Pinkanon drabbles

Pinkanon drabbles:
>Greg veers into the underground scene early in his music career
>Develops a taste for more sophisticated genres
>Joins with an indie band called "The Satin Transit"
>After a tense discussion with Rose, Pearl does the unthinkable and defies her diamond; sneaking out into the autumn evening to get some air.
>She finds herself walking aimlessly onto the campus of a local art school, changing her form to that of a slender english education student in a dark green sweater, black jeans, and hightop sneakers. A pair of circular rimed glasses and a messy bun complete her disguise.
>Pearl quickly settles on the name "Persephone," as she follows the somber sound of a local band to a small gazebo out by the soccer fields.
>She's mesmerized by the soft, words of the dashing lead; the lyrics envoking feelings of detachment from one's surroundings, a home abandoned, friends lost to time- lonliness.
>Pearl doesn't notice the tears welling in her eyes until the handsome singer wraps up a final, weeping ballad and approaches her.
>"Miss?" He inquires with a soft smile, pulling a hankerchief from the pocket of his leather jacket and handing it to her. "Everything alright?"
>Pearl sniffed and graciously accepted the offered square of cloth, raising her glasses and drying the errant tears.
>"That... that was simply beautiful." His smile grew into a gracious beam- her heart felt on the verge of melting.
>"Well, thank you very much, miss, uh..."
>"Persephone, though I usually go by 'Seph'."
>"Greg; pleasure to meet you, Seph." His smile held it's earnest warmth, kind eyes meeting hers as if to say 'I know your pain. I'm here for you.'
>The two stood in comfortable silence for a moment, each taking in the other.
>Finally, and thankfully as Pearl was certain she'd begun to stare at his lips, Greg spoke up.
>"Hey, if you're not busy, we were going to have a little listening party for our new album down at my friend's house. Would you, uh, wanna drop by?"

>Pearl found herself in the crowded living room of a small two-bedroom house just off the campus.
>Pearl usually loathed the concept of consumption, something about the organic practice just rubbed her the wrong way.
>Tonight, however, she found herself on her second red cup of an admittedly delicious human beverage that had begun to make her head swim just a touch.
>The comfortable numbness helped the slender gem-in-disguise navigate the crowd of tipsy strangers, emboldened on her search for the striking young man she'd met mere hours ago.
>Carpet beneath her feet turned to tile as Pearl slipped into the less populus kitchen.
>There, surrounded by a haze of peculiar-smelling smoke, stood Greg.
>In her inebriated state, it took a great deal of restraint not to simply rush over and throw her arms around him. He seemed so warm and welcoming and...
>Oh stars- he was looking right at her.
>Greg passed a sort of hand-rolled cigarette to a very interested looking blonde beside him and crossed the room to Pearl.
>Eyes red, smelling of smoke, and hair ever so slightly disheveled: he was gorgeous.
>To Pearl's surprise, Greg drew her into a warm embrace. "Hey, Seph! Man, I'm glad you came!"
>Pearl's words rushed to her lips in a jumbled mess. "O-Oh, I, uh, happy to, erm"
>Greg held her at arm's length as that damned smile threatened to finish her off. "Oh man, don't tell me you drank some of Vidalia's punch- that stuff is rocket fuel!"
>He broke into a fit of laughter and, oh clod, of course... it's adorable.
>"I-I'm sorry, I must look an absolute mess" Pearl made a move to shield her burning face, only to be met with one of Greg's large, calloused hands.
>"What're you talking about? Dude, you look friggin' gorgeous; I've never seen someone hold together so well after drinking that swill."
>Greg the human has shattered her. She concedes.
>She's leaning in before she even has a chance to think. She can feel the heat between their lips before he stops her.

