#song lyrics are from Speed Racer by Her’s. it’s one of the songs I associate the most to jackerita

[griffinsmith]

Let me let me let me let me let me let me let me love you tonight 'Cause I'm a real speed racer so I gotta get to know you alright

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 1K~

Summary: In another world, he doesn’t have his mother’s sword or shield to hide behind when Bismuth lands her strike. The bubble pops.

Steven falls apart.

Chapter summary: In which all Greg wants is some damn sleep.

First | Last chapter

While I’m cross posting all of these to tumblr, I’d love to have your support over on AO3 too! Plus, it’s easier to subscribe there. A win-win, I’d say. Enjoy a breather chapter.

Chapter 3: Restless

Perhaps it’s mostly due to the fact that his son is mixed species and frequently galavants on magical and oft dangerous adventures with the three alien guardians who have over time become just as much of a family to the boy as he is, but whether he blames it on the fourteen plus years of anxiety progressively gnawing away at him or his chronically poor sleep habits, it’s as clear as the ache in his spine that Greg Universe is far from being the poster child of a good night’s rest.

He’s spent the last hour or so drifting in and out of awareness. Sometimes what rouses him is the subtle ticks of a rickety car driving past on the road outside, a sound his wandering mind has long associated with the dollar signs of potential business. (Not that he’s actually dependent on the car wash to support himself and Steven anymore, but hey, old habits die hard.) In other cases it’s simply... the ocean. He’s never been much of a fan of white noise, and even though he’s lived by the shore for a solid two decades now, the rushing ebb and flow has a nasty knack of keeping him awake. Maybe he should just bite the bullet and splurge for earplugs again. Overwhelmingly though, the main reason sleep tends to be such a stranger to him is because his brain simply refuses to shut up. Snippets of awkward social interactions from the day, worries about the faint stress hidden within his son’s smiles, song lyric rejects, the grocery list he forgot to write before retiring to the cozy, well-worn mattress set up on the van’s floor— just when he thinks he’s reached the end of things to obsess over and can finally slip into the blissful embrace of REM, something else claws out of the very mud of the Earth to bully him awake once more. It’s a vicious cycle.

Greg rolls on his side, and kicks the edge of his downy comforter until it fully covers his cold toes. The nightly temperature is beginning to drop, steadily paving the way for the height of the fall season. It’s not too bad so far, but soon enough the coastal winds will pick up. Delmarva nights get cold this time of year. Steven is warm enough in his bed, isn’t he? He’s got plenty of extra blankets if he needs them? And does he still need to pay the heating bill for this month or did he already—

He chuckles to himself, realizing all the proof he needs of that lays in his meticulously kept checkbook ledger safely tucked away in the glovebox. As always, he’s fussing over nothing. Oh, the woes of parenthood. But his fatherly worries aside, there’s no denying Steven’s genuinely happy living with the Gems. Despite the occasional adrenaline pumping encounter, with Pearl, Garnet, and Amethyst’s constant protection there’s really no safer place he could be.

A faint smile lifts his cheeks as his turbulent mind settles and he begins to doze off again.

Just as he’s about to cross that final canyon into unconsciousness, something raps against the door from outside. He promptly rolls over and groans into his pillow.

“I swear if this is another one of those gulls,” he mutters, out loud but more to himself than anything.

“Greg! Yo G-man, get your butt out here!”

He purses his lips. Nope. No such luck. Looks like it’s gonna be Gem business tonight. He shifts to sit up, rolling his shoulders back with an audible pop and brushing his long hair out of his face before finally shuffling across the van’s floor to crack open the back door.

He peers blankly at the short purple Gem standing ready to knock rapid-fire outside, his body filled with such exhaustion that his eye bags probably have luggage of their own.

“Amethyst,” he begins slowly. “It’s long past midnight, and right now the only thing I give a single damn about is how cozy my mattress is, so unless the world’s literally ending again I’m—“

“Steven’s hurt,” she says rapidly, and it’s only then he’s awake enough to notice the panic jittering through her stout frame.

