So, just one chapter into this ongoing series, and poor Scott's already up against it. How do you think I'm going to make him suffer in this next little instalment? Well, read on, and find out!

Oh, Brother!

Chapter Two - Creature Comforts

There were times when little brothers just didn't appreciate all the effort you made to help them. In Scott Tracy's case... well, discounting the next two in immediate line, he still had two others to cope with. And just to keep to kid brother tradition, Alan was more of a handful than John, Virgil and Gordon put together.

Oh, getting him to go to bed wasn't a problem. It was getting him to stay in the damn thing that, short of tying him into it, was inexplicably impossible.

Leaning in the doorway to his youngest brother's room, Scott studied the familiar scene in front of him with an equally familiar smile. Yes, the pint sized bane of his life had done it again. And for such a little squirt... yeah, that little squirt was surprisingly tricky to lift. Especially when he was stretched out on his stomach, and the only way to pick him up was to go under that part of him that was really, really, ticklish.

Faced yet again with this nightly dilemma, he still found it impossible not to smile. What was it with this kid, and his love of sleeping on the floor? There was a perfectly good bed, a massive one, at that, just a couple of feet away from him. Any lingering, fresh-out-the-cellophane hardness had been thoroughly trampolined out of it, and yet... no, night after night when he called in to check on him, he'd always find his brother stretched out beside it.

Poking him wouldn't do any good either. Gordon had tried that once before, and received a flailing whack in the face for his trouble. Yes, a sleeping Tracy was an unpredictable beast - especially when its dreams pitted him against invading zombies. Or rib-poking brothers.

What surprised him even more was how comfy he looked. Sprawled on his stomach, his face pillowed by two crossed over hands, he looked... well, everything a little brother was supposed to look. Blissfully content, deceptively innocent - and impossibly cute.

Still smiling, Scott toyed with the idea of calling Virgil in to get Sleeping Cutie back into bed. After all, such a deadweight body would be a lot easier to lift from its more reachable ends. But then he decided against it, and settled instead to just enjoy this rare and precious moment. And since Alan couldn't be bothered to use it, he'd just sit here on the edge of his bed, to contemplate in comfort.

Of course, Alan wasn't the only one with these little night-time quirks. And, in his case, Scott was more than happy to keep his sleeping habits as quiet as possible.

Yeah, right. Like he'd ever be that lucky.

Apparently - and yes, of course there'd been photos to prove it - he slept like his beloved 'bird. Flat on his back, his feet angled out like her thrusters, while his arms perfectly mimicked her wings. Even in deepest sleep, he was still up there, soaring through the sky. Grace and power in perfect harmony. Every pilot's dream.

Needless to say, he'd been pretty happy with that - right until Gordon had pointed out that he also looked like a flying squirrel.

That, he thought through a rueful smile, had kinda ruined the moment. And it hadn't taken any kind of genius to work out who'd bought him that stuffed equivalent for his next birthday. Still, it could have been worse. At least he hadn't looked like a giant tarantula.

John's sleeping habits had been a bit trickier to pin down. As far as Scott could remember, he'd always been boringly normal. The only sign of weirdness, and Scott knew he was really reaching for it here, had been the books that had always been found wedged on his chest - his finger marking the place he'd reached before sleep had defeated his insatiable curiosity.

Now stationed up in Thunderbird Five, he'd thought he was safe from this latest round of sibling silliness. But that 'I'm-up-here-where-you-can't-see-me' smugness hadn't lasted for long. Thanks to some subtle 'help' from EOS, the brainiac formerly known as The Bookworm now held a new, and still ruefully protested nickname.

"For the last time, Alan... no, I am not an Intergalactic Batman..."

Virgil's, though... well, they'd been a snap. Bear by size, and bear by nature.

Yes, Virgil Grissom Tracy loved his sleep. Deep in his cave of bedclothes, the only way to tell which end was which was to lift one side of them up. If you were lucky, you'd find two Sasquatch sized feet. However tempted you were, though, the far greater sense of self preservation would stop you from tickling them. If you did, or if you lifted those covers from the wrong end... well, a warning growl soon told you to put the covers back down, real slow, and real careful - then run for your life.

He could hibernate, too, through everything the world's weather could throw at him. Thunder, lightning, and sub-tropical storms? Nope, he'd barely bat an eyelid. Hell, the only thing that could wake him up was an emergency callout, and... yeah, that left him kinda cranky. As Scott had dryly noted, the safest way to pass him a rousing mug of coffee was at the end of a really long pole.

Gordon, too, could sleep like the proverbial... squid. Yes, what he lacked in height or width, he more than made up for with arms and hands. At full stretch, his fingers would poke out from under the bedclothes, twitching for whatever prey his dreaming subconscious was trying to find. More than once, his eldest brother had needed to prise a dangling piece of clothing from their grip. As much as they all loved their midnight munchies, Scott honestly doubted whether a mouthful of sock would feature much on the menu.

Of course, that often went for Alan, too, and... ye-ah. Now he understood how both of them could ruefully compare Grandma's cooking to the taste of feet. When he wasn't around to stop them, they'd clearly snuck in some subconscious practice, and... aaah. Talk of the devil, his little carpet-hugger was off for a bit of late night foraging.

And on the menu tonight? Well, not socks, thank God, but... oh, he had to be kidding!

Staring at the head that was now pillowed snugly on his left foot, Scott rolled his eyes. Yep, even in sleep, you couldn't keep a Tracy from his food.

"Alan? Hey, Allie, you've... uh, gotta stop that."

Answered by a muffled snore, but no sign of compliance, he leaned over - protecting as many whackable parts that he could reach with one hand, while shaking an upturned shoulder with the other.

"Hey, Squirt, you're eating my shoelace."

"Mmmnnnfffnn...s...n'ce..."

Eyes that had been born to roll did another turn around their sockets. Hmm, Shoelace Spaghetti. Yeah, there was something new for Grandma to try. God knew, it couldn't taste worse than what she tortured them with already.

More convinced than ever now, that he'd done something seriously bad in a previous life, Scott slid his foot sideways while easing himself just as carefully off the bed. Kneeling beside his brother, he then snugged an arm under each end, and lifted him with the same infinite care into his bed.

And the thanks he received, for this selfless devotion? Well, all things considered, he couldn't complain - because Alan was already snuggling against his side, so happily and so contentedly that Scott just didn't have the heart to stop him. Instead, he brushed an ever tousled fringe back from Alan's face, and smiled at the sleepy grin he found there.

Yes, if he had to be a damn squirrel, and John a bat, and Virgil a bear, and Gordon a squid, then this little bundle of trouble just had to be -

"...love you, Scott..."

- every baby animal you could think to name, with all the 'I'm-just-too-cute-for-words' adorability to match.

Still cherishing that thought, Scott watched his brother drift back into a deep, peaceful sleep. Once sure that he'd settled, he closed his own eyes, and allowed himself to do the same. Even if it disrupted his own night's rest, moments like this would just always be worth it.