Disclaimer: I don't own Thunderbirds.

It was small, really, in the grand scheme of things. Nothing particularly impressive, nothing they hadn't done before. Scott wasn't even sure why they'd decided this one was the one, but with adrenaline coursing through them – or more accurately, the post-adrenaline rush at this point – the five of them had collapsed on a single sofa in a tangle of exhausted limbs and laughter.

John eyed them dubiously, floating effortlessly above the table as always. Scott tried not to feel bad that he wasn't with them in person, reminding himself that John would have been firmly keeping himself away from the rest of them anyway. If he wanted to be involved, they definitely wouldn't be moving within the fifteen minutes it would take him to come down, but his hologram wasn't moving, just watching them with a raised eyebrow but smallest hint of a smile.

Below them, the sofa groaned quietly, evidently not impressed at the amount of weight that had suddenly dogpiled on top of it. Scott could sympathise; somehow he'd ended up at the bottom of the pile, with Virgil crushing against his shoulder – not directly on top of him, thank goodness – and Alan and Gordon both somehow sprawled across the pair of them. The cherry on the top was Kayo, lounging gracefully on top of the two teenagers and daring any of them to complain about the weight.

Quite honestly, Scott was too tired to complain about anything, even if his shoulder was going numb and there was a sharp bony protrusion – most likely an elbow, but could also be a knee or foot – in his stomach. He nudged at it half-heartedly, but with the combined weight of siblings on top of him, movement was difficult and whatever nudge he did manage was utterly ignored by the owner of whatever body part it was.

Further complaints were not worth the energy. His head lolled back, vaguely finding Virgil's to rest upon, and closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, he was alone on the sofa. Blinking, and wondering when a half-second of closing his eyes turned into several minutes, at least, of shut-eye, he peeled himself upright to see what his wayward siblings were up to.

They hadn't gone far. Alan was back in his pilot seat, slumped with his feet hanging over the sides and drink in hand. The contents were being slurped loudly, even as his other hand was gesturing in response to whatever the others were doing, spraying crumbs everywhere from cake that Scott was certain hadn't been in the room when he'd sat down.

Gordon was laying on the floor by Scott's feet, upside-down with his feet resting on the sofa. Scott resisted the urge to push them off. He, too, was gargling cake, spraying crumbs everywhere unnecessarily as he spoke with his mouth full. Something about dolphins and aquatic mammals, as best Scott could tell.

Virgil, rolling his eyes, was on the next sofa over and appeared to have become Kayo's designated footrest. Both of them also had slices of cake in hand, but were at least making an effort not to spill crumbs. Kayo, poised as ever, didn't so much as have a single crumb on her cheek. Virgil was not quite so successful, and brown crumbs flaked around his mouth as he did his hamster imitation, one cheek puffed out and undoubtably containing cake.

John, at least, was where he'd last been, although that was more thanks to the fact the holograms always projected into the same spot rather than through any effort on John's part. He seemed content enough to remain in space rather than come down and join them, and Scott made a mental note to make sure cake made its way up to him later.

None of them appeared to have noticed his eyes were open again, all focused on Gordon and whatever he was saying about… whales? Between the cake-stuffed mouth and the fact that he'd clearly come to halfway through the rant, Scott was entirely lost on what his water-loving brother was talking about.

Someone – and Scott was fairly sure their name started with a V – had at least been kind enough to leave a plate laden with cake on the sofa next to him, so without disturbing the rest of his siblings, he scooped it up and began to eat.

He'd already suspected it from the willingness of his siblings to consume it, but it clearly wasn't a Grandma-special. How and when it had arrived on the island, he didn't know – Kayo was the most likely culprit – but it was a proper, melt in the mouth, cake and he lounged back casually as he devoured it.

There was no real reason for the whole thing. Not the cake, not the earlier dogpile. It was just another rescue, routine and simple with no complications, but then, did they need a reason past that to celebrate?

Cake polished off in record time – it was good – Scott set the plate back down where it had been and let his eyes close again. Simple rescue or not, he was still tired and the sound of his siblings chattering and laughing away around him made a satisfying lullaby.

The next time he opened his eyes, the empty plate had gone, but in its place were four siblings, once again gathered around and on top of him. How he'd slept through them dogpiling him again he wasn't entirely sure – although his arm was firmly wrapped around Kayo's waist where she was perched on top of Alan, who was in turn on top of Virgil, so maybe he'd stirred a little. Gordon was sprawled across his lap, and drooling into his shirt, while Virgil had returned to his earlier position leaning against him, complete with shoulder-crushing.

All four of them were fast asleep, ranging from silence (Kayo and the drooling squid) to nonsense mumbles (Alan) to snores (Virgil). Plates littered the den, along with empty bottles that had once contained various drinks – evidence that Scott hadn't dreamed the whole thing. In the middle of it all was John, still present but clearly focused on something Scott couldn't see.

Something must have caught his brother's attention, though, because he glanced over at them suddenly, catching Scott's eye. No words were exchanged, but John's soft smile said it all. Scott returned it, an open invitation for John to come down if he wanted to. The answering shrug said not this time, and also get some rest.

There was a time and a place to argue with John. This was neither. Pinned down by Gordon and Virgil – and by extension Alan and Kayo – there was nothing else for Scott to do, anyway. Ruffling Gordon's hair, just because he could, and squeezing Kayo tighter – also because he was her big brother and therefore could, no matter what she had to say about it when awake – he not so reluctantly resigned himself to another few hours dozing on the sofa.

Next #fluffember, with the interpretation of "celebration" coming from my flatmate who knows almost nothing about Thunderbirds but sometimes suggests ideas for the prompts anyway. It's also nearly 4am here and I definitely projected that onto Scott, whoops...

Thanks for reading!
Tsari