Disclaimer: see chapter one

AN: Err... who am I- my bid is twenty cyber cents for Gordy. Any other takers? No? He's mine, then! ALL MINE! MWAHAHAHA! But I'm willing to share.

The show really does exist, but I just borrowed the UK version of the show instead of the Australian one because it worked better that way. And yep, they are the family that put the fun back into dysfunctional.

Josie- you hated the ending? I can't have that! Time to make things right, I guess.

Chapter Two- Tattoo Tonight

"What?"

"You heard me, Scott. Virgil leapt off the sofa and headed to stare glumly out of an open window. "I don't think there's going to be a wedding anymore."

"If this is about Gus marrying another man, I'll tell you something for nothing."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"You're being stupid. You are behaving like a child! Think; it could have been worse."

"I don't believe this! I thought you'd understand! I thought you'd be on my side!" Virgil slammed the window shut. "She married another man! And she didn't tell me! She didn't trust me enough to tell me! What could be worse than that?!"

"Have you talked to her?" Scott asked. "I'm not just talking about a five minute rant session once you found out. I mean did you actually sit down, talk, and listen to what she had to say?"

"No!" Virgil yelled.

"Do that!" Scott yelled back. "And there are a hell of a lot of things worse than being married and having it annulled the next day."

"Name one." Virgil challenged.

"She could be an international fugitive," Scott thought slowly. "On the run from the law."

Virgil tutted. "That is so farfetched, it's ridiculous. My best man is an idiot."

"OK. It is ridiculous." Scott admitted. "But do you see what I mean?"

"Yeah, I guess. Scott, can I ask you some things?"

"Fire away."

"Is it normal to fight over every single thing? Even over trivial things?"

"Absolutely. The more trivial they are, the easier it is to fight about."

"What was the last time you and Tash fought?"

"This morning. Before you ask, it was over a tube of toothpaste."

Virgil chuckled. "That is trivial. Let me guess, she was annoyed at you because you leave the cap off the tube all the time?"

"Well, she squeezes from the middle of the tube instead of the end." Scott retorted.

"Next question; did Tash ever keep anything from you? Like major things such as a previous marriage?"

Scott rolled his eyes. "You're still not going on about that, are you? Listen, what Tash tried to keep from me was a lot worse than what Gus kept from you."

Instinctively, Virgil leaned in, and Scott began to whisper.

"You're kidding!" Virgil's eyes were as wide as saucers.

"I jest you not."

"But weren't you angry when you found out?"

"No!" Scott lied. "Of course I wasn't angry."

Virgil's look clearly stated 'humour me.'

"Fine. I was angry." Scott confessed. "Just a teeny, tiny bit angry."

"Just a bit angry?" Virgil echoed incredulously. "She worked in a –"

"Don't say it!" Scott cut him off. "The walls have ears and the tabloids would love information like that. But do you see what I'm saying? You'll be able to work through it."

"I guess. I mean, if you and Tash could do it, so can we."

"So, you ready to have that talk with Gus now?"


Virgil raised his hand and placed it over brass doorbell and lowered it again. "Scott, what if everything screws up with this talk?"

"Virg, no marriage is perfect. If it was, do you think the rate of divorce would be so high? Every relationship has their issues. You can be a coward and walk away from them, or you can be the brave man I know you are, and you can work through them together." Scott held up his hands and walked backwards. "I'll tell you this for nothing too. I think if you let Gus go, you'll be making the biggest mistake of your life. It's your call, Virgil."

Taking a deep breath, Virgil knocked on the door.


"I can't believe Grace did that!" Jeff fumed to his second eldest son, pacing like a lion trapped in a cage. "What kind of a person says that on national television?!"

"I don't know, Dad. But Virgil's pretty torn up over it."

"And can you blame him?"

"Well," John stalled, playing for time. "If it were me, I'd be angry too, but then I'd move on and get over it."

"You're forgiving, John." Jeff pointed out. "Virgil tends to hold grudges."

"That's true." John shrugged, and flopped backwards into a chair.

