we got one last chance to make it real, to trade in these wings on some wheels
There had been no nightmares that night. No hazy, half-remembered memories or warped amalgamations of her mind, simply deep, dreamless sleep. When Slick opened her eyes early the next morning, she found herself perfectly content to simply lay there. It was nice, waking up between the two other trains, and she had basked in the warmth and the sunlight trickling in through the blinds in lazy stripes, coupled with Dinah’s tiny snores and Greaseball’s slow breathing. It had been nice later, too, when the three of them were getting ready, Dinah sitting at her vanity and chattering about the latest happenings within the yard while Slick put her outer armor back on and Greaseball tightened her wheels.
Of course, they couldn’t stay in the bubble that was Dinah’s bedroom forever. Dinah had work again today, and it was Greaseball’s first day back on the tracks. Slick was of course still on medical leave, a fact that neither of the others were sympathetic to (“If I had let you skate on your own yesterday, would you have gotten more than five paces?” “…no.” “That’s what I thought.”), so she was going to head back to her own shed to recuperate.
She and Greaseball bade Dinah goodbye, each of them receiving a kiss- a kiss! - from the dining car before they set out. Dinah would head to the central portion of the yard to hitch up and get out on the tracks, but Greaseball would help Slick get back to her shed before she set out.
The trip back to Slick’s shed was slower than normal due to her leg, which was greatly appreciated. It was clear Greaseball was trying her best to keep them at a manageable speed, instead of zooming around, as was typical for the diesel. Still, in no time at all, they reached the shed, and Greaseball allowed Slick to uncouple before turning to face her.
“Let’s do something tonight- you, me, and Dinah. We can make dinner or something.” The engine looked almost bashful as she suggested it, as if she hadn’t seen Slick completely fall to pieces yesterday. It was sweet, and honestly endearing. Slick smiled at the thought- then realized a problem.
“I can’t cook, can you?”
“No, but I do what Dinah tells me and it generally works out.” Alrighty then, problem solved. And, as she was learning, probably pretty good life advice.
“Then it’s a- a date?” She said the last part questioningly, suddenly unsure.
Greaseball suddenly drew her in, pressing a kiss to her lips. “It’s a date.” She smiled- that rare coveted smile that Slick would never be tired of seeing, and glazed past Slick, smile widening mischievously.
“I’ll leave you to deal with that.” She pointed behind them, and Slick turned, seeing three faces- Porter, Lumber, and Rusty- peering through the window and quickly ducking down once they saw her glare. “I'll come pick you up after work?”
“Sounds good!” With a final smile and a small wave, Greaseball skated off. Slick watched her go, still partially in shock over last night. They liked her, they were going on a date -
Smiling, she entered the shed. It was a full house this morning- Momma was sitting at the kitchen counter, nursing a mug of something and coaching Hydra through cooking breakfast. To his credit, nothing looked burned, which was a good sign. Porter and Lumber were still banned from cooking anything together- separately they did fine, but they all remembered The Incident a little too well to leave them to their own devices. Speaking of…
Porter, Lumber, and Rusty were all clustered in the living room, the remnants of a card game scattered on the floor. They seemed to be trying to appear nonchalant, and failing miserably.
“So, you and Greaseball,” smirked Lumber, “does Dinah know?”
She blushed and bit her lip. “Not just me and Greaseball.”
Silence. You could hear a pin drop. Then-
“Holy shit, Dinah has a type.”
“Does she know she can do better?”
She skated over to the counter to take a seat near Momma, and shot them all a mock glare, which softened at the feeling of one of Momma’s hands covering her own. She looked over at the older engine, who wore a fond smile, and smiled back, despite herself.
“I’m glad it worked out, sweetheart,” She said softly.
“Me too.” She whispered back.
Momma took another sip of her drink, and addressed the room at large, “Porter, Lumber, would you set the table? And Rusty- pick up the cards before people slip on them.”
“No fair, Slick just gets to sit there?” Rusty complained as they three scrambled to do as Momma had asked. “If I knew that getting with someone would get me out of chores, I’d have done it sooner.”
Oh boy was Rusty playing with fire. She’d been too nice the last several days; it was time to remind him who was boss.
“So Rusty,” she asked with an evil grin, “how’s it going with Pearl? Have you kissed her again since the race?”
Rusty startled at that, as every head in the room whipped towards him.
“How did you-”
“Dinah.” There were perks to dating one of Pearl’s closest friends, a fact she was absolutely going to take advantage of.
Rusty squawked in indignation, gathering the discarded playing cards from the floor and beginning to flick them at her, one at a time.
Momma sighed, the sigh of the long-suffering, “Rusty, your sister is injured enough as it is, please do not throw things at her.”
“Yeah! I’m injured, sucker!”
“Slick, do not tease him.”
Hydra looked confused, looking up from the stove, “I don’t think that’s the win you think it is.”
“He got told off by Momma,” she grinned. “No matter what, that makes it a win.”
He nodded, with a slightly confused smile. He didn’t get it yet, but they’d get there. He’d be in the fray slinging insults soon enough.
“Thank you, Hydra,” said Momma, with a pointed glance at Slick, “my nicest and most helpful child.” Slick smiled back innocently.
“If you wanted children that were nice-” she started
“And helpful-” there was Lumber, setting plates.
“And well-behaved-” Porter, putting down glasses.
“And just generally polite-” broke in Rusty, setting the playing cards on the counter.
“You should have stopped collecting strays.” They finished in a chorus, laughing at each other and Hydra’s bewildered expression. They’d teach him about this too.
“Never,” Momma declared, “the Starlight Express sent me each of you, and my life is richer for it.” She clapped her hands suddenly, standing and heading over to the stove. “Now, everyone sit down! Breakfast!”
They did as they were asked, with Lumber darting to get the silverware he and Porter had neglected to grab the first time, and quickly handing it out.
“So, what did you make, Hydra?” asked Slick. She hadn’t gotten a great look at the stove after everything, too busy reasserting herself as the top of the pecking order with the others.
“Pancakes!” said Momma joyfully, “and they look amazing Hydra, well done!”
It’s very hard to mess up pancakes,” said Hydra, nodding sagely.
Rusty looked contemplative. “Well, there was that one time-”
Lumber groaned, setting his head on the table. “I keep telling you all, it was Porter’s fault!”
“You didn’t stop me!”
And then they were off again- Porter and Lumber bickering while Rusty and Slick would occasionally chime in, goading one party or another and adding to the chaos. Momma and Hydra would (to some degree of success) act as the mediators, and when that (inevitably) failed, change the topic entirely to avoid bloodshed. It was a strange little system they had, but one that worked.
Slick smiled, and took a bite of her pancakes. The sounds of the others washed over her, and she thought of the day ahead. Momma and Porter had to work, but Rusty, Lumber, and Hydra were free- maybe they would be up for some mischief, or to give advice. After all, she did have a date tonight.
The kitchen and its occupants shone in the sun, dazzling amongst the clinking of cutlery and conversation. Slick was warm- Momma on one side, and Lumber on the other. She was happy, best of all. And, for the first time in perhaps forever, Slick felt perfectly content.