I hadn't planned on finding you quite this entertaining.
I didn't actually set out to write a Valentine's Day 'fic - this one has been in-progress for much longer, in point of fact - but I'm really happy to be able to share something that nonetheless kind of fits the theme of the day. It's also my first Steven Universe fanfic!
Summary: "Wednesdays are their 'Date Nights.'" Greg/Rose(/Pearl), flashback 'fic. Content warning: Recreational drug use (marijuana). Title comes from the SU song, "What Can I Do For You?" which is fitting for a number of reasons. Rated PG.
I Like the Way Human Beings Play (I Like Playing Along)
*
Wednesdays are their 'Date Nights.' The same could be said for most evenings, assuming Greg hasn't picked up a gig that'll allow him to scrape together money for food or something to keep the van running (same difference, really), but Rose had really liked the way the concept of a 'date night' sounded, and she still laughs when he reminds her that humans refer to Wednesday as 'Hump Day.'
It's fortunate, too, that Rose is a cheap date. The concept of being romantically entwined with an alien from another galaxy is complicated enough on its own, and so Greg counts his blessings that Rose is often content with people-watching along the beach and even hanging out with him at her home, and never seems to expect much from him one way or the other. Probably at some point that will bother him, but not now, and especially not on Date Night.
He arrives gig-early, as if assuming he'll need time to make himself comfortable, just in case Rose ever decides that lack of punctuality is a deal-breaker. The first face to greet him at the door is friendly: Amethyst, small and feisty, grins at him through the slat, eventually opening the door wider to reveal her firm grip on a partially-eaten turkey leg. "C'mon in," she beckons, and they high-five. Her other hand is mostly clean.
In the center of the living space sits both Garnet and Pearl. Garnet nods, silent but never unfriendly. The same cannot be said for Pearl: "Hello, Greg," she says primly, though her expression is such that he has to covertly check to make sure he didn't track anything in on his shoe. Still, he pastes an easy-going grin on his face: "How's it goin'?" he asks, and then, when nobody answers for a couple of beats, adds, "Where's Rose?"
"I'm here, Greg!" Rose's voice sing-songs through the cavernous dwelling. She appears shortly afterwards, voluminous, effervescent. Greg's smile dials up subconsciously to lovesick and dopey. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Pearl's own smitten expression.
It's not unheard of in the music biz, of course; a lot happens on the road, behind the doors of cramped, stale motel rooms, or in the dregs of an evening atop a moonlight-streaked beach. Greg himself has been an appreciative voyeur and active participant in various gender-foggy trysts alike. Still, something about whatever this is between Rose and her most faithful groupie feels different. It's not Greg's place to judge, and goodness knows he's not trying to harsh anyone's buzz. And yet, there don't seem to be clearly defined parameters between Rose and Pearl, whereas Rose has all of the Wednesdays on the cheap floral calendar Greg bought for her marked with hearts, and so as far as he can tell, he's mostly welcome here.
"So what's on the agenda for tonight?" Greg asks. As of on cue, several sets of eyes gravitate to the low-slung table in the sitting area; in particular, the red box with its distinct labeling. "All right, Yahtzee!" Greg enthuses.
Rose likes board games, ever since she glimpsed humans playing chess along the boardwalk of the city wharf. There are several in the Gems' possession and on rotation during such nights, though it has been unanimously agreed that the household's copy of Monopoly should remain tucked away in a nearby closet, after an incident whose fallout caused several game pieces to be strewn around the room, Pearl to leave in a huff after being accused of shady banking practices by Amethyst, and perhaps most serious of all, it had caused Garnet to defuse for several days following. Still, board games have become a staple of 'Date Nights,' along with the contraption sitting adjacent the Yahtzee box. "I see Rosewater is joining us tonight," Greg notes.
The surprise of learning that the Gems were not strangers to recreational drug use before Greg met them had been routinely justified by Pearl. "Homeworld Gems utilize plant life for its medicinal properties," she had explained once while deftly filling Rosewater, a giant pink hookah pipe, with meticulously measured layers of shisha and kief. More bluntly, she had added, it was't as though the Gems weren't already breaking several laws across the universe already, and so what was one more, really. Nonetheless, the accoutrement was kept in Pearl's private chamber when not in use.
Pearl was also responsible for the cultivation and upkeep of the plants themselves, a task she took to with her usual clinical fanaticism. It's all just as well to Greg, rarely if ever needing to supply his own product in lieu of toking up on strategically planned Hump Days. The whole thing is still a little unreal when he stops to think about it, but again, it's hardly the first time the wonderfully weird world of the Gems has thrown him into unfamiliar territory.
