Hello. It's me. Here's Part Two.

EOS is a little shit. John loves her. She reminds him to eat and sleep and shower and take breaks when his contacts are making his eyes sting so badly it feels like he's fallen face-first into a mountain of glass shards. She pelts him with bagels when he gets the shakes because it's been one rescue after another, and his sugar levels are running too low for it to be sustainable. She reminds him to call home, learns when to leave him alone, becomes an intuitive genius at guessing his moods.

She's his friend.

She also saves his life a lot. John's definitely lowered his average time spent in hospital beds per year since EOS entered his life.

The only problem is that EOS knows him maybe too well.

"John," she announces brightly over their Sunday game of chess, "I believe you are suffering from a condition described as touch starvation."

Yeah. EOS knows him way too well.

"You're wrong. Also, it's your move."

EOS swiftly moves her knight across the board. "You also appear to be using avoidance tactics to prevent discussing a topic with which you are uncomfortable."

"Damn right I'm uncomfortable with it," he mutters and shoves a bagel in his mouth to avoid talking about it any further and oh, wait… shit. "I'm not touch starved."

"You display classic symptoms."

"You're studying falsified data. Also, you're biased."

"Incorrect." EOS's lights flare a concerned violet. "John, I believe you would benefit from discussing this with your family."

"I believe I would absolutely not benefit from that."

"Oh." There's a beat. "Are you sure?"

John is still trying to understand EOS. She's complex, one-of-a-kind and utterly unique, so this is a challenge, but while he doesn't fully understand her, he does know her fairly well. Which is why he has such a sinking feeling now.

"EOS," he groans into the virtual chessboard. "What did you do?"

"One of my primary functions is to ensure your health and wellbeing. This sometimes means that I must go against your wishes."

"What did you do?"

She hesitates. "I…uh…"

"EOS."

"I already contacted your family about my concerns."

Okay. There's only one thing to do – he's going to have to autopilot Three up here and run away to join the Mars colony. It's not like Brains can spontaneously produce another rocket from thin air, so he'll have a good few months before anyone can come after him.

"John? Your heartrate is accelerated and…"

"Yes, I know."

"Would you like me to…"

"No, I wouldn't like you to do anything, thank you very much. You've done quite enough already."

She goes very quiet. "I'm sorry, John. I didn't mean to cause you distress."

"Well, congratulations, because you failed."

John floats in the darkness for a good couple of hours before he finally switches the gravity back on and tracks down EOS's camera, because she did genuinely have his best interests at heart and frankly, he's been a bit of a dick. So he apologises and so does she and they talk it out over dinner, and then John waits for the call from Tracy Island that's bound to come sooner or later.

Except when the call does come, it's not what he's expecting.

"Can you track Scott's phone?" Gordon demands as soon as John accepts the call. "We were on a supply run and he said he was going to make a call but that was hours ago, and he still hasn't come back. Also, where the hell were you?"

John suspects that admitting he'd been floating in what was essentially a self-made sensory deprivation tank would be cause for some concern. "Doing some routine maintenance," he says instead. "What's going on?"

"Scott's missing," Gordon repeats. "I swear to god, Johnny, I'm not pranking you. He went to make a call and he vanished. I've tried calling him, searching, everything, but it's like he got abducted by aliens – there's not a trace."

"I haven't seen any little green men in flying saucers go past my window, so I'd say that's a no to the extra-terrestrial abduction theory." John tracks Scott down and double takes because what the hell is Scott doing with Penelope in FAB1 above the Pacific? He tells Gordon as much.

"What, he couldn't have dropped me a quick text to let me know?" Gordon grumbles, and he looks so genuinely upset that John pauses in his message to Scott. "Oh, no, he just jets off whenever he feels like it, and Virgil can hide away in Two while I have to be the one to pretend everything's fine because everyone seems to think Alan's a little kid still who can't tell when something's wrong."

John stares at him. Then he blinks, and stares again. "Sorry, what?"

"It doesn't matter."

"I suspect it does."

"You're never here anyway, John, why do you care?"

Ouch. "I'm coming down," John states, and freezes because for a second he could have sworn that Gordon smiled. Little brother looks as upset as ever however, so he must have imagined it.

Tracy Island is deadly silent until John walks into the lounge, still in his spacesuit, and finds the entire family including Penelope, Parker and Brains, sitting on the sofas, looking as though they're about to attend a funeral.

"What the fuck?"

"Ah," Alan says to break the awkward silence. "We've been expecting you." He even spins around on his cushion on the floor for added effect. Kayo snorts. Virgil swats her elbow.

"You lied," John realises aloud.

Gordon winces. "Oh, come on. Can you blame me? There was no other way you were going to agree to come down from your little galactic treehouse."

That… is a fair point but this still feels a little too much like an interrogation for John's liking. He turns and walks out to a chorus of shouts and demands for him to come back, which he proceeds to ignore. Let them all sweat for a bit. They bloody deserve it for lying to him.

He takes an obnoxiously long shower and revels in the warmth and steam that makes him feel like he's in a rainforest. His clothes are still in the drawers – his room hasn't been touched since the last time he was down. He goes on a hunt for his comfy jeans and then his stupid internal thermal regulator decides now is the perfect time for him to feel cold, as he gets goose bumps along his arms and shivers.

"John?" Penelope knocks on the door. Her voice is soft. "Can I come in?"

"No," he growls back, but she comes in anyway and hops onto his bed. He knows he has a jumper around here somewhere, because Penny's the one who bought it for him. It's cream cashmere and if Gordon's gotten a hold of it then John's going to murder him.

"Top left drawer," Penelope murmurs.

John drags it open and finds his jumper. He tugs it on and slams the drawer shut. "Thank you," he mutters grudgingly.

Penelope looks at him pleadingly. "We were wrong to spring on you like that. That was a severe lapse in our judgement, and we're all very sorry. We're worried about you, John, and you have a tendency to run away when people admit to caring about you."

"I do not." She raises a brow. "Not all the time, anyway."

He sinks down onto the bed next to her. She leans her head on his shoulder and entwines their fingers. "I'm sorry I didn't notice."

"You've never held back. You're not the problem."

"They misunderstood. You can't hold that against them. Communication does work both ways, darling."

"Yes, well I did try. I've always been open to Alan hugging me, and years ago after my year on Five, I had a moment with Scott at the lookout. He had all the evidence to realise that maybe, I'm not completely averse to being touched."

Penelope hums. "Yes, but John, you must remember that your brother is…"

"An obtuse asshole?"

"Language."

He hisses at her. She pokes his nose with a smile. He flops back onto the bed and Penelope curls up against his side, pillowing her head on his chest. She lifts their entwined hands onto her stomach and sighs.

