It was well past three am the second morning of The Great Railway Show. All of London was quiet save for a light breeze that rustled the trees and shuffled the grass. No cars on the road, no light in the sky, all the stars were shielded by a thin wall of cloud as it creeped over, teasing at a possible rain later that morning. In a private shed nestled just outside a suburban neighborhood laid Flying Scotsman fast asleep with Meredith at his front. They both snoozed peacefully, their bodies glistening with the sweat of recent love-making with Scotsman's valves continuing to slowly filter out the steam buildup from his undercarriage as he slept. It was no shocker the large A3 ignored a direct order from his controller regarding hooking up during the show. Restraint came easy to him unless it was Meredith, at that point not even God himself could hold the locomotive back from sliding in, and the only one who could tell him no when it came to sexing her up, was the sparkly little engine herself. Otherwise, the request fell onto a deaf smoke box.

Unexpectedly, Meredith began to stir in her sleep which forced Scotsman awake immediately. He was no light sleeper, more or less it was a protective reflex and his tired eyes looked his love up and down, but she had already settled back into her even heavy breathing. He let out a quiet sigh then nuzzled up against her cheek, giving it a gentle peck with his lips before once again falling into the welcomed blackness of slumber.

Morning seemed to arrive in an instant, gray sunlight filled the shed and a small handful of yard workers came in to give the two engines a needed scrubbing before they were to return to the show yard. Meredith woke up smiling when she saw Scotsman reluctantly allowing a younger fellow — a railway apprentice— to clean his face. She stretched up to gently nudge the human away so she could give her lover a good morning kiss which instantly wiped the A3's sour expression.

Given there were humans present, Meredith tried to pull away from the kiss but Scotsman had other ideas. He growled playfully and grabbed the little tank engine with his buffers and sucked her into an uninhibited open-mouthed make out with the young apprentice standing awkwardly on his fender still. He gave his supervisor a desperate glance as he clutched his polishing cloth close to his chest. "What do I do?!" He whispered.

"Separate them." The well-groomed supervisor said, doing his best to suppress a grin as were the more experienced workmen beside him.

"What?!" The apprentice's face went white at the idea of having to come in between two lustful engines, especially when one of them being the very Flying Scotsman who was notoriously nasty towards humans who dared interrupt his moments. He turned back to look at Scotsman and Meredith as they continued to hungrily take each other's mouths. He then heard a weird clicking and a rush of steam that vibrated the big engine's fenders and the young man stumbled.

"Get them apart now, Theo!" His supervisor called from below.

Theo gathered himself and creeped closer, he didn't know what to do to pull them apart and wasn't sure what that sound was but he understood urgency when he heard it. He reached out towards their faces, shiny with sweat and saliva as it dripped down the sides of their mouths. He decided it was safest to push Meredith's cheek, though she ignored the new pressure on her face… until he pinched her. She yelped in surprise and jerked away from Scotsman, her face hot and she looked ready to cry.

"Oh! Oh no, I'm so sorry!" Theo cried when he saw Meredith's eyes begin to water. "I didn't think that would hurt you! I was just trying to get your attention." Meredith's lip quivered and she looked away, "oh, Meredith, I really am sorry…"

Theo was so focused on Meredith he failed to notice the burning black eyes directly behind him— that is until he felt a rush of hot steam against his back and he spun around to face a visibly irate Flying Scotsman, nostrils flared. "Scot, please, I truly didn't mean it." He held up his hands and started to back off towards where he could climb down again. "Again, I am deeply sorry. I was—"

"Get out!" Scotsman hollered, sparks burned at the back of his throat and he about charged the man as he tumbled from his fender to the dirt below a distinctive and muffled pop sounded with the thud of his landing.

Theo propped himself up and clutched his shoulder, a burning pain ripped the breath from his lungs and he collapsed again with a labored groan. His supervisor knelt down beside him and inspected his arm, it had begun to swell and bruise and poor Theo was on the verge of tears himself. "Alright, lad," the supervisor said as he helped the young man up. "Let's get you to hospital. The rest of ya finish your work, I'll catch you lot in the yard later!"