"This is a mess. I came all the way to the UK to see one of my sons get married, and that has been placed in jeopardy, thanks to her!" Jeff was still pacing and ranting relentlessly. "Can you believe I have to have dinner with her and her ex-husband tonight in order to get to know them better? How am I meant to remain civil knowing she has probably screwed up Virgil's one chance of happiness?"

"You do what you do best, Dad. You plaster that fake charming smile on your face while seething and bottling up your true emotions. You behave like a gentleman in order to prevent yourself from behaving like an insolent teenager. You let them see what you want them to see, not how you feel."

Jeff cocked his head to the side. "Where did I get you from, John?"

"Amazon?"

"No. That was Gordon, and they wouldn't take him back."

"Who could blame them?" John sniggered. "Who'd want him?"

"Hey, stop teasing your brother!" Jeff cuffed his blond son lightly. "You should know better than that." He sighed. "I really hope Virgil doesn't hold a grudge this time."

"Relax, Dad. Virgil's a smart man. He'll make the choice that is right for him."


Virgil stood up hastily. "I'd better go."

"Yeah, you probably should." Gus replied as she showed him to the door. "I know you have things to do." She waited until Virgil had gone before closing the door.

Out on the street, Virgil pulled out his phone. "Scott, it's me. The bachelor party is on."

John glanced down at his watch. "Scott, time to fly. We're running behind on schedule."

"Yeah. We just needed him to relax and loosen up a bit." Scott cocked his head to the left. "Do you think he knows what's in store for him?"

"No. We can't tell him. Even if we wanted to, we can't." John pointed out. "You're not driving there; you'll speed, break red lights, run over furry animals, possibly hit stationary objects, maybe even people and lose your licence, considering the amount of points you have."

"Had." Scott corrected. "Some points have disappeared. That's why I drive now. Hey, what do you think the girls are doing now?"


"I'll see your five, and raise you five." A handful of chips were tossed onto a mountain of chips in the centre of the table.

Some cards were thrown in the pile. "I'm out."

The two remaining contestants in the poker game stared at each other, locked in a Mexican standoff, their facial expressions not giving anything away.

Tin-Tin placed her cards on the table. "Four of a kind."

Gus threw her cards down. "Royal Flush. Read 'em and weep." She scooped her winnings towards her.

"Gus, how do you do it?" Tash asked, as she dealt the cards again.

"How do I do what?"

"Win. That's your third win in a row. A hat trick."

Gus shrugged, not wanting to share her secret. "Just lucky, I suppose. Hey, what do you think the boys are doing right now?"


The car pulled to a stop and Alan released his seatbelt. He leaned towards the windscreen, and looked at his brother. "John, where are we?"

"122 Elm Street." John pulled the handbrake up.

"Right. What exactly are we doing here?" Gordon asked, staring out of his window into the darkness.

Scott shrugged. "Ask Mike."

Four heads swivelled towards a neon sign, flickering in the distance.

"A tattoo parlour?" Gordon raised his eyebrows, a grin etched onto his face aimed at Virgil.

"Let the nightmare begin." Mike muttered sadistically, with a Hood-like chuckle.

"A tattoo parlour?" Virgil parroted. "Are you guys mad? You can get diseases and infections from these places!"

"Don't complain, Virgil. At least you're getting it done the proper way. My second tattoo was done by using a Bic pen and a cigarette lighter." Scott replied tersely, as he climbed out of the car.

"Jailbird?" Mike asked lightly.

"Prisoner of War, actually. Can we please change the subject?"

"Second tattoo?" John seized on that new piece of information the same way a kitten would cling onto a ball of string. "How come we've only ever seen one, then?"

"Yeah, well, the other one is in a place I don't generally display to the public." John opened his mouth to protest, but Scott continued. "Or my brothers. Now, are we just going to stand here all day?"


Jeff sank into his chair, wishing he and his major headache could disappear into thin air. The dinner with Grace and the second ex-husband was mimicking Titanic's voyage through the ocean; calm and smoothly, until they hit the iceberg, which had been struck, precisely two hours ago. If Jeff sat there for an extra seventeen minutes, he would surely be a dead man in the water.

However, there was a silver lining in a dark cloud. Jeff had found an ally; the ex-husband, Roger, hated Grace's tact, or lack of, almost as much as he did. And unlike Jeff, he had no qualms about expressing his hate.