"I am so very sorry, all the same."

"Don't be."

"Will you talk to them?"

"What is there to say? EOS already told them everything."

"They need to hear that it's true, from you."

John groans. "God, no. Scott will act totally confused and I bet Virgil's going to cry."

"You should give them a little more credit than that."

He squeezes her hand. "Maybe."

"I love you."

"I know." She elbows him and he yelps, laughing. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I love you too."

They stay on the bed for a while. Penelope doesn't pull away, not once, and John lets her rub his back and kiss his hair while he tries to hide from the truth for a little while longer. Penelope's always been his constant. He needs to hold onto her if he's going to talk about this.

(He doesn't want to say it, he can't say it, it's not true, it's not true, really.)

(Penelope's hugging him.)

(He sort of wants to cry.)

(But not really.)

(Honest.)

Apparently, Kayo had picked up a takeaway for dinner, which is a bit of a disappointment because this is the one time that John would welcome Grandma's cooking just so he could use food poisoning as an excuse to avoid this conversation. Unfortunately, the food is delicious, and they all eat out on the patio, on the edge of the swimming pool, on loungers, on the top of the diving board (because Alan likes to terrify everyone even off rescue). This is a bonus because it prevents any awkward silences that may have arisen at the dining table.

Gordon is a surprisingly intuitive guy and Alan's not an oblivious little kid anymore, so they take themselves off to the beach. Kayo and Penelope head off to Kayo's room, making excuses about catching up. Parker vanishes, as does Brains, which isn't too much of a surprise. John buries himself in washing up until he runs out of cutlery to clean. He turns away from the sink and nearly jumps out his skin when he finds Grandma less than a foot away, holding out a tea towel.

He takes it and flashes her a grateful smile. He knows better than to take out his annoyance on her. She's an amazing woman, but she's also terrifying.

"A long time ago, I told you to speak to your brothers about this," she begins, placing a hand on John's shoulder to anchor him to the spot. "You ignored my advice. Now I know this is scary, but the time has come for you to sit down and have this conversation because, frankly, it's long overdue."

"I know," John sighs. He wrings the tea-towel between his hands.

"It's tough, and I recognise that. I think we all recognise that. But John, what are you so afraid of? This is your family and they care about you. What's the worst that will happen?"

"They banish me to Mars?" John quips and earns a cuff to the ear for his troubles.

Grandma drags him to a brisk hug. "You're a good man and your father would be darn proud of you. I know I am. Now get out there and talk to your brothers."

It's a clear night. A few scraps of cloud chase the sun as it sinks towards the horizon, but other than that the arriving stars sparkle clearly. John shoves his hands into his pockets and leans against the doorway.

Scott's standing at the poolside. His shoulders are held high with tension, and he's tapping his fingers against his leg, like he always does when deep in thought. Virgil's slouched on one of the loungers, unspeaking. He's staring at the sunset, his face an ocean of troubled seas.

They're upset.

Well.

They're not the only ones.

"Alright," John announces as he steps out to join them. "Let's do this."

Scott turns to face him. "If you're really that uncomfortable with it then we don't have to discuss this right now."

"No, don't do that. Don't give me an out because I'll take it." John steals the space at the end of Virgil's sun lounger. "If we don't talk now, I don't think we ever will."

From the hints of a wry smile on Virgil's face, it's clear that at least one of them agrees with him. Scott's harder to read. The fact he's facing away might be a major contributor to that. John's not really sure what he expected in that regard; Scott's pretty in tune with his own emotions but when it comes to talking about someone else's, he'll run a mile.

So.

"EOS gave us a basic rundown," Virgil says when it becomes obvious that both his brothers are fully prepared to sit in limbo all night and not a say a word about anything. John fixes his sights on the closest palm tree and makes the sensible decision not to speak. Very sensible. Clearly. Except for once Virgil's chosen the route that doesn't beat about the bush. "Touch starvation, which is a major contributor to psychological distress."

Right. Okay. "Hold up a minute," John tells him, in a voice that sounds completely normal and not at all mildly panicked. "EOS made an assumption from her own observations. She's good, yes, but it's still just an assumption."

Scott finally turns away from the sunset. "So you're perfectly alright with not being included in all of this then?" he asks, and proceeds to storm towards them just so he can pointedly place a hand on Virgil's shoulder. "Or… hell, movie nights, when everyone ends up on one sofa and you're on the other side of the room. You're fine with all of it?"

John glares at the palm tree. "Yes."

"Really?"

"For fuck's sake," Virgil says, and that's enough to jolt them both out of the strange sort of contest they've fallen into, because Virgil doesn't curse, not unless a rescue's gone so wrong that a hospital trip is inevitable, or if someone's being a complete moron (usually Scott). "Scott, back off. John, tell the truth for once in your life."

John takes mild offence to that. He's very truthful, he's just not necessarily open. There's a big difference there.

"Right. Here's how I see it and feel free to correct me at any point, because as you so beautifully put it, this is just an assumption. At some point, way back when, we all got the impression that you aren't keen on physical contact, so we tried to respect that. In reality, this wasn't true and we somehow got the wrong end of the stick, so now we've gone years without discussing it, you've repressed all emotions yet again and we've hit a point where a piece of code has to tell us that you're displaying symptoms of touch starvation and severe isolation. Sound about right?"

John shuffles his feet. "EOS isn't just a piece of code," he grumbles. "She's a person."

"Really?" Scott throws his hands up. "That's the part you choose to fixate on? Are you kidding me?"

Virgil glares at him. If looks could kill, then Scotty would be a smouldering heap of ashes right now. Not that John's faring much better, because Virgil seems pretty exasperated with both of them.

"Right. Just… take a breather," John suggests, which is a thoroughly terrible decision on his part, because Virgil growls and starts pacing the length of the pool. Even Scott looks faintly nervous and drops onto the lounger that Virgil just vacated.

"This started after college," Scott realises aloud. He looks to John for confirmation. "You came back after your first semester and that's the first time I remember us making a concerted effort to give you some space."

"Grandma says that's on me," John mutters and then shoots a guilty look towards the kitchen because that's definitely not what she said.

"You seemed uncomfortable when one of us went to hug you or tap you on the shoulder or something," Virgil agrees, pausing in front of them. He shrugs. "Look, I don't know who pointed it out first, but someone must have said something because then we all sort of noticed it, so we gave you some space and it spiralled from there."

"Let's just get this straight," John says, ignoring the first inklings of annoyance that's prickling beneath his skin like he's suddenly become a human flower bed for stinging nettles. "You all assumed that suddenly, after eighteen years, I'd decided within one semester that I hated touch. That's what happened. Am I right?"

"Yes," Scott agrees simply. "That's exactly what happened."

