Yes, I know it's summer (at least here in the UK). So, yes, I'm a few months early. But when this wonderful suggestion pinged in from Sailor Centauri... well, do you honestly think I could wait until December to write it?
Nooooo, of course not! So, here's a little glimpse of the Tracy household on Christmas morning, and... well, yes, you just know it won't be a quiet one!
Enjoy!
Oh, Brother!
Chapter Eleven - The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year
Every November, just after Thanksgiving, Scott Tracy sent a make believe letter to a certain address at the North Pole:
"Dear Santa,
For Christmas this year, I'd really like my four little brothers to go to bed when I tell them on Christmas Eve, go to sleep, and stay that way 'til Christmas morning.
Ever hopefully yours,
Scott Tracy.
PS I'd be real thankful if you can make them all sleep 'til Boxing Day instead
PPS I'll even let you have my apple pie if you can stop my littlest brother Allie from trying to climb up the chimney to see your reindeer."
But, just like last year, and every one that has passed before it, the celestial postal system had failed to deliver. Instead, long before the sun peeked out to see if it was safe to rise on Tracy Island, two humanised hurricanes swept into his room, and made landfall on his bed.
*thoomp*
*thoomp*
"SCOTTTYYYYY! It's CHRIIIIIS-MAAAAAAS!"
Flattened and deafened in one brotherly swoop, Scott winced and, in futile hope, tried to pull his bedclothes back over his head. But against the determined tugging of a hyper excited five year old, and his equally excited brother, he could have locked himself in his closet, and these two tiny terrors would still find a way in to torture him.
And seriously, what was it with all this bouncing? What was he, a damn trampoline?
"Thanks, Allie... I kinda knew that already," he sighed, throwing the sternest glare he could manage towards the face that had just popped up against his leg.
Still, he really couldn't fault their strategy - sending Alan in to distract him, all bright blue eyes and irresistible cuteness, while Gordon tried to bounce him into submission. It was working like a charm, too, since that glare on his face now crumbled into a helpless grin. And since he was well and truly awake now, with no possible chance of going back to sleep - well, time for a bit of Christmas fun himself.
Sitting up, he took full advantage of its suddenness catching them by surprise - grabbing Gordon in one arm, while gently scooping Alan up with the other. In a glorious tangle of wriggling limbs, he then launched a stealth attack of his own. Oh yes, the pure joy of having two such ticklish little brothers!
Of course, it would have been even better if:
a) he wasn't so ticklish himself
b) these two little devils didn't know where his own vulnerable spots were, and -
"Aaaaiiiieeeee!"
- yup, that gap between his fourth and fifth rib was an absolute killer.
Flat on his back, and howling for mercy, some reinforcements would come in real handy right now. But would he ever be that lucky?
"Hey, John? Tickle pile on Scott!"
"Be right there, Virg. Just hold him down while I get my camera."
*thoomp*
"Gyaaaarr-aaaiieeeeee! Aww, c'mon, guys - gerrofff!"
*click* *click* *click*
Nope.
By the time he'd recovered enough from this dastardly attack to sit up and fight back, three of his tormentors had wisely fled for safety - leaving their most effective secret weapon behind. Crawling into his lap, and clutching his space shuttle plushie, Alan blinked up at him, with eyes set to 'maximum melt' and the grin that made his big, brave, teenage brother go all wibbly inside.
"Scotty? We eat now?"
Not knowing whether to laugh, cry, or fly out to join their dad on that business trip, Scott laid his head back against his pillows, and closed his eyes against a helpless groan of giggles. Yeah, full marks for just sheer bravado. Wear your victim out, get all the blackmailable photos you need, then expect him to make your breakfast afterwards.
"Yeah, waffles for me, Scott."
"Nah, Virg, it's Christmas! You gotta have the full works for Christmas!"
"With fruit and cereal too, of course, just to try and make it healthy."
Correction. Breakfast(s). At five thirty on Christmas morning.
Wonderful.
More convinced than ever now, that he was surely due a sainthood, Scott tossed back his covers and, with some typically eager help, climbed out of bed.
