Warning: 2228 words of fluffy self indulgent goop that goes nowhere. Perfectly attuned to a slightly depressed, sleep-deprived Nutty. Also, lots of Virg, possibly so floppy he fell out of character. Ultimately Scotty took over, but it was supposed to be about both of them, so I don't mind. ::eyes the Scotty fans who have me surrounded::
Many thanks to tsarinatorment janetm74 and scribbles97 for the reading and support. ::hugs you lots::
I hope you enjoy :D
-o-o-o-
It was late.
It had been a very long day.
A very, very long day.
Scott had been held back at the danger zone by bureaucratic nonsense and a CEO throwing a fit over a couple of Thunderbirds parking in his carpark and the resultant damage to a nearby building.
The insensitivity and self-involvement had John reining Scott in over comms. It wasn't like he was going to hit the guy, really, no matter how satisfying it might have been. But it had been a gruelling and messy rescue digging people out of a collapsed shopping mall.
He and his brothers had been digging for hours.
Eventually he had to call it and had sent Thunderbird Two back to base.
He had intended to follow shortly after, but…obstacles.
It was just past three in the morning when One streaked into a hover above Tracy Island. The shift to vertical flight was smooth and mostly subconscious. Scott felt his 'bird in his bones.
As he lowered her through the gap left by the pool, a dim light from the lounge told him he wasn't the only one awake.
He had his suspicions who it might be and that only had him working through post-flight faster.
It could be Grandma, but chances were it was Virgil waiting for him to come home.
He didn't always do this. Only after the difficult ones.
And this one had been far from easy.
Scott hurried up to the locker room and, shucking his uniform, washed the sweat and grime from his skin. It felt good to be clean, an extra step further away from the tragedy they had left behind.
He didn't bother getting dressed other than to throw on some pyjama bottoms and an old t-shirt. he would check on his brother, possibly grab a quick bite of food and a drink, and then hit the sack.
The house was quiet as he made his way to the lounge. No doubt Grandma and Virgil combined were a force that saw the younger Tracys safe in bed. Virgil likely then turned on his partner in crime and bundled her off as well.
He was determined like that.
Sure enough, a quiet step into the lounge and he found his brother in their father's chair.
Asleep.
Dark curls let loose from their product by a long-ago shower were a hastily combed mess on his forehead as Dad's chair held Scott's brother as if it were its owner. The worn upholstery cradling worn out rescue operative ever so gently.
Scott's bare feet made little sound as he stepped across the hardwood floor. It was a warm night. The open windows let in a soft breeze off the Pacific laced with the honey scent of flowering pōhutukawa trees.
Virgil muttered and shifted in his sleep.
The sound drew Scott's attention back to his brother. The desk lamp was the only source of light in the room beyond the starlight far above. The moon had already set and outside was almost as dark as it got, the ocean murmuring in the distance.
There was paper on the desk.
Scott didn't use much in the way of paper himself. Most of his work was digital, often holographic and as ecologically sound as he could get it.
Virgil, however, did keep a stash of different surfaces to art on in his studio. Paper was one of them. Obviously, some had made it out tonight.
Pencil sketches covered the white sheets. Eyes, half drawn faces. Gordon popped up in one corner, a familiar smile on his face. Thunderbird One had her grapple out and was lifting something half-drawn.
He found his own face staring out of the paper. His drawn self was obviously angry and glaring at a faceless head.
Scott arched an eyebrow at the obscenity scratched into the cartridge under the non-person creature.
Virgil had obviously not been happy that Scott had been held up.
There were other words on the page amongst the drawings. Virgil doodling and possibly venting in the process. Even Scott could see the emotion drawn in graphite.
He sighed.
As if agreeing, Virgil snorted and tried to turn over in the chair, a manoeuvre that wasn't recommended.
Scott caught his brother under his arms as he tried to slide off the leather upholstery.
He earned a grunt for his efforts. Bleary brown eyes opened and stared up at him. "Sc-t?"
"Hey." A soft smile. "You planning on camping out tonight?"
Another grunt and his brother tried to right himself in the chair. "You took too long. Why didn't you sic John on 'em?"
"I did. But not until tomorrow. John needs his sleep as much as you do."
"Yes. Yes, he does. Tol' him." Virgil's eyes drifted closed again and he began to sink back into the chair.
"Oh, no you don't. You're going to bed, little brother." Scott gripped Virgil a little tighter and pulled him up and out of the chair.
Various limbs pinwheeled a little and Scott ended up with his arms full of dopey brother, but he got the man on to his feet.
Virgil grumbled into his t-shirt and Scott let off a snort of a laugh. His biggest brother was hopeless when his sleep was disturbed. It was an ongoing source of prankdom – at the risk of the perpetrator's life.
Hell, Gordon had managed to draw in a second pair of eyebrows on Virgil's forehead once – while the man was supposedly awake and nursing his coffee.
The double-eyebrowed death monster that had resulted once enough coffee had been ingested was of legendary proportions. Grandma had literally roasted Gordon alive and a ban on markers on anyone's faces had been instituted for all eternity.
Gordon was a multitalented artist, however, and simply switched mediums.
The honey had Scott blowing a circuit.
But dopey Virgil was a familiar and smile-inducing feature of the Tracy household.
Scott found himself grinning.
"Shuddup."
Well, at least Virgil had managed a couple of neurons worth of thought.
Scott's smile only got wider.
Virgil groaned and pushed his brother away and stumbled a little. "'M gonna bed."
"You do that." Scott had to stick out a hand and steady him as he wobbled into the side of the desk. "Need a hand?"
That triggered some incoherent grumbling that threatened bear territory. Scott couldn't help himself and just grinned more as Virgil teetered away in the direction of the elevator.
The fact Scott had to save him from falling into the sunken lounge was probably a sign that the answer to his question was a definite 'yes'.
