Work Text:
CHAPTER 1
C B watched as the other trains celebrated the win of the young steam engine. Rusty was standing high up on a podium, trophy in hand, a bright smile across his face as he looked around at the trains around him.
The engine had a dark brown frame covered in orange rust and warm hazel eyes peering around the crowd from a smiling freckled face. His legs were braced, but he still stood proud and defiant. He looked around at the trains beneath him with no signs of hate or that oh so familiar to CB look of feeling better than anyone else that Greaseball often had when he stood on that podium. There was nothing but a humble pride and joy on his smiling face.
The trains all cheered and blared their horns in congratulations, even though just minutes before they had been trying to cause his downfall. All the trains had even debated on letting Rusty race in the first place. All of them thought he would lose, wanted him to lose, wanted his rusted body to catch up to him. Even Electra and Greaseball, the trains who worked so very hard to prevent Rusty from winning, stood cheering and chanting his name. It was an odd sight that the caboose didn’t understand.
CB stood a bit away, fiddling with his thumbs, a million thoughts running through his head. And no matter how hard he tried to clear it, the thoughts just kept flowing through like oil from the can. It was overwhelming for the red caboose, and the noise from the crowd wasn’t helping.
His brain whirled and gears spun as he tried to comprehend all this. Greaseball had LOST, and that meant that CB had failed. He was a failure. A nobody. A no good chunk of wood who was yet again useless. It was taking everything in his power not to cry, CB never cried, at least not in front of anyone.
Ever since he started working for Greaseball he was told he should never show any kind of emotion to anyone, stay strong and don’t let anything get to him. So he was always all smiles and fun, and even when a train crashed right before his eyes, he remained with that cold smile. It was a chilling reminder that he would get away with it, though he felt awful for all of it, but there wasn’t much he could do. Turning away from Greaseball would mean he wouldn’t be of worth anymore. No one used cabooses anymore, most trains could break by themselves, so CB was obsolete. His work for Greaseball was the only thing that kept him feeling… wanted.
After standing there for a couple minutes, watching as the trains celebrated the steam engine’s victory, CB turned on his heel and rolled away, head bowed. It was all too overwhelming and his emotions were catching up to him. He felt an odd sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, something that had always been there but now it was stronger than ever. He knew its name, but he never dared say it.
Guilt.
He felt guilty, for everything. Every single train he’d crashed, every friend he’d betrayed, everyone he had hurt, he felt horrible. The pain grew and grew, consuming CB in a wave. He stumbled against the wall of a nearby shed and collapsed to the ground, pulling his knees to his chest as he sat there. He hid his face as he was hit with wracking sobs that caused his entire body to shudder.
He was a horrible, horrible person and he knew it. He’d hurt so many people and for what? Just to feel useful again? What kind of selfish jerk hurt his fellow trains just so he could feel like someone needed him. He didn’t deserve these tears he was crying, they weren’t his to cry. He had taken so much from others, and he had pretended to feel no remorse when deep down he knew that he had done wrong and that guilt, all the guilt he had been repressing, finally exploded forward. Tears streamed down his face and he couldn’t stop them no matter how hard he tried.
He cried long and hard, not even noticing the train that rolled up to him, asking if he was ok, until the steam engine sat down beside him in the gravel, setting a hand on his shoulder. CB looked up, his greyish-blue eyes looking into Rusty’s hazel ones. They were soft and kind, unlike CB’s own sharp and alert ones, and a small smile was on his face.
“Hey Ceebs, you alright pal?” The engine asked, squeezing CB’s shoulder.
“Yeah… I mean- no… not really…” CB struggled to get the words out through sobs. Rusty gave CB a look of concern and what the caboose could only describe as pity. CB hid his face again as another sob hit him. He felt the hand on his shoulder move to his back, rubbing circles against it. CB leaned closer to Rusty, curling into the steam engine.
They didn’t say a word, just sat there. Rusty wrapped his arms around the caboose, holding him close as CB curled into him more. It was an oddly intimate and comforting moment, CB felt safe. Rusty wasn’t judging him for his tears, he wasn’t giving him some bullshit attempt at kind words of advice, he was just there. CB couldn’t ask for more.
After a few moments, which seemed to drag on for an eternity, CB’s sobs turned into sniffles as he curled into Rusty’s side. He longed for the comforting touch of the engine and didn’t wanna leave this moment. He focused on the gentle hand that was still dragging up and down his back, leaning in towards it. He felt the engine remove his hand and pull away, which made CB want to lunge after him and beg for that warm touch, but he didn’t move.
He felt a hand touch the bottom of his chin, gently tilting it upward so CB could look in Rusty’s eyes. This was one of the first times CB got a good look at Rusty’s face, it was rounded and covered in ash and freckles so dark you couldn’t find the difference. He had dimples in his cheeks when he smiled and a tooth gap between his front teeth. His teeth were slightly uneven and yellowed, but it only added to the charm. His hair was neatly greased into a swoop on his head, though loose curls were starting to fall out over his headband. His eyes were that wonderfully warm hazel, soft and big like a dogs, with smile lines at the corners.
