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“You know, your engine purrs.” Dinah says in a soft voice, barely above a whisper.
Greaseball tenses, Dinah can tell she’s embarrassed.
“W-what? No it doesn’t!” Her face is flushed as she says that, her voice cracking.
With a hum, Dinah smiles and starts stroking one of Greaseball’s biceps. “Yes it does, love,” she now intermittently squeezes at Greaseball gently, feeling the diesel slowly lose the tension. “It’s… Comforting, when it happens.”
“…Really?” She’s quieter now when she says this, almost even shy. Dinah nods, but then remembers that the diesel cannot see the motion from behind her.
“Yes. I noticed it happens most often when we’re alone,” Dinah hesitates before continuing her thought out loud, as she does not want to pry into Greaseball’s head and make her uncomfortable, but she cannot help herself, she wants to understand Greaseball more. “Like you can truly relax and turn down your guard, w-with me, and your body doesn’t try to hide it. It tells me that you trust me.”
Dinah thinks back to when she first noticed this trait.
It was about two months after they officially became girlfriends. Greaseball popped into the coach shed after a long shift, exhausted and with her engine grumbling despondently. Dinah was the only one home at the moment, the other coaches still out on the passenger line. Greaseball said a quick greeting to the dining car before throwing herself on the couch next to her. Not needing further word, Dinah automatically brought her hands to the back of Greaseball's neck and gently began to massage her shoulder and neck muscles.
Greaseball had let out a deep sigh and closed her eyes, immediately leaning closer towards the dining car.
“Oh, Greaseball, you’re all tense and stiff. Was today rough?” Dinah said, adjusting herself so that Greaseball was leaned against her while each of Dinah’s legs were on the side of her. Still not saying a word, the engine nodded, feeling her muscles relaxing, all the tension and knots within melting away. Dinah’s eyes softened, and she kept at her massaging, at some point taking her hands to the diesel’s shoulder plating to loosen them and take them off with a gentle snap, and moved to squeeze the parts previously hidden beneath the plating. Dinah could feel Greaseball’s body melt against her frame, her face losing the grimace she had come into the shed with.
“Yeah, some other engine went too fast and derailed himself, taking out half of his freight line! Can you believe that?” Greaseball threw her hands up with an incredulous look, but then cleared her throat when she looked back and caught Dinah’s eye, who had a look. “He’s okay of course.” She added sheepishly.
“Anyway, no one else from his yard was available nearby, and I was done with our freight route for the day, so they radioed me asking if I could pick up the remaining trains he was pulling.” Dinah could feel Greaseball’s shoulders begin to tense again from her retelling of the story.
“Greaseball love, don’t work yourself all up again,” she giggled at the end, keeping the tone light, just in case the diesel gets defensive. Greaseball sucked in a breath and held it before letting it go. “I’m not Doll, I’m not, don’t worry,” she said, and crossed her arms while a small puff of thick, gray, exhaust came from her engine.
Yeah, sure you weren’t, Dinah thought, and held back another giggle at the borderline pouting of the engine sitting between her legs. She finished her massaging, and wrapped her arms around the engine to hold her from behind and pull her closer.
“Was that all, dear? Or did the freights you had to pull give you extra trouble?”
Greaseball hummed, then shifted her body to lower herself. She turned so she was now on her stomach to lay on Dinah face first, and wrapped her arms around the coach. “Just normal freight stuff, extra trouble because they didn’t know me and tried to get under my plating,” the diesel ended her statement with nuzzling her face into the area near the coach’s stomach hatch.
Dinah looked down at her, and took this as an end point for the conversation. She could tell the diesel was tired, and did not want to continue talking about her shift from today. Dinah wanted to give her that, the grace of being able to relax and not think about it further. Though, she could feel the engine was not fully relaxed yet, as tension remained in her body. She took a hand, brought it to the top of Greaseball’s head, and gently began to stroke the yellow and black mane of her hair. Greaseball let out a deep sigh, and snuggled further into the coach. She smiled down at her, and continued the soft, slow petting motion. Greaseball shifted even closer.
“My beautiful engine, you work so hard,” she felt Greaseball’s breathing deepen, and knew that meant what she said was working to help Greaseball lose all tension within her frame. What Dinah said isn’t wrong either - Greaseball is worked harder than the other diesels at their yard. While Green Arrow or Golden Eagle may boast about their work, given they commonly took the evening shifts, Control’s father would always go to Greaseball first for last minute tasks, or long journeys, and when news of any interesting races come up, Greaseball is the first engine he informed.
And Greaseball, being her prideful self, who always wants her boasting statements to have actions backing her claims rather than just her words, always accepted. Even if she had to grit her teeth and hide how much she doesn’t want to, she accepted. Thus, it led to these moments, ones where Greaseball comes back to the yard, and if they did not have a practice or warmup planned, either reached out to Dinah through their comms, or let herself into the coach shed unannounced when she knew it would only be Dinah home, exhausted, and allow herself to finally rest.
