Write anything about tassita and my life is yours
Drumroll please 🥁🥁🥁
I present:
𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘾𝙐𝙎𝙏𝙊𝙈𝙀𝙍’𝙎 𝘼𝙇𝙒𝘼𝙔𝙎 𝙍𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏- 𝘼 𝘿𝙄𝙉𝘼𝙃 & 𝙏𝘼𝙎𝙎𝙄𝙏𝘼 𝙊𝙉𝙀𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙏
(Starlight Express)
Because who doesn’t love sarcastic, die-hard besties.
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REQUEST: (by anonymous) ‘Write anything about Tassita and my life is yours.’
Will be uploading to Ao3 and eventually Wattpad under the same username!
I haven’t proof read this one too much, so I apologise if there’s any mistakes.
Enjoy!
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“Tassita! Tassita- I need you to help me.”
The sudden burst of noise took the quiet coach by surprise.
It had been a calm evening before then- a few moments of relaxation to himself after a long day of continuous chores down at the yard. He had no idea what the incoming commotion was about, but by the frantic look on the carriage who had just burst through the door, assumed that he was about to find out.
“What the hell-“
The newcomer- immediately recognisable by the neon shine of her pink and blue hair- seemed utterly beside herself.
She tumbled on in without knocking, immediately tossing her purse onto the couch and ignoring the confused glare from the coach upon it. She had absolutely no spacial awareness, and the quiet carriage started to believe that even if he wasn’t there, she would still have continued rambling as though he was.
Whatever mission Dinah was on seemed to be an important one however, so begrudgingly, Tassita listened to her droning, allowing himself a moment to wince at the volume.
The dining car continued onwards for her newfound audience member, pacing around the room as if whatever was happening was a life or death situation.
It was soon revealed however, through gasping breath and panicked eyes, that it wasn’t.
“Greaseball’s got her first night off in ages and I really wanted to do something nice for her so we booked to go out and, oh my god, my hair- it just won’t go right- and I’ve tried everything but it just looks so bad and I don’t want to do the normal buns but I’m struggling with everything else and-“
A small, quiet snort escaped Tassita’s nose, bringing his hand to his mouth to hold in the full laugh that was threatening to show.
In initial reaction, he didn’t know why Dinah seemed to care so much. Sure, he understood her wanting to look nice, but if she looked perfect on the daily anyway, what was the point in changing a good thing?
Even though her words were flowing like a faulty tap, the dining car didn’t fail in hearing the muttered giggle.
She paused, whipping her head around and scrunching her brows, frantically bringing her hand away from her hair.
“Tass, this isn’t funny!”
Tassita smiled, choking back another laugh at her pained expression.
“Yes, it absolutely is.”
Dinah huffed in return, throwing her arms down to her side and whining out in despair.
“No, it’s not! I look a mess- and Greaseball won’t like me if I look a mess-”
The mention of the champion ‘not liking’ the dining car brought a sour taste to Tassita’s mouth. Greaseball was temperamental on the best of days- moods swinging faster than the British weather changed- so he assumed, through the stress and frantic pacing, that that was what Dinah was truly worried about: not being good enough.
Which was disgraceful, really, cause if anything, Greaseball was the one who wasn’t good enough.
The quiet coach sighed.
“Dinah, c’mon, of course Greaseball will like you. Don’t be daft.”
The words in which he was emitting weren't fully believed, even to the speaker. They were both unfortunately very aware that the dining car would have to look her best- and to the standards that the perfectionist requested, not just her daily style.
It didn’t help that the car was already riddled with insecurity because of the stupid diesel, so Tassita knew that whatever task was ahead would be a tough one.
Dinah huffed.
“That doesn’t mean that I don’t want to look my best, though! I want to make it special- she’s too used to seeing me in my stupid work clothes.”
Tassita nodded, having already mentally accepted the task, but still taking the opportunity to possibly avoid it either way.
“Did you not think to ask Belle for help first?”
From across the room, the coach rolled her eyes and shook her head in a disbelief.
“Have you seen the time? Anytime past six and she’s a no-show.”
She was correct, it was six forty-five. Belle would be out like a light by now.
“Right.”
“Please, Tass,” she continued onwards, rolling forwards and bringing her hands together in a pathetic, childlike beg, “you need to help me or I might as well just die.”
Although the begging was borderline pathetic, Tassita could see how genuine she was by the look in her eyes. Although part of the act probably was a joke, there was still a tinge of deep rooted fear hidden somewhere within the frantic carriage.
It was quite upsetting to see, honestly. He hated when she got herself in such a state for such an unnecessary reason.
“Fine. Fine, I'll help.”
Dinah’s new expression practically lit up the room.
“Oh, thank you! Thank you thank you thank you- I love you.”
The carriage rushed over to the sofa, leaning over and planting a kiss upon the cheek of the sassing coach with a loud, obnoxious ‘mwah!’
Tassita laughed and wiped the lipstick residue from his cheek as Dinah took no time in crossing her legs and tossing herself onto the floor, facing away from her friend and leaning back against his legs.
“There’s some stuff in my bag.”
As Dinah settled in front, the quiet coach reached over to the purse which had been previously tossed beside him.
Inside laid a brush, a few hair ties, and some sort of setting spray. He nodded in thought as he gathered the items onto his lap.
“So, then, what were you thinking?”
The car on the floor hummed for a second, grumbling out in decision.
