Based on this fic from Loopstagirl: Little Problems. For AKstylegirl.
Alan hadn't even turned one when Scott had first broken his arm.
Scott didn't remember much about it, being nine or maybe ten at the time. He remembered it hurt. What stood out clear was his father scooping him up and being there with him.
Keeping that thought in mind, Scott drove fast as he dared home. The phone call from the girl from the farm next door who looked after Alan for an hour every day until Grandma arrived had called him in a panic and Scott had shot out of class, throwing an apology over his shoulder as he ran.
Dirt kicked up a dust cloud as the car came to a halt, and Scott was out as quickly as he could be, ignoring the abandoned bike the same colour as his own had been.
Alan was sitting on the step. His eyes were red-rimmed and Scott could see the tear-tracks clearly. As Scott reached him and scooped him up Alan began crying anew and Scott made soothing noises to soothe him as he placed him in the front seat and belted him in. Anna brought over a blanket and Scott tucked it around his brother, reassuring her that it wasn't her fault and asking her to keep an eye on the others when they got home.
He drove as fast as he could to the clinic, and as he did Scott couldn't help but remember their Dad doing the same with him, one hand on the wheel and one on Alan's leg, grounding him as they drove.
A greenstick fracture. A cast, in bright red of course – Alan's favourite colour – and they were on their way back home. Grandma was waiting at the open farmhouse door, smiling despite the worry Scott could see in her eyes.
He got out, ran around the other side of the car and helped Alan out. His brother leant against him as they made their way inside, their Grandma watching all the time. As she closed the door behind them and turned to them Scott got the clearest memory of that time.
"He leant back against his Dad as his Mom cupped his cheek and searched his eyes.
'How are you, sweetheart?'
'M'fine.' His face was still pale, eyes red-rimmed with exhaustion. His Dad ruffled his hair before turning to lock the door behind them.
'I've never seen someone braver,' he said, and a faint smile touched Scott's lips."
Grandma cupped Alan's face and searched his eyes as Scott closed the door behind them.
'How are you, sweetheart?'
'M'fine, Grandma.'
Scott nodded and gently ruffled Alan's hair.
'I've never seen someone braver, Grandma.'
He didn't need to see Alan's smile, he knew it was there, and he steered the seven-year-old to the couch and sat beside him. Alan collapsed against him, yawning as the day's events caught up with him.
Scott pressed a kiss to Alan's head as their Grandmother covered him with a blanket. Alan was already asleep.
'Mom and Dad would have been so proud of him, he was a real soldier.'
'I recall your parents saying the same about you when you broke your arm.'
Scott flushed and kept his eyes on Alan, running his hand gently through his brother's hair. It was funny how history repeated itself.