It goes without saying then that Greg is not asked to chip in on the order of "'za and 'da" that Garnet orders, occasionally over Amethyst's pleas to remember to add this or that to the delivery slate. He waylays the small pangs of guilt he feels by grabbing up his trusty guitar. "Any requests?"
"Freebird!" comes Amethyst's triumphant yell. Beside her, currently busy grinding bud atop red berry-scented shisha, Pearl rolls her eyes.
Rose smiles beatifically. "How about a Greg Universe original?" she asks. Pearl's face is unreadable when Rose leans forward, takes Greg's face in her hands, and kisses him on the mouth.
"You got it, ma'am," Greg grins. He's flushed around the ears a little, something Rose also has told him is extraordinarily cute. The impromptu concert lasts four-and-a-half songs and Amethyst's overzealous lighter waving very nearly setting Pearl's hair on fire before the pizza arrives.
"So Greg, what have you been up to lately?" Rose's voice and face are kind and loving, more than Greg wonders if he deserves sometimes. She would make a good school teacher, he thinks. Working with children would suit her.
"Kinda splitting my time between music and the gas station sometimes," he replies. He takes a bite of pizza, and then in mid-chew, he adds, "and babysitting for Vidalia once in awhile."
Pearl, who isn't eating anything, looks askance in his direction. "Vidalia can't hire someone with actual childcare experience to care for her child?" she queries.
The flush near Greg's ears travels closer to his neck and face. "Usually, little Sour Cream and I just watch TV together or he listens to me play songs for him on my guitar," he grins. Pearl looks like she vaguely disapproves of this answer, but he doesn't push the issue. She does, however, roll her eyes when Amethyst insinuates that her suspect banking practices threaten to ruin another Date Night. "First of all, there is no banker in Yahtzee," Pearl replies snootily. "And second, my banking during Monopoly was FINE."
"Yeah, if you count overcharging people for rent at your hotels as 'fine,'" Amethyst snorts.
Pearl glowers. "The rent changes, the more property you have! I can't help it that you bought up all the cheapest properties and couldn't afford to make additions to any of them! I mean," she reconsiders, "I could, but it's not like you'd listen."
"'It's not like you'd listen,'" Amethyst mocks, and she's probably scant seconds from transforming into a Pearl lookalike for the purposes of further taunting the real Pearl, but Garnet cuts in before the argument turns into another full-scale fight.
"Not cool, guys. Especially not when we have company." Garnet's eyes are inscrutible, but she still seems to be affixing both parties with a disappointed, parental glare
Amethyst's eyes slide away sheepishly. "Sorry," she mumbles, and Pearl nods shortly. Garnet's own gaze then flits over to Greg, who, already uncomfortable, tries not to cringe or actively attempt to hide (although he imagines Rose's waves of soft pink hair would smell and feel absolutely heavenly).
"Sorry, Greg," Garnet says coolly.
"Ha ha, it's fine. Hey," Greg says, eager for reconciliation, "let's play Yahtzee, yeah?"
*
Garnet wins the first round with quiet grace, and Pearl is smugly pleased to sweep the second. Between turns, the hookah pipe's hoses exchange hands, and Garnet keeps the device lit and full of product. The dual activities are welcome distractions from the subtle posturing and body language between Greg and Rose, although Greg very nearly gulps, and subsequently chokes on the mouthful of smoke he's just imbibed, when he accidentally makes searing eye contact with Pearl. Her eyes flit down to his and Rose's lightly clasped hands, the way their bare shoulders brush as Greg leans in a little. "So, Greg." Her voice is a knife slicing through the air, aimed directly at him. "When will you be child rearing a child of your own?"
Greg chuckles, but Pearl's expression does not indicate that the question has been asked in humor. One of the hookah hoses hangs from strangely numb fingertips. He has no idea whose turn it is to roll the quintet of dice. "Ah, I mean, you know, probably someday, maybe, like it doesn't happen right away, some people don't do it at all-"
"But you're going to," Pearl states. "You like children, or you wouldn't sit on Vidalia's baby when she can't do it herself."
Greg feels like he's under the hottest stage spotlight, and his audience is far too intimate for it. "Yeah. I like kids. They're great. Sour Cream's got such a big personality for being such a little guy." It's a vague diversion away from the hyper-personal probing, but Pearl has no problem diving right back in.
"Are you waiting to have children because you have no income?" The words are biting even though Greg is used to Pearl's placid, not quite neutral line of questioning. "Or is it because you have no mate to bear them for you?"
The room is silent as a tomb now. "Come on, Pearl, be cool-" Amethyst says after several moments of Pearl's question hanging heavily in the air.
