#thunderfluff

Scott leaned on the balcony rail and suppressed a yawn as the last slither of sun dipped below the horizon. The warm orangey glow always soothed him a little - it felt like a promise the light would be back soon. He smiled wryly - Virgil would object strongly to “orangey” and point out there were hundreds of different names for colours like “burnt sienna” or “golden epiphany” or saffron daydream” or “cadmium satsuma” or whatever. In reality Scott privately called the colour “John”.

Mom had always loved a sunset. Partly the sheer art of it of course but she’d said once that it was the perfect example of how a farewell can be beautiful. She was as excited as the next astronomy nerd for the day to end and the stars to finally appear, but that never meant one needed to rush a transition. That sometimes the journey was as important as the destination.

Her eldest son huffed a tiny laugh as he belatedly realised the proliferation of “orangey” things around their childhood home might been connected.

When the child who most closely resembled her claimed the colour for his favourite, nobody was surprised. Quieter, shyer John had always been more inclined to stay close to his mother than run off and explore. Not constantly crawling into her lap like limpet-Gordon did, or grabbing her hand and dragging her places like Virgil and Scott… but just… nearby. Close enough to reach out to, even if he rarely actually needed to. Mom was young John’s anchor on the ground who let him feel safe and secure enough on Earth to cast his mind into the cosmos where hers so often danced.

Scott rolled his eyes at himself. Now he knew he was tired! He never been great at poetry, for all he had desperately wanted to be - there were definitely some efforts only a mother could love. But when he dropped his guard his brain had a tendency to get… sentimental.

He missed her so much.

He missed John so much too.

Not that he didn’t still have John, thank goodness. But since Mom… it had been clear John’s safe place, his home, would no longer be on Earth. Scott had tried, he’d tried so hard to fill the void she’d left but John eventually found his security elsewhere - in his work, in his stars… eventually in himself. Tracy Island had always been John’s holiday home, not the place he lived.

Scott was happy John was happy. He knew how privileged he was to be able to talk to his brother every day, to work with him. To share so much of everyday life. Most people didn’t get that. So it was selfish of him to mourn his brother’s lack of physical proximity. Especially when he knew that physicality wasn’t important to or even necessarily comfortable for John.

It was just that John in a hologram was always so… blue. Scott loved blue, it had always been his favourite colour but somehow when John was blue, blue felt cold. Sometimes Scott worried he might forget what his brother really looked like.

The sunset was long gone now.

All was quiet on Tracy Island.

The sea breeze took courage from the departure of the light and strengthened, sending a cooler gust of salt-encrusted air into Scott’s face. Standing up straight and stretching, he snapped himself out of the thought spiral - if a brother caught him now, he’d be accused of ‘brooding’ again.

Anyway, John was right here. For once! And his ridiculous elder brother was wasting his time out here on his own.

Scott turned back towards the villa and the warm orangey glow from the lounge where his actual three-dimensional, solid flesh and blood brother sat reading made him smile. Alright, John wasn’t actually the one glowing, it was a table lamp… but Scott allowed himself a secret scrap of poetry.

Sliding the screen door open just enough to squeeze through, Scott re-entered the house and shut the breeze away before greeting John with a quiet “hey Johnny”.

There was no reply and Scott looked round in surprise - however embroiled John was in anything he was doing it was family law that he’d always object to the nickname being used. He’d even appear on comms mid-way through a conversation he wasn’t involved in with “Don’t call me Johnny” only to immediately disappear again.

The funny thing was - John didn’t actually dislike the name - it was just it was Mom who called him that, so while Scott knew he didn’t mind other people using it, officially they weren’t supposed to because it was for her. The traditional back and forth was a way they had of bringing her along with them, keeping her memory close.

The only exceptions were when he was out of range, in mortal peril or…

Scott’s brother let out the tiniest snore. The book he’d been reading rested complacently on his chest and, while John was in the slow process of sliding down the couch into a posture that would give an osteopath palpitations, his relaxed features combined with the halo of lamplight presented a rather beautific scene.