"Yes, Allie. We eat now."
Scooping Alan onto his shoulders, he then led three equally happy brothers along the hall, through the den, and down to the kitchen. The Pied Piper of Hamlin, he thought dryly, has nothing on me!
Of course, he wasn't a bad chef either. After learning the basics from their mother, he'd self-taught himself the rest - partly out of necessity, but mostly from the sheer pleasure of watching his brothers happily devour anything and everything he put in front of them.
He still had his limits, though - especially when four fed-to-the-gills brothers tried to sneak out of Scott's Kitchen without paying their dues. And even if they'd tried to tickle it out of him, it was nice to see that subtle cough still made them freeze on the spot.
"Oh no, you don't. Dishes and clean-ups first, then we get to the presents."
Yes, he thought, watching them all troop miserably back to the sink, Grandma wasn't the only one who could sort out their household chores. Even Alan, bless his little space-rocket socks, had taken his place beside Gordon, helping his brother to dry up.
But then, of course, it just had to happen. Never happier than when he was next to water, Gordon playfully flicked some stray droplets onto Alan's face. His little brother, naturally, had to flick some right back. Within seconds, an all out water-fight erupted around the sink - and a fully laden sponge found its unintended but inevitable target.
*sploop*
Picking it up, Scott threw the best big brother glare that he could manage towards four 'oh-if-we-laugh-we're-dead' faces, while pushing a dripping fringe back from his own. Just six hours into Christmas Day, with at least another ten still to go before this lot went to bed, and - no, he just wasn't going to survive it.
But then he remembered how special this day used to be. How vital it was, for them all to enjoy it with as much fun and laughter as they possibly could, and the glare on his face turned back into a helpless grin.
'Yeah, come on, you big Grinch... get in there, and show 'em how it's done.'
"No, Gordon... if you really want to pitch the best curveball, you've gotta do it like this!"
*ka-sploop*
From that moment on, of course, it was every Tracy for himself.
*splat*
*boink*
*schlop*
*squish*
*thoomp*
Five minutes later, five soggy but laughing brothers charged up the stairs, for the best ever part of Christmas Day. Huddled under the massive tree that took pride of place in the middle of the den, the best way that Scott had ever found to describe it was 'organized chaos.' And with five lots of presents to sort out, it took some time to figure out which perfectly wrapped parcel had to go where.
For all that, though, he loved every second of it. And with John and Virgil at that age now, when 'Santy Claus' became a fond but redundant part of their childhoods, the focus for this most magical time shifted to their two younger brothers.
Dryly adding 'delivery boy' to his ever growing list of skills, Scott handed out the last two presents, then sat back and waited for the moment that he, and John, and Virgil, had waited for three hundred and sixty five days to see again. With Alan now old enough to fully enjoy it, this year's Christmas promised to be something really, really special.
If their father had been there to share it, of course, it would have been even better, but... well, Scott was so used to these business trips now that he'd just come to accept them. Besides, he didn't want to let that little ripple of disappointment spoil this day for the rest of his brothers. So, instead, he sat back with Alan snuggled in his lap, and Gordon curled up against his side - ruefully watching the presents that he'd spent hours wrapping up for them explode into showers of madly torn paper.
'Five... four... three... two... one...'
Then, right on cue, came the same explosion of delighted yells, and squeals, and shrieks, and proof that all those hours of searching for their 'must have' presents had been more than worth it. And last, but never least, the double-whammy of hugs that threatened to strangle him, and so many kisses on his cheeks that they ached from the very sweetest of reasons.
Yes, this was the best part of having four brothers to share this most special of days. Every hug, and cuddle, and yell of delight was repeated four times over, until the whole house seemed to shake with the sheer joy of their laughter.
Stretched out on the couch, and surrounded by a pile of snuggling brothers, Scott eyed the wreckage of paper and boxes in front of him with a wry but happy smile. On any other day, he'd have been on his knees by now, clearing it all up as the 'neatfreak' that he'd always been. But not today. No, he'd just leave that glorious mess alone, because - well, that was all part of the magic, wasn't it? And days like these, moments like these, were those you had to cherish.