6 Jul 2019
Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS
Summary: "This is never happening again."
Word count: 1174
Spoilers & warnings: Wing!fic,
Timeline: Teen Tracys
Author's note: I haven't forgotten my WIPs, I promise. Between episode tags and RL, my muse is getting a little trampled (though I have to say, those ep tags are soooo much fun). Anyway, scrolling through my blog looking for my prompt list, I didn't even make it to that post. Instead I hit this, and that was what sparked this little piece. I hear rumour this may have a sequel brewing and not from me, so enjoy :D Many thanks to the-lady-razorsharp for the characterisation check and i-am-chidorixblossom for the read through :D
Disclaimer: Mine? You've got to be kidding. Money? Don't have any, don't bother.
The first blow came unexpected.
Virgil was in piano practise, playing a particularly difficult chord and rift combination when the sudden sensation swamped his mind. His fingers stumbled badly and the entire composition collapsed.
"I think you need more practise, Virgil. But that is to be expected. It is a very difficult piece."
He didn't answer her, too busy trying to work out exactly what had happened.
His lack of response was enough to shake his teacher's confidence. "Are you sure you want to attempt this for your final recital? There would be no shame in choosing another piece."
It was at that point the second blow made him see stars.
It was John.
A sharp indrawn breath. He stared at the piano keys as his heart picked up. "Ms Pickett, I need to leave early. I-I have to collect my brother." He didn't look up, biting his lip as another blow landed. Echoes of pain emanated through his heart.
His teacher didn't answer immediately and her disappointment was obvious. "Very well, Virgil. Practise at home and we will try again tomorrow."
"Thank you, ma'am." Still not looking at her, he grabbed his books and stumbled from the room, almost literally as another blow landed.
His feet hit the asphalt running.
He knew where John was supposed to be, but his senses led him elsewhere, to the far side of the high school grounds, to a shed on the far side of the sports ground.
A place John had zero reason to be.
He had never run so fast in his seventeen years of life.
As he skidded around the corner of the building he tore up dirt.
Three large boys and a huddled red-headed body on the ground.
A foot rose to kick his prone brother and Virgil saw red.
Two hundred pounds of pissed off Tracy barrelled into the lead perpetrator and took him down with one angry fist. A crony made to grab him from behind. Virgil stepped backwards, catching his foot and elbowed him in the face. There was a satisfying crunch of bone.
It also gave him the draw back for the fist that black-eyed the third asshole.
Fingers that had moments before been playing a sonata, throbbed, sporting both his blood and that of others.
The lead perp grabbed him around the waist and they both went down, Virgil underneath and in the dirt. A fist landed in his gut and his lungs lost most of his breath.
"Think you can defend the weiner?" The bastard's breath was hot on his face. Spittle landed on his cheek.
"I don't think, asshole." Virgil grit his teeth. "I know." His knee came up and lowered the man's chance at parenthood.
His grunt was somewhat satisfying as Virgil threw him off.
The two cronies were clutching at their faces and backing away while their leader rolled around in the dirt.
Virgil drew himself to his full height and snarled at them. "Stay the hell away from my brother."
Three eyes widened in alarm, staring at Virgil as if he was the devil incarnate.
"What the fuck are you?!"
The voice came from the asshole on the ground. He was scrambling backwards, wincing at the movement, but staring up at Virgil with the same fear in his eyes as his buddies.
A shadow drifted over the man and Virgil realised it was his.
He didn't need to look to know what had happened. A stretch and he flapped his fully extended midnight black wings. Dust lifted into the air and tossed their hair around. "I am your worst nightmare. If you even look at me or my brother again, you will find out exactly what that means." He punctuated that with an arch of his pinions, high above his head.
The assholes turned and ran.
The moment they were gone, Virgil folded his wings and with a shrug, let them go, and hurried over to John.
His little brother looked up at him from the dirt with sad eyes. "I'm sorry, Virgil." John's voice was raspy. At least one of those blows had hit him in the gut.
"Not your fault. How bad?" Virgil inspected his brother with his eyes, senses reaching for whatever information they could provide.
"I've had worse." He pushed himself up, groaning and leaning back against the wooden building.
"Don't bullshit me, Johnny."
"Don't call me Johnny."
Virgil placed a finger under John's chin and lifted his face gently to inspect it. "What was the reason this time?"
"What did I say about the bullshit?" At least one blow to the face, John's cheek was swelling and the skin was split. Virgil grit his teeth.
"What does it matter? There is always an asshole. Always. The reasons vary, but every damn time there is always one."
Virgil gently undid the buttons of his brother's shirt. John put up a protest, but the older brother ignored it.
A bruise was spreading over the right side of John's ribcage. "This is assault, Johnny. I'm going to press charges." These guys were going down.
John sighed. It was almost a whimper. "You can't."
Virgil's lips thinned. "It is what should be done."
"You can't, you know you can't."
John's shirt was gripped by a pair of bloodied fists. Slim, pale hands, fingernails lined with dirt, rested gently on those fists. "You can't. We can't. It would draw too much attention. They've seen you, Virgil."
He grit his teeth and, with difficulty, swallowed his anger. John was more important. A cleared throat. "Anything broken?"
"I don't think so. Can we just go home?"
"Scott's going to blow a circuit. You should see a doctor."
"Scott always blows a circuit. A doctor would ask too many questions."
Virgil closed his eyes a moment.
"This is never happening again." It came out with no small amount of pain.
"I'm sorry, Virgil."
"It is not your fault." A sigh, and he straightened, standing up, before offering to help John up. "Though we are going to have to think up a story to explain this to Gordy." And yes, the third member of their little triumvirate was bouncing worriedly at the edge of Virgil's mind. "He's too old for vague excuses now."
"Just tell him the truth. His big brother is a wimp."
Virgil glared at John. "His big brother is a genius. His big brother has more brains than most of this school combined. His big brother is going to make a difference in this world. His big brother is going to make this world a better place." He held out his hand. "And no minus IQ point asshole is going to stop him." Not while Virgil was alive. He may not have his brother's smarts, but he had other assets.
John reached up and took his hand, gripping it tight. A grunt and Virgil had his brother on his feet. An arm around his shoulders made sure he stayed that way.
"Anytime, bro, anytime."