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Storms were common in the plains back home. Dusty was used to being grounded in the warmer season while torrential downpours thrashed the fields outside. The thunderheads would pass eventually and everyone would come back out of wherever they’d taken shelter and carry on with business as usual. The summer storm season was just part of life in Propwash Junction and he had never had a problem with the weather before, aside from mild annoyance when it ruined his plans to train for the racing season.
Piston Peak, however, was a whole different beast in its entirety. The mountains around the park whipped the clouds into fierce, towering storms darker than soot. Blade had warned Dusty about the wind shear the summer storms brought, recounting a particularly bad season for the park where said phenomena had knocked no less than five other aircraft from the skies. “One of ‘em never flew again,” Maru had added, unhelpfully. Dusty had just nodded uncertainly, stomping down his nerves in the moment; he didn’t sleep a wink that night. Torrential downpours would drench the whole park in mere moments, bringing with them lightning that lit up everything broad as daylight and thunder that rumbled so deeply Dusty could feel it in his landing gear. Regardless, he did the best he could to hide his discomfort from the rest of the Air Attack team; he could tough it out long enough to get his certification.
---
He could not, in fact, tough it out.
The first week had passed by with clear skies and barely a breeze, but things had quickly changed Saturday evening. The distinct scent of rain hung in the air already as the team gathered in the main hangar to debrief the day’s work. Dusty settled between Cabbie and the Smokejumpers, the latter group whispering amongst themselves as the rest of the team filtered in. Blade stood parked at the front of the hangar, already launching into the meeting as soon as Windlifter had quietly found a place beside Dipper and Maru.
“This dry spell has the park on an increased fire warning for the time being. Campfires are still permitted in specific sites, per Cad’s insistence,” Blade reminded his team, clearly suppressing annoyance at the mention of his boss. “However, we need to stay sharp and be extra vigilant about off-trail activity. The brush is dry and with that storm coming in, the lightning…”
Dusty stiffened slightly at the mention of the weather, suddenly hyper aware of the distant rumbling outside. The patter of the first raindrops on the hangar’s roof hadn’t escaped his notice either as a steady drum began to fill the air between the team’s meeting. A quick glance through the hangar’s windows confirmed the storm was closing in and only getting worse. The Air Tractor jumped slightly when lightning flashed overhead, but quickly regained himself and hoped no one else had noticed. Cabbie glanced briefly in his direction, though Dusty missed the older aircraft’s quizzical look.
“That’s all for today. Good work out there, team. Patch, Dipper, and I will take the night watch for spot fires,” Blade concluded with a nod to each respective vehicle. “The rest of you can go get some shut eye to ride out this storm.” A chorus of voices said their goodbyes, thanked the ranger, and started to disperse. The Smokejumpers practically raced off to their place, Avalanche shouting after his comrades about the new ramps he was totally going to build with the mud and Dynamite swiftly vetoing that course of action. Windlifter gave a calm nod to the watch team before making his way towards his own hangar. Dusty hesitated as thunder rolled overhead; he could swear he could feel the static in the air.
“Storm’s only gonna get worse the later it gets.” Cabbie’s voice dragged Dusty’s attention back to reality and the smaller plane looked up at his teammate. Cabbie tipped his wing slightly as if to gesture Dusty onwards. “Better get back to your hangar fast,” he added as he rolled past.
Dusty gave a half-hearted nod. “Oh! Right. Yeah, uh- right,” he replied, hurrying to follow the larger aircraft. He blinked water away as the storm immediately drenched him the second he rolled out behind Cabbie. “Uh, well- goodnight, Cabbie,” he chirped nervously. Cabbie gave a simple nod in return. Dusty shook himself, fruitlessly, and hurried towards his hangar across the airfield.