A few other apprentices that were mixed in with the veterans began to protest but their supervisor waved it all off, sternfully reminding them that injury and even death are risks taken by those wishing to work with living locomotives and that they were informed of this on their very first day. He was also quick to inform them that when aroused, an engine's nerves are highly sensitive, especially around their face and to avoid rough contact during those situations. The quick lesson and scolding of course silenced their whimpering and they all went back to grooming the pair while trying to ignore the blistering gaze of Flying Scotsman as they started on washing Meredith. She was still pouty over being pinched and Scotsman did his best to comfort her, peppering her with kisses and an older engineer cleaning her decided it was best to just let them intermingle uninterrupted. Only when the gentle pecks evolved into another tongue-filled make out did the experienced man reach under Scotsman's chin, give it a firm push, in turn forcing his jaw to lock up and he backed off the kiss in a huff. It didn't hurt, but it earned the human a frustrated snort of steam. The man chuckled and then felt a twinge of guilt twist his stomach. He probably should've told Theo about that little trick.

Once primed and released, Scotsman and Meredith made their way towards the yard talking quietly about the gloomy weather and that stupid apprentice. They were eventually joined by the A4 hoard and Scotsman was quick to put himself between Meredith and Mallard with an obvious possessive growl. Naturally Mallard was amused by the gesture and blew a kiss to the little engine just to piss off his dominant cousin. Unbeknownst to Scotsman, however, Meredith received the gesture with a meek smile.

They all arrived to the show yard feeling slightly awkward around a seething Flying Scotsman. He was grinding his teeth which he didn't do often and both Edgar and Quicksilver hung back with their superior while the rest of the group, Meredith included, continued onward.

"Everything alright?" Quicksilver inquired with a slight raise of his brow. The three started back down the line at a much slower pace so as to not catch up with any groups ahead of them. "I've not seen you this tense in some time."

Edgar nodded in agreement. "Something happen?"

"Mallard," Scotsman rumbled. "Mallard happened. I was already in a foul mood after some stupid apprentice pinched Meredith's cheek this morning and then that slimy bastard shows up blowing her kisses right in front of me."

Naturally Quicksilver's concern shifted immediately to Meredith. "He pinched her? I thought that was a sign of affection in humans."

"An infantile gesture it is," Edgar added with an exaggerated eye roll, the three kept their inching pace all while ignoring the loud admirations from a cluster of foreign controllers mingling just along the lines.

Thunder rumbled above and it managed to disguise Scotsman's pissed off growling for a moment, then he sighed. "It wasn't a friendly pinch, he was trying to break us apart so they could groom us."

Edgar stifled a snicker. "Don't tell me you were about to get it on with a bunch of virgin-eyed apprentices in the shed."

Scotsman shrugged, momentarily forgetting his frustrations with Mallard as a slight smirk broke his frown. "They need to learn sooner or later."

"Yes, but I don't think you and Meredith need to be the first engines they bear witness to." Quicksilver stated flatly in an attempt to hide the jealousy burning his firebox. "Maybe a couple that are a little more… boring."

Edgar looked at his silver brother and grinned. He immediately detected Quicksilver's envy and decided to store that new discovery for later torment. "So what did you do about this boy pinching your lady?"

"I knocked him off my footboard," Scotsman stated, holding back his pride. "I think I might have broken his arm— well, the fall did."

Edgar laughed while Quicksilver winced. "You don't think that one will come to bite you in the tender, huh?" Edgar teased, bumping his friend in the side plates.

Scotsman huffed indignantly. "Oh I'm sure it will eventually…"

"FLYING SCOTSMAN!"

All three locomotives stopped suddenly at their controller's angry shouting and the engine he was so aggressively calling for groaned. "Or right now…" he snarked under his breath.

