Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It's Leah Rorchester's first time delivering the mail for the Beach City post office. Not the normal mail, no. She's delivered the normal mail hundreds of times already.

That mail.

The Little Homeworld mail. The Gem mail.

Not everyone could march into Little Homeworld for just anything. People could go if they had some kind of business there, or were part of the classes, but otherwise there was a hard rule- the Gem towns are not tourist attractions. Do not loiter there, do not make a spectacle of it.

Sending in the mail is as good a reason as any.

The Gems don't have that much human-sent mail on a day-to-day basis, so Barb usually stores it all nice in her office, even delivers it herself. But today her knee was acting up- so she'd quietly handed Leah the keys to her office, showed her where the moped with the real big trailer was, and headed off with the local snail mail.

Leaving Leah to deliver mail for actual aliens.

The packaging and whatnot didn't look too out of the ordinary, really- it was all addressed to the Beach City post office, with some really bizarre PO box numbers.

There was also a weird amount of live plants? Who knows what's up with that. Not really her place to question, she guesses.

She loads the boxes up in the cart, ready to head out to the trailer, and she stops.

Huh.

There's a random old envelope on Barb's desk. She must have forgotten to take it with her.

Leah puts it into her bag before she goes.

=<>=

In retrospect, she probably wasn't supposed to follow the Gems into the office while they loaded up the mail. But she kind of couldn't resist.

The Gem post office looked like an honest-to-God beehive. 

Gems flitting around like tiny fairies to put small slips into little cubicles. Bigger packages literally flick in and out of existence on warp pads.

"Um..." she scoots towards a child-sized Gem that mechanically rotates boxes in suspension, occasionally directing others to cut open some of them. "...why are you guys taking apart the mail? That's just a bunch of plants."

"This sect of postage has been addressed to Asteria Diamond," the Gem calmly intones past the hair falling in front of her face. "It is inspected for security reasons."

"I just delivered Asteria Diamond's mail," Leah whispers.

"It was bound to happen eventually," the small Gem concedes cryptically.

"So cool." Something shuffles in her bag. "Ah! I forgot about the other mail."

"Don't worry," the Gem easily soothes, "you'll deliver it in time."

"Thanks, I guess?" Leah runs out the door. "Bye! It was nice to meet you!"

Clutching her bag, she types the address into her phone map.

.....

The human rushes out the door, leaving the sound of silence and fluttered paper behind her.

Pink Sapphire hums to herself.

"Maybe I should have warned her." After a brief thought, she shakes her head. "No. Perhaps not. It was bound to happen eventually."

Chapter Text

Lars doesn't visit his parents very often. Not as much as he probably should. He tries to make the most of it when he does.

He plays at being the good son he never quite was in life.

He brings groceries from the bonemarket. He picks up donuts (with not a Pink Lars in sight) and he makes whatever bread they could want.

He'll quietly clean things up and out during late hours. (It's not like he needs to sleep, anyway.)

And since he's up earlier than anyone else, he may as well pick up the mail.

It's not like his parents get any important mail. It's like, junk most of the time, really, just junk and

BEACH COUNTY RECORDS OFFICE

TO THE PARENTS OF

LARAMIE BARRIGA, DEC .̵̣̺̐͝ SE-̷̬̤̿͌

Parents of.

...That can't be anything good. What the hell would the county office want with his-

"Oh! La-" His father pauses, catching himself. "-Lars. Anything good in the mail?"

"Nothing, 'tay." Lars' dead eye twitches behind his glasses, his hand spasming with the old muscle memory of a thousand stolen report cards as he stuffs the envelope into his jacket. "It's all junk, that's all."

"Alright. Your mother and I were about to head out to the Asian market next town over to catch the last of the Valentine's sale. Do you want anything?"

"No." God, fucking jaw. He could stand to sound less drunk, goddammit. "Just get whatever you guys want."

"Maybe..." His dad's gaze brightens with a little bravado. "...maybe you'd like to go out with us? I know it's been a while since you've really gone out to town."

"It's fine." There's a crooked sway in his walk as he heads back inside. "I don't wanna make you guys look weird."

"You know we only worry about you. It feels like you've been getting lonely, being away from other... human people for so long."

"I was gonna visit Steven later, get my laundry done." He smile crooks just half a step out of sync. "That's human enough for me any day." Hell, half the time he feels more human than I do, 'tay.

Half the time he feels more real than I do. The only thing that's real when nothing else is. When I'm not

"Besides," his voice catches past the fangs flexing on the right side of his mouth, "I can't exactly run Gem fabrics through the human laundry, y'know?"

"If you're sure. Will you be having dinner with us?"

"You know how Steven is," he hears himself say. "He'll probably make a whole sleepover out of it and send me back tomorrow with enough food to feed an army."

And that's all you need to know, 'tay. That's all it has to be.

"You guys have fun, okay? Get something nice. You don't have to worry about me." I'm already dead.

"We always worry," his dad tiredly smiles. "You're our son. We love you."

And wearily, but not quite hesitantly, his dad hugs him. The way he did when Lars was young. Young and different- a different person from a different time, a child easily burying a too-large face into a father's sweaters.

He stifles an old urge to fall into a hug just a little too small for the frame it wraps around.

"I know." A stolen envelope burns inside his jacket. "I know." I love you, too.

Chapter Text

It may have been a surprise to some, but it wasn't just the shit attitude that kept Lars from having friends. He was kind of shitty at talking to people, just in general.

Work is different. When it's work, everyone already knows what everyone's going to be talking about.

There's no buddy-buddy social expectations, when it's work. It's not weird to have to think about what to say, when it's work. It's okay to have a nervous energy, when it's work.

Not-work is different.

It's hard to talk to people.

It's easy to talk to Steven.

It's just always been... easy. Maybe it was because Steven was never going to look at him funny for saying something weird, maybe it was because he was already so fucking bizarre that at this point it would be hard to really put him off.

"Take off your clothes."

Or maybe it's because Steven's the one weirding Lars out most of the time.

"And it's not even lunch time," he dares to joke. "At least buy me dinner first."

Steven blinks, like a confused cat, trying and failing to catch what dinner had anything to do with clothes. "Your jacket," he continues on regardless, "is also laundry."

