Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You can get away with a lot of shit if it looks like it’s all you know how to do.”

-Henry Rollins, Get In The Van: On The Road With Black Flag

“Of course I can pilot it! Didn’t you see my sweet tractor out there?”

Greg had difficulty at the best of times telling whether or not Peridot was serious. And this was not a good time. In fact, it was a moderate to severely bad time. He sighed, starting to feel exasperated. “You mean the sweet tractor that’s the reason we can’t use the warp pad right now?”

Peridot turned slightly greener for a moment, then cleared her throat. “Well, yes, but that’s only because Lapis hasn’t brought back the fuel for it yet!”

“My van isn’t the same as a tractor, Peridot,” Greg corrected tiredly.

She held up one finger and opened her mouth with a deep breath, then shut it again, thinking. She looked at him suspiciously.

“Why not?”

“Because no one lives in the tractor.”

Peridot looked dumbfounded. “Why would anyone live in a tractor?”

“No one-” Greg cut off, tried not to grind his teeth, and reminded himself that he had actually signed up for this. Broadly speaking. Very broadly.

“I’m saying that the van is my home, Peridot. Not just a vehicle. I live in there.”

Peridot squinted out the barn door, through which the van was visible.

She looked back at Greg, chewing her lip. “I don’t understand what your choice of residence has to do with my piloting abilities.”

He tried again from a different angle. “Would you want me driving the barn around?”

Peridot threw up her arms in aggravation. “Now you’re not making ANY sense!” she shouted. “You can’t drive a barn anywhere!!” Then she sighed deeply, and put what might have meant to be a comforting hand on his topmost ankle.

“We’re out of options, Greg. I can’t use the warp pad, and we have no clue when Steven and Lapis will return. I’m taking the van,” she said evenly. She got up and started walking to the door.

“Don’t do it, Peridot,” Greg said, slightly panicked. “I’m fine! Look, I’m fine!!” He wiggled feebly.

Peridot wheeled around and flung her arm out. “You let the Pearl drive it! It’s just a simple human ship! I’ve been piloting gem vehicles several hundred times its size and power since I was made!”

“Let’s wait until Steven and Lapis come back,” he begged. “I’m sure they can get that tractor moved in no time! I can manage until then.” He hoped.

Peridot sighed, and a solemn look crossed her green features.

“I understand if you’re angry with me,” Peridot said in a small but formal voice. “It is possible I bear some culpability for your...” she gestured vaguely but guiltily, “current situation. Regardless, as the only Crystal gem present, I am responsible for the protection of Earth and its inhabitants and that includes you.”

She flattened her lips together. “I will pilot your human vehicle to the gem temple, and request aid.”

“Peridoooooot,” he wailed as she walked out of the barn and towards his van. Just then, he noticed a bluer spot in the sky over her shoulder had also gotten bigger. And it looked like someone was riding it.

He started hyperventilating.

“Peridot!” he shouted with all his might. “They’re back!! They’re back, you don’t have to take the vaaan!” he sobbed.

She stopped and looked up.

“Oh,” she said, sounding disappointed. “That is them. Well.”

Steven and Lapis landed and walked over to the barn, the promised fuel canister dangling from one of her hands, Steven’s hand in the other, both talking excitedly. Once they got to the doorway, Steven dropped Lapis’ hand numbly and took a step forward, then another, and his face crumpled enigmatically.

“Dad,” he said in a concerned yet also awed voice. “Are you stuck like that?”

Peridot groaned and Greg painfully attempted a deep breath, opening his mouth, when they were both cut off by the sound of splintering wood.

Lapis clung to the threshold of the barn door, nearly crushing it, while her knees seemed to buckle. They all stared at her, open-mouthed. Her head hung down, eyes shadowed by her hair, until she flung it back. Blue fire ignited her gaze.

“Peridot,” she rasped.

“This is the best meep morp you have ever made.”

Chapter Text

“You are the untold story. You are the impassioned truth wanting to scream its existence, to be forever trapped by a strong hand clapped firmly over the mouth of my soul.”
― Henry Rollins, Solipsist

“Are you okay, Pearl?”

Pearl’s eyes widened, and she slowly, carefully lowered her hands from her mouth.

Greg swallowed nervously, flicking his eyes back and forth between her and the road. He sounded surprised. Concerned. She should reply.

“I’m-” She licked her lips, testing. “I’m fine.”

Pearl and Greg had started spending slightly more time together after their trip to Empire City. It was more like Pearl had stopped looking for reasons to avoid him at first, but as weeks passed, testing the fabric of their newly cordial relationship had gotten more comfortable. After months passed, Pearl had even started to wonder if maybe it should have always been like this, between them. Until now.

This was so much easier when I hated you.

When Greg had mentioned he needed to drive out of town for a replacement part the Dondai needed, she offered to come with him on the trip. It was only two hours or so each way, but she supposed she at least owed him the company and help with the repair, since she’d started borrowing it. Driving it alone now and then, imagining one day she’d get the courage to maybe even pick someone up in it. Maybe even a specific someone. For a date.

Hating you was easier than letting go.

Pearl hastily tried to wipe away the tears that had begun to roll down her face, but Greg still saw.

“I’m gonna just pull over here,” he said in a gentle voice.

“No! No we’re almost home,” she protested, and tried to make a noise that would pass for a laugh. “I told you, I’m fine.”

He got that stubborn look on his face that had always annoyed her, but it just seemed to pass through her now. He pulled over anyway, rolled the windows down, and turned off the engine.

“I’m sorry, Pearl,” he sighed after a few moments. “I wasn’t thinking. I can see how some of those stories could be upsetting for you. I wasn’t trying...” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I wasn’t trying to rub it in your face. We don’t have to talk about her anymore.”

“No!” she protested vehemently. “No, I...” Her eyes darted, trying to find a way to say what she meant.

The purchase of the replacement carburetor had gone fine, even if it was a little more expensive than Greg had expected. On the return trip, one thing had reminded Greg of something else, which reminded Pearl of another thing, and they’d forgotten to put on more music and instead started talking about the one thing neither of them ever stopped thinking about.

Pearl knew she had to find a way to say what she meant this time. How to say it without...saying it.

“Rose did a lot of things with, with you, that I never knew about.” He blushed violently, but she was too overwhelmed to wonder about it now. “It used to make me angry. But now, hearing about it, instead of just imagining all of the-” she cut off, then tried, “I just feel...” Her throat closed, and another tear ran down her cheek as she continued.

“I feel like maybe, even though she’s gone now, I can still have the chance to get to know her? When you tell me things I didn’t know before. I thought I would be angry, but it’s actually...wonderful.” She wiped it away and exhaled wryly. “Does that even make sense?” She looked down, then glanced over at him.

Greg gave her a small smile, his eyes soft. “It makes a lot of sense. I feel the same way.”

Guilt twisted in her.

She took time choosing her words, and tried to think of something else, to convince herself she meant anything but that.

“There are things that she and I did together than you don’t know about,” she ventured carefully.

Greg looked at her very strangely. “Pearl, you don’t have to-”

She held up one hand, then folded them together. Wrung them, considering.

“It’s not fair to you,” she said finally. The gentle breeze from outside smelled like tilled earth; the ocean was still miles away but there was still a hint in the breeze. Then another car blew past them on the far side of the road, spoiling the moment, but the birds never stopped their noise and the otherwise silence returned. It should have been a heavy one, but somehow managed not to be.

“What’s not fair?” Greg asked. He seemed sincerely puzzled.

“There are some things you’ll never know about Rose,” she said finally, biting her lips in the hope he could understand somehow what she meant. How she meant.

His face softened. “That’s okay, Pearl. I know there were a lot of things Rose did, that she said she wasn’t proud of. The war, a lot of the, the alien invasion stuff, where she was from...none of that mattered to me. All I wanted was to spend time with her, here on Earth. And you don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with,” he finished, and even smiled a little crookedly.

Pearl covered her face, unable to bear it. “It’s-n-not-fair,” she hiccuped, and felt a hand patting her shoulder. She leaned into it, and then felt his arms wrap around her, hot tears escaping her lids while she shook with emotions she didn’t have names for.

Hating you was easy because I could never, ever hate her.

“This is awkward with the seat belts,” she mumbled thickly after a few long minutes.

“Heh, yeah,” he replied, sounding a bit congested himself. He let her go, and wiped his eyes before continuing. “But it’s always safety first in my van! You never know what can happen when you take a drive with The Universe!” He laughed weakly.

“Why don’t we head home,” she added, smiling back at him.

“Sure thing.”

Greg started the van again, and pulled back out into the road headed east. But when he reached out to turn the power on the sound system, she reached out and touched his hand.

“Why don’t I sing something? An old song.”

Greg cut his eyes at her, but he was smiling. “Sure, go for it.”

Pearl took a deep breath to steady herself, closed her eyes to concentrate on the bracing wind coming in through her open window. Then she opened her mouth and sung the notes she’d heard only in the privacy of her gem for thousands of years, the wind whisking them out to echo off the hillsides, dangle from the trees, to be churned under their tires into the road.

“Wow,” Greg whispered after the third chorus, half to himself. “I could really write some awesome lyrics to this.” He started humming along, but only under his breath.

She didn’t stop singing, since she couldn’t tell him it had had lyrics, once upon a time. Back when she’d sung it to please Pink Diamond.

She was giving him the song to do what he needed with it; she hoped he would write lyrics for it. Maybe that would be enough.

Chapter Text

“The moon will never lie to anyone. Be like the moon. No one hates the moon or wants to kill it. The moon does not take antidepressants and never gets sent to prison. The moon never shot a guy in the face and ran away. The moon has been around a long time and has never tried to rip anyone off. The moon does not care who you want to touch or what color you are. The moon treats everyone the same. The moon never tries to get in on the guest list or use your name to impress others. Be like the moon. When others insult or belittle in an attempt to elevate themselves, the moon sits passively and watches, never lowering itself to anything that weak. The moon is beautiful and bright. It needs no makeup to look beautiful. The moon never shoves clouds out of its way so it can be seen. The moon needs not fame or money to be powerful. The moon never asks you to go to war to defend it. Be like the moon.”

― Henry Rollins, Solipsist

Sometimes, Greg just needed to go for a drive.

When he stared too long into the familiar rose-colored gem embedded in his son’s belly, and it would glow and Steven would chortle his tiny baby version of Rose’s laugh and he started thinking too much; when being afraid for started feeling a little bit like afraid of.

When some of the things Pearl said started to eat at him, when he started to hate himself, when he wondered if maybe his family had been right about him after all.

When a normally inert part of his hind-brain decided to get loud, and he’d start to get weird ideas like maybe the next time the sun went down, it would die, and the moon would decide to never come back. They weren’t the kind of ideas that made sense, or song lyrics, or good album covers. They just rattled around jaggedly in the his head and heart until he felt cut up and bruised.

After he closed up the car wash, Greg sat in the back of his van with his knees up and Steven balanced on his legs, the baby’s chubby hands grasping his fingers tightly. “Hey, there, Stevemeister, wanna go visit your auntie Barb for a while? How’s that sound?” As the infant burbled in agreement, Greg wiped away a tear, but luckily, with this kiddo he never had to force himself smile in return. He wondered what he did to deserve such a good-natured child. He packed Steven up into his carseat, where he had a little snooze as Greg drove through the town over to Barb Miller’s place.

Barb answered the door eventually, although he could hear her hollering all the way toward the entrance. “UNIVERSE! Yeah, yeah, I saw you coming up, just had to come around from the back! Hah!”

He watched her eyes take in the diaper bag, the backpack, and his awakened son cooing and dangling happily from the carseat that felt like it was slowly turning his arm to stone. She opened the door wide, stepped back, and he could see her tiny, towheaded daughter Sadie clinging to her leg.

“’Bout that time, eh? Come on in, you two. I was just about to get something going on the stove.”

Greg followed Barb heavily toward the kitchen, slowly as she limped a bit on her bad knee, Sadie clinging to the side of the car seat and already whispering whatever involved tales she always seemed to save up to share with Steven.

Every now and then he would show up at Barb’s house with his baby, or she would show up at the car wash with Sadie, and for a while one of them would have two kids. Neither stayed away longer than three days, and neither felt the need to ask where they went, or why. At least, Greg would no more have asked that than he would why Barb had come back from Keystone State University without a degree, or where Sadie had come from. He knew better than anyone that life has a way of really throwing some curveballs, that was for sure.

“You staying for dinner?” Barb asked brightly as he finally set the occupied carseat down on the table with a groan. She was rummaging around in a cabinet while a big pot in the sink was filling with water. He started to pull out a chair to set the diaper bag on, before he realized that Sadie was already occupying it so she and Steven could continue what appeared to be a very intense, if a bit one-sided, conversation. As he found another chair to wrestle the heavy bags of diapers, formula, bottles, and toys onto, he finally remembered Barb had asked him a question, and he should probably answer it.

“I really appreciate the offer, Barb, but I better get going,” he smiled.

Sadie had broken off her stream of whispers and was giggling behind her hand, and Steven chortled in response. Greg leaned down and put his hand on the side of the carseat, pushing the collapsible handle back and locking it in place. “Sorry to interrupt, Sadie.”

Barb’s daughter pulled a lock of her coarse yellow hair out of her mouth and nodded politely. “That’s okay, Mr. Universe.”

He leaned down to Steven. “Hey kiddo, you be good for Barb, okay?” He smiled, and kissed him on the top of his tiny, curly head. “See you a little later, huh?”

“I’ll just be farting around this place all weekend! Call if you need anything,” Barb half-shouted, clattering more pots and pans from a lower cabinet.

“Thanks, Barb,” he called back, tearing his eyes away from his son and swallowing down gulps of strange guilt until he got outside. Greg shut the door behind him and took a big, deep breath. He waited a few minutes to see if he could hear a baby’s cry over Barb’s reassuring noise; he felt like somehow Steven was waiting until he was gone to wail at Greg’s absence, even though Barb said he never did unless he was wet or hungry. It was like his own kid was trying not to make him feel bad for leaving, protecting his feelings, or something.

Greg scrubbed his hands over his face. His thoughts were getting weird again, that’s why he was going for a drive in the first place. Clear his head, get a grip, put on some tunes and just exist for a while. He pulled his keys out of his pocket and stepped off the curb, walking the long way around the back of the van before getting in and turning the engine over.

Once he got out of town, his head started to clear and he hit the power button on the van’s CD player. Queen’s Greatest Hits picked right back up wherever it had left off, which this time was right at the beginning of Don’t Stop Me Now. Perfect. This player would get to the end of a disc, then immediately start playing the same one from the beginning unless he changed the settings. There were two volumes, but he really just thought of them as the Blue one and the Red one. He smiled, thinking of Garnet and her relationship, how she was a relationship, then it was like someone poured acid over his heart as he was reminded of Rose, like always.

He just tried to accept it, since there was nothing he could actually do about it. And it wasn’t like there was anything that didn’t remind him of Rose; breathing reminded him of her. He couldn’t help his awareness of everything that made him a human being; she had made him hyperaware of it. By the time You’re My Best Friend was playing, he was crying a bit but it passed like a cloud; no need to pull over and collect himself. He just really wanted to keep on going for now.

The sun was setting over the ocean as he drove south along the coast. If Rose had still been sitting next to him, he would have wondered aloud if there was a way to drive following the sun, and stay in the sunset forever. At least until he had to sleep, or eat. A way to make that perfect moment last, or make some new moments trying. It was the sort of thing they used to talk about for hours; Rose knew a lot about the way the earth did what it did, but more importantly, she knew a lot about how it could make you feel.

He went through the rest of the best of Queen, and as night fell moved on to Judas Priest, Dio, Guns N Roses. He put on his ABBA mix to get through that awkward part of a Friday night when a lot of people decided to go out and make questionable choices, some of them requiring him to pay close attention, and even honk once or twice.

The moon rose, but Greg didn’t stop off any any of the usual lookout points or scenic restaurants. He just let the weird thoughts happen, and the painful ones. Sometimes he laughed suddenly, or blinked tears away. It had been a long week at the car wash, and he was tired. But tonight, it seemed like the wheels just wouldn’t stop turning, so he rolled the windows down and kept going until the lights disappeared and only the moon shone indifferently down on the hills. He was getting tired. Tired-er.

What if Pearl was right? What if Rose was still in there, somehow? He didn’t like thinking that way around Steven, he worried too much it would change how he acted towards him. He wondered what kind of person his son, their son, would turn out to be. How much of him would be him, and how much… the gem? Would he be a replica of Rose, but also somehow... a baby?

He couldn’t really even imagine that, and it also sort of scared him. For a second, he let himself think of how frightened he felt pretty much all the time. He wished desperately she were still here, that she had some way to tell him what to do. The road blurred, but he didn’t bother to wipe away his tears this time. His beard could have them. He was so tired, and everything was too much. The road stayed the same, the moon stayed the same, painting everything an identical silver, like everything was covered in cobwebs and he was driving through an enormous haunted mansion. Trees like giant table legs. I’m so...

Something slammed into the side of the van and he heard a voice holler, “Greg! Wake up!”

He screamed, the van swerving back into the road from the ditch he’d nearly driven it into. Whatever had hit his van was climbing in through the passenger side window, and he opened his mouth to scream some more before the interior was bathed in a pale purple glow and he realized what it was. Who it was. He pulled over and let the van coast to a stop, breathing heavily, then goggled at the suddenly occupied passenger seat.

“Amethyst?”

She looked incredulously at him. “You almost drove this thing into a ditch! What are you-” She cut off, crossing her arms angrily.

Greg wiped his face and shook his head in an attempt to clear it.

“Were you...following me? Have you been following me? What’s going on?”

Amethyst frowned and glanced down, to the side. She fiddled with the catch to the glove box. Greg felt irrationally angry, but only for a moment. After all, it had been a good thing Amethyst had been there this time. He took a deep breath to apologize for yelling, but Amethyst spoke first.

“How can you just be leaving like this,” she growled accusingly.

He opened his mouth, then shut it again. There were a lot of things he could have said, and considered saying, but he was tired, and done, and it would all come out weird.

“I’m not leaving,” he said instead.

She frowned, not looking at him. Then she pointed down the road.

“There’s a place up there on the other side, where you can see the water. It’s nice.”

Greg started up the van again, and pulled out into the road. He wondered how she knew about something like that, if she came out this far when she….wait. He blinked, realizing who he was talking to.

“Were you flying out there?”

“Yup,” she replied simply.

The place Amethyst must’ve been talking about was nice, a space between hills that created a sort of bluff and had a view of the sea, with a wide stretch of shell gravel past the shoulder he could pull the van off on to. He did so, then unbuckled and hopped out of the van to get a better look. It was gorgeous, in fact, the moon silvering each leaf on the trees that stood to the side of the gravel space, and the ocean looked like it was made of flowing mercury.

Greg got back in and faced the van away from the view, then got out and opened up the back. Amethyst joined him this time.

“What are you doing?” she asked curiously.

He rubbed his sore eyes. “I came out here too far. There’s no way I can get back home without at least trying to rest, so...” He crawled up onto the floor of the van and started rummaging around, tossed Amethyst a soft CD case and crawled over to his bedding. “I have the system set up in the back, too,” Greg yawned. He rolled over onto his belly, staring out over the edge at the moonlit scenery, and gave a great sigh. “Play whatever you want.”

Amethyst crawled up in after him, holding the case to her chest awkwardly. He heard her rummaging around for a few minutes, putting a disc in the system behind him, then she came and plopped down next to his bedding on her back and looking up and out at the moon. His eyelids started to droop as ambient tones and low, thrumming bass softly filled the car, but Amethyst started talking.

“You’re really not leaving? You didn’t give Steven to that lady?”

He turned his head where it lay on his folded arms to look at her. The moon reflected off the whites of her eyes and her gem, made her already-silverish hair looked carved from stone until she moved. She tucked her hands into the long sleeves of her sweater, then folded them behind her head and waited for an answer.

“Sometimes, I-” he tried to blink through his sleep deprivation. “Everything’s a little too much. So Barb watches Steven for me for a little while, and I go for a drive. To clear my head, and...” He sighed, giving up trying to string together a coherent sentence. “Why were you out flying, anyways?”

She shrugged enigmatically. The music swelled, thrumming with increasing urgency without ever becoming noise.

“What is this?” he asked, a little annoyed but trying not to show it. He thought he knew every album in the van backwards and forwards, but this seemed wholly unfamiliar.

“The disc said ‘Godspeed You! Black Emperor’ on it. With an explamation point in the middle. I found it in one of those boxes under the seat,” she emphasized. After a moment she added, “Do you think Rose would have liked it?”

Acid bathed his heart, and he mumbled, “I don’t know. She liked songs with words more, I think.” A tear slid from the corner of Amethyst’s eye, and he hurried to add, “she still would have liked it, though! I’m not sure there was any kind of music Rose didn’t like.” A second joined the first, and he lifted his head and leaned up so he could pat her shoulder awkwardly. “She always did like the way you hit those skins, too,” he ventured softly.

Amethyst slapped his hand off her shoulder.

“I don’t care!” she shrieked, then suddenly rolled over onto his blanket and clutched him, burying her face in the crook of the elbow he was leaning up on. “I hate it,” she continued, almost choking. “I hate her!”

His breath hitched.

“You don’t mean that, Amethyst.”

“Why did she do it?” she sobbed. “Why did she just… leave?”

He was too tired. He leaned up a little more and put his other arm around her, patted her hair. “I don’t know,” he replied dully. Tears rolled down his face too, but he didn’t notice. “I don’t know.”

She kicked, growling, aiming at the CD player in the back without lifting up her face or looking. “Hey!” he yelled, as she kicked again and it shut off. One of her feet glanced off his shin but he barely winced.

“How can you just be okay with it?” she groaned incoherently into his arm.

“I’m not,” he said heavily, exhausted.

She hiccuped, then moved her head to glance up suspiciously at him.

“I’m not okay,” Greg elaborated. He looked up at the moon blearily. “I’m trying to figure out how to be okay with,” his throat closed, and he tried again. “With not being okay. Kinda like the moon, you know? It’s not okay or, or not not-okay, it’s just up there.” He felt woozy, his head full of snot. “It just keeps going. I gotta be like that; I gotta be like the moon. I can’t just give up, and I’m not gonna leave Steven, or you all.” He blinked and smiled weakly. “The moon’s gotta go for a drive, sometimes, too... but it always comes back. It was never really gone.”

He found an old sock, blew his nose in it, then tossed it in the trash bag hanging down from a hook on the inside wall of the van. His head hurt, so he reclaimed the arm she’d clung to and laid down. She was still crying, but softly now. He sighed, and put his other arm back over her. “I’m not leaving,” he mumbled defiantly, and fell instantly asleep with his face in her slightly sticky hair.

When he woke up late the next morning, Amethyst wasn’t in the van. He had half-convinced himself he’d dreamed the whole thing until he heard her calling him from somewhere below.

“Heyyy, Greg!” She hollered in a singsong voice. “There’s tide pools down here!”

So he ended up eating his breakfast granola bars sitting on a boulder overlooking the shallow dips and hollows between rocks that had retained shards of the sea, watching Amethyst wet her sleeves and trying not to look to closely at whatever she was shoving into her mouth now and then. When he brushed himself off, shoved the trash in his pocket and pulled his keys back out, stretching his arms in preparation for the long drive back, she nonchalantly walked around to wait at the passenger door. He was a little surprised, but didn’t say anything as they hopped in and buckled up other than, “You can pick the songs for the first leg, if you want.”

He let her choose the soundtrack for the second leg too, after they stopped off for gas, and some lunch at one of the restaurants he’d passed on the way back. Sure, Amethyst made a mess, but it was nothing after months of taking care of Steven. If he was honest, it was nothing compared to the inside of his van right now, or the inside of his head. Amethyst’s mess was fixable, or at least finite. It had an end. The rest of the trip home was pleasant enough, and he had to admit he felt glad that Amethyst was there making filthy jokes and drumming along to death metal blast beats on the van’s dashboard.

When they finally drove up to Barb’s place again, he got out and walked around as Amethyst exited the vehicle.

“I better get going,” she said flippantly and started to turn away, then stopped as he cleared his throat.

“Hey,” he began, then cleared his throat again before continuing. “If you want to come by sometimes, you know. You could. We could talk, or...watch some shows? I’ve got that TV and a VCR back there, too.”

She blinked and pushed her hair back, but it fell back instantly to cover her eye once more.

“Like...to the van?”

“Well, yeah,” he replied earnestly. “That’s where I live, remember?”

“Maybe,” she said, looked down. “We could just look at the moon for a while, right? Sure.”

She looked up and grinned wickedly. “But only if you stop being such a saaad saaaack!” she called, as her gem glowed and she transformed into the enormous purple owl he’d seen a few times before. He’d slammed himself back against the van when she changed, but shook his head and tried to relax as she cackled like a banshee and disappeared over the trees.

Wait, do banshees even cackle?

He wondered about that, thinking about haunted mansions and cackling banshees while humming to himself as he came up to the door, rung the bell, and waited to be reunited.

Chapter Text

“I would like to be able to say that she broke my heart but I know better. I broke my own heart. I can't say that she did it and get behind that statement in any real way. I know too much. The only one I can blame for my loneliness is myself.”
― Henry Rollins, Eye Scream

Lapis activates the viewer on the moon base and plays the day’s events again.

The only sound here is what she brought herself. Her voice breaks but she keeps singing through sheer force of will.

It’s easy.

In the van, Peridot and Steven are talking.

Their mouths move silently, rapidly then slowly. Steven plays an instrument. They’re singing.

Maybe if Lapis was really there in the van, if she could just hear the song, it would make her able to peel away the fear, find her courage, swallow her pride, just go back. The song will teach her how to love someone enough. She would learn how to want good things to happen someday.

