They all have their dirty secrets. Their little guilty pleasures. And, as much as he would like to deny it - being the paragon of virtue he wants to be - John Tracy is no exception.
The brothers all know each others' secrets. For Scott, the all-American boy next door, it has always been apple pie - warm, dusted with sugar and served with real vanilla ice cream, not the fake synthetic stuff.
For Virgil, it's steak - a rare T-bone to be precise. A hang up from his brief college foray into veganism. Barbeques and bacon were his downfall.
John would like to present himself as immune to those temptations. Someone has to show a little restraint to the tinies - or at least to Alan. Gordon does what Gordon wants to do, regardless of the thoughts of others. But in truth, a lot of the time John is immune to the machinations of his own mind. This is because he works 20 hours a day nearly every day. Through choice and necessity, though mostly the former. He cannot not work.
He stays in space, floating and working and just getting on with things. He doesn't have time for indulgences. He doesn't have time for temptations.
His brothers know this. Which is why they take care of the needs he doesn't want to admit he needs.
You have to be careful what you eat in space. Times have come along since the days of Gagarin and his tubes of processed meat, with another full of chocolate sauce for dessert. Technology isn't as sensitive, but it's still not a good idea to have crumbs in space. Shards and specs of food can get into all sorts of nooks and crannies - and IR's space monitor won't be caught with his pants down - or his systems inoperable due to an attack by crumbs.
That's why, every time he gets fresh supplies, there are several necessary unneccessaries, beyond the fresh suits and the MREs.
There is always an unreasonable amount of fresh undersuits - an all-in-one kind of underwear, totally black, that layers his skin to his outer suit. Quite how many times his grandmother thinks he needs to change the undersuit is beyond John. Once a day is quite enough for anyone.
Without fail, there is always another dexterity puzzle. Gordon got him into them several years before. John does most of his work with his hands anyway, but it doesn't hurt to exercise his digits in a different way. Linked hooks of silvery metal, coiled and knotted rope - like a cat's cradle gone very wrong - or sliding tiles. Anything is good as long as it keeps his mind busy and his fingers nimble.
The thing John looks forward to most - but will never admit - is what Alan stows away inside the supply capsule. It's been a long-standing tradition, ever since Alan was just ten and starting to learn about physics proper. John had taken responsibility for his science education, much to their father's delight - and Alan's too.
It all started with the lesson on microgravity and rotation. It wasn't an original idea - in fact, it had been taught by astronauts for years - but it was effective - so why change it? With Alan on Tracy Island, head pillowed on his arms and his brows drawn low with boredom, John had produced a sealed packet of water, a straw and a packet of M&M candies.
The perfectly spherical water globule didn't elicit much response from Alan. A mild interest at best. And why not? It was just a spec of water hanging in space.
When John pushed an M&M into it to demonstrate microgravitational rotation, though. That was different.
But not for the reason John might have liked.
"Awesome!" Alan had cried, sitting up straight. "You get to eat floating candy!"
John could have launched into a whole tirade on concentration and the importance of understanding physics if Alan really wanted to be an astronaut.
But he didn't. Instead, he grinned.
"You want to see how much fun it is?"
And for the next half hour, John spread the candies out across the comms. module and did as he was bid - eating them upside down and while moving backwards - and even a zero-g assault course to see how many he could eat in sixty seconds.
Alan understood microgravity perfectly after that. And John learned a little something, too.
Without fail, in every supply run, John could be sure he would find a clear plastic tube of M&Ms and a note.
A little bit of chocolate never hurt anyone - not even your 'Bird!
And without fail, John would have a little indulgence, a moment to himself in zero-g, spinning around and catching candies in his mouth.
He'd never admit it but they all knew anyway. There were no secrets in the Tracy family - and they wouldn't have it any other way.