Disclaimer: I don't own Thunderbirds.

Sicktember Prompt 30: Food Poisoning/Allergy with Scott (requested by islandsandstars), Virgil (requested by gumnut) and dealer's choice (requested by janetm74)

Warning for non-explicit vomiting

It was an unfortunate fact in the Tracy household that none of them had escaped the experience of food poisoning. Grandma tried – and they loved her for it – and it was true that what with the uncertain schedule of International Rescue, not having someone cooking for them would have made their lives even harder, but while burnt food could be choked down safely enough (provided there was no actual choking involved), there were some memorable occasions where the food hadn't been charred enough.

That was probably why she erred on the side of charcoal, actually.

Scott was abjectly miserable. The chills that wouldn't stop wracking through his body no matter how many blankets he bundled up in didn't help matters, and nor did the stomach cramps lancing through him at inopportune moments, but the greatest cause of it was guilt.

It was true that he didn't often cook any more, what with rescues and paperwork and Grandma's unfortunate monopoly on the kitchen whenever she was around, but he was passable at it. Mom had encouraged all of them, with the possible exception of Alan due to the youngest only being a toddler at the time, to learn as kids, and while cooking had never caught his attention as such, he'd spent enough time in the kitchen with her to know what he was doing.

Those lessons had served him and John painfully well after they'd lost her.

Grandma was out visiting friends, and for once he'd had no pressingly urgent paperwork to field, so he'd decided to treat his brother to a home-cooked meal that was a colour other than black.

What was that saying about good intentions? Ah yes, the road to hell was paved with good intentions.

In hindsight, it was a blessing that Gordon had been on one of his research trips while Alan and Kayo were on a mission in Thunderbird Three which required John's supervision. Brains had been off at another of his conferences, leaving just Scott and Virgil on the island. At the time, that had been a source of private disappointment. Now, it was a relief. Scott just wished Virgil had been elsewhere, too.

Despite Scott's supposed aptitude in the kitchen, with Grandma in charge of the shopping he'd had to work with what was currently in stock. The next shopping trip was due as soon as she got back, and both absent Thunderbirds had raided enough food to keep themselves fed while they were away from civilisation, meaning there was very little left to work with – and at least some of it, neither he nor Virgil had recognised.

It had only taken a quick internet search to identify the items in question, and then another one to determine how they should be cooked, so Scott had deemed that as a problem solved and moved on.

Problem solved, it had not been. Scott had yet to work out what, exactly, had gone wrong, but within hours of clearing up he'd found Virgil, pale and miserable, trying desperately hard not to throw up. Much like the cooking, that had not been a success, and Scott was glad that at least his own stomach was strong enough not to react sympathetically.

His own symptoms hit an hour or so later, right as he'd been chivvying a disgruntled Virgil into bed, and it was with no small amount of embarrassment that he'd been forced to contact John and let him know that Thunderbirds One and Two were, for the short term, grounded. John, supportive and caring little brother that he was, rolled his eyes, called him an idiot, and then had gone on to be a far more reassuring big brother to the bundled-up Virgil. Promises were made to come home once Alan and Kayo no longer needed monitoring, and then said younger siblings had interrupted with need for data, abruptly ending the call.

So here Scott was, wrapped up in blankets and trying to ignore his cramping stomach as he perched on a chair by Virgil's bed. His younger brother had undeniably caught the worst of it, evidenced by the emesis basin Scott was having to empty more frequently than he was happy with, and as it was entirely Scott's own fault, he couldn't leave Virgil to suffer alone.

Not that Virgil shared the sentiment. He'd fallen asleep for the moment, rumbling away reassuringly even though his face was pinched in clear discomfort, but when awake made repeated demands for Scott to go to bed himself.

Like Scott was going to do that. The cocoon of blankets did its job well enough – at least to offer physical comfort, if not the warmth his body was craving – and with Virgil so much worse, leaving him was not an option. What if he threw up in his sleep? He'd been laying on his side like a sensible person while still awake, but the first thing he'd done after slipping into the land of nod had been to roll onto his back. Rolling him back would likely mean waking him, which in turn would mean an even grumpier brother.

It was only some chills and irritating cramps. Nothing he couldn't power through. Maintaining a bedside vigil didn't require much energy, after all, and the whole thing was his fault in the first place.

He didn't notice when the tall, slender shadow slipped into the room several hours later.

I'm dabbling in Sicktember over on tumblr! Only doing prompts that I get a character request for, so feel free to drop by with a request. You can find the list on the sicktember tumblr blog!

Thanks for reading!
Tsari