Work Text:
Ruhrgold only got the news that Rusty had won the championship by proxy of Wrench and Belle, the old sleeper car, informing him, not being present to witness the event himself. No, he was holed up in the repair shed, recovering from the damage Greaseball had inflicted on him during what was supposed to be the final race. That raging diesel had hit him so hard his arm actually fell off. He shifted uncomfortably, frowning at his left arm slung up against his chest.
He was proud of himself for having made it this far, even with the rumors floating about that the reigning champion didn’t play fair. He didn’t want to believe them, truly. But when certain finalists started getting crashed and damaged left and right, he knew that these weren’t merely rumors. Greaseball would do anything to ensure his title was secured. Including resorting to brutish violence on the tracks.
As soon as the news had spread that Rusty, the steam shunter with less than half a chance to begin with, actually claimed the victory – Ruhrgold could only think, good. Fuck that egotistical diesel engine. He doesn’t deserve the title.
Of course, there was a part of him that mourned it wasn’t him who’d been victorious. He’d been so close, after all. But he knew that if he didn’t heed his racing partner’s cries to swerve out of the way, Greaseball would have done far more substantial damage to him. He was glad it was just his arm.
He had to hand it to said racing partner, Carrie. She was looking out for him at every turn, her words of encouragement still echoing in his mind.
Most coaches randomly paired up with engines, excited for a fun race around the tracks, not really caring whether the engines they were coupled to won or not. But Carrie did care, she wanted to help him win.
It was…nice.
He started to mourn less about not winning and more about not giving Carrie the thanks she deserved. Perhaps everyone got way too in their own heads about winning this damn thing. He assumed he wouldn’t get the chance to even see her again, knowing there usually wasn’t much time before the nationals were to return to their home countries.
Whatever God existed – the Starlight Express itself, perhaps - must have taken pity on him in that moment, because the luggage van walked through the front doors of the repair shed, eagerly rolling over to where Ruhr was lying incapacitated.
“There you are!” She exclaimed. Concern laced her words, her eyes fraught with worry. “Damn, he really got ya good, huh?”
Ruhrgold almost didn’t know how to respond, surprised to see her here so quickly. Wasn’t there meant to be a victory lap for the winner? An afterparty?
“Greaseball? Yeah, yeah he did.” Is what he finally settled on.
Never mind that he wanted to mention that he could have been completely unconscious, comatose, had she not warned him that the diesel was headed straight for him with a railing in hand, ready to swing.
“I- Carrie-“
“Shhh. Don’t exert yourself. I just wanted to check up on you. I’m really glad you’re okay.” Her gentle voice had whatever thoughts that where swimming inside his head disappear. Replaced by the warmth of her voice, the deep emerald of her eyes.
Ruhr didn’t say anything in response.
Without thinking, he reached his uninjured arm to caress her cheek lightly, taking in her expression. Her eyes softened at the contact, tears welling up softly. He rubbed his thumb across her freckles, offering her a smile.
“Well, then!” She pulled away abruptly, the I.C.E. frowning at the sudden loss of contact. Anxiety seized him at the thought that she didn’t see him as more than a racing partner.
A blush crawled across her face that had him hoping otherwise.
She clumsily pulled out a few polaroid photos alongside her phone, fumbling for words. “I uh. I actually wanted to show you something I thought might cheer you up. You mentioned a few days ago at the first race that you like cats?”
Ruhr remembered the conversation very clearly. “I do, yes.”
Carrie grinned brightly, handing him the first photograph. “I didn’t get to show you earlier since we got called for the race, but. This is my cat.”
Ruhrgold was faced with an image of Carrie holding a slim and striped orange cat with a gold bell affixed to his collar. The cat looked so full of life, like he was smiling along with Carrie in the photo.
The engine beamed. “What a handsome fellow!”
“You could tell he’s a boy cat?”
“Oh, yes. It’s fairly simple once you know what to look for.”
Carrie shook her head and giggled. “You’re sillier than I first thought.”
Ruhr only smiled up at her. “I most often don’t get to show off that side of me...” He paused, letting the thought trail off as Carrie handed him the next photo, this time of just the cat. He was perched on top of a toy train set, a look of satisfaction apparent on his face.
“What’s his name?” He asked suddenly.
“I don’t know his real name. But I call him Oliver.” Carrie responded matter-of-factly.
Ruhr gave her a strange look, cocking his head to the side with a raised eyebrow. “His real name? However do you mean?”
“I can’t explain how I know, but he definitely goes by another name. Kinda like how the passengers don’t know my name is Carrie, I suppose.”
Ruhr was desperately trying to wrap his head around what the luggage van was saying, but regardless of whether he understood or not, he knew she meant what she said.
That was the thing about her, she was always straightforward. True to herself. Honest and…so, so beautiful.
She might have caught him staring for a little too long, a blush finding its way onto her freckled cheeks as she averted her eyes.
She covered her mouth. “So…”
Ruhrgold didn’t let her finish the thought, taking hold of her chin and turning her head back to face him once more.
“I’m…not particularly good at this. But, if you don’t mind…hmm!”
It was Carrie’s turn to cut him off, punctuating the awkward sentence with a kiss. It was soft at first, the warmth of her skin filling his stomach with butterflies and his chest with a radiating comfort.
He pulled her in gently to deepen the kiss, if only for a moment, before pulling away. He was nothing if not cautious, especially with something he didn’t find himself doing very often.
He was almost tempted to apologize, but the fondness from her half lidded eyes had him stunned speechless.
Speechless, except for a few incoherent babbles here and there. Totalllyyyyy made him look cool.
Carrie chuckled warmly and pressed her forehead against his. “I’ve been waiting for that.” She murmured.
“Yeah?” He felt almost stupid not to have realized that she was interested too. “Good to know. We can do it again whenever you like.”
She leaned back and kissed his forehead this time. “Maybe when you’re all healed up, big guy. I did still have more pictures I wanted to show ya.”
They laughed together as Carrie sat down beside him, opening the folder on her phone to more pictures of Oliver.
“Whatever you say, mein Schatz.”