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Chapter Text

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Chapter Text

It's a blur, really. One minute it's a rush of speed, the sound of engines roaring & wheels racing. The next, all Greaseball can hear is a deafening crash behind her followed by the sound of horrified spectators gasping. Right as she nears the finish line, she hears the sound all racers dread hearing—screaming. Dinah's screaming.

Fuck.

She rushes to the finish line, but this time, it's not about the glory of winning. It's not about the trophy or the press conference, the cheers or even the booze at the after party. All she cares about is getting to her girlfriend and seeing how badly injured she is.

She regrets challenging Dinah to race with someone other than her. They had been joking around a few weeks prior, and Greaseball teasingly stated they should get other racing partners, just for the upcoming race to see how fast Dinah truly is... if she's really all that worthy of being her partner.

Now, she regrets ever joking around, because she would never have let her get hurt.

Greaseball swears she must have just broken her personal record, because she zips through the finish line with incredible speed. The crowd roars, but for once in her life, she doesn't care. Not when her girlfriend is somewhere in pain without her by her side. She turns on her wheels to go search for her, but a marshal stops her by grabbing onto her forearm.

Gritting her teeth, Greaseball forces herself to smile momentarily for the camera, but internally, she's nauseous. She can no longer hear Dinah, which she knows is either a really good sign or a really bad sign. A few minutes pass, and finally, the race ends. She barely hears anyone's congratulatory words before rushing off, trying to get information about where her girlfriend might be.

She spots Rusty, who has come in second place. He is leaning against a pillar, taking a sip of water from a bottle. He's sweating, out of breath, just as all the racers are. Though he just got second place, he is down about not getting first place.

Greaseball hopes he may have seen what happened to her girlfriend, or at the very least, where she may have gone. She rushes over to the steam train, whizzing past other racers and some spectators.

"Rusty," she begins, a dry feeling in her mouth. "Listen—I know we don't get along and all that, but I have to ask. Did you happen to see what happened to Dinah?"

At the sight of Greaseball asking him a question, Rusty furrows his brows and takes a look around. He thinks it must be some sort of joke, so he chuckles dryly before taking another sip of his water.

"What about her?"

At this, Greaseball becomes so annoyed that steam could come out of her ears. She knows that somewhere, her girlfriend is injured and in pain, and she wants to be at her side now.

"Ah, you stupid steam train! I am being serious. Did you not hear that crash on the third lap? It was my girl, I just know it. I heard her screaming. I'm trying to find her..."

Rusty's expression changes from one of amusement to one of concern, swallowing slightly as he leans forward. He appears to have no clue about any sort of crash, which irritates Greaseball to no end. How the hell did he not hear all of the commotion?

"Sorry, I didn't even notice... All the adrenaline, I guess."

"Tch!" Greaseball huffs, storming off as she searches desperately for her girlfriend.

All she can picture as she races around the train yard is the image of Dinah lying on the ground, cold and alone, her steel parts mangled and her wires fried. It's the worst thing she can imagine. It makes her feel something she hasn't felt in a long time–desperate.

It's a long search, over forty-five minutes, before she comes across a marshal who she hopes can give her an answer. She speeds toward him, huffing out of breath. Though strong, she's exhausted and in desperate need of a fuel refill. Her legs and wheels are sore from the race, but she knows all the searching will leave her unable to move without pain for a couple days to come.

"Hey, any idea what happened to Dinah in the race tonight?" she asks, crossing her muscled arms. Every second without an answer is unbearable, and she's beginning to feel like she may snap if she can't find her soon.

The marshal, to her tremendous relief, nods. "Y-yeah, you didn't hear? Electra pushed her, got disqualified. Her wheels got broken, the entire set on the right side ripped off—she derailed, crashed into a concrete wall. She's in the repair shop, last I heard."

Greaseball's mouth somehow is even drier than it was before. Whatever she was expecting, it wasn't that. An amputation as well as a derailing, crashing into a concrete wall? It can't get much worse than that in the racing world.

"Well–is she alright? Y'know, she's going to race again?" Greaseball asks, trying not to let any "weak" emotions show on her face or in her voice, but as the seconds go by, this task gets harder and harder to achieve.

The marshal shrugs. "Last I heard, they were doing some repairs on her chest wires as well. Seems she has a lot of problems going on internally, not just with the crash injuries, so us marshals are planning on taking a look at her and seeing if she's fit to race once she has recovered."

"What?"

"Her chest wires, some of them are fried. When she hit the wall, smoke came from her mouth, and everyone thought it was a result of the crash. Well, they opened her chest cavity up. They seem to have been fried due to internal failures over a long period of time, poor maintenance. So once her wheel repair is complete, the marshals will take a look over her with the repair trucks to see if she's able to race again."

Greaseball purses her lips, feeling as if her own chest wires have been cut. Her girlfriend's wires, fried? Sure, she's been a little tired lately, but she's just been working hard for the race, wanting to show off to impress everybody.

It's all my fault.

"I'm going to go see her."

"What, no after party?"

For whatever reason, this comment angers the diesel, and she roars her engines as her eyes light up a yellow, oil-colored glow. She grabs onto the marshal's arm with a tough grip, her jaw tense as she glares into his eyes.

"Listen here, punk. I don't give a damn about no after party. Not when my gal's hurt, alone getting repairs. There will always be more booze, more races, more parties, but wires can't always be repaired, so I'm going to go see her in case I can't again. Got that?"

The marshal, a bit frightened by the rough grip of the engine, simply nods, silently pleading for her to let go of him. Satisfied, Greaseball lets go, then speeds off to the repair shop, desperately hoping for the entire situation to be resolved. All she wants is to hold Dinah again, to kiss her forehead and to tell her that she'll be okay.

The idea that she may never have another chance is enough to make her cry, and Greaseball never cries. Whizzing through the yard, she cries, trying her hardest to not be seen. The only thing on her mind is seeing her girlfriend as soon as possible, and preferably alive.

Upon arriving at the repair shop, she takes a deep breath and wipes her tears. After all, she is the world champion. And champions never cry. With a shaky hand, she opens the shop door, walking toward the front desk, where a very frazzled looking steam engine with a Swedish flag on her uniform is sitting.

"Um, h-hello," the receptionist says, a red tint to her cheeks. "C-can I help you?"

Greaseball ignores the clear way the receptionist is starstruck and nods. "Yes, I'm here about my girlfriend. She was injured in the race tonight. I hear she's getting repairs."

"A-ah, oh, yes–Miss Dinah... the repairs are complete. She's resting now, I'm unsure if she's awake, however you can come sit with her quietly..."

Upon hearing that the repairs are complete, the diesel engine perks up. "Complete? The repair was a success?"

"A-ah, well... I'm just the receptionist, I will... grab Wrench to speak with you."

The words are like a punch to Greaseball's gut. She knows something must be wrong just by the look on the young receptionist's face, and she motions for her to be shown the way to her girlfriend's room.

As she makes her way through the repair shop, anger begins to fill her. What in God's name was Electra doing? And will they be banned from racing ever again? If not, Greaseball swears she will forfeit her title as champion.

The young receptionist quietly wheels through the halls of the shop, eventually leading the champion to a secluded room with a closed door. On the door is a sign that says RECOVERING– PLEASE STAY QUIET.

"U-um, the lights are off because Miss Dinah... she was experiencing head pain from the impact, but, um, fortunately there are no severe injuries to her head. Just a little rattling..." she opens the door quietly. Before she allows Greaseball in, she inhales shakily. "I will get Wrench for you. She will be able to let you know exactly of the damage caused."

Greaseball nods, trying to take a peek inside the room. "Thanks."

"Of course... I will get Wrench now..." the short engine races off, presumably to grab the repair truck.

Greaseball sighs, entering the dark room. It's hard to see, but she can see in a small bed is Dinah, sleeping as she recovers from her repairs. She has bandages on many areas of her body, but the majority are on her wheels. Greaseball grimaces, remembering that there has been an amputation. Only one question is on her mind–were her wheels salvageable?

She takes a seat next to the bed and as gently as possible grabs her girlfriend's hand. Giving it a soft squeeze, she hopes that in her sleeping state, she can still sense her presence. Greaseball leans down, giving the back of Dinah's hand a kiss before giving it another squeeze.

Looking over the woman lying in the bed, Greaseball can tell it's not a good situation. It's a mess of mangled steel and oil, although clearly Wrench has done her best to repair the injuries caused. Greaseball can only hope that the internal injuries won't leave any permanent damage.

A few minutes later, the door opens, and Wrench walks in, taking special care to be quiet so as to not wake up the sleeping dining car. She motions for Greaseball to follow her outside, which the engine does.

"So?" Greaseball crosses her arms.

"I'll be straight with you–lots of damage before the crash even happened. Now, her wheels on the right side, amputated. I did what I could, but I fear it was not salvageable–I am sorry," Wrench says the last piece of information with a solemn look in her eyes.

The worst news possible has just become a reality, and Greaseball almost can't believe it. She sinks to her knees and sighs shakily, scenarios of what it will mean for her and Dinah's relationship running through her brain. Greaseball spends almost all day every day training, racing, working–now that Dinah has an amputation, it's likely that she will require around the clock care.

"A-and the wires? What about the wires?"

Wrench nods, the same solemn expression on her face. There is a hesitation to her expression, which tells Greaseball that it can't be good. "Well... Her chest cavity was almost totally fried. I hate to say it, but this crash may have just saved her life."

"What? Her life? What are you talking about?" Greaseball scoffs. She is not in the mood for jokes right now.

"If she hadn't gotten them repaired, I'd say within one month or two she would have been unrepairable."

"...What did you say?"

"She would have been... taken to the scrapyard."

At this, Greaseball's palms become sweaty, and her entire body becomes cold. The idea that she was so close to losing the love of her life causes her pain she's never felt in her entire life, not even when lifting many pounds above her own weight. She inhales, but she feels like there is no air in her lungs.

"Why?"

"Why?" Wrench repeats.

"What is the cause of the wires being fried?"

Wrench kneels beside the engine, taking a moment before replying, "A combination of overexertion, a lack of fuel, and longtime smoke inhalation."

Greaseball furrows her brows. "I–huh?"

"Overexertion, a lack of fuel, and longtime smoke inhalation."

"...So you're saying to me, she's... she's been–it sounds like–"

Wrench nods. "I would have a conversation with her when she wakes up. It seems she may have not been taking the best care of herself. Have you noticed anything strange with her behavior lately? Anything at all? Tiredness?"

Greaseball closes her eyes and attempts to think back, but the only thing that goes through her mind is the fact that her girlfriend was close to death. She can't think of anything more, so she just laughs dryly and shakes her head.

"No. No, I noticed nothing. If that makes me a bad girlfriend–"

"No, it doesn't... When someone is hurt, they can be very good at hiding it," Wrench states. "Just have a chat with her when she wakes up, and we'll go from there."

"...And as for her recovery? What about when she gets out of the shop? How am I supposed to navigate this? Her wheels are gone."

Wrench sighs, "It'll be a learning curve. You'll have to carry her for a while until she can learn to use only one set of wheels. She'll have a lifetime of pain, perhaps fear. It is my professional opinion she's unable to race ever again. I suggest just keeping an eye on her for the first few months, ensuring she isn't getting hurt."

...

It's several hours later, and Dinah awakes in a strange bed with no memory of how she got there. She whines softly, bringing her hand up to rub her eyes. The room is dark, so she can't see much. What she can do, though, is smell. The smell of oil fills the room.

That is never a good sign.

Looking down, she manages to faintly see bandages on her body, along with oil soaking through the bandages. She gasps sharply, horrified as she comes to the conclusion as to what must have happened.

She's crashed!

Scared and alone, she begins to cry in the dark room, feeling terrified and isolated from the rest of the world. She sobs, tears rolling down her cheeks. The sobs cause her body to shake, intensifying the pain she is feeling. She thinks nothing will ever make her feel better. That is, until she feels a strong hand on her back, followed by a familiar, comforting voice.

"Darling, it's alright... Take a breath."

Dinah gasps, looking around for where the voice may have come from. When Greaseball comes closer, moving her chair nearer to the bed, she relaxes in relief. Her girlfriend is there, to comfort her! Not at an after party drinking booze!

"Oh, GB..." she cries. "I–what happened?"

Greaseball tenses up slightly, her hand moving to rub soft circles on the dining car's back. "Well, hon... There was a crash."

