A/N: Another one-shot. (I'm on a roll at the moment in the creativity side of things at the moment. I'm not expecting it to last much longer!) We've had Scott and Virgil, so now it's time for John and Alan, with a bit of Gordon thrown in at the end for good measure. Well, I couldn't leave him out could I?
Disclaimer: Thunderbirds property of Gerry and Silvia Anderson. If not for them, I probably wouldn't be having so much fun!
A hushed voice pierced the warm, dark silence. "Thunderbird 5 to John. This is Thunderbird 5 calling John."
John Tracy moaned and rolled over, covering his head. Maybe if he ignored it, the voice would go away and leave him alone. Now was not the time for this.
"John. John! Thunderbird 5 to John. Answer me please!"
Or maybe not. John sighed in resignation. Typical. What did he have to do to get some peace now and then?
He stretched out a hand in the direction of the voice, flailing it around in the darkness for a moment before it came into contact with what he was searching for. His watch on his bedside table.
Fumbling slightly, he activated it, screwing up his eyes as the harsh light slammed into his retinas, along with a very familiar face.
"Alan." He moaned sleepily. "It's the middle of the night!" He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the black splodges in his vision. As his eyes readjusted, he cocked his head to the side in confusion. Alan seemed to be orientated rather strangely.
He frowned for a second before tutting to himself. "Idiot! You're holding the watch upside down!" He scolded himself, rolling his eyes at his silliness as he flipped the watch around, frowning once again as the video feed flipped with it. Alan was still completely the wrong way up.
Then everything clicked. There could be only one explanation. Why else would Alan be desperately calling at such a silly time? He sighed again.
"Alan. What have you done to the gravity?" He asked slowly, still not quite believing what he was witnessing. Alan was floating quite freely in the space station, equipment strewn around in the air around him, clinging to the comms panel for dear life, wearing nothing but a pair of Superman pyjama bottoms.
"Shh!" Alan whispered loudly, clearly embarrassed to find himself in such a predicament. "Would you keep it down? I'd rather not have everyone know about this!"
John glanced in the direction of his bedroom walls. He was the unlucky one to have his suite sandwiched between Scott and Gordon. Not that it really bothered him, he wasn't even on the planet for half the year. Gordon could sleep through almost anything, except the klaxon, that was something only Virgil and Alan could do, but Scott was the lightest sleeper on the island, and Alan was right, if he woke up he would demand to know what had happened, before going straight to his father. And they all knew Jeff Tracy didn't appreciate having his night's sleep interrupted unless it was truly urgent.
John sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "Alan. What. Have you done. To my Thunderbird?" He asked slowly, keeping his voice low.
"Well, I, um. Y-you see..." Alan stammered, feeling very uncomfortable under the sleepy yet steely gaze fixed upon him.
"Alan."
"I, er, I-I-I. I spilt hot chocolate on it..." Alan mumbled quietly, now feeling very stupid as well as embarrassed.
"You did what?" John exclaimed, sitting bolt upright, his bed covers flying off onto the floor. "How the-"
"SHH!" Alan hissed. He really didn't want to have to answer to Scott about this. It was bad enough having to admit this to John.
John flopped back onto his pillows, little brothers truly were a pain in the butt sometimes. "Oh Alan, how on Earth did you manage that? And more importantly, what did you spill it on?"
"Um, well, I couldn't sleep, and thought a warm drink would help. I went to the galley and made one, but on my way back to my room I tripped on something and it just went flying and...and erm, landed on console 7..."
The older Tracy closed his eyes, mentally calculating the damage. All considering, it could have been much worse. Console 7 didn't contain anything too vital. Backups mainly. Communications, operating systems etcetera. But unfortunately, it was however the main gravity controller, and with it swamped by warm chocolately liquid, it was no surprise to see an unhappy Alan floating about. Thankfully, there was also a backup in place for any unforeseen failures that may occur, thanks to Brains. That man certainly did like his fail-safes.
"Oh honestly..." John muttered. Suddenly he thought of something, his eyes snapping open. "Hang on, Console 7? What is there to trip over near Console 7? The only thing over there is the chair, and that's pretty obvious...Oh." John spotted the guilty look that flashed across his brother's face, and he face-palmed as he realised what had happened. "You didn't switch the lights on, did you?"
"No..." His young carbon copy admitted meekly.
"Idiot." John shook his head, sighing once again. "You know, I'm half inclined to leave you like that. You never have spent a night in zero G, have you?" He grinned evilly.
Alan's face fell. John wasn't serious was he? He had been sure his older brother would be more than willing to help out. They both knew if they left this until morning, then their father really would find out, and then they would be both be banned from having hot chocolate ever again. And John was the one who was partial to it, so surely he had to be joking about this.