"And then, despite the fact I've always very clearly welcomed contact when it's offered, you continued to believe that I wanted to be left alone."

Virgil folds his arms. "To be fair, you did voluntarily spend a year in isolation."

"I was grieving!" John shouts at him. He regrets this a second later, because yelling at Virgil feels a little bit like kicking some sort of animal, all innocent and well-meaning, even though his brother's over six foot and built like a bear. "And then when I came down, can you name one time that I flinched away from Alan? Because he was hugging everyone all the time."

"To be fair, he'd just turned twelve and we'd lost Dad. If you'd flinched away from him that would have been a dick move."

"Scott," John growls, "would you like a dictionary? Flinching is involuntary."

"But it's Alan," Scott continues. "He's the exception to most rules, even apparently non-existent no-physical-contact ones."

"Right, and I suppose you're the exception too? Or did you forget that night on the lookout?"

Scott stiffens. "That's not fair. You were the one who asked me never to bring that up."

"What night?" Virgil queries, completely lost.

John springs up from his chair, partly due to the nervous energy thrumming through his veins but also because he's not entirely convinced that he can keep himself from punching Scott if his brother makes another idiotic remark.

"The night before John went up to Five, the first time he came down after that year, we talked at the look-out, and I hugged him. He didn't flinch away."

"I initiated it," John mutters darkly. "You're just utterly hopeless at reading people."

"That's true," Virgil points out.

Scott throws Virgil a hurt look, as in, god, betrayal. Virgil doesn't appear too fussed. John, despite everything, has a faintly crazed desire to laugh.

"This is ridiculous." He stares up at the approaching stars. Five isn't due to fly past for a good forty minutes yet. He looks for her anyway. Wonders if EOS knows about the sheer chaos that's unfolding down below.

"You're right." Surprisingly, it's Scott that makes the first move. This is entirely unexpected. Scott doesn't back down, ever. It's one of his shortcomings. And yet. "We made a mistake. I'm sorry. No, John, can you look at me?" John turns to him, grudgingly, he might add. "I'm genuinely sorry. But I have to ask, what are we trying to achieve here? We're going over past events, but we already know what we've done wrong. So as far as I see it, we should be trying to figure out how we're going to move forwards and make this better."

Sometimes John forgets that Scott's not a complete idiot. Okay. That's a little harsh. He knows his brother's not an idiot. He's just very oblivious. So when he has epiphanies such as this and comes out with surprisingly perceptive points, John's suddenly reminded that hey, Scott's managed to keep the family together in the face of tragedy twice now, and Alan's turned out well, so maybe Scotty's a lot better at this whole emotion and self-realisation game than anyone realises.

The point is that Scott's right.

John hates that. Scott's not supposed to be right. John's supposed to be right. There's a whole imbalance of the roles of nature here.

(John admits he can be a little melodramatic sometimes.)

"Shit," Virgil curses for the second time this evening, and collapses onto the spare lounger. He looks up and searches until John catches his gaze. "I can't believe you're right."

"Excuse me," Scott protests, and John elbows him. Virgil hides a grin. This is… more like it. Better. The roles of nature are settling back into place.

(Yeah, he's dramatic all right.)

"Where do we go from here?" Virgil asks softly. He looks almost nervous. Which…. Just no.

Scott shuffles closer along the lounger. "Can we fix this?"

John stares at him. "Sorry, what?"

"We fucked up. That's on us. We can apologise all we like, but it doesn't change the fact that we made a massive mistake and never tried to clarify it with you, even when some of us… okay, me… may have had our suspicions. So it's not down to us whether we get to fix it. It's up to you. You get to decide whether you want to give us that second chance, because we owe you that choice."

John flops back across the lounger. "I prefer you when you're drunk."

Scott laughs. "I prefer me when I'm drunk."

"I don't," Virgil interjects, "because I'm always the designated driver. Driver… pilot? Designated pilot doesn't have the same ring to it." He lowers his voice. "Also, has anyone else noticed Gordon and Alan hiding in the bushes for the past ten minutes?"

"Oh yeah," Scott admits with a little smirk. "And I've also noticed some water guns on the table that are already full. John?"

John drags himself upright with a groan. Anti-gravity plays havoc with muscles. He really needs to work out more. "Count me in."

(Alan and Gordon end up in the pool. Virgil tracks down Kayo to join their team. Scott gets catapulted in after the Terrible Two but drags John in as well.)

(John's already made his decision.)

(He made it a long time ago.)

(It wasn't really a decision in the first place.)

It starts off slowly. Little things. They work up to the big events such as puppy piles, because John's not comfortable with that yet and now that they've actually learnt to talk about these things, his family understands that while he doesn't want that at the moment, that does not mean he won't want it in the future.

He stays on Planet Earth for almost two weeks until he gets sick of gravity-induced bruises (no, Gordon, he's not just clumsy, it's all gravity's fault) and retreats back up to Five where EOS welcomes him with holograms of fireworks and a new idea for the latest designs for the gym room that he's been neglecting as of late. But before all that, while he's still soaking up the sun back down dirt-side, people track him down like he's some sort of rare endangered species to be marvelled at.

Unsurprisingly, Gordon's one of the first.

Gordon and John have a strange relationship where they simultaneously drive each other up the wall but also happen to understand each other so well that they don't necessarily need words – not that this stops Gordon babbling in the slightest. Given this, John's half expecting Gordon to turn up within the next twenty-four hours after the initial conversation-turned-water-fight, and little brother does not disappoint.

John doesn't keep a normal sleeping schedule. Given he sees dawn and dusk multiple times a day, this isn't unusual. He tries to stick to the same time zone as Tracy Island, but it's difficult, especially when a callout can come at any time. This is why he isn't exactly surprised when he drifts back to consciousness to discover that light still hangs low across his room and the birds haven't yet started calling across the forest. He finds a spare blanket draped across one of the couches in the lounge and takes it outside with him, because it gets brisk before sunrise, especially as his body still hasn't adjusted to Planet Earth temperatures rather than the artificial regulators that keep him warm up on Five.

Gordon's always been an early riser, but never normally this early. He doesn't acknowledge John's presence, so John settles down on one of the loungers and waits. While sunsets are always easily visible, the treeline and rise of the rocky peaks hides the sunrise from view, but he's content to watch the stars blink out and ebony blue dance a final song as peach and strawberry flood the sky. There's a bank of clouds far out to sea and the water itself is darker than its usual marine; there's definitely rain on the way – there's that distinctive fresh scent in the air and the breeze tastes of it. Apparently, no one else can taste rain and John's just a weirdo. He's not sure if this because he spends so much time in space that his senses are extra sensitive or whether there's some other reason. He lets the thought go. There's a nice breeze this morning.

