Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Steven sighed as he leaned on the steering wheel of his father's van. It had been almost half a year since he'd been travelling across the states, driving the van he had practically grown up in. It was nice. Really, it was. The things he had seen and done, the people he got to meet, the lives he was lucky enough to touch, it was all so nice. For half a year, he had been travelling the country, doing odd jobs for interesting strangers, volunteering at animal shelters, partaking in adventures and hijinks . You know, all the normal stuff that people do on "finding yourself" road trips.

But right now, he wasn't able to shake off this...frustration? There was a staticky buzzing in the back of his head that left him feeling agitated. He'd say he started feeling it as he ventured past the border into Oregon. Or maybe it was as he passed a large, rickety sign saying "Welcome to Gravity Falls!". Or maybe it was when he realized that he was now lost. Driving endlessly over twigs and branches, the floor of the vehicle rumbling with every rock it ran over. The only thing he could see in his blurring periphery were trees, trees and more trees. Brown and greens of various hues, some with signs nailed onto them, all blurring together.

But it wasn't just that. It was everything. All he could hear was the loud, sputtering engine of the old van. All he could feel was the stifling weight of his pink jacket, the faux leather sticking to his arms, dampening his back and sending the single drop of sweat oh-so-slowly dripping down his temple. His breath got shallow as heat rose along his cheeks, his hands clutched the steering wheel, nails digging into the rough material wanting to claw and break and rip the damn thing off the-

Air.

That's all he needed. Some nice, fresh, outside air to replace the stale, sweltering one inside the van. His left hand left the wheel and went to the old-fashioned crank at the car door. With a little effort, the window went down and Steven just rolled and rolled until- it stopped. Just like that, the glass was stalled in the middle and no matter how hard Steven pushed it. Just. Wouldn't. Go. Down. He grunted and gripped it, every muscle in his hand clenching to the point of cramping and he shoved down, the plastic and carbon-fiber stubbornly resisting.

It was only when he saw the luminescent pink glowing through his white-knuckle grip did he stop. He flinched, ripping his hand away from it as if it had burned him. He then closed his eyes and breathed, slow and steady, just like his therapist told him. Then he remembered closing his eyes while driving was probably a bad idea. He immediately shot them open again and adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, both hands on it now.

He took another deep breath, getting a lungful moss and dry leaves and the scent of a forest in summer. It helped. Thank god it helped. Then the mild panic set in. He thought he was getting better. He was getting better. Why...

He took another breath. He can't spiral. Not right now. He was okay. It was probably just the heat. He would take off his jacket at his next rest stop. Also, he only got, like, three hours of sleep and he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. That probably also contributed. It seemed silly but it was a mental health tip he had gotten early on: the small stuff mattered. He was fine. He would be fine.

If he just kept breathing.

If he just kept driving.

The van kept rattling along the dirt path until- there! He found it! A clearing! He sighed again, in relief this time as the branches and leaves cleared and a brown building came into view. It looked like a spruced up version of a log cabin, a giant sign on the roof advertising a "Mystery Shack" in bold text. Or at least, he thought that's what it was supposed to say. But it seemed like the "S" had fallen onto the roof so it instead read "Mystery Hack".

Steven giggled. That was fun.

He thought he might've seen that name somewhere. Maybe a bumper sticker? Either way, he had done it! He was out of the woods and there were people! There weren't, y'know, a lot of them. But there were people nonetheless. His sense of triumph was short-lived as a strange sound resounded from his van. He was used to the engine humming and sputtering along but now it was also clattering and...was that smoke?!

Panic settled in him once more as he yanked the wheel and stopped the car. It curved and skidded to a halt, no doubt leaving harsh tire tracks on the ground. The screech of the wheels was deafening. The weight of the panic was blinding. He stumbled out, making sure to take the key out of the ignition. He stumbled back, moving a safe distance from the van. He then turned back and braced.

 Huh. 

No explosions. 

That's probably a good sign. He took a moment to catch his breath. He looked to the keys in his hand, two keychains dangling from the ring. A star and the little green alien Peridot had gifted him. He sighed and, with a clench of his heart, put the keys in his pocket. He turned back to look at the people that were gathered at the entrance of the Shack. He heard muttering and saw curious glances, but, before the strangers could gain on him, a portly man in a black suit, red hat and -was that an eye patch?- drew their attention away from Steven. He couldn't help but be grateful.

Just as he looked back at his van, wishing he could find some help, the back door of the Shack burst open. Rushing out he saw two older men with greying hair followed by two teenagers who didn't look that much younger than him.

"Wh-what happened?" Yelped the young boy, his voice cracking with worry. Brown curls spilled onto his forehead, erupting from under one of those...lumberjack hats? With the weird ear flaps? He held the pink sweater of the girl standing next to him. She had similarly brown hair tied up into a bushy ponytail. Her eyes were also blown wide, but she seemed less concerned and more...surprised? Steven could only guess from their similar appearances and apparent ages that they were siblings- probably twins.

"Are you alright, young man?" Spoke a deep voice closer to him. It came from one of the older men, the one in a red turtleneck. Looking between the two, Steven could also see similarities. Both had strong jaws, big noses and scrutinizing eyes as they looked down at him. Were they...were they also twins?

"Uh, yes! Yeah, I'm fine." Steven responded, trying to sound cheery but still feeling shaken. The other man- the one in the red beanie- looked over at Steven's smoking van and sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Yikes, that looks bad. You're lucky you didn't crash into anything, kid." He said, his gravelly voice betraying mild concern.

"Heh, yeah." Steven laughed half-heartedly. He looked between the- were they a family? They had to be, right? He cleared his throat. "I'm really sorry about this. Do you know if there's any mechanics nearby? I got a little lost and-"

"Oh, psh, that's fine! We can definitely help you find your way!"  a loud, chipper voice interrupted. It came from the girl who was now walking toward him, her brother following behind her hesitantly. She stopped in front of him and outstretched her arm with a flourish. "My name's Mabel!" She said brightly, and, before Steven could take her hand, she swiped it away and pointed theatrically at the boy now standing at her side. "And this is my baby brother Dipper!" She slung an arm around him and dragged his head down  in an affectionate but aggressive gesture. The boy - Dipper- bristled and struggled in her hold "Mabel, come on! I told you not to call me that. Also, you're, like, 5 minutes older than me!" Mabel just stuck out her tongue. Dipper rolled his eyes but his face made it clear that there was never any malice behind his words. Steven giggled and smiled, even with the small pang in his chest. "My name's Steven."

"Right, yes, introductions." Said the gruff voice next to him. Steven looked over to see the man in the turtleneck fix his posture and adjust his cracked glasses. It kind of reminded him of the way Connie would do the same back when she wore glasses. Oof, and that was another pang in his chest. He was three for three on those now. He should probably call them, huh?

The older man cleared his throat, "My name is Stanford Pines. You can also call me Ford. And that," he pointed one of his (six?!) fingers at the other man who was now approaching his van "is my brother Stanley."

The man in question waved his hand and set it down on the hood of the vehicle, "Just Stan's fine." His hand traced over the car and he looked over at Steven "This thing looks pretty old."

Steven chuckled, "Yeah, my dad got it in the 80s, I think."

The man- Stanley - Stan - whistled. "Yeah, no wonder." He knocked on the hood, a clang resounding from the warm metal. "This thing's practically falling apart. When was the last time you got it serviced, kid?"

