Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"You're racin' with Electra?" Porter shouted as Slick rushed to shove the money in the box under her bed. "Slick, are you kidding me?!"

Slick snorted, clicking the lock and shoving it back under her bed as fast as she could. She crossed her arms, turning to face her brothers. “Calm down, Porter, you'll get your cut after the race."

"It's not about the cut." Lumber said pointedly, blocking half the door while Porter took the other half. "You're not crashing them."

"Obviously." Slick replied, eyebrows raised. "Why would I crash them if they paid me?"

"But you could crash. You could." Lumber shot back, raising his voice. Nobody else was home, Hydra was who knows where, and Momma was with Rusty...

Slick swallowed the bile in her throat at the thought of her brother, guilt setting it's icy grip over her heart. She tried to shake off the feeling, but she couldn't. Lumber and Porter were talking, spewing some nonsense about the dangers of if they crashed. Something about fire, but she couldn't stop her trembling hands, her heart swelling remembering her brother on the floor after the diesels cornered him and beat him, and she tried to push it down, because she didn't deserve to feel bad for what she did to Rusty. It was her fault.

"Slick?" Porter's voice cut through, and she realized oil was slowly dripping down her face. As quickly as she noticed, she wiped it away with the back of her hand.

"Fine, then!" She shouted, causing her brothers to flinch, "get going, then! If you won't help, get out!"

"Slick!" Lumber protested, voice cracking.

"Get out!" Slick yelled, turning her back to them.

"Okay." Lumber murmered, voice low as he skated out of her bedroom. She heard Porter shift.

"This ain't gonna go well, Slick." Porter warned. "You know that. I know that."

"Go." She growled, clenching her fists.

"Fine." The door creaked, then stopped, meaning Porter had paused. Starlight, Slick wanted him to leave. "When you look around and realize no one's left to help clean up your mess, don't blame anyone but yourself." And finally, the door was closed, and Slick was alone. She choked back a cry of frustration, guilt for entirely different reasons siezing her with such intensity that she stumbled on her way to her desk. With shaking hands, she pulled out a piece of paper and a pen.

Slick clenched her teeth as she scribbled on the paper, a reminder for when she got home: 'Apologize to Rusty.'

With that, she steeled herself, and climbed through her window. Electra wouldn't wait for her forever. What did Porter know, anyway?

~~

Okay, so Porter was right.

All the details she remembered about the crash were blurry. One moment, she was seeing Rusty and Hydra speed past, and the next, she felt the pressure of Greaseball crashing into her back and pressing her against Electra, the trio speeding down the hill and Slick essentially becoming the middle bit of a sandwich between the engines.

Somewhere in between, her tank had ruptured, and she was passed out, unable to stop the oil from pouring out and coming into contact with Electra's sparking- yeah. It had gone wrong, and Porter was right.

Slick turned her head, pain shooting down her spine as she tried to get into a more comfortable position. The burns had climbed up her body, burning and bubbling her synthetic skin, destroying what was left of her tank after the rupture. She couldn't be sure who pulled her out of the fire, who saved her life, but she couldn't imagine that it had been any of her brothers. Rusty was celebrating with Hydra, and she knew Lumber and Porter weren't the happiest with her.

Starlight above, if the ringing could just go away, she was sure she could rest like Wrench had not-so-gently suggested. Slick could feel the repair truck's burning gaze even when she wasn't around, which was impressive in it's own light. She was pretty sure Killerwatt had come in earlier and chewed her out, but at the time, she couldn't hear him. Didn't help he'd rolled in right after she'd woken up.

Whatever, Killerwatt was mad at her. All of her brothers were mad at her, and she wasn’t sure Momma was ever not mad at her. Well, that wasn’t fair, but it was how she felt. She wasn’t sure if she deserved to feel that ugly, burning jealousy anymore after what she did to Rusty.

She was just thankful there was a curtain between her and Greaseball. She wished it was a wall. Hearing Dinah and Greaseball chat and flirt was more painful than her injuries. The bright side? Maybe now Greaseball would finally act like she needed Slick.

Or maybe not. Maybe Greaseball could be added to the list of trains who were upset with her. Which would, in turn, mean that every other train in the yard could be added to that growing list. Great.

She really, really wished the curtains were walls now, because suddenly, Electra’s dynamite truck- Joule, she remembered- was snapping her fingers next to Slick’s ear, literally and figuratively drawing her from her thoughts.

“Stop that!” Slick wheezed, voice scratchy from what she assumes is the after effects of smoke and screaming. She tried to raise her arm to swat Joule away, but the pain made it all but impossible.

“Ooh, grouchy.” Joule smirked, not phased by Slick’s hostility. She put her hands on her hips, tilting her head to the side. “You’re funny. I like that.”

Slick blinked at the component, utterly confused. Was this how they planned to kill her? Why not just unplug one of the machines keeping Slick stable?

“I complimented you.” Joule said, raising both eyebrows. “Judging by your momma, I’d think you’d have better manners.”

She clenched her teeth at the mention of Momma, something that clearly didn’t get past Joule like she’d hoped. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome!” Joule said cheerily, taking the liberty of sitting down on Slick’s bed. “Have you seen your burns yet?”

“No?” Slick narrowed her eyes. What was the point of this?

“Well, you’re lucky Electra’s paying for your repairs and to fix the burn marks. Not that I’d mind. I think they’re cute. Between us, I suggested that Wrench leave this one-“ she touched her fingertip to the side of Slick’s face, “because it’s my favorite. What do you think?”

She blinked once, then twice in bewilderment. Was this truck suggesting she keep one of her scars? Wait. “Electra is paying?”

Joule groaned, pulling away. Whatever she had in mind was clearly ruined by Slick. Slick felt her cheeks burn- not because of her injuries, or from embarrassment. She wasn’t sure what exactly. “Obviously. I heard the freight were dumb, but I didn’t want to believe it.”

“Hey!” She snapped, but the yelling Joule should have received was cut short by her own coughing. Her throat burned, scratching through the cough and making it harder and harder to breathe. Her hacking continued, and the ringing got worse as her vision blurred. Despite the instant searing pain, she covered her mouth with her fist, wheezing through attempts to breathe.

In the chaos and her desperation to just catch her breath, she hadn’t noticed Joule’s own panic, calling for Wrench with a sort of urgency in her voice that Slick didn’t really recognize. In moments, the repair truck rolled in and barked instructions to Joule, the sort of thing Slick wished she could listen in on as she fought to catch her breath.

