that if you do decide to come back that you’d have a place here. We all understand Dad. I do ask one thing though.”

“What is it my blessing?” He answered. Kayo smiled at the old nickname.

“If you don’t stay, please call more often.” With that, Kyrano brought Kayo into a tight hug. After a few moments, he let her go and retrieved a box that was put aside.

“This is for you. It’s time that you have it.” He handed her a small box, and Kayo recognized it immediately. It was one of her mother’s jewelry boxes. She opened it and saw her mother’s favorite necklace. It was the same one that she wore that day in the picture. “She would have wanted you to have it,” he said as Kayo ran her fingers over it.

“I remember this necklace,” she started with barely a whisper. “She was wearing it that day at the wolf preserve,” Kayo paused. Kayo asked Kyrano to help her with the necklace. Then, they moved over to sit on the balcony bench to enjoy the tropical evening sunset. After a little while, Kayo broke the silence.

“Dad, I understand if you can’t stay right now, but please come back to the island,” Kayo said, as she placed her head on his shoulder. She whispered. “I miss you.” Kyrano didn’t need to think about his decision anymore. He knew exactly what he wanted most.

“I’ll talk to Mr. Tracy. I want nothing more than to be back with my family,” he replied, placing his head on hers. It would be ok. He wouldn’t pass up this chance.

The picture from the wolf preserve:

#thunderbirds are go #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds fanart

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tagsecretsanta · 4 months

Text

From @such-a-random-rambler

From @such-a-random-rambler to @ajpendragon

Here is my gift, much love to you all

Scott threw down his tablet to clatter onto the marble work surface. With a frustrated sigh that echoed around the kitchen he spun forlornly on the stool. Months of ‘I’ll get to it next week’ or ‘just got to rest after that last rescue’ or ‘the board meeting’s coming up soon, got to get the agenda sorted’ had swept away the time between his great idea and now. If he’d started research when inspiration had first struck back in the summer Virgil would shortly be receiving the most perfect Christmas gift. But he’d left it too late and now with just two weeks to go Scott’d have to fall back on Plan B.

After he thought of Plan B.

He laid his head in his crossed arms slumped across the tabletop, and allowed himself to indulge in wallowing at the problem of his own making. He’d come up with something great no doubt. In a minute.

The soft scuff of boots across tile announced a visitor, easily identifiable by their pace, light step and the squeak in the left heel. The slight ‘oof’ as they sat on a stool opposite and the slightly clinical smell of an intricately controlled environment that accompanies them confirms it.

“I’m busy being melodramatic.” Scott said, only slightly muffled by having his head in his arms.

“I know. I could see that in space. It’s much more entertaining down here though.”

Scott allowed himself a peak at John, who looked far too amused to be comfortable with. As suspected he’s still in uniform, only leaning a little to the side from his hasty descent from vacuum to atmosphere.

“You keep saying that I should take more time out, get a hobby. Well I’m trying ‘procrastinated too long and now I’m a failure’. Not enjoying it so far.”

John actually laughed at that: his full deep laugh that he rarely got a chance to exercise. John never used to be so serious, and that’s just one more wound their family bears. If Scott’s own mistakes got John to laugh like that it was worth it, just a shame Virgil was dragged along too.

“I thought you might be trying that.” John said, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. “Why don’t you get me one of those disgusting juice drinks Virgil keeps insisting I have and tell me all about it.”

Loath to let an opportunity to get some vitamins into John go to waste Scott dragged himself to his feet, and grabbed a bottle of the freshly made, nutrient packed smoothie from the fridge. And two glasses, for solidarity purposes.

“Virgil’s the problem really. See he – wait. Where is he?” Scott looked about, as if Virgil was about to spring out from behind the couch cushions.

“Hangers. Obviously. And will be some time judging by the number of pieces of Two that spread out on the floor.” John took a sip of his juice, then eyed it suspiciously. “This one’s not that bad actually. I’ll give him my compliments.”

Scott also took a cautious sip – just in case John was using some reverse psychology – and … he kinda agreed. It was lacking most of the bitter earthy notes that usually made these concoctions a chore.

“Ok, so you know Virgil’s been working on those music pieces, those compositions, and he finally finished last spring?”

“I do.”

“I was going to get them all written out and bound. Not just printed mind you – hand written on hand made paper, old school. Like the greats of classical music used to.”

“Sounds like a really thoughtful idea. I’m sure he’d like that. Things always feel more real to him when he can get his hands on it.”

“Exactly. I thought it would be easy to get that sorted, but I never found the time. And apparently there are only a few people in the world who do that sort of binding any more, and they can’t get it done in a couple of weeks. I’m one of those desperate leaving-it-to-the-last-minute sort of people now.” Scott takes a deep draught on the juice, which gets worryingly more bitter the further down the glass he gets.

“If you’d listened to me, started taking breaks, you’d have been all nice and organised and had Virgil’s sonatas in the bag by October.” John continued to sip at his drink, unbearably smug.

“And you’ve taken your own advice have you? You’ve had a weekend off here and there? Picked up a hobby? Like sleeping, you should try that for a hobby.” Because Scott knew that John barely had a sleep schedule, let alone a healthy one and certainly didn’t have days off. And John knew that Scott knew.

John grinned. “I have got a new hobby: bailing my brothers out of trouble. Maybe that’s not so new actually. Here.” He picked up a large square package that Scott hadn’t noticed on the stool beside him, and slid it across the work surface. “Consider this an early Christmas gift. I’ve got you an actual one of course, this is just a bonus.”

Carefully Scott put his still half full glass down, and inspects the heavy wrapping. With one eye on the still grinning John – there’s always trouble when he looks that triumphant – he grabbed a knife from the block and slit the side.

Inside were several leather folios of crisp cream paper, embossed with the name ‘Virgil Tracy’ and filled with careful hand written notations – Virgil’s music made real by a master craftsman.

Scott was stunned. “How did you - ? I didn’t tell anyone.” The realisation hit. “Have you been looking at my personal files again?”

“And your internet searches.” John downed the remaining juice without so much as a grimace, and seemingly no guilt. “You really did come up with an amazing gift idea, but I knew that you would never actually get around to organising it in time. So I sorted it for you.”

“And if your lack of faith had been misplaced?”

John shrugged. “No harm in having a back up is there.”

Scott ran his hand over the soft leather. He’d been too busy. He really had. And John’d been there to take the load as he always was. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m not going to gift wrap it though, that’s on you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of asking you to.” Wrapping presents was not one of John’s skill sets. The wrapping paper was usually held together by hope as much as tape. “Are you eating dinner with us before you go back up?”

“Thought I might have a dinner or so. I was thinking of not going back up until after New Year. Take one of those breaks you’ve been going on about.”

John says it so offhandedly that Scott almost doesn’t make a quick calculation of days between now and then. “Two weeks?”

“Three actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’ve been … tired recently. More tired than usual. I think I need to breathe fresh air for more than twelve hours at a time. Maybe go swimming. Sleep in on Sundays. Live like a normal human for a bit.”

Placing the folio gently on the countertop, smoothing down the cover, Scott slowly yet inevitably stalked around the counter. Scott waited until John had put his glass down safely – you could never be too careful with him newly planetside – to enfold John in the tightest hug he could manage. Scott would forgive his brother his snooping and meddling to have him home for three weeks. And John knew it. It was probably all part of the plan.

John suffered the hug for at least thirty seconds before pushing Scott away with a roll of his eyes. Despite his mutterings about overreacting John didn't actually look that displeased at the contact.

“Hide that in your room somewhere,” John nods in the direction of the folio, “and we’ll go help Virgil reassemble his bird. Being as I have nowhere else I need to be.”

#thunderbirds are go #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction

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tagsecretsanta · 4 months

Text

From @room-on-broom

From @room-on-broom to @tikatu

I went for the prompts 2+3, something showcasing the Mechanic after being freed from the Hood (I dunno if it counts but he's there?) and Jeff's first Christmas after the Oort Cloud.

#thunderbirds are go #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanart

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tagsecretsanta · 4 months

Text

From @sofasurf

From @sofasurf to @janetm74

My prompts were:

1. Steam.

2. Stripes/striped.

3. ‘Did you have to?'

I think I've managed it!!

DINER

"Yellow car no hit backs!"

The sounds of a scuffle and indignant squawks. John's tone held a warning, "So help me Gordon, if you lay a hand on me!"

"Na ah! No hit backs allowed!"

"Oh I won't hit you."

There was silence in the car as the other four contemplated John's words.

"Man, you have zero chill," Gordon huffed turning to look out the window while Alan sniggered. In the front seat Virgil and Scott exchanged amused grins.

"Remind me again why this was a good idea?"

"Because, Johnno, we have a few days off for Christmas and Alan has never been on a proper road trip." Scott accelerated round a corner causing Virgil to grab at the handles.

"Car not One, Scott! Car not One!"

Scott ignored him catching Alan's eye in the mirror and winking. Of his brothers, Alan was the one who shared his appreciation for speed. The mountain side whipped past on either side of them. "The point of a road trip is to enjoy the scenery not travel back in time." Virgil complained while Scott pretended he hadn't heard him

It wasn't often they indulged in frivolous perks of wealth. When Scott had mentioned their road trip plans to a friend, who happened to also be the CEO of Ferrari, the offer to test drive the new SUV prototype had been more than the speed freak Scott could resist. It was big enough for all five of the brothers to travel in comfort, though Scott had yet to relinquish the front seat to test that theory.

"Right well, remind me again why I agreed to come!" John was prepared to be pedantic. Close proximity to Gordon occasionally had the effect.

"Ah, Johnny, Johnny," Gordon draped his arm over his brother's shoulder.

"Don't call me that, Fishface!"

"Jonathan, Jonathan," Gordon ignored the daggers shot his way, "It''s because you love us and because we promised we'd stop off at that new lab so you can talk all geeky about geeky stuff while the rest of us normal humans go Christmas shopping."

There were sounds of a scuffle from the backseat. It was all in jest however, everyone was in good form and beginning to unwind though, perhaps they were due a break from the confines of the car. Scott caught John's eye this time waggling his eyebrows.

"Now kids, don't make me stop this car."

He then performed another stunning manoeuvre that Virgil felt was more fitting for the air than the asphalt. However, his older brother was, it appeared, genuinely enjoying himself and Virgil would put up with breaking the land speed record for that reason alone.

"I'm hungry." Alan peered longingly into his long finished bag of Doritos.

"Eos recommended a dinner just through the next town. It's about 30 minutes from tonight's stop. She says their page is down, weird, but that she thinks it seems our kinda spot." John peered at his tablet.

"She was right about the motel last night so that works." Scott agreed and the state of the art central console pinged as John sent the location through. Scott glanced at the display, "Just an hour further on. Can you wait that long, Allie?" He caught his baby brother's eye again, meaning clear.

Alan put on his best whining voice, "I don't think I can Scotty. I'm starving. I feel faint."

"Did you have to? Brat!" Virgil chocked out as Scott pulled even more power from the engine. His whoop of delight brought a smile to the faces of the others in the car.

⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️

A much shorter time than it should have been; the five brothers had selected a quiet corner booth of the small diner. It wasn't busy which suited them well. It had some twinkly lights, a small tree and upbeat Christmas tunes playing softly in the background.

John and Gordon made for the restrooms while Scott slipped into the corner and flopped opposite Virgil, all long relaxed limbs. He spread his arms along the back of the seat and let his head fall back against the surprisingly comfortable cushioning on the booth; just the right height for him.

Alan, as always drawn to Scott like a moth to flame slid into the space below his eldest brother's outstretched arm. He said something that made Scott laugh, and Virgil's heart warmed at both Alan's obvious delight in his hero's response and how chilled Scott appeared. Should nothing else happen on this trip, Virgil would consider it a hit for that reason alone.

"Right, I'm starving!" Scott reached for the menus left for them by the waitress. Virgil and Alan followed suit. Each took one and read in silence a moment.

"Um, guys?" Alan had turned to the middle page and was staring at the menu.

"Hmmm?" Virgil was still reading through the appetizers.

"Scott, look!" Alan dug his eldest brother in the ribs. Scott followed the teen's outstretched finger and his eyes widened and he immediately flicked his menu to the centre. Virgil did the same.

‘Thunderbird Specials’ the centre section of the menu had hand drawn pictures of the Thunderbirds One through Four and a slightly inaccurate representation of Five. Each had corresponding dishes.

In a rush? Thunderbird One steak burger with fries and our unique hot sauce.

More time to chew? Thunderbird two- tomahawk steak – great for sharing

Thunderbird Four our famous surf and turf. Fillet mignon and our locally sourced fresh organic prawns. All day breakfast with our mouthwatering Thunderbird Five pancake stack and creamy asteroid milkshake Thunderbird Three our unique coffee triple expresso. They don’t call it rocket fuel for nothing! “Eos set us up!” Alan exclaimed.

