He can hear Peggy - which is strange because Peggy's been gone for a very, very long time. Her lovely voice a constant companion of his boyhood had been silent since before he had turned 10.
She's washing dishes, wearing a bold dress for the ages and waggling her hips to a song on the radio he can just barely remember the lyrics to. Sometimes he's on the cool linoleum floor, his pudgy fingers tracing the diamonds carved into the floor and other times he's in her arms - her embrace an inferno like a sweltering summers' day. There are times when he can clearly hear her voice, warm and strong in his ear as his brain burns and other times she's left him all alone again and he's so lonely he wishes he would die.
He's released from her arms abruptly, the blurry darkness fading away until he can feel all of his limbs again and his eyes are burning from a light.
Immediately he knows he's not in the van, because the van's has never ever smelled this good and because he's actually warm. A kind warmth settles happily from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. When he tries to move, he can hear something jingle quietly and suddenly the blinding brightness has increased tenfold. He groaned hoarsely as he sat up, the strange fluffy material under him rising with him.
His eyes are dry and everything is fuzzy, but he knows for a fact that everything is extremely pink. He sat up further, hunching over his lap as he gasped for air. He's not wearing any pants, he's wearing the shirt he gave Rose and someone has painted his toenails…with…purple permanent marker?
He groaned heavily, rubbing his damp hands across his parched eyes then running them through his hair. He froze and brought his hands to his face, his hair smells like strawberries and as he continues running his fingers through it, he's discovering little neon bows and tiny braids.
"What the-?" He wheezed, noticing that his voice is nearly inaudible. Even when he tried to clear his throat, his voice refused to be strong. He slipped his legs off the bed, searching for the purple culprit of his hair and toes when a sudden pressure in his bladder demands his full attention. His toes brush the wispy carpet of clouds and he stood shakily. He can't see the door, but as he turns to look behind him he chuckles weakly at the antique dark pink toilet, sink, and claw-foot tub a few feet away from the bed.
He hobbles toward the toilet and begins to do his business, closing his eyes in relief. Why the heck did it feel like he hadn't gone to the bathroom in days? How long had he been in here? And why couldn't he remember anything - he remembered the bright lights of the drugstore and the toxic sweet syrup coating the back of his throat, curling coldly in the pit of his empty gut. He can remember Rose, her scent wafting over him and clearing the acidy stench of vomit dense in his nostrils. And…and Garnet! He can remember her too, her calm voice guiding him through swirling delusions as the van spins at a sickening speed.
"Greg?"
Greg jumped, accidently spraying the floor as Rose's voice is suddenly right behind him. Her warm hand presses into his shoulder and his face flushes three shades of red.
"Rose! Ah! Don'look! Don't look!" Greg shouts, trying to hide himself while his bladder relentlessly continue.
"It's okay Greg, I've seen male genitalia before." Rose said, continuing to peer over his shoulder. "Did we give you too much water? I was worried you might get dehydrated so we've been giving you ice chips, but maybe we…I gave you too much?"
"Rose, i-i-it's fine. Just please stop staring at my junk!" Greg groaned, his voice breaking pitifully.
"Okay, okay. My apologies, I'll just go sit on the bed and wait." Rose whispered. She glides over the floor with barely a whisper and the bed doesn't make any noise when she sits on it. But Greg knows she's still staring at him and he can't banish the warmth on his cheeks, fidgeting with the back of his shirt to make sure she can't see his butt.
When he finishes, he hurriedly pulls up his boxers, pausing suddenly when he looks closer at the underwear in question. These aren't his boxers.
"Rose, where did my boxers go? Where did my pants go? Where did any of my clothes go?" He asked, yelling wheezily as he washed his hands with the rosy smelling soap.
"Well, you kinda threw up on yourself. That medicine you took really messed with your stomach, so I had to get rid of your shirt. Then you were incredibly sweaty and it was chafing and you were crying - and you stopped when I just went and replaced all the clothing." Rose explained, summoning a fluffy towels from the air and handing it to him as he looked around.
"How long have I been here?" Greg asked, shuffling over to the bed, blushing even harder as Rose mentions him crying. "And where exactly is this? Is it one of those magical gem places where I'm not allowed? Is Pearl about to scold me?"
"Oh this? This is just my room." Rose shrugged nonchalantly, watching him nervously. "I brought you here. There was a storm and I-I couldn't just leave you out there. It's been two and a half days and that storm still hasn't broken."
Well that would make sense. This room is much too pink to be owned by anyone else and definitely too magical to be owned by a normal person.
"This…this-." Greg gesticulates the entirety of the seemingly endless space. "This is your room? In the temple?"
"Yes…" Rose stretches the word out like a piece of taffy, letting it linger in the air, stretched to its farthest reaches.
"So…the bed is yours? And so is all this?" Greg finds himself still standing and though he's uncomfortable with his pantlessness, he refuses to sit next to her. He knows if he does, she'll swallow him alive with showers of kisses and hugs, keening about taking care of him. He almost shudders at the thought.
"A-are you cold?" Shuddered. He visibly shuddered at the thought. He wants to smack his forehead.
"No, I'm good."
There's an awkward silence that neither of them know how to break. Greg wants to do something about it, but he's not wearing pants and Rose has just seen his manhood in its entirety. Rose too wanted to break the silence; she's an excellent conversationalist and has been in all her past relationships -but she's much too nervous to speak now.
"Perhaps, you should sit down?" Rose sounds uncomfortably small, she's fidgeting nervously. She's looking at Greg like he's a wild animal.
