Also for @astranite and the chats we used to have. Pretty sure it’s based on one of their fics but I cannot find it…
Wee!Tracys
~
It was the screaming that alerted Lucy to the fact that something was wrong with her children.
At first she assumed it was Virgil. The 18-month-old had a set of lungs on him and while he was as quiet as John most of the time, he was also known for enjoying his noise…but he was still asleep in the playpen in the corner, and Lucy smiled that he could sleep through such a noise.
No, the current noise was coming from her two older children.
She stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the scene. Both was crying. Big, fat tears and big, hiccupping sobs. Scott was sitting across from John, his face red and snotty, holding his arm like it was hurt, whereas John was sitting in the corner, hands hugging his knees and rocking slightly but equally as red and snotty and resolutely not looking at Scott.
Scott jumped up and came running as soon as she entered the room.
Lucy knelt down and Scott all but jumped into her arms, and she enveloped him into a hug while trying not to wince at the volume of Scott’s crying. It wasn’t like Scott to cry for long, but she could detect confusion in the timbre of his voice. She released him from the hug but kept him close, looking at the bite marks on his arm.
‘Scotty? Want to tell me what happened?’
‘Johnny bit me!’
‘Oh dear. Want to tell me why?’
‘Don’t know!’
‘Here, let Mamma kiss it better and you can think about what happened while I help John. Is that alright?’
‘Yes, Mamma. Kiss better please!’
Lucy gently smiled at her eldest and kissed the already-fading bite mark. Scott was hiccupping as he tried to get his crying under control. She wiped away the tears (and snot) with a tissue, kissed his forehead and gently sat him on the sofa while she moved to help John, not missing the way Scott’s eyes tracked her movements.
John watched his Mom approach with wet but wary eyes. His Mom sat in front of him, crossing her legs and close enough that he could touch her should he stretch his legs out but not crowding his space. But he didn’t move, and Lucy could see he was beginning to hyperventilate, his green eyes wide and fear spiralling out of them.
Lucy ducked her head a little to attract his attention and once John was completely focussed on her she began to talk softly.
‘Sweetheart, I want you to concentrate on me. Only on me, ok?’
Nods
Lucy shifted a little to make it easier for John to focus on her and block out most of Scott from his view.
‘I want you to take a breath. Like this.’
Lucy took a deep breath in, held it a moment and then slowly released it. And then she repeated it as John followed suit as best he could. He was hiccupping through the tears like Scott was still, but as John’s breathing matched hers and eased so did Scott’s.
They stayed in their respective positions until John had stopped crying completely. By this time Lucy’s legs were beginning to go numb and she was relieved to move as John launched himself at her.
The hug was brief but tight and meaningful, and while it only lasted five seconds it was the longest hug by far that her touch-averse son had given her. She looked from the floor as John climbed onto the sofa beside his brother.
John reached out to Scott and patted his arm, leant his head on Scott’s shoulder and burst into tears again. And so did Scott.
‘It was my fault, Mamma!’
‘What do you mean, Scott?’
‘I – I wanted a hug and you were busy and I – I hugged John.’
‘Scotty, we’ve talked about this before. John doesn’t like hugs like your dad and Virgil and myself do.’
‘I forgot.’
‘And that’s ok too. We all forget sometimes. But what do you think you should do now?’
Scott turned his head to face his brother.
‘Sorry John.’
‘S-S-Sorry too.’
And then – a miracle!
Scott tentatively put his arm around his brother and John stayed there. For a full minute before pulling away. He didn’t move far, though, settling next to Scott so that their shoulders were almost touching. Scott passed John a book from the ever-present pile beside the couch and John immediately began to read to himself while Scott followed along the movement of his finger.
I have a little weeTracys Halloween idea for you.
Picture Lucille leading her boys through the neighbourhood, all dressed in costumes and carrying a little pumpkin bucket or pillowcase to contain their treats. Scott's reached his teens, but he wouldn't miss trick-or-treating with his little brothers for the world. Alan's still more baby than toddler and is mostly being carried by his mum.
Alan's costume is an adorable rocket onesie. The nosecone (hood) and "stabilising fins" (arms) are red, the main body shiny silver, and his lower legs and feet are decorated with flames shooting from the black booster rockets.
(I'll describe the costumes of the others for other TAG trick-or-treaters, or in reblogs later.)
For @janetm74, because while I can picture Scott as a parent, it was more fun to picture him as an uncle to small nephews. Virgil’s kids, to be precise. Warning: it’s complete and utter fluff. And some whump, poor Scott. Also, some very blue language. Enjoy!
(cc: @womble1, also for the idea.)