Scott and Virgil exchanged looks, “It would appear so!” Virgil said while Scott flipped further through the menu looking for an explanation.

John and Gordon returned at that moment- Gordon bouncing excitedly on his heels. “Guys, you are never gonna believe this.”

“Eos set us up,” Alan repeated lifting the menu to show them. Scott batted it down, checking over his shoulder. “Don't draw attention!” Virgil whispered as the teen giggled a little.

John rolled his eyes at them, “Yes. It would appear this is Eos’ idea of a little joke. I thought it was strange I couldn't see the online menu.” John slid into the booth beside Virgil while Gordon dropped on Alan's other side swiping the menu despite his protests.

“There's a picture of dad and some dude on the wall over there!” Gordon pointed the direction he and John had come.

John met Scott’s gaze and held it a moment, “It’s a picture of Dad and the owner’s son. He was in that refinery fire, remember right back near the start of IR?”

“The big one in Texas Dad fought with top brass about for weeks after?”

John nodded, “Seems Dad pulled the son out just in time with Thunderbird One. There is a little bit about it under the picture.” John’s face was hard to read, memories of Jeff were always bittersweet.

“Really?”

John smiled, “Yep. And it appears the owner hasn't forgotten. Proceeds from the Thunderbird menu,” he gestured the pages open in front of them, “Go to a charity that supports rebuilding in disaster areas.”

“That's pretty cool, right?” Gordon was grinning.

“Yea,” Virgil agreed.

“Way to go, Dad!” Alan said his tone impressed and Scott dropped his arm to pull the teen in for a quick side hug.

“Way to go Dad,” Gordon repeated back his own tone softer with a little something unreadable in it.

Scott simply nodded a soft smile on his lips. He seemed to lose himself in memories a moment and Virgil tapped his ankle gently with his foot under the table causing his older brother to meet his eye. He nodded in reassurance. All good.

They sat in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts.

“It’s pretty cool, right?” Gordon broke the spell. “but if you want the absolute coolest, check this out!” and he produced a bundle of papers from behind his back. “Thunderbird colouring sheets!”

And just like that the spell was broken and chaos descended in the table.

⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️

The food was exceptionally good. Obviously they had to sample all the Thunderbird menu and the argument over whose dish was the best looked set to continue until next Christmas. They had pulled the crackers orbited with their meal and squabbled good naturedly over the tacky prizes and each now sported a jaunty paper crown.

Gordon and Alan had listened engrossed as John and Virgil had regaled them with the tale of the Texas fire with Scott chipping in little details. Dad in action had truly been impressive and John, although he would deny it, was a gifted story teller when he chose to be.

Now a quiet contentment had descended in the group. Virgil sat back, stomach full and observed his brothers. He clutched his Thunderbird Three coffee and allowed the steam to curl up lazily in front of him. It had a pleasing kick though Three’s pilot was still complaining that three older brothers had stated “No” in unison when

he'd tried to order one for himself. He and Gordon, also banned from that much caffeine before being trapped in a car with the others, were appeased with hot chocolate. Apple pie and chocolate cake had also been consumed. Road trips were hungry work.

John was quietly messaging Eos who was delighted her subterfuge had worked while the three opposite him, yes the Commander of International Rescue included, were finishing off their colouring pages. Scott's tongue was poking out the side of his mouth in concentration, a small tuft of hair sticking up from where he’d run his hand through it, as he finished colouring Thunderbird Two blue. The argument had been brief and Virgil had

decided not to sink any further to his level. His own completed green version of One had a festive santa hat in lieu of her traditional nose cone. John meanwhile had been mildly offended by the inaccurate Thunderbird Five option and so was egging the others on in their colour wars.

“I mean we should be pleased they don't have an accurate image of our top secret satellite, Johnny!” “Don't call me that. And that's not the point, Scooter. Here, you haven't used this shade of blue yet.”

The battle between Alan and Gordon had almost come to blows when Alan had finished a red version of Four only to see the blue and yellow stripes the aquanaut had given Three.

John and Scott had added fuel to the fire by appearing to seriously consider the benefits of a respray for each accordingly and much brotherly silliness had ensued. Virgil did however make a note to keep a track of blue paint supplies as John was sneaky when he wanted to be and was watching Scott's drawing with barely concealed mirth.

There had been a hairy moment when the waitress had appeared to recognise them, or at least Scott. He had placed a finger to his lips and his teeth had practically sparkled as he smiled at her silently requesting she not give them away, sealing the deal with a little wink. She hadn’t divulged their identities, serving then with wide

eyes attentiveness; though a napkin with her number on it had been dropped on Scott’s knee as she refilled his coffee much to his surprise, Gordon and Alan's glee, and a murmur of, “unbelievable,” from Virgil.

Pucture complete, Scott looked up and met Virgil's eye. Virgil motioned to the other three and raised his eyebrows, Scott’s indulgent smile matched Virgil's own. Moments like this were all too rare. Scott sat back stretching his long arms along the back of the seat again, content like Virgil just to enjoy their company.

Virgil was called in to referee/ judge the which Thunderbird looked best in the new colour competition that still raged. When he looked back at Scott a few minutes later the eldest’s wasn't looking at them but at something behind Virgil's head, his expression a strange one Virgil couldn't quite read; thoughtful, wistful even? Virgil turned in his seat to see what had grabbed Scott's attention. He immediately recognised what Scott saw.

A woman who couldn't be much older than Scott himself was wrangling a small team of children into the booth by the door. Four boys aged roughly between twelve and four by Virgil's guess, she had another baby, a little girl who couldn't have been older than one in her arms. The baby had blonde hair and was waving a stuffed toy excitedly. He watched as the woman handed her to the oldest looking boy who immediately started to make faces and bounce her up and down, occupying her while the mother helped the other boys out of their coats.

Their excited chatter and the baby's infectious laughter drifted across the diner all clamouring for their mother’s attention as she attempted to answer several questions at once. It was chaos and to the two brothers watching, achingly familiar.

One of the younger boys needed the restroom and he and what looked to be his next older brother passed their booth, heads bent in discussion their conversation just audible, “I already explained, we can't ask for ice cream cos it makes mom worry.”

Virgil looked back at Scott who caught his eye and looked away. Seeming to shake himself a little as if to clear something from his head, Scott used his long reach across the back of the seat to tap Gordon on the shoulder, stealing his second last bite of cake as Gordon moved too slowly to stop him.

“Ugh! You are the worst, Scooter! Remind me again why I let you hang out with me?”

“Because you need his signature to access your trust fund,” John helpfully supplied spearing Gordon’s last piece.

He and Scott high fived while Scott slipped out of the booth to settle the bill.

“Actually ‘bout that...” Gordon turned puppy dog eyes towards his oldest brother.

“Told you, Squid, I am not signing off on you buying a Christmas tree farm in Vermont.” He ruffled the aquanaut’s hair as he passed.

“You have no vision, Scooter!”

Scott’s laugh floated back to them as he made his way to the counter.

The other four brothers watched enthralled as their waitress and another server both jockeyed to serve him.

Scott’s dimples were on full display as he leant in the counter bending his head towards the girls conversationally. Virgil could swear he could see their eyes changing shape to little hearts, “Does he even know he's doing it?” His tone was reverential.

“I really don't know. Sometimes?” John replied folding his arms as the waitress reached across to bat Scott's arm conspiratorially.

“His powers must only be used for good,” Gordon covered Alan's eyes, “You are too young to see this Allie.” Alan batted his hands away, ducking to continue watching the display at the counter.

Judging from the way the waitress was listening intently and kept glancing at the family in the booth Virgil was sure Scott's not inconsiderable powers were indeed being used for good. He didn't doubt for a second the family that reminded them so much of past times would find their bill paid with a healthy ice cream allowance added. People often thought that Virgil was the soft hearted Tracy brother; he just didn't have to hide it so carefully from corporate sharks.

Judging from the way the waitress’ eyes widened slightly as she retrieved the handset from his brother, there had been a healthy tip added to their own bill as well.

As they passed the family, now tucking into burgers and fries with gusto, the tiny girl tossed her toy into the ground. Scott bent to pick it up, smiling at the mother who smiled back in tired gratitude. He flung his arm around Virgil's shoulders as they walked towards the car.

A yellow Mustang pulled into the parking space in front of them and Gordon and Alan looked at each other, frozen like gunslingers at high noon.

“Yellow car no hit backs.”

John beat them to it, walking between the two giving them each a solid cuff to their heads. Their outraged cries floated on the crisp air drawing the attraction of the older two. It was the little things at Christmas really John thought. He hung back slightly watching as his four brothers crossed the parking lot, the sky was trying to snow, a few flurries escaping the black clouds.

“Thanks, Eos,” He whispered into his open Comm before hurrying to catch up with a shout of, ”Shotgun!” that sent the others scrambling to reach the car first.

⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️⛄️

#thunderbirds are go #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction

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tagsecretsanta · 4 months

Text

From @godsliltippy

From @godsliltippy to @mrmustachious

My prompt was:

2. The bros are invited to Lady Penelope's annual holiday ball, but it all goes disastrously wrong.

#thunderbirds are go #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanart

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tagsecretsanta · 4 months

Text

From @gaviiadastra

From @gaviiadastra to @womble1

Hello to my wonderful gift recipient! I’m certain this was a gift to me; I got to write my all time favorites. Thank you! I hope you have a wonderful holiday and that you enjoy this story, and special thanks to TAGSS for organizing the exchange this year.

My prompts were:

1. FishTank (Virgil & Gordon) and woodland dappled light.

2. Alan having to deal with life outside the island.

3. Anything christmassy. Who am I kidding, I'll be happy with anything. 😁

___

Along Country Roads

Summary: a place can hold unique memories for different people - sometimes it’s the same one, just different.A/N: I promise, it’s a balanced level of sappiness and brother time with some light h/c. For exact warnings: references to depression and avalanche aftermath, in which I headcanon Virgil was present with Lucille. Gordon’s hydrofoil accident is always in the background. But there’s laughs too, aaaand I’ve continued to use crafty!FishTank as a plot device.

~*~

For as much as Scott fought the GDF for them to have a family holiday, the IR commander sure managed to make himself scarce, Virgil thought bitterly. It was the first time they’d managed to take International Rescue offline for a full week without there being an excuse of a serious injury prompting the decision – a fact that hurt his heart to think about. Still, Virgil awoke to a mostly empty household despite the homely comfort of coffee still warmed and the gentle brush of heat throughout the cabin from the controlled flames stoked in the fireplace.

But, no, that wasn’t necessarily fair to Scott either, and Virgil recognized his sleepiness taking control of his thoughts. He’d known his older brother would need to take some time in DC, and it wasn’t actually all that far to the Capitol. All would be well, as long as Scott’s business was concluded by Christmas, like he’d promised them. It still felt strange to be offline; not knowing what was happening in the rest of the world left an uncomfortable itch that ran through his blood, which was only eased with the knowledge that Eos was still watching, listening, and would alert them if they were needed.

The distance away was exactly why they'd chosen here in the first place - a remote location for the full step back and reset they needed after months of running on exhaustion.

These days, the mountain cabin and its surrounding property belonged to Virgil, even if he still thought of it as one of their family’s winter homes. It was only after their mother’s death that they started vacationing here in Appalachia. The hills of Shenandoah were different enough from the ski lodge, so he’d been able to form new cozy Christmas memories within its walls, comforted by the East Coast’s gentler, wiser mountains. The Blue Ridge Mountains to the east and the Alleghenies to the west and were among the oldest on the planet. They knew loss.

The ache in his soul then had been raw and bare, and certainly it had taken a few winters for him to heal enough to step foot into the snow. But he'd wept with the song of the ancients and walked stronger for it.

Home, through country roads, indeed.

That morning, though his heart rang with the distant echo of the constant activity of their childhood, he’d walked in instead on just Gordon cozied by the fireplace, wearing more layers than his usual attire and with a blanket thrown across his feet. Virgil recognized the hank of heathered blue and dusky grey, now spun into a usable yarn cake, that Gordon had selected for a pair of fingerless mittens for Scott. And it was that which had reminded Virgil of their brother’s planned departure that morning; Scott’s absence had given Gordon some privacy to finish his Christmas gift.

In lieu of a greeting, Gordon finessed his foot from beneath the blanket to waggle his toes at him, while continuing to crochet the stitches in the round. “Do NOT tell him how close I cut it.”

“Ugh, gross. Good morning to you too.” Virgil parked himself in the adjacent recliner, far enough from potentially stinky feet and near enough to a side table for him to comfortably drink his coffee while watching the flames flicker within earthen stone. “And I would never.” It was the curse of the homemade gift - always the best of intentions and never enough time.

The fireplace mantle he usually kept bare save for a large, framed painting of a creek running through a grove of autumn red oak trees. The brush strokes were ones he knew as well as his own. He’d studied from them, committed them to memory. And though their mother never knew the cabin home, the scene could’ve easily been something right outside their door, albeit in a different season. The deciduous trees were spectacular in the height of color-changing foliage, and he’d had the pleasure of seeing them many times in their travels as children for their father’s business, then again with International Rescue through which he’d seen many of the world’s marvels as well as its strifes.

