#moffie

Another succesfull experiment!

LEAN ON ME

This was stupid. It was nothing, but, mostly, it was stupid. He was stupid. He should have known better by now - people just... didn't choose him. If there was a choice at all, if they didn't need anything from him or didn't rely on him in some way, if they were not lumped together by circumstances or under his command - they cast a vote elsewhere. On particularly bad days he would wonder in passing if his brothers even would, were they not stranded with him from birth. Would they ever be friends? As adulthood course corrected, he saw his brothers, and Kayo, and Brains, develop social connections and loyalties of their own, or just quietly drift away to other alliances within the family, leaving him outside looking in. He certainly knew he needed to have been on his toes, above and beyond his best to earn merit with Dad. He still did. As much as he knew for a long, long time he wasn't Grandma's first choice. He was okay with that, mostly. He chose all of them, would ALWAYS choose them - nothing could ever change that. It was enough for him. Sort of. But this? He didn't know what he was thinking or expecting, really.

Friendships, beyond networking or acquaintances, stopped being effortless some time around university or basic. The brotherhood and camaraderie in his Airgroup was on par with his birth siblings and extended family, but not much went ahead that way after his stint in... THAT PLACE and early discharge, after Dad launched IR, after everything else happened, pulling him in a million different directions. Now, Gordon's mandatory jokes about a "boring old man" aside, he was self-aware enough to understand that beyond Thunderbird One or Mr. Tracy (no, not Jeff Tracy, sorry) of Tracy Industries, he was just Scott. Nothing special. Nothing particularly interesting. Certainly not enough time in his days (and nights) to accumulate catchy topics for conversation - a fact Lady Penelope never failed to reprimand him for over seemingly endless functions that somehow always ended up with him talking shop with World Council big wigs, financiers or investors, or even competitors. It was that or mind numbing chatter about yachts and villas, and resorts, or self-aggrandizing "endeavors". He left that to Lemaire. And he really should have known better than to earnestly hope to befriend a genius. Per his original point - John and Brains knew him since birth or childhood and didn't have a choice but to put up with him. Tycho Reeves did. And chose not to. Figures!

It seemed like a fairly straightforward arrangement. A Science and Industry Council was to start a session Monday in Geneva. Brains did not object to the opportunity to fly in earlier and stay at CERN over the weekend to go over something or other with Dr. Moffat. The sniggers of the Tinies were sternly dismissed, thus encouraged,  not suppressed. Tycho Reeves was on a secondment at CERN, working on something Scott strongly suspected was GDF funded particle acceleration research for another go at a T-drive, heretofore abandoned after the fateful day of the Zero-X launch. The whimsical scientist never quite failed to loose touch after their ordeal in the Hypercar, chatting away about the most wayward ideas and the most mundane things that caught his fancy - much to Scott's amusement - in messages or over occasional holocalls. Especially if a particularly dramatic rescue made it to the Global News. Since Scott was on the SIC board and expected in Geneva for the week, booked to capacity with panels, a quick and surprisingly pleasant plan was concocted: he volunteered to take Brains over in One (or, rather, volunteered Brains to take One with him, the engineer's greenish hue notwithstanding) on Friday, they'd grab a coffee with Dr. Reeves and see what Geneva scenic area had to offer for the weekend of some friendly catching up. Scott would have One on hand in case of a major emergency. He'd never seen John take him off roster faster. Yet here he was, back on the island that same Friday, making his way back to the lounge to busy himself with... anything, really, other than thoughts in his own head.

The sight greeting him, once he made it up from the hangars, would have been more than welcome on any other occasion. He truly never was NOT glad to see his brothers. And John planetside, down from Five early, acclimatizing to gravity before his own trip to Geneva with Virgil for the relevant panels next week, was a rare and precious treat. But right now Scott would have strongly preferred to be alone and dodge questions for as long as he could. Of course, John and, by extension, Virgil would have known the moment One took off from the CERN landing pad, so now his brothers were camping out in the lounge, waiting for him. Maybe he should have banked for Gran Roca and holed up there till Monday morning.

