Note: Last One Out of Beach City was everything I've ever wanted from children's tv. I am content forever. Also both Mystery Girl and Steven are trans girls. Enjoy.
Warning for some unintentional innuendo, an anxiety attack and Pearl's food issues.
"All right," Pearl says, curling her fingers around nothing and uncurling them again. "Yes, thank you. Goodbye."
Pearl touches the little obsolete telephone symbol in its red circle and turns around to hand the phone back to Steven. Only Steven is no longer alone – she's flanked on both sides by Amethyst and Garnet, who had presumably joined her sometime during the course of Pearl's phone call. All three of them look very visibly anxious. Steven is biting her fingers.
"So?" Steven removes her fingers from her mouth to ask. "How'd it go?"
Pearl finds herself unable to keep from smiling. She walks over to the couch and Steven immediately hops in her lap, Garnet and Amethyst sandwiching her from either side. "Her name is Sheena," Pearl tells the three of them, fanning out her fingers (her name warrants some form of physical gesture). "She dyes her hair because she enjoys being able to choose how she looks. She's studying anthropology at an online university. She doesn't know much about auto repair, but she said 'that is sooo interesting' when I told her about my recommendation for optimized motorcycle suspension, and she would like me to come over and show her how to do it!"
"Oh, no," Amethyst groans. "Pearl. P. Listen. We need to go over sarcasm again."
"I'm fairly sure she wasn't being sarcastic. I have a perfectly adequate understanding of sarcasm, Amethyst."
"Nobody in the history of human language has ever said 'that is sooo interesting' sincerely, P."
"Well, she did. What do you think, Garnet?"
"She invited you over," Garnet points out calmly. "I think you're all right." She holds up a thumb. Pearl folds away her approval like a counterweight to keep her balanced in case of need.
"Eh, good point," Amethyst concedes, leaning her chin on her fist on Pearl's shoulder. "Go turn her bike into a spaceship or whatever. We're rooting for ya, P."
"Just don't break any more laws, please," Steven requests. "And, oh, ask her if she has any tips for darker hair? Did she bleach first?"
Garnet places one hand on Pearl's knee. Her gem is a hard outline against Pearl's skin. Pearl looks up at her. Garnet says, "You're going to have a good time."
Pearl has no choice but to believe her. She extracts her arms from between Garnet and Amethyst and gathers her entire family in one tight, excited hug.
.
Sheena has a house, which she shares with three other humans, and she has a room, which she doesn't share with anyone, and she has a garage, which is populated by two motorcycles, two bicycles and a skateboard. Naturally, Pearl immediately chooses the garage.
"I've brought my own tools," Pearl says, materializing her box out of her gem and twirling it on a finger. "But I see you have some, as well."
Sheena shrugs her hair over one shoulder. "I've never touched any of these in my life."
Pearl examines the rusty scissor jack, crosshead screwdriver and wire cutter. They look like they haven't been moved since the emergence of the first suburbs. "Mm. You can touch mine, if you want," she offers distractedly, holding out the toolbox.
Sheena snorts, and starts laughing, a deep, rolling, arrhythmic thing. Pearl smiles uncertainly at her. She isn't sure what prompted this, but she enjoys Sheena's laughter rather a lot.
Pearl drifts over to a solid metal bench, strewn with various instruments and bisected halfway through by a vertical steel slab.
"I see you've found my work station," Sheena calls over.
"What… do you do here?" Pearl can recognize three furnaces, and a pair of tongs, and a small blowtorch, but there aren't any hammers, bench vises, or raw metal.
"I blow glass," says Sheena, walking up behind her. "Want me to show you?"
Pearl immediately snaps up straight. "Yes," she says. (Was that too eager? Never mind; Sheena is smiling.)
Sheena picks up a long steel tube and dips her hand in a sack, emerging with a handful of glittering green powder. For a moment time appears to freeze as a wave of pure, overwhelming panic washes over Pearl. She leans on Sheena's workbench, trying to focus on the coolness and solidity of the metal. She's human, she reminds herself. This is glass, glass, glass.
"I use cullet, recycled glass," Sheena is saying through the ringing in Pearl's ears. "It's easier to melt, and, you know, cool and environmental."
Pearl tries to move her head in something hopefully approximating a nod.
"Hey, you okay?" Rose asks. Not that convincing a nod, then. "Pearl?"
Rose is frowning at her, in concern, or disapproval; sometimes Pearl can't remember the difference. (She's not Rose. She's human. She's human. It's just crushed glass.)
"Shit, I didn't mean to freak you out." The steel tube clangs as it's put down; the dust tinkles, as usual. "Let's stop. Wanna take a look at my bike?"
Pearl closes her eyes and lets go of the bench; she wobbles, and there's a hand at her elbow, steadying her and leading her away from the heat of the furnace. Pearl counts her breaths and takes Sheena's suggestion. She pictures her bike: clean, simple frame; obviously low capacity engine, probably a hundred cc at best; wonky twin-shock suspension. She'd need to examine the actual bike more closely to determine a clearer path to monoshock conversion, but she already has a few ideas. She goes over them in her mind until everything feels clearer.
