Disclaimer: I don't own Thunderbirds.
IRRelief fic, using Chobrowny's prompt "The boys place their bets (on what and who wins, that is for you to decide)"
"Bet you can't!"
In the Tracy household, those were dangerous words. All five boys considered those words a challenge. To bet a brother to do something was to brand them a chicken if they didn't at the least attempt it, and then the loser of the bet would find themselves humiliated – if it turned out that the brother in question couldn't – and subject to some uncomfortable forfeit.
None of them were immune, and none of them were mature enough not to issue the challenge in the first place. John, high up in the relative safety of Thunderbird Five, liked to pretend he was a casual observer and not a participant in these childish games his brothers liked to play, but in this he fooled exactly no-one.
His ongoing tally with Scott was less secret than either of the eldest brothers would have liked. So far, to those that didn't know them, the fact that the number of challenges successfully completed by the pair of them were roughly even might have seemed strange. To those that did know them, however, it seemed perfectly logical; Scott might be the known daredevil, but John had grown up in said daredevil's shadow.
Alan and Gordon had a long way to go before they'd catch up, although they were doing a pretty good job at it. Middle child Virgil was very much stuck in the middle with no single main partner in crime and a greater desire to keep on his grandmother's good side, although Gordon and Scott were both good at drawing him in with successful prods at his pride.
Bet you can't lift this! was a common one. Gordon had once bet him that he couldn't pick up Scott, and with a vile concoction of coffee with so much milk and sugar it no longer counted as coffee mixed with Grandma's best cookies headed the loser's way, their eldest brother had found himself unceremoniously hoisted from the desk chair in the middle of a report and thrown over Virgil's shoulder.
It had not been one of Gordon's smartest bets, although he maintained that the commotion Scott had kicked up at the unexpected change of orientation was worth the forfeit. That had sparked an outlandish theory that maybe Gordon liked eating Grandma's kitchen disasters until it was later discovered by Alan that the sorry excuse for coffee, if the cookie was dunked in it just right, made the food near enough edible.
Gordon claimed to have not known that before the bet. No-one believed him.
Unfortunately, the momentous discovery was worthless to the coffee snobs, for whom spoiling coffee was far worse than stomaching a foot-flavoured cookie. Gordon remained alone in his method, until it became apparent that just because his taste buds were marginally appeased by the concoction, his stomach still remained vehemently against it.
Scott had also once proven that he could, if incentivised enough, lift Virgil. Alan, the instigator of that particular bet, maintained he cheated because Virgil co-operated with him and even went as far as taking off his boots to lighten the load. His brothers – all four of them – maintained that he hadn't stipulated a lack of co-operation as part of the bet, and that if Virgil wanted to take a piggy back on Scott's back to help Scott fulfil the bet, well, it wasn't breaking any rules.
They also all took great delight in seeing Alan slink down to Grandma and begrudgingly volunteer to clean the kitchen. A lesson in watching his wording, they called it. Ganging-up, Alan retorted, splashing them all with water when they got in range (John had chuckled and signed off when the droplets sailed harmlessly through his projection).
Needless to say, Alan's future bets became far more specific, although he was disgruntled when Scott proved that yes, he could still lift a not-actively-cooperating Virgil, albeit with some effort.
There were, of course, some rules of engagement. That bets were not to endanger any participant – willing or otherwise – was the primary one, and the original after a six year old Scott bet a four year old John couldn't climb onto the roof. He could, thereby winning the bet, but getting back down again had resulted in tears and a broken arm. Scott had been grounded for a month for being irresponsible, and their parents had decided a broken arm was punishment enough for John (they were proven wrong when he later discovered a route to and from the bedroom window to the best part of the roof for star gazing).
Kayo was not to be the subject of any bet without her express permission. As much of a sister as she was to them, she was violent and unafraid to punish any and all participants if they pulled something involving her that she disapproved of. Gordon had once whisked a bra from her room after a dare from Alan. By the time she was done with them after discovering Gordon parading around with it fastened badly over his t-shirt, both boys were too terrified to ever touch the female undergarment again. Willing participation was another thing altogether; John had once bet Scott he couldn't last five minutes in a bout with her.
Scott had won, too many scrappy bar fights and some formal training under his belt to lose that quickly. John had been subjected to a rigorous training session the next time he came down to Earth.
Grandma was also not to be involved. John's stealthy swipe of her glasses while she dozed on the sofa one day had been vetoed as a win the moment she found out about it. All five brothers had been forced to clean the entire house from top to bottom by hand, no fancy gadgets allowed. They could be as childish as they liked with each other, she informed them, but she was their grandmother and they would respect her as such. Apologies had been sheepish, particularly from Virgil – the instigator of what he had considered a harmless bet – and oaths had been taken to never involve her again.
Those oaths were never broken, although Sally Tracy did have a mischievous streak to match her grandsons and occasionally assisted in other bets if it tickled her fancy. They all knew better than to comment on her participation.
Finally, there was to be no messing around with or using International Rescue gear, including the Thunderbirds themselves. Thunderbirds were bet-free zones, a unanimous agreement. After all, their gear had to be ready at all times, and such frivolity was both unprofessional and had the potential to be downright dangerous.
It had been John's idea, and his brothers had all agreed to it without pause. The true extent of what they'd agreed to, however, didn't become clear until Scott bet John that he couldn't eat the box of cookies Grandma had sent up in his latest care package.
John had calmly placed the offending contents of the box into his disposal system and reminded Scott that he was inside Thunderbird Five, and therefore was not permitted to complete bets. Four Earthbound brothers immediately held a conference, realising they'd been outmanoeuvred, before reaching a decision. Up in Thunderbird Five, John was indeed immune to anything that could cause potential damage to the Thunderbird herself. However, they reasoned, there was nothing that would negatively impact the space station if John ate a box of cookies, and despite all protests from John the rule was amended via majority rule (and seniority, when Scott pointed out who, exactly, was interim Commander and therefore had the final say on what was and was not permitted inside International Rescue equipment).
The rule remained that bets were not to be made or fulfilled within a Thunderbird, with the exception of Thunderbird Five, as that also doubled as a long-term residential area (Gordon and Alan had added that clause, upon realising that both their Thunderbirds could and did act as short-time residentials during research or deep space missions), whereby bets were permitted to be made and fulfilled so long as they did not pose a risk to the integrity and performance of the station.
It was a rare occasion where John found himself one-upped by his brothers; immunity stripped, he spent the next week only responding to emergency calls and conversing with his brothers when they were in their own Thunderbirds, although that came back to bite him when Virgil finally got through and bet that he couldn't sing along to the melody he was playing on the piano.
Virgil lost the bet, John's pride battered enough that he refused to add forfeiting a bet and offering a rendition of Scarborough Fair in German just to prove he could, but from the grin on his face as he wandered back into the den an hour later with his hair de-gelled and flopping loosely around his face, the middle Tracy clearly considered himself to have won the war.
The balance subsequently restored, bets resumed as normal in the Tracy family. Scott and John's tally continued to climb, Gordon and Alan continued to chase it futilely, and no desire to appease their grandmother was ever going to keep Virgil out of the fun.
IRRelief is an amazing idea and bless Gumnut for coming up with it! For those that don't know, it's a collection of prompts anyone can add to and use on tumblr, with a focus on fluff, to give us something to do while we're stuck indoors. Full details are on tumblr under the tags #irrelief and #irrelief2020
Thanks for reading!
Tsari