Virgil was seated on one of the sofas, reading. John was leaning on him sideways, his long legs hooked over the armrest at an angle that could have appeared uncomfortable to anyone who didn't know the Ginger Spaceman well. John was flicking through screens on his tablet and typing away, atmospheric glasses perched on the tip of his nose comically. They looked settled quite cosily for a quiet and (hopefully) uneventful evening. Kayo and the Tinies were probably out and about, soon to join them on the couches. Scott's heart ached. He really didn't want to be a distraction of his loved ones' priceless downtime with his moping. But it was probably too late to turn the corner and sneak into Dad's office or up to his rooms. It probably wouldn't help either, if he knew his family at all. Both John and Virgil looked up at him simultaneously. John sat up wordlessly, making room for Scott to insert himself between them. Virgil shifted his arm to the back of the couch, making a flannel bracket for Scott to lean into. As usual, Virgl's eyes and expression asked everything his voice didn't - he gave the eldest brother a soft and slightly concerned once over, leaving worry hang in the air should Scott choose to elaborate. Scott was grateful for that, settling himself into the slot on the couch, his eyes steadily trained on the carpet. If asked what went wrong, he probably wouldn't be able to explain anyway re: being stupid and unable to maintain meaningful adult relationships with acquaintances. John flopped back, using Scott's shoulder now as a headrest and making a little show of finding a comfortable spot, as Scott's was not as coushonie as Virgil's. Virgil reached around Scott's shoulder and gave the ginger head a light cuff. Scott found himself smiling a bit at that. God, he loved them so much!

The silence was comfortable and Scott let himself to just be wrapped up in it. John kept tapping at his tablet. At a certain point it pinged back and John seamlessly forwarded the message to Virgil's comm. Scott trained his eyes sideways to catch that it was from Dr. Moffat:

"Dr. Reeves invited his ex husband to assist in experiments for the weekend."

Scott could feel more than see Virgil's face fall with a stifled sigh. Yeah, that... He really hated being a spoilsport for his brothers, who had a thing going on about him needing enrichment and fulfillment. And an emotional burden. Now Virgil was visibly upset on his behalf on an otherwise perfectly nice Friday night. Scott felt the muscles in his neck and back tense and tried to deflect. Maybe they'll drop it all till Monday? Then he'll be safely gone for a week and after that this whole fiasco would be forgotten. He shifted a hand to tug at John's sweatpants lightly:

- How do you know Moffie, anyway?

- Oxford.

John shrugged noncommittaly, but, surprisingly, slipped a hand from his lap and linked with his. It had always been their thing - a silent gesture, usually offered by Scott, free for the taking if John was feeling overwhelmed or down, or didn't feel like more physical contact. His brother's palm was cold in his own. As if on queue, a stronger, warmer squeeze reached his shoulder. Virgil threw in a little headbutt too. Their own Morse code for "I'm here. Are you okay?" Truth be told, he was getting a lot better by the minute. Maybe it didn't gave to be a bad day, after all.

- So, do you want me to debunk his scientific credentials or to block funding of his next hyper-rail?

Scott must have zoned out for a moment, as he nearly jumped at the non sequitur.

- Come again?!

John sighed and, Scott was sure, rolled his eyes:

- I can go over every one of his published papers with a comb and call every result into question. Hypercar had faulty calculations, for one. Or I can freeze his funding. Or both.

- What?! Why?!

Scott was not holding up a very intelligent end of this conversation, but he was shocked. He felt John shrug once more against his shoulder.

- Nobody hurts my brother. Nothing I haven't done before.

- Huh?!?

Scott was beyond coherent communication at this point and looked at Virgil for help. Virgil appeared a little bit too amused to his comfort. John perched the tablet on his lap and went on, like explaining to a five year old:

- I got Stacy Sims un-admitted to college after she dumped you two weeks before the prom. She lied about her extra-curriculars in the application, anyway.

Scott resigned himself to interjections and an appalled grunt. What he didn't expect was for the sweetest, kindest Virgil to chime in:

- Didn't you have Erin disbarred too?

His ex-fiancée of the ill-fated Big New Year's break-up Erin? The hot-shot corporate lawyer Erin? Scott felt his ears ring. Maybe he overdid it with Mach 19, hightailing from CERN? And here he thought she dropped out of the New York City scene having moved operations to Europe. John was speaking up again:

- That's right. Disbarred and prosecuted for corporate espionage.

- Seriously?! That bitch?! Cool!

There was a slap of bare feet on the floor. In a moment Gordon flopped backwards across both Scott's and Virgil's knees. Scott's feeble "Language!" was buried in the rustle of fabric and the crunch of a celery bar.

- Sorry, *the* Bitch! Allie and I were legit afraid the Evil Almost Stepmother was gonna Harry-Potter us into the broom closet.

- She wanted to send the Tinies away to a military boarding school, find a loophole in Dad's estate and strip Virgil and I of inheritance. And build a wellness resort at Gran Roca. I hacked her DMs.

John adjusted his glasses primly to sit higher on his nose and focused back on the tablet. Scott groaned out loud and turned to Virgil again, keeping his voice a whisper this time:

- Why didn't you tell me any of this?

Virgil's smile was genuinely contrite and Scott felt his heart crack once more.