"There you go." Lars shrugs off his jacket as if there was never anything easier. "Try not to fall off the laundry hand this time."

"I will neither confirm or deny such a thing ever happened," Vendan softly cuts through Steven's song. "Who told you about that, anyway?" Sten smiles with a tilted head.

"Connie." Who else?

"Glad to know my failures make you guys get along so well," Steven flatly snarks.

"What else are we gonna talk about while you're not looking? Taxes?"

"Oh, I don't know," Steven hums all too casually while he organizes the laundry into the basket, "I know that Emerald is a very interesting topic of yours."

"Oh, don't you fucking start," Lars hisses without any bite. (No, there isn't a blush on his face. What are you, a cop?) "Also, what the fuck are you doing to the laundry?"

"Just making sure nothing's inside out and that it won't tangle in the-"

White claws catch along Lars' jacket.

"Hey, Stars?" Steven starts to root through the jacket. "I think you forgot to clear out your pockets, there's a thing of mail in your..."

He pauses over a faded envelope. It's already been torn open.

"...laundry."

"Oh shit, really?" Lars turns back from the sandwiches in the kitchen. "I could have sworn I didn't put anything in there-" He stops short, not quite getting closer. "Steven?"

Diamonds, slit down to crosshairs, flicking back and forth on crooked papers.

"Fuck, I forgot about that." He nudges on Steven's arm. "That's from my parents' mail. You don't need to read that, it's probably junk anyway-"

And the blank stone mask of Steven's face shudders as he falls back into the wall, basket hanging loosely in his hand.

"Steven-"

/command run diagnostics all programs

DISHARMONY FOUND.

PROGRAM ENCOUNTERED CORRUPTED OR UNSUAL DATA INCOMPATIBLE WITH CURRENT MEMORY DATA.

DATA AUTOMATICALLY QUARANTINED TO PREVENT FURTHER DAMAGE.

/tune all programs

TUNING...

DISHARMONY RESOLVED.

UNKNOWN DATA REMAINING.

/view

PROCESSING...

PROCESSING...

PROCESSING...

Chapter Text

STATE OF MARYLAND - CERTIFICATE OF DEATH

DEPARTMENT OF HEALTH - DIVISION OF VITAL RECORDS - BEACH CITY

REGISTRATION AREA NUMBER

  ████████████  

CERTIFICATE NUMBER

  ████████████  

STATE FILE NUMBER

  ████████████  

DECEDENT

1. FULL NAME OF DECEDENT

 Laramie Althea Barriga 

2. SEX

[  ] MALE    [X] FEMALE    [  ] UNDETERMINED

3. DATE OF DEATH

 10/03/2004 

[  ] ACTUAL            [X] PRESUMED

[  ] APPROXIMATE   [  ] FOUND ON

4. DATE OF BIRTH

  04/04/1987  

5. AGE

  17  

6. WAS DECENDENT EVER IN U.S. ARMED FORCES?

[  ] YES   [X] NO  [  ] UNKNOWN

7. BIRTHPLACE

  Maryland  

8. SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER

  ████████████  

IF NO SSN, CHECK APPROPRIATE BOX

[  ] NONE  [  ]NOT OBTAINABLE  [  ] UNKNOWN

USUAL RESIDENCE OF DECEDENT

9. STREET ADDRESS (INCLUDE HOUSE AND/OR APT. # OR ROUTE NO.)

  9 Waterman St.  

10. CITY OR TOWN OF RESIDENCE

  Beach City  

INSIDE CITY OR TOWN LIMITS?

[X] YES  [  ] NO

11. COUNTY OF DECEDENT'S RESIDENCE (if independent city, leave blank)

  Beach County  

12. U.S. STATE (OR FOREIGN COUNTRY) OF DECEDENT'S RESIDENCE

  Maryland  

12a. ZIP CODE

  ███████  

PERSONAL DATA OF DECEDENT

13. RACE OF DECEDENT (CHECK ONE OR MORE)

[  ] WHITE                    [  ] BLACK OR AFRICAN AMERICAN

[  ] ASIAN INDIAN        [  ] CHINESE 

[  ] NATIVE HAWAIIAN  [  ] GUAMANIAN OR CHAMORRO

[X] FILIPINO    [  ] KOREAN

[  ] SAMOAN   [  ] VIETNAMESE

[  ] JAPANESE  [  ] UNKNOWN

[  ] AMERICAN INDIAN OR ALASKAN NATIVE (SPECIFY)                                

[  ] OTHER PACIFIC ISLANDER (SPECIFY)                                           

[  ] OTHER ASIAN (SPECIFY)                                                  

[  ] OTHER (SPECIFY)                                                         

14. DECEDENT OF HISPANIC ORIGIN?

[X] NON-HISPANIC  [  ] CENTRAL OR SOUTH AMERICAN  [  ] CUBAN

[  ] MEXICAN           [  ] PUERTO RICAN                            [  ] OTHER (SPECIFY)                   