Greg wanted to, he really wanted to. He's shaking now, his bones feeling more like jelly than solid material. He falls onto the bed, sighing with relief as his muscles are finally relieved of their strain. He closed his eyes and snorted stuffily.
When she doesn't immediately pounce on top of him, he peeked open an eye. Rose had laid down but still teetered nervously on the edge of the bed. She fiddled with the quilted comforter, puckering her plump lip in a nearly irresistible pout. Even with his fever racing painfully in his temples, he can't help but want to make that terrible expression go away.
"Come here." Greg whispered. He tried sitting up but collapsed back down. "I-I'm cold."
Rose crawls over to him, laying down next to him but doing her best not to actively touch him. She draped an opaque sheet over him, her eyes still dark and latent with something heavy. She stared hard at him, her lip twisting into the prettiest grimace Greg has ever seen. She hesitantly placed on arm on his side, drawing circles along the flat plane of his abdomen.
"Rose-."
"Who's Peggy?" She blurted out, her hand suddenly hot and heavy on his belly. "I-Is she one of the humans you've ever loved?"
"Peggy?" Greg groaned, using her arm to sit up. "When did I-."
"When you were asleep. You started to call her name before your fever broke." Rose mumbled. She captured a lock of his thick hair and began undoing one of his tiny braids.
"Peggy. Peggy Universe." Greg coughed. "Is my mother. She didn't like me calling her mama, told me it felt scary. So I called her Peggy."
Rose sighed deeply, her sweet scented breath washing over his damps skin and eliciting a shiver. She pressed herself further against him and wrapped her arms around his middle, tucking his head under neck.
"You've never talked about your mother. Humans always love talking about their mothers. Good or bad." Rose began to comb his scalp with her nails. She couldn't hold back a grin with a weary moan rose from his chest.
"I-It's complicated. Talking about her isn't exactly something women – even banging alien women like to hear during a date." Greg hoarsely chuckled, nuzzling into Rose's soft skin. "I guess I said her name when I was dreaming. It was like when I was just a little boy; like she was holding me again. I could hear her voice and smell her old perfume. I hadn't realized how much I missed her."
They sat in silence for a moment, Rose doing her best to match the peaceful pace of Greg's breaths.
"D-do you want me to go?" Rose stuttered. "Y-you were very adamant earlier that you could take care of yourself. You were very upset and I-I don't want to-."
While Rose began to ramble nervously, avoiding his eyes as she did so, he couldn't help but smile. He had been pretty averse to being taken care of. He had been taking care of himself since Peggy had just up and left one fateful day when he was eight. His own father had believed that the make of a man meant you had to be tough all the time and never offered Greg the help he needed. Despite doing his best to live his life for himself – leaving his father, his old town behind and abandoning the dream his father had for his education, Greg guessed there were still little bits of his father still ingrained in him.
The last person he had willingly let take care of him had been Peggy and Greg couldn't even remember exactly how many years ago that had been. He loved Rose, more than he wanted to admit. He was frightened of solely depending on her, especially when he was in such an ugly state.
His father had never liked to care for him. Greg had been 'that' kid. The kid who came to school sick, stayed in the infirmary until the very end of the day. The nurse cursing Greg's father out on the phone, threatening to call the nearly nonexistent protective services that existed during the seventies, to: 'come and get his damn son'. Rose's sweet and caring nature was so radically foreign to Greg that he had reacted harshly against it.
A beautiful warm thrill ran through the front of his chest, making is heart flutter much too fast for his fever addled brain to handle. It was hard to make sense of the ramble Rose was still going on about, but with her pristine neck much too close to resist, he leaned in and began to kiss it.
"So I completely understand if y-…you…" Rose's breath hitched as Greg's boiling hot lips pressed into her skin. "G-Gr-Gre-oh-Greg!"
"You really want to take care of me?" Greg asked, nipping at her neck. "Even though I'm all gross and mean? Even though I threw up and cried like a baby? You would still do all that?"
"O-of course." Rose gasped, a pink flush brightening her cheeks and sitting up so that she could properly speak. "We…we're more than friends. You're something I've never had the chance to experience. You've given me a type of love I didn't know humans were capable of giving. You've opened my eyes, Greg. I always thought that I knew the extent of the awesomeness humanity was capable of, but then you came along."
Rose cupped Greg's flaming cheeks and began to kiss every inch of flushed skin with a gentle passion. Greg had to hold her arms to stay anchored to the bed. His very bones were singing and if Rose dared let go, he might fly off into the endless pink sky and burst into flames.
"You are the first human being I've ever let into my sanctuary." Rose whispered.
"The very first?" Greg trembled, his voice was winded as though he had just run a race. His hands began to shudder and his weak grip on Rose's arms began to loosen.
"And the very last. Of this I'm sure." Rose promised, pressing one final kiss to Greg's lips.
Greg gave a breathy, dazed giggle before all the heat under his skin scorched what was left of his strength and his eyes rolled back into his head. He fell against her chest still chuckling sleepily, mumbling under his breath: "I love you, Rose."
A/N: Finally finished this! It's been forever since I updated this and I finally managed to do it. I'm not sure if I captured the awkward like I wanted to. My headcanon for Greg's backstory is that he didn't have the best childhood. I mean in canon we haven't heard any mention of grandparents - just aunts and uncles who are presumed dead. Anyway I really just wanted them to kiss and for Greg to be embarrassed and his manhood undermined and junk. Nervous Rose is adorable Rose!
Sorry for making you wait so long. Thank you for the favorites, follows, and awesome reviews!