Lightning flashed overhead, startling the orange plane into a half-skid as he neared the hangar. For a split second, Dusty did panic, but quickly scrambled back to normal and ducked into the building. With the doors closed behind him, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He shook himself off, though water still dripped from his wings for another few moments. Thunder crashed outside, shuddering the building’s walls around him. Dusty flinched and shook himself again. “Get ahold of yourself, Crophopper. You flew around the world, across oceans, through a railroad tunnel-“ Through a typhoon. He frowned at his airframe’s reaction to the memory; the way his gear felt unsteady wasn’t lost on him. He took a breath and sighed. “It’s not like that time. You’re fine, Dusty,” he muttered to himself, though he wasn’t doing a very good job of convincing himself. With the storm whirling outside, he settled in as best he could and tried to sleep for the night.
---
Cabbie didn’t mind a good storm. The noise of the rain on his hangar’s roof drowned out the Smokejumpers’ usual antics next door and it gave him time to catch up on reading or his radio shows. This evening, he’d decided on the former and was currently quite content with the newest chapter. Lightning outside caused a momentarily flicker of the lights, which prompted a scowl from the old military plane. He huffed lightly when the lights settled again, before returning to his reading. He glanced at the clock on the wall; ten had come and gone already. Cabbie squinted at his book a moment. Sure, he had time to finish this chapter before sleeping. He settled back on his landing gear and made himself comfortable, listening to thunder rumble on overhead.
---
Dusty’s already fitful sleep was violently wrenched away from him as a bolt of lightning struck the runway just outside. He jumped and scrambled onto his gear, stumbling into a small stack of oil cans off to the side. Thunder rattled the hangar around him, loud enough that he was sure he could feel it in his engine. His whole airframe shook as he scrambled back away from the windows. Not good! It’s just like- Dusty yelped as thunder rocked the building again. Everything was too loud, too much. He struggled to get his breathing back under control, but every fiber of his being screamed at him to move. He paced around in circles, trying desperately to keep himself together. “Come on, Dusty, you’re fine. It’s just weather, you’re used to thunderst-“ Another bolt struck just behind his hangar, severely startling the Air Tractor once more. Whatever logic he’d tried to hold onto flew out the window as panic seized his whole frame.
Dusty suddenly darted for the hangar doors and out into the storm. Maybe some part of him thought he could outrun the storm or something, he could think about that later. His wheels skidded through the mud puddles the storm had scattered across the airfield, but he scrambled towards the only point of light in the base he could still make out. Something in his head insisted he needed to be there instead of his rattling, dark hangar. The rain nearly blinded him as he scrabbled to a halt just under the awning outside. He shook himself off, though it did little to dispel the torrential rain that soaked him through. Another noise cut through the storm’s fury.
“Kid? What in the world are you doing out here?” Cabbie’s voice made the already on-edge Air Tractor flinch. Dusty stammered and tried to reply, but the older plane didn’t give him the chance. “Get in here before you catch your death!” Cabbie all but ordered the smaller plane, who definitely didn’t need to be told twice. Dusty rolled into the larger hangar and shook himself again as Cabbie closed the door behind them.
“Why were you out in this stuff, kid? You’re sure not on fire watch,” the C-119 inquired again. “And the wind gusts would flip you on your canopy before you could say ‘Piston Peak’!”
Dusty avoided eye contact and tipped a wing to one side in a sort of shrug. “Oh, I, uhh… I thought you’d… like some company?” the orange plane fumbled. Even he didn’t believe himself.
Cabbie clearly didn’t either, but decided not to argue. “As long as you keep it down, you can stay,” he offered, turning back to his novel. He pretended not to notice Dusty sag with relief.
“Right! Of course, thanks, Cabbie! I promise I won’t stay for long, just-“
“Storm’s not supposed to let up til morning. It’s safer for you to stay until then,” Cabbie pointed out, barely looking up from his book.