Steven opened his mouth to speak. Then closed it. Then looked away.

"I- uh- haven't?" 

The old man raised a bushy eyebrow, "Whaddaya mean 'you haven't'?" 

"I-I mean I've just been kinda...driving it?" 

Stan's eyebrows furrowed and Steven felt sweat beading on his cheek. "I-I mean it hasn't really broken down before or anything so I never...really...bothered?"

He could feel himself losing his resolve the longer he spoke, each word he said taking a piece of his confidence as it fell out of his mouth. He felt like shrinking under Stanley's scrutinizing gaze. Man, why was he so tense?

"Y'know with a van like this, you gotta do frequent upkeep. Especially if it's as old as you say." He looked back down at it. "It was your dad's?"

"Yeah." Steven replied a little too quickly. 

"When's the last time he got it looked at?"

"I- uh- don't...know." Steven said, now sounding downright timid. Stanley's brows furrowed further and Steven felt smaller than he'd ever felt before. "I guess I should've asked. That was pretty stupid of me, huh?" He laughed self-deprecatingly. Then, something in Stan's face seemed to soften and something flickered in his eyes. Something familiar. He might've struck a chord. Whoops.

The older man sighed again, "It's alright. You mind if I crack this thing open, see what's inside?" "Or," Ford interjected before Steven could respond, "you could leave that to a professional. You know, like the mechanic this young man was talking about?"  

"Steve?" Dipper prompted. "He left town a couple years ago. Y'know, after the... incident." The emphasis was clear as day in a way Steven was intimately familiar with. The way Dipper's eyes quickly shifted to him and back was also familiar. He just hoped "The Incident" they were referring to was something small-scale and mundane and not catastrophic and world-ending like what Steven was used to dealing with. 

Ford seemed puzzled "Wh- why not go to another mechanic, then?"

"There's only ever been one mechanic in the town, Poindexter." Stan was quick to supply. "And he packed up and left a couple days after the 'storm'. Y'know, like any sane person would have." 

Ford raised an eyebrow "I don't like what you're implying, Stanley." Stan gave his brother a grin which - with the way it lit up his face with youthful mischief - made decades lift off the hunched man's face. Ford simply rolled his eyes, making a show of it as he huffed and crossed his arms. Steven let out a quiet laugh. It kinda reminded him of when Lars would-

He stopped that train of thought before it could go anywhere else. He could call his friends later. Probably. Hopefully. Steven's hand reached into his pocket, fist wrapping around the keychain. 

Thankfully the young girl - Mabel - spoke. "Soo, seems you're kinda stuck here. That sucks!" She said, far too cheerful. "I guess we should get to know each other, I don't know." She laughed with barely masked nervousness. Steven glanced over to his van to see that Stan had already popped open the hood with Ford watching him from afar. Alright, that was fine. A loud laugh from the brunette made him look back with a start "So! What brings you into our neck of the woods? Hah, literally." She finished, shooting him finger guns. Her brother let out a groan, muttering something about "That's so stupid, Mabel".

Steven let out a laugh - a real one. He didn't know what Dipper was being miserable about, that was delightful! Mabel's face seemed to light up and, yeah, that felt nice.

"I'm on kind of a road trip." He answered when the giggles died down. 

"Ooh, I love kind-of road trips! Where'd you start from?" 

"Delmarva. Beach City."

"Wait," Dipper started, "you drove here all the way from Delmarva? How long have you been on this 'road trip' exactly?" It wasn't necessarily an odd question to ask, but the way the boy crossed his arms and squinted his eyes paired with the sheer distrust in his voice betrayed a disproportionate amount of suspicion. Steven decided to tread carefully.

He see-sawed his hand, "Eh, about 7, 8 months? Give or take."  

Dipper looked as if he was going to ask more questions but before he could open his mouth, his sister interrupted, "Oh, boy! That sure is a long time! I'm sure you're tired after all that travelling!" Mabel said much louder than she needed to. She tapped her chin in faux thought and continued her cheerful chattering. 

Everything she did was so... theatrical. Every movement of her arms, every sway of her head, every valley and peak in her voice felt practiced and exaggerated, as if she was a character in a play. Or a cartoon. Steven tried not to think about it. Tried not to think about the loud, dramatic, cheerful, high- voiced, pink-clad girl he was talking to. Tried not to think about how much she reminded him of- 

Stop.

'Stop with the comparisons, Steven'. He chastised himself. 'These are just some perfectly normal people in a perfectly normal town. They're not your friends, they're not your enemies. They're just kind strangers. Calm. Down.'

He didn't know what it was about this town or this family, but, for whatever reason, he felt like he had to be on high alert. Maybe Dipper was right in his caution. Maybe Steven was getting too comfortable. Maybe he needed to be more careful. More careful about the strangers he was cheerfully conversing with. More careful about letting them rummage around his car engine. More careful about- 

Mabel then snapped her fingers loudly. Apparently she had finished her mini tirade and reached a stopping point. "Ooh! Here's an idea! Why don't you stay with us for a while!" She finished triumphantly.

There was a beat of silence. 

And then a collective "What?!" resounded from every single person standing in the vicinity.

Steven's was quieter, a simple expression of confusion. Her family, however, seemed more alarmed. Glances passed between Dipper, Ford and Stan and the younger boy looked to his sister. "Hey, Mabel, can I talk to you for a second?" He tugged at her arm while he spoke, his voice strained. She looked at him, confused.

 "What? Why?" 

"Wh- what do you mea- Ugh, okay!" Dipper grabbed her arm in earnest and pulled her away. "Just come on!" He grunted over Mabel's protests. Then - seemingly as an afterthought- Dipper looked over his shoulder and shot Steven a look. "Just give us a second." He said, tone cold, clipped and matter-of-fact. Which. Ouch.

He didn't blame Dipper, of course. But it still stung.

As the twins made their way closer to the Shack to do a conspiratorial huddle, speaking in hushed voices, the man behind him cleared his throat. Steven turned to see a hard, unreadable face. It wasn't unkind, per se, just... guarded.

 Which, y'know. Fair. 

Then he smiled. Small and tight, but a smile nonetheless. "I am sorry about that. I love my grand-niece, but she does get a bit... overzealous at times. It is charming, really, she has quite the knack for making friends, but it has been... inconvenient in the past." And - even though this old man stood there, stock-still and intimidating, hands clasped behind his back with his face and his voice even and schooled- Steven saw it. The smile that softened his hard features, the notes of genuine affection that crept into his voice. He did mean it. 

Steven laughed, quiet and awkward. "Yeah, people have said that about me too." 

"It's 'me as well'." 

"I'm sorry?"

"The grammatically correct thing to say in that sentence is 'me as well'." Ford said crisply, adjusting his glasses. 

Steven heard a huff from further away. "Ford, quit bein' an ass." Stan's voice came in, scratchy and light.

"Wh- I'm not!" Ford stuttered, composure cracking almost immediately.

"Yeah, right. And I'm sure the poor kid stranded in the middle of nowhere wants to hear a grammar lecture from the first nerdy old man he sees."

Red rose in Ford's cheeks as he turned to his brother, raising a finger to respond.

Steven jumped in before he could. "Oh, I don't really mind. I like learning!" He gave half-hearted jazz hands.

