Disclaimer: I don't own Thunderbirds.
Sicktember Prompt 27: Blankets, with all the boys (requested by gumnut)
"Are you cold?"
The denial jumped straight to Scott's tongue as he wearily glanced over at the speaker. "We're on a tropical island, why would I be cold?"
Truth be told, he was a little chilly; being on a tropical island now didn't change the fact that he'd been dunked into frigid waters by an unexpected swell while evacuating a boat somewhere in the Antarctic waters a few hours earlier. Virgil and Gordon had hauled him out of the water, bundled him in foil blankets, and all but bullied him into the shower on Thunderbird Two before he'd even had a chance to get his head back on straight again.
Thunderbird One had been back on Tracy Island by the time he'd emerged from the shower in a fresh and dry uniform feeling much more like himself, and Scott had been forced to endure the far slower return of Thunderbird Two. Gordon had parked his rear firmly in the co-pilot seat and refused to give it up, citing Scott's dunking as a nonsensical medical reason why he couldn't sit up front, and he'd spent the journey staring at the back of Virgil's head.
He'd been fine all the way home, temperature normal and nothing of medical concern showing up on the scan he'd been subjected to by a worried Virgil, and had put the whole thing behind him.
Until the chill had settled deep in his spine about an hour ago. Icy tendrils spread out from a glacial epicentre, moving at about the same pace as a glacier and sending tingles of cold racing up his spine periodically.
Amber eyes narrowed at him, Gordon clearly unconvinced. "Oh, I don't know," he said airily, the tone heavily laced with sarcasm. "Your unplanned swim, perhaps?"
"I'm fine," Scott waved him off. "That was hours ago and you and Virgil were thorough."
"Which is why you've been shivering every few minutes," Gordon said bluntly.
"No, I-" Scott's continued denial was interrupted by a wave of what felt like ice-cold water dousing his back, contracting all of the muscles at once and strangling his words. Unconsciously, his hands abandoned the holographic paperwork they'd been addressing to grasp at their opposing biceps.
"No, huh?" Before Scott could snatch his hands back and return them to the task they were supposed to be doing, he found the desk chair being yanked around on its axis, spinning him until he was facing away from the desk and instead looking straight at Gordon. A hand gripped his shoulder, while another one pressed against the side of his neck, thumb tucking into the hollow beneath his jaw.
Gordon's skin was warm. From the dark look that flickered through amber eyes, Gordon didn't think the same about Scott's.
"John?" The aquanaut somehow reached the built-in desk comm while slithering onto Scott's lap. He wasn't particularly light; short, perhaps, but every inch of him was toned muscle or steel. He was also warm as he wrapped his arms around Scott's neck and pressed their torsos together. Scott's arms, still clutching their opposing biceps, found themselves pinned in place by Gordon's weight.
With his back was to the den, and more importantly the holoprojectors, he couldn't see when John appeared. He could, however, hear the quiet sigh that preceded, "what are you doing, Gordon?"
"Scott's unexpected swim is catching up with him," Gordon replied, sounding completely unfazed. "Gonna need all hands on deck for this one, John."
The next sigh sounded resigned, and Scott kicked at the floor in an attempt to swivel the chair back around in order to see John's face. Gordon dug his heels in and arrested the momentum with a squeal of sneaker soles on wood almost before they started moving at all.
"F.A.B." The resignation remained as John acknowledged something that had completely flown past Scott. "Are you telling them or am I?"
"He'll make a break for it if I move," Gordon responded.
"Hey!" Scott barked, certain that the he in question was him, given the vague contextual clues he was able to piece together. "I'm right here, you know."
Gordon grinned up at him and tightened his hold. "Which is where you're staying," he agreed, voice sunny and light even as it promised no escape. Grandma and Virgil were the two that Scott usually heard that particular combination from, but Gordon was well-versed in wielding it when he wished.
"This chair isn't designed to hold two people, you know," Scott pointed out, knowing as he did that it was a futile protest.