And then, Joule was gently rubbing her back, and Wrench was putting something on her face, and breathing was just a bit easier. She relaxed physically, eyes closed, trying to focus on keeping hold of some kind of air in her lungs.

After what felt like an eternity, Joule pulled her hand away and Slick leaned back in her bed. The pain wasn’t nearly as intense, which made sense. She’d seen Wrench adjust something.

She missed the pain. She felt it was deserved. Rusty didn’t get painkillers when she crashed him.

That, and Slick didn’t like the cloud swerving over her brain.

“Morphine.” Joule supplied. Seriously, was the dynamite truck reading her mind? “You’re gonna feel real loopy.”

"I know-" Slick tried, but she could barely recognize her own voice. It sounded like a record scratch.

"Don't talk, seriously. You'll blow out your vocal cords like that."

The silence following was peaceful, and Slick couldn't help but wonder why Joule hadn't left yet. She wished she could hold a pen to ask, but her hands were covered in thick bandages. The ringing even died down, replaced by a very low buzz. She felt like humming along with it, but when she tried, the pain returned, and Joule fixed her an almost venemous glare. Thus, the humming would not happen. Maybe when Joule left.

Why was Joule still here?

Slick turned her head to the truck, eyes squinting to try and find any reasoning behind her eyes. Joule's shiny metal plating hurt her eyes, so she stopped squinting, but kept staring.

Joule looked over at her and raised both eyebrows. Slick didn't look away. Joule did, and then looked back to Slick. Now the silence was awkward, which Slick would've blamed herself for if she didn't feel so whispy.

"I'll leave when Momma gets here." Joule said, breaking their silence. "She's handling some things for the needed replacement parts for all three of you."

Slick squinted again, this time ignoring the strain on her eyes from just how shiny Joule was.

"She didn't forget about you, Slick." With a surprising amount of gentleness, Joule took Slick's hand, emphasis in her voice enough without needing to shake the oil tanker's hand. "I do have two questions, though, but I suppose one can't be asked until you've come to.
" Slick gave her a nod, signaling that she could continue. "Do you regret what you do? Crashing trains? Don't get me wrong, I love it, but we looked into your file. A lot of the trains you've crashed are lucky to be alive."

Slick blinked slowly at her, eyes burning with repressed tears, regret burning at her worse than the flames that covered her mere hours earlier. Joule reached over and wiped a tear from her eye, flicking the oil away. "There's no need to cry, Slick, I just asked you a question."

Slick forced her eyes closed to stop the burning, a soft cry bubbling up in her throat as the tears continued.

"Ah, guilt then." Joule noted, nodding along. "At least you know you've done wrong, then. You shouldn't beat yourself up too much over it."

Slick opened her mouth to get a wheezy reply out, but was interrupted by the sound of rapid skating down the hallway, followed by Momma in the doorway, breathing hard and nearly crashing into Slick's bed from the speed she was going at. The old steamer took a moment to catch her breath, and then nodded politely to Joule, who was already starting to get up. "Thank you. If you ever need anything- let me know."

Joule nodded and smirked at Slick, blowing her a kiss. 

"I'll see you around, tanker. Think on what we talked about."

Then, Joule was gone, and Slick couldn't help but sort of miss her. It was nice to have the dynamite truck around, but now it was just her, Momma, the buzz in her ears, and the cloud that wouldn't dissipate from her mind.

Momma grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently. "How are you feeling, baby?" And when Slick looked, really looked at Momma to try and find anger or hatred in her eyes, there was nothing of the sort. Love, anxiety, and concern replaced that. She didn't deserve that. Slick coughed again, and that was the only indication that caught up to her that she'd started crying again. Momma carefully drew her closer, holding Slick like she was nothing but a child again, scared out of her mind after being taken away from her dad. She wished she didn't feel that way. That she'd never crashed Rusty, or even began crashing trains to begin with. She wished she hadn't wanted to impress Greaseball so badly, that she wasn't so awful to her brothers, especially Hydra, or to Momma.

More than anything, she wished she could apologize. To everyone, for the things she had done. It was a cruel joke from the universe that when she finally has the will to swallow her pride and do so, she physically couldn't. That hurt more than the burns or her throat did.

~~

Miles away, in their shed, a winning steam engine finds a note on his sister's desk.

Chapter Text

Rusty had decided that after everything his siblings had put him through in race three, he was absolved from chores for the rest of his life.

Lumber and Porter had agreed instantly, apologizing as soon as they’d seen him after his win. The only one he hadn’t heard from was Slick, which made sense, since he later learned she had crashed into Electra and Greaseball. Rusty was ashamed to admit it, but he felt a bit of satisfaction at hearing about it. She could’ve killed him, and why? Because she hated steam more than she loved him? More than she loved Momma? And then Lumber and Porter had revealed that Electra had paid her to race with them in race four, and he felt anger bubble inside at the notion that the money had been more important to Slick than him.

At first, he didn’t feel bad for feeling like that. He wasn’t ashamed of his ugly feelings, because why should he have been? Every action had an equal and opposite reaction. She crashed him, and then she crashed. It only seemed fair.

But when Rusty returned to the shed and gone into Slick’s room to tell her such, the room was surprisingly empty. Hydra followed him in, but didn’t enter the room like Rusty did. The hydrogen tanker stood in the doorway, like he’d been banned. Maybe he had. Rusty had been, years ago, but he’d wanted to say worse things to her than walking into her room.

“Weird. I thought she’d be licking her wounds in here.” Hydra said, voice teetering on the edge of concern. Rusty shrugged.

“She’s probably hiding somewhere in here.” He proposed, but the more time went on without hearing any noise, the more his own concern grew. “I think.”

“Rusty…” Hydra began, “you don’t think…”

“She’s in the repair shed?” He squinted, considering it for a moment. “We’d know, right?”

“We just spent like… two or three hours celebrating your win, mate,” Hydra chuckled, “she’s here somewhere.”

Rusty nodded, and Hydra turned to go to his room. Alone in his sister’s room, Rusty sat down on her bed and looked around for something that would indicate what she did to him. There was a dart board with a picture of someone Rusty hadn’t ever seen before, but oddly enough, none of the darts had been used. The picture had no holes in it. What about this was so special to Slick?

Rusty stood up and took the picture off the board, inspecting it. Nothing out of the ordinary, maybe someone who had pissed Slick off on their last run. But the picture was old, and if they’d pissed her off recently, why did she have a picture of this train?