Gordon bobs up and rests his chin on the rim of the pool. "Hey."

John raises a hand. "Hey."

Gordon yawns, then drags himself out of the water. John reaches across and throws his brother the stripy towel that's sitting on the spare lounger. Gordon catches it in one hand and meanders across to join him, pausing to inspect a butterfly that's waking up on one of the potted plants.

"Are you making breakfast?"

John tilts his head. "Do you want me to make breakfast?"

Gordon hums. "Maybe. Maybe not." He gives John a little side look that suggests, yes, he very much does want John to make breakfast. Which, you know, understandable; Grandma burns toast, Scott's not much better and Virgil and Alan never wake up before noon unless they absolutely have to.

John stretches, balancing on the very edge of the lounger as he considers this. He's not even sure that there's much left in the cupboards, because the last supply run got interrupted by a rescue out Shanghai way. There's probably some eggs left. He thinks he saw some fruit and yoghurt too, and obviously there's ice, so if all else fails then he can offer smoothies to tide everyone over while he figures out what he's cooking with those eggs.

Gordon's looking at him hopefully. There's a droplet of water trickling down his nose and his hair is a good few shades darker with water. A small puddle is collecting about his feet. The towel is looped around his shoulders, but he's making no attempt to actually use it. He widens his eyes at John. "Well?"

"Well, what?" John asks teasingly.

Gordon whines. "Johnny." He gives a dramatic sniff and claps his hands together, as if to beg. "Please?"

"Hmm." John pretends to consider it. "Alright then. I don't think there's much left, but I'll see what I can do."

Gordon springs to his feet. "Thank you!" He prances a few steps closer and wraps his arms around John's back, grinning. "You're my favourite!"

"Gordon, get off, you're drenched! Gordon!"

Gordon gives an obnoxiously loud cackle and releases him. John wriggles free of his damp t-shirt and stares at him ruefully.

"Really?"

Gordon shrugs, and swats John's arm on his way back inside. "Just showing my immense gratitude, mi hermano."

"You do realise that using phrases such as that don't convince me in the slightest that you know anything other than English?"

Gordon blows him a kiss and vanishes. There's a squawk from out of sight and then the sound of Kayo's laughter. John peels himself off the lounger and sets off on a hunt for a new shirt and ingredients for breakfast.

Grandma makes it a rule that he has to come down at least once a week. John thinks that this is a little over-the-top but he doesn't dare say it to her face, so he obediently parks himself in the Space Elevator every few days and sleeps in his own bed - or sometimes swaps with Virgil, because Alan's taken to playing music at random hours that should belong only to the dead, and while John would probably wake if someone dropped a pin too loudly, Virgil would mostly likely sleep through the apocalypse without too much trouble.

It becomes a routine. A ritual of sorts. Everyone begins to expect it, and somehow John's landed himself the job of chef while he's on planet. At some point someone sticks a whiteboard on the fridge and people write down recipes that they fancy, so John looks them up in his (rare) spare time and then presents them over the day and a half that he spends at home. It dawns on him when he's greasing a skillet and allowing Alan to lick one of the bowls, that somehow, at some point, he's picked up cooking as a hobby. He's not sure when that happened. He's not even sure why it's happened. Maybe it's because cooking's logical, and he likes logical things.

Penelope visits at least once a month. She comes bearing gifts for no reason other than the fact that she loves spoiling the people she cares about. She tends to kidnap John and drag him up to the lookout during these trips. She also uses him as her designated footrest during movies and when John doesn't complain, Alan apparently decides this means he can use his brother as a headrest and before he knows what's happened, John finds himself held captive by the blonds with no way of escape.

He still freezes up, so they take little steps at first. Kayo appears to have adopted her own personal strategy as she builds up the level of contact with each visit.

She starts on his second trip planet-side. John's found himself in the kitchen (how unusual) under Alan's instructions and demands. He's fairly preoccupied with slicing fruit when his sister hops onto the counter and swings her legs around to knock her heels against the cupboards to get his attention. John looks up and immediately chokes on a laugh because Kayo is either the most put-together person he knows, or the least, and right now she is definitely leaning towards the latter.

Kayo raises a brow. "Problem, Jay?"

John shakes his head frantically. "No. Nope. Not at all."

Kayo's hair is an unbrushed mess, tangled around her shoulders, and she's wearing an oversized MIT sweatshirt that she can only have stolen from one person. Gordon's outrageously fluffy socks have made an appearance as well, and she has to keep tugging them up her calves as they slide back down to meet at her ankles. She's either borrowing or stealing Penelope's leggings (and John knows they're Penny's because only Penny wears leggings with rose-gold designs up the sides) and as John's distracted, she steals a chocolate button from the plate that's ready for melting.

"Johnny," she announces, smiling at him innocently, "something's on fire."

"What?" He whirls around to find the hob void of any flames, so turns back just in time to spot the remainder of the chocolate vanishing into her mouth. "Kayo."

"Innocent until proven guilty," she mumbles through a mouthful of incriminating evidence and rests her hand on his shoulder to support herself as she jumps down, leaving it there for a second longer than necessary. "Thanks for the snacks!"

"Evil!" John calls after her. "Chocoholic!"

She waves a hand over her shoulder. "Hypocrite!"

"True!"

The next time he visits, she tries again. He's sitting on the sofa, scrolling through Tracy Industries paperwork. Everyone else is in the pool but John's still recovering from his last lot of sunburn, so he's taking a rain-check. The sofa suddenly dips and then Kayo's right there. She stretches out so that her legs are propped on the arm and her head is resting against his shoulder.

"Hi," John says, vaguely amused.

Kayo grins at him. "Hi. You good?"

"Uh… yes?"

"Awesome."

Then she cracks open her book and he goes back to his paperwork, and neither of them say another word until Alan runs in from the pool in wet feet and nearly cracks his head open on Dad's desk.

They go on like this. With each visit, Kayo's more and more present. John's always gotten along well with Kayo and out of everyone, he thinks maybe he's noticed the most how much she's grown as a person, from the shy little girl who'd built a stony exterior to protect herself, to the confident, caring young woman who steals her brothers' clothes (and Thunderbirds) to annoy them, earnt Penelope's trust (and consequently a best friend) and saves the world whilst managing to keep laughing at the same time.

John remembers that as a little kid, he'd always wanted a sister. Now he has two: one officially, and the other unofficially; not that technicalities have ever meant anything to Penelope if they stand in the way of her argument.

By the end of six months, Kayo's the one to greet him when the Space Elevator docks. She's curled up on the floor working through a sudoku, still in her flight suit, although its rolled down to her waist, leaving her in a black tee and the necklace Penelope gave her last Christmas.

"Having fun down there?" John asks her.