Hayden stormed up to his engine, his face red hot in anger, his suit jacket slung over his shoulder, the man flanked by both Denise and Christophe. "Scot you better have a damn good reason for throwing one of my apprentices off your footboards!"

"He pinched Meredith," Scotsman defended blatantly, matching his controller's fury with a rush of his own steam. "You expect me to be okay with that?!"

"It was just a pinch, Scot!" Hayden was already exhausted and it was barely a quarter past ten. "It certainly isn't worth breaking the poor lad's arm."

Scotsman growled. "He's lucky I didn't kill him."

"Hey!" The LNER controller climbed his angered locomotive's footboards and stood right in his face. "It's okay to defend Meredith when necessary but you're becoming dangerous for all the wrong reasons. If you continue to act so irrational I'll have no choice but to keep you two separated until you can figure out how to not be so wired all the time."

Flying Scotsman studied his controller's cross-armed stance with pure annoyance. He unclenched his jaw and looked down at the man's shiny shoes. "Fine," he murmured. "I'm sorry."

"You're damn right you're sorry!" Hayden scolded with a firm poke to his engine's cheek. "I expect you to give Theodore the sincerest of apologies upon his return, you'll also be hauling extra goods traffic next week to help cover the cost of his medical bills, understood?"

Scotsman's jaw stiffened yet again, he despised running goods.

"Scot?"

"Yes, fine, whatever." The engine sneered, the man should've considered himself lucky for being so close to Meredith otherwise he would've wound up on the ground the same way Theo had.

"There's a good man," Hayden smiled in satisfaction as he gave his engine a gentle pat to the side of his smoke box. He then turned to address Denise and Christophe as well as Quicksilver and Edgar. "Well, now that that's sorted… shall we?" He gestured towards the display shed which held the rest of his polished A4's, specifically towards Mallard who was a tad distracted watching Meredith zip around the yard with Dirk as he brought in flatbeds full of goodies for food vendors, prizes, and souvenirs.

The three humans and three locomotives crossed the bustling yard, the crowd was significant but thinner than the first day all thanks to the impending rain blocking out the otherwise comfortable sunlight. Hayden had to dodge both Meredith and Dirk while they shunted around cars and flatbeds and then he and his two special visitors made way for the two A4's behind them to turn around and settle into their berths. Quicksilver, of course, was the first to notice both Denise and Christophe were dressed as if they were set to work for the day. He raised his brow in question but waited for the chatter around him to die down. "Dressing a little casual today, are we?" He said finally once the noise cleared.

Christophe smiled and glanced at Denise who returned it immediately. "Well, we plan to take that one out on our own this afternoon," he pointed to Mallard who snorted steam in disgusted protest.

"Absolutely not!" He growled. "I'll not have a couple of hicks from Sodor nosing about in my cab!"

"And that attitude right there is why we'll be doing exactly that!" Denise stated, lifting up on her toes a bit with shocking enthusiasm, she was smiling which took Hayden by surprise. "I'd like to see how you handle, Mallard, as does Mister Pelletier. Our original plan was to take you on one at a time, but after further in-depth discussion with Mister Jameson here we've decided tag-teaming would be the best approach."

"I don't do threesomes!" Mallard barked. The rest of his siblings couldn't hold back their snickering and even Quicksilver broke a slight smile.

"Well lucky for you, this isn't sex," Christophe chortled, he was coming around quicker to the idea of locomotive intimacy than Denise, it fascinated him while his female colleague it more or less disturbed her.

Mallard grumbled under his breath and sagged into a rare sour pout, retreating as far back into the shed as he was able. His brothers were still laughing at him and he didn't want them seeing his face flushed from embarrassment. "You're all cocks." He sneered.

"And you're the biggest of us all!" Kestrel quipped which only served to increase the volume of laughter coming from the display shed.