"I guessed that much... But how did it happen?"

"Ah, um–it was sabotage. Electra. But listen, I got word they are being punished for this, so it's okay. Well, not okay, but... it's over now."

Dinah sniffles. The idea that someone would purposely injure her causes her immense hurt, but the fact that Greaseball is sitting there with her makes her feel like all the weight in the world has been lifted off her shoulders.

"Baby..." Greaseball says softly, her voice a bit ragged, presumably from previous crying–which Dinah finds highly flattering and even a little attractive, "While Wrench was doing your repairs, she found some things that caused concern."

"...Oh?"

"Mhm. Like, your chest wires... were fried. Listen, she said within a month you wouldn't be here anymore..."

Dinah's eyes go blank, as many thoughts begin to go through her head. Her breathing goes from slow to quick, as panic begins to take over.

Greaseball, sensing the oncoming of a panic attack, goes into damage control and begins using every trick in the book to calm her beloved down.

"No, no, darling, it's alright..." Greaseball softly takes her lover's face into her own. "Baby..."

Dinah simply cries, trembling softly at the touch her girlfriend is providing.

"Doll, Wrench said you had a longtime lack of fuel, overexertion and, uh... smoke inhalation. Anything you wanna tell me?"

"..."

Greaseball looks down at her girlfriend expectantly, praying that the truth isn't what she's thinking the truth will be. She doesn't know if she can handle that.

Dinah wipes her eyes. "I... was just... I'm sorry, GB... I was trying to be light, so I could win the race. I was, um... smoking. A lot. And practicing a lot, so I got tired. And the lack of fuel... I was just trying to be light... for my race partner."

Greaseball's expression turns dark. It is the answer she was expecting, but it's not the one she was hoping before. She stays quiet as she racks her brain for a way to respond to the shocking information. Hearing that your girlfriend has been sabotaging her health for a win in a race is painful to say the least.

"Oh, love..." is all the engine can manage to say. "Never again. Promise me."

"Okay..."

"I'm being serious."

"I am too!"

Greaseball grips the car's hand. "Listen, your wheels are gone–you have to take care of the systems you've got remaining. It's all you have, alright? So I'll do my part and help you with fuel, transportation, but you have to do it too."

Dinah sniffles, "Wrench really... could not save my wheels?"

"...No, she couldn't. I'm so, so sorry..."

"...I'm sorry for the inconvenience this is going to cause, GB," the car says, a look of remorse in her eyes. All she gets in return, however, is a look of softness.

"Inconvenience my ass–you're my girlfriend. You're more important to me than anything. Racing, championships, prizes, even booze! If it means that you're alive and healthy, though missing a set of wheels, I'll stay home with you every day."

At the sentiment, Dinah resumes crying, touched by the fact that her cocky girlfriend, who loves being the champion more than anything, could even suggest giving up her title to stay home and take care of her.

Dinah blushes when Greaseball kisses away a stray tear, her mind conjuring up scenarios of a quiet domestic life, one unlike the glamorous one they've been living. She has to admit, staying at home cuddling, watching movies, eating meals together–it all sounds like something she could get used to. And if she can get her mobility back, the possibilities are endless.

"I love you, GB."

Greaseball kisses her forehead. "I love you. Get some rest, or I'll force you!"

Dinah simply chuckles as she closes her eyes, enjoying the scent of Greaseball's perfume, and the soft touch of her hand being held and squeezed.

Chapter Text

Dinah curls in on herself, pulling her blanket tighter against her as she feels another wave of cramps kick in. The fact that she's missing racing practice is embarrassing. Being alone makes her wallow in her thoughts. Is she just being weak?

The pain mostly resides in her stomach, but some of it is in her back as well. Every time she feels the pain get stronger, it’s like a domino effect. Her hands clench, and her breathing becomes ragged. There is a persistent sheen of sweat on her brow that only increases her discomfort.

She hasn’t gotten up from the couch for most of the day. The fact makes her feel lazy. But with the amount of pain she's in, she feels that being lazy is warranted. She closes her eyes, hoping that she'll be able to sleep it off.

A little while later, right as she's about to drift into sleep, she hears the front door open and she groans. She opens her eyes and rubs them sleepily. It takes her eyes a moment to adjust, but when they do, she relaxes.

Walking inside is her girlfriend Greaseball, who is holding a trophy. Internally, Dinah chuckles–of course she won again. In what universe does she not win? Though proud, she's in too much pain to make much of a fuss about it.

"Yay,” she smiles, wrapping her arms tighter around her stomach.

Greaseball proudly sets her trophy on the mantle, nodding in approval. She turns to face her girlfriend, clueless about the dining car’s painful day. "That's how you do it!" the diesel states, a cocky smirk on her face.

Dinah hums softly in agreement.

The fact that she's not being showered in hugs and kisses tells Greaseball that something is wrong. She wheels closer to the couch, then crouches down, placing a hand on Dinah's forehead.

Dinah relaxes into the cool sensation, frowning.

"What's it to ya, doll?" Greaseball tilts her head to the side. Her face is slick with sweat, and she planned to get a shower once she got home. With Dinah so ill, that’s the last thing on Greaseball’s mind.

Dinah sighs, curling in on herself even more. She is embarrassed, flushed red and quiet. It confuses the diesel–what is there to be embarrassed about?

"Come on, I won't bite. Now tell me or I’ll make you."

"...I'm having cramps..." Dinah says in what Greaseball thinks must be the quietest voice she's ever heard.

At the realization, Greaseball chills out. At least now she knows nothing is seriously wrong. Now, her mission is to make her girlfriend feel as comfortable as she possibly can.

"Anything I can do?"

"Cuddles, please..."

The diesel chuckles, "Well, can I get a shower first?"

Dinah whines playfully, but nods after a touch to the nose from Greaseball. The diesel rushes off, wanting to get back to her girlfriend as soon as possible.

The dining car closes her eyes, feeling a little better than she had earlier. Though she’s still in pain, she knows that soon, it all will go away. Greaseball always makes the pain go away.

Chapter Text

Greaseball groans, the memory of her apology playing in her head over and over again. It's such a common word. How could she misspell it?

"S-O-R-R-R-Y."

She sits on the couch, staring at the wall. It replays in her head, reminding her of her failure. Each time, she wants to curl up and die a little bit more. Kids can spell the word, so why can't she?

It's an easy, frequently used word. It's not like it's a long word with 18 letters–it's one of the most commonly used words in the world. To make matters worse, it's not the only word she's ever misspelled.

For as long as she can remember, she's had issues with spelling and reading. As she got into her adult years, she just ignored it and pushed the shame down. She avoids books like the plague. But when Dinah asked her to spell her apology, she had no other choice but to try her best.

"Greaseball, I promise there's nothing to be worried about!" Dinah’s expression is full of warmth.

The dining car sits beside the engine, who has been sulking for an hour.

"Yes there is!" Greaseball snaps back. "What good am I if I can't spell?"

The dining car's eyes soften, and she takes Greaseball's larger hand in her own smaller one. She gives it a reassuring squeeze. She knows how important Greaseball's image is to her–it's everything she has, everything she is. So slipping up, presenting herself as less than perfect is devastating to the diesel engine.

Still, seeing her girlfriend so ashamed, red in the face and embarrassed breaks her heart. She's never seen her so down. She's used to seeing Greaseball portray an image of excellence–a strong, polished champion who can do anything she puts her mind to.

"Hon, I don't care about anything like that... Lots of people can't spell,” she begins. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. The world won't stop spinning just because you misspelled a word, you know. You're still the champion, and people still love you. I still love you, okay?"

Greaseball sighs, leaning her head back against the couch cushion. She closes her eyes, thinking over Dinah’s words. They don't register in her head all that much. To her, if she isn't on top of her game, she’s a failure. If she isn't the best—the biggest, the strongest, the most competitive in every category, she's a failure.

"Dinah, I misspelled a word kids can spell! In front of everyone... I don't know how I'm supposed to come back from that. I can hear it now—the talk that will go on in the yard."

Dinah chuckles softly at that. "For someone who knows that their fans love them, you don't have any faith in them. Everyone in the yard loves you, and trust me, there are plenty of people who are scared of you. I'm sure nobody will dare to say anything."

Greaseball retorts, "Forgive me for expecting the worst."

"...All I'm saying is no one is perfect. Not even you, hon. Everyone has something about themselves that they can't do! I have tons of things I can't do."

Greaseball sends Dinah a curious glance. "Oh yeah? Like what?"

Dinah thinks for a moment, giggling softly as she leans into her girlfriend's side. Her cheeks heat up when she feels Greaseball’s strong arms pull her close.

"Well, to start, I'm clumsy. Sometimes when I'm serving meals I trip and drop the plates!"

Greaseball imagines the scenario. She pictures her precious dining car’s cheeks reddening in embarrassment. The idea is both adorable and funny at the same time to the engine.

"I never knew that," Greaseball laughs. "I know you're clumsy, of course, but I never thought it affected your work life."

Dinah giggles, "Mhm. And, uh... no one can read my handwriting. No matter how much I've tried to improve it, I'm just not great with a pen!"

"Oh?"

"So you see? No one is perfect, and everybody makes mistakes sometimes, okay?”

“Yeah,” Greaseball sighs.

“You don't have to spend your life pursuing an image of perfection. If you do slip up, it's okay. No one is going to hate you because you spelled a word wrong. And besides... the only person whose opinion matters that much is mine, and you're perfect to me."

At the car’s heartfelt words, Greaseball’s heart squeezes. She gives Dinah a brief smile, avoiding eye contact as she leans closer. She feels much better than she had minutes ago.

The more she thinks about it, the more she realizes Dinah is right. The only person she truly wants to impress is Dinah, and she does it effortlessly. As long as she's herself, the two of them will remain happy.

Chapter Text

Dinah scurries around the house for three hours straight. She wants everything to be perfect when Greaseball gets home. It's their one year anniversary, and unfortunately, she hasn’t seen the engine all day.

Greaseball has had a busy week, and today is no exception. She had a press conference, she had practice, and she had a fan signing. She tried to get out of it, but her manager told her skipping was out of the question.

Dinah has had a busy day. She’s cooked a delectable meal, and she’s baked a cake. She’s even decorated the bedroom with rose petals and candles. By the time everything is ready, it's six in the evening. Dinah grows antsier with every passing second.

The smell of the meal she's worked so hard on lingers throughout the house. She can smell it from her spot on the couch. She keeps her eyes glued to the front door, anxiously awaiting the arrival of her girlfriend.

When she hears the sound of keys jingling, she perks up. She straightens her spine, brushes a hand through her hair, and smiles. The door opens, and the diesel engine enters.

"Welcome home!" Dinah exclaims, beaming.

Greaseball smiles warmly, shutting the door. She strides to the couch and sits beside the car. “Hey, love. I’m sorry I wasn’t here all day.”

Dinah shakes her head, ignoring the pang of pain in her chest. "It's alright, you're a busy hardworking woman... I understand. Oh, I made dinner for you."

Greaseball replies, "Thank you, babe. I really appreciate that... I'm going to take a quick shower, then I'll be yours the rest of the night."

Dinah forces herself not to whine at that. She has waited all day to see Greaseball, and now she has to wait even longer? She simply nods and leaves the couch.

"Okay. I'll get the table set, then."

"Sounds good."
...

Before Dinah knows it, Greaseball enters the dining room. No longer is she in her racing gear. Instead, she is wearing a t-shirt and shorts. Her yellow and black hair is damp from the shower, sitting on her shoulders. She smiles at the sight of the meal Dinah has made for her.

"This looks amazing, babe. You didn't have to cook. I could have taken you out…” the engine sits at the table, a flicker of regret in her voice.

Dinah shakes her head from across the table. "I wanted to do something to show my appreciation to you... You do so much for me all the time, so... this is my part."

Greaseball relaxes, grateful her girlfriend is so understanding. As she and Dinah eat, they chat about the past year they've spent together. They've had many ups and downs, and this milestone proves that their relationship is strong.

They go to bed together that night in each other's arms, excited for the many years to come.

Chapter Text

Belle is no stranger to the feeling of exhaustion. She is a sleeping car, after all. But no matter how many times she falls asleep without meaning to, she always finds herself getting upset when she wakes up and sees what she's missed out on.

