They were suppose to be at Gran Roca.
Just the two of them.
Celebrating Conrad's Birthday.
At the moment, all Conrad wanted was to lie in bed next to Scott, and silently celebrate that he hadn't become a widower. But Scott was too injured and had too many tubes running into him for that. He settled for a chair and holding Scott's less broken hand.
"we should be looking at the stars right now," Scott said, unable to speak above a loud whisper, "and eating cake and drinking hot chocolate. 'm sorry."
"Sorry? Right at the moment this is the best birthday ever as it is, Scottie," Conrad grinned wryly, gratefully, "you're here and you're alive. I can't ask for more right now."
"huh, lowing your standards, babe?"
"Never."
The silence between them was soft and comfortable.
"You're not going to like this, but I think you should considering letting Virgil see you," Conrad carefully broached a very sore subject, and hurriedly continued, "not to talk, not yet, just to let him see you are really alive."
The eyebrow creasing scowl told Conrad, he was going to have to come up with something more that.
"I've already told him off," he offered, noting beloved blue eyes brightening quizzically, "when I first arrived I hadn't slept for three days. My mind was too much of the world to be kind when I found out what happened."
Scott snorted, and winced. Conrad had always gone out of his way to be nice to Virgil, and never received the same consideration in return.
"I reminded him that in all our reckless, irresponsible adventures, you never once so much as needed a band-aid. Not even gotten a bruise, and yet he was the one who almost killed you by not listening to you or to John."
And that was the crux of it. John had told them something was mucking about with their scanners, to trust their eyes and each other more than the readings their 'Birds gave them. Yet Virgil has still believed Thunderbird Two's readings more than Scott's eye-witness reporting, and had decided Scott was endangering the rescue by hotdogging it instead of really listening to the changes Scott had reported and the changes Scott was going to have to make to the rescue as a result.
"I may have even suggested Thunderbird Two needed a new pilot, if Virgil wasn't capable of being a team-player any more," Conrad paused, "I might have implied Brendon would be the better choice than him... Scott?!"
"no fair," Scott managed, "i can't really laugh now."
Conrad gently squeezed his hand.
"i would have suggested fischler."
Conrad choked.
"You're evil. Evil Overlord Scottie," he chuckled.
"mmm, makes you my hot consort, babe."
"Yes, well," Conrad blushed, returned to the original subject, "seriously, just consider letting Virgil visit, we can tell him you don't want to talk. Just let him see you're really still breathing."
"he'll still wanna talk."
"And I'll tell him to shut up. Please Scott?"
"i'll think about it," Scott yawned as much as he could.
"Probably should sleep now, Scottie."
"yeah, happy birthday, love, still wish we were at the ranch."
"Me too, Scottie, me too."
Conrad watched Scott drift off, before he leaned over and kissed Scott's forehead.
"But I'll take what I can get, as long as you're with me."
