Work Text:
Dinah didn’t come home from her passenger run, which was odd. Usually, she came right to Greaseball’s door, letting herself in and texting him if he wasn’t home. If there were any reason she didn’t come home, she would at least message or ping him on the radio to let him know where she was when he returned. She practically lived there, and he wouldn’t want it any other way. So yeah, a little odd that she wasn’t home and making herself comfortable on his couch when he got home.
Greaseball immediately abandoned any plans he had and focused on a new one: finding his girlfriend. First thing to check was the loading dock to see if she picked up an extra shift or got held back; nope. The only people there were Momma and two of the Rockies, the third apparently having gone off with Dinah. They didn’t know where the girls went, but they could say that Dinah looked mad, which was never a good sign.
Next stop was the steamyard, hoping maybe Rocky had taken her there for whatever reason. But no, another dead end. Dustin was there though, and gave him some useful information. They had been there, but left towing something behind them (with the help of Rusty) back to the coaches’ shed. Greaseball slapped his forehead. He should've checked her actual house first.
A little out of breath from his wild goose chase, the diesel huffed as he rapped on the garage door. If Dinah wasn’t here then he was out of ideas, other than a search party. A little excessive maybe, but rational was never in Greaseball’s vocabulary. The door’s locked rattled, and he groaned as Carrie poked her head out from behind the door. “Wow, rude much.” She scoffed, starting to shut the door in his face. Greaseball slammed his hand in between the door and the frame. “Wait! Sorry, I’m sorry.” He sighed in relief as Carrie stopped from slamming the door on his fingers, opening it back up with an annoyed sigh. “What do you want, Greaseball?” the luggage van placed her hand on her hip, leaning against the door.
Greaseball ran a hand through his hair. “I’m just trying to find Di. Been all over the damn yard lookin’ for her…” he grumbled. Carrie let out a cackle. “Why didn’t you check here first? She’s in her room.” Greaseball chose to ignore her jab, instead rolling into the shed and shutting the door behind him. “But I have to warn you-“ she turned and pointed a finger in his face. “She’s not in the… best mood.” She gave a shrug, awkwardly chuckling. Greaseball brushed her off. “Nothin’ I haven’t seen before.” He started to move past her. “Hah!” he turned his head back to Carrie, who gave him a shit-eating grin. “Bet ya five bucks you haven’t.”
He paused, then returned the grin. “Yer on.”
As he started walking up to the door, he tried to imagine what could possibly be so different. Was she going to give him the silent treatment? He could work with that. Was she crying? That was no shock to behold. As he turned the handle, Greaseball could hear strange thumping noises and grunts from inside. Now that was odd. He opened the door, and realized that he might owe Carrie some money.
His search was over. Dinah was inside, but not how he expected. A large punching bag was dangling in front of her and being whacked mercilessly by the dining car. All her hair accessories were on the bed and her hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail. She was clad in nothing but a sports bra and a white tennis skort, her uniform tossed on the floor next to the bed. Sweat was dripping down her face as she pounded against the beaten sandbag. She didn’t notice him entering, instead focusing on taking all of her anger out on the swinging bag in front of her.
Greaseball slowly pulled out of the room. Carrie looked up at him with a cocky smile. He sputtered out a laugh. “Why’s she so… pissed?” he managed to ask, laughing to himself.
And why am I so turned on?
The luggage van shrugged. “We had a rough bunch of passengers on the line today. She got the bulk of it.” He nodded. “Ah.” Turning back, Greaseball re-entered the room and shut the door behind him. Dinah finally looked up, panting and out of breath. “Hey… babydoll.” He waved, letting out a nervous chuckle. She wiped some sweat off her forehead, giving him a good show of her rising and falling chest as she tried to catch her breath. The best part was the little hickies littered all around her chest, dipping into the sports bra that he had the sudden urge to rip off of her. He felt his shorts grow a little tighter. Dinah didn’t respond back, only moving to the dresser next to him to grab a glass of a mystery liquid perched on the top shelf. “Rough day at work?” Greaseball extended an arm out, resting it on her hip. Dinah wordlessly nodded, taking a sip of the drink and grimacing. “What’s in that?” he asked, the coach handing it off to him. Greaseball raised a brow, smirking as he sipped the drink, then almost spat it back out.
“Dinah this is neat tequila.”
She looked up at his bewildered expression, smirking. “Like you said. Rough day.” Greaseball blinked, then chuckled, shaking his head and placing it back up on the dresser. “What even happened today?”
