Author's Note: This is just a little drabble … inspired by the line in the trailer for the movie where Virgil says to Alan "Haven't you got homework to do?" … that got me thinking about the teenage Alan Tracy, and the mischief he could get up to … and somehow led to this! It's mostly out of my imagination, so I apologise if they are out of character …

Please be kind! … or be nasty, it really doesn't bother me ;-) But I would prefer nice!

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Lunch was a strained affair at the Tracy household. Jeff Tracy had – possibly unwisely – left all of his sons alone together in the household, under the charge of Scott. Jeff and Grandma were both visiting family friends, while Tin-Tin and Kyrano had gone back to Malaysia for a holiday. Thus it was, that the five Tracy brothers had the house to themselves for a week … and things were not going well.

Within two hours, Gordon had two of his older brothers out for his blood, after he sent them trekking ten kilometres out into the bush in the middle of the day, searching for Scott's car keys … all the while keeping the keys safely at the house. Scott and Virgil were – understandably enough – very unimpressed when they arrived back at the house to find a triumphant Gordon standing in the backyard waving the keys at them and smiling. Gordon had taken off, and remained in hiding until Alan called that lunch was ready; he figured that they wouldn't try too much over lunch.

It had been a strict condition imposed by Jeff that breakfast, lunch, and dinner were to be eaten together every day – despite Alan's protests about Gordon's sleepiness – and that there were to be no pranks of any kind over meals. Gordon knew that Scott would not disobey his father that directly.

He entered quickly and sat down. Virgil glared at him malevolently, and Scott seemed a little … distant. Alan couldn't resist stirring the pot: "So Scott, Virg … Lunch is late because of you guys. Where were you this morning? I couldn't find you …"

He sat back, grinning, as Scott shoot a death-glare at Gordon, who smirked, before Virgil hooked a foot around his ankle, and pulled him under the table. Gordon disappeared with a shout, and Alan and John stifled their own shouts of laughter.

"No pranks at the dining table," Scott reprimanded absently, stifling his own laughter as the disheveled and rather unimpressed face of his second youngest brother appeared above table level. Virgil smiled sweetly.

"What was that, squirt?" he asked Gordon. "How about, 'I'm sorry, my older and wiser brothers, for sending you on a wild goose chase this morning'?"

Gordon pretended to consider this. "Well actually Virgil," he contested, "you guys can't be that smart if you fell for it – ouch!" He disappeared under the table again, this time courtesy of Scott.

"You know, Gordon," Scott said, seriously, "it could actually have been dangerous – it was pretty hot out there."

Gordon poked out his tongue. "Well, if you guys weren't weaklings …"

Virgil dropped the butter. "Hey! I resent that!"

Gordon laughed. John grinned as he watched the exchange – this was what arguments with Gordo were always like: fast and furious, but quick to settle. He would play the prank, get told off, argue a little, and then forget about it.

Alan, on the other hand, could get rather angry over little things … and he could pull some fearsome pranks, when he really wanted to. John remembered one the previous year, when Alan had prank-called Virgil and sent him half-way across the state, believing that an original manuscript of a piece of Beethoven was being auctioned … before Virg happened to mention it to Scott, who looked it up and told him that it was a fake. Virg had not been happy, particularly as Alan had emptied out most of his fuel tank, leaving him stranded until Jeff came to find him. This had been retribution for Virgil ratting on Alan, after the kid had gone on a date without telling Jeff. Yep, John decided, Alan could pull a pretty good prank …

He tensed suddenly, as Scott began talking about the arrangements for that night. Scott, Virgil, and John were going to a soccer match that night … and Gordon and Alan were not able to go, as the last time they had gone to a soccer match they had both gotten drunk and had to be carried out by their brothers. This was not to say that their brothers had not been a fair bit over the limit too, but they were better at hiding it. John knew that his two younger brothers were furious at Scott, Virg, and John for not waiving the rules while their father was away … and they were unlikely to forget it quickly … or at least until they had "punished" their brothers sufficiently.

