Disclaimer: I don't own Thunderbirds.

A nice peaceful end to a hectic day found Virgil with his sketchbook by the pool, watching the sun go down and bathing everything with a beautiful golden glow. Admittedly, very little was actually finding its way onto paper, pencil mostly forgotten in his hand as he simply sat and watched the tranquillity of the evening, but it was the peace and quiet he was really there to enjoy.

A yelp, followed by a succession of words Grandma would no doubt have something to say about if it were in a language she knew, shattered his peace and quiet dramatically. Instantly alert at the sound of pain, Virgil shot up and, not even bothering to set down his sketchbook and pencil, hurried indoors towards the kitchen.

If the swearing in multiple languages Grandma didn't speak hadn't given it away, the shock of ginger hair betrayed the source as his immediately older brother, and the one most likely to get himself hurt while at home. But there had been no crash to indicate he'd tripped or dropped something, and the way he was spitting at the sink rather like an affronted cat suggested this wasn't John's usual Earthside accident.

"What happened?" he asked, rounding the counter and taking in the scene. Nothing was out of the ordinary, if he didn't include John's distress. "Are you okay?"

John was rubbing at his hand, which was looking quite pink.

"I'm fine, Virgil," he said, a tightness in his voice that sounded more frustrated than in pain, so Virgil didn't immediately call him out on it like he would any of his other brothers. "Did someone leave the immersion heater on?"

The immersion heater?

Oh.

"Not that I know of," he frowned, holding out his hand expectantly. John looked at it for a moment, before sighing.

"I'm fine," he promised, although to prove his maturity compared to the rest of the family, he still surrendered it for Virgil's inspection. "I wasn't expecting the water to be quite that hot, that's all." Virgil gave it a quick check over before determining that John was indeed fine, and that no treatment was necessary.

Medic satisfied, the Engineer came out instead. John stepped aside as he approached the faucet, eyeing it critically before turning it on. Even without putting a finger into the flow of water, he could feel the surrounding heat, and frowned.

"It shouldn't be doing that." He turned it off again and tapped on his comm to call Brains.

There was no response; no doubt the man was in the middle of something and didn't notice the call. It was hardly the first time.

He'd have to check it out himself, then. Straightening up, he headed for the stairs towards the labs to run diagnostics on the boiler. To his mild surprise, John followed.

"Shouldn't you be warning the others?" he asked. In answer, John tapped his comm.

"Guys, the hot faucet in the kitchen's broken. Don't use it."

A chorus of questioning noises came back, but John simply muted them all. Virgil raised an eyebrow at him, and the ginger shrugged.

"Five bucks Gordon scalds himself."

Virgil inwardly groaned. John hid his prankster streak well enough that sometimes he forgot it existed, only for occasions like this to occur. Still, at least he wasn't going to be a victim of this particular one, so he let out a huff before grinning.

"Five it's Scott."

John smirked.

A two minute diagnostics showed a faulty part in the boiler, and five minutes later Virgil had the part replaced and the boiler working just fine. Sharing a definitely conspiratory grin with his brother, the pair of them returned to the kitchen to see which of their brothers had inevitably decided to test the faulty faucet for themselves.

Alan was cackling maniacally, slumped over the table rather than attempting to remain upright. Opposite him and pouting, Gordon was rubbing at a pink hand in much the same way John had done earlier. With a sigh, Virgil mentally signed over the five bucks to John.

Then he caught sight of a disgruntled Scott and retracted the money. While their eldest brother was looking at Gordon disapprovingly, the tell-tale pink skin on his hand suggested that not one, but two brothers had decided to test it for themselves.

Virgil wondered which one was first, and if that would determine who won the money. He sent a querying look at John, but the ginger shook his head in return, amused grin playing over his lips.

Fair enough.

"Let me see," he said to Gordon, mostly certain the blond was playing it up but needing to be sure. Gordon huffed, and promptly shoved his hands in his pockets.

"It's fine, Virg," he insisted. "Just a little bit of hot water."

Well used to the routine, Virgil strode forwards and captured his arm as he started trying to slink away, tugging the hand back out of the pocket.

"Scott," he said warningly as he inspected his younger brother's hand and determined it was fine. "Stay where you are." There was the scuff of a shoe on floor as Scott's attempts to stealthily escape inspection came to an abrupt halt. "Alan, you weren't stupid this time, were you?"

"Not stupid," Gordon grumbled, yanking his hand back. Virgil turned to face the youngest, who was grinning widely and offering both hands for inspection.

"Says the one who watched Scott hurt himself then decided to try it himself," the teenager retorted, sticking his tongue out.

"I had to be sure he wasn't messing with us!" Gordon defended himself. Said older brother had started to slink away again, and Virgil glared at him until he stopped.

Satisfied that he had one sensible brother, not that Alan was often the one labelled as such, Virgil advanced on Scott.

"Virgil, it's fine," Scott tried. Virgil simply stopped in front of him and raised an eyebrow. Scott, in a mimicry of Gordon's earlier action, shoved his hands in his pocket defensively. Unlike his response to Gordon, Virgil simply crossed his arms and waited.

It took all of fifteen seconds for Scott to cave, which in itself was enough proof that nothing was actually wrong. Still, Virgil confirmed it for himself, amidst the I told you I was fine, before letting Scott finally escape.

Of course, now that he wasn't trying to hide his slightly pink hand, Scott no longer had a reason to escape, and certainly wasn't in a hurry to return to the paperwork he'd no doubt been doing before John's message had gone out.

Instead, all four of his brothers seemed to think the kitchen was the place to be, settling around the table and poking jibes at each other. Even John joined in, laughing at both Scott and Gordon whilst carefully not mentioning that he'd also scalded himself.

Virgil decided it wasn't worth bursting his bubble and shook his head at his brothers' antics before perching at the end of the table, looking back out at the sunset. The golden glow had deepened to a pinkish-red, almost the same colour that he'd seen on three of his brothers' hands in the space of the last ten minutes. His peace and quiet had been well and truly broken, but Virgil found he didn't mind. Instead, he reclaimed his sketchbook from where it had been abandoned on the counter and began to sketch.

I should have been in bed an hour ago but ah well. #fluffember day ten, "warmth", based on the bane of my flat since I got here. It's very annoying, and the depicted yelps and language in this fic is a common sound in our kitchen whenever we turn the tap on and it decides to gush out scalding hot instead of cold. Unfortunately, we don't have a Virgil on hand to deal with it.

Thanks for reading!
Tsari