I adore this prompt. I don't even know how to fit all these scenes in but I'll try.
(The Diamonds take Steven in.)
Though she had helped him pack his duffel, Pearle was a sobbing mess by the time he stood at the door. Amie was only barely holding her back (lest she lunge forward and smother him with another bone-crushing hug and a round of kisses) as he took Blanca's hand.
Blanca had come personally to pick him up and take him to his new home in Highrise. Upon his queries she had insisted Yevtsye was stuck at home, dealing with all the legal papers she herself had found too boring to sort through.
From her post behind Pearle, Ganet smiled down at him reassuringly. "It is time you bond more completely with your grandparents. You will take care of Blue and Yellow, won't you?" She quirked an eyebrow mischievously.
Steven laughed, trying to hide the anxiety bubbling up inside him. "Of course! We're coming back to visit next weekend, aren't we, Blanca?"
Her sapphire gaze was soft when she glanced down. "Of course. We wouldn't dream of keeping you away too long."
"We love you, Steven!" Pearle wailed over Amie's head. "I'll miss you!"
"I'll miss you all too!" He surged in for one final group hug, feeling three sets of arms wrap around him. And then another hand on his shoulder. He looked up at Blanca.
"It's time we go. Come on. Yellow will be thrilled to see you."
Steven stole down the corridor, taking care to stay away from the floorboards near the walls — those that creaked. He had never been particularly afraid of the dark, but tonight, it seemed, was an exception.
He could see an faint, warm light flickering from behind the open door ahead. Something creaked behind him along the hall and, hair standing on end, he slipped through and into the safety of his grandparents' room.
Yevtsye was frowning at him from her bed, newspaper in her hands. Beside her, Blanca smiled sleepily from her prone position.
"It looks like you were right."
"Of course I was." Yevtsye shook her head. "I could hear his footsteps from a mile away."
The sharp crashing sound of thunder echoed through the house and Steven yelped, sprinting the last steps to the bed and diving in.
When he resurfaced, Yevtsye had returned her attention to her newspaper, disapproval etched into her features.
"Is this what you young people do nowadays? Make a habit of barging into people's bedrooms?" she quipped. "We could have been busy."
Blanca held the sheets up and Steven climbed under them. "Doing what?"
"Reading the newspaper!" she said indignantly, rolling it up.
Blanca chuckled and was promptly rewarded with a smack from said newspaper.
"Honestly," Yevtsye sighed, turning to set her reading glasses on the dresser. "Who encourages such behaviour? Those housewives, I suppose."
Steven felt struck. "My . . . My family?"
Yevtsye laughed scornfully. "And what a fine job they've done of raising my grandson. It's a miracle you're unscathed for the dangers they put you in."
"They wouldn't if they had a choice! It's their job to protect Beach City!"
"Yes, well, in Highrise you won't find such . . . frequent abnormalities. You're perfectly safe here."
He sat up. "I was perfectly safe with 'those housewives' too! My Mom trusted them to look after me!"
Yevtsye sighed again. "A fatal mistake, as it turned out."
Steven felt something snap inside him. "It's not their fault Mom died. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine." He looked down at his hands. "Pearle, Ganet and Amie have always been there for me. It's my first night staying here and . . . my family can't even be respected. I . . . I should just go back to them. Then you wouldn't have to—" his eyes hardened. "—Put up with me."
He made a move to get up, Yevtsye shocked into silence.
As he stood, though, two warm arms wrapped around him and pulled him back down. "Pi— Steven. We love you. Please, stay."
He gazed at Yevtsye from Blanca's arms. Do you?
Yevtsye couldn't meet his eyes. She shifted uncomfortably, eyes flicking around the room.
"Steven?"
He turned back to face Blanca, gazing up at him with sad blue eyes. She gave him a soft smile. "Why have you come here? Did you have a bad dream?"
He gave a soft sniffle and nodded. With the same cautious smile, Blanca took his hand in hers. "It wasn't about snakes? Pearle told me they frighten you."
