Commute day again! Today’s unedited train snippet is based on horrifying recent events in my own life.
I think it falls roughly within the fluffwhump category.
This was going to be a Gordon-centric fic but he didn’t quite experience the level of indignation I felt was merited, so big brother had to step up.
Hereby claiming “smirk” for Fluffember
Stress Relief
✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️
Scott stood frozen in the middle of the room and felt the last shreds of sanity slip from his fingertips.
How could this have happened?
It had disrupted his understanding of the universe, as if reality itself had finally betrayed him.
The only anchor to his old life, the innocent, trusting life he had lived up until this juncture, was Gordon. His beloved little brother who was writhing on the floor at his feet, shaking and crying…
And howling with laughter.
At him.
Scott opened his mouth to raise an objection to his brother’s frivolous attitude to this disaster but no words came out. Instead, he coughed and spat foul tasting green slime on to the carpet.
It glittered offensively at him.
“H….hooooow?” He croaked desperately.
No explanation was forthcoming - the slippery little fish had rolled on to his stomach and was beating the floor with his fist. Scott spat more slime at him. He probably deserved it.
Wait, did he? Had this been a prank?
Bewilderment was shunted aside by anger.
“GORDON!! WHAT DID YOU DO?”
His brother looked up at him, eyes streaming:
“It wasn’t me, bro” Gordon gasped then bit on his own fist in an apparent attempt to regain some semblance of control “you’re not supposed to squeeze them that hard”.
A tiny seahorse figure fell from the end of Scott’s nose and Gordon dissolved into another fit of giggles.
Scott looked down at the slimy rubbery mess in his clenched fist and frowned, the confusion returning with backup.
“But isn’t… isn’t that… the… ENTIRE POINT?”
He waved the remains of Gordon’s puffer fish toy to emphasis his point and gloop splattered on to the ceiling. To join the rest of the gloop on the ceiling.
“It’s a stress ball! You squeeze the indestructible ball, it remains indestructible and you feel less stressed afterwards! THAT’S WHAT IT’S FOR!!”
Scott’s voice teetered on the edge of a whine.
“Yeah but none of them are really that robust big bro, particularly not in the face of Mr Big Cheese Businessman levels of stress.”
Uhoh. Scott looked down at the brand new, ridiculously expensive designer suit his PA had quietly handed him when he’d turned up ten minutes before the board meeting fresh off the back of a muddy rescue.
The suit oozed at him.
It was apt really. Some of the board members had oozed too. He’d just been sharing some of the ludicrous highlights with his little brother (who was always pleasingly sympathetic on the topic of corporate hogwash) and had absent-mindedly picked the actionably-falsely-advertised item off his brother’s bedside table to toss from hand to hand as he ranted.
He blinked rapidly as something slid into his field of vision. Gordon stood and gently plucked a tiny glittery shark from his commander’s eyebrow.
“Let’s get you cleaned up shall we?” Sympathetic tone and matching facial expression were being masterfully deployed.
“NOT my room. This stuff will ruin my nice carpet.” He sagged. “Honestly Gordo, it was such a tiny thing… how is there so much of this… ick?”
Brown eyes twinkled as Gordon smirked knowingly. “One of the mysteries of the cosmos, big brother.”
🦑🦑🦑🦑🦑🦑🦑🦑🦑🦑🦑🦑🦑🦑🦑🦑
Gordon steered his slimy brother into his own en-suite and closed the door behind him, turning away to survey the sparkling chaos his brother had created.
There was a pause. Gordon could hear the shower switch on and some indistinct muttering from the other side of the door. Then a cough, followed by a snort, followed by a bark of laughter.
Gordon smiled to himself. Maybe not quite what the designer had planned, but the little toy might have had its intended effect after all.
Fluff, Earth and Sky, plus Scott getting a nap. A.K.A Virgil gets Scott a weighted blanket.
EDIT!!! I used one of the Fluffember 2023 prompts in here but completely forgot to tag or mention that. Prompt is "Say: "Thank you for...""
A little inspired by the fic in where Virgil gets a weighted blanket (https://archiveofourown.org/works/23042224 Insomnia by chidoriXblossom), mine written because I think Scott would like one too. And we all know he needs more sleep. Plus soft furnishings!Scott!!!