Big brother mode engaged and Scott knew his face had softened into the soppy expression Gordon and Alan continually mocked him for while evidently competing to be on the receiving end of. It had been a long week for all of them and Scott wasn’t about to risk ruining John’s rare opportunity for a decent sleep cycle by insisting he spend it elsewhere. He activated the gentle reclining function on John’s couch and carefully selected a pillow and a couple of blankets from the box in the hall - weighted, but not too fluffy, not too scratchy, no threads. Any colour but blue.

He paused, then grabbed a second pillow and the blue blanket too.

John had curled slightly to one side as his seat had moved outwards and the book was now clinging on by the slightest thread of frictional energy. Scott carefully transferred it to the side table, slid a pillow between John’s torso and the back of the couch and tucked two blankets around the astronaut’s shoulders and legs. The second pillow he left nearby should John wake and want to make use of it. With immense willpower he resisted the urge to scoop up his little brother into a hug like a toddler, but allowed himself to plant a featherlight kiss on top of the sweep of sunset hair.

A quick trip to the kitchen to refill John’s water glass, and a whispered request to EOS to dim the lights to whatever level John preferred in his sleep chamber on Five completed his smotherhen duties for the present.

With a final smile, he wrapped himself in the remaining blanket and stretched out on the adjacent couch. As nice as it might be to take the chance to sleep in his own bed, his brother was here. Right here.

Scott didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Scott shoved the porch door open with his shoulder, and kicked his shoes off at the same time as he dumped his school back alongside a miscellaneous pile of kit bags, boots and book bags. It probably meant his brothers were already back, but there was usually a certain amount of guess work involved in calculating occupancy levels from footwear ratios. Scott's brain was still full of numbers from his last class of the day, the dreaded double math, and he felt full of fluff.

Walking down the hallway, he could hear his parents voices coming from the kitchen and the jingly rattly sound that suggested that Alan was beating the stuffing out of his playpen toys again.

His Mom was sitting at the kitchen table, her laptop open beside her, but currently being ignored, as she was beaming at her phone and intermittently shoving the device into her husbands face with a wicked grin.

She noticed Scott come into the kitchen, and called him over.

“Hey Scotty, look at this!”

Scott stopped to scoop a wriggly Alan up into his arms on his way, parking him solidly on his hip as pudgy arms were waved in toy flailing delight.

“What is it?” Scott asked, trying to see what was being shown on the phone screen. His Mom angled the screen so he could see. It was a picture of a very very newborn baby curled up and snoozing. The “awwwwhhh” came out of his mouth without conscious thought.

"its my friend Samantha's new baby boy," Lucy said. “Now watch this.” instructed his Mom.

She turned the phone to where Jeff was sitting on the opposite side of the kitchen table, shoulders slightly slumped and resigned, a small indulgent smile aimed at his wife.

Scott was curious, but confused as to what his mother was up to, he hoisted Alan a little higher onto his hip, which allowed the little demon to make a solid grab at Scott's hair with one suspiciously sticky pudgy paw. Scott was just gently untangling the fingers when he heard it.

“Awwwh, but look at him, just a ‘ittle ball of snoozy, and squish and sooo tiny, were ours ever that tiny, that tiny baby tiny, don’t say you don’t want to just squish him up, such a little sweet thing! Like a little pastry. Looooook at the little fingers!" It was a full stream of consciousness pouring out of Jeff Tracy.

Scott's mouth hung open in shock. Alan took the opportunity to shove a partially chewed stacking brick into the open goal, with a delighted squeal.

The flood of baby talk subsided as the image was moved away, and his father slumped that little bit more in his seat. Then, with malicious glee and an evil laugh, the phone swung towards him once more. Jeff held his hands up in defeat.

“Oh but he’s just toooooo cute! It’s not just me! Look at him!”

His attacker finally relented and put the phone down.

“I think I’ve broken your father Scott, so sorry.” She did not seem at all sorry, going by the smile on his face.

“What was that?!” Scott asked, spitting the plastic block out of his mouth and gently repositioning his baby brother's hand from its killer grip on his collar.