>The hands on her shoulders snap pearl out of her trance in an instant.
>'idiot' the chorus of chiding voices in her mind flared like lit kerosene. 'Stupid, stupid, stupid little clod. He probably has a mate. And even if he didn't, what would he want with you? You can dress yourself up any way you'd like, you'll never be anything more than a pear-'
>"Just walk with me, nobody's seen yet." Greg's arm loops over her shoulders as he leads the confused gem out the back door.
>'Great, now you've gone and embarrassed him.'
>As pearl let her chin drop to her chest with despair, she noticed a distinct lack of a wool sweater. The pieces began to fall into place.
>"What... What are you...?" Greg's previous swagger had seemingly vanished along with the gem's disguise.
>And who could blame him? A perfectly normal looking girl had just turned into some sort of... human crystal? Mid-kiss.
>Pearl's eyes were fixed on the moon. It had always been a comforting presence in troubled times on this planet.
>Now, pearl wished she could simply zip herself to it's cold, pale surface and sit until this human had forgotten her- until everyone had.
>It was just another missed opportunity. Just another chance at change that she lept at too quickly and squandered.
>Who was she trying to fool? She should just run now, while he was busy leaning close and touching her cheek and...
>A white light flashed so brilliantly across her vision, pearl momentarily thought she had been struck blind.
>Her arms bound across his shoulders like a drowning sailor clinging to driftwood in a violent sea
>They were floating; she was sure of it. >Any minute she could look down and see a mile between them and the suburbs below.
>She clung a bit tighter when he finally pulled back, somewhat relieved to find they were indeed still on the back porch.
>"Alright," Greg started with a smile, his rough fingers tangling gently in her hair. "Now that we're a little better acquainted, what's your name, 'Seph?'"

>Even in the context of Pearl's virtually limitless years, the month spent with Greg had felt like a whirlwhind.
>The early november night on the yellow-lit back porch was still fresh in her mind. She remembered with fondness the disbelief and bewilderment that played across Greg's face as she told him of her origin: of homeworld, of gems, of the war, and of their defection.
>He was understandably flush with questions, and much of the rest of the evening was spent in his room, answering each and every one between those funny green cigarettes she was becoming increasingly fond of.
>At points, she found herself too giggly to continue or too overwhelmed by memories to properly put them to words.
>But Greg was patient, above all. They laid in his bed, tangled up with one another, simply enjoying the sounds the other made until Pearl felt ready to continue.
>She made a routine of sneaking out to see him each time Rose would be occupied for the evening with one thing or another.
>Many such "dates," as Greg called them, were spent at films or record stores or eateries (the latter took quite a bit of time for Pearl to warm up to).
>Her favorite "dates" were the practice sessions Greg's band held in the living room. It was especially pleasant when she was the only one in attendance; when it felt like Greg was singing to her and her alone.
>Each song held a special significance when his eyes were gently held on hers. Pearl often felt the urge to stand and dance with him, though refrained to keep in good favor with his bandmates.
>Their bassist, a tough-looking girl named Vidalia, greated pearl with a bump of their knuckles as she and Greg slipped in from the cold December wind.
>"Sup, Sputnik?" The young woman smiled warmly.
>"Good afternoon," Pearl returned a friendly smile, waving a gloved hand to the rest of the group who regarded her with similarly casual greetings.

>Greg and Rose have a somewhat complicated relationship
>He deeply resents Rose for her manipulative nature and her habit of constantly putting Steven in danger.
>Greg understands that this is necessary at times, as Steven is taking up his mother's role as Rose's guardian.
>Other times, however, it seems as if she's simply amused by the boy's struggles. Perhaps she derrives a sense of importance from Steven's ceaseless efforts to serve and protect her.
>This infurates Greg to no end.
>Her exploitative nature isn't limited to his son, of course.
>Rose's infatuation with Greg became more overt after his lover's passing; turning downright coercive as he continually rejected her advances.
>She would often bring Steven's safety on an upcoming mission into question until he begrudgingly agreed to some trivial date or a night in bed.
>One night in particular ended with Greg storming out into the night after Rose had taken Pearl's form in order to wrest some more passion from the widowed man.
>Steven was not oblivious to the ways the diamond manipulated his father.
>The innate subservience he felt to her, however, prevented him from speaking out; at times even pleading for his father to be more understanding of her lonliness.

>Garnet always steps in to protect Greg from Rose as best as she can when he inevitably invokes one of her infamous tantrums.
>Only Steven is able to talk her down each time, though Rose always gets what she wants in the end.
>She throws a particularly severe fit when Greg begins spending time with another human: a woman around his age by the name of Vidalia.
>She vents her anger to Amythest one night as Greg and Vidalia are out at a concert.
>Completely loses her cool as Amythest suggests that perhaps its natural for Greg to want to be with his own kind.
>Pink snaps a pier leg like a matchstick and she screams that he's only seeing "that lower lifeform" because she reminds him of Pearl.
>Steven, hearing his mother's name, rushes out of the house to calm his diamond before she does any serious damage.
>His presence only further upsets her, as she sees the spitting image of the deceased gem in the slender boy.
>Pink reels her hand back to strike him. Steven stands motionless before her and squeezes his eyes shut. Anything for his diamond.
>Instead of a devastating blow, two protecting arms wrap around his torso and carry him away from the chaos.
>His eyes open to see a teary-eyed Vidalia gently stroking his hair.
>Behind her, Greg is speaking to the irrate diamond.
>Her breathing seems to even after a moment and Steven's heart sinks as she leans down to kiss his father.
>Vidalia herself has began crying but does her best to maintain her composure as she leads Steven away to his father's van.
>"What did he say to her?..." he asks the tall woman, his voice straining with heartache.
>Vidalia swallows hard and forces a meek smile, sitting beside the boy on the back bumper. "Oh, you know... just that old Universe charm..."

