AN: Dusty is in firefighting livery since he just came back from PPAA. This is after the corn festival - and before you try to question it, yeah, it took a while before the thing started to happen so it didn't show up during the festival. Maru likely warned him after the fact anyways. Also his pontoons are off. Just, I didn't wanna have to deal with them. No one does it seems.

The Worst Thing

Few things tended to be entirely dreaded by the former crop-duster. Sure, there were adulting things he didn't exactly enjoy doing - taxes, medical papers and bills, helping to keep the Propwash fire department up to code - but they were never things he well and truly despised.

It seemed only one thing held that title as the worst thing.

Having to be grounded.

"I'm boooored." Dusty whined, pacing in circles in Dottie's workshop. It was the off season, the perfect time for training or a Sunday flight, but he'd been sitting on his aft all week because of a stupidly minor engine malfunction.

Dottie didn't deny Maru's capabilities, especially considering he was able to completely rebuild a new gear box for Dusty, but he'd only been home from Piston Peak for a month or so, and she wasn't taking any chances if something was going on again.

All that had happened anyways was a sort of fluttering stall for half a second mid-flight a couple of days ago. It was something Maru had specifically mentioned would probably happen anyways. With a completely different part, his engine still needed to get used to it, but it was unlikely to do anything more than a couple of flutters, until he grew accustomed to how differently it performed.

The 'minor malfunction' that Dottie specifically referred to as reason for grounding Dusty for a few days was one particular engine fluctuation that almost stalled his engine. He played it off like he was just doing a stunt, knowing full well what it was. Skipper somehow caught it, and so Dottie did too.

"It's supposed to do that! It's fine!" He argued.

"It's still not safe to be flying while it does!" Dottie replied, firm in her decision.

It wouldn't be a permanent thing, anyways. So long as she could check each day and see that his engine ran smoothly, she'd eventually clear him to fly again once the engine finally got used to it.

Dusty, however, was growing impatient.

"It's been four days…" He said, still circling in Dottie's garage, to the point that a trail was worn into the concrete.

"Go bother Skipper to watch a movie then." Dottie suggested, "I already ran today's performance test, we'll try it again tomorrow."

"But it's fine, it'll go back to normal faster if I actually use it!"

"You're still recovering from your last injury on top of it!" Dottie replied.

"I made it back here okay, didn't I?" The red and white plane huffed. Dottie glared at him in that way that said 'I'm done arguing with you' without words.

Dusty, giving up yet again, sighed and left the hangar, deciding just to go sit in the grass and sunbathe / sulk under the clear skies.

He hadn't expected to find Skipper out too.

"I thought you were out?" He asked his mentor.

"I was." he said simply, "I got bored."

"Pff, at least you can go out." Dusty said. He rolled up next to the old warbird, opting to sit landing gear up in the bright green grass. It tickled against his belly, but eventually he found it comfortable just to sit and relax, the earth firm and solid underneath him.

The two planes sat together silently at the end of the town for a while, watching drifting clouds and making images out of them, only to watch it change and morph into something else. No words were ever spoken, but there never needed to be. They had known each other for long enough now, they were practically connected through their cores like it was the Shining or something.

For the first time in four days, Dusty actually felt calm about the situation. All week he'd been antsy and agitated with boredom, practically begging Dottie to let him up in the air again. He'd thought about up and ignoring her rule and just taking off, but he'd already done that before, and look where that had gotten him. He'd already learned that lesson the hard way.

He'd spent the latter half of the afternoon still sitting and watching the sky, the sun beginning to touch the horizon, turning the skies into pinks and oranges that gleamed softly against his fresh coat of red paint. A symbol of change, physical and mental, that he'd undergone events that would undoubtedly change the course of his life forever.

Even after Skipper had gone, Dusty sat watching the world grow dark, thinking. Wondering when the first incident would arrive in town that he would have to respond to. Wondering when, or even if, he'd get to go back to Piston Peak. Wondering how much of his time his second career would take. Or when the next firefighter would join Propwash. And, probably the most thought question, when will it all wear him down to the point he would have to choose? Surely he couldn't keep up two demanding careers as much as he'd predicted for the rest of his life. Eventually, it may come down to one or the other. One job he wanted, the other needed. Could he keep up a scheduled racing life while his firefighting one remained completely unpredictable? Could he really stand changing paint and switching landing gear around all the time? What would happen in an emergency if he had no pontoons? It was a tedious switch at best, time consuming and, like his new gear box, in need of adjustment.

Eventually, he considered, he would just see. Wait and see was his answer, as much as he hated the idea of going into the unknown and hoping that nothing bad was going to happen. But that's how his life had been before racing became his full career, before firefighting was even a part of his life.

With a calm, confident smile, he got up from his patch of grass and rolled back to his own hangar for the night. "Aim for the moon," he thought, remembering his mother's words to him the day he left home, "even if you miss, you'll still land among the stars."

Thankfully with his new-found calmer approach to his own future, he was less antsy about grounding than he had been. And wouldn't you know it, the next day his engine cleared without a hitch.

"I guess I can clear you then to fly." Dottie said, albeit reluctantly.

"Finally!" Dusty said, not hiding his joy in knowing he was allowed to be up in the air again. "Tell Skipper I'll be warming up before practice, I'm not waiting on him to get off the runway!"

And with that, he took off, free at last. Dottie just shook her head, watching him rev down the runway. As mature as he'd become, she didn't think he'd ever lose that childish excitement. She hoped he'd never lose it, too.

[This is basically just a reinvention of Sleepless in Propwash but I don't care, It's still better than it was.]