Chapter 121.

"Hi, I'm from International Rescue. Can I use your bathroom?"

The eyeroll Scott treated Virgil to was one for the history books as Gordon barrelled into the lobby of the hotel they were staying in, did a shameless name-drop, dumped his luggage, and blasted off in the direction the receptionist's finger was pointing.

"He could have gone on the plane," Scott muttered, "I know we hit a patch of turbulence while John was in there, but we've all been through worse."

John begged to differ. There was nothing more undignified than bracing your hands against the walls of a toilet cubicle for three and a half minutes with your pants around your ankles.

"Good evening," the peppy young woman behind the front desk greeted, "Are you all checking in?"

Scott instinctively assumed command, "Yes please. The blond menace you just directed to the restrooms is with us as well. Three rooms under the name of Tracy."

The woman tapped and swiped for a couple of seconds, her eyes comically magnified behind the glasses perched atop her nose, "Aha, found you. If you could please fill in the missing spaces on these e-forms and confirm that all of the other details listed are correct. I'll fetch your key cards in the meantime."

Scott wordlessly flicked two forms over to John and Virgil and set about completing the one for him and Gordon. Miffed at having nothing to do, Alan helped himself to several sweets from the complimentary bowl atop the desk.

"Address," Scott muttered, discreetly casting his gaze over to his brothers to make sure they weren't deviating from iR protocol, "Gran Roca Ranch, Eastern Plateau…"

The sound of jovial whistling signalled Gordon's return, "What's shakin' bacon! Have you mentioned that I require a hundred percent Egyptian cotton bedding, organic tea, and a mint on my pillow each evening?"

The fake plant on the desk wilted under the heat of Scott's glare, "Gordon, I swear if you make this trip any harder than it needs to be, I'll drown you in Four's storage tank and throw what's left of you on the compost pile."

"Aww relax, will ya!" Gordon replied, stooping to collect his bags, "It'll be nice to have a little Sea and Sky time. I can't remember the last time we hung out one-on-one outside of work."

Scott opened his mouth to offer a reasonably civilised reply, however was cut short by the receptionist handing over three electronic cards.

"Rooms sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen," the woman announced, "Breakfast is between eight and ten each morning and room service is available until midnight. Do you need any help with your bags?"

Virgil stepped forward to relieve John of the holdall he was carrying, "I think we can manage. Thank you very much, er, what did you say your name was again?"

"I didn't," the woman replied, her cheeks flushing scarlet when she caught Virgil's eye, "But it's Imogen. Dial zero on your room's phone if there's anything I can do to make your stay more pleasant."

"Thanks Imogen," Virgil replied. Much to Gordon's eternal delight, his brother returned the receptionist's blush with one of his own.

"He likes her!" Gordon mouthed to Alan as they strode off towards the elevators, their suitcases gliding behind them, "Oh man, he's adorable. Did you see how red he went?"

Entranced by anything featuring his brothers and the potential for embarrassment, Alan let loose a gasp, "It was the glasses, wasn't it? I always knew he liked girls with glasses. John! You owe me twenty bucks!"

"Shhhh!" Gordon flapped his hands like he was holding in a sneeze and glanced over his shoulder. Relief coursed through him when he saw that Virgil was too engrossed in a conversation with Scott to pay him or Alan any attention.

"Are we going to interfere?" Alan asked, his tone the same as if he'd just asked Gordon whether the sky was blue.

Gordon hesitated. Of all of them, Virgil was the choosiest when it came to identifying people he was romantically interested in. He knew his brother was a sensitive soul and, much like himself, tended to wear his heart on his sleeve. He may have looked like the Tracy most likely to win a barfight, but he was also the Tracy least likely to start one as well.

Regardless, Gordon still hadn't forgiven him for the time he'd shut Two's water off when they'd been intercepting the nosediving Estrella Grand. Sentimental musings aside, his gentle giant of a brother hadn't been so gentle when he'd made the decision to plant him, Gordon Cooper Tracy, Esteemed Co-Pilot of Thunderbird Two, in front of Lady Penelope stinking like a dead mackerel at low tide.

A promise of payback had been made, and Gordon never broke promises.

-x-

Delight of the purest kind flooded through John as he pushed open the door to his room.

His own room.

His own, private room.

His own, private room that was blissfully separated from the insanity of his brothers by five inches of drywall. Within this sacred space, he could get his recommended eight hours without having to deal with Scott sleeping diagonally, Virgil snoring, Gordon sleep-talking, or Alan spooning whatever his tiny arms could reach. He'd even taken the added liberty of accidentally-on-purpose forgetting to pack his comm, so EOS calling to 'check in' was also off the cards.

The portable kettle on the desk gave a sudden beep that sounded very un-kettle-ish.

"Hello? John?" EOS asked, her voice projecting from the spout, "I've been trying to patch myself into one of the appliances in your room for the last two minutes. I tried the hairdryer, but it's not plugged in. I also tried the bedside lamp, but accidentally blew the bulb in the process. You'll find it no longer works. Sorry."

John felt his left eye twitch ever so slightly, "Hello, EOS. Nice to hear from you. I assume everything is in order onboard Thunderbird Five?"