The only water here is what she brought herself. She keeps the molecules together by sheer force of will.

It’s easy.

When Lapis found the moon base viewer, it was like a dream come true. To be a part of everyone without actually having to exist. To know everything and be touched by nothing. To finally dissolve her own awareness, observing without presence.

In the van, Peridot is crying.

If she could hear the song, she’d know why.

The only love here is what she brought herself. Cracked and distorted, she keeps the fissures open by sheer force of will.

It isn’t easy.

Lapis is glad she can’t hear the song.

Chapter Text

“You can find me in the frozen mood section.”
― Henry Rollins, Solipsist

Greg kissed Rose one more time, then one more time, then she finally disappeared into a beam of light and it felt like his heart flew up with her.

“Wow,” he breathed.

The walk down from the temple and across the beach was always dreamlike, especially at night, when everything felt secret and exciting and unknowable. His heart and his mind burst with a day full of Rose; the way she laughed, the scent of her hair, the way she appreciated the sun on your face, dancing and swimming, and talking about life. Each moment with her was like living in a song they were writing together.

The van was parked a quarter mile away or so up the beach; any closer and Pearl started complaining about humans and fences and dangerous precedents. She didn’t like him hanging around in the temple when they weren’t there, either, but when he pointed out he didn’t actually have a way to know if they were there or not, she’d opened and closed her mouth, then pretended like he hadn’t said anything. She didn’t bring it up again, but he really tried to stick to it, at least as much as he could bring himself to. The temple was Pearl’s home as much as Rose’s, and he wasn’t gonna disrespect her like that. Well, at least not when he was hungry. It’s not like there was food in the temple.

Greg kicked up a little puff of dry sand, laughed at the way it sparkled, almost unearthly in the starlight. His van came into view, and although it looked the same as it always did, it seemed like something was...off, somehow. He wasn’t sure what, but gooseflesh peppered his arms and legs for a moment. He shivered again as he approached it, and when his fingers touched the door handle he snatched them back, rubbing his fingers. It was cold; colder than the warm summer night could account for.

He backpedaled a few steps, stumbling over the little hillock that separated the hard, wet sand from the dry dunes. If he squinted, he could almost see a dim, blue outline around the doors. He was probably just imagining it.

“Hello?” he called tentatively. “Is...somebody in there?”

No sound or even a flicker was forthcoming. Maybe he was just an idiot yelling at his own empty vehicle on an abandoned beach.

“It’s okay if you are!” he called. “But I um,” he rubbed the back of his head. “I’m just gonna grab a bite to eat, if that’s okay?”

Getting blasted into atoms or torn limb from limb seemed like a possibility more or less all the time since his life had changed for the better a few months ago, especially when Pearl was around. He couldn’t say he was necessarily used it it, but he braced himself and thought of Rose as he grabbed the handle again. It made a crackling noise as he pulled at it, and when he opened the door, the blue glow he thought he’d imagined spilled out over him and the sand.

He squinted into it. The light was being held by the tiniest woman he’d ever seen, sitting calmly with her upturned hands nestled one in the other, resting on her skirt. She wore a billowing blue and white dress, her face half-obscured by some seriously voluminous bangs. She sat there like a cake topper, tucked up almost against the back of the front seats.

“Hello, Greg,” she intoned ominously.

He swallowed, and wondered how she knew his name...but then, who knows how long she’d been in his van there, along with all his worldly possessions. Maybe he didn’t want to know the answer to that.

“H-have we met?” he asked instead.

“Yes, and no,” she answered evenly.

“Oh, boy,” he breathed, pushing his hair out of his face a little. He took the few steps back toward the van, and tried to get a better look. Her hair was white, but she didn’t seem old or anything. She didn’t look young, either. And no, it wasn’t just the lighting, she was actually blue. Not a woman at all, then. And she wasn’t holding a light.

“Are you...” he trailed off nervously. Licked his lips. He was really hungry. Hanging out with Rose really took it out of him sometimes.

“Are you one of Rose’s…friends?” he tried, hopefully.

“Yes,” she replied, and smiled. It was a really nice smile, actually.

He returned it, feeling a little relieved, if not exactly comfortable. “Hey, me too! Or at least, I think she’s pretty amazing.” He glanced into the van’s interior, and continued, “I was just hoping to, well, get some food? In there? If that’s okay with you?”

“Of course,” she replied. “You live here.”

“That’s um, true,” he replied, nonplussed, and crawled hesitantly into the van’s glow-filled interior. He shivered, and realized it wasn’t just the unnerving company; it was actually pretty cold. He grabbed a blanket off the laundry pile and wrapped it around himself, then opened the cooler to see if there was anything left in it. A six-pack of Budweiser, and there-yes! A few convenience-store sandwiches that were still perfectly viable, and not too soggy.

He sat down a little distance from her, since there was plenty of room in the van, and wrapped the blanket around himself. He plopped down and unwrapped one of the sandwiches, shoving the food into his mouth gratefully. His hunger made the egg salad delicious, and he realized he hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Or...was it the day before yesterday, now? He wasn’t sure, and didn’t care.

He kept his eyes on her as he ate, trying not to be too messy although he supposed etiquette might not apply to someone who had broken into your van, which you also lived in, and laid in wait for unknown reasons. Still, he couldn’t help wanting to be polite in front of someone who sat so...formally? Or maybe it was just that she was so still and expressionless. He couldn’t even tell if she was watching him or not; her hair covered her eyes completely.

“I’m here because we’re not sure what needs to be done about you,” she intoned out of nowhere.

The last bite of his third sandwich went tasteless in his mouth as he froze, and he suddenly felt like he needed to pee. With an effort, he swallowed the unchewed lump and wiped his mouth on the blanket before stuttering, “D-done about m-m-me?”

“Yes,” she replied tonelessly.

“Oh boy,” he whispered again, then shivered. He was pretty sure running wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference, as he was intimately familiar by now with the knowledge that this-this gem, he was sure of it-could make and execute whatever decision she made about him regardless. He tried to control his breathing, since it was now visible in the cold air currently filling his van.

“You’re going to change her,” the tiny blue being added. A delicate web of frost crept up the interior siding as he watched; when it got to an electrical cord there was a tiny popping noise and a puff of snow that made him jump. “But we don’t change.”

Greg sat there, feeling like a rabbit in a meat locker. He tried to think of something that could convince her that he wasn’t a problem that needed to be solved permanently, but he didn't even know if that was true, or what she wanted here. Heck, he didn’t even know her name or who she was talking about when she said-

“Wait a second,” he tried. “Are you talking about Rose?”

“Of course,” she said again, but colder.

“Well, I’m not a hundred percent sure what kind of changes you’re talking about, but do I know when she came into my life, everything changed for me.” He took a deep breath, but telling the truth about this was easy. “I got rid of my crappy manager, I stayed here instead of finishing my east coast tour, and I don’t even know where my next meal’s coming from,” he rushed out, and glanced wryly at the near-empty cooler.

“I know I’m not really...that great. I don’t know what she sees in me, but it feels, well. It feels real. She’s real, and amazing, and beautiful, and interesting, and she never says what I’m expecting her to say. With Rose, everything feels like this insane adventure, even stuff I’ve done about a million times before.” The blue being continued to sit motionless; he couldn’t even tell if she could see him. A hysterical bark of a laugh escaped him, and maybe he was about to die, but he just couldn’t stop talking about her.

“When she looks at something, it’s like I can look at it through her eyes and I’m really seeing it for the first time. When Rose laughs, I feel like you could crumple me and my van up into a ball of tinfoil and, and throw me into space right now and it wouldn’t change anything about the way I feel.” He felt tears start, and he wiped his eyes irritably. “I could get in an accident tomorrow, a meteor could hit the earth, or Pearl will finally just kill me, and it wouldn’t change the fact that it would be worth it. Because I love her. I’m in love with her. I wouldn’t go back and do anything different,” he finished, and looked defiantly back at the blue gem that had laid in wait for him.

Her lips were slightly parted, maybe in surprise? He was breathing heavily, but he couldn’t see it anymore. Talking like that had warmed him up. Or maybe...she was doing that?

“Pearl’s not going to kill you,” she said after a minute, and her voice sounded a little warmer, too.

“That’s uh, that’s good,” he replied shakily.

“If she was going to, she would have already done it,” his uninvited companion continued with an uncomfortable amount of finality. He shivered again even though it wasn’t cold anymore.

“I’m not going to kill you, either,” she finished.

“You’re not?”

“No,” she said emphatically, almost sounding like a person. “I’m sorry I frightened you.” She clasped her hands together under her chin, and the light disappeared.

“Oh!” she said softly, and it reappeared. “Sorry again.”

“Heh, at least I’m not...scared of the dark?” he laughed weakly.

“Garnet didn’t understand what she saw,” the she continued, “And I guess I’m not doing much better, after all.” He opened his mouth to respond to that but she asked him a question.

“Will you still love her? Even if she changes somehow?”

Greg smiled and looked down for a second. “I can’t imagine ever not loving her. But I know I’m not the same person I was before I met her, so yeah, maybe she’ll change, too. Isn’t that how it works?”

He was graced with her dazzling smile a second time. “I used to think that sort of thing wasn’t possible.” she said quietly. “But then…I met someone who helped me change, too.”

“Wow,” he sighed sincerely. “I think that’s great.”

Greg shifted, and realized he really didn’t need the blanket anymore. Actually, he felt like he could really go for a drink, since the spit had fled his mouth at the start of this...conversation, whatever it was, and hadn’t returned. He shrugged out of his swaddling, leaned back over to the cooler, and remembered his manners.

“Would you like one of these too, uh….?” He pointed a beer at her questioningly.

“I’m Sapphire,” she said and smiled warmly.

“It’s really nice to meet you.” He quirked the can at her again.

“That would be nice,” she replied.

He popped the top and handed it to her, and she took it in her non-gemmed hand to balance presumably on her knee, the other upturned and resting on her skirts. It was actually hard to tell how she was sitting, or if she had legs in there or what. He drank and tried not to think about it, she followed suit, surprisingly.

“This has bubbles in it!” she exclaimed.

Greg managed not to spray her while muffling his sudden laugh in his own wrist, wiped his mouth and swallowed. “Heh, yeah, it does,” he agreed mildly. “I’m glad you like it.”

She took another sip. “Is this really safe for humans to drink?” she asked in a bemused voice.

Greg tried to think about how to answer that in an accurate way, then considered that if she was Rose’s friend, she might not necessarily be...new to Earth.

“It’s alcohol,” he said, and hoped that would be enough.

“I see,” she replied, and brought the container closer. Then she moved her bangs aside to inspect the beverage, and he jumped a bit as he saw she only had one eye, right in the middle of her face. He drank from his own can, trying not to stare, but he realized he was already sort of used to it. She looked nice, actually.

“Hey, um, Sapphire. If you don’t mind me asking, why did you decide to, uh, come and talk to me? I guess I don’t really understand, but you seem worried about something. Is there some way I can...help you?”

She tilted her head at him musingly; being able to see her expression made her seem a lot less scary, eye notwithstanding. She smiled. “You are charming, Mr. Universe,” she said in an amused voice. Then she sort of, flowed forward somehow, lifting a tiny hand to brush his hair away from his face, casting its serene blue glow over his features. “And pretty,” she added, and his revealed face suddenly burned. “But there’s more to you than that. Your fate will be different than most humans. I wonder if that’s why she’s going to change.”

She settled back and chugged about half the can of beer she was holding, then burped politely behind white-gloved fingers before continuing. “Garnet’s future vision works differently than mine, but what she saw frightened her. Then she saw me coming to talk to you, and learning something important. I thought I would learn what the vision meant, and then I could decide what to do about it.”

Greg swallowed nervously, not sure what a “future vision” was, but it sounded scary. “Did you?” he asked hesitantly.

“No,” she replied, smiling kindly; this time he could see it in her eye, too. “But I did learn something important.”

“About what?”

Her smile broadened into a grin that lit up her whole face.

“Love,” she replied.

He couldn’t help smiling back. “Was it Garnet?” he asked without thinking.

“Was what Garnet?” she asked quizzically.

“Who helped you-change, you said?”

Sapphire’s laugh chimed like a bell, and he felt the last of his tension relax. He really wasn’t going to die, at least not tonight. Probably. Maybe he was just a little tipsy, or sleep-deprived, but he felt like he and Sapphire were already old friends.

“No! Well, yes, but…Garnet came later. And before. But maybe she...that’s an interesting question” She set her almost-empty beer down, and gazed out at the starlit sky. “I should be getting back, now. She’ll be waiting for me back at the temple-”

“I’m not in the temple!” a tiny but desperate-sounding voice suddenly cried out from what seemed like underneath his van.

“Ruby!” Sapphire cried, and rushed out so quickly he had to grab her discarded can from where it had been knocked over. Luckily it was nearly empty.

Greg followed her out, and realized she was embracing another gem out on the starlit beach. They were both of a height but otherwise it was a little hard to tell what she looked like, since the night was moonless, but he thought maybe red?

“You really surprised me!” Sapphire was saying. The other gem bowed her fluffy head, but neither let go of the other, even for a moment.

“I was under the truck! The van! It’s not what we agreed, but I knew you were nervous.” she replied solemnly. “I didn’t want to leave you alone!”

“It’s okay, Ruby,” Sapphire said huskily, stroking the other gem’s cheek tenderly. “I’m glad you were here.”

“Me too,” Ruby replied, and her lips met Sapphire’s. Then Greg had to narrow his eyes against the sudden blue and red glow, as both of them seemed to melt and then turn blindingly into white light-

and suddenly Garnet stood on the beach, blinking at him hesitantly.

Greg gaped at her.

“That didn’t go how I expected,” she said bluntly.

He opened and closed his mouth a time or two before replying. “Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised, but I still am.”

Garnet laughed, then slapped him on the shoulder companionably, her three eyes holding humor, concern, and friendship. “I can relate to that,” she said wryly.

“So you’re...still Sapphire?” he ventured, confused.

Garnet was still smiling as she flicked her fingers, and her accustomed visor appeared with a brief sparkle.

“Yes, and no,” she replied enigmatically. “Right now, Ruby and Sapphire are being Garnet. We usually are.”

“Wow,” he breathed sincerely. “That actually makes sense. Is there anything else-” he stopped, rephrased.

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

Her lips quirked.

“How about another beer for the road?”

Chapter Text

“I would like to be able to gently drift in and out of existence when I wanted to.”
― Henry Rollins, Solipsist

Inside the van, it always seemed like an in-between twilight. Some sun came in through the front windows from the near-sunset, and there would still be light later on from the bonfire that roared a little ways down the beach. The air inside was close without being musty. It cradled and insulated without being suffocating.

One of the back doors of the van cracked open, and a bar of light hit the dark-haired girl curled up against the interior wall.

“Connie? Hey, are you in here?”

“Steven...I don’t know if I can do this.”

He sighed and crawled up into the back of the van, shut the door behind him. He sat down next to her, but didn’t say anything.

“I just know they’re gonna freak out,” Connie said again.

Steven chewed his lip for a moment, trying to think of something else to say this time. “Well, what happens after that?”

“What do you mean?”

“What happens after they freak out?” Steven clarified.

“I guess I haven’t thought about it past that," she admitted.

“What do they usually do after they freak out?”

Connie didn’t answer.

“Connie, I’m starting to feel like I’m...lying. About something important.”

“But we’re not lying. We were both there; we did all those things.”

“When does leaving something out start to become lying?” Steven’s eyes were downcast.

“I guess I don’t know,” Connie said queasily.

Steven crawled forward to the center of the van, laid down on his back and covered his face with his hands.

“Connie, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pressure you. I guess it’s just that...you know my mom was a liar. She even lied about who she was. I don’t wanna be like that. But then I worry I am like that, or maybe I can’t help but be….sorry. I mean, I’m sorry.” He sighed. “These are my problems. Not yours.”

The sounds of the get together on the beach came muffled through the walls of the van. Priyanka Maheswaran chatted delightedly and deprecatingly about seventeenth century philosophy with Pearl; it sounded like Peridot was performing a demonstration of her powers on soda cans and meatforks (uh oh) for Doug. Greg and Amethyst were running the grill, and it smelled great. Hopefully there’d be some food left for everyone else. Garnet was-

“You know, they already know about Garnet. They were at the wedding. Doesn’t that make it a little easier?”

Connie sighed. “Not really. It kind of makes it worse. I wish we-I wish we had already showed them.”

“Huh?” Steven asked, confused. “How does that make it worse? Isn’t it less scary if they already know what fusion is?”

Connie blushed and whispered, “What if they think it’s like-like kissing?”

“Why would they-oh.” Steven blushed too. “Oh, boy. I guess your folks really don’t, uh, yeah,” he finished in a choked whisper.

Connie wiped both hands over her hair and down the nape of her neck, interlaced her fingers there, sighed.

Steven looked up at her. “What if we… broke it to them easy? Maybe we should...maybe we could ask Opal to show up? She’s different. Well, sort of. Or even-what about Smoky Quartz?”

“Steven, I think we might be making this too complicated.”

“You’re right,” Steven sighed.

Connie pulled her hands down, and folded them back into her lap. Steepled her thumbs.

They sat together in silence for a little while, then Connie spoke.

“But maybe….maybe they just need to get over it. Because, well, it’s not like that. Or, more like it’s whatever WE decide it’s like. You know?”

Steven nodded. Waited.

Connie frowned, thinking hard. She was breathing normally, and her posture, although tense, wasn’t panicked.

“Maybe I need to get over it.”

Steven blinked. “Whadd’you mean?”

She took a deep breath and shut her eyes.

“I’ve got all these weird hangups and I don’t even know why half the time. I mean, I’m always thinking ‘that’s just how it is’ but like, what if that’s not how it is? What if it’s...”

She took another breath, measured, even.

“What if that’s really just what other people think? My parents, people at school...people I don’t even know! Maybe just people I’m imagining.” A small bark of laughter escaped her, but her eyes didn’t open. “I’m making decisions based on what imaginary people might think about me. That’s crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy.”

She opened her eyes and looked down at Steven.

“But I’m acting like I’m doing something wrong, even though I know that’s not true. But I guess it’s because...I don’t want my parents to think I’m gross. I don’t want them to think Stevonnie’s gross. But I can’t...I can’t control what they’ll think, or how they’ll react. I just have to accept that. I can’t care what anyone thinks.”

Steven looked at Connie, his face relaxed and open.

“Connie, it’s okay to care what they think. They’re your parents. I mean, remember how freaked out Stevonnie was when my dad found out? They though he was gonna be super mad or something. And he’s been hanging around gems for like a bazillion years!”

Connie got a weird, thoughtful look on her face.

“They’re Stevonnie’s parents, too.”

The weird look was contagious. “I never thought about it like that,” Steven replied.

They both sat quietly with that idea for a minute or two.

Steven slowly extended his arm towards Connie, his upturned hand near her crossed ankles.

“Why don’t we let Stevonnie decide?”

Connie looked down at Steven’s hand, then took it. She interlaced their fingers, then lay down next to him.

“I think that’s a good idea. It doesn’t have to be some kind of demonstration, like-” she giggled. “Whatever Peridot’s doing out there with those meat forks.”

Steven grinned. “And they don’t have to go out there if they decide they don’t want to.”

They closed their eyes, and thought about what it means to be

-Best Friends-

and Stevonnie opened their eyes, hands interlaced over their gem. They sat up slowly, feeling at their hair. It was pulled back into a ponytail; they let it stay. Stevonnie felt at their cheeks, glad that Steven had decided to shave recently; Stevonnie had more facial hair than Steven, so it made a difference. Doug laughed uproariously outside the van; Peridot snickered self-consciously, and Stevonnie’s stomach fluttered. They crossed their legs, straightened their back and took several deep breaths.

Whatever happens, we’re going to be together, and it’s going to be fine. It’s okay to be nervous. It doesn’t matter what we look like. What I look like. I’m fine just the way I am.

Stevonnie pushed open the van door quietly, blinking a bit as the adjustment left afterimages in their vision. It had gotten darker in the van since Connie had first gone in. But the sun was really setting now; it touched the horizon and everything was blazing pink and orange.

Amethyst and Greg were still by the barbecue, turning the hotdogs, foil-wrapped corn, unidentifiable objects, and hamburgers, occasionally throwing small, slightly-burned bits of food at each other. Greg had an apron on; he wiped his hand on it as Amethyst stole a toasting bun off the top tier of the grill.

Dad turned around and his eyes fell on Stevonnie. He swiped at (and missed) a black smear on his forehead with the back of his hand, gave an encouraging smile, but otherwise didn’t do or say anything out of the ordinary. Then, he turned to toss a small, charred bit of hamburger meat at Amethyst. She caught it in her mouth, growling theatrically, and he threw back his head and laughed.

Garnet sat in a collapsible lawn chair set up near the bonfire; she held something on the end of a stick toward the flames, but Stevonnie had a feeling she was just enjoying watching it burn. A sweet, calming perfume filled the air around her; maybe it was a marshmallow.

Dr and Mr Maheswaran (Mom and Dad) seemed to see Stevonnie at the same time. Mom smiled and nodded at Pearl, then walked over toward the bonfire, near Garnet but facing Stevonnie. Dad (other Dad? Mr Maheswaran?) patted Peridot on the shoulder; she nodded and grinned before levitating her collection of metal objects over towards Bismuth, who looked keenly interested. Doug joined Priyanka near the fire and put an arm around her waist.

Stevonnie took a deep breath and strode towards them. They slowed on the approach, as Mom and Dad’s eyes widened and they came to a stop in front of them. They wiped a sweaty hand on their shorts, and-

-keep it together. it’s okay. they’re not mad. it’s fine-

smiled shakily.

“Hi,” Stevonnie said.

Doug cleared his throat. “You must be Stevonnie. I’m-,” he cast his eyes towards Priyanka. She shut her mouth with a click, then took a deep breath.

“It’s nice to….meet you?” Mom added, holding out her hand toward Stevonnie.

Stevonnie took their mother’s hand; Priyanka gave it a squeeze. Baffled, Stevonnie darted their eyes behind her at Garnet, who lowered her visor for a moment.

Garnet winked at them before replacing her lenses. “We’ve got S’mores,” she drawled laconically, lifting the foil over a tray of graham crackers, marshmallows, chocolate bars and metal skewers.

“Not before dinner we don’t,” Mom stated primly, almost as if someone had pulled a string in her back and played a pre-recorded message. She blinked and looked down for a second, then let Stevonnie’s hand go. “Anyway, I was just saying-”

“Dinner’s READY!” Amethyst bellowed gaily from the grill. Mr Universe waved his spatula at them.

“Oh, it’s already dinnertime,” Mr Maheswaran commented unnecessarily.

Priyanka smiled at him. “You know, at first I really didn’t think they would be able to do anything to the seekh kebab without it falling apart, but they really do seem to know what they’re doing. It smells divine.”

Stevonnie grinned. “Yeah, they’re my-our...they’re my favorite!”

“You know what, dear? Why don’t you just have a seat here with Garnet, and we’ll go and make you a plate.” She frowned, almost wrung her hands, then stopped. “Wait, will your, uh, will Connie’s usual amount be...enough? For...you?” Her voice wheedled out of existence.

Stevonnie plopped gamely down into one of the chairs next to Garnet, scratching the back of their neck self-consciously. “Maybe uh, just add...three hot dogs please? They’re my favorite.” They blushed. “They’re also my favorite. And a hamburger. And, thank you.”

Dr and Mr Maheswaran went off together to have paper plates filled to the brim by Greg and Amethyst, and Stevonnie tilted their head towards Garnet. “Did you...say something to them? About me?”

“Just the basics,” she replied cryptically.

Stevonnie chewed their lip for a moment, not sure how to feel about it.

“When?”

“At the reception,” she replied with a smile, but it faded. “At first I was just answering a few questions about fusion, and gems.” Garnet trailed off ominously. “Then they asked about Steven.”

“Oh.” Stevonnie swallowed. “Why didn’t you say anything to us?” they added hesitantly.

Garnet sighed, and her visor glimmered out of existence. Her eyes held love, concern, sincerity.

“I saw this going a lot worse if I didn’t answer them honestly. So I did. But Steven and Connie had to decide the where and the when of it for themselves.” She exhaled tensely. “Connie especially. Anything I said would have made it go differently. The conversation in the van needed to happen.”

Stevonnie considered the burden of Garnet’s future vision heavily. “You’re probably right, Garnet,” they confessed after a moment. Putting those feelings into words had been really important.

Garnet looked relieved. Her visor reappeared with a flick of her fingers, and she added, “You’re not alone in this. We’re family, and we can all support each other.” Garnet smiled as Pearl exited the beach house bearing a massive tray laden with cumin-seeded rice, naan, chutney, ketchup, and mustard. “I think your parents asked Amethyst and Pearl about fusion, too. But, just remember that we’re here, whenever you need anything, alright?” Garnet stuck her flaming stick into the sand decisively, then leapt out of the chair.

“Time for a beer,” she muttered, and strode away in the general direction of the cooler.

Mom and Dad came over with full plates, followed by Amethyst who was holding a foil-wrapped corn on the cob in one hand, and a can of grape soda in the other. Their parents handed them two plates, one piled with perfectly formed and grilled mutton on top of flatbread, the other with the requested hot dogs and hamburger. Stevonnie thanked them and balanced one on each knee; Dr and Mr Maheswaran seated themselves in Garnet’s vacated chair and the one on the opposite side.

Amethyst plopped her butt down in the sand and took a big bite out of the end of her cob of corn, crunching messily.

“Hey, Stevonnie,” she remarked casually after swallowing the corn, foil and all. “Glad you could make it.”