Mallard was seething, his firebox burned so hot his crew had to jump out of his cab and into the cool stormy air before they were burnt to a crisp. Hayden approached his unhappy engine thoughtfully. "Mallard, please, I just want what's best for you. That's why I've recruited so much help for you."

"What's best for me is to be left alone!" He cried from the darkness of his berth. His voice sounded strained, like he was fighting back tears and the controller softened even more.

"Come on, man," Hayden pleaded as thunder rumbled above. "You've so much potential, I'd hate to see it wasted."

There was a sigh followed by a loud rush of steam and the creaking of metal gears and pistons, Mallard rolled back into the fading light, his forehead still wrinkled in a scowl. "One ride?"

"That's all they'll need," Hayden said, allowing himself a smile as he straightened up with renewed enthusiasm. "But their efforts will be completely in vain if you don't even try, understood?"

"Sure…" Mallard huffed, averting his eyes from his controller.

Hayden clapped his hands together then gestured back to his moody engine. "Whenever you're ready."

Denise and Christophe both exchanged an excited smile before they strolled up to Mallard. Christophe was the first to hop into his cab and was quick to shutter the engine's firebox and allow him a moment to cool while Denise did a quick round checking his wheels, brakes, and valves for anything that might be of concern. His buffers were straight and his livery was skillfully polished. Not a swirl on his paint in sight.

Denise then climbed into the cab with Christophe who was already testing the levers and gauges. "What a beautiful engine," he mused with a dreamy voice. "I can understand Mister Jameson's hesitation to scrap him."

Denise nodded and checked his temp. Back down to normal range. "Ready to set off?"

"That I am," Christophe reached up for Mallard's whistle and gave it three confident pulls. "Time to see what you're made of, big man!" He called to the front of the engine where Hayden stood biting his nails nervously. Christophe couldn't see the vile smile that evolved from Mallard's previous pout and Hayden didn't have a moment to give warning before the A4 took off at frightening speed, knocking the controller onto the tracks in front of Spencer.

"Jesus!" Hayden winced and he grabbed at his ribs as he stood up and watched Mallard's tender vanish around the bend outside the show yard's entryway. He turned to look at his other engines who were all silently concerned for their controller. "I think I've made a mistake…"

"Mallard! Mallard you slow down this instant!" Christophe called in vain to the runaway steam engine. He pulled on Mallard's break with all the strength he could muster but it wouldn't budge and neither would his regulator. Everything was locked up and there was no sign of them slowing down. Christophe blinked and he was back on Lammergeier who had runaway from him in the same manner, he thought back to how he stopped the headstrong 48 and knew he needed to do the same with Mallard. He nudged past Denise who was still working to try and pull the emergency brakes and stuck his head out. The wind from Mallard's speed and the impending storm battered his face and blew away his driver's cap, but relief washed over him when he noticed a set of spurs just a quarter mile in the distance. It wasn't the same as the sand pit at Arlesdale, but the end of a spur laid buffer stops and even if Mallard were to bust through them, it would at the very least stop him. Though the landing would be incredibly rough.

"Denise!" Christophe called. The noise of the wind and the engine's power resulted in the pair having to yell when they were within arms reach. "Denise! We have to get that switch!" He pointed out the window and the female driver followed his finger to the very switch that could lead them to the spur.

"How?!" She cried, her curly hair blowing in her face, she forgot to put it up before they left and she was sputtering at the little hairs catching on her lips. "Even if we survived the jump out there's no way we could outrun him! He's easily going over a hundred kilometers, likely more!"

Christophe cursed aloud. She was right, but just as he thought to accept his fate, a small black switch caught the corner of his eye. It read 'MANUAL LOCK' in bold red print and was a switch the engineer was unfamiliar with. He stumbled towards it and attempted to press it, but there was minimal give. He peeked back out the window and saw the spur quickly approaching. "Goddammit!" He placed one palm flat on the bottom then stacked his other hand atop it and with a total heave of his body weight managed to force the button down.

