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“Scott, will you pass me those eggs please?”
“Uh… eggs… yeah… right… Where did Grandma keep them again?”
“In the fridge you dolt!” Virgil snapped, obviously losing patience. “And Gordon, will you quit doing that?”
“You told me to stir it!”
“Yes, not eat it.”
“I’m eating it before Scott can get to it.” Gordon’s cheerful voice chirped back.
“Oi!”
“Why are you making the topping now? You haven’t even cooked it yet!”
“Baked it, Alan. BAKED it - there’s a difference. Anyway, stop asking questions and guard the door!”
“Sorry, baked, Mr Obviously Not A Culinary Genius.” Alan sarcastically sniped back, watching the chaos from the doorway.
“Hey, at least I actually passed Home Economics.”
Jeff raised an eyebrow at the unusual sounds coming from inside the kitchen. It seemed as though all four of his boys were crammed in there at the moment - an extremely rare occurrence that their grandmother would be spitting feathers about if she were still on the island; Jeff was grateful she’d gone to visit an old friend for the week.
“Have you guys finished it yet?” a tinny voice asked.
“Scott, stop eating it!” Virgil cried out. “No John, we haven’t. Scott!”
“What? I’m just taste-testing it.” came the mumble of a response from Jeff’s eldest, clearly stuffing something in his mouth.
“Why’s he allowed to eat it and I’m not?” Gordon pouted. “Favouritism! I’m telling Dad!”
John laughed. “Gords, you’re twenty-two.”
“And I still know how to call favouritism when I see it and BOY do I see it now.”
“Shut up Gordon. You’re Alan’s favourite anyway.” Virgil smirked.
A gasp came from the doorway, “You know I don’t choose favourites, Virgil!”
“Me? I was banking more on Captain Crunch over there.” Gordon nudged Virgil and pointed at Scott, who was still eating the mixture. “Don’t you remember, Virg?” Gordon put on a whiny voice, “Scott says this and Scott says that…”
“Dude! I was like, six!” Alan blushed. “I don’t say that any more!”
“Dude yourself - you used that on me last week!” John put in with a chuckle.
Laughing at their banter, Jeff made his way over to the kitchen door. Through a little crack he could see Scott standing off in the left corner, shoving a wooden spoon into his mouth as he held a half-empty mixture bowl in the crook of his elbow. Virgil was standing in the middle of the kitchen, covered in flour, with Gordon to his right, the auburn-haired man holding his wristwatch up high, revealing John’s face on the screen. In front of Jeff was Alan, who had his back to the door, unable to see his father. Jeff pushed the door open and cleared his throat.
Alan let out a cry and span around, holding his hands up to his father’s face to cover his eyes. “Nothing to see here, Dad! Move along, please!”
Jeff caught Alan’s hands and lowered them to his sides, raising an eyebrow as he looked over the top of the blonde’s head and into the messy kitchen. “Would you boys mind explaining what’s going on here?”
His other sons remained frozen in place, mouths open wide.
Virgil was the first to speak. “So much for guarding the door, Alan…”
Jeff stepped inside the bomb site of a kitchen, looking around incredulously as Scott moved the bowl behind his back and Gordon discreetly covered the second, smaller bowl with a tea towl.
“Uhh… hi Dad.” Scott started. “Um, I suppose you’re wondering why we’re all gathered here today…”
“It did cross my mind, yes.” Jeff hid his smirk well.
“It’s not a funeral, Scott.” Gordon sniffed at Scott’s wording.
“Do you care to explain what’s going on here then, Gordon?”
Gordon blushed as his father’s attention fell on him. “Oh… uh… we were just… um…”
“Tin-Tin challenged us!” Alan admitted loudly, causing all of his brothers to groan and glare at him. “To a cake baking contest.”
“Oh?”
“We may as well tell him.” Alan offered, causing Virgil to crack.
“Okay…” the middle Tracy sighed in defeat. “Alan’s right. She did challenge us. She was going to bake a cake for Kyrano for Father’s Day and Gordon decided to boast about our Tracy culinary skills, so Tin-Tin challenged us to do one better, and you know Gordon can’t back down from a challenge!”
Jeff placed his hands on his hips.
“We wanted to make you something special, so John gave us the recipe for a Black Forest Cake. It was going pretty well until Gordon and Scott started eating everything.” Alan rolled his eyes at the looks his two older brothers shot him.
“And Alan was supposed to guard the door so we could keep it a surprise from you. Great guard he turned out to be.” Gordon snarked, folding his arms.
“So, um, surprise?” Alan put in, rubbing the back of his head.
Jeff smiled earnestly. “So you were baking a cake for me?”
“Trying to, yeah…” Virgil retrieved the practically empty mixture bowl from Scott, who let out a little hiccup. “Guess it didn’t turn out so good.”
“We’re sorry, Dad.” Scott apologized. “We’ll get Grandma’s kitchen cleaned up right away.”
“Good. And boys?”
“Yes, Father?” came a hopeful chorus.
“I appreciate the effort.”
Jeff slowly left the kitchen. A string of curses soon followed, and Jeff had a little laugh as he made his way to his desk. As he sat down, he noticed a gift box sitting next to his ash tray. The patriarch picked it up and instantly recognized Virgil’s curvy handwriting on the present label, clearly marked “Plan B”.
Curiously, Jeff unwrapped the gift and felt his mouth turn up into a large smile when he saw a small medallion wedged into a cushion of sponge. It showed the names of all five of his sons - written in their own handwriting, embossed in the silver. Jeff gently removed it from the cushion and turned it around. His smile widened and he felt his heart skip a beat as a picture of his dear Lucille graced his eyes, her smiling features as bright as ever.
A little card accompanied the medallion charm, with a special message just for Jeff.
Happy Father’s Day!
Scott May Pilot Thunderbird 1
But To Us You’ll Always Be Number One
Love From S, J, V, G, A.
Jeff kissed the charm.