Disclaimer: this disclaimer applies to all of the chapters. All characters in Thunderbirds belong to Gerry Anderson. Any original, unrecognized characters belong to me and my imagination. No money is made from this publication.
AN: It's that time of year again in Australia. This story is for fathers – all kinds. Happy Father's Day.
The door to the room creaked open and five figures traipsed into the room. The tray in the eldest boy's hands rattled slightly.
"Sshh!" the tiny towhead berated the older boy.
The eldest boy rolled his eyes at the glares he was receiving from his youngest brother. One cursory glance at the body stretched out on the bed told the eldest boy all he needed to know; his father was not really asleep.
"Don't wake Daddy!"
With a small grin, Jeff Tracy rolled over, getting tangled under the bedspread in the process, and pulled the six year old blond into his arms, tickling his tummy. "Wake Daddy up, huh? What makes you think Daddy's still fast asleep?"
Alan squirmed in his father's arms, laughing as though he was fit to burst.
"Me too, Dad! Me too!" Seven year old Gordon clambered up onto the bed and joined Jeff in tickling Alan. Alan screamed in hysterics. The other three boys stood calmly against the wall, as Scott had placed the tray on Jeff's bedside table.
Suddenly stopping his activity, Jeff looked up at his three eldest boys, amazed to see them awake so early on a Sunday.
"Alan and Gordon wanted to make you a Father's Day breakfast," John offered by way of explanation. "Scott heard them pottering in the kitchen and went down to help them, coz we know that mixing Gordon and knives together does not make for a good mix. I woke up because Scott tumbled out of his top bunk and landed with a thunk, and Virgil… well, I don't really know why Virgil was up so early."
"Gordon placed my hand in some warm water. I had to get up, because all of your sons are housebroken," the fourteen year old snarled, an uncharacteristic scowl plastered onto his face.
"Gordon, what have I told you about playing pranks that are hurtful and harmful?" Jeff scolded, staring Gordon straight in the eye.
Gordon had the grace to be ashamed of himself. "Not to?"
"Are you asking me or telling me?"
Gordon sighed, knowing what would come next. "Telling you. I'm sorry, Virg."
Virgil hpmhed, unsatisfied with the way Gordon seemingly got off the hook with an apology.
"I will give you your punishment for that nasty trick on Virgil later, understand?"
Gordon nodded once more. Jeff rubbed his red-head's hair, saying no more over the subject. He was determined not to let that incident ruin his day.
"Now," Jeff groaned as he pulled his body up into a sitting position. "What have we got on this tray?"
"I made the toast, Daddy!" Alan crowed. "Johnny helped me put it in the toaster!"
And so he had. Unfortunately, John had forgotten to adjust the heat setting on the toaster. The result was having a lump of carbon rock instead of a golden brown piece of toast.
Unwilling to be upstaged by his younger brother, Gordon yelled, "Scotty and I made the eggs! And the bacon! And Scott let me turn the tomatoes all by myself!"
That would explain it. The yolk of the egg was as hard as granite, the whites were rubbery and the bacon had shrivelled up to a fraction of its original size.
Jeff smiled warmly at his world. Two were on his bed, cuddled up to each side, and three were leaning against the wall, watching on with amusement in their eyes.
"This looks great. Thank you, boys."
"By the way, Dad," Scott spoke for the first time, "it's Father's Day, so there won't be any business calls, will there?"
Jeff shook his head. "Like you said, it's Father's Day. Today, it's all about you boys and me."
And with those words, Jeff Tracy went on to enjoy his Father's Day.