100 WAYS TO UNCOMPLICATE YOUR LIFE
(Tracy-Style)
Author's Note: Some time ago I did a version of "100 Ways" for the "Thunderbirds" universe and decided I wanted to try it again, just because I want to inundate the internet with tons of Tracy stories. Let's embark on yet another 100 ways for our favorite family.
Note: With apologies to the website "Live the Charmed Life," which I'm sure never intended for me to usurp their list for my own nefarious purposes. /2010/08/100-ways-to-uncomplicate-your-life/
WARNINGS: I have no idea what's going to be in these 100 stories at this time. Therefore, the entire thing is Rated M, and I will give warnings for language and whatever the hell else comes up right now, because I cuss and so do they.
Thanks to Samantha Winchester for giving these a quick once-over for me so I don't completely embarrass myself. ;-D
WAY 1
"Don't try to read other people's minds."
"What in the name of all that's holy – or unholy, for that matter – would give you the idea I wanted a cat for my birthday?"
The lower lip jutted out. It didn't quiver, much to its owner's credit, but what Scott was witnessing right here and right now was a full-blown Virgil pout. With a side of Wide Eyes for good measure.
"Damn it," Scott swore under his breath as a tiny creature that could probably fit in the palm of his hand bounded across the floor of his sitting room, raced into his bedroom and ran headfirst into his ankle.
The kitten plopped back on its little tiny butt. Its eyes widened and it shook its head. And Scott swore he could see stars circling round its ears. He felt laughter bubbling up seconds before it happened and knew he was powerless to stop it, as much as he hated himself for it.
The kitten stood back up on all four paws, and promptly fell sideways, and that was the final nail in Scott Tracy's coffin. Because all he could do was laugh out loud, so uncontrollably that he just about joined the kitten on the floor.
Seconds passed, minutes, who knew. He'd scared the shit out of the kitten, who'd managed to scoot over to Virgil's feet, where it was doing a not-very-good job of hiding. Wide yellow eyes stared up at Scott, who wiped tear tracks from his face as he tried to focus on the little thing.
"I just thought you could use some company." Ah, and there was the final cherry atop the let's-get-Scott-a-kitten-for-his-birthday sundae…Virgil Voice in full-out 'but you love me for thinking of you and getting you something this unusual, right?' mode.
Scott sighed and shook his head, crouching down to be more level with the kitten. Its large golden eyes gave way to what looked like silky-smooth white fur, interrupted at odd intervals with dark orange spots.
"She's a girl," Virgil offered, crouching down as well.
The kitten took that as her cue to step out in between the two of them and show herself off. As though, Scott mused, she knew this was her moment to reel him in completely and screw him over for oh, say, the next twenty years or so of her lifespan.
He sighed again. He had to admit she was cute as hell, as she stuck her tail straight up in the air and tried to do something that resembled a horse prancing. But she tripped over her right front paw, and the little mewl of pain that she bleated out when her nose bonked on the hardwood floor threw all of Scott's big brother and Field Commander instincts into high gear.
He reached out on impulse, scooped the kitten into his hands, rose to his full height and checked her face meticulously. Only when he'd satisfied himself that she didn't have any superficial injuries, and that the likelihood of internal injuries was very low, did he realize the little thing had curled into a ball in the palm of his hand, and was purring so loudly he wondered where Virgil was hiding the other ten cats.
She looked at Scott, yawned, and rested her head on his hand, closing her eyes. Within seconds she was asleep.
He stood staring at his upturned palm with this little white and orange-spotted kitten in it. Then he looked up at Virgil, just barely catching the 'oh my GOD that's so fucking cute' look on his face before he managed to hide it.
"I hate you, you know that, right?"
Virgil grinned, the smug bastard knew he'd won. "No, you don't."
"Yes," Scott countered, turning and moving to his bed, where he leaned forward and gently slid the kitten onto it as she slept on, "I do." He rose back to his full height and studied the kitten for a few seconds before announcing, "Her name is Mackenzie."