Stevonnie folded their naan a little petulantly around a bite of meat, cabbage, and chutney.

“Did everyone know I was coming except for me?” they muttered rhetorically before shoving the bite into their mouth. Wow, it was really good.

“Don’t be such a teenager,” Amethyst scoffed at them, but she smiled and finished her corn. Greg came over and sat right there in the sand alongside Amethyst with his plate, and Pearl came to sit in the last vacant chair, folding her hands in her lap.

“Oh, hello, Stevonnie,” Pearl leaned forward, smiling. “How is the cabbage slaw? I’ve never made it before.”

Stevonnie smiled. “It’s great, ma’am!” they proclaimed before shoving another mouthful in.

Mom was frowning at them thoughtfully.

“So, Stevonnie,” she began. “Are you...” She tried again. “Are you older than Steven and Connie?”

“I...think so?” Stevonnie replied absently with their mouth full.

“How, uh, is that possible?” Mr Maheswaran added, squinting at them.

Stevonnie’s dinner started to feel a little unsettled. “I...don’t know?” they quavered, looking down at their plate.

Mr Universe looked up and suddenly asked, “Oh, hey Doug! Amethyst was just telling me she finally found those old golf clubs of mine- she’s been storing them in the temple for me! When are we gonna get out on the kinks together?”

Doug laughed; Priyanka inexplicably blushed. “I think you mean the links,” Doug corrected with a wink before launching into a long winded explanation of his apparently very involved golfing schedule. Pearl, of all people, seemed to be hanging on his every word. Before they knew it, Stevonnie was popping the last bite of the final hot dog into their mouth. “Now that’s what I call two dinners,” they whispered with a satisfied sigh.

Stevonnie stood up and took their plate over to the trash can, then looked around for the cooler. It was down over on the other side of the bonfire, past the bbq. They walked over and squatted down to open the cooler to see what sort of drinks were available. Grape soda, ginger ale...and...there. Lychee soda! “Yes!” Stevonnie whispered, grabbed one and closed the cooler. Over its lid, they saw Bismuth and Peridot eyeballing them; well, Bismuth was just looking. Peridot was eyeballing. She looked like she was about to come over, and in fact, she took a step or two in their direction before Garnet stepped in her path and started talking, the beer she’d mentioned earlier in one fist.

“Thanks, Garnet” Stevonnie whispered to themself. They weren’t really feeling up to dealing with Peridot’s probing and blunt attitude at the moment. This wasn’t horrible or anything, but it was a little….awkward.

“Con-Stevonnie, there you are.”

Stevonnie stood up, turned around and there was Mom. It was weird being taller than her.

“Hey, mom. I mean, Dr Maheswaran.”

She smiled. “I suppose we’re both getting used to that.”

Stevonnie smiled back tentatively.

“How about we take a little walk?”

Stevonnie swallowed, then remembered they had a soda and drank it all, putting the empty bottle carefully into the recycling bin. “Okay, sure,” they replied.

As they walked out past the ring of the firelight and toward the waves, the ocean almost seemed to glow. Stevonnie looked up and saw that the sun had disappeared over the horizon, although there was still a good amount of light left. They glanced over at Dr Maheswaran and noticed she seemed to be darting surreptitious glances at Stevonnie’s body. Here we go, Stevonnie thought, face burning. Mom looked away and cleared her throat.

“So….what exactly...do you have to do to make...that...happen?”

Stevonnie looked sideways at her and sighed exasperatedly. “Mom. It’s just a dance. Or sometimes….a hug. Or you just kinda grab hands, if you’ve done it a lot. It can happen on accident, I guess, but being able to do it reliably takes practice.” Stevonnie frowned, then smiled.

“We do sword training like this sometimes, too.”

“Really?” Priyanka replied. “I didn’t think Steven knew how to use a sword.”

Stevonnie laughed. “He doesn’t.” They ducked their head a little sheepishly. “He’s pretty bad at it, actually.”

“But-” She squinted at them. “then, how do you…?”

Stevonnie grinned, and stopped walking suddenly. “And Connie can’t do this!” Stevonnie summoned their shield in a bright pink flash. Dr Maheswaran jumped back, then peered at it. It disappeared into a few bright motes, and she gasped. She came closer, as if trying to find out where it had been hidden.

“It comes from my gem,” Stevonnie explained. “Remember, Dr Mahesawaran? Um, Steven’s gem.”

Priyanka gazed at Stevonnie’s exposed midriff. “It’s that, right?” She stepped closer, squinted up at them, and her mouth dropped open a little.

Her hand reached out and touched Stevonnie’s face gently, eyes narrowing. “Do you have a… a beard?”

Stevonnie blushed, but didn’t say anything, or step back. A fat tear filled their eye and rolled down their face.

Priyanka’s eyes widened. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

“Mom,” Stevonnie whispered. “Do you think I’m gross?”

“What?” Dr Maheswaran’s other hand came up and she cupped Stevonnie’s face. “No, of course not! You’re beautiful! Or maybe, er, handsome? You’re... very tall.” She smiled weakly, put her hands on Stevonnie’s shoulders and met their eyes squarely. Stevonnie choked back a sob, but another tear squeezed out despite them.

“Stevonnie, I don’t necessarily... understand everything all the time. But I don’t need to understand everything for you to know that I, well, that I love you. You’re my daughter, and...and my daughter’s best friend.” She gave a short laugh, then her face got serious again; almost tender. “I don’t think you’re gross,” she repeated vehemently. Then she pulled Stevonnie in for a hug. Stevonnie’s shoulders heaved once, then they took a deep breath and pulled back.

“Shall we walk back together?” Priyanka asked.

“Yeah,” they replied. “I think it’s time for S’mores.”

Chapter Text

“Someday, I would like to go home. The exact location of this place, I don't know, but someday I would like to go. There would be a pleasing feeling of familiarity and a sense of welcome in everything I saw. People would greet me warmly. They would remind me of the length of my absence and the thousands of miles I had travelled in those restless years, but mostly, they would tell me that I had been missed, and that things were better now I had returned.”

― Henry Rollins, spoken word performance

Amethyst kicks the van door, pizza in one hand, a wreath of flowers in the other held behind her. A second floral crown sits jauntily on top of her silvery lavender hair.

“Greg, open up!” she calls happily. “Check out what I have!”

The van door cracks open, spilling bluish light originating from a laptop sitting on the bed, then swings wide.
“Pizza! Now that’s something to celebrate,” Greg says with a smile. “You sharing?”

“Mmm, I could let you have a slice or two,” Amethyst replies, hopping up into the back of the van in one leap. “What’ll you give me for it?” She closes the van door behind her, leaving only moonlight and the ocean to wash over the beach.

The tide came in hours ago, but the water doesn’t quite manage to reach the van’s rear tires. However, a small group of crabs exits the sea and saunters towards the sand underneath the van, nipping at it and occasionally bringing pincers to fluttering crab mouths.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Greg teases. “How does a...million bucks sound?”

Amethyst laughs heartily. “Eh, pass,” she says in an affectedly flippant voice. “What’re you doing hanging out over here tonight, anyways? You scalping tickets for Garnet’s Big Day tomorrow?”

“I’m using the wi-fi at the house to watch Netfilms,” he replies excitedly. “Barb was telling me all about it. They have all kinds of movies, old shows, no commercials...hey, check this out.”

Amethyst gasps. “Is that Zana? The Barbarian Queen?? That show was crazy!”
“Yeah!” Greg shouts, sounding like his mouth is full. “I used to watch this every week when it came out over at Vidalia’s, but then life got complicated and well, I ended up forgetting about it. I never even saw the finale! I’m in the middle of the third season now, you wanna finish up this ep with me? I think I’ve got some grape soda, too.”

“Sure thing, Gregarino. Hey, how does this thing work?”

The sounds of rummaging issue faintly from the van, then soda cans opening. “Here ya go. Oh, you just hit the uh, the long one in the middle.”

“I’m an alien invader, Greg. I know everything about space, including space bars.”

He snorts, then the sounds of swordfighting, grunting, and explosions can be heard faintly over the sound of the surf. The moonshadows lengthen, and the crabs eventually wander over the beach, all the way to the white-draped pavilion and folding chairs set up a little distance away. The lights spilling out of the beach house windows go dark, and even the ones visible from the town proper dim. The night is clear, and the stars are sharp. Eventually, the theme music plays again before shutting off a moment later.

“Huh,” Amethyst muses. “It was like, they were kissing, but it was really that guy inhabiting Gennelle’s body. Not like Zana and Gennelle were really kissing.”

“I guess not,” Greg agrees mildly. “I don’t really understand a lot of those parts of the story, I keep forgetting who everyone’s supposed to be and whose body they’re possessing this time. I just really like watching her do like eight backflips through the air instead of just walking over to the bar and punching the guy. Besides, her crown of swords doesn’t hold a candle to your crown of flowers, Ames.”

“What are you-” Amethyst begins, then cuts off with a laugh. “Oh, I totally forgot about it! Ha! Look, here, I brought one for you, too! It’s just like the one you had at that human zoo!”

“Wow!” he replies. “This is great, Amethyst! Did you make these?”

“Yeah! We had all these flowers just laying around to decorate that tent thing. Oh, hey, it looks good on you.”

“Awww, thanks Amethyst. Wait a sec, did you know I still have the one they made for me at the zoo?”

“What? No way!”

“Yeah, I have it right in here. Connie showed me how to dry it out and keep it from falling apart, and put this stuff on it so it won’t just turn into dust. I swear, that girl knows everything. Just be careful cause it’s fragile.”

“It really is the same one,” Amethyst comments musingly.

“Connie said she didn’t even recognize any of those flowers, and she even checked out a few books about plants from the library,” Greg explains. “She said they might be flowers that don’t even grow on earth anymore, like maybe they went extinct and only exist in that zoo now. Do they look like anything you remember?”

“Neato,” Amethyst breathes. “But eh, I don’t know, they just look like flowers to me.”

“It’s too bad that Ruby stole the ship right after all that,” Greg muses. “All those people...they were really nice to me. And Steven. I wish we had some way to go and, I dunno, visit or something? See if they wanted to live on the Earth for real? Sure, they had everything they needed, but that doesn’t make it okay. They’re still trapped there. People need to be free, even if they’ve never even known what it’s like to have a bad time in their whole lives.” He pauses a moment. “At least until I showed up,” he grumbles regretfully under his breath.

“What are you-oh, wait! The Famethysts said something happened that made the humans freak out so bad they had to go in there, but I thought you just lit everything on fire like a normal person. Did something like, seriously happen in there?”

Greg doesn’t answer right away.

“It’s kind of embarrassing,” he says after a minute.

“Oh ho ho ho ho,” Amethyst chuckles, “now you gotta tell me.”

A resigned sigh. “Well, you know those earrings I had? They have a little speaker or something in them that tells you what to do and when to do it. Like, eating and washing and sleeping and all of that. None of those people in the zoo ever had to make those kinds of decisions.”

“That’s so weird,” Amethyst comments.

“Yeah, I thought so too at first, but it wasn’t like there was anything else to do, and the stuff it was saying seemed pretty reasonable. And everyone was so nice to me! I don’t think any of them had ever seen someone new show up that wasn’t just, you know, born. For a while it was like I actually was a rock star, to them at least. Everyone wanted to talk to me, give me things, ask me about myself.”

“Okay, but what happened,” Amethyst urges.

“Uh boy,” Greg moans. “Well, once Steven got there, that night we tried breaking in through the door, but it didn’t work. He even tried punching me to see if they would come in if someone got hurt. But that didn’t work either. So... it was late at night and the earrings started telling us that some kind of choosing ceremony was going to happen. Er, choosening.”

“Whaaat,” Amethyst drawls, caught up in the story. Clouds begin to skid across the sky, hiding the moon intermittently. The sound of another soda can opening pierces the night breeze.

“Yeah, I was kinda freaking out. So, we get back to the group and all the adults are standing around in this big ol circle, right? And Wy-Six tells Steven to go over to the side and wait until it’s done, and he pulls me over to get in the circle-”

“Wait,” Amethyst interrupts. “Is this going where I think it’s going?”

“Turns out they didn’t have to make decisions about that either.”

“Nooooo way,” Amethyst chortles. “They seriously just...picked someone for you? Wait, who was it?”

“Oh, uh, it was Jay-ten, I think. I dunno, I was just trying to figure out a way out of there! The ones who already got choosened were kissing and going off into the woods, and I-”

“Did you doooo it?”

“What! No, Amethyst, I didn’t DO it. That wasn’t exactly a priority, and did I mention that Steven was right there??”

Amethyst laughs uproariously for a minute, then trails off thoughtfully. “If he hadn’t been there, do you think you would have done it? With Jadin or whoever?” she asks in a voice that almost sounds serious.

Greg sighs quietly inside the van. The stars flash as clouds reveal and conceal them, and the wind carries the sea air inland.

“Come on, Amethyst, you know I’m not really... like that.” Greg says quietly. “I didn’t even know those people.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re really not, are you?” she muses. “You never were, either. Huh. But like, what did you do to make everyone go crazy like that?”

Greg chuckled ruefully. “Well, at first I told them that on earth, everyone gets to choose for themselves.”

Okay,” she replies.

“But then they decided they all wanted to choose me,” he adds, then starts laughing. Amethyst doesn’t.

“I know, I know! It’s completely ridiculous, I’m old, and fat, and losing my hair, but they all said they wanted-”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Amethyst interrupts.

“Wh-what?” Greg says.

“What’s so ridiculous about it?” she insists with some heat. “Did you trick them or something? Do you think they were stupid for liking you?”

Greg is quiet for several long moments.

“No,” he says finally, quietly. “They’re not stupid. They mean what they say, and they care about each other a lot. I don’t think they ever lied to anyone in their lives. Actually...when I told them I didn’t choosened any of them, that’s when they started all that commotion, and all the Amethysts came in. And that little red gem, I don’t remember her name.”

“Oh!” Amethyst cries. “Carnelian! She’s really great, even if she is taller than me.”

Greg laughs, but kindly. “You know, when I first got dragged into that place, the first gem I saw that wasn’t Blue Diamond or...or..Pearl? I thought she was you,” Greg says wryly.

“An Amethyst?” Amethyst asks.

“Had to be,” Greg replies. “I tried to grab onto her, but she was grabbing me, and then they were just dragging me towards this hole in the wall. I was panicking and just, I talked to her like she was you, but then I saw her eyes were different and-”

“8XL!!” Amethyst almost-yells. “She does look like me, doesn’t she,” she adds almost shyly. “I never thought I’d meet someone who looked like me.”

“I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like for you,” Greg adds in an awed voice. “Did you ever meet another Amethyst? Before then?”

Amethyst snorts. “I never met a gem YOU haven’t met before then!”

“Was it scary?” Greg asks hesitantly. “Meeting a whole bunch of... yous?”

“No,” Amethyst replies quietly. “You were there; It wasn’t scary at all. It was… it was more than that, it was...”

Quiet for a moment. Amethyst sniffs.

“Hey,” Greg says tenderly. “Hey. Come here.”

“I don’t know why I’m being like this,” she says after a minute. “Nothing bad happened, I’m being stupid.”

“Don’t say that,” he replies. “It’s a lot to process, and it hasn’t even been that long. Maybe it changed things for you.”

An extra-large wave crashes onto the beach, and an almost booming noise echoes off the bluff over Beach City, drowning them out. It foams and surges; eventually receding. Amethyst is speaking again.

“Everything about me, I could look at those other Amethysts and see something we had in common. I always thought I’d stick out like a sore thumb. But now I almost feel like there’s nothing...” she trails off.

“There was never anything wrong with you, Amethyst.” Greg says firmly.

“Weird, it’s almost like I believe you now. I guess I really just had to, I dunno, see them for myself. Really talk with them. Maybe I understand why you talk so much now.” Amethyst sighs. “I wish they were coming to the wedding.”

“Me too. Mmm, sort of. We still have more people than we thought we would,” Greg replies. “Did I tell you, Andy said he’s flying in tomorrow morning?”

“Ugh,” Amethyst groans.

“Yeah...kind of a douche, isn’t he?”

Amethyst just laughs.

“Well, Steven really likes having him around,” Greg continues, then breaks into a chuckle. “If we’re ‘all gonna marry each other’, he’s gonna want to be there, right? Heh, I still can’t believe Pearl said that in front of Andy, of all people. I wonder if that’s where Garnet got the idea at first?”

“No way, that was all Steven. Did you see that hundred-pound scrapbook of his?”

“Hold on a sec, Ames, let me...ugh, my arm fell asleep. No, come on back, it’s fine. Oh, the Dream Wedding Planner? Ha, I helped make half that thing. Do you know how many magazine subscriptions I’ve bought over the last seven years for that kid to cut up? Actual paper magazines?”

Amethyst chuckles. “Just admit you loved it. Or at least, you loved watching him love it.” She pauses. “Are you ever gonna get married?”

“Me? You kidding?”

“What, you too good to do human stuff anymore?”

“I like human stuff just fine,” Greg laughs, then he sighs. “It’s just not something I ever really think about. Never did. I don’t know, I guess I just don’t do most things the way other people do. Can you really imagine me somewhere, just living in a house, being all...married?”

“I can’t imagine you anywhere but here,” Amethyst replies seriously. “I don’t know. Won’t you be- ugh, I don’t know. Don’t you ever get lonely?”

Quiet. A creaking noise. “How the heck could I be lonely when you’re right here with me?”

“That’s not what I meant! I just, look, Greg, you’re...I mean...”

“Amethyst, listen. I got my van here, and the carwash. I even got the Dondai now, and this laptop computer we’re watching old shows on. Sure, I miss Rose; I think about her every day. We all miss her, but I got you to...to miss her with. I got the absolute best kid in the world, I got Barb and Vidalia, and I’ve got you gems. Even Peridot! And for now, y’all got me.”

Starlight silvers the crest of a wave as it breaks on the shore, this time washing all the way to the van’s rear treads. The van is too heavy to be tugged, but a little of the wet sand under its tires erodes. The salt in the air whispers a promise of rust into the chassis.

“But I’m not gonna be here forever,” Greg sighs sadly.

“Don’t just say that!” Amethyst shrieks.

“Shhh, Amethyst, it’s late. No, I mean it. I worry about y’all all the time, I worry about the earth, and Steven, and all this Homeworld stuff going on. But I don’t sit around wishing I was doing something else; I do what I wanna be doing because I don’t know if it’ll all be here tomorrow. I don’t know if I’ll still be here tomorrow. I just do the best I can, and I stay where I wanna be. I got food and a place to live...I got nine million dollars, Am. I don’t need anything.” He pauses. “What about what you need?” he asks.

“I need you to stop talking about dying, you jerk.”

“Okay,” he chuckles softly. “I’ll stop. Sorry to get all heavy on you. I guess I’m just really glad you’re here.”

Grig sighs heavily, the van creaks again as he continues. “It’s great we’re hanging out again, you know? And we like the same stuff. I’ve got you to go to concerts with me, and grill up hot dogs, and talk with late at night and sleep all day, and share pizzas and bring me flow-”

The moon has risen and limns the van’s intricate paint job, rendering Mr UNIVERSE in what looks like greyscale; the moons, stars and planets spangled on the panels seem reflected in the sparkling sky. The waves still crash on the beach, but a little further away from the van each time. An insomniac seagull cries once, but the sound is washed away by the push and pull of the night breeze.

“It’s been a while,” Greg says huskily. “I didn’t think you still...thought of me that way.”

“Come on, man.” Amethyst’s whisper is barely audible. “You know it’s not the same as before. It’s not weird like that. I’m not like that anymore.”

“Oh jeez, Amethyst. I’m sorry for saying all that stuff about dying, and liking you. I didn’t mean to make it seem like I wanted... I didn’t say those things because I wanted you to let me have-ow! Ow, that’s my hair!”

“I’m not letting you do anything,” Amethyst growls. “You don’t think I could tear you in half right now?”

Greg clears his throat. “Yeah,” he rasps a slightly pained laugh. “It’s kinda hot.”

Amethyst doesn’t laugh. “Did it ever occur to you that I’m exactly where I wanna be, doing what I wanna do? You think you’re the only one who thinks about that stuff, just because I’m not talking about it every five minutes?”

“No, I-” Greg sighs in relief. “No, I know you do. I’m-”

“Do you wanna be kissing me?” Amethyst interrupts.

The surf crashes, retreats.

“Yeah,” Greg says softly.

“Then shut up and do it already.”

The crabs scuttle back into the ocean, each one disappearing with little plips into the luminescent foam of the surf. The clouds thicken and slowly obscure the moon, first in part and then completely. The sky’s glow dims and becomes ambient; the moisture in the air seems to insulate the roar of the surf. Drizzle threatens, yet doesn’t quite manage to coalesce.

A sudden, crashing noise in the van is almost loud enough to echo.

“Shit,” Amethyst hisses. “Are you okay?”

Rustling; the sound of something scraping.

“I’m fine, I’m...”

“Is it broken?”

“I don’t know.” Greg gives a suspiciously muffled laugh; an edge of hysteria creeps into his voice. “I told you, it’s been a while.”

“If it is busted, just buy another one. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you okay?”

“Me? I’m fine, ya dink.”

“You don’t think...they woke up, did you?”

“Oh my gosh, Greg, it’s fine. They all went to bed early.”

“Am, the other gems don’t really sleep. Do you think-”

“Just get back in here. Okay?”

Rustling; a clinking noise. The van creaks.

“Hey,” Amethyst says quietly after a few minutes. “It’s just us in here. It’s not like before, when everything else was just piled in here with us. I’m not trying to forget anything, or stop thinking, or...”

“I don’t think we have anything to take out on each other anymore” Greg says softly. “I’m not sad, I just really like you. It’s nice.”

“I don’t feel angry all the time anymore,” Amethyst half-whispers. “I just really like you, too. If you want, we can just get some rest. Or we could go back to it?”

“Here. Come here.”

After a while, Amethyst makes a noise.

“Is that okay?” whispers Greg.

“It’s a good answer,” she gasps.

The drizzle slowly dissipates, and the air lightens. The van creaks, but not as much as might be expected. When the moon returns, so do the crabs, emboldened by conditions only crustaceans can understand. The sound of the waves pulling at the sand enfolds sighs and whispers, washes them out to sea.

Right before the point past which no reasonable person could expect to be rested enough for a long day tomorrow, a snore begins to emit from the van.

Sometime after that point, a second set of snores punctuates the first.

The earth turns, and eventually the horizon starts to glow. Before the sun makes an appearance, a banging noise splits the predawn air. A second bang, and the door of the van swings open.

Amethyst is still lying down, squinting into the face of the unconscious man in front of her in the bluish light coming in from the door she’s kicked open. She starts to sit up, then lays back down and tenderly coaxes a sizable lock of her hair out of his sleeping mouth, and another from under his head. She sits up successfully this time, blinking in the growing light, before casually kicking a torn piece of pizza box out from under the covers.

Amethyst scrubs a hand through her hair, winces, then sniffs her fingers and grimaces. She rolls off the mattress, and rummages in a metal box shoved against the side of the interior paneling. She jumps out of the van holding a pink bar of soap and walks directly into the ocean, disappearing under the waves.

When she emerges ten minutes later, her gem glows as she shifts into the form of a dog, shakes herself vigorously, then shifts back and opens the other door before climbing back into the van. The soap is nowhere in evidence.

“Wake up, Music Man,” she whispers. Greg is facedown, and she rubs his back.

“Greg,” she says louder.

He groans incoherently.

Amethyst grins and throws herself down beside him on the mattress. “Hey, how many years has it been since I remembered to deliver your birthday spankings?” she says, even louder this time.

Greg rolls over and sits upright without opening his eyes, a piece of paper stuck to his ear.

“I’m up, I’m up,” he groans. The paper flutters off, catching the sunrise in a flash of white. “t’s not my birthday. It’s the wedding,” he mumbles, barely coherent.

“Your eyes still aren’t open,” she observes patiently.

“Give me a minute,” he replies.

“You need a shower, man. You smell like old pizza and butt. The theme’s supposed to be flames and dolphins, remember?”

Greg smiles, and finally his eyes flicker open. “Yeah,” he says softly, then he squints through the open van doors, blushes, and starts pawing at the blankets. “Hey, did you see my shorts?”

“Probably still in there somewhere, dude.”

Amethyst opens the laptop and starts messing around with it while Greg disappears under the blankets for a few minutes. He crawls out with his shorts pulled up crookedly over his hips, and opens the metal box from before. Then he looks over at Amethyst and frowns.

“Hey, what happened to my soap?”

“We ran out of pizza.”

Greg sighs heavily, then creeps to the edge of the van bed and peers hesitantly out over towards the beach house, blushing. He swings his legs out, but rather than getting out just droops on the edge of the van bed miserably.. Amethyst closes the laptop, which turns out not to be broken after all, and scoots over to sit next to Greg on the tailgate.

“Walk of shame, walk of shaaaaame,” she teases in a stage whisper.

His blush deepens, and he scratches his beard, eyes downcast.

“Sorry,” Amethyst capitulates, then puts her hand on his shoulder. “Sorry. Hey. Look, no one’s even up yet.” She indicates the still-dark beach house with her chin. “And even if they were, it’s not like they care. Isn’t your suit already hanging up in there anyways? Just, don’t get all in your head about it. Get a shower, get changed, and get ready to play them down the aisle, okay?”

Greg slides his hand over Amethyst’s on his shoulder, gives it a squeeze. She leans in and gives him a hesitant peck on the cheek, but it cools his blush instead of deepening it. He flashes her a smile, pulls his towel off the hook and hops out of the van. He turns to her.

“You gonna be around?” he asks.

Amethyst dangles her legs out of the van, leans forward.

“I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else.”

