Homewrecker- Amethyst/Vidalia:
On most mornings during the week, Amethyst finds herself inside Vidalia's house. It'll be way too early for the sun to be up, darkness a curtain over the town, crickets chirping louder than her thoughts, yet it's late enough that Fishtail is out of the way, already out on the open seas or whatever.
So that's always a plus. That, and the refrigerator full of food, and the bigger-than-Steven's television on the wall, and usually, she just sits on the couch in the darkness of the room, eating chocolate covered potato chips and watching late nineties cartoons.
"What are you doing here?"
That is, until Vidalia finally stumbles downstairs with that impressive mass of bed head, and that voice hoarse from sleep, and that sleepy, playful grin and that spaghetti strap hanging off a bare shoulder . . .
Mmm...
Amethyst pauses from her raid on the refrigerator, innocently batting her eyelashes. "That's a trick question right? You specifically leave me the key under the mat, though I don't use it." Without a second thought, she shoves a whole cantaloupe topped with hibiscus scented dish washing liquid into her mouth. It feels bubbly down in her stomach. "Anyway, you're up early."
Which is true. Normally, Vidalia doesn't get up until, at the very least, ten thirty AM, which is about when Amethyst is usually conked out on the couch, drooling unabashedly all over the cushions, only waking when Vidalia begins making breakfast, because that's like the best meal of the day, seriously.
It's like four AM though.
Vidalia's still rubbing at her eyes, and when she stretches, standing on her toes, Amethyst can't stop staring at the exposed sliver of taut stomach.
"Eh," the blonde replies lazily, meandering past for a ceramic bowl, "Couldn't sleep. Got hungry. You know how it goes."
Amethyst knows exactly how it goes, which is why she feels so at home around the blonde.
"Plus," Vidalia snorts, dumping some kind of fruity cereal into her bowl, "I couldn't feel Yellowtail's hands up my shirt anymore, so it was kinda cold with out that."
"You could've called me up for that," Amethyst points out with feigned nonchalance, picking old popcorn shells out of her molars. "Ain't nothing to make you hot and bothered more than my fire whip on the lowest temp."
Vidalia reaches for the milk jug. "Didn't know you were here." She bites her lip to hold back a coy smile. "Otherwise, you know I'm always down for that."
Amethyst blushes, but she makes sure her hair veils it all, as she shuts the fridge with her hip. "Oh, I do know, Ms. Kink. You need to go shopping, by the way."
"Yeah, no thanks to you," the blonde grumbles, lobbing a purple fruit loop at her head. She catches it between her teeth and swallows it. "Fucking bottomless pit."
"That's my name, don't wear it out, babe."
Amethyst exits into the living room, and Vidalia follows with her cereal bowl, sitting down on the couch before her. Amethyst all but leaps sideways into her lap, and Vidalia doesn't even jostle, because Amethyst is actually way lighter than she looks— bodies made of light and all that jazz.
Even so, when Amethyst turns her head to smack a wet one on Vidalia's cheek, her spoon hand shakes milk all over her shirt.
With a suggestive wriggle of her eyebrows, the Crystal Gem puts out,"I won't mind if you wanna take that off and never put another one back on."
"But my sons are upstairs," Vidalia gasps in a false, scandalized tone, yet her fingers are already at the hem of her shirt.
"What, Sour Cream and Onion?" Amethyst makes a lewd gesture with her tongue. "Y'know, SC probably gets off on us doing the do into the night."
The blonde bursts into little snorts and guffaws that Amethyst finds unbearably her, and she knows that laugh, has heard it so many times in their younger days, and each time, she knows she's home.
"What the fuck, that's disgusting!" Vidalia stops for a moment with a devilish expression, and Amethyst loves every inch of it. "But not exactly implausible. I mean, there was this one time when me and Yellowtail were getting it on, and suddenly, Onion was just standing here—"
Amethyst interrupts with a loud, exaggerated groan throwing herself back across her lover's lap. "Ew, I didn't need the image of you getting ravished by an old man, thanks."
Really. She almost can't even meet Vidalia's eyes after that, but (that's more so because of her outburst) she does, accidentally for no more than a second, and the blonde is giving her that look, that subtle look of warning that says I don't want to start this now.
"Well, I'm an old lady."
Amethyst turns on her side, facing the TV as she mutters under her breath, "You're not that old," when what really wants out of her mouth is, You're my old lady.
There's a tense silence that comes next, hanging over the room even as the television continues to speak quietly.
And then Vidalia's hand is caressing her cheek, warm and consoling, and she freezes because she knows this a touch that comes with words. Before the blonde can ask her if she's truly alright with this arrangement— because she is, she has to be, if she doesn't have this, she won't have anything— Amethyst asks her instead with an uncharacteristic meekness, "It's not, like, hard to be juggling us like this, or anything, is it?"
It's probably a bad sign that Vidalia heaves a heavy sigh in response, having to readjust herself in her seat, and by extension, Amethyst in her lap.
She feels her stomach plummet with dread. "I mean, I know even Rose couldn't handle it," she says anxiously, just to get the topic far away from herself.
Vidalia doesn't move her hand. Amethyst keeps talking. "Because, y'know, she used to go between Greg and Pearl. She really loved them both." Into Vidalia's lap, she adds, "Kinda like us . . ."
"And, y'know, they were okay with it to an extent, but then, she couldn't—" Amethyst shuts her mouth. This isn't the direction she was looking to go. She just wishes she hasn't said anything at all. "Like, it was hard for her, so she . . ." There's a sudden lump in her throat. "She, um, she hung onto Greg, and let Pearl go."
A finger twirls lightly around one lock of her hair as Vidalia murmurs in the firmest tone of the night, "I'm not going to let you go unless that's what you want, Amethyst."
"I don't want that," Amethyst breathes much too desperately, fingers digging into the satin fabric of pajama bottoms. "I just want—"
What we had, because Vidalia has always been something more to her. She never forces her to be more than she is like the Crystal Gems do, and she doesn't abhor her crude jokes, and she knows what's in her heart down to the very last insecurity.
Vidalia can have all of her, but that can't be returned.
"I miss when you were only mine."
Another silence. Something squeezes in Amethyst's chest, and burns in her eyes, but then Vidalia is lifting her, back to chest, then chest to chest, and eventually lips to lips.
It's always nice to kiss Vidalia. She knows all her pleasures, where to tongue, to graze, to nip. She knows how rough Amethyst likes it, but when to be gentle when she needs it.
Even so, fingers knot in the Gem's bleached hair as her own touch, and trail, and sweep along each curve of a warm, exposed torso, and her lover does this amazing trick with her tongue until she moans (and Amethyst remembers, ages ago, where Vidalia showed her how she ties cherry stems with it.)
She remembers.
And then Vidalia tears away from her suddenly, chest heaving and gasping for air, body flushed red, lips already swollen, and Amethyst has always loved that- I can kiss you breathless like no fisherman can- and she's smiling, happy, hopeful that Vidalia misses this too.
She has to. They fit together, after all.
But when she finally looks up, Vidalia's eyes are apologetic, guilty before they refuse to meet hers entirely. "That can't happen now . . ."
A/N: I didn't mean for the angst to happen... Sooorry~