They did it on purpose.
Alan knew they did it on purpose.
He stood in the center of the kitchen and glared up at the highest cabinet.
His brothers absolutely did it on purpose.
They hid the cookies they brought back from the mainland in the highest, most inaccessible place possible. The only good cookies on the island.
Of course, Grandma's home-cooked chocolate chip disasters sat openly on the counter. Readily and easily available for little hands to grab. Except these little hands knew much better.
Alan was resourceful. He could get the good ones on his own.
He grabbed a chair, sat it next to the counter, and proceeded to hoist himself up onto said counter. Instinctively, he pressed himself flat against the smooth cabinets.
He let out a slow breath.
The ground swirled below him. He'd never been this tall. Not even as his usual self.
Nevertheless, he shook off the uneasiness growing in his stomach. He was in too deep to back out now. Plus he was so close. Slowly, but steadily, he shimmied over to the cabinet he desired, inching his way along, careful not to trip on anything as he made his way over. Upon opening the cabinet… Alan didn't see them.
Then he looked up.
At the very top shelf, sat the much-desired bag of cookies. An exasperated groan slipped past his lips as his shoulders sagged. His brothers were not making this easy. Seriously, even Scott must have had to be on his toes to get them up here.
But Alan Tracy does not back down.
So, Alan reached up, standing on his tippy-toes and gripping the shelf with one hand while the other stretched out above him. His fingers just brushed the bottom of the bag-
"NOPE!"
Suddenly, arms snaked around his midriff and yanked him backward, off the counter, and back into the hold of his older brother.
"Hey!" Alan protested. He had been so so close.
"Nope. No." Virgil tightened his hold around the small boy, "You aren't pulling crazy stunts like that around here. Seriously Sprout, you could've fallen and hit your head. Then what? We'd find you here, sprawled out on the floor."
"I wasn't going to fall!"
"Uh-huh." Virgil glanced around the kitchen, "You're lucky I came down here for a cup of coffee. What were you even trying to do?"
"I had," Alan grunted as he struggled against Virgil's arms, "a craving."
"... A craving?"
"Yes!"
"You risked your neck… for a craving?"
"Yes!"
Virgil's gaze trailed up the open cabinet. "...For cookies?"
"Yessss." Alan whined. Virgil was still holding on to him, and Alan was not budging.
"Why didn't you ask for help?"
"I don't," grunt, "need help."
"Ok," Virgil said. "But you can't keep risking your safety every time something is out of your reach. It would be easier to ask for help."
"I don't need help! I can do it on my own!" Alan hated the hint of desperation in his voice.
"I didn't say you needed help." Virgil moved to set the boy safely on the ground. "I said it would be easier to get help."
Alan pouted (much to his horror), crossed his arms over his chest, and looked away from his brother. Getting help would save him the trouble of climbing back on the counter. (Not that he couldn't do it. He was very capable, thank you very much.)
"Could you… help me then?" Alan mumbled out.
Virgil broke out into a wide grin. "Of course!"
In one swift motion, he grabbed the chair Alan had previously used, stepped up, and reached out, in a grace that Alan envied, to grab the cookies.
Then (in a cruel cruel turn of events), the emergency alarm went off.
Virgil pushed the bag further onto the shelf before he hopped to the ground.
"Sorry, looks like snacks will have to wait." He said briefly.
Alan looked up at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. He wasn't serious, was he? Surely, he wasn't serious. The cookies were right there! Why didn't he just grab them?
Alan blinked and Virgil was gone.
… Really!?
Now, Alan could follow Virgil to the lounge and sit in on the current mission. But… he was still very much craving cookies, and a rescue could take hours. Hours! He wasn't about to go and sit in the lounge for hours with an unsatisfied craving.
Alan looked up toward the seemingly skyward bag of cookies. He could just jump up on the counter again. Once his craving was satisfied then he could easily sit in the lounge, wholly focused on the rescue at hand.
But the bag was pushed even further back and would be even more difficult to retrieve. Feeling a little unsettled by Virgil's short reprimand, Alan decided that maybe he should get some help. Plus the extra company wouldn't be bad either.
But… who to ask?
Everyone in the lounge would be too focused on the mission to grab a bag of cookies. And he couldn't ask Grandma. But maybe…
Alan made up his mind. He headed toward the hangers, just managing to slip past anyone's watchful eye (which was a miracle in itself).
Once his small sock-clad feet touched down on the cool concrete of the hangers, he headed straight for the labs. Of course, he was careful to avoid the soon-to-be launching Thunderbirds. Unfortunately, when he arrived at the lab, that someone he was looking for wasn't there.
Brains had probably gone up to the lounge.