She blinks; the garage is gloomy and cluttered and reassuringly mundane. Sheena isn't looking at her, isn't even nearby; she's over by the furnace, rolling and cutting and coaxing a glob of glowing hot glass into an indeterminate shape.
Pearl counts some more breaths, rubs at her face, pictures Garnet and Amethyst and Steven crowding into her space in the most pleasant way; picks herself up (she hadn't even noticed sitting down) and walks over to Sheena. She shoots her a glance; Pearl returns it with a hopefully not too terribly wobbly smirk. She's fine. And what Sheena is doing is beautiful.
She places the glob of glass back into another furnace, takes it out and rolls it over a thick stack of wet newspaper. She uses a large piece of bent metal to shape it, reheats it again, then back to the newspaper. Finally, she puts her lips to the end of the tube, blows shortly, and keeps rolling. The process repeats. Pearl watches, mesmerized. The repetition is calming.
Finally, Sheena gently detaches the strange, greenish orb from the tube, ineffectually wipes some sweat from her forehead, and turns to Pearl.
"You're incredible," Pearl tells her, a bit too unbalanced, still, to not be completely sincere.
Sheena smirks happily at her and places her creation in the annealer to cool. "All right. Your turn." She motions at her motorcycle with her head.
Pearl is more than happy to take her up on the invitation. She approaches the bike, runs her hands over its frame. It looks much as she'd expected, although up close it's obvious that Sheena is no clueless owner; the bike is very well maintained, if inefficiently designed.
"Well, we'd obviously need to remove this part – oh, we should change the tires, too, of course – and I don't have any parts with me, but if I could get into the engine I could implement some tweaks right away –"
Sheena kneels next to her, head tilted, hair spilling over her shoulder. "You're not touching my bike, to be clear," she says with a smile.
Pearl frowns. How disappointing. "Oh, all right," she sighs and sits up. "Let me just draw up some schematics for you then."
Pearl explains in detail the benefits of monoshock absorbers, illustrating the kind of modifications the exchange would necessitate, running the finger of her left hand over her sketch in demonstration while refining its details with the right. She has to pause and backtrack a few times, realizing in her excitement she's garbled the explanation, but glancing at Sheena reveals she remains attentive. When Pearl moves on to talk about engine optimization, however, Sheena interrupts.
"Mmhm." Sheena blinks at the sheet and lightly touches Pearl's hand. "Pearl, we've had enough learning for today, I feel. Let's get lunch."
"Uh – lunch. Yes. That is… certainly within my capabilities."
Sheena quirks an eyebrow at her. "You don't eat over on Betelgeuse V?"
"I wouldn't know, I've never been," Pearl replies distractedly, polishing some points on her sketch. "But my kind doesn't generally consume organic matter, no."
"Huh. Will watching me eat gross you out?" Sheena asks her.
Quite possibly. "Oh, no, absolutely not, no."
"Good. Consuming organic matter happens to be my kind's favorite pastime." She snatches Pearl's blueprints form her hands and climbs to her feet. "Come on, there's a diner two minutes from here."
Pearl stores away her toolbox and pen and follows Sheena to the garage door. She could always sketch something out when she gets back to the temple.
Outside the garage, the street is dark, and the street lights have already turned on. Had it really gotten this late?
"Okay," says Sheena, with a truly lovely chuckle. "Looks like lunch got upgraded to dinner."
She flips her hair over to the other side, exposing her neck and part of her shoulder. Pearl finds herself imagining leaning her forehead there, kissing the skin, feeling the tendons tense beneath her lips. She gives an involuntary shiver.
Sheena shoots her one of those sideway looks. (It doesn't impede the shivering, necessarily.) "Cold? Here." She unwraps the plaid flannel shirt from around her waist and throws it at Pearl.
Her conclusion is of course incorrect and Pearl is in fact incapable of feeling cold, but she pulls the shirt on anyway. (It smells like clean human sweat and lavender.)
Sheena looks strange without the flannel tied over her hips, but she smiles at Pearl, a nice, dangerous smile, and says, "I like my shirt on you."
Pearl likes it, too, but she finds she can't quite manage to say as much. "It could benefit from a wash," she says instead. "If you don't mind lending it to me, I'll clean it for you."
Sheena laughs, subdued and compelling. "Thanks," she says. "But I really want you to keep it."
"O-oh," says Pearl, picturing returning home with the shirt, wearing it in her room and while washing dishes and when she spends time with Steven and out on missions, perhaps. "Okay, then." (Maybe it doesn't need washing, after all.)
There's warmth hovering over Pearl's arm; Sheena's drifted closer. The back of her hand brushes Pearl's. Pearl looks resolutely ahead, holds her arm slightly apart from her body. For a moment, nothing happens, and then Pearl can feel fingertips at her wrist. Sheena strokes her palm once and intertwines their fingers.
