A/N: Another short story for you all. Personally, I think I'm much better at them than long projects. Not that I'm not enjoying the challenge of writing a multi-chapter, I just need something else to focus on every few days or so. This time, it's the after-effects of Alan's 21st birthday celebration.

Standard Disclaimer: The boys aren't mine sadly. I'll give them back to the Andersons eventually!

"In the Navy! Yes, you can sail the seven seas! In the Navy, yes you can put your mind at ease!"

"Oh for heaven's sake..." Scott muttered, gripping the control stick tighter, desperately trying to ignore the yowling coming from behind him

"In the Navy!"

"Gordon..." He massaged his temple. The combination of his brother's singing and that God-awful song was starting to give him a headache. Why did he always end up having to be the babysitter?

"Come on, people, make a stand!" The red-head continued tunelessly, either not having heard his older brother, or too far gone to care.

Right. Enough. "GORDON!" He snapped, slamming his hand down on the autopilot button and spinning his chair to glare at his brother. "Sing one more word and I swear you will find yourself plummeting 30,000 feet with out a parachute. Understood?"

The sudden outburst had succeeding in shutting up the Aquanaut, who sat there dumbfounded for a moment. "Hey, who's flying this thing?" He cocked his head to one side, pointing towards the empty controls behind the field commander.

"Me! Now shut up."

"Fine..." Gordon sniffed, slumping down in his chair as Scott turned back to the controls. He checked their position on the GPS, sighing when he confirmed that it was still a few hours before they would reach home. While Tracy One was an excellent aircraft, what he wouldn't give to have the speed of his Thunderbird at his fingertips at this very moment.

"You seem tense, Scotty." Gordon slightly slurred words sounded from behind him. "You should have had that drink."

He turned his chair once again to face the back of the aircraft, where his red-headed younger brother was sitting in the front row. "You shouldn't have had so much. We are on duty tomorrow..." He thought for a second, glancing at his watch. "...Actually, a few hours."

"Oh come on! It was Alan's 21st! No point in not having a bit of fun!"

As Gordon twittered on, Scott raised an eyebrow as he spotted a hand rising up behind the red-head, clamping down on the top of the chair. A second later, the face of a dishevelled Virgil popped up from the row behind.

"Wait, we're on duty?" The engineer mumbled, squinting against the relatively dim light in the cabin, but to him felt brighter than a burning sun.

"'Fraid so." Scott replied, amused by the state his middle sibling was in. "God knows what Dad's going to make of you lot though..."

Virgil let out a long groan as he sunk back down onto pair of seats he had been sprawled across and wrapped his blanket around his head. "Do we have to?"

Scott checked over the autopilot before standing and walking down the aisle. "Well, who else is going to do it? Tintin?" He asked, lifting up the blanket to look underneath. "You should have listened when Dad said only a few drinks..."

"Shuddup." Virgil tried to unsuccessfully snatch back the blanket. Scott ruffled the chestnut hair, stepping back as the engineer swiped out at him. Chuckling, he dropped the blanket and continued walking down the aisle, to where he had dumped another worse-for-wear brother earlier in the night.

"So, how's the birthday boy then?" He asked breezily as he peered over the seats, before frowning as he noticed that there was no-one slumped in them. "Alan?" He was sure this was where he had put his younger brother, and the crumpled pillow dumped in the aisle confirmed that the blond had indeed been there.

"Guys, have you seen where Alan's gone?"

"No..." Virgil muttered, pulling his pillow over his head as well as the blanket, trying to block out the light that seemed to be constantly searing his retinas.

"Try the bog." Gordon grumbled as he snuggled down into a more comfortable position.

Of course. Where else could the kid get to on a small airplane? Especially in the state he was in. Walking to the back of the cabin, Scott rapped his knuckles against the plastic door of the bathroom. "Alan? You in there?"

No answer. He glanced around the cabin, looking for a shock of blond hair, but there was nothing. Frowning, he pressed his ear against the door, swaying slightly as the door moved under his weight. It wasn't locked. "Alan?" He asked, popping his head around the door.

A quiet groan made him look down towards the floor, where his missing brother was slumped between the toilet and the wall, the front of his shirt wet with vomit.

"Alan!" He squeezed into the tight bathroom, kneeling down next to the blond, who looked back at him with bleary eyes. "You alright?"