Also- "This will be only like 500 words max," my muse lied.
So, another fic! Mostly was written on the bus on my phone, while wandering around the kitchen looking for something to eat yesterday, and on notes on my laptop when the Aussie internet and phone service met its untimely demise today.
@idontknowreallywhy With the last 2 paragraphs and hopefully less typos!! Hope you're feeling better too. SOFT FURNISHINGS!SCOTT!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
-----
“Got you a present,” Virgil said, holding out a package wrapped in shiny blue paper.
Scott took it without hesitation, utterly unprepared, because this was Virgil, not Gordon or Alan or any other trouble makers.
He staggered at the sudden, unexpected weight. Scott kept fit for international rescue and lifted more than this on any given day, but dropped into his hands where Virgil made it look like nothing. Well, he nearly dropped it.
Just as Virgil lunged to snatch it back from the bounds gravity, Scott got a firmer grip on the package and hefted it up.
Virgil stepped back, grinning, nearly as excited as the day they sent Two to space. “Open it, Scotty!”
Scott dutifully sat down on the couch with the package in his lap, slipping his fingers beneath the tape.
“But why, why today?” Scott asked.
It wasn’t Christmas. He determined it was not his birthday after quickly counting out what month was it anyway because he’d lost track with how busy he’d been lately. He wasn’t forgetting something else was he? Some important event that wasn’t in his calendar? Oh damn, was he supposed to have gotten his brothers presents too?
Virgil sat down by his side.
“You’re alright Scott, no occasion. Present’s just because.” Virgil smiled.
Scott bumped his shoulder against Virgil’s in a wordless act of affection.
Then he turned to the shiny present he held, excitement bubbling up.
What could it be?
The package was soft, moving about fluidly within the paper, which would usually bring to mind something along the lines of an item of clothing. But whatever it was was far too heavy for that. Even allowing for thick denim or mission suit material, but Virgil wouldn’t wrap up a routine update, and that sort of engineering generally came under Brains’ department.
With the strange slithery, many grains of sand running over each other noise it made whenever it shifted, at this point Scott would expect a prank, even from Virgil.
Except that Virgil was right next to him, just as genuinely happy to be seeing him open the present as Scott was to receive it. Plus his brother was a frankly awful liar and trying to cover for it by, say, hiding his face in his hands while suspiciously giggling behind them had never worked once, for the record.
So Scott shook the package vigorously, when Virgil didn’t stop him assuming it was non breakable, then gave up on the whole guessing game to get to the real deal.
He tore the paper off with a grin, foregoing attempts to be neat about it because he just wanted to see what it was.
Copious amounts of blue fabric poured into his lap. Heavy, weighted fabric, trying to slither to the floor as he grabbed at it and pulled it up.
The thing was soft too, fluffy on one side and more fuzzy on the other, Scott discovered as he ran his hands over it.
A quilted blanket of some kind, a big one too. Scott hefted it and spread it across himself and Virgil to lay it out so he could see it.
It was— oh, “A weighted blanket?” he asked Virgil.
Virgil nodded, smiling widely, “I thought you’d like one of your own, since you seem to like mine so much.”
That was true. Even on the last movie night when Virgil had brought out his own green, wonderfully soft monstrosity of a blanket that practically required an exosuit to lift, Scott had ended up sharing it with him.
He never would have bought one for himself, he didn’t need it, but Virgil has seen and he had gotten him one.
Scott threw his arms around his brother and whispered a heartfelt, “Thank you for— for everything,” into Virgil’s flannel.
Virgil hugged him tight. “Glad you’re happy, Scooter.”
Scott swallowed. “Yeah. I am.”
He stayed in the hug, letting himself lean on Virgil.
Eventually he pulled away, bumping his forehead with Virgil’s briefly in another thanks, before flopping backwards onto the sofa.
He dragged the blanket over his body, snuggling down beneath it, to try it out properly.
Virgil tugged the edges out straight, patting Scott on the leg where he’d slung them over Virgil’s lap to fit onto the couch.
“‘M not moving ever again,” Scott mumbled.
The blanket’s weight pressed down on him comfortingly, like the soothing pressure of a tight hug. The fabric was soft, fluffy and warm, but not too hot for their tropical island. It covered his feet even when he pulled it right up to his chin.