Her hold is firm and sweet and reassuring, and Pearl bites her lip and can't bring herself to look.
The diner is loud and crowded and heavy with the smell of fried food, and it's exactly the sort of human establishment Pearl wouldn't enter voluntarily. But Sheena is still holding her hand and her shirt is draped over her, warm and plaid and reaching barely to mid forearm, and so it's perfectly fine.
Pearl orders orange juice, pulp free. Sheena orders strawberry milkshake, hamburger and onion rings. She stretches an arm over her head and leans back when they arrive, looking very happy and comfortable. Watching her eat is strangely soothing. Pearl sips her juice and tries to imagine enjoying it the way Sheena obviously enjoys her food. (Surprisingly enough, it isn't half bad.)
They eat (and sip) silently for a while; Sheena plays some low resolution girl band on her phone, and hands Pearl one earbud. They have to lean closer to each other to accommodate the length of the cord. When Pearl catches her eye, Sheena winks.
When her onion rings are gone and her burger is half eaten, Sheena turns off the music and asks, "So, Pearl, what do you like to do? Aside from learning too much about bike suspension despite not owning a bike."
"I did own a bike. One of the first, in fact," Pearl tells her. "But I prefer spacecraft design. I also enjoy household chores, ballet, sword fighting instruction, and spending time with my family."
"And saving the planet," Sheena supplies.
Pearl smiles proudly. "That, too," she agrees.
Sheena snorts and takes a happy bite from her burger. "We should go dancing sometime," she says, leaning forward on her elbows. "And even if you're not up for another date, I demand a ride in the spaceship I don't even doubt you own."
"Wh–" Pearl slams an open palm on the table. Her orange juice ripples. "Yes. Definitely. Yes." She's already mapping out the logistics; she'd need a proper space suit, and some extra human safety measures, and probably some food, but all that can be arranged easily enough.
Sheena grins at her and waves for the check.
If they plan it right and meet up early enough, they might even have time to leave the solar system and be back at a reasonable hour. She's learned her lesson from her failed attempt with Steven –
"Oh, right!" Pearl scolds herself for almost forgetting to ask. "My daughter, Steven, would like to know if you bleached your hair before dyeing it."
"Your daughter, huh?" Sheena appears to perk up at that. "Tell her I did, and I'd love to talk to her and give her some tips, if she'd like."
"You already have her phone number," Pearl points out.
Sheena smiles lazily and spreads her arms over the top of the booth's backrest. "I do," she agrees. "I just might use it. Stick close to her, will you?"
Pearl can feel her face warm; she looks away, takes another sip of her lukewarm orange juice and runs a finger over the smooth buttons of her borrowed shirt while Sheena thanks the waiter and covers the check. Pearl pulls a bill out of her gem at random and adds it to the tip.
A few feet away from the diner, Sheena stops her with a hand on her shoulder, turning to face her, suddenly very close. She chews her lip; her piercing clinks against her teeth. Pearl blinks, tries to force her eyes upward.
"Pearl." Sheena bites her lip again; Pearl gives up trying to direct her gaze elsewhere. "I had fun, and I like you, and I'd like to kiss you," Sheena says. "Thoughts?"
Thoughts? Pearl has none, she's pretty sure. None but the compelling constellation of Sheena's eyebrows and the patterns of her hair and the shape of her mouth and the texture her piercing must have (it would be smooth and cold and unyielding, most likely, a contrast to warm, pliable human lips). She nods, wordless and emphatic.
Sheena runs a steady palm from Pearl's hip to the small of her back, gently pulls her closer. Pearl stares at her eyelids (half closed). Sheena caresses up Pearl's neck to cup the back of her head, fingers lacing in her hair, and lightly rubs her jaw with a thumb.
Pearl places both hands at Sheena's waist, where her skin is bare and humming with life, the edge of her shirt tickling the side of Pearl's hand. Tilts her head up, closes her eyes. When Sheena kisses her lips, it's not a surprise. The piercing is smooth and cold and unyielding; her lips are warm and pliable and heady.
It's been a long time, but Pearl hadn't really missed it. (Now, she thinks she might.)
Sheena sucks on her lower lip before letting go; her piercing has warmed, and doesn't feel as pronounced pressing into Pearl's skin. Sheena nuzzles Pearl's neck, just beneath her jaw, and draws back. Pearl keeps her grip on her waist.
"Whoo," Sheena breathes, more an exhale than a word.
"I've never kissed a human before," Pearl mutters dazedly.
"I've never kissed an alien before," Sheena replies, smiling, with teeth. "I liked it."
"I'm going to purchase a phone," Pearl decides. She's accidentally staring at Sheena's mouth again.
Sheena snickers, touches Pearl's lips with the tips of two fingers, and leans back in.
(Pearl holds on to Sheena's waist, thinks about Garnet's thumbs up, and allows herself to be completely in this moment, and nowhere else, for now.)