Kayo holds up her hands with wide eyes. "Help?"

"Kayo," he sighs dramatically.

"But I can't be bothered."

He heaves her to her feet and then she springs onto his back, despite his protests, draping her arms over his shoulders and hooking her legs around his waist as he threatens to drop her.

"Why must you make me suffer so?"

Kayo full on giggles. She denies this vehemently later, but it's a giggle all right.

"I'm helping you! See? This is part of your workout!"

"This is torture. You weigh a ton."

"Excuse me?"

"I mean you are an absolute delight and my favourite sister."

She rests her chin on the top of John's head and points to the door. "Correct answer. Now let's go! Virgil made flapjacks."

"Aye, aye, Captain."

John takes a much more active role in rescues now. He's always been vital in the running of IR, but now he's a little more hands-on. He's had the exosuit for quite a while, and with more and more rescues calling for Three to travel further afar, Brains is constantly working on upgrades and something a little extra so that John can take over rescues between Earth and the Moon.

Aside from this, John finds himself tagging along on the odd planet-based rescue as well. The first accident he gets caught up in is one where he's not even technically supposed to be there, but Virgil's running a temperature to rival the Great Sandy Desert in December, Kayo's exceeded the legal number of flying hours at any one time without a break, and everyone else is busy on their own missions. So he takes the rescue and Penelope, who happens to be visiting, co-pilots.

It goes wrong. This isn't their fault. Freak accidents happen sometimes. They both walk away fine, with the exception of a few scrapes and bruises, although Two needs a new paint job. John relays this information to Virgil and Brains, inwardly cringing, just waiting for them to launch into one – especially Virgil, who has absolutely zero verbal filter when he's ill.

But they don't.

Brains sighs upon spotting the state of Two, trailing a hand over the deep gauges in the aircraft's flank and wincing as his fingertips come away stained in soot. Even Penelope cringes from where she's watching them both from the observation deck above. Brains shakes his head and tuts, but then he claps a hand to John's bicep, gives a tired little smile, and sets to work fixing things. John leaves him to it. He doesn't want to test his luck and besides, Brains has always worked best solo.

"John!" Virgil's still pretty out of it with fever but somehow John's not in the slightest bit surprised to spot his brother limping along the corridor. Jeez. Virgil claims that Scott's a stubborn idiot, but damn, they're two of the same kind. He slows down to let Virgil catch up with him.

"Why are you out of bed?" he asks, unable to keep the shock out of his voice because he's pretty damn sure that his brother didn't look this bad before John had left for that rescue. Suddenly he's glad that Penelope chose to stay and watch the sunset before returning to her room, because he just knows that Virgil would hate their friend to see him such a state. He's pale and shaky, his shirt plastered to his skin with sweat, and there's that distinctive brightness of fever in his eyes. John softens his voice and repeats the question.

"'Cos," Virgil waves his hands and nearly overbalances. John reaches out to steady him, wincing at the unnatural warmth of his brother's skin. Why is everybody in this family such a dumbass? Honestly. Virgil's supposed to be the sensible one.

"Virg, you really should be in bed."

"Yeah, but you got…hurt and stuff. You're okay, right?"

John studies him. Virgil's wavering on the spot, shivering despite the heat coming off him in waves, but he's staring at John so earnestly. "Yeah," John assures him, "I'm okay."

"Good," Virgil mumbles, the words slightly slurred, and proceeds to faceplant into John's chest. He's burning up and John, not for the first time, is swept up in a wave of concern. He winds an arm around Virgil's waist to help keep him upright and gives Gordon, who got back about half an hour previously, a call, because while he's bulked up quite a bit over the past couple of years, there's no way he's going to be able to carry Virg back to his room.

Be there in five, Gordon texts back, just got out the shower.

You took over half an hour in the shower? John replies with one hand.

Gordon sends back a winky face and John threatens to block him, before Virgil makes a little whimpering noise and tries to burrow into his chest, so he's forced to drop the phone in favour of tending to the fever-struck brother in front of him. Virgil paws at his forearm and John lifts his hand, confused until Virgil traces the band-aid that John had stuck on top of graze there, just to keep dirt from getting in.

"I'm okay," John reassures him, as Virgil prods the band-aid again, brow creased with concern.

"Johnny?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry we left you out."

John frowns. "Jesus, Virg, that was almost two years ago. We've worked past that."

Virgil shivers again, the whole-body, bone-rattling kind of shiver. He pushes his face into John's shoulder as if seeking any embers of warmth, so John lets him. Virgil's entered that confused, upset stage of the fever, and John really hopes Gordon hurries up. He runs a hand through Virgil's hair and tries not to grimace because wow, sweaty and gross, but Virgil seems to relax, practically melting against him, so he pushes the thought to the back of his mind and keeps going.

Gordon shows up a little while later. "Aww," he coos.

John would flip him off, but one hand is in Virgil's hair and the other one is being held captive by aforementioned brother, so all he can do is glare ferociously at Gordon and hope that he gets the message. Gordon, being the little shit that he is, whips out his phone and snaps a picture, grinning all the while, and a second later the distinctive ringtone of the family chat chimes.

"You will die," John mouths at him. "Perish for your sins."

Gordon sticks out his tongue in retaliation and sets about helping John heave their brother back to his feet. It takes a good deal of effort and John's legs are aching by the end of it, but between them they manage to ease Virgil into curling up in bed. Gordon disappears to fetch a fresh cold compress and some fever reducer while John folds himself into the spare space between Virgil's shivering form and the wall.

"You stayin'?" Virgil mumbles, barely conscious.

John brushes his brother's hair back from his forehead and nods, before realising that Virgil can't see him. "Yeah," he promises. "I'm staying."

A week later, he gets sick. Which is sort of inevitable, because Alan had it first, then Scott, then Gordon and Kayo and then Virgil and John's been in contact with all of them. Penelope, remarkably, misses out on the flu of death (shh, he's not melodramatic at all) but Parker isn't quite so lucky, and Grandma and Brains make the smart decision to keep their distance. Basically, what John's saying is that he's been a complete idiot and now he's paying the price for it.

He's half-sure that his skin is melting off. The thought makes him queasy and he makes a wild stumble out of bed for the bathroom, but his legs are as weak as a new-born foal and he ends up in a tangled heap of limbs on the floor.

"You're a dumbass," Scott tells him fondly, because big brother has perfect timing and just so happened to walk through the door as John took his crash-dive into the carpet.

"Scott," John whines, with wide, tearful eyes for good measure, because he's a flipping fantastic actor and everyone had better remember that, "I think I'm dying."

Scott snorts. "No, Jay, you're not dying. You're just suffering a little bit."

"A little bit?" John exclaims.