Chapter Text

“I'll never forget how the depression and loneliness felt good and bad at the same time. Still does.”
― Henry Rollins, Get In The Van

“Hey, Mr Universe,” Sadie Miller said casually as she grabbed the interior handle and stretched her leg up as far as it would go, then leaped up the rest of the way into the van’s front passenger seat. She loved the way the ancient but obviously pampered leather seat always seemed welcoming, and had enough height that she could usually manage to see over the dashboard even without a pillow. Sadie shut the door decisively, buckled in, crossed her arms over her belly and turned her head to smile at the familiar profile of the man in the driver’s seat. He was wearing a button up shirt over a black t-shirt, and had a ball cap on for some unfathomable reason. His jeans actually reached his ankles for a change, but the impression that he was almost dressed-up (for him, at least) was slightly spoiled by his worn out flip-flops.

“Top of the morning, Sadie Killer!” Greg grinned amiably without taking his eyes off the road for a second as he pulled out into the barely existent traffic, checking his mirrors briefly before glancing at her. “You’re gonna flip when you see all the stuff they got in last week. Capes, custom fang sets, makeup, even a spider skeleton!”

Sadie thought about that for a second. “I’m not sure spiders have skeletons,” she remarked a little dryly, but kindly. Greg had closed the car wash and picked her up this work-free weekday morning to make a drive out past Ocean Town, or what was left of it, to some of the outlet malls where Halloween stores had rented out some of the empty spaces. She felt flattered he wanted to take her on this special trip, since she knew he was a stickler for keeping his workplace open, just in case. Even though he didn’t really need to, anymore. He’d also offered to purchase anything she wanted for costumes and stage props.

“Hey, are you sure you don’t want me to at least chip in for all this stuff?” Sadie added hesitantly. “I mean, I’ve been living with mom my whole life, and she doesn’t charge me rent or anything, wouldn’t even listen when I offered.” She and Mr Universe shared a smile over that; Barb’s occasionally selective deafness was something they were both more than familiar with. “I got enough saved up from working at the Big D to at least pay for our outfits or something,” she finished. “Maybe a mic stand?”

Sadie rubbed her arm and blushed a little, considering how many of her paychecks from her former job had gone into her collections of horror movies and memorabilia over the years. Luckily the VHS tapes she preferred to watch her films on were usually cheap, but some of the more obscure ones that were only available on that format could get a little expensive. Sometimes they could be a lot expensive.

Greg sighed from the driver’s seat. “I gotta be honest, Sadie, getting this gig as your guys’ manager’s the most exciting thing I’ve had going on in years. I’m doing my best to dial it back, since I know you don’t want anyone getting all pushy when it comes to your creativity,” he said confidentially. “But at least let me get you whatever you want at the costume shop. I got all this money, and no clue what to do with any of it, really,” he added absently, then his chin firmed.

“But it’s really not about me, or at least, that’s not why I wanna make sure you guys get all the stuff you need. The songs are great, and your performances are just...” He kissed his fingers like a corny TV chef. “I really believe in Sadie Killer and the Suspects. I consider it, uh, what’s it called. A sound investment,” he finished with a smile and nod.

“Thanks, Mr U.” Sadie shook her head, reminded where Steven’s terrible puns came from, although she wondered if Mr Universe was even doing it on purpose half the time. She had to admit she felt a warm glow from his approval, but a self-deprecating chuckle slipped from her. “Although, I don’t know if I can make any guaranteed returns for a horror-themed ska band coming up about 20 years too late. Heh,” she finished nervously.

Greg glanced at her as he flipped on his turn signal and then leaned his elbow on her seat a moment to check his blind spot. He finished changing lanes, then spoke to her a little more seriously.

“Sadie, when you’re being yourself and doing something you’re really passionate about, you can’t worry about someone coming along to give you permission.” His brows knit together like he was really thinking about it. “It’s not like you’re pretending to like all those movies and books, right? You’re really into it, and it makes you feel better. Maybe you don’t feel that way all the time, but it’s a part of you. Being human is hard for a lot of people, and maybe going to see your band, hearing your songs about all that scary stuff, and all the stuff that's hard to talk about, helps people deal with those feelings in a positive way. I don’t think that’s silly; it’s important and people should support it. That’s art.”

“I never thought about it that way,” Sadie replied slowly. “I guess sometimes it’s easy to forget that other people might be going through some of the same things I am, or even like the same things I like. I don’t know why I feel embarrassed about it.” She frowned a moment, then added a bit grumpily, “Well, maybe I do know why I feel embarrassed about it, a little, but that doesn’t mean I have to be.”

“Kind of like you and outer space,” Sadie continued thoughtfully. “Maybe people thought it was just a gimmick at first, but you really do hang around with actual aliens and stuff.” She shook her head a little, feeling uncharacteristically bold. “I just collect old movies, but you really live that life, y’know? Maybe I am just sort of pretending.”

Mr Universe glanced at her incredulously. “Sadie. Those actual aliens almost kidnapped you into outer space! I can’t think of any movie scarier than that. Garnet, Amethyst and Pearl told me you almost-” He cut himself off and exhaled uncomfortably. “We’re all kind of living this life, whether we want to or not. But maybe that’s everybody’s life, too, you know? We didn’t ask to be born, so we just gotta do the best we can.” He looked a little grim.

“I almost got kidnapped, but Lars...he did get kidnapped,” Sadie replied quietly. “And I don’t know if I almost died? That mean blue gem was saying that we didn’t have to be alive for whatever they needed us for.” She swallowed reflexively. “But Lars….he really did die,” Sadie finished in a tiny voice. She didn’t even like to think about it most of the time, but something about Greg’s practical attitude about it all seemed like it was pulling it out of her.

She thought about the last time she saw Lars; she needed his help, really needed him, and he just ran away. Like he always did. And it was like, she couldn’t even be mad at him about it, because it’s not as if she didn’t know what he was like before any of that even happened. Maybe she knew him too well. And despite all of it, she couldn’t help how she'd felt about him; how she still felt, sometimes. Most of the time.

All the time.

“Sadie, hey. I’m sorry about all of this. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

Sadie realized she was crying, and wiped away a tear in surprise. “Oh! Oh, hey, don’t mind me, I’m-uh, am I breaking your concentration? We can just be quiet and drive, I’m sorry.”

Greg looked at her warmly. “Kiddo, if I couldn’t drive the van while someone was crying in here, I’d literally never get anywhere,” he said with a grin, then frowned a moment. “Well, unless it's Pearl. She gets a little grabby.”

That surprised a short bark of laughter out of her, and she pulled up the neckline of her t-shirt and pressed it against her eyes to dry them. She took a deep, calming breath.

“No, no, it’s okay. Maybe the problem is that I don’t talk about it.” Sadie considered that a second. “Not like I don’t want to, or... because it makes me upset, even though I guess it does?” She glanced over at Greg, but he just nodded reassuringly. “It’s not like making a song about it. Not many people can really relate to all this, you know? Like, ‘Hey, my sort-of-but-not-really boyfriend got abducted by aliens, then they killed him but my friend brought him back to life with magical tears and now he’s like completely pink and also undead or something! So it’s probably fine!’” Sadie laughed shortly, then blinked in surprise as a connection occurred to her.

“Is that what happened to you?” she said without thinking, then her face turned into an inferno as she realized what she’d said, and Greg got pretty quiet. She sort of wanted to groan and sink through the seat of the car, maybe do a few barrel rolls under the wheels.

Great job, Miller, she thought furiously. Way to really put your foot in it!

When she finally gathered up the courage to shoot a covert glance over at Mr Universe, he didn’t look embarrassed or mad; the look on his face reminded her of something she’d heard her mom say about him a few times.

That boy’s got some mileage on him.

Sadie couldn’t think of Mr Universe anywhere near the category of boy, but everyone in town knew that look he got sometimes. Not quite sad, not afraid, but like he was looking at something that was very far away. Something that no one else could see. Everyone knew there were some questions you just shouldn’t ask Greg Universe.

“No, that’s not what happened to me,” Mr Universe said in an odd voice. “I still need to eat, and drink, and sleep, and...I don’t know what else. All the usual human stuff.” He didn’t look at her, but his voice got a little more normal as he continued. “From what Steven says, Lars doesn’t really need to do any of that anymore, but otherwise he’s the same. He’s still him. As okay as someone can be after everything he’s probably been through. Sure, he’s got a lot on his plate, but you’re going through a lot, too, and there’s not really anything you can do about it right now. So you just have to keep on doing what you’re doing, which is honestly pretty amazing. You’re taking what you’re going through and making it into something people can relate to”

Sadie nodded, trying to will her face to at least feel less purple. “That’s what Connie told me, too. I mean, the part about Lars not needing to eat and sleep anymore. Hearing it from her really made it seem, I don’t know, real? Not that Steven’s unreliable or anything, it’s just…”

Greg smiled thinly, and Sadie tried to think of a word to describe the look. Unearthly? No, Mr Universe was always very much an earthy sort of person. Maybe ethereal? He was talking, though, and she tried to remember to listen instead of getting caught up in finding words for ideas.

“Sometimes it helps to just hear it from another human being. And sure, Steven’s human but he’s also a gem. With gems, sometimes you’ll be sure you’re both talking about the same thing, but then you realize later you weren’t. It’s hard to tell with them sometimes; Steven maybe especially.” He glanced over at her. “But it seems like all you’ve been talking about are really other people’s problems. Like, of course that affects you, but what about you-you?”

Sadie sighed and really thought about it. “I guess I just really feel like I’m at loose ends, y’know? When I had my job, and Lars, and Mom breathing down my neck, it was like yeah, maybe I had to put up with a lot but I always knew what to do, or how to feel about it? Or at least it was just...the same. It was normal.” Sadie sighed.

“I guess maybe I’m...lonely? I know it probably seems weird, but I actually used to talk about this stuff with...with Lars. Now it’s like, the only time it comes out is when I’m performing. It’s like I take that feeling, all those mornings I wake up and don’t even get out of bed because I wouldn’t even know where to start, and just let it out all at once. And it feels good, you know? It’s like letting all the worst feelings out turns into the best feeling in the world. Is that messed up or what?”

“It’s not messed up at all. That’s just making music. Besides, don’t your bandmates and you have that in common? Buck, Sour Cream, and Jenny probably feel the same way.”

Sadie rubbed her chin. “Maybe? It’s hard to tell with them. The way they play’s really tight, you know, like they’re always in sync with each other. But they’ve got their own thing going on, and I’m not really a part of that, you know? Not that I want to be,” she added hurriedly.

Greg just shrugged. “Yeah, I kinda picked up on that.”

“Heh,” Sadie laughed weakly. “But in a way, I’m really spending time with myself, in a way I haven’t before. I’ve got a lot of time to listen to what I think.” Sadie laughed. “I even talked with Steven about it a little, too. Just, thinking about who you are, and why you're that way. Which is a weird thing to talk about with a little kid, but I-” Sadie cut herself off, thinking.

Sadie had known Mr Universe and Steven for so long, she couldn’t even remember meeting them. Ever since she was a kid, Greg had always just been around. Sadie remembered being young and falling asleep in the back of this very van, although she wasn’t sure if it was once or a bunch of times blending together like little kids’ memories do sometimes. But she really considered how long it had been since those days; even though Steven didn't look much different, he acted different. A lot different.

“Steven’s really not a little kid anymore though, is he?” Sadie added thoughtfully.

“He’s finally growing up. And so are you,” Greg inclined his head. “You’re a very talented young woman, coming in to your own and all that. I’m really proud of all you’ve accomplished.”

“Thanks, Mr Universe. But I don’t really feel grown up, most of the time. Ever,” she amended.

Greg grinned. “That feeling never really goes away. Even I don’t feel grown up most of the time, and I’m about as old as dirt.”

Sadie laughed, feeling a little more grown up than usual. She was the lead singer and lyricist of a band; Greg Universe was her manager, and for the first time it occurred to her that he was also someone she considered a friend.

"Why don't we put on some tunes?" she asked.

"Well, I would, but we're here." Greg replied amiably. "Check that thing out!"

Sadie peered out over the dashboard, where some kind of enormous pink object was becoming visible. Greg turned the corner into the parking lot of the outlet mall, and she got a good look at it full-on. A sign advertised "HalloweenTown Warehouse", and above it, attached to the roof somehow, was an enormous inflatable balloon, shaped like a ghost with a big, black yawning mouth and two sad-looking black eyes. Except...

"I wonder why it's pink?" Sadie asked, impressed by the sheer size of the thing as it shuddered in the prevailing sea breeze, stronger this much further down the coast.

Mr Universe shrugged one shoulder as he spun the wheel and guided the van into a surprisingly close parking spot. Apparently there were some serious advantages to showing up early on a weekday morning.

"Not everything needs a reason," he said, smiling. "Sometimes things are just pink."

Chapter Text

“Knowledge without mileage equals bullshit.”
― Henry Rollins, spoken word

Steven put the palms of his hands together, glancing to the side evasively.

"I...have a confession."

His fingers steepled, started tapping each other the way Pearl’s do when she’s trying to figure out how to avoid telling the truth and failing. Greg sighed. That's rarely a good thing.

"Stevonnie already knows how to drive."

It seemed Greg’s offer of letting his son take the wheel of the van...no, The Van! For his very first driving lesson wasn’t going over quite as he had hoped. To be fair, his hopes had been rather high. As had his expectations. Maybe...

Greg had already quashed the ghost of un-Dadly disappointment before something else occurred to him.

"Well...Stevonnie isn't technically Steven, right?" Steven gave him a dramatic pose of thoughtfulness that reminded him enough of Rose to make him nostalgic, but was quintessentially Steven enough to avoid being painful.

"Sort of? Not...really, no."

Greg picked his easy grin up off the floor and slapped it right back on.

“Then let’s find out if you’re finally tall enough to reach the pedals, kiddo!”

Steven picked his finger-guns up off the floor in solidarity and pointed them at his father with a double-click of renewed enthusiasm.

“You got it, Daddio!”

Steven told Greg a heart-stopping story about Stevonnie “driving” (and crashing) a spaceship that Greg tried not to think about too hard as they adjusted the seats to their opposite specifications, although he noticed Steven’s softening of the tale’s survivalist themes as he continued. Greg has never been all that good at hiding his feelings (well. Not until it really counted, anyhow. He prefers to save up his deception points for emergencies…), so it’s no surprise Steven noticed the sweat beading up at the spot his hairline’s been running away from ever since his son was born.

Steven kept up his amiable if mildly alarming chatter as they both got situated and buckled in. Greg explained the mirrors, the various knobs and sticks, the importance of windshield-wiper maintenance, and made it through several non-musical anecdotes before Steven started to show signs of impatience.

Greg looked at him fondly, sighed again.

“Sorry, Steven. I guess this is just a big deal for me. My baby boy’s getting all grown up, and I’m glad you’re letting your old man teach you some new tricks.” He laughed weakly. “Even if you already know most of ‘em.”

Steven shook his head, gave his dad a bright grin.

“It’s okay, Dad! I didn’t know that thing about the soap sculpture roadside attraction!”

Greg scratched the back of his neck self-consciously.

“Guess I got a real tendency to digress, huh?” He shook his head at himself. “Okie Dokie, let’s get this get this motor running, and head out to the highway!”

The good news: Steven was in fact tall enough to reach the pedals. Barely.

Mediocre news: Getting out of the lot of the carwash proved to have several unexpected roadblocks, mostly in the form of curbs. The test of the van’s shock system made Greg grit his teeth, but his grin still stayed in place for most of Steven’s red-faced, assessing glances toward his sweaty dad.

Not-great news: Once they got to the main drag of beach City, such as it was, it became apparent that nearly everything Steven had learned about the rules of the road had come from television and watching Pearl meticulously quadruple check her mirrors while telling war stories and not explaining much of anything in particular. This had the mixed result of rear-ending Suitcase Sam’s sensible sedan at about two miles per hour at the very first red light they encountered, father and son screaming in enthusiastic unison as they coasted to a stop against the car in front of them with a gentle, anticlimactic bonk.

Since there was no actual damage to either vehicle, Sam had been willing enough to accept a free lunch as Fish Stew Pizza as balm to his wounded nerves. Greg made a pepperoni-laden promise to all present (with Kiki as an unofficial notary witness to countersign the napkin) that they would make the drive up to the nearest town with an actual Department of Motor Vehicles to acquire a proper New Driver’s Manual at their earliest convenience.

Chapter Text

“It hurts to let go. Sometimes it seems the harder you try to hold on to something or someone the more it wants to get away. You feel like some kind of criminal for having felt, for having wanted. For having wanted to be wanted. It confuses you, because you think that your feelings were wrong and it makes you feel so small because it's so hard to keep it inside when you let it out and it doesn't come back. You're left so alone that you can't explain. Damn, there's nothing like that, is there? I've been there and you have too. You're nodding your head.”

- Henry Rollins, Art To Choke Hearts

Greg looked up from slathering some mixed berry preserves on a slice of bread to admire Bismuth and her cool tattoo making a bunch of noise as she applied the new roof of the beach house, bit by bit. He was taking a little break to eat and rest, and hey, if he ended up with more break time than work time, she probably didn’t mind too much. After all, he’s mostly just been handing her things and talking, keeping her company while she did the bulk of things. It’s pretty much the same thing he did when they’d built the beach house onto the temple in the first place, offering his practical knowledge of what houses are for, and making the work go by faster by providing entertainment. He’s a lot better at that than he is at repairing things that need more than duct tape to keep on trucking.

He’d asked Bismuth about that mark on her arm while working on the house just the other day, and she’d explained that although gems can’t get tattoos the same way humans do, her mark is the same basic premise. She’d added it her third time reforming after joining the Crystal Gems, having seen human allies sporting similar designs both temporarily painted and permanently marked on hands, arms, and faces. Marks that show your allegiances, can tell people what side you’re on...but they’re a lot more than that, too. They can be pictures or words that tell people something about you as a person, might even help them to get to know you better even before you know their name.

Bismuth had found it heartening that even humans can feel the need to assert their individuality, too.

Greg had learned more about where the gems come from in the past year or so than he had in the previous...his whole life. Some of the stuff Rose used to say made a lot more sense now that he’d seen the way gems of the same type are expected to be more or less...interchangeable. Ultimately disposable, except for the rare or chosen few.

He likes Bismuth. They really get along, and she’d been helping him understand why the whole ‘being a Diamond’ thing is such a big deal. Why Rose having been Pink Diamond was such a big deal...not for humans, maybe, but it is for gems. For Steven. She’s helping him understand it not by explaining, but from the way he can see how conflicted she is about Steven, and about the Diamonds in general.

It’s obvious that interacting with the Diamonds in a different context here on earth had been...confusing for her, to say the least. She’d catch herself talking about Blue or Yellow in a normal way, something they’d done or said, instead of limiting her comments to how much she hated them. Greg would watch her expression change, and she’d usually just change the subject. He was fine with that, but it made him thoughtful.

Greg had felt like he was getting along pretty well with Blue Diamond, too…and then she’d say something so jarringly alien he’d have to go wander off down the beach with his guitar and sit by himself for a while, and do his best to think a little less than usual. Regular gems are weird sometimes...but Diamonds are even weirder.

Lost in thought as he so often found himself with Steven and the three gems gone to Homeworld, his heart practically skipped a beat when the screen door slammed open against the side of the house. But it was only Peridot, exiting in her new spiffy Crystal Gem Star Gear. Then, to his surprise, she was followed by Lapis Lazuli, who it would seem had finally graced the ~Holding Down the Fort Crystal Gem Crew~ with her new form as well.

Even from this far away, Greg could see the sun catching on the addition of gold sandals and a...belt?… to Lapis’s clothing; he wondered if there was any significance to that. In his experience, gems had a limited palette despite being able to create some pretty big changes to their appearance when they reform, and he certainly hadn’t seen any gold on her before. Greg thought it added a little cheer to her previously somber scheme, not that it matters at all what he thinks of her appearance. He mostly just hoped it meant she felt a bit less somber on the inside, too.

Greg felt relieved to see her; she’d taken even longer than Pearl had to reform that time she’d had the...sword accident. He and Bismuth could really use the help rebuilding the beach house, and gems had a lot more energy than an aging human man with only rudimentary knowledge of construction. Lapis in particular seemed unusually strong. She’d pulled an entire barn out of the ground and flown it to the moon, after all; surely rebuilding half a house wouldn’t be a big challenge for her.

Then Greg’s gaze fell on the wreckage of said barn, cracked right down the middle and spilling the eclectic contents across the beach and halfway to town.

Strength...isn’t everything.

As he watched Peridot idly levitating a box of nails before tossing them casually into the ocean, Greg reminded himself that “help” from gems can take many forms; although one or two of those forms can indeed be helpful, it rarely ends up the helping the problem you currently have.

He sighed, took a bite of his completed peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Then he started frowning, because Peridot was now definitely pointing at the van, and she and Lapis started heading right on over. The nasal babble of one of Peridot’s extensive explanations preceded her, and Greg found no space in which to interject or even greet them as Peridot and Lapis climbed right into the back of the van with him and sat down, blocking the open doors with their bodies quite effectively.

“...so as you can see,” Peridot was saying, “I’ve begun sorting the contents by color, volume, and relative intactness, although the-”

“Where’s Pumpkin?” Lapis interrupts, the half-asleep, half-interested expression on her face that Greg is growing increasingly familiar with as her positive default one. It reminded him a bit of his early music days, and a lot of former bandmates who smelled like pine trees all the time before he decided he got more done as a solo act. Not that Greg had ever come across a drug that had any effect on a gem’s physiology. He’s pretty sure Lapis Lazuli just has depression. Maybe...some other issues, too.

Not that she was alone in that. Greg glanced around at the van, currently carpeted with dirty laundry, walls decorated with the second and third trash bags he’d started filling before bothering to take the first one out. He blushed. He’d kinda been letting a lot of stuff slide with everyone gone. And it’s not like he’d had any guests over since the gems and Steven and Connie went off to Homeworld.

Well. Until now. Even if they weren’t exactly. Um. Invited.

“I’m delighted you should ask!” Peridot clasped her hands together, a slightly manic shape to her eyes. “It would seem that Pumpkin’s newest hobby is diving for detritus that ends up in the ocean after the tide comes in and swamps the bottom half of what’s left of the barn! She’s only been gone for-”

Lapis glanced at the wreckage left after her takedown of Blue Diamond, still exactly where she left it, and her face sagged.

“Sorry, I….broke the barn,” she droned sadly, cutting Peridot off in the middle of another sentence.

“Oh no, no no no, it’s okay it’s fine it’s fine,” Peridot burbled breathlessly, “I’m sure we can find something even better to live in-”

“Why would you want to live with me?” Lapis replies, face sagging even further as sincere confusion pushed her navy blue brows down towards her nose. “I...abandoned you.” Her eyes flicked at the floor, but he could tell she wasn’t seeing dirty laundry. “I left everyone.”

Peridot rubbed her arm self-consciously. “Well...yes,” she said, an emerald blush creeping under the rim of her newly pointy visor, “But, you came back!” she added brightly. “And you helped save everyone, and stood up to Blue Diamond, and you came back, and what’s really important is that you came back! Right?”

“How can you say that?” Lapis was starting to look angry. “Why do you always pretend that everything’s okay, when it’s not?!” Angry and sad, too. “You’re always lying to me, trying to make me be okay. But what if I…”

Peridot’s mouth was hanging open.

“What if I can’t be okay all the time?” Lapis finished, her voice shrinking down as her shoulders hunched. She sighed. “You shouldn’t have to put up with me. Nobody should.”

Greg looked down at the sandwich he was still holding. Welp. Might as well eat it, since it didn’t look like he would be going anywhere anytime soon. They were still blocking the doors, and it’s not like he was going to leave them alone in his home. He glanced at the beach again, and the two wrecked houses on display there. Gems tended to be rough on their living quarters, he’s noticed over the years… and Peridot in general seemed to require more supervision than usual.

Peridot sighed, rubbing her palms on her thighs nervously.

“Okay,” she said in a much quieter voice. “…Okay. I know that I haven’t always been the best at…um.”

Lapis looked like she was waiting to be sentenced.

“It’s just that you’ve been through a lot,” Peridot continued, not looking at anything in particular. “I didn’t want to make things harder on you...but I guess I did anyhow, because you always had to worry if I was telling you the truth about things. And I can see that maybe...that wasn’t...the best decision? Because not knowing can be way scarier than knowing, even if it’s something bad.”

“No,” Lapis said slowly. “No, I...I couldn’t handle bad news.” She sighed, shut her eyes for a second before opening them again. “Look at how I reacted just on the chance that the diamonds could come here.” Her face crumpled, and she finally looked up at Peridot, who gave a little squeak when their eyes met. “I really let you down, Peri. I’m sorry.”

She held out her blue fingers for a shaky moment. Peridot just gaped at them, then took them into her green ones eagerly and gave them a squeeze.

“See, Lapis? I told you. We can talk, or sing while crying,” Peridot took her hand back to begin counting on her fingers, “make morps, perform “make out”, and I’ve even witnessed an unsanitary but unexpectedly intriguing kind of physical exercise late at night when Amethyst brings the Greg a traditional human ritual offering of “pizza”, during which-”

“Hey!” Greg interrupted with some serious bass in his voice, finally fed up. “I get that everyone’s house is kinda broken right now, but this is still where I live, and you should really try calling before you stop by! And Peridot, I’m not cool with you spying on me in your spare time, either!”

Both gems fell silent and turned to him as one, shifting around on their knees like supplicants. His mouth hung open, because the expression on both of their faces...was definitely not what he expected. Somewhere between hurt and...pleading?

