#fire pits

Dips and snacks filled the place of battling with the stove for dinner. Although this began to feel like a miscalculation where Gordon's opinions on what was “dippable” were concerned. Cookies in ranch dressing anyone? 

But that was almost preferable to when Gordon scurried off and returned with his ukulele. Gordon could sing passably well, the problem was he so often chose not to. Preferring to employ an exaggerated caterwalling approach to musical entertainment. After the first two novelty songs were belted out at the fireside a request was made by their Grandma for maybe something a little more melodic and Alan had shyly pulled out his acoustic guitar. He played a beautiful lilting number that had everyone swaying gently with the refrain. He followed it up with a slightly more lively piece that earned him a round of applause.

“Ooh, oooh do the one that goes -  dooo dooobe dooo do!” Gordon shouted out. 

Alan frowned, “I - I don’t know that one,” he fiddled with the guitar and his eyes flitted about in every direction but Gordon's. 

Gordon picked out a few notes on the uke, “ you know, kinda, dooooo do, like this? Oh what's it called?” He waved a hand at Virgil. 

“Umm, I think I know the one you mean, with the key change in the second chorus? Sho be doo dooooop?” he waved his hands in a way that probably meant something to him. “What is it called though?”

“Oh that's gonna really bug me,” Gordon grumbled, picking out the same short phrase again and again. Jumping up he plucked the guitar out of Alan's unresisting hands and thrust it at Virgil. “Do the key change bit, I’ve got to work this out or it will be stuck in my head forever.” Gordon demanded. 

Virgil dutifully played a few cords, Gordon plucked out a melody over the top, and together they tumbled past the musical deadstop and into the second verse.

“Thats it!!” Gordon literally jumped for joy, and then started belting out the now remembered words. Virgil was tapping his boots, setting a beat. The tune was cobbled together in a raucous mess, Virgil adding in extra cords and a few flourishes as they went along, Gordon filling in missing lyrics with tuneful gibberish. It had everyone laughing and clapping along. Everyone apart from Alan, who had let himself sink into the background.  

Gordon had reverted to switching the lyrics out of show tunes now, with Virgil lazily strumming along to whichever song Gordon jumped to next. 

Scott's spider senses were tingling and he quietly excused himself and went to find the cause. 

He didn’t have to go far, as he nearly tripped over Alan, where he was sitting on a boulder just where the path turned away from the main house. 

“Hey there champ, what are you doing in the dark?”

Alan straightened up at the sound of his voice, shoulders squaring up in a way that would have been convincing if he had managed to be just a split second faster in the execution. 

“Just enjoying the view, it's peaceful when there's not someone breaking the sound barrier across the horizon.” It was a weak jab, but Scott would play along if it kept Alan talking.

“Oh yeah, I can see that. It does look better without all those rocket vapour trails messing up the view.” Scott leaned a hip against the boulder, letting his shoulder knock ever so slightly against his little brother’s. He stayed there for 20 seconds, (John always found it uncanny how accurately Scott could measure the passage of time without any external input. Scott found it funny how John’s eyes would dart to his bottom right when he wanted to check the time, even when he was unplugged from ‘Five). Just enough time to let Alan relax slightly, a little of the stiffness in the shoulders easing. Scott nudged his shoulder just a little more. “What's up Allie?” He kept his voice low, not a command, just a query. 

Alan let out a sigh big enough to inflate a pool floatie, “nothing,” it was bookended with another sigh.

“....right, so just not a fan of show tunes?” Scott had his guesses, but didn’t want to land too close for fear of spooking the wildlife. 

Another sigh, but this one sounded more like a comma and less like a period, so Scott waited. 

“No, it’s nothing.”

There was something enough to be described as “it”, Scott waited, praying the rest would come if he left a gap for it. 

Alan took a big breath, (Scott was just glad that there was some air going back in after all the epic sighs, puncture repair kits were never his friend), “it's just, it's silly, and childish….” he ground to a stop again.

“So’s Gordon, but we don’t hold it against him, well, not much.” Scott joked, hoping it would be enough to keep the momentum.

Alan huffed the world's smallest laugh, Scott wouldn’t be hanging his jetpack up yet for a career in Stand-up. Would it be enough? 