15. EDUCATION (HIGHEST GRADE COMPLETED)

[  ] ELEMENTARY/SECONDARY (0-12)   11            [  ] HIGH SCHOOL DIPLOMA

[  ] ASSOCIATE DEGREE  [  ] BACHELOR'S DEGREE  [  ] MASTER'S DEGREE

[  ] GED  [  ] YEARS OF COLLEGE            [  ] DOCTORATE/PROFESSIONAL DEGREE

[  ] UNKNOWN

16. CITIZEN OF WHAT COUNTRY

  United States of America  

17. USUAL OR LAST OCCUPATION

  Baker/Cashier  

18. KIND OF BUSINESS OR INDUSTRY

  Service Industry  

19. MARITAL STATUS

[X] NEVER MARRIED  [  ] MARRIED  [  ] WIDOWED  [  ] DIVORCED  [  ] SEPARATED

[  ] UNKNOWN

20. IF MARRIED, SEPARATED OR WIDOWED, NAME OF SPOUSE (if divorced leave blank)

21. NAME OF DECEDENT'S FATHER (FIRST, MIDDLE, LAST, SUFFIX)

  Dante Barriga  

22. MOTHER'S FULL MAIDEN NAME (FIRST, MIDDLE, LAST)

  Martha Del Rosario  

INFORMANT'S DETAILS

23. INFORMANT'S RELATIONSHIP OR SOURCE OF INFORMATION

  Mother  

24. FULL NAME OF INFORMANT OR NAME OF SOURCE

  Martha Barriga  

PLACE OF DEATH

25. NAME OF HOSPITAL OR INSTITUTION OF DEATH (if none, so state)

  None  

26. SPECIFY IF DEATH OCCURED SOMEWHERE OTHER THAN A HOSPITAL

[  ] HOSPICE FACILITY   [  ] NURSING HOME  [  ] LONG TERM CARE FACILITY

[  ] DECEDENT'S HOME [  ] CORRECTIONAL FACILITY 

[  ] OTHER (SPECIFY)   N/A  

27. CITY OR TOWN OF DEATH

  N/A                                   

28. STREET ADDRESS OR RT. NO OF PLACE OF DEATH

  N/A                                                                        

28a. ZIP CODE

  N/A               

28b. COUNTY OF DEATH (if independent city, leave blank)

  N/A                                         

ONLY THE FOLLOWING MAY LEGALLY FILE A DEATH CERTIFICATE

LICENSED FUNERAL DIRECTOR/LICENSEE

MARYLAND STATE ANATOMICAL PROGRAM

NEXT OF KIN

29. METHOD OF DISPOSITION

[  ] BURIAL  [  ]ENTOMBMENT/MAUSOLEUM  [  ] CREMATION/INCINERATION

[  ] BURIAL AT SEA  [  ] DONATION

[  ] OTHER (SPECIFY)   N/A  

[  ] REMOVAL FROM STATE (IF KNOWN, PLEASE ALSO CHECK FINAL METHOD OF DISPOSITION WHEN REMOVING FROM STATE, FROM OPTIONS SHOWN)

30. PLACE OF DISPOSITION- NAME OF CEMETERY OR CREMATORY

31. PLACE OF DISPOSITION- STREET ADDRESS OF CEMETERY OR CREMATORY

32. SIGNATURE OF FUNERAL DIRECTOR/LICENSEE, VSAP, OR NEXT OF KIN (ACTUAL SIGNATURE)

33. NAME OF FUNERAL DIRECTOR/LICENSEE, VSAP, OR NEXT OF KIN (TYPE OR PRINT)

  Dante Barriga  

CAUSE OF DEATH

TO PHYSICIAN:

Complete and sign medical certification (item 35-40a) and return both copies to funeral director as soon as possible after determination of cause.

NOTE: If "Pending" must be indicated, so state in PART I and notify registrar of final decision as soon as possible

34. TIME OF DEATH: To the best of my knowledge, death occurred at-   N/A   []AM []PM

[  ] ACTUAL  [  ] APPROXIMATE  [X] PRESUMED  [  ] FOUND ON

35. PART I. Enter the diseases, injuries, or complication that caused the death. Do not enter the mode of dying, such as cardiac or respiratory arrest, shock, or heart failure.

IMMEDIATE CAUSE (Final disease or condition resulting in death)

   (A)  Undetermined  

DUE TO (OR AS A CONSEQUENCE OF ):

Sequentially list conditions, if any, leading to immediate cause. Enter UNDERLYING CAUSE (Disease or injury that initiated events resulting in death) LAST                    

  (B)                                               

DUE TO (OR AS A CONSEQUENCE OF ):

  (C)                                                

DUE TO (OR AS A CONSEQUENCE OF ):

  (D)                                                 

PART II. Other significant conditions contributing to death but not resulting in the underlying cause given in Part I.

  Undetermined  

36. WAS THE MEDICAL EXAMINER CONTACTED?

[  ] YES  [X] NO

36a. AUTOPSY?

[  ] YES  [X] NO

36b. WERE FINDINGS AVAILABLE TO COMPLETE CAUSE OF DEATH?

[  ] YES  [X]  NO

37. DID TOBACCO USE CONTRIBUTE TO DEATH?

[  ] YES  [  ] NO  [  ] POSSIBLY  [X] UNKNOWN

38. IF FEMALE:

[  ] PREGANT AT TIME OF DEATH

[  ] NOT PREGNANT WITHIN PAST YEAR

[X] UNKNOWN IF PREGANT WITHIN THE PAST YEAR

[  ] NOT PREGNANT, BUT PREGNANT WITHIN 43 DAYS TO 1 YEAR BEFORE DEATH

[  ] NOT PREGNANT, BUT PREGNANT WITHIN 42 DAYS OF DEATH

[  ] NOT APPLICABLE (if decedent's age is 0-5 or 75+ years)

39. IF EXTERNAL, TO WHAT EXTENT IT CONTRIBUTED TO CAUSE OF DEATH?

[X] PRIMARY  [  ] CONTRIBUTING

40. WAS THIS A MILITARY DEATH?

[  ] YES  [X] NO

40a. IF MILITARY DEATH, SELECT MANNER OF DEATH

[  ] NATURAL [  ] ACCIDENT [  ] SUICIDE [  ] HOMICIDE [  ] UNDETERMINED [  ] PENDING

INJURY INFORMATION

To be filled out only for MILITARY DEATHS

█████ ████ ██████ ██ ███ ███████ █████ ████ ██████ ██ ███ ████████████ ████ ██████ ██ ███ ███████ █████ ████ ██████ ██ ███ ███████ █████ ████ ██████ ██ ███ ████████████ ████ ██████ ██ ███ ████████████ ████ ██████ ██ ███ █████ ████ ██████ ██ ███ ███████████████████ ████ ██████ ██ ███ ███████

MEDICAL CERTIFICATION

48. SIGNATURE OF PERSON COMPLETING THE CAUSE OF DEATH

  ██████████ ████  

48a. TITLE

[  ] MEDICAL DOCTOR       [  ] PHYSICIAN ASSISTANT

[  ] NURSE PRACTITIONER  [  ] DOCTOR OF OSTEOPATHY (D.O)

[X] OTHER   Beach County Police Department  

48b. DATE SIGNED:

  11/10/2011  

49. NAME OF PERSON PROVIDING THE MEDICAL CERTIFICATION OF DEATH (Type or Print)

  ██████████ ████  

49a. ADDRESS OF PERSON PROVIDING THE MEDICAL CERTIFICATION OF DEATH (Type or Print)

  ████ ███████████ ███ █████ █████ ██ █████  

49b. MEDICAL LICENSE NO.