"It was . . . it was really weird. I was walking through a room full of gemstones floating in bubbles. But the thing was . . . in the dream, I knew they were part of people. Pearle was there — her gemstone was round and white — and Ganet, and Amie. . . and they were all trapped. There was a pink one, too. . . and I knew that was Mom. I was trying to get her out, but there was a sound behind me, and I turned around and. . ." He pulled his knees to his chest. "Actually, that part doesn't matter."
Blanca only gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "Can you tell us?"
"It . . . might hurt you."
"It will be okay, Steven."
"Well. . . I turned around and you and. . . Y. . . Yev—" he sighed. "And Yellow were standing there in the doorway." Since he had learned it, he had always had great difficulty pronouncing Yevtsye's name, so he had reverted to using the nickname Blanca had pinned her with. "You both looked different . . . You had blue skin. . ." he stroked the dark hand enclosing his. "And Yellow had yellow skin. You both looked really mad and — I knew you had trapped everyone. I felt . . . so alone."
At this point, Yevtsye looked extremely uncomfortable. Her face was pinched, her lips pursed, and she only stared straight ahead. Blanca sighed, a low, sad sound.
"That does sound like a disturbing dream."
She looked across at Yevtsye for input, but was only met with silence. She gave another small sigh before settling down under the sheets.
"Don't mind Yellow. She'll be up reading for a while." She patted the pillow, inviting Steven to join her. "Let us get some sleep."
The next morning Steven awoke to an empty bed. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he rolled over and checked the digital clock on Yevtsye's dresser. 7:35am.
Groaning, he dragged himself up to sit against the headboard. He'd never known people who got up so early. Well. . . Actually, that was a lie. Sadie took her job very seriously and always arrived on seven at the Big Donut. Ronaldo had told him he liked to get up to catch the sunrise . . . and any other abnormal things that may be skulking about. . .
. . . Whatever. Getting up this early was unspeakable. But, unfortunately, Steven knew from experience that once he woke up in the morning the chances of his getting back to sleep were minimal — better to get up now and make the most of the day.
By the time he made it downstairs Blanca was sitting at the kitchen island, sipping white coffee, and Yevtsye was rifling through the cupboards. Upon fishing out what looked like to be a milk box, she turned back to the island and noticed Steven. With that she whipped back around and threw open the cupboard.
"What do you usually have for breakfast? Blanca and I went shopping yesterday for things you may eat. Do you like Smileos? Or Health Hoops?"
"Uh. . . I don't have 'a breakfast'. I just eat whatever's in the fridge."
"Then why don't you try some Health Hoops? Have you had them before?"
Blanca patted the stool beside her, and Steven followed her invitation, seating himself up at the island. "No, but I can try them."
"Wonderful." Her voice was strangely flat on that word, he thought, but he was promptly shaken out of his reverie as the box was set loudly in front of him. He looked up to see Yevtsye's back as she packed the dishwasher.
Once Steven had finished his own breakfast and cleared the countertop, he was guided over to the ring of couches by the television and subjected to a lecture by Yevtsye on house rules, curfew, and monthly "bank deposits" — whatever that meant. She ended the (one-sided) conversation by turning the said television on.
"The television is currently using the Webflix network. You can, of course, access any other channel you like, but Blanca told me that you can conveniently watch shows and movies at any time on this program. I heard around that all the good mothe—" She checked herself and hurriedly handed him the remote. ". . . Uh, here. I hope this will be sufficient for now."
And with that, she strode past the ring of couches and towards the front door.
Steven, suddenly noticing something on her hand, jumped up and rushed after her.
"Is that a ring?" He tried a grab for her hand, but she lifted it out of his reach. "Are you and Blanca married?"
She only sighed, as if she were being bothered by a small child. "Steven, I'm in a hurry. I have to be going." She turned, fumbling with her keys as she made her way to the door.
Steven let his shoulders slump, before feeling a warm hand on one.
He looked up to see Blanca smiling down at him. The light from the windows only further highlighted the shadows under her eyes, he noticed. He realised that even when she was smiling and seemingly content, her eyes always looked sad.
