Disclaimer: The Thunderbirds belong to Gerry Anderson and its affiliates. They do not belong to me, but the original characters do belong to my imagination, wherever that may be.

AN: Another story set pre-Thunderbirds. There are a few mentions of Grandma in this story, but everything else is movie-verse. Ages of the boys are as follows;

Scott-21

John-20

Virgil-18

Gordon-15

Alan-11

Chapter One- The Contest Begins... and Ends

Virgil knocked on the solid oak door to his brother's bedroom. "Hey, Scott, can I come in?"

"Yeah, it's open."

Virgil stuck his head through the ajar gap, eyeing his brother enviously, as he was still in curled up under the doona. "I've got some tickets to a rock concert, and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me."

"When is it?" Scott threw the cover off and rubbed the sleepy dust out of his eyes.

Virgil squirmed. "Tonight."

"I can't. I've got an important meeting to go to tonight at the AFB. Eight till late. Take a raincheck, though."

Virgil shrugged, hiding his disappointment. "It's OK. Don't worry about it. Next time, yeah?"

"Virg," Scott looked him straight in the eye. "I really am sorry about it."

"Hey Grams," Virgil sauntered casually into the kitchen where Josie Tracy was making breakfast.

"You're down late," Josie scolded lightly, her eyes alight with amusement.

Virgil smiled sheepishly, his hair glinting under the glow of the light. "I know. I had to ask Scott something." He paused. "Did you know he has to go to a meeting tonight? I thought he was on leave."

Josie nodded. "Unfortunately unavoidable. However, he assures me that this will be the last meeting he attends for at least five days."

"That's good. It'd be nice to spend some time with him after three months of separation. And John too," Virgil added as an afterthought. "When's he coming back from Harvard?"

"Tomorrow." Josie handed Virgil two slices of toast and a bowl of wheat flakes, which Virgil wolfed down in an instant. "Now scoot. You'll be late for school. Alan and Gordon are upstairs. Get them down so they can pick up their lunch."

"OK," Virgil obliged. "There's something I want to ask them anyway. Although, I might just make them wait. Let's see how desperate they become."

"FusionGate! No way!" Gordon's mouth dropped open, revealing his half chewed lunch. "You have tickets to the coolest concert of the year! You cannot be serious!"

Alan gaped in wonderment. "But the FusionGate concert has been sold out for ages! You can't have tickets!"

Virgil whipped out the tickets with a flourish, the Holy Grail to social popularity. Not that the Tracy boys weren't popular in their own right, though. "Read 'em and weep, boys."

Alan and Gordon stared, hypnotised by the shiny silver holograph, held in a trance. Until, Gordon found an inner strength and shook his head. "There's only two tickets."

"I know," Virgil shrugged. "But John's not here and Scott couldn't come. Dad's in Tokyo, not that he'd want to come to FusionGate."

"But there's only two tickets," Alan emphasised, frowning suspiciously at Virgil.

"I know," Virgil repeated, unfazed. "You two have a half a day to prove to me why I should take either one of you."

The gauntlet was thrown; the challenge set. Neither Tracy boy would back down from this challenge. It simply wasn't in their nature.

Primly, Gordon held out his hand. "May the best man win, Alan."

"May the best man win, Gordon."

Alan slammed his books shut and scampered down the stairs towards the cupboard under the sink. He had to get there fast; otherwise Gordon might steal his magnificent idea.

Flying through the room, Alan thrust the doors open, and squatted down to look at the contents.

"And just what, exactly," a sharp voice called out. "Are you doing in there, Alan?"

Startled, Alan jumped about a foot in the air. Panicking, he turned around. He couldn't let Josie catch him rummaging through her cleaning closet. "God, Scott," Alan gasped, only slightly relieved. He didn't know which was worse; Scott catching him, or Grams catching him. "Don't do that! You'll give someone a heart attack. Where's Grams?"

"Getting ready for her bingo night, apparently. You haven't answered the question, Alan," Scott reminded.

"I was going to polish Virg's piano for him. He's been complaining about the fingerprints and smudges on it. Thought I'd do him a favour." Alan held up a J-cloth and a cleaning bottle.

"Really!" Scott sounded amused.

"Yes, Scott. Really."

"You see, Gordon told me he would do that once he finished his homework."

Alan's stomach lurched. He couldn't let Gordon do that. He couldn't let Gordon use his fantastic idea against him. If Gordon cleaned Virgil's piano, he would surely be out of the running in the contest.

"Well, I guess I'm doing both of them a favour," Alan smiled cheerily, and made a hasty retreat to the living room, avoiding any more awkward questions.

'Phew!'