“I think someone is a little broody,” his Mom laughed.

“Has he always been like this?” Scott asked frowning.

“You know you don’t want me to answer that, Scott, you have 4 siblings after all.” she cackled again, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Nope, too much information!” Scott blushed right to the tip of his easily embarrassed teenage ears. Parents could be so embarrassing.

Deciding action was the best option, Scott strode around the table and plonked his lump of a baby brother bum first onto the kitchen table in front of their father. Alan squealed again, and latched his iron strong grip into the weave of Jeffs shirt.

It was like someone had connected Jeff to pure solar power, his face lit up and his hands were out to steady the easily unbalanced roly poly youngers in front of him. “Hello you!” He beamed at the excited baby. “Who’s my little champ! Hey? Did you have a good nap? Ready to take on the world huh? Ready to see it all? Yeah?”

Jeff chattered away as he stood from the table, hefting Alan up into his arms, and heading off to explore the garden narrating everything they encountered on their way. “What can we see, hey? Some birds in the tree, what do you think they are saying, hey? Talking about what they want to have as a snack maybe? Shall we go see the strawberry bushes? Yeah? Sound good.”

Lucy got up too, and came around the table to stand next to her bean pole of a son to watch as Jeff trotted down the garden path with the youngest.

“Pfft!” Scott snorted “what a sap!” Scott said.

“Yep-p!” Lucy said, popping the P with delight right next to Scotts ear, and she threw her arm over his shoulder. “He’s our sap, and we wouldn’t have him any other way, right?!”

Scott rolled his eyes, but did let his mother smack a noisy kiss on his cheek (he was slightly smug that she had to push herself up on her toes to be able to reach that now),

“Yeah,” he begrudgingly agreed. “I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am, I’m your mother.” She stepped back and picked up a kitchen cloth and flapped it at Scott. “Now go round up our brothers, dinner is nearly ready! Scoot scooter!”

He found her outside and around the corner, a private breakdown to the very public humiliation he’d just witnessed.

Without waiting Scott sat beside her and gently pulled her into a hug. She clung to him for a moment until she had the strength to pull away and offer him a watery smile.

‘Atlanta Shore. Well I never! Fancy seeing you here!’

Atlanta stared at him for a moment and then burst into laughter.

‘Scott Tracy. What’s a Flyboy like you doing in a Squid joint like this?’

~

Three hours later, Gordon had all but given up hope of finding his elder brother Fine thanks laughter due his attention.

Exiting the building, he almost fell over Scott‘s legs and only reflexes born from avoiding “knee-knockers” over the past 12 months had him still on his feet.

Scott and Atlanta, still sat side-by-side on the floor, merely looked at him and burst out into more laughter, both holding their stomachs as tears freely flowed and leaning against each other.

‘You two are the absolute worst!’

Laughter still sounded as Scott held an arm open and Gordon didn’t hesitate to join them.

‘So, what are you two doing on the floor out here?’

‘Reminiscing.’

‘Oh dear. Do I even want to know?’

Scott smirked and looked to Atlanta. They both turned to Gordon and chorused together:

‘No!’

This time Gordon joined in the laughter before climbing to his feet and holding a hand out to help Atlanta up. Scott beat her to grasp it and there was something mild rib jabbing and comments about “age before beauty” as the three made their way to the quarters.

Atlanta hugged both brothers warmly and kissed Scott’s cheek before bidding them a goodbye with a promise of having them over next time Scott came to visit.

The two brothers entered Gordon’s quarters and together got a simple meal prepped and cooking before collapsing on the couch.

‘So…I knew you and Commander Shore’s daughter knew each other but I don’t think I realised how well.’

‘Yeah, I guess. Atlanta and I have been friends for years. I guess you were quite young when they moved away so you probably don’t remember her that much.’

Gordon nodded, trying to remember any instance of a much younger Atlanta visiting them. He still came up empty. Curious about the circumstances of their friendship, he decided he needed to investigate.

‘When did you meet?’

‘Uhh…I think I was eight. John would have been six, Virgil five. You would have been just around three or four. Dad’s business was starting to really take off and he’d quit NASA but was working out his notice.’