He knew he shouldn’t have snooped in Slick’s room. If anything, that would make his sister even angrier, but Rusty didn’t feel much need to care about how she felt at the moment. He was still angry. Angry enough that he flipped the picture over.

He wasn’t expecting a note on the back, written in quick ink and horrid handwriting. The note itself didn’t seem too out of the ordinary, but who it was sighed form gave Rusty pause.

‘Miss you lots, oil spill. See ya soon. Love, Pa.’

Rusty stared at the note for a long moment, taking in the information. He flipped the picture over again and re-pinned it. It was strange- this man had no resemblance to Slick, other than the way he was smiling.

When Slick had been brought to Momma, she was scared, a bit mean, and cried a lot. That was what Rusty remembered. He remembered being too young to know why she had been placed in their care. He was told never to ask, since it was painful for his sister.

Now, it seemed he was a step closer to figuring out why Slick was even in their yard to begin with. Never had it ever occurred to Rusty that she had a dad, or that her family had been part of why she was with Momma now.

A knock on the open door pulled him from his thoughts, and Rusty turned to see Porter, smiling at him awkwardly. “Hey, Rusty. You seen Slick?”

“No. Have you?” Rusty asked, putting the topic of Slick’s dad on the backburner.

Porter shook his head. “Can’t find her or Momma. Sometimes Slick likes to hide out in me or Lumber’s room, but…” he trailed off, a bit of anger of his own shining in the coal truck’s eyes. So Slick had gotten to all of them tonight, it seemed.

“They might just not be home yet.” Rusty tried, skating closer to Porter. “I wouldn’t stress, Porter.”

“I’m the oldest,” Porter reminded him weakly, “it’s my job to worry about you guys. Especially her. I’m sorry, Rusty. I really am.”

“I know, Porter.” Rusty shifted uncomfortably on his wheels. Porter kept apologizing, and Rusty forgave him, but it was still awkward. He had a feeling it would be for a while.

Porter gave a curt nod and rolled off, leaving Rusty alone in the room once again. He glanced around, but nothing else seemed strange. Whatever, he decided, he’d grill Slick about her dad whenever she got back. As he skated towards the door, something caught his eye. A note on his sister’s desk, scribbled in the same quirky handwriting that the picture had.

He picked it up, and instantly, felt compassion he never thought he’d feel for Slick again.

‘Apologize to Rusty.’

~~

When Momma returned, the old steamer looked tired. She had tear streaks on her face, eyes red rimmed, and her eyes seemed sunken in.

Rusty was the only one awake when Momma returned, holding the note Slick had written to herself and the picture on the dart board in both hands, leg bouncing nervously, prepared to ask Slick for answers when the oil tanker returned home.

She never returned home. Momma came home, but Slick did not saunter in like he’d thought. She didn’t saunter in at all. Momma sat next to him on the couch, drawing him in with a hug.

“I’m so proud of you, Rusty.” She murmured into his hair, rubbing his back gently. And for a minute, everything was okay, because it was just the winner and his momma, soaking up the renewal of their source. They were steam.

But then, Momma noticed the papers in Rusty’s hands, and her eyes widened. That itself made the alarms go off in Rusty's head, but the tired old steamer made no move to take the picture from him forcefully. She just held out her hand. Rusty relented, handing over both papers.

"Where did you get this, Rusty?" He frowned at the sound of Momma's voice, hoarse, like she'd been crying.

"Slick's room." Rusty croaked out, feeling nervous, but not for himself. "I thought she'd be in there."

Momma didn't reply, instead flipping the picture over and reading the message on the back. She tucked it into her pocket and handed the note back to Rusty. "She'll be okay, eventually. The replacement parts are coming in late tonight and they're operating tomorrow."

"How bad is it?" Rusty didn't think she'd need to be in the repair shed. It wasn't a possibility he'd considered, but he wished he could kick his past self in the shin, because it was obvious.

Momma opened her mouth, and then closed it. She pressed her lips into a thin smile, placing a hand on Rusty's shoulder. "She'll live." The steamer was trying for a hopeful tone, to keep Rusty from getting scared, but her voice cracked, teetering on the edge of fear. Rusty felt his blood run cold- she'll live. That was the bare minimum. He swallowed, trying to be rid of the fear that held an icy grip on his spine. He wished he didn't care, but that wasn't in Rusty's nature. All he did was care.

"You've every right to be angry with her." She said, eyes sympathetic.

"I am angry." Rusty stated, not really believing himself.

"You're not. I can tell." Momma winked at him, and Rusty couldn't help but agree. His anger had died down some since she'd crashed him. He just wanted to know why. The betrayal still stung, but it was hard to be angry at his sister for very long. "Do you remember when I brought Slick home?"

Rusty cracked a smile, a small laugh escaping him. He did remember meeting Slick. He had been young, younger than Porter but older than Lumber, when Momma had received a call and gone skating off. About two hours later, she introduced them to Slick, a very small oil tanker who clung to Momma's leg and hid behind the old steamer. He and his brothers had started calling Slick 'the creature' because she would jump at them, literally out of nowhere, and attack. He couldn't help but smile at the memories of his sister before she started hanging around Greaseball. "Yeah."

"There are... nuances with how she came into my care. Things that only she can tell you." Momma pulled the picture out of her pocket and shook it for emphasis, "this is one of them, Rusty."

"Her dad." He supplied carefully. Momma nodded.

"He's not part of her life anymore for a reason, but whatever answer you think you'll get from Slick is probably going to be related to him."

Rusty nodded, shifting into a deep frown. "Are we just... not enough for her anymore?"

Momma shook her head, putting a hand on Rusty's cheek and lifting his head up so that he could make eye contact with her. "We are enough, Rusty. You are enough."

His lip wobbled, and for the first time since Slick had crashed him, Rusty allowed himself to cry.

~~

Finally, Slick was allowed to come home. The operation she'd been given the day after the race had been relatively peaceful, as far as she could tell. One minute, she was being told to count down from ten, and the next, she was powered down. They'd replaced her tank with a new one, one that was grey and uncolored due to the haste they needed to keep her alive, different parts of her inner workings had been damaged in the crash as well. The hardest part, she was told, was replacing most of her synthetic skin. She looked no different than before the crash, other than the scar she'd left on her face. Partly to remind herself of what she'd done, and partly because Joule had mentioned liking it. Recovery had taken two weeks, most of which she spent asleep or pretending to sleep so she could avoid talking to Momma. Joule was there most of the time, it was... nice getting to know the dynamite truck. Nicer than she deserved

She could speak, but not like before. Wrench said that was temporary, that she'd be able to speak fine again soon, but the buzzing in her ear wasn't. Tinnitus, Wrench had said. Acoustic trauma, Momma had tried to elaborate. Those didn't feel right, not to describe the low buzz that would go in and out of her ear at random intervals. She supposed she deserved that- some things couldn't be fixed with Electra throwing money at the problem.