It took all of CB’s willpower to not lean forward and figure out what his lips felt like.
“Ya feelin’ better Ceebs?” Rusty asked, smiling warmly at him.
“I think so, I’m not cryin’ anymore and I guess that’s a good sign, my head hurts though but that’s a normal thing especially after crashing- oh gosh I’m rambling,” CB hid his face in his hands, groaning at his own stupidity. He felt two calloused hands reach up and pull his own soft ones away from his face. He looked up to see Rusty smiling even brighter at him which made CB melt. He had made Rusty smile like that, and he would kill to be able to see that smile everyday.
“It’s alright Ceebs, I don’t mind it, talk to me all ya want pal,” the steamer said, still holding CB’s hands gently in his own. He squeezed them gently and CB did the same back, smiling softly at Rusty.
“You know, you aren’t too bad for a steamer.”
“And you ain’t too bad for a caboose.”
CB smiled brighter at the engine, “Alright, I think I’m feelin’ better now, can we get outta here now? My butt hurts from the gravel.”
Rusty laughed, ruffling CB’s hair before standing up, keeping a firm grip on his hands and lifting the small caboose to his feet. The gravel kept their skates from sliding, and still hand in hand they rolled onto the path.
It was only then that CB realized how tall Rusty actually was, CB knew he was the shortest train in the yard but it was still shocking whenever he actually stood beside one of the others. Even the coaches often towered over the red caboose, and Rusty was a good head taller than him. It didn’t help how well built Rusty was compared to CB, who was built like that of a dancer. Muscles dispersed across his body in a way that made him look small and frail, but he held a grace and skill unknown to most. While Rusty was well built, square shoulders and broad chest, with large arms… though one seemed a bit out of place. CB winced at that, realizing he caused it.
He could remember the moment, clear as day. He had seen his chance and taken it, hooked to Rusty’s couplers, wind ripping and tearing at his face. It was almost whispering at him to not do it, to forget about the money and the race and not do it. Let the steamer win. They sang in his ear, let him win.
CB had wanted to listen, he wanted Rusty to win, and he was a good deal ahead of the others. It was possible, Rusty could cross the finish line as the flag was lowered and they would be declared the winners.
The champions.
CB liked the sound of that, crossing the finish hooked to the back of the charming young steamer who no one thought would make it, who’s corroded body made everyone think he was weak and frail. The engine had more than just strength, he had heart, and a damn good heart at that. He deserved to win, and who was CB to take it away from him?
But then, in a split second, CB had moved against his will, and the steamer flew off the track as he slammed on the brakes, whispering a sorry in Rusty’s ear. He watched the steamer as Control yelled that the race had been canceled. There Rusty lay, bent and bruised and battered, and a key element… his arm had been popped out of its socket, lying beside him as the engine coughed out black smoke.
The strong and determined young steamer in that moment looked small, frail and breakable as everyone thought him to be. His eyes were full of shock and hurt, staring at the ground as the others approached him, he looked over at CB, and he looked almost betrayed. CB hated it, the look on his face, the tears in his eyes, he had turned away from the engine in that moment.
CB liked to forget the rest.
He felt bad, that pit of guilt forming in his chest once more, but was distracted when they arrived in front of his shed, small and painted a deep mahogany. Rusty let go of the caboose’s hand, and CB had to stop himself from grabbing it again, putting his arms behind his back in a soldier-like stance.
“Well, if ya need anythin’ Ceebs, ya know where ta find me,” Rusty smiled at CB, bright as the sun itself.
“What, ain’t going partyin’ like everyone else?” CB raised an eyebrow at the steamer, figuring he would be the same as Greaseball often was. He should have known better.
“Nah, I ain’t one for parties. Alcohol ruins my engine anyways, and I ain’t easy. Figure I’ll just watch a movie or somethin’, Carrie found me an old TV so I’ll just have a quiet night, ya know? Take it all in.”
CB admired the steamer, if CB were in his place he would’ve gone out soon as he could. But a quiet night at home sounded nice…
“Could I maybe join ya?”
Rusty looked a bit shocked at CB’s words, seeming to do a double-take, before his expression softened and a smile spread across his face like butter on bread.
“Course Ceebs, stay long as ya’d like, I don’t mind.”
CB practically beamed up at the steamer, moving his legs back and forth in place before throwing his arms around him in a tight hug. Rusty seemed surprised but quickly hugged the caboose back, picking him up off the ground slightly. The steamer spun the two around, CB giggling softly as he did so.
Rusty set CB down, smiling at him softly, CB with a similar expression on his own face. He knew he looked like an idiot, smiling at that steamer like there was nothing else in the world except him. He fought the urge to do something drastic, but he saw a flash of something Rusty’s, but he couldn’t quite make it out.
CB shook it off, pulling away from the steamer and giving him the usual wide smile.
“Alright then old buddy! Forward march!” CB glided into Rusty’s cabin and the steamer followed after, laughing softly.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.