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“Hey Virgil, come see me in my office later, willya?” Scott says as he goes past, Alan’s arm slung over his shoulders. Gordon laughs and shoves Virgil’s shoulder.
“Ooohh someone’s in trooouble,” he says in a sing-song tone. Virgil rolls his eyes, but smirks a little.
“If you’re gonna go swimming, go do it and stop bugging me,” he replies, shoving Gordon back. A bit of playful rough-housing follows, but not too much, because Virgil’s tired and Gordon needs to unwind. Alan sprained his ankle on loose ground on the rescue in Peru that they’ve just returned from, so it makes them a little more careful of each other when one of them is hurt.
Whenever Scott invites Virgil into “his office”, he means for Virgil to meet him in the study that adjoins his bedroom, so they can have some time away from their younger brothers. With Alan being fussed over by Grandma and Gordon in the pool, they’re guaranteed a little time where they can just be.
Scott’s reclining in his leather office chair by the time Virgil gets there, looking a little bit smug. Virgil raises an eyebrow at him.
“Check out what I got given as a thank you,” Scott says, and slides the lid off a small wooden box. Virgil leans forward.
“Oh Scott. Oh we shouldn’t. It’s terribly bad for you. We mustn’t.”
Cuban cigars, by coincidence the exact brand their father used to smoke on occasion. It was possibly a bit dubiously legal that Scott even had them, but then, who was going to come searching anyway?
“We saved the mayor’s daughter. He was profoundly grateful, wouldn’t let me leave without them. We’d be doing him a disservice if we didn’t.” Scott takes one out of the box and expertly clips the end. Virgil glances behind him, making sure the door is properly closed.
“We better go onto the balcony. If Gordon or Grandma catch even a whiff of it, there’ll be hell to pay.” Scott’s balcony faces the other side of the island, over the rocky cliffs instead of the beach. He’d wanted it that way, asked his father especially, so that nobody else could see him from their windows when he was out there.
Scott pushes the drinks trolley out onto the balcony and pours them both a scotch on the rocks. Then he produces an elaborate lighter and lights the end of the cigar.
“But I’m not even in my smoking jacket or cravat,” Virgil says, sitting down on one of the two loungers on Scott’s balcony. It feels ridiculously decadent to be sipping scotch and smoking cigars, looking over the ocean as the sun sets. Virgil, not noticing Scott’s eyes on him, takes an inhale on his cigar.
“Oh- sh-shit-” Scott bursts out laughing as Virgil’s throat catches and he chokes on the smoke, hacking loudly as his eyes stream. The elder comes over to bang his brother on the back, which doesn’t really help but feels like it ought to.
“Woah, take it easy big guy, it’s been a long time since your last one,” Scott says, sitting down as Virgil gets his breath back. Virgil wipes his eyes and nods quickly, breaking into a hoarse laugh.
“Like a complete novice. Oh boy.”
Scott is grinning agreement and smoking his own cigar like he’s been doing it all his life. In fact, he’s smoked a cigar a handful of times, and always in his father’s company. It was a reward for a job well done, a chance to relax and unwind without the younger brothers. Virgil had joined them once he got to college, pleased at being invited into the tight company. They hadn’t done it since their father’s crash. It had seemed disrespectful, and besides, Grandma had always abhorred smoking, and got rid of the cigars because she couldn’t stand the smell.
“John’ll be envious he missed out,” Virgil says, regaining control over his lungs and trying again, but gentler this time. John never wanted to actually smoke, but he liked being around them when they were. Virgil wondered if it was just a part of being included in the club, being one of the men.
“It’s okay. When he comes down next we’ll invite him in. There were half a dozen in the box.”
“Special occasions, then.”
Virgil Bluetooths his communicator to the local stereo system and chooses a little Sinatra to round out the atmosphere. They sit in companionable silence as the sun goes down.
“Oh, Scott, I almost forgot to mention. Alan wants to spend a weekend out once he’s eighteen. He might want to invite me to accompany him,” Virgil says, and Scott gives him a flat look.
“Gordon potentially piloting Thunderbird Two alone? You trust him?”
“Weeeeell… yeeeeeees, but… it might not come to that. We’ll see. Alan might change his mind and ask Gordon. He wanted Kayo originally, but I talked him out of it. John’s not the jealous type, but I don’t know if Kayo would want to or not.”
“Wait, what? John?” Scott sits up and looks at Virgil, who stares back for a second, then groans and shakes his head.
“Seriously? I’m the only one who sees it? Come on, it’s definitely a thing. Right?”
“Did they tell you?” Scott asks, trying to wrap his brain around it. Virgil shrugs one shoulder and sips his drink.
“Well no, but they don’t have to. It’s so obvious.”
“Not to me.” Scott looks a little affronted, wondering why he never noticed, or if Virgil’s imagining things. Still, Virgil’s usually pretty on point with this stuff.
“Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is, that Alan wants to go out and get drunk. I’ve told him that most of Gordon’s stories are bullshit, but enough of it is true to make him curious.”
Scott ponders a moment. “Well… that’s okay, right? It might be better for you to go, you’ll take better care of him. But maybe he wants to get into trouble. Maybe it’d be better if he did. But- nooo, no actually. Maybe I should go.”
Virgil shoots him a look of pity. “Dude, Alan’s not gonna ask you to go. Not that you would accept anyway, but you’re too close to being Dad in his eyes, and who would ask their dad to go out boozing for the first time with them? Drinking scotch in a leather-bound study is not the same thing.” He indicates his cigar.
Scott sighs, but he knows Virgil is right. “Well how am I meant to do without you for a weekend?” he asks. Virgil laughs.
“You’ve managed before. You and Gordon by yourselves? You’ll have fun!” Scott makes a noise that indicates he’s not sure if he agrees.
“I’m not sure I can even imagine Alan getting drunk and hitting on women.”
Virgil smirks. “Well, just as well he asked me first then, cos I don’t wanna drink at straight bars anyway.”
The cigars are almost spent, the alcohol drunk, and the sun has descended below the horizon. They can hear a faint echo of Gordon singing loudly as he gets out of the pool and heads back inside.
“Dinner will be up soon. You hungry?” Scott asks, but Virgil just looks upwards as the stars gradually emerge. Above them is a twinkling dot that is their satellite, keeping them all safe.
“Lets just wait for a little bit longer,” he says softly. Together they watch, as the last coils of cigar smoke drift away, taking thoughts of their father with it.