Greaseball and Electra had been sent home before Slick woke up from surgery, and the tanker was thankful she hadn’t seen the pair since. She was glad Electra had paid for her repairs, but Slick also wasn’t sure what they would want from her in return for said repairs. She didn’t even want to think about it.

As Momma brought her back home, Slick practically leaning on the engine as they made the short distance back, the steamer was silent. Closer to the house, she had only mentioned that Rusty needed to talk to her before she went in her room to rest some more.

She knew the yelling was coming. She deserved to be yelled at. She expected to be yelled at, for Rusty to curse her name and for him to ask her to leave- not only the shed, but the entire yard. Who would she be to deprive the champion of his wishes? What Slick didn’t expect was for Rusty to immediately pull Slick into a hug after Momma dropped her off. Despite herself, she leaned into his touch, letting her shoulders slump with an exhausted sigh. She hadn’t seen Rusty- or any of her brothers- for the two weeks she was in the repair shed. She didn’t blame them.

When Rusty pulled away, she wasn’t expecting to find him tearing up. “How are you feeling?”

There it was- the innate goodness inside of Rusty. The goodness that was asking her how she was doing. Slick could’ve laughed at the irony, but she didn’t have the energy.

“I’m fine,” that was the truth; she wasn’t in any pain, not anymore, “I’m- listen, Rusty, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, for everything- crashing you, and-and insulting you, and I’m sorry that you even have to ask how I am after what I did. You don’t have to forgive me, but-“

“Slick.” Rusty interrupted, stunning her into silence. “I forgive you.”

“You-you what?”

“I forgive you.” He repeated sincerely, smiling sadly at her.

“You shouldn’t.” Slick shook her head, in utter disbelief. “I-I hurt you, I let other trains hurt you, you should hate me!”

Rusty stayed silent at that, seemingly considering her words. Good. She figured he’d be convinced into hating her. If he hated her, Slick could properly hate herself. Yet again, Rusty defied her expectations and pulled her into another hug.

“You’re my sister, Slick. I can’t hate you. I tried to hate you, after the race, but I can’t. Especially because I can tell you mean your apology.”

Finally, Slick lost the fight against bursting into tears, clinging to Rusty like when they were kids, when she fell over and scraped her knee. When Slick started crying, Rusty couldn’t help it. His own tears broke the dam, and he held onto Slick a little tighter.

For someone who didn’t consider herself to be a super emotional person, Slick had let a lot of tears slip in the past few weeks.

After what felt like hours, Rusty pulled away and wiped his tears. “Now that that’s over with, I have a question.”

Slick’s heart dropped to her stomach, but she nodded and wiped her own tear streaks away.

The pair skated over to the couch and sat down, Slick’s knee bouncing nervously. She wasn’t prepared to explain her need for validation to Rusty, but she supposed he deserved an explanation.

It turned out she wouldn’t have to, not in the way she thought she had to, because Rusty pulled out the picture of her dad that she’d received in the mail months ago.

Her breath hitched in her throat. “Rusty-“ she started, voice teetering towards the edge of anger. He’d been in her room, her space, and taken something that was for her and only her.

“I wanted answers, and you were in the repair shed,” he held up his hand, “which is how I know you’re being genuine. I found the note you put on your desk. Figured it was from before the last race.”

Slick sucked in a deep breath and leaned toward, nodding to confirm just that. “Why did you take it?”

Rusty set the picture between them on the couch. “I’ve never seen this train before. When I flipped it over…”

Again, the anger returned. She sat up quickly, biting the inside of her lip to keep from screaming in frustration. That note was her’s, only her’s, from her dad, and Rusty had read it.

Rusty didn’t cower away like she hoped he would at her clear anger, instead he doubled down, pointing at the picture. “Is he why you crashed me? Your dad?”

Slick went quiet, staring at the picture of her father and fighting back tears, still biting her lip. The metallic taste of oil made her stop, but she still didn’t speak.

Rusty was sure he’d killed his sister, so he cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak. Slick beat him to it.

“What did Momma tell you about him?”

He blinked, surprised at the question. Certainly not what he had been expecting. He looked back to the picture, then at his sister again. “Just that you haven’t seen him for a reason.”

Slick huffed out a laugh, shaking her head slightly. “Yeah, well, Momma didn’t know him like I did.”

Rusty leaned in, eyebrows knit together in concern and curiosity. “Will you tell me about him?”

She paused, and then nodded, clasping her hands together. “My dad is a caboose. The last time I saw him, he was being carted off for…” she paused, swallowed, and then continued, “for crashing trains.” Slick refused to look at Rusty, opting to find a good spot on the floor. “He had a job, couldn’t find someone to watch me, so he brought me along, taught me how to crash trains and not get hurt doing it. Taught me how to make sure it’s not fatal, since I was real young. He got caught, and I was given to the only train in the area willing to take in a convict’s kid… Momma.”

After a brief pause, Rusty placed a hand on her back. “Why’d you do it, Slick?” He asked, tone gentle.

“I wanted to make him proud.” She whispered, afraid the truth would be revealed to more than just her brother if she said it any louder. She was weak. “I just- I just wanted to make him proud.”

“And this is the way?” Rusty pressed, frown deepening.

“It’s the last thing we shared.” Slick shrugged. “I dunno, it’s not an excuse.” Finally, she looked up to meet Rusty’s gaze. “I really am sorry, Rusty.”

And for the third time in the last twenty minutes, Rusty pulled Slick into a hug, and this time, she met him in the middle, burying her head into his shoulder.

“I forgive you, Slick,” Rusty said gently, “I forgive you.”

Chapter Text

Besides Rusty, Slick hadn't seen her brothers much since she'd gotten home. Maybe an interaction or two with Porter in the mornings, but she'd talked to Momma more than she talked to Lumber and Porter. It felt weird, considering the fact that she hadn't spent a day without them since she'd been accepted into the family.

She now had a no-lies policy with Rusty that he was encouraging her to use with others, which she begrudgingly accepted. He'd been asking more and more questions about her dad recently. How often he contacted her, why he contacted her, and why she wouldn't tell Momma. It was sort of exhausting.