"Are you calling me fat, Scott?" The wounded tone was all put-upon and he ignored the faux-offended squawk. "I'm not moving, you know. I don't have a thermometer on me but you're definitely colder than you should be."
"I'm fine," Scott reassured him. It was only a slight chill, anyway. Nothing that wouldn't pass in another hour or so.
Gordon made a disbelieving noise that said exactly what he thought of Scott's statement. "We need to compare dictionaries, because I think yours has a different definition," he muttered. He wasn't looking over Scott's shoulder towards the holoprojectors any more, and Scott surmised that John had disappeared again.
This reeked of scheming little brothers, but with his arms – very uncomfortably – pinned in place by Gordon's body, alongside the rest of him, he was somewhat unfortunately at the mercy of whatever they were planning.
An attempt to shift his arms so that they weren't digging into each other in a way that was starting to border on painful was met with resistance as Gordon somehow tightened his grip even further.
"Nuh, uh," he scolded. "No moving."
"This isn't exactly comfortable," Scott pointed out. A warm hand cradled the back of his head for a moment before tugging it forwards to land awkwardly on Gordon's shoulder. Sighing at his brother's antics, he let it happen rather than enter a battle between the muscles in his neck and the power of Gordon's arms – some defeats were inevitable.
"Better?" Gordon asked, and there was definitely something cheeky in his voice.
"No," Scott mumbled against the brightly-coloured shirt of the day. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because you're cold," his brother said, as though the answer was obvious and Scott was an idiot for not knowing. The answer was obvious, yes, but Scott suspected there was an ulterior motive going on behind the scenes. If Gordon was merely concerned about his temperature, there would have been some heated squash presented with the expectation that it was drunk and an army of blankets instantly deployed.
Cosying up on his lap in a way that wasn't entirely too dissimilar to some of Scott's old flames – which was not a comparison he was particularly impressed with – was not the default response to a cold brother.
"You're going to mess up your back sitting like this," he pointed out. The shoulder his head was pressed against rose slightly in what was presumably a shrug.
"It'll be fine," Gordon promised. From another brother, Scott would treat that statement with extreme suspicion, but he did trust Gordon to be completely honest when it came to his back.
"What are you up to?" he asked, not particularly hopeful about getting a valid answer.
"Keeping you warm," the aquanaut said immediately – the expected unhelpful answer.
"Like this?"
"For now." For now? Those were threatening words and Scott tried to yank his head back up so that he could see something that wasn't vibrant yellow fabric. The muscles in Gordon's shoulder bulged and his attempt ended in failure.
"Gordon."
"Scott," came the predictable mimic. "Feeling any warmer?"
"I'm fine." No, he wasn't feeling any warmer; he could feel Gordon's warmth, pressed against his front and encircling his shoulders, but the glacier was still residing deep within his spine, sending out pulses of ice. If he actually thought about that, it was somewhat concerning. Scott chose to believe it was because Gordon was using an inefficient method to try and warm him rather than examine the alternative too closely.
Faint footsteps sounded behind him, a muffled sound of thick socks on hardwood rather than the more familiar tap of shoe soles or slap of bare skin and then a broad hand landed on his shoulder.
"We're ready," Virgil's voice rumbled reassuringly. "Come on."
Scott tried to raise his head again; this time, Gordon let him, although another warm hand pressed against his forehead.
"Definitely too cold," Virgil muttered. "I've got him, Gordo."
"F.A.B." The aquanaut slipped from his lap, leaving a rush of cool air to pool in where the warmth had vacated. Scott's hands had barely lost their grip on his biceps before his entire body froze rigid once again.
Now he really felt cold, and a not-insignificant part of him wanted Gordon's body heat back now that it had had a taste of the alternative.
Fabric appeared out of nowhere, wrapping around him and pinning his limbs in place; his arms seemed destined to remain crossed over his chest for a while longer yet.
"You're looking pale," Alan told him, abruptly appearing in his field of view with wide, worried blue eyes.