"So," Scott was saying, "we'll be leaving at about 5 o'clock, and we won't be back until the early hours of the morning, at which time I expect to find both of you in bed," he said emphatically. "And no going out during the night, either."

"What are you going to do – handcuff us to the bedpost?" Gordon asked sarcastically. He and Alan had every intention of going out that night into town, and possibly even sneaking into the soccer match. Of course, they would have to leave early and rush back home to beat their brothers, but they thought they could manage it.

John grinned. "Don't tempt me, kid."

"Scott, can't we –" Alan began.

"No."

"But –"

"No."

"Oh come on Scott!" Alan exclaimed. "You sound like Dad," he complained peevishly.

"It's a good thing someone round here does," Scott replied. "Alan, this isn't a point for negotiation. You two stay here tonight. End of discussion."

Alan looked appealingly at John and Virgil, but neither showed any signs of relenting. "You guys stuffed up last time," Virg said, almost apolegetically.

"So did you," Alan protested. "You guys were hardly tee-totallers!"

"That's not the point, Alan," John told him. "It's legal for us. And anyway, a rule's a rule."

Gordon shrugged; he had expected this. Didn't mean he wouldn't make his brothers' lives hell for the next few days, of course, but he hadn't seriously expected Scott to back down and allow them to come. Alan, on the other hand, glowered at Scott even more.

"Anyway," Virgil said casually, "haven't you got homework to do?"

Gordon cringed inwardly. That was not a wise move, Virg, he thought. He regarded his brother with something almost amounting to pity. Almost. He fully expected the fireworks to be spectacular and was looking forward to watching the show.

Alan froze for a second, staring at Virg, a variety of emotions working their way across his face: anger, irritation followed by …

Gordon cringed again. That smile Alan was now wearing did not bode well for Virgil. To his surprise, Alan got up from the table.

"You know what, Virg," he said, too nicely, "I think I do. Thanks for reminding me." He walked out of the room.

"Hey!" Scott called, "what about your lunch?"

"Not hungry," was the terse reply.

John looked at Virgil. "Blown it now, Virg," he commiserated.

"Think I should apologise?" Virg asked Gordon. Of all of them, Gordo knew Alan best.

Gordon shook his head. "Nah. He'll get over it."

Virgil nodded and sat back. What he had unfortunately forgotten was that not only did Gordon know Alan best, but in all likelihood he sympathised with Alan, and also had good reason to be angry with Virgil – and the others – for not letting him go to the soccer match. He had recognised the gleam in Alan's eyes – Virgil was in for some monster payback, and Gordon didn't want to get in Alan's way.

The remainder of lunch was a quiet affair. Gordon ate slowly, wanting to give Alan plenty of time. When he finished, he quickly said, "Challenge you guys to a game of pool volleyball?"

Scott nodded. "You're on."

"I'm with Gordo," John said quickly. Their younger brother was by far the best in the pool.

Virg grinned. "We'll beat you anyway, squirt."

Gordon leant up the stairs. "Alan? You coming to play volleyball?"

There was silence for a few seconds, before a loud: "No!"

"OK," Gordon replied, running down to the pool to join his brothers, who were already in their swimmers.

Gordo and John won each of the three games easily; thanks to Gordo's superior skills in the water, and John's strength. John worked out – a lot. They were in the pool for about two hours, during which time they saw neither hide nor hair of Alan. Gordo, however, consistently assured them that Alan was fine. "He's just sulking," he told Scott, in between games, "he'll be down soon!"

Scott and Virg eventually declared themselves beaten. "But you'd better watch your backs," Virgil warned jokingly.

"Not half as much as you'd better watch yours," Gordon commented, noticing Alan coming down the stairs towards them.

Virg turned around quickly. "Aw man," he murmured, "don't tell me we're in for an 'Alan tantrum'?!"