A hand on his brother's elbow prompted more grumbling, but the elbow wasn't yanked away and by the time they made it into the elevator, Virgil had pretty much faceplanted himself into Scott's shoulder.
The grin turned into a fond smile as he hit the button for the residential levels.
"You neeb togoto bed too." It was muffled by the sleeve of Scott's t-shirt.
"That's the plan."
"You bedda."
Scott wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulders. "Or what?"
More incoherent grumbling.
Scott pulled him in a little tighter as the elevator doors opened.
It was like leading a zombie down the corridor, though Scott could easily empathise. He was looking forward to his own pillow as soon as he saw Virgil to his.
A yawn escaped.
His brother looked up as if the medic had bypassed his brain and booted in safe mode. "You need sleep. Go to bed."
He gestured towards door to Virgil's rooms. "After you."
Virgil frowned. "You first."
Scott rolled his eyes and, reaching around his brother, activated the door and, with a little manoeuvring, manhandled Virgil into his rooms.
"Hey!"
His hand returned to his brother's elbow and he marched him into his bedroom, amid protests.
"You need to look after yourself." Virgil finger was jabbed into Scott's breastbone.
Was it possible for a human to have one half of his brain awake and the other asleep at the same time? Apparently, some birds could do that. Gordon had gone into great detail that year they spotted some migratory waders landing on their beaches mid-transit.
In any case, Virgil obviously wasn't all there as Scott backed him up against the end of his bed and pulled back the covers. Virgil continued to nag Scott to bed with varying levels of coherence. Smiling, Scott gave his rambling brother a gentle nudge and their gentle giant went Gulliver, flat on his back.
"Scott?!"
The eldest yanked up the covers and muffled the outraged mutterings. "Yes, Virgil?"
But his protests began to fade away and, as Scott pulled down the covers a little and tucked them in, he realised Virgil's eyes were already drooping again.
Dopey indeed.
He brushed curls off his brother's forehead. "Sleep, Virg."
"Mmm, Sco', go bed."
Softly. "I will."
"Mmmhm."
Scott couldn't help but smile a little more as Virgil drifted off.
A final touch to his brother's hair and Scott straightened, his body creaking enough to remind him, that yes, he needed his bed as well.
He slipped quietly out of Virgil's room and secured the door. A glance down the corridor, a thought, and he walked quietly down to check on Gordon.
The last he had seen of his fish brother had involved sad eyes and concrete dust. A quiet step into his rooms and he found Gordon as he had suspected he would.
The aquanaut was tangled in his sheets and throttling his pillow.
There was a frown on his face.
Much practised manoeuvring and he managed to straighten the Fish out and untangle him from his bedclothes.
Half asleep protests were halted by a plushie squid that awake Gordon would claim to his death never left the mantle above his bed.
Scott knew better.
His little brother quietened, falling into a deeper sleep.
After that, Scott couldn't help but check in on Alan. It was probably a fortunate thing, because opening the door found Alan asleep in front of it.
The littlest Tracy had a history of wandering in his sleep. Scott had it checked out and it was directly related to early childhood trauma. Which one was a game of pick one.
It was managed, but occasionally it flared up. One of the most common symptoms was climbing out of bed and sleeping on the floor. Sometimes, the piece of floor chosen was a little inconvenient.
Scott was just happy the piece chosen wasn't a balcony. Five and now Eos had been tracking Alan while he slept for years and issued alerts if he should wander too far.
Scott slipped into the room sideways and, with cracking knees, lifted his little brother off the floor.
Fortunately or unfortunately, Alan shared his sleep type with Virgil and slept like the dead. So, it was easy to move him over to his specially plush rug and snuggle him up with a pillow and quilt from his bed.
Alan muttered something about Virgil pulling him up, possibly something to do with the day's rescue.
Scott reached out and touched Alan's cheek.
His little brother mumbled his name and leant into his hand.
Scott blinked. The emotion that suddenly gripped him was just a sign of how tired he was.
Letting go, he pushed to his feet and slipped from the room. In the corridor, he closed his eyes and leant back against the wall for a moment.
One to go.
He tugged at the collar of his t-shirt. "Eos? You there?"
"Where else would I be?" Despite the smart-ass remark, her voice was quiet. Something she had learnt the hard way.
He ignored the comment. "John's status?"
"John is currently in REM sleep. No signs of nightmare. Pulse regular, respiration as to be expected, body temperature 36.7 degrees Celsius. John is well, Commander."
Scott let out a breath. "Thank you, Eos."
"You're welcome. Kayo and Mrs Tracy are asleep in their rooms, as is Hiram. Which is a concern, if I may say so, because he left Max on the ceiling."
A blink. "Again?"
"It would appear so."
Scott groaned. "Keep him out of the hangars this time."
"I will try. But you know how he is."
A grunt and Scott pushed himself off the wall. "I'm going to bed."
"Good. Virgil was adamant you do exactly that."
A frown. "Or what?"
"He said 'or I'll knock his ass out and drag him there myself'. His tone seemed humorous, however, John said it was a half-truth." A pause. "Which half, I'm not sure."
Another grunt. "Both halves, most likely." To stave off a round of questioning at that, Scott quickly followed up with, "Tracy Island out."
The house fell quiet after that and he let his shoulders drop, rolling his neck as he made his way to his own quarters. In his rooms lay freedom. A moment where he could just be himself, relax and sleep.
Sleep.
The door clicked shut and exhaustion caught up with him. It was a matter of steps to his bedroom, a modicum of the last of his energy to shove the covers aside, and he let himself fall face first into his pillow.
His body melted into the mattress.
It had been a shitty rescue, but his family was all home, safe, uninjured and resting.
He could let go.
So he did.
-o-o-o-
FIN.