Chapter Text
Flat Top is absolutely and royally fucked. There’s no easier way to say it, he’s fucked! He’s fucked in an indescribable and messy way, because he’s in love with his coworker, and his coworker does not love him back. The freight are all briefed on how inter company fraternizing isn’t encouraged, and if it happens they have to tell the company and Flat Top does not under any circumstances want the company to know that he’s sweet on his best friend. No one can know. Freight aren’t supposed to be sweet on anyone. Especially other freight. If they were to like someone, it should be a coach, at the very least. But here he is, head in his hands, on the floor of his shed, high out of his mind, and deeply in love with Dustin the big hopper. Wonderful, lively, sweet Dustin, with a smile that blinds and softer hands than an aggregate truck probably should have. Dustin, who isn’t that much taller than Flat Top but can still envelop him with a one armed hug. Dustin, who volunteers to be his trip sitter whenever he can, spends Flat Tops whole high on the floor or bed with him, petting his hair and giving him water. Flat Top tends to sit or lie down whenever the peak of the high hits him, and he goes down wherever he is, and you can’t move him, because he’ll get nauseous and throw up. As was learned the hard way.
Rocky 2 walks into the living room from the kitchen with a glass of water for Flat Top. He sets the glass down on the floor next to Flat Top and walks over to sit on the couch. He turns on the tv, only half paying attention to the spiraling brick truck on the floor. Flat Top speaks up after a couple of minutes.
“You’re a terrible trip sitter. I want Dusty.”
Rocky shrugs, throwing a bag of chips at Flat Top.
“Well, I’m all you get tonight, Dustin won’t be back from his shift for another three hours.”
Flat Top crumbles like a jenga tower, curling up in a ball on the floor and whining like a dog. Rocky sighs, going over to open the bag of chips for Flat Top.
“Dude, you are pathetic today, what’s wrong? Did you get rejected by some pretty little coach or something?”
Flat Top curls further in on himself, tugging at his hair in order to ground himself. He has trouble speaking when he’s in this phase of his high.
“Mmmno, I don’t like any of those stupid coaches. They’re mean to us.”
Rocky hums in agreement, switching the channels on the tv to some cooking show.
“So what is it then? Or who is it? Is it an engine?”
Flat Top stretches out again, lying face down on the floor.
“Why do you even want to know? Gossip Hound."
Rocky laughs, throwing Flat Top a pillow from the couch so he won’t lie directly on the hard floor with his head. Flat Top eats a chip and drinks some water.
”… Do you really want to know what’s going on?”
Rocky shrugs again.
”If you want to tell me I’m open to listen, but I’m not gonna force you into talking.”
Flat Top groans loudly, not moving from his current position, face smushed into the pillow on the floor.
”Alright, I’m gonna tell you but you have to swear that you won’t tell anyone else.”
Rocky finally looks interested, turning around on the couch to look at Flat Top fully.
“Is it really that big a deal? You’re acting like it’s the end of the world.”
Flat top throws a handful of chips at Rocky, they do not reach him.
“It’s a huge deal! Massive! The world might as well bloody end if this gets out!”
Rocky laughs, picking the scattered chips off of the floor.
“Come on dude! Share your woes or whatever!”
Flat Top rolls over, now lying on his back.
“Fine, I will tell you. I’m in love with D u st i n …”
Rocky stills. Flat Top is what.
“Huh?”
Flat Top flops an arm over his face, blushing profusely.
“I’m in love with Dustin okay?! He’s everything to me, and I want him on top of me right now but I can’t tell him because he doesn’t like me like that and I want him!!”
Rocky’s jaw is on the floor, shocked not only by the revelation, but also by the desperation in Flat Tops voice when he spoke about Dustin. Flat Top is not exactly known for his softness, he’s a rough and tough brick truck who leaves dents in things he holds on to, he’s not capable of real kindness. Rocky goes to sit down on the floor next to him. He’s curled in on himself again, an angry red blush has spread across his face and up to the tips of his ears. He’s wiping at his eyes, trying to wipe away any possible tears that might have started rolling down his cheeks. The shame he feels burns in his chest, there’s something wrong with him, and now Rocky knows it too. Rocky doesn’t say anything, but he lies down next to his friend.