Gordon grinned evilly. "There's no 'we' about it, bro. Not as far as I'm concerned. You three are in for it." He watched his brothers sweating nervously, as he floated on his back easily.

"Hey guys," Alan said, stripping over to his swimmers, and diving in … right next to Gordon, splashing him and dragging him under.

The others laughed. Gordon surfaced and turned on Alan. "Right, that's it," he growled, "no more 'Mr Nice Guy'." He grabbed Alan and pulled him under; the two began a joking wrestling match, surfacing for air every now and again. At last Alan conceded defeat, and climbed out. Gordon stayed in the pool.

Scott eyed Virg and John. "Guess we should go and get ready," he suggested. Gordon's eyes narrowed a little, but Alan seemed unfazed.

"Sure," he said, with a shrug, watching as his three older brothers walked off towards the room they shared.

As soon as they were out of sight, Gordon turned to Alan. "OK, Al, what did you do? You've got the classic 'Cat who's eaten the cream' look. Spill."

Alan leant back, and grinned. He looked at his watch, and began counting down. "Ten … nine … eight … seven … six … five … four … three … two … one …"

There was a crash from the direction of their older brothers's bedroom, then a yell of "ALAN!"

Alan grinned, finished triumphantly: "Zero," as Gordon turned to look up at the balcony of his brother's room. "What did you do?" he exclaimed, sounding extremely amused, as he looked back at Alan.

"My homework," Alan replied cryptically.

There was another yell of "ALAN!"

Alan got to his feet. "I'll be back," he said with a cheeky grin. "Give me two minutes before you tell 'em where I've gone, OK?"

Gordon nodded. "Whatever."

He leant back in the pool, watching as Alan ran off towards the garage, before closing his eyes.

He lay there for about thirty seconds before a splash of cold water forced him to open his eyes with a start; taken unawares, he slipped under the surface of the water and swallowed a mouthful before emerging.

The sight that greeted him at the edge of the pool nearly made him swallow another mouthful as his jaw fell open, then he started laughing uproariously, before choking over a mouthful of pool water. As he recovered his breath, he stared back at Scott, Virgil and John, and began laughing again.

"What happened to you guys?" he asked between coughs, not trusting himself to look back at them, knowing that he would start laughing again.

"Where is that little brat?" Scott asked. He was covered with honey and feathers, he had a little brother to catch and kill, he was supposed to be going out in half an hour, and now his second youngest brother was laughing at him.

Gordon started laughing again. "Didn't I warn you guys?" he managed to choke out. By way of response, John – who was the least covered in honey and feathers – grabbed him and pulled him out of the pool, and dumped him on a deckchair. "Hey, hey!" Gordon protested, as his rather tall and bulky older brothers stood over him threateningly. "That hurt!"

"Gordon, are you going to tell us where the hell that punk is now, or am I going to have to drain the pool with you in it?" Virgil threatened. His threat was backed up by John and Scott, who looked extremely angry, and, with no Alan to focus their anger on, they fell back on Gordon.

"Hey!" Gordon protested, "I didn't have anything to do with this one!"

"Don't think we didn't know you were delaying us delibrately," John replied.

"Then why did you stay?" Gordon couldn't help but ask, his eyes laughing.

John death-glared his younger brother, and Gordon raised his hands defensively. John was not to be messed with when he was this mad.

"I don't know where he is, OK?" Gordon said quickly. "He went towards the garage." He glanced at his watch, and noticed that he had given Al three minutes. He should be happy with that, he decided.

John nodded grimly. "Gordon, if I find out that you had anything to do with this …"

"I know, you'll skin me alive," Gordon finished.

"You wish," John muttered. "You would be so lucky …"

As his older brothers turned to go, Gordon said nervously, "Uh … guys?"

"What?" Scott asked.

"Just don't kill him."

Virg considered the idea. "No promises."

They set off in search of their errant younger brother. Gordon waited thirty seconds, then went after them. These were fireworks he did not want to miss.