Pearl just shrugs. "I don't see why it's a difficult question to answer." Her voice sing-songs with smugness, but there's an undercurrent of hurt, particularly when Greg's aghast expression appears to make Rose give him even more attention. A large, delicate hand absently pats at Greg's waist-length wave of hair, protective, affectionate. Pearl's next words contain a desperate tinge: "It's not as though Rose is going to be able to couple with you. Your presence here, your attempts at courtship, they won't go anywhere. It's all a waste of time."
This, it seems, is finally going too far. Rose shifts suddenly, and even still sitting, her presence is strong and authoritative. "That is enough, Pearl." She doesn't need to yell for her words to have a devastating effect. "Greg is not obligated to explain himself to anyone. I want him here, and he wants to be here, and that's all that matters."
The effect of Rose's tone on Pearl are visibly cutting. Shoulders hunched now, head bowed in shame, Pearl looks diminished, shrunken into herself. "Of course. Of course, Rose." She takes a shaky breath, and seems to regain a bit of composure. "I apologize, Greg," she says, more to the floor than to him.
"Water under the bridge," Greg says automatically, and flashes a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes this time. Slowly, the room's activity picks up anew, as though filled with animatronic puppets whose motors are just now whirring to life after a lengthy rest. Garnet busies herself with changing out supplies on the temporarily abandoned hookah. At one point, she gives Amethyst a Look, and the small, purple-skinned Gem hops up and begins collecting dishes and refuse. Pearl excuses herself to pare down the small mess that has now migrated to the sink.
It's not the most organic end to this particular Game Night, but Greg stands and stretches, even though the night feels young, unfinished. He's surprised when Rose follows him towards the door. "Let's go outside," she suggests.
It's not quite dark enough yet for there to be stars, although the moon is out, unobscured by clouds or fog. The surrounding beachscape is beautiful, the temperate weather perfect for even imperfect stargazing. Greg looks up, transfixed, and then blushes when, out of the corner of his eye, Rose seems to be just as raptly watching him. "Hey, I'm sorry about what all happened in there ..." he begins, but Rose cuts him off with a small headshake.
"You have nothing to apologize for. As for Pearl ..." The air shifts, and her voice lowers almost imperceptibly. "Pearl gave up everything for me," Rose offers. She points upwards. "Her home, the society where she had a definitive role and a purpose. I told her she didn't have to stay with me, that loyalty and tradition no longer mattered once I went rogue here, but she didn't budge, not even for a second." There's stark admiration in Rose's voice as she recounts a history Greg can barely begin to comprehend in its sheer depth and capacity.
Rose continues: "Things are different for her on Earth. She's still a Pearl, my Pearl, but she's not beholden to me now, or I her, and I think that upsets her. It's her choice to serve me, but I think my attention is expected in return. But things have changed for me, too." Rose's eyes fix on Greg's face, and they sparkle as brightly as any star. "I have choices now, too."
Greg's chest feels warm. "I guess she's not wrong, though," he offers, helping to further exonerate Pearl's behavior. "I mean, we can't -- I can't -- it's not like we could ever ... you know, 'fuse,' or anything." An eddy of old insecurities, previously tamped down by the pot and socialization, begins swirling faster inside his head; like a newly awakened dragon, it opens one wary eye and begins to fix its gaze. "And I mean, I know it's not what we're doing here, why we're ... friends, or whatever." Greg swallows. "So I can understand if you have better things to do ..."
Rose shakes her head. Her expression is friendly, but no-nonsense. "You're not wasting my time, Greg." The tone is matter-of-fact, leaving little room for dissension. The morass of emotions begin to churn a little slower. There's something comforting about Rose taking control. Greg thinks he can understand why it would be enough to make Pearl give up her home and everything else.
"Well, good," he says. They both chuckle. Eyes skyward again, he asks, "do you ever miss it? There's just ... so much up there, beyond this." He gestures around at the small beach surrounding them. "Do you ever get bored here?"
Rose just smiles. "There's a lot on Earth to keep me ... entertained." Those strong yet slender fingers pluck softly, suddenly at a string on Greg's trusty, ever-present guitar. "Entertain me, music man," she says. "Play a song that will shoot us both to the stars."
"You got it, ma'am," Greg says, and as his fingers strum the strings, the dragon yawns and goes back to sleep.
*
The living area hasn't changed much in the decade-and-a-half since Steven was born, aside from the oversized painting of Rose commissioned from Vidalia whose presence nobody protested when Pearl hung it high overhead. There are no Date Nights these days, to be sure, and Greg's visits are fewer and further in-between, but sometimes Steven needs something, or simply wants him there. Also, all of the Gems seem to have a preternatural ability to keep Frankensteining his ancient van back into working order.
There's no hookah pipe on hand today either - even though Steven is currently hanging out at the boardwalk with Connie, it seems best not to risk him happening upon anyone in the house partaking - although the game board is enough of a surprise. "Chess!" Greg says, looking back and forth between Pearl's scrutinizing face and Garnet's unreadable one. "I didn't know you guys played."
