my tracy island home

Scott, being Scott could not keep away from any of the snotty brothers despite Grandma’s warnings and before long there were five brothers producing mucus at a disgusting rate.

It was at this point a sneezing Virgil kicked Grandma out of the picture and confined everyone else on the Island to any other place other than where the brothers were. Which was currently the main comms room because Virgil was a softy who couldn’t resist Gordon’s whining.

Okay, technically it wasn’t whining, more a valid plea for time with each other to get through this together. It was possibly a tactic to get Scott and Virgil talking again, but it was definitely designed to torture Virgil’s aching head with b-grade movies that had Alan and Gordon arguing about aliens and sea life for eternity.

‘Can you just…please!” Virgil curled up into a ball on the couch he had stuffed with pillows and begged the painkillers that he had thrown back not minutes earlier to please do their job.

“Sorry, Virg.” Alan’s voice was an octave higher than usual and the words were closer to ‘sowwy, Birg’ but close enough.

Virgil grunted.

John sneezed.

“Bless you.” Three of them said it at the same time. Virgil out of habit, Gordon out of mysticism, and Alan because Gordon said it.

Their youngest brother did have some kind of hero worship for Gordon after all. Gordon never took advantage of it. Well, not since Dad and Scott had ripped him a new one for terrifying Alan enough to induce insomnia in the entire household.

Alan had been too terrified to sleep and had kept everyone awake in the process.

Virgil suspected that the ten-year-old Gordon hadn’t meant to provoke such a reaction in his four-year-old brother, but it had. So telling your little brother about the dreams you might not wake up from, had not been a great idea.

Despite this, little Allie had been wide-eyed about Gordon for most of his life. Not as much as he adored his biggest brother, but enough to get himself into Gordon’s schemes.

They weren’t called the ‘terrible two’ for nothing.

A groan from near Virgil’s feet had him opening one eye.

He shot his big brother a glare. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Scott frowned at him over his leg brace. “Getting a drink.”

“Move another inch and I’m stapling your clothes to that chair.”

That activated his brother’s blue lasers enough to scorch the Earth and Virgil’s t-shirt. “I’m fully capable of looking after myself.” It was followed by a sneeze.

Virgil rolled off the lounge to his feet. “Bless you. Now shut up and stay put. I will get us some supplies.” He steadied himself as his abrupt change in orientation was protested at by his brain.

“I brought stuff!” Gordon protested.

Virgil didn’t bother to look at him. “Real food and drink, Gordon.”

“This is real and super healthy!”

Virgil grunted and climbed out of the sunken lounge. Technically Gordon was correct. Sports drinks and celery bars were good stuff, but Virgil’s stomach roiled at the thought. He needed comfort food.

Or whatever he could manage right now.

Behind him, Scott sneezed again and a chorus of ‘bless you’ sung out from the lounge.

Virgil made his way carefully down to the kitchen and dove into the refrigerator.

The wave of cool air was pure heaven.

He sighed. His fever must still be in play. Explained the headache at least.

“Need a hand?”

Virgil looked up to find John standing at the counter. His brother was a sight. His red hair and pale complexion always conspired to make Johnny look the worst of them when they were sick. His eyes were red and puffy. His nose was in the Rudolph stakes, and honestly, the man looked miserable.

Virgil fought the urge to hug him.

John had been the one to pull Scott out of the river. Virgil and the rest of his brothers had been rescuing a family from a barely floating house. Scott had been in-bound and John had been in Two, as Virgil was needed on the ground.

Bangladesh always took all five brothers. Hell, Kayo had been the lucky one this time having been tied up with hunting down a lost climber in the Pyrenees.

She had been successful. Bangladesh had been mostly successful.

Virgil sneezed.

“Bless you.”

He grunted and rolled back onto his heels. “Screw this.” He shoved the refrigerator closed. “This needs ice cream.”

“God, yes.”

The two of them wobbled their way to the walk-in freezer and loaded up on frozen desserts. A carton each of their favourites and some soda for extra sugar.

“T Playlist?”

Virgil looked up at his little brother. “Definitely. Top Gun it.”

John rolled his tired eyes before thumbing his collar. “Eos?”

“John, you should not be standing up. Your vitals are depressed and you could fall over due to-“

His space brother’s eyes widened. “Eos! I’m fine.”

Virgil frowned at him and if he hadn’t had his arms full of ice cream, he’d have his scanner out.

John must have sensed that. “Really, I’m fine!” He glared at Virgil. “Eos, could you please queue the T protocol playlist on the holoplayer in the lounge. Start point ‘Top Gun’, follow it up with ‘Finding Nemo’ and Dory, ‘Need for speed’, and throw in one of the ‘Fast and Furious’.” He smirked at Virgil. “Top it up with the 1990’s Mummy series.”

So, sue him, he loved a good Librarian adventure.

Virgil glared at John and cut him off. “Eos, chuck in ‘Apollo 13’ and ‘2001: a Space Odyssey’. There would be so much space debate sparked by that last one. “Actually, throw in all the Star Wars movies.”

“Just the twenty or did you want the branching series as well?” Was that glee in her voice?

“Just the movies. Oh, and ‘The Lord of the Rings’ trilogy, extended version.”

“Are you intending on sleeping at some point?” Eos had obviously been taking notes from John, her tone was pure parent.

John’s smirk proved everything.

Virgil gave him a flat stare in return. “I have no doubt there will be sleep.” Especially his own. ‘Top Gun’ was far from his favourite.

Together they stumbled back up the stairs, arms laden with all the goodies, to find the sunken lounge full of rugs, pillows, cushions and all the comfy stuff. Gordon’s doing, no doubt.

His fish brother already had Allie half asleep under one arm.

Virgil and John stepped carefully into the pile of comfort and handed out their goodies as the first strains of the movie bounced around the room.

If Scott’s eyes lit up at the sight of his favourite ice cream, Virgil wasn’t going to say anything because he was still supposed to be pissed with his brother for colliding with that tree and scaring all Virgil’s hair colour off his head.

But honestly, he loved to see his big brother happy.

Which was why ‘Top Gun’ was queued first, why he handed Scott his fudge-monstrosity of a flavour to him, with his favourite spoon, and why he sat down next to his big brother regardless.

There followed a couple of hours of old Air Force zooming and nooming about, and strutting their stuff for the girls.

Scott’s grin was massive. But ice cream is full of carbohydrate and fat, and enough was consumed that about halfway through the movie, Scott began to wilt.

Virgil was already half asleep, but alert enough to let his head drop against Scott’s shoulder in just the right position…and yes, Scott’s head dipped to lean against Virgil’s and his breathing evened out.

Yes, he was pissed with his brother for taking a risk that possibly could have been avoided and then falling in the drink and giving Virgil a heart attack when he couldn’t respond.

But he was still Scott, and Virgil had fallen asleep to ‘Top Gun’ playing in the background so many times in his life, it was almost automatic.

Across the lounge, John was murmuring something to Alan, and Gordon was already snoring on his side.

Really, they rarely got past ‘Top Gun’, it was a definite sleep inducer.

Someone gently took the carton of melting ice cream from his hands, but his headache was finally going down under the painkillers and he was comfortable, and his big brother was safe, and Tom Cruise really was a bore.

He was sleeping before he knew it.