Everything in the moments after Mallard's lock was applied happened in a split second. His brakes caught his wheels, promptly snapping his axles, he screeched forward along the track in a flurry of bright sparks until his wheels reached where the line switched and they snagged on the metal slide, knocking Mallard over onto his side with a crash that echoed the storm's own thunder. He slid into the tree line, banging up his boiler and cracking his smoke box and when he came to a smoke and dust filled stop he laid on his side in stunned silence. His manual lock being active meant he was able to remain conscious, the pain was being withheld thankfully. He let out a few shaky breaths and then began to pout again. That was when Christophe and Denise stumbled from his sideways cab. They had been properly knocked about in that metal box of a cab, but both were mostly unharmed save for a few bleeding lacerations and blackening bruises.

Denise's head was spinning as she approached Mallard's front about ready to blow her top. "Now you listen here you horrid beast! What on earth did you plan to accomplish with that little stunt? Were you trying to kill someone?!"

Mallard remained stalwart, though his eyes never left Denise as she paced angrily in front of him. "I swear, I'm going to recommend your immediate dismantling to Mister Jameson!" Denise continued, throwing her arms up. "You're a menace, an absolute menace! Totally uncouth, cruel, violent, selfish, the whole shebang! A total wack job of a locomotive!"

Christophe stood silently by while Denise continued to rip Mallard a new one. He instead took the opportunity to examine Mallard's exposed undercarriage. He was able to see where the stress of the sudden braking at the speed warped and broke his axles but what caught his attention was a sliding panel near his leading axles. He crunched through the dirt and ballast and placed his hand on it, still extremely warm, but there was a surprising amount of give, like the metal itself was flexible. Curiosity got the better of him and he wedged his fingers between the opening and pried the leaves apart. He was slightly disappointed, just a layered bit of the same amorphous alloy that made up an engine's face. He grazed his fingers over the velvety surface and jumped when it shifted from his touch.

"Christophe!" Denise called from where she stood before Mallard. She had her arms out in disbelief. "What are you doing?!"

"I just wanted to check out this sex panel for myself," Christophe admitted pointedly. "How had I never noticed it before?"

"It's not exactly something we look for." Denise said as she limped over to her friend's side. She looked at where he was touching and grimaced. "Gosh, that's so bizarre. Why are you touching it?!"

Christophe twisted his mouth in thought and rubbed at his chin. "I wonder…" he whispered as he walked back towards Mallard's cab and clambered back inside. A moment of silence passed, a small trickle of rain began to tap at Mallard's side plating then suddenly there was an exhale of steam and Mallard cried out in pain.

"Fuck, fuck! Why'd you turn that off?!" He screamed as his body became alight with searing pain that throbbed and shook his rivets. "Turn it back on!"

Denise stood in horror, she'd never seen an engine cry like that. She knew they could feel some measure of pain, but never imagined it could reach a level that would have them begging for relief. When Christophe rejoined her he said not a word before he placed his hand on Mallard's genital panel then jumped back as he felt it begin to throb and fill with steam.

"Why are you playing with me?" Mallard hissed, he tried to rock himself back to his wheels, but only caused himself even more intense discomfort. He felt Christophe begin to prod around at the relief valves and along the seams of his rod and snarled. "Keep your filthy hands off my cock!" He then yanked it back inside its housing and slammed the panel shut.

Denise looked at Christophe in wide-eyed horror, her mind was unable to process that a steam engine's penis was a mere few inches from her face. "Are you completely mad?!" Denise shouted once she knew the piece was well tucked away once more. "We're stranded on a random branch line in the middle of nowhere and you're here jerking off an engine?!"

"I'm not jerking him off, Denise, get real." Christophe was slightly irritated that his colleague wasn't as fascinated by what they saw as he, but he also understood she was likely taking more time to process it logically which would serve to slow down said processing. There was nothing logical about what they've witnessed in these last few days on the LNER.