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Thwap. Scott winced and opened his eyes. He realised he was lying on the daybed by the pool. A small arm lay across his face. Frowning, he removed the arm from his face and turned his head. The small arm, he discovered, belonged to three-year-old Kip, who was snoring on his right. He grinned.
Like father, like son.
Glancing to his left, he spied Alex, also snoring - this paternal inheritance amused Scott to no end - sprawled next to him, left hand curled around Scott’s bicep and right leg resting on his hip. If the twins were on either side of him, that meant the weight on his chest had to be - he looked up and accidentally buried his face in a thatch of red hair - Jack, age one, lying face down on his chest, asleep. And not snoring.
He must take after Rebecca. Hmmm, how did we end up here?
Scott took a moment to recall his morning. The island needed restocking, and Jeff had a physio appointment in Sidney. A group consisting of Jeff, Grandma, Gordon, Virgil and Rebecca had gone in Thunderbird Two. Virgil and Rebecca were to resupply the island after dropping off the other three at Jeff's physio appointment. Gordon and Grandma accompanied Jeff to discuss his progress with his doctor and update his regimen.
Scott smiled. Though keen to get his health back after being in space for nearly a decade, his father was chafing at the restrictions remaining on him by medicos seven years after his return. He had tried convincing his family he could slack on some of his rehab, but they weren't having it. Jeff even appealed to Rebecca in the hopes she would side with him. But after discussing it with Grandma, the best she could offer was to go to his doctor and have his exercise and dietary regimen reevaluated.
Jeff felt betrayed. “Et tu, Becca?” But his family - led primarily by Grandma, Virgil and Gordon - agreed this was a good idea. So, on this appointment, Dad had company.
The man who said, ‘humanity never got anywhere taking it easy’ was trying to take it easy. Scott smiled wryly. He checked his watch. They should be back soon.
With Kayo (something secret with Lady Penelope), Alan (at uni), and Selene (several client meetings) in London, and with John working on Five, Scott had been the only adult left on the island to watch the boys. He had been busy with rescues of late and was keen to spend some quality time with The Nephews. After a morning spent walking his favourite and most scenic trails around the island, followed by a quick jaunt to the beach to cool their feet, the quartet had found themselves back in the villa's kitchen for a snack. Then Jack wanted to snuggle, followed by Kip and Alex. The daybed was the closest place to comfortably lie horizontal with small, tired children.
A sudden pain in his side made Scott gasp. He quickly placed a hand on Jack's back to keep him from rolling off. What on earth?
Alex shifted again, digging his elbow into his uncle's ribs. Scott gasped again, quickly placing his hand between him and Alex's sharp elbow. Oof, that hurt.
Muttering under his breath, Scott gently tried to manoeuvre Alex so he couldn't jab Uncle Scott with his pointy elbow. Distracted by Alex, he was unprepared for the hand that smacked him in the face. Thwap!
Kip! Scott swiftly turned to find an angelic Kip snoring into his armpit. Lowering the boy's arm, he tried to shift Kip so he wouldn't keep hitting his favourite uncle in the face. He managed to shift the boy into his back. That should help.
Small boys resettled, Scott took a breath and, cosied by three small furnaces, found himself dozing. Puppy Pile: The Next Generation was FAB.
I like being an uncle. They really are the sweetest boyeeeeees!
Scott yelped, blinded by the searing pain that made him see stars. He was wholly unprepared for Jack's foot to so accurately connect with his testicles as the sleeping toddler shifted.
Oh, fuckfuckfuckfuck!! That hurts!!
Scott sucked in deep breaths of air. This definitely hurt more than when a twelve-year-old John had squarely kicked the head of his penis as the redhead shifted in his sleep. To make matters worse, John wasn't sorry and still teased Scott about it to this day.
That unrepentant fucker! He had escaped to Thunderbird Five, claiming he and EOS had work to do. That absolutely sneaky fucker!! Next time he can watch Virgil's kids.
Through controlled breaths, the pain slowly began to recede. Shifting Jack, so his legs straddled his waist, Scott felt he had sorted his nephews sufficiently to enable him to catch a restorative nap.
He had dozed for about a dozen minutes when something hard connected with his jaw. Stunned, Scott discovered Alex had shifted in his sleep and had somehow kicked his uncle in the head. His yelp of surprise caused Kip to stir, prompting a hand to thwap Scott's face. A sudden pain in his side made him jump. Looking at Kip, Scott saw him, still asleep(!), lunge and bite him a second time.
WTF?!?