>"Dad, come on, it was an accident!"
>The 16 year old's superhuman strength keeps his father from pushing past. Greg struggles in his son's grip regardless, completely blinded with rage.
>"I told her never to put hands on you!" He's shouting louder than he intends. Seeing the large bruise on Steven's neck was too much to bear. Pink had gone too far.
>Greg swiftly ducks under Steven's outstretched arm and manages to load two shells into the shotgun slung across his elbow.
>Amythest and Garnet attempt to stall him in the living room to little avail.
>It's on the back porch where Greg finds Pink: reclined on a beach chair without a care in the world.
>He trained the barrel at the gem in her belly and was fully prepared to squeeze the trigger when his son broke the gap between them.
>The three were frozen for several seconds, Garnet and Amythest looking on in horror.
>"Dad... Please..." Steven's tembling voice stole his father's willpower.
>The gun clattered loudly on the deck.
>Pink draped her arms around the boy's shoulders and kissed his cheek, her eyes locked on Greg's.
>"My hero~" She cooed, venomously.

>"Fine, I'll go make my own fun." Pink huffed angrily as she stormed out of Greg's bedroom.
>He was quite concerned now; Pink never let up so easily, yet she left without even trying to force herself on him.
>There was her usual pleading, of course. She always played cute at first, lying beside him with those big shimmering eyes, lower lip quivering, soft hands pawing at his chest.
>"Pink, I'm exhausted. Another night, okay?" It was the truth; Greg had been running ragged at the record store since six that morning. His band's reunion concert had drawn a significantly larger crowd than he could have imagined, forcing him to expand their venue: obtain street permits, move equipment, adjust audio, all on the fly.
>The soft pawing turned to a gentle grip on his nightshirt, Pink's lips pressing to his unreceptive pair.
>"But Greeeeg, I want it!" Pink whined, as if this alone should be more than enough reason to do as she says.
>His unresponsiveness only seemed to spur the needy diamond on further as Greg found himself pinned to the mattress under her surprising weight.
>He was far too weary to protest much further. As hungry kisses trailed down his neck, Greg tried once more to plead his case.
>"Pink, Stop." He surprised himself with the sheer brevity in his own voice.
>Evidently, he'd surprised Pink as well. She sat up on his hips and glared down at him, visibly considering her next move.
>If she decided to simply press on in spite of him, it wouldn't be the first time. Thus time, however, she'd clearly settled on an alternative. Sliding off his lap with a huff, Pink grabbed her cropped hoodie from his desk and made her way out of his room, spitting the venomous words over her shoulder that would soon come to haunt him.
>'She'll probably just go screw some drunk college kid.' He tried reassuring himself.
>'With any luck, she'll get obsessed with him. That 'oughta keep her off my back for at least a week or two. Maybe I could hang with steven.'

>Steven quickly stirred awake as he felt a presence in his room.
>The lock on his bedroom door audibly clicked shut. He fumbled in the dark for his desk lamp.
>"Steven, relax; it's me~"
>The words felt like a warm blanket draped over cold shoulders- dreamlike and alluring, yet comforting and motherly.
>His mattress creaked with the added weight. Her gorgeous face was illuminated by streaks of moonlight peeking through his window and further still by his softly glowing gem.
>"G-Good evening my diamond." The boy bent his skinny torso forward in an attempt at some sort of seated bow, eliciting a beautiful giggle from Pink. "How may I be of service?...?"
>She could easily overpower the boy now and simply take what she wanted. But, of course, she could have done the same to his father. There was no sport in it; hardly any fun at all unless Steven was as "gifted" as his father. Even then, it would just be a mechanical sort of pleasure.
>No, Pink would take her time with him. He would want, no, NEED her. She would be in control, not Greg-
>She pushed the name from her mind and focused instead on Steven's soft features.
>Pink finally spoke as her fingers grazed a hairless jaw.
>"Oh, my gurdian..." Pink's words dripped with melancholy as her fingers moved to tangle in his thick hair. "You think I'm pretty, don't you...?" She feigned a delicate look of trepidation as the boy stared on in awe.
>"M-My diamond, you're the most beautiful creature on the planet- in the universe!" Steven's cheeks caught fire as Pink's thumb brushed across his lips.
>'Oh, it's almost too easy~' She fought back a cruel smirk and crept a bit closer to her prey.
>"Do... Do you really think so?" Pink's rosy lips turned up into a deceptively meek smile.
>Steven couldn't fathom why she would ever think otherwise; his diamond was perfect. No other, human or gem, could even compare.
>Most puzzling of all, she was asking him- a lowly guardian- to affirm this.