“Well, I was trying to braid it, or something. I dunno. Something new. It wasn’t going too well, though, obviously.”
Tassita tutted.
“Should’ve woken that stupid coach up- you know she’s better at braids than I am.”
The loving insult brought a chuckle to Dinah’s throat, and she took no time in turning around to swat the legs of the coach behind her.
“Don’t be mean.”
“It’s fine- she can’t hear me.”
As he rolled his eyes with another, small chuckle, the two settled down again, returning to position and preparing for the task. He grabbed a chunk of bright, pink hair, and started separating the section.
As he worked, Dinah continued talking.
“Besides, you’re really good at them too.”
“Barely.”
“Well it must be true, since I’m here and not anywhere else.”
Tassita grumbled.
“Yeah, only cause there is nowhere else.”
He could practically feel Dinah rolling her eyes through the back of her head.
“There were plenty of people that I could’ve asked, I’ll have you know- so you should think yourself lucky that I chose you.”
The quiet coach shrugged and started braiding the section he’d separated.
“Oh yeah? Like who?”
“Momma, duh. She’s practically a master- I mean, have you seen how small the braids on the side of her head are? I’d not have the patience.”
He shrugged again, mocking smirk growing on his features.
“But you love me too much to have asked Momma first, right?”
The dining car huffed.
“I can practically smell your ego right now.”
Without missing a second, the two burst into their typical fit of laughter again. It was hilarious, to be able to bully each other without a single care that anything would ever be taken seriously.
Sure, the sensitive tendencies of the dining car and then her mean, taunting humour didn’t seem like they’d mix, but she always perfectly knew what to say- sarcasm or not. It was the perfect mix, and Tassita loved her for it.
“Be quiet, I’m trying to work.”
The following minutes were just that; quiet. It was quite peaceful, really, with the two of them sitting in the shed in silent comfort. It was the calm before what would assumedly be the storm of Dinah’s night out, and she seemed quite content in the moment at hand, staring off into the distance as her friend worked on her looks.
They were both always grateful for their small, shared moments- even if Tass would’ve ideally preferred at least some alone time that evening.
As he carefully gathered the remaining, stray strands of Dinah’s hair and tucked them carefully into the main plait, he tilted his head.
“I think this’d look really cute in a bun, y’know.”
The coach huffed.
“But I always have my hair in buns.”
“No, I know- but this one’s different. Trust me, it’ll look really cute… and if you’re worried that too much of a change won’t be beneficial for a certain someone then this is definitely a safe way to go.”
Dinah seemed to consider it for a moment, reaching up to feel behind her head as Tassita let a few strands fall back down by her face. It was true, Greaseball probably wouldn’t appreciate too much of a change.
“Okay, I trust you.”
“Damn right you do. This is Tassita’s salon, not Dinah’s. Catch up.”
Dinah giggled.
“I’m gonna give you a one star rating.” She then taunted, bringing her hands up to mimic writing on an imaginary keyboard before sarcastically continuing her review. “Hair stylist is rude and has a humongous ego. Whatever happened to "the customer’s always right?”
“You’ll get banned from the salon if you continue with that attitude. I’m doing you a favour here, remember.”
“Damnit… I suppose I’ll have to behave.”
Dinah lowered her hands from the fake keyboard and leaned back against Tassita’s legs. She let a small, grateful sigh escape her lips as he pulled one of the final ties into place and eventually let go of her hair.
“There,” he smiled, pulling back to admire his work, “it looks good.”
As she leaned forward and looked back to the coach behind, Dinah smiled, a slight blush covering her cheeks.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah! It looks great, if I do say so myself. And I guess that you also look good too…”
“Hey!”
“What?!” He retaliated, dodging another playful hit. “I’m joking, you always look good.”
The dining car looked down in thankful shyness.
“You don’t really think that.”
Tass rolled his eyes in reply.
“Of course I do. I mean, if it helps, I deffo would if we weren’t ga-”
“Woah! Woah, Tassita stop-” The squeaking words cut him off as he jokingly smirked and gestured towards the coach in front, features twisting into a sarcastic, unserious look. “That’s disgusting.”
The quiet carriage laughed.
“What? I’m just being real-”
Dinah returned the gesture, fully comfortable in the fact that it was just a joke and would never be anything more than that.
“Well, thank you for the attempt at the… erm… confidence boost?”
Tass tutted.
“You know that it worked.”
She fake shuddered as he winked at her.
“Get away from me, you absolute freak-”
Not long after, she turned and took a stand as Tassita laid back carefully onto the couch. Their humour died down alongside, replaced gently by an air of pure thankfulness and mutual appreciation.
Dinah brushed down her skirt and watched as her friend put the unused products back into her purse.
She watched on carefully for a moment, bringing a hand up to her hair to brush a strand behind her ear, and then nodded downwards.
“Thank you, Tass- for doing this for me.”
He smiled.
“Of course, babe. I am always happy to help you, y’know- even if you do burst in here at annoying fucking times.”
The coach in front of him shied away.
“I know. I’m, um, sorry for that.”
“Hey, don’t apologise, I’m only joking. I can recognise a train who’s on the brink of an absolute mental breakdown if I see one. Couldn’t have you losing the plot any further now, could we?”
As the two giggled again, Tassita waved his hand.
“Alright, go on then, go enjoy your time with that brute. And no, I don’t want any of the details, thanks.”