Stan snickered "Trust me, kid, it gets old fast. I'd know, I've had to live with him for years."

Ford crossed his arms, "As if you're a picnic to live with, Stanley." He chided, shoulders hitched but tone light.

Stanley simply rolled his eyes, a soft smile still echoing on his face. “Oh, yeah?” he challenged, rising to his full height and resting his hand on the van.

On a part of the engine.

“Well at least I don't leave my nerd shit everywhere.”

“At least I put my dirty clothes in the wash instead of on whatever surface I can find.”

“At least I know that the floor of a rocking ship isn't the best place to put gross glass jars.”

“At least I have the coordination to not trip over very obviously placed glass jars.”

Stan opened his mouth to deliver a comeback.

It was interrupted by a noise from the engine.

A noise which was followed by a small spark.

“What the-”

BANG!!

Steven saw the flash of white-hot before he heard it. When he did hear it, it reverberated in his chest and rang inside his head. He didn't so much as hear but feel the rough, blood curdling scream that ripped itself out of Stanley's lungs. A loud, piercing "FUCK!!" somehow echoed in the wide open space they were in. A stinging cocktail of shock, horror, sympathy and guilt stirred and bubbled in his gut, boiled into his throat and buzzed behind his eyes, making them water. He felt his heart nearly jump out of his chest. He saw the wide eyed panic on everyone's face, probably mimicking his own.

Then his muscle memory kicked in.

He ran towards the scream. Ford was just a little bit faster.

It would have been comical to see the 60-something- year-old man lurch into action, moving at the speed of a bullet. 

There was nothing funny about the way his face fell and twisted. 

There was nothing funny about the way his voice broke as he yelled a gut-wrenching "STANLEY!" as he ran.

The kids were even slower, feet seemingly rooted to the ground as they stared in horror.

It didn't matter.

Steven's heart was pounding in his temple and he could feel the blood rushing in his ears but his head had never been clearer. 

He needed to help. 

Ford stopped in front of his brother who was hunched over, clutching his injured hand in the other. Steven tried not to think about the blurring red. 

"S-Stanley! A-are you- It's okay! You're going to be alright!"

Stan didn't look like he was listening.

Ford's arms were raised mid air, hands outstretched as if he were facing a temperamental horse. "Kids!" He called to the children behind him, not breaking his gaze from his hunched twin. "M-my lab! There's-" There was a shaky nod from the twins, their eyes wide and mouths ajar, but they seemed to jump in immediately.

"I'll get the first aid kit." Dipper nodded.

"I'll get the extra bandages." Mabel added.

They both then spun on their heels and rushed into the Shack. 

That left Steven with the injured man and his panicking brother. That's fine. Ford was half-whispering assurances as he hesitated to step closer to Stan. He'd seen this before. The man clearly wanting to get closer, to assess the situation but afraid of crowding the injured party. He knew that there was no choice. Not when he was on the scene.

Steven took a step closer.

He felt a weight against his chest that stopped him.

He looked down at the thick arm then looked up at its owner.

At the sharp eyes that looked down at him, their intensity barely dampened by the cracked glass that covered them. 

"Don't." The old man breathed. "Don't step closer. We can't-" 

No. 

"I - I can help!" Steven choked out.

"No, you can't-" 

"Yes, I can!" Steven yelled, putting more into his voice than he meant to. 

The man's eyes shot wider. Steven decided that it was probably nothing. 

He decided the flash of pink he saw reflect in them was also probably nothing. 

Ford's eyebrows furrowed. He gave Steven a once over. He then shifted his gaze back to his brother. He then looked back at Steven and he could see it. The trembling mistrust in his eyes, the gritted determination in his jaw and the barrage of questions on his lips. He saw the thoughts flitting through the older man's head, flashing like lightning and clashing into each other. He then saw the glance back at Stan and Ford's face slackened. And then his eyes closed. And he let out a breath. And then he nodded. And then he dropped his arm.

Steven took a breath. His pulse thrummed in every one of his limbs as he stepped further . Sweat trailed down his cheek. A bitter rush of panic and guilt lurched up his throat. He shoved it down. There was a person who needed hi- help. Help. 

He tried to be as delicate as he could when he spoke to Stan. "Hey, it's okay. I can help." The older man looked up. His stubble-covered chin was quivering, jaw clenched in pain, eyebrows furrowed and whole body trembling. And...was that? Yeah, yeah it was.

A single tear beading in the corner of his eye. 

Fuck. Okay.

Steven took a shaky breath. "It's okay. Just give me your hand." He tried to sound gentle and calm. The exact opposite of how he felt. 

He saw flickers in Stanley's eyes as well. The hesitation, the reluctance, the mistrust. He also saw pain overpower it all as he offered his injured hand cupped in the other, both trembling terribly.

Steven could see the older man's palm in detail now and - he hissed. Yup. That looked bad. Steven tried to keep down bile as he assessed the situation. Tried to asses the mass of mottled, glistening flesh visible through torn, charred skin, pink and white and yellow and red and - fuck. 

He always thought he'd be ready. He never was. 

He tightened his shoulders and took in a deep breath. He realized it was a bad idea when he was hit by the smell of smoke and burnt hair and seared flesh.

 Okay.

Steven placed soft hands under Stan's, trying to be as delicate as possible. Stan hissed and made a harsh sound from the back of his throat but didn't say anything. He didn't pry open his lips at all.

'Props to him.' Steven thought somewhere in the back of his mind. He knew that if he was in Stan's place, he would be sobbing by now. 

Steven then raised his hands, bringing Stan's closer to his face. Then he lowered his head. And then he paused. And - even though the man in front of him was clearly shaking and in pain and this was more important goddamnit- Steven still had the urge to warn him.

"This is- uh- this is gonna be a little weird."

He saw Stan's face scrunch and his eyes glisten and he knew this was so stupid-

Then Stan opened his mouth, took a shuddering breath and nodded. Small and tight but clear as day. Steven looked down at the hand. He raised it higher. He heard Stan's breath catch as he put it to his mouth, pressing his lips into the torn flesh. Stan hissed as the skin made contact but held admirably still. Steven held the kiss for a beat. Then another. Just in case.

As he pulled away, he realized he had never been so glad that his powers worked immediately. He didn't think he could handle the puzzled stares from the strangers if they took a second longer. But thankfully, they didn't, the glimmering magenta taking effect instantly. Under the iridescence, he saw the flesh lighten from red to pink to peach as the skin stretched and sewed itself back into place. 

Both men stared in silent awe, mouths agape. He was always ready for what happened next. The immediate snap of eyes up to his , the sheer confusion and questioning written clear and concrete on wide-eyed faces.

And that is what he got from Stan. But Ford's looked a little...different. Something more akin to...curiosity. 

"Fascinating." He muttered under his breath, seemingly unconsciously. Then his gaze then shot to his brother. "Stanley, are you alright? How do you feel?"

Stan looked back at his now unmarred hand. He flexed it and wiggled his fingers. "Yeah." He said, eyebrows furrowed but voice quiet and awestruck.

"Do you feel anything? Any pain?" Ford pressed.

Stan simply shook his head, "No..."

Both their gazes turned to Steven and their mouths opened to ask questions.

Before they could, the younger twins burst out of the Shack, Dipper holding a small white box sporting a red cross and Mabel's arms loaded with rolls of bandages.