Reaching to move Kip caused Jack to shift, and both of his feet connected with Scott's groin in a one-two kick. Weeping in pain and trying not to scream, Scott slid the small redhead onto the daybed, and he slid off it, rolling on the ground.
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!!!!
Scott didn't just see stars this time. Now he saw whole technicolour constellations. That's it. He decided once he could think again. Never again am I looking after the Terrible Three Tracys. And, Kayo and I are definitely never having kids.
He crawled to the kitchen for ice packs and some pain medicine. He swallowed the pain pills and sank to the floor, unable to stand any longer. He sighed, leaning against the cabinet with the ice pack on his groin and jaw. Never, ever having kids. Kayo will understand. She's wonderful like that.
Slowly, he recovered, dozing in the cool shade of the kitchen. Just as the last tendrils of pain faded away, he heard Thunderbird Shadow and Thunderbird Two returning. Ah, good. Scott was keen to see his wife and return Virgil's children to his care. He pulled himself to his feet. The movement didn't hurt. He was relieved. Craning his neck, he saw the three terrors were still asleep on the daybed.
No more puppy piles for me. I can be immune to their cute puppy dog eyes…, especially Kip. Why does he have to so closely resemble Virgil? That's fighting dirty.
Scott turned toward the stairs when he heard family coming down them.
“Hey Scott, how were things?” Virgil made a beeline for the daybed, rousing his children.
“Things were good.”
“Scott, are you okay?” Frowning, Rebecca approached him, looking concerned.
“I'm fine.”
She peered closely at him. “What happened to your jaw?”
“Oh, it's nothing.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yep.” Scott smiled at her. Rebecca's expression suggested she didn't believe him. “Really, Becca, I'm fine.”
“Hmm. Well, thank you for watching the boys.” She kissed him on the cheek. “It was a productive trip.”
“That's good.”
Gordon came in, carrying a box of supplies. “Yeah, Dad can cut back on two of his medications and drop several exercises.”
“That's really good news!”
“I agree.” The man himself strolled into the kitchen and sat at the table.
“Grandpa!” Three little rested boys came tearing into the kitchen.
“Boys!” Jeff hugged his grandbabies as they tried to climb into his lap.
“Guys, go easy on Grandpa. He can't play with you like Uncle Scott or me.”
“Oh! Daddy, we had the bestest time wit Uncle Scoot!” Alex beamed, and Kip nodded in agreement.
Virgil tossed Jack in the air, expertly catching him. “Did you have a good time with Uncle Scoot, too?”
Jack giggled merrily in reply.
“Well, this is a happy gathering!”
“Kayo!”
“Hi, Kayo!”
“Honey, you're home. I missed you.” Scott kissed his wife.
“I am. And I missed you, too.”
“Did you have a good time in London?”
“I had an interesting time.”
“Oh?” Scott looked closely at his wife. She was glowing. She mouthed something he didn't catch. “What?”
Kayo grinned at him. “Let's tell them.”
“Tell them? Tell them what? Kayo….”
“Everyone, can we have your attention?” Everyone stopped and looked at Scott and Kayo. “We have some news to share.”
We do? Scott frowned. What had she mouthed to him?
“We're pregnant!”
As everyone gathered around Kayo to offer their congratulations, Scott sat on his chair, stunned. I'm gonna be a father? He rested his hand on his jaw, briefly miserable. I'm going to be a father. He brightened. I'm going to be a dad…And I can have Virgil watch my kid. Smiling, he joined his family.
Working in an area of farms so homes are quite far apart. The nearest neighbors, who have toddler aged kids, are in the middle of construction adding a second floor to their home. Early this morning (6am) I went outside with the dogs. Suddenly a woman in the distance is yelling "Get down from that ladder now! How many times do I have to tell you you are not allowed to climb the house?! No. No! Do not jump!"
Fandom: Thunderbirds
Rating: Gen
Genre: Family
Characters: Scott Tracy, John Tracy, Virgil Tracy, Gordon Tracy, Alan Tracy
And another fic for @gumnut-logic‘s #irrelief! The prompt used here is “Any aged bro – The missing Teddy Bear.” from @fictivekaleidoscope
When Lee Taylor bought a bog-standard teddy bear for his best friend’s baby, he probably didn’t expect it to be quite so popular.
He was, rather unimaginatively, named Scott. That was all Lee Taylor, the man who after much debate and hair-pulling over what, exactly was an appropriate toy for a new born baby (a build-it-yourself rocket was vetoed by Lucille before he could even suggest it), had appeared with a bog-standard fluffy teddy bear and presented it to a two hour old Scott Tracy.
You didn’t need two new names to remember, he reasoned. Scott the boy, and Scott the bear. Simple.