On one occasion, she fell asleep while racing. As you could expect, it resulted in a disqualification. And a shoulder injury. She's tired, for a lack of a better word. When she sees the other trains around her with so much energy, full of life and speed, she can't help but feel like she'll never get to feel as good as them. And that hurts.

Her girlfriend Orange Flash is just as familiar with the predicament Belle is in. She's aware how much it upsets the sleeping car, and it breaks her heart. She’ll look over and see Belle’s eyes struggling to stay open. They’ll be in the middle of a conversation, and Belle will drop. What's worse is when the purple-haired car gets injured. That is the most heartbreaking part, and recently it's been happening a lot.

Often, Orange Flash comes home just to find Belle lying in a random space in their shared house. Notably, she once found Belle on the laundry room floor lying in a pile of clothes. Upon being gently woken up, Belle informed her that she was just trying to do the laundry and felt "too sleepy to put the clothes in the washing machine".

Another time, she found Belle face down on the back patio. It was the middle of the winter, so the poor sleeping car was cold and shivering. She was so deep into her sleep, she didn't even flinch from the cold until she was carried inside and rushed to the bathroom for a warm bath.

Together with Orange Flash, of course.

Belle is sick of missing everything that goes on throughout the day. She’s even more tired of being unable to race. Due to anxiety about her girlfriend’s condition, Orange Flash has convinced Belle to take some time away from the track. It hurt the coach, but she agreed because she could see just how worried the engine was.

She spent today at home, watching television while waiting for her girlfriend to get home. She's dozed off more than a few times, and now she is getting dinner prepared. Wanting to cook an easy meal, she puts a frozen pizza in the oven. It should be done by the time Orange Flash gets home from her gym session.

Minutes pass, and she wanders back and forth throughout the dining room, trying to force herself to remain awake. There is one thing she wants—to have dinner with her girlfriend, like normal couples do. Not in bed, but at the dinner table, having an actual conversation that she's alert and partaking in.

So, she paces, focusing her eyes on the different things inside the dining room. On one wall is a photo of her and Orange Flash in their racing gear. It was taken right before their first time in a race together. Regrettably, they came in third place, but the memory of the wind rushing and the crowd cheering as she held onto her engine makes Belle smile.

Belle’s vision blurs, and she groans in annoyance. All she wants is to go to her bedroom and sleep, but she keeps her mind on Orange Flash. She thinks about hugging and kissing her, and enjoying a delicious (cheap and frozen) meal together.

As the seconds go by, the line between being awake and asleep blurs. Before she knows it, she collapses onto the tile with a loud thud. She sleeps soundly, blissfully unaware of the chaos unraveling around her.

...

Orange Flash approaches the front door with a sigh. Her body aches a bit more than it usually does, as she pushed herself really hard at the gym today. It’s all thanks to some encouragement from Greaseball. She has a plan–to take a couple painkillers, which is something she's been doing often these days.

She turns the doorknob, and she's shocked by the sight she sees. There is smoke coming from inside the kitchen, and the fire alarm is blaring. She rushes toward the scene, gasping at the sight of Belle face-down on the floor.

She notices that the smoke is coming from inside the oven. From the burnt smell, she can tell that Belle must have been cooking a pizza. She runs and grabs the fire extinguisher from the wall and throws the oven door open. Smoke is immediately in her face, sending her into a coughing fit.

As quickly as she can, she puts out the fire. She can only be thankful that it wasn't too big and was contained within the oven. Once it's out, she sets the fire extinguisher down and turns her attention to Belle. Her precious car is perfectly still, and the engine can’t help but sigh.

Orange Flash kneels down, then turns Belle onto her back. She winces at the sight of the bruise forming on Belle’s forehead. She straddles her girlfriend’s hips and firmly pats her cheek in an attempt to rouse her.

“Belle, wake up. Now.”

Belle whines, squinting her eyes. She shakes her head in protest of being patted on the cheek. She can't tell what's going on, but she has somewhat of an idea. The car can smell smoke, her head hurts, and she's on the floor. She knows that whatever happened cannot have been good.

"Belle, open your eyes, please. Now."

"Huh?" Belle replies in confusion, keeping her eyes shut.

Orange Flash frowns at the sight of her girlfriend. Belle is disoriented on the floor with no memory of what happened. Orange Flash is tired of this sort of thing happening, but she knows it’s not Belle’s fault. The car will get upset if she shows annoyance, so the engine holds her feelings inside.

"Belle, please open your eyes."

Belle opens her eyes half-way, the pain in her head increasing when the light enters her eyes. The first thing she sees is Orange Flash on top of her. The second thing she sees is a fire extinguisher on the ground.

"What happened?" Belle whispers, her lip trembling.

Orange Flash's annoyance fades, and she softens. The engine sighs, shaking her head. "Babe, I came home and there was a fire in the oven. You were asleep on the floor... Are you able to remember what happened?"

At the mention of a fire, the dam breaks and Belle begins to cry. She feels like such a failure–she wanted so badly to spend the evening with her girlfriend. All she wanted was to enjoy dinner and conversation, but she had to go and ruin it by almost burning their house down.

The engine leans down to press a kiss to Belle’s bruised forehead. The bruise is sure to be a bad one–it’s already almost matching Belle’s hair color. Orange Flash never wants Belle to feel guilty for falling asleep. She can’t help it and the engine knows it.

"It's alright, okay? There's nothing to worry about. It's over now. I'll make something for us to eat... How's your head feeling?" Orange Flash speaks in a low volume so she won’t make Belle’s headache worse.

Belle sobs softly, lifting her hand to wipe her tears. "I... I wanted to do something nice for you... I wanted to cook a stupid pizza and of course I ruined that too. I ruined everything just like always."

At that, Orange Flash titters. "It's not your fault, Belle... You didn't ruin anything, alright? Except maybe the oven."

At the remark, Belle glares, causing the engine above her to laugh. She is in no mood for jokes. All she feels like doing is breaking down and curling up in a hole. How is she supposed to enjoy life if all she can do is fall asleep?

Around the train yard, there have been jokes made about her before. Even though she knows her friends are just joking around, it still hurts. It's not her fault, and she wishes they'd just stop joking, even if they don't mean to hurt her feelings.

"Stop laughing at me!” Belle pouts.

"I'm not laughing at you, Belle. I'm laughing because you're so cute," the engine replies. "Let me get you some medicine for your head, alright? I gotta take something too. My back is killing me."

"...Okay."

Orange Flash gets off of Belle and rummages through a cabinet. She locates a bottle of painkillers, then grabs two from inside. She pours a glass of water for herself, and a glass of pink lemonade (Belle's favorite drink) for Belle.

After taking her pill, she helps Belle sit up and hands her the small white tablet. Once Belle takes the pill, she begins to calm down. The adrenaline of the situation begins to wear off. She wipes her eyes and sniffles, still feeling guilty about the fact that she messed up her girlfriend's oven.

All guilt leaves the room when she feels strong arms wrap around her. She relaxes into the touch, closing her eyes with an exhale. Despite the pain she's in, she knows all will be okay. Orange Flash is home now; how could it not be okay?

Belle knows that she's safe now. She doesn't have to worry about falling and getting hurt again. At least not for the rest of the night, anyway. Orange Flash’s presence is enough to soothe Belle, and the sleepy feeling in her head returns.

"Are you still sleepy?" Orange Flash chuckles.

"Mhm," Belle whines against the engine’s chest.

"You can sleep. I'll be right here with you, alright?"

"...Kay."

"I'll carry you to the bedroom."

Belle blushes a deep purple color. She's grateful Orange Flash can't see it from the way she's positioned. She doesn't realize, though, that the blush is entirely audible in her voice.

"T-thank you..."

Orange Flash hums, smirking to herself at the flustered sound of her girlfriend's voice. She picks Belle up with relative ease, retreating to their shared bedroom. The engine plans to turn on a movie, then cuddle with the car all night long.

It wasn't the night Belle planned, but it's the one she’s having, so she accepts it.

Chapter Text

Dinah hops around the kitchen gathering ingredients from the fridge. Ice, ice cream, and milk. She sets them on the counter before retrieving a blender from a small cupboard. Greaseball has been working hard lately, all of the stress has been taking a toll on her. So Dinah has come up with an idea; why not make her a nice sweet treat?

She plugs in the blender and puts two scoops of chocolate ice cream inside. She pours in some milk, then puts a few ice cubes into the blender. Now, all that’s left to do is blend.

Once the milkshake is nice and blended, she grabs a glass from a cabinet. With the addition of a red and white milkshake straw and a cherry for good measure, she deems her milkshake a success.

...

On the other side of the house, Greaseball is in the garage working out. She has a home gym set-up inside, something that she owes much of her success to. It's her second workout of the day, and she’s exhausted. But she's got a big race coming up. She's not about to let herself slack off.

After all, she is the champion. She only plans to provide the best of the best for her fans. Her strong physique included. So, she presses on, ignoring the sweat that pours down her temple.

Her muscles are on fire, and she's completely drained. She expects nothing but the best of herself, so she pushes on. She keeps her mind on Dinah, because nothing is more important to her than impressing the dining car.

She knows deep down that she doesn’t have to try so hard. Dinah is always impressed with the engine. Greaseball could do anything, and Dinah would smile and clap.
Still, working hard makes Greaseball feel good about herself. She likes being a show off–it's a big part of who she is. She knows that Dinah finds it attractive, so she always tries her hardest. Even if it is tiring sometimes.

When she's not working out, she still gets plenty of use out of her muscles. She recently began assisting Wrench at the repair shop, so she hardly ever gets a break. Lately, she's been feeling more tired than usual, but she's not about to let anybody see it. After all, Greaseball is all about power, and pushing through, and being tough—she's not weak.

She's about to do another set of bicep curls when she hears the door open. She sighs, internally thanking the interruption. Now, she has a moment to rest. The engine sets the dumbbells down on the bench, then faces the door.

In the doorway is Dinah, wearing a cute little pastel blue dress with her pink hair done up nicely.

Greaseball clears her throat and smiles, trying to appear as if her girlfriend's outfit hasn't flustered her at all. She eyes the milkshake in Dinah's hand and tilts her head, wondering what it's for.

"Whatcha got there, doll?" Greaseball asks, her voice strained from the day’s strenuous exercise.

Dinah blushes at the nickname, shifting her weight. "I made you a little something since you've been working so hard, hon. A big strong engine like you needs some sustenance!"

At that, Greaseball frowns. "A milkshake? That's not exactly the most nutritionally packed thing in the world, is it?"

Dinah pouts, her giddy expression faltering. "I made it just for you..."

Greaseball’s stomach turns with guilt when she sees Dinah’s face. She has goals set for herself, and a chocolate milkshake just doesn't align with those goals. The dining car’s trembling lip breaks her heart.

"Babe, I really appreciate your effort–trust me, I do. But I got this big race coming up, and I've got to look my best for it. Live TV and all."

Dinah grits her teeth, gripping the cup with force. Her eyes are misty, and it makes the guilt that Greaseball feels double. The yellow-haired engine remains firm, but with each second that goes by it gets harder to do so.

"Do you really think a single milkshake will cause you to lose your muscle?" the dining car retorts. She looks as if she could break into tears at any moment. "Just because you're a celebrity doesn't mean you can't have a milkshake... I made this for you, damn it! I worked hard on it!"

Greaseball swallows, surprised at the fact that her girlfriend has raised her voice. It’s the first time she’s ever seen Dinah angry, and frankly, she finds it attractive. But that isn't important. Right now, the task at hand is ensuring the dining car doesn't cry.

That's the last thing Greaseball wants.

"I know that, babe... I work hard to keep on a steady diet and exercise regimen to fulfill my goals. That's partially why I'm such a fast racer. I know I can afford to loosen up here and there. Hey–listen. I promise I'll drink your milkshake, okay? I'll try it right now. I'm sorry."

Upon hearing the apology, the dining car continues to pout. She slowly shuffles toward the bench that Greaseball is sitting on. Once Greaseball grabs the drink, Dinah waits for her to try it.

Greaseball takes a sip, internally cursing herself for "slipping up" with her diet. The milkshake is delicious, that she can admit, but that's not what she's thinking about. All she can think about is how hard she's going to have to work to burn off the extra calories.

Her body is already in agony, and here she is making it worse.

Dinah carefully observes Greaseball, waiting for her reaction. It's the first time she's made something for her to eat, and she's nervous to see her reaction.

