went looking for a creation myth, ended up with a pair of cracked lips
For a moment, no one moved. Then-
“Greaseball!”
Slick watched as the dining car skated across the shop, skidding to a stop in front of her…what? What were they?
“Hey babe.” Greaseball smiled, finally taking her eyes off of Slick and pulling Dinah towards the workbench, between her legs. They shared a kiss, and Slick felt as though the ground had disappeared out from under her.
“You’re- you’re back together?” She said faintly, feeling a bit sick. Then, more steadily, aiming for nonchalant as she pushed herself into a proper sitting position this time, “When did that happen?”
“Oh- Slick! You’re here!” Dinah rushed over to her, smiling widely, and took Slick’s hands in hers, mindful of the bandages on one of them. “They wouldn’t let any of us in earlier-” what? “- Wrench said you were still being fixed up- oh, I’m so happy you’re alright!”
Stars, Dinah was so nice Slick might actually vomit. She almost believed that the coach was concerned, too. But as kind as Dinah was, to everyone else at least, she knew what the coaches thought of freights. The dozy trucks. The lights are on, but nobody’s home. She wasn’t going to fall for the falsity of this-this coach. Even if her smile seemed kind. Even if she was so gentle, so mindful of the oil truck, of the injured and grubby hands she grasped between her own, her softer hands and prettily painted nails impossible to ignore as she beamed at Slick. She couldn’t take it.
Slick pulled her hands away from Dinah, trying not to feel guilty at the dining car’s confused look.
“Yeah, well- it’ll take more than a little crash to bring me down,” she smiled weakly, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Rusty wince. Time to change the subject. “You and Greaseball are back together, huh?” It was also time to acknowledge Slick had an apparent affinity for masochism.
Dinah beamed, bright and blinding. “I suppose you haven’t heard. She apologized to me! She said she’s going to turn over a new leaf” -Slick didn’t believe that for a second-“ and I figured in the spirit of things, I could give her another chance.”
Two apologies from Greaseball in one day? Slick looked over and saw the diesel engine smiling fondly at Dinah, a light flush on her cheeks as the coach spoke. Maybe Dinah’s words held some merit after all.
“Well- good for you guys,” she muttered, gaze darting between the two of them and Rusty, who had pulled a chair over to the workbench she currently occupied. He didn’t look too happy, but he hadn’t said anything yet. Maybe he was tired? “I’m happy for you both.”
“Thanks Slick! Well, I won’t bore you any longer, I’m just here to make sure this one gets home alright.” Dinah pointed over her shoulder the Greaseball, who groaned halfheartedly.
“Ya don’t have to, Di, it’s really not that bad-” she started, but was silenced by Dinah drawing her in and giving her another quick peck. While Slick and Dinah had been talking, she had managed to put her underlayer back on, and was almost finished with her armor plating as well. Dinah helped her with the last few pieces, pressing a kiss to her hand as she finished with the final wristguard. It felt intimate- neither she and Rusty were supposed to see them like this, soft and quiet and domestic, but she couldn’t look away.
Slick and Rusty both watched as they made their way to the door, Greaseball’s arm slung over Dinah’s shoulders for support. At the doorway, though, Greaseball stopped, and turned back towards the pair, her eyes finding Slick’s own. She smiled, magnetic and predatory and mesmerising, even now.
“We’re gonna finish our talk, tanker. Rest up.”
The look in her eyes was…a lot, and Slick could only swallow roughly and manage a small nod before the two of them headed out, Dinah throwing a cheerful “bye guys!” over her shoulder as they did. Then, it was just her and Rusty. Speaking of Rusty…
She heard a snort, and turned. Rusty’s eyes were darting between her and the door, a grin slowly spreading across his face. Oh no.
“Holy shit-” he dodged her swatting hands, trying desperately to shut him up.
“No-”
“You like-”
“Shut up-”
“Greaseball?”
She groaned, and hid her face in her hands. She could just imagine his face right now, infuriatingly smug, having figured out the thing she tried hardest to hide. It was official: Rusty was her absolute least favorite brother.