Scott was in heaven.
When he shut his eyes for a moment, letting the sensation sink in, Virgil snickered. “G’night, Scotty.”
Scott opened one eye to glare, then the other. He was not going to sleep. He was just getting comfortable, that was all.
He reluctantly removed one arm from beneath the blanket, wriggling his fingers towards Virgil. He could still work if Virgil would just pass him his tablet.
Heaving a put upon sigh, Virgil reached for the side table and gave Scott his tablet, picking up his own sketch book.
Scott opened his emails, hiding a smile. The blue eyes act still worked on his brother, evidently.
Something, something, board meeting. Something, something, product development. He flicked a couple marked urgent open which weren’t even particularly important and shouldn’t have been flagged for him. He forwarded them on to be delegated to the correct people.
Learning that he didn’t have to do absolutely everything had been a long process, and he was getting better at it.
Scott continued through his bottomless inbox, so warm and comfortable he wasn’t even particularly annoyed with the uptight business people he had to deal with. Or at least he was minorly irritated as opposed to resisting the urge to throw his tablet across the room. He ran his free hand across the soft material, wound in the fluffy fabric while his other held his tablet.
The blanket was working wonders. Quiet scratchings of pencil on real paper from Virgil did aid his calm somewhat too. But the weighted blanket was definitely going down in his favourite items of soft furnishings. Trust Virgil to have gotten it for him and gifted it just because.
Scott’s blinks got slower and slower, and maybe he’d just rest his eyes for a moment, snuggled up on the couch with his brother and his new weighted blanket.
Virgil looked up from his sketchbook at his brother. The permanently stressed crinkles between Scott’s brows were smoothed out, his face lax, his whole body a loose jumble of limbs instead of a wound up ball of tension. His arm arced gracelessly off the edge of the couch, tablet fallen on the floor beside it. His other hand was still gripping the blue blanket, hanging onto it even in his sleep.
Because Scott was asleep. In the middle of the day, finally catching up on countless missed hours, even in the open lounge room, fast asleep with no signs of nightmares.
A line of pencil on thick drawing paper, and Virgil begun to sketch Scott’s sleeping form, seeking to capture such a rare moment. He had no where to be, a mug of coffee beside him, and art supplies at hand so he was content. Plus he had his big brother close, legs still in Virgil’s lap, and no way he was moving to risk disturbing Scott, even if he wanted to, which he certainly didn’t.
Virgil smiled down at Scott, infinitely glad his present of a blue weighted blanket was comforting his brother and letting Scott get some much needed and well earned rest.
If you squint I am claiming 'smirk' in the fluffember prompts. It's a little shoehorned but I hope you will induldge. It's very silly🫣
I wrote this when I was sick in bed and it's a present for @idontknowreallywhy a soft furnishings fan and because she really helped hold my hand through writing Recrudescence. *Hugs tight*
@womble1 it's not strictly whump fluff but I hope you'll appreciate the soft furnishings reference!
Anyway, even responsible brothers sometimes aren't... Gordon to the rescue?
Adulting
"Grandma's gonna to kill us!"
"Us! I'm denying all knowledge of this." There were sounds of dragging, a thump and, was that a giggle?
"Shhh! Your fingerprints are all over this too, Spaceman."
Gordon paused in the hallway just out of sight of the approaching voices. Normally at this time of the morning the only people awake would be himself and Scott for their respective morning workouts. He moved so he could get a glimpse of the speakers. His three older brothers were making their way crab-like along the hallway hanging onto each other as if gravity was a problem. Granted it frequently was for John, but the other two?
Interesting.
Gordon moved into the shadows unseen, to better observe, always good to collect more data before proceeding.
"Guys, guys, s'all good," Scott declared before pitching face first towards the wooden floor. He would have slammed into it at speed if the other two hadn't been holding him up. As it was his sudden shift in position sent them ricocheting, pin ball like across the hall in an ungainly flailing of limbs. Miraculously they stayed upright though John collided with the wall.
"Oof"
"Steady there, Scooter"
'Scooter' just giggled manically, "m' fine."