"We're here! It's okay, it's..." The panting boy trailed off.

The girl, equally breathless, held out her arms before her gaze shifted to the older man's hand. "What the- huh?!" 

"You- you got burned. That- that happened, right?" Dipper panted, his voice taking on a frantic edge. 

"Yes, Dipper, it-" Ford's even voice was cut off by Mabel yelling "Grunkle Stan!!" as she tossed the bandages to her brother and ran towards her...grunkle? What the hell was a grunkle? He saw as the wind was knocked out of the old man as the young girl flung herself at his midsection. He heard Stan wheeze as she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. "Yeah, yeah, sweetie, I'm okay." Stan managed, sounding strained.

Dipper looked over at the other man, having barely caught the rolls of fabric. "Great-Uncle Ford," (is that what grunkle meant?) "what…what happened?"  

"Well, you see-" Ford was cut off once again by a loud slam of the door to the Shack being banged against a wall.

“I heard a scream of pain! Where is it?!" Half-shouted a loud, high voice.

The new person that joined them looked nothing like the rest of the family. He (he?) was thin and harsh-looking, drawn in hard lines and sharp angles. He had olive - brown skin, a hooked nose and hair too bright a yellow to be natural. It was also relatively long, trailing down his neck and covering one of his eyes. Underneath it, Steven could just make out the edges of...was that a scar? 

There wasn't anything inherently strange about the man(?). He seemed to be somewhere in his 30s, wearing an ill-fitting yellow shirt and loose sweatpants. And yet, Steven couldn't shake the feeling of... unease. Everything about the yellow haired man sent sirens ringing in Steven's head, loud as the wailing stone and blaring every shade of fuchsia.

Maybe it was because his smile was just a little too wide, almost stretching past the boundaries of his face.

Maybe his teeth were a little too sharp, his gums a little too dark. 

Maybe...

Maybe it was his eyes. His eye.

Maybe it was how sharp and cruel it seemed.

Maybe it was how strangely yellow his sclera looked. Maybe it was how it shifted and blurred at the edges when he looked at it too long. And was his pupil always so...dark? Or...vertical? 

Before Steven could think further, that snake-like eye snapped to him and he felt his stomach drop. So did the man's smile. It would've been funny, really, how quickly his face rearranged itself from twisted joy to snarling contempt. And, deep in his strange eye, Steven saw something worryingly familiar.

Recognition. 

"Oh. You." The strange man drawled and yup! Having people he didn't know recognize him never turned out well for him. This was bad.

The blonde then sighed and rolled his eyes - eye - theatrically raising his head to the sky. "I can't believe it. A fucKING CROSSOVER EPISODE?!"

Everyone jumped at the sudden volume shift.

The man flung out his arms, yelling at the clouds, "HEY! FRILLS! I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME SO LISTEN TO THIS! NEXT TIME, DO THE KINDER THING AND JUST FUCKING KILL ME!"

"BILL!" Steven jumped again as Ford yelled, harsh and reprimanding. "For god's sake, stop shouting! There's people here!" 

"Yeah, I can see that, Sixer." The man - Bill?- sneered. 

He then took a deep breath and turned his attention back to Steven, creepy smile stretching across his face once again.

"So, what brings you out here…Pink?" 

Steven's heart stopped.

It must've shown on his face because Bill grinned wider and continued. "Oh- oh, wait, you don't go by that anymore, do you, Rose?"

The man crossed his strangely charred looking arms, one hand tapping his chin, "No, no, wait it's not that either, is it? Ooh, ok, let me think, what was your most recent little cry for attention?"

Steven's blood was running cold. He could feel his heart in his throat and that siren in his head only grew louder. 

Bill snapped his sharp fingers, "Oh, yeah! Steven."

The grin on his face was wide, wider than anything he had ever seen before, stretching his cheeks and squinting his eyes half closed and Steven wanted to scream. He wanted to run, he wanted to hide. He wanted to sink into the floor as his heart picked up and his breath caught in his throat and memories rushed into his head like a wild river after a dam had been broken. Blurs of blue and yellow and white, just as harsh and piercing as Bill's voice. 

Dipper looked up at Bill -still grinning that predatory grin- and asked "Wait wha- y-you know him?" His voice sounded so confused and lost . Bill turned his amber gaze to the boy "I know lots of things, kid." And that goddamn smile-

Steven yelped as a hand landed on his shoulder.

A wrinkled face met his with concern. "Steven? Are you alright?" Ford asked, brows furrowed and eyes flickering with worry and, huh. He really was old, wasn't he? At this distance, he could really see it. The thready veins running under his skin, the darkness under his eyes, the tension in his forehead, the tiny scars that littered his face, marking the area around his greying brows and his wide nose and his tense mouth. 

He wanted to reassure him. Wanted to apologize to the kind old man looking at him with such regard. Wanted to tell him he was okay. And he was! Or he would be.

Once the sky stopped falling.

Once the world stopped ending.

Again. 

Only through his super strength and sheer force of will, Steven managed a nod. For some reason, this made the man's face scrunch further.

"Oh, don't worry about it, Fordsy!" Steven's heart leapt out of his chest as Bill spoke again, so much louder than he needed to be. "It'll be fine! She's just causing another one of her scenes again!"

"Bill!" It was Stan this time, his gravelly voice cold and harsh. "Get back inside. Now." He glowered. 

Bill's smile faltered "Wh- you're not the boss of me, asshole! I ca-" 

"Bill."

Of all people, Mabel's voice rang out, level and clear. 

Seeing the small, sweet girl glaring daggers seemed to catch Bill off guard. He floundered.

"H- psh, whatever! Boring ass freakin- " his grumbling grew quieter as he retreated into the house. Dipper stared after him in what looked like actual horror.

Mabel turned to Steven, one arm still around her uncle, hesitant to let go. "We're sorry about that. He's usually not so...aggressive." She looked apologetic, though the way she spoke about Bill -like he was a violent, misbehaving dog that she was responsible for - made him a little uneasy.

"Y-yeah, it's..." managed through the several lumps in his throat. Huh, was that patch of dirt on the ground always so blurry? The hand on his shoulder gripped a little firmer. It wasn't harsh or painful. Actually, it was quite the opposite as the pressure grounded him. Steven looked up again. Dipper cleared his throat. "I'm, uh, I'm really sorry about that, man. That was kinda messed up, even for Bill." Huh? Steven blinked in confusion. It was messed up but how did Dipper know? How did he-

"I'm sure that's not what he meant, Dipper." Ford assured his nephew. 

"What- what do you mean?"

Ford's eyes flitted back to Steven for a moment before looking back at the boy. "I'm not quite sure. But it can't be that."

Dipper nodded lightly and his head dropped, eyes fixed on the sparse dried grass rooted to the ground, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt.

"How-" Steven's voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "How did..." he tried again. "How did he know all that? Who-"

Steven's hands tightened. 

"What is he?" 

“Well…” Ford opened his mouth to answer. Then he closed it. Then opened it again. Then closed it and looked away. 

Stan looked at his brother and decided to take over. 

"It's complicated." 

He then looked at Steven.

"What are you?" 

Steven opened his mouth to answer. His tongue froze. He swallowed it down. 

"It's...it's complicated." 

"Oh, that's nonsense, Stanley." Ford spoke up, sounding more chipper than Steven had heard him. "We know exactly what Steven is." 