When they arrived, the first thing they did together was pull out the old holiday decorations, and so for the first time in a long while the artwork shone from a podium of garland, the green of blue spruce with wine-red bows interspersed in the artificial branches.

“What are you thinking about?”

Virgil flicked his eyes away from the painting where Gordon had pulled his earbud away, his yarn work resting in his lap while he rotated his wrists to stretch.

“Mom,” Virgil answered, glancing back to the landscape captured in time.

“Oh, I always thought that was one of yours.”

Virgil shook his head. Coughed. “Where is everyone else off to?”

Gordon rambled in answer, but Virgil was versed enough to catch the key points: that Scott was, of course, in Washington; John was in the office on a conference call with his editor in New York; Grandma had gone into town for supplies – “I would’ve gone with her had I known” – and Alan was still asleep.

Virgil glanced down at his watch.

“He was up until four modding for one of Brandon’s livestreams,” Gordon defended on their youngest brother’s behalf.

“I’m going to pretend I know what that means.”

“It means let the kid sleep.”

Virgil knew he’d have to trust Gordon on that one. Besides, he wasn’t one to argue over late mornings; he’d done his fair share of staying up late to catch the sunless sky for this art project or that over the years. He nodded in acknowledgement and took another sip from his coffee as Gordon settled back into his project, replacing the ear bud.

It had been rare, in their childhood, for Virgil to enjoy spending time with Gordon like this, not because of the age difference between them though that certainly played a small part, but because they existed on different schedules. Even more so than his space-faring siblings, Virgil was like the moon to Gordon’s sun. His late nights, however, were not a product of scientific interest, but rather an overactive imagination and trauma-based insomnia, and later - as he got older - the artistic outlets to alleviate the worst parts of them both.

When they were younger, Gordon would be the first awake and the first to wake everyone else with his volume and exuberance. He didn’t really like Gordon for that back then, but it was also something that he didn’t realize he missed until it was gone. That was something that had changed drastically over the years between Gordon developing a discipline for a morning routine with his swimming and then his subsequent military experience. And though the vivacity came back after the accident, there was a time Gordon understood Virgil’s own mind more than Virgil ever wanted his younger brother to.

The Gordon he knew now was plenty more considerate than his younger self, among the most carefree spirits he knew despite the scars on his heart, and still the most resilient, most tenacious person he’d ever met.

They made a good team. His light was good for him.

“You’re thinking so hard, V.” Startled, Virgil tried to regain control of the remaining coffee in his mug so it wouldn’t spill. “Honestly,” Gordon added, laughing, “I can’t even focus on my stitches.”

Virgil watched as Gordon stabbed his hook in the top of the stitches from the row before, grabbed his working yarn with the hook, then struggled to wiggle it back through the loops. It budged eventually, but mid row, Gordon stopped and had to stretch again.

Virgil gently placed his drink down on a coaster to protect the wood of the side table. “You should take a break,” he suggested.

Gordon shook his head. “I have to finish these by tonight.”

“Scott’s out the whole day, isn’t he?”

“Yes, but - ”

“So come for a walk with me?” He glanced out the window. Outside it was a clear day, deceptive in how bright the sun was, dappled through the branches of the trees. “I’ve been meaning to check the markings along the trails. Make sure they are clear or if they need a new coat of paint. Come with me?”

Gordon hesitated, squinting at his progress. “You know the cold isn’t my thing.” Suddenly, frustration cut through his concentration as his brow furrowed. “My stitch count is off! For fu-”

“Ooookay, you definitely need a break.” Virgil hopped out of the recliner and pried the work out of a grumbling Gordon’s hands before he could unravel the whole thing unnecessarily, gently placing the hook, yarn, and partly-finished mitt on the adjacent table. “Come on. The air will be good for you. It doesn’t have to be for long, and we’ll be walking the whole way, which’ll help with the cold.”

“And walking for the whole time?” he pressed, eyeing Virgil warily, like he knew better in trusting Virgil’s word when it came to the wonders of natural beauty. He had to hand that one to Gordon; there was some truth to that lack of faith.

“For the whole time,” Virgil promised. “I won’t even bring a sketchpad, scout’s honor.”

“You weren’t ever a scout,” Gordon countered.

“Still.” Virgil beamed.

~*~

They met back in the lounge after Gordon changed and located a hoodie to slide over his long sleeve, and after Virgil had poked his head in the office to check on John, realized he was still on his call, then slid a note for him under the door. He handed Gordon his sherpa-lined puffer jacket, then donned his own hooded flannel with fleece interior. They each had their own preferences for winter accessories – so Gordon grabbed his pair of grey fingerless mitts and a matching knit hat from the closet, while Virgil wrapped a wide scarf in ivory white loosely around his neck.

Virgil’s core body temperature always ran a bit warmer than his siblings’. There had been many a winter growing up with one (or both) of the terrible two tucked into his side.

With the additional layers on, Virgil’s skin crawled with the heat from inside the cabin stifling him, so he didn’t linger in the entryway while Gordon tied up his hiking boots. Outside in the crisp chill he breathed deeply, his nose finding the gentle tickle of pine and woodchips, before he exhaled a cloud of breath that warmed his cheeks. He stepped down from the porch, and the frozen patches of amber grass and earth crunched under the heel of his boot.

“Ugh, it’s so cold out here!” Gordon exclaimed in the clamor of him joining Virgil in the great outdoors. “My hands are going to get so dry.”

Virgil fondly rolled his eyes and started to reach for the top of Gordon’s head before he remembered he would be blocked by the hat. “That’s what hand lotion is for,” he said instead, further loosening the knot of his scarf.

From the front porch, the road curved past a line of bare trees before it disappeared down the mountain. The drive there was treacherous enough it sat comfortably on Scott’s favorites list between testing hot sauces and bungee jumping. Despite the drop close to the road, deceptive with the blanket of trees, Virgil trusted his older brother behind the wheel. The cabin was only midway up the mountain, and it really was only one large stretch of hill that was particularly touch and go. Scott was plenty capable, and the lack of land rover was an indicator that Scott had driven himself into the nation’s Capitol. He might be back a little later than expected, but Scott thrived in his time behind the wheel. Relaxed even. Those hours to decompress would be beneficial for him – plenty of time to mentally leave work behind so he could fully and completely join the family for the holiday.

“So, up or down?”

Gordon, his covered hands tucked into his jacket pockets, twisted toward him then glanced at the two paths as he shifted onto toes to stretch his back. With a sigh, “Let’s get uphill over with. As long as you promise not to linger at the look out.” Virgil held his hands up, palms out, to prove he was without his art supplies as promised.

As they walked, Gordon excitedly shared the latest on his co-written article for Marine Science Daily, which Virgil knew was the exact reason Gordon’s Christmas project plans had been derailed. He nodded along at the appropriate talking points, having read the article but always more engaged when hearing it from the aquanaut directly. Meanwhile, Gordon subconsciously kept moving closer to Virgil’s side. Eventually Virgil untied the scarf completely, letting its length fall unsecured down the front of his jacket. Like a tie at the end of a long, wild night. Not that he would ever admit to having those. What happened at college stayed at college.

“Do you know my favorite Christmas?” Gordon asked, pulling Virgil from his fond memories of theater afterparties and post-concert celebrations. But Gordon hadn’t waited for Virgil to answer, his eyes unusually bright against the reddening of his cheeks with the bite of the wind. “I used to hate the cabin when we first started coming here. I was too young to remember – uhh – before, but I remember how it felt against all that change and you were so different and always so sad all the time. The first time it snowed, I remember you running back inside like it burned you, and Scott ran in after, leaving John to help Al and I with our snowman.”

The lump in Virgil’s throat grew.

“But then one year, it actually snowed on the holiday. A for real white Christmas! And I remember thinking – this is it, this is what we’ve been coming here for. It wasn’t a massive snow; just enough to cover the grass – definitely not enough for a snowman, but we made our fun anyway. I had just made the perfect snowball out of what little was there. And any moment, you would come join us. I just knew it. And then I saw you watching us from the window, and it didn’t look like you were going to come.

“It was just enough time distracted for John to launch his freezing projectile at me. He hit me square in the face and I dropped my perfect snowball. And as I cleared the snow off my face, I caught you actually laughing about the snow. You did eventually come out that Christmas. Scott encouraged you to sit with him on the porch stoop first, and then you walked out on your own. I know you leaned a lot on Scott in those days, but there was just something about that laugh – it made me feel like I helped you take those steps, even if I wasn’t the one at your elbow to keep you steady.”

Virgil swallowed hard. He remembered that year, and Gordon had only been a child. “You did plenty.”

Their breaths expelled in little huffs as they continued the climb, where Virgil noticed, as he figured might be the case, certain spots where the red paint had faded on the trees. It could use a refresh to make sure the trails were clearly marked. If he didn’t get to it this season, he’d be sure to prepare for next time he visited his cabin. Beside him, Gordon trampled over fallen branches, grumbling about the temperature between curse words, especially as they reached what had seemed like the top of the last hill only to see another awaiting them.

Virgil chuckled as he waited for them both to catch their breath at the top of the hill before they continued to the lookout just a few more steps up the final hill. His mountain was not among the tallest nor the smallest of the range, and so the top was a vision of both the valley below and the neighboring peaks. He loved the view; when it was cold enough, the mountains were sometimes snowcapped, the trees blanketed in white as soft as the cumulus through which he’d often soared.

So far, the sky had yet to open. But, oh, how she teased. Nimbostratus in neutral grey with a cobalt undertone approaching from the east, mottling the sunlight.

Beside him, Gordon took advantage of the flatter land and Virgil’s brief examination of the sky to stretch. Virgil recognized the movements in his periphery, and when he glanced back over, Gordon’s hands were placed purposefully on the small of his back as he twisted both directions.

The sway of the wind had been absent of Gordon’s familiar idle chatter for a while, he realized, and there was an unusual balance to his stance that hinted at stiffness in his joints.

“Are you okay?”

Gordon didn’t answer, but rather smirked at him and gestured with a flourish for Virgil to lead the way.

Virgil was barely two steps forward when he felt a weight launch onto his back. Squid arms quickly slung around his neck, squeezing, and Virgil leaned forward, his hands instinctively moving to catch his younger sibling before he fell off his back.

“Help me, Virgil-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope!”

“Oh my GOD,” Virgil grunted, already shifting him into a better position. “You’re fine.”

“I am, mostly,” Gordon laughed at the back of his head. “Carry me anyway.”

An arm around his neck loosened as Gordon lifted it to point one finger onward up the mountain.

“Don’t you dare say it.”

“I’m going to say it.”

“Gord-!”

“Thunderbros are go!” His laughter echoed, past tree and stream and along the paths they’d traveled.

Virgil couldn’t let him go if he tried.

He carried Gordon piggyback the rest of the way, a short sprint upward that had his calves straining, but the ache was minor compared to some of the training they did at Grand Roca. Only once they reached the lookout did Gordon hop down, giggling, while Virgil worked on calming his heart rate.

“Thanks!” Gordon skipped past him.

Virgil was tempted to throw something. In fact…

He tugged his scarf the rest of the way off his neck, scrunched it into a ball, and sent it sailing at the back of Gordon’s head. It unfurled some, but Gordon hadn’t gotten too far ahead, so he definitely felt it hit before the rest of it dropped to the ground.

“That’s no way to treat your accessories. I’m offended.” Gordon snorted. He retrieved the scarf, gave it a shake that sent a few leaves in Virgil’s direction, and then wrapped it around his own neck. “You don’t get to have this back now.”

Feeling light despite the burn in his legs, excited to witness the lookout once again, and without any real anger towards his brother’s antics, Virgil joined him at the bench nearer the view and positioned safely away from the edge. He hadn’t known how to respond to his brother’s sudden introspection about their childhood, though his own version of the memory lingered with him.

He hadn’t known that year mattered so much to Gordon. Nor was he able to recall the events leading up to him walking in the snow. Those details were fuzzy for him, but he remembered the warmth. He remembered the laughter. He should’ve realized the mark his sadness had left on his family, and before he could think any further about it, Virgil was apologizing. For dragging Gordon out in the cold, for all the years he couldn’t help the littles with their snowmen, for not doing more to make sure they had the Christmases they deserved without the weight of loss.

“Sorry? Whatever do you need to apologize for?” Gordon interrupted. He shook his head. “No, Virgil. Don’t do that.” He stared out to the mountainscape, his lips thin, as slowly he raised his palm to catch the first snowflakes in the center of his hand. One, two, then they melted into the knit fabric. “I don’t think I ever thanked you.”

Virgil gaped at him. “For what?”