>"Of course, my Diam-" Pink tapped his lips to silence him and rested her forehead against his vibrant gem.
>"Do me a favor, Steven. Just for tonight, I want you to call me Rose, understand?"
>Without a hint of hesitation, Steven nodded frantically.
>"Good boy~" Pink's thumb slipped away as her lips firmly took its place.
>Steven's heart pounded in his ears. He was utterly paralyzed.
>Steven had kissed before, of course. Numerious pecks exchanged with Connie and even a few sloppy makeouts had given him the gist of what to do in a kiss.
>But nothing could have prepared him for this. Pink was his mentor, of sorts; his leader to fight and die for when the time came. Even in private life, he'd never seen her in such a light.
>A big sister at times, sure. Someone to torment him one moment and show him a neat ability his gem was capable of the next.
>This was different- completely different. He knew deep within this was wrong on many fronts.
>He thought of how he was being unfaithful to Connie, remembering how she warned him of the diamond's 'red flags', as 'Rose' laid him back into his bed.
>He thought of how he was disappointing his father, sleeping with the woman he most feared around his son, as she made short work of his PJ's.
>He thought of how he was disgracing the honor of his mother's title, violating the sacred bond between Diamond and guardian, as she straddled his hips and slipped out of her favorite cropped hoodie.
>"Never been this far before, huh~?" Pink's words carried a smug satisfaction as the bare-chested gem ground her hips with astute precision against Steven's.
>He fought to keep his eyes from hers, earning a bemused snort as she guided his face by his chin.
>So much like his father the first time she'd coerced him into bed.
>Though, there was something so much more to Steven's bewildered gaze. That innocence- something between fear and overwhelming desire- it was like forbidden fruit. And she wanted a taste.

>Greg sat up with a groan and glanced at his blaring alarm clock
>7:43am. Monday. Steven had school in 20 minutes.
>"Son of a bitch," he grumbled, throwing on some clothes.
>A dull but incessant banging had kept him from deep sleep through most of the night. It was unmistakable.
>Why the hell Pink felt the need to bring some frat boy back to the house was beyond him.
>Perhaps some vindictive attempt at making him jealous. The thought made him chuckle.
>There'd be absolute hell to pay, however, if he found she'd kept Steven up with her childish revenge plot.
>Greg knocked twice on his bedroom door, entering after a few moments of silence.
>"Huh, not here." He shut the door behind him and went to the kitchen, reasoning that he must be eating breakfast.
>Amythest stood in front of the stove, hair tied back in a loose ponytail, mixing pancake batter as he entered.
>She greeted him with a warm smile and nodded to a picturesque plate of breakfast food at his favorite spot on the island.
>"Pancakes'll be up in just a sec. Have some coffee, you look like hell."
>Greg eased into his favorite chair. He didn't even need to taste the coffee to know she'd gotten it perfect.
>Beside it was today's issue of the post and his obligations for the day jotted neatly on notebook paper that he'd merely mentioned to her in passing the day before.
>"Did steven make it to-"
>"Packed his lunch and dropped him off thirty minutes ago. Seemed pretty out of it but he said he was fine. Told the nurse to call me if he comes down." She skillfully caught an airborne flapjack in a waiting skillet.
>Son of a bitch, of course Pink kept him up; his room was right next to her's. If that spoiled brat thought she could interfere with Steven's sleep, he had another thing-
>The soft clatter of a plate beside him shook Greg from his stewing.