"John," Scott sighs in all his long-suffering big-brotherly patience, "I've had the same flu. I know what it's like."

John hides under his pillow like a five-year-old until his face feels too hot and he's forced to emerge, at which point Scott laughs at him because apparently his hair has turned into spikes with sweat and now he looks like a hedgehog. John demands a new nurse. Scott merely coaxes him into drinking some water and taking some medicine and puts up with all the insults John hurls at him, because Scott's dealt with Alan that time he had the chicken pox and frankly nothing can be worse than a grouchy thirteen-year-old with oven-mitts tied onto his hands.

Still. At some point the world melts around him and boils and bubbles and John's not quite sure what's real and what's a lie, but he has the distinct feeling that he should be scared of it, but he can't find anyone and what's happened, where are they, are they hurt, where is he, everything's screaming and everything's too damn hot.

Then someone's pressing something cold and soft to his forehead and he arches into the touch and the world rights itself for a little while.

He sleeps.

His fever breaks.

He recovers.

He wakes up to Alan sprawled across the floor by his bed and Scott snoring in a chair, doubled over the mattress, one hand resting on John's wrist. John lays there, revelling in the fact he can actually breathe and think clearly for the first time in… well, he doesn't know how long it's been. It's dark outside and the only light stems from a lamp on the desk. Alan's watch is glowing faintly. John shifts his weight onto his elbows and tries to sit up. He crashes back to the bed instantly.

"John?" Alan mumbles sleepily. He rubs at his eyes with his fists, like a little kid rather than an eighteen-year-old who flies a rocket into space most days. He rolls onto his back and then scrambles to his feet. "Are you awake?"

John finds his voice is pretty much shot to hell and back, but Alan seems to understand him anyway, and brings across a glass of water. Scott, miraculously, doesn't stir.

"You're back with us then?" Alan asks, faintly teasing. He has one hand on John's shoulder and the other on the glass, because the flu's a devil and has left John with the shakes.

"Apparently so," John finally manages to say.

Alan steals a glance across to Scott to double-check that he's still asleep, because even though Alan's now eighteen and doesn't have to tip the curse jar anymore every time he forgets the radio's still on, the instinct is still there. Assured that Scott's still kicking up z's, Alan announces with a breathless grin: "Fucking finally, Johnny."

Scott's birthday happens to land slap bang in the middle of a particularly tricky rescue involving a tornado that grows far larger than average and wreaks havoc across at least two states with unconfirmed reports coming in from a third and fourth. It's the sort of rescue that lasts several days and has turned into more of a retrieval operation than anything else, which never sits well with anyone, so John makes the executive decision to keep Alan and Penelope on island in case of any other callouts and then makes a call to Gordon who's still headlining the unofficial International Rescue recruitment initiative and has been stuck in London for the past nine days.

It's not as if spending a birthday out on rescue is uncommon. Hell, John can still remember one particularly eventful birthday of Virgil's involving a certain ice cap. But most of these rescues are successes and for Scott to be stuck freeing people who nine times out of ten haven't made it – well, that's just spectacularly shitty, especially as this is a fairly big milestone as far as birthdays go.

Gordon is the king of parties. Dad had to put his foot down for a little while after the guy's Olympic win. There's colour, there's noise, there's fun – basically, if you want a good time then Gordon's the person to call. Which is why John's prepared to send his brother his card details and then leave him to it – because he knows Gordon will come up with something good, but also because he's trying to manage Scott and Virgil out the in the US, Penelope down in New Zealand and Alan out somewhere between Jupiter and Saturn. Seriously. Even EOS is finding it tough.

John gives up on his contacts after his eyes start feeling like he's taken a nosedive into a tub of phosphoric acid. The displays are good, they're just not as precise and he doesn't feel quite as in control as he does with the contacts. There's also the part where Alan's a little shit and won't stop making fun of the fact John's now resorted back to his old glasses. Penelope chimes in over the group radio saying that she thinks he looks very handsome in glasses, which sets off Gordon and then Virgil, so by the end of it all everyone's talking at once and the radio's turned into complete chaos. It's finally shut down when EOS shouts at them all to shut up so she can yell at John about the fact he hasn't eaten in over forty-eight hours and when he looks at his hands he can see the faint tremors, which he makes the mistake of commenting on, so then Scott's launching into one and only falls quiet when John crams a granola bar into his mouth on camera.

Look. Some rescues are tough. They know this. They've dealt with this, time and time again over the years. This one seems more draining than usual, however, and by the time Thunderbirds One and Two are finally signed off and on their way home, John can't face the idea of returning to a cold room with none of the comforts of Earth (he loves Five more than anything but sometimes…god) so he leaves EOS on duty and takes the Space Elevator down to join them.

He stays far longer than he intends to. In his defence, he has a lot of sleep to catch up on and he doesn't leave his room for the first twenty-four hours.

Gordon wakes the entire island up on Thursday morning by waltzing (no, really) up and down the hall playing a trumpet. Kayo tries screaming at him, but he merely flips sunglasses into place and continues even louder. Everyone gathers in the lounge where Penelope has laid out a selection of pastries for breakfast because while Gordon's chaotic evil, (okay, fine, secretly good) she's somewhere on the better, kinder, good side of the spectrum.

"You have to move out," Virgil pleads to Gordon, whilst ripping his croissant into little bite-sized pieces. Gordon merely sniggers and points to the door down to the hangars.

"To the jet we go!"

By the end of the day – night? John doesn't even know what time or even what date it is anymore – they've ended up in the city and everything is a blur. There's people here that Scott knows but John can't even remember seeing before, let alone speaking to, and for some godforsaken reason Alan's somehow lost a bet and is attempting to dance in Penelope's stilettos. Gordon's in swimming trunks – not so unusual – and has a feather boa draped around his neck – also not so unusual – with gold eyeliner smeared around his eyes – slightly more unusual – that is somehow glitterier than the actual disco ball.

John's just on the wrong side of drunk to be mildly concerned that Gordon has maxed out his card whilst somehow feeling buzzed enough to let Penelope drag him onto the dance floor. It's a strange feeling. He needs a few more drinks and then Kayo's seized his hands and the bar's right there and Virgil and Brains are standing on the balcony by themselves, away from the crowd, and he shares a second with Kayo to wonder hmm, interesting, before they're downing something blue and sour.

It's a party organised by Gordon so John's really not sure what he expected – of course there's karaoke. Unfortunately, he happens to be the best singer in the family, and everyone knows it. He starts out in a group song and then a duo with a slightly-off-his-head Scott and then he somehow finds himself with the mic solo and everything sort of spirals from there.

There's a lot of glitter.

And a swimming pool. An infinity pool, to be precise.

Because this is Gordon. Of course there's a pool.

