For Riotraze and Gumnut. From a Tumblr post.

'Vroom, vroooom, vroom.'

Alan was in his element. Brand new car, in his favourite red with a touch of chrome detailing, he was racing round the track.

The BMW convertible roadster was a dream come true, and he was putting her through her paces.

He didn't even realise he was doing the car noises - since she was electric she was very quiet - and he sailed around the track.

Alan was in heaven.

Virgil was in hell.

He had to get these specs read before tomorrow and his darling brothers had been too distracting.

'Virgil, can you help me do this? Virgil, can you help me do that,' he muttered to himself. He wasn't getting any peace in the house, maybe he should go for a walk and read.

Yeah, that sounded like a great idea. So, nose in book, Virgil set off.

Scott was also in hell, but a different kind. He had reports to write, and for the life of him he couldn't sit still and concentrate. He could hear Alan in the distance, va-vooming around the track Virgil had built for his new car, and there was the longing to go watch his baby brother enjoying himself.

But duty calls and all that jazz. So he sat at the desk and tried to concentrate.

'And he rounds the last bend, and it's the home straight…is he? Yes! It looks like Alan Tracy is going to win! Folks, I don't need to tell you what a big deal this is! Alan Tracy will be the youngest ever winner here! And he's almost there…'

So intent on what he was doing, Alan didn't notice the person materialise in front of his car.

Finally getting into the grove of the book, Virgil wasn't paying attention to where he was going…

Scott scratched his head with his pen, this one report was a tricky one, he needed to get the wording just…

There was a scream. And another, and then just one long wail.

Alan, almost at the finish line, screamed as he hit Virgil. Virgil, totally not aware of where his feet had taken him, rolled with the sudden impact, hitting the bonnet and going up and over the car.

The first scream had paralysed him. The second galvanised him. And he shot out of the house down to the track.

Where he found Alan's new car on its side. Alan himself was kneeling next to a prone Virgil. Virgil was on his back, blinking at the sky.

'Wa..What hit me?'

'I did! You came out of nowhere, Virgie!'

'Don…don't call me that!'

'Stay still, Virgil, I need to assess the damage.' Scott poked and prodded. Judging from the angle of his leg it was a sure bet that it was broken. 'Yeah, looks like you've broken your leg at the very least. I'm worried about your back, though.'

'M'fine. No worries. Ouch!' Virgil was fine, until Scott prodded his other leg. His eldest brother looked at him with raised eyebrows.

Seeing John saunter down the path, completely oblivious to the drama playing out, Scott called for him to grab a stretcher. Startling the redhead, John took one look and nodded, heading back into the house.

It didn't take long for John and Gordon to return, and then Scott and John turned Virgil onto the stretcher and carried him to the house while Gordon comforted a very upset Alan. The wreck of his new car was completely forgotten.

Once back in the house Scott left John to make drinks for everyone while he called his dad and the doc. Jeff, by now no longer surprised by odd phone calls in the middle of his working day, dropped everything, initiating 'Hurt Child Protocol' with his secretary, and arrived home at the same time as the doctor.

Yes, the doc agreed that Virgil had definitely broken his leg, and so Jeff took Virgil to the clinic where his leg was cast. He was given a pair of crutches and strict instructions on how to care for himself for the next four weeks.

Arriving home, Jeff and Virgil were delighted to see that Scott had organised everything, and Alan had baked Virgil a cake. It was still hot, so the icing that should have read 'Sorry' was more of a mess than a word, but it was chocolate and there was milkshakes.

By the time dinnertime came around, Virgil and Alan were curled up together, fast asleep on the couch, with Jeff, Scott and John looking on fondly. Gordon had taken one look and disappeared to grab a camera.

'I knew getting Alan his own car was a risk,' Jeff said, 'but I honestly thought it would be you, John, that would get hit by a car while reading.' Scott and John both nodded at that.

Four weeks is a long time for an eleven-year old. And then there was the week of intense physio.

But six weeks after Alan hit Virgil with his car, the six year old returned home from school to see his car, all fixed up, with Virgil and Scott standing beside it, huge grins on their faces.