Greg’s face burned with hot chagrin; apparently using his Angry Voice was too much for them, and he needs to be a lot more careful with his-

“Th-this is where everyone goes to...talk about their feelings...right?” Peridot began hesitantly. “I...” she looked at the floor, flicked her gaze at Lapis, then back up at him. Her nasal rasp went hoarse, and the hands on her thighs curled into shaky little fists.

“The…feelings y-you, you can’t talk about anywhere else?”

Lapis just looked at him with her lips pressed tight and her eyes wide, like she desperately needed that to be true.

Greg’s soft heart crumpled like a greasy napkin.

He never could stay mad when gems got like that, all clueless and helpless and baffled by life, desperately trying to find rules to follow. Unable to believe that a lot of the time there just aren’t any, despite how much easier it would be if life just came with an instruction manual.

“Okay,” he sighed, resigned. “I mean, sure. Yeah.”

Greg opened his cooler and dug out a container of pre-made potato salad, along with a can of grape soda that gave him a little twinge, because it reminded him of Amethyst. The lychee soda reminded him of Steven...beer reminded him of Garnet…it was some serious emotional beverage roulette in there. At least he didn’t have any pie.

He really hoped everything was going okay with them. Greg sucked the nominally nutritious goo off his plastic fork and listened to Lapis explain how she always ended up feeling responsible for Peridot’s emotions, like everything she said and did was getting analyzed for secret messages and clues. Like half the time she couldn’t say anything without having to calm Peridot down for half an hour. Peridot had felt like she was always walking on eggshells, trying to please her like she was a “Pearl”, whatever that meant. Greg hadn’t noticed Pearl being all that eager to please anyone except Rose in the time he’s known her. Maybe Garnet sometimes, but what did he know.

He’s only human, after all.

It took take a long time, but Peridot and Lapis seemed to come to some kind of agreement, although what exactly it entailed would remain a mystery to Greg. Gems’ relationships don’t really work the same as human ones, but they have “make it up as you go along” in common, for sure.

After that, Peridot began using examples and metaphors from that Pine Hearts show they always watched together. Greg started to tune out again… until she started talking about a thing she’d discovered on her tablet called “fan fiction”, and how some of the acts described in them seemed to be continuations of scenes from the show that had suddenly ended just as they were starting to get really interesting, and-

Greg sat back upright, clearing his throat very loudly.

Speaking of which.

“Peridot…it’s not polite to watch me in the van at night.”

Peridot’s eyebrow arched into an almost comically suspicious expression. “Why not?” she hollered rudely.

Greg exhaled in exasperation. “Remember that talk we had about privacy?”

Peridot looked around the interior of the van dismissively. “There’s no bathroom in here.”

Greg felt his face heating up again. “Well...bathrooms aren’t the only place humans need a little privacy.” He thought about trying to explain bedrooms, but considering Steven’s bedroom doesn’t even have a fourth wall, much less a door...well. Maybe he could take to Bismuth about installing both, considering Steven’s getting a lot older now, and he supposes that some concessions might need to be made for that. Gosh, he’s really growing up, isn’t he? He’s…

“Are you doing one of those stoke thingies Steven’s always worrying about you having?” Peridot asked calmly, leaning in towards him with a speculative frown. Lapis looked interested as well, although she’s got a better handle on the concept of personal space.

Greg cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck self-consciously.

“How about this. Peridot, please don’t spy on me in the van at night because I’m asking you not to, and we’re friends.”

Peridot’s eyes gave a suspicious little wobble.

“We are?” she said softly.

“Well, yeah,” Greg replied, unexpectedly touched by Peridot’s surprise. She really is kind of a sweetheart sometimes. “I mean, heck! At this point we’re basically family, right? You’re a Crystal Gem, too!”

He aimed his most charming grin at her, nodding encouragingly. He added a thumbs up for gravy, then licked some of ‘DeMayo’ from the potato salad off it. Ha ha…he made a mental note to save that pun for Steven when he got back, now that the whole name change cat was out of the bag.

“...yeah,” Peridot agreed softly. Then she turned back to Lapis, putting her hand on Lapis’s narrow shoulder hesitantly. “And you’re a Crystal Gem now, too, right? We can be a family.” Lapis put her hand over Peridot’s, gave it an awkward little pat.

“I… I did say that, didn’t I?” Lapis giggled softly. “That I might as well take the good parts of being a Crystal Gem, along with the scary ones.” She shook her head gently. “I guess I can be pretty dramatic, even if I’m not the best at improv.” She sighed, nodded firmly. “A...family. You, me, and Pumpkin. And everyone else, although I don’t think we should all live together. But we’re still family. Garnet and Amethyst and Pearl, and Steven, and...” Lapis looked up and over at Greg with a bland tilt of her head, “...this one.”

“Greg,” Greg said gently.

“Sure,” Lapis agreed absently, already looking back at Peridot with longing and fondness.

Their eyes just sort of wiggled wetly at each other for a long, fraught moment.

“Why don’t we privacy for a little while?” Peridot asked with a tentative smile. “I think I have a pretty good grasp on what happens during those poorly timed commercial breaks after my extensive fan fiction database research. You wouldn’t even have to do any improv!”

Lapis’s shoulders relaxed, and she smiled back shyly.

“I’d like that.”

Peridot left her hand in place as she turned to gaze at Greg with an unusually soft expression. Her big eyes still glistened behind her visor. Like she might actually lay something really heavy on him; could be that she learned an important lesson about life on earth, or maybe she just wanted to thank him for words of wisdom.

Peridot’s mouth formed a weird little side-tube as she directed a dramatic stage whisper towards Lapis.

“…why isn’t he leaving?”

Chapter Text

“If the world gives you the blues, if you wake up in the middle of the night with waves of fear and senseless panic washing over you, I am your friend.
If you’re overcome by a desperation that makes your mouth open for a scream that never comes out but just freezes your face in mute despair, then you and I have something in common.
If you can’t understand them for the life of you, even though you’ve tried so hard, when that dislocation makes you feel like you’re the only one of your species on the planet, I know I can confide in you. If this endless ghetto of lies and heart break, this life-long run of fences and flickering neon signs, night sweats and suicidal urges makes you feel like stopping, just stopping, like stopping breathing, wait. Wait. You don’t have to tell me your name.
You don’t have to prove yourself to me. I accept you.If you’re finding life to be the one thing that’s trying to kill you, I want you to stay alive to rise with the sun and fight back.”
― Henry Rollins, Solipsist

Connie felt the light from a passing car brush over her closed eyelids, the low whoosh of its passage along the road the van was parked beside rousing her awareness yet again.

She couldn't really foresee circumstances getting any better than they were currently, but she was still determined to at least try and sleep despite them. It was already past her bedtime, but on a day when everything that could possibly go wrong had, it seemed even more important to make the attempt to adhere to the rules. Like maybe if she followed them, the rest of the universe would take the hint and start functioning the way it was supposed to.

Or maybe she was just eager to make “today” be over already.

Either way, she’d decided to go to sleep, and she was going to stick to this plan no matter what!

Connie, her Dad, and Mr. Universe had planned this trip out of town together; a chance for The Human Beings to have a few human bonding moments over a round of golf. Her dad really enjoyed talking about golfing, Mr Universe liked to think of himself as the kind of person who would golf, and Connie felt like it couldn’t do any harm to try her hand at some of the more genteel sports.

Turns out all three of them were terrible at it. Even Connie, who’d half-expected that her combat training and years of tennis practice would somehow translate to unearned skill at the lesser sports.

Yeah.

Not so much.

Mr. Universe had accepted his own shortcomings with alacrity. He was there to have fun, after all; not to become the Golf Champion of The World… although he had seemed a bit deflated at how often he missed the tee entirely despite his assertions. Her dad had lost the watch her mom had gotten him for his last birthday; it had loosened without him noticing, and slid not only off his hand but down the entire length of the club, to be flung off the end as he swung. It had glittered briefly in midair, then disappeared into a water hazard with a sad little “plop”.

Her dad had been arguing heatedly with someone who had to have been only a few years older than Connie about policies regarding lost items and pond dredging when the sky had split open, rain pouring down on everything and everyone. They’d all slunk hurriedly back to the van to escape it, her dad still mumbling discontentedly about “freak accidents” and “net on a stick”.

They’d waited for a little while to see if it would clear up. The storm had only worsened, however, so they’d eventually admitted defeat and decided to call it a day. It was disappointing; although this was the nearest non-miniature golf course, it was still a considerably long distance from both Beach City proper as well as the nearby suburb where Connie lived.

The specialty bakery they’d marked on their itinerary to get treats for the return drive had been inexplicably closed, and when they’d gotten to this point on the road home…

They’d found out the hard way that this portion of the road had been blocked by a landslide touched off by the unexpected and furious storm.

The initial plan had been that Pearl was going to drive the gems to this point in the Dondai, then they would fuse to easily traverse the hazard. They’d carry the van and its contents over the landslide, separate, and all of them would drive back home together.

But then a mysterious something had started tearing up bits and pieces of Beach City like it was searching for something, and the plan to retrieve Greg, Doug, and Connie had had to be postponed until that mess was taken care of. Steven had thought it might be another “invisible gem”, like one he explained had been on mask island the time he, Lars and Sadie had been “stranded” there.

By the time they realized that that was going to take all night, every hotel within convenient distance had been filled up with other stranded motorists whose vehicles lacked the resources and conveniences of a van that was also someone’s home. So they just stayed put, and planned to continue until circumstances changed.

Connie wasn’t taking it very well.

Connie was also a little embarrassed about why she wasn’t taking it very well, but that only served to sour her mood further. She could hear the quiet muttering of her dad and Mr. Universe discussing one of those shows that only old people watch. Sounded like some hour-long drama about solving (or committing? It wasn’t clear) crimes and running a bakery. Like the one that had special matcha flavored cupcakes like Connie had seen in a magazine at the dentist’s, and had of course been closed. That bakery. The one she’d marked on the paper road map Mr Universe had insisted on for navigation with a little pink “X”. The one she knew no one would be taking her on a road trip to visit again anytime soon.

Connie felt a little cold, but disappointment still burned like a hot coal in her chest. It wasn’t fair. Nothing today had gone the way she wanted it to, the way it was supposed to, even though she’d followed all of the rules. And even though she’s following them now, trying to get to bed on time despite the awful situation…deep down, she knew the morning wasn’t going to produce any last-minute miracles.

It was all too much.

And of course her dad and Mr Universe took that moment to pause in their conversation, just in time to her the thin, childish sob Connie tries to muffle in the pillow that didn’t smell like her pillow; the one Mr Universe had given her when she’d insisted on trying to “maintain good sleep hygiene”. She tried being even more still and quiet, but holding her breath just made the next sob even louder.

The next thing she heard was two middle aged men scrambling awkwardly to enter the back of the van at the same time. Connie turned over and tried to be still, pretending she was asleep. But unfortunately she couldn’t hold her breath forever, and she sat up with the blanket curled around her into two tired, patient, and concerned faces. The fact that they didn’t seem all that surprised she was crying just made her cry harder.

“What’s wrong, Connie?” her dad asked carefully.

“I’m not going to m-make it to school tomorrow,” Connie finally sobbed, defeated.

Doug patted her shoulder only a little awkwardly. “Well kiddo, you’ve got a pretty good excuse here!”

“Mom says excuses are no excuse,” Connie replied in an unexpectedly petulant voice.

“This seems more like a reason to me,” Mr. Universe interjected as Connie’s dad faltered, a sparkle of amusement in his eyes despite the dark circles under them. “Come on. What’s really eating you, kiddo?”

Connie bit her lip hard, then let her shoulders slump.

“I’m not going to get my perfect attendance certificate if I miss school tomorrow,” she said in a teeny-tiny voice that made her sound younger than she was. It made her face hot, and then a big, fat tear rolled right over her quivery lips. She swiped it away angrily. “There’s only two more months of school left, and I-” She hiccuped, then gave up. Connie slapped her hands over her eyes and wailed like a two-year-old.

“I always get perfect attendance! Always!! And n-now I wo-ho-hooon’t!!”

It was a good thing her eyes were covered, so she didn’t see Greg and Doug gaping at each other in shock. They both managed to compose themselves again by the time she brought her hands down and ducked her head miserably, looking between both of them like she was expecting them to pass a verdict on her.

“Hey...um.” Greg cleared his throat, then exhaled and rubbed the back of his head. “Connie, I know how much you want to do well in school,” he started. “but, uhh…” He looked at Doug, desperate for help; it’s not like his kid had ever been to school, and his memories of his own schooling were both outdated and suppressed for a reason. He hadn’t exactly been cool.

Doug took up the thread of it. “I mean, it’s just attendance, kiddo,” he continued quietly. “It’s not going to affect your grades or anything, right?”

Connie hiccuped and scrubbed at her eyes with a sleeve. “Well, n-no, but I...it’s the one thing I can always get perfect, every time,” she muttered, still feeling a little ashamed. Blushing made her face hurt, and rubbing it with the rough sleeve of her sweater wasn’t really helping. “I want to be perfect,” Connie whispered softly. Like she was ashamed of it. Like it wasn’t obvious from how she acted. As if it wasn’t clear to everyone just how insecure she was.

“Hey,” Greg said softly. She looked up at him, head still ducked almost between her skinny little shoulders. “Nobody’s perfect, Connie. It’s literally impossible.”

“But...” Connie looked over at her Dad, he just nodded with a tiny, kind smile on his face.

Connie let out an explosive sigh, managing somehow not to blow snot out everywhere with it. Her tears were definitely starting to dry. She knew she was being absolutely ridiculous, but she still felt this way. It just wouldn’t shake, and it seemed like the worst feeling in the whole world.

“I was hoping that somehow...I don’t know. Like if I went to bed on time and got a good night’s rest, then maybe something would happen in the meantime that would get me to school? In the morning?” She sighed. “Like if I was just...prepared enough, everything else would fall in line.” Connie drooped. “But life doesn’t really work like that, does it.”

Connie looked back up at Greg.

“I guess that’s today “life lesson”, huh?” She did the little air quotes weakly. Then she tried to laugh, and her hand shot up to cover her nose. “Ub,” she said in a slightly panicked voice, “do you habe addy tissues?”

Mr Universe offered her a roll of paper towels. She took it, but it made her start crying again anyways. It was like a metaphor for this whole entire awful day: not bad enough that she could get mad at it, like if he’d offered her an old sock or one of his old merchandise shirts for her to blow her nose on, but not what it was supposed to be, either. A boring, unpleasant surprise; nothing to be done about its mundane roughness against her sore, tearstained face except endure it.

“Steven told me about-” Greg began, then darted his eyes at Doug, “-how good you are at survivalism stuff. What if we thought about it like that? You know...we’re roughing it! Stranded by the side of the road, awaiting rescue...” He trailed off uncertainly when Connie only sighed.

“But this isn’t even cool magical danger,” Connie griped sadly. “I always thought...I don’t know. Like, if I ended up missing school, it would be because of the earth exploding! Or the school getting smashed by a giant gem fusion, or...” She sighed, wiping away the last of her tears before wrapping her arms around her torso and hugging herself. “But instead it’s just a big pile of boring old regular reasons.”

“Honey, you really don’t seem like yourself,” her Dad asked, peering at her face in concern. “But I guess that makes sense. Heckuva day, huh? You’re probably really tired.” Her dad rubbed soothing little circles on her back; Connie leaned against Mr. Universe’s comfortable bulk and allowed herself to be mildly fussed over. Then he looked down, saw her hand idly rubbing her stomach. “Do you feel sick or anything?”

Connie gave her dad a wan smile; at least he didn’t start barking questions at her like a drill sergeant anytime she looks a little off. She touched her belly lightly and frowned. “I don’t know...maybe I’m...hungry?”

“I’m sure I can find something for you in here!” Mr. Universe was already rummaging in one of his fancy coolers. He’d used regular non-fancy coolers before the whole ‘becoming a millionaire’ thing, but Connie hadn’t noticed much of a difference in quality or coldness of items retrieved from these despite the difference in price tag.

And Connie loved her mom, she really did, but… She’d noticed how many fewer complaints her mother had had about Greg’s appearance, vocabulary, and all around competence ever since the whole ‘becoming a millionaire’ thing, too. It made her feel...something in between sad and uncomfortable. Made her feel almost...ashamed of her mom, sometimes. Money isn’t that important.

Connie shook her head hard, dispelling the weird thoughts firmly. It wasn’t like her to think about her parents that way. But aren’t they just...people? People who… Connie shook her head again and sighed. Parents are just people, and people aren’t perfect. She stops shaking her head just in time for Mr Universe to present a sealed little glass pot to her, paired with a plastic spoon.

“How about this yogurt?” Greg asked implacably. “It’s…French? That means it’s fancy, right?”

“Sure,” Connie agreed easily. She smiled at his enthusiasm, which made it even easier to take the yogurt and the spoon from him. Her nausea or whatever that had been was already dissipating; she consumed the yogurt easily enough, and it actually did taste kind of fancy. Not as sour as she was used to, it was light and sweet, flavored like blueberries without seeming to have any bits of fruit in it or whatever.

“Thanks, Mr Universe,” she exhaled, scraping the last little bits from the bottom of the jar and feeling surprisingly better. “That really hit the spot!” She even licked the spoon, and didn’t make a face when he tossed both items casually into the trash bag he had hanging on a hook between the front seats to the van.

“Glad to hear it, Connie,” he answered fondly. “And you were definitely right about one thing...I think it’s bedtime. Whaddaya think, Doug?”

“Sounds good, Universe,” her Dad agreed, then did one of his loud, over the top Dad-yawns, complete with the hollering, the back of his fist shoved dramatically against his grimacing mouth. Connie laughed as Greg flinched, then marveled at the yawn’s snort-and-shiver finish.

“My Dad’s really the best at Dad-yawns,” Connie bragged quietly. Doug reached out to ruffle her hair proudly.

“That’s right! And my daughter’s the best at Dad-bragging!”

“Huh...I really gotta step up my Dad game…” Greg mused, looking more thoughtful about it than seemed warranted. Then he took a deep breath, and clapped his hands gently. “Welp! There’s only the one bed, but I don’t mind sharing if you two don’t!”

Connie gave him a baffled look.

“But…we won’t fit, Mr. Universe.”

Greg graced her with a sparkling wink.

“Well. Maybe not if we follow the rules...but but I think we might just need to change our perspective a little. What do you think, Connie? Doug? Wanna give it a try?”

Connie and her dad looked at each other, then both turned back to Greg with twin thumbs ups.

They shuffled off the bed together, then ended up kneeling expectantly near the back of the van seats as they watched Greg rummaging around. He was putting stuff in pillowcases, took out a stack of neatly folded shirts...then started lining them up beside the mattress. Connie was pretty sure she saw a few stuffed animals from boardwalk games in there, too. She and her Dad frowned at each other for a long moment; when they looked back, Mr. Universe made a ‘ta-da-’ motion, showing them how he had taken the pillows and places them on what had been the side of the bed. Then he rolled over with a flourish, his head on the moved pillows, and his feet on the padding of everything soft the van had to offer, now down by what had become the foot of the bed.

“Ta-da!” he said brightly, wiggling his fingers at them.

“Wow,” Connie said, sincerely impressed. “That’s a real change of perspective alright!” She grinned. “I call middle!”

Doug called left side, and Greg gamely requested dibs on ‘where I already am’.

They all told each other goodnight, and Connie discovered out that misery does in fact love company. She felt a lot safer, or maybe just less lonely in her imperfections, with her dad and Mr. Universe piled in here on the mattress with her. They're definitely not perfect, but she really wouldn't mind being a little like them when she grows up. They really had made her feel better about all of it, if only by acknowledging that it really did suck. A lot. Connie might not have perfect attendance after tomorrow...but she does have two perfect attendants for the Worst Day Ever. At least The Worst Day Ever was finally over... for real this time. She let her eyes close, and her mind wander. But...hmm.

Connie squirmed a little. She felt increasingly uncomfortable, like she was really, really…sweaty? It wasn’t very hot though; she had called middle for the extra warmth on this chilly spring night. She pulled at her clothes curiously, fumbling around and trying not to disturb her dad or Mr Universe with her tossing and turning.

Then Connie brought her fingers out from under the covers, and her entire forehead and scalp went icy cold all at once.

Oh...oh no.

No, no, no.

Connie took a deep breath, then shut her eyes and let it back out as slowly as she could.

She knows what this is. She’d been kind of expecting it for a while now…and this is certainly the absolute worst possible time for it, just like she read about in some other magazine at the dentist’s office. But Connie… she’s not gonna back down. She can handle this. She’s a strong warrior woman, dangit, just like Zana, the Barbarian Queen.

“Hey Dad,” Connie said in a voice that was only a little high-pitched and weird.

“Yeah, honey?” he mumbled amiably enough, already half asleep.

“I’m pretty sure I just started my first period.”

Chapter Text

“So there I was, stranded in a van teetering at the edge of a natural disaster!”

“Gasp!” Steven gasped. He’d seen the scree covering the road for about the distance between the Gem Temple and The Big Donut, after all. He’d come along in the morning to help pick up the stranded van denizens, although he had taken a nap in the car on the way. It’d been a long night. For everyone, apparently.

Steven made his eyes big and round and wiggly. “Did it teeter…” he leaned in, hands clasped under his chin, “… precariously??”

“Eeeegg-xactly!” Connie grasped an invisible orange in front of her chest as she took a wide stance, as if facing down a landslide herself through sheer force of bipedal equidistance. Her other arm was already flung out in a sort of sideways “stop” gesture. Steven was so caught up in the story he actually jumped when Connie mentioned bringing her hand up out of the covers and finding (dun dun DUN!!) blood.

“Oh my gosh!” Steven cried in a suddenly not-fake alarmed tone, grasping at his own curly hair in chagrin. “Were you okay, Connie?”

“Oh, yeah, I was fine,” Connie says in a hurry and complete different tone. “I started my period.”

“Oh.” Steven blinked for a minute, trying to… ohhh, that’s right. He knows what that is. He remembered asking Barb what that box under her sink was for about a bazillion years ago when she used to babysit him sometimes. He’d even remembered to ask his dad to translate Barb’s enthusiastic explanation into something slightly more comprehensible and at a considerably lower volume later. His dad had had a lot of practice being asked for Barb-to-Steven translations anytime he stayed over there, and most of the difficulty was in figuring out what Barb had been trying to explain in the first place.

Oh. Connie was starting to look concerned, so Steven decided to get lost in thought later.

“Did it hurt?”

“Well, no, not really,” Connie explained. “My stomach felt a little weird before that, but it went away. I guess it was cramps? It came back the next day, but it wasn’t too bad.”

“Was it…a problem?”

Connie flushed slightly, rubbing one arm. “Well, we didn’t exactly have a bathroom. Earlier we just went out by the trees, but I couldn’t see out there.”

“Ohhh,” he said in understanding. “And you couldn’t just get out of the bed without waking everyone up either, huh?”

Connie shook her head with a wry smile. “I told my dad, which woke up your dad, and then he started looking around the van for something to help me out.” Connie grins. “He said that paper towels are like duct tape-they fix everything!”

“That sure sounds like something my dad would say!”

“I was more glad that he had a bunch of these antibacterial wipe thingies I could clean up with,” Connie admitted. Steven nodded; had also been grateful for their existence many times in the past. Then he belatedly realized it was likely Steven was also partly the reason for them being in the van at all times. At all times.

“What happened then?” Steven prompted.

“Well, your dad set up a blanket like a curtain so I could wipe off and put wadded up paper towels in my underwear,” Connie explained, looking a bit nonplussed.

“And what happened then??” Steven continued.

Connie blinked at him. “Then we put down a towel and went back to sleep,” she explained with a shrug.

Steven took a big, dramatic breath.

“And what happened THEN??” he yelled, putting his hands up like he had earlier, and it looked like Connie was finally catching on.

Connie lifted an eyebrow, crossed her arms with a casual shrug and one hand upraised like it was no big deal.

“Well, then I fought the ravening hordes of the Undead Greek Pantheon, of course!”

Steven hummed in thought. “I feel like… maybe the Gems would have mentioned an undead army showing up last week?”

Connie’s enthusiasm flagged slightly.

“Oh. Did you not… see that episode of Zana, The Barbarian Queen?”

Steven shook his head. His dad had tried to watch it with him, but it was way too scary for Steven’s tastes.

Connie ended up telling him all about it, then finished recounting her tale of mortal peril, minor physical discomfort, and sundry inconveniences with as much flourish, panache, and ‘jen nay say quah’ as he’d come to expect.

Steven loved every second of it. Connie telling him her stories was even better than the books she always recommended to him, although he wouldn’t say that to her. He even managed to finish the books most of the time, but his favorite part was always talking about them with Connie afterward, and showing her the pictures he always ended up drawing.

“It sounds like the worst day ever,” Steven said sympathetically once Connie finished explaining how she’d missed school the next day. Which he already knew, but didn’t mind hearing again. Connie’s stories had a tendency to get even better the more times she told them anyhow.

“Meh,” Connie shrugged. “I guess in a weird way, it made me feel better about everything else that went wrong, you know? Like… instead of a bunch of annoying little problems…it was a rite of passage! You know?”

“I think so?” Steven rubbed the back of his head thoughtfully. He considered that most of his formative pubescent experiences had involved learning how to use his powers in order to avoid imminent death, finding out his mother was a terrifying space dictator who lied to everyone who ever loved her, discovering he does in fact have the capacity to stab people with swords under certain circumstances… Oh, and there was that time he’d annihilated infinite copies of himself he’d accidentally spawned by misusing the spacetime continuum.

Steven shrugged. “Mine are usually kinda traumatic.”

Connie gave him a sympathetic smile. “Yeah. I’m glad this wasn’t like that.” She sighed, then sat down next to him on the tailgate of the van, kicking her feet idly as she continued.