  ████████  

50. ARE YOU A DESIGNEE?

[  ] YES  [X] NO

51. IF YES, PLEASE PROVIDE THE NAME OF AUTHORIZING OR ABSENT PHYSICIAN

51a. ADDRESS OF AUTHORIZING PHYSICIAN

REGISTRAR

52. SIGNATURE OF REGISTRAR

██████ ████████

52a. PRINTED NAME OF REGISTRAR

██████ ████████

52b. DATE RECORD FILED:

  11/11/2011  

53. RESERVED FOR REGISTRAR'S USE

  █████████████  

Chapter Text

Dead.

Dead.

Dead, dead dead dead dead-

-orbital fractures and broken sockets and raw nerves and snapped necks, dead dead-

-dead dead dead DEAD i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm so so sorry,

"Steven?"

=<>=

Lars' own voice came out softer than he would have liked, but it's enough.

"Oh." It's been a long, long while since any part of Steven has sounded so brittle. "Oh, Stars."

He leans forward, and Lars is almost thinking about how not to break in the process of catching him, but Steven doesn't fall, he just... sinks down into Lars' shoulder. "You're here," pitches a strangled trill. You're real, sings the unspoken ghost behind it. You're alive.

Lars' one living eye watches his own death papers shake like a leaf in someone else's hands.

"Don't hold onto that thing, you're gonna hurt yourself. Let's just..." Lars takes the paper out of Steven's hand. "...let's just sit down, okay?"

The creeping stressed tilt of the purr in Steven's song isn't quite an answer, but it's not a resistance, falling into the couch in a familiar sort of way.

"Hey." Lars hadn't realized his voice could get soft like that without a metric ton of depression hanging over his head, but the future is now, he guesses. "You okay?" Don't say okay that fucking much, you'll wear yourself out. Shut up, not now.

"I- I n-eed-"

Large arms haltingly snake around him, pulling him a little closer. The thought is never finished.

And Lars is holding his death in his hands.

Decedent, Laramie Althea Barriga, female, 17.

At literally any other time, maybe the weight of Steven right against his body and purring on his neck would be distracting, but there's a pitched noise in that song, more grounding than anything else.

It just feels real.

(And the paper in his hands, barely scuffed by claws? That's real, too.)

I died.

...That... that really happened.

I died.

And maybe this time he's the one digging his twiggy arms into Steven like a snake, and if the halves of his face shudder just a little out of sync, neither of them are going to call it out.

Good fucking god, Lars realizes all over again, I was seventeen.

The odd noise suddenly flying out from an unsteady ring of song reads like a grim laugh.

"What're you laughing about?" Lars grumbles.

"I can't- I can't help but think about everything they got wrong. " The next loop of giggles rings like tears. "How messed up is that?"

Laramie Althea Barriga, deceased. 

Some morbid hysteria in the back of Lars' head says, Haha, yeah she's dead alright.

"Fuck," he wheezes, "now you've got me doing it, too."

"There's a red pen," Steven's song skips, "somewhere in my gem, and I was half thinking I should have corrected the mistakes- like a s-school teacher."

"That is-" Lars wishes the laughter in his voice would sound a little less drunk, and that his eyes felt a little less like tears. "-that's so fucked up."

I was seventeen.

...There's no talk. No grand tender reassurance.

Just two broken idiots collapsing into a hysterical laughter, suddenly violently reminded that they're war veterans, and isn't that the most hilarious, most fucked up joke they've had all week.

Laughter collapsing into tired tight holds and tired, tired tears- until the vague synchronized noise escaping the jagged cages of their chests reads like a sob.

I died and I was seventeen. 

He is here, he is real- real as the song in his ears, as the weight settled around him, as the colors on the edge of his eyes that maybe he'll never understand.

He is real and he is here and he is alive.

And two human hearts grieve at 16 beats per minute.

Chapter Text

"Yo Barb, got a quick question for ya," Lars says, eyebrows raising as he whips out the certificate. "What the honest to god fuck? "

"Lars, please." Steven softly grabs at Lars' arm for a moment. "Don't be rude."

"Sorry, sorry." Lars adjusts his glasses. "Seriously, though. What the fuck was this doing in my parents' mail?"

"Hmm?" Barb squints at the faded envelope. "Oh Jesus," she mutters, "who sent that?" She turns further back into the office. "LEAH! Did you take the mail from my office?"

A twiggy, large haired lady pokes out from behind a wall. "Was I not supposed to?" she half-squeaks.

"Oh, so you did! " Barb frowns caustically. "What'dya do that for?"

"I thought I was supposed to!" Leah anxiously flaps her hands. "You told me to take the mail from the office-"

"-the Gem mail, Leah-"

"-I really thought you left it by accident from your rounds the other day!"

"Ya know what?" Barb drags a hand over her worn face. "Whatever. My fault for not telling you about it. Just... get back to work and don't listen in on any of this, alright? Private business."

All too happy to not be in trouble, Leah quickly makes herself scarce.

"She's new," Barb exposits. "Had to replace Jaime after somebody," she pointedly glances at Steven, "yoinked him to spend his days for alien opera."

"The Little Diamond Theatre is very proud of its director," Steven smiles tranquilly.

"Anyway! That." Barb turns the torn envelope over in her hands. "Came to us like what- a year ago?"

"My death papers were sitting in your office for a year and you never sent it?" Lars near shouts.

"Lars, listen-" Barb pinches her brow. "You- you don't know what it was like after you were gone. Out-of-town police were crawling for weeks all over the place, and- people started getting weird back at the high school." She hesitates. "I don't... know, if you had any, like, friends back there-"

"It'd be news to me," Lars hisses.

"-but you know how kids can get," Barb gently goes on. "Rumors, y'know?"

Lars' dead eye twitches with a delayed crooked frown. "You don't gotta sugarcoat it for me, Barb, we're fucking adults here."

"You were a depressed trans kid with shit grades and no friends. It wasn't hard for 'missing' to get replaced with 'suicide'."

Steven's face betrays nothing in particular, but Lars feels a brief current of shock run against his mind. "Jesus," Lars mutters. "It got that bad?"