His heart stutters.

“Wait, what?”

At first he swears he’s going senile prematurely. Surely none of this is happening, surely this is no more but a worryingly realistic nightmare, but no. No. Everything is too real. The way the cold salt air tousles through his beard, the faint scent of fish wafting from the docks... In the end it’s the glossiness of her eyes that convinces him. He’d never make dream Amethyst cry, because she rarely does.

Her explanation spills forth in a breathless rush.

“Steven, his gem got cracked, and none of us get how but he’s like, somehow split apart, and- and everyone’s at Rose’s fountain and you gotta come with me right now!”

She’s tugging at his arm by the end, and he has no time to slip on sandals or even lock the door before she yanks him out of the van and under the mask of night. He’s already breathing heavy by the time they near the boardwalk.

“Hurry!” she urges, the moonlight shimmering off the quartz gem embedded in her chest.

“But what even happened?” he asks, voice high with hysteria, huffing to keep up with her pace. “How did he—“

“I already said, I don’t know! None of us do.”

“What do you mean you don’t—“

“Hey, it’s not our fault! She wouldn’t tell us everything,” Amethyst snaps.

“She?”

They race past Fish Stew Pizza. Greg’s stomach gurgles on automatic, (did he really forget to eat dinner again?), but he pays it no attention. Not now, not when his son is hurt, not when he needs him, not when he—

“This new Gem who popped up out of nowhere today! Bismuth. She’s apparently like one of Garnet and Pearl’s old Crystal Gem buddies, and I thought she was pretty okay for a bit, but then Steven just up and disappears, and when he comes back he’s with her and he’s split apart, and one of them is cracked, a—“

“Wait, wait, wait- hold on, you keeping saying that, that he’s split apart?”

She nods in confirmation. Greg can practically feel the age weighing on his body as his bare feet leave the boardwalk and scurry through the sand. His pace doubles, the mere thought of his son injured and (dying??) in pain thrumming in his mind like a rocker’s drumbeat.

“W-what does that even- is there blood, is he still breathing??” he cries, yanking at his hair.

Realization dawns on her face in a wide mouthed ‘o’ when met with his near-meltdown. “Oh. OH, no I didn’t mean like, ‘cut in half’ split apart, I mean that he’s literally fallen apart! There’s squishy organic Steven, and then there’s this creepy pink Steven that’s entirely projected by his gem!”

“His gem fell out of his body!?”

“Dude,” she says, motioning sharply towards the cliffside, “we ain’t got no time to discuss the nitty gritty of this, we gotta hurry!”

With that, she pushes steadily ahead of him, leaving him in the dust- er, sand.

“No time to- Amethyst,” he shouts after her, “for all I‘m aware my son could be dying ‘cause of that, I need to know!!”

Amethyst doesn’t listen, though. Her gemstone glows bright purple, and then she disappears completely into a sphere of white light that rips across the shore at the speed of a stock-car racer. Or faster, maybe— he genuinely doesn’t know. He swears he could hear a mini sonic boom.

“Wait! WAIT!” he yells, throwing his hand in the air as he pushes himself even faster. A sharp pull in his calves causes him to slow to a stop. He doubles over, heaving for breath as he rests his hands on his knees. “I’m not a young man anymore!“

A distant, disembodied voice shoots his way from somewhere on the other side of the cliff. “Just run faster, you’re only like, 40 or somethin’.”

“I can’t!” he says, his voice practically cracking. “That’s the problem!”

Notes:

A bit of a short breather chapter, here- for both you and me.

I imagine Amethyst was holding back her panic last chapter, because she didn't want to further upset Steven. It's only now- apart from him- that she allows herself to finally break down a little.

Greg is so, so fun to write. I think it should worry me that I relate so much to this poor anxiety man.