Scott got that faraway look that Gordon loved to see - his brother didn’t reminisce about the good stuff in their lives anywhere near enough - and he settled down to listen, a soft smile on his face.

~

‘Daddy’s home! Daddy’s home!’

Virgil’s daily routine of watching from the front window and yelling when Jeff arrived home heralded the usual stampede of feet as his brothers rushed to get to the door before their Dad could open it.

Long legs meant Scott always won, even if today he had an octopus clinging onto his back. John wasn’t too far behind though, skidding into place while their Mom and baby Alan watched from the kitchen doorway.

But the door stayed shut longer than usual.

Hopping from foot to foot, Scott muttered to himself.

‘What’s taking him so long?’

30 seconds later - a lifetime to the energetic boy - he rushed up to the window to check, gently nudging Virgil aside slightly and pressing his nose into the glass.

‘Mom! Dad’s brought someone home.’

‘Yes, Scott, I know.’

Four pairs of eyes turned to stare at her and Lucy grinned.

‘Best behaviour, boys.’

They snapped to attention, lining up by the door just as the key sounded in the lock and the door swung open.

But it wasn’t their Father who entered.

‘UNCLE SAMMY!’

Scott’s yell of delight had Lucy laughing as Sam Shore was barely across the threshold when Scott launched himself at the man like he was still five and not eight-going-on-eighteen.

Shore laughed and hugged Scott back before moving into the house and introducing the other two people with him.

‘Scott, boys, I’d like to introduce you to my wife Elaine, and my daughter Atlanta.’

They all chorused a hello, and Scott, being eldest, was the first to hold out his hand. The girl took it and they shook.

‘Hi! I’m Scott!’

‘Atlanta.’

Short grinned at her. He glanced at his Mom - who smiled and nodded - before turning his attention back to their guest.

‘Wanna see my planes?’

‘Sure!’

Scott grabbed Atlanta’s hand and - talking nineteen-to-the-dozen - sped off to his room leaving slightly bemused adults behind.

‘Well that didn’t take long.’

Jeff took Alan from Lucy and with Gordon clinging onto one leg and Virgil clinging onto his free hand he followed Lucy, Sam and Elaine into the kitchen.

John had already beaten them there, in his usual seat with his nose already firmly back in his book, and Virgil returned to his drawing while Gordon began to regale his Dad of what he’d done today.

Scott and Atlanta didn’t come back down until called for dinner.

~

‘The Shores moved from Kansas not too long after that and Atlanta and I were pen pals for a bit until Mom…’

‘I never realised.’

‘Yeah. I kinda never kept up with anyone after Mom.’

‘You looked cozy back there, though.’

‘It was great! I mean, I knew she was here, you speak about it quite a bit but it was almost as if we were right back in the middle of our friendship.’

‘What were you doing on the floor?’

So Scott filled Gordon in on what he’d seen and then had to hold him back from marching straight over to the man’s quarters.

‘Hey Fish, i’m here for the week. Let’s not start that week off with you in the brig.’

Gordon laughed sheepishly and nodded. They got on with eating and discussing what they were going to do for the week before settling down to watch a movie.

Idly, Scott wondered if Atlanta would be around for some of his stay. They could get to know each other again.

He’d quite like that.

But while John was tired, it wasn’t the sort of tired he could sleep away.  Not all of the rescues had gone perfectly, either, and if he sat in silence for too long he knew he’d hear Scott’s cut-off cry as rocks had given way beneath him.  His brother was fine; a single flick of his wrist had kicked his jetpack into gear and left him completely unharmed, but that didn’t negate the brief spurt of terror John had felt when his big brother had fallen.

And that wasn’t the only incident of its kind that had happened in the past spree.  All of his siblings, at one point or other, had had their own scare, and John was seriously starting to consider getting in the space elevator and going home for a while.  Letting the events of the day and their respective what-ifs circle around in his head in silence would do no-one any good.

He’d been there before.

Several times.

Flash, flash, flash, went the little voicemail icon.