"Your entire year convinced themselves you were a tragic suicide," Barb soberly reveals. "People were setting up memorials at your school, and... someone got ahold of your parents' address."

Fuck.

"People started sending condolences." Barb slumps. "Very poetic and tragic condolences. I- couldn't let your parents see that. Dante basically told me to turn it all into confetti."

"So you never sent them," Lars finishes. "But that doesn't explain why you didn't send this."

"There's still stragglers after all this time, and... some of them aren't as kind as they think they are." Barb's fist digs at the support bandage on her knee. "I honestly thought it was another sick prank."

"Yeah, well." The paper crinkles under the dull claws on Lars' fingers. "This thing had my social security number on it, so clearly it wasn't a prank. How the fuck did I get signed legally dead without knowing about it?"

"It had to have been the state, but people have to order copies of death certificates. Either someone ordered it sent to the house or your parents did, but I can't imagine why."

=<>=

Steven nudges a Big Donut coffee against Lars' face with a soft trill and a softer smile. "Hey."

Lars scoffs. "You know that shit doesn't work on me anymore," he bites, taking the coffee from his (boyfriend? girlfriend? partner? who even fucking knows?)'s hands.

"I know. But you still drink it anyway." 

Lars hums and pretends the caffeine does literally anything to his long-dead body. "How's the donuts?"

Steven takes a bite of a Pink Lars donut. "You'd think they'd be strawberry flavored, but it's actually marshmallow." He waves his half-eaten pastry towards Lars, and at this point Lars doesn't even think twice before just biting into it.

"Huh. That is pretty weird," Lars mutters past a full mouth. "Not bad, though."

His death burns a hole in the pocket of his leather jacket.

"So," Steven softly asks, "what do you wanna do?"

Lars leans back until he's half laid down on the curb, only propped up by his elbows. And maybe it is awkward-looking as all hell, but he's nearly nine years past awkward at this point anyway. Who gives a fuck, really. "Shouldn't you be telling me to civilly put my foot down and resolve the tensions with my parents or some shit?"

"I'm not your therapist," Steven smiles wryly, "and you're not one of my countless cosmic kids, Lieutenant. That's not my call."

"Oh?" His head tilts just a little more loosely than human. "You aren't gonna tell me how this is gonna interfere with my work efficiency if I don't sort it all out?"

"Will it?"

"It hasn't yet," Lars admits. "And I honestly don't see that changing anytime soon."

"We can just drop it, if you want," Steven gently offers. "You don't have to decide how you feel about all this right now. If you don't want to push it, I won't make you."

And the stupid part is that he probably even means it. Because Steven is good and he would understand and he would still look at Lars like he was all the stars in the sky and it wouldn't matter if Lars felt like he never deserved it.

(And even if he doesn't. Even if he doesn't deserve it, Lars wouldn't dare ask for it to stop.)

"No. I-" Uneven fangs stagger and flex on the dead half of Lars' face. "-I need to deal with this. Before it gets too big, y'know?"

"Okay." Steven leans off to the side. "Tell me how it goes."

"You're coming, too."

The high slanted line of Steven's mouth pulls his eyes to a squint. "I- I don't know if that's my-"

"You were there." His fist lightly knocks at Steven's chest. "You were there. It's your fucking business too, you have every right to know."

"I-" A split second conversation flashes in diamond eyes before the tense leaves Steven's body. "-Okay." His claws flex as his hands lock together. "Okay."

"God. Look at us. Doing uncomfy shit like we're adults or something."

"You're literally 25."

Lars boxes at Steven's shoulder. "Like you can talk, Mr. Universe Man. Remind me how far that rock of yours carbon dates, what was it? Year negative a billion?"

"Excuse you, my Lieutenant," Steven leans forward, "I am 22 at heart."

"Okay, boomer."

Steven doesn't really get the joke, but he laughs anyway. 

The sun is setting.

Lars takes off his glasses, folds them right on his shirt, and watches the colors.

Chapter Text

Steven Universe is an odd child. Small, borderline cherubic. Large dark eyes and a mouth perpetually half-curved to smile. Unnaturally soft hands. Fingers curling with the beginnings of blunted claws. A voice like chiptunes, like xylophones, like a small string quartet.

And just the other day, he'd watched their son die.

Dante had dared to ask how it had happened, and something in that smile froze like a mask.

And the boy's voice sang.

It sang with wreckage, it sang with war, it sang with death.

Clinical, mechanical. An automated machine carrying out its order.

Methodical. Medical.

He'd gotten to the popped eye socket before Martha had asked him to stop, the song stuttering to a halt.

The hollow distress on his face shifts to... something else.

But he's fine, a sing-song voice had chirped, ringing something wrong just outside their understanding. I fixed it, I...

...I...

...I'm sorry.

"I'm sorry," a small voice cries. "I didn't mean to. Everyone keeps getting hurt, and there's nothing I can do about it, and I-" Steven's voice collapses into quiet sobs. "-I don't know how you can even look at me..."

"Oh, honey." Martha gently holds his hand. "You did the best you could. We're not mad at you."

"We're just glad our son is okay," Dante reassures. "We're glad you're okay, too. And... it's nice to know Lars had a friend."

"Come back anytime, okay?"

=<>=

One of the things they learn about Steven is that he's rather awful at being a guest.

Which isn't to say that he's being rude- far from it. It's just he tends to act like a host wherever he goes. He'll try to pour coffee, he'll try to set the table, he'll try to do chores, and it's an uphill battle trying to get him to understand that he's not meant to work when he's a visitor.

But he's not exactly a human, he's more than that. He is a machine in need of purpose, and to an extent work is relaxing. So they compromise.

They stop short of letting him clean the house, or wash dishes, or cook, but he can set the table. He can pour the drinks. He can bring things from his garden, from his Gem markets, he can quietly kiss their minor pains away, he can get rid of the creak on the stairs.

It seems to make him happy. And it is not a burden, to take his kindness.

And then Lars had left again, and Steven had, too, but he'd come back sooner- taller and broader and richer of song.

And maybe it is strange, that this stranger to their home visits more often then their own son, but it doesn't strike wrong in any particular way.