Slick wasn't in pain anymore. Well, not major pain. She'd pretty much been completely replaced after the crash, including her skin (not something she particularly liked thinking about) and her tank. She was still getting used to her new parts. Even if she wanted to work, she couldn't unless it was necessary. Between her health struggles and the fact that no engine would touch her with a ten-foot pole, shifts were getting scarce. Control said that once she was at 100 percent, he'd assign her more, but for now, she was essentially benched. Stuck at home with nothing to do and in a shed where she was sure 4/5 inhabitants hated her, she was bored out of her mind.

She thought all of this while lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling and waiting for the pain in her back to go away and for the buzz in her ears to die down. The boys were all at the shed, but none of them dared come looking, and Slick wasn't about to complain. The very last thing she wanted to do was talk to Lumber and Porter.

"Slick?" A voice called from outside her door. Right, Hydra. She groaned and sat up slowly. She wished she could tell him to buzz off, but Rusty had convinced her that he wasn't the only one whom she owed an apology. She didn't want to deal with Lumber and Porter at this present moment, so Hydra would have to do.

"Come in, Hydra." She had forgotten about her voice, still scratchy from the crash, her lack of Wrench-reccomended vocal rest, and the amount of crying she'd been doing recently.

The door opened slowly, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see a flash of blue and red disappearing from around the corner. Hydra stood in the doorway, hesitant, with an awkward smile on his face. She gestured for him to come in, and Hydra finally closed the door. "Hi, Slick. How are you doing?"

"They send you in here?" She asked, crossing her arms with a scowl.

"Well, yes, but I wanted to talk to you," Hydra paused and looked towards the door. "Get lost!"

At first, she was confused as to why he was yelling at her door, but then the rustling of wheels and her brother's voices fading away answered the question for her. She bit the inside of her lip, suddenly nervous. She felt like a cornered dog, wounded and stressed and aggressive.

Her newest brother sat on her bed, taking place next to her. He held something out to her, and- oh. It was a pair of headphones, which the hydrogen tanker had painted with yellow triangles. Her symbol. Slick stared at the gift for a moment and then looked back up at Hydra.

"Go on," Hydra prompted, "they're for you."

Slick looked back at the headphones, and then at Hydra, and then back to the headphones again. "What's in it for you?"

"Momma keeps yelling at us to be quieter, because of your hearing," Hydra shrugged, "I figured these might help."

Slick scoffed, "Don't act like you care."

Hydra tilted his head, genuinely confused. "What?"

"You... you don't care." She repeated, raising an eyebrow for emphasis.

"Yes I do." Hydra squinted at her, beginning to get rather defensive.

"You shouldn't!" She shot back, holding back a wince as her own volume spiked in her ear. "We are awful to you! I don't think I've ever seen someone be less welcomed into a family!" Slick gestured to her brother, frustration snowballing into an anger that wasn't directed to the hydrogen tanker, "and you should hate me, because I keep telling you that you're not wanted! You'd be stupid to still care after that!"

Hydra didn't respond. He let her words sit, nodding along like he understood what she was saying. Slick seethed, searching his face for anger, but there was none to be found. Hydra put the headphones behind him on the bed, folded his hands in his lap, and looked at Slick expectantly. When she didn't reply, he cleared his throat. "Are you done? Can I speak now?"

That shocked Slick into a relative silence. Was he serious? He had to be serious. She cleared her throat, which was now kind of sore, and nodded to Hydra. He smiled at her and crossed his legs, hands clasped onto his knees.

"Well, for starters, I'm glad you apologized to Rusty. I don't think it's fair for me to be mad at you for the racing stuff, 'cause he's not mad anymore anyways. It takes a lot to admit you're wrong- which you've practically already started. I think you just admitted you were wrong, in your own way of course. But I ask only one question- why do you hate me so much?”

Slick stared blankly at him. Hydra had always been something else, but today was different. He’d never directly asked her before. Admittedly, she didn’t have a good answer. She wrapped her arms around her middle, looking away from Hydra. “You’re annoying, that’s why. All you ever talk about is Hydrogen, and how it’s the ‘superior’ fuel source, and how it’s gonna replace me, Lumber and Porter,” Slick held her scowl for a moment, and then continued, “how’s that supposed to make us feel?”

She didn’t dare look back at Hydra, but she could hear him hum as he considered what she was saying. “To be fair, you guys talk a considerable amount about your fuel as well.”

“Because we’re proud of it.” Slick argued, turning to look at her brother. “What’s so wrong with that?”

“If you guys can talk about your fuel, and be proud of it, then why can’t I?” Hydra shot back, tone even. Slick turned away with a huff, but he had a point, and she knew it.

Slick couldn’t ignore how horrible they’d been to Hydra. Well, she could, as she had since she'd met the tanker. But with her promise to Rusty, and with how kind he'd been to give her something so nice when she'd been so awful to him, she couldn't help but feel compelled. Slick took the headphones from his hands and tentatively put them on. To her surprise, they worked. The buzzing was muffled somewhat, and so was the rest of the noise in the house that her ears were now sensitive to. In the corner of her eye, she saw Hydra grin. Slick hit his shoulder playfully. "Quit it."

"They help?" He asked.

"More than the painkillers I got when I crashed." Slick chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck. The pause after she said that was nice, just her and Hydra in her room, a considerable lack of buzzing and the easing of tension. The tension wasn't gone, though; it wouldn't be unless she swallowed her pride and properly apologized. "Listen, Hydra, I'm... sorry for how I treated you." Hydra fixed her with a look of surprise and put the back of his hand to her forehead.

"You're not sick, are you?" He asked, genuine concern flashing in his eyes. She swatted his hand away.

"No! Starlight, listen to me, you git! I'm apologizing because we're awful to you!" She scooted away from him a bit, re-adjusting the headphones.

"You never apologize." He pointed out. "Ever. The first time I was included in a play-fight with you and the others, you bit me."

"I've bitten all three of them. They used to call me 'the creature', those assholes." She argued, scoffing. "I have to fight like that, in order to win."

"Like how you had to crash Rusty?" Hydra raised an eyebrow.

Slick scowled, but had no rebuttal. He was right.

"I just want to know why." Hydra pleaded. "Why you did it and why you hate me. I won't accept that you think I'm annoying. I don't believe that's it."

She stayed quiet for a moment, and then turned to face Hydra fully. "Greaseball wanted to win. I thought..." She trailed off, finding herself unable to actually say it. She'd spell it, like Dinah usually did, but that felt dumb.