"So, do you like it?" she asks.

Greaseball swallows, plastering a smile on her face. "Yeah, it's great. Thank you for making this for me, doll."

Dinah's face lights up once again at the compliment. She hops on her toes, which makes Greaseball chuckle. The car really is adorable.

"You really like it?" Dinah beams.

"Sure I do!" Greaseball replies. "Hey, I'll be out of here pretty soon. How about we watch a movie after my shower?"

Dinah giggles, "Alright."

"See you soon."

Dinah practically skips out of the gym. She is thrilled that Greaseball enjoyed the drink she made. Little does she know that her girlfriend is currently berating herself.

Greaseball questions why she even took a sip of the damn thing in the first place. The engine can't remember when her unhealthy obsession began. Recently, her thoughts of restriction and exercise have gotten worse. She knows how bad it is, but she can’t stop. Not when so many people look up to her. Not when so many people admire her physique.

She knows if she would just speak to Dinah, it would all be okay. Dinah is understanding and loving–she would make it right. But Greaseball is too ashamed to bring it up. So, she does what she always does.

She picks up her dumbbells and gets to work.

Chapter Text

As the sun begins to set, Pearl’s excitement grows, because it’s Halloween night–her favorite night of the year. She loves nothing more than to get dressed up and show off whatever costume she’s picked out.

She’s especially excited this year, because with the help of Momma, she’s picked out a costume that’s sure to get her some attention at the yard's Halloween party. It’s a pink corset with a matching skirt, a cat tail, and some ears to go along with it.

Pearl’s heart drums with anticipation for the evening to come as she sits at her vanity in her bedroom and does her makeup. She usually would keep it simple, but it’s no normal night. It’s Halloween, and if you don’t go all out, you’re boring.

She puts on some sparkly pink eyeshadow, eyeliner, and some lipstick. To finish the look off, she carefully draws on a cat nose and giggles excitedly, thrilled to show off the look to her partner.

Electra isn’t one for Halloween, although they are a flashy train. They don’t see the point in getting dressed up, unless it’s for a race. The only appeal is the candy, but they’re far too old to go trick or treating. So, they have no care in the world about this Halloween party that Pearl is forcing them to go to.

Their plan is to go, chat with the components for a while (and ensure they’re doing their jobs properly) then make up some excuse as to why they have to leave. It seems like the perfect plan. A short, easy trip to the party then back home to relax for the rest of the night.

But when Pearl enters their room donned in a (quite attractive) cat costume, their focus is momentarily pulled from their plan. They stand up, paying no mind to the way their electrical systems begin to buzz internally.

Pearl twirls around, allowing her skirt to fan out. She seems proud of her costume, which Electra finds amusing. They give a polite, light clap as they look her up and down.

“Quite nice.”

Pearl pouts playfully. “Is that all you have to say?”

Electra hums, taking another look at Pearl’s figure in the costume. Yes, they love Pearl, but they’re not one to show their emotions. It’s not that they don’t feel emotions, they just have a hard time showing it.

“You look beautiful.” They say, a hint of struggle in their tone.

Pearl’s eyes light up, and she grins brightly. “Aw, you think so?”

“I know so.”

The coach smiles, staying quiet for a moment. She has something planned for tonight–something that Electra has zero clue about. Without warning, she scurries off to her room to retrieve something, leaving Electra confused,

When she returns, she is carrying a box. She sets it on the floor and motions toward it with an expectant, almost giddy look. Electra purses their lips slightly, not entirely trusting the box. It is Halloween afterall. What if Pearl filled it with spiders as some sort of cruel prank?

“Open it!” Pearl urges, bringing Electra’s attention away from spiders and back to the box.

The electric engine sighs and opens the box, furrowing their brows at the contents inside. It’s a white button down shirt with matching pants, a cat tail and ears. It takes them a moment to process exactly what this means, but when it hits them, the only thing they can do is refuse.

“No.”

“But–”

“No way.”

“Please!”

Electra groans, a look of disgust on their face. “I am not showing up to the party in an outfit like this!”

Pearl frowns. “But it will be so cute! I put a lot of time and effort into planning the costumes… Please? I can do your makeup!”

“...Are you joking?”

“Electra! Everyone at the party is most likely going to be in couples costumes. Hydra and Rusty, Greaseball and Dinah, Belle and Orange Flash… If I’m the only couple there without a matching costume I’m going to look like an idiot!”

Electra scoffs, because they can’t fathom why Pearl cares so much about some silly holiday. To them, it’s just an excuse to dress up like an idiot and fuel sugar addiction. But they can tell it means a lot to Pearl, so with great reluctance they take another look at the box and sigh.

“Fine…”

Electra is nearly knocked off their wheels when Pearl hugs them excitedly. She jumps up and down, bringing the electric engine with her. Electra’s face is neutral, but on the inside, they’re slamming their face against the wall for agreeing to this.

…

Pearl hold’s Electra’s hand excitedly as she leads them to the location of the party. She can hear classic Halloween songs playing, and she can see trains chatting happily, all wearing costumes.

Pearl has to say, the turnout of the party is greater than she’s expected, and she’s thrilled to see her friends tonight as it’s been a while. She looks around, leading Electra further into the yard. There’s tables with treats, candy, and punch set up. There’s even some games like corn hole and beer pong.

Electra stares at the ground as they follow Pearl reluctantly. Although they’re not looking up, they’re entirely convinced that the whole party is staring at them. Why did they agree to wear this ridiculous costume? Electra, the powerful electric engine, in a cheap cat costume with a nose drawn on with eyeliner.

They want to curl up and cry.

Pearl suddenly squeals and hops up and down, causing a jolt of panic to make its way through Electra. Oh no, she’s going to speak to someone… While we look like absolute fools!

Pearl wheels quickly toward someone, and when Electra finally looks up, the electric engine could just collapse from shame. Standing proudly with Dinah on her arm is Greaseball, who glances back and forth between Pearl and Electra before breaking into laughter.

“Can it, diesel!” Electra hisses, causing the dining car across from them to chuckle and place a hand on Greaseball’s shoulder as if to say enough.

“What an absolutely glorious costume!” Greaseball laughs.

“You don't look much better! What the hell are you two supposed to be?”

“Danny and Sandy–you know, like from Grease?”

“Ah.”

Dinah smiles, seemingly amused by the sight of her friend’s couples costume. “Pearl, you’ve outdone yourself!”

Pearl giggles. “Momma helped me come up with the idea, I can’t take all the credit!”

Electra shoots Pearl a look. “Momma has some explaining to do.”

“Ah, shush. How about I get you a drink and you can just calm down?~ I’m sure your components will be here soon and you can chat with them.”

At the mention of their components, a spark of terror almost paralyzes the electric engine. Their components see Electra as the coolest train on the planet. To see their leader wearing a silly cat costume is unthinkable. Electra considers the best way to get out of this mess, and a few ideas come to mind.

One, causing a storm with their lightning.

Two, commanding everybody to go home with their mind control powers.

Or three, speeding away from the site as fast as they can and never speaking to anybody again.

After weighing all of their options, option three is the most appealing to Electra. But before they have the chance to take action, they hear a familiar voice from behind them that makes them halt.

“Electra?”

Electra turns around and is faced with the components, who are dressed in matching witch costumes. First and foremost, Electra is embarrassed by the fact that they’ve been seen in a cat costume. Secondly, they’re slightly–only slightly–hurt that they weren’t asked to join the components in their group costume.

Joule is the first to speak up. “What a… fantastic costume!”

“Yes, yes…” The rest of the components are quick to follow.

It’s clear by the looks on their faces that they’re shocked, amused, and confused all at the same time. None of them ever would have imagined seeing their leader wear a costume like that, so it’s extremely hilarious to them.

But they all value their jobs, so none of them dare laugh.

Wrench clears her throat. “It’s marvelous!”

“Splendid.” Killerwatt follows, nodding his head.

“Gorgeous!” Volta agrees, though he clearly has to choke down a laugh.

Electra stares at the group, unable to find any words. They only see orange and black costumes, and not the usual silver the group dons. They sigh, feeling nothing but shame and regret for even agreeing to wear the cat costume in the first place.

The components have never once seen Electra speechless, and it’s a sight to behold. They look them up and down, unable to say anything as well. It isn’t until Electra finally speaks up that they snap out of their amusement.

“Why was I not invited to wear matching costumes with you four?!”

The components blink, clearly shocked by the question. It wasn’t one they were anticipating, but their powerful leader is standing right there in front of them, and damn it, Electra is going to get an answer.

“We–we did not think you’d wish to join us…” Joule says, looking at the other components, who nod in agreement.

“Yes.” Killerwatt adds on. “You seem like the type to… not like Halloween, so we wished to not burden you.”

“Right.” Wrench says.

“One-hundred percent!” Volta nods.

Electra swallows, but eventually turns around and speeds off to find Pearl, who has left them all alone in the lion’s den. They find her chatting with the other coaches, two of who are in matching costumes of their own. Tassita and Belle seem to be matching with Orange Flash and Hydra and Rusty.

The five of them are wearing pirate costumes, with Rusty holding a map and showing it excitedly to Pearl. They’re clearly having a wonderful time, all dressed up and having no care in the world about how they’re perceived.

Electra thinks, if everyone else can do it, maybe–just maybe–they can let their guard down for just one night and have some fun. They approach the scene and tap Pearl’s shoulder, getting her attention.

The coach smiles up at Electra. “Hey! I was just about to come find you–I got your drink. Here.”

Electra nods in appreciation when they are handed a bottle of beer. They take a look at the group’s faces and groan.

“Oh, here we go again. Yes, I dressed up for Halloween! Why is it a crime that I do it when everyone else is?”

Rusty, Hydra, Belle, Orange Flash and Tassita all laugh at Electra’s outburst. The electric engine considers setting some nearby shed’s on fire just to prove their point, but Pearl grabs their hand, and it grounds them almost instantly.

“No one is laughing at you… in a mean way!” Pearl looks up at Electra with soft eyes. “Everyone is here to have fun and be silly. So just relax and have some fun!”

Electra watches as the group nods, and they begin to loosen up a little. Still, they can’t imagine ever feeling fully comfortable in a stupid cat costume. But no one at the party looks all that serious wearing costumes, so they decide to do what everyone else is doing and not care what anyone else thinks.

Pearl can see that Electra is beginning to relax, and it excites her so much that she won’t have to make an emergency trip home in the middle of the party. She leads her partner to the bean bag toss game and picks up a bean bag.

“Wanna play a round?”

Electra chuckles, deciding to go all in to make Pearl happy.

“Why not?”

In the moonlit night, the yard is filled with trains partying happily whilst drinking and playing games, eating candy and other sweets. The fall air is chilly, and music fills the air as some trains dance happily around, not a care in the world.

Electra ends the night thinking Halloween isn’t that bad after all.

Chapter Text

What even is “dating?”

Greaseball isn’t all too familiar with the concept. Yes, she’s had many partners. More than the average train, but dating is a whole new ballgame for her, and she’s not too skilled with the specific details that come with being in a relationship.

“We’re dating.”

The first time she heard Dinah say the term, it made her stop in her tracks. Sure, they stay at each other’s houses all the time. Yes, they are intimate at times–a lot of times. It’s true, when Greaseball looks at the dining car her stomach does a flip or two.

But what does that mean exactly?

She’s not one to put her feelings into words, so she often expresses herself physically by using touch, be it cuddling or… well, the next stage of cuddling.

She’s never felt this way about anybody before. Not for any of the other trains she’s ever been with. She’s never felt so at home; so free to be herself. When she’s near Dinah, she doesn’t feel like she has to put up a tough front. She can just relax and be herself, and although she won’t say it, it means the world to her.

Greaseball often catches herself stealing glances at the car when she’s focused on baking something or putting on makeup. At the gym, she will talk the other engines heads off about Dinah, oblivious to how little they care about their relationship. Every moment she’s away from the dining car it feels like all she can think about doing is visiting her.

She’s beginning to think she might have attachment issues.

That is, until her friend and fellow engine Orange Flash has had enough of Greaseball’s stupidity and sticks it to her one day at the gym.

“You are so in love.”

Greaseball sets her dumbbells down and huffs, a dry laugh of denial escaping her. “No I’m not.”

“What the hell would you call it then?” Orange Flash retorts, continuing her set of bicep curls.

“I–”

“So you stay at her house all the time?”

