Disclaimer: I don't own the Tracys, International Rescue, or the Thunderbirds.

A/N: This is dedicated to Angel-Sue...whilst it's not the Virgil-centric fic I'd planned on writing after chatting with your brother, it is a one-shot that I think you'd enjoy. Love ya, kiddo. sam1

Returned...Tenfold then Some

"DAD!"

Jeff's eyes closed as his son's shout reached his office. "Summer breaks were created to torture parents." Sighing, he set down his coffee mug. "Is it too much to ask for ten minutes of quiet around here?"

"With those boys around, I'd be worried if there was any kind of quiet," Grandma Tracy said. She sat across from him, enjoying a cup of tea before preparing lunch for her family.

"DAAADDDD! Gordon, stop that right now. Virgil, he…No, you can't…DAD?"

"Well, sounds like there are at least three of them up there, dear." Taking another sip of her tea, she smiled at him. "I told you when you were growing up that any trouble you caused me would come back to you tenfold. You were the one who decided to push your luck with five children. You're just lucky that they're all boys." A sudden pounding on the stairs alerted them to the imminent arrival of one of the boys. Within moments, a blond haired boy slid into the kitchen.

"Dad, um, can you come and help Scotty?" asked John.

Jeff sighed again, "What has your brother done this time?"

Confused, John stared at his dad, "Which one?"

Standing up, Jeff headed for what he was sure was a chaotic mess upstairs, "Which brother is annoying or aggravating Scott?" Grandma followed behind him so that she could see for herself what her grandsons had been up to.

"Nobody is annoying Scott, Dad. Gordy and Virg…"

"DAD, a little help here…PLEASE?"

"You little twit…just you wait…get off me, Scotty."

"I am not a twit. I'm Gordon Cooper Tracy. Duh."

"Virgil, I promise Dad will handle this. Gordon, you sit your butt down right now...NO, DON'T SIT ON THE BED."

"Scott…my bed...he, you…" A cry of frustration burst from his mouth as he struggled against his older brother. "Let me go."

"Not happening, Virgil. Not until Dad is up here to handle this because I'm not letting you kill or maim the brat."

"I'm not a brat."

"Shut up, Gordon. When I get up from here, I'm going to make you regret messing with my paints."

"So, that's what all of this is about," Jeff said to John as he hurried up the stairs, passing Alan who sat on the floor from Virgil's open bedroom door. He could see everything but still stay clear of the mayhem his older brother had caused. That alone should have warned Jeff.

"There's more to it, Dad," John warned.

"How bad can it be?" Stepping into his second born son's room, he regretted asking that question.

Gordon stood next to Virgil's bed, wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Nothing much wrong or unusual about that but it was the various and vivid colors covering his body that had obviously been the reason for Virgil's outrage. "Um, hi, Dad."

Virgil struggled against Scott's tight hold again. "Dad, he…look what he did to my room. He…he ruined…Scott, get off me…Dad, my paints, brushes…ruined."

Jeff rubbed his hands against his eyes and shook his head, "Gordon, what the hell?"

"Grandma said I'm a piece of work. I reckon that I'm more of an abstract work of art."

"Dear, that tenfold multiplied several times with that one," Grandma said, surveying the chaotic scene before her. "I'll leave you to handle this."

"Mom, you're enjoying this way too much," he grumbled.

"Oh heavens, yes, I am," she agreed, laughing. Walking away, she heard him being bombarded with demands from an angry Virgil, a protective Scott, and an impish Gordon. Her son was definitely getting back what he gave to her all those years ago…tenfold and then some.