Suddenly he heard the sound of a car engine roaring, and then Scott's Porsche burst out of the garage, with Alan at the wheel. Gordon grinned as his younger brother drove past and gave him a wave before driving off the property. "Be back later," Alan yelled. "Eat my dust!"

Gordon turned to see his – by now extremely unhappy – older brothers emerge from the garage. He frowned a little … why hadn't they taken Virg's car and followed Alan?

"That little punk …" Virgil growled, after Gordo put this to him. "He disabled my car, that's why!"

Gordon stifled his laughter, and tried to think of something to ask before he split at the sides. "What did he do?" he asked, curiousity overcoming him.

Scott glared again. "Come and look."

Gordon's mouth fell open as he looked into the carnage that had been his brothers' bedroom. The room was covered with honey and feathers … you have to hand it to the kid, Gordon thought, he sure does his pranks properly. The remains of a wooden frame were littered about the room.

"I suppose that the door was partially open, and the frame leant on the door, right?" Gordon said.

John nodded.

"And when the door opened, the frame slipped off –"

"Nearly taking my head off in the process," Virgil grumbled.

"– and there was honey in buckets on the frame, and it split everywhere. And the wood hit a switch on the ground that turned on the fan, which blew feathers throughout the room," Gordon finished.

Scott looked at him suspiciously. "How do you know so much about it?" he asked slowly.

Gordon cursed himself. "I pulled a prank like this on a kid at school …" he admitted. "It was a few years ago. The kid pulled one on me, so I pulled one right back. I think I won, though. So," he continued quickly, "how are you guys going to clean yourselves – and that room – up?"

"Oh, we aren't going to clean the room," Virgil said, "Alan is."

"You know," Gordon said, "I'd suggest you start working to get that honey off, if I were you. Just an idea."

He grinned as his – very angry – brothers stomped off towards the bathrooms. "Tell you what," he called after them, "if you're not ready for the soccer match in time, I can go instead."

His only reply, was a one-fingered gesture from over Scott's shoulder. Gordon shrugged, murmuring, "Worth a try …"

He walked down towards the dining room – intending to see if he could find any snacks hidden away in there … though he was not expecting to find much honey! From the looks of things, Alan had emptied out the entire honey supply of the household. He munched on a snack, while listening to the yells of his brothers …

"Hey! That hurt!"

"Virg, this has got to come off … John, help me hold him down!"

Gordon nearly choked on his food at that, and the yell of pain that followed. He shook his head sadly. It was a brilliant prank … but by the sounds of things, Alan was in big trouble when the others found him.

He had been in the kitchen for about 15 minutes when he heard a noise from the laundry. He carefully walked inside … to find his younger brother creeping inside. "Alan," he whispered.

Alan looked up with a grin, recognising the voice. "Hey Gordo."

"Where's the car?"

"Just round the corner of the driveway," Alan responded with a grin. "Where are the others?"

"Cleaning off the honey and feathers … good prank, by the way, bro," Gordon said, patting Alan on the shoulder.

Alan laughed. "Thanks. Figured I should make it spectacular."

Suddenly, the door from the kitchen began opening. Alan made a bolt for outside as John appeared in the doorway. "Gordon, what … YOU LITTLE RAT!" he yelled, dropping the dirty clothes and taking off after Alan. Gordon moved quickly to one side as Scott and Virg – who were also bringing dirty clothes down to the laundry – took off after their errant youngest brother.

It did not take them long to catch Alan. Fear may lend wings, but blinding anger can too, and nothing short of a nuclear explosion would have stopped Scott, Virg, and John from catching Alan.

John caught up to him first, and tackled him to the ground, promptly sitting on his back. "JOHN!" Alan yelled, "I can't breathe; get off me!"

Scott and Virg arrived seconds later, and between them they pulled Alan up and frogmarched him back into the house, and up to their room, Gordo following.