Hardly anyone had that number, and most of them never used it while he was on Thunderbird Five.  They didn’t need to, when their comms system was far superior.  It could be Lady P., he supposed, if she had something non-urgent to tell him and hadn’t wanted to interrupt International Rescue’s communications while they were so busy.

He considered the little icon again.  If he went home, he’d see all his brothers and be reassured that they were fine, but he’d also find himself on the receiving end of the smothering of an equally panicked big brother who was no doubt gearing himself up to check up on each and every one of them after the near misses of the day.  Maybe the message waiting patiently for him to acknowledge it would give his mind something to focus on without the need to go back to Earth just yet.

It was unlikely, but if he could even just delay exposure to Scott’s smothering, John was content to count that as a win.

Floating over to the icon lazily, he tapped it.

“Hey, Ginge!”

The words echoed around Thunderbird Five almost before the hologram appeared.  Bright blue hair, as ever styled into a ridiculous, gravity-despairing shock that John knew from experience took even more hair gel than Virgil or Scott used to keep in place, topped the pale face and blue eyes of one of the few people John considered a friend.

“I’d ask how you’re doing,” they continued, “but as you’re not picking up, I’m gonna guess the answer’s ‘busy’.  Give me a call when you get a break from saving the world, yeah?  I could do with a second opinion on the latest data.  Az out.”

The hologram vanished again after a cheeky gesture somewhere between a wave and a salute, leaving John to ponder if he should leave the message as unread and get back later, or make the call now.

At a year older than him, Az had been the closest to a peer he’d had during his PhD research, helped by the fact they were studying similar enough topics that it had been worth John’s time to put up with the loud, extroverted bundle of energy that was Az.  They were, in many ways, rather reminiscent of Gordon in that regard, and John dreaded the day that the pair of them eventually crossed paths.

As it stood, he had somehow managed to keep his brothers and Az separate, although he was certain Kayo had thoroughly investigated them at some point, and intended on continuing to do so for as long as he could get away with it.

The request for a second opinion on some data wasn’t unusual – the two of them had collaborated on several papers, and Az’s latest project once again held a little bit of overlap with John’s area of expertise.  Enough that they’d wheedled their way into getting him to use Thunderbird Five as one of the data collection points.

What Scott didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.  It wasn’t like John didn’t do the exact same thing for his own research.  Thunderbird Five could handle it.

John had been too busy dealing with his day job to pay much attention to the data quietly streaming to Az’s network in the background, though, so he had no idea what his fellow astrophysicist was looking at.

Should he call back, or mark the voicemail as unread for later?

A check of the time said it was midnight for Az, which meant they’d still be up.  Their respective timezones made communication at regular hours difficult to arrange anyway, so both of them were used to talking at so-called unsociable hours, even without both of them liking to stay up late to watch the night sky.  All in all, there was nothing stopping John from calling them if he wanted to.

Diving into the world of data for a while sounded like exactly the sort of thing John needed, and despite their innate extravert-ness, if focused on something, Az was easy enough to handle.

Besides, silence was a bad idea, anyway.

John tapped the return call icon and waited, allowing the zero-g to cradle his body.

“Hey, Ginge.”  In a mirror of the voicemail, Az was talking almost before their hologram appeared.  Dressed in their usual space-themed regalia, and hairstyle starting to droop as the end of the day approached, from their posture, John assumed they were sitting at their desk again.  Whether they’d been working or watching Saturn through a telescope was another matter entirely.  “The world all saved for the moment?”

“For the moment,” John confirmed.  “So, where’s this data?”

“Right here,” Az shrugged, flicking a finger lazily to bring up a string of numbers and charts that they must have been keeping open, ready for John’s call.  They didn’t ask if he was sure he wanted to go through it right now, despite the fact John knew he had to look far more exhausted than they were.

Az could be rather mothering in their own way, when he was Earthside, but unlike Scott they backed off and let him be when he was on Thunderbird Five.  John appreciated it immensely, as he accepted the requested file and watched it download onto his Thunderbird’s systems.  It was automatically scanned for viruses, of course, but that was an automatic formality rather than a serious concern.  Most of the gathered data had been generated by Thunderbird Five in the first place.