>"Eat up. I saw those whiskey bottles in the trash, dude. You can't drink all your meals."
>Greg's vibrato over his coming confrontation with Pink was significantly humbled by the short purple gem. She had that way about her.
>Even by gem standards, Amythest was super-human.
>Ever since Pearl passed away and Garnet took a construction job to help pay the bills, Amythest had ambitiously taken up the mantel of homemaking.
>The house was never too shabby before, but Amythest had seemingly taken it upon herself to make each and every room something straight out of Better Homes and Gardens.
>Though Greg used to fend for Steven and himself when it came to meals, she had gently urged the two out of "her kitchen," turning simple scambled eggs and pasta dishes at odd hours into elegant feasts served thrice daily.
>Her attention to Steven steadily grew with her other feats of domestic magic, eventually turning her into a sort of defacto mother for the young hybrid.
>She organized birthday parties, patched wounds, packed lunches, attended school meetings, helped with homework (though Greg usually handled history and English), and tucked him in until he finally worked up the courage to tell her that, perhaps, thirteen was a little old to be read to sleep.
>With her management of the household came a great deal of authority. Under the Universe roof, Amythest's word was, more often than not, gospel.
>Even the notoriously difficult diamond would reluctantly back down when Amythest struck an authoritative enough tone.
>Greg's drinking habits were one of her many grievances and one that had taken precedent since beer cans had turned to liquor bottles.
>"You have a doctor's appointment at noon." Amythest noted, setting a bottle of syrup beside the steaming plate of pancakes.
>Greg cocked a brow. "I didn't schedule a doctor's appointment."
>"I'm well aware. That's why I called them."
>"You can't just... ugh, fine. But I'm not going on Prozac again."

>Amythest busied herself at the sink scrubbing away at a particularly stubborn bit of batter in a cast iron pan.
>"Nobody's gonna force you to do anything, Greg; you're a big boy, you can make your own decisions."
>"Not my own appointments, apparently." He muttered over the rim of his Talking Heads mug.
>Amythest's shoulder's shook with a laugh as she neatly filed the last of the sparkling cutlery away in a drawer. "Be honest with yourself, man: you would have never called if I didn't."
>It was true, of course. Greg hadn't seen the therapist Pearl had set him up with in years, and stopped filling his perscriptions soon after.
>It was of little surprise that his mental health fell by the wayside shortly after Pearl's passing.
>Some days, if it weren't for Steven, he's not sure he'd be willing to hold on anymore.
>Shit, why would he? What's he really got without his son anymore?
>He could just drink until he goes to sleep. Repeat that until he doesn't wake up again. No more hangovers, at least.
>At least if he was dead, Pink might get bored and fuck off to some other God-forsaken rock.
>Let the Gempire have Earth, for all he cares. Let them destroy this whole planet.
>Fuck this planet- fuck the universe. Let a big, dark cloud strangle all life in this joke of a-
>Two stout arms wrap around his chest and, for the moment, chase away that big, dark cloud.
>"Look," Amythest rests her head on his shoulder, squeezing Greg to her chest. That girl could cure anything with those damn hugs of hers.
>"You're going to go in there and he's gonna tell you a bunch of stuff I know you don't give a fuck about. He's gonna say that you're drinking too much and that you're underweight and that you need to quit smoking- forget about it."
>Amythest hopped up and sat on the counter to meet him eye-to-eye. "I meant what I said: no one is going to make you do anything. You're going to walk in there and do whatever you want. But I want you to remember Steven."

>The vial of little yellow happy pills rattled in the cupholder of Greg's similarly colored Datsun hatchback.
>The tattered leather interior reeked of Winston Reds, the very sort Doctor Hartman had just finished lecturing him on two hours earlier.
>Cool autumn wind blew through Greg's long brown hair as he cruised down the winding cliffside road towards Beach City high school.
>Autumn was always particularly difficult for him. He reasoned he'd just take the stupid meds through November. If he could just make it through fall, he could knock em off around the first of December and be his old self by Christmas. Simple enough.
>The Allman Brothers played boisterously off his ancient tapedeck.
>It was a mixtape someone made for him ages ago, though he couldn't remember who.
>Glancing down at his watch, he noticed he was going to be a bit early, something he dreaded when picking up his son.
>As he pulled the brightly colored car in between a pair of expensive-looking SUV's, Greg wondered if he made a mistake in declining Amythest's offer to pick Steven up for him.
>He wanted to see his son as soon as he could, of course. It was navigating the crowd of waiting parents that got under his skin.
>Unshaven, in his faded carhart jacket, ratty blue jeans, and old converse sneakers that looked more like clown shoes on his massive feet, Greg fit the description of about 20 wanted posters across the state of Maryland.
>Were it not for his lingering notoriety as some washed up musician, he likely would have left every attempt to pick up Steven in handcuffs.
>He remembered with dull envy the few times Amythest had accompanied him to the school; how easily she bullshitted with this mass of dough-eyed, pearl-clutching socialites.
>One couple had been so taken by her charms, they'd invited the two to dinner; making sure to add that they were "so inspired" by their "courage to marry across species."

