Gordon - how much he’d be willing to give up for her sake.
Penny - how frightened she is by how safe he makes her feel.
Virgil/Kayo
Virgil - Nothing of anyone else’s.
Kayo - Everything of her own.
John & EOS
John - how afraid he is to fail her, how inadequate he feels to the task of being her moral compass.
EOS - how much of his life she’s rendered and modeled and tested, in the name of trying to understand even just one single endlessly complex human being.
Scott/Jane
Scott - that he could ever want anything more than what they already have.
Jane - that she can see the shape of herself in what he tells her about the rest of his life.
Alan/Brandon
Alan - that he hasn’t had enough friends in his life to know when a friendship is something more.
Brandon - that none of the friendships he’s had before Alan’s have been anything like the one he has with Alan.
love this series of fics! It's been mentioned that John gets migraines- I wonder how that would affect the family?
Sally had learned to watch for signs years ago, because heaven only knew John would never open his mouth to say he was hurting.
The trouble was John was always subtle, even as a tiny babe in arms, and adulthood too soon had only taught him guile. He hides his pains well; the merest frown or scowl, easily explained by the endless stress and worry, the only sign of the feeling of a head in a vice.
Sally never had migraines, but her Grant, god rest his soul, occasionally suffered for them. It hurt her, that John had inherited the malady, and that there was nothing she could do to make it easier for him. The only pills they suspected would help him were priced so high as to be little more than a fantasy.
It takes her a few minutes to ease herself out of bed, her own pains pulling her back from her grandson in ways she’s grown to hate. Alan’s long gone, door slammed hard enough to make even her wince, after the TV had been snapped off.
John is where she was afraid he would be, sat at the kitchen table, head on his arms. The gills, such as she can see, are an unfetching shade of green.
He only twitches as she turns the faucet, lets the water run a moment before putting the mug left on the draining board under the flow. He’d cleaned, but she can still smell bile.
She sets the cup next to his arm, turns back to run a clean dishcloth under the water before turning off the tap.
He sighs, barely a whimper, as she presses the compress to his temple. “Grandma, I’m fine, and it’s too chilly for you to be….”
“Hush child,” she pushes the mug closer. “Let me take care of you for once.”
That he lets her tells her just how much he’s hurting. She stands as he sags onto the table again, her gnarled, stiff fingers pressing into his taut neck muscles, combing through his hair.
Her hip grumbles, but she silently tells it hush too. Her boys needed her more.
🎶 and Heavenward or the current Gordon and Penny in Kansas shenanigans if you want a playlist :)
BOTH IS GOOD
for Heavenward:
I never thought that I'd leave you waitingFor me to figure this out on my ownThere are days that I wake up wonderingIf I would be better off on my own
When I'm fast asleep I run awayPlease take me far from this placeIf home is where my heart will stayWhy do you lead me away?
I never thought that I'd have the weight ofAll of the world in my hands(Where you go, I will follow)Through all the noise and lack of silenceIt's never been harder to hear
When I'm fast asleep I run awayPlease take me far from this placeIf home is where my heart will stayWhy do you lead me away?
Where you lead, I will goWhere you go, I will follow
for Talented Amateurs and Kansas!Penny, I have stolen this song so hard:
Secret Santa does not own this, all credit goes to the creator mentioned above!
the Christmas tree was a lot heavier then it looked.
(a/n - this kinda got away from me)
The argument always started the second they got out of the truck.
“That one is the tallest-”
“No you idiot, wide is best-”
“As long as it’s properly green…”
Scott breathed into his be-gloved hands, silently wishing it would snow. But it hadn’t snowed in Kansas for Christmas in years; the cold weather had shifted north; now only a biting wind whipped down across the plains to remind them it was winter. Scott vaguely remembered being four feet tall, his dad and granddad helping him to scrape up the thin dusting to make a tiny snowman once, but he’s not sure when that was, or if he dreamed the whole thing.
That year, the tree had seemed as giant as a redwood and covered with a million gleaming baubles. But he kept to himself his opinion.
As eldest, his job was to mediate and prevent a fistfight in the middle of the firs.
Gordon was already off, dragging Alan with him. For Gordon, it wasn’t a Christmas tree if he could get his arms around it. It barely counted if he and Alan could link arms around it. Gordon had an entire theory about under-tree surface area to presents ratios, and given two glasses of Christmas booze, he’d explain it to you. At length. Extremely detailed length.
Virgil liked height. Height meant the tallest, or at least the first to fetch the stepladder, got to put the star on top. The star was an heirloom, bought by grandma’s grandma and carefully packed up and stored each year in the hall closet of the farmhouse rather than getting relegated with the rest of the decorations to a box in the barn. It was delicate, crystal-strewn, with points still sharp enough to take out a toddler’s eye even after all these years.