Scott held Alan firmly by the scruff of his neck and pointed into the carnage that had been his room. "What is this?" he growled.

"Your room," Alan replied cheekily. John cuffed him over the back of his head. "Hey! … It's my woodwork project," he conceded.

"Your what?!" Virgil exclaimed. "Woodwork project?!"

"Yeah. I had to construct something to hold up food … but it couldn't be anything like a conventional shelf. So …" He nodded at the wooden construction lying in several pieces on the ground. "And it had to be strong," he continued, "so the fan was there to test whether it could withstand winds. And the feather were for a soft cushioning so nothing broke."

"But the feathers blew around the room," Virgil growled.

"Yeah …" Alan looked naively disappointed. "Guess I need to work on the design a little more, huh?"

"No kidding, Einstein," Virg retorted.

"Why did you build this in our room?" Scott demanded.

Alan looked at him innocently. "Well, I know how supportive you are of my school work, Scott," he said.

Scott looked like he was about to show the level of his support by shoving Alan's head through the wall. Virg was glowering at Alan, and John was so angry he was shaking.

"Anyway," Alan continued, "you told me to do my homework, and that reminded me of this. I'm back to school next week, and I'm supposed to have the finished model finished by then." He grinned cheekily at his brothers.

"Right," Scott said, after taking several deep breaths and trying to calm down – but failing miserably, "we are going to the soccer match. You and Gordon are staying here. When we get back, I expect that room to be spotless! Understand?"

Alan nodded. "I'm not an idiot."

This – if possible – incensed his brothers even further. Scott's grip on Alan's neck tightened a little as another point occurred to him. "Alan – where is my car?"

"Just down the driveway," Alan replied calmly. He frowned at Scott's incredulous look. "What? It is. Oh, and Virg, you'll find everything you need to fix your car in the back seat." He smiled again, and Gordon snorted with laughter. John turned on him.

"Hey!" he protested, "I had nothing to do with this one!"

"You kept us playing volleyball while he was setting this up," John accused. "You convinced us not to go see if he was OK. That makes you guilty in my book. You have to help Alan clean this up."

"Aw hell," Gordon groaned.

"Hey!" Scott exclaimed, "cut the language. You know perfectly well it's one of the things not tolerated in this house."

"Excuse me?" Gordon protested. "You are currently holding Alan by the neck so tight that I think he's going to have a permanent hand mark there. You're hardly one to talk about maintaining the rules, as I believe that 'physical violence' or 'causing harm delibrately' are against the rules."

"Shut up," Virgil snapped.

"Right," Scott said, having loosened his hold a little, "we are going out now. You two are staying here. Oh Alan … where are my car keys?"

Gordon could have sworn that a there was a brief flicker of panic in Alan's eyes. "I don't know," he replied. "I had them in my pocket, but when you guys jumped me … they could be anywhere."

"It's times like these," Virg said, "you wish Mum and Dad had stopped at three."

Gordon protested loudly, "WHAT ABOUT ME?"

"You, squirt," John told him, "are worse than this one, most of the time."

"OK," Scott said, "that is it. We don't have time to find them now. We'll take Virgil's car … once, of course, Alan has fixed it."

"Sure," Alan said easily.

It was the work of a minute for Alan to fix Virg's car – once John had retrived the parts from Scott's car – and within seconds, the eldest Tracy brothers had departed for the soccer match.

"So," Gordon said, once they were alone, "where are the keys?"

"In my pocket," Alan told him calmly. "Where else?"

Gordon laughed. "Poor Scott … so close, and yet so far."

"Let's go," Alan said, moving towards the Porsche.

"Wait," Gordon said. "Give it half an hour. Knowing them, they'll call in about ten minutes, and there'll be hell if we aren't there to answer. Besides, there's a call I have to make …"

"Who to?" Alan asked immediately, following Gordon back inside.

"A cleaning service."

Alan grinned. "Nice one, Gordo."