>Greg remembered with mild amusement how quickly he had to lead his "wife" away from the milquetoast pair so she could burst into peals of tearful laughter.
>Now, out to the side of the chatty crowd, it occured to him how strange it was that a 4 foot tall purple girl from space blended in with these people better than some aging beatnik. Was he really that strange?
>His thoughts were interrupted by the final bell. Freshmen students spilled out from the double doors, practically arcing with youthful energy and vigor.
>Save for one lanky boy, slumped under his overloaded backpack.
>The dark-skinned girl beside him offered a hug and he reluctantly accepted, continuing on his way with no change in his expression.
>"Hey, Stevie." Greg offered a meek smile as he tussled the boy's hair.
>"Uh, hey, dad." He looked absolutely exhausted. Greg made a mental note to throw Pink off the nearest pier as soon as he could.
>The two rode home in relative silence, save for the mixtape rolling on.
>The Smiths were playing now, some somber piece Greg couldn't quite remember the name of.
>He switched to some generic sports station as the lyrics began to dredge up painful memories.

>"Amy, we're home!" Greg called into the house, hanging their Jackets on hooks by the front door.
>The purple gem gave Greg a hug and a quick smile as she heard the pills rattle in his front pocket.
>"Stevie, hon, you doin' okay?" her attention immediately snapped to the unusually stone-faced boy. Her hands went to his cheeks and forehead, feeling around for a temperature.
>"Geez, Amythest, I'm fine. Really." It was the same line he'd given her that morning and it was no more convincing than before.
>She sighed, electing, as Garnet often suggested, to 'Give the boy some space.'
>"Alright, alright, nurse Amythest has left the building. Now, who's hungry?" She clapped her hands together, her warm smile managing to lift the somewhat somber mood in the room.
>Greg and Steven sat down at the kitchen island, Amythest doling out an unbelievable spread of fruits, finger sandwiches, and home-baked snacks.
>She never ceased to utterly blow Greg away.
>Greg and Amythest talked about his visit to the doctor over the the after-school snack, asking Steven a few questions about school here and there.
>He was smiling a bit more now, sitting with two people who loved him to pieces and couldn't help but show it.
>Greg even got a few laughs out of him with a story of his mechanic somehow getting his stuck in his the trunk of his Datsun while wiring up a new brake light.
>"-See, the problem was, mitch couldn't get his fat ass-"
>"Greg, language!" Amythest chided, muffling a giggle behind her hand while Steven practically fell out of his chair.
>"Don't go saying that stuff around school, kiddo. You get me in trouble with Amy enough as is!"
>The mood around the table consistently rose and spiked further when Garnet came through the front door absolutely covered in concrete.
>"It was the driver's first- and last- day on the job." The fusion struggled to keep her tone even as the infectious laughter from around the table caught her as well. "N-Need a... Shower."

>It was after supper and Greg had settled into his recliner with a glass of whiskey drowned, at Amythest's insistence, in water.
>He swirled ice in the weak drink while absentmindedly watching a documentary on some band he'd never heard of.
>Amythest was down the hall, helping Steven with his biology homework- no doubt ready to phone the school in the morning over his textbook's insistence that gemstones are not considered sentient life.
>Garnet was on her phone watching an MMA fight intently. She'd taken a liking to the human bloodsport for whatever reason and seldom missed a big-name match.
>Pink was... who knows where? Greg couldn't be happier about that.
>Part of him, the vast majority of him in fact, hoped she'd just stay gone for good.
>But he knows, just like each and every time, she would come bursting through that door like a physical manifestation of every throbbing headache he's ever had.
>As if on cue, the door opened and closed again.
>That familiar, deceptively soft voice called out to every occupant in the house.
>"Good evening, everyone~!" Greg kept his tone as even as possible while his grip threatened to shatter the glass he held.
>"Pink. Living room. Now."
>She tossed her fittingly Pink backpack onto the couch as she entered the living room, arms folded and eyes narrowed at the one man who would DARE raise his voice to her.
>She smiled sweetly, in spite of her seething anger, her words like cyanide capsules dipped in milk chocolate.
>"What's up, daddy?"
>"Thought I told you to quit calling me that." Greg shot back as he stood.
>Pink smirked, eyes daring him to say just what she thought he would.
>To her surprise, however, his accusations were a mile off.
>Greg lowered his voice to a tense whisper, eyes narrowed "Next time you decide to go fuck some lowlife, you take it elsewhere. I don't give a damn what kind of royalty you are, Pink, you don't fuck with my son. You understand me?"

