Flufftober day 13: Secret Family Recipe


The shout was just loud enough to wake John, and he sat up as quickly as his healing ribs would let him. For a moment he just stayed there, sat up and getting himself together, but another shout had him moving.

Gingerly he put his booted foot down. The compound fracture had thankfully been a clean break and, even better, Scott's addition of the dampened gauze had both kept the bone moist and prevented any infection too, so that had been one less worry.

They had kept him in the hospital for a week. The operation to reset his leg had been done almost immediately they had arrived and he'd woken up several hours later and his usual groggy self.

Scott hadn't left his side virtually the whole time. Virgil had chased him out twice to go clean up at the hotel, but Scott had been back long before he'd been expected. Their big brother was having trouble, and John could understand it, he really could. This was the second time Scott had been instrumental in bringing him back from the dead in the same location – that was enough nightmare material for them both.

John had insisted on a boot to give him freedom to move around the villa whilst his brothers, who would normally wait on him, would be out on rescues. It was best because otherwise Grandma would cook for him…

Now he was thankful for the boot because it meant he could get to his brother's room without wating for assistance. John was almost to Scott's room when Virgil's door opened. The medic was still wiping the sleep from his eyes and John took pity on him.

'I got this. Go back to bed, Virgil.'

'You – yawn – sure?'

'I'm sure.'

'Ok. Call if you need me.'

'I will, I promise.'

Virgil gave him a squinty-eyed stare for a long second but then turned around and went back to bed. John smiled, but a third cry had him moving forward again.

Waking Scott up when he was having a nightmare was an action fraught with danger. Touch him in the wrong place or at the wrong time and Scott would wake up swinging or kicking. John couldn't afford for that to happen to him – his big brother carried enough guilt without him adding more to it – so he stood far enough away and said the magic words.

'Scott, I need you.'

There was a sudden stilling of his brother's limbs and a deep breath. John spoke once more, a little louder.

'Scott, I need you.'

'J'n?'

There wasn't too much actual consciousness in his brother's voice, and even less in the slit of blue that peered at him, but several blinks later Scott was up and in front of John, looking him over to see what was wrong. It never ceased to amaze him how quickly Scott could go from dead asleep mid-nightmare to wide awake and up.

'John – are you alright? What's wrong?'

'Nightmare.'

He didn't need to specify that it was Scott that was having the nightmare rather than himself, for he was in Scott's room and that told the older man everything. He ran a hand through his hair and expelled a noisy breath.

'Sorry.'

'Don't be. It's perfectly understandable.'

'Yeah, well. I'm still sorry.'

John reached out and squeezed Scott's shoulder and immediately felt him relax a little. It was about time they talked this one out so that Scott could go back to having nightmares about the normal things he couldn't do anything about.

'Drink?'

'Drink.'

They headed off to the kitchen, Scott as alert as if he'd been awake for hours and John running through a list a of things he knew would help his brother. Once they arrived they settled into a routine that they had perfected years ago not long after the last time John had died and been brought back from the dead.

Neither spoke as they worked around each other, Scott preparing hot chocolate for them both and John setting about whipping up batter and heating the waffle iron. He worked with his back to Scott, but every now and then he could feel his brother's eyes on him. Thank goodness for electric whisks – while he would usually hand-whisk the still-healing ribs put the kybosh on that – and it didn't take long to have four waffles in the machine.

Hot chocolate made by hand took time, Scott expertly thickening the chocolate and adding a pinch of something extra for the kick that he and John liked but the rest of their brothers weren't too fond of.

They took their bounty out to the poolside, pushing two loungers together and settling down. Still they said nothing until half the hot chocolate had been drunk and one of the waffles consumed.

'One day, John, you'll need to tell me what your secret waffle recipe is. Damned if I can replicate it.'

'Uh huh. No.'

'John…'

'Nope.'

'John…'

'Nope.'

This was an old argument. It had started the day John had made waffles for a stressed-out Scott while he ran around getting Alan and Gordon ready for school and had been going on ever since.

'I cannot get over how you make these taste just like Mom's.'

'Well, it was Mom's secret recipe. I can't believe your hot chocolate tastes just like Dad's.'

'Likewise, it's Dad's secret recipe.'

They chuckled and bumped shoulders.

Getting Scott to open up was harder than keeping track of the Hood, but this was a great opening and John grabbed it with both hands.

'Thank you.'

'For what?'

'For saving me. Again.'

'You don't need to thank me for that, John.'

'I do. I do because I know how much this would have affected you.'

Scott sipped his drink and stayed quiet. He didn't want to get into this, but he knew that John wouldn't let up.

'You've been having nightmares.'

'I know.'

'You want to talk about it?'

'No.'

'Sure?'

'I'm good, Johnny.'

'Don't call me that, Scoots.'

But John smiled into his chocolate as he said that. Scott would never talk about it but the fact that he was making light of it meant he was at least working through it in his own way.

'So, about that secret recipe…'

'Nope.'

'Please?'

'Oooh…Scott Tracy begging?'

'Never!'

They settled into quiet bickering that lasted until the sun peeked over the horizon and Gordon came out. He gave them a quizzical look that caused them to collapse laughing.

Gordon dove in the water, soaking them both.