Scott didn’t know why the star meant so much to Virgil. Scott had tried the two-drinks trick on Virgil once, a few years back, and all he got for his troubles were drunken rude versions of Christmas carols played on the piano until well after midnight.
He did know why John liked green lushness, however. John’s world was usually grey steel and silver buttons and the infinite inky blackness of space. John was always the one who’d top up the water levels in the base, before anyone else was awake. Only once was Scott up early enough to witness the way John ran his hands down the branches to breathe in deeply the scent released, taking a moment before the Christmas madness began. John was the one who tried without much success every year to convince Gordon and Alan to stop decorating the tree before it fell over, the one to hold it steady while Virgil placed the star securely on top. John liked green things, and he made no attempt to hide it.
John’s stood next to Scott now, hands in his pockets, as Gordon and Alan disappeared to their left, and Virgil headed to their right where the tallest trees were stood.
“How big an argument do you think they’re going to have this year?” John asked mildly, eyes roving over the serried ranks of trees.
“None, because I called ahead and asked them to cut one fresh and put it aside for us,” Scott grinned, nudging his brother and nodding at the pleased little smile he got back. “Come on, let’s get it in the truck before the yelling starts.”
As they shouldered the wrapped tree into the truck bed, Scott breathed in deep the smell of green and lost snow and long-gone forests and felt his shoulders relax.
Scott didn’t care how big or how small, how many presents you could fit under it or how many baubles on top. All he cared about was that the tree was real and his family was home.
Scott tilted his head up as grumbling brothers climbed back into the truck, sniffing the changing air, the colder, wetter gust that slipped past his cheek.
for the prompts thing, may i please request 43 and John/Penny brotp?
This has taken absolutely AGES to do!! But finally - here you go!!
43. “She’s been missing sinceFriday and you’re not worried?”
John and Penny BROTP For Akireyta
“She’s been missing since Friday and you’re not worried?”General Lord Hugh Creighton-Ward looked at his erstwhile RSM, and currentMinder for his daughter. “What the helldo you think you’re doing! That isexactly why I employ you – to know where that girl of mine is at alltimes! God knows what she could be upto!”
“Hwell, M’Lord, I know in which general vicinity she’sin. And I know ‘oo she’s with. I just don’t know ‘her h’exact location andwat she’s doing there.”
Lord Creighton-Ward took a deep breath. “All right then, Parker. Who’s she with.”
**~**~**~**~**~
“I cannot believe I agreed to this. Tell me again why I did.”
“Because you like a challenge, John. And I asked nicely. And you owe me a favour after the thing with the British SpaceAgency.” Lady Penelope Creighton-Wardpeered over John’s shoulder to where he was delicately attaching a smallcomponent into the computer mainframe. “Are you nearly done yet?”
“Almost. It’stricky. Another reason I need to askwhy. There are easier ways to do this.”
“you know, if you stopped complaining, then you might getthrough this faster.”
John turned to her and raised an eyebrow. “And yet again I find myself asking why Ikeep agreeing to your suggestions.”
Penelope patted his shoulder. “Because I’m irresistible, John. Oh, and because it gets you out of theartificial atmosphere of Thunderbird Five.”
John soldered the last wire in place, long fingers delicate. When it was done he sat back on hisheels. “London, you said. A couple of days in London. Tea. Scones with cream. Fish andchips. This is not what youpromised. We are not in London.”
“Well, that’s entirely your own fault, darling,” Penny retortedand then stopped and raised a black-gloved finger to her lips. She moved noiselessly across the floor andpeered out the door cautiously. Shedarted back to John. “Are you finished?”she asked urgently. “Because I think itwould be best if we left now.”
John rose and sighed. “Really? You were supposed to bekeeping watch. I’m done now. I’ll be able to access this from anywherenow.” He took a step towards the door,but her hand stopped him.
“Not that way. Thereare intruders.”
“Other than us? Arethey having some sort of intruder open day or something?” John’s voice, although quiet, was richlysarcastic, and Penelope couldn’t help but to smile. John always managed to keep her from takingherself far too seriously.
“It would appear so; however I suspect that we don’t want tospend time with these people.” Herfinger tapped her lower lip. “Time forplan B I think.”
She turned to the backpack that John had carried andrummaged, pulling out two small round objects. “When I throw these, run in the opposite direction. We may have to do some climbing.”
He loved Penny, truly loved her. But her Plan B’s tended to sometimes be alittle sketchy. And he didn’t fancyclimbing either up or down the building.
It was then that he saw it. There would be no noise, no running. And he had just the equipment needed to make it an effective exit. John reached out and grabbed Penny’sarm. “No,” he hissed. “This way!”