"Oh yes," EOS assured, "My subroutines have taken over the basic maintenance schedule, so I thought I'd nip down and learn a bit more about humans and holy matrimony. Are you able to take me to this wedding you're attending tomorrow? I promise to not ask too many questions."

A heavy silence descended as John contemplated the practicality of sitting in a church pew with a kettle clutched in his hand, "Uh, maybe next time, EOS. I'm not sure tomorrow will be ideal for a case study, since I don't think any of us are planning on staying for too long. I'm ninety-nine percent confident we don't even know this Bluebell woman anyway."

The lights momentarily dimmed as EOS sulked, "Didn't Brains install a comm chip in the collar of that suit he designed for you? I could patch myself into there with relative ease. No one would see me, and I could make my primary function observation, so no one would hear me either."

It took all of John's willpower to not cartwheel his way out the window, "Unfortunately I left that particular suit at home. It's a great bit of technology, but I can't shake the worry that I might short-circuit if I get wet. I know Brains overengineers everything, but outside of the magnetic socks, I doubt I'll have need for any of the other gadgets again. Hopefully."

Any remaining hope John had about being able to reason with EOS died a slow, painful death as she began arguing about other suitable 'vessels', including the TV remote, the radio, and his electric toothbrush.

Apparently, privacy was something he was no longer entitled to.

-x-

"KNEE DEEP IN THE WATER SOMEWHERE, GOT THE BLUE SKY BREEZE BLOWIN' WIND THROUGH MY HAIR!"

Scott moaned pathetically and sandwiched a pillow over his head.

"ONLY WORRY IN THE WORLD IS THE TIDE GONNA REACH MY CHAIR!"

It was a well-known fact that singing in the shower was a popular pastime for many people. Apparently, Gordon took it a step further, and also sang in the bath.

"MIND ON A PERMANENT VACATION, THE OCEAN IS MY ONLY MEDICATION!"

Oh, how Scott wished he was on a vacation. Failing that, he'd settle for a frying pan to the head as his chosen 'medication.'

"WISHING MY CONDITION AIN'T EVER GONNA GO AWAY!"

Oh, and how he wished Gordon would go away. Preferably, in a northerly direction until he hit the border with Canada.

Thankfully, his brother didn't treat him to an encore. There was some intermittent splashing, the sound of the shower hissing, and then the tell-tale groaning of pipes as the water began to drain away. A few minutes later, Gordon emerged from the bathroom in a blast of steam, a towel wrapped precariously around his waist.

"Do you think I'll get away without a jacket tomorrow?" he queried, unzipping his suitcase with one hand and fishing some clean pyjama shorts out, "I'm all for formality, but a jacket and a tie is a bit much in my opinion."

Scott grunted something that fell well short of the English language and flipped over, silently praying that jetlag wouldn't keep Gordon awake for any longer than necessary.

"Also, are we getting breakfast here, or are we going to try and stick it out 'till the buffet?" Gordon continued, sliding under the duvet and instantly claiming all unoccupied space as his own.

Scott remained quiet.

"Sweet salsa," Gordon sighed, arranging the pillows to his liking and flopping down, "This is the first time we've hung out properly away from home and work in years, and you're about as fun as a wet teabag. Am I seriously the only one who thinks tomorrow might be a bit of fun? Sure, we won't know anybody there, including the bride who we're apparently related to, but there'll be free food and the chance to mingle with some new people. Given our line of work, I figured we were all kind of on the same page when it came to appreciating moments like these when we can all be together. Apparently not."

Silence reigned supreme as Gordon flicked the bedside light off and snuggled down, snatching a good portion of the duvet off Scott in the process. Somewhere outside, a moose bellowed, the sound travelling on the breeze as it ruffled the curtains they'd forgotten to close. Unable to stand the quiet, Gordon twisted to glower at his brother's prone form, only to realise that the silence he'd been treated to was actually the result of Scott being asleep. It was rare for him to nod off so quickly in unfamiliar surroundings, although being away from the distraction of their dad's desk and the holo-table probably had something to do with it.

Gordon sighed and allowed his eyes to roam around the moonlit room. He'd been one of the lucky ones and had managed to bag a few decent hours of sleep on the flight over, so wasn't feeling the effects of jetlag quite as strongly as Scott, Virgil, and John were. Granted, the bath had made him a little drowsy, and the bed was extremely comfortable, but he knew it would probably be a while before sleep claimed him in the same way it had claimed Scott.

Curiosity niggled at Gordon's brain as his gaze landed on a small square of something dark on the bedside table. Propping himself up on an elbow, he sent his hand to investigate and realised that it was a small complimentary chocolate. His first instinct was to swallow it whole, but eating anything sugary at the current hour, no matter how small, would probably make falling asleep even harder. Given that he'd also brushed his teeth, a new use would have to be found for it.

Falling asleep next to Gordon was, in simple terms, highly dangerous. He had a penchant for gluing beards to his brother's faces and drawing tattoos on any exposed pieces of skin he could find. When questioned, he claimed that such actions gave him a 'rush', of sorts. Naturally, the allure of beards and tattoos had diminished over the years, and he'd made no secret of the fact that he was on the lookout for something crazier to add to his repertoire.

The whole process happened very organically. In one fluid motion his eyes fell on the chocolate, and then on the sleeping, pyjama-clad derriere of his eldest brother.

He loved Scott to death, but an opportunity like this would never come around again.