"Aw, John. Please. Come on!" Alan pleaded, putting on his best puppy-dog eyes.
"Fine." John relented. The quicker he got this sorted, the sooner he could go back to sleep. "But you owe me one. Right, can you reach console 2?"
Alan nodded, pulling himself along the control panel that lined the room. He stopped in front of the aforementioned computer. "Ok. What do I do now?"
"Hang on." John was thinking, trying to visualise the controls in his sleep fuzzed head. "Ah, yes. Reroute the power to section B and activate sub-routine 42. Once that's done, enter authorisation code 2-7-5-Hotel-Charlie-Bravo-9-3. That should get the gravity back online."
"Right." Alan did as he was instructed as John looked on. John smiled knowingly as his brother entered the authorisation code, he knew what was coming next.
"Woah!" Alan cried out as he found himself suddenly hurtling downwards, along with everything else in the air. He hit the metal floor hard with a clang, causing John to snigger quietly. He sat up, glaring at the vid-screen just visible on the panel above him, rubbing the bump on the side of his head. "Ow."
"You deserved that." John grinned as his brother hauled himself back onto his feet. "Right, that should keep everything going for the moment. Tomorrow, if it's quiet, do you think you could take console 7 apart and see what can be salvaged and what needs replacing? Let me know what's needed and I'll bring it up with me when we swap out next week."
"Sure thing John." Alan nodded, feeling slightly better now he had his feet firmly on the floor. He yawned. He was finally feeling tired after that excitement. "Well, I suppose I should get some shut-eye."
John yawned as well. That sounded like a good idea. "Yeah. Me too. Talk to you in the morning then. Oh, and make sure you clean up the mess beforehand, Dad'll be calling in first thing, remember?"
Alan looked around him at the jumble of stuff lying around on the floor. Bending down, he picked up his now chipped and empty mug that had started the whole thing. "Yeah, will do. And I think I'll pass on the hot chocolate next time."
"See that you do. Anyway, night Sprout!"
"Nighty night Johnny. Thunderbird 5 out."
And with that, the link was cut. Yawning a face-splitting yawn, John placed his watch back onto his bedside table, then leaning over the side of his bed, patting around until he found his duvet where it had fallen earlier. Picking it back up, he cocooned himself in it, and had fallen back into a deep sleep not a second later.
"Morning!" John breezed into the kitchen bright eyed and bushy tailed, none the worse for wear from his interrupted sleep.
"Morning John." Jeff answered, glancing at his blond son over the top of his newspaper before turning his attention back to the headlines.
"Mornin'." Gordon replied through a mouthful of toast, pushing a glass of orange juice towards his blond brother as he sat down, who gulped it down, grabbing some toast from the rack for himself at the same time.
"I see Virgil is yet to grace us with his presence." John commented as he took a bite.
"Well, nothing new there then." A voice sounded from the doorway, and all three occupants at the table looked towards it.
"Morning Scott." John nodded at his only older brother, who made his way towards his usual seat at the table. "Good run?"
"Yeah, not bad." Scott answered, leaning over a snatching Gordon's last piece of toast off of his plate, eliciting a 'Hey!' from the red-head. "Went down to the cove and then back up through the jungle. Usual route. You sleep well?"
"Like a log." John said, taking another bite.
Scott frowned slightly as he sat down opposite his blond brother, studying him closely. Feeling uncomfortable under such scrutiny, John slowed down his chewing.
"What are you looking at me like that for?" He asked through a mouthful of crumbs.
"Are you feeling ok John?" Scott asked. Jeff put down his newspaper at hearing the concern in his oldest son's voice, curious as to what was going on.
"Yeeah." John answered slowly. He was really confused. Did he look ill? He felt fine. "Why?"
"Oh, it's just that I could have sworn you cried out in your sleep last night." Scott said. John cursed inwardly, he had woken up Scott after all. What else had he heard?
"John?" Jeff asked. It was very unusual for his laid-back son to be crying out in the middle of the night. Usually he didn't make a peep.
"Did I?" John lied. He wasn't going to tell everyone willingly about what Alan did. It was always useful to have some blackmail material after all. "I don't remember that. I don't think I was having nightmares, not that I remember anyway."
"Well, I'm sure I heard something." Scott said as his father picked up the newspaper again, satisfied that nothing was amiss, it just his older son being a smother hen again.
"I'm fine Scott." John brushed off his brother's concerns. "Honest."
Scott wasn't convinced, but thankfully John was saved by the bell, or rather, the klaxon. The loud siren made them all jump up from their seats and dash towards the control centre. It was time for a rescue.