The young man opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything he turned a shade of sickly green. Reacting quickly, Scott grabbed him and bent his head over the toilet, just in time as the young man starting throwing up, not, it seemed, for the first time that night either. Scott crouched beside him, rubbing his hand between his sibling's shoulder blades. "Easy, easy." He soothed. "Better out than in"

Having emptied his stomach, Alan collapsed against his brother, a sheen of sweat across his forehead. Lifting his free arm, Scott pressed the flush on the toilet, and then carefully moved his baby brother so he was leaning against the wall instead. "What are we going to do with you kid? Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

Feeling too ill to do anything but comply, Alan let Scott peel off his soiled t-shirt. Standing, the Field Commander chucked the shirt in the bin by the toilet and grabbed some paper towels from the dispenser. He wet them in the sink and knelt back down, cleaning the last remnants off his sibling's face and chest. Once he was done, he threw them in the trash as well, and then wrapped his arms around Alan's bare middle and lifted him onto his feet.

"Lesson learned?" He asked the swaying figure leaning heavily on him, who was still tinged a slight green.

"M-hmm." A pale Alan nodded wretchedly. He'd rather be dead at this very moment, he felt so gross.

Using his foot to prop the door open, Scott slowly helped Alan out of the bathroom back towards his seat. Carefully, he laid the young man as best as he could across the pair of seats, picking up the crumbled pillow from the aisle and placing it under Alan's head.

Opening up the overhead locker, Scott pulled out a thick blanket. He unfolded it and draped it over his baby brother, tucking it underneath him, cocooning him. Then he walked down to the back of the aircraft and opened up the supplies cupboard. After a few moments searching he had found what he was looking for and went back to Alan's side.

"Here." He tapped the blond on the shoulder, who reluctantly cracked open an eye. He held up the two items in his hands. "Bucket." He placed that on the floor near Alan's head. "And blindfold." He gently encouraged Alan to lift his head slightly, and tied the cloth around his eyes.

"Blindfold?" Virgil mumbled from under his blanket. "Can I get one?"

Rolling his eyes, Scott checked Alan, who was slowly regaining colour, over one last time before going back to the supplies cupboard and pulling out another length of cloth. Walking back towards the cockpit, Scott threw the makeshift blindfold on top of the Virgil shaped lump. "Knock yourself out."

"Do I not get it tied round my head then?" The engineer grumbled, pulling back his cover to glare the fuzzy figure standing next to him.

"You should have known better!" Scott retorted. "And you better hope there's no rescues tomorrow too!"

"Tell me about it..." Virgil mumbled, fumbling with the blindfold and eventually managing to tie it around his head. He flopped back down onto his pillow, inwardly cursing at nothing in particular.

Shaking his head, Scott leaned over to check on one last brother, his face softening as he saw the red-head gently snoring in the next row. He smiled. Maybe he could fly the rest of the way home in peace. Straightening out the blanket covering Gordon, Scott made his way back to the pilots seat at the front.

Checking over the various readouts, he hit the flashing autopilot button and transferred control of the aircraft back to him, just as a voice started singing once again.

"Never gonna give you up."

"Oh for f...! GORDON!"

"Isn't this a tad cruel?" Scott asked, leaning against the wall.

"Probably." Jeff shrugged. "What do you reckon John?"

"Oh, definitely!" The Space Monitor grinned through the video link from Thunderbird 5. "Doesn't mean I won't enjoy it though..."

"Well, that makes three of us." Jeff commented, an evil smile on his face.

"Four darling."

The unexpected voice beside him made Scott jump and he turned to see his Grandma standing in the doorway, a tray in her hands.

"Is this what you wanted dear?" She asked, nodding her head towards the items on the tray, which were three glasses of water and a pack of alka-seltzer.

"Ah, yes! Thank you!" Jeff said as she placed it down on the desk in front of him. "Will you be staying for the entertainment then?"

"While I do think it's a horrible trick to play on those poor boys of yours..." She said as she settled herself into a chair. "I'm not going to miss this for the world!"

"That's the spirit!" The Tracy patriarch beamed. He sat down behind his desk, as Scott busied himself popping out three tablets and placing them next to the glasses. "So, the question now is... Would you like to do the honours John? Or shall I?"

"Oh, be my guest!" John replied. "It's your order they disobeyed in the first place."

"Yeah, but did you really expect them to follow that? It was Alan's 21st after all!"

"Orders are orders." Scott pointed out.

"Yeah, orders are orders." John mirrored, eliciting a light chuckle from both their father and grandmother.

"Well, when you put it that way." Jeff flicked a switch to activate the internal comms. "Brains, this is a drill, so no need to do anything."

"U-understood, Mr Tracy." The scientist's voice came through the speaker. "Good luck."

"Thanks." He flicked the switch again and turned his attention back to the occupants of the lounge. "Well, are we ready?"

"Fire away." Scott answered, accompanied by nods from the other two. This was going to be fun.

