Disclaimer: I don't own Thunderbirds.

Characters: Scott, Gordon. Rating: K. Warnings: None

Drabble challenge from scribbles97: "Ow...ow...ow... NO I'M NOT BEING A BABY. I've been impaled!" with Scott and Gordon.

"Hey, Scott!" was the only warning he got before something collided heavily with his back. He staggered a step forwards, and another, as something wrapped around his throat and held on tight.

"Gordon," he wheezed, shrugging his shoulders and reaching behind him to stabilise the squid now clinging to his back. "Air."

It took another few moments before the limbs crushing his throat rearranged themselves into something a little more comfortable, instead looping over his shoulders and clasping together in the vicinity of his sternum, and Scott took several deep breaths.

"You okay?" Gordon asked, angular chin jabbing into the divot of his shoulder and salt-crusted hair irritating his cheek. Scott glowered at him out the corner of his eye.

"Why are you on my back?" he demanded, well aware that his instincts had kicked in and he was now giving his little brother a piggy back despite intentions.

"Why not?" Gordon shrugged. "Didn't feel like walking back."

They were the other side of the island, near a well-concealed boathouse. Inside it lived most of their pleasure boats - well, mostly Gordon's - including the speed boat Scott had found himself dragged out on earlier. Not that Scott actually minded - he always loved spending time with his brothers, and while it wasn't the same as flying, the sheer speed across the water was still exhilarating.

It was the sort of activity Scott wished he had time to do more often, even if Gordon now appeared to have regressed in age by a decade and was doing an excellent impression of a monkey. There was a high chance he was just doing it to be annoying, but Scott had to check, just to be sure.

"Your back's not bothering you?" he asked. Gordon huffed in his ear.

"Smother hen." It wasn't an explicit answer, but it was good enough. Gordon could be as bad as the rest of them when it came to injuries, but he was always upfront about his back.

Scott didn't dignify that with a verbal response, but he started walking down the track back towards the villa. The island wasn't big, but the terrain was rugged and most of the tracks didn't go in a straight line. With a brother on his back, Scott definitely couldn't clamber over some of the rocks on the more direct paths, so he willingly took the longer, more convoluted routes.

Instead of the jagged rocks on the coastal routes, they ended up in the woodland area affectionately referred to as the Jungle. It wasn't particularly large, and while there were some dangers in there for the unwary, all the Tracys were well aware of the risks and were just as at home in there than out on the volcanic rocks.

On his back, he could feel Gordon looking around, no doubt trying to spot any of the local wildlife. While marine creatures were his brother's first animal kingdom love, he still kept a close eye on the ecosystem of the land and air creatures that called Tracy Island home.

He still wasn't quite prepared for his brother to suddenly jump off of his back and scamper into the undergrowth. He was even less prepared for the yelp, followed by language he knew the aquanaut had learnt during his time in WASP, and dashed after him.

"Gordon?"

"Ow," his brother whimpered, which meant it was either really bad or he was just playing it up. Scott knew which one he was hoping for.

"What's wrong?" he asked, crouching down by where Gordon was squatting, glaring at something. Scott followed his eyeline and relaxed.

There was a thorn sticking out of Gordon's arm. It was a familiar one - not dangerous, just painful - and Scott pulled his brother upright again.

"Ow," Gordon pouted, as though he hadn't, in the past, wandered back in from exploring resembling a porcupine and entirely unconcerned about it. He was definitely playing up the little brother side of things today, just to be annoying, and Scott rolled his eyes fondly. "Ow, ow, ow..." he whimpered, scowling at Scott. "No, I'm not being a baby, Scott," he added, although the put-upon pout contradicted the statement. "I've been impaled!"

"It's a thorn," Scott said bluntly. "Come on, let's get back and we can take it out and put a nice, squiddy band aid on your battle wound." If Gordon wanted to pretend to be a young child, Scott could humour that just fine.

Gordon's pout grew deeper, but Scott just raised an eyebrow at him. After a moment, his brother caved and moved - gripping onto Scott once again and demanding another piggy back.

"How old are you?" Scott asked, resignedly, but let Gordon cling on as he made his way back to his feet and continued the journey home.

"I've been impaled, Scotty!" his brother insisted, apparently not interested in breaking character, and Scott sighed again.

"I'll be sure to tell Grandma and Virgil," he promised. The gulp was loud in his ear, as was the whine of his name.

Scott just rolled his eyes fondly and kept trudging down the track. Despite the childishness, he secretly quite liked it when Gordon was comfortable enough to mess around. His brother had been through too much in his short life.

He'd take innocent moments like this one any time.

Good old Military Bros, always cheer me up. Who doesn't love these two idiots together?

Thanks for reading!
Tsari