Completely random, but for @scribbles97 A little Christmas with a dash of Gordon/Penelope that just happened.
Gordon looked up. “What are you doing, Virgil?”
“I’m knitting a reindeer.”
His brother blinked and held up two fingers. “Two things….a reindeer….and you knit?”
Virgil frowned. “Of course, I knit. Mom taught me and I do it every year.”
“No, knit. Are you blind? Who do you think knitted the jumper you’re wearing?”
Gordon stared down in vague horror at the palm trees knitted into his Christmas sweater. “You did this???”
“Years ago. Who did you think made it?”
Virgil glared at his brother. “Way to go to fall for the stereotype, Gordo. Just because she is a grandmother, doesn’t mean she knits, and just why do you think me knitting is so out of character?”
“Well, look at you. Big, buff and tough?”
Another glare. “So that precludes me from working with yarn, how?”
“Um…” And yes, that out-of-his-depth-oh-shit-Virgil-is-going-to-kill-me expression on Gordon’s face was quite satisfying.
“Exactly.” Virgil stitched a few more stitches. “You definitely need to up your observation skills. I have been doing this every Christmas since before Mom died.”
It had become a tradition. Partly to connect himself to his Mom, partly because he just enjoyed it. He only did it in the three months leading up to Christmas. Traditionally this was because in the northern hemisphere it was leading into winter and knitting was most definitely a winter sport. Here on the island, it was warm year round, so no matter when he did it, it would still be out of season. But he did it anyway.
Of course, due to that same warmth, there was little need for Christmas sweaters, so there were less of them, but recently he had ventured into knitting little animals. He had a stash of them on Thunderbird Two and deployed them at need should he be rescuing children, or even adults who needed that extra little security.
“How the hell am I supposed to know what you’re doing most of the time? I’m as busy as anyone here.”
Virgil stared at him. “Why are you wearing that sweater anyway? It is nearly ninety degrees outside.”
Gordon shrugged. “I was cold.”
He narrowed his eyes at his brother, assessing him. “Are you sick?”
Virgil put down his needles and stood up, walking slowly across the comms room to where his brother was sitting. Gordon made to get up, but Virgil held up his hand. “Sit.” And yes, there was guilt in his little brother’s eyes.
He reached out to touch his forehead and, sure enough, Gordon was much hotter than the temperature outside.
“This morning?” And yes, he was shivering. “C’mon, Virg, it’s Christmas Eve. Pen’s going to be here.”
“I’m sure she would not want to come here to collect a disease.” He gently wrapped a hand around his brother’s arm. “C’mon, let’s go get you checked out.”
“Aww, Virg, please.” But he dragged himself up, obviously capitulating to the inevitable. “Damn, I was so looking forward to tonight.”
“There will be other nights, Gordon, I promise.” He led his brother from the room, slumped shoulders and all. By the time they made it to the infirmary, Gordon’s expression was pitiful.
Virgil sighed. “It is probably only a cold, rest up and it will get better in a few days.”
“And there goes Christmas.” He flopped on the bed dramatically, completely opposite to his usually sprite and happy self. “I had plans, Virg. There were going to be candles and presents and…aw, damnit.” And that was a serious pout.
“Lie down and let me take a look at you.”
The pout went horizontal.
“Would you like a reindeer?”
A pair of red-brown eyes glared at him.
Virgil smiled, walked over to the infirmary cupboard and dug out a little Rudolph. “Here you go. And if you behave, I’ll knit one up for Penelope as well.”
The frown on Gordon’s face was comical. “You suck.” But he took the reindeer anyway, rolled onto his side, still shivering, and hugged the little toy to him.
Virgil’s smile widened and he mentally added a little pink nosed reindeer to his list.