Gordon lifted his gaze from his clenched fist to meet Virgil’s baffled expression, fiery resolve softened into humility. “I told myself, if Virgil could learn to re-love the snow – I don’t think you understand how important that was for me to keep carrying forward. I know I can get so stuck in my own head sometimes, but your support has always been incredibly grounding. You’re like… having a sturdy shore to return to for when the tide ebbs too far. I can’t imagine having another co-pilot as good for me as you are.”

It was too much.

His own words, his own thoughts about Gordon, mirrored back to him, about him.

“Well,” he rasped, clearing his throat of the overwhelm of emotion, “we are Tracy’s after all.” It didn’t say nearly enough, but it also said exactly what it needed to. Perseverance ran through their blood, after all, and they’d both been through the unimaginable.

Virgil turned his head towards the sky, the feather fall of snow catching in his lashes, and in his hair, and on his flannel.

“It’s also entirely your fault my project’s not finished.”

“My fault?”

“You promised no lingering for art purposes, and I definitely heard a whispered phthalo earlier.”

“Cobalt,” he corrected.

“Same thing.”

“It’s not at all -”

“Soooo, do you think John’s done his meeting yet? Maybe he’ll make us hot chocolate?” Gordon hopped off the bench, clapped his hands together resolutely, and started walking back towards the trail and away from Virgil’s disputes.

“Gordon! They aren’t the same color. They don’t even sound the same!”

Smiling, Virgil had no choice but to follow.

#thunderbirds are go #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction

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tagsecretsanta · 4 months

Text

From @katiedido2

From @katiedido2 to @idontknowreallywhy

Prompts:

- Scott says “Langstrom Fischler” in that way only he can.

- Marshmallows

- Christmas singalong with Virgil

I was able to incorporate two of the three prompts into my story. Happy Christmas!

-o-o-o-

“Virgil, where are you?... Virgil?”

All Scott Tracy heard was static.

“John?... Gordon?... Kayo?” His eyes were feverish and over-bright, and he found he was trembling. His voice shook. “Alan?”

There was static. Damned, unwavering static.

Staggering through the carnage, he spotted Eos’ portable discus. The lights flashed, and Scott felt a flicker of hope. Pulling the discus from the debris, he wiped the screen.

“Eos? Eos, where are my brothers and Kayo?”

“I am unable to locate them, Scott.”

“What do you mean? What is their status?”

The AI was silent, the lights of its portable discus flashing angrily.

“Eos?”

“I am unable to reach them.” Eos paused, lights blinking with uncertainty. “I fear the worst….”

“Wha-? No. No. No!” Scott’s eyes closed, and he clenched Eos’ discus. “Nooo!!”

“This wasn’t my fault.”

Scott opened his eyes. “What?”

An agitated man stood in the near distance with his hands on his hips.

“This wasn’t my fault!” His indignant tone was infuriating.

A growl escaped Scott. “Langstrom Fischler!”

“Yes, that is Fischler. Somehow, he survived.”

Scott cried out in anguish, throwing Eos like a frisbee in frustration and despair. It gracefully arced, slicing through the air. And he watched as it silently, lethally, and with grim finality decapitated Fischler before zinging back to his hand.

“Eos?”

“That was revenge for your brothers and Kayo.”

“Eos?”

“I’m sorry, Scott. You are all that remains of International Rescue.”

-o-o-o-

“NOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

The cry of anguish died on his lips as Scott opened his eyes. He found himself sitting on his bed in his room on Tracy Island, panting. Shaking hands wiped tears from his cheeks.

“That must have been one helluva nightmare.”

Suddenly alert, Scott jerked his gaze to the chair in the corner of his room.

“Are you okay?”

Scott opened his mouth to reply, and a sob escaped.

Virgil leapt from the chair, crossing to sit on the edge of his brother’s bed. He gently drew Scott into his arms, cradling him.

Scott wept, supported by the strong arms encased in warm, comforting flannel. Virgil muttered soothing nonsense words, stroking his brother’s back and carding a hand through his hair until he calmed.

When he felt his brother’s weight sag against him, Virgil kissed his temple and pulled back to look at him. “Are you doing better?”

Scott nodded and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his t-shirt.

“Eeww, gross. Scott, this is why we have tissues.” Virgil reached for a box on a bedside table and handed it to Scott.

Grabbing a tissue, Scott blew his nose and wiped his face before throwing it in the trash.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Nodding, Scott scooted back to lean against the headboard. Virgil climbed on the bed, joining him against the headboard. He sat quietly, giving his eldest brother space to answer.

“It was a Fischler rescue gone wrong.”

“Ah.” Virgil squeezed his shoulder.

“Yeah.” Scott loved that he didn’t have to explain things for Virgil to understand him.

There was a tap at the door, which opened to reveal John holding a tray with mugs on it.

“Oh, good. You’re awake. Do we know why he was screaming?”

Virgil grimaced. “Very bad nightmare.”

John nodded. “As we suspected.”

“What is this?” Scott was curious about the potential goodies on John’s tray.

“We heard you shout and found you in the throes of what appeared to be a really bad nightmare.”

“Virgil offered to stay with you if I went and made you some hot cocoa. Want a mug?” John waggled his eyebrows. “It’s got extra marshmallows.” Scott held out his hand, and John handed him a mug loaded with a mountain of small marshmallows. John handed Virgil a mug and took one for himself before setting the tray on the dresser near the door.

“What else is on the tray?”

John and Virgil exchanged looks and smiled. Scott could always sniff out an apple confection.

“I warmed up a few apple pie cookies Lady P brought from London.”

“Okay, but why are you leaving them so far away?” Scott tried to hide his pout but failed.

Virgil guffawed. “Scott.”

And John laughed. “Cocoa first, then cookies.”

Their eldest brother huffed. “Fiiine.”

They sat quietly for a few minutes, enjoying their cocoa. They admired their cocoa/marshmallow mustaches before wiping them away. John collected their empty mugs and dropped them on the tray. He returned to Scott’s bed with the plate of cookies.

“Ready to talk about your nightmare?”

“No?”

“It had something to do with Fischler.” Scott shot Virgil a look. “What? It did.”

“Okay. Then, we have to talk about it.” John nibbled on a cookie.

Sighing, Scott took a bite of his cookie and chewed. “It…it was a Fischler rescue that ended predictably.”

Virgil chuckled. “So everyone died.”

John joined him. “I hope Eos enacted revenge and took him out, at least.”

“Um…yeah.”

The younger brothers looked at each other. “Oh.”

Virgil scooted closer to Scott. “Now you have to tell us about it.”

“Why?”

“Because the haunting nightmare rescue nightmare will haunt you until you do.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Of course it does.”

“John.” Scott hated whinging, but he wanted reinforcement.

“I’m with Virgil, big bro. Sorry.” John crossed his arms and nudged Scott's knee with his foot. “Spill.”

Scott accepted defeat. “Fine.”

Virgil and John listened to the lethal thing Fischler had done in Scott’s nightmare, involving Fischler Industries fertilizer, the Australian Outback and sunlight. The room was silent when Scott finished recounting his nightmare.

Virgil’s dark brows knit together. “Even Thunderbird Two was lost?” He was struggling to accept that Fischler had irrevocably destroyed his ship.

Scott chuckled wryly. “Afraid so, Virg.”

“Wow.”

“I think I need to talk with Eos about retribution.”

Stifling a yawn, Scott agreed. “That’s a good idea.”

“Okay, flyboy, time to get some rest.”

“Don’t medic me, Virgil.”

“I’m not. We will likely have a busy day tomorrow, and you need sleep. Come on, we’ll help you remake your bed.” The brothers rose from the bed. Virgil returned the cookie plate to the tray, and John and Scott shook out his bedding.

“I agree with him, Scott,” John said as he fluffed a pillow. “We need some sleep before a situation arises.”

“And with the holidays, people are more apt to get into serious trouble than usual.” Virgil smoothed the blanket and folded down the top sheet.

“Okay, okay… Oh, look at the time. Well, thanks for sitting and talking with me.” Virgil and John smirked at each other. It was almost two in the morning. “What? Do I want to know?”

“You know the nightmare protocol, Scott.” Virgil drew back the bedding and gestured for Scott to lie down.

“That was for Alan when he was little.”

“It was a bad nightmare, Scott.”

“And you shouldn’t be alone.” Virgil gently elbowed his eldest brother into bed.

Scott climbed into bed and sat up on his elbows. “What does that mean?”

“Duh. It means we’re staying,” John nudged Scott to the center of the bed and lay down. Virgil crossed to the other side of the bed and climbed in next to Scott.

“I don’t want to listen to Virgil snore all night.”

“And yet, you sleep better when you do.”

“Do not,” Scott said under his breath.

The younger brothers smirked at each other. “You’re stuck with us, bro.”

“Fine, fine.”

Virgil held out an arm for Scott to snuggle into him. Rolling his eyes, Scott said nothing as he settled into his brother’s comforting embrace. John turned off the light and lay on his back, providing Scott the comfort of proximity without touching him.

“Good night, Scott.”

“Good night, Virgil.”

“Good night, Scott.”

“Good night, John.”

“Good night, Vir-”

“Ohmigod. Guys, stop. We’re not the Waltons.”

They giggled.

“There are enough of us.”

“There really are.”

“Oh, to have been an only child.”

John nudged Scott with his elbow. “You love us and wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Scott sighed. “Yeah. Yeah.”

They lay quietly for a moment before…

“Did you know it’s the early morning of the day of Christmas Eve?”

“Joohnnn.”

“What? It is.”

Virgil chuckled. “Guys. Sleep. We’re going to have a busy day tomorrow.”

“Okay, Virgil.”

“Fiine… I love you both. Thank you for being here.”

“Always, big bro. Always.”

Shortly after they settled, all three brothers were snoring softly.

~fin~

-o-o-o-

Footnote: The Waltons was a US TV show that ran from 1972-81. It was about a large, close-knit family living in rural Virginia during the 1930’s & 40’s. At the end of each episode, all the family members would wish each other goodnight, and, because they were a large family, it went on for a while.

#thunderbirds are go #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction

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tagsecretsanta · 4 months

Text

From @gordonthegreatesttracy

From @gordonthegreatesttracy to Thunderfam

THE BACKFIRING CHRISTMAS PRANK

“It’s Christmas time

Alan’s on the wine

Scotty’s singing Frog on the Tyne

There’s logs on the fire

Johnny’s up the tree

Time to rejoice in the good that is me!”

“I swear his songs get worse every year” John says to the Mechanic with an eye roll, as he hangs a bauble on the top of the tree.

It is the day after Thanksgiving, and there is a twelve-foot Christmas tree in the lounge surrounded by boxes and boxes of decorations, John is up on the ladder on one side of the tree carefully placing baubles and tinsel and lights on the bright green branches, which the Mechanic is handing up to him.

“He does this every year?” The mechanic asks amused.

This is his first Christmas with the Tracys, having accepted Grandma’s invitation and come over to the Island to help decorate the villa.

“Yes he does, a few years ago it was Scotty Claus, drove Scott crazy then he gave him a music box that sung that song! I think he still has it somewhere” John replies.

“So it is a family tradition?” the Mechanic asks.

“YEP!” Gordon calls from his spot, hanging upside down from the railings above the seating area, while he wraps purple tinsel around the metal rails.

“Be careful up there” Scott calls over him. “I have tried to get rid of that box for years, I even put it in the old incinerator and it still turned up in its spot less than an hour later without a scratch, either Gordon made a million of them, or its cursed!”

John has taken on a supervisor role with Virgil and Jeff. The three of them are sitting on the sofa drinking coffee straight from the pot.

Jeff still can’t believe that he is home. And he is going to make sure that this is the greatest Christmas the boys have ever had, starting today, a whole month of celebrating. The Hood is in jail, the Chaos crew are too, the world is safe. The atmosphere is happy and relaxed as he rests his head against the back of the chair, this really is going to be the best Christmas ever!

*TB*

The month between Thanksgiving and Christmas flies by in a whirlwind of rescues, gift buying and wrapping, cake making, cookie baking fun and Alan wakes up on Christmas morning full of excitement. It is still dark outside as he pulls open his curtains and looks out at the jungle. This is going to be the best day ever! His father is home, and he has checked out the presents under the tree and there are hundreds with his name on!

Alan maybe a high school graduate with his own rocket ship, but he is still a child when it comes to Christmas! He jumps up from his favourite sleeping spot, and runs out the room, still in his pyjamas, down the hallway, stopping to bang on every door on the way, down the stairs and into the lounge, where even more gifts are now piled high!

“JACKPOT” he cries happily, wanting to dive right in, but something stops him and he is dragged away from his gifts by his eldest brother!

“Scotty!” He whines as he is pulled away.

“What are the rules?” Scott asks trying not to laugh.

“Wait for everyone to get here, eat breakfast, open gifts and have a wrapping paper ball fight with Gordon” Alan replies, poking his tongue out and trying to wriggle free so that he can get back to the gifts.