With one last evil grin, Jeff wriggled his fingers in mid-air with glee and pressed a button. Immediately the whole villa was filled with the screeching sound of the siren, loud enough to wake the dead.

As the klaxon continued to sound, both he and Scott moved to stand next to each other in front of the doorway, eagerly awaiting the imminent arrivals. A minute later, three figures in dressing gowns came stumbling through the door, clutching their heads in agony.

The two commanders exchanged an amused look as Jeff leaned over and silenced the klaxon. John was just off to the side in his portrait, wishing that he had popcorn, this was the best entertainment he'd had for days.

"Oh thank God." Gordon groaned as the siren cut out and the ringing subsided in his head, a view that both Alan and Virgil agreed with. Finally spotting both their father and eldest brother standing in front of them, they straightened up and attempted to look presentable, instead of creatures that had just emerged from a deep pit.

"What's the situation John?" Virgil asked, trying to ignore the relentless pounding in his head.

"From what I can see, three idiots in urgent need of rehydration."

"What...?" Alan whispered, confused. That wasn't John's usual style of briefing, and why was Scott still standing there? Normally he would have already been on his way to the launch pad.

John smiled sweetly and pointed to their father. The three turned and groaned collectively as they saw him standing there holding two fizzing glasses of water, having dropped the alka-seltzer tablets in them.

"While I should be annoyed that you three ignored a direct order." He said, handing his two youngest a glass each. "I'm impressed you made it up here in such good time, although I doubt you're exactly fit for duty."

Knocking back the water like a shot, Gordon collapsed onto the sofa with a groan, his head feeling like it was home to a million jack hammers. Alan looked at the glass in his hand, wondering whether or not his still-tender stomach would keep anything down. Taking a tentative sip, he flopped down next to Gordon, closing his eyes against the bright sunlight streaming in through the windows of the lounge.

"I did say, you should have known better." Scott smiled as he held the last glass in front of Virgil's face, dropping the tablet in with a flourish.

Wrinkling his nose, Virgil took the glass and drank a mouthful. He glared at Scott and then winced as John started laughing in the background, the sound rattling around in his head, although not as badly as the klaxon had done.

"You. You are a cruel, heartless, son-of-a-" He started to hiss, snapping his mouth shut mid-sentence as he spotted his grandmother sitting in the chair behind Scott with an expectant look on her face. "Sorry Grandma." He apologised quietly, to which the woman smiled.

"I should think so too dear. This is a respectable household. There is no need for that sort of language." She replied, causing him to blush. She still had it. "Anyway, it was your father's idea."

"Huh?" Virgil looked towards his father now perched on the edge of his desk. Jeff raised his eyebrows in response, the edge of his lip curling upwards in amusement, confirming that indeed it had been his idea. "Oh."

"Cause and effect, son. You disobey orders, you have to deal with the punishment. And in all honesty, John had a hand in it too." He thumbed towards the active portrait with a smile on his face.

"Don't you dare drag me into this!" John exclaimed, hitting a button on his control panel and cutting the video link, which made Scott hoot with laugher, and in turn, caused both Gordon and Alan to groan loudly from the sofa as their respective headaches intensified. Virgil flopped down into the remaining space in the middle of his two younger brothers, wrapping his dressing gown closer around him.

"Now, who fancies a filling, hearty breakfast?" Scott asked, clapping his hands together loudly with glee, evoking more moans and wincing.

Jeff raised an eyebrow as he looked at the pile of his sons snuggled up together like small furry mammals. "Does dry toast and ample painkillers sound more appetising then?"

A muffled moan came from within the pile of Tracys. "I'll take that as a yes..." He held out a hand to his mother and helped her out of her chair and then beckoned to Scott. "Come on, I think it's best we leave them there, don't you?"

"Yes dear." His mother smiled as they walked to the kitchen. "But what happens if you get a rescue?"

Jeff looked back through the doorway. "I think we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. I'm hoping that today is quiet, but just in case, Scott, you couldn't go and make sure there is a few boxes of headache tablets in Two and Three's cockpits could you?"

"Yes sir." Scott grinned. He passed the loaf of bread he had just picked up to his father and walked out of the room on his way towards to the silos with the plan of a diversion to the infirmary at the same time.

Jeff opened up the bag in his hand. "Well then. Looks like we've got a job to do. Honestly mother, what am I going to do with those boys of mine?"

"I don't know, Jefferson. I really do not know."

Then, with a suddenness that made every resident of the island jump out of their skins, the klaxon started up for the second time that morning, only this time, there was one reason why it would be sounding. As Jeff and Scott rushed back towards the control room, the angry voice of Virgil could be heard yelling above the siren.

"Oh, for the love of all that is good and holy, SHUT THAT BLOODY THING UP!"