Chapter Text
Little Homeworld had shaped up to be one of the Crystal Gems' most successful program yet. As it grew with both grandiose and self-sustainability, Steven found his time supervising its activities dwindling by the hours. His attention turned to face his duties as a diamond on Homeworld, which he found himself resenting a little more with each visit.
The bulk of his effort into freeing colonies and breaking down the authority's regime was already done past his late adolescence. Instead, he found himself counting the dry, empty hours between the sparse reports from his court or the occasional summon by one of the Diamonds. They loved having him around, be it for him or the gem lodged in his belly, he would rather not think about. It wouldn't be any different than if he stayed on Earth and was called through his communicators.
With the idling came loneliness, and the loneliness was starting to eat at him. Instead, after much coaxing from the rest of his team (Amethyst, particularly), he decided to use the sudden gape of free time to tend to a hobby.
---
Weeks have passed since the beginning of his little pet project. Gaia, a secluded planet on the edges of a galaxy, bore a rather earth-like terrain. In a small peninsula surrounded by too-blue water lay a patch of dense flora, both native and foreign to its planet. He wondered why he never thought of it sooner, trimming the edges of a fruit-dappled bush.
He lost himself all too easily here, his healing powers allowing him to grow his plants evermore rapidly. The smell of Earth that soaked his caked gloves and overalls reminded him of home. He would launch himself into the air, a little higher than normal thanks to Gaia's easy gravity, and look proudly down at his garth. It was a dance of iriscident colors above a dense tangle of evergreen, seeming to bask under the warm light of its star.
Tending to his own garden, it was cathartic. No one expected anything of him in this little blip of Gaia, by the outskirts that bordered star clusters and dead space.
On his fourth week, he had plucked out a flower the size of his palm, one of the first to witness his growing bounty. It was a delicate shade of silver, with a crest of tropical pink anthers crowning its middle. He reached the warp pad, carrying his first evidence of his niche home.
---
Gardening, as Steven came to realize, was a quick way to get Connie flustered. He would tuck one of his specimens behind her ear while she was distracted, which she would adamantly try to keep on her person for the rest of the day despite the initial fussing. It was like he was trying to memorize the shy blush that graced her features and the way her eyes lit up, voice pinched bashfully as she carefully handled each one. He had tried training Lion to hold a bouquet in his mouth whenever he went to pick her up, but most of them ended them chewed up or drowned in his mane.
"You should probably calm down with the flower thing, Steve-o." Lying on her back, Amethyst looked up from the couch to where Steven was slowly trying to braid a necklace of blossoms. That was another thing he found himself doing, whether they were one of his welcome gifts to a newly uncorrupted gem or as small memoirs for his close friends. These ones had come to bloom in his garden yesterday, resembling poppies and with a texture that reminded him of cotton.
"Are the smells too much?" He asked innocently. The tendrils easily wove into each other almost on their own, even when he wasn't paying attention. It almost felt like second nature. "I know I've been keeping a lot at home now, but I like the atmosphere it brings."
"Nah, dude, that." She pointed to his current work. "I'm pretty sure that's like, the twelfth one you've made for Connie."
"Eighth, actually." He remarked, not thinking much about it. "Not including the bracelets and that flower crown, which would make it nineteen, and- oh." Her quirked eyebrow helped steepen his realization, and a flattering shade rose from his cheeks while the gem let out a chuckle.
"I- She's my best friend!"
"Suree."
"And I like seeing her happy."
"Uh huh."
"So," He raised his arms to emphasise his point. " I make them for her because she likes them and I like making them. It doesn't have to mean anything."
"Yuh-huh." Amethyst slumped from the couch onto the floor before dragging herself up. "Whatever you say. Do you think you might actually be allergic to flowers? 'Cuz someone's a little lovesick."
"Cut it out!" He weakly protested one last time, watching her make her way towards the entrance cackling. Even with a teasing grin on her face, she gave a shrug and a bump on his back.
"But seriously. I'm sure she loves the gesture, but you should really take it down a notch. Watching her turn into a stuttering mess was only fun the first few times."
Before he could respond, Amethyst interrupted herself. "I'm gonna catch some sunlight. Obsids' probably got her hands on something good while I was away." Her tone was a little too casual, and she sauntered off. It left him to his lonesome, aside from his growing whirlpool of racing thoughts that she coyly spun.
Steven never really thought too much about it, which isn't to say he didn't think about his gifts at all. He would spend hours finding the exact shade of colors that would work together, which ones would look nice tucked by the extra pencil stand on her study desk or in that particularly empty nook in her room. He would make them as often for everyone else, he told himself. He just didn't know if they would want so many, or if they were allergic, and not all of them looked so flustered at the sight of them and maybe surprise him with a peck on the cheek afterwards and-
He groaned, staring at the half-completed, totally platonic craft for what felt like hours. He finally kept it safely on the counter and decided to come back to it after lunch, even if the newfound knots in his stomach protested.
---
She never really thought about flowers until now. And as for now, they were her favorite thing after sword-training and bad anime dubs.
Connie pushed back her swivel chair as she wrote down the last word of her paragraph, switching on her desk lamp as the sun settled behind the roofs of her town. She looked around her room, the hue of the evening melting into amber past her window and sinking into the carpets. It brought her attention to the decor, most notably the souvenirs that came from beyond the stars. You'd have to try to miss the vegetation that lined every corner of the room, waterfalls of pale tendrils spilling into various nooks. There was a strange fragrance that huddled in those spaces, reminding her of the same scent that lingered on Steven when he came back from Gaia. Somehow, it made it feel homelier.
They never withered or seemed to require water, something that might've come from his healing powers. She remembered the amusement that came when she watched her mother try and figure out the biology behind it, but you couldn't crack down on gem sciences with human technology. And Steven's powers were half the equation.
Though the flowers came to be a staple part of being with him, and at some point was engulfed in his identity entirely, the most poignant ones happened to be the ones that came from Earth. He had started to grow clusters of Earth-flowers to keep as little messages, peppering them into small deeds or even for a diplomatic guide. Between the two of them, however, it went a little deeper. At least Connie could speak back with the neighbouring florist shops.
A camellia for good luck. Azaleas when the other's had a long day. Nastuitiums as a reminder. Sunflowers and Heather didn't have an inner meaning; they were just each other's favourites.
There was something much more touching that the spoken word couldn't reach, which could be slipped between each other's palms or tucked inside curls of hair and the pockets of their garments. Some things were easier said through gestures, after all.
She found herself gazing at the royal indigo lids of a hyacinth, remembering that long, bitter night. Remembering him coming back looking tired, haphazard and on the verge of collapsing. As he rested in her shaking arms and their pain soaked into each other's shirts, relieved to be able to return to each other again. The curled petals seemed to echo those two words he repeated over and over to her.
I'm sorry.
She sighed and leaned back, keeping the flower back in the sunless spot at the edge of her shelf. Every plant had a story behind it, like bookmarks for the chapters in their life, and she wanted to safekeep both the happy and gritty ones.
The sky had melted to crimson when she sat at her desk again, the sound of her pen scratching the paper filling the silence. One day, they'll make a novel of this place.