>Amythest could feel Steven's shoulder tense under her hand. As Pink's noisy greeting broke the house's relative silence.
>"I should get her bag." Steven made a move to stand but was gently held in place.
>"She's a couple thousand years old, Stevie. She can handle her own bags." The tension in his back diminished somewhat, but refused to completely disappate.
>Amythest returned his attention to the math problem at hand, trying to drown out the soft confrontation in the living room while also listening in.
>At least Garnet was home. The last thing she wanted was Greg going through another window.
>"-This isn't your kingdom, you delusional little brat!"
>Amythest pecked Steven's forehead, giving a quick "be right back" before heading for the living room.
>Pink wore a smug expression, arms folded and leaned onto her right leg.
>Greg, on the other had his teeth grit in frustration, his hard fists shaking with anger.
>Garnet stood between the two, a hand on Greg's chest and her free arm keeping Pink at bay.
>"Hey, hey, everyone relax for a second!" All eyes suddenly turned to Amythest, the family peacemaker.
>"You" she pointed to Pink and then towards the back porch "Wait outside."
>Pink scoffed, but followed the instruction. "Your boyfriend started it," she muttered under her breath.
>Greg opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it as Amethyst snapped her fingers. "Not a word, Greg."
>Amythest finally spoke again as the back door slammed shut. "Greg, I want you to go help Steven with his homework, okay? He's got a paper due on the industrial revolution and I'm still trying to figure out how you monkeys managed to get fire."
>Greg chuckled, giving Amythest a hug and an earnest "thank you" before setting off to Steven's room.

>Pink lay across the back deck railing, staring up at the moon.
>She'd laid out the simplest plan imaginable and still Greg Universe had managed to flub his part in it.
>Her moment had passed, surely. The explosive confrontation where it'd hit the drunk bastard hardest had come and gone. She wasn't sure if she'd ever get another opportunity to get even in the way she so rightfully deserved.
>The door opened and shut behind her, cutting off her train of thoughts. She already knew who was standing there.
>I'm going to ask you something," Amythest began, her voice lacking any anger. How boring. "It might piss you off, but I need you to be straight with me here."
>Pink kept her face turned towards the moon and shrugged "Shoot."
>"Pink... What is wrong with you?"
>This caught Pink a bit off guard. Didn't she want to know what Greg had gotten so upset about? Or what he should have?
>Her line of questioning earned Pink's full attention as she spun on the railing to face her.
>"What do you mean?" Pink asked, in a seldom-heard genuine voice.
>Amythest sighed and rubbed her eyes. For a hard light construct that never needed sleep, she was feeling pretty exhausted right now.
>"Why... Why can't you leave Greg alone? Why do you constantly challenge him and push his buttons and... and why do you force him to mate with you, Pink? Do you really think we don't notice? He doesn't like being with you- he doesn't like YOU! And why would he?" her voice has raised considerably, but she finds herself unable to stop. "All he does is try to make you feel welcome here! He trusts you with his own son, Pink! Steven is the only reason he's still alive! And you treat that poor kid like he's a fucking ragdoll!"
>Tears are streaming down her cheeks now. Years of patching up his cuts and scrapes, years of kissing his bruises and drying his eyes and taking him in out of the snow to warm up. Every runny nose, every high fever that she feared was the end; none of it mattered to Pink.

