A/N: Hi all, long time no write, I know. This is the first part of the three-chapter birthday fic I'm writing for Sam1's special day. It was over a week and bit ago now, which has made me feel awful, so I figured that she should have at least part of her present while I'm trying to write the rest around my last few weeks of first uni semester. The other parts will be coming over the next week, sooner if I get my way. I'm very much determined that it's going to, uni notwithstanding. :D

Disclaimer: If not for Gerry and Sylvia Anderson, I would not be able to play in this wonderful playground, so no; I do not own the Thunderbirds.

Happy Birthday Sam1! Xx

Their youngest son was screaming angrily where he was perched on his father's hip, his second boy was squealing as he raced madly around the house, and his firstborn was singing discordantly at the top of his lungs as he sat in front of the television set in the living room, watching Sesame Street.

Jeff paced from the front window to the kitchen doorway, bouncing twenty-six-month-old Virgil in a fruitless attempt to calm him, a headache forming behind his eyes as he half-heartedly contemplated duct-taping Scott's mouth shut, and tying John to the nearest kiddy-chair. It wasn't that he didn't love his sons; he could deal with their madness every day of the year, if not for the fact that their mother just wasn't well at the moment.

Lucy was several months pregnant with their second fourth child (tiny, deceased Kent being their first), and not unlike her second pregnancy, this was a tough one. Already predisposed to develop migraines while under any type of stress, Jeff knew that Lucy hadn't slept the night before, and he also knew that from the way his wife was both rubbing her temples, and squeezing her eyes closed that she'd gotten another doozy.

Usually, she'd just have gone to sleep it off upstairs, leaving the children to Jeff, but with the way that Virgil was squealing so shrilly, he knew that there was no way that that would be happening anytime soon.

Lucy loved their sons more than her own life, in any case, so there was no surprise that despite Jeff's warnings to Scott that he needed to keep Johnny quiet so Mommy could rest; that she'd told him to leave them alone, and that she'd manage through her discomfort. It was clear that she wasn't. Managing that was.

Making up his mind suddenly, Jeff abruptly changed direction; heading towards where three-year-old John's giggles were coming from, along with loudly pattering feet. As his second son came tearing past; blanket-turned-Superman-cape streaming behind him, Jeff snared John about the middle, and hefted him up beneath his left arm.

Ignoring his son's shriek of mingled glee and surprise at the interruption of his game, Jeff headed over towards his oldest child, nudging him in the behind with his shoe to get his attention.

Six-year-old Scott's eyes were bright and questioning as he turned from Oscar the Grouch to look at his father, a smile stealing across the small boy's face as he saw his little brothers tucked into Jeff's hold.

"Can you get yours and Johnny's shoes, Scott?" Jeff asked him, shifting a now-grizzling Virgil into a more comfortable position against his hip, and trying to make sure Scott understood him over John's rocket ship noises. "We're going to take a little drive in the car."

Scott's face lit up like the sun through the storm clouds outside, and with good reason. The two older boys would have been able to burn some of their pent-up energy outdoors, if not for the wet, driving rain and wind that took up the world. It was not unusual for the two of them to be tearing about the backyard, even when it was slightly wet, but the two elements combined together made things dangerous, hence why the two boys were slightly more raucous than usual.

The little boy nodded brightly and tore towards the hallway, his small feet slapping against the floorboards. Jeff was forced to raise his voice to call out to him, warning for the thousandth time about not running on the stairs.

"Jeff?" Lucy's voice interrupted, tiredly. "What are you doing?"

His wife was looking wanly up at him, her expression pinched, rubbing at her swollen belly. Her hair was loose and curling around her face, and her violet eyes were weary.

Shushing Virgil rhythmically (he was still screaming blue murder to the world; for what purpose Jeff had no idea), he answered her as he set John on his feet, swiftly grabbing the little boy's shoulder to stop him from streaking off again.