“Yes…” Greaseball says. “We enjoy each other’s company. So what? We’re together… It’s a new relationship.”

The orange engine chuckles. “I don’t care if it’s a new relationship. You two are obviously made for each other! That girl has you wrapped around her finger. I bet if she asked you to do anything at all, you would do it without a second glance.”

The diesel rolls her eyes, but she can’t deny the last statement. All she wants to do is make her girlfriend happy, and that’s what she plans to do day in and day out. To see the dining car smile lights up her whole world.

“Have you even said it?”

“Said what?” Greaseball asks, picking up the dumbbells once more.

“You know… I love you.”

When she hears the three words, she almost drops the dumbbells onto her wheels but manages to grab onto them again. Her face is heated and she feels like she’s been put on the spot. She opens her mouth to respond, but she can’t find any words.

“So you haven’t?” Orange Flash’s eyes widen slightly. “You’ve been with her for a few weeks.”

Greaseball sets the weights down again, for once not in the mood to lift them. She takes a seat on the bench and sighs, tensing up when she feels the other engine take a seat next to her.

“No, I’ve not said I love her yet…” Greaseball admits.

“...How come?”

“Look, I–it’s just not all that easy for me to say stuff like that. I can’t say stupid fluffy things, it’s not in my character.”

Orange Flash laughs, rolling her eyes slightly. “Okay… Well, has she said it to you?”

Greaseball looks down and thinks back over the past few weeks. Almost every time she’s seen the dining car, she’s heard those three words, and each time it makes her feel like the most amazing engine in the world.

She feels shame that she can’t ever find it in her to repeat those same three words back to the girl she cares so much for. She certainly feels love for her–the butterflies in her stomach that constantly flutter around tell her that much. So why can't she say it?

“You should tell her!” Orange Flash says with an encouraging smile, and a tone of voice to match. “Trust me, there’s nothing a girl loves more than hearing those three words. Once you say them, she’s going to be even more in love with you than she already is. It’s not a big deal. I tell Belle I love her every day.”

Greaseball nods, agreeing. Although it will be hard for her, she knows it has to be done. She wants to make Dinah feel special, so that’s exactly what she’s going to do.

…

Greaseball wheels toward her girlfriend’s home with a slightly sick feeling in her stomach. Her heart thrums rapidly as she gets closer to the house, and all she can do is think of the potential ways Dinah may react when she says “I love you”.

She curses herself for not bringing flowers.

Greaseball arrives at the house and knocks on the door, willing herself to stick to the plan and confess her true feelings no matter how stupid it makes her feel. When the door opens a few seconds later and she sees the familiar pink and blue car, it makes her anxiety disappear for a moment.

“Greasy!” Dinah beams and practically hops into the engine’s arms to give her a hug.

Greaseball laughs softly and wraps her strong arms around the car, shifting her weight slightly side to side for a few seconds. When she pulls away, she looks down at the shorter girl and swallows, her mouth feeling incredibly dry.

“Dinah…” She begins, once again cursing herself for having not prepared some sort of gift. What sort of girlfriend is she if she hasn’t brought a gift?! “I… I wanted to say something to you.”

Dinah appears surprised, but she nods and continues to look up at the engine. “Okay, what is it?”

“I, uh… I care about you.”

“...Aw.”

“No, listen–I really, really care about you… And I like spending my time with you. I like racing with you… and training with you… and doing other things too.”

Dinah chuckles at Greaseball’s lack of a descriptor. She can tell the engine feels extremely uncomfortable putting her heart on her sleeve like this, so she stays quiet and grabs Greaseball’s hand in an attempt to be encouraging.

“Dinah, you are by far out of all of the trains I’ve ever messed around with the prettiest. And… I probably shouldn’t mention other trains.”

Dinah giggles. “No, you shouldn’t.”

Greaseball swallows, cursing herself mentally for screwing this up so badly. Why can’t she just say the words? It’s just three easy small words, so why all the lead up and hesitation?

“Uh… You’re the prettiest train I’ve ever met, and you’re also the most hardworking. You make so many delicious meals for passengers, and for me too… And you encourage me to work hard when I’m tired, so thanks for that.”

Dinah just smiles in response, a soft rosy tint to her cheeks at Greaseball’s words. She’s never seen her be so open, and it warms her heart. She’s unsure what prompted the engine to be so open like this, but whatever it was, she’s glad it happened.

“You are my dream train…” Greaseball says, blushing harder when she gets a squeeze of the hand in response to her words. “And I… I love you, yeah?”

Dinah’s eyes go big, and although Greaseball is avoiding eye contact so she can’t see it, her expression shows she’s enamored with the engine. She’s never been so happy in all her life.

“I love you too!” The dining car wraps her arms tightly around Greaseball, leaning her head on her chest.

Greaseball exhales a sigh of relief and her shoulders relax. “You do?”

“...Greasy, you’re so clueless. I tell you all the time I love you. Yes, I love you.”

“Oh, nice.”

Dinah just laughs and shakes her head slightly, continuing to rest against the engine. She feels so warm in Greaseball’s arms–so at home, so safe, so loved. She wants to stay like that forever.

Chapter Text

Rusty has been spending a lot of time with Hydra. He enjoys spending time with the fuel truck, and the antics they get into always leave him laughing and feeling whole.

That’s just what friends do!

Recently, they have been training together a lot, and it’s just as fun every single time. There’s nothing else to it–Rusty feels happy when he’s near Hydra. He’s never had a friend quite like him. In all honesty, he’s never had many friends at all.

For this cool, laid-back truck of the future to invest so much time in Rusty makes him feel like he’s special. It doesn’t seem like Hydra would rather be off somewhere else with his other friends. It’s like he truly wants to be there, hanging out with the steam engine.

Today, they have been training together in preparation for the upcoming race in which they’ll be paired together. They’ve been lifting weights, going to practice on the track, and making each other laugh until their cheeks hurt.

It isn’t until the sun begins to set that they decide to finally take a rest on a bench. They sit next to each other, out of breath from the exertion they have put themselves through. Hydra smiles over at Rusty, which leaves the steam engine feeling even more out of breath.

Rusty looks away for a moment, ignoring the burning feeling in his face. He doesn’t know what the hell is wrong with him–why is it that every time the fuel truck looks at him, he feels like his heart has been squeezed?

It’s just something about Hydra–the way he carries himself, how confident and cool he is. How kind he is to Rusty, how much attention he gives to him. Everything about Hydra impresses Rusty, but he can’t help but feel like there’s something more to his feelings.

He’s just too clueless to realize what it is.

“That was a good day.” Hydra says, his green hair standing out in the bland background of the yard. “How about we try to beat our personal record tomorrow?”

Rusty gets that familiar rush of excitement in his stomach when Hydra asks to hang out again. He nods at the truck and gives a shy smile, confirming his agreement. “You’re on!”

Hydra grins. He looks down at the engine, taking note of his shy demeanor. It’s nothing new–Rusty’s always like that around him. Hydra finds it amusing, and cute too. He finds Rusty cute in almost every situation imaginable.

The way he stumbles sometimes when standing still is adorable to the fuel truck. His lanky, tall frame causing him to be unstable makes Hydra laugh all the time. Rusty’s perseverance–his determination to be the best with all the odds stacked against him–impresses Hydra to no end. It just makes him admire the steam engine even more than he already does.

When Hydra hears the words others say about Rusty, he feels angry, because Rusty truly is a talent to behold. So what if he’s not diesel or electric? Steam is a classic for a reason, and he wishes others could see how special Rusty is.

“Hey…” Hydra begins, sitting a little closer to the engine. “I wanted to talk to you about something, if that’s alright with you.”

Rusty’s eyes go wide when he feels Hydra move closer, but he quickly manages to compose himself and clears his throat. “Y-yeah, of course…”

“...I like hanging out with you, yeah? Honestly, coming here to train with you and hang out day after day has been the highlight of my life. I’ve made more precious memories in these last couple months than in my whole life.”

The steam engine blushes and looks away, and he almost has to gasp for air when Hydra takes hold of his face and makes direct eye contact with him. He isn’t sure exactly what’s happening, but he’s not against it, whatever it is.

“Rusty, I’m asking–and if you say no, that’s fine. We can continue to be friends. I’m asking if you want to… go out with me.”

Rusty can feel steam heating up inside him, but he forces himself to ignore the feeling. Did he really just hear that correctly? Hydra, the insanely cool and fast truck of the future, has just asked Rusty to go out with him.

“Go out?” Rusty repeats, as if he can't believe it.

“Yes.” Hydra confirms, a smirk on his face as he watches Rusty’s reaction. He knows damn well how Rusty is going to answer his question, so it’s only a matter of when. “I’m asking if you want to be my boyfriend.”

Rusty has never felt anything quite like this before—the fluttering in his stomach is almost too much to bear. He knew that Hydra was special to him, but he didn’t know exactly how. Now, he has his answer.

“Y-yeah!” Rusty finds the confidence to make his answer. “Yeah, I’ll… I’ll be your boyfriend.”

The fuel truck laughs happily. “Really?”

“Yes, really! Why would I not? You’re absolutely amazing–you’re everything I want. You’re… my most special friend. I would love to be your boyfriend, Hydra.”

This time, it’s Hydra’s turn to blush. He’s never heard Rusty speak in such a manner, so it’s a surprise. Although, it’s not unwelcome at all. He takes Rusty’s hand in his and gives it a gentle squeeze, grinning from ear to ear.

“Is it alright if I tell the other trucks?” Hydra asks. “I mean, you know how word spreads through this yard like it’s nothing.”

Rusty’s heart rate picks up once more at the thought of having to tell everyone that he’s dating Hydra. But when he sees the happy and excited look on Hydra’s face, he agrees to let him tell the trucks.

“Yes, of course… Hey, now Greaseball won’t be able to make fun of me for being single!” Rusty exclaims.

Hydra laughs. “Slick will be in the same boat too–she’ll probably want to buy us drinks or something.”

“I won’t say no to that.”

Rusty and Hydra stay sitting on the bench for a while, watching as the sun sets steadily in the distance. Eventually, Hydra offers to take Rusty home, and who is Rusty to say no to his boyfriend?

Chapter Text

[Requested by DroTheBro. Thank you for requesting!]

…

Greaseball has been racing for years, so she’s come to be very familiar with many tracks around the world. She knows where each turn is, where each uphill climb is, and where each drop is. She knows every bridge, every obstacle that a racer who is less experienced may not be expecting.

This particular track is no exception–with Dinah behind her, she leads the way through the narrow course, avoiding collisions with nearby walls, managing going downhill and making sharp turns around corners.

She knows a particularly nerve wracking obstacle is coming up—a large bridge that goes up as high as fifteen feet. The uphill climb requires some hustle, but she leads the dining car behind her up with as much power as she can.

Greaseball and Dinah are in the lead, something the two of them are thrilled about. Another win for their record! What’s not to get excited about? They are both well regarded in the racing world, and a win will do wonders to boost their popularity (and self esteem).

Greaseball feels the wind hitting her face at incredible speed, the rush of her wheels sending a jolt of adrenaline through her. She knows they’re getting to the top of the hill and nearing the bridge, and she feels Dinah grab onto her tighter.

The diesel engine prepares for the bridge, but as soon as she gets to the top of the hill before it, she notices something horrifying. The bridge has collapsed, and every racer on the track is headed for the fifteen foot drop.

Without thinking, Greaseball uncouples Dinah and shoves her to the side, not wanting her beloved dining car to fall and get injured… or worse.

And then, it happens. She goes over the edge and falls into the collapsed wreckage, a whole fifteen feet down. She barely even registers the fact that she’s falling. Everything seems as if it is in slow motion, and all she can do is think about every person who is headed toward the broken bridge.

One moment, it was all glory and the thrill of an anticipated win. The next, absolute pain as Greaseball hits the ground. It’s sharp–agonizing, raw pain and all she can do is gasp for air upon impact.

She smells smoke, which she’s sure is coming from her internal systems. It’s a smell that fills her with absolute dread–no train wants to face a fire from the inside out. She hopes it’s not the case and that she just has an injury which is causing the smoke rather than a fire.

…

Dinah feels absolutely amazing. With the power of Greaseball pulling her, she knows they are in gear for an amazing win. Nobody is even close to them at all–it’s in the bag!