A smile was playing at the corners of the older man's mouth and Steven gulped.

 "Our newest house guest!" 

"What."

"Wait, really?!"  

Chapter Text

Mabel Pines was having a great summer. 

That was it. That was the end of it. There was nothing going wrong at all! 

She had a GREAT sophomore year at high school and she was having a great time now.

I mean, it had been a breeze single-handedly toppling the entire high school social hierarchy and causing a revolution for the betterment of high schools everywhere. She was a regular Kady Heron! Heck, she might even have been better than Kady. After all, no one had to get hit by a bus! It had been a gritty and bloody uphill battle (the grit being glitter and the blood being tears) (so many tears…) but it was over now! She had a clique of friends to return to and a new reputation to uphold. 

Things were fine. 

Really, the only thing bad about the school year (minus the classes) was how little time she got to spend with Dipper. Which was fine! They were both busy. But they weren't busy anymore! That was great!

When the bus had stopped at that rickety little stop and Mabel caught the scent of evergreen trees and drying grass, she felt it again. How she felt the first time she was here three years ago now. Fear and trepidation and dread and excitement. 

This was gonna be new.

This was gonna be fun.

This was gonna be fine. 

And it was! 

Except... 

Except Candy and Grenda weren't able to make it out this summer.

Except her high school friends were all too busy to respond to her texts.

Except... 

A sharp pain shot through her ribs as she thought about it. As she thought about it for the hundredth time. 

Her parents. Their parents. 

When Dipper had first mentioned it, they were 12. 

It felt like a lifetime ago. It felt like yesterday. 

He had been so scared. So worried, eyes watering, hands shaking, the top of his shirt soaked with spit as he stress-chewed. It was better than swallowing ink (though their mom might have disagreed) (she was sick of having to buy Dipper new shirts). His voice had cracked and fractured in so many ways as he told her. Told her about the fight. Told her about the yelling, the terrible things their parents said to each other, about how they might be considering-

She had just laughed and brushed it off. Told her brother he was just being paranoid as usual. That they were fine. 

She had harshly shut down any more conversation about the topic after that. It was all she could do to ignore it. 

She knew. Of course she knew, she wasn't blind. She saw it all the time. The subtle glares, the too-tight grips, the snipes and jabs passed at the dinner table, too mean to be playful. She hated every second of it. She hated the tension in the air when mom and dad got too close. She hated the clenched teeth and the bitten back words- “for the sake of the kids, Cathy!” “For the sake of the kids, Micheal!” “Just wait.” “Just hold it in.” “Just hold off until-"

Till they were off to college. Till they were out of their hair. Out of the house. Out of the way. 

Of course she knew. 

They were barely holding it together. 

She knew it. 

She didn't want to hear it.

But she did. She had.

'This must be how Dipper felt.’ She had mused when she caught herself there. There at the bottom of their staircase, engulfed in darkness except for the sliver of gold light from under their parents' door. It felt like a scene from a movie, really. The way their shadows bobbed and weaved in the light. They were so small, she could almost ignore them. They were so quiet she could almost head back to bed. 

She hadn’t though. She had stayed rooted to that spot. It felt like she had stayed there till morning. It felt like she was there even now. Even here, a hop, skip and a long bus ride away, she was still in their little suburban house in California. It felt like she had never really left. 

She had never really...

A small pop snapped her attention away from her swirling thoughts. Oh no! The pink marker she had been mindlessly doodling with had exploded, its nib having snapped off, leaking ink that soaked into the glossy paper of the Polaroid. 

Oh no, oh no, oh shoot. She flipped it around in a panic to see- oh. The pink was faint on this side, bleeding through the face of the yellow haired figure she was now all too familiar with. She rolled her eyes and sighed. 

Thank Moses. She hadn’t ruined anything important. 

And that brought her to the other thing that was making her summer just that much more fun.

No one had expected to come back to Gravity Falls and find a strange man in a bright orange jumpsuit at their doorstep. No one had expected that that man would be Bill mother-freaking Cipher, the isosceles asshole that had terrorized them three years ago. Apparently, his epic defeat in the battle of the center of Grunkle Stan's mind wasn't enough to kill him for good. He had made some deal with some higher being and was sent to his own personal hell - eternal group therapy. That sounded like a perfect fate for him. But the Pines' life could never be easy. So he was back. His powers were gone, he was stuck in a "meat sack"- as he called it- under the strict surveillance of the Theraprism, but he was back.

Mabel kicked herself every time she thought back to it. Thought back to that moment with her brother's fists balled and Grunkle Stan's secured around his brass knuckles and Grunkle Ford reaching for the gun in his coat and they were so ready to attack and she couldn't help but feel so lost. Couldn't help but look into Bill's now all too human face and see... 

The bags under his eyes, the dampness of his eyelashes, the quiver of his lip as he struggled to keep the smile stuck to his face, his strange hands raised, his frame being swallowed by the orange fabric and maybe it was just her but he looked so...

Defeated.

His arms were shaking but ready to surrender. His shoulders were tense but low. His eye was flickering with something she was all too familiar with. He was lost. He was scared. He was alone. 

What he had said then stuck with her. Because he sounded nothing like Bill when he said it. 

“Why are you here?” Grunkle Ford had spat harshly, venom dripping off every syllable he gritted out.

"Because I have nowhere else to go."

He had looked down then. Probably because he knew how pathetic it sounded. He had looked so pitiful, so downtrodden and sad and Mabel should've thought 'Good.' She should have thought ‘He deserves it. He deserves to feel miserable. He deserves to feel pain.'

He had hurt them. He ended the world, twisted reality into an apocalypse, had tried to kill them, he had fucking tricked her. Used her like a puppet in his sick little stage play and she should've been mad. She should've been furious. 

But then she looked at him. Really looked at him. And she couldn't stop. 

She was glad to see that his words had also given the whole family pause. To see Grunkle Ford's face slacken with surprise and... something else. Something much deeper and older. Something she couldn't quite place.

So she did it. She stepped in front of Bill, much to everyone's alarm. 

Bill didn't deserve kindness. Bill didn't deserve redemption. Bill didn't deserve a chance. 

So, of course, that's what Mabel offered him. 

"Plus," she had reasoned, "if it doesn't work, we can just throw him out. It's not like there's anything he can do about it."

And so he was here. 

And it was fine.

Except for when it wasn't. 

Except for when he'd say something overtly cruel or tell a messed up joke or pull a sick prank, she couldn't help but feel responsible. 

No one ever said it. 

No one ever pointed fingers or yelled "This is your fault! You let him in!" 

But she could feel it. 

The way Dipper would glance at her in vague annoyance. The way should feel the aura of disappointment coming off her great-uncles. "We shouldn't have let her talk us into this." She would always hear, even if no one said it.

It wasn't all bad though. She even dared to say that maybe Bill was getting...better? Like this one time, he had found one of Grunkle Stan's old eye patches and he brought it to her to embroider. It wasn't an order or a demand. Just a simple request. He had even said please. She did as detailed a stitching as she could on the small piece of fabric. The Eye of Providence, she had learned it was called. And when she had handed it to Bill, she swore she saw his eye light up. He had even thanked her! It was a small thing, of course, but compared to his gleeful homicidal tendencies from just a few years ago, it felt like a big improvement. She supposed it hadn’t actually been three years for Bill though. Apparently he was in the Theraprism for a couple thousand but because of some interdimensional time nonsense, it wasn't thousands of years on earth. Or something. She honestly didn't care.