More feather boas appear. Alan's been trying to flirt (unsuccessfully) with the gorgeous girl who graduated top of her engineering class at MIT and has been sort of taken under Brains' wing ever since, so they've all seen a lot of her on island. Alan's head over heels. It's mildly sickening. Little brother may have good taste, but he does not have good moves.

"Cannonball!"

"That is a terrible idea," John shouts as Kayo zooms past, but there's a massive – fucking glittery – splash and yep, if there was ever a deposit for the hire of this place, then they're not getting it back. This is the last time he lets Gordon organise everything. Why did he think this was a good idea again?

"John!" Scott appears out of nowhere – seriously, he sort of materialises out of thin air like a ghost – and hooks an arm around John's neck until John stumbles a little closer so he's no longer at risk of being strangled. "This is great."

"Really?" John asks doubtfully, but yeah, alright, it is pretty fun. There's too many people for his liking, but he's laughed more tonight than he has in months, so maybe Gordon's good for something.

"Aye," Scott replies and then collapses into laughter. "Aye," he sniggers, and loses his balance so that John's the only thing keeping him upright.

"How many have you had?"

"Ask Gordon."

This, in itself, is a reply that rings warning bells. John sighs. "Where's Virgil?"

"Nooo idea. Hey, hey, hey, Johnny, guess what?"

John shifts his weight to his other foot, so Scott isn't at risk of tipping them both into the pool. It's a little too late for that, and besides, he's far too intoxicated to be able to figure out which way is straight up. "Scott," he yelps, trying to free his arms so he can catch his balance, but Scotty's pretty much a dead weight and simply wraps his arms around John's waist as if John's some sort of teddy bear. The floor's slippery – with goddam glitter – and then John's falling and the world turns into water.

He bobs back to the surface coughing up water and glitter. Scott's already drifting on a giant flamingo pool floatie and offers John a hand. John takes it, and then claws his way onto the floatie, which is entirely too much effort. He flops onto his back and groans. Scott, sprawled next to him, laughs and whoops.

John looks to him and laughs despite his best efforts otherwise. Scott's sparkling as if he's a vampire in the sun, and his hair streaked with blue. There's glitter everywhere and a stray feather's stuck to his shoulder. Not that John thinks he looks much better himself. If there was a mirror nearby, he's willing to bet that he's just as bad, if not worse because Kayo was jumping around after him about an hour ago with a metallic marker, so…

"Are we too old for parties like this?" he wonders aloud.

Scott reaches across to pat his shoulder but ends up slapping John in the face. "Nope," he says merrily, and that's the end of that.

Sometimes John marvels at his life. He would never in a million years have dreamt that he'd end up here when he was a little kid. At one point he'd doubted whether he'd even make it into space. But now he's here. He's saved the world several times over. He has an awesome family that's grown even larger. He has a badass satellite and wonderful, amazing AI for a best friend. He's at a party crazy enough to make up for all those that he's missed over the years and now, in this moment, he's lying on a giant pink flamingo in an infinity pool under the disco lights and the stars, and Scott's right there next to him, and they're both smiling. Despite all the tragedies, they're still here. They've made it. Together.

As if on cue, like he's some sort of psychic – he's not, he's just really drunk – Scott grabs John's hand and holds their arms aloft, with a loud whoop.

John turns his face into the pool floatie and laughs hysterically. Scott looks immensely pleased with himself.

"You're insane," John tells him, grinning.

"Thanks," Scott replies smugly.

John lets his brother hold their hands aloft for a moment longer, because it's dumb but also sort of fun.

"Happy birthday, Scott," he murmurs.

Scott squeezes his hand. "Thanks, Johnny."

It takes them the full two years and then a little more before John is initiated into the puppy pile. They're so much better now, and while John can never forget all those years where he was pushed aside, an outsider, can't forget that sort of hurt, he can forgive. So when he comes down from his home amongst the gods – as Alan so graciously puts it – and Kayo curls up against him on the couch, Alan uses him as a footrest, Gordon deliberately hugs him whilst the idiot's still dripping wet from his swim, Virgil hugs him just because and Scott leaves an arm around his shoulders when they're talking after a rescue or just because they can; he doesn't remember the past. He's moved past (ha) that.

He lets Alan come up to Five with Brandon for a visit and doesn't even threaten to throw the pair out of an airlock when they start vlogging for Brandon's channel. He welcomes Penelope's random phone calls to complain about politicians with too much money and less than legal agendas. He voluntarily rings Scott in the evenings and orders a variety of cookbooks for Grandma as a little hint for her to actually try to learn how to bake before she can give them all food poisoning again. He writes a reference for Conrad when the guy gets in touch and asks if John can help him out with getting that new post at Mars Air Traffic Control. He lets himself live beyond work alone, and even EOS seems all the happier for it.

Movie nights are a family tradition that gets put on hold as summer arrives and the busy season picks up for International Rescue. Everyone's swept off their feet. Plans postponed. Alan gets dragged back from his date on the mainland and sulks so badly that Scott threatens to ground him – which is hilarious because Alan's almost twenty, but somehow it still works because their youngest brother is a dumbass.

Anyway.

Summer ends. Kids go back to school. Parents who have taken time off return to work. The number of callouts a day dies back down to much more reasonable levels. John comes down and floats in the sea rather than turning Five into a sensory deprivation tank, because as both his family and his therapist tell him, that was never a healthy idea.

The first movie night in months is actually a celebration of sorts. Gordon had agreed to take part in a charity swim race – well, Penelope signed him up and then asked him – and they'd all gone to watch after he'd put on the puppy-dog eyes and practically begged them. He'd won – y'know… obviously – and everything had sort of sprung from there.

John gets the idea to make the ultimate popcorn after Alan falls asleep in the jet on the way home and starts mumbling about sprinkles and toffee and movies. Then Virgil makes the fatal mistake of mentioning how long it's been since any of them have had rocky road, and Kayo chimes in that she misses fudge and suddenly everyone's complaining about which sweets or baked goods they miss, so John sighs and starts making notes. Penelope volunteers to stop off and pick up the ingredients, which Parker grumbles about, but complies anyway.

The kitchen is a complete mess. Grandma's improved a little, though she's still a disaster, but John doesn't have the heart to tell her she can't help, so he lets her whisk egg-whites and sugar into a meringue mixture. Everyone materialises over the course of the next hour, drawn to the possibility of snacks and the scent of baking cookies. Kayo, Alan and Scott are absolute heathens who can't be trusted within five metres of the ingredients because they steal everything, even sliced almonds, which don't even taste that great in John's invaluable opinion. Virgil's a good minion though. John lets him sort marshmallows into identical piles and even lets him melt the chocolate because Virgil isn't a thief, unlike some people, Kayo.