Lars seems... less tense around him. He keeps in touch when he can't bring himself to reach anyone else, and lately he's even been visiting more often, with Steven there.

He's a nice young man.

It's nice that Lars has a friend like him, that's all.

Chapter Text

Steven had said not to turn it into a fight. And he'd tried. Really, he did.

It had all been so normal at first.

Steven brought groceries with him, because apparently that's a thing he does when he visits people, and he sat down with Lars' parents and just talked. About the most mundane shit.

(Y'know, like some kind of visiting son.)

And Lars is just there, on the couch, the entire time. He is strangling his death certificate in his jacket pocket and trying not to scream what in the god damn fuck have you done?

Because he doesn't want to turn this into a fight- not now, not in front of Steven. Just...

...what the hell is going on?

He doesn't even know what they're talking about anymore. It floats like a nonsensical salad in his head, a waving distortion, rising.

Rising, rising, and when he just silently flattens out the paper on the table, he has nothing to say for himself, not a god damn thing.

He has nothing but his death laid out in his hands, death to swallow his voice, and death in his eyes. (Dead, dead, dead.)

"Oh my god," his mother whispers. "Lars, where on earth did you get that?"

"Your mailbox," he tries not to spit accusingly. "Yesterday morning." Stay level, stay level. "I didn't realize you were expecting any mail."

His father pushes up his glasses. "Good lord. So this thing was filed last year."

"So it was you," Lars mutters under his breath. "That clears that up."

"Now, son, we're not upset-"

"That's some fucking news."

"-but why did you steal our mail?" Dante tilts his head. "This isn't like you."

Oh that's what you think, 'tay. "Because it's fucking bizarre for the parents of a 25 year old to get a fat fucking letter addressed parents of."

"We just want to know why-"

"I want to know why the US government thinks I'm DEAD! "

A hand tightens on his arm. Stars, please.

Martha sighs.

"Two days after you... disappeared, we reported you as missing. We didn't know about alien abductions, not until Steven... came back." She puts a hand against her face. "And it's not like the police were going to take that for an answer. We probably would have been arrested for trying to call of the search!"

"Everyone in town saw me come back," Lars slowly points out.

"And you aren't Laramie Barriga," Dante tiredly explains.

I'm not...

"I'm your son," Lars' voice wavers. "I'm your son."

"Not by any medical or legal test, and not in the eyes of the law. So you... stayed missing. And the police decided that you died."

"We didn't want to bring it up, we didn't want to throw that whole incident back in your face." Martha looks away. "So we didn't. We half forgot about it, and then..." She briefly flicks her eyes to Steven- Steven, who's stayed so silent this whole time. "Lars, do we have to do this in front of him? This is private business, we shouldn't drag this out on-."

"It's my life. It's my death. It's my fucking business." If there's a growing glow in his eyes, in his hair, he doesn't fucking care anymore. "I'll drag it in front of whoever I damn well please, 'nay."

Dante is the one who finally picked it back up. "We tried to forget about it. We did forget about it, until our insurance called... asking when we were going to collect on your policy."

You... "...You didn't. No, no fucking way, you didn't-" A bitter laugh chokes him out. "Oh my god. You fucking did, didn't you? "

"We didn't have a choice, Lars."

"Yes, you did," something echoes in the growl of his voice. "Yes, you fucking did, you always had a choice, you could have fucking chosen not to cash in my death."

People can do that? Sten's song brushes shocked against his mind.

Standard insurance shit, Lars' thoughts mechanically whisper back. Helps pay for funerals and leftover medical crap.

Song of stars, Vendan breathes. I can't even imagine...

"Lars, please, we weren't going to be able to get by."

"I gave you every spare dollar I had until the day I died, you haven't had to spend a damn direct cent on me since I was 14-"

"They were going to take the house, Lars."

"...What?"

"You know things have been... harder, ever since your father lost his old job. We were doing fine when you were here- when you had your job, when you qualified us for stamps and help. But after you died, things started to add up. We tried, we really did, but between taking care of your father's medical costs, and the cat-"

"-I could have taken her if it was that hard on you guys!"

"She was all we had left of you until you came back. We couldn't bear to give her to someone else. We- we didn't want to touch that money, but it was the only option we had."

"I could have helped you," Steven finally says, sounding just a little hurt.

"This was a human problem, sweetie," Martha says, not unkindly. "And you were helping. All those groceries and little house repairs helped keep us afloat."

Steven sighs, leaning back into his seat with a worn expression. "Is it better off now, at least?"

"I hate to say it, but that money saved us."

Okay.

"...Okay. Okay." Lars leans down with his head in his hands. "I hate it. I get it. I hate it but I get it. I'm not... I'm not mad you guys looked out for yourselves. Hala, maybe I would have had the idea myself if I knew."

A shuddering sigh.

"You could have told me. You should have told me. That was my life and you just..."

Tang ina, you cashed me out like a check.

He kind of wants to cry. Maybe he already is, just on the inside. Or maybe he'll just do it later, at some ungodly hour when he's curled like an ornery spider, preferably with too many stolen drops of ambrosia.

Just not right now.

And with that last lovely thought he stands, walks around the table, and takes both his parents into his arms.

"Don't you dare," his voice shakes from a place they cannot see. "Don't you dare do that to me again. You need help, you tell me."

"You don't have to do that," his father murmurs.

"But I want to. I know I- I know I'm away alot, and I'm kind of a bitch, but- I love you. I do. So... don't leave me out of stuff like this, okay?"

A long sigh. "Okay. Never again."

Never again.

Chapter Text

Lars has a growing appreciation for traded goods.

He watches the things that pass through the Gem markets, and he is not the slightest disappointed in what he finds.

And maybe (maybe) there's a borderline draconic shine in his eyes as he quietly nudges more alien plants and spices into circulation, but it's not like anyone can prove it. He's a cook and a baker first and foremost, no one can blame him for wanting more materials to work with.

He knows a little less about clothes than he probably should in the business. Mostly because compared to The Grand Cosmic Spice Trade™, it doesn't quite catch his interest the same way. But he still knows his shit. He's got an eye for value.

Gems are a real bitch about fabrics.

No, really. It kind of surprised him, at first. But it's just part of their philosophy- clothes are person, and a person must present their most perfect selves to the universe. Whatever the flaws of the old Eras, they had some mad self respect across the board.

