Gordon needs to check something against Alan.
“Can you teach me to spike my hair up like that?”
Virgil looked up at Gordon, who was standing on the doorway into his room. There was something odd about the way he stood, the straightness in his back making him look ill at ease.
“Uh, why?”
Gordon lifted a shoulder in a shrug. He didn’t relax his posture.
“Just thought it would look cool, that’s all.”
Virgil eyed his brother carefully. “Why are you standing like that?”
“This is how I always stand,” said Gordon, indignantly.
“Is your back hurting you?” asked Virgil, standing up and walking over to Gordon.
He yanked up the back of his shirt and felt along Gordon’s spine.
“Hey, stop that!” yelped Gordon, leaping away from him. “No, you giant numbnut, I just want to try a new style.”
“Right,” said Virgil. “You want to try a new style. What, did Penelope mention she liked me more than you? It’s not just the hairstyle in my favour, you know?”
“Ah, get stuffed Virgil,” said Gordon with a scowl. “I’ll figure it out myself, just lend me your mousse.”
Virgil scoffed. “And find out you’ve pranked Scott with it when a perfectly good shaving cream would have done the job? No way.”
“Then you style it,” said Gordon, throwing his hands up in the air. “How else can I convince you that I’m being serious.”
Virgil suppressed a laugh as Gordon flung himself on the bed.
“Keep your hair on,” he said with a grin. “Let me get my supplies.”
Fifteen short minutes later and Gordon was bounding over to the mirror to check over what his brother had done to him.
Privately, Virgil thought Gordon looked a little like he’d gone and plonked a pyramid on his head. Gordon didn’t seem to mind however from the way he was preening as he turned his head left and right.
“It’s perfect, Virg,” he said with genuine delight. “This is exactly what I was looking for!”
“It… was?” asked Virgil weakly. “You don’t think it’s a little… tall?”
“Nope!” Gordon was practically singing in his good cheer. “Just wait until I show Alan!”
With a triumphant crow, Gordon raced from the room calling for his younger brother.
Virgil shrugged and turned back to his painting, leaving the tinies to… whatever it was they were doing.
“Alan, get out here,” called Gordon.
“What’s up?” asked Alan as he bounded out of his room and slid into the lounge.
“Me!” said Gordon with a grin. “Scott, who’s taller?”
Scott looked up. “Really, Gordon?”
“Yeah, come on Alan, back to back.”
Alan rolled his eyes a little, but did as his older brother asked.
Scott studied the two carefully; Gordon, ramrod straight and desperately trying not to bounce on his toes to give him some extra height, and Alan, slightly slouching and torn between resigned annoyance and amusement.
“Sorry Gordon, Alan has you beat now.”
“What?!” shrieked Gordon. “Take your shoes off Alan, they’re giving you a clear advantage.”
Alan looked over at Scott in exasperation but complied with Gordon’s request. Gordon, Scott was amused to note, made no move to remove his own sneakers.
Scott shook his head at Gordon. “It’s still Alan by a hair,” he said. “How does it feel to officially be the shortest Tracy?”
“He’ll have to ask Lady Penelope to marry him now,” said Alan with a laugh as Gordon spluttered indignantly. “That’s the only way he’ll recover.”
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