Pearl nods, looking about as amiable as she ever did. "Rose learned how first," she explains, "and then taught the rest of us so she'd have people to challenge. I've even won a couple of local tournaments," she boasts.
"Yeah," Amethyst cuts in immediately, snickering, "but Garnet's still winning!"
Pearl rolls her eyes, likely more bothered by the ribbing than she's trying to let on, but Greg leaves her be. Garnet is also charitable, nodding at Greg instead of joining Amethyst in digging into Pearl. "Play us a tune on your guitar, Greg," she suggests. He nods. Inspired by the somewhat bittersweet familiarity of the scene, he strums the first few bars of an old favorite tune.
A few measures in, Pearl's head pops up. "Is that ... 'Freebird'?" she asks, her brow furrowed.
"All right!" Amethyst yells, and pulls out a lighter. "Let's rock!"
*
Spring cleaning with the Gems is a slow-moving endeavor, particularly for Steven, whose curiosity at nearly every newly unearthed object tends to inspire lengthy bouts of reminiscing, among other things. At the moment, Steven and Connie tackle the task on their own, with Steven's housemates engrossed in individual respective projects in various corners of the property. It goes a bit faster, in that sense, but not a lot.
The back of a large closet stuffed with odds and ends hasn't been accessible for years, and the boy's eyes sparkle as they take in each newly discovered trinket and treasure. They're absolutely huge, however, when a long, dusty box is pulled from beneath a small stack of items.
"Hey, Monopoly!" He holds the game up. "Your parents have this, don't they, Connie?"
Connie nods. "My dad always wants to be the shoe." She looks up at the space unearthed in the closet by removing the box. "Hey, what's that?" she points, and peers closely, face scrunched in confusion, even after Steven plucks the item out for a better look. "Some kind of ... vase? With hoses attached?"
Steven shrugs. "It's pink, so it was probably Mom's. Must be a Homeworld thing." He sets it down. "I wanna be the hat!"
*
The old barn is surrounded by multi-generational disarray, both discarded and forgotten odds and ends from when it was owned and populated by Greg's extended family, as well as the various things collected there by the Gems over the years. Transforming it yet again into a safe haven for Lapis and Peridot is easy enough, although it's difficult for Pearl, because she's Pearl, to cede control over completely.
Eventually, however, certain conversations must be had. "I don't see why you're so against simply letting me eradicate it." Peridot's voice is clipped, but it's obvious she has taken a certain amount of pride in carving out a place for herself and Lapis here. "It does not bear fruit or any apparent edible substance," she continues. "That makes it essentially a weed." She sniffs. "It smells bad, too."
Pearl frowns. "I'll have you know it has several curative and recreational properties that warrant its continued existence in this garden." She makes a mental note to find some suitable literature with which Peridot can educate herself. "It does smell weird, though," she relents.
*
Their phone conversation is brief and rather awkward, although it ends in Pearl receiving an address and an invitation, its intended goal. "It's a date," she'd been told just before they'd both hung up, and the idea dredges up feelings both old and new.
It's hard not to feel as though she's sneaking out as she heads to a somewhat ramshackle old house a fair ways away from the boardwalk. There's nothing she's doing that's insidious, to be sure, like when she was working to deliberately sabotage Gem missions and frame Peridot for her nonetheless meticulous catastrophizing, in order to encourage Garnet to fuse with her repeatedly, and she's sure everyone would be supportive if they knew the truth. All the same, Pearl doesn't feel like she needs a wingman (or woman) this time around.
She raps on the door at the house's side entrance, as instructed, and a punk-looking teenager several years older than Steven answers. He beckons her down somewhat rickety basement stairs, where the air is smoky and kind of stale. Several shadows mull about, many by a large pool table, and Pearl looks around expectantly.
Fortunately, the girl's pink hair stands out even in the darkened atmosphere. Her eyes light up as Pearl draws closer. "Pearl!" she exclaims. They embrace shortly. Her bomber jacket smells of the places it's been. "Glad you showed. Join us," she offers, gesturing a few yards away at a concave of guests encircling what looks like an empty beer bottle. "We're just playing a game."
Pearl nods, and they both take their place in the circle. Someone spins the beer bottle, and a couple of people make whooping sounds when they crawl forward a bit to kiss the person it 'pointed' to when it came to a stop. "How do you know when you've won?" she queries, and the pink-haired girl's laugh is kind.
"Oh, you'll know." Nudged from behind, the pink-haired girl takes a drag off of what looks like a lit, tightly rolled piece of paper. "Want some?" she asks, and Pearl attempts to mimic the hand motion as she holds it herself. Then she studies the worn basement floor, mentally calculating the various factors that will ensure the mouth of the bottle will land where she wants it to.
