Chapter 10.

Alan was a smart kid.

Scott had said it himself countless times.

He had incredible reflexes, an amazing enthusiasm for all things space-related, and the uncanny ability to get whatever he wanted out of most people through the strategic deployment of his signature pout.

Sure, he sometimes struggled balancing his schoolwork with his International Rescue duties, but how many other teenagers had to fit life threatening rescue operations around essays on the French Revolution?

Alan had every reason to hold his head high, even if he did privately insist on all of his stuffed animals sleeping with their heads above the blanket so that they could breathe.

Scott was darn proud of his baby brother. Unfortunately, it was this very pride that was making it impossibly hard for the eldest to watch the live feed of Alan and Kayo's date.

Put simply, the youngest was trying way too hard.

And they'd only been airborne in Thunderbird Two for a minute and a half.

"Yeah, my rescue count easily surpasses both Gordon and John's combined," Alan loudly bragged, "Not that it matters who gets deployed the most, but my success rate is the only one in International Rescue to stand at one hundred percent."

Virgil looked as if he'd been slapped across the face with a wet fish, "Can you believe that kid? The only reason he's never had anything bad go down against his name is because he piggybacks off the rest of us."

Gordon looked similarly irked, "He must be desperate if he's trying to spin the fact that he requires constant babysitting into something heroic."

John sighed and pushed his fringe back, "Cut him some slack, guys. He's not got a lot to work with, and from the sound of things, he knows it."

Scott made a noise of agreement, visibly cringing when Alan let go of Thunderbird Two's controls to flex his non-existent biceps.

"Yeah, I've been working out," the youngest lied, as if expecting Kayo to somehow be impressed, "Scott says I'm lean and toned like him, not big and bulky like Virgil. That's why my arms don't look that well defined, but if you feel them, you'll see what I'm talking about."

Alan offered his left arm to Kayo, who squeezed it experimentally, smiling when her fingers detected nothing but bone and skin.

"Very impressive," she drawled, returning the arm to its owner, "I bet things will get even better once you hit your next growth spurt."

Scott made up a hasty excuse about needing to go and vacuum the roof as Alan's face fell like a deflated balloon. Even John seemed to be having a hard time watching his little brother talk himself into a steep-sided hole.

Alan shifted in visible discomfort, but failed to save himself, "I built a replica of Thunderbird Shadow out of LEGO the other night…you can have it if you like?"

Gordon exploded into a cackling fit, slapping his knees in glee, "What a stud! If Kayo doesn't marry him, I certainly will!"

Virgil groaned and hid his face in his hands.

-x-

The hole Alan had dug was six miles deep by the time he eventually set Thunderbird Two down on a picturesque beach in Vanuatu. He'd opted for a sand and sea theme in an effort to set himself apart from Scott's mountain and meadow choice.

Kayo unbuckled her safety belt as Alan deployed the pod module containing his home cinema system. It had been a gift from his brothers for his sixteenth birthday, however he'd never gotten around to using it. He'd assembled all of the necessary components back on Tracy Island, meaning all he had to do was lower the pod ramp, find a comfortable place to sit, then dish out the popcorn.

Speaking of which…

"There are some bags of popcorn in the storage locker above your seat," Alan divulged as he flicked some buttons on the dash, "Could you grab them before we head outside?"

"F.A.B," Kayo replied, pulling down the mentioned snacks and pausing when she spied one bag with writing scrawled across it, "Uh, Alan? I think this belongs to Scott."

Alan froze before swivelling his seat round to take a look. Indeed, emblazoned across the front of the packet in black ink was Scott's familiar handwriting.

'Scott's popcorn. Property of Scott. Do not touch except for Scott.'

Alan rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, "Ah…w-we'll pick him up a fresh batch on the way home."

Kayo rolled her eyes and headed outside, her arms laden with the popcorn and soda Alan had stripped the kitchen cupboards bare of.

After successfully lowering the pod module and syncing his comm gauntlet with the audio system, Alan powered Thunderbird Two down and scampered after Kayo, who was sat with her back against the trunk of a broad palm tree. Alan's heartrate tripled when she patted the sand next to her.

"Alright," Kayo began, ripping open Scott's bag of popcorn and expertly catching a piece in her mouth, "Let's see if your taste in movies is as good as mine."

A small sound of nervous trepidation escaped from Alan as he hit the play button. Once the opening credits had finished rolling, the sound of neighing and thundering hooves swiftly began to override the soft crashing of the nearby waves.

Kayo's eyes widened to the size of basketballs as a magnificent black (if somewhat grainy) horse cantered across the screen.

Alan allowed himself a small smirk of victory, oblivious to the mini cam that was parked on the palm's trunk three feet above his head.