Disclaimer: I don't own Thunderbirds.

Some things never change.

Jeff felt a fond smile cross his face as he watched his sons lounging in the den. Supposedly, they were watching a movie – an old classic from the 2000s his mother adored and his boys were decidedly more neutral about – but the only person in the den actually watching was Mom.

Alan had smuggled in some small handheld game with headphones in and ignored the movie in favour of jabbing the console. From his place at the desk – the leather chair was decidedly better for his back these days than soft, plush sofa cushions – he couldn't see what the game was, but from the repeatedly mouthed die, he assumed it was one of the many alien or zombie invasion games Alan appeared to have a fondness for.

Gordon, somehow miraculously still considering his innate need to move, had set up a game of chess. He appeared to be playing against EOS, judging by the way the projected ring of lights changed colour whenever Gordon made a move the AI hadn't expected. It shouldn't have been a surprise that his prank-loving son was ruthlessly efficient at the game, yet somehow he'd never coined that to be so good at pranks, his son had to be a fantastic strategist.

John was floating, having declined the invitation to be physically present for the family movie, and on the surface could even be mistaken for actually watching the movie his brothers were ignoring, but Jeff knew his second son better than that. His eyes were moving around, his fingers were twitching… Whatever John was doing up on Thunderbird Five, it wasn't watching the movie.

But it was Scott and Virgil that had prompted the nostalgia. Both fresh off a rescue, they'd bundled up on the same sofa and fallen fast asleep in minutes. By itself, that was nothing noteworthy, but at some point, Jeff hadn't noticed when, Virgil had shifted until his feet were hanging off the end of the sofa, and his head was on Scott's lap, using his big brother as a pillow. For his part, Scott had subconsciously reacted by looping an arm over him, even as his own head hung off the back of the sofa and would no doubt result in a cricked neck when he woke later.

The pair of them had always gravitated towards each other, right from the moment of Virgil's birth. Jeff had missed large chunks of all his sons' earliest years, space missions leaving Lucille and their parents on main infant-rearing duty, but one of many familiar and beloved memories of returning home, this one sometime around Virgil's first birthday, was being shh'd by his wife and led by the hand into the living room.

He hadn't got home until late. All the boys should have been in bed, fast asleep.

There were two lumps curled up on the sofa under a blanket, one decidedly larger than the other.

Scott was sitting up, but that was more because he was wedged in the corner where the back met the arm than through any effort on his eldest son's behalf. His eyes were closed, brown hair flopping all over the place in a way that said he'd spent the day running around – again – and whatever Lucille had done to tame his hair that morning had long since lost the battle.

The second lump was on his lap, sprawled against big brother's back with secure arms holding him in place despite their owner being fast asleep. It had to be Virgil, despite there being far more hair than the last time he remembered seeing him; not only was the dark hair far from John's vibrancy, but unless something had changed drastically, John was not one for prolonged cuddles and would certainly not fall asleep in the middle of one.

He knelt down in front of them, almost reverent at his beautiful sons. Scott had had another growth spurt, limbs less pudgy and more gangly. Jeff wondered if he was the tallest in his preschool. Virgil was still all chubby infant, round cheeks included.

A burst of laughter from his mother at something in the movie yanked him back to the present, where his sons were both fully grown young men, Virgil now too big to be contained within Scott's lap but the pose identical in its essence.

Lucille had taken a photograph of them – all three of them, two sleeping sons and a father overcome by pure adoration for them. It had hung in his office for many years, until the sons in question had grumbled about it being embarrassing (Jeff suspected Gordon noticing it had been the catalyst for that, although the pride of teenage boys was always fragile). He suspected they'd long since forgotten about it now.

It was still in a box in his room, alongside many other precious memories of their childhoods. Maybe he should get it out again and see how they reacted to it after so many years. He made a mental note to do so after the movie.

For the moment, however, he was content to watch – his family, not the movie; his sons had the right idea on that – and reminisce.

Day Two of Earth&Sky Week on tumblr, using the prompt "he ain't heavy, he's my brother". Slightly off-brand this time, but actually based on one of my early - if not the earliest - memories of being a big sister. Wanted to go a different way for this one, because I've written Virgil carrying Scott a few times now, so changed it up this time! Also falls into my Familiar Strangers series, too, so hello, Jeff.

Thanks for reading!
Tsari