There’s a water stain on the wall up by the far left corner of the ceiling. Rocky clears his throat, trying to be coy but failing miserably.
“So… Dustin huh?”
Flat Top groans, elbowing Rocky in the side.
“Shut up mate, don’t be a prick.”
Rocky laughs a little, rubbing the spot where he got elbowed.
“No dude, I get it. Sort of. Dustin is great, he’s nice and quite pretty for a hopper. If I was a coach with a thing for freight I would go crazy for him!”
Flat Top doesn’t say anything for a second.
“... But that’s part of the problem, innit? I’m not a coach. There’s no reason for Dustin to even look my way, because we can’t even be together if he for some reason wants me too. It’s a pipe dream at best, imagining a future with him will only break my heart. It’s better for both of us if I keep my stupid mouth shut and stay where I am. His best mate. His brother in arms.”
Rocky is shocked at the level of eloquence coming from Flat Top. Apparently he becomes a modern Shakespeare when he’s high.
“Well what if he does like you back? What if he asks you to run away together so that the company can’t punish you for being in love?”
Flat Top scoffs, turning his back to Rocky.
“That would never happen. And even if in some strange reality he did fancy me too, he wouldn’t ask me to run away with him, he’s too sure that the company wants our best at the end of the day. He’s loyal, even when it hurts him to be.”
That’s true about Dustin. He cares so deeply about people, about things. He’s loyal to a fault, and there've been times when he trusted someone who decided to hurt him anyway. Rocky remembers a time when some random new engine who passed through the yard had tricked Dustin in a cruel way. The aftermath was rough, he locked himself in his room for a week, barely ate, barely spoke. It took Flat Top finally losing his patience and screwing Dustin's door off of its hinges in order to get into the room for Dustin to let them help him.
Rocky nods, crossing his arms over his chest.
“You’re right man. It’s a tough situation.”
He stays for a little longer, checking the time on his radio. Dustin radioed him earlier to let him know he was on the way back to the shed to take over as trip sitter. He didn’t tell Flat Top because he wanted to fuck with him a little, and he didn’t think Flat Top would tell him something so huge. He’s still going to leave when Dustin shows up, because he knows that he’s not the tripsitter that his friend needs right now.
Fifteen minutes that feel like ages later, the door opens and Dustin rolls in. Flat Top stares at him with wide red tinted eyes. Rocky gets up from the floor, wanting to leave as quickly as possible. Dustin nods a greeting at Rocky as he leaves, not taking his eyes off the brick truck on the floor. Flat Top reaches for him, Dustin takes his hand. He sits on the floor next to Flat Top, legs crossed. Flat Top lies his head in Dustin’s lap, still holding his hand. He feels the guilt seeping in again, he’s using Dustin’s kindness for his own perverted needs. The relief and satisfaction of being this close to Dustin is enough for him to relax into the touch. Dustin settles his free hand in Flat Top’s hair, gently scraping nails against his scalp. Flat Top speaks in a quiet voice.
“I missed you.”
Dustin smiles, happy to be back home to his best friend.
“I missed you too, Flatsy. Do you want to go to bed soon?”
Flat Top nods, his eyes sliding shut as the warmth of Dustin's body starts to lull him to sleep. When Dustin notices that Flat Top has fallen asleep, he picks him up gently. Flat Top can only be moved once he’s no longer conscious, long limbs hanging limply to the floor as Dustin bridal carries him to bed. Flat Top’s bed is a warzone of scattered bits of fabric, safety pins, signs he stole from the railway, rocks, and a single pillow somewhere in the chaos. So Dustin puts Flat Top in his own bed, a big pile of pillows and blankets covering the mattress in the corner of their room. They usually sleep in a tangle of arms and legs in Dustin’s bed instead, because they don’t like sleeping apart. Flat Top grew up alone in a big yard, and Dustin has many siblings, so ever since Flat Top first fell asleep in Dustin’s bed, his own bed became a crafting bench instead of a place to sleep.
Dustin settles in next to Flat Top, wrapping his arms around the brick truck who has his face tucked into Dustin's neck. The steady breaths tickles the hair at the nape of his neck, and the solid weight of Flat Top rolling onto his chest in his sleep is all Dustin needs to let the exhaustion from a long day of work melt away. He closes his eyes too, letting sleep wash over him like a tidal wave.