*~~**~~~***~~**~*
“Good morning, Daddy!” Lady Penelope’s voice was chipper, bright and she bent down and kissedthe top of her father’s head.
She had managed to conceal her surprise at seeing herfather’s car waiting for her and John after they disembarked the Euroexpresstrain in London. John hadn’t missed theway her eyes widened though when the car driver wasn’t Parker, and when theypulled up at Lord Creighton-Ward’s townhouse. “How lovely of you to send somebody to collect us.”
John Tracy looked startled and ducked his headslightly. “Sir,” he managed to croakout, aware of the fact that he looked less than well-turned out.
Lord Creighton-Ward put down his tablet and deliberatelydrank some of his tea before answering. “How was your weekend?” he asked, his tone deceptively mild.
Penelope breezed to the sideboard, picked up a plate andstarted to serve herself from the breakfast dishes laid out, gesturing at Johnto do the same. “Interesting,” she said,taking her seat. “I’ll have tea please,Dawkins. I believe Mr Tracy will aswell.”
John wished he could be as nonchalant as his bestfriend. But he couldn’t get rid of thethought that they had spent the weekend breaking into and stealing informationffom the man seated at the head of the table.
The toast was dry in his mouth, and it seemed as if it had alife of its own – crumbs falling like a toasty hailstorm. Desperately he took a gulp of the tea beforehim. It was hot, civilised; and Johntook comfort in the fact that If Lord Creighton-Ward blamed him for all of thismess, he wouldn’t have offered him breakfast.
He hoped.
“Interesting transport method you used. Any reason why you chose it?”
Penelope sipped her tea and daintily ate a piece oftoast. “I was hoping you could explainthat. I was most surprised to find thatsuddenly and inexplicably both Parker and the Rolls were unavailable. I must admit, it did make the task you setrather more…. Challenging.”
John spluttered. “Hang on…” He looked at LordCreighton-Ward. “You knew?”
Hugh Creighton-Ward raised an eyebrow. “I knew about the task I assigned mydaughter,” he said. “However, I did not expect her to vanish completely.Iwas most perturbed by Sunday morning. Ispent a very very uncomfortable few hours with Jeff Tracy until we finallytracked you both down. Amazing technologythat satellite has.”
He rose and went to the sideboard, coming back with twoplates which he put on the table in front of Penelope and John. “For crying out loud, eat you two! It’s bad enough you look like street urchinsat the moment, but when Sylvia comes down, it will cause her to shut upsomewhat if she can see you are eating at least!”
He harrumphed as he sat down again. “I dare say neither of you would turn down ahot bath and a change of clothes anyway.” He tried, he really did, to sound gruff. But he was proud of his daughter, and impressed by John.
They were damn good!
There was silence at the table as John and Penny ate, but asthey finished Hugh settled back with a fresh cup of tea.
Absolutely love the Rent Day Blues Universe and would like to offer a prompt: Virgil sacrificed his mother’s piano so the family could have the money. Years later, none of them knows that he still plays. Until they catch him playing in secret.
It’s been years since he heard the sweet dulcet tones of hammers and strings. They had sold their mother’s Blüthner the week before they’d moved the last time, from the house with the scrubby yard into this apartment.
They couldn’t lift it up the stairs, and had no room to put it besides. And the purchase price bought Grandma an appointment with a specialist. In his head, Virgil doesn’t begrudge the sale, to a family with a daughter so excited to get a piano of her own.
She had pinky-swore to take good care of it. It was enough that Virgil didn’t have a little cry until later.
Just like he had pinky-promised his own mother, just days before the end. Her fingers had been dry, and papery, and cold, callouses faded away, and Virgil had to be careful as he gently wrapped his finger around hers. “I’ll practice. Just like you taught me. Every day.”
He’d saved his tears for later then too.
But Virgil keeps his promises. The length of stuck-together cardboard, blaring the benefits of domestic fire extinguishers on the flipside, had no action, nothing but pressed-flat deadness under his fingers. But he’d drawn the shape and size of keys exactly across the corrugated cardboard backing, a perfect match for a long-gone Blüthner. Even as his hands had grown, developed callouses that had nothing to do with music, he’d stretched them every day, humming the chords cardboard couldn’t play.
The ballroom is mercifully untouched by the fire, just a lingering haze in the air and the scent of smoke that was no doubt already seeping into the rich soft furnishings.
The grand piano on the low stage gleamed in the defused life. “Steinway looks fine,” McCready noted, dusting her hands together, her shoulders back despite the heavy tank still strapped to her shoulders.
“Bösendorfer,” Virgil corrected without thinking, already drifting over.
McCready gestured at the stage. “Well, the building manager is outside melting down at Dobbs about what was lost and what was saved. Better make a full report.”
Virgil tugs his gloves off, jams them in his coat pocket as he approaches slowly, looking over the polished lid. In the reflection, he looks tired.