Greaseball’s engine stopped the grumbling she came in with, and only her breathing could be heard by Dinah as she soothed the engine. The silence that came over them was comfortable, and Dinah looked at Greaseball, to really take her in. The hair she currently stroked, how soft it was, despite how much Greaseball is out and always going fast, going somewhere. Her plating, which bore tiny, tiny scratches here and there, and shined brightly even at night with just the reflection of Greaseball’s own lights illuminated against it. Her wheels, which actually probably will need to be changed soon, Dinah realized as she squinted at them and saw the material worn down at the edges. She didn’t want Greaseball to have a nasty crash, so she would bring that up to her later.
The engine did nothing as the coach continued the absentminded petting, only continued breathing evenly, unaware of the emotions that surged within her system at just simply looking at Greaseball.
“Greaseball, my Greaseball,” she broke the silence in a small voice, speaking only for herself. “I love you so much, you are my most adored thing on this planet, you know?” The question was asked but she did not expect an answer, as Greaseball surely must be asleep now. Her hand stilled and stopped petting, and she continued to admire Greaseball on her.
Arms tightened around her. “...I am?” It’s muffled, as Greaseball was completely dead weight now, and has not moved her position from being nuzzled into the coach.
Dinah swallowed, as she did not realize Greaseball would have heard her.
“Yes, yes, you are,” she said, with no hesitancy or unsureness in her voice. Greaseball finally moved some, to briefly look up and catch Dinah’s eyes, before she settled again and hid her face.
“...Could you keep telling me that?”
There was an unexpected bashfulness in her voice that Dinah was briefly shocked at. She recovered though, and smiled again. “Of course, love. What do you want to hear? How you’re my engine?” Greaseball said nothing, but Dinah saw her nod.
“Or how my engine does such a good job working at the yard?” It was subtle, but Dinah could have swore she felt Greaseball smile against her.
“Or… How she works so, so hard, and gets to come back and see me after a long day?”
A faint rumbling, one that filled Dinah’s system and could be felt all over, began. Dinah, confused, moved a hand lower to touch Greaseball’s engine, and confirmed how her engine was vibrating in conjunction with the rumbling, which meant it indeed originated from Greaseball. Dinah was more confused, as Greaseball is more than content and happy right now, so why was it rumbling? Dinah kept her hand on Greaseball’s engine compartment, and compared it to the rumbling of it when she was out on the rails, or how she came into the shed. She noticed it was lighter, calmer even, which felt strange to use as a description for the champion’s engine.
It then hit her.
Is… is her engine…is Greaseball purring?! Dinah’s system sped up at the thought, and she forced herself to calm down. Getting Greaseball to relax and be so vulnerable with her took work, and Greaseball was easy to startle back into her tough engine persona. If Dinah made it obvious she noticed, and brought attention to it, the evening they are sharing together could be brought to an end in an instant.
Instead, Dinah chose to feign ignorance, pretend nothing changed, and kept petting the engine. Greaseball did not notice the pause of Dinah’s movements while she went through the internal battle, and remained how she was, and her engine continued to produce the steady, low purr. The vibration of her purrs were relaxing to the coach, actually.
Dinah continued whispering and saying sweet nothings to the engine, and took mental note of the fluctuations of her purrs, which showed her what compliments she liked the most. Wanting to test another theory, Dinah carefully traced her fingers upwards, to bring them back to the diesel’s hair. She then moved to the sides of the engine’s head, the sections where the diesel’s mullet was at their shortest, and scratched carefully.
Greaseball sighed, and the purring of her engine increased in speed and intensity.
“This is something I can get used to,” she said, and heard Greaseball murmur in agreement. Dinah laughed to herself, knowing Greaseball did not know what she referred to. She pressed a kiss to the engine’s head, and settled herself deeper down on the couch and closed her eyes.
—
Greaseball grabs the pillow she is laying on to cover her face, and groans into it in embarrassment.
“Dear, there is no need to be embarrassed! I just told you why I love it!” Dinah frets over the engine, and stops rubbing her bicep to wrap her arms around her. Greaseball stops groaning, and moves the pillow away from her face.
“Gah! I know, I know, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling this way,” she begins, and holds the pillow closely. “I just, the other engines I grew up with teased me a lot when it happened, and I thought I stopped doing that.” The engine feels small, despite her large frame, and Dinah holds her tighter. She can tell Greaseball is feeling ashamed, and needs to put a stop to it now before the engine begins to overthink and feel worse.
“Greaseball.”
“What is it, Di?”
Dinah does not immediately reply, and instead brings her hand to Greaseball’s head, and scratches the short, shaved part of the engine’s hair. Almost all at once, Greaseball melts under the coach’s fingers, and faintly, her engine begins purring again. For a second, the engine becomes aware of it, and tries to stop it, before Dinah stops her.
“Greasey, love, it’s okay. I’m not going to judge you. I love you, and every part of you and your system, okay?”
Greaseball is quiet, and Dinah worries it didn’t work to calm her, until the purring gets louder, and Greaseball turns suddenly and buries herself into Dinah’s chest. Now, the rumbling is both felt and heard by Dinah.
“Thank you. And... I love you too.”
Dinah continues her motions, and together with Greaseball, they allow sleep to take over.