Scott doesn’t let go, picking Alan up and hoisting him over his shoulder he carries him down into the kitchen and deposits him on a chair.

“If you try and get back to the tree I am going to tie you to the chair!” Scott warns him, raising a wooden spoon in a semi-threatening manner.

“Wow, you look just like Grandma!” Alan tells him in awe, but the threat has the desired effect and Alan remains put!

Scott starts to make up pancake batter, letting Alan lick the bowl clean once he is done and then they carry the large stack of pancakes up to the lounge, where everyone is now awake and waiting for them.

The pancakes don’t last long and Alan soon has his attention turned back to the tree and those gifts, looking at Scott with large pleading eyes.

“Oh go on then!” Scott finally gives in and Alan dives for the tree.

He spots a gift with his name on, that the label says that it is from Gordon, and he should open it at his own risk!

He picks it up from the floor, and it explodes in a shower of liquid glittery gloop which goes all over him, and the tree, and the remaining presents.

Everyone apart from Alan are laughing, until the liquid gets into the lights, and there is a small explosion as the villa is plunged into darkness as the electric shorts.

“GORDON!” Alan screams, jumping to his feet and running to his brother. He is going to kill him!

“Not my fault, the warning label was on the gift” Gordon replies with a shrug.

Everyone is busy watching them argue, and they don’t notice the small smouldering fire that is starting to gain momentum at the bottom of the tree until it is too late.

Bright orange flames shoot up the tree, melting the plastic branches and consuming all the gifts in its bid to destroy Alan’s perfect Christmas, while they stand in shock. This is the worst thing Gordon has ever done!

Jeff puts the fire out with the fire extinguisher, but the damage is done. The gifts are gone, burnt and destroyed by the foam from the extinguisher and he turns to his fourth son in disgust. Gordon is an adult, but still pulling ridiculously childish pranks like this, and this time he has gone too far. Forgetting that he too laughed, he stands up to face Gordon, in the light from the torch he is carrying as it is still dark enough outside to need the lights on.

“You ruin everything Gordon, will you ever learn? All I wanted was one nice day. Just one! I didn’t ask you for a miracle, although maybe I did, as you don’t have the ability to actually behave, right now, you are making me wish that I had stayed in the Oort Cloud so I didn’t have to deal with you!” Jeff lectures.

Gordon is fighting back tears now. How could his father think that way? Does he really mean it? Do they all hate him as much as his father does?

“He is right” Scott adds. “You need to grow up Gordon.”

Gordon doesn’t need to hear any thing else as he runs from the room, upstairs to his room where he drags his suitcase out from the closet and starts to pack.

They don’t deserve Gordon, so they are not getting him!

He throws his suitcase onto the floor of Thunderbird 4 and he’s off, never to be seen again.

There are still tears in his eyes, as he docks Thunderbird 4 on the mainland and starts to walk to the house his father bought on the beach years ago so that they had a base on land for emergencies.

The world is still and peaceful this early on Christmas morning, as he watches the sun rise above the glittering ocean. His glistening tears spill out over his cheeks, and he doesn’t even see it coming a blinding pain in his back, as he falls to his knees before there is a sharp hit against his skull and he loses that last grasp of consciousness, his eyes firmly shut against the blur of the sun filled sky.

*TB*

“I can’t not believe that he ruined Christmas. Dad’s first Chritmsas back, and this happens. I should have expected it. He never changes. Where did he go anyway?” John asks.

“Upstairs” Virgil replies. “Probably sulking”

“This is the worst Christmas ever” Alan adds, sitting on the floor, leaning up against one of the seats and staring morosely at the ruined gifts.

The silence that falls among the group is awkward as they wait for Brains and the Mechanic to fix the electric.

“I-I-I am sorry, Mr T-T-Tracy. We need to rewire the main b-b-box” Brains confirms.

“We will need to go and get some stuff from the mainland; we will be a couple of hours” The Mechanic confirms.

“This is the worst Christmas ever” Alan declares again. No electric means no Christmas dinner, and no food means he is going to be hungry. Gordon is the worst brother in the world, and Alan wants nothing else to do with him.

“Come on, why don’t we go for a nice walk along the beach and watch the sun rise” Jeff suggests, heading out towards the pool. “Then we will all go over to the mainland and get everything we need for the rewiring and some lunch”.

“Nothing better to do” Alan says sulkily as they all walk out the lounge to take a walk in the early morning light.

“You know, this isn’t even the worst present Gordon has given someone!” Scott says with a face palm as they walk down the sandy stretch, Alan dipping his toes in the freezing water with a shudder.

“It isn’t?” he asks.

“Niblet?” Virgil asks, suddenly starting to laugh.

“Niblet” Scott confirms.

“Who is Niblet?” The mechanic asks, confused.

“Well…” Jeff starts.

SPECIAL PRESENT FOR MOTHER

“Hey Virgy” Gordon says running into the house from the yard where he has been playing for the last hour. The last of the autumn sunshine is fading fast into what looks like the perfect night for star-gazing. Crispy cold and clear.

Virgil is sitting on the sofa watching a documentary about Picasso with John and Scott while their mom is upstairs giving Alan a bath, with the promise that Gordon will be next!

“Yeah?” Virgil replies absent mindedly.

“You know what else I want for Christmas?” he asks.

“You mean the three sides of paper you have taped to the fridge is about to get even bigger?” John interrupts with a snort of laughter.

“You do know that the meaning of Christmas has nothing to do with what gifts you want? It is about giving, not receiving.” His father asks having joined the conversation from the kitchen where he has been checking on dinner.

“Duh!” Gordon replies, rolling his eyes. “Of course I do. Christmas is all about the birth of Santa. Bart Simpson said so!”

“Not quite!” Jeff corrects him gently. “Why don’t we go upstairs and you can have that bath you need and I will tell you all about the true meaning of Christmas.”

“Okay!” Gordon replies happily, sticking his dirty hand in his father’s and drags him towards the promised bubble bath. Gordon loves the bath almost as much as he loves getting dirty.

“Gordon! You’re filthy!” Jeff groans.

“I know, isn’t it great!” Gordon replies, running up the stairs and crashing into the bathroom where his baby brother is now in a clean sleepsuit, his head sleepily resting on his Momma’s shoulder as she leaves the room.

“He is all yours!” She confirms with a grin.

Gordon does not know, but they tossed a coin to see who gets to bath the water loving six-year-old and Jeff lost!

Gordon takes off his mud encrusted clothes and throws them on the floor, while Jeff adds the warm water to the tub and his chosen bubble bath, before Gordon dives in and splashes water everywhere.

Jeff lets him play “explore the bottom of the bathtub” for a few minutes before he remembers the conversation he promised him.

“Gordon, the real meaning of Christmas is your family, and finding them that special gift that you know they will love. Something that you have put your heart and soul into either searching for or even making. My favourite gift last year was the painting that you all did for me, can you remember?” Jeff says.

“The submarine full of fish playing the piano in space while watching top gun?” Gordon asks.

“That’s the one!” Jeff tells him.

The painting is in a frame in the living room above the fire place, and every time he walks past it, it never fails to make him smile, no matter how hard a day he is having.

“That was fun to do. Virgil let me paint the fish” Gordon tells him.

He is now sitting crossed legged in the middle of the tub hanging on his father’s every word. There are soap bubbles in his hair, but he is at least now clean!

“So what are you going to do this Christmas?” Jeff asks, hoping that his example worked.

“Get momma the most special present ever, she is going to be so happy” Gordon replies.

“Do you need help?” Jeff asks, thinking that they can go shopping together.

“Nope, I got this daddy!” Gordon confirms before he sinks back down below the surface of the water to rinse off his hair.

Jeff lets him play a while longer, before announcing that it is time for dinner and then bed.

He is anticipating a fight, and gets one as Gordon splashes him with warm soapy water and wriggles out of his grasp whenever he tries to grab him, giggling as he outsmarts his father over and over again, until Jeff plays the final card of his hand and pulls out the plug.

“DADDY!” Gordon wails in disgust.

“Come on!” Jeff tells him, helping him step out of the tub and into a clean, warm, fluffy towel and scrubbing him dry before he gets into his favourite finding nemo pyjamas and follows his father down the stairs for supper with his family.

He is still thinking about Christmas and what to get his momma an hour later as she puts him to bed.

“What do you want for Christmas Momma?” he asks sleepily as she settles him down with his cuddly squid and starts to read him a chapter from his current favourite book: The brave little fish.

“Something from the heart, whatever you will love, I will love” Lucy replies, resting her chin on top of his head as she cuddles him.

An idea is starting to form in Gordon’s mind now. Something that he loves that Momma would love. Something super special and what is more special than her very own pet?

Lucy is not even half way through the chapter when his quiet little snores reach her ears and she quietly leaves the room, switching off the main light and leaving only his fish shaped nightlight for illumination.

*TB*

Operation Momma’s special gift begins the following day at breakfast as he asks for extra strawberries on his cereal, which he hides in the pocket of his hoodie.

It is Sunday morning, and the sun is shining through the window. It is the perfect day to begin the search, and as soon as he is allowed he races for the small, wooded area behind the farm that he has been given permission to explore. He knows that he is not allowed to go past the end of the forked path, but he doesn’t need to, he is sure that the perfect gift is around here somewhere, he has seen it recently.

It takes him an hour of patience, something even he knows he is not very good at, but eventually his persistence pays off and a fluffy tailed grey squirrel comes down from its drey to give him a sniff.

He has never sat this still in his life, and the squirrel feels warm as it explores the new arrival, sticking his nose into Gordon’s pocket and helping himself to a strawberry and running away with it, burying it a short way away, then coming back for another. And another. And another. Until all of the strawberries are gone.

Once the food is gone, so is the squirrel!

Gordon jumps to his feet and starts to run back to the house for more supplies. Knowing that he needs to sneak them out without anyone getting suspicious and ruining his plan.

He gets lucky on his supply run as there is no one in the kitchen as he empties the rest of strawberries into his pocket and runs back out to the woods.

Where the squirrel is waiting for him, and Is a lot bolder now as he climbs up onto Gordon’s shoulder and allows him to hand feed him the strawberries.

Gordon stays and watches his Momma’s new pet all morning, only leaving when he starts to get hungry for his own lunch and goes back to the house.

There are ham and cheese sandwiches for lunch, which are a bit disappointing as there is nothing on the plate that the squirrel can eat. He doesn’t even know what else he can feed the squirrel and he needs to find out without anyone getting suspicious.

“Can I go back out now?” he asks after he has finished eating.

“No, we are going grocery shopping and then having dinner at Grandma’s” Lucy replies. “I need you to get changed into your good clothes!”

Gordon loves his grandma, but he has no idea why he has to get dressed up for it. His current outfit of torn jeans and a dirt-streaked hoodie is perfect for all occasions. Gordon also knows arguing with his Momma is not a good idea so does as he is told and goes up to his room to get changed.

His good shirt is hanging up on the back of the door and he pulls it on and does the buttons up. That with the plain black trousers and odd socks and he is done and goes back down stairs where his brothers are all dressed and ready to leave too.

“Daddy, can we get some bird seed?” Gordon asks, once he is strapped into his car seat in between Scott and Virgil in the back of car. Jeff is driving, with Lucy alongside and John and Alan are in the middle.

“Sure” Jeff replies, he loves feeding the birds in the garden.

“How long do they take to grow into real birds?” John asks sarcastically.

“Do they do that?” Gordon asks in awe.

“No! John stop it!” Lucy replies rolling her eyes. She has the job of stopping any fights from breaking out.

“Can we get food for other animals too? it is getting cold now and there isn’t as much food in the winter for the deers and the skunks and the gooses and the beavers and the spiders and squirrels and the snakes and all of the animals” Gordon pleads, adding lots of animals to his list.

“I don’t see why not” Lucy replies. Looking up different food for the various creatures that live in their yard.

Gordon piles in the food for all of the animals the minute they get to the supermarket barely leaving room for anything else!

The food shopping for a family of seven takes over an hour and a half while Jeff finds himself vetoing items and refereeing fights, and starts to wonder why he didn’t drop the kids off at his mother’s house before he went shopping!

Gordon gets everything he wants, and he can’t wait to get home from school tomorrow afternoon so he can really get started on project squirrel. His father was right, the best thing about Christmas is getting other people presents, and he doesn’t even want anything for himself.

*TB*

It is too late when they get back from Grandma’s to go and feed the squirrel, so Gordon takes the bag of walnuts from the cupboard when no body is watching and hides it under his bed before he goes to sleep for the night.

School on Monday morning drags, and he finds his mind wandering from the lessons about reading and writing and all the other stuff his parents insist he will need one day, but he finds unbearably boring.

They are working on the spelling small words today, stuff that he already knows as he has John for an older brother! He doesn’t need to sit here all day to learn how to spell cat. Everyone knows that it is K-A-T!