"Grandma's maiden name?" Virgil replied, definitely laced with surprise. "That's a mouthful."
Scott shrugged one shoulder. "I'll call her Mac for short. Now. Tell me you got food."
"Of course I got food. Dishes, a collar…" Virgil's voice trailed off as he ran out to the sitting room to grab two bags from the pet store.
"Wait, a collar? Where's she gonna go on the island, why does she need a collar?" Scott asked, perplexed, as Virgil started pulling various cat-related items from the bags. "And what the hell is that?"
Virgil stopped and looked at the big box in his hand. "You, uh, have to figure out where you want this."
"What is it?"
Virgil didn't say a word, he just tilted the front of the box toward Scott. AUTOMATIC CLEANING LITTER BOX, it proclaimed. SCOOP LESS OFTEN AND SMELL FRESH ALWAYS. URINE CLUMPS IN THREE SECONDS!
Scott made a face.
Virgil chuckled.
"I hate you," Scott said as Virgil walked toward the en suite bathroom, litter box in hand.
"No, you don't."
Scott plopped down on the edge of his bed. The kitten yawned and used her claws to crawl up his thigh, curl up and go back to sleep. "Yes," Scott whispered as he placed the palm of his hand over her tiny little body, "I do."
WAY 2
"Get up 30 minutes earlier so that you don't rush/get a ticket while driving too fast/have to explain why you're late/get fired."
There was never any way to tell when you'd be awakened from a dead sleep on Tracy Island. It didn't matter how many days straight of no rescues there'd been, a time would always come when the klaxon would wail at oh-dark-hundred and you'd have to be on your feet, mostly dressed, and to the nerve center of International Rescue in less than 5 minutes.
But here, Virgil thought, as he stretched cat-like on the King-sized bed, arms and legs filling its expanse, there were no such dangers. If his brothers were out on a rescue, he wouldn't even know about it until he woke up properly and was ready to check in with his dad.
No, he didn't like coming to Manhattan for Corporation business, but he sure did like the part where he got to catch up on his sleep. Virgil yawned, sighed, scratched his belly and then flopped over onto it. Right now, life was so good.
He buried his face in the large, fluffy pillow and let his legs stretch themselves again, all the way down to his toes. A couple of them cracked and he groaned with pleasure. His arms fanned out from his sides as though he were making an Egyptian cotton sheet angel and he stretched his arms again, flexed his fingers, cracked each knuckle one by one.
Yeah. Life was good.
Then the penthouse's land line phone rang.
At the same moment, his watch started beeping with an SOS signal.
And because everything always has to happen in threes, his cell phone – lying on the nightstand plugged into its charger – started vibrating so fast it took a nosedive onto the thickly carpeted floor.
"What the hell?" he mumbled, pushing himself up and rearranging his long legs so he was seated on the edge of the bed with his feet planted firmly on the floor.
First he picked up his wristwatch from the nightstand and flicked the button on the right side to acknowledge the signal. His father's face appeared in the small screen that replaced the normal watch face. "Dad?"
"Pick up the damn phone, son!"
"Huh?" Virgil looked up at the ringing suite phone and down at his vibrating cell. "Which one?"
"Either! Both!" Jeff barked, and then the feed to his watch was cut.
Virg frowned and picked up the receiver of the land line from its cradle. "Hello?"
"Well, it's about time!" came his father's voice.
"What the…why didn't you just tell me over the watch?" Virgil asked.
"Never mind that," Jeff replied. "Answer your cell phone!"
"Why, you going to talk to me in both ears?" Virgil asked, frustrated, but didn't wait for an answer. He got up, then stooped down to pick up the cell phone from the floor. He disconnected it from its charger and put it to his ear. "Hello?"
"Mr. Tracy, this is Lynn from Mr. Procter's office."
"Hi," Virgil said, racking his brain to try and remember who the hell Mr. Procter was.
