"So Pearl, what do we need next?"

Steven hung over the edge of the cart, surveying its contents. The two of them had pulled together a good number of food items, but none of it resembled the usual haul of groceries they bought on regular trips to Beach City Market.

Pearl's gaze didn't pause in searching the shelves as she answered him. "Oh, I'm looking for a pie tin. Do you see any?"

"Hmm, pie tin, huh?" The boy raised his hand to his chin, scoping further down the aisle. "Ah-ha!" He leapt from the shopping car and sped down to the end of the aisle. Skidding to a halt, he snatched a package from a rack and waved a shiny pan above his head.

"Oh, no, not that," Pearl explained when she caught up to him. "We just need a pie tin, not a pre-made crust." Steven visibly deflated, placing the rejected crust back with a sigh. "Granted, we probably should be looking in the kitchenware section, not in baking goods."

Steven climbed back onto the cart's railing, riding along as Pearl pushed the cart back in motion. "So," he asked, looking over the cart's contents again, "what's all this stuff for anyways?"

"Huh?" Pearl looked up from the grocery list, her eyes blinking as if she had been entranced by the thing. "Oh, nothing important, Steven. I just need some basic cooking ingredients."

"What are you making?" he pressed, pulling her attention once again from the paper slip's grasp.

"I told you, Steven; it's nothing special," she insisted, guiding the heavily-loaded cart around the corner.

"C'mon, I wanna know!" Steven repeated, testing the cart's strength as he bounced up and down.

"Oh, fine," Pearl sighed, discerning that they had reached the point where keeping her secret would not be worth enduring the interrogation that would follow. "I'm making a pie."

"Who for?" Steven asked, "Me?"

"Ah, no, Steven, not for you," she answered, lifting a carton of strawberries over her head to examine the bottom, but placing it back down next to the others as soon as she spotted a rotten berry.

"Oh, is it for Amethyst? Or Garnet?" the child asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No, it's not for them," she told him, continuing to pick through containers of berries.

"Well, then who's it for-"

"It's for me, Steven," Pearl blurted, smacking a plastic sign over with an unintentional gesture of dramatic flair. "I am making a pie. For myself."

"But Pearl," Steven said as he hopped down to help right the sign, "I thought you didn't like eating."

"I don't," she agreed, settling a satisfactory basket of red berries into the cart, "but, well, there's an exception to everything, I suppose."

"Oh." Steven paused. "Does this mean I don't get to eat any?"

Pearl chuckled lightly. "I suppose you can try some; I'm sure you'll like it."

"Good. A growing boy needs his nutrients, after all." Steven eyed their pile of groceries again. "Although, we still don't seem to have a lot of Steven snacks here..."

Pear consulted the list again. "Well, if there's anything you need, you can go grab it while I finish up here..."

"Okay!" The boy took off, rushing out of the produce section. "Meet you back here in a minute!"

The gem strode between displays of potatoes and raspberries, pulling the cart along with one hand while the other clutched the worn scrap of paper. The recipe, scrawled in light, loopy handwriting, was already etched in her brain, but its tradition and necessity still demanded its presence in her all-too-familiar ritual. Marching past humans going about their day, she followed the tattered instructions to the letter, finding and selecting each fruit off the ingredients list and nesting them in her cart. Then, her list completed, she parked the cart on the outskirts of the produce section to wait for Steven's return.

Pearl didn't notice Steven approaching; she only became aware of his presence when an avalanche of chips, crackers, and other various snacks crashed down atop the nearly perfectly organized groceries.

"Aah!" she gasped, flinching away. "Oh, Steven! You startled me!"

"Heh, sorry!" Steven said sheepishly, clearing a space inside the cart just big enough for him to climb into. "Let's get going!"

The two of them checked out and headed back to the temple, where they unpacked their haul.

"Hey, Pearl," Steven asked, reaching into a plastic bag he'd heaved onto the kitchen counter, "what's this?" He pulled out a strange, waxy-yellow item, covered in ridges that didn't seem quite natural for something intended for consumption.

"That's a carambola, Steven," Pearl answered, arranging bags of flours and sugar along the back of the countertop.

"A caram-what?"

"A carambola. It's a fruit," she explained. "Most humans call them 'star fruits.'"

"O-oh." Steven turned the thing over in his hands. "It doesn't look much like a star to me."

"Here," Pearl held out a hand for the star fruit, taking it and placing it on a cutting board, "I'll show you." She pulled out a knife and sliced through the fruit. "There, see?"

Pearl handed Steven a star-shaped slice, which he held up to examine. His eyes sparked at the discovery of the wondrous food.

"That's so cool!" he exclaimed, admiring the fruit for another moment before popping it into his mouth. "'s not bad either!"

Pearl smiled, slicing up the rest of the starfruit. "Yes, they are quite interesting, aren't they? We'll have to save the rest for the pie, though."

"So, how do we go about making this pie?" Steven asked, clearing the countertop.

"Oh, Steven, it's fine; I can take care of it myself, you don't need to-"

"No, I want to help!" he insisted, dragging a stool up against the cupboard so he could easily reach the counter. "Please?"

As soon as Steven looked up at her with those eyes, Pearl knew it was over. "Oh, all right. You can help."

"All right! So, how do we start this pie, Pearl?" Steven asked, washing his hands in the sink hurriedly.

Pearl gently smoothed out the recipe on the counter. "Well, first we need to make the crust. Can you get out the big mixing bowl?"

"On it." Steven dug a large glass bowl out from a low cupboard and carefully placed it on the counter.

"Now," Pearl continued, reading off the recipe, "we need to measure out the flour, salt, and sugar and mix them together."