"Why couldn't you have just kept your mouth shut?!" Roger spat out venomously. "Announcing it on national television? What were you thinking?! Oh, but of course, you weren't!"

"I didn't know that Virgil didn't know!" Grace defended herself. "I wouldn't have dreamed of saying about her past! Mind you, I am a bit of a loose cannon after drinking three screwdrivers."

"I'll say," Roger agreed, and Jeff nodded wholeheartedly. "Who encouraged her to get married at nineteen in the first place?"

Grace gasped, affronted. "I did no such thing!"

"How many husbands did you parade around her after you left me?! How many did you parade around the three of them after you left me?!"

Jeff winced; his major headache was turning into a killer migraine. He had to get out of the restaurant, and fast. His leg twitched involuntarily, and he could feel the outline of his Blackberry through his pant pocket. A sudden idea flashed into his mind.

Ever so subtly, he slid a hand into his pocket, and pressed a few buttons. He waited patiently for the familiar drone of his ringtone to blare out. "Do excuse me for a moment," he said, to no-one in particular. Chair scraping on the floor, Jeff stood up, and wandered over to a corner. He nodded, and hmmed in various places, grinning inwardly.

With fake sincerity plastered on his face, Jeff began to stammer out his excuse for leaving. "I'm terribly sorry. There's been an incident. It's unavoidable. I really do have to go." He shrugged into his suit jacket. "It was a pleasure meeting you, and I'll see you on the big day."

Before anyone could protest, Jeff snaked out of the fancy glass double doors and into the crisp cool air of the night.

'The old unavoidable incident,' he mused. 'Every time, works like a charm.'


Virgil stood in the lobby of the parlour, hands on hips, furious scowl carved into his face. "If I have to get this tattoo," he muttered furiously. "Then I think my best man, and the imbecile who suggested this, should also get one too!"

"I'm allergic to the ink." Mike smiled, self satisfied. "So, unless you want to spend the rest of the evening in hospital, I wouldn't even sit in the tattooist chair."

"Scott?" Virgil appealed.

"I already have two. Don't you think there's a limit?"

"Please?"

"No."

"Does it hurt?"

"Not at all. Well, not for me, anyway."

"Please, Scott?"

"I told you no."

"Please, please, please, please, pleeeease?"

Scott's crystal blue eyes flicked up from the magazine he was reading. "If I say yes, will you stop bugging me?"

"Of course." Virgil promised, optimism shining in his eyes.

"The answer's still no."

"Please, Scott? Please, please, pretty please?" Virgil grabbed Scott's arm, and held onto it for dear life.

"If I say yes, will you stop being a limpet on my arm?"

"Duh!"

Scott sighed deeply. "Fine. I'll get one done. A SMALL one. Not a big one. Don't see why you couldn't have asked one of the brats instead, though."

"Well," Virgil explained patiently. "One brat is dozing away in a chair, and the other one is chatting up a girl whose skirt rarely leaves things to the imagination."

"So you came to me instead." Scott surmised neatly. "Do you know what you're getting yet?"


A few hours later, Virgil and Scott emerged from the room.

"For God's sake, Virgil," Scott laughed. "Walk normally. You look like you have an insect up your anus."

"It's bug up my ass, Scott." Virgil snapped, rubbing his derrière gingerly. "If you're going to insult me, get it right! And you lied to me!"

"What?! When?"

"You told me it wouldn't hurt!" Virgil cried out.

"And it doesn't." Scott countered.

"This is coming from the guy who laughed when he had a tooth extraction. Without anaesthesia!"

"It's not my fault you don't have a high pain tolerance."

"You know, I won't be able to sit down for a week!" Virgil hissed, as a bit of pain darted up his nerves.

"Oh, you'll be able to sit down. Just rather uncomfortably." Scott reassured. "Did you like it?"

"It looked OK in the catalogue." Virgil admitted, as they regrouped with the rest of the troop.

Alan woke up from his slumber and slung his arm around Virgil. "Can I see?"

"No!"

"What did he get?" John asked Scott.

