Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The morning light was filtering through the curtains, and Electra’s arms were still around his waist, much to Porter’s surprise. Usually he’d go shortly after they were through, or if he fell asleep, he'd slip away around dawn. It had to be nine or ten in the morning now; lucky for him he hadn’t had a job lined up for the day. Sleeping in was a luxury Porter was rarely afforded, and that he rarely afforded himself even when he did have that chance for it. But last night had been more…intense than normal, and his body had clearly had different plans for him today. 

Pleasant as it was lying there with them, he couldn't stay in bed all day, and he'd assumed from the start he wasn't expected to linger. He tugged free of Electra’s arms. They shifted, pouting slightly in their sleep, but didn’t wake, and Porter left them to sleep on. 

He had planned to leave outright, head home to the freight shed, but he paused as he passed by the shed’s kitchen. It was well appointed, metal gleaming, and looking completely untouched. 

Would they mind? 

He’d never actually seen Electra eat, come to think of it. Some engines didn’t, preferring to get by on their fuel or power source alone. It might be the same for electric components, too, for all he knew. It wasn’t a habit Momma held, and one she discouraged Rusty from, and he and the other fuel trucks needed to eat. As she liked to say, the Starlight Express gave them good food, and hungry stomachs to fill it with, and tongues to enjoy it with, so they may as well eat. Porter liked to cook, liked to see his loved ones enjoy the results of his labor, and so he was usually the one to make sure they were all fed. 

Electra seemed the sort to hold themself above all that. 

He rolled into the kitchen, checking through the fridge. It was bare bones, but there were eggs at least, and butter, and the milk smelled alright. The cabinets he explored quietly. He didn't want to wake Electra, and he wasn't sure if the other components were still sleeping as well. Wrench, if he had to guess, was likely the only one up, and probably already gone to the repair shed for the day. 

He found a waffle iron, looking new and unused as the rest of the kitchen. That would do. All the ingredients for them were there; He could make a few for himself and eat and leave the rest for the shed’s inhabitants. See how thing went over. Porter didn't talk to the components much, but picked up little things about them in his comings and goings over the last few weeks, and there was always something new to learn.

Like that Joule was sleeping with his little sister, if the way they were wrapped around each other as they skated into the kitchen was any indication. He was a little impressed that they were getting anywhere at all.

“Joule,” He nodded to the dynamite truck as the couple finally split off from one another to sit on the far side of the kitchen island from him. “Making good choices, Slick?” He smirked at his sister, sliding two plates with the first waffles out of the iron across the island to them. 

“Are you?” The oil tanker retorted, before her eyes fixed on Joule again, a look of triumph on her face. “Told you he'd make us breakfast if we left the right stuff for him.“

Ah. He'd been set up.

Not that he was going to complain. 

Volta and Killerwatt joined them eventually, both looking equally pleased to find breakfast waiting for them.

Electra, unsurprisingly, was the last in the shed to wake. They surveyed the scene from the threshold, amusement in their expression. 

They rolled up behind Porter, arms quickly finding their way around his waist. They bent down, lips brushing just in front of his ear before he spoke. “You hadn't told me that you cooked, darling.” Their tone carried the usual fascination that it did when they learned something new about the coal truck. He was sure that the electric engine only kept things up with him for the sake of novelty. 

“Didn't know if you ate,” He said, shrugging his shoulders as he carefully plated up another stack of waffles fresh from the iron. 

“I don't, normally,” They said, their eyes on Porter’s hands as they worked. He could hear them breathe in deep, just catching a glimpse of their nostrils flaring in his peripheral vision.  “But…perhaps for you, I will indulge.”

Porter handed the engine the plate, shooing them off towards the island with the others. He scraped the last of the batter from the mixing bowl onto the iron. He’d eat last, which wasn’t what he’d planned on, but he was used to it at the freight shed. Why shouldn’t it be the same here?

Leaning against the counter, he turned back towards the rest of the group. His eyes were only on Electra, though, watching with a smile as they brought the first bite to their lips. 

Chapter Text

Electra woke disappointed, their bed empty aside from themself. The coal truck had slipped away again, quietly, unannounced. 

Their components knew to stay until they woke, but then, they — all of them, Electra included — were a set. A unit. Though brought up separately, they had each been raised with the knowledge, the understanding, that this would be the case, what was expected of them. It wasn’t an uncommon practice with electric trains, even if it wasn’t the norm for steam or diesel. When they worked, too, they were practically of one mind, and that had spilled over to a good understanding of each other when they weren’t. They anticipated each other's needs well, and so usually at least one component found their way into Electra’s bed most nights, whether seeking passion or simply because they knew the engine liked something to hold on to while they rested. 

They couldn't blame Porter for not knowing. Truly, the two of them rarely talked much. Ironic, considering the whole affair had come about because they’d sought the coal truck out to ask about his sister on Joule’s behalf. But the freight had an odd charm about him, and they'd found themself distracted. 

It had stung when their bed was empty in the morning. Electra had assumed the start of it was also the end. He was an amusement, but nothing that fit with them permanently. And yet, the components would find silly little reasons to get Porter back to the shed, and their nights would end the same way every time. And Electra’s mornings would start alone. 

Last night had actually been Slick’s contrivance. She'd babbled to them about breakfast and getting Porter to sleep in. Why she simply didn't bring Joule to the freight shed, they couldn't say. Electra had been happy enough to take the excuse, though, even if it seemed they'd failed at getting Porter to stick around. 

The electric engine finally left their bed, straightening up the sheets before they went to wash up for the day ahead. That would be mostly lazing about the shed. None of them save Wrench had work today. 

Wrench had been the reason they'd stayed at Troubadour in the first place. Following the crash on Race Night, they'd recognized her skill, rightfully so, and practically begged her to stay. Good repair trucks were hard to come by, and most trains preferred them over human mechanics when they had the access. 

Electra had feared that she would choose to stay without the rest of them. It did happen that electrics would split off from their original set. Such had been the case for Killerwatt's fathers,  choosing to retire together before the other components or engine. But Wrench had insisted that if she were to stay, the rest of the electrics did too. They were all grateful for that, Electra especially. Wrench had been with them the longest, their sister, raised alongside them. 

Wandering from their room and through the shed, they could hear Slick and Joule’s voices from the kitchen. Electra hadn't been pleased at first that Joule had taken such an interest in the oil tanker, but the pair hadn't destroyed the yard yet. Slick made her happy, and they would not certainly begrudge the dynamite truck that. 

They heard Volta and Killerwatt soon after, and then, much to their surprise, Porter. They peered into the kitchen, rarely used, since they didn't care much for eating, preferring to subsist on electricity alone, and the components ordered in when they did want to indulge. They watched with interest as the coal truck poured batter onto the waffle iron — an odd purchase Joule had made that now made much more sense — filling the room with a sweet, tasty aroma as it cooked. The group chatted happily with each other as they enjoyed their breakfast, none of them taking notice of Electra just yet. Not that they minded, their focus solely on Porter.

Perhaps it was past time they made an effort to talk with him properly. To seek him out of their own accord rather than leave it up to the components to draw him back. 

To see how he fit.