“I’m just jealous I guess.” Alan was staring at his own feet now as he kicked his heels against the boulder. Another big breath, “I’ve been practicing those pieces on the guitar for months, how does he do it?”

“Who, do what?” Scott prompted, assumptions were not your friend when “He” could refer to a minimum of 4 other people and that was before you went past immediate siblings.

Alans’ eyeroll was visible even in the dark. “Virgil, duh!”

Huh, Virgil, he was more used to resolving tensions between the youngest pair. It wasn’t like Virgil didn’t do a good line in sibling antagonising, but usually he managed to fly under the radar just enough to avoid the need for mediation. 

“Oh, how does he do what?” more clarification was needed. 

“Just….” he waved his hands around loosely. 

“Just?” Scott was still as much in the dark, literally and metaphorically. 

“Just be able to play any song, just like that, like, without any sheet music or anything. It’s just not fair.” Alan slumped where he sat. 

“Oh, he's always had an ear for a tune, but that's not the same as the pieces you played. They had way more…” and he waved his hands grasping for a word and then just settled on just the gesture.  

There was another eyeroll at that. Alan mimicked the disjointed arm waving, only a fraction exaggerated. “What was that?” he asked with half a laugh. 

“Umm, kinda twiddly bits?” Scott tried, realising he was not really hitting the mark in the musical stakes. 

“Twiddly bits?!” Alan almost snorted with laughter. But once he had composed himself a little more, he learned back a little more casually where his shoulder met Scotts. “Is that how you measure musical skill? Through twiddly bits?”

Scott scoffed, aiming for incredulous, “of course not, there's also the amount of dotty and squiggly bits all over the page, that's how you know it's a really tricky one. You know the ones where they go all the way up and then all the way down?”

“You mean scales?” Alan shoved Scott a little.

“I dunno, do I?” Scott shrugged, “See you know all the musical stuff!”

“Ugh, then why can’t I play all those songs like Virgil can?”

“Well he has been at it a bit longer…”

“Ugh! I hate being the youngest!” Alan groaned, slumping forward so his elbows were on his knees.

Scott idly rubbed Alan’s curved back, like he was still that upset child from years ago, or possibly more like a disgruntled cat. 

“If you would let me finish, I was going to say: he's been at it a bit longer..” (pause for audible groaning) “... so he’s learnt a few tricks.” Alan slowly pulled himself upright again, interest and confusion fighting for dominance on his features. “Yes, Virgil cheats.” Scott said triumphantly, happy to have got to his revelation uninterrupted (mostly).

“No he doesn’t!” Scott smiled at how quickly Alan came to Virgil's defense despite only minutes before proclaiming his own jealousy.  

“He does!” Scott replied, just as quick to defend his point. “He uses the cord patterns, picks out a beat and just accents with key cords. It's all rhythm and repetition when you break it down.”

Alan stared back, very nearly open mouthed in surprise. “I thought you only knew ‘twiddly bits’!” Alan accused Scott.

“I do, and that's why I can hear that he doesn’t use nearly as many of those, especially when it's a song he's less familiar with. You listen next time, you’ll see.” Scott folded his arms confidently.

“You’re so full of shit Scott.” Alan said, but he said it with a smile, so it was with a mostly assumed scandalised intake of breath that Scott shoved his baby brother off his perch on the boulder, sending Alan gently sprawling into the sandy herbaceous border next to them. 

“Language young man!” he joyfully called into the leafy darkness, loud enough to be heard over Alan's laughter. 

Standing, Scott leaned over to offer Alan a hand, but only succeeded in grabbing a flailing leg instead. Work with what you’ve got, their Dad always said, so Scott pulled, and dragged his baby brother out of the bush by his ankle. Scott was going to make some sort of joke about looking like he had been dragged out of a hedge backwards, but honestly Alan didn’t look much different. The teenage scruffiness had been well in place before the plants had their say in the day's styling choices. 

“Shall we go back?” Scott asked, again making sure it didn’t come out like a command. “I, for one, would be voting for a break in the musical theatre medley, for something a little more ‘melodic’.” 

“Ok, ok, don’t strain your brain with all the big music words. It might push something important out of your head, like how to park ‘One without trashing the pool.” Alan jabbed Scott right in the middle of his forehead with a pointing finger and then jogged back towards the noise of the fireside group.