“A man threw his drink in my face.” She grumbled under her breath, moving back to the punching bag. His eyes widened; mouth open. “Seriously?” Greaseball moved over, falling back onto the bed and laying back into the blankets. She gave another strong hit to the bag. “Not to ask the obvious, but… where’d the bag come from? You hidin’ some secret muscle from me baby?” he chuckled and put his hands above his head. Dinah turned to look over her shoulder, winking at him. He felt a jolt through his body. “None that you haven’t already seen. Rocky actually suggested it, she’s letting me have this since she just bought a new one.” Greaseball nodded. That must’ve been what Rusty helped them bring over. “You uh, you enjoying it?”
Dinah nodded. She continued to hit the punching bag over and over, occasionally swinging her foot up to kick the bag. She grunted, the edge of her skirt flipping up as she lifted her leg. The shorts attached were barely covering her ass, though Greaseball wasn’t complaining. The view he had was too good to pass up. He growled. “Lookin’ good sweet thang.” She rolled her eyes, not even bothering to turn around as she moved the bangs out of her eyes, giving another hard kick to the bag.
She heard him get up, the bed creaking as he pushed off of it. Suddenly, she felt strong hands snake around her and cover her arms. Greaseball leaned in, pressing against her butt, letting her know just how excited he was getting at her little show. She felt her face flush and she held in a squeak of surprise. “N-not… not now, baby. I’m not in the mood.” She went to punch the bag, but his hand tugged her back. “I’m just correcting your form.” He leaned down, his mouth right by her ear. “Try it like this.” He took her wrist gently in his grip, curving it to make contact with the bag at a different angle than she had tried before. The dining car nodded.
“And when you kick the bag…” The other hand traveled down her body, running down the curves of her body and moving lower to cup her ass, giving it a quick squeeze before moving even lower. Dinah stifled back the moan that built in her throat. He ran his hand down her inner thighs, finally holding her calf and bringing it up to touch the bag. “Lean more on your other leg to support yourself. Bend your lifted knee more to deliver a stronger hit.” He demonstrated, bending her leg and holding her hips down with his other hand. Greaseball dropped her leg, grabbing her hips and pressing her back into his front, leaning into her ear. “Got it?” he blew a little tuft of air into her ear, chuckling as she bit her lip and squeaked.
Dinah nodded, feeling his lips touch the shell of her ear, kissing it lightly. “Show me.” He purred. Dinah felt a chill run down her spine. A very familiar feeling whenever she was near him started to pool in her lower stomach. She brought her fist up to the bag, curving it in practice before slamming it back into it, nodding at how it felt a lot better than before. “Good job.” His mouth attached to her neck, biting and sucking at the soft skin. She moaned, her legs starting to shake. “Keep going.” He mumbled against her bruised flesh. She shakily lifted her foot, kicking the side of the bag with the corrections he gave her. Greaseball, not even paying attention, snaked a hand between her legs to squeeze at her inner thighs, lips still biting and sucking at her neck.
It grew too much for her. Dinah pushed his hands off her, ignoring the surprised yelp he gave as she turned and placed a hand firmly on his chest. She pushed him back, Greaseball backing up until the back of his legs hit the edge of her bed. With a final push, he tumbled back onto the mattress, using his elbows to support him. She leaned down caging his body against the bed as she climbed over him, her hips straddling his waist. She sat down, feeling the glaring bulge in his trousers. Greaseball turned his head to look away, face flushed. “Oh? Now you’re the embarrassed one?” she teased, wiggling her hips a little. The engine twitched, biting back a groan.
Dinah bent down, kissing his jawline. She traveled lower, kissing and nipping at his neck while her hands moved to start unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt. Greaseball lay there, a little surprised at her forwardness, but also a little surprised at how turned on he was. She leaned forward, her hips lifting off him slightly as she continued to attack his neck and chest with little hickies, trailing them all the way down to his pecs. She moved back up, leaving little open-mouth kisses along his body until she captured his lips in hers, kissing him deeply. Greaseball happily obliged, kissing her back feverishly. She tasted of buttercream frosting and strawberries; she always did. Dinah felt her anger start to ebb away as she felt his arms wrap around her. She broke off of his lips, a small whine leaving him. She reattached herself to his neck, feeling him suck in a breath and groan as she sucked on the same hickey she created a minute ago. His hand threaded through her hair, tugging lightly as he panted.
“Remind me after this that I owe Carrie money…”