“It was nice to have people there to help me out. And I got to tell my mom afterwards, too. It was...” Connie frowned. “Kinda like she was proud of me? And she had someone cover her shift at work so we could spend a whole day together.”

“Wow, sounds like a lot of fun,” Steven said, making sure his smile didn’t slip. Mom feelings are complicated.

“Mom even took me to get special pictures taken in Langa Voni,” Connie said, ducking her head with a pleased blush. “It’s a really fancy outfit. Wanna see?”

“Yeah I do!” Steven said brightly, mom-feelings happily discarded in favor of looking at fancy clothes. Connie pulled up photos on her phone, and he actually gasped this time instead of just saying “gasp”.

The photos were of Connie in a long, peach-colored skirt with complex sky-blue and dark red embroidery, a snug, short peach blouse. A lovely yellow-green cloth draped simply from one shoulder, gathered at her waist with a gold-embroidered belt.

Connie’s hair in the photos was arranged smooth and neat, the part in the middle adorned with more gold in a line, terminating in a filigree medallion dangling at her forehead. Her hands were folded neatly at the side of her waist, and he could see at least five gold bracelets on each wrist. Steven thoughtfully fingered his own earlobe as he noticed the long, heavy-looking earrings attached to Connie’s ears. They looked much nicer than the ones he’d worn at the human zoo, although he had to admit that no one asking his permission before attaching them probably had a lot to do with his low opinion of them.

“It’s so pretty!” he whispered admiringly. “That might be the fanciest outfit I’ve ever seen.” Connie’s face softened with something like pride.

“It was my mom’s. She told me she wore it the first time when her mom and aunts threw her something called a ‘half-sari party’”, Connie explained with a soft smile flitting around her mouth. Steven looked back down at the pictures, trying to imagine Mrs. Maheswaran young as her daughter, proud to wear such a lovely outfit. Hmm. The mental image is a little like the pictures of Connie, and a little like the serious-faced traditional wedding photo of Connie’s mom and dad hanging in their living room.

“It was a long time before mom and dad were able to have me, so...” Connie’s happy expression slipped a little. “I wish I’d gotten to meet them. My aunts and grandparents and all.” Her lips quirked, and she cleared her throat. “Although from what she says, they sounded kind of...” She trailed off with a weak smile. “I think they were even more strict than my mom,” she whispered, glancing to the side self-consciously.

Steven gave her a smile not untouched by sadness, and maybe even a little irony.

“Those feelings can be kinda complicated, huh? I can relate to that,” he said, and they basked comfortably in a moment of empathy from under the long shadow of unmet relatives long since passed on. Then something else occurred to him. “Why didn’t you have a half-sari party?”

Connie flushed slightly. “Well…I don’t have any women relatives nearby, and um…” she sighed. “You’re still pretty much my only friend.” She flicked her eyes at him. “The only one I’d want at something like that, anyway.”

Steven was a little confused. “But still… me and the gems and Dad could have come?” Connie shakes her head.

“I guess only women are allowed to do Ritu Kala Samskara.” Her expression changed to one of amusement. “Besides, my mom told me some of the ideas around it are pretty sexist, and most of it was really boring. She ended up just sitting in this one spot while people sprinkled her with stuff and rubbed herbs on her face. She wanted to just do the good parts that she remembers, like getting dressed up fancy, getting paid attention to, and eating lots of food. So that’s what we did! Just the two of us.” Connie looked really happy about that part of it, kicking her feet idly off the tailgate of the van and narrowing her eyes at the sun’s cheerful glare off the ocean.

“It’s been a long time since me and my mom spent a whole day together. We talked about lots of things, and-” Connie giggled a little, “-she tried really hard not to say anything negative.” Steven noticed Connie didn’t say anything about whether or not she’d actually succeeded, but as long as you try, that’s what really important. He can tell Connie had appreciated it. “Then she told me all the facts about periods she already told me again, although this time she explained more about the different kinds of products and stuff that are especially for that, and how to use them.”

Steven blinked. “What kind of stuff?”

“You don’t know?”

“Uh-uh!” Steven shook his head.

“Oh, okay, sure.”

Connie spent a little while on her phone pulling up diagrams, a few quick articles she quoted from, and then paraphrased her mom’s medical explanation of what exactly periods are and why they happen.

“So…the idea is that at some point you could have a baby? And the period means that you didn’t.”

“Well, yeah, sort of.”

“Wow,” Steven mused, then nodded. “Thanks for telling me all that, Connie. I feel really prepared now!”

Connie blinked rapidly at him. “Um… prepared for what?”

Steven tilted his head at her. “For in case it happens when we’re Stevonnie!”

Connie’s mouth dropped open. She blushed a little and looked down.

“Oh…I guess you’re right.” She glanced up at him, rubbing her arm self-consciously. “It’s not...the idea doesn’t freak you out or anything?”

Steven shrugged. “You said it doesn’t hurt, right?”

“Not really. I just feel a little tired, maybe?” Connie’s eyes narrowed as she grinned, her head ducking between her narrow shoulders. “And I kinda want to eat a lot of sweets.”

“I feel like that all the time,” Steven sighed wistfully.

“I mean...we’d have to take care of changing the pads and stuff,” Connie mused, “but I can’t imagine it could be worse than the first time Stevonnie had to poop.” Her voice dropped to a dramatic stage whisper at the end, then they both snickered and snorted like they always did when they brought that up. The time they’d been stranded on that moon somewhere in space, they’d stayed Stevonnie longer than they ever had before for survival and combat purposes. It was easier and safer to stay fused, but certain issues had come up as a result. Stevonnie had felt weird about it at first, but in the end it wasn’t a big deal at all.

“Actually…” A very interesting loophole had just occurred to Steven. He leaned in close and started whispering in Connie’s ear. Then they both looked at where Lion was napping nearby. He opened an eye to glare at them balefully, as if he already knew where this was headed.

“Hey Liiiiiion,” Steven began in his best wheedling tone. Lion sighed to make sure his sacrifices weren’t taken for granted, but ended up complying…after sufficient bribery was offered.

***

Stevonnie turned around in front of the full length mirror, marveling at the beauty of the Langa Voni combined with Steven’s shorts underneath, and his star t-shirt in place of the short blouse.

“Whaddaya think, Lion? Does it look as good on me as it does on Connie?”

Lion yawned peevishly.

“That’s a yes,” Stevonnie announced confidently, doing a showy little twirl. The skirt was a lot shorter, but the draped cloth was just as beautiful and flowing as Steven had imagined. “I guess it really is a half-sari now, huh?” Stevonnie chuckled at their corny pun, but it dissolved into a big yawn. Lion yawns are always contagious. It’s a downright pandemic.

“Whew, Connie was right. I do feel a little tired...” They blinked afterwards and rubbed away sleep-tears, then looked down at Lion once more. “You up for a return trip, buddy?” Lion managed to look outraged and offended without even opening his eyes. “Awww, come on...” Stevonnie chewed their lip thoughtfully. “I’ll give you uhhhh….bag of chaaaaps?”

A dismissive huff.

“Barbecue flavor?”

The eye cracked open in brief interest shut once more.

“Slim Jim?”

Oof, not even a huff for that one. Time to pull out the big guns.

“I’ll give you the bag of Shrimp Chips Steven was saving for—oof! Hey, watch it!” Stevonnie carefully removed the enormous paws from their chest, then reached in to retrieve the promised junk food from Lion’s mane. “Whew!” they added, seeing there was no damage to their fancy clothing. “Okie dokie, you get these once we get back to—Lionnnn!”

Stevonnie put their hands on their hips, shaking their head in defeat. The big pink feline had already swatted the bag from their hand, and was tearing into it and growling like Amethyst with a sack of kettle corn.

Oh, well.

***

Greg thanked Pearl as she finished parking the Dondai for him, then held the big pink box carefully as the pavement eventually turned to sand. He chuckled a little, trying not to get lost in thought. It’d be just like him to go to all that trouble and espionage, only to end up spilling it all over the beach instead.

No pratfalls this time, Mister Universe!

He approached the van sitting serenely on the sand, the open rear doors facing what would soon be a sunset, but he couldn’t hear the chatter of Connie and Steven over the surf. Then he got closer, and realized he couldn’t hear it at all.

He hurried (carefully) over in concern, but once he got a look inside, he smiled.

Stevonnie was conked out on his mattress, wearing what looked like a mixture of Steven’s clothes and a lovely, traditional-looking silk outfit with lots of gold embroidery. As he watched, they snorted, rolled over, and scratched one big, bare foot with the toes of the other.

Greg eyeballed the sun’s position, then decided to head over to the beach house and get a shower in. Pearl hadn’t exactly said anything, but she’d started to get that scrunchy look on her face during the return trip that means it’s been too long since the last time he bathed.

Greg very carefully set the pink box in the bed of the van close enough that Stevonnie wouldn’t smash it because they didn’t see it when they woke up and weren’t expecting it. Then he made sure it was far away enough that they wouldn’t just roll over on it (and smash it) while they were unconscious, either.

A lot about Stevonnie reminded him of himself sometimes. Especially when he was younger, and much less sure about a lot of things than he was now. Bold and brash, crawling with anxiety, bright and pretty and sometimes a little too ready to Take On The World. Sometimes… even showing a little bit of a bad temper. Greg knew where he got that from, and spent most of his life trying to make sure he didn’t let it get away from him.

Greg stood there for much longer than he meant to having a bunch of Dad feelings, which he had on very good authority are just as complicated as Mom feelings, sometimes. He’d made a secret little promise when Steven was born, and at some point he’d unintentionally extended it to Connie, too.

Greg watched his wise, amazing, silly kid and his kid’s smart, anxious, insanely brave best friend take a well-earned nap after a tough week.

Greg looked inward at that moment, and made the same promise to Stevonnie in the silence of his heart.

Then he shook it off and glanced at the sun again before hurrying away for the shower he’d decided to take. If he was quick, he’d be able to make it back in time to watch the sun set and share the super-mega-special matcha cupcakes he and Pearl had made a three hour round trip to acquire in secret with Stevonnie… or Steven and Connie, whoever was there when he returned. Pearl gave him a surprisingly sincere thumbs up from the couch as he grabbed a towel from her basket and scurried into the bathroom.

He’d made sure the bakery was open by calling first (and second, that time on the way there just to make extra sure), and when they’d proved to have a few different kinds, he’d gotten a dozen of every kind just to make sure. And then a second dozen of every kind to leave with Pearl just in case The Worst happened. And a third dozen of every kind on hold for tomorrow just just in case.

Who knew being a millionaire had an actual use from time to time. Greg turned on the shower, ending up lost in thought yet again as the steam slowly obscured his reflection.

Greg asked Pearl if she’d wanted to join their surprise cupcake party, but she’d told him it sounded like a parent-child sort of thing.

He’d been confused by that, but he hadn’t objected when she’d taken the box from him. He had thought she wanted to try them, but instead she’d carefully transcribed the message he’d told her earlier he wanted to put on the top in her lovely, calligraphic handwriting. It definitely looked better than his handwriting, that was for sure.

Stevonnie slept on, as yet unaware of the box of specialty baked goods in the pink box near (but not TOO near) them, with big, curling gold letters that read:

The Undead Greek Pantheon Hordes Didn’t Stand a CHANCE against Connie, The Swordfighting Queen!

Chapter Text

Sometimes it's not catastrophic. Sometimes you only come to the bottom of your coffee cup. Sometimes you have a good day. No one wants to know. No one wants to tell you about theirs either. You might somehow take it. Turn it against them. See the flaw.

You always tell them the whole thing sucks. It keeps you alive. They figure if you're out there having a rotten time, everything's fine and you're doing your part.

No one will ever try to take your bad times away from you, but they'll come swarming for your happiness.”
― Henry Rollins, Roomanitarian

Lars is unexpectedly transfixed by the van trundling its noticeably less clankity way through the streets of Beach City, a sight as familiar as the back of his own hands.

Well.

He glances down at their pink presence on the tabletop, relaxed and innocent like they never did anything wrong in their whole life.

That van’s more familiar now, maybe. Nostalgic in a way his own body isn’t anymore. Now that he has exotic earth luxuries like “privacy” again, it turns out he’s almost afraid to look.

The van turns the corner slowly, pink-orange light from the setting sun igniting its freshly touched-up murals and lettering, a lingering flash of sliding brightness he used to take for granted.

Seeing that van used to make him so angry. Spangled with a shameless display of giving-a-crap, a statement of ideals and self worth and creativity. An embarrassing relic of youthful aspirations that a washed-up never-was musician clung to with a wink and a grin that used to fill his belly with burning resentment.

Realizing why he used to feel that way settles into him like a lead weight on a fishing line, invasive and inevitable. There’s been a lot of those for Lars lately.

Greg Universe had always been everything Lars wasn’t. He did what he wanted, said what he meant, liked what he liked and didn’t care who knew about it. He looked like shit, and…even worse than if he didn’t care, he did care. And everyone knew about that too, like it was no big deal for a bunch of people to see right inside you, see all the worst things about you… And even worse, see all the good things, too. See all your hopes and dreams, see how small and simple and pathetic they really were.

All the shameful things. The soft underbellies cringing from the knife, the tender fern of enthusiasm waiting for the crushing blow of scorn.

Greg Universe just let it all hang out as if he didn’t care, then had the gall to let that fact that he did care hang right out along with it.

It was easy to hurt his feelings, and he’d just stand there and be hurt. He didn’t run away from it, even when it seemed like everything he did was about ducking responsibility, living like a vagabond, flitting around in salt-stained sweatpants and taking naps at work as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

As if the chains Lars felt on his arms and legs that kept him from sharing himself, that clung around his throat squeezing hateful words out, couldn’t even touch Mr. Universe. Like it hadn’t even occurred to Greg that the unyielding fetters of other peoples’ expectations could exist at all.

He’d hated him for that.

It had been so easy.

Then of course his son had come along and made a nuisance of himself, and Steven had been kind of…harder to hate, despite everything. Or maybe he just didn’t have the sense to avoid Lars’s toxicity like everyone else did, and earned a weird kind of… loyalty, if not exactly fondness. Steven had also been invasive and inevitable, his mission for Lars’s ‘betterment’ going in some decidedly creepy and downright unacceptable directions. Lars supposes that he probably should have predicted something like that could be the result of spending so many years being needlessly and deliberately cruel to an annoying but innocent child.

Lars sighs regretfully, but a soft smile plays around the corners of his mouth. The Lars he used to be, the one that had died on some alien planet’s soil with his face smashed in and broken apart on the ground, had been such a fucking prick.

He and Steven both have a lot to apologize to each other for.

They also have a lot more in common than he ever would have suspected.

The thing is, Lars didn’t feel empty after coming back from the dead and spending half a year in space being a space pirate captain. If anything, he felt too full. A box of important things shaken and tumbled and cracked, thrown off a few cliffs, maybe. Everything that made him who he was is all jumbled up, his skills and flaws ending up in places he never knew they could go.

Homeworld gems are...kind of mean. Dismissive and smug and terrifyingly, dangerously brittle.

Lars never would have considered that being confronted with endless hordes of the person he used to be would come in handy. Lars became a brick that shattered the facade he used to live behind, because he knew so intimately just how painful it is to live stuffed into the hobbling mold of what you’re supposed to be. He had the key to manipulating gems like Emerald, because he used to be exactly like her.

The hostility that’s meant to hide flaws, but merely broadcasts the insecurities eating at your insides.

The fear that freezes you into uselessness the second someone has the tenacity to actually call your bluff.

“Are…you okay, Lars?”

Sadie looks at him across the little outdoor table at The Big Donut, both of them ironic patrons of the place they used to work. If the sun hadn’t been gilding the big plate glass front to opacity, he would be able to see the former mayor busily scrubbing at the display cases, seeming to find a kind of visceral fulfillment in problems he can actually fix. The glass was dirty; Bill Dewey made it not-dirty. A simple change, but one that can’t be denied. An improvement polished into reality through nothing more than a simple effort and a little elbow grease.

No one stays the same forever.

Everyone gets jumbled up, put into places they never thought they’d be.

Never thought they’d thrive.

Lars feels something soften his face, and he hopes it’s a smile. He can meet Sadie’s patient, concerned gaze so easily now. He knows he’s wronged her, and he’s on the path to figuring out both how and why. More importantly, he’s figuring out how to make it up to her. Someday he might actually achieve that, but that’s not really the point.

The point is spending every golden moment they have together trying.

“Not really,” he answers, and she looks very surprised by his admission. He shrugs, but it’s not self-conscious.

“Being a pink zombie’s pretty complicated, it turns out.”

Chapter Text

“Love heals scars love left.”

Henry Rollins, See A Grown Man Cry/Now Watch Him Die

Greg looks at Amethyst with warm awe in his heart, the light from the frozen laptop screen further silvering her already luminous mane of untameable hair.

She’s worried about him? She thinks he’s lonely?

Greg speaks the only truth he knows.

“How the heck could I be lonely when you’re right here with me?”

A flush of frustration and something else plays across her low, wide cheekbones as she glances away.“That’s not what I meant! I just, look, Greg, you’re...I mean...”

Amethyst reaches behind her without looking to slap the space bar when the light dims, the streaming service asking if they’re still watching.

They’re not, but the soft blueish light is welcome anyways.

He’s missed this. Missed her. Talking about life and love and all the things that really matter, just hanging out and being okay for a change. Sharing pizza and corny old shows, explaining and complaining about all the crazy stuff that thankfully isn’t happening right now. Because right now they’re cuddling, talking, snacking, and getting intermittently emotional, and there’s absolutely nowhere else Greg would rather be than right here, doing this.

“Amethyst, listen. I got my van here, and the carwash. I even got the Dondai now, and this laptop computer we’re watching old shows on. Sure, I miss Rose; I think about her every day.”

Greg takes Amethyst’s purple fingers in his own. Smiles thoughtfully, rubs her hand with casual affection.

“We all miss her, but I got you to...to miss her with. I got the absolute best kid in the world, I got Barb and Vidalia, and I’ve got you gems. Even Peridot! And for now, y’all got me.”

Amethyst’s face is blank the way it gets when something surprises her. A defensive reaction, but better than the hair trigger temper he’s spent almost half his life dodging at this point. As he watches the blank look soften to something almost as mysterious as she is, he thinks about all the differences between them. He thinks about all the things he’s afraid of, the worries he carries a little heavier with each passing year. She’s the one person he can talk about this kind of stuff with.

“But I’m not gonna be here forever,” Greg sighs sadly.

“Don’t just say that!” Amethyst shrieks.

Oops. Maybe not, then.

“Shhh, Amethyst, it’s late. No, I mean it. I worry about y’all all the time, I worry about the earth, and Steven, and all this Homeworld stuff going on.”

He sighs; Amethyst still looks mildly horrified. This isn’t really what he was trying to express. He wants her to know...to know that he’s happy. He smiles encouragement at her; her weak grin is conflicted but it gets stronger as he continues.

“But I don’t sit around wishing I was doing something else. I do what I wanna be doing because I don’t know if it’ll all be here tomorrow. I don’t know if I’ll still be here tomorrow. I just do the best I can, and I stay where I wanna be. I got food and a place to live...I got nine million dollars, Am. I don’t need anything.”

He pauses, because she looks surprised by something again. “What about what you need?” he asks, since he doesn’t seem to be doing a very good job of reassuring her. She raises an eyebrow, and her grin returns.

“I need you to stop talking about dying, you jerk.” She gives him a playful little shove to let him know there’s no hard feelings.

“Okay,” he chuckles softly, “I’ll stop. Sorry to get all heavy on you. I guess I’m just really glad you’re here.”

Greg shifts around until the van creaks, cuddles up against Amethyst again as he continues. It just feels really important that she knows. He wants her to understand that this is what he cares about...it’s moments like these that are precious to him.

This is what life’s all about, right? Everyone here together and safe as they can be for now, talking and sharing the day before Garnet celebrates her incredible love with her friends and family. What’s the point of ‘saving the world’, otherwise? This is what they’re saving, at least as far as Greg’s concerned. These quiet little moments that make it all worthwhile. It’s what Rose was trying to protect, what the gems all sacrificed so much for.

But he already promised to stop getting all heavy. He gives Amethyst a soothing rub on the arm, since she’s got an odd look on her face. It doesn’t seem bad necessarily, but he hugs her again and leans in close to make sure.

“It’s great we’re hanging out again, you know? And we like the same stuff.” He can’t help grinning, because it’s true. “I’ve got you to go to concerts with me, and grill up hot dogs, and talk with late at night and sleep all day, and share pizzas and bring me flow-”

He’s cut off very suddenly by Amethyst’s lips meeting his. His eyes feel like they might fall out of his head, but it seems like his mouth knows what to do without him.

She’s so soft.

She always has been, and it seems his body remembers what it associates with the feeling of her form practically melting against him, despite more than a decade having gone by since he’s felt it. Amethyst leans back a little sheepishly to gauge his reaction. A violet flush darkens her face as she ducks her head away.

She’s never been good about asking first. From the look on her face, maybe she’s finally figured out that’s probably not a good thing. And that even if Greg always let it go, it’s still not a good thing.

It’s also probably why Garnet and Pearl had been pissed when they found out they’d started spending time alone together again a year or two ago. Their memories are quite good, especially considering they’re immortals for whom Rose’s death must seem as recent as a few months ago. To be fair, some of Amethyst’s little ‘pranks’ are pretty fresh in Greg’s mind as well. The tentacles had been… particularly memorable, as had the time she’d decided to turn into Mayor Dewey. To say the least. He supposes the sight of Greg fleeing down the beach hollering without any pants on had been burned permanently into Pearl’s whatever-passes-for-a-brain after the third time.

(The time his haste to escape had blacked his eye on the van door had finally prompted Garnet Have A Word with both of them. He’d fled her just as hastily to hide the lead weight in his heart that told him it was his fault Rose wasn’t there anymore, the ugly voice inside that said he deserved whatever Amethyst saw fit to subject him to. The ugly little voice that came out of his throat sometimes, saying things he knew would provoke her.)

But as Greg searches Amethyst’s flushed features now, he’s not seeing the restless despair she’d always had lurking behind her grin just before it turned mean.

Her flush deepens, and she looks down like she’s waiting for a verdict. Oh. Greg supposes he should say something.

“It’s been a while,” Greg says huskily, then clears his throat. “I didn’t think you still...thought of me that way.” He’s surprised anyone could anymore. He’s really let himself go, in more ways than one.

“Come on, man.” Amethyst’s whisper is barely audible. “You know it’s not the same as before. It’s not weird like that.”

Greg feels his eyebrow quirk despite him, and Amethyst looks downright embarrassed. Apparently she remembers the tentacles, too. As well as the van door closed decisively if politely with her on the outside the next time she’d shown up with that mean little grin. And the time after that, too. She’d learned that even Greg has limits. Greg learned Amethyst had known all along why he kept her from knowing where they were. It’s no wonder it had ended badly, in retrospect.

“I’m not like that anymore,” she adds. It’s a sincerely ashamed whisper, and her determined but calm expression says more than an apology would. She’d been looking down, but when she raises her eyes slowly (boldly) back to his, he sees something surprising. Something simple and true.

She wants him.

She doesn’t look at him any different than she ever did in that sense. He’s not fat and old to her, he’s just…

He’s just Greg.

The changes between them aren’t because he’s different on the outside...it’s because she’s different on the inside.

And so is he, for that matter. The idea of him dying really had upset her. So had Greg saying bad things about himself. And she’s telling him that, instead of just shoving him away, scaring or tricking him, breaking something and running.

Instead of getting angry and mean, she’s just...talking to him, being honest about her feelings. And being funny. And beautiful. And apparently caring what he thinks of her.

Greg really meant all that stuff he said about being glad to hang out with her, but… What if she thinks he said those things because he wants something from her? Or worse, what if she thinks he started spending time with her again because he wants to…?

“Oh jeez, Amethyst,” Greg blurts in chagrin. What if she thought he’d been hugging her and reminding her life is short because he wanted to get in her pants? The night before Garnet’s wedding. What if she thinks he was planning some kind of grand seduction?

“I’m sorry for saying all that stuff about dying, and liking you,” Greg blurts hurriedly. “I didn’t mean to make it seem like I wanted, um, I didn’t say those things because I wanted you to let me have-ow! Ow, that’s my hair!”

She grips it tight enough to hurt, but at least she’s not pulling it out or anything. He’d braced himself for her anger, but she doesn’t actually seem angry. She’s just looking at him with mild frustration and a little bit of hurt, as if he’s being purposely dense about something.

“I’m not letting you do anything.” Amethyst regards him with an intimidating little tilt of her head. “You don’t think I could tear you in half right now?”

Greg clears his throat, blushes as he averts his eyes. Amethyst is neither human nor a woman, and it’s possible he was overdue for a reminder of both of those things. The idea that he might expect that from her would be about as alien to her as she is to Earth, even if she was made here. He looks back at her ironic expression. Yeah. He can see how the implication that she lacks agency in any situation would seem pretty insulting… to any gem he’s met.

“Yeah,” he rasps with a slightly pained laugh. She could crush him like a bug; that’s just a fact of life. “It’s kinda hot.” His face heats at his own boldness, and his eyes slide away from hers again.

Amethyst doesn’t laugh, and her grip doesn’t ease.

“Did it ever occur to you that I’m exactly where I wanna be, doing what I wanna do?” Her face is pained, like she needs him to understand where she’s coming from. “You think you’re the only one who thinks about that stuff, just because I’m not talking about it every five minutes?”

“No. No, I-” Greg sighs in relief as she releases her grip. Amethyst isn’t very hard to read if you care enough to pay attention. Regardless of how their relationship has changed over the years, Greg never stopped caring about her. Never stopped paying attention to how she feels, whether she could tell or not.