Dusty blinked in thought for a moment. “Oh.” He offered a small smile in return. “Thanks, again,” he replied quietly. The two fell silent as Cabbie returned to his book and Dusty tried to pretend the storm wasn’t winding him up like a bad spring. A few moments passed, with thunder still rolling overhead and rain pelting the hangar roof. Dusty’s wings twitched in discomfort when another crack of lighting lit up the room; this didn’t escape his companion’s notice.
“Dusty.”
The call of his name dragged the little plane out of his own head. “Huh?” came the distracted reply. Cabbie set his book aside to fix Dusty with a look that Dusty couldn’t quite read.
“You’re afraid of the storm, aren’t you?” Cabbie asked calmly. He didn’t need verbal confirmation, having been around more than his fair share of aircraft with weather anxiety in his time in the military. Military vehicles tended to be much better at hiding it than most; Dusty may as well have been an open book.
“Wha- no, don’t be ridiculous! Of course, I’m not- I’m fine, the storm is…” Dusty stammered, fumbling for a moment. “It’s fine.” Cabbie was most certainly not buying it, which he conveyed to the smaller plane with an unamused look.
“You’ve been shaking since you got in here, you keep looking out the windows, and you keep flexing your wing surfaces like you’re at the starting line at one of your races,” Cabbie replied simply. “I know a nervous aircraft when I see one.”
Dusty practically deflated, hunching down on his landing gear slightly. “I, uh…” He trailed off and sighed. “Yeah, alright. You got me.”
“That crash in the ‘Around the World’ thing?” Cabbie asked.
“The Wings Around the Globe Rally,” Dusty corrected a little too quickly. He cringed at himself. “And, yeah. It’s… not exactly a fond memory,” he added, glancing at the floor. “I thought you didn’t follow air sports?”
Cabbie rolled his eyes. “Dipper makes it impossible to be completely unaware. And plus, it’s not every day a crop duster-turned-air racer flies through a Cat 5 typhoon. Makes for one hell of a news story,” he explained. Dusty shifted uncomfortably, digging one landing gear into the floor.
“It’s usually not this bad, you know. But sometimes it just feels like…” the little plane trailed off, looking anywhere but at Cabbie.
“Like you’re back there again,” the C-119 offered. Dusty just nodded, a sad look on his face as he stared at the ground. Cabbie’s expression softened slightly and he sighed. “Come here, kid.” Dusty squeaked in surprise as Cabbie settled closer beside him, the larger aircraft’s wing drawing him close to his side.
“Cabbie, what are you-“ “Dusty.” Dusty’s protests died like a bad radio signal and he shrank under the other’s form. He finally noticed he’d stopped shivering at least. He hesitantly met Cabbie’s gaze.
“You know, if there’s one thing the military and being on this team have taught me, it’s to rely on others,” Cabbie explained as thunder rolled overhead. “That goes for outside of missions too. You don’t need to deal with this or anything else alone,” he added gently.
Dusty tentatively nodded, though still felt a bit pathetic. “Thanks, Cabbie. But what sort of firefighter or world air racing champion is afraid of a storm?” he replied with a huff. A rumble of laughter shook Cabbie’s frame beside him.
“One with some common sense,” the older plane replied. “Even the guys that chase hurricanes down south have a healthy fear of a bad storm, because even the best pilots can make a mistake. You’re not any less because of it.” Cabbie smiled as his companion inched closer. He was used to being a source of comfort to the Smokejumpers; what was one more vehicle, really? Dusty seemed to be calming down in his presence, even half-stifling a yawn. Cabbie hummed and glanced at the clock.
“It’s getting late. I’m going to finish my reading before bed,” he said as he retrieved his book. “Make yourself comfortable and try to get some shut eye before the sun’s up, Dusty.” The smaller plane didn’t need to be told twice, having already started to nod off while Cabbie distracted him from the storm outside. Dusty settled down and Cabbie had barely gotten through more than a few pages before he noticed the orange plane leaning against his side, fast asleep under his wing.
Cabbie smiled to himself, set his novel aside, and switched off the light. Outside, the rain steadily drummed on across Piston Peak.