Alan breathed out a disappointed sigh. Well, it looked like he'd have to wait for those cookies.
He was just about to turn around when he heard the sound of someone shuffling around. Pausing in his retreat back to the Villa, Alan approached the large crates that split the room. Maybe Brains hadn't gone to the lounge after all.
Rounding the crates Alan saw… not Brains.
The Mechanic sat at a work table on the other end of the room, hunched away from him. There were wires and small parts littered on the table, along with a larger piece that he didn't recognize.
"Your brothers have already interviewed me." The Mechanic's gruff voice spoke out.
Alan stiffened. He hadn't even turned around.
Alan hesitated and fidgeted in the doorway. The Mechanic lived on and off the island, depending on the job he was working. Though when he was on the island, he usually stayed quiet and clear of the Tracy's. Actually, Alan usually only ever saw the Mechanic when Brains specifically called for his presence.
To see the Mechanic working alone in the labs was… strange.
What was he working on anyways?
Alan shifted from foot to foot as he tried to peer over the Mechanic's shoulder from his spot in the makeshift doorway. He didn't recognize anything right away. It just looked like a mess of scrap metal and spare wires.
Eventually, curiosity got the best of him, and Alan cautiously approached the table.
"What is that?" He asked carefully. The unfamiliar object on the table stared at him with bug-like eyes. "Is it one of your bug mechas?"
The Mechanic gave him a measly sideways glance. His eyes ran up and down Alan's body before turning back to his own work, giving the kid little thought. Alan felt his stomach go cold. Nervous jitters ran through his fingers. Of course, he wasn't welcome here. Maybe he should go somewhere else.
"I suppose you are too young to recognize this." The Mechanic said, just as Alan was about to turn and leave. "This is a boom box. Very popular in the 1980s."
"Oh." Alan's mind scrambled to understand what the Mechanic had said. Gordon was the one who liked vintage, not him. "It… it plays music right?"
The Mechanic gave him another sideways glance. "... Yes. It can play the radio or, if you recorded some music, you can put a cassette in. This model is particularly old. It doesn't have a CD player."
"A… cassette?… CD?"
"Yes. Cassettes look like small rectangles with film inside. But instead of recording images, they record sound. CDs are similar but are on a disk. Your grandmother might have a few."
"Oh." Alan furrowed his eyebrows together. He could just barely picture it… Well, actually, he couldn't. "…Why are you tinkering with it?"
The Mechanic's response was drowned out by the loud rumbling of the Thunderbirds taking off. It sounded like One and Two were being used this time. Once the rumbling stopped, the Mechanic put his tools down and turned to look Alan in the eyes. "Why are you here?"
Why was he here?
Oh! Right. Cookies.
"I- um." Alan felt his cheeks heat up. "Do you… like cookies?"
Alan could hardly believe it. The Mechanic sat, with him, in the Villa, at the table, with cookies.
Alan had expected a 'no'. Maybe even a 'ask your brothers'. He did not expect the Mechanic to abandon his work, head into the Villa, and eat cookies with a child.
Actually, they hadn't eaten any cookies yet.
Alan had been too busy gapping to eat a single cookie yet. And the Mechanic… well, the Mechanic sat in his seat with stiff shoulders and a back straighter than Gordon's surfboard, looking like he wanted nothing more than to return to the labs and never come out.
The air was… awkward. Too much had happened between them for them to suddenly sit together as friends, like nothing had happened over the years. Still, the Mechanic had accepted Alan's invitation for cookies. He needed to offer some sort of olive branch, but… what?
His gaze wandered to the cookies in front of him…
Before Alan could think too much, he picked up a cookie, dipped it halfways in milk, and held it out to the Mechanic with a smile. "Cheers!"
The Mechanic looked between Alan and the cookie. He paused for a few moments. A couple of drops of milk dripped off the cookie and onto the table. Alan could feel his smile slipping. Maybe he was out of line? Maybe this was too silly? Maybe… maybe the Mechanic wasn't looking for some sort of peace offering?
Maybe he had accepted the invitation because he felt guilty.
Then the Mechanic mimicked Alan. He picked up a cookie, dipped it in milk, brought it toward Alan, and clinked it against his cookie with a tiny smile. "Cheers."
Alan's eyes widened slightly before he broke out into a wide grin. Olive branch accepted. With a dramatic wave of his hand, Alan took a bite of his own cookie, and the Mechanic did the same.
Did he just… make a new friend?
Alan, from then on, went to visit the labs frequently.
Brains and MAX were usually happy to see him, but he almost always bounced right over to the Mechanic's workspace.
Gordon told him he was lucky. The Mechanic not only talked to Alan but let him in his lab too. Apparently, whenever Gordon tried to talk to the Mechanic he was either met with a cold shoulder or an even colder 'go away'.