"We are married. Would you like to see my ring?"
He gasped. "Yes, please!"
She crouched down and held her hand out to him, which he grabbed and studied excitedly. Fitted snugly around her fourth finger was a simple silver band. When he looked closer, he could see something engraved in elegant font.
"'Love'?"
Blanca laughed. "Our rings match — Yevtsye's is golden, and hers reads 'true'." She tilted her hand so the light caught something sparkly on the ring — a small white gem set after the inscription. "And this is a misty diamond. See how it's white, instead of translucent? Yellow has one too, so when we hold our rings together, the diamonds frame 'true love'."
It was hard to tell which was sparkling more — the diamond or Steven's eyes. "That's so beautiful. . ." His head jerked up. "Do you wear them all the time?"
"Always."
Steven smiled delightedly — then a saddening thought crossed his mind. "Does . . . Is Yellow . . . affectionate to you?"
"Oh, Steven." Blanca leant forward, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. "It takes time for her to warm up to people. Don't worry, she's lovely once you get to know her. I love her."
She pulled back and stood, adjusting her ring. "I work from home. If you need me, you can find me in the study." She turned and walked to another door across the room, opening it and stepping inside before turning to smile again at him. "I love you."
His heart warmed delightfully. "I love you too!"
A soft knock on the door, and Steven cracked open an eye.
9:30pm, his Cookie Cat clock read.
"Uh . . . come in?"
The door was pushed open, sending a beam of bright light across his pillow, and he squinted.
". . . Yellow?"
Yevtsye stopped mid-step, seeing his face in the artificial light. "Oh, I apologise. I should let you get some sleep—"
"No, no." Steven rubbed his eyes and sat up, pulling the duvet over his knees as he brought them to his chest. "What's up?"
She blinked at him. "What's . . . up?"
"Uh, I mean. . ." He tried again. "Why are you here?"
"Oh." Her cheeks coloured a little, and suddenly she looked unsure of herself. "Well—" she cleared her throat. "Blanca told me that I should come read to you."
"Oh!" his face split into a grin. "And what have you got to read to me?"
"Ahem. Well. . ." she examined the cover in the light from the hall. "It's called 'Larry Plotter'. Some tale about a boy who goes to a witches' school, Blanca told me."
Steven sat up. "Oh! Connie's told me about that series!"
"So — you would like for me to read it to you, then?"
"Yes please!" Steven shifted over in bed, patting the space beside him, and after turning on the light Yevtsye made her way over and awkwardly settled beside him, opening to the first pages.
"'Larry writhed in the bedsheets, yet to be free from the nightmares that plagued. . .'"
She pronounced it "r-ih-th-d".
"Uh, excuse me?"
Her eyes flicked over to him. "Yes?"
"I'm pretty sure it's 'r-eye-th-d'."
"Ah— yes, of course it is. I'm— I'm rather fatigued."
They managed to squeeze in two chapters before Yevtsye happened to glance at the time-telling Cookie Cat. 10:42pm. She snapped the book shut startlingly quick.
"Oh, I apologise. It's very much past your bedtime. We shall continue tomorrow night."
She stood and strode rather hurriedly to the doorway.
As Steven settled down again, pulling the bedsheets over himself, he called out to her. "Yellow!"
She stopped and turned back. "Yes?"
"I love you," he smiled from his bed.
"I . . . love you too. Goodnight."
And with that, the light was switched off, and she disappeared from view.
The next morning, Steven sat talking to Blanca over the kitchen island.
He was halfway through his recount of 'Larry Plotter' thus far when Blanca interrupted him.
"Goodness, you seem rather enraptured by this book! Excuse me for saying this, but you don't seem much the reading type."
"Oh— Yellow read it to me last night."
He eyebrows raised a little. "Yevtsye read to you?"
"Yeah . . . you told her to, remember?"
Blanca only smiled.
"I said no such thing."
Steven opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted (again!) by the sound of the door opening. Yevtsye strode in, looking a little disoriented. She caught the two staring and her expression immediately hardened.
"I apologise. I believe I forgot my keys."