"If you were 'fine'" a pause while Virgil employed dramatic air quotes letting his grip of Scott go, "this wouldn't be a problem," Scott waivered dangerously without the support while John frantically tried to compensate. Virgil, realising the imminent peril, hefted his brothers weight more fully onto his shoulder again and they resumed their forward shuffle.
This, thought Gordon, might be the greatest thing he'd ever witnessed.
"What's the plan, Batman?" Ok so John was clearly not completely sober either. It was often hard to tell with John, he had annoying good control even when three sheets to the wind.
"I love Batman," Scott's enthusiasm was unexpected, "s'got cool.. You know," he batted at Virgil's chest with the back of his hand as if willing the sentence to finish itself, "whotsit... Stuff."
"You just like the playboy millionaire thing." John commented dryly.
Another manic chuckle from the eldest.
"I like ironman. He's cool," Virgil's brow furrows, "I can't believe they killed him off."
"Another playboy billionaire," John pointed out raising one eyebrow, "With an exosuit."
"Virgil, you are Ironman!" Scott clicked his fingers and then dissolved into even more uncontrollable laughter. There was a pause the other two struggling to hold what was now 6ft 4 of wiggling muscle.
Gordon considered going to help but was finding the struggle too amusing.
Virgil laughed then sighed philosophically, "...I think Allie would be Spiderman."
"Nah, Gordo. Allie's s'not..." Here Scott again seemed to lose words, "snarky enough. Squid would do all the," here there was another thud, this time Virgil bumped the wall as Scott flailed his arms to indicate acrobatics, "and say the thing, you know, that's funny but makes the bad guy want to kill him even more." More giggles at that and in his hiding place Gordon smirked. Good to have your strengths recognised.
Scott's voice again, "We have the money." Then a huffed sigh, "and the tragic backstory." Gordon could see Virgil and John share a glance, even tipsy their Scott radar was sensitive.
Enough of that then, let's not ruin this moment by getting maudlin. Gordon decided to make his presence known. He'd give them a sporting chance so began whistling in the obnoxiously cheery way he had cultivated for such moments, giving them a few seconds warning before he stepped out of the shadows to observe their reactions.
There was a muttered curse another thump as the three men assumed natural positions. -Where were Virgil's air quotes when needed, Gordon smiled to himself.
John had perched a hip on the small table in the wall space between his and Virgil's rooms, the small vase behind him wobbled dangerously. He was looking at his nails in an attempt to appear unconcerned.
Scott, who was showing remarkable will power in remaining upright, was propped in the doorway to Virgil's room where Virgil had obviously tossed him on Gordon's approach; while Virgil himself, one hand just above Scott's shoulder was leaning in a staged casual pose as if the three were doing the most natural thing in the world hanging out in the hallway at 5.47am.
"Gentlemen," Gordon slung his towel over his shoulder. He moved slowly enjoying very much the discomfort of his supposed role models. They all had the serious soberness of the truly inebriated. He nodded to each in turn.
"Virgil."
"Gordon."
"John"
"Gordon"
They might almost have made it too, Gordon mused, if Scott hadn't taken that moment to start humming the old Spider-Man theme tune, which sent Virgil into spasms of laughter and had John rolling his eyes, albeit with a grin on his face. The gig was up.
"Okay, Gordon. Name your price," John cut straight to the chase catching the vase before gravity, his nemesis could claim another victim.
"Oh I would never.." Gordon feigned innocence, the dark look he received from two of his brothers prevented his finishing the sentence. No messing around, good that made things simpler.
"Ok. Next time Grandma makes curry, one of you will bring me pizza from that place in Rome" there was a grudging nod of consent but Gordon hadn't finished, "No laundry duty for a month.." a slight sound of protest from John but Gordon kept going "And..." pausing for effect, "I get to fly two for the next supply run..."
A dangerous growl escaped Virgil and Gordon stepped back
At that moment however Scott simply slid down the doorway to the ground. Three pairs of eyes watched his progress. Gordon looked up at Virgil again, clearing his throat pointedly.
A defeated sigh, "Fine, Brat! But you better go make some strong coffee and bring it to Scott's room ASAP. He's that big meeting at 9.30. And..."