The scratching of pen on paper was the only sound that filled the living room as she continued doodling, now using one of her favorite glitter gel pens. The doodles were tight fisted and close together - she wanted to fill two pages and wanted to make them look full. As her thoughts wandered, so did her hand, tracing familiar little symbols. Shooting stars and pine trees and - most obviously- little triangles with little eyes. 

Her head snapped up when she heard the familiar screech of wheels on grass. By the time she heard the loud slam of a car door, she had already jumped to her feet. She heard steps thundering down the stairs as Dipper shot her a concerned look. "What was that?" He had asked. She had shrugged, "I dunno." 

When they saw their uncles rushing out the door, they had decided to follow.

The sight outside their backdoor was... actually, was it weird? They had definitely opened their door to weirder. It was weird in a mundane sense, she decided. She wouldn't expect this down in Piedmont at least.

There was a white van that had skidded halfway across the clearing, tracks marked clear and dark in the soil. It was pretty big and painted with reds and oranges. Across the side, giant letters spelled out "Mr. Universe". Huh. That was weird. It felt familiar though. Like a song she had heard on one of those oldies radio stations.

But the van wasn't nearly as interesting as who was standing listlessly a few feet away from it. It was a boy, probably a couple years older than her and Dipper and holy freaking HELL, was he cute. Like, Mabel was definitely, for sure, over her whole "boy crazy" phase - as she had assured her skeptical brother SEVERAL times - but she didn't think he could blame her for this one. 

He was tall - or at least taller than them- with dark curly hair, a soft face and the prettiest looking brown eyes. He wore a worried expression almost as well as that pink jacket. And that shirt with a star on it? Hello? They were practically soulmates! And, as his gaze swept over them and landed on her...was she crazy or was there a 'lil something in his eye? 

She needed to confirm. She needed to get a closer look. 

Dipper followed her as she approached the mysterious stranger. She didn't know why, really. I mean, they really hit it off! This 'Steven' was definitely a certified cutie, the way his eyes crinkled and his face lit up when she told her dumb joke. And, yeah, hearing the boy's bright laughter did make her chest flutter, just a little bit. It felt nice. Warm. Like she had done something right. 

She had been quick to invite him to stay with them. It made sense, right? The poor guy's van broke down in the middle of nowhere with no mechanics around to fix it and no motels nearby to stay in. It was perfect!

Dipper seemed to disagree. He had dragged her away - rather painfully, mind you- to do a huddle. 

"Mabel! What the hell are you doing?!" He had whisper-shouted.

"Wh- what do you mean what am I doing?!" She had shot back, appalled. 

"You can't just go around inviting random strangers into our house! He could be dangerous!"

"Wh- how?! He's, like, the nicest person I've ever met!"

Dipper had the gall to look exasperated, "You talked to him for two minutes!!" 

"Would've been longer if you didn't keep cock-blocking me."

Her twin's face reddened "W-What?! Mabel, do you even know what that means?"

"Ughh, who cares?"

"Wh- I do! We all do! We can't just keep letting random potential psychopaths live under our roof! The one we have is enough!"

Mabel looked down. Dipper backtracked. 

"Look, all I'm saying is that we can't trust him."

"WHY-" Mabel was immediately shushed by her brother. So, she started again, quieter. "Why not? Why does this have to be a whole...thing? Can't he just be a normal, unlucky guy?"

Then Dipper gave her that look. Wide eyes of sheer disbelief. As if she had said something so mind-bogglingly stupid, all he could do was stare. "What do you mea- because, Mabel," he breathed, "this is Gravity Falls! Are you forgetting about the GFNLWM?"

She blinked at him, her turn to be incredulous. "The what?"

"The wh-" Dipper looked like he was about to lose it. It was honestly kinda funny. She didn't think she'd ever seen his pupils get that small. "The Gravity Falls Natural Law of Weirdness Magnetism?!" 

Mabel shrugged.

"Wh- Grunkle Ford and I have been talking about it all summer!"

"Ohh, that's why. See, I usually tune out your boring nerd stuff."

Dipper jerked as if she had electrocuted him. He then closed his eyes and took deep breaths. Good. Now he knew what it was like talking to him. 

"The point is, Mabel, this-this place, it attracts weirdness like a magnet! Like- like gravity! And there's no way that this random guy's car got pulled in here by accident. There has to be something weird about him in some way for him to wind up here. Like he could be a-a giant kaiju monster! Or- or a weird space...rock...alien!"

"I think you've been spending too much time with Ford."

"Mabel!"

"I know, Dipper!" Dipper jumped as she raised her voice. She hadn’t meant to. "I just... I dunno, I kinda thought that...maybe...I coul-"

She was cut off by a deafening bang. Both twins had spun immediately to see their uncle doubled over clutching his hand. Panic seeped into her bones like a leaking marker on paper, slow at first then bleeding deeper. When it settled in, it was impossible to get out. Were her ears ringing?

"I'll get the extra bandages." She had supplied.

The panic was deafening as she was only able to hear her own dull footsteps and her own pounding heart. She hoped it didn't blind her too as she frantically rifled through the drawers. God, where were they?!

When she had finally opened the right drawer, she loaded as many as she could into her arms. She thought she saw Bill coming down the stairs, bleary eyed and messy haired. She ignored him. The only thing that mattered was getting outside and helping her Grunkle. She chanted it like a mantra in her head and the words blurred together till there was just a sludge of sloppy vowels, syllables clouding her head and ringing throughout it like the world's loudest bell.  

When she got outside, her brother conveniently next to her, she paused. 

Stan seemed...fine. A little shaken but otherwise...alright. 

Something rose in her chest, rapid and warm. A tidal wave of clashing emotions overpowered her and all she could do was toss the bandages and run to her now uninjured uncle.

She had probably hugged him too hard, but she couldn't stop herself. He could handle it. 

She had nearly jumped out of her skin when she'd heard Bill's voice, loud and awake. 

She had frozen when she heard the note of recognition. 

She turned just in time to jump again as he screamed at the sky, hair a mess, arms raised at his sides in stained sleepwear- the perfect picture of a madman. 

When Ford called to him, Bill slipped into something more familiar. Something much more sinister. 

Mabel's heart caught in her throat when he spoke to Steven like he knew him. But he used different names. Names that Steven clearly recognized, if his face palling with every word Bill said was any indicator. 

And there, as Bill continued speaking nonsense, Mabel had felt it again. That tugging in her chest. That burning in her gut. The horror, the embarrassment, the guilt. And she could feel it on her shoulders once more. The weight of responsibility. 

This was happening. The sweet boy she kinda sorta liked was clearly hurting and it was her fault. It always was when it came to Bill, huh? 

She needed to say something. Needed to tell him to shut up, to go away.

Her grunkle beat her to it. 

Bill resisted. 

And then she spoke.

She tried to give him her meanest glare. She tried to mean every bit of it. Bill stiffened but retreated, chattering on as if anyone cared about his stupid denials and justifications. She then turned to Steven, trying her best to apologize. Steven still looked shaken, but it didn't look like it was directed at her. 

Why would it be? It's not like he knew.  

Steven's voice cracked and wavered as he spoke and, oh, yeah, that really hurt. 