>Amythest glared at the emotionless face looking back at her, her mind racing.
>She wanted to shatter Pink right then and there.
>She didn't care for the fate of her so-called "Rebellion-" for fuck's sake, she'd lead it herself if she had to.
>They didn't need this psychopath and, certainly, neither did Steven.
>She prepared to summon. The odds were completely against her, but she had no choice. It was Pink or Steven. She'd go with her, if that's what it took.
>"Like father, like son." Pink said flatly.
>Amythest's hand stopped short of her weapon, teary eyes narrowed with confusion. "W-What did you say?..."
>Those rosy pink lips curled up into a fucking smile. A real, genuine smile. As if she'd told a joke and was waiting for Amythest to get it.
>"Like father, like son; Greg and Steven, I mean. Thought you'd like to know that, since you're so interested in them."
>"Pink, are you saying..." A high-pitched ringing inside her head drowned out her own words as she made sense of what she had been told.
>'No.' Her vetoed her very presence there.
>'Steven.' She wordlessly turned from the still-grinning diamond and entered the house.
>"Steven, Greg, pack bags. Now."
>Her body felt like it was moving on a track as she gathered up a few essentials.
>"Amy, what's going-"
>"Get your bags, Greg. Help Steven pack."
>He shot a glance at Pink, still smiling on the back porch, but heeded Amythest's words.
>The short gem tossed the trio's bags into the back of Greg's hatchback, telling Garnet to ensure that Pink didn't follow them.
>She directed Greg onto the highway, answering his questions sparsely, instead intently focused on Steven.
>At 15, he was old enough to know what was happening; to know that he was the reason that Amythest rushed them out of Beach city.
>"I'm sorry." He choked out, tears overflowing as his eyes watched the moon.
>"Greg, stop here." Amythest motioned to a hotel just off the highway.

>Amethyst laid behind Steven on the thankfully freshly washed sheets of the hotel bed.
>She sang softly a lullaby from his infancy. She remembered the day the little eight year old looked up to her with furrowed brows and said "Momma, that song's for babies! I'm not a baby anymore!"
>It was a pivotal moment in her existence and with it came a lesson: Steven was growing up.
>She would not be able to protect him from the harsh dangers of the world forever, no matter how desperately she tried.
>Amythest swallowed back tears and buried her face in his neck.
>She remembered the day he first began calling her by her name; "a sign of respect," Garnet had told him, "for a superior."
>She could have thrown Garnet in the ocean at that very moment. But the damage was done, it could not be changed. She was no longer "Momma" to the boy she considered her own. She was Amythest.
>These were changes she had prepared for, changes she could come to accept.
>She knew of further changes coming down the line: his first love, his first heartbreak, learning to drive, graduating high school, college, marriage. And when he came to pass, eventually, she would shatter herself as well. She was ready for all of it.
>She was not ready for this.
>Steven stirred gently in his sleep, his mumbling becoming somewhat distressed.
>She was ready for this.
>Amythest drew her arms around him and squeezed as her tears stained the back of his shirt.
>He was still once again.
>His breathing slowed into its methodic pattern.
>And for a little while longer, he could be away from all of this.
>She could protect him just a bit longer.

>"Still asleep?" Greg inquired quietly as he entered the room.
>Amythest nodded, not an inch removed from her place behind Steven.
>Greg lowered himself onto the bed and touched his son's hand. His eyes met Amythest's and she knew she could dely this no longer.
>"What did she do to Steven, Amy?"
>She knew once she told him, that would be that: he wouldn't rest until Pink wss shattered or he was dead.
>Every scenerio she ran through in her mind ended with Steven fatherless. She couldn't allow that.
>"Greg, you've been doing everything I ask you to, and when I tell you this, you need to keep doing that, okay?" Amythest whispered, her eyes held pleadingly on his. "For Steven."
>Greg braced himself momentarily and gave a slow nod.
>Amythest looked back to the boy in her arms and once more pulled him close.
>Tears of anger, frustration, sorrow, and exhaustion streamed down her cheeks.
>She knew the human words for what had happened to Steven, but she had no idea how to say them. It wasn't something she had prepared herself for.
>After several false starts, Amythest finally settled on the right words.
>"She raped him, Greg..." The words hurt to say even more than she imagined they would. She pulled her baby just a bit closer and awaited the inevitable.
>Nothing. No shouting, no screams, no attempt to storm out and find Pink; nothing she had envisioned.
>Amethyst slowly opened her eyes only to find Greg holding his head in his hands.
>"Greg..."
>He straightened up, but didn't say a word, moving to kneel in front of his son's face.
>his rough hand rests on the boy's cheek, brushing a stray locke of hair with his thumb.
>the pair sat in silence, trying in vain to heal what had been broken in their boy.
>"What are you thinking?" Amythest asked quietly after several minutes of absolute silence.
>Greg held his son's hand between his and closed his eyes. "What do we do, Amy?"