High standards, high quality fabrics- the stuff is almost as soft as the Gems themselves.

And that's how Steven wakes up from his impromptu desk nap, because Lars has accidentally found his hands wandering Steven's vest. "What'r'you doing?" he sleepily murmurs.

"Looking for hidden pockets," Lars jokes.

"While sitting in my lap?" breathes a short note of song.

Your vest looks soft and I want to know its secrets. "How else am I going to steal your car keys while you're not looking?" Steven's answered laugh stutters when Lars goes near the collar of his tie. "You okay?"

"I-" His song skips with an odd click. "-I can feel that, y'know."

"Wait, you can?"

Fuck, I forgot Gems can feel with their clothes. 

...Lars suddenly flashes back to every single time he's casually grabbed Steven's tie. "Shit, I wasn't hurting you, was I?"

"No, it just feels... weird, kind of. You just surprised me a little, that's all."

"Huh." He gently puts his hand back on the vest. "Is this okay?"

"Hmm."

Time to have a miniature stroke over that indecipherable note.

With that eloquent response, Lars' wandering starts up a little more gentle than it was before. Steven leans back to how he was.

And then the hands shift elsewhere. Grazing along hems, tracing the subtle seams nearly invisible to human eyes.

Lars almost laughs. "Are you purring right now?"

"It's nice," Steven hums past the purr rattling his chest.

"Seams I'll have to take your word for it." 

A brief snicker. "You don't have t-t-t--t-t-tt-t-" His song breaks down to clicking gasps.

Lars' hand slides a little farther up under Steven's shirt. "What was that?"

"Y-y-you're up to something," Steven stutters.

Lars lets a crooked smile cross his face. "Who, me?" His other hand slides lazily across the vest. "Maybe I'm just really, really jealous of how soft your shirt is."

"A-ha-" Steven peters off with a breathless laugh when the hand under his shirt suddenly crawls up his chest. "-a-a a likely story, I'm sure."

"Mmhm. If you're not careful, I might steal it while you're not looking." Lars dares to let his hands wander around Steven's back, circling the rosecurls moving along under his fingers. "What do you think? Could I get away with it?"

"You could g-get away with alot of things, Stars."

"Really, now?" A grin, a gleam, and a glancing graze to his neck. One hand frees itself to run along pink curls of hair. "Even this?"

And before Steven can even dare to ask what that might mean, Lars pushes them together with a kiss. Something like lightning crashes behind his eyes, a low purring hum of song languidly sliding down his throat with all the ease of the arm snaking to trap his waist.

"Well," Steven breathes airlessly when they finally pull away, "I guess you could get away with that."

"Think I could get away with it again?"

"I-"

Whatever words were supposed to come out next are drowned by a drawn trill when Lars places another kiss on Steven's neck, freckled skin radiating with the ghost of prismatic colors echoing into his dead eye. A trail of alien colors and breathless laughs before Lars steals his mouth from him all over again- the iron-rosewater of ichor on his tongue and the tidal song settling into his mind, my lieutenant my stars my love my love my love my love, and he wants.

=<>=

And if Steven had been standing, he would have been brought to his knees a while ago. As it is, there's a lightheaded weakness in his legs leaving him entirely powerless as Lars practically climbs over him.

Because what else can he do, in the face of the sheer physicality of an emotion entirely alien to him? Of the presence pressed in every inch of his space, the solid texture of the hands gliding and digging into his body to steal the song from right out of his throat.

Someone else's fire under his skin, mind and song rendered anvils under the dizzying hammer of I want I want I want I want I want until he's left so punch drunk he couldn't even stand if he tried, he can't even think, he can't-

I can't-  I can't-

=<>=

And Lars could feel the exact moment it happened. Something had spiked in Steven's mind before it dropped off the map entirely, his song drunkenly unraveling as his body suddenly went slack in Lars' arms.

"...S-Steven!?" Lars moves to pull back, and Steven almost falls forward before Lars gently props him back up by the shoulders. "Woah, woah, woah!" He gently cups Steven's face in his and and softly jostles him. "C'mon. Where'd you go? Come back to me, mahal ko."

Steven finally, finally stirs, blinking hazily up at Lars. "...St'rs... what..."

Oh thank fuck. "Hey there," Lars uneasily smiles. "I lost you for a hot second. You okay?"

Instead of really answering, Steven leans into the hand on his face with a soft trill. "Your hands 're really nice," he half slurs with a dizzy smile.

Welp. I broke him. "Okay, I think I'm gonna need to give Connie a quick call or some shit."

"C'nnie's realllly smart," Steven dazedly nods, "Th'ts r'lly smart, you're-" his head sinks down to the crook of Lars' neck. "-y're so smart, I love you..."

"Hmm." Lars idly cards his hands through rosy curls of hair and tries not to blush at the purring weight sinking down into his shoulder. "Hang tight until I figure out if you're having a magic stroke or something."

(mufasa voice) SIMBA

so connie

partner sweetie darling honey

what have you done

i'm hurt

i'm right

y' got me there boss

so uh

i was uh. with steven

what about it

uuuuh

he kind of passed out?

is he still passed out

it was for like a second

but now he's acting like. drugged out or some shit

i'm gonna need some context here

what were you guys doing

y'know

stuff

were you trying to fuck my wife, lars

TANG INA

CONNIE WHAT IN THE

JESUS

Answer the question, coward.

The Answer Is We Were Not Fucking

i mean. it was kind of getting there

but then he passed out

i don't know what the fuck happend

happend

HAPPENED

everything was fine but then his brain kind of

clocked out all of the sudden

m

yeah he'll be fine just give him a bit

Well Thank Fuck

but why did this happen

you were probably going too fast

wh

he's running on gem software, he's not made to be horny

imagine what that does when he's getting bombarded with

fuck me kinda thoughts in every kiss

connie are you saying i bluescreened him

yeah tbh

that's bullshit but i believe it

just don't try to speedfuck him again and it'll be fine

you're being weirdly casual

about the prospect of someone fucking your wife

damn bitch do i own him

get off my dick

aight imma head out

"Good news, I found out you're not having a stroke."

"Mmm."