"That she'd finally need you?" Hydra finished, eyes widening with realization and familarity. Slick didn't nod, didn't confirm his suspicions, but that was what damned her to clearly having a feeling. "I get it, Slick. I mean- Rusty needed me, and then brought Pearl to the podium."

Slick squinted at Hydra. "Was that... a hint of resentment from you, Mr. Green?" Now it was her turn to get hit on the shoulder, but it didn't cause a string of laughter, just weirdly comfortable eye contact with her brother.

"Disappointment." Hydra corrected softly. "I just wanted someone to depend on me. I take it you relate?"

Slick nodded, clearing her throat. "Greaseball and them, they only talk to me when they need something. I'm useful to other trains by rigging the races, I thought..." she huffed, "I thought I could be useful here for that, too."

"I'm not gonna ask about your dad-" Hydra said, shrugging.

"Good, 'cause Rusty only knows because I owe him after nearly killing him-
"

"-But I think we're more alike than you think," he continued as if she hadn't spoken, "all I'm here for is to help the environment. I'm- I got sent here from the lab so that I could help trains convert to hydrogen, give them cleaner fuel sources. I got ignored by everyone, I failed. I didn't mean to make you guys feel like I'd replace you. I just wanted to be useful, to do my job. I wanted to be part of it."

Slick let the confession sit, and then pulled him into a hug. Hydra stiffened, he hadn't been expecting that, but he sank into the embrace and hugged her back, burying his head into her neck. It was a bit awkward, since she was considerably shorter than him, but the hug was something of an apology in itself- a confirmation, to Hydra, that she was changing, at least trying to change.

Slick pulled away first, but kept her arm around Hydra's shoulders. "I'm sorry, Hydra. We've been a bad bunch of siblings, haven't we?"

Hydra perked up, suddenly standing up and rolling across her room. When he whipped around, a big smile was painted on his face, and the tanker was practically buzzing from excitement. "You see me as a sibling?"

The fact that he was so excited about this was sad, honestly. Slick made a note to talk to him soon about the lab he'd mentioned, since this made the 'fucked up childhood' alarms ding in her head. She settled onto her hands, leaning back on her bed with a grin. "Yeah, mate. I'd say you're my favorite, right now at least."

Hydra laughed, and Slick found it all too easy to join in, the pain in her back forgotten for the moment as the pair of tankers soaked up the unexpected comradery.

A knock on the door interrupted them into silence, Hydra's voice settling while Slick's cut off, her guard immediately up once more. It seemed in the time it took for Hydra and Slick to hash things out, Lumber and Porter had swallowed their pride and decided to start talking to their sister.

"Slick?" Lumber called out, confirming her suspicion.


"Can we come in?" Porter completed the pair, and Slick looked over to Hydra, silently pleading for help. To her dismay, he only smiled sympathetically at her.

"You gotta do it sometime." He reminded her. She nodded, resigned, and Hydra patted her shoulder before leaving the room. Slick looked at the floor as she stood up, trying to look anywhere but at her brothers as they entered. Porter closed the door, and she crossed her arms, making herself seem smaller.

Porter broke the silence first. "We need to talk."

Chapter Text

The silence in Slick's room was potent for the minute or so it lasted. Porter said they needed to talk, but so far, none of them had made the first move. Slick refused to look at her brothers, gaze locked tight on the floor, and her brothers didn't move an inch either. The problem with the three of them being so similar and spending nearly every moment of every day together- they'd never fought before. They never needed a reason to fight before. This was uncharted territory for all three trucks.

"Shit." Lumber broke first, sighing. He rolled forward, and Slick didn't look up to face him; she just kept her arms crossed. He was probably going to yell at her, and it was relieving. She just wanted someone to yell at her so that she could stop being angry with herself. Instead, her brother pulled her into a hug. She... couldn't say she was expecting that.

"Are you okay?" He asked, not letting go. Slick sighed. She wished people would stop asking her that. "Slick, be honest."

Still, she stayed silent. Porter rolled towards them and gently pried Lumber off of her. "'Cmon, Lumber, give her space."

Lumber opened his mouth to argue with Porter, but Slick interrupted. "You should be angry."

"What?" Porter turned to her, caught off guard.

"You told me it would be dangerous, and I didn't listen." She admitted, pausing to bite the inside of her cheek. "You should be angry. I know you were."

"We were never-" Porter started.

"Slick-" Lumber tried.

"I know you were angry, because if you hadn't been, I would have seen you!" Slick broke, uncrossing her arms and looking up to see her brothers. They were both steeled in their resolve, but Starlight, her brothers looked so tired. So taken aback by her words. Lumber's face even shifted into hurt and regret. Porter's shoulders relaxed, and it was his turn to look away. Good, she decided, she'd been keeping this in since she'd woken up to her only company being components. "I get Rusty not showing, even Hydra, but you two? You have to have been mad, because otherwise I wouldn't have been alone."

The silence returned, deafening the space for a few moments. Neither of her brothers spoke up. It was clear to both of them that Slick was not finished. "I should have listened to you when you said not to race with Electra. I shouldn't have yelled at you. But do me a favor? Don't lie to me." Slick turned around and lay down on her bed, turned so that she was facing away from her brothers. "Get out."

"No," Lumber said firmly, clearing his throat. She heard him roll forward and sit down on her bed, back to hers. Porter joined him, and Slick shifted so that there'd be room for him. Still, she didn't turn around; she just stayed where she was. She'd said her piece- if they wanted to talk, it was their turn.

Porter sighed, and she could feel him shift to lean forward. Probably holding his bad knee with his hands, legs crossed like he sat when he was uncomfortable. "We were mad," he confessed, "So angry with you, for what you said before the race and for not listening to us when we told you to back out. Then, Pearl got uncoupled, and we went to help Rusty find her, and by the time we came back, it was time to celebrate, and you were gone."

Lumber continued when Porter stopped. "We didn't know how bad it was. We assumed it was a couple of bumps- that you'd be back that night. Then, Momma got home, and..." He stopped himself. "And we weren't mad anymore, because you were hurt, but we assumed you'd be mad and would send us away, and-" he choked up, and Slick felt the familiar guilt seize her again. She tried to imagine Lumber crying, tears spilling over his eyes while his lip wobbled, and the image drew up a blank. She wasn't sure she'd ever stopped to think that her brothers could cry.

