Grounded

I don't know where this came from. Some where random anyway. It's just a little fun, hope you like it and review.

Disclaimer: No, I don't own the Thunderbirds but if any one knows where I can get a John it could be very nice...ah -ahem- so...on with the story

Seventeen year old Scott looked up at his bedroom window. It seemed a lot further away now then it did four hours ago. Of course, four hours ago was also 7 vodka shots and a lot of beer ago. It had seemed so easy to slip out after pretending to go to bed, climbing down the drainpipe. Now Scott could barely keep the drainpipe in focus. But, he had to get up. He was dead if his father found out he had gone to a party he had been banned from.

It was worth it though, thought Scott, smiling at what he could remember of the party. Michelle Parlton. Now that was worth it, grinned Scott, thinking of the game of "Seven minutes in heaven" they had played. They had had to be pulled out of the closet.

He once more looked at the drainpipe. He had to start somewhere. He put one foot on the lowest bracket, wrapping his hands around the pipe, he attempted to hoist himself up. His hands slipped and Scott found himself lying flat out on the ground. He suppressed the urge to giggle, and got back on his feet.

He once again grabbed the pipe, this time managing to pull himself up. He wasn't sure how he got onto his window ledge or through his window but some how he found himself standing in his room.

Scott was just switching on the bed side lamp when he heard a cough from behind him. He froze, grimaced and turned around, trying to look sober.

Jeff rose from the chair he had been sitting in, waiting for his eldest's return. He had been rehearsing a good lecture in his head and he was glad to see Scott looking apprehensive.

"Scott Carpenter Tracy" he began, watching his son squirm with the use of his full name, "I need not ask you where you've been, I already know. Although, I'm hard fit to believe it considering I expressly forbid you from going to that party. I can understand you wanting to go but to sneak out of the house? What if there had been an emergency here and I didn't know where you were?" Jeff was getting into his stride now, "What if I had to go and I left, presuming you were here to mind the boys, and in fact you were off at some party? You have responsibilities here Scott. I had hoped you understood that. That you were old enough and mature enough to be relied on-what could possibly be funny about this?"

Scott could no longer control himself and had started to laugh. He didn't know why he was laughing and he knew he was making his father really mad but when his father had said he wasn't mature ha couldn't help but think of Michelle. She definitely thought he was mature. Scott once more dissolved into giggles.

Jeff, who had moved from angry to slightly concerned suddenly realised what had happened to his wayward son. "Scott!" he half bellowed "Are you drunk?"

Scott tried to look sincere, and sober, but was deceived as he hic-upped. His head was starting to really hurt, he noticed.

"I don't believe this" started Jeff, "Not only do you sneak out the house, but you come back senseless. I can't believe you would be so fool hardy. Anything could have happened to..." Jeff stopped as Scott went over to the bed and collapsed onto the side of it, rubbing his head. "I can see there is no point in lecturing you now. I'll do it tomorrow when you have a nice head ache to go with it" he made to leave but suddenly turned back, "And Scott" his first born looked forlornly at him, "I hope you enjoyed the party because you won't be going anywhere for the next two months. You're grounded" He then took his leave as Scott buried his aching head in a pillow.

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"Here! Put him on the couch so I can take a look"

"Guys, I can walk, I'm fine, honestly. It's just a little sprain" Scott tried to convince every one he was fine. Of course this was rather hard when he was leaning heavily on Alan and Gordon to avoid putting weight on his left ankle.

They had just got back from a rescue in San Francisco and were currently in the office, still covered in dust and dirt. Scott had hurt his ankle in the rubble of the earthquake destroyed building they had been removing people from.

He had been doing one final sweep of the area to make sure no one was left when he had stepped on a piece of concrete that was less then stable. It had shifted under his weight and he had ended up catching his ankle in between two slabs of concrete. He'd managed to hobble back to Thunderbird 1 but had had to let Alan fly it home. He had insisted Virgil leave him alone until they got home, much to his father and brother's protests.

However, they were home now and his ankle was getting worse. He could feel how swollen it was and he certainly couldn't walk on his own anymore. He just hoped it wouldn't be so bad he couldn't fly.

Virgil let out a low whistle as he removed Scott's boot. Jeff, who had sat down beside his eldest, shot Virgil a concerned look. "How bad is it son?"

"Well, let's put it this way" said Virgil, "I have no idea how you got back to 1 Scott. This ankle looks to be fractured in at least one, if not two, places"

"So, how long will I have to be off it" asked an increasingly irritated Scott.

"I'd say six to eight weeks. Sorry bro" Virgil shot him a sympathetic look. He knew how much it frustrated Scott to inactive.

His older brother let out a low growl. Half pain and half exsasperation.

Jeff was just glad his son had not done too serious damage to himself. He gave Scott's shoulder a squeeze. "Look's like you'll be running base control for awhile, son. Can't fly like that. You're grounded"

A/N: So what do you think. Funny, stupid? Let me know. Also, I apologise for any mistake with the fractured ankle thing. My medical knowledge comes solely from Grey's Anatomy and ER so it's less then perfect.