"What is he?" Steven had asked. 

"It's complicated." Stan had answered.

And then, her grunkle asked Steven exactly what they were all thinking. 

"What are you?"

"It's complicated."

And then grunkle Ford had jumped in.

"That's nonsense, Stanley. We know exactly what Steven is."

And then she saw it. That look. The way her great uncle's mouth quirked up at the edges, the way his shoulders hitched up, the low undercurrent of excitement in his voice and the way his eyes shone under his glasses. It was the same look he would get when the twins would bring up something weird that they'd seen in the forest. It was the same look he would get when they got to a long anticipated paranormal hotspot. It was the same look he would get when he saw something new. Something to analyze and catalogue and study. A journal entry waiting to happen.

None of that prepared her for what he said next.

“Our newest house guest!”

“What.” Dipper had deadpanned.

“Wait, really?!” She exclaimed.

Steven was taken aback, to say the least. He blinked a couple times as he tried to process. It was strange enough that he was being invited to stay at a random house in the woods in the middle of nowhere, but by this man, no less. The man that was so reluctant just a few minutes ago was now smiling and welcoming him with literal open arms.  

Steven swallowed his misgivings. "Oh, no, that's alright, I don't want to impose. I'm sure I could crash at a motel or-" 

"There aren't any nearby!" Mabel jumped in. Stan nodded, "Yeah, and the nearest bed and breakfast is, like, 20 miles outta town."

"Oh." The disappointed sound punched itself out of his lungs before he could stop it. 

"Yes, how awful.” Ford waved his hand dismissively. “Fortunately, though, we can help you with your van. Between my scientific expertise and Stan's experience with cars, we can get it up and running in no time! And, if we can't, I have a friend who's proficient in these kinds of things." Ford's eyes gleamed as he spoke, straightening his already great posture and rattling off a plan like it was second nature to him. 

"And until then," he continued, adjusting his glasses, "you can stay with us. It's really no big deal."

"Uh, are you...sure?" Steven asked hesitantly, eyes darting to the still wide open door of the shack. 

"Yeah, grunkle Ford, are you sure?" Dipper echoed and he sounded so small and fragile, as if asking that question took everything he had. He was clearly still suspicious, but something more glittered in his teak brown eyes. Something Steven couldn't quite put a finger on. 

"Of course I am." Ford said, still smiling, not breaking eye contact with Steven. 

Dipper looked over at his other uncle. "Grunkle Stan?" 

The old man shrugged. "Eh, I don't see why not. Plus," he wiggled the fingers on his now healed hand "I think we kinda owe him."

Guilt spiked in Steven's chest like a spear through the heart, "Oh, y-you really don't! I mean, it was my fault, really, if I hadn't-" 

His rushed rambling was cut off quickly by a simple "Hey," from Stan. "It's alright, kid, really." And there was something so...so kind and reassuring in his gaze and it reminded him so much of his dad and, ugh, he really needed to call them to get this stupid sticky, warm feeling out his chest and- 

"But...but Bill?" He blurted, anxiety prickling under his skin. He hadn’t meant to. Again. 

Ford's eyes darkened and his smile dulled "Oh, you don't have to worry about him." He said, sounding somewhat sinister. "We can make sure he doesn't bother you while you're here." The older man assured him and Steven nodded, still uneasy.

But, it was fine. Things could definitely be worse. I mean, if he were going to be stranded in a random, creepy small town in the middle of the pacific northwest while his van broke down, it might as well be with these kind strangers. 

He still didn't trust that glimmer in Ford's eye. He still didn't trust the furtive glances Dipper shot him when he thought the older boy wasn't looking. He still didn't trust that open door that the strange yellow-haired man had gone into. Gah, was he a man? A demon? A spirit? A disguised homeworld gem that had slipped through the cracks and was secretly plotting some sort of coup? A psychic of some kind? Seriously, what was his deal? Their deal? Ugh. 

His internal complaints sounded whiny to his own figurative ears. 'Really, Steven? A couple years of no catastrophes, a few months on the road and you've already reached your ‘weird people antagonizing you’ limit?' Said the critical voice in his head. The one that sounded suspiciously like Jasper. He could almost hear the gruff 'Pathetic,' as it spoke. He shook his head to clear it like the scribbly etch-a-sketch nightmare it was. 

"Okay." His voice sounded weak and thready to his own ears. "Uh, thank you!" He added hastily, remembering manners. "I -uh- I really appreciate it." 

His trepidation almost melted away as he saw the looks on Ford and Mabel's faces. Surprise and joy and excitement. It made his own face heat up, just a bit. Even despite Stanley's apparent apathy and Dipper's downtrodden resignation. 

This was gonna be weird. 

__________

The rest of the day went by in a blur.

It shouldn't have, but once the initial awkwardness faded, Steven found himself easing into the family dynamic, taking mental notes all the way. It was something he had apparently picked up from Connie- keeping an eye on the everything and noting certain behaviours for later. It was more useful when actively fighting intergalactic wars, but it had helped him along the road a bit. 

Much of the afternoon passed discussing logistics - how he'd unpack, how long he'd stay, where he would sleep. Steven had suggested he could just crash in his van. Stan very harshly reminded him why that was a bad idea. It involved a lot of gesturing at his freshly healed hand. 

Eventually they settled on bringing down a couch from upstairs. Something about it being what Ford slept on in his room before Stan 'forced' him to get a proper bed. Steven volunteered to help bring it down. Which was followed by a very rushed addition of "Oh, yeah, I have super strength, by the way," when Steven managed to lift the whole thing off the ground with one arm, much to the bewilderment of the older men. 

All the rest of the time was spent with Steven getting acquainted with the rest of the household.

First was a small goat named Gompers and a slightly larger pig named Waddles. A goat and a pig who were- according to Mabel- very happily married. Steven didn't know how legally sound that arrangement was, but, who was he to deny true love? 

Secondly- and more importantly- Steven met the stout man in the black suit, eyepatch and red fez. The man who was with the tourists outside. He had been brought to him on an ‘insider tour’ of the Mystery Shack conducted by Stan and Mabel. They had found the man standing behind the counter, cash in hand as he counted the bills from a little glass jar. When he heard the small party approaching, he had looked up. Now that Steven had a moment to look at him closer, he was struck by how he looked younger -and significantly kinder- than Steven would have originally thought. 

“Oh, hey, dudes, what's up?” He had greeted cheerfully, round face lighting up with a smile. His voice did not match his getup at all - especially when he introduced himself as ‘The Marvelous Mr. Mystery’.

Steven was later informed that his name was actually Soos - short for Jesus. He had asked about the yelling outside, and if Stan - "Mr. Pines" - was okay. Stan had tried to shrug and brush it off but Mabel refused to let him. She had detailed the situation to Soos, adding in unnecessary compliments Steven had to bashfully wave away. 

When she was done, Soos had looked at him kindly, eyes sparkling with gratitude. "That's awesome, dude! We really owe ya one!" He had said and Steven brushed it off again. "It wasn't a big deal, really." Soos had still offered him a gift. Anything from the gift shop 70% off. Mabel had questioned ”Why not for free?" to which Soos had shrugged and replied "Sorry, dude, but I can't just go giving things away, I'm running a business here." At that, Stan had beamed and clapped Soos on the back, saying something along the lines of "Attaboy! I've taught you well!" Those words seemed to hit Soos in the gut as he smiled appreciatively and clearly Steven was missing some context. He said he'd pick something later.  