Mrs Jones is even older than his Grandma and has a moustache, but he knows better than to mention it, as he tries not to get into trouble for the same thing twice!

She is droning on about the correct way to spell words, and he is just drifting off for a well-earned nap when she raps her wooden ruler on the table so hard the building shakes.

“Tracy, how do you spell dog?” She demands.

“D-O-G-E” Gordon replies, deliberately getting it wrong.

“Wrong! That is not how I spell it” Mrs Jones tells him.

“Yeah well, you asked me how I spell it! My way is a lot more interesting.” Gordon replies.

“It is not supposed to be interesting”, Mrs Jones has no idea how this reprobate is related to John. John was a pleasure to teach.

“You’re telling me. This is even more boring than it was last week” Gordon replies.

There is a suspenseful silence in the room as his classmates wait for Mrs Jones to explode and sent him to the principal again, and they are not disappointed!

Gordon is sentenced to no afternoon recess and a meeting with his Momma before he is allowed to go home.

“Oh Gordon, not again!” She says in exasperation. He has been in the first grade for three weeks now, and this is the fourth time she has been asked for a meeting with the principal and she has no idea what to do with him!

“It isn’t my fault Momma” he insists.

“It never is. You are grounded this evening. No going out when we get home, and no television. You are going to help me cook dinner and you are going to have an early night” Lucy tells him as they make the short walk home. John and Virgil taking Alan and letting her have Gordon all to herself.

Gordon needs to go out, he has a squirrel to feed!

“I am really sorry Momma, I won’t get into trouble ever again if I can go out when we get home.” Gordon gives her the biggest puppy-dog eyes he can managed as he looks up at her, full of repentance that even he isn’t buying!

“You promise?” she asks, trying not to laugh.

“I promise” Gordon insists.

“Okay then” Lucy relents, knowing that she is going to regret it as her fourth son doesn’t know how to behave.

Gordon hugs her around the legs then runs to catch up with his brothers, ignoring John’s comment about him being the family screw up, skipping alongside them, promise already forgotten as all he is thinking about is feeding his squirrel.

He needs to think up a name, he can’t just keep calling him the squirrel.

The squirrel is waiting for him when he gets to the woods, and Gordon obliges with the walnuts, watching with a smile on his face as the squirrel nibbles on the shell.

Which is how Gordon gives him his name. Niblet is the perfect name for his squirrel.

*TB*

As the weeks wear on, the weather gets steadily colder. There is frost on the ground in the mornings and an ever-increasing threat of snow, but Gordon bundles up every afternoon in a warm coat with scarf and gloves and goes to visit Niblet.

Niblet has started to follow him to the edge of the wood now, getting braver and more confident, just as Gordon wanted.

The mix of nuts and fresh fruits and vegetables have given his coat a healthy shine, as it thickens for the winter. Niblet is the most perfect gift ever and his Momma is going to love him as much as he does.

The beginning of December sees the first proper snow fall of the winter, and Gordon finds it hard to battle through the snow, his snow boots sinking into the snow with every step, but it is worth it as Niblet comes to meet him at the edge of the woods, running up his legs and onto his shoulder, sticking his nose into his ear in greeting which causes Gordon to giggle.

“Oh Niblet, you are so cute!” Gordon tells him, stroking him along the spine with his gloved hand.

Today is the day Niblet decides that he is going to see where the bringer of treats lives, and he stealthily follows Gordon home, stopping when he sees the house, as he is unsure what the big building is, and does not want to risk getting trapped, and goes back to his tree for the evening as it is starting to get dark and even more chilly, and he shudders with the cold as he wraps his tail around his nose and settles down for the night in his warm and cosy drey.

The month passes excruciatingly slowly for Gordon, as he wakes up every morning and it is still not Christmas Day yet. Every morning he wakes up, eats breakfast, struggles through another boring day with the delightful Mrs Jones. The only bright spots in his day are rehearsals for the class play, in which he is the star, and going to feed Niblet once he is home, even though the dark is falling ever earlier and he has less time before Momma makes him come inside.

Until the magical day his Momma announces that it is the final day before the holidays and he is free for three weeks!

The first day of the holiday he is up before the sun, and out the house before anyone else is even awake, as he needs to start moving Niblet into the house, and getting him ready for the big day.

Niblet now trusts him completely, and allows Gordon to carry him back to the house and into his bedroom which he explores in interest. This is definitely warmer than his tree, and he curls up on Gordon’s pillow for a nap.

Keeping Niblet a secret is easy, as every time someone knocks on Gurdon’s bedroom door, he scarpers for the safety of the closet, only coming back out when Gordon gives him the signal that it is all clear.

Niblet spends the nights asleep at the bottom of Gordon’s bed, and his days exploring the room, rapping his claws on the window when he needs to go out, and he is never out for long. Preferring his new drey to the tree in the woods!

Niblet is the perfect present, and Gordon can’t wait until the morning to give him to his Momma. Daddy was right, getting people gifts is even more fun than getting them himself.

It is Christmas Eve and Gordon finds Virgil sitting on the floor of his bedroom wrapping gifts.

“Hey Virg!” he says, letting himself into the room and plopping down on the rug.

“Yes” Virgil replies smiling. “How can I help you?”

“Can I borrow some of your art stuff?” he asks, not bothering with small talk.

“What for?” Virgil asks.

“Christmas decorations” Gordon replies.

“Yeah sure. Take whatever you need” Virgil tells him. “There is a box full in the bottom of the closet”.

“Thanks Virg” Gordon replies, jumping to his feet, diving into the closet and running from the room in one fluid motion, almost so quickly Virgil doesn’t even realise that he is gone!

Gordon returns to his own room where there is a plain cardboard box he found in the barn that he is going to decorate with pictures of squirrels, leaves, trees, nuts and strawberries. All of Niblet’s favourite things. He lines the box with Niblet’s favourite blanket so that he will not be too scared in the box in the morning and he is ready. His momma is going to get the most special present ever!

*TB*

There is more snowfall overnight and they wake to the white Christmas of Gordon’s dreams, and he can’t wait to get out there after breakfast to go sledding on the new sled that he asked Santa for! He leaps out of bed, startling Niblet who gives him a filthy look and goes back to sleep, and goes over to the window, where he throws open the curtains to find out the world turned white overnight.

“Look Niblet, isn’t it pretty!” He says to the still sleepy squirrel. “It is time to go in the box now and meet the rest of your family. They are going to love you as much as I do, trust me”.

Gordon places Niblet in the box and carefully places the lid on top before carrying him into his momma and daddy’s bedroom.

“MERRY CHRISTMAS MOMMA AND DADDY!” Gordon cries, jumping onto the bed.

Jeff grumbles something about Lucy’s children under his breath, but doesn’t wake up.

“Daddy! Come on, it’s Christmas and I got Momma a present, just like you said. Here” he says to Lucy shoving the box into her arms.

Half asleep still Lucy is smiling when she takes the lid off the box and a startled Niblet leaps straight out and up the curtains where he sits on top of the curtain rail glaring at the new people.

“What on Earth?” GORDON!” Jeff yells.

“You scared him” Gordon accuses his parents, looking up at Niblet with concern.

“What is that thing?” Jeff asks, giving his fourth son a facepalm in exasperation.

A hurt look flashes across Gordon’s face. That thing?

“Momma’s present.” Gordon replies. “His name is Niblet and he lives in my room”.

“It’s a squirrel, Jeff” Replies Lucy at the same time.

“Take it back where you got it from. You can not keep a squirrel, Gordon.” Jeff tells him.

“He isn’t for me, he’s for Momma” Gordon replies defiantly, refusing to give in easily.

“This is not up for discussion, you are not keeping the squirrel and that is final, now get it out of here before I get really angry” Jeff demands, his voice starting to show that impatience Gordon has come to associate with him getting sent to bed early!

Gordon flees the room, running down the stairs and out the door into the quickly forming blizzard. He stomps his way over to the barn and climbs up onto the roof, and sits down, drawing his knees up around his knees and starts to cry. The barn has a hayloft with a hatch in the roof, put in for John years ago so that he can climb up there in the summer and star-gaze.

He only wanted to do something nice for his Momma, just like he promised his Daddy he would, and he has ruined everything. Again. He is a screw up, just like John said so. He can’t do anything right.

*TB*

“A squirrel? What did you tell him?” Lucy asks, trying hard, and failing, not to laugh.

“Gifts come from the heart and that he should get people gifts that he has put a lot of thought and effort into.” Jeff replies. Now that the shock of having a wild animal dumped on him in what feels like the middle of the night is wearing off, Jeff can’t help it. He starts to laugh too.

“What did he say he named it?” Jeff asks.

“Niblet” Lucy replies.

Niblet is still sitting on the curtain rail glaring at them.

Jeff gets up and opens the window. “Go get him Niblet” he says to the squirrel as the animal jumps down from the rail and out the window, over to the barn and up onto the roof where he climbs up onto Gordon’s shoulder, while Lucy gets out of bed and starts to get dressed so that she can face the blizzard and bring home her son.

Gordon’s tears are frozen to his eyelashes, and he is freezing. His whole body is shivering, as he is out there in a blizzard in his pyjamas, with no shoes on.

“Come on inside. Both of you” Lucy says a few minutes later, having used the hatch in the roof to join him, and wrapping him up in her dressing gown. “You’re freezing” she tells him, as the three of them make their way back into the warmth of the barn.

“I Th-th-th-ought y-y-you would l-l-love him” he wails, his head buried into her shoulder as he sobs his heart out.

Niblet is sitting on her shoulder now, and she can’t deny that he is cute. She knows that he can’t stay though, as he is a wild animal, and would hate living in the house, especially in the summer, but that is not a conversation for right now.

“I do love him” she confirms, and she realises that it is true. “He came from you, so you know that I will love him.”

Gordon finally gets what his father was saying. The best gifts come from the heart, and they leave the sanctuary of the barn and back to the main house so that Gordon can introduce his squirrel to his brothers.

In the living room, Scott has started a fire, in the fireplace and Jeff is handing out a large bag of marshmallows for toasting as a breakfast treat. Virgil is sitting on the floor, with a drawing pad open in front of him and he is sketching out a design for a new project.

“What are you doing Virg?” Lucy asks, leaning over Jeff and grabbing a marshmallow, which Niblet tries to steal.

“No, Niblet.” Gordon tells him, handing over a strawberry instead.

“Designing a home for the squirrel. Dad said that we can build him his own tree house in the large oak tree in the yard that he can use in the summer, and a winter home too. Grandma said that we can get a cat flap put into the door so that he can come and go as he pleases. Look” Virgil replies, showing his initial design plans, which shows a large wooden box with a hole cut into it to use as a door.

The inside has a sketch of Gordon and Niblet for decoration, a large four poster bed, a bookcase, a climbing frame, a television, lights and a separate kitchen area with storage containers full of nuts and fruit.

“I don’t think he needs a television Virg!” Lucy tells him. it is an impressive design, and she knows that the boys will have great fun making it with Jeff over the next few weeks, and that Niblet has gotten himself the best ever family.

THE MECHANIC SPENDS CHRISTMAS WITH INTERNATIONAL RESCUE.

“Is that a true story?” the mechanic asks chuckling.

“Every word. Niblet lived with us for seven years until he died from old age. Gordon wasn’t the only one who was devastated, we all were.” Scott replies.

They are heading back to the house, having been for a walk along the beach as the sun rises, promising another Perfect day in paradise, with cloudless sunshine with a light breeze. Perfect for a beach barbecue. Who even needs electricity?

“Alan, go and get Gordon. We are off to the mainland as a family to get replacement presents, and the stuff Brains needs to fix the electric” Jeff demands, suddenly feeing a need to be with all of his children.

Alan is still angry, but does as he is told and jogs back to the house, where he finds Gordon’s room has been stripped bare, and that his brother has gone. Even Squid, Gordon’s battered old plushie toy has gone.

Alan runs back down the stairs and into straight into Virgil.

“S-S-Sorry Virg. Dad Gordon’s gone” Alan says, panting.

“What do you mean he’s gone?” Jeff asks.

“Gone. Everything is gone.” Alan replies.

“Thunderbird 4 has gone too” Scott confirms. “John?”

John nods, opening up his comms unit and connecting to Thunderbird Five. “Eos? I need you to track Gordon and Thunderbird Four for me” he asks his sentient AI.

“Sure thing John. Give me a minute. Okay got them. Thunderbird Four is at the house on the main land” Eos confirms.

“Thanks Eos. Come on, let’s go and get your wayward sibling” Jeff replies resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

“You can fly Virgil” Scott says once they are settled in Thunderbird two.

“Gee, my own ship, thanks Scotty” Virgil replies, rehashing an old joke as they take the short hop from the island over to the house by the beach.

There is a small landing area at the rear of the house which is where the party of seven land.

Brains and the Mechanic leave the ship, and start to head in the direction of the hardware store, Jeff having arranged for the manager to let them in to collect everything that they need in exchange for a large tip for opening up on Christmas Day.