The goods are paraded into the Den. Alan dashes around the house, gathering blankets and pillows and beanbags so quickly that John's half convinced that Brains has invented a teleportation device. Knowing Brains, that doesn't seem quite as farfetched as it should.

"Movie time!" Gordon shouts as he belly flops onto a beanbag. "What are we thinking?"

Virgil sinks onto the sofa with a groan. "If anyone suggests a Marvel marathon again, I will be toasting them in Two's VTOLs."

"What's that about a Marvel marathon?" Alan asks as he wanders through the door, all hopeful and eager. Gordon sniggers. Virgil shoves a pillow over his face and whines.

In the end, they vote on it. John tosses in his vote without much care for what they actually end up watching. Call him sappy, but he's just happy to be spending time with his family. He claims a side of the sofa as his own, lets Penelope use his knees as a backrest as she curls up on a beanbag on the floor, and then gorges himself on food like the rest of the group.

There is so much sugar.

"I think I'm gonna puke," Gordon whimpers into the carpet.

Penelope delicately manoeuvres her feet out of the firing line. "Please don't."

"So you don't want the last brownie?" Kayo checks, and Gordon makes grabby hands without lifting his face from the floor. She passes it to him with a smirk, ignoring the expression of absolute horror that Penelope is giving her.

They move onto the next movie.

Brains starts stealing popcorn from Virgil's bowl. Virgil lets him. Shockingly, Gordon doesn't make any jokes.

Alan springs up onto the sofa at the end of the final film, and sprawls across them all. Scott, at John's side, grins, and digs his fingers into Alan's ribs, earning an outraged howl because damn, Alan is so ticklish and it's priceless every single time. Gordon takes this as a call to arms and flings himself onto the sofa too. His feet wave dangerously close to John's face, so John grabs his brother's ankles and Gordon twists, hissing like a cat. Kayo, who's been stretched along the back of the sofa for the past hour, laughs so loudly that she loses her balance and tumbles on top of the fray.

"John?" Virgil's the only one left and he catches John's eye, asking a silent question.

John shrugs. "Get in here, then."

Virgil crashes into the chaos with a battle cry. For a split second, John thinks he's going to survive, but then someone grabs his wrist and pulls him down. Alan's finally escaped from Scott but Gordon's pinning his legs, so he sort of flounders before collapsing across John's chest.

"Surrender," Gordon cackles as he whacks Kayo with a pillow. She seizes it, flips him over, and proceeds to hit him back.

"Never!"

Penelope, still sat at the very edge, isn't left out for much longer as Gordon begs for help and John shoots a challenging stare. She slips one hand into the heap, hoping to rescue someone, but this is an error in judgement – it was not, she just wanted to be included and John knows it – and she ends up side-by-side with Kayo, her feet in Gordon's lap. Even Brains is integrated in a way – he's perched on the arm of a chair, grudgingly allowing Alan and Virgil to try and pull him into the pile by his hands.

Parker and Grandma are filming. Well. Parker's judging, but Grandma's filming. John knows it but lets them anyway.

Years ago, he was sat on that chair by the door, observing a similar scene and trying not to collapse in on himself like a dying star from the sheer pain of wanting something he couldn't have. Now he's caught up in the chaos that is his crazy, ridiculous, save-the-world family, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

"John!" Alan calls from somewhere beneath their siblings. "You're thinking too much!"

And…

Yeah.

You know what?

Alan's right.

He is thinking too much.

Then someone throws a slice of melted rocky road and it sticks in Kayo's hair and everyone's trying to escape through one door before she can kill them all. There's a screech. Gordon's tripped over a pillow. Penelope apologises, but leaves him as a sacrifice. Brains and Virgil are some way ahead, fleeing for the lab because it has a lockable door. Scott is skidding along the corridor in socks and there's popcorn in his hair.

John's laughing. Alan grabs his wrist and tugs him through the house, out towards the pool and then they're sprinting down the steps towards the beach. Kayo's still shouting, somewhere high above them, back in the house. The sand is still damp as the tide recedes and John's regretting not wearing shoes because there's tiny grains of shell stuck to his ankles and between his toes and he hates that feeling. Alan pelts flat-out towards the cliffs, dives into the water, and vanishes. John skids to a halt.

Alan resurfaces. "Come on! Do you want to die or not? Kayo doesn't know about the caves!"

Such is the fear that their sister strikes into people.

John plunges into the ocean, still trying not to laugh because he doesn't feel like drowning today. Alan's a blurry shape up ahead and remains that way as the water darkens from aqua to navy and then lightens to a softer azure. The cave is small, but shallow, and Alan is evidently very familiar with it as he heaves himself out onto a width of flattened rock and sighs contentedly. John, after a moment's hesitation, joins him.

"What…"

Alan clasps a hand over his mouth. John prises it away and glares at him.

"Shh," Alan hushes, and points to the ceiling. Pounding footsteps echo louder and then fade. "Kayo's on the warpath," he murmurs in a shocked sort of voice.

John snorts. "Terrifying."

"Definitely."

"Would you like a piece of soggy flapjack?"

John blinks. "What?"

"I have some flapjack in my pocket, but obviously we swam, so now it's damp and a bit… well, soggy. D'you want some?"

John stares as his brother reveals a rather sad looking clump of oats and syrup. "Alan, that's disgusting."

"Suit yourself," Alan replies and tosses the flapjack into the air, catching it in his mouth as if he's demonstrating a terrible party trick.

The rock is too small for two fully-grown men to fit on it really, so they're pressed so close that John can hear Alan's heartbeat. He's vaguely amused at the sharp contrast between his current predicament and the state he was in all those years ago.

Alan flakes out on his side. "How long do you reckon she'll take to calm down?"

"Depends." John watches the sea paint patterns across the ceiling. "Who threw it?"

"You're going to laugh…"

"Spill."

"It was Scott. I think he was trying to hit you."

Well then. Kayo's not going to be the only person on the warpath tonight.

The thought takes him by surprise. He cups his hands to his face to hide his laughter, but the movement dislodges Alan and his brother plunges into the water with a shocked squawk. A hand bursts free of the waves, seizes his wrist, and yanks him in too.

"You asshole," Alan gasps between coughs.

"Language," John shoots back, and yeah, they should never have had that Marvel marathon, but Alan's cracking up, pressing his head to John's shoulder as he full on howls with laughter, nearly submerging them both underwater again.

This is crazy. Life is crazy. John likes it this way.

(He's okay.)

(He's happy.)

(And this time it's the truth.)

And that's a wrap. In my original notes, this was supposed to be short one-shot. Ha. Seriously, I have issues with word limits. Send help.

Review?

Kat x.