He was interrupted by the sound of whooshy web shooter noises from the man on the floor, at least Gordon assumed that's what they were. Again three sets of eyes observed their fallen leader in silence. Even Gordon was stunned, he'd never seen his oldest brother and sometime legal guardian like this, well, how had one of Penny's friends once phrased it? Pissed as a newt.
"You broke Scotty! What did you do to him?" He asked, unable to keep an note of awe from his voice. Getting Scott to relax was hard; getting Scott to relax and let his guard down enough to take more than one drink was almost impossible. This, well, this was next level stuff.
Virgil took on the look of a guilty school boy whose tiny innocent experiment had surprisingly taken out the entire school building, "s an accident." He looked at John, "His fault!"
John put up both hands in the classic, nothing-to-do-with-me pose.
Gordon's mouth opened then closed, then he tried again, "Riigghht," he gestured the prone commander who was now grinning up at them in a cute puppy way, "You need to fix him, he's beginning to freak me out."
"We're activating 'Sober Up Protocol Delta.'" Virgil said seriously.
"You're what now?"
Virgil seemed to forget the urgency again, "John's idea. You know how he likes to name things."
"Hey!"
"And what does it involve?" Gordon looked at the space brother not liking that the role of responsible adult appeared to be moving towards him.
"Not sure yet but we'll think of something." Failure is not," at this point he yawned widely, "an option."
"Grandma's going to kill you all." And then because he couldn't resist, "Hardly very responsible behaviour, what an example!"
He easily sidestepped the attempted cuff round the head from Virgil. "Fine, I'll bring the coffee."
He set off down the hallway towards the kitchen. Giving a thumbs up in acknowledgement to John's, "Bring bagels too.'
Sighing as they watched their younger brother go, the allegedly responsible two began the process of wrestling their fallen comrade off the floor.
"We've got the secret lair thing going on already," John pointed out neatly picking up where they'd left off before the interruption.
"Yes!" Scott immediately warmed to that idea, "I think you'd be a cool supervillain Johnny."
"He's right. You've the cool secret satellite. I mean," Virgil again let go his grip on Scott to use his hand to highlight his thoughts. "All the best supervillains have secret satellites!"
"You wouldn't have to be evil, Johnny." Scott seemed to feel John needed reassurance.
"Thanks," John's tone was dry, "and don't call me Johnny." Another grunt, "Stop that Scott! If we don't get you sobered up quick we're all for it."
"Ha! So you admit involvement," Virgil was quick to jump on the inferred admission of guilt.
"Shut up and move!"
***
Gordon dutifully gathered supplies, adding Scott's favourite cereal and a protein shake to the coffee and Bagels. He was very intrigued to see how this was going to play out.
Idiots.
Maybe if he spoke nicely to Eos there was recorded evidence.
He really needed to learn not to underestimate his elders, wherever they had been up to he was impressed. He was glad to see those three cut loose, was this what it felt like to be a proud father?
He loaded a tray confident that no one else would be moving for at least another hour so concealment wasn't an issue. Well, maybe Kayo was about, but she only interfered in such matters as a last resort or to prevent death and injury. Neither seemed likely here.
They had had a tough enough couple of months especially with Scott's bout of Malaria and the various cans of worms that had opened. He sighed. John in particular had been a little uptight after that debacle. Shutting down a too serious train of thought for such an early hour he added some saltines and a Celery Crunch bar to the pile. Best to be prepared.
What he actually expected to find when he reached Scott's room he wasn't sure but for it to appear totally deserted was definitely not it.
He allowed his bare feet to sink into the soft blue carpet that Scott insisted was more necessity than luxury and looked around the empty space. His brother favoured military neatness and understated opulence.
The large bed was custom made as were the soft sheets, their thread count some ridiculously high number he'd teased Scott about at the time. He left the loaded tray on the corner of the bed, the desk too far away in his opinion, and backed out into the corridor. Where else could they have gone? Scott's private balcony was likewise empty.
He was just about to widen his search parameters when a strange noise led him to open the ensuite door.
They each had their own ensuite and had them fitted to their own preferences. Scott's was straight out of the billionaire's fantasy dream book. There was a glass ceiling allowing uninterrupted views of the sky, the constant natural light making the tiny flecks of blue and silver in the cream tiles sparkle. He had underfloor heating which Gordon considered overkill for a tropical island home, but he had to admit at times it was pleasant not to have cold tiles underfoot. But it was his shower, a full walk in cascading multi jetted wonderland that pulled and held Gordon's gaze in this moment.