(It would have been more convincing if he hadn’t started calling the baby ‘Sam’ the next time he saw him).
Why no-one ever changed the name before baby Scott was old enough to recognise that his favourite teddy shared his name, no-one ever knew. Perhaps it just never occurred to them that they didn’t have to go along with Lee’s idiosyncrasies, or maybe they couldn’t pick a better one. Whatever the reason, his name was Scott, and Scott it stayed.
Scott the bear, eventually nicknamed Scotty-bear after one too many occasions of a too smart toddler with an attitude ignoring his parents because “I thought you meant him!” despite knowing perfectly well that the scolding for scribbling on the wall was for him, became the heart of one brotherly tradition as the Tracy clan began to grow.
Scott the boy was four when he realised Scotty-bear wasn’t in his bed. Lucille promised that she hadn’t moved him while he’d been out at kindergarden, making friends and already showing his future colours as a leader, but the fact remained that Scotty-bear was missing.
A thorough search of the house ensued, Scott running up and down the stairs with reckless abandon during his search and about ready to scream at Jeff when he walked in through the front door. Luckily for Jeff, he didn’t return home from work to an irate Scott with accusations of bear-napping after a suspicious search into his younger brother’s room revealed an unlikely culprit.
Two year old John was curled up in his bed, taking a nap. Around him were various stuffed toys, as usual, but in his arms Scotty-bear was tightly clutched. Scott was furious, waking up his younger brother with a shove that almost knocked him off the bed and wrestling him for control of the bear until Lucille stepped in to stop him.
“Why did you take Scotty-bear?” she asked her sobbing ginger son gently, holding Scott at bay as she gathered him into his arms. “You know it’s not nice to take things that aren’t yours.”
“Scott not here,” was the hiccupped reply. “Wanted Scott.”
Scott stared at his brother before walking out of the room, and that was how Scotty-bear changed hands for the first time.
At this point, the tale of Scotty-bear is probably already clear. With a toy passing down from the elder to the younger, it was a given that the pattern would continue for as long as there were more youngers.
Virgil’s acquisition had occurred with less temper tantrums, but that was probably more to do with the milder dispositions of both boys involved, as opposed to their eldest brother and his fiery temper.
At four years old himself, John was no less willing to part with the bear than Scott had been, but Virgil was enamoured with his biggest brother, and found it highly unfair that John had a bear called Scott and he didn’t.
“There can’t be two Scotty-bears,” John said bluntly when Virgil declared he would get his own. “This is Scotty-bear, and he’s the only Scotty-bear.”
Scott himself, now six, was away at school and didn’t hear the exchange. Jeff was largely ignorant to the events that had transpired for the original handover, barring the fact that however it had happened, Scotty-bear now lived in John’s bed, but Lucille saw the signs and gave a subtle prompt to her second son.
“You can share Scotty-bear with Virgil, can’t you, John?” she asked, gently. John thought about it, defensively holding the teddy close with a frown on his face. In front of him, Virgil employed large brown puppy dog eyes and a quivering lip.
Just as Scott before him, John caved, and thus Scotty-bear once again changed beds.
Virgil held Scotty-bear for the longest time yet, a larger age gap between him and the eventual next younger sibling giving him plenty of time to drag the little bear everywhere with him, and drag him around he did. Virgil and Scott-bear were inseparable, to the point that Scott himself began to sulk that he’d been replaced by a ‘stupid stuffed toy’ when Virgil had tried to give Scotty-bear the last sweet from the packet rather than his actual brother.
Lucille had to intervene more than once when Scott’s temper started to flair, convincing Virgil that Scotty-bear would be just fine without his attention for a few minutes and “Mommy will look after him, so why don’t you play with your brother for a bit?”
However, all things must come to an and, and so did Virgil’s time with Scotty-bear.
Gordon was a monster. Loud, inquisitive, and determined to follow Virgil around like a limpet as soon as he could crawl, there was nowhere for the dark haired brother to escape from his blond shadow. Attempts to palm him off onto John were met with a raised eyebrow – John had learnt that one young – and Scott was reaching the age where he was always busy with friends, and rarely in the house for any length of time.
It was an act of despair, Virgil determined to shake the nuisance once and for all, that he turned to the stuffed toy equivalent of his elder brother. Scott might be too busy to play with little Gordon, but Scotty-bear had no such restrictions. Two years older than either of his brothers had been when they had surrendered the toy, and markedly less selfish than either to boot, it was a more mature boy who hugged Scotty-bear goodbye and quietly snuck him onto the blond menace’s bed during one of the toddler’s naps.