"You've forgotten your appointment with him this morning, haven't you?" she asked, a touch of amusement in her voice.
"Appointment?" Virgil repeated. "That's not until tomorrow, today's only Monday."
Virgil heard his name being yelled from the land line, so just as Lynn was replying, "No, sir, I'm sorry, the schedule was changed this past Friday…" Virg put the other phone to his ear.
"How could you forget Michael Procter?" his father was ranting. "Damn it, Virgil, I told you I needed you to get him on-board with the latest flap changes in the RT-60 Flyer, he's going to think we're irresponsible and—"
Virgil chucked that phone onto the bed and put the cell phone back to his ear. And he turned his Tracy Charm up to times-20. "I'm so sorry, Lynn, I'm afraid my Admin did send me the schedule change but I missed it traveling," he lied with a huge smile on his face. Well, it wasn't a big lie. Other than the fact that he had no Admin, of course.
"Oh, oh, uh, Mr. Tracy, that's, um…that's fine, I'm sure I can rearrange things for this afternoon, if you'll be free?"
Virgil's smile broadened. "Well, if you could smooth things over with Michael for me, I might just be able to squeeze in dinner for two at Masa tonight."
A moment of silence, and that's how he knew he had her. "I'm quite sure that can be arranged, Mr. Tracy, don't worry about a thing. I'll put off a conference call he had for four o'clock and slide you right in there."
"Then be ready to go at five," he replied. He wondered what the hell Lynn looked like or if she was even single, but didn't care a whit, because he was going to enjoy the Japanese dinner this evening, and then go right on enjoying the rest of the night like a rich young man should when he's on the Isle of Manhattan.
"I will," she replied. "And by the way, I am single."
With that, Lynn hung up. Virgil stared at his cell phone for a moment, wondering who'd just gotten one over on who, then remembered his father was still on the land line. He picked that phone up as he chucked the cell onto the bed.
"…want to tell me why the hell my 4 o'clock conference call with Procter just got pushed to two tomorrow afternoon, Virgil? What'd you do, make a date with his Admin to get her to cover for you?"
Virgil grinned as he got to his feet. "Something like that, Dad. Only I didn't know it was you she was booting for it."
"Son, you have got to be on-time when you're there on business, we've talked about this. I don't give a hoot that I got bumped, it'll give me more time to square the blueprints away with Scott beforehand, but when you're there, you—"
"—have to remember I'm not on Island Time, I know, Dad, I know."
There was a moment of silence.
"Is she cute?"
Virgil chuckled. "I'll find out when I show up at four."
"Three-thirty."
"What?"
"Three-thirty. Not a second later. You got me?"
Virg sighed. "Yes, Father," he sing-songed.
"Enough of that."
There was a muffled voice in the background that was distinctly female. And distinctly British. Virgil frowned. "Dad? Where the hell are you? Are you at Penny's?"
"Never you mind that, just be on time today, and for the three meetings you have tomorrow, because I may not be available to be your alarm clock again!"
Jeff hung up.
Virgil stared at the phone. "Well, I'll be damned." He looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was almost eight a.m. So he replaced the land line phone on its cradle, put the cell phone back on the nightstand and was just about to lie back down in bed when his cell signaled an incoming text message.
He growled, grabbed the phone, flicked it on with a swipe of his thumb…and saw the most beautiful Japanese woman he'd seen in a long, long time right in the middle of his screen. It took him a moment to realize it was a photo sent via text message, and when he scrolled down below the picure, he saw the message: See you later today! –Lynn
Virgil's jaw dropped.
He looked at the clock again. It said 8:02 a.m.
He put the cell phone back down on the nightstand and got to his feet. Well…there was nothing saying he couldn't go ahead and shower now. After all, the meeting was only eight hours away, right?
Right.
And his father had demanded he be there early, right?
Right.
Not to screw it up, right?
Exactly.
Besides…he picked up the phone and looked at the photo again…who needed sleep?