“So, what d’you think?” they asked instead of making any comment on his appearance, leaning forward towards the holoprojector as though John was sat in their study with them, and not twenty two and a half thousand miles above their head.

John had been looking at data all day, strings of numbers and maps and other holographic symbols overlapping until they almost blurred together, except he couldn’t let that happen because that was when mistakes happened, and mistakes meant fatalities.  Mistakes meant threats to his family’s lives, to say nothing of those that had called for help.

This data was different.  This data had no life or death decisions attached to it.  It was scientific curiosity, nothing more, enough to keep his brain ticking along without the pressure of his vocation crushing down on him.  He could drop it, if he wanted to, and that freedom made it easier to focus, a welcome distraction from the what-ifs that lurked in the waiting silence.

It was fun, to talk through scientific data about black holes, strings of information that suggested a new one – and that explained why Az had begged the use of Thunderbird Five, because there wasn’t another satellite that could do such detailed data sweeps so far off, not in civilian access and John doubted in military, either.  Even at midnight, Az had no problems keeping up with him as he spotted patterns and pointed them out, letting the other astrophysicist draw conclusions and agreeing or disagreeing with them depending on how much sense it made.

They talked for hours.  To John’s relief, the world remained silent, a much-needed respite from the earlier chaos, and their conversation was finally brought to an end when Az’s head started nodding forwards, eyes brightening with moisture as they began to lose their battle against sleep.

Neither of them were strangers to pulling all-nighters, either for stargazing or for research, and John suspected Az had been up for a couple of nights in a row to be flagging so much, but out of the two of them there was no question who could last longer without much sleep.  Thunderbird Five demanded no less.

“Get some sleep, Az,” he told them after a particularly violent nod of their head.  The gel in their hair was failing, entire sections drooping so much they were almost falling down.  “Don’t you have a class to teach in the morning?”

Az shrugged a little sheepishly, letting out a massive yawn.  “’Swear you’ve got my schedule memorised better than me,” they mumbled, rubbing their eyes.  “Yeah, nine o’clock.  They haven’t stopped forcing astronomy students to get up at dawn yet.”

They’d never been a fan of that, or mornings in general.  If they had their way, they’d be almost entire nocturnal, so they could stargaze better.

That was one of the things John loved so much about Thunderbird Five.  Permanent stargazing, no matter the hour.

“Or astronomy TAs,” he said, and Az let out a tired chuckle.

“Yeah,” they agreed.  “Or us.  Guess I’d better try and catch a couple of hours before class.  Thanks for the-” they interrupted themselves with a yawn that almost split their face in two “-the chat.  Was really useful.”

“I’ll send you the transcript,” John promised, because everything was recorded on Thunderbird Five and no doubt Az was tired enough to have missed some of their theories in their note-taking.  “Check it over when you’re awake.”

“Thanks.”  Az yawned again.  “Catch you later, Ginge.”  They made a V shape with their fingers and flicked it like a wave.  “Az out.”

The call dropped.

John rubbed at his temples for a bit.  He was tired, too, but no longer the aching tired of earlier.  This was a tired that could actually be slept off, and John wasn’t one, to stay up when he didn’t need to.  Not anymore.  He got his sleep between rescue alerts, and the data discussion had soothed his brain enough that he could, now.

There was another alert, a signal that Tracy Island had tried to contact him while he’d been talking with Az and had his other personal, non-emergency lines set to do not disturb.  Only one, so Scott – because of course it was Scott, trying to check in – must have figured he had already gone to sleep.  Hopefully by now, even though it wasn’t the early hours of the morning like it was for Az, his family were all taking their own much-needed sleep while they could.

A quick check of his cameras showed his suspicions correct, to his relief.

He placed his freshly fetched keep cup full of coffee down on the bench, stretching out a hand and reminding himself to wait patiently for the cat to come to him. That was something that had taken him a while to learn until John clued him in. Cats were like John, really, or John was pretty much a human shaped ginger cat: both preferred to be given time to chose to make the approach themselves rather than suddenly having their space invaded, no matter how well meaningly.