*
Summary: "Wednesdays are their 'Date Nights.'" Greg/Rose(/Pearl), flashback 'fic. Content warning: Recreational drug use (marijuana). Title comes from the SU song, "What Can I Do For You?" which is fitting for a number of reasons. Rated PG.
I Like the Way Human Beings Play (I Like Playing Along)
*
Wednesdays are their 'Date Nights.' The same could be said for most evenings, assuming Greg hasn't picked up a gig that'll allow him to scrape together money for food or something to keep the van running (same difference, really), but Rose had really liked the way the concept of a 'date night' sounded, and she still laughs when he reminds her that humans refer to Wednesday as 'Hump Day.'
It's fortunate, too, that Rose is a cheap date. The concept of being romantically entwined with an alien from another galaxy is complicated enough on its own, and so Greg counts his blessings that Rose is often content with people-watching along the beach and even hanging out with him at her home, and never seems to expect much from him one way or the other. Probably at some point that will bother him, but not now, and especially not on Date Night.
He arrives gig-early, as if assuming he'll need time to make himself comfortable, just in case Rose ever decides that lack of punctuality is a deal-breaker. The first face to greet him at the door is friendly: Amethyst, small and feisty, grins at him through the slat, eventually opening the door wider to reveal her firm grip on a partially-eaten turkey leg. "C'mon in," she beckons, and they high-five. Her other hand is mostly clean.
In the center of the living space sits both Garnet and Pearl. Garnet nods, silent but never unfriendly. The same cannot be said for Pearl: "Hello, Greg," she says primly, though her expression is such that he has to covertly check to make sure he didn't track anything in on his shoe. Still, he pastes an easy-going grin on his face: "How's it goin'?" he asks, and then, when nobody answers for a couple of beats, adds, "Where's Rose?"
"I'm here, Greg!" Rose's voice sing-songs through the cavernous dwelling. She appears shortly afterwards, voluminous, effervescent. Greg's smile dials up subconsciously to lovesick and dopey. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Pearl's own smitten expression.
It's not unheard of in the music biz, of course; a lot happens on the road, behind the doors of cramped, stale motel rooms, or in the dregs of an evening atop a moonlight-streaked beach. Greg himself has been an appreciative voyeur and active participant in various gender-foggy trysts alike. Still, something about whatever this is between Rose and her most faithful groupie feels different. It's not Greg's place to judge, and goodness knows he's not trying to harsh anyone's buzz. And yet, there don't seem to be clearly defined parameters between Rose and Pearl, whereas Rose has all of the Wednesdays on the cheap floral calendar Greg bought for her marked with hearts, and so as far as he can tell, he's mostly welcome here.
"So what's on the agenda for tonight?" Greg asks. As of on cue, several sets of eyes gravitate to the low-slung table in the sitting area; in particular, the red box with its distinct labeling. "All right, Yahtzee!" Greg enthuses.
Rose likes board games, ever since she glimpsed humans playing chess along the boardwalk of the city wharf. There are several in the Gems' possession and on rotation during such nights, though it has been unanimously agreed that the household's copy of Monopoly should remain tucked away in a nearby closet, after an incident whose fallout caused several game pieces to be strewn around the room, Pearl to leave in a huff after being accused of shady banking practices by Amethyst, and perhaps most serious of all, it had caused Garnet to defuse for several days following. Still, board games have become a staple of 'Date Nights,' along with the contraption sitting adjacent the Yahtzee box. "I see Rosewater is joining us tonight," Greg notes.
The surprise of learning that the Gems were not strangers to recreational drug use before Greg met them had been routinely justified by Pearl. "Homeworld Gems utilize plant life for its medicinal properties," she had explained once while deftly filling Rosewater, a giant pink hookah pipe, with meticulously measured layers of shisha and kief. More bluntly, she had added, it was't as though the Gems weren't already breaking several laws across the universe already, and so what was one more, really. Nonetheless, the accoutrement was kept in Pearl's private chamber when not in use.
Pearl was also responsible for the cultivation and upkeep of the plants themselves, a task she took to with her usual clinical fanaticism. It's all just as well to Greg, rarely if ever needing to supply his own product in lieu of toking up on strategically planned Hump Days. The whole thing is still a little unreal when he stops to think about it, but again, it's hardly the first time the wonderfully weird world of the Gems has thrown him into unfamiliar territory.
It goes without saying then that Greg is not asked to chip in on the order of "'za and 'da" that Garnet orders, occasionally over Amethyst's pleas to remember to add this or that to the delivery slate. He waylays the small pangs of guilt he feels by grabbing up his trusty guitar. "Any requests?"