“No, I know you do. I’m-”

“Do you wanna be kissing me?” Amethyst interrupts, cutting off his umpteenth apology in exasperation.

The surf outside crashes, then retreats from the sudden quiet.

“Yeah,” Greg answers softly. She’s been honest with him. The least he can do is return the favor.

“Then shut up and do it already.”

Greg shuts up. He brushes her hair back tenderly, and does it already. Her lips are soft and warm. So is the rest of her, but there’s nothing passive in her movements as they lie down, get comfy, and kiss some more. Her hands caress his shoulders and back, and she pulls him closer as her mouth opens his gently. Greg lets his eyes slip closed. It doesn’t feel strange to be doing this, to let this be done. It feels pretty great, actually, even (especially) when he starts to feel a little out of breath.

Amethyst tastes like a transcendent being made of light: stardust and pizza, grape soda and eternity.

This probably isn’t much like kissing a human, but Greg’s memory of human kisses are pretty fuzzy and distant at this point anyhow. Amethyst is still the last person he kissed.

The last person to passionately twine her fingers in (what’s left of) his hair, the last person to run a hand up and down his side teasingly… to caress him under the chin with curved knuckles, to spread careful fingers slow down his chest and over his belly while his breath does something funny in his throat that makes a noise he hasn’t heard in an extremely long time and just keeps going down to the front of his sweatpants where things are getting very very--

Greg yelps and jolts back; his eyes fly open as he practically cartwheels out of the bed. The laptop goes flying up off the suddenly tensed-and-released coverlet like a trampoline, whacks into a shelf and knocks over some stuff, then plaps down with a clatter on the floor next to Greg’s panting sprawl. He sits up quickly and tugs his shirt down further in front, rubs the elbow he bruised on one of his amplifiers with a pained grunt. He clears his throat, darts a glance back at the bed.

Amethyst is goggling at him, her entire face a dumbfounded caricature.

Greg blushes furiously as his eyes hit the floor, still rubbing his elbow.

“Shit,” Amethyst hisses. “Are you okay?”

Greg picks up the laptop with a scraping sound, sets it to the side on top of his cooler. He opens it and fiddles with the power button, ignoring how hot his face is. He definitely doesn’t discreetly adjust his waistband. The screen flickers back on, and the sign in prompt comes up. He just leaves it like that and mutters, “I’m fine, I’m...”

“Is it broken?” Amethyst tries. She doesn’t try to approach him. He doesn’t know why he reacted like that. He doesn’t know why Amethyst did that either so there’s a sort of balance there, he supposes.

Greg feels like he has no idea what the hell just happened, which is a familiar enough feeling from nights in the van with Amethyst…from a long, long time ago. He tastes the old ghost of fear and frustration, of grief and embarrassment. Like if he feels bad, he probably deserves it.

He wills the feeling away, because it’s not fair to either of them.

“I don’t know.” Greg covers his face with his hands and lets out a muffled laugh; an edge of hysteria creeps into his voice. His eyes feel suspiciously wet. “I told you, it’s been a while.”

“If it is busted, just buy another one. Don’t worry about it.”

Greg pulls his hands down. Amethyst looks concerned and sheepish.

He doesn’t know why he thought she’d be angry.

(Maybe he does. But she’s not.)

“Are you okay?” he asks hesitantly, then flinches. She always used to hate it when he said that.

“Me?” A bemused smile paints her lavender features. “I’m fine, ya dink.” Her hunched shoulders relax, and her face warms. She looks...

Patient?

Greg exhales in surprise at that unprecedented revelation, rubs his arm bashfully, then winces when he hits the bruise he already forgot about. He glances at the clock. It’s not actually that late. And they’re being kind of loud, what if-

Greg feels a cold wave of anxiety, and Amethyst’s face mirrors his concern.

“You don’t think...they woke up, did you?” He whispers urgently, and Amethyst’s face goes back to smiling. She shakes her head at him, rolls her eyes ostentatiously.

“Oh my gosh, Greg, it’s fine. They all went to bed early.”

“Am, the other gems don’t really sleep. Do you think-”

“Just get back in here. Okay?” Her brow is creased with sincerity. All she does is lift her arm, lying down on her side. She doesn’t try to grab him, doesn’t do anything but wait.

Greg slinks back to his own bed like a scolded animal, lets out a huff as he plops down into its messy comfort. Amethyst cuddles up to his back, puts a relatively chaste arm over him and rubs his shoulder soothingly. She once said he has a near terminal case of Little Spoon, and she’s not wrong. That doesn’t bother Greg; he can’t see anything wrong with wanting some cuddles. Or some kisses either. Then, of course, there’s other stuff.

The thing about Greg and sex is… he’s never thought of it as a thing unto itself. As in a “thing” you “get”. It’s certainly nothing he’d be all that interested in going out and seeking because...well. It’s not a goal, it’s more of an… activity. Something people who feel really close (and would like to feel even closer) could do together. If they felt like it. Greg’s not hung up on it or anything, he’s just never seen the point of doing something like that with someone he doesn’t even know.

Greg thinks of himself as a pretty simple guy. He’s no complicated, tortured artist; he doesn’t brood or have much to say about people not understanding him. (Then again, maybe he’s glad to be simple since “complicated” is what Vidalia tells Sour Cream when he asks why Marty never comes to Beach City, even when his travels bring him near it.)

He hasn’t even bothered talking about that stuff with anyone in a long time, since it’s one of the many things about him that seem to be met with derision when he tries to explain it to most people. He’s not ashamed or anything; he just doesn’t need anyone’s permission or approval to be how he is. But as many problems as he and Amethyst have had, that’s something he never even had to explain. She just knew. She pays attention to him, and sees how he is. What she does with that information has varied wildly, but he knows Amethyst about as well as he’s ever known anyone.

What he feels for Amethyst isn’t something people write tragic ballads with massive string arrangements about. It’s what people write simple, heartfelt little ditties on acoustic guitars by the ocean about. One isn’t more important than the other; they’re just soundtracks for different legs of the journey. Greg puts his hand over Amethyst’s, rubs her knuckles absently, carefully. Everything he has is more than enough. More than he ever expected he’d end up with, anyhow. He’d told the truth about not needing anything.

But...wanting things?

That seems a lot more scary and complicated.

“Hey,” Amethyst says quietly after a few minutes. “It’s just us in here. It’s not like before, when everything else was just piled in here with us. I’m not trying to forget anything, or stop thinking, or...”

She trails off, but he knows what she means. They’d used each other as a distraction from the things that had hurt them, and ended up hurting each other instead. Which he supposes is what happens when people use each other for anything.

“I don’t think we have anything to take out on each other,” Greg sighs. “I’m not sad-,” ...sad? After Rose died, he’d been crushed with grief, confused and scared, and a glutton for punishment, “-anymore, I just really like you. It’s nice.”

“I don’t feel angry all the time anymore,” Amethyst half-whispers. He hasn’t seen the hard, brittle expression that used to tighten her eyes constantly in a long time, he realizes. When she laughs, it doesn’t cut like it used to.

“I just really like you, too. If you want, we can just get some rest.” He flops over when she trails off; her eyes are soft and patient again. It’s not a trick. She really means it. “Or we could go back to it?” She shrugs and blushes, glances to the side bashfully.

Greg smiles. A warm feeling goes through him; he feels relaxed. Happy and close, like he was before.

“Here,” he says, gathering her into his arms for a gentle little hug. “Come here.”

Her face is soft and expectant, but not demanding. Like she’s cool with whatever happens now. Because she’s cool. Her coolness makes him feel even warmer; her eyes glisten as he keeps looking at her. Greg decides to just let his feelings…happen.

Greg ducks down and kisses her gem, the gem that is her; he mouths gently at the seam where her form joins it. He pulls back anxiously at the small, vulnerable noise she makes, looks up at her suddenly flushed face.

“Is that okay?” He strokes her waist with his thumb.

She grins, rubs her hands over her eyes for a moment before nodding. She guides his face back to her chest and arches up into his mouth.

“It’s a good answer,” she gasps.

They kiss and hold each other for a long time, letting their bodies get reacquainted at their own pace instead of racing towards some undefined goal. He pulls a blanket over them when she asks to take his shirt off, but he lets her. Her clothing eventually vanishes into little motes of light. She runs a finger along his waistband and gives him a questioning look; he blushes silently, but after a few more minutes he takes his shorts off himself, his feet pushing them vaguely away to drift off into the bedding.

She takes his hand in hers and watches his face; he touches where she guides him. What he finds there might not be exactly human, but it is at the very least a dedicated homage. He gives her a soft smile; her gem hasn’t glowed. She used to be nearly as featureless here as her chest still is…until she made something. This is apparently something she’s decided to add to her actual form.

“It’s nice,” he whispers sincerely.

“Shut up,” she snorts very, very quietly. The she takes a deep, uneven breath. “Thanks.” He kisses and touches her for a long time before she pulls back to speak again.

“Hey. Can...I touch you, too?”

He thinks about that for a while. “Yeah,” he answers finally. He braces himself, but she actually takes it easy on him. Really easy; he even forgets to be nervous and awkward after a surprisingly short amount of time. It’s just him and Amethyst, and if they wanna spend the evening kissing and cuddling without any clothes on, well that’s their business. He pets her hair, rubs little circles on her smooth, silky back delightedly while she kisses his neck and chest; it’s pretty great.

She kisses lower.

“I’d!” It’s high and breathless. Amethyst stops, looks up at him questioningly. Greg clears his throat, tears his eyes away and stares at the wall. The silence stretches long past the point of comfort. “...rather...you didn’t?” He’s all hunched up again; he’s ruining it. He doesn’t even know why he doesn’t want that, but he-

“Hey,” she says, comes back up even though he’s still avoiding her gaze. But she doesn’t sound angry, even now. “That’s fine, okay?”

Greg wonders if it really is, though. He likes doing that to other people, but never really enjoyed having it done to him. And watching it actually skeeves him out a little. Something must be wrong with him. He’d also never bothered telling her before that he didn’t like it. He just let her do whatever she wanted.

But nothing else happens, and she smiles hesitantly when he meets her eyes.

“You still wanna do other stuff?” She’s not even asking for an explanation. He nods. Touching with hands eventually morphs to hugging, kissing, and some mutual rubbing that takes less coordination. Greg would categorize it as sex if someone had asked him, but an undefinable tension still lurks under Amethyst’s expression.

Seeing her desire doubles his; he reaches out to touch her face before she gets frustrated. They look at each other for a long moment with identical expressions of hesitation and desire. Amethyst’s eyes glisten, and a little crease appears between her brows. Greg’s heart melts; she’s really trying.

“You can always…just ask.”

She’s already flushed, but her cheeks darken further nevertheless. Her lips part, but nothing comes out at first.

“You, uh.” Her throat makes a dry noise. “You in the mood, for uh…?” She makes a gesture that’s impressively explicit, and the vulnerability in her expression makes him want to even more.

“Go ahead,” Greg hears himself whisper. He closes his eyes and holds his breath while she takes him. It’s slow and careful; he exhales explosively when her soft weight finally settles on him. They just stay like that for a minute, then Amethyst makes an odd little huff that makes him open his eyes. He blinks; her face is hovering a few inches above his, the tenderness on it tempered by something suspiciously close to hilarity.

“You okay there, Universe? Gonna have a heart attack or something?” she whispers, voice tight like she’s holding back laughter for politeness’s sake. “It’s not too late to take up knitting or something instead.”

Greg slaps his fingers over his eyes when her snort finally escapes, and starts laughing helplessly along with her. He still palms the back of her head and smushes her face playfully down against him for revenge. She lets out a mock-offended little squawk, but settles in comfortably when he lets go. He wraps an arm around her and gives her a hug.

“I’m not gonna have a heart attack,” he chortles, rubbing her upper arm. “I’m not that old.”

“You sure?” she teases, then cuts off with a different noise when he moves.

“Guess I gotta prove it,” he says, smile gone soft again. He’s glad to discover he’s not all bluster, and everything more or less works the way it’s supposed to.

Amethyst seems pleased with these circumstances. Well, she seems surprised at first, and then starts making an expression he’s only seen on her once or twice after eating as many funnel cakes as she could hold, and…hoo boy. Making some interesting sounds, for sure. That’s really doing something for him.

She rises above him, the gem that’s her centered on her otherwise featureless chest, embedded in the form she creates so she can feel and be felt, see and speak and connect with everyone. The body she creates to be alive with, that she’s choosing to share with him right now. Her silvery hair pours down like a waterfall in the dim interior; it’s wild and graceful all at once. The laptop has finally gone to sleep, and the only light comes through the small tinted windows at the back of the van, and some reflected light from the windshield in the front.

“Amethyst...” It’s his own shaky voice, but he’s not sure if it’s a warning or a plea. She arches over him, leans on the hands she plants to either side of his head. Her hair covers them both, silver-pale like the unraveling surf he can hear outside, her sleekly plump body gleaming darkly like wet sand in starlight. She swallows him up as inevitable as the tide; her quick-slow rhythm changes to quick-quick as she leans in until he can feel her breath on his lips.

“You close?” Her face is sweaty and avid; she’s smiling like a cat, eyes narrow and full of a mysterious smugness. “Good,” she purrs, satisfied with his breathless nod.

“B-but, you--”

“You can do me after,” she interrupts, watching his face hungrily. Her expression’s dazed and soft, but her smile gains a mischievous edge as her movements grow insistent. “I wanna feel this.”

He stops himself from asking are you sure, from apologizing for nothing. He stops second guessing, because they’re learning how to trust each other with this again. She knows what she wants; he can see it in her face, but more importantly, she already told him.

She wants this. She wants him.

To Amethyst…he’s really just…

“Greg,” she urges, and his eyes scrunch shut as the yearning in her low little rasp rolls him under. He guides her gently, a hand on her hip and one at her back to pull her snug against him, to show her what he needs to give her what she wants.

He tries to drown his quiet noises in the monochrome wilderness of her hair, but her lips find his mouth like she’s hungry for those, too.

He hands them over without a fight, without insisting that she could have something better. He gives her everything he has, from his astonished cry as he tips over the edge, to what she draws shuddering out of him with the slowing grind of her body on his. She keeps moving until he whimpers, his arm wrapping tight around her ample hips to still them.

Instead of getting off of him, she clutches him to her and rolls, holding him tight against her until he’s on top. Her incredible strength doesn’t faze him, and her care and precision says more than words.

Her face is an open book: soft with anticipation, her quiet punctuated with a shaky gasp as he withdraws. He strokes her face with his fingers, then leans in and kisses it as his hand moves down between her legs. His mouth catches the noise from between her lips before tracing a path down her neck; he lingers at her gem, then presses his face to her featureless, generous belly. She whispers ragged encouragement, then moans when he replaces his fingers with his mouth once again.

He takes his time. She tastes like starlight against the earth as her labored breath gets faster; when she shivers hard and cries out, he tastes himself.

“Hey,” she says hoarsely after another minute or two, and he looks up to see her gazing down at him, a fine sheen of sweat making her features glisten. “Get up here.”

He does, and she pulls him down for a kiss. When he comes up for air, he’s transfixed by the intensity of her eyes contrasting the dazed expression on her face. She reaches down his body without breaking his gaze; what she finds makes her lick her lips and give him a saucy little smile. Apparently some parts of him still think he’s in his twenties.

“You up for round two?” Her already raspy voice is husked with satisfaction, raw with yet more desire.

“Uh… yeah,” he says, realizing it’s true as he says it. “Sounds good.” He looks around at the rumpled bedding; she’s kinda starfished out in the middle right now, no room for him to lie down. “How do you want me to, um…?”

“Like this is fine,” she answers; Greg isn’t sure how that’s going to work in their current position. Her gem doesn’t glow or anything; she just waits. He blinks in confusion for a second.

“Oh,” he whispers. Apparently she doesn’t want to take turns. Or…maybe she’s worried it was one of those things he only said he liked. But he does like it…just not all the time, or in certain ways. That hadn’t stopped him from doing it every time anyhow, and it’s no wonder she’d rather not do that than worry he’s not telling the truth. But they’re both telling the truth now. He doesn’t know why it’s so much easier to ask for what they want, and to give an honest answer. He’s grateful for it, nevertheless.

Greg reaches down to guide himself to her entrance. “Like this?”

She gives him a breathless little giggle, throwing a companionable arm up around his shoulders.

“Yeah,” she snerks, then repeats it in a very different tone when he obliges. He’s pretty sure her other hand goes back down between her legs while he kisses her again, judging by the moan he feels vibrating against his lips. Her brow creases, breath leaving her in sharp little huffs as he starts to exert himself.

“Oh, man,” she breaks the kiss to pant softly, “I forgot how much better it feels when you do both at once.”

Greg feels surprised, but maybe he shouldn't be. Maybe it’s been a while for her, too. That possibility…hadn’t occurred to him, and it makes everything she’s done and said tonight change slightly in retrospect. Her fumbling gets softer in his memory, gains a heartfelt awkwardness he probably should have noticed sooner.

“Am I doing okay?” Greg can’t help but ask.

Amethyst exhales in amusement. “I’m having a pretty good time, yeah,” she says, but her singsong tone’s too breathless to come off as casual. Her free arm falls away to rub the back of her wrist over her closed eyes. She lifts her chin and exhales shakily as he tries something else his memory belatedly supplies as one of those things she likes. Her arm stills, stays in place to hide her expression. “I always have a good time with you,” she mumbles. She makes a tiny noise; if he hadn’t been watching so closely, he’s have missed the way her lip trembles. “You were always…” Her whisper trails off thickly.

Greg slows to a glacial pace, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t want her to think she can’t feel however she needs to, or that he has a problem with her having feelings. Amethyst hates being asked if she’s okay (especially if she isn’t), so he doesn’t. He just pays very close attention, which he kind of has a tendency to do all the time anyways.

“I’m okay,” she says anyhow, surprising him. Her voice quivers into a tight whisper. “...don’t stop.”

Greg exhales and relaxes as she uncovers her face, lets her pull him down close. He enjoys the feral fragrance of her hair as much as the sensations he seeks and finds inside her with increasing enthusiasm. Her breath quickens as something seems to shudder up in waves from her core. She shifts heavily beneath him, shaking with tension as it approaches.

It’s like something huge is stomping toward them just beyond the horizon, more felt through the ground than heard or seen. It’s not a hurried approach, but measured and steady until it arrives. She holds him tighter as it wracks her with a low, shivering groan of completion. He draws aftershocks out of her like retreating footsteps. This time he slows to a stop.

“Greg,” she says again, his name insistent on her lips, and he looks into her eyes for an explanation. He finds one: a lot of complicated things he understands, but doesn’t have words for. She wants to feel wanted, wants to know he’s not just humoring her. Well. She knows that already, but she still wants him to make her feel like it. And even if he can’t…

“I’ll try,” he mumbles shyly, then buries his face in the crown of her hair again. Some of her whispers are suspiciously close to endearments, others merely the soft curses and affirmatives he’s come to expect.

The stab of fondness he feels for her is dangerously sharp, but he welcomes it.

It’s the same one he feels watching her eyes narrow as she basks in the sun like a pleased seal, when she licks melted ice cream off her elbow, when her bullish enthusiasm kicks his door in and forces him to remember that he’s allowed to receive love as well as give it. That he’s allowed to believe her soft whispers. That he’s allowed to feel wanted, even if it’s hard to believe. He already said he would try.

He kisses her until every breath he takes in tastes like her. His head swims by the time he pulls away. He lies heavily on her because he knows she can take his weight, he knows she likes it, and she feels so good and soft underneath his languid movements. It’s unexpectedly easy to give in to the slow flood of pleasure their bodies can make together. She wants to feel him enjoying this, so he forgets he’s trying to do anything and just lets his body guide him.

His thoughts go vague under her intoxicating whispers, then just melt apart like cotton candy blown out of his hands and into the ocean. Sweet and salty when he kisses her forehead, the welcome breeze of her panting breath on his neck. It goes on and on; pleasure drawing out thin and sharp until he can’t take it, until he can’t bear to stop. Until he doesn’t remember there’s ever been anything but this.

“Ames,” he hears himself gasp, “….Amethyst...” His eyes are screwed shut; his whole body’s curling up around her, moves like he’s both chasing and fleeing the hot, shaky tension at the base of his spine.

“…y-yeah?” She holds him close, her voice uneven between panting breaths. “You okay?”

“You feel so good,” he whispers plaintively against her soft skin, utterly lost in her. Doesn’t she know? She’s, she’s so- “Amazing,” he gasps faintly. She shivers feverishly against him, makes a low, broken noise. “Beautiful, okay? You’re good, you’re s-so--”

The surprise of her strangled grunt makes his fingers grip hard in the blankets, and the surprise of her body’s embrace turning to a sudden rhythmic-pulling caress hauls him up to the last hurdle. The third surprise is Greg lets it happen, unhurried and awkward. There’s no graceful ascent; they smash right through it together in an ecstatic, tangled mess of sweaty limbs.

He feels the heat of his own ragged moan piling up around his face, humid breath bleeding into her hair as pleasure ignites white-hot and he can’t bear it, he can’t bear this but he is, he does. Her body goes melting-soft and slack beneath him, taking what he gives her with a low, satisfied purr. Her arms around him hold him together even as he falls apart. He makes a cracked little noise as it finally ebbs, leaving his mind blank and peaceful, all his senses filled to overflowing with her.

Greg keels over on his side with a dizzy huff. It’s quite a while before he manages to crack open an eye to glimpse at Amethyst’s smug, glistening features mere inches from his.

“Hey, Music Man,” she whispers impishly. “Are you dead?”

“Nope,” he manages to gasp. “Just gonna wish I was tomorrow.”

His eye just kind of closes itself in the middle of his sentence, but she giggles anyway. “Hoo boy,” he adds with feeling. Then he reaches out blindly and paws her gently towards him, pulls her close against his belly. She smooth and warm and half her bulk’s actually hair; when she wriggles against him, he feels something wriggle in his heart, too.

“Wow,” she says, a low, raspy half-whisper. “Is this what being the little spoon is like? I can see why you’re into it.” She gives a little shiver, then just kind of turns into pudding. “Makes you feel little, even if you’re not.” It’s under her breath, barely there at all.

“...’s pretty great...”

Amethyst’s already snoring.

Greg is surprised, but not because she fell right asleep after. This is just how she used to be at first, before they started fighting about it all the time. In fact, everything about that had been good. He tries to sleep too, but his thoughts about why it hadn’t always been before keep him awake.

It must have made her feel terrible all those years ago when she realized a lot of things he’d let her do, he hadn’t… entirely enjoyed. And that was the start of the problems between them before. He’d say he was fine with anything she did...but he hadn’t been, had he. From his own perspective, he felt like he’d been giving her something she wanted; it was about pleasing her. All the time with that ugly little voice in the back of his mind, telling him even if he didn’t like it, he had to make up for ruining everything. For ruining her life.

But from her perspective, it must have seemed like… Oh, man.

Greg wouldn’t want to be used for doing penance, either.

He blushes guiltily. Pretending to like things you don’t…is still lying. But instead of talking about it, Amethyst had pushed him further and further until he had to either tell the truth or run away, and that hadn’t been okay either.

He tries not to squeeze her too hard as he realizes he finally gave her all she’d wanted in the first place, even if she didn’t know how to ask for it. Not that he can blame her; he’s not sure he could even put it into words at all. Amethyst has never been a placeholder for him, never been second-best. But a lot of the things she’s done and said, a lot of her anger is cast in a different light when he wonders if she always thought he’d rather have something else. Someone else.

Now it’s like she knows she isn’t something he has. She’s a person he spends time with, and how they decide to do that isn’t anyone’s business but theirs. Amethyst had been right. It is different now, and it’s not about anyone else. What they do together expresses how they feel about each other, and how they feel is exactly what they do.

Sounds awfully complicated, but it’s not.

Her slack, snoring body is utterly unique, alien in composition and purpose, and as familiar to him as his own heartbeat. Right now it feels almost as necessary.

In the music of hearts and breath, under the ceaseless rhythm of the ocean, a second set of snores eventually punctuates the first.

Chapter Text

So many times have I killed her for all the times that she made me feel dead like her. I come from death. I come from darkness. I am the most alive and brightest-burning thing there is.

To you, I am a superstar. I overcome myself by incinerating myself. You will never forget my voice.

Okay, I’m ready.

Let’s do it.”

-Henry Rollins, Eye Scream

Spinel looks at the metal box on wheels the Um-Greg says he lives in. She likes the big swooping lines and shapes decorating the sides (she hates it). The town’s taking a little longer to rebuild than they’d said, but they’ve come a long way. She’s relieved to see the damage she’d done being repaired (she wants to burn it all down again).

Spinel feels that way about a lot of things these days. The Diamonds are over by the new beachhouse, chatting with…Steven…and Spinel is trying to ignore the way her gem feels like a hot coal trying to burn its way through her chest, cloudy and dim with resentment.

Spinel’s just the knockoff. The only reason they come here at all is because she’s….he’s...the real thing. The one Spinel’s pretending to be for them. A placeholder. A cheap imitation.

Right now it doesn’t matter that earlier Blue had taken Spinel to “Fun Land” at Steven’s urging, or how much harder she’d laughed at Spinel’s jokes with an entire boardwalk full of ridiculous props to work with. White’s prim, sidelong approval as Spinel did a set of 80 perfect backflips to express White’s excitement palls now that she considers the reason for it in the first place was visiting Steven. The memory of Yellow’s dry, disdainfully satisfied smirking as Spinel pretended to be a human building a “house” out of sand, then her overwrought sorrow as the ocean washed it away isn’t enough either, even though that had only been an hour or two ago. It doesn’t fill the raw, aching emptiness Spinel feels now as Yellow frowns thoughtfully, considering the words of the presumptuous Greg who lives in this van.