The uphill climb is a battle, and she feels great admiration for Greaseball, who seems to pull her with ease. Dinah knows it can’t be easy to pull someone behind on such a challenging track, but if anyone can do it with such skill and strength, it’s Greaseball.

Without any warning, her happiness is replaced by shock first, then fear. She feels herself being uncoupled, then shoved to the side. Her first thought is she’s been uncoupled, and that Greaseball is going to try and win the race on her own–a thought that initially makes the dining car feel hurt.

Dinah barrels down the hill she just came up toward a wall, but manages to slow down before she plummets into it full speed. The fact that Greaseball has uncoupled her hurts incredibly, so she sits against the wall, ignoring the camera crew aiming cameras at her.

“All these people care about is a good show!” Dinah thinks.

She cries, not at all caring about continuing the race. She thought everything was going wonderfully–they were about to win, right? Is Greaseball really so selfish that she’d uncouple her own girlfriend just to take the win for herself.

But then, she hears a loud crashing noise, followed by the screeching noise of many trains stopping at once. The crowd noise changes from excited to horrified as they gasp and cry out.

Dinah looks up the hill where she just fell from and is confused when she sees her competitors standing at the top looking horrified. She watches as Electra uses their radio to call for help. Horror fills her when she realizes that among the trains standing at the top, Greaseball is nowhere to be seen.

She gets to her feet and wheels up the hill as fast as she can, desperate to see what is going on. When she nears the top, Rusty and Pearl grab onto her, holding her back from seeing the site below.

“What’s happening?!” The dining car cries, her voice broken. She’s shocked and confused, and she just wants to know if her girlfriend is okay. “Where’s Greaseball?!”

Rusty and Pearl exchange looks, and Dinah immediately knows something has happened. She begins to hyperventilate as the two lead her away from the site, down the hill. It isn’t long before the other trains follow, allowing for a rescue team to make their way to the crash site.

Once off the track, Dinah is led away from the race site as a whole by Rusty and Pearl, who take her to a quiet area of the yard. Dinah is in hysterics as she sits at a bench, her hands trembling heavily.

Pearl takes a seat to the dining car’s right and puts a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure she’ll be fine… Greaseball is strong.”

“She’s not survive-a-fifteen-feet-fall-strong!” Dinah sobs. “No one is! She’s gone, I just know it!”

Rusty shakes his head, taking a seat to the left of the dining car. “We don’t know that yet… I’m sure we’ll be hearing something soon.”

“What if she’s gone?! And I was so angry at her when she uncoupled me… What if the last thing I felt for her was anger?!”

“You can’t think like that… Let’s try to keep our hopes up.”

Pearl agrees. “She was trying to protect you. Let’s hold onto the chance that a miracle may happen. If anyone can defy the odds, it’s Greaseball. She’s the biggest and the strongest, remember?”

Dinah sniffles, wiping tears from her face. She’s cried more in the last forty-five minutes than she has in her entire life, but she isn’t ready to face the world without her girlfriend. The thought horrifies her, and all she can do is cry and shake.

…

It’s another four hours before she hears any news. She gets a call from Wrench on her radio, letting her know that Greaseball is at the repair shop and that she plans to take good care of her. Dinah wheels as fast as she can to the shop, narrowly missing nearby trains as she rushes through the yard.

When she arrives at the shop, she throws the doors open and looks around for anybody there. There’s a bell on the front desk, so she rings it repeatedly until someone comes around the corner. It’s Momma–who has a solemn look on her face.

“Dinah…” She says, holding her arms open to offer some comfort.

The dining car practically runs into Momma’s arms, crying heavily into her chest. From the looks of things, it seems as though Greaseball hasn’t survived the fall. All the dining car can do is sob, beginning to imagine life without her.

It isn’t something she wants to do. Life without Greaseball isn’t a life at all. Since she first met the engine, she’s felt as if she has a purpose. She feels warm and safe with her, and to have that safety stripped away… there are no words.

“Is s-s-she dead?” Dinah cries, bracing herself for the answer.

Momma shakes her head. “No, dear. She’s not dead… She’s just hurt.”

At that, a spark of hope ignites in Dinah’s heart—Greaseball is still alive! She can’t believe it, and her shoulders relax as an extreme weight has been taken away. She’s going to see her engine again!

But she begins to think of the potential injuries that falling fifteen feet can cause, and the anxiety ramps up again. Will things ever be the same? Will Greaseball be able to race, or even care for herself? What if today was the last time the champion ever stepped foot on a track?

“How bad is she hurt?” The pink-haired car sniffles, wiping her tears as she continues to find solace in Momma’s arms.

“Well, Wrench is working on her now… But the last I heard, her internal systems needed a lot of repair. Her exterior is injured too, but her racing gear protected her as much as it could.”

“...What if she can’t race anymore?”

Momma tightens her hold on the dining car, a shaky exhale leaving her. “That’s something we’ll talk about if it happens, alright? For now just try to stay strong…

Dinah wipes her tears for what feels like the millionth time. When she finally pulls away from Momma’s embrace, she sighs. As long as Greaseball is alive, that’s the main thing that matters, but racing is the diesel engine’s whole identity. If Greaseball can’t race, how will she react to the news?

Momma grabs the dining car’s hand and leads her to a nearby seat, encouraging her to get some rest. Taking a seat next to her, she occasionally squeezes Dinah’s hand, which only becomes more shaky with each minute that goes by.

…

It’s almost eight o’clock when Wrench emerges from the repair room. She is clearly tired as she has been working on Greaseball for hours now. She approaches the dining car and looks down at her, taking notice of the anxious look on her face.

“The repair was a success.” Wrench says in a matter of fact tone. “I’ve successfully repaired her inner and outer damages, and although she will need some time away from the track, I’ve done my best to ensure she can race again.”

It’s as if the weight of the world has been lifted from Dinah’s shoulders. She looks over at Momma, who gives her a happy, relieved smile. She looks up at Wrench again, wanting to know more details.

“So what now?”

“Greaseball will stay here for two weeks, and if she’s recovering as well as I expect she will, you can take her home. You’ll most likely have to keep a watch on her and help her with certain things for a little while.”

Dinah nods. “Alright… Thank you so much for fixing her, Wrench.”

Wrench hums, no emotion on her face at all–she appears as she always does. Professional and precise in everything that she does. She gives Dinah a slight nod before speaking up again.

“You may come to see her, but I ask only one visitor at a time because of the room size.”

Dinah looks over at Momma, who smiles softly at her and grabs her hand.

“You go ahead. I’ll see her in a little while.”

“Thank you…”

Dinah is led by Wrench to the room where Greaseball is recovering. On the way, her mouth feels dry. She isn’t sure exactly what to expect, but the only thing that’s important to her right now is Greaseball. Her girlfriend is alive, and that’s all that matters.

“Here we are–try not to be in here for too long. Visiting hours end soon.”

Dinah nods before stepping into the room. She sees Greaseball asleep in a recovery bed, hooked up to different machines. She’s heavily bandaged and is asleep, the anesthesia taking a toll on her.

The pink-haired car feels heartbroken at the sight of her strong, tough girlfriend broken in a bed. She approaches the bed with caution and gently grabs Greaseball’s hand. With every breath the engine takes, there’s a slight wheeze, which hurts Dinah's heart.

She leans down and gently places a kiss on Greaseball’s forehead. To think she was so angry with her fills her with regret, now knowing that Greaseball was only trying to protect her. To the very end, she was willing to protect Dinah even if it could have potentially cost her life.

“Thank you…” The dining car whispers, her voice raw from the amount of crying she’s done. “I love you.”

Greaseball remains asleep, and it isn’t long before Dinah hesitantly leaves the room to allow Momma to visit her before visiting hours are over. She makes her way home, feeling nothing but pure admiration for the so-called selfish engine.

She knows today, what Greaseball did was anything but selfish–it was absolutely selfless. It was done out of love, and Dinah feels nothing but the same for Greaseball.

Chapter Text

For as long as Greaseball has known her, Dinah has had long hair. Long, luscious hair that flows down from her face to her waist, highlighting her beauty. It’s one of Greaseball’s favorite parts about the dining car. The gorgeous pink color with a couple of blue streaks do wonders for Dinah. And as far as Greaseball knows, Dinah is just in love with her hair as she is.

That’s why it’s such a surprise when one day, she comes home to realize that her girlfriend doesn’t look the same as she did before she left.

Greaseball has been gone all day, training at the gym and catching up with some other engines who she hasn’t seen in a while. When she finally decides it’s time to head home, she’s sweat-covered and exhausted; in dire need of a shower and some dinner.

She arrives home and uses her key to get in. Even though she shares the residence with Dinah, she always instructs the dining car to keep the doors in the house locked while she’s not there. Not every train in the yard is a good one– you never know who might come in and try to rob the place, or worse.

Greaseball opens the door and sighs heavily as she takes her jacket down, lazily setting it on the arm of a seat. She can smell spaghetti, so this tells her that Dinah has been cooking, but strangely the dining car is nowhere to be seen.

Entering the kitchen, Greaseball finds that dinner is not only finished, but the table is set. Weird. Although she’s extremely hungry, she doesn’t want to eat without her girlfriend, so she leaves the dining room and sets off for the bedroom.

Opening the door, she inhales slightly when she hears the sound of crying. What on earth could she be crying about? Did she burn dinner or something?

“Dinah…” Greaseball says softly, making herself known.

She can’t yet see the dining car, as the room is dark. She flips a light switch, illuminating the room. It’s then that she knows exactly why her girlfriend is crying.

“Don’t look at me!”

Sitting on the bed curled in on herself is Dinah, crying into her arms. Her hair, which was once waist length is now shoulder length instead. Down her cheeks, mascara runs down, showing Greaseball that she has been crying for quite a while.

“Dinah, why are you crying?” Greaseball takes a seat next to her, ignoring her surprise over the hair cut.

“My hair is ugly!”

“...No it’s not. Why would you say that?”

Dinah sobs. “It was so long and pretty and I… it was too hard to keep all of it under my racing helmet so I just thought if I cut it… But now it’s ugly and you’re going to leave me!”

At that, the diesel engine laughs. Leave Dinah? As if! Especially not over something as silly as a little hair cut. The more Greaseball looks at it, the more she comes to like the hairstyle.

“It looks beautiful, doll… Really. There’s no part of you that could ever be considered ugly, you got that?” Greaseball leans down. “It looks absolutely gorgeous. It frames your face so well.”

“But it’s not long and pretty like Pearl’s, or Belle’s…” The dining car sniffles, but she seems to calm down a little at Greaseball’s words.

“So? You don’t have to have long hair like them. And I don’t want them. I want you.”

“...Really?”

Greaseball nods, taking Dinah’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. She makes her girlfriend sit up, then pulls her into a gentle hug, rocking her from side to side.

“I love you no matter what. You’re beautiful either way.”

Chapter Text

[Request by Frieghtisgreat–thank you for the request!]

Electra hates to admit it, but they aren’t feeling well. Ever since they woke up this morning, their head has been pounding, their throat has burned, and their systems keep resetting themselves unprompted. Frankly, the idea of an advanced electric engine of the future getting ill is an insulting joke that they’re not willing to entertain for even one moment.

So, putting all nasty feelings aside, Electra makes their way to the track. Today they along with the other racers are scheduled to do some practice races before the big race on the weekend. Really, Electra could not have picked a worse time to get ill–never before have they ever felt so queasy.

They wind up at the track and spot their components hanging around awaiting Electra’s arrival. On high alert is Killerwatt–Electra’s security truck. Despite it only being a training race, he’s keeping watch to ensure nobody will hurt Electra.

Immediately upon seeing Electra, he notices something isn’t quite right. Rather than standing tall and proud as they usually do, Electra seems sunken in, and not just in posture. Their cheeks seem hollow, and their skin is pale–more than usual.

It’s a sight unlike one the components have ever seen, and none of them have any clue what exactly to make of the situation. Wrench is the first one to speak, stepping forward with her arms crossed over her chest.

“What exactly is going on here?” She blurts, leaving no room for hesitation.

Electra glares down at the component, not taking appreciation toward the question. As long as they are concerned, nothing is wrong whatsoever. Sure, they feel shaky, and their wires are sparking on the inside. What of it?

Electra has the final say in everything, and they say that they are going to do the practice race. No ifs, ands, or buts. So putting on a brave face, they hold their head high and take a deep breath.