- You seemed into her. We always want you happy.

He really shouldn't try and meet people again. Ever. This was too much. Scott let his eyes rest for five seconds, then tapped John's hand, still resting in his:

- Please, don't do anything now!

John tilted his head to look at Scott upside down. Turquoise eyes were serious.

- Noone hurts my brother. Not even said brother, if he's being an idiot. Let the record show I'm fully prepared to have you admitted for psych eval the next time you jump off a cliff with a jetpack on bingo fuel, or fall for a narcissistic egomaniac.

Gordon was snorting at that. Too stunned to approach the statement from any number of meaningful angles, Scott went for the tried and true Scandalized Big Brother.

- Awwww, Johnny, that's so thoughtful of you! If you wanted control of my assets, all you had to do was ask - I'd write everything off to you in a heartbeat!

John put the tablet down again - a paragon of composure.

- Let the record indicate further that I have no vested interest in your collection of rare mismatched socks, brother mine.

Gordon full on hollered at that, limbs flailing every which way. Scott reached his free arm out instinctively, stopping the Fish from rolling down on the floor. He couldn't help his own grin. An extra nudge of soft flannel from the other side sent a warm, fuzzy wave all over.

That was the moment Alan and Kayo stepped out of the elevator, hands full of stacks of pizza boxes. If Kayo raised a quizzical brow in the general direction of the couch and exchanged glances with John - it was lost in the ensuing mayhem of passing over pillows and blankets for a proper puppy pile, batting somebody's hand off the *perfect* slice of pizza, popcorn fights, tickle fights, untangling the Squid, poking the Bear, rock-paper-scissoring to choose the movies and the watching order, having Eos calculate the statistical average of Alan being sent to fetch drinks, the works. Scott let himself sink deep beneath the surface of the white noise of people he loved most in the world, and feel the coil in his gut unwind a bit. Maybe it didn't have to be a bad day at all.

TBTBTBTB

Dr. Tycho Reeves found a rubber glove blocking his vision. The large, heavy-duty one, usually used in the labs when working with hazardous substances. He looked up from the calculations. The glove didn't move away, just shook a little in a lightly trembling hand of his usually quiet colleague.

- What is that?

- I-it-t's a g-gauntlet.

Tych drew his eyes up to the sight of Dr. Hiram Hackenbacker pretty much reeling with fury and Dr. Moffat by his side, arms crossed in indignation.

- A gauntlet?

He didn't know what else to say.

- Ye-es. You up-pset m-my f-friend. I will h-hereb-by ch-challenge every d-disc-covery you m-make.

Tycho sagged, lowering his eyes back to the floor. That allowed Dr. Moffat to reach up on her tiptoes and cuff him up the head. That'd be the second one he got today. The first was from Simon, his erstwhile research partner and ex, as he left CERN to go back to enjoying the weekend with the new family before the start of the Science and Industry Council sessions. Moffie was not done yet.

- What the HELL were you thinking?!!! The most incredible guy on the planet is not opposed to having coffee with you and you sabotage it with inviting an ex over?!!!!

Well, about that... The truth of the matter was - Tycho Reeves had no idea how to deal with the most incredible guy on the planet being not opposed to remembering his name, let alone having an actual meet up, coffee and small talk, and all. How soon would it be till Tycho shot himself in the foot with some awkward eccentricity, or rambled on a mile an hour till Scott was barely following with polite boredom and checking his watch. Or, worse, invented an emergency to get out. Tycho knew he was a genius, but he was quite aware of being a nerd too. And there were only so many nerds someone like Scott Tracy could tolerate in his immediate company at any given time. Brains was a long-time partner of Scott's father and knew him, supposedly, since childhood. Tycho was passably familiar, and thoroughly impressed, with Scott's other brother's work on Astrophysics. Dr Reeves himself would be one nerd too many. Besides, he didn't fit the bill of familial affection. Or any other affection, for that matter. So, in pursuit of self-preservation, Tycho maybe overreacted, inviting a rather perplexed Simon over for the day at CERN. And now Dr. Hackenbacker was up in arms and the most incredible guy on the planet was upset or, more likely, outraged. Maybe he did shoot himself in the foot after all. Tycho dared to peek up at Brains, still staring daggers at him.

- What do I do now?

It was Dr. Moffat's turn to give him a Look and to throw her hands up in the air for an unvoiced "I can't believe you!". Brains furrowed his brow, actually thinking over some options.

- You c-can, AX-SID-DENTALLY c-come over to m-my p-panel M-monday and st-tay for c-coffee. Sc-cott always keeps m-me c-company after b-big p-presentations. He's a v-very g-good friend and b-boss.