"Freebird!" comes Amethyst's triumphant yell. Beside her, currently busy grinding bud atop red berry-scented shisha, Pearl rolls her eyes.
Rose smiles beatifically. "How about a Greg Universe original?" she asks. Pearl's face is unreadable when Rose leans forward, takes Greg's face in her hands, and kisses him on the mouth.
"You got it, ma'am," Greg grins. He's flushed around the ears a little, something Rose also has told him is extraordinarily cute. The impromptu concert lasts four-and-a-half songs and Amethyst's overzealous lighter waving very nearly setting Pearl's hair on fire before the pizza arrives.
"So Greg, what have you been up to lately?" Rose's voice and face are kind and loving, more than Greg wonders if he deserves sometimes. She would make a good school teacher, he thinks. Working with children would suit her.
"Kinda splitting my time between music and the gas station sometimes," he replies. He takes a bite of pizza, and then in mid-chew, he adds, "and babysitting for Vidalia once in awhile."
Pearl, who isn't eating anything, looks askance in his direction. "Vidalia can't hire someone with actual childcare experience to care for her child?" she queries.
The flush near Greg's ears travels closer to his neck and face. "Usually, little Sour Cream and I just watch TV together or he listens to me play songs for him on my guitar," he grins. Pearl looks like she vaguely disapproves of this answer, but he doesn't push the issue. She does, however, roll her eyes when Amethyst insinuates that her suspect banking practices threaten to ruin another Date Night. "First of all, there is no banker in Yahtzee," Pearl replies snootily. "And second, my banking during Monopoly was FINE."
"Yeah, if you count overcharging people for rent at your hotels as 'fine,'" Amethyst snorts.
Pearl glowers. "The rent changes, the more property you have! I can't help it that you bought up all the cheapest properties and couldn't afford to make additions to any of them! I mean," she reconsiders, "I could, but it's not like you'd listen."
"'It's not like you'd listen,'" Amethyst mocks, and she's probably scant seconds from transforming into a Pearl lookalike for the purposes of further taunting the real Pearl, but Garnet cuts in before the argument turns into another full-scale fight.
"Not cool, guys. Especially not when we have company." Garnet's eyes are inscrutible, but she still seems to be affixing both parties with a disappointed, parental glare
Amethyst's eyes slide away sheepishly. "Sorry," she mumbles, and Pearl nods shortly. Garnet's own gaze then flits over to Greg, who, already uncomfortable, tries not to cringe or actively attempt to hide (although he imagines Rose's waves of soft pink hair would smell and feel absolutely heavenly).
"Sorry, Greg," Garnet says coolly.
"Ha ha, it's fine. Hey," Greg says, eager for reconciliation, "let's play Yahtzee, yeah?"
*
Garnet wins the first round with quiet grace, and Pearl is smugly pleased to sweep the second. Between turns, the hookah pipe's hoses exchange hands, and Garnet keeps the device lit and full of product. The dual activities are welcome distractions from the subtle posturing and body language between Greg and Rose, although Greg very nearly gulps, and subsequently chokes on the mouthful of smoke he's just imbibed, when he accidentally makes searing eye contact with Pearl. Her eyes flit down to his and Rose's lightly clasped hands, the way their bare shoulders brush as Greg leans in a little. "So, Greg." Her voice is a knife slicing through the air, aimed directly at him. "When will you be child rearing a child of your own?"
Greg chuckles, but Pearl's expression does not indicate that the question has been asked in humor. One of the hookah hoses hangs from strangely numb fingertips. He has no idea whose turn it is to roll the quintet of dice. "Ah, I mean, you know, probably someday, maybe, like it doesn't happen right away, some people don't do it at all-"
"But you're going to," Pearl states. "You like children, or you wouldn't sit on Vidalia's baby when she can't do it herself."
Greg feels like he's under the hottest stage spotlight, and his audience is far too intimate for it. "Yeah. I like kids. They're great. Sour Cream's got such a big personality for being such a little guy." It's a vague diversion away from the hyper-personal probing, but Pearl has no problem diving right back in.
"Are you waiting to have children because you have no income?" The words are biting even though Greg is used to Pearl's placid, not quite neutral line of questioning. "Or is it because you have no mate to bear them for you?"
The room is silent as a tomb now. "Come on, Pearl, be cool-" Amethyst says after several moments of Pearl's question hanging heavily in the air.
Pearl just shrugs. "I don't see why it's a difficult question to answer." Her voice sing-songs with smugness, but there's an undercurrent of hurt, particularly when Greg's aghast expression appears to make Rose give him even more attention. A large, delicate hand absently pats at Greg's waist-length wave of hair, protective, affectionate. Pearl's next words contain a desperate tinge: "It's not as though Rose is going to be able to couple with you. Your presence here, your attempts at courtship, they won't go anywhere. It's all a waste of time."