Jeff lets them into the house, which despite Eos’ claims that it is the location of his fourth son, the house is empty.

“Gordon where are you?” Jeff asks out loud with a frown. Eos has never been wrong before.

He gets a scream as a response and runs for the sound of his terrified youngest son.

“ALAN, WHAT IS IT?” Jeff yells, running through the front door, and up the path leading to the gate, where he finds Alan, Virgil, Scott and John bent over Gordon’s seemingly lifeless form. The small relief he found when he realised that Gordon is still breathing is extinguished faster than the fire on the island when he sees the blood. A slowly flowing river of sticky red liquid from his temple.

“What happened?” Jeff asks.

“I don’t know.” Alan replies desperately, as Virgil is running a medscan. Scott and John are returning from Thunderbird Two with a stretcher.

Virgil gasps in shock when the results ping through onto his phone.

There is a bullet in Gordon’s back.

His little brother has been shot.

Someone shot his brother.

Why?

“What is it?” Jeff asks.

Virgil can’t speak, he just shoves his phone at his father and points to the small metal ball lodged in Gordon’s back, near his spine.

“He was attacked?” Jeff asks, scarcely able to believe what he is saying.

“We have to get him home” Virgil says, lifting him up into his arms, and placing him on the waiting stretcher. “I will need to operate”.

“You can’t. We have no electricity, remember?” John replies, his eyes have not left Gordon’s chest, as he watches it slowly rise and fall, silently praying to anyone who will listen that Gordon keeps breathing.

This stops Virgil in his tracks, but inly briefly. “Hospital then” he says to John, as he starts to push the stretcher to the med bay in thunderbird two.

Scott doesn’t bother making the joke, letting Virgil take the controls while he sits with Gordon, John, Alan and Jeff in the med bay, keeping a silent vigil. Lost in his own thoughts, and vowing to catch whoever did this, and make sure that their suffering is a hundred times worse than his.

The hospital is busy, but any visit by international rescue always parts the sea of people, leaving a clear path for Virgil to take Gordon, and now there is nothing left to do other than sit.

And wait.

The wait seems to be indefinite. Every minute feels like ten and Virgil can’t sit still. The initial shock is starting to wear off, and now he is angry. There are a million questions fighting for space in his brain.

Why did Gordon leave?

Who did this to him?

Why did they do it to him?

Was he targeted, or was this a random attack?

He is pacing up and down the small private waiting room that the hospital provided. It is a plain room, with pale green walls, hard plastic chairs and a small table which is littered with cold half-drunk cups of coffee, and no one is talking.

This was supposed to be their best Christmas ever. They had their father back. The Hood was finally in a cage where he couldn’t hurt anyone ever again. The mechanic was free from his control. Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

Virgil is still pacing silently, when the door opens, and Lady Penelope walks in.

To the outside world she looks as perfectly put together as always, but Virigl knows his brother’s girlfriend better than most. Her cool and calm persona is showing small signs of cracking. There is a hair out of place, and a small smudge of pink lip gloss by her upper lip, and her eyes are watery from where her mascara has run.

Brains and the mechanic are behind her, both carrying large bags of electrical equipment.

“How is he Jeff?” Penelope asks, not bothering with any small talk. This is her fault. If she hadn’t listened to Gordon, and cancelled her plans to spend Christmas with him, instead of that silly party her family organised, then he wouldn’t have left the island without her. They would have been safe.

“I don’t know?” Jeff replies, speaking for the first time since entering the room.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asks.

Jeff shakes his head sadly. There is nothing anyone can do other than wait. Waiting is the one thing none of them have ever been very good at.

“W-We could go b-b-back to the island” Brains suggests. “G-G-Get the electricity f-f-fixed for when you get h-h-home”.

Jeff nods, knowing the need to keep busy, almost wishing that he could go along and help, anything is better than this waiting.

“Parker will take you” Lady Penelope replies, offering up the services of her ever-loyal chauffeur.

With a nod of their heads the two men leave, and that small distraction which stopped Jeff having to think leaves with them and he starts to brood once more. He should never have said that he wished he had stayed in the Oort cloud. He pulls a photo wallet from his pocket where he keeps his family photos. All through his eight years in outer space this little piece of home is what kept him going.

The first photo is Lucy. As Jeff remembers her best. Smiling and happy, laughing at some joke one of the boys has just told her. Scott is next. His face serious as he poses for his first official rescue scouts uniform. His mini-me. Then Virgil, covered in paint sitting on top of the piano a paint bush behind one ear. The next page is John, lying on the top of the roof late at night watching the stars, which has always been his happy place. Then Gordon, his fish, about to cannon ball off the high diving board into the pool the first summer they spent on the island. Finally Alan. Fast asleep on the sofa with his gaming tablet on his chest. Looking at their childish innocence, Jeff determines to get justice for Gordon, no matter what the cost is.

*TB*

“What happened?” Jeff asks.

It is nearly morning, Jeff’s perfect Christmas is almost over, and it has been nothing like what he had planned, but he is just grateful that Gordon is going to make a full recovery.

“I don’t know” Gordon replies, trying hard not to cry. “I’m sorry. You were right, I ruin everything”.

“No, I am sorry. You know I never meant any of that. Almost everything we lost can be replaced, apart from you. You are my unique, talented, crazy, funny Squid, and I wouldn’t have you any other way.” Jeff replies, he has his hand clasped around Gordon’s and he ever wants to let it go.

“When can I go home?” Gordon asks.

“Tomorrow, but the doctors have ordered that you stay in bed and rest for at least ten days, and that you remain off duty for a month. Which will be enforced by both Virgil, myself, Penny and Grandma so there is no way you can even think about sneaking out. But just think, it gives you enough time to organise replacement presents for everyone!” Jeff replies with a grin. “No wild animals!”

“Really? It is about time the villa got a pet!” Gordon replies with a grin of his own.

One that makes Jeff’s heart soar. That one smile that means that everything is going to be okay. “NO!” Get some rest. I will be here to take you home in the morning.” Jeff tells him, leaving him to get some sleep.

Gordon stretches and yawns, the morphine drip in his arm doing its job as he drifts off into a deep and dreamless sleep.

*TB*

Back on the island it is chaos. Brains and the Mechanic have gotten the electricity back up and running and are busy putting together a new inflammable tree! With Alan’s “help”.

Alan is covered in lights and tinsel. He is wearing baubles for earrings and he has been climbing up and down the ladder all day under the watch full eyes of the Mechanic and Brains.

“Are you sure this one won’t catch fire?” Alan asks.

“P-Positive. Almost” Brains replies.

“Almost?” Alan squeaks.

“Ninety-nine percent” Brains reassures him.

Alan nearly falls off the ladder he’s laughing so hard. He never knew that the mechanic had such a brilliant sense of humour, as they started out trying to stop him from destroying their entire family. He never thought the day he first came across him, that day with the earth-breaking machine, that one day he would be helping him decorate a Christmas tree.

Alan’s lights are battery operated, and he lights them up, while he is sitting on the top of the ladder. “Maybe I should stay here and be the other tree!” He suggests.

“That’s not a bad idea” Scott replies, having come up from the hangars carrying a bag full of freshly wrapped presents for the new tree.

“Ooh presents!” Alan declares, leaping from the top of the ladder onto the floor, and landing lightly on his feet. “gimme gimme gimme!” he says reaching out for the bag as Scott lightly slaps his hands away.

“No, these are not to be opened until everyone is home” Scott replies. “I have counted them, and if any are missing when I check later then I will let Gordon prank you again as long as he promises not to set the house on fire again you will be fair game!”

Alan knows that this is not an empty threat and he laughs before climbing back up the ladder.

“Yeah that’s better, stay up there!” Scott tells him before he retreats back down to the hangars.

*TB*

By the following morning, when Jeff returns with Gordon the house has been transformed. The mechanic has rigged up a contraption for indoor snow, and it is snowing lightly in the lounge. Covering the over decorated tree in a smattering of white flakes.

“Do I have to stay in bed?” Gordon asks.

“What did the doctor say?” Jeff asks amused.

“Yes” Gordon replies.

“So what do you think?” Virgil asks, also amused.

“No!” Gordon replies. “I am not tired, and it only hurts when I talk, move or breathe. I’m fine!” he insists.

“Okay, you can stay up for a bit” Jeff tells him, helping him into one of the chairs, watching him carefully as he grasps the arm of the chair trying to hide the sharp pains in his back, he wants to help but its time Gordon learned his own lessons from his own mistakes. Besides if he does bust his stitches Virgil can sew him back up again!

“When are we doing presents?” Alan asks. He has been trying hard to resist the ever-growing pile under the tree, which is now even bigger than the original pile as Lady Penelope has been adding her own in.

“After lunch, which Grandma has been cooking for the last forty-eight hours, so should be suitably cremated by now” Jeff replies with an evil grin, one that is usually found on Gordon’s face.

Alan is starting to doubt that he will ever get Christmas presents this year as it is now the day before New Years, any minute now his father will announce that he has to wait until his birthday for them! That is if Grandma hasn’t poisoned them all by then.

“Dinner is ready” Grandma announces, coming up from the kitchen an hour and a half later.

Gordon is asleep, using Virgil as a pillow. Alan is still sitting by the presents, which Scott sits next to him so that he doesn’t try and run away with them. John is sitting by Jeff’s desk with Jeff as they read through a report from the GDF regarding the rebuilding of the Hex prison to keep the Hood in, as far away from society they can get without banishing him to the Oort Cloud.

“Come on Squid, you need to eat to regain your strength” Virgil says, gently nudging him awake, and helping him down to the kitchen.

The main table has been set for eleven, with a small card on each plate with names on so that they know where to sit.

There is a silk table cloth which has been hand painted with little Christmas decorations. Lady Penelope has bought Christmas crackers over from England, and in no time at all everyone is wearing a paper hat and telling terrible jokes.

Alan’s favourite is:

What athlete is warmest during winter?

A long jumper.

Gordon’s is:

Who delivers presents to sharks at Christmas?

Santa Jaws.

Jeff’s is something that he wishes was a thing in real life!

What's a parent's favourite Christmas carol?

Silent Night!

Virgil’s is:

Who is Santa’s favourite singer?

Elf-is Presley

John tries not to find any of the jokes funny and sits in stoic silence, but even he starts to laugh at how bad the jokes are.

Which Christmas carol is about an animal with three legs?

Little Wonkey

Even though that’s not how you spell wonky, it still makes him laugh.

Scott’s is:

What do you get if you eat Christmas decorations?

Tinselitis.

Well he has spent most of his life trying to stop Alan from doing just that!

Once everyone has stopped telling jokes, Grandma brings out a large silver covered dish, and everyone takes a deep breath to prepare themselves for what is about to be unveiled. Grandma Tracy is a notoriously bad cook, so why she keeps doing it, nobody knows!

Jeff tentatively takes the lid off to reveal the charred remnants of the old tree.

“Well, it was already cooked so I thought I would save a lot of time and effort and just reheat it. Plastic is good for you” Grandma insists.

“Mom?” Jeff says, raising one eyebrow, and looking over at his mother. Surely she can’t be serious.

“Mrs Tracy?” the mechanic adds. He is laughing. This has been the most unconventional Christmas he has ever been a part off. Nothing that they spent months carefully planning worked out how they were expecting. So why try for a traditional Christmas dinner?

“Okay fine! Come with me, all of you?” Grandma replies starting up the stairs to the lounge and out the main doors by the pool.

Where a second equally beautifully laid table is waiting for them, this one has eleven plates of perfectly cooked food. All of their favourites. The table is straining with the weight of the nut roast, potatoes, carrots, peas, parsnips, broccoli, and boats of steaming gravy. There are several bottles of wine in ice buckets around the table, and in the middle is the centre piece the boys made years ago their last Christmas they had their mom for. Before that they made a new one every year, but once they lost her, it never felt right to keep on making a new one, knowing that she would never be able to see them.

“When did you do this?” Gordon asks in awe.

“I didn’t” Grandma replies.

“I did” The mechanic replies. “I wanted to give something back to you all. You saved my life and helped me find a purpose. A real purpose. Because of you I am finally free”

“It looks to good to eat” Lady Penelope says with a smile.

“Speak for yourself, I’m starving!” Alan replies, picking up a potato with his fingers and shoving it whole into his mouth. “Argh! Hot! Hot! Hot!” he gags, trying to swallow the potato while he downs a small glass of wine.

“I am sorry, he is a work in progress!” Scott replies, kicking him under the table. Alan’s only reply is to poke his tongue out at Scott, but he does pick up his knife and fork and start to eat properly.

Eleven people make short work of the food and there is very little left over. Jeff can feel the buckle of his belt straining against his stomach, as he pats it appreciatively.

“This has been the weirdest ever Christmas, but I liked it” Virgil says, leaning back in his chair and letting the early afternoon sun warm his face.