"They need to get out of the house, and we need food. I'll kill two birds with one stone; I'll go to the supermarket for the week's shopping, and the boys can burn off some energy. Simple."

Lucy gazed at him somewhat sceptically, and Jeff was a little miffed to realise that she was sizing him up, as though gauging his worthiness to be able to effect a supermarket run with three small, energetic boys in tow.

"We'll be back in an hour or two Luce. It'll give you a chance to have a sleep, and we can always drop in to see my parents afterwards. Mom's always complaining that we don't bring the boys to see them near often enough."

Lucy nodded, smiling softly through creased eyes as Virgil decided that he wanted his mother and started waving his chubby little arms in her direction. At least he'd stopped his shouting, and was merely grizzling noisily now, his father thought gratefully.

Jeff handed their youngest son to her as Scott came racing back in; both his and John's small sneakers bundled up in his arms. The young father smiled approvingly as he saw what else his son had collected on his way.

"You remembered socks this time, buddy! Good stuff. Give me your brother's, and while I'm fixing him up; you put yours on, alright?"

Scott nodded, plopping himself down right there on the floor to pull them on. Jeff shared a fond look with Lucy, before toting his middle son to the sofa near the side wall.

It was a fair bit of a battle to keep John still enough to get the small velcro-ed sneakers on his son's feet, but in short order, three rugged-up little boys were securely fastened in the back of the family's dusty red station wagon. Lucy had ambled to the door to give her sons and husband swift kisses, requesting cheekily that Jeff actually follow the list that had been previously stuck to the refrigerator. It drew giggles and disgruntled looks from sons and husband respectively, as Jeff rounded the car to the driver's seat.

With no more further ado than Jeff turning on the soundtrack to Toy Story (the boys' favourite film), they were on their way.

##

Jeff realised when he finally managed to find an empty spot in the parking lot, that he might have just bitten off more than he could chew. John might have been not quite four, but he was definitely more independent than most children his age. Combined with Scott and his first son's propensity to climb just about anything that had a foot or hand-hold, and his grumbling, sulky youngest son; he knew that he was in for a challenge.

Once he'd finally untangled John from where the boy had twisted the child harness around his waist, Jeff put the little boy's feet on the ground, and then commanded Scott to hold onto his brother and stay by the door, while he hefted Virgil onto his hip again. Grabbing John's other hand as he closed and locked the car; fighting the chilly rain that ran down the back of his collar, Jeff led his sons quickly across the parking lot to the entrance to the grocery store.

Grabbing a shopping cart from the bay near the automatic doors, Jeff paused for a moment; trying to figure out over the noise, exactly how to execute the next step in what he tended to call his 'pre-flight checklist'. Scott was so far behaving well; waiting patiently for his father to be ready, so he was set on that front at least. Smiling encouragingly at his oldest boy, Jeff guided his three-year-old to stand between his front and the cart, while he set Virgil into the child-seat.

It was rather difficult to fasten the strap around the toddler's stomach, not only due to the fact that some undoubtedly idiotic teenager had thought they'd be clever and tie the thing into an impressive knot, but also because Virgil was at the stage of life where he just hated to confined to anything that wasn't a parent's arms.

Kicking and screaming the word 'no' seemed to be his youngest son's thing to do lately. Virgil had been going since he'd woken up that morning, and aside from the discontented squirming the little boy had done in the last few minutes, it'd been non-stop. As soon has he'd even thought about settling the little boy down, Virgil had started to flail his little fists and screwed up his face in defiance.

Jeff just bit his lip and tried to emphatically ignore both his sudden headache, and the stares and dirty looks that the other patrons were throwing him at the sheer amount of noise his youngest boy was emitting.

Figuring it'd be a better idea to keep his runaway confined to something as well, so then he'd only have to worry about Scott; the young father grabbed John beneath the armpits and set the three-year-old into the basket of the cart, thankful that the higher sides rose above his middle son's shoulders.

"Hold tight to the cart, Scott. We're going in."