"Gordon. Go make sure Virgil gets up." Jeff yelled over the noise, to which the aquanaut nodded gleefully and ran off down the corridor to the bedrooms. He would most definitely make sure his brother woke up, there had been too many delays before when Virgil hadn't appeared on early morning rescues.
Running into the control centre, closely followed by his two oldest sons, Jeff sat down behind his desk, silencing the klaxon and activating the link to Thunderbird 5.
"Go ahead Alan."
"Morning Dad." Alan said as he appeared in the place of his portrait. John noted that the space station was looking a bit tidier than it had been a few hours previously, and that thankfully this time Alan was dressed in his uniform. "Just got a call in. There's been an explosion at, would you believe it, a banana ripening warehouse of all things."
"Banana ripening warehouse?" Gordon commented as he walked in through the door, dragging a sleepy looking Virgil behind him, who was rubbing his bare chest in pain. "How did that happen?"
"Bananas are ripened quickly by being placed in a room that's being pumped full of ethylene." John supplied. "And in large enough concentrations, as there would be in a place like that, one single spark and-"
"-Ka-boom?" Gordon asked.
"Ka-boom."
"Well, then. We better get going." Jeff cut in. "Scott, take Thunderbird 1. Alan, you supply him with information when he's in the air." Scott nodded and crossed the room to stand by his secret panel. Within seconds it had swung around and he was in his Thunderbird preparing for lift off.
"Virgil." Jeff turned to his half-asleep son. "Take Thunderbird 2 and load up the Firefly and the Mole. Even if the fire is under control once we get there we may need to clear the rubble if people are still trapped inside."
"Yes sir." Virgil nodded, crossing to his secret panel and flipping away into the loading chute, glad that he kept his uniform on board, otherwise he would be doing this rescue in just his underpants.
"John, Gordon, you go with him."
"Yes sir." They chorused, moving to stand in the elevator that would take them into Thunderbird 2. Soon enough they were on their way, leaving Jeff on his own in the control centre, with Alan over the comm-link up in Thunderbird 5.
As they descended through the framework of the Island's hidden depths, Gordon nudged his older brother, a smirk on his face.
"So, what did he break then?" He asked, causing John to frown.
"Who broke what?"
Gordon rolled his eyes, his grin growing wider. "Alan! Who else?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about." John lied.
"Oh, come on. Scott wasn't the only one who heard you yell last night, you know. And don't try that whole 'I must have been dreaming' thing on me. Your bed is against our connecting wall, I heard you. What did he break?"
John sighed. So much for keeping this to himself. He was lucky enough to deflect Scott away at breakfast. "Oh alright. He spilt hot chocolate on console 7. Fried it."
"Oooh! Ouch!" Gordon chuckled. He was loving this. It was usually him spilling his drinks all over things. "Hang on, console 7...?" He was thoughtful for a second. "What's console 7?"
"Gravity, mainly." John smiled. Maybe it wasn't a bad thing that Gordon should know. He'd find out eventually anyway.
"So...low flying Alan?"
"Low flying Alan." John laughed. "Wearing nothing but those Superman pants of his!"
"Oh man!"
They both practically collapsed in fits of laughter at that, not noticing that they were just arriving inside Thunderbird 2. As they calmed down, they both realised that a now dressed Virgil was standing in front of them, arms crossed.
"What's so funny?" He asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Oh, we were just discussing our idiot brother." Gordon replied, swinging open the gate and stepping out, followed by John.
"Which one? I've got four of them." Virgil growled, turning to sit in the pilot's seat.
"Oooh, someone's tetchy." Gordon quipped, wrapping an arm around his immediate older brother's shoulders.
"Well, somebody decided to jump onto my chest this morning." Virgil growled as he attempted to get out of the immobilising grip. He wasn't in the mood for Gordon's antics.
"Oh lighten up." The red-head ruffled his brother's hair before releasing him. "Dad ordered me to get you up, he didn't specify exactly how. And anyway, we were talking about Alan."
"Alan?" Vigil's face lit up, his bad mood forgotten. "What's he managed this time?"
"John? Care to enlighten?" Gordon asked. Two expectant faces turned to face the tall blond, who thought for a moment before grinning.
"Oh alright. But don't tell Dad. Or Scott. At least not yet." And he started to explain what had happened in the middle of the night.
And so it was, a few minutes later, that Thunderbird 2 left the launch pad, engines roaring on the outside and it's three occupants hooting with laughter on the inside, plotting exactly how they were going to use this newly found blackmail material. Alan wasn't going to live this down for a long, long time.