The two of them make quick work of the dough and stuck it in the refrigerator to chill. The countertop was brushed clear of lingering flour and they set to work on the pie filling. Steven was put in charge of slicing the remaining star fruits while Pearl sectioned a basketful of strawberries. Before they knew it, they were packing the rolled-out pie crust with its sugary-fruit insides.

Pearl slowly laid the second limp sheet of pie shell over the top of their creation. "If you're very careful Steven," she says, tracing slits on the crust with her finger, "you can use a knife to cut out steam holes in the top crust." The boy carefully took a knife in his hands and gently poked away at the dough.

"And…. it's perfect!" Steven snatched the pie in its tin and raised it above his head in triumph. Pearl gasped, reaching to lower the pastry back down before it could fall.

"Yes, it turned out very nice, didn't it?" The star-shaped holes put the final touch on the dessert, which was then slid into the oven to bake.

"So Pearl," Steven prompted while they washed the dishes, "why's this pie an exception? If eating makes you so uncomfortable, then isn't eating pie the same as eating anything else?"

Steven watched as she turned the inquiry over in her mind. "Well, it does still make me… uncomfortable, but this pie has a sort of… sentimental value."

"Sentimental value?" he asked, accepting another clean bowl to dry.

"Yes, it's very, special to me," she answered, scrubbing a cutting board rather lazily. "It was your mother's recipe."

"Oh." A weird feeling began to manifest in the boy's stomach, curiously surrounding the rose quartz gem embedded in his naval. "So… she liked this pie a lot then?"

"Oh, yes! She always liked human treats," Peal told him, "but this was definitely her favorite. She ate it all the time, you were practically cooked on it!"

"What?" Steven asked, suddenly less melancholy and much more confused. "What is that supposed to mean?"

The gem's face flushed deep turquoise. "Oh, well that means... eh… it's an expression, Steven," she explained. "I meant that, when Rose was expecting you, she ate this pie quite frequently! You see, human mothers quite often get odd food cravings when they are expecting a child, and it seems that magical gem hybrid offspring are no exception. She was always making it, and when she got too far along to do it herself, well, I did."

"Oh." Steven set aside his towel and went to stack away some of the dry dishes. "So I guess that mean that I'm gonna really love this pie! Or wait, maybe that means that eating this pie would be like eating myself! Does that count?"

Pearl laughed. "Oh, of course not, Steven! I don't think that how it works. But yes, I bet you'll enjoy it as much as she did."

Steven peaked inside the oven to check on the pie, the delicious scent wafting out making his stomach growl. "So… you make it because it has sentimental value?"

Pearl's laughter from the boy's previous comment disappeared in the wake of a deep frown. "Yes, Steven. I guess that… well…" She paused and shut off the faucet, leaving the rest of the dishes to soak. "The thing about Gems is that we're not quite as adept at… losing someone, so to speak. And when Rose… left I- we, were never really sure how to, well, deal with it."

"Oh." Steven felt the strange feeling fluttering in the belly again.

Pearl dried her hands on a kitchen towel as she crouched down in front of the oven beside Steven. "And I know that it's rather odd," she explained, hanging the towel on the oven handle, "but I suppose that, while I was trying to process all of it, I developed a habit of making Rose's pie, whenever I had these, feelings."

"Did making the pie help you feel closer to her?" Steven pondered, studying her face as she watched the baking pie.

"Yes," she answered, looking away, "it does."

An hour later, a checkers match having been started once all the dishes had been put away, the oven timer went off. Steven teetered on a stool at the breakfast bar while he watched Pearl carefully pull the steaming pie from the oven and place it on the counter before him.

"Give it a minute to cool down," she warned him, as if she could see him reaching to break off a piece when her back was turned. He pulled his hands away from the piping dessert and drummed against the countertop instead.

Pearl brought plates and silverware over and made the first cut into the pie. She sliced it in two, then in four, and then in eighths. Two were then gently lifted out and placed onto their own plates. She passed on over to Steven. "It's still rather hot," she reminded him. "Be careful."

Steven snatched up a fork and eagerly went to take his first bite. Before he could, however, he stopped. He looked over at Pearl and watched as she hesitated to place a chunk of the food into her mouth. After several moments of pause she suddenly shoved the fork into her mouth. She savored the taste with pleasured smile, but winced in disgust as she swallowed. Steven studied her like this through several more bites, until she turned and asked him what he thought of the pie.

"Oh!" Steven quickly jammed a bite into his mouth and mulled over it before he swallowed. "I love it!" he exclaimed, proceeding to scarf down the rest. The star fruit was unusual and wonderful, and the sweet strawberries balanced out its tangy taste. The mingling flavors had a familiar quality to them, as if he had enjoyed them many times before.

"Well, I'm glad you like it, Steven." Pearl went back to picking at her own slice, one bite at a time.

"Hey, Pearl," Steven prompted as he dished himself up a second helping. "If you only make this pie when you want to feel closer to my mom, does that mean…"

Pearl didn't look up from her plate, choosing to answer with just a nod.

"Oh." Steven sunk back into his seat. "So… do you feel better now?"

She scrapes the last bit of crust off of her plate, chewing it slowly before swallowing.

"I think," she said, looking up at him and smiling the slightest bit, "I do."

—Thank you for reading, I highly appreciate it! Any reviews, whether it be constructive criticism or just a comment saying that you liked it, would make me the happiest writer this side of the cosmos!

Thanks to Crystal-Gem-Goddess for helping with edits! Please check out her works as well!

I suppose this is my take on 'Pearl likes pie but doesn't like eating.' And the "you were practically cooked on it!" line was a reference to my favorite childhood show, Little Bear, in which the mother of the main character tells her son that he was "cooked on cupcakes!" because she made them so often while he was in her tummy. Little Bear's always held a special place in my heart; I couldn't help but make a nod to it when the opportunity presented itself!