“Nothing is going on. Everything is as it should be. Now then, where is my coach?” They say, almost sounding impatient.

Joule clears her throat and motions with her finger to the right, an annoyed expression on her face. When Electra looks over, they see Pearl chatting with Rusty. What an enormous waste of time!

“Figures…”

“Would you like me to fetch her for you?” Volta speaks up, his voice a bit cautious. Never before has he seen Electra in such a mood.

“No, I can handle this.”

Before even giving any of the components the chance to speak again, Electra wheels off toward Pearl, leaving the components on their own. With Electra gone, they exchange glances, wondering what the hell is wrong with them.

“Electra seems off.” Volta says.

“You think?” Wrench replies, a sarcastic tone in her voice. “I’ll ask if I can take a look over them later, after the practice.”

“What do you think it might be?”

“Could be anything. System failure, needs a proper reset. Lack of sleep, perhaps.”

…

Later in the day, the practice is over, and Electra feels just about ready to fall apart. Even Pearl could tell something was off, which made the electric engine feel angry. Rather than taking it out on the innocent coach, they kept it to themselves, but that was hard to do.

They go to their shed and sigh, taking a seat and a sigh in relief. Finally, a moment to sit and relax after a day of feeling ill on their wheels. Closing their eyes, Electra feels as if the room is spinning around them, so they lay on the couch, breathing heavily.

Despite feeling so horribly, they take solace in knowing that at least now that they’re alone, they don’t have to put up a brave front. They can simply lay there feeling ill without hiding the fact that they feel sickly.

That is, until they hear the door of the shed open.

“Great.”

“Who is it?” Electra tries to say in a menacing tone, but they barely manage to muster enough energy to do so.

“It’s me, Killerwatt. I’ve come to check on you.”

Electra keeps their eyes closed, but they hear footsteps. How strange that their security truck is coming to check on them rather than Wrench. Hm.

“What are you doing here? I told you I’m fine.”

Killerwatt stands near the door, seemingly as if to prevent anybody else from entering. He looks down at the electric engine with a blank expression, although behind his eyes is something more. There’s concern, and a slight hint of fear.

And maybe even something else.

“I was just concerned, since I have never seen you in such a bad way.” Killerwatt states, his tone as matter-of-fact as ever, “Can I get you some water?”

“...Yeah, that’d be nice.” Electra opens their eyes.

Killerwatt goes off to retrieve some water. When he returns, he hands the glass to Electra, who is sitting up slowly on the couch. He hesitates to let go of the glass, wanting to help the electric engine hold onto it.

“I’ve been working for you for a while.”

“That you have…” Electra says, their expression exhausted.

“Wrench sent me with some items.” Killerwatt says.

“Did she now?”

“She wished to come with me but there was a crash at a nearby yard, so she went there instead.”

At the mention of a crash, Electra frowns. Here they are, ill and acting like the world is ending when somewhere not too far away, there’s injured trains. They sigh and set the glass of water down on the coffee table and look up at their security truck.

“Well, then. You’re free to take a look at me.”

Killerwatt nods, planning to do just that.

Chapter Text

It’s no secret that Tassita hates noise, being a quiet car. Everyone that knows him thinks it’s just annoyance, and most of the time, they’d be correct. But sometimes, it’s more than that. There are some noises that scare him, and thunderstorms are no exception.

It’s the uncertainty of when the next loud crash of lightning will come. Things will seem to be settling down, when suddenly a bang shakes the room, jolting the quiet car and sending his heart racing.

Thunderstorms are one of the things he hates most, and unfortunately, he’s stuck outside right in the middle of one.

It’s horrible timing. There he was, on his way over to hang out with the coaches, when the sky began to darken. He knew what was coming, so he sped up, but before he knew it, there was rain. Along the rain was lightning and thunder. Loud, scary, terrifying lightning and thunder.

He’s afraid to wheel faster out of concern for crashing, so he covers his ears on his way, the cold causing him to shiver. His teeth chatter, and it all becomes too overwhelming for him. Tassita breaks down, falling to the ground and crying into his knees.

Overhead, every deafening crash practically paralyzes him. So afraid he can’t move, he sobs on the ground, willing it to be over with everything inside of him.

“Hey, what are you doing out here?”

He hears a voice shout from up above.

“Huh?” Tassita startles, looking up from his knees. He gets flustered when he sees who it is. It’s Hydra, the cool hydrogen-powered fuel truck looking concerned for him. Tassita quickly wipes tears (and rain water) from his face, but it’s evident from the red puffiness just what he had been doing. “N-nothing.”

“So I suppose you’re just sitting out here in the middle of a thunderstorm for fun?” Hydra jests.

Tassita scoffs dryly, not amused by the manner in which Hydra is speaking to him. He’s upset, and scared, and not at all in the mood for jokes. The smirk on Hydra’s face only makes Tassita feel more vulnerable and embarrassed than before.

“It’s not funny!” Tassita snaps.

“I never said it was.”

“You’re smirking.”

“I’m always smirking.”

Tassita crosses his arms, trying not to let the loud thunder and wet rain get to him. He avoids looking at the fuel truck, feeling many emotions at once. Fear, shame, anger, and a hint of… something else.

Hydra takes a seat beside Tassita, paying no mind to the wet rain. He’s used to being out in any weather, so it doesn’t bother him one bit. He can tell that the quiet car is genuinely upset by the rain, but he has no clue why.

“Where are you headed?” Hydra asks.

Tassita wipes his tears once again, still not looking at the fuel truck. “I was going to go hang out with the coaches… We were going to have a movie night.”

“Aw, and you didn’t invite me? Shame.”

Tassita laughs a little, feeling a bit better for a moment. That moment is short-lived, though, because a loud crash of bright lightning booms throughout the yard. Tassita jumps, burying his face in his knees and covering his ears.

At the sight, Hydra’s smirk falters. He doesn’t know what exactly to make of the situation, but his colleague is upset, so he plans to help in any way he could. A bit awkwardly, he places a hand on Tassita’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, it’s just lightning. It’s rare that it can hurt anyone.”

“There’s no way that’s true!” Tassita’s voice breaks, his face still hidden in his knees. By now, he is soaking wet with rain water, completely uncomfortable both emotionally and physically.

“It is true.” Hydra continues. “And, uh–you’re steel, right? Well, steel is a great conductor of electricity. That means you’re less likely to be damaged by lightning!”

Tassita looks up, his eyes red and watery. “Really?”

“Yeah, that’s true… Hey, do you want me to walk with you, so you won’t be alone?”

“...Okay.”

Hydra stands, his signature cocky smirk returning. “And if need be, I can, uh… protect you from the thunder.”

Tassita chuckles as he stands up. “Oh, how?”

“It won’t even stand a chance!”

…

Soon, Hydra approaches Dinah’s house, the designated hangout spot for the coaches. Tassita is shivering from the cold, but Hydra is indifferent to it. The fuel truck knocks on the door three times, stepping back as it opens up.

Pearl is the one to open the door. She gasps when she sees her friend soaking wet with red, puffy eyes. Whatever happened, she knows it can’t have been good.

“Tass, what is it?”

Tassita shakes his head. “It’s fine now, don’t worry about it…”

Pearl glances over at Hydra for some sort of confirmation, and the fuel truck nods, so she exhales in relief. She takes Tassita’s hand and leads him inside.

“Thanks for bringing me.” Tassita tells Hydra, who is standing in the doorway.

Hydra smiles, more sincerely than before. “Sure.”

“See you around.”

“Yeah, you as well.”

Chapter Text

Greaseball is what she refers to as “anti maternal”. Every time Dinah brings up the idea of having a baby, her mouth goes dry. The idea of being responsible for another life–one she isn’t sure she’d even love–is not something she’s interested in.

Not at all.

But she sees the way the dining car is around babies. Dinah is full of maternal instincts. Her soft, gentle-toned nature and ability to care for others over herself proves to Greaseball she would be an amazing mother.

The diesel engine is too terrified to make the commitment, though, so each time Dinah asks, she winds up changing the topic somehow. It isn’t that she hates kids–it’s that she just doesn’t understand. She doesn’t feel the sort of protective nature one needs to be a parent.

One day, she’s sitting in her home office getting some work done when she hears a knock on the door. She sighs, not wishing to be disturbed, but she knows if she ignores Dinah she will get upset, so she reluctantly responds.

“Come in.”

Dinah opens the door gently, a smile on her face. In her arms is a young engine that Greaseball has never seen in her life, and the sight causes her to tense up.

“Who the hell is that?” She leans back in her chair, almost like she’s trying to get as far away from the baby as possible.

The gesture is not lost on Dinah, who chuckles. She takes a step closer, her expression as bright as ever. “This is Serenity! She’s my friend’s daughter–she’s two. I’m watching her until seven or so.”

Greaseball glances at the baby, furrowing her brows. Serenity seems content in Dinah’s arms, sucking her thumb and looking around the office curiously.

“...Can she talk?”

“A little, she’s shy.”

“Oh.”

Greaseball remains quiet, still not entirely comfortable with the idea of being responsible for a baby, even for just a couple of hours. Dinah can tell how freaked out Greaseball is, so she gives a light-hearted smile.

“I’m going to cook dinner soon if you could watch her.”

Greaseball’s eyes widen. Watch her? That’s a whole lot of responsibility she isn’t ready for. The diesel engine glances around the room, gauging the potential dangers within the office.

Dinah can tell what Greaseball is doing, and she laughs, shaking her head as she takes a step closer. She wants Greaseball to feel comfortable–and she wants to potentially convince her that having a baby of their own isn’t such a bad idea after all.

Dinah steps closer and hands the young engine to Greaseball, who is not moving a single inch. She laughs and takes a step back, admiring the sight of her partner holding a baby.

“Aw, she likes you! She’s looking up at you.”

“Is she?” Greaseball asks, looking at anything but the baby.

“I’ll go get dinner started, alrighty? Trust me, watching her is a breeze!”

Greaseball stammers in protest as her girlfriend leaves the office, and when the door closes, it’s as if any haven of safety has been stripped away from her. Hesitantly, she looks down at Serenity, who is looking up at the engine.

“Hey.” Greaseball says in an unsure tone. “So… uh. You like racing? Oh, no–you’re too young. Nevermind…”

Chapter Text

Greaseball doesn’t want to admit it. Really, she doesn’t. But damn—it’s plain to see; there’s no hiding it. She’s lying on the ground with her face scrunched up in pain like a fool. Everyone on the practice track stares at her, and her face flushes deep red.

It happened in a flash. She lost her balance during a sharp turn. One second she was flying by with the wind in her hair. The next, a crash of metal and steel banged against the ground. The pain isn’t that bad. Physically, anyway. The fall pains her ego more than her body. After all, she is strong.

“All right, all right, knock it off!” she shouts, throwing her muscled arms in the air. “What? You think I’m immune to falling?! I can’t be perfect every goddamn day.”

Dinah notices the commotion and gasps, wheeling toward her lover with a frenzy. Her bouncy blonde hair flies back with the force, revealing a worried expression on her face. She drops to her knees, skidding toward Greaseball.

“You’re hurt,” she says, her accent as strong as ever.

“It’s nothing,” Greaseball pouts, crossing her arms. “Why is everybody overreacting, anyway? It’s not like I broke a wheel.”

“Why are you being so defensive, hon?”

“I told you to knock it off already!” Greaseball stumbles to her wheels, then runs a hasty hand through her hair. “We’re goin’ home.”

Dinah opens her mouth to reply, but before she can, Greaseball rushes off. She frowns, turning to face her friends, all of which are worried and confused.

Dinah sighs—she can handle this. She has handled it before. It’s not the first time she’s had to reassure her friends due to Greaseball’s attitude.

“Don’t you worry, she’ll be just fine.”

Dinah searches the yard for Greaseball, looking around with a quick-beating heart. With every second that goes by, she becomes more worried. Greaseball seemed really upset.

Dinah replays the interaction in her head and sighs. Greaseball can be so brash. Sometimes, her lover's attitude gets to her. All she wants to do is help, to make her feel safe. Still, Greaseball warned her before they even started dating. She doesn't like comfort. Not in the traditional sense.

She wheels past a shed, and is halted in her tracks by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Whipping around, she’s faced with Greaseball sitting on a bench.

“Oh, hon, I didn’t see you,” Dinah laughs.

“Oh.”

“Are you alright?” she takes a seat beside the diesel engine.