Two and a bit hours later, Alan wiped beads of sweat away from his forehead and stretched his aching muscles. 'That took forever! But the end result is worth it. Virg can't turn me down now. I am so going to FusionGate! Take that, Fishie!'

"Lookin' good, Allie," Virgil sauntered into the living room, a waft of paint and plaster trailing behind him. "How long did it take?"

"Couple of hours. No biggie." Alan shrugged his sore shoulders. "So, what's Gordon been doing?"

Virgil's eyebrow quirked up and dipped down quickly. "Subtle as usual, Alan."

"Well?"

Virgil froze, slightly creeped out. "You sounded just like Scott, then. The resemblance was uncanny."

Alan shuddered. Oh dear God, he was turning into a stiff.

"It's close between you and Gordon. You polished my piano; he posed for my art project. You organized my piano books; he's helping me with my marine life and underwater ecosystem discussion. Relax," Virgil flopped onto the tartan covered cloth sofa. "You've still got half an hour."

Alan did a double take. Half an hour? Only half an hour?! He couldn't let that fish face win. Hell, he spent two hours scrubbing at Virgil's beloved piano. His hands were red and blistered. Alan wanted recognition for that.

He sighed and eyed the stairs, the seed of the most ridiculous idea forming and planting in his mind. Drastic times, he mused inwardly, called for drastic measures.

"All right! This means war!" Alan stormed into the bedroom he shared with Gordon. "You are NOT going to that concert! I polished Virgil's piano for two and a half hours straight! You just sat on a chair looking pensive. I have blisters on my hands! I deserve to go, and you know it!"

Gordon stopped, placed his pen down on his biology book, and faced Alan. "I am not backing down. I have got just as much chance of going to FusionGate as you have. All's fair in love, war and the rules of brotherhood. Now run along, and pick up the ringing phone."

Alan's blood simmered, almost reaching boiling point as he picked up the phone. "Don't patronise me, Gordon."

He paused. "I wasn't patronising you."

"Good." Alan raised the phone to his ear. "Hello? You want who? OH! Right. Just a minute," he covered the mouthpiece with his hand and hollered Virgil's name down the stairs. With fake sincerity, Alan removed his hand from the phone and began to talk again. "He'll be right with you."

Virgil bounded up the stairs and practically ripped the phone out of Alan's hand.

"Well, you're welcome, Virgil." Alan closed the door behind him. "Gordon, face it. I've put in more effort. Virgil'll definitely choose me once he thinks about it."

Gordon snorted. "In your dreams, little brother."

"Oh yeah? Let's see Virgil take you once he sees you've ruined my racing car models." Much to Gordon's amazement, Alan swept the cars off his bookshelf, and let them smash to the floor.

"Scott," Gordon called out urgently.

"Left for his meeting," Alan smirked.

"Well, two can play your game." Gordon found his racing goggles and ripped the rubber seals off from around the eyepiece. "You don't honestly think he'll choose you once he sees you've ruined my prized possessions!"

"From where I'm standing, I don't think I should take either of you." Virgil stood in the doorway, hands on hips. "Would you care to explain exactly what you've done?"

"Virg, you have to tell; which one of us is going, and which one is being left behind? You have to choose."

"Yeah. Listen, I don't think I can take either one of you." Virgil rubbed the back of his neck. "Sonja, you know the girl in my class? Yeah, her. I sorta asked her if she wanted to go with me before I asked you two. Because she couldn't make it, you were my last resort, but now she can come, so I won't be needing either one of you."

Gordon and Alan were clearly unimpressed with Virgil's explanation.

"Come on guys," he wheedled. "You don't say no to someone like Sonja. I promise I'll do something with the pair of you next week. We're cool, right?"

"Oh sure, we're cool." Gordon raised an eyebrow. "Chilling, in fact."

"OK." Virgil sighed, relieved. "Gordon, you're in charge tonight. Gram's at her bingo night, Scott's left for his meeting, John shouldn't be back home until tomorrow and Dad is still in Tokyo. If any of them call, I'm in the shower and unable to talk, OK. And make sure you get Alan in bed by ten thirty."

Shocking Alan, Gordon unexpectedly gave his older brother a hug, his hand dipping into Virgil's back pocket.

"I'll see you later boys," Virgil smiled fondly, and ruffled Alan's hair before leaving them.

"I can't believe," Alan whispered, "you are being so calm about this. Are we seriously going to let him get away with that?!"

Gordon chuckled and held up Virgil's wallet. "Oh, no. You see, he can't go anywhere without his driver's licence. We will get Virgil Tracy. We will get him good."

AN: So, what does Gordon have planned? It can't be good. Next update soon. Please review.