Gordon made a quick call; he was evidently happy with the outcome, as he entered the room he shared with Alan, with a big grin on his face. "You know Alan, I'm so glad I'm dating a girl who's mother runs a cleaning agency. Her mom and her will be here in twenty minutes. All we have to do is let them in. They'll get it done in an hour, and then make their own way out …" He high-fived his brother.

"We're a team," Alan laughed.

"Yeah … though usually, I pull the pranks, and you clean 'em up," Gordon reflected. He glanced down at the phone as it started ringing, then grinned. "Call me psychic. It's Scott."

"Hello, my dear brother," Gordon said, in a mock serious voice. "To what do we owe the honour of this call?"

Alan laughed uproariously, as he watched Scott's face. He seemed – surprised to find Alan and Gordon there in the house.

Gordon read Scott's face clearly, and decided to make his brother squirm. "Why, Scott," he exclaimed, "you didn't … you couldn't have thought … you didn't seriously think we'd leave the house and disobey your orders, did you?" He shook his head righteously, trying not to laugh as Scott's face darkened.

"You guys have been disobeying my orders for years," he growled. "Now see that you stay there."

"Of course," Alan said. "Though I doubt we'll be coming to the phone much … not unless you want cleaning agent all over your phone too?" he offered.

"Well, cleaning agents look great on phones," Gordon told him.

"That's enough," Scott said. "Get on with it."

"Yes sir," Alan told him, then hit disconnect. He lent back against the couch laughing. "Did you see his face when you answered? He so expected us to be gone!"

Gordon joined him in laughter, until they heard a knock at the front door. "That would be Sara and her mother," he commented, as they walked down the stairs.

"Sara," he said, "great to see you. Mrs O'Brien; great to see you too."

"What's the emergency, Gordon?" Sara said wearily. "Who's room's been destroyed this time?"

Gordon led them into the house. "My brothers'. Scott, Virgil, and John," he elabourated, for the sake of Mrs O'Brien.

Sara shot a suspicious look at him. "Not my fault," he said. "They were rather – clumsy." He opened the door, to reveal the carnage. Mrs O'Brien raised her eyebrows sceptically.

"Honey and feathers," Alan elabourated. "Feel free to back out."

Mrs O'Brien smiled. "Honey, I deal with worse than this everyday. This won't be a problem. I'm glad you called us, though, Gordon. It's hard to get rid of if you don't know how to properly."

Gordon remembered the screams and exclamations he had heard coming from the bathroom, and reflected that this was probably true. "You sure you don't need us to stay?"

Sara shook her head. "It's cool, Gordo. Off you go."

"Thanks Sara, Mrs O'Brien. We owe you guys big time," Gordon said frankly.

"Yeah," Alan said, adding his thanks. "Thanks, ma'am, Sara. We really appreciate it."

Mrs O'Brien waved their thanks away. "You can take my Sara out to a nice restaurent some times, Gordon," she said. "That will about fix it. Off you go, now. Bet you're wanting to get to that game."

"How did you guess that …"

"I know kids, Alan," she told him playfully. "I recognised the signs."

He grinned back at her, before following Gordon down the stairs.

"I'm driving," Gordon said quickly as they reached the car.

"Like hell you are," Alan protested, holding up the keys. "I'm the better driver."

"Alan, you're the faster driver. There's a difference."

"Just get in the passenger seat," Alan ordered, climbing into the driver's seat.

Gordon did so, grumbling. "This is illegal," he warned.

"Whatever."

Gordon rolled his eyes. "At least I have a license."

"Yeah – a Learner license," Alan retorted, "so it's illegal for you too." He turned the keys in the ignition, and the car hummed into life. 

Gordon sighed heavily. "Alan … if you crash – I'll kill you myself, got it?"

"Whatever."

Alan drove the Porsche out of the driveway …

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Author's Note: Well … what do you think? Should I write another chapter about the soccer match, and the aftermath?

Review, please!