Greaseball throws her head back in exasperation. “Damn, doll, just quit asking about it.”

The dining car’s face falls. She hangs her head, biting the inside of her lip. This happens all the time—every time she tries to get Greaseball to open up, she’s met with hostility. She wishes that Greaseball could just once open up. What could it hurt?

Dinah notices oil leaking from Greaseball’s leg, and she gasps. Her round eyes are wide, and she looks up, frantically pointing at the spill. “Your leg–you really are hurt!” she leans down, putting her face close to the spill to examine it.

Greaseball groans, “Dinah, I’m fine. It’s a mild leak. Now put your head up or trains might start to stare."

“You should go visit Wrench, she’ll fix it for you.”

“I’m not talking to that robot.”

Dinah can’t help but let out an irritated laugh at her lover’s words. No matter what she does, Greaseball will be Greaseball. Stubborn, brash, annoying.

“She’s not a robot, she’s just electric.”

Greaseball raises her brows but doesn’t reply. Instead, she stares into the distance, subtly inching closer to her smaller lover. She wraps an arm around Dinah, feeling the familiar blue and white dress against her skin.

“That’s my favorite outfit of yours,” Greaseball says.

Dinah smiles, taken aback by the sudden compliment. “Oh?”

“You look like the cutest little waitress.”

“Aw, shush it… We’re not flirting right now. I’m worried about your leg.”

Dinah gets an idea. She can’t believe she hasn’t thought of it before. It’s sure to make Greaseball pay a visit to Wrench.

“Greaseball,” she begins in a sing-song voice.

“Yeah?”

“If you go to Wrench and get your leg checked out… I’ll let you do that thing that you’ve been wanting to do to me when we get home.”

Greaseball splutters, unable to come up with any comprehensible answer. The only thing she can do is nod and get to her wheels. The sudden motivation drives her, and she wheels away toward Wrench’s repair shed.

Dinah rolls her eyes playfully, watching her lover wheel away. She is annoying and stubborn, but Dinah does love her.

Chapter Text

Greaseball’s head spins as she grabs the milk from the fridge. Everything is a blur, but damn, she feels good. It’s 3:00 in the morning, and she is as drunk as can be. Her hazy companion is Dinah, who has come up with an amazing idea…
Baking cupcakes.
Sure, baking in a hot oven while drunk isn’t the greatest idea, but hey. Greaseball has done worse before. With the dining car by her side, how hard can it be?

“Where’s that milk, hon?” Dinah slurs.

“In my hand,” Greaseball grumbles, setting it on the counter. “How do you make these?”

“Grab the ingredients… put ‘em all together, and you whisk it up… into the oven it goes.”

Greaseball does her best to follow Dinah’s vague instructions. She gets flour, eggs, and the butter, setting the ingredients all onto the counter next to the milk.

“Bowl,” Dinah places the plastic disc onto the counter. She hums a too-loud tune, beginning to gather her ingredients into the bowl. “What flavor icing should we have?”

Greaseball takes a glance at the cabinet, shrugging. “Chocolate or vanilla are the only options we’ve got.”

“Vanilla!”

“If you say so... but chocolate is better."

At the diesel's claim, Dinah's jaw drops wide open. She shakes her head, turning her nose up in disgust at what her girlfriend has said. "You're plain wrong!"

Greaseball cocks her head to the side. "Oh, am I?"

For the rest of the night until the sun shone through the kitchen window, the diesel engine and the dining car baked. Well, they tried to. They bickered for hours, forgetting to put the cupcake batter into the oven due to the alcohol in their system.

Chapter Text

"Please, for me?" Dinah pouts, standing outside the bathroom in the hallway.

For over ten minutes, the dining car has tried in vain to get Greaseball to come out. Her girlfriend has barricaded herself inside, refusing to come out no matter what Dinah says.

"Greaseball!" she groans. "I swear if you make us late, I won't make you dinner for a week. You'll have to go out to eat."

"Fine," the diesel responds in annoyance.

Dinah leans her head back against the wall, closing her eyes. Her irritation only grows stronger with every minute that goes by. She considers leaving Greaseball behind. If she wants to be a fool, she will let her.

"Greaseball, if you don't come out, I won't let you touch my ass for a whole month!"

Dinah has to jump back to avoid getting hit by the door. It flings open, hitting the wall with a loud thud.

"Take that back."

The dining car stifles a laugh. Her mighty girlfriend is wearing the costume Dinah has picked out for her; a cat costume. It has ears, a tail, and Greaseball has even drawn on a nose.

Dinah almost can't take it. Greaseball looks adorable, and all she knows is that their matching costumes will look great together.

"Look! I told you it would look amazing. I'm pink, you're purple."

"The hell kind of cat is purple?" Greaseball grumbles, staring at the floor. "Sometimes I think you've lost your mind."

"You look adorable-"

"Never call me that word."

Dinah blushes, giggling. She takes a step forward, closing the space between them. With her small hands, she grabs onto Greaseball's hips, looking up into her eyes.

"But it's true," she says, standing on her tip toes, "you are the prettiest kitty I have ever seen."

Greaseball rolls her eyes at her girlfriend's words, but there is no mistaking the tint of red on her cheeks. She clears her throat, but Dinah presses on.

"I was right. You have lost your mind..."

The dining car chuckles. "I have not! Now, we are going to go to the party and we will have a good time. You will be an outgoing, pleasant train to talk to. Understand?"

"Yeah, yeah..."

"Good! ...So, will you purr for me tonight?"

Chapter Text

Electra has never been so nervous in all their life. It isn’t often that the electric engine finds love. Around the yard, they are seen as an outcast. Electrics are hard to come by, so other types of trains find it hard to relate.

When Electra was asked out by Porter, they were as thrilled as they were shocked. For two weeks, the electric engine and the freight have been attached at the hip. Every single day, Electra visits Porter at his home. The freights have all been very welcoming.

Electra can’t say the same about the components. They have yet to meet Porter, and Electra isn’t too keen to introduce him. The components are not known for their hospitality. Joule and Killerwatt are the biggest potential threats.

Electra can see it now–they will lead Porter inside, ready to introduce him, and snap! Joule will throw him out of their home herself.

The electric engine hates sneaking around. So, they have decided it’s time to introduce Porter to their family. Well, their found family. What better way to do so than by having dinner together?

You can’t be angry if you’re eating.

Electra even enlisted the help of Dinah for the meal. They don’t know the first thing about cooking, and they aren’t interested in learning. Electra only wanted a small meal, but Dinah doesn’t do small meals. She cooked three courses, and dessert!

Electra knows they are in for a very, very long night.

…

The electric engine paces back and forth through the living room. Their gears are whirring loud enough that it can be heard from across the room. On the couch, Killerwatt and Volta sit staring in amusement.

“What are you so worried about?” Volta rolls his eyes. “It’s just a get together with your friend.”

Friend. Right.

“How often do I invite someone over to our home?” Electra retorts, shooting the freezer truck a cold look. “I want to make a good impression, is all…”

Killerwatt pats Volta’s arm with the back of his hand, laughing. “You’d think it’s their first time having a friend.”

“Cut it out, you two. You work for me, remember? Don’t disrespect me any more than you already have…”

Killerwatt and Volta sigh in tandem, saying nothing more. They both are well aware of how important Electra’s image is. Not only to the electric engine themself, but to those around them.

It’s a part of the component’s job–to make Electra look good.

Electra groans, hurrying into the kitchen. Upon entering, they see Joule grabbing a roll from the counter and stuffing it into her mouth. They stare at the dynamite truck in annoyance, shaking their head.

“Joule!”

“Hey, don’t shout at me,” Joule complains, her words muffled. “Everything is going to go perfectly tonight as long as you let it.”

Electra leans against the counter. “How can I not be nervous? A… guest is coming to our home.”

“A decision I’ll never understand,” Wrench cuts in as she enters. “What I would like to know is why. Why have you invited someone over? In all of the years I have worked for you, no one has come over.”

“Is it so hard to believe I have a friend?”

Wrench opens her mouth to respond, but she’s cut off. Someone knocks on the door, shutting everybody up. Joule and Wrench both make a run for it, bolting toward the door before Electra can.

The electric engine is horrified. They gasp, heading in the same direction as fast as they can. They will not allow these two fools to ruin this evening.

“Joule, Wrench, halt!” Electra commands, sparks flying from their body.

The trucks pause in their tracks, evidently disappointed. They back off, joining Killerwatt and Volta on the couch. All four of them watch in curiosity as Electra places their hand on the doorknob.

Electra hesitates. When they open the door, the truth will come out. They will come out. How are they supposed to handle it? They’ve never had to do something so difficult.

When they picture Porter’s gorgeous face, they are hit with a rush of bravery. Electra opens the door, and they can’t help but smile. Porter stands in the doorway, a rose in his hand as red as his hair.

“Hello,” Electra’s voice is quiet. “Er–thank you for this.”

Porter nods, handing Electra the rose. He peeks through the doorway, catching sight of the components. All four of them are practically spying, never once blinking.

“Come in…”

Porter enters, taking a look around the living room. It’s much cozier than he had anticipated. For whatever reason, he expected it to look futuristic and full of screens. There’s a couch, photographs, and even a gaming console.

Electra’s mind goes blank. They turn the rose in their hands, scanning each petal. It isn’t until Joule clears her throat that Electra remembers why Porter is over.

“Oh,” they say. “Porter, these are my components. Killerwatt, Volta, Joule and Wrench.”

Porter chuckles at Electra’s nervous tone. “Hey, nice to meet you all.”

Joule stands and approaches, sizing Porter up. She narrows her eyes, circling the freight. Judging from the look on her face, she isn’t so approving.

“Where did you two meet?” she asks.

“On the track, at practice,” Porter replies.

“And you chose to bother them?”

“Joule!” Electra hisses. “He did not bother me… I enjoyed his company.”

The electric engine already regrets putting this evening together. All four of their components appear unimpressed. They haven’t even heard the crazy part–Porter is not just a friend, but instead is Electra’s boyfriend.

Electra is not looking forward to telling them.

Still, they are tired of the lies and secrets and the sneaking around. So, they lead everyone into the kitchen. Before they know it, everyone is taking in the delicious meal courtesy of Dinah.

All throughout the dinner, Electra notices something. The components whisper to each other. They glare at Porter, then at Electra, and then they whisper.

Whatever they’re saying, Electra knows it can’t be good.

“So,” Electra clasps their hands in their lap. “This has been a nice time, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, it has…” Porter encourages, slipping his hand onto Electra’s. “I suppose it’s time we come clean?”

Electra swears they could vomit. The time has come for them to open up, and they don’t feel the least bit prepared. They internally curse themself for not coming up with some sort of script.

The components look between Electra and Porter, intrigued. “Come clean” is an interesting set of words. It sounds as if something secret has been going on.

Wrench leans forward. “Come clean?”

“Yeah!” Porter nods, proudly looking up at Electra. The electric engine keeps their gaze trained on the plate in front of them. “Electra invited me over for a reason, and… the reason is I’m his boyfriend.”

Joule drops her fork, and it emits a metallic noise when it hits her plate. All four of the components are shocked, but none more than Volta. The freezer truck’s eyes are wide, and they point at the feight.

“Boyfriend? Boyfriend? I thought you were their… you know! Best friend!” Volta scoffs. “And you… Electra, I thought you told me everything!”

Electra swallows the lump inside their throat. “I have a right to privacy. There are lots of things that I keep to myself.”

“But this? I assumed you trusted me—”

“I do, but how could I trust you with this? Just look. Not one of you is happy for me.”

“Oh, settle,” Wrench says, an air of irritation in her voice. “Electra… It isn’t that we aren’t happy for you. It’s that as your components, it’s our job to be cautious.”

Volta slams his hand on the table, nodding rapidly. “That part!”

Electra can’t see any sign of dishonesty on the components faces. They allow themselves to relax, clearing their throat. At least nobody seems to be angry–they are just surprised.

“So, it’s alright with you all?” Electra asks.

Killerwatt looks at the freight, still wary. “I’ll remain cautious until I know he is not a threat. If I deem him safe, then yes, it’s alright with me.”

The electric engine is satisfied with the answer. They leave the table and head to the kitchen to retrieve dessert. From behind them, they hear the components drilling Porter with questions.

It’s the first time Electra has ever brought someone home. Now that they know Porter is accepted, they are looking forward to doing it more often.