"What are you..." he trailed off as three sets of eyes, well two Scott appeared unconscious, looked at him. They were all in the shower fully clothed; correction, Virgil seemed to have managed to take off his shirt though both trainers remained on his feet. They were attempting to manhandle Scott out of his jeans.
"He fell asleep so we're helping."
There was a slight moan from Scott as John, kneeling on one side of him, prised one of his socks off and pinged the damp item at Virgil who kneeling on the other side, swatted it away only to overbalance and fall backwards against the tiles.
"They're helping, Gordo. S' fine." Scott was now peering at him. His normally perfect hair was plastered flat against his head, almost covering his eyes. He was propped at a half hazard angle against the back wall the water clearly not having the sobering effect they'd hoped for. "S like being in Waterfall."
Gordon rubbed a hand through his hair in a gesture more usually seen in a frustrated Scott and appealed to his allegedly more sober brothers, "For goodness sake why did you put him in there?"
"He missed the rain on his face." Virgil answered as if it should have been obvious, "But then John figured he'd fall over and kill himself if we didn't help."
"Safely first," John said as Scott wagged a finger of endorsement, the teachable moment interrupted by a squawk as Virgil grabbed the legs of Scott's jeans and yanked hard, getting them free but catapulting himself onto the ground one direction while Scott was tossed the other, banging his head on the tiles. "Ouch!"
John started laughing at this, before overbalancing also adding to the heap of limbs. The three were laughing hysterically,
"Careful! Don't! You'll break him! Seriously, you guys are idiots!" He was faced with three uncomprehending looks. Scott finally taking the opportunity of the others distraction to coordinate his own motor skills and attempt to pull his wet t shirt over his head. He failed. "Help, I'm stuck!" He failed pathetically.
Virgil and John both scrambled to assist and Scott was freed from danger. International Rescue at its finest.
Gordon watched speechless, caught between delight and despair.
"You're right Gordon. We'll be careful. Nearly done." Virgil once again took charge. "John help him with his boxers."
"I am not helping him with his boxers."
"He is not helping me with my boxers"
Both statements were spoken in unison. And Virgil once more doubled up laughing. Scott sobered up considerably staring darkly at his nearest brother.
He then looked around owlishly, "Wait. Are we in my shower? Why are we in my shower?"
Oh good grief. Gordon took charge. Someome had to.
"John, help him up. Virgil, turn off the water... Not that one." More squawks as the water turned icy. "Here, one each." He tossed each idiot a towel from the heated towel rail in the corner that was liberally stocked with them. They spoke of high quality luxury.
"Hey, those are my new towels!"
"They are very nice, Scotty." Gordon said as if placating a small child and not the adult before him.
"Lovely and soft." Scott was gazing at his towel with adoration.
"I like the stripes," John chimed in helpfully. Gordon shot him a look and he held his hands out again in what Gordon felt was becoming his trade mark gesture of the day.
"They are a good size. I like a large towel." Virgil smiled goofily.
"Right?" Scott sighed contentedly and looked like he was about to sit down on the tiles again.
Gordon felt a surge of affection for the three doofus idly discussing soft furnishings in various states of sodden undress. Three of the most intelligent people he knew and they were basically morons. Things certainly got surreal around here fast.
Ok. This situation needed a grown up, he did his best Grandma impression, "Don't sit down! Scott! Come here."
Scott looked offended, "Leave my boxers alone." He muttered darkly.
"For pities sake! Believe me no one wants to interfere with your boxers. You and you- out! You are supposed to be the adults around here!" A chastened John and Virgil shuffled past, Virgil's trainers making a damp squelch with each step.
"And you!" He was delighted to see Scott pulling himself up to parade rest under his glare, he'd have to try that tone more often. "Get out of the wet stuff," which was now only one wet sock and the much discussed boxers, "put on something dry and drink this!" he tossed a bottle of water, which in defence to Scott's excellent reflexes he managed to catch even though he was seeing double. "If you're quick you can have two whole hours of sleep before you need to get up and regret your life choices."