"Don't mmm me, we wouldn't be here if you weren't such a cryptid weirdo." He softly jostles Steven's face. "Hear that? You're a fucking weirdo."

"I love you too," Steven hazily trills.

"Yeah, yeah. Gonna give me a heart attack and kill me a sequel."

He puts his glasses back on and kisses Steven on the forehead. 

I love you too.

Chapter Text

FACET FILE

FACET NUMBER: Padparadscha Sapphire Facet-PDB Trigon-7431

ASSIGNMENT: Technical advisor of the Destiny's End, courted Sapphire of Aster Cerise.

COURT: Aster Cerise

RESIDENCE: Terra, Little Homeworld

AEGIS: Lieutenant Admiral, Lars of the Stars

HABIT: Standard structural competency of a Sapphire Gem. 

CLARITY: Inverted

CLOUDING:

-Novel inverted clarity, calculates high-grade retrocognition.

ACCOMODATIONS: Her Clarity requires sighted guidance and general assistance for environmental awareness, time-sensitive movements, or prompted tasks.

Chapter Text

FACET FILE

FACET NUMBER: AETERNA- Fluorite [Peridot Facet-4 Trilliant-9A1] [Peridot Facet-4 Trilliant-9AB] [Peridot Facet-4 Trilliant-9A9] [Lavender Jade Facet-B7JX Round-36] [Lavender Pearl Facet-LJ01 Button-49] [Albite Facet-9D Table-5M7I]

ASSIGNMENT: Chief engineer of the Destiny's End.

COURT: Aster Cerise

RESIDENCE: Terra, Little Homeworld

AEGIS: Lieutenant Admiral, Lars of the Stars

HABIT: All constituent Gems display standard competency of respective caste.

CLOUDING:

-None.

ACCOMODATIONS: Size accommodations required of a minimum of 7 Topaz unit space.

Chapter Text

FACET FILE

FACET NUMBER: AETERNA- Rhodonite [Carnation Pearl Facet-M49 Button-B3] [Ruby Facet-M49 Tetragon-19KY]

ASSIGNMENT: Head of strategic operations for the Destiny's End.

COURT: Aster Cerise

RESIDENCE: Terra, Little Homeworld

AEGIS: Lieutenant Admiral, Lars of the Stars

HABIT: Standard competency of component's respective castes.

CLOUDING:

-Both components have been subjected to a total of 17 forced rejuvenations.

ACCOMODATIONS: None required.

Chapter Text

FACET FILE

FACET NUMBER: Twin Rutile Facet-XQW Cluster-CJ

ASSIGNMENT: Co-pilots of the Destiny's End.

COURT: Aster Cerise

RESIDENCE: Terra, Little Homeworld

AEGIS: Lieutenant Admiral, Lars of the Stars

HABIT: Conjoined Gem split from mid-thorax upward. Bisected chest, two heads.

CLOUDING:

-Crystal twinning. Otherwise completely sound of body and mind.

ACCOMODATIONS: None required.

Chapter Text

FACET FILE

FACET NUMBER: Chert Facet-YDZ Hexagon-4K12

ASSIGNMENT: Bridge crew of the Destiny's End.

COURT: Aster Cerise

RESIDENCE: Terra, Little Homeworld

AEGIS: Lieutenant Admiral, Lars of the Stars

HABIT: Standard competency of Quartz-caste Gem.

CLOUDING:

-Lacks appropriate combat rigor of the standard Quartz temperament.

-Shattered in the past, made unbroken.

-Benign chipping from shatter reconstruction, patched.

-Previous chronic microfracture, treated.

ACCOMODATIONS: None required.

Chapter Text

FACET FILE

FACET NUMBER: Euhedral Flint Facet-U273 Hexagon-T126

ASSIGNMENT: Bridge crew of the Destiny's End.

COURT: Aster Cerise

RESIDENCE: Terra, Little Homeworld

AEGIS: Lieutenant Admiral, Lars of the Stars

HABIT: Euhedral competency of Quartz-caste Gem.

CLOUDING:

-Lacks appropriate combat rigor of the standard Quartz temperament.

-Shattered in the past, made unbroken.

-Malignant chipping from shatter reconstruction, patched.

-Previous chronic spiderweb microfractures, treated.

ACCOMODATIONS: None required.

Chapter Text

FACET FILE

THE LIEUTENANT ADMIRAL, LARS OF THE STARS

FACET NUMBER: Jet Adamant Facet-LM13 Terra-BRR5

NAME: Lars Althea

ASSIGNMENT: Captain of the Destiny's End. Lieutenant Admiral of Aster Cerise.

COURT: Aster Cerise

RESIDENCE: Terra, Little Homeworld

AEGIS: Asteria Diamond

HABIT: Displays standard competencies of human origin species, as well as unbroken competencies found in unbroken organic specimens.

CLOUDING: 

-Resurrected and unbroken.

-Sustained mortal injuries to skull, brain, and spinal cord.

-Chronic cerebellar ataxia.

-Previous history of depression and social anxiety, stablized.

-Prior to citizenship, underwent human medical procedures for anatomical gender corrections. Currently corrected to satisfaction.

ACCOMODATIONS: None.

AEGIS- LIEUTENANT ADMIRAL, LARS OF THE STARS

[Padparadscha Sapphire Facet-PDB Trigon-7431]

[Twin Rutile Facet-XQW Cluster-CJ]

[Chert Facet-YDZ Hexagon-4K12]

[Euhedral Flint Facet-U273 Hexagon-T126]

[Peridot Facet-4 Trilliant-9A1]

[Peridot Facet-4 Trilliant-9AB]

[Peridot Facet-4 Trilliant-9A9]

[Lavender Jade Facet-B7JX Round-36]

[Lavender Pearl Facet-LJ01 Button-49]

[Albite Facet-9D Table-5M7I]

[Carnation Pearl Facet-M49 Button-B3]

[Ruby Facet-M49 Tetragon-19KY]

[Jet Adamant Facet-V41M Terra-430N "Morion Vairam Maheswaran"] (Shared aegis- refer to expanded facet file)

EXTENDED AEGIS- [Martha Barriga] (Non-citizen)

EXTENDED AEGIS- [Dante Barriga] (Non-citizen)