A/N: Blasted Writer's Block. It's the bane of my life. Anyway, I am determined to finish these oneshots if it kills me. Which is likely. My apologies to everyone who was waiting so patiently for the John Chapter. I think you might like this. At least, I hope you do. I like to think of this particular chapter as a documentary/editorial section on How To Achieve True Girly-Manliness. Imagine this being narrated by David Attenborough...!
Dedicated with love to Teobi, Darkflame's Pyre and LexietFive
Disclaimer: Still no news from Gerry about my proposal for a 50% timeshare in Gordon.
John
If there is one thing to be said about John Tracy's morning routine, it is that it is meticulous. On Thunderbird Five, the days go slowly and so it doesn't matter if he takes ten minutes or two hours to get ready of a morning. He usually takes around an hour and a half. After all, who is he going to share his bathroom with? Where is his motivation to hurry? For early morning self-titivation, one needs a clear head, a calm mind and no housemates. Thunderbird Five is, therefore, the perfect location to see John's full routine in progress. It truly is a sight to behold.
If you were to ask John about his pre-public morning activities, he would tell you that in the absence of his absolute favourite start to the day - at which point he would allow himself the tiniest of self-satisfied smirks that you'd only just notice in time to realise what he meant - he would usually enjoy a nice cup of coffee in bed before heading to the bathroom. "This," he would say, gesturing his smooth yet firm hand gracefully from the tip of his head and then downwards to indicate his entire body, "Doesn't just happen, you know."
No, indeed. Looking as good as John takes time and effort.
First, the shower. It's very important to ensure that the shower gel used is invigorating enough to fully awaken him in order to concentrate fully on the subsequent art of shaving. Virgil is right. It's an art, not a science. Of course, if the aforementioned shower gel has micro-granules in it, so much the better. Moisturising unexfoliated skin is extraordinarily laborious. To that end, he always makes sure that he scrubs himself down thoroughly with a good shower puff, regardless of the desquamating properties in his shower gel.
Then, the shampoo. John uses shampoo specially formulated for blond hair. After all, one's hair is one's crowning glory, and when one has hair as soft, shiny and naturally golden as John's, one needs to take very good care of it. He conditions once a month, as any more than that and he finds that his hair becomes too soft to be sufficiently manageable.
After showering, he roughly towel dries his hair before combing it carefully in front of the mirror. It is essential that the parting in his hair is exactly one and a half inches left of centre. He once attempted to part his hair on the right and felt incredibly uncomfortable all day. His family kept looking at him in confusion, wondering exactly what was different about him. Ever since that day, he has always made sure that his parting remains firmly on the left. Don't ever ask him if he'd prefer a centre parting, though - he'll just narrow his eyes derisively at you and shake his head in despair, not even bothering to dignify the preposterous question with a response. If he had a centre parting, what would happen to his trademark curl in the centre of his forehead? It would disappear! This would be disastrous, not only for John's mental well-being, but for everyone else as well. There would be no prior warning to the world at large that if John is being good, he's being very, very good, but when he's being bad, he's being terribly naughty indeed!
Fortunately for his face, John doesn't need to shave more than twice a week. He hates stubble regrowth and so he takes his time over a very close shave. He uses a moisturising shaving gel and then, after checking a few times to make sure his sideburns are of equal lengths, he rinses his face in tepid water. Then he will spend a few moments checking that his eyebrows are perfectly shaped, plucking out any stray hairs with a precision pair of tweezers before carefully coating his face with a deeply moisturising, anti-wrinkle day cream. Scott once said that John has a face like Teflon - so smooth not even a gecko could stick to it.
A touch of patchouli and sandalwood scented eau de toilette, and he is finally ready to get dressed. Well. Most days, he would go straight on to getting dressed. However, half-way through his time on Thunderbird Five, John takes a little extra time to do something very special indeed.
John, as most people are aware, shares the duty of manning Thunderbird Five with his youngest brother, Alan. However, due to his previous engagements as a racing driver, Alan was absent during most of the design work that was done on Thunderbird Five. As a result, there is one particular feature of the space station that only two people know about - John and Brains. John well remembers the conversation he had with Brains about installing the feature.
"A-a-are you s-sure it isn't going to be, uh, s-s-sup-superf- a little excessive?" Brains had asked. John's perfectly manicured eyebrows knitted together in a frown.
"Whatever could you mean, Brains?"
"Oh, n-nothing, it's j-just this space station is supposed to be purely b-b-business related!" he explained. John's eyebrows relaxed momentarily before he slowly arched his left eyebrow and tilted his chin slightly upwards as he cast an appraising look at Brains.
"If I'm going to be living there a month on and a month off, I want at least some of the comforts of home," he pointed out. Brains looked helplessly at him.
"This isn't a home c-comfort, it's an on-deck beauty s-salon!" he protested.
"You're saying it as though there are plenty of beauty s-salons in space!" John answered, wincing a little inside as he hadn't really meant to tease Brains for his stammer. Brains sighed and shrugged, unable to argue with his logic.
"Mr T-Tracy won't like it!" he protested. John grinned wolfishly and draped his arm around Brains' shoulders conspiratorially.
"Let's just keep this our little secret, then. Who's gonna know about it but me?" he pointed out.
Deep within the bowels of Thunderbird Five, behind a secret panel in what John termed the central nervous system of his beloved 'Bird, there is a door. Behind that door is another door - and behind that door is a room. A large, spacious room that smells strongly of chemicals and coconut oil. John travels down there on the second Thursday of every month he's on duty. He drops his towel, strides purposefully towards a switch on the wall and chooses the option that reads "Healthy Glow". He then stands in the middle of the room, closes his eyes and waits.
Minutes later, he emerges from the room with a perfect coating of fake tan, which will be well ingrained into his skin by the time he returns home. After all, no man can legitimately work on topping up his tan while in geostationary orbit.
However, John is no ordinary man. He is refined, dapper and resplendent in a way so effeminate that only a man truly comfortable in his own masculinity could possibly carry it off. He is like the metrosexuals of the early part of the 21st Century. John Tracy, with his devil-may-care charm and knowing gleam of mischief behind those lustrous blue eyes, is so much more than an ordinary man. He is a girlish man - and he's absolutely fine with that.
A word of warning though - if you interfere with any of his hair products, the modern-day Beau Brummel will quickly be replaced by a seething testosterone-fuelled rage monster...