"He got a shooting star," Scott replied absent-mindedly, while peeling back his bandage to have a look at his latest tattoo. "But because he wriggled around so much, it looks like a flower now. He was also meant to have writing in the star, but now it looks like pollen."

"Aww, ickle Virgy has a plant on his posterior," Gordon cooed. "What did you get, Scott?" He peered at his eldest brother. "Nice. Very macho. Much better than a sissy flower."

"I know." Scott agreed. "I told Virgil to get this, but he didn't want it, so I took it instead."

"Let's see," Alan and John both gathered round Scott. "Interesting. A wolf, howling at the moon. We're with Gordy on this; much better than a flower. It matches the one branded on your shoulder to perfection. Not too sure if it matches the other one since we've never seen it before."

"You know what you need now, Virgil?" Mike said.

"No. One tattoo is bad enough. I'm not getting anything else."

"You need a piercing. A piercing for every tattoo you have." Mike continued, as though Virgil hadn't spoken. "You too, Scott."

Both brothers looked at each other; horrified. "Hell, no!"

"Why not?" Mike looked like Christmas had been cancelled. "I'll even get one with you," he added, as extra incentive.

"No! I draw the line at piercings!"

"Scott?" Mike appealed; ignoring the sniggers and fits of giggles the other Tracys were in.

"No! If you want a piercing so badly, get one yourself!"

"Gee," Mike grumbled as they walked (well, in all honesty, Virgil hobbled) back to the car. "You guys are no fun. Where's your sense of adventure?"


Jeff shut the door to his room, slung his suit jacket over a chair, loosened his tie and collapsed onto his bed, burying his head into a fluffy pillow. 'Salvation has never smelt so good! At least my headache's subsiding now.'

He rolled over, and his eyes trained on the digital clock, illuminating the room in a green glow. 'It's that late?! Well, I hope the boys are wrapping up their bachelor party. Tomorrow's a big day for Virgil.'


John revved the engine and pulled out of the parking spot.

"Where are we going now, John?" Gordon mumbled sleepily, nearly drooling into Alan's shoulder. Alan's head was

"To get some shut-eye. It's a long drive back, so if we leave now, we'll be back before two o' clock in the morning."

"Scott, my ass is BURNING right now!" Virgil whimpered.

"Stop whingeing," Scott drawled. "It'll settle down in a few hours. Jeez, if I could handle three tattoos without complaining, you should be able to handle one."

"Well, excuse me, but I'm not you!" Virgil crossed his arms over his chest in a sulk.

"I can see that." Scott rolled over in his seat. "John, wake me up when you want to swap. You need some sleep as well."

"Sure thing, Scott." John yawned, as he joined a motorway and sped off.


Gus stood outside the door to her flat with her future sister-in-laws. They had seen off the other attendants at her bachelorette party, and they quickly sought refuge of her apartment from the bitterly cold wind.

"It's tomorrow. I can't believe its tomorrow." She leaned back, using the door as a support. "What am I doing? I'm not cut out for marriage! What if I'm useless at it?" She sank dejectedly to the floor.

Tin-Tin and Tash were immediately at her side. "You won't be useless at it." Tash comforted.

"It sounds like you have a small case of cold feet." Tin-Tin murmured, while hauling Gus to her feet. "Let's get you inside."

"But how can I have cold feet? I love Virgil! I'm crazy about him!"

"I'm not saying you don't love him." Tin-Tin agreed. "I love Alan, but that didn't mean I didn't get knots in my stomach the moment I said yes. It's perfectly normal."

"So, how'd you get rid of them?" Gus asked.

"You stand together and know it feels right." Tash smiled. "If it doesn't, then something is wrong."

Gus ran a shaky hand through her blondy-brown hair. "I need a drink."

"No, you don't. What you need," Tin-Tin steered Gus towards the bedroom. "Is to get some beauty sleep for tomorrow."


Virgil and his troop stumbled into the hotel room they had for the night.

"Scott, my butt won't be hurting by the time I get married, will it?"

"Probably not. You'll be able to sit down by then."

"Good." Virgil yawned. "I'm gonna crash now. Gotta be in good shape for tomorrow. Let's hope nothing goes wrong."

AN: Please review.