Porter's arm moved, and she could imagine it wrapping around Lumber's shoulder, and she thought back to when they were kids, when she was on Porter's shoulders and chattering on with Lumber and Rusty. It was simpler back then, nicer. She didn't move to join the embrace, though. It was something for them. 

"We should've been there, Slick. No matter how mad we were at you." Porter said after a while. The bed shifted again, and in the corner of her eye, she could see him turn to look at her. She closed her eyes. "We never should have left you like..."

"Don't." She muttered, opening her eyes.

"Okay," Lumber murmured. Again, silence took over the room. Slick shifted, sitting up and moving to sit next to Lumber. The three were lined up, like usual, on the edge of her bed. Red, Blue, Yellow. Coal, Wood, Oil. She kicked her skates idly, periodically sniffling.

"I'm sorry." She said after a while, breaking the silence. "I never should've crashed Rusty or dragged you lot into my mess. You've had to clean it up for me for years, and it was..." she paused, looking for the right word, "unfair."

She could feel their eyes boring into her, but she didn't return the gaze. Emotional vulnerability was uncomfortable. "All I wanted was to be like my dad." Slick looked up to her dart board, where the picture Rusty returned was, "Hell of a lot of good that gave me, huh?" A weak chuckle escaped her lips, but it fell flat. Her brothers didn't find humor in the situation.

Lumber cleared his throat, and Slick turned to look at him. "Can I ask if you're okay now?" She slowly nodded, and Lumber put a hand on her shoulder, inspecting her face. His eyes were on the scar. "Does it hurt?"

"Not as much as the new tank." She shifted uncomfortably. It had been painted to match her yellow again, but it felt too new compared to her old tank. Control said she just needed to adjust to it. She wished it wouldn't take so long.

"It's shiny," Porter commented. "Why'd you keep it?"

"Well, I can't do my job without a tank-"

"You know what I mean."


She paused. There were two truths to this question, and one was making her face heat up. "Uh- I wanted a reminder. Of what I did."


Porter raised an eyebrow, and Lumber smiled slyly at her. "That's it?"

Slick bristled, face growing warmer. "And because Electra's dynamite truck liked it." She muttered. Lumber barked out a laugh, and Porter chuckled along with her. She scowled and hit Lumber gently. "Quit it!"

"I can't believe you like an electric!" Lumber got out through his cackling, unaffected by her reprimand.


"Never thought I'd see the day." Porter agreed.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Slick grumbled, rolling her eyes while the boys' giggling died down. Once again, the three fell into silence, but this time, it was something comfortable. Something nice.

"I'm thinkin' freight pile?" Lumber suggested, grinning. "Help distract you from the aching and yearning."

She hesitated, but Porter stopped her before she could decline in favor of her wallowing. "You haven't left your room for a week, Slick. Enough brooding. It's gettin' painful for us."

Slick rolled her eyes, but didn't bother arguing. He was right. She wasn't sure she'd been outside the shed, even, since her last shift. Instead of continuing the useless argument or insisting she didn't deserve this, she let herself be pulled up by Lumber. Full of surprises, her brother scooped her up. "Hey! Put me down!"

"Nah," Porter said as they rolled out of her room and she was gently plopped down onto the couch, "Wait here." He and Lumber skated off to wherever, and she leaned her head back on the couch. It was nicer on her back than her bed was. Slick re-adjusted the headphones Hydra had given her.

"What's a freight pile?" Hydra asked as he sat down next to her, holding a green hedgehog stuffed animal in his arms and a green blanket over his shoulder.


"Basically, we pile on top of each other and nap." She shrugged.

"So, I take it your talk went well?"


Slick paused and then ruffled Hydra's hair. "Yeah, I'd say so."

Before either of them could blink, Rusty was there, sitting on Slick's other side and holding his own blanket. He draped it over his legs and leaned his head against her shoulder. "That hurt?" She shook her head in response, and he hummed, content, eyes closed. Soon after, Lumber and Porter were back, and they joined the pile after depositing a yellow rabbit onto her lap. Slick chuckled- she hadn't seen her childhood stuffed animal in years. She wasn't sure they still had it, yet here it was.

The rabbit had never received a name, but she still held it close, memories of childhood washing over her as she closed her eyes and let sleep envelop her, falling into soft snores with her head on Hydra's shoulder, Lumber nestled into Rusty's side, and Porter leaning against Hydra.

~~


When Momma returned that day and saw her children all together, her daughter finally sleeping peacefully, all she could do was chuckle and adjust their blankets. She wiped some of Slick's hair from her forehead and planted a soft kiss there. Once she deemed them comfortable enough, the old steamer rolled out of the living room to give them some peace and quiet.

Chapter Text

It took two days for Slick to muster up the courage to knock on Momma’s door.

Scratch that, it was closer to a week of avoiding Momma and stopping just short of Momma's room before turning and running off to either sulk or be pulled into activities with her brothers. A week of saying she'd talk to Momma soon, a week of looks that she didn't have the energy to really decipher from her brothers, and a week of Rusty pestering her to start the conversation.

Two weeks for recovery, another two at home since her talk with Rusty, a week since she'd apologized to Hydra, Lumber, and Porter, and two days since she started counting. She didn't want to do the math in her head; it was too much time, and she knew it. Momma never pried, though. She was giving Slick the space her daughter needed, and was kind- too kind- than seemed fair. She wished someone would just yell at her.

Starlight, she should've thought this through. What was she even going to say? What to start with? The incident with Rusty, or her general behavior as of late? The comments against steam, or refusing to race with her? Before she could turn yellow-bellied (figuratively, since her uniform was pretty much all yellow), Momma opened the door. The old steamer looked tired, but something hopeful flashed in her eyes when she saw just who was knocking on her bedroom door.

"Slick, are you alright?" Momma asked, tilting her head slightly, "It's late."

Slick swallowed, suddenly feeling a whole lot like the child Momma took in all those years ago. She opened her mouth to say what was on her mind, but nothing came out. There were no tears to be found, but everything she could have said died when she was faced with the reality of the conversation she needed to have with Momma. The whole 'vulnerability' thing was something that was getting easier every time she opened up to someone, but with Momma, it wasn't something she ever thought she'd be ready for.

Momma drew her inside, away from any prying eyes that could be around, and shut the door behind her. Slick rolled forward idly, looking around Momma's room. She'd been in there many times, but at the same time, the context for why she was in there now hung above her, taunting her. She had to get it together and just say sorry to Momma. She turned around to face Momma, who was now sitting on her bed. She patted the space next to her, and Slick obliged, climbing into bed next to Momma. She leaned her head against Momma's shoulder, and both trains let out a sigh at the same time. They glanced at each other, and in any other situation, Slick was sure Momma would comment on how similar they were. This was something more serious, though, with no time for jokes or comments like that.

