Pebs Writes - Blog Posts

Another from my requests thank you anon!!! Feeling a bit burnt out so trying to ease myself back into writing again, I hope this is okay for you!!!

✨ Have a request? Send me an ask and I’ll write you a Drabble!✨

“Doll, I think I’m dying.”

Greaseball has been in recovery for maybe a day, and Dinah doesn’t think she’s ever seen someone be quite so dramatic about a few blown valves.

Unsurprisingly, this isn’t even the first time Greaseball has been hurt in such a way; if she doesn’t blow something, break a coupler, or misalign a wheel after a particularly intense race it’s a miracle, and without a doubt she will complain. Today, she’s propped up in her bunk, breath rattling through new, too-clean pipes following her chest having taken the brunt of a head on collision with another engine and having to have most of her ventilation system replaced.

It’s not that Dinah doesn’t enjoy waiting on her hand and wheel, it’s just that, well, Greaseball isn’t the best patient; she knows she can’t really take care of herself, but the last thing she wants to do is show physical weakness, so just spends her time being miserable.

“I’m sure you’re not, sugar,” Dinah repeats for what is maybe the fourth time in the past half an hour, “didn’t the repair truck fix you up good and proper?”

“I don’t think they did a very good job,” Greaseball mutters, crossing her arms over her chest with a hiss before unfolding them again, “this sucks, everything hurts-“

“The mechanics said it would hurt for a bit, remember?” Dinah says with a sigh, unable to help the creeping smile across her face, “just whilst the connecting points ease, yeah?”

“I know,” Greaseball grumbles, frown deeply set on her face, and holds her hand out to take Dinah’s as Dinah perches on the edge of the bunk, “‘just sucks, I can’t even go and train like this, if I fuck up a leg I can at least still do arms, but I can’t even-“

As if to demonstrate, she attempts weakly to raise her arms above her shoulders, and the creaking of fresh joints cracks through the silence of the shed like an earthquake. After a second her arms collapse again into her lap and she lets out a groan of frustration, chest heaving slightly as the new fixings settle.

“See?”

Admittedly, it doesn’t sound good at all; Dinah’s seen and heard her share of Greaseball’s injuries, and this is definitely one of the worse ones judging by the crunch of metal upon metal that screeches as she shifts. Dinah knows it hurts - damage that severe would hurt any member of the rolling stock, not just an engine - but bless, Greaseball has such a way of letting the world know.

“I see,” Dinah confirms gently, and wraps her hands delicately around Greaseball’s, as if squeezing too hard could shatter her, “it’ll pass soon, honey, I promise.”

The resounding whine of impatience from Greaseball is both expected and painful, and Dinah can but smile supportively as Greaseball slips down the bed. Like this, she looks so small, not like the big, tough image of a champion engine she presents usually, and if Dinah wasn’t afraid of hurting her further she would happily scoop Greaseball up into her arms; her old yardmaster used to say that everything was easier with a warm pair of arms around you, but the last thing she wanted to do was make it worse.

Then Greaseball looks up at her through her long lashes, dark circles from exhaustion sickly in the poor lighting, and Dinah’s resolve threatens to break just that little bit more-

“Can- uh, doll, can I-?” Greaseball stutters, eyes darting away as a dandelion flush settles on pallid cheeks, “could you like, I dunno, hold me?”

How is she meant to say no?

Without saying anything, she kicks off her wheels and wiggles out of her skirt, Greaseball weakly throwing back the corner of the duvet for Dinah to clamber in next to her. Almost immediately she crumples against Dinah’s side, eyebrows furrowed and mouth fixed in a deep pout, but as Dinah wraps her arms gently around her shoulders she exhales deeply, features easing just the slightest bit.

“I’ve got you, sugar,” Dinah whispers gently, and presses a kiss into the crown of Greaseball’s head, “you don’t have to be tough if you don’t want to.”

The responding mutter from Greaseball is inaudible, but the way she relaxes into Dinah’s arms tells her all she needs to know.