They know soon that their vacation will be over, and that they will have back-to-back rescues once more and moments like this will feel like a distant memory.

“Is it really?” John replies. “Gordon caused chaos, and got hurt. Seems like a normal day in the life of international rescue to me!”

“Hey! I don’t always cause chaos!” Gordon replies indignantly.

“That’s true. Sometimes he’s asleep” Scott confirms.

Gordon throws a left-over roast potato at Scott, which misses and hits his father.

“Oh you are such a dead squid!” Jeff tells him with a malicious grin on his face, as he picks up his spoon and piles on left-over peas and launches them at Gordon.

“FOOD FIGHT!” Alan yells in delight.

In less than a minute, everyone is covered in food, and everyone is laughing. Lady Penelope and Gordon have teamed up with Virgil, Scott, the mechanic and Parker and are launching an attack on Alan, John and Jeff, Grandma and Brains.

Once all the remaining food has been consumed Virgil picks Alan up and dumps him in the pool. “Time for a bath Allie” He says with a grin.

“Ugh Virgil!” Alan splutters coming up for air.

Gordon, despite the pool ban by his doctor dives straight in after Alan, ignoring the pain and gently swimming a few laps.

“Come on in, the water’s lovely and warm” he insists.

So they do. All fully dressed. They jump in and join Alan and Gordon and the food fight becomes a water fight, until the sun starts to go down and the water gets chilly, then they retreat to the house for some clean, dry clothes.

Virgil and Grandma march Gordon to the infirmary to make sure that he has not caused any further damage to his back, and replace the soggy dressing with a new one and they gather once again in the living room.

“This has been the best Christmas ever, and I didn’t even open a single present” Alan announces.

The mechanic smiles. It has been his best ever Christmas too, and he hopes that they invite him next year too.

“Oh that’s good because the presents around the tree are empty boxes” Scott tells him.

“They are not, I checked” Alan replies.

“Did you now?” Jeff laughs.

“Erm. No” Alan replies, sheepishly.

Jeff puts him out of his misery and finally lets him open his gifts!

*TB*

There is only one left now, a small gift box, addressed to the whole family from the mechanic.

Alan opens the box and removes a piece of blank paper and looks at it with confusion.

“Other side Alan!” Gordon tells him.

“Oh that’s better!” Alan reads the carefully composed words in silence before he reads them aloud.

“During the years I spent in the Hood’s captivity, I never imagined that life could ever be this enjoyable. I finally feel like I have found a real family, and I love being a part of international rescue. I wanted to give something back, so I give you the gift that I have not given to anyone else. Hardly anyone knows this secret, but I bequeath it too you. I am going to tell you all my real name”.

“You mean it isn’t Mechanic?” Gordon interrupts.

“No it isn’t! Let me finish” Alan replies.

“Okay!” Gordon says.

“My real name is…”

“Hugh Jass” Gordon guesses.

“GORDON!” Jeff warns.

“Sorry, carry on Alan” Gordon replies.

“My real name is…”

“Chris P Bacon”

“GORDON!” Jeff warns again.

“Then tell him to stop pausing, he keeps lining it up, you can’t blame me for guessing. I thought we were playing a game” Gordon replies, utterly unrepentant.

“Are you sure this is the one you’re in love with?” Grandma asks Lady Penelope.

Lady Penelope nods indulgently. This is the one she is in love with!

“My real name is Paul” Alan finally says. “I like it” he says to the Mechanic.

“Yeah, me too” Scott confirms.

Virgil nods and takes the Mechanic’s Christmas stocking down and takes a post it note from his father’s desk, writing Paul on the note, and covering up “mechanic”.

“Welcome to the family Paul” Jeff says, as they all stand up for a group hug.

This really has been the best Christmas ever.

And next year will be even bigger and even better, thinks Lady Penelope, holding onto her very own secret, gently patting her belly with a small smile.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds fanfiction

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tagsecretsanta · 4 months

Text

From @hebuiltfive

From @hebuiltfive to @sofasurf

Could someone please ping @sofasurf as Tumblr is refusing to tag them.

This was from the prompt: Christmas movie marathon with Gordon (but it features a brief mention for the prompt Shopping with John and Gordon too!)

Gordon's Christmas

The previous week had started off so promisingly.

John had come down from Five to embark on some much needed holiday shopping and had been partnered up with Gordon for the task. Gordon had been ecstatic and would have claimed that John, despite his grumbling, had been equally as thrilled about his shopping partner. It had been a while since the Squid and the Space-Man had spent some quality time together and, for the most part, Gordon would have claimed they mostly enjoyed their short excursion. Gordon had even managed to wrangle in a few pranks.

His favourite, even if it had been a little extreme, had John sighing deeply and glaring at Gordon with a look of disappointment. In fairness, his big brother should have been expecting something absolutely ridiculous from him at some point during their trip. Then again, looking back, maybe the seven Santa figurines that were dancing and singing out of sync across one of the toy aisles was perhaps a little too much, even by Gordon’s standards.

Everything had been going to plan, however, and, despite Gordon’s practical jokes, they had both managed to bag quite a few gifts and trinkets.

Lunch was when it all started to go downhill.

They’d been called back for a rescue. Virgil had flown by in Thunderbird Two to pick them both up as Grandma Tracy relayed the mission details. It should have been a reasonably simple ordeal.

Except it wasn’t, and Gordon ended up fracturing both his ankle on one leg and his tibia on the other.

He endured two medical examinations — one conducted by Virgil at the scene of the incident, and one by Grandma when they all returned to Base. Both exams concluded the same medical plan — that Gordon wasn’t in need of surgery but he was going to need a large bout of R&R for the next few months.

Least to say this news displeased him immensely. Whenever he tried to argue his case, however, Virgil and Grandma (and sometimes even Scott himself) would remain adamant and wouldn’t budge. He was to stay in bed, with his bandaged ankle lifted in those first few days. They lectured him relentlessly on why the crutches were needed and how he shouldn’t be putting any weight on his injuries if he wanted it to heal at all properly. Gordon didn’t care about any of that, though. Not only was he annoyed at being treated like glass once again, but it was also growing closer and closer to Christmas and Gordon was beginning to feel like he would miss out of festivities.

He lasted a week before he finally began to feel like he was going insane. Gordon had already binge-watched the entirety of Into the Unknown once again. If someone were to ask him how many times he’d seen that show now, he’d have been unable to place a number. Five times? Ten? Twenty?

But even Gordon, an avid fan of the show, couldn’t bare to sit through another watch so soon after his last marathon.

He scrolled through his holo-projector, interest peeking when he came across a a host of Christmas films. Was the week before Christmas still too early to be watching such festive films? He then glanced his bandaged legs and frowned.

‘’Tis the season, as they say.’ Gordon murmured to himself, now flicking through the various options.

Safe to say he was spoilt for choice, but eventually he decided upon his first film; A Muppet’s Christmas Carol. There was nothing not to love about the film: it had Muppets, it had songs, it had a generally uplifting feeling to it. It was precisely what he needed.

There was only one problem.

Gordon had since ran out of snacks from his secret stash and was in dire need of more. Normally, he would have rung his special bell that had been retrieved for him and would have asked for one of his other family members to assist him… except they weren’t available.

Scott, Virgil and Kayo were all out on various missions, John had long since returned to his station in orbit, and Grandma had visited the mainland for her own Christmas shopping trip.

Brains was busy with MAX in the laboratories and Alan was somewhere in the villa doing his homework (or so he claimed).

It would have been rude to disturb them, especially over something as simple as needing some movie snacks. Gordon debated the pros and cons, the arguments that might ensue if he was caught, but in the end he came to conclusion that he was very much capable of fetching his own movie snacks, thank you very much.

With his bandaged ankle lifted off the floor, and being high on pain medication enough for the pain in his shin to be nothing more than a dull ache, Gordon snuck down to the kitchens with his crutches, successfully arriving without being seen or heard. He would grab what he needed and the return to the safety of his room before anyone realised he’d left. Simple.

Popcorn, check. Soda, check. Restock of the Celery Crunch Bars, check.

Gordon mustered up a collection of bits and bobs, different candies and savoury treats, along with enough drinks for plenty of refills when necessary. He was quite impressed by the haul that he’d managed to whip up in only a few minutes, and was proud of the fact he’d done it all so stealthily.

That was until he realised that, with the crutches supporting him, there was no way he was going to be able to carry all of what he’d collected back up to his room.

Ah.

It was a dilemma that he was intent on solving on his own. He probably would have worked it out far sooner had the medications not dulled his brain so much.

Gordon was in the middle of plotting out an elaborate plan, that probably wouldn’t have worked, when soft footsteps alerted him to Alan’s quiet arrival.

His little brother sighed. “You’re supposed to be in bed, Gordo.”

Gordon shuffled uncomfortably with the crutches so he could turn and face his brother, his expression one of pure innocence. “I needed food.”

“They told me that you had to stay put.”

“I needed food.”

“Then ask one of us to get it for you. Brains is around and I was literally across the hall in my room… How did you manage to sneak past me, by the way?”

“I’m a ninja.”

Alan rolled his eyes before those blue orbs landed on the snacks that Gordon had amassed. Those eyes then widened. “Are you feeding an army?”

This time, it was Gordon who rolled his eyes. He faced the counter again and… okay, maybe there was a lot there in hindsight, but he was hungry and feeling sorry for himself.

“You should have asked me to help you.” Alan continued, stepping past Gordon to fetch himself a glass of water.

“I can do it myself.”

His brother slowly turned his head to look at him, offering Gordon a look that suggested Alan didn’t believe a word of that statement. His head then cocked to the side, gesturing towards the bowls and packets on the counter. “Yeah? Carry all that up to your room then.”

Alan was smart. He was probably smarter than all of them combined (minus John, of course). The glass was lifted to his lips, a sip of water was taken, but Alan didn’t take his eyes off Gordon, as though he was daring his big brother to try and prove him wrong.

Gordon was tempted to try, if only to wipe the smug smile off Alan’s face, but he knew when he’d been defeated. He just despised the fact that this defeat was due to a bowl of popcorn.

“Fine.” He sighed. “Fine, I can’t do it. I didn’t, uh, think it through, did I?”

To his credit, Alan didn’t jibe or tease his brother. Instead, he simply shrugged. “I could help you. I mean, if you let me sit in on the movie with you.”

Gordon chuckled and shook his head. “No. You’re supposed to be doing your homework.”

“And you were supposed to stay in bed, yet here we are.”

“Scott would kill me if he found out. Grandma would kill me. No. Absolutely not!”

“C’mon, Gordon!” Alan pleaded with those puppy-dog eyes that he was so talented at wielding. “I can catch up with all that work tomorrow.”

“What if you’re needed on a rescue tomorrow?”

“Then I’ll just catch up the day after that.”

Oh, his brother was good. Insufferable, maybe, but good. “Alan…”

“If you let me watch one film, I won’t tell anyone about your little solo trip down here.”

Gordon sized his brother up. Definitely insufferable, but he couldn’t skip out on such an offer.

Another sigh was released. “Okay, okay. One film, but then you’re back to your homework. Two conditions: I get to pick the film and you don’t get to any of my treats.”

“But you have tonnes there—!”

“That’s the deal, Allie.”

It was a deal that was reluctantly taken and soon enough, with the help of Alan, Gordon was back in his room. He tucked himself underneath his squid-patterned blanket, which was large enough to cover Alan as well as his kid brother nestled in beside him.

Once they were both comfortable, Gordon hit play.

Throughout the movie, Gordon’s rule of Alan being unable to have any of his snacks relented. Both a hand from each brother continuously dived into the popcorn bowl until there was nothing but un-popped kernels at the bottom. Bars of chocolate were hastily devoured and their glasses were repeatedly filled with fizzy soda.

By the time the credits rolled on A Muppet’s Christmas Carol, Gordon had seemingly forgotten the other two rules he’d created in the kitchen — that Alan couldn’t choose the film, and that Alan had to return to his homework once the one film was finished.

He turned to his little brother, who was propped up against Gordon’s headboard with an octopus shaped pillow behind his back, with a cheery grin. “Which one do you want to watch next?”

There was much debate but eventually they settled on The Grinch.

Alan disappeared for a few minutes to refill some of their supplies, making sure to grab enough snacks for himself this time as well, and then the movie watching recommenced.

After The Grinch, The Polar Express was put on.

After that, Elf.

By the time Virgil returned home and came in to check on Gordon, both the boys had fallen fast asleep. Home Alone 2 was still playing on the holo-projector, though it was clear from the state of them that they’d drifted off not long after the film started. Virgil carefully made his way over to the bed, avoiding empty wrappers and containers that had been strewn across the floor. He switched the screen off, leaving his brothers to continue to rest in darkness. Words would no doubt be had in the morning over Alan’s incomplete homework and Gordon’s leg not being elevated as instructed, but for now Virgil was keen to let them rest.

#thunderbirds are go #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction

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