No one really seemed to mind that Alan spent more time in the labs either. The Mechanic let him tinker with all the spare parts he had, and Alan was itching to let the engineer in him go wild. Eventually, Alan warmed up to the Mechanic enough that he let him help fix up the boombox.
Apparently, the boombox was broken when the Mechanic came upon it. It had been found stripped of its copper and precious metals and left to rust on the side of the road. The Mechanic was fixing it up as a side project. Supposedly, working vintage items sell for a high price.
A quick check with Gordon confirmed this.
So Alan went down to the labs almost every day and they tinkered together. They talked about this and that, and the Mechanic taught Alan a few tricks. Like how to hack into a private coms channel without being caught. Or how to siphon energy… without being caught. Old tricks of the trade, you know. Essential ones at that.
One day, Alan was lying on the floor in the sunken lounge, because bored, when a little shimmer of light under the couch caught his eye. He reached his hand underneath and fished the object out with ease.
It was a black non-toxic permanent black marker. Alan uncapped it and drew a small dot on his hand. It was a working black non-toxic permanent marker.
It probably fell from Vigil's kit of art supplies. Alan should probably return it…
Alan smirked, stood up, and made his way down to the labs.
The Mechanic was, predictably, working at the far end of the lab. So Alan pulled up a chair and sat right next to the man. Then, he uncapped the marker and quickly made a small mark on the Mechanic's arm.
Alan held his breath, waiting for any type of reaction.
The Mechanic only gave him a short sideways glance before returning to his work. Whatever scheme Alan was cooking up was clearly not worth his time.
Alan breathed out a sigh of relief. Then, he scooted closer and began drawing.
He started with the symbol for Thunderbird 5. Once he was done he scooted back and admired his work. Not his best, but hey, he wasn't skilled like Virgil.
The Mechanic only glanced at him with a raised eyebrow.
Alan grinned, and once again he moved closer. He drew the symbol for Thunderbird 4 next. Then 2 and 1. Finally at the top, right below the Mechanic's very real tattoos, he drew the symbol for Thunderbird 3.
The best Thunderbird.
By the time Alan finished, the Mechanic had given up working entirely and was watching the boy with an amused expression.
"You're a menace, Tracy." The Mechanic stated.
Alan smiled to himself and slid back to admire his work. "Not bad, if I do say so myself."
The Mechanic shook his head and chuckled.
Alan wasn't fast enough to avoid the now fully tattooed arm when it swung toward him and grabbed him around his midriff. He let out a little yelp, then next thing he knew the Mechanic's other arm swept under his legs and threw them over his shoulder.
So there Alan was, upside down, against the Mechanic's chest, pinned by his arm, and his knees over his shoulder. It all happened so fast that Alan was helpless to stop any of it, as his shirt fell and blond hair dangled up.
The Mechanic's free hand attacked Alan's chest, skirting with feather-finger touch over his body. The kid shrieked before dissolving into laughter. Alan kicked and wiggled fruitlessly against the Mechanic's iron grip. If Alan hadn't been so caught up in trying to escape, he might have noticed how the mechanic was laughing too.
The mechanic hardly ever smiled.
Alan couldn't stop laughing. His stomach hurt and tears began to prick at his eyes, as he felt his face flush hot. No matter how much he resisted, the relentless giggles kept coming. It wasn't until he hiccuped that the Mechanic finally let up. Alan slid his legs off the Mechanic's shoulders, as the Mechanic carefully guided him to stand. He made sure Alan was firmly on his feet before stepping back and giving the kid some space to breathe.
"S-so m-mean, t-traitor," Alan managed to stutter out between the breathless chuckles as he loosely wrapped his arms around his stomach. Yet he couldn't stop smiling.
The Mechanic only smirked then pointed to his graffitied arm. "You had it coming, Tracy."
Alan glanced at his work. All five Thunderbirds were present on the Mechanic's arms along with his permanent tattoo. Not a single regret popped into Alan's mind.
"Now," The Mechanic said as he turned back to the work table, "While you were doodling, come see what I accomplished."
Alan approached the table, still trying to catch his breath. The Mechanic pulled forward a completely intact boom box.
No way.
Then he pressed one of the buttons on the top.
It played music.
Woohoo! Another chapter down!
I was really hesitant to post this chapter. August has been an incredibly stressful month, and I didn't get a whole lot of inspiration to work on TBFA. This chapter is a chapter I had written quite some time ago, and I was planning on posting it later in the story, but when I reread it for editing purposes, it brought a small smile to my face. So, in honor of small smiles, I decided to bump it up on the chapter list.
Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Stay tuned for more~
