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It was a quiet evening on Tracy Island. John was down on some of his mandated rest time from being on-call in Thunderbird 5, which he was taking with poorly disguised frustration. It was true that technology meant that he didn’t suffer all the same effects as the astronauts of old did from being in micro-gravity for too long, but he still needed some time on Earth every now and again so he didn’t forget how his muscles were meant to work.
They had just returned from a short but intense mission in Australia. Problems with mines. The mole had had a good work-out, as had Virgil and Gordon evacuating the tunnels. John had relayed instructions from the living room, and he found it frustrating not to have the same technology at his disposal as he did “at the office”. EOS relaying everything just wasn’t the same. He was currently sitting next to Brains and reading a scientific journal, a slight frown creasing his forehead. Gordon rolled his shoulders, making his spine crack, and walked over to where Virgil was playing at the piano. He was sipping a vodka cranberry. They didn’t tend to drink much in case they had a sudden call-out, but Gordon felt that under the circumstances, he could be excused a small one.
“John’s a bit mopey,” Gordon muttered to Virgil, who hummed agreement. “If only he didn’t have Dad’s work ethic and could relax once in a while.”
“He’s okay. You know how he is,” Virgil replied, unbothered. Gordon looked back over his shoulder and pursed his lips.
“Play something with a bit more bounce, Virg.”
Virgil raised an eyebrow, running into something with a bit of swing without missing a beat. Gordon grinned and nodded.
“There may be trouble ahead…” Virgil sang, Gordon joining his lighter tenor to his brother’s baritone a moment later. Their voices were perfectly suited for each other. Gordon looked over at John, snapping his fingers.
“Johnny,” he crooned after the chorus, wheedling to get his brother’s attention. John glanced up and shook his head. “Come oooon, Johnny. Remember the old days. Dance with me!”
“My years of dance classes were a long time ago, as were yours,” John replied scathingly. Gordon executed a clever little piece of footwork to demonstrate his skills, and John just snorted. Gordon tutted.
“You’re being a bore. Kayo! Come dance with me!” He turned his attention to her as she entered the room. She immediately put her hands up and shook her head.
“Oh no, I don’t dance,” she said quickly.
“Please, nobody is judging you. I can’t dance by myself.”
“You’re doing fine so far.” Still, Kayo grudgingly let Gordon take her hand and lead her out into the middle of the floor. John was looking now, while trying to look like he wasn't. Virgil kept singing alone as Gordon encouraged Kayo to move, one hand on her waist and swinging her around. She picked it up quickly enough. Alan was tapping his foot and watching them. Everyone in the room knew he didn’t have a shred of rhythm in him, but he still liked to be involved. Scott walked in, observed the action, and decided it might be time for a small whiskey. He wandered over to the piano, waiting until Virgil was on an instrumental break before speaking.
“So, are we blowing off some steam?” he asked, nodding his head in time. Virgil shrugged and smiled.
“Gordon’s trying to either wind John up or cheer him up. Either way, it doesn’t hurt to relax a little.” Scott nodded agreement. Gordon was being a little clumsy and clownish, and Kayo laughed as he almost stepped on her foot. John sighed loudly.
“How long until John gets up?”
“Any minute. Sing with me, Scott, so I’m not the only musician in the room.”
It took another thirty seconds for John to put down his journal with an exclamation of disgust, and get up to show Gordon what he was getting wrong. Gordon grinned, pleased that his ploy had worked out.
“You’re leading with the wrong foot,” John said, removing Gordon’s hands from Kayo and replacing him. “Now it’s more like this-“
Gordon stood back with his arms folded as John took Kayo for a spin around the floor. By the time he was done, Kayo was quite red in the face and out of breath. John gave her a rather intimate look before stepping back with a bow. She curtseyed and hurriedly sat down next to Alan, who patted her shoulder reassuringly.
“All right then, big brother, how about an old standard? If you’re such a pro,” Gordon countered. They’d performed “Moses Supposes” from ‘Singing’ In the Rain’ together for an amateur variety show when they were in middle school, and had rehearsed so often that Gordon had complained about dancing it in his sleep. Gordon raced to the dining table and dragged a couple of chairs around, then commandeered Scott to act as the tutor.
John shook his head warningly, but as soon as Gordon began with the, “Moses supposes his toeses are roses,” he felt honour-bound to join in. And they didn’t do too bad a job either, considering they hadn’t danced it in ten years. At the final, resounding, “A!” John was puffing from the exertion and the gravity, but he was smiling too. Gordon flung an arm around his shoulder and they bowed together as Alan, Brains and Kayo gave them a standing ovation from the sofa. Scott looked a tiny bit annoyed to have had a waste-paper basket upended onto his head, but he took it in good grace.
“Feeling better?” Virgil asked John as he sat down on the edge of the piano stool. John narrowed his eyes at him.
“You shouldn’t enable him,” he said accusingly, but without any real antagonism. Virgil merely shrugged with an innocent look on his face.
“You were the one who told him he could take dance classes to meet girls. You know what he’s like.”