“Out of everything, that’s what you pick up on?”
“Don’t act like that was subtle, you couldn’t even talk!”
“Yeah, well, it looks like she’s got a girlfriend again, so.” That sobered him up, wincing in sympathy. He reached out, perhaps to pat her knee, but she moved before he could touch her. This wasn’t what he was here for, anyways.
Truthfully, she had been waiting for his anger since she had woken up- Rusty out of everyone, had been the most wronged by her actions. She wanted him to explode already, so he could finish and leave and she could lick her (metaphorical) wounds in private.
“If you’re here to yell at me, can you please just get on with it?”
“Wait, what? Slick, I’m not gonna yell.” His tone had taken on a concerned edge. “Why would I yell?”
This was unexpected territory, and she frowned, looking up from her hands.
“Why wouldn’t you? I lied to you, and crashed you, and then got myself crashed on top of everything else. Everyone’s mad at me.” She was mad at herself- mad for crashing, mad for being here in the stupid repair shed with the stupid purple and blue lighting, mad for somehow thinking she could get away with any of this without Greaseball beginning to suspect. Just. Mad.
“Porter and Lumber could barely look at me, Momma’s gearing up for the lecture of the century, I can tell, and Hydra isn’t even here- what else am I supposed to think?”
“Slick, they’re scared. What do you remember from the crash?”
She shrugged. “I dunno. Pain? My ears were ringing pretty bad.”
“You were screaming, Slick. For ages. And you wouldn’t stop.” He was staring off into the distance, eyes haunted by something only he could see. “It was terrifying. We thought- you were leaking oil, they said your tank had ruptured on impact and was flooding your chassis- you nearly died, Slick.”
Well. That did explain her sore throat, she thought numbly. And the pain in her back. But- no. Rusty was lying, he had to be, because the alternative was that they had all seen her at her weakest, her brothers and Electra and Greaseball-
No wonder she had apologized, the pathetic little oil tanker evidently needing some form of comfort after being stupid enough to fall to pieces and rupture on the track. She could feel the tears, kept at bay through all of this, beginning to well up in her eyes. Stupid. Stupid.
She was jostled from her spiral by a pair of patinated arms gently encircling her and drawing her close. No one else was in the shop, so unlike earlier with Momma, she didn’t stop herself from clutching at Rusty tightly, the tears beginning to drip down her face.
“It’s okay to be upset, Slick. I won’t tell anyone.”
“ ‘m not upset,” she protested weakly. Upset, not scared. Was she always this transparent? And, despite knowing she was lying through her teeth, Rusty said nothing, only holding her tighter.
“Me, and Porter, and Lumber, and Hydra- You’re our little sister, nothing you do changes that. And no matter what you do, I love you.” His words tore a sob out of her throat, and the dam broke. He held her as she cried in earnest, sobbing into his neck.
They stayed like that for a while, her crying and him gently stroking circles on her back. Finally, she collected herself and pulled away, and he settled back into his chair.
“You should be mad at me.” She tried again. She didn’t deserve this from him, not this kindness after everything she had done.
“Should I? Let’s see,” He raised a burnished hand, counting off the points on his fingers as he spoke. “Despite your best efforts, I won, and you crashed and are going to be off the tracks for a while. I'm pretty sure Momma is never letting you out of her sight again, and I saw your face when you realized that Greaseball and Dinah are back together. Between all of that, I don’t really see the point of staying angry, the universe seems to be punishing you enough on its own.” Rusty’s words, while perhaps blunt, held no heat within them. He only smiled sadly as he finished, leaning back in his chair and slinging his feet up onto her bed.
She huffed. He was stupid, and trusting, and obscenely nice, nicer than he should be. “You gotta learn how to hold a grudge, steamer.” She was quiet, worrying at her fingers. “But…thanks, I guess.”
“Anytime.” Rusty suddenly smiled mischievously and she just knew she wasn’t going to like what came next, “So- Greaseball. Do Porter and Lumber-”
“Fuck you.”
His whistling laughter was music to her ears.