Gordon turned on his heel and left him to it, smirking at the thud and loud curse that occurred behind him as Scott tried and failed to remove the sock and remain upright.
Virgil was already asleep in the middle of Scott's bed. While there was still plenty of room for Scott, the drunkard hadn't removed his wet clothes. Sighing Gordon pulled the sodden trainers from the feet that stuck over the edge of the mattress and covered the sleeping form with one of the cashmere throws Scott kept for such occasions. Virgil mumbled something, rolled over onto his back, and began to snore.
John, clutching one of the mugs of coffee and a bagel was already ensconced on the recliner in the corner. He seemed to be dry at least, sporting one of Scott's sweatshirts and a pair of ill fitting joggers. Accepting Gordon's appraising stare he raised the beverage in mock salute. Gordon wondered if he should chase him to bed but figured he'd used all his older brother wrangling powers for one day. Still, he'd check John actually got some sleep later.
Satisfied all was as good as it could get, he lifted the laden tray still miraculously on the bed where he'd left it, and set it on the floor, the desk still too far in his opinion. No doubt one of the others would trip over it, but as he thought philosophically, what could you do? With one more look around he grabbed the celery crunch bar off the top and left them to it.
Honestly, adulting was exhausting.
***
It was a testament to the Tracy constitution that Scott did indeed make the meeting and that it went well. If any of the shareholders wondered why their CEO's office appeared much darker than usual and that despite that fact he was wearing aviator sunglasses, they were too polite to comment. The ways of billionaire playboys were, after all, a mystery.
The First of November is here (for some of us, at least) so here is the launch of Fluffember (Fluffy November), in order to give our characters just a little bit of kindness after the crazy of Whumptober.
There was much comment on exhaustion and basically whumped writers after the frenzy of last month, so this year I've changed a few things. We still have thirty prompts, so those who like to do one per day can go for it. But this time I've grouped them into five lists with nothing in any particular order. November touches five weeks this year, so you could grab one word from each list per week, choose some, choose one for the entire month, or just grab whatever sparks the inspiration. The headings are up for grabs as well, so technically we have thirty-five words/consepts to play with, but as always, no pressure or time limits other than what you want to do.
So write, paint, draw, sculpt, compose odes to characters, whatever you want to do. The aim is to spark ideas and have fun.
To help with finding stuff, please tag your posts with #fluffember and #fluffember2023.
Last week I made Scott cry because of a song that shuffled into my ears while commuting. Some of you enjoyed this because you are clearly as mean as me.
This week’s commute had a more cheesy playlist and he vigorously demanded recompense. Below is my peace offering… (with “music” prompt nabbed from Thunderfluff 2023)
🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵🎵
Legend
“Scott?”
“Hmm…? Yeah sounds good, whatever you reckon.”
Virgil looked up from the piano, realising IR’s Commander hadn’t been listening to a word of his explanation of the disaster Alan and Brains had experienced with TB3’s auto-respray bot. His long-legged brother was curled up on the sofa, with a knitted blanket round his shoulders, knees pulled high and entirely absorbed by whatever he was reading on his phone. His face was unusually relaxed and the broad grin before a speedily typed response confirmed that it wasn’t Tracy Industries work that was commanding such rapt attention. Little brother smiled to himself and paused midway through the sonata he was noodling about with and began to play some light chords around Ab major. Then started humming an old John Legend song they all knew well. A twitch of an eyebrow revealed Scott had noticed the change in vibe, if subconsciously, but there was no further reaction.
He cleared his throat and started singing the lyrics. Still nothing.
Gordon wandered into the room and paused with a question on his face - unlike Scott he immediately knew this was odd behaviour - Virgil didn’t usually belt out the words like that unless there was a singalong on the cards. The grinning musician caught his little brother’s eye and tilted his head slightly towards Mr Oblivious on the sofa. Gordon’s eyes narrowed then lit up with mischief and Virgil shook his head slightly. After a melodramatic pout, Gordon settled for leaning on the lid of the piano and singing along.
By the next verse a third voice had joined them quietly from the sofa, the singer apparently unaware of the amused glances thrown his way by two pairs of delighted brown eyes.
“You’re my downfall, you’re my muse, my worst distraction, my rhythm and blues.
I can’t stop singing it’s ringing in my head for you.”