Taking the moment was rewarded when the cat curiously peeked out and wandered towards him, tail held up with the tip curled over. It was covered in a delightful mess of ginger, black and white, like a little brother had splodged paint all over it. Scott smothered a laugh. There had been that one time with Virgil and their childhood cat…

Moving slowly, he pulled his phone out of his suit pants pocket and took a photo, flicking it off to John with a smile. 

--

John kicked off the wall of Thunderbird Five’s hub, rippling the holograms beneath his feet. He turned another backwards flip, with a dual purpose of revelling in the sensation of the movement and keeping himself occupied in the lulls between calls.

A new message pinged and he immediately twisted around then dispersed his momentum by delicately colliding with a different wall to read it.

-Scott Tracy: Kitty cat for you Jay!!!!!

The attached image of a calico cat had John grinning. 

Before he had a chance to reply, another message came through of a close of of the cat’s whiskered face with Scott’s hand in the frame rubbing around its ears. John could practically hear the contented purring. 

-John Tracy: Awwwwww a sweetheart!!!!!!!!!!

Yes, that was exactly the number of exclamation marks he needed to express his joy and make sure Scott knew it. 

Overtime, sending pictures of cats back and forth to each other had become one of their things and it delighted them both. It meant they got to share so many moments with each other, even far apart, and it was often the beginning of more conversations, even if they had to happen in five minute bursts between busy moments. It was a way of showing they remembered and cared for and were thinking of the other. A love language all of its own. Plus, cats!

Scott saw more live cats up close because he was planetside on IR rescues and for TI, but when John was down he made up for it with tours of the world’s universities he got to lecture at by their cat populations he befriended. 

His brother could be rather cat-like too, more of a large, lithe cheetah built for speed. Or a house moggy with a propensity for climbing the walls and always finding the highest place possible to perch, no matter how impossible it seemed to get to. John shared in that too, they were both often found on the rooftops, stargazing or sunning themselves, with a large hat and extraordinary amounts of sunscreen especially in John’s case, but he wasn’t going to let Scott get cooked either.

On occasion, Scott did also get the mad, dash around the house, hyperactive zoomies of a cat, where he couldn’t possibly sit still. It was always delightful when Scott let himself mess around and lean into it.

One of John’s favourite memories as a kid was of him and Scott curled up together, practically on top of each other in a nest of blankets with books of all sorts and many toy planes within reach. Mum had come in and snapped a photo of them, laughing fondly, “Like cats in a basket!”

He probably had the photo around here somewhere, he’d downloaded a lot of their childhood photos to Five’s memory banks as well as the data storage on the island. He hadn’t seen it in years. With Eos’ help, he found it in a few minutes. He did have to explain to her why he was blinking away tears as they welled up in his eyes as he’d forgotten how he and Scott had been wearing matching blue pyjamas covered in stars because they’d both been going through a phase of wanting to have the exact same things as the other so as to not be left out.

He sent it off to Scott.

-John Tracy: Cat basket :)

Bubbles signifying typing disappeared and reappeared as Scott on the other side of the world figured out what to say. John gave Scott the same patience he gave to him when John was gathering his words for the exact ones he wanted to say.

-Scott Tracy: Next time we are both home? If you want.

-John Tracy: Of course. When you get back, I’ll take the elevator down for the weekend.

He could cuddle up with Scott and take a moment to just be together. It was well past time they did, it always got to this point which they really needed do something about.

Suddenly the only place John wanted to be was curled into Scott’s side, with a good book and maybe some hot chocolate for them both too, surrounded by as many blankets as they could find.

Scott sent through another burst of photos of the cat from before, including a few selfies of it sitting in his lap, snuggled up to him. He was grinning happily and that was worth the world, no matter the cat hair on navy blue suiting nor the coffee that was doubtless half cold and nearly forgotten.

Concern flashed across Jeff’s handsome face. “Are they really hurting you, honey? We can get you other shoes.”