Gordon stopped following him around immediately, the cut-off so abrupt that the thought crossed Virgil’s mind that, somehow, the bear was all Gordon had wanted. Lucille was quick to comfort him as the idea upset the kind-hearted boy, assuring him that Gordon was just distracted by a new toy and would still want to play with his brother.
As always, mothers knew best. After a week of insistently playing with Scotty-bear (to the amusement of John and Scott, who both shared amused ‘join the club’ looks with Virgil), Gordon decided that actually his brothers were cooler than a stuffed toy who by that point had seen better days, and started to trail behind them all again.
Still, Scotty-bear was never relegated from Gordon’s bed, and was found once or twice stuffed inside a swimming bag smelling of chlorine and in need of a wash. Lucille swore the toy had never needed so many washes in the hands of his other three brothers combined.
The fourth handover, Gordon to toddler Alan, was a far more sombre affair. Despite his penchant for sneaking the toy with him wherever he went, amid claims that Scotty-bear was no more special than any other toy – transparent claims that no-one believed but no-one called him out on, either – when the time came, it was without any hesitation at all.
Alan was crying.
Mommy was gone, Daddy was somewhere off planet, Scott was trying to get the microwave to work with help from Virgil after John hurt his hand with water from the kettle, and Alan was crying. Gordon wasn’t allowed to pick Alan up until he was bigger – Mommy had said so, and Gordon was going to be a good boy for Mommy in case that would help her come back – so he did the next best thing.
The appearance of a teddy bear seemingly from nowhere had Alan pausing mid wail, staring at the coveted, tatty bear Gordon made dance towards him. Alan knew the bear – of course he did, the stories of hand-me-downs had been recounted several times and even young as he was, he’d known that meant that one day it would be his.
He’d been scheming to steal it with Mommy just last week. Now, Gordon was holding it in front of him with a sad smile, and Alan wanted that bear. He snatched it, and Gordon let him.
Scotty-bear was Alan’s faithful companion for many years. Kids laughed at the threadbare toy when it was found in his school bag, and harder when they found out it was named after his biggest brother. Alan refused to be dissuaded – Scotty-bear was special and if they didn’t understand that then that was their problem. Known troublemaker and big brother Gordon stepped in from time to time when Alan’s classmates got too raucous, and word quickly spread that it wasn’t worth picking on the teddy bear.
With no younger brother to pass Scotty-bear down to, Alan believed that Scotty-bear would be his forever. First the death of his Mommy, and then the world-shattering loss of Dad had him clinging tightly to the toy. His brothers doing the same thing Dad had been doing when he’d disappeared terrified him, and Scotty-bear was the keeper of his fears as he listened dutifully with fabric ears to Alan’s confessions in the middle of the night when he was the only one home.
It was only once he joined their ranks that Scotty-bear was set aside, a childhood toy not suitable for the launches into space and beyond, and the well-loved old toy ended up in the bottom of his closet, out of sight and, eventually, out of mind.
But that was not the end of Scotty-bear’s travels. For the cycle of brother-to-brother to complete, there was one more transition to make.
Scott, a young man who had owned the bear for all of two years and barely remembered that it had ever been his past stories and photos, found Scotty-bear in Alan’s closet one day in the weeks leading up to the launch of the Zero-XL. A fine layer of dust had settled over his fur, adding to the illusion of age, but Scott made no move to clean him.
Life was stressful, with the piles of responsibilities on his shoulders growing ever heavier, and the realisation that soon they would be chasing after Dad, to whatever end that might lead, just another one to add to the pile. He was a fully grown man, and had no need for childhood comforts, but Scotty-bear looked at him with chipped beads for eyes and almost without realising it, Scott took the toy back to his own room.
John noticed, because of course he did, but it wasn’t until Dad was home and safe and recalling, amongst many other things, Alan and his favourite bear, that Alan discovered Scotty-bear’s disappearance.
Before it could get too out of hand, Alan threatening to tear the villa apart for the sake of a teddy bear he hadn’t looked at in years, John pointed the finger and stopped all arguments in their tracks.
“He was always Scott’s. We just borrowed him.”
Scott wasn’t the only one dumbfounded at the admission, but it didn’t take three devious younger brothers long to agree that of course the old-age teddy belonged to the old-age brother, and why didn’t they see it before?
Jeff watched with delight as four sons (John declared guilty by association) found themselves thrown into a pool by an older brother trying and failing to feign offence, who himself ended up dragged in when he didn’t back away from the edge fast enough. It was good to be home.
(If Scotty-bear ended up back in Scott’s bed again that night, no-one commented.)