This, it seems, is finally going too far. Rose shifts suddenly, and even still sitting, her presence is strong and authoritative. "That is enough, Pearl." She doesn't need to yell for her words to have a devastating effect. "Greg is not obligated to explain himself to anyone. I want him here, and he wants to be here, and that's all that matters."
The effect of Rose's tone on Pearl are visibly cutting. Shoulders hunched now, head bowed in shame, Pearl looks diminished, shrunken into herself. "Of course. Of course, Rose." She takes a shaky breath, and seems to regain a bit of composure. "I apologize, Greg," she says, more to the floor than to him.
"Water under the bridge," Greg says automatically, and flashes a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes this time. Slowly, the room's activity picks up anew, as though filled with animatronic puppets whose motors are just now whirring to life after a lengthy rest. Garnet busies herself with changing out supplies on the temporarily abandoned hookah. At one point, she gives Amethyst a Look, and the small, purple-skinned Gem hops up and begins collecting dishes and refuse. Pearl excuses herself to pare down the small mess that has now migrated to the sink.
It's not the most organic end to this particular Game Night, but Greg stands and stretches, even though the night feels young, unfinished. He's surprised when Rose follows him towards the door. "Let's go outside," she suggests.
It's not quite dark enough yet for there to be stars, although the moon is out, unobscured by clouds or fog. The surrounding beachscape is beautiful, the temperate weather perfect for even imperfect stargazing. Greg looks up, transfixed, and then blushes when, out of the corner of his eye, Rose seems to be just as raptly watching him. "Hey, I'm sorry about what all happened in there ..." he begins, but Rose cuts him off with a small headshake.
"You have nothing to apologize for. As for Pearl ..." The air shifts, and her voice lowers almost imperceptibly. "Pearl gave up everything for me," Rose offers. She points upwards. "Her home, the society where she had a definitive role and a purpose. I told her she didn't have to stay with me, that loyalty and tradition no longer mattered once I went rogue here, but she didn't budge, not even for a second." There's stark admiration in Rose's voice as she recounts a history Greg can barely begin to comprehend in its sheer depth and capacity.
Rose continues: "Things are different for her on Earth. She's still a Pearl, my Pearl, but she's not beholden to me now, or I her, and I think that upsets her. It's her choice to serve me, but I think my attention is expected in return. But things have changed for me, too." Rose's eyes fix on Greg's face, and they sparkle as brightly as any star. "I have choices now, too."
Greg's chest feels warm. "I guess she's not wrong, though," he offers, helping to further exonerate Pearl's behavior. "I mean, we can't -- I can't -- it's not like we could ever ... you know, 'fuse,' or anything." An eddy of old insecurities, previously tamped down by the pot and socialization, begins swirling faster inside his head; like a newly awakened dragon, it opens one wary eye and begins to fix its gaze. "And I mean, I know it's not what we're doing here, why we're ... friends, or whatever." Greg swallows. "So I can understand if you have better things to do ..."
Rose shakes her head. Her expression is friendly, but no-nonsense. "You're not wasting my time, Greg." The tone is matter-of-fact, leaving little room for dissension. The morass of emotions begin to churn a little slower. There's something comforting about Rose taking control. Greg thinks he can understand why it would be enough to make Pearl give up her home and everything else.
"Well, good," he says. They both chuckle. Eyes skyward again, he asks, "do you ever miss it? There's just ... so much up there, beyond this." He gestures around at the small beach surrounding them. "Do you ever get bored here?"
Rose just smiles. "There's a lot on Earth to keep me ... entertained." Those strong yet slender fingers pluck softly, suddenly at a string on Greg's trusty, ever-present guitar. "Entertain me, music man," she says. "Play a song that will shoot us both to the stars."
"You got it, ma'am," Greg says, and as his fingers strum the strings, the dragon yawns and goes back to sleep.
*
The living area hasn't changed much in the decade-and-a-half since Steven was born, aside from the oversized painting of Rose commissioned from Vidalia whose presence nobody protested when Pearl hung it high overhead. There are no Date Nights these days, to be sure, and Greg's visits are fewer and further in-between, but sometimes Steven needs something, or simply wants him there. Also, all of the Gems seem to have a preternatural ability to keep Frankensteining his ancient van back into working order.
There's no hookah pipe on hand today either - even though Steven is currently hanging out at the boardwalk with Connie, it seems best not to risk him happening upon anyone in the house partaking - although the game board is enough of a surprise. "Chess!" Greg says, looking back and forth between Pearl's scrutinizing face and Garnet's unreadable one. "I didn't know you guys played."