She smiled up at him reassuringly. “No really, I’m exaggerating …sort of. They just kinda pinch, that's all.”

If she was totally honest with herself, it wasn't even the salesperson’s fault, really. She’d been the one chasing a dream of being perfect and ladylike, even if it was only this once. Dammit, why was dressing up fancy so hard?!

Of course it didn't help that her new husband managed it so effortlessly. He was currently working ‘the aesthetic’ to within an inch of its life, cutting a very dashing figure in his elegant new grey suit and tie, dress shirt and shoes all perfectly matched and filled out perfectly.

Seriously, where did he get off being so good-looking? 

She’d just wanted to appear worthy of him, that’s all. Jeff Tracy: ace pilot, hometown hero, handsomest guy in the county and a genuinely good man to boot. He was the prince, and just once she’d wanted to feel like she could be his match - a princess - instead of some awkward, clutzy science nerd who’d somehow managed to win the husband lottery.

She sighed. Clearly that wasn't to be.

There was a pause, then without another word her very handsome husband - God, he really did look good in that suit - knelt down in front of her and took one of her feet gently in his hands. He examined the delicate and uncharacteristically high-heeled white shoe with utmost seriousness, before removing it and flinging it across the room.

“Jeff!”

Lucy felt her face burst into flames as a roomful of eyes turned towards them.

“What? Doesn't that feel better?”

In all fairness it absolutely did. She wiggled her newly-released toes appreciatively even as she fought the urge to hide underneath the table.

“You can't just go throwing shoes around. You’re making a scene.”

He stopped and looked at her, ignoring the rest of the room, then slowly and deliberately reached out and took hold of her other foot.

“I want to enjoy a dance with my beautiful new wife, and if these admittedly pretty little shoes are getting in the way of that…” 

The second shoe flew over his shoulder, just missing a nearby waiter.

“...then they’ve gotta go.”

The room was hushed; everyone was looking at them. Part of her wanted to run and hide in the coatroom until they’d all gone, but he was holding her gaze, keeping her steady. 

“I don't want anything getting between me and the most amazing, beautiful, perfect person I ever saw, ever again.”

He rose gracefully to his feet and held out his hand to her.

“So how about it? May I have this dance?”

…

It was late spring and the cicadas were singing. Airbase staff were bustling all around, knocking into her, sending papers flying everywhere. She knelt down to pick them up, and suddenly there was a hand in front of her.

“Can I give you a hand, Miss?”

…

It was fall, and the trees around them were every shade of red. They’d talked about everything and nothing, walking side by side, until he stopped and reached out to her.

“Would it be alright if I held your hand?”

…

It was winter and the snow was falling softly. His ice skates made long swooshing noises on the ice around her, while hers clacked noisily as she tried and failed to keep her footing. Another swoosh and then he was there in front of her, hand extended.

“Okay, so not my best idea. How about we go get a hot chocolate instead? My treat?”

…

It was the last days of summer, and the clear water of the lake lapped at her toes. She’d never felt so happy in her life. A perfect day. Beside her she felt him shift nervously, and then he was holding his hand out, a little red box in it, one knee on the ground.

“I’ve got a question I wanna ask…”

…

Her head flooded with the memories of a hundred moments, small and huge, all of them important. A hundred images of him offering his hand, and at last she understood.

He'd reached out for her.

She was the one. And she was worthy, just as she was.

Smiling, she accepted the offered hand.

“Of course you may, Mr Tracy.”

He grinned and bowed. “Why thankyou, Mrs Tracy.”

She rose and he led her, barefoot and spotlit, to the dance floor without a care in the world. Keeping her hand in his, he wrapped his other arm around her waist, enveloping her like a delicate, precious treasure, safe and protected. Their eyes met and he beamed at her like his face was made of actual sunshine.

She grinned back at him.

“You’re sure about that wedding insurance now? Last chance.”

“Don’t you worry about my toes, darlin’. Just keep a hold of me and we’ll do fine.”

And with that the band struck up an old favourite, and hand-in-hand they danced the night away.

Take my hand

Take my whole life too