She doesn’t care what they’re talking about. Something about humans, or...zoomans, maybe, whatever that’s supposed to mean. The Um-Greg’s waving his arms around and sweating, trying to explain something to Blue. As if some leaky, weird alien could ever have anything to say that an eternal, brilliant, lustrously faultless Diamond doesn’t already know. Spinel scoffs softly, then does a pratfall into the back of the van and checks the group surreptitiously for a response.

No one notices, so she just sits there hunched and staring out at the water.

Spinel has a flaw.

No one else seems able to see it, though.

She just has to sit here and feel it, knowing it’s true.

No matter how much attention they pay her...the second they stop, the hole at her core is instantly empty again.

What would be enough? What could she do to make sure they never stop? To have everything they are focused on her, to become…

Spinel grips the ledge she’s sitting on tight, tighter, trying to still the sudden shaking of her hands, but...no. No, of course not. That could never happen. She finds herself glancing at the Diamonds again, blushing as if they could see her thoughts. Spinel’s obviously lost her mind, but...she can’t stop thinking about it, now that it’s occurred to her.

Diamond don’t fuse with anyone.

Why would they? They’re already perfect just how they are. They don’t need anyone or anything.

Spinel can hear her own teeth grinding.

How must that feel? To be so strong you never need anyone else, to always know how you feel and what to do about it, to be able to...to know you’re….and...to be together, always. Together in a way that’s more than just for the moment.

Spinel shakes, staring at the reflections of the sun on the ocean. It’s heartbreakingly beautiful, yellow and orange and perfect, tawny pink as it sets.

The idea just won’t leave her. Not even when White comes and scoops her up into those massive, careful, protective hands, the little finger taller than Spinel on its own. She’s so...she’s…

Spinel jokes and flails and dances, says all the right things to make White smile. Even with White holding her, Blue and Yellow smiling and talking about her, all of them focused on Spinel like the universe revolves around her and their attention pushing out everything else, their regard replacing all the things Spinel doesn’t want to think about…

That sliver of impossible desire still burns in her gem like a crack.

Chapter Text

“Loneliness adds beauty to life. It puts a special burn on sunsets and makes night air smell better.”

—Henry Rollins

Garnet knew that Greg knew whenever Garnet showed up in the Cool Dad leather jacket that used to belong to him but never actually fit him, it was time to have a nice session of complicated Dad Feelings together. Not to necessarily talk about them, although it was nice to know that they could if they wanted to.

Ruby and Sapphire were both considerably more talkative than Garnet; they were also both close to Greg in their own ways. Garnet, however, was the full time co-parent of Steven. And that’s who needed a bit of comfort and commiseration as Steven’s trip to some planet or the other to ease the transition of dismantling a piece of the intergalactic diamond empire extended into its third week. The amount of trash in Greg’s van had started piling up again, and Garnet was finding herself unable to think about much except all the flesh-mangling things that could go horrifically wrong about the trip. That’s when she knew it was time to scoop up Cat Steven and go for that little 20 foot walk down the beach to where the van faced the ocean, both doors open in the back.

Greg grinned with sincere delight as she approached, a beer already in his extended hand. Garnet set Cat Steven in the bed of the van, gave Greg the nod to pop the top of the can, and went “HUP!” as she did a handplant-leap into being cross legged facing Greg. She took the beer with another nod, this time one of thanks. They stayed almost knee-to-knee so Cat Steven couldn’t escape onto the beach.

Garnet’s mind tried to supply all the terrible thing that could happen to Cat Steven on the beach. She firmly told her mind to shut up. The funny thing about Greg has always been how he could somehow tell where Garnet was looking, even when she was wearing her reflective visor. He gave her a smile of quiet understanding as her eyes combed the beach for possibilities, most of them awful. Garnet dismissed the visor, then left it gone and let her eyes wander as they willed. It was always difficult to feel embarrassed about anything while hanging out with Greg in the van.

Garnet and Greg both knew a lot about anxieties that aren’t empty. The kind of worries you have when you know bad things can happen, because they have. And sometimes do, and also probably will. That’s one of the things they have in common that they’d discovered slowly over time.

But instead of talking about that, they flicked crumpled papers across the floor of the van for Cat Steven to chase, and gossiped about relationships in the town. Well, more like Greg talked and Garnet made appropriate grunts, occasional words, and offered the rare but vehement opinion on who was seeing who, who may have broken up, and who they believed would be the most potentially compatible. Greg seemed surprised that Mayor Nanefua was still turning away suitors, but Garnet wasn’t. Nanefua Pizza has always been the town heartbreaker, and even when humans change so fast it made her head spin, that’s remained the same. It’s reassuring.

Once the human possibilities were exhausted, they switched to Garnet’s more terse assessments of gem relations in Little Homeworld. They each opened another beer and broke out some of the fancy cat toys Greg kept in a bag in his van. Cat Steven continued to prefer random pieces of trash and jumping in and out of an empty box, although both of them continued gamely to wave the fluffy wands, and left the expensive battery-powered mouse-under-a-blanket running. Each tidbit Garnet offered about Heaven Beetle and Earth Beetle, the Nephrites, whether Fluorite's patience would ever eventually get through to Jasper, or even just how adorable Rhodonite was all the time never failed to prompt a pithy response from Greg.

It’s the reason they’d gotten along right away: they’re both hopeless romantics. None of what they say here ever went farther than the van doors, because they weren’t busybodies. They just liked the idle speculation.

(…And the occasional bet. Sometimes. And sure, Greg’s five ahead in the pool, but only because Garnet put all her chips on Lars and Sadie two years ago and is still running way behind schedule. Greg insists that’s really for the best. Garnet doesn’t see why they won’t just get on with it and fuse already. Just because humans can’t fuse, well. That’s no excuse.)

They even spent a little while wondering if Pearl’s unexpected and belated interest in humans would actually go anywhere. Garnet’s opinion remained that it all depended on whether she’d stop getting in her own way long enough to actually let herself feel things in the moment. Greg’s opinion also remained to blush and shrug, maintaining that some people’s lives only have one big all-encompassing fiery inferno of a romance, but there’s nothing wrong with warming yourself at the beach bonfire with a good buddy now and again.

The sun grew low, and Greg produced a cat bowl and extra-smelly wet food to go into it. The smell never bothered him, since his sense of smell wasn’t all that keen to begin with. Garnet begged to differ, but she certainly didn’t begrudge her tiny, furry charge her necessary nutrients. Cat Steven could already barely contain her excitement, and messily went right to it. She knew the routine well by then.

Garnet spent a while telling Greg good jokes as they enjoyed their third round, still hoping after all these years the knack of fear-derived comedy would somehow rub off on him. Unfortunately his jokes in return were just as bad as ever, mostly involving puns that didn’t quite work, or were so obvious they almost looped around to being funny again. “Almost” being the operative word. Cat Steven finished the fanciest of feasts and busily began grooming herself. Garnet appreciated it as always. The smell still lingered, of course, but it’s the thought that counts.

Garnet found the continued badness of Greg’s jokes to be extremely comforting for obvious reasons.

They watched the sun setting in all its fiery glory.

“I don’t really get tired of that,” Garnet offered matter-of-factly.

“Me neither,” Greg agreed, a strangely poignant satisfaction in his voice.

They shared the bittersweet absence of Rose’s son, shared the bittersweet setting of the sun Rose wasn’t around to see anymore. They shared the silence of comfort given and received, shared the silence of a job well done that would also ironically never really be finished. Greg shared his beer, and Garnet shared her cat until both cat and Greg fell asleep.

Garnet did some stargazing together, three lively eyes fixed on the one that anchored the planet Steven was currently gracing with his indomitably optimistic presence. The same poignant satisfaction Greg’s voice had held earlier filled her now. In a moment of whimsy, Garnet put a protective, begemmed hand on her purring ball of living fluff and decided to sleep as well. The satisfaction followed her there.

It’s nice to get some rest after so much hard work.

Chapter Text

Amethyst was in the back of Greg’s van trying to find some condoms, having recently run out of water balloons to fill and throw at Peridot’s welding mask, when she found the piñata.

“Oh, wow,” she whispered, running her hands across the red paper fringe, then knocking on it a bit to see if it sounded hollow. It didn’t, and then she remembered the last time she’d seen one. Steven had insisted she hit with a stick because he wanted her to have a “birthday”...it was supposed to have candy in it! She scowled, remembering how he had left that most important bit out, then grimaced as she remembered how terrified they’d all been during his little...biological problem. Amethyst could roll with almost anything, but there was only so much weird human shit she could tolerate in one day, and if she was honest, Steven was… extra weird, even for a human. Come to think of it, he was weird for a gem, too, but that just made her smile.

She was just about to punch through the hard paper shell to get at the sweet innards she’d been promised so long ago, when she heard Greg running up and hissing her name urgently.

“Amethyst! Amethyst, don’t look in the...oh,” he gasped, and plopped down next to her on the floor of the van to catch his breath.

“This has candy inside, right?” she inquired, shaking the hollow papier mache construct and tilting her head to glare up at him. At this point, if it didn’t she was gonna be kind of pissed.

“Whoo! Geez! Oh, the piñata? Yeah, it has candy in it,” he continued, his face slowly returning to a more normal (for him) color. “I went out and got all his favorites. Cherry Critters, Super Surprise Crying Breakfast Beans, Twizzlers...but he says he doesn’t wanna do it this year.” He rubbed the top of his head and smiled gingerly across the lawn, where Steven and Connie were dancing as the sun sank below the hills. “I guess he really wants his party this year to be extra grown-up, and piñatas didn’t really make the cut. Maybe it’s this magic growth spurt thing he’s got going on,” he sighed.

Amethyst grunted noncommittally, frowning down at the vaguely animal-shaped object in her hands. She had a bad feeling about whatever was going on with Steven, considering what had happened the last time he got too fixated on his age, but she figured it was better not to mention it… not right now, at least. After all, they’d decided not to mention their last birthday-related adventure with Steven to Greg at all. Garnet had concluded that Steven’s adventures in aging fell into the category of “Magic Stuff”, which is why Steven had come to live with them in the first place. Greg couldn’t do anything about Magic Stuff, other that get really, really stressed out. And stress made humans die. Well, die faster, anyways.

Amethyst’s chest got all tight, and rather than thinking about stuff she didn’t want to think about, she held up the piñata and said, “Hey, wanna help me take a whack at this thing?”

He snorted a laugh, and looked to see if she was serious. She peered back at the gathering, where everyone seemed to be having a good, distracted time. “Let’s go behind the barn, so nobody gets jealous.”

“I’ve heard that line before,” he grumbled, fishing out a few more supplies from a box he had laying around. “Don’t do anything weird, Amethyst.”

She honked a laugh, then leaned back and stuck her chest out, flipping her hair nonchalantly. “When have I ever tried anything untoward, sir? I promise, your virtue will remain intact with me!” she finished dramatically, clapping her hand over her gem. Greg rolled his eyes but still laughed, and followed her as she hopped out of the van and trotted around to the back side of the barn. Peridot had moved off quite a ways toward the hills to continue her welding, although Amethyst could still see the glow of her torch in the middle distance.

Toldja water balloons wouldn’t put it out, she thought smugly.

Greg pulled a bandanna out of his back pocket, and leaned in to tie it over her eyes.

“Ooo, kinky,” she teased, and then peeked under it when he snorted a laugh, instead of telling her to tone it down. The light was dim, but was he blushing? Weirdly enough, that made her blush too, and she pulled the blindfold lower to hide her burning cheeks.

Just because we used to-well, that was a long time ago!

Greg’s hand on her arm stopped her thoughts and startled her enough to freeze, then raise her blindfold to see Steven creep behind the barn and shrink back down to his normal size, the size he’d stayed for the past six years.

He’d been shapeshifting, and had stayed stretched out for an entire day.

Oh, Steven, she thought. He really is a teenager.

///

After they tried and failed to reason with him, Greg toddled over to the side of the barn, slid down the wall til his butt hit the grass and buried his face in his hands, groaning weakly. Amethyst sighed, then grabbed the piñata, sat down cross legged in front of Greg and ripped it open, shoving handfuls of still-wrapped candy into her mouth and chewing messily.

“You’re probably sitting in like, ten years’ worth of fox pee right now,” she commented.

Greg peered through his fingers at her and said, “Hey, Ames...could he like, die from this?” in a small voice.

“What? No, he won’t die!” she scoffed, attempting to wave away his concern but instead just throwing a gummy worm into his hair. Then she added, considering, “well, it’s really unlikely. He didn’t last time.”

Greg peeled his hands away from his face and mirrored her position, crossing his legs and leaning forward. “Okay, is there something I should know here?”

Amethyst took a deep breath, and found herself telling him the whole story of what had happened when Steven decided that gems needed birthdays, and birthday parties. By the time she got to what happened at Garnet’s party, he found the gummy worm in his hair and started eating it, then dug into the piñata’s guts himself and started eating those too, although he unwrapped his first.

“...and that’s when we figured out, it was just shapeshifting,” she finished, gnawing through a Twizzler. “I really thought he was gonna bite the big one there, too, but he just looked old.”

“Wow,” Greg exhaled, shoving several pieces of taffy into his mouth at once. “And there was just… nothing you could do about it?,” he mumbled thickly. “Any of it?”

“Nope,” Amethyst confirmed, wiping her nose. “We just stood there and argued until he started yelling at us and just went back to normal. Or mostly, anyway. So I figure this time, he’s gonna wear himself out with this, something super weird and gross is gonna happen like it does every time, and we’ll all deal with it together when it does. We’ll do what we can. I mean, it’s not like he came with a handbook or something!”

Greg covered his eyes with his hands, shoulders shaking, and Amethyst tossed the destroyed shreds of paper and candy out of her lap, ready to hug him or shake him or throw him into the sky and whack a seagull, when she realized he was laughing.

“You don’t even know how many times I said that same exact thing,” he guffawed, weakly wiping tears out of his eyes. “I thought once he got a little older, it’d get easier, and somehow I’d just finally know what to do, you know? But it doesn’t. It just gets scarier, and harder, and then it turns out nobody knows what to do.”

Amethyst looked down, sighed, then grasped Greg by the shoulders and leaned in to look in his eyes.

“Well, then you’re in luck, buddy!” Amethyst grinned right in his face. “Because no one has more practice not knowing what to do than I do! I’m always at my best when I have to make it up on the fly, and just figure something out,” she stated confidently, giving him a firm and bracing squeeze. “I don’t even know what I’m doing right now.”

He smiled softly, lifting his hand up to cup her cheek, and took a breath to say something. Her eyes widened, but she never found out what he had been going to say, because that was when they heard Connie yelling, and something that sounded weirdly like a baby.

///

After they finally got Steven and Connie settled in the tent to sleep, and Connie reassured them for the 700th time that she’d be certain to wake up if literally anything happened, Greg scrubbed his hands over his face, turned to Amethyst and mumbled, “Well, that probably... could’ve been worse? Right?”

“I dunno Greg, did Steven ever take a dump on your face? Because that happened to me today,” she muttered resentfully, and scowled up at him.

Greg patted her shoulder, smiled, and replied, “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

She snorted, grabbed him by the hand and started to lead him toward the barn. “Steven’s not the only one who needs a nap around here,” she said.

“I dunno if I’m ever gonna sleep again,” Greg sighed honestly, allowing himself to be led.

“I was talking about me,” Amethyst continued, “but if you’re worried about it, there’s a TV and some tapes up in the hayloft, Peridot’s been using it. She told me about it, and honestly I could barely get her to stop. She's almost cute when she gets worked up like that.”

Greg stopped at the barn doors and looked around. “Where is Peridot anyhow? And Garnet and Pearl? They didn’t just...leave, right?”

She pulled his arm again, urging him toward the ladder that led up to the hayloft.

“They’re around. Peridot’s still obsessed with her stupid blowtorch, Pearl ran away to ‘go help her’ as soon as she smelled the van pull up, and Garnet’s laying out there on a blanket doing whatever Garnet does.”

Amethyst scrambled up the ladder, and a soft bluish light suddenly illuminated the entrance to the hayloft. He pulled up his shorts a little, said a silent apology to his lower back and climbed up to join her. He was just in time to see her push a video cassette into the VCR before plopping herself down on the beaten up brown couch in front of it. As he walked over, the theme song playing, moving pictures and nature sounds began to ease the tension out of his body. He slumped down next to her with a sigh.

“Is this show Canadian or something?” he asked half an hour later.

“How could you tell?” she said sarcastically, then snorted.

“Do you really think they’re okay out there?” he asked 20 minutes after that.

Amethyst didn’t respond, so he glanced over and saw she was pointing over her own head without taking her eyes off the screen, so he followed her finger with his eyes to the window set up in the wall. “Go look if you need to,” she muttered, “just walk behind the couch to do it. I don’t wanna miss any teen moose drama.”

Bemused, he got up and took a peek out the window, and realized that he could see the tent that held Steven and Connie sitting right there, able to check on them at any time. And...if he squinted, the moonlight even seemed to show Garnet out there on the blanket Amethyst had mentioned earlier.

She waved.

Just to be on the safe side, he waved back.

He even remembered to walk behind the couch on the way back, and Amethyst patted the cushion beside her. He sat down and she wrapped her arm around him, pulled him against her and sort of just laid both of them down. It should have been awkward, but he looked up as she shifted a little to keep watching the show and he realized he was staring right up her nose. There were at least two boogers in there. He smiled, but still had to ask.

“You’re not gonna make this weird, are you, Amethyst?”

She sighed, annoyed. “My weird-o-meter’s pretty full up after today, Greg.” She didn't even bother looking at him; she was all about that teen moose drama. “Anything weird from here on out’s your fault.”

He leaned his head against her wearily. “Things really have changed.”

She got still. “What do you mean?”

“Driving around today, having a baby, I guess. Trying not to let anyone die. Felt like old times, but not really, you know? It’s not as bad. It’s more like...”

“We’re not alone,” Amethyst finished almost absently.

“Yeah,” Greg half-whispered, suddenly being driven straight to sleepytown at unprecedented speeds. He gave Amethyst a squeeze, already drifting off. "Not alone anymore."

Chapter Text

Nothing I knew from my old life can help me here. Most of the things that I believed turned out to be useless. Appendages from someone else's life.

― Henry Rollins, Roomanitarian

Pink Diamond sighs heavily, taking care not to disturb the human man sleeping on her shoulder as she watches the sun setting out of the open back of his van. She does her best to enjoy it, since it’s the last one she’ll ever see.

She thinks about the way he used to refer to her as a woman, and how careful he’d been to not do that after they’d gotten to know each other a little better. She didn’t really care, but he definitely seems to. Humans find those kind of distinctions important, except for when they don’t.

He’s a lot more patient than most humans, in her opinion. Certainly more patient with her. Humans are always excited by her attention at first, but slowly lose interest over time. Pink knows there’s something wrong with her. There’s always been something wrong with her, of course, but this…this is something she cares about.

Greg Universe has made her question herself in ways she’d been taught didn’t become a leader. The Diamonds had told Pink at her emergence to trust her instincts, that her actions would be the correct ones because a diamond was the one making them. They’d always told her that who she is justifies what she does.

And then they made it clear that that wasn’t true at all, based on their reactions to Pink’s decisions. All she’d been doing was trusting her instincts like they’d told her, and all she got in return was disapproval, derision, and punishment. She’d run away from it all finally, thought she’d finally figured out a way to get the life she wasn’t cut out for to leave her alone for good. She thought she’d be able to shape a whole new self to be….

But it turns out Diamonds don’t change very easily. Humans reacted to her decisions with the same disapproval and derision, disappointed headshakes or horrified stares that made it clear there was something Pink just didn’t get. It frustrated her, made her feel bad about herself. She ended up in the habit of leaving before it got to that inevitable point, the part where her feelings got hurt.

But it turns out not all humans are so easy to discourage. She smiles down at the man slumbering peacefully in her massive arms.

Greg made her question things about her life here, too. And then he’d gotten closer to teaching her what she was doing wrong than anyone else had, because he was in the process of learning himself...but at the same time, seemed to have an inner intuition about what the right thing to do would be. He has something she doesn’t. A way of explaining not only what’s right, but why it matters.

He made her realize that maybe what she was missing was some kind of understanding of human people's inner thoughts and feelings. A way of predicting ways they might feel if particular things happened, or if Pink Diamond does something. Something to do with how that even if humans get hurt and die all the time, maybe it still isn’t a good thing? Pink always thought everything humans do is good. She loves their funny little habits and fascinating motivations, doesn’t understand why humans don’t like her saying she thinks what they do is good?

She’s…still not 100% on that one, but it seems like it’s really important. Well, very soon she’ll be able to get a fresh perspective on the problem, considering she’ll be someone totally different!

It’s one of those things humans always call “magic”...in her opinion, humans are the ones who are magic. And despite the Diamonds’ assurances that lesser gems could never approach the perfection and elevated understanding that Diamonds had innately… Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl had proven them more than wrong.

They’d proven they can do things a diamond cannot.

They can learn and change, in their own ways…and in ways brought about by a few thousand years living near humans. Humans are just…they're incredible. It seems like so many of them just know what to do, in the sense that they never know what to do. They have to make it up as they go along.

Amethyst has that magic. She’s a better mimic than Pink’s ever been, seems more believably human among them than any of the other gems. What she embraces and what she avoids seems to align with most humans’ inclinations, her virtues and vices alike falling into natural patterns that Pink’s never quite been able to suss out.

Pink tries to be there for people. Say what they need to hear to become inspired, to be comforted, or to be warned effectively. But it seems like every word that comes out twists in her mouth, becomes something different than what she means. Or maybe they know exactly what she means, and the problem’s deeper than she might like to admit.

Maybe Pink’s words merely reveal something about her to others that she doesn’t know about herself.

Humans can fall in love so easily. They see another human, and it’s like a bolt of lightning strikes them. They just know this is who they want to be with forever, or at least for as long as they can before they change too much to get along anymore. Garnet has that magic, and if she changes at all, it’s barely. Ruby and Sapphire had already been around a long, long time before Garnet became a possibility, after all. Stuck in their ways, but they had a chance to change as much as they liked by becoming someone entirely new! Fusion is part of what gave Pink her amazing idea, after all.

Pink likes fusion. She fuses with Pearl the most often, because she enjoys how much Pearl likes feeling confident and powerful. Rainbow Quartz loves the vicarious thrill of Pearl-being-Rainbow-Quartz. Pink loves not only the secondhand high of it, but the chance to actually be herself completely while also being a completely different self.

Pink only knows how to do what a diamond does, despite never managing to do it right. Can’t do what she was meant for, can’t really manage to succeed at anything else, either. That’s become more clear and weighed heavier with each passing century. Humans can change. They utterly reinvent themselves based on their circumstances, and changes in those circumstances.

Pearl has that magic. She's become so much more than an accessory. Pink’s arm tightens briefly as she considers waking Greg to explain that pun to him. Accessory… as in, an accomplice to Pink Diamond’s fake death, and an accessory that makes you look fancy and important. A pretty object: what Pearls are to Homeworld gems. She wonders if she should finally confess the truth, even if Greg can’t really contextualize its import. But…no. He’s never been interested in any of that, so she thinks about Pearl some more instead.

Ah, Pearl. The gem who’ll never be free, not really.

Not as long as Pink Diamond exists.

It had taken her so long to figure it out. Pearl had made it so easy, played along better than any pretend-game silly old Spinel had made up. And Pearl’s so good at it! A game where Pearl pretends to make her own choices, tries out human things even when she doesn’t like them, doing everything but backflips to try and make “Rose” smile. They are her choices...but her motivations are always what she thinks Pink will like.

Leave it to Pink. She’d forced the one person who’d benefit the most from believing she was dead in truth...to keep the secret that she’s still alive.

It might be late, but it had finally occurred to Pink that making her lie into the truth at last didn’t have to be an end. It could be a beginning, instead. Instead of dying, she could try being born instead! The way life on Earth had shown her over and over. Even a gem as stagnant and brittle as a diamond could learn eventually.

It had been a rather simple matter of the way her bodily fluids can interact with organic life, in ways the other Diamonds’ never could. Ways they certainly would never try, but Pink never had those sort of hangups. A little bit of Greg given life the same way she can bring life to plants and animals, a combination of seeding sentience and bringing life-from-death.

The child will even have some of her physical traits, the same way the flora and fauna she manipulates tend to resemble her in some way! It’s so exciting, she can’t stop smiling. And of course, her gem, once she...well. It took some practice over the years, but Pink can overcome every physical instinct gems have and dissipate her form on purpose. The sentience seeded by her tears and saliva will occupy her gem in the moment she surrenders it, and Pink will just be...gone. There’s some energy blowback involved, but it’s a small price to pay for being able to “have a baby”! She’ll also be the baby, and she’s not really sure how exactly it’s going to work, but she knows that it will. She can feel it.

Speaking of which. It’s finally time.

Pink Diamond watches the last sliver of the sun disappear over the horizon. It’s not really gone, of course. It’s being hidden by the Earth, much like the Earth hid Pink Diamond away from her old life for six thousand years. But the fact is, someday the sun really will be gone; it just takes a very, very long time.

This is Pink Diamond’s supernova. She regrets everything and nothing. She still can’t figure out what she did wrong…so maybe in the next life, she’ll figure out what to regret, and why she should.

She knows it’s time.

Time to wake up Greg, to let him know it’s going to happen now, right here in the van. Seems like the perfect place for it.

She doesn’t think about how that might affect him, she doesn’t think about what any of them will do with a baby. All she can think about is how excited she is to finally do what she’s been trying to do her whole life.

Pink Diamond is finally going to get a chance to grow up.