But the middle C is a pure, joyous tone. Virgil shifts, resting both hands on the keys. Beethoven may have been cliché, but Pathétique from Sonata No. 8 was always one of his favourites. He’d been drawn to minor keys, even from the very beginning.
He still had the sheet music safe in the fire locker under the bed at home, his mother’s neat annotations spilling over the margins.
McCready was one of his favourites; she didn’t clap when he finished, didn’t comment at the way he had to sit for a while after the last note had faded, head bowed.
“Right,” she just said as he finally rose, pulling his gloves back on. “Next room?”
“Yes Chief,” Virgil said, clear and brisk and calm.
John was grabbing some air when he first heard the mewling.
There’s no-one else in the alley, though John glanced around to be sure. Setting aside his steaming mug of peppermint tea, John got down on all fours. It was worth the dirty palms to see a pair of shining eyes blinking back at him. “Well, hello.”
The kitten mewled at John, wiggling back against the wall.
“No, it’s ok. Come here little guy. Girl. Cat.” John reached under the dumpster, flinching as the cat hissed and took a warning swipe. “Ok, ok, have it your way.”
He scowled at his palms and brushed then on the leg of his pants before resuming his seat on the step, mug in hand. But now he was aware of an audience, and he kept still as the kitten crept out from under the safety of the dumpster, investigating this interloper.
“Hello again. Oh, you want this?” He lowered the mug, telegraphing his movements for the wary kitty. She’s scruffy but not skinny, and John assumed she might belong to one of the apartments above the row of shops on the street.
The cat sniffed the steam, then took an experimental lap.
“Hey!”
She just mewled again, plopping on her butt next to John on the sun-warmed stoop to start licking her butt.
“Charming,” he said drily, considering his mug and whether the cat germs would be worth it. But his shoulders dropped and unlocked as the cat slid to her side, pressing into John’s thigh. He touched her tentatively, black fur warm and surprisingly soft, stroking slowly as she started to purr.
Over the weeks she gets bigger, filling out and starting to fit her paws and ears. Sometimes she’s not there, and John doesn’t look for her.
Much.
It’s late enough to be early when the metal door to the stairs closes behind him, the electronic lock buzzing softly in the quiet air. He’s not even sat down when she comes out of the shadows, her whiskers twitching and a brrrt? noise of interrogation.
“Yeah, yeah, hold your horses,”he chuckled, reaching into his pocket before settling down. “Busy night in there, Eos? How’s life on the streets?”
She head-butted his knee, and he laughed, feeding her a few scraps of deli meat he’d saved from his sandwich, hours before. “Greedy, slow down.” She just kept going until she was licking the pad of his finger.
“All gone, sorry,” he murmured, turning his hand to let her press into his palm, guiding his pats. “You wanna hear what my idiot brother did tonight? Spoiler alert, it involves a building on fire and an exit out of a second storey window.”
Eos mewped and leapt up to circle his lap, once, twice, before settling down with a rumbling purr. John stroked her fur smooth for a moment before picking up his tea. “So we get a fire call,” he begins, unburdening his stresses as the first golden rays of dawn broke over the horizon.
Virgil walked in to a room full of wolf whistles, and turned to walk straight out again.
“Oh no you don’t,” Penny laughed, pressing her hand in the centre of his chest and gently but firmly pushing Virgil back into the apartment. “This is your party!”
“What party?”
She turned to show him the bakery box in her other hand. “Your party. Come on, in you go.”
Virgil walked past the closed doors into the living room, crowded with all of them in there are once. “Come on, V, Scott’s been holding out on us until you got here.”
Virgil dropped his bag and looked Scott in the eye. “Name your price.”
Scott was nearly cackling. “Nothing you can afford.”
Alan leaned into inspect the mix of random baked goods left over from the cafe. “Any peppermint crunches?”
“Sorry, darling, everyone loves those,” she turned the box. “I did manage to save you a caramel muffin though.”
Alan snatched it up and slid backwards into Grandma’s range. She whapped his head lightly and he scowled. “Thank you Penny.”
Scott cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to celebrate the miracle that is the annual charity Sexy Fireman’s Calendar.
“That’s not what it’s call-”
“It is in this house, big guy. Or should I call you Mr June?”
Virgil blushed to his belly button as Scott let the calendar drop open. Grandma’s low whistle made him wince. “Ok, come on, get it out of your systems.”
He wasn’t expecting the “hubba hubba” from Penny. The room dissolved into half a dozen conversations, laughter, and dirty jokes.
Virgil waited for his moment, pilfering a muffin and the calendar before retreating to the bathroom.
“Steam it up in there big guy!”
Virgil bit into the muffin to free up his middle finger, and firmly shut the door.
