Hey, Dad, can you answer a question for me?
“Sure, Al’, what-” Scott’s brain catches up to his mouth as he realises what his youngest brother just called him and the whole operation comes to a grinding halt.
Dad. That’s a word Scott hasn’t been able to use in a long time. He always figured he’d be one now, after all he’s in his thirties and the most eligible bachelor on the planet. He should have a couple of kids getting under his feet already but he doesn’t, just International Rescue and the other sons their dad left behind.
Dad always said “Take care of your brothers, son.” But Scott never expected it to be like this. He thought he’d be in his sixties and in charge of making sure each of his brothers got a good share of the Tracy empire, not teaching them how to be men when he was barely one himself.
But he’s done a good job, Scott can acknowledge that even through the static that seems to have enveloped him whole. It’s like he touched an antique television with the weird black and white fuzz John said’s from the Big Bang. His mouth feels full of that weird static but he smiles nonetheless, all wonky but proud his youngest brother would want to call him that. Jeff Tracy left behind a mantle Scott never wanted to wear but had to anyway because that’s what you do when you’ve got four brothers at home still growing into the men they’re gonna be. And Alan Tracy’s going to be one hell of a guy, Scott’s certain of that.
“Sure, Al’.” He replies, reaching out to squeeze Alan’s shoulder like dad used to reassure him. He always knew what it meant and he’s doubly confident now, “Anything.”