After rummaging for a moment through the bowl by the door, she stopped and looked at Blanca.
". . . Do you think we could discuss something?" she glanced at Steven. "In private?"
Blanca set her mug down and stood, ruffling Steven's hair a little before she moved away and up the stairs. "Of course. I'll meet you in our bedroom."
Yevtsye shortly followed, leaving Steven on his own downstairs. After a little he began to get bored and, finding no other way to occupy himself, he decided he'd like to check up with Connie — and then the rest of his family down in Beach City.
He stood and wandered up the stairs, tiptoeing past his grandparents' room on the way to his room, but stopped outside as he caught the snippets of a conversation.
". . . really don't think we trapped her," came Blanca's voice.
"But do you think if we — I — wouldn't have been so . . . Did we drive her to run away? Disguise herself?" There was Yevtsye.
Steven stepped cautiously closer, pressing his ear to the crack in the door.
"You're overthinking this, Yellow."
"I don't think you understand the extent of what she did, Blue! She prompted civil war, faked her death, ran away, had a child . . . and died in the process. And she . . . she left him in the care of three . . . three. . .!"
He heard the rustle of clothing from inside, which he took to be Blanca moving to embrace her.
"It was just a dream, Yellow. It's alright."
He leaned closer still and tossed himself off-balance, falling into the door and sending it flying open. He stumbled and caught himself before he hit the floor, slowly raising his eyes to the couple, face flushed.
Blanca stood stock still beside Yevtsye, who looked like she was about to explode. Steven flinched, expecting an outburst, before she strode forward and captured his wrist in a firm grip.
"Come, Steven. I have yet to do tonight's shopping. Maybe you can assist me."
"I'll have three fillets of ocean perch, thank you."
The last stop was the fishmonger's. Yevtsye had told Steven that it was simply her turn to choose the dinner tonight, and upon being prodded, she had given no further information.
The woman at the counter selected the ordered fish and wrapped it, dropping the parcels onto the scale and recording the price.
"Twenty-one fifty, thank you." As she held her hand out for the payment, she smiled sweetly.
"What's the occasion?"
"No occasion." Yevtsye ignored the hand, instead opting to lean over the counter and tap her credit card. "My wife insisted I choose something I like for tonight."
The hand was retracted rather hurriedly. "Your wife."
"Do you have a problem with that?" came the snappish reply.
The woman only coughed, dropped the fish on the counter, and shot her a sideways glance, something like disgust evident in her expression. "No change. Goodbye."
Yevtsye's eyes narrowed. "Oh, I apologise. I didn't realise that in today's progressive society, there were still dim people who held archaic beliefs. I expect you to realise you have just lost one of your regular customers. You'll have to explain that to your manager, I'm afraid. I can only hope you will treat all future customers with respect, lest you lose your well-paid job. I trust you will have a good afternoon, madam." And with that, she snatched the parcels, turned on her heel, and walked out, leaving the dumbfounded cashier gaping. Steven hurried out after her.
"What . . . What happened back there? Why did you—"
"I have no respect at all for people who talk drivel, Steven."
"But what about—? What about your groceries—"
"There is a butcher in the city."
"That's twenty miles away!" he cried in disbelief.
"So be it. I needn't trouble myself with self-proclaimed smart-minded cashiers who believe I should live my life differently."
"But— I still don't understand. What—"
Yevtsye stopped in the middle of the street and sighed. "There are some people that believe same-sex relationships are wrong, or unnatural. Many of them indulge in imbecilic discrimination. That woman was evidently one of them."
"What?" Steven shook his head. "But that's—! How is something like that wrong?"
"It isn't. And I have neither the patience nor the time to waste on the people that think otherwise."
PROMPT: "Request: could you do a human au in which Yellow and Blue Diamond get full custody of Steven since he's technically the remaining piece of Pink they have left?" — for JudgeDreddSA on Archive of our Own! Hope you enjoyed! :)
P.S. Steven is a good boy and goes to bed early.
P.P.S. He's such an innocent boy he's never experienced discrimination before :')