Then as if to add salt to the wound the clouds above opened up to a merciless deluge. Mallard laid on his side, his eyes half opened and deadpan. He wasn't surprised at that point to be rained on and decided to just accept whatever shit hand the universe continued to provide him. He took a deep breath in through his nose and heaved out, releasing what little steam remained in his valves. Locomotives weren't supposed to lay on their side and the strange orientation left him feeling dizzy and slightly nauseous. He blinked slowly, he could hear the humans at his drivers talking loudly over the rain, but their words were carried away with the wind. His mouth had begun to water as his nausea intensified, but he didn't wish to draw their attention should he purge his boiler. "Fuck…" he whispered, swallowing back the water that tried to make its way out his mouth. He then relented and called out to those pesky humans over the rain. "Can we please get me oriented soon? This sideways position has me sick!"

Denise and Christophe acknowledged the engine's plea and the engineer started down the tracks the way they came, the rain had chilled him to the bone and he moved faster than normal if only to attain dryness and warmth sooner rather than later. Denise decided to hang back with Mallard who she agreed looked rather uncomfortable. "Are you really sick?" She inquired the same way she would a child attempting to get out of school.

Mallard curled his lips in a snarl. "Yes," he mumbled. "And I'd love to not have to purge my boiler today."

"So you're nauseous?" Denise moved closer to Mallard's face and for once she looked at him with genuine curiosity. "Like you feel as if you'll be ill?"

"That's what I said—" he stopped and forced himself to not gag. "Isn't it?" He finished quietly. His eyes were watering and he was suddenly immensely grateful for the rain.

It was then Denise became intensely aware of Mallard's quickened breathing and the way his eyes, half closed, focused ahead on nothing. She herself had adorned that same expression many times in moments she was trying hard to not wretch herself. She then trudged back to Mallard's cab, the engine watched her go and snorted, but she returned quickly clutching a thermos between her palms. She unscrewed the top and walked towards Mallard with a great amount of caution. He may have felt sick but he still had that dangerous air about his expression, even in his most vulnerable moments Mallard remained an undeniably hostile being.

Mallard took a breath in and scrunched his nose when it was hit with a cool, sharp scent. "What is that?!"

"It's peppermint tea," Denise said with a small smile. "It's the warmer season but the rain can be quite chilling so I'd decided to brew myself a pot this morning before coming out. I personally just like the warmth, but the peppermint is also good at easing tummy aches." She shrugged as she tucked the lid under her arm. "It could be futile, I didn't even know engines could get stomach aches until now, but worth a shot."

Mallard eyed the little thermos as Denise held it up to his nose for him to smell and familiarize with. He didn't like the cutting scent, but the way it opened up his senses was quite refreshing. He licked his lips and with stubborn reluctance opened his mouth for her to pour the hot liquid into. When Denise finished pouring the tea onto Mallard's tongue she briefly found herself worried about him burning his mouth, but when she saw the steam that rose from the back of his throat she realized how dumb a concern that was. Like a great metal dragon. She mused inwardly.

Mallard swished the weird liquid around in his mouth, it tingled his tongue in a surprisingly erotic way and he wondered if he could convince his driver to brew some to be used on Emma… or Meredith. Once he swallowed there was a moment of discomfort but soon his boiler cooled down and relaxed, his world stopped spinning and the nausea washed away with the rain. He sighed in relief and hadn't realized he was smiling until he caught glimpse of Denise's own cheeky grin. "What?" He sneered, that smile disappearing immediately.

Denise shrugged. "Your smile— genuine smile is handsome. It almost gives the illusion that you're of a decent sort."

Mallard huffed and looked away. "Whatever."

"Maybe give up the perpetual glares and pouts and you might find yourself enjoying life," Denise leaned back near his chin as she reattached her thermos' lid. "Honestly if what it takes to somewhat get through to you is a near fatal accident I'd say Christophe and I have our work cut out for us."

Mallard wanted to retort but instead he decided to close his eyes and focus on the rain as it pelted his face. Three more days, he thought. Only three more days.