Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Steven was back in Beach City, though not by choice.

—Okay, so it wasn't like he hated being back, but Dad had gotten just settled in enough that, when Steven returned, it seemed rude to ask if he could stay in his old room (or to take the gracious offer Dad thrust on him), so the only other place to sleep for close to a month was the couch. Or the floor.

(Or the bathtub, but most nights he didn't feel like pulling a Peridot.)

Eventually, Amethyst had found a not-totally-gross mattress in her room, and Dad had pulled a spare sheet set out of the linen closet.

And Steven had given it to Connie, who had been alternating couch shifts with him.

She had been out with Steven, somewhere just after crossing the border into Dollywood, when people had been asked to socially distance.

They left the Dondai in a remote area of the Smoky Quartz Mountains (no relation), managed to summon Lion, and quietly hoped the car would still be there when they got back.

They had been at Steven's house for two weeks, at the Maheswarans' permission—behest, practically, considering the risk of their jobs, the doctor's in particular, when the stay-at-home order had gone into effect.

Calls had been made, parents had made tough decisions, children had been reassured.

And so Connie hadn't seen her parents in person in two and a half months.

The stay-at-home-order had been lifted, but the arrangement held, Dr. Maheswaran insisting it was safer with her being a doctor at a busy-though-luckily-not-swamped hospital.

Greg had been surprised at the trust she had put in Connie, in Steven, but then came the reminder from Connie, that "we Maheswarans are all about safety" and yes, this was clearly a safety thing.

You keep your distance in a pandemic if you're at risk of transmitting the pathogen, and this one was so contagious that just about everyone was at risk of transmitting it, even the ones who didn't work the hospitals.

She was fine, and the gems and Greg and Steven were gracious hosts as they always were, and everything would be back to normal in due time.

If only she could stop Steven from being holed up in the bathroom.

"Steven? Can I come in?"

She heard a sigh behind the door, followed by a resigned, "…Yes."

His comforter was in the bathtub. Some blankets were underneath him in the bathtub, making a reasonable facsimile of a mattress.

Steven had pulled a Peridot.

He was sitting with his legs over its side, using the tile behind him as a backrest. Connie hopped in on his right, positioning herself to match his awkward-but-apparently-comfortable pose.

"I'm sorry it's not today. That you—we—have to wait until August," she started.

"That's if it happens at all."

"Hey, they said if it didn't happen on the new date, they'd try for something virtual."

Steven sighed.

"You've been to Pride before, Steven." She had gone with him, the gems, and Greg a couple of years ago, in fact.

"Not out. Or not all the way out, I guess."

"…Were you ever in?" Connie mused. Steven had never been one to hide part of himself—well, unless he was afraid people would worry, but he was getting better at that, too.

He smirked. "I think I just threw my dirty laundry all over but forgot a sock in the dryer."

"You don't even wear socks most of the time."

"Why do you think I forgot it?" He giggled warmly, the sound only a little tinged with disappointment, looking toward the ceiling. "I can't believe it was my therapist that got me to look in there and notice it. I would've thought it would have been, like, I dunno, Pearl?"

"I mean, it might have been easier to figure out with a therapist? They are supposed to be there and not judge and sometimes help push you toward a topic you've been avoiding. Maybe she was—oh gosh, I don't wanna make it sound like she forced it or something, I don't know—maybe she was just noticing and guiding and not judging and that's why it happened with her first?"

"Maybe, but you and I both know my family wouldn't—didn't—judge. Like, the gems are… y'know, and Dad's pan, and they already knew about the pan part for me and… I dunno… Actually, all this new stuff I've been learning about myself and reading up on and whatever just has me confused about what exactly I am, I just…"

"You know you like me."

"…That might be all I know."

A silence—not awkward, not worried, just… quiet—fell between them, Connie eyeing a spot on the window as Steven twiddled his thumbs. He took a firm breath in and exhaled it with some modicum of force.

"I think I was just excited because I was gonna buy a flag there. Do you know how hard it is to find a flag in person? Gurgen's and Qual-Mart barely have the gay ones half the time, and I guess it's cool they have any at all, but almost no one ever has the other ones!"

Connie did know how hard it was. Bi flags could be easier to come by sometimes, but not very. "You could always buy one online."

"Getting it in person seems like it'd feel more special."

"Why?"

"I dunno. Finding it mixed in with all the others like it has friends or something, holding it in my hands before I buy it, and then deciding it's… mine? Having it immediately? The idea of that felt exciting."

"You want it, and you want it now, then. And you… want it to have friends?"

"I guess? I spent so long not knowing about the sock that when I realized it, I felt bad I'd missed out on wearing it for so long. Letting other people see my cool socks."

Connie snorted. "You're really stretching this metaphor as far as it'll go, aren't you?"

He grinned lightly. "Hey, if I don't then no one will remember what I'm talking about next time I use it."

"Oh! Speaking of wearing things, I made you something. It's… I'm not sure if it's good or useful or if it even fits right—I'm not exactly good at sewing, even if it is one of those field things it's good to have in an emergency or apocalypse—"

"—You sew? Since when?" The mention of apocalypse was slightly concerning and did not escape him, but he filed it for now as Connie-being-Connie.

"Since I thought I could make face masks to keep people from buying up the kind my mom needs for her job. But then, since it took me two months to make this one… not sure it's in my future." She snickered, only a little disappointed. "So I guess I'll leave it to professional seamstresses or whatever."

"…You made me a face mask?" His tone lay somewhere between interested, confused, and impressed. He'd been wearing disposable ones Pearl had procured from somewhere when he had to go out, but he couldn't say he hadn't been eyeing Regretsy looking for a cool-looking reusable one.

"Not just any face mask." She dug into her back pocket to retrieve the prize, unfolding it and presenting it to Steven.

Striped from the nose area down to the chin, the black, grey, white, and purple fabric felt practically electric in his hands. There were a few odd parts here and there, but altogether, it was quite the polished job. He wondered if she could see the stars in his eyes. (She could; they were never not obvious.)

"I know it's not finding it and holding it and choosing it yourself like you were talking about, but—" Connie's words were brought to an abrupt stop as the boy pulled her into a tight hug, his response grateful and warm and only a little sounding like it was about to cry.

"It's amazing. Thank you."

Chapter Text

"Hey, um. I made you something." He dug some fabric out of his back pocket. "I did it by hand. My therapist notic—I was—ugh, she thought it'd keep my hands busy."

The mask he handed Connie was done in beautiful pink, blue, and purple. It was also too big and yet somehow the loops wouldn't reach to her ears, either, but…

"It's perfect. And we'll match," she smiled. "Hey, how did you like the virtual celebration, anyway?"

"'Did'? It's this Saturday."

"No, it was last Saturday."

"What?!" he groaned. "How did I catch virtual Delmarvacon but not Pride?!"