Pearl nods, looking about as amiable as she ever did. "Rose learned how first," she explains, "and then taught the rest of us so she'd have people to challenge. I've even won a couple of local tournaments," she boasts.
"Yeah," Amethyst cuts in immediately, snickering, "but Garnet's still winning!"
Pearl rolls her eyes, likely more bothered by the ribbing than she's trying to let on, but Greg leaves her be. Garnet is also charitable, nodding at Greg instead of joining Amethyst in digging into Pearl. "Play us a tune on your guitar, Greg," she suggests. He nods. Inspired by the somewhat bittersweet familiarity of the scene, he strums the first few bars of an old favorite tune.
A few measures in, Pearl's head pops up. "Is that ... 'Freebird'?" she asks, her brow furrowed.
"All right!" Amethyst yells, and pulls out a lighter. "Let's rock!"
*
Spring cleaning with the Gems is a slow-moving endeavor, particularly for Steven, whose curiosity at nearly every newly unearthed object tends to inspire lengthy bouts of reminiscing, among other things. At the moment, Steven and Connie tackle the task on their own, with Steven's housemates engrossed in individual respective projects in various corners of the property. It goes a bit faster, in that sense, but not a lot.
The back of a large closet stuffed with odds and ends hasn't been accessible for years, and the boy's eyes sparkle as they take in each newly discovered trinket and treasure. They're absolutely huge, however, when a long, dusty box is pulled from beneath a small stack of items.
"Hey, Monopoly!" He holds the game up. "Your parents have this, don't they, Connie?"
Connie nods. "My dad always wants to be the shoe." She looks up at the space unearthed in the closet by removing the box. "Hey, what's that?" she points, and peers closely, face scrunched in confusion, even after Steven plucks the item out for a better look. "Some kind of ... vase? With hoses attached?"
Steven shrugs. "It's pink, so it was probably Mom's. Must be a Homeworld thing." He sets it down. "I wanna be the hat!"
*
The old barn is surrounded by multi-generational disarray, both discarded and forgotten odds and ends from when it was owned and populated by Greg's extended family, as well as the various things collected there by the Gems over the years. Transforming it yet again into a safe haven for Lapis and Peridot is easy enough, although it's difficult for Pearl, because she's Pearl, to cede control over completely.
Eventually, however, certain conversations must be had. "I don't see why you're so against simply letting me eradicate it." Peridot's voice is clipped, but it's obvious she has taken a certain amount of pride in carving out a place for herself and Lapis here. "It does not bear fruit or any apparent edible substance," she continues. "That makes it essentially a weed." She sniffs. "It smells bad, too."
Pearl frowns. "I'll have you know it has several curative and recreational properties that warrant its continued existence in this garden." She makes a mental note to find some suitable literature with which Peridot can educate herself. "It does smell weird, though," she relents.
*
Their phone conversation is brief and rather awkward, although it ends in Pearl receiving an address and an invitation, its intended goal. "It's a date," she'd been told just before they'd both hung up, and the idea dredges up feelings both old and new.
It's hard not to feel as though she's sneaking out as she heads to a somewhat ramshackle old house a fair ways away from the boardwalk. There's nothing she's doing that's insidious, to be sure, like when she was working to deliberately sabotage Gem missions and frame Peridot for her nonetheless meticulous catastrophizing, in order to encourage Garnet to fuse with her repeatedly, and she's sure everyone would be supportive if they knew the truth. All the same, Pearl doesn't feel like she needs a wingman (or woman) this time around.
She raps on the door at the house's side entrance, as instructed, and a punk-looking teenager several years older than Steven answers. He beckons her down somewhat rickety basement stairs, where the air is smoky and kind of stale. Several shadows mull about, many by a large pool table, and Pearl looks around expectantly.
Fortunately, the girl's pink hair stands out even in the darkened atmosphere. Her eyes light up as Pearl draws closer. "Pearl!" she exclaims. They embrace shortly. Her bomber jacket smells of the places it's been. "Glad you showed. Join us," she offers, gesturing a few yards away at a concave of guests encircling what looks like an empty beer bottle. "We're just playing a game."
Pearl nods, and they both take their place in the circle. Someone spins the beer bottle, and a couple of people make whooping sounds when they crawl forward a bit to kiss the person it 'pointed' to when it came to a stop. "How do you know when you've won?" she queries, and the pink-haired girl's laugh is kind.
"Oh, you'll know." Nudged from behind, the pink-haired girl takes a drag off of what looks like a lit, tightly rolled piece of paper. "Want some?" she asks, and Pearl attempts to mimic the hand motion as she holds it herself. Then she studies the worn basement floor, mentally calculating the various factors that will ensure the mouth of the bottle will land where she wants it to.
*