"Momma..." Slick started, and once again, the words were gone. She closed her eyes, refocused her attention, and opened them again. "I'm sorry." She admitted, and like magic, the weight pressing on her chest was alleviated. Not completely, but that was what she needed. A foot in the door. "For everything, I mean. Crashing Rusty, and- and working with Greaseball and Electra, and everything I've said about steam engines- I guess for being a lousy daughter recently, in general. Yeah."

And for a moment, a terrifying, long moment, Momma was silent. Then, the moment was over, and Momma was smiling. "I forgive you, darling."

Slick lifted her head from Momma's shoulder, taking some more space to really get a good look at Momma. "Why?"

Momma sat up a bit more and narrowed her eyebrows at her daughter. Funny, Slick had seen the same expression from each of her brothers every time they accepted her apology. “Why wouldn’t I?” She countered. “I can’t say I wasn’t disappointed in you, Slick, but based on the past few weeks, I’d say you’re learning.” The old steamer took Slick’s hands gently, as if she were afraid the oil tanker might fall apart again. “Look at you. You’re opening up, love. That’s the best improvement you could have.”

“You’re not mad?”

“No,” Momma confirmed. “No, not mad. Scared, yes, because you were hurt, but not mad. I’m proud of you for the progress you’ve made. And I know you would’ve done it without crashing, before you say anything.” The argument Slick had prepared was shut down before it could even be brought up. “I saw it before. One moment, you’d be teasing Hydra or taunting Rusty with the diesels, and the next, you’d be cuddling up close with them on the couch, or patting Lumber’s shoulder and making Porter rest his knee. You think you’re all bad, but the opposite, Slick. The opposite. You’re good, you’ve just made mistakes.” Momma paused, thinking, or maybe letting the words set in. “I have, too."

"Momma-" Slick interrupted, because she couldn't do this. Not here, not now, not while she still felt so guilty for what happened.

"Let me finish, please." Momma all but begged, pleading with her daughter. She had to do this because watching Slick suffer was torture, and Momma didn't think her heart could handle it anymore. "I'm sorry, Slick. I didn't- I don't want you to feel unwanted just because you carry oil. It's important to you, like how steam is important to Rusty and me. I was wrong." She held Slick's face with one hand, rubbing her thumb across the warped metal. Momma's eyes pricked with tears, but she didn't dare blink. "You're wanted here. I need you to know that- to know how much I love you."

Slick bit her bottom lip, pushing back tears of her own. Crying never stopped being exhausting. Years of self-hatred and jealousy and roughing around to prove she deserved to be there crumbled like the castle of hardened resolve she'd built. Slowly, her conversations with Rusty, Hydra, Lumber, and Porter all chipped away at the foundation, and here Momma was with a hammer, ready to send it crumbling to the ground.

"There is nothing you could do to make me hate you, Slick," Momma said, tears spilling down her face and onto the bed. "You're my daughter. Nothing will ever change that."

Slick didn't need to say anything more. She just needed to hug Momma, and the gravitational pull that she'd been fighting in her rebellion won past her resolve. She collapsed into Momma's arms, struggling against her own sobs while she felt Momma cry with her. She wasn't sure when she'd started hating Momma, or even convincing herself that Momma hated her, but not for the first time, she was the child inside of her that was taken into a home of kindness.

A light knock on the door interrupted the embrace, and Slick pulled away, wiping her eyes. She opened the door, and Rusty was there. He beamed when he saw Slick and Momma in the same room, rolling back and forth on his wheels.

"Thank Starlight! Now will you stop moping?"

"I'll mope whenever I want, Rusty." Slick crossed her arms, but smirked despite herself.

Her brother rolled his eyes, swatting her arm. "Oh, can it, tanker. Someone's at the door for you."

Slick raised an eyebrow at him. "Who?"

Rusty shrugged, but his smirk told her everything she needed to know. She heard his howling laughter as she sped off to the bathroom, and she made a note to bicker with him later about it. Slick checked her appearance in the mirror, wiped the makeup from under her eyes, and put some eyeliner on. She still looked like a bit of a mess, but less of a trainwreck- no pun intended. She fixed her clothes up a bit more, swiped some oil from her hair, and made her way to the door.

When she opened it, her suspicions were proven true- Joule was there. Slick leaned against the doorframe, trying to appear nonchalant.

Joule snickered at her. "'We only have one planet'?" she read, and Slick realized that she was wearing pajamas. More specifically, Hydra's shirt. She crossed her arms to cover it, but the damage was done. Joule had delved into full-blown laughter at her reaction, and Slick couldn't help but join in.

"It's Hydra's!" She defended through her giggles.

"It's so bad!" Joule shot back, her laughter dying down. "I'm glad to see you're doing better."

“Thanks. I- uh- I took your suggestion.” Slick gestured to her scar, and Joule’s smirk grew.

“I noticed. I like it a lot.”

“Thanks.” She adjusted her headphones, which were situated around her neck.

“I had a question for you. I don’t know if you remember, but I couldn’t really ask a few weeks ago.” Joule started, not looking nearly as nervous as Slick was starting to feel. Her bravado was pretty much gone from all the mushy conversations she’d been having, but being around Joule made it worse. She felt like she couldn’t lie to the dynamite trick. “Looks like Electra's pretty serious about staying here, for whatever reason, so I need someone to show me around. Might you be available?"

"Like, on a date?" Slick asked, her eyes going wide.

"Sure. A date."

"I'd love to." She said immediately. "Next week work for you?"

Joule simply shrugged. "I'll show up whenever. I know when you work, anyway."


Slick supposed any regular train would find that creepy, but she didn't feel like any regular train. It was kind of cute, if she was being honest. "Cool. I'll see you then, firecracker." As soon as the nickname left her lips, Slick felt her face grow warm, and before Joule could reply, she closed the door and leaned her back against it. Hydra was in front of her now, because of course, he'd be the one to witness her embaress herself

"Smooth." He snickered, and Slick hit his arm gently as she passed by him, too embarrassed to add any bite to it.

~~

"Did you ask her?" Electra questioned Joule, leaning back in their chair.

"About the date? Yeah."

Electra facepalmed, and Killerwatt groaned beside them.

Joule took a moment, realized she'd forgotten why she was sent to talk to Slick. "Shit!"