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Greaseball groaned, tossing and turning in his bed with a banging headache. He had been practically shed ridden for two days after the collision in the final race with the Red Caboose and Electra, and his head had been spinning ever since. He was hot and bothered and wanted nothing more than to be left alone in peace to sleep for days on end. Of course that was unrealistic and Greaseball exhaled at the irony of his door creaking slightly in that very moment.
Greaseball’s eye cracked open, his hand resting on his forehead, oiled with beads of sweat. He anticipated who might’ve been behind the door, mind racing with how he should appear to whoever it is. He should be training, working - anything to keep his champion status for the ones that admire him.
Unfortunately, before he could rip the damp cloth off of his forehead, Dinah poked her head through the gap with a concerned look, presumably to check if he was awake. Which unfortunately, now he very much was.
Greaseball relaxed realising it was just her, he lay back sinking into the nest of pillows he had put together in the midst of rolling back and forth uncomfortably. Dinah’s upturned brows softened and her typical nurturing smile returned when she noticed he was awake. She entered the room fully and rolled her way over to Greaseball’s bed. He attempted to sit up to make an effort to look slightly less washed up but weak arms betrayed him and he groaned in pain, slumping back into the mattress. Dinah rushed to his side, bending down to talk to him in a hushed voice as if he were a small, frightened animal.
“Oh Greaseball, poor baby don’t you move a muscle,”
she gently placed a hand on his chest, the other on his forehead testing his temperature,
“you’re burning up - let me get you some supplies, I won’t be long! Stay put darling!”
Dinah sped out, leaving the door ajar behind her. She was far too spontaneous and speedy for Greaseball right now, thats why they got along so well but when he’s ill, he’s the complete opposite of regular Greaseball. And Baby? That was new… and darling was Greaseball’s thing. He processed gradually, trying not to think too much about it. It’s not like it made him feel bad in any way, quite the opposite actually and now the heat in his face seemed a lot more intense. His brain felt overworked with all the thoughts and feelings that were new to him. Stupid fever making him feel small and pathetic.
Greaseball exhaled, wheezing out a cough. He let his eyes flutter shut, he’d rest them for a little bit whilst he waited for Dinah to return and look after him. Not that he needed to be cared for. Although he had to admit it was nice to not be doing all the heavy work for once. All this thinking with his eyes closed had made him unknowingly pass out for a few minutes. He was only aware after startling awake to a freezing cold cloth being placed on his forehead. He jolted up right, groaning in pain, Dinah shushing him as she caressed his cheek with a soft hand.
“Relax baby, it’s just me, I just wanted to see if you were hungry?”
She removed her hand once Greaseball had settled back down. He looked at her longingly, confused as to why she was being so caring. She always had been caring but this time was just different somehow. Greaseball’s head was whirring, his stomach conveniently empty.
“I… am a little actually yeah. D’you got some dinner for me darlin’?”
He smiled at her weakly. She giggled, turning around to reveal some soup that she had whipped up while he was napping.
“I hope you ordered soup!”
Dinah stirred the bowl a few times, lifting a spoonful and blowing on it before placing the bowl back down and holding a hand underneath Greaseball’s chin for coverage of any soup spillage. He frowned at her lightly.
“Don’t need you to feed me Dinah, I can do it myself.”
He reached for the spoon, only for his arm to begin to shake and his head to go light again. He huffed. Defeated by the fever once again, he pouted and crossed his arms loosely.
“Can you now? Don’t be silly Greaseball, let me take care of you, now open wide~”
Greaseball frowned and pouted more intensely. The heat from his cheeks felt like it was going to melt through his skin.
“Dinah, I’m no-“
As soon as Greaseball had opened his mouth to retaliate, Dinah took it as an opportunity and stuck the spoon in between his smudged, gold and almost rustic looking lips. His teeth clamped down around the spoon on instinct and he begrudgingly swallowed the soup, too exhausted to fight with her.
“Good boy! That wasn’t so hard now was it?”
Good boy?? This HAD to be some kind of fever dream, the two had only recently got back together after the finals and even before the split, Dinah would only ever call him ‘my love’ and ‘dear’ and variations of his name. She was purposefully using sappy petnames just so he would melt into her arms and let himself be coddled for once.
To be honest, he didn’t mind it at all. In fact, he’d discovered something new about himself. Greaseball, the big, strong, macho champion of the Starlight Express, who never backed down from a fight, never took shit from anyone, THE Greaseball who forced a skinny freight train to run a newbie off the track just so he would win the race, actually enjoyed being vulnerable and dare he say, submissive, in his girlfriend’s presence? He was embarrassed and knew for sure that NOBODY was going to ever have this knowledge but him and Dinah. What would people think? The mighty diesel engine isn’t actually a player? Or a home wrecker? Or a rude, assertive lover? He’s emotional, and likes being babied by the dining coach. They’d think him lower than the steam train. Greaseball would shudder at the thought if he hadn’t passed out asleep again.
Dinah kissed him on the forehead, wiping the tiny dribble of soup that hadn’t been swallowed off his chin as she whispered sweetly: “You get your rest my poor baby, I’ll be here the whole time for you.”
He smiled ever so slightly as she gave him one final kiss and left the room, closing the door gently. Maybe he should schedule another crash with Electra when he’s recovered if this is how he’s treated when sick.