"Thanks," Scott responded dryly – what else could he say to that?
Virgil released his forehead and Scott let his head fall back against the headrest of the chair. There were three brothers in front of him, ranging from Alan's agitated concern to Virgil's reluctant resignation.
"Are you-" just here to stare? was what Scott had been planning on saying, a harmless quip to prod them into not hanging around him now a blanket had been deployed. He was interrupted by a startled squawk as Virgil slipped his arms between Scott and the chair and heaved him up. "Hey! Virgil!"
"We're ready for you now," Virgil told him, completely unruffled despite Scott's instincts to try and jump out of his hold. The blanket wrapped around him did a frustratingly good job at keeping him where he was.
Those words screamed scheming little brothers just as loudly as anything else they'd done since Gordon decided to sit on him.
What, exactly, they'd been scheming was immediately apparent when Virgil turned around and Scott found himself facing the den – or what was once the den.
How and when Alan and Virgil had snuck in and transformed it, Scott had no idea – Gordon hadn't been sitting on him for that long, surely – but there was no sign of the couches that ringed the sunken area – or indeed the sunken area itself. Instead, there was a simple yet clearly structurally sound castle of blankets and pillows, supported using cords tracking across the room and suspended from the mezzanine level.
It had been a long time since they'd last constructed a blanket fort, and Scott distinctly remembered being the one to initiate it more often than not when a little brother wanted somewhere to hide – or play – for a while. For one to have been made without him… and for him…
It felt a little bittersweet but also nestled a small nugget of warmth inside his chest. Not enough to combat the rapidly encroaching glacier, but there all the same.
He was unsurprised, when Virgil carried him across to the entrance – which Alan and Gordon held open with a flourish – to see what he was fairly certain was every single blanket, pillow, and comforter the five of them owned – alongside spares not in use – arranged within the space.
The surprise was the shock of ginger hair in the middle, where the holotable usually sat – Scott could just about see it pushed up against one of the couches, all of which were buried in multiple blankets. John had been in Thunderbird Five when Gordon had called, Scott was sure. Admittedly he hadn't seen his brother, but there'd been no reason for John to be down, had there?
Except for this, he supposed, and the timings definitely weren't adding up unless he reassessed a few assumptions.
Virgil didn't give him time to rethink the past few hours, depositing him gently but firmly in a hollow that was certainly designed for this exact purpose. John immediately pulled more blankets over him, followed by a familiar blue comforter that had definitely been on Scott's bed that morning.
Apparently Scott's arms were fated to be pinned by something for the foreseeable future; while he temporarily gained enough wriggle room to uncross them at the moment of deposition, once the new layers were applied they were once again stuck in place. Blankets were a far more comfortable restraint than his brother's weight, though, so he found himself not minding it so much – even if it meant he was technically at the mercy of all four younger brothers, who were quickly crowding around him despite there being plenty of space for them to spread out if they wanted.
Then again, it was clear that what they wanted was to dispel the glacier still trying to inhabit his spine, and in the enclosed fortress of blankets with four warm bodies in his immediate vicinity, Scott was safe in the knowledge that it wouldn't last much longer before melting away.
Confirming that, Gordon and Alan dogpiled on top of him – or rather, on top of the pile of blankets on top of him – while Virgil pressed up against his side. John coiled on his other side, not as close as the other three and not directly interacting with any of them but ending up close enough to Scott's head that he might as well have been wearing the ginger like a hat.
It was stifling, his chest heaving with the effort of drawing in air with the weight on top of it, but it was warm.
The glacier didn't stand a chance.
I saw this prompt and instantly knew it had to be the final one - what better way to finish the month than some fluff with all the bros?
And with this I am done! Any others that were sent in (alongside angstember and tropetember ones) have been added to my general prompt pile and will hopefully be answered one day. Thank you for all the prompts, I honestly didn't think I'd get enough to last the whole month!
Thanks for reading!
Tsari