#sentientsilverrocket

@sentientsilverrocket

Scott doesn’t notice at first. He’s been buried nose deep in paperwork for a while when he begins to feel like he’s being watched. His gaze strays from International Rescue’s invoices for the first time in a while, expecting to see the sweet, innocent face of a little brother...but he’s alone.

Scott had almost given up hope.

He comes down to the hangars a lot and sits in the low light, either up on the walkways or down on the launch pad with his lady.

He tells her about his days and his worries for even if she can’t hear him, it’s good to offload onto someone who isn’t his brother sometimes. Virgil’s already got so much baggage of his own.

So Scott’s down there one evening as usual, worn out from a rescue but unable to sleep when the world moves. Except it’s not the world, it’s his lady. She came back to him and Scott’s heart soars even as big fingers curl around him and lift him high into the air.

Scott doesn’t sleep too well when one of his brothers is off-island. Johnny’s always off-island, true, but he’s almost here, a pin-prick of light amongst the stars and Scott can check up on him any time he likes.

This is different and Scott doesn’t know what to do with himself. Without Virgil around, he’s had to distract himself and his desk is clear, his inbox is empty and there’s nothing to do that’ll help him get some sleep that actually feels like he managed to rest.

Thus he trails down to the hangars to the place he feels most at home when half his home is missing upstairs. Thunderbird One’s there, half hidden in the low light and Scott curls up in a crook of an elbow maybe.

Scott’s doing some pretty boring but necessary chores. His personal paperwork’s sorted for the month and he’s turned his attention to the ever so glamerous issue of tidying his overflowing wardrobe when he pauses, head tilting towards the door ‘cause he could’ve sworn he just heard his name.

“Can you help me?”

Scott’s gone in a blur of long limbs and a jacket he didn’t even pause to put away. He goes so fast he almost trips over somebody knelt near the top of the stairs.

“Gordon!” Scott thunders because the stairs are no place for tricks. But then he straightens out and his eyes go wide as they rake over the person he nearly flattened.

“Th-Thunderbird One?” he asks in disbelief. He’d know his lady anywhere, in any form because she’s his as much as he’s hers. “One?” He asks again, ‘cause he’d just about got used to her turning into a giant robot and now this. It’s a lot for a fella to take in.

“One?” He asks once more, much more gently this time because he’s Scott Tracy after all and some instincts never die even when faced with the fact his Thunderbird appears to be human now. When she’s human; smaller than him and covered in bruises, Scott can wrap his jacket around her and scoop her up from the floor like she weighs nothing.