After that, most his evening was spent helping the family prepare dinner, fielding their questions and, as it always happened in these situations, overhearing snippets of conversations that he wasn’t meant to hear. He never did it on purpose! That would been rude and invasive and seriously overstepping the boundaries of the people he was staying with. But, it always seemed to happen anyway. I mean, they were conversations about him, so, it couldn't be that bad, right?

The first he had heard near the entrance. 

"- and you- you're just...okay with that?!" Dipper had fretted to his great uncle, chewing his lip. 'He probably shouldn't do that' Steven had idly thought. 'He might do some serious damage to his skin.' 

His uncle didn't seem to share the boy's sentiment. "Anyone ever tell you you worry too much?" Stan had raised an eyebrow, smile on the corner of his mouth. 

Dipper didn't seem to think it was all that amusing. The younger boy visibly deflated and fidgeted with his sleeve. Stan seemed to notice immediately and sort of...panic? Then he sighed, slow and heavy and real. 

"Listen, kid, I get it. You're on edge. I would be too. But it's gonna be okay, alright? Nothing's gonna happen. And if something does," the older man made a show of cracking his knuckles "we'll take care of it."

Dipper fidgeted but looked up at his uncle, eyes shining. "Yeah?" 

"Of course! 'Cause guess what? We're the mother-freaking Pines! And we can handle anything." Stan placed a large hand on top of Dipper's head and ruffled his hair. Or, er, his hat. 

Dipper laughed despite himself and tried to shove his uncle's hand off. "Yeah, yeah, I got it!" 

The boy fixed his hat as the humor in his eyes died down. He looked back up at Stanley. "So you- do you... trust him? This- this 'Steven'.”

"'Course not." Stan replied easily. Steven tried not to take it personally. "But I trust my brother. Do you?"

"O-of course I do!"

"Then that should be enough." 

Then the grey-haired man raised a bushy eyebrow. "You really think that's not his real name?"

Dipper shrugged "Wouldn't you know?”

"Eh, as far as fake names go, 'Steven' is a pretty boring one."

Something glinted in Dipper's eye. "Yeah, well, I don't think everyone is shady enough to pull off 'Andrew "8-Ball" Alcatraz'." He smirked.

Stan chuckled, rough and warm. "Damn straight they ain't!” He ruffled the top of Dipper's head one more time as they both walked out of earshot.

The second was in the kitchen, near the humble dining table, Mabel buzzing with energy while Ford placed several peculiar gadgets on the table, laying them out. 

"Grunkle Stan said no sci-fi stuff on the table!" Mabel chided, seemingly more out of obligation than anything.

"Yes, yes, I know. It'll only be a minute." Ford huffed. It tickled Steven how petulant it sounded.

Mabel giggled. "Ahh, I can't believe he's staying with us!" She cupped her cheeks with her hands.

Ford smiled, "You seem excited."

"'Course I'm excited! He's so cool and mysterious!"

Ford chuckled "That he is. Why do I feel like there might be more to your interest, however?" He raised a brow playfully and Mabel, for some reason, reddened.

She scoffed "Pffshh, as if!" She then laughed awkwardly for far too long.

Ford huffed and small laugh of his own and turned his gaze back to the mismatched lumps and plates of metal on the table. 

"Soo..." Mabel drawled, "you gonna journal him?"

Ford looked up, startled. "What?"

"Y'know! Like take his measurements and jot him down in your notes?"

Steven's skin crawled. Call him crazy, but he really didn't like being spoken about like a science experiment waiting to happen. Weird, right?

Ford seemed to agree with his sentiment. "Wh- no! He's a sentient, sapient, autonomous being and I would not try to dehumanize him in that way!” He then lowered his head and continued, "Maybe a formal interview however. If he'd agree of course." 

"Aha!" Mabel exclaimed, pointing a finger. "I knew it! I knew you wouldn't pass up an opportunity like this!"

"Only if he wants to!" Ford defended. That was nice, Steven guessed. 

Mabel laughed "Yeah, yeah, of course." She waved a hand at him.

Then she pulled out a chair and…sunk into it, heavy and tired.

Ford noticed.

"Are you...okay, dear?" 

"Huh? Yeah, I'm fine! Just, y'know, adrenaline crash." She sounded pretty chipper. Her uncle raised an eyebrow and she raised her hands "Don't worry! I'm fine! Just..." She trailed off, her arms lowering. "I don't know..."

The creases and wrinkles on Ford's face rearranged as he looked at his grand niece in worry. "No?" He prompted gently. 

"I just..." Mabel seemed to chew the inside of her cheek. Also not a great habit. "I guess I just woke up feeling...weird."

"Bad weird?" 

Mabel looked up. Then looked back down. Then nodded wordlessly.

"Oh, sweetheart." Ford breathed as he set down what he was holding and stepped closer to her, laying a gentle hand on top of her head. She looked up at him, eyes glossing over and Ford kneeled down to face her and took her small hand in his and...

Steven stepped away. This wasn't about him anymore. It was none of his business. 

The third conversation was overheard near the staircase. It was nearing to the end of the day as the sun lowered and the deep blue of the sky filtered through the windows of the shack. It was hushed and quick but sharp, both voices itching to get louder. 

It was Bill. And Ford. Talking. About him. 

"-I'm serious, Bill." Ford glowered, voice low. "You're going to leave him alone."

"Ooh, using your big boy voice, aren't'cha, Fordsy? Oh, I'm so scared."

"You should be." Ford pressed, moving closer to Bill, using his height to his advantage.

Bill stayed rooted to his spot. "Oh, don't talk dirty to me, Sixer."

Steven's eyes widened as his eyebrows shot up.

Ford seemed to fluster, his composure cracking. "Wh- why- no one's! Ugh! You are impossible!"

"Aw, don't feel too bad about it, Sixer, I've had trillions of years of practice. You'll get there one day."

"Bill. I swear to the Axolotl itself, if you do anything to hurt or antagonize that boy while he is under our roof, you're going to pay for it."

Bill rolled his eyes, scowling and resistant. Ford doubled down and hardened his glare. And they stayed like that for a while. A silent battle of wills. He'd seen it before. Stand there, menacingly staring at your opponent see how long it takes for them to buckle. Or just get bored. Bill seemed more susceptible to the latter. 

"Ughh, fine." He huffed eventually. "I'll leave him alone. But," he looked up at Ford, raising a finger. And then his gaze shifted. Over Ford's shoulder and right at...oh shit. The burning eye narrowed and Steven immediately ducked away, heart pounding in his throat. He saw him. Steven rushed away as quietly as he could, but not before he heard the faint exchange happening behind him.

"What? What are you looking at?"

"Nothing."

"Just thought I saw a bug."

__________

By the time Steven's nerves settled, dinner was ready. Steven had helped of course, chopping vegetables and helping pass ingredients, but he was shooed out the kitchen before he could do more. "You're our guest! Just sit back somewhere." Mabel had insisted, warm smile back on her face. It was usually her and Stan in the kitchen he had learned. Apparently providing for the kids for months at a time had turned Stanley into quite the chef. He usually took care of the meals, occasionally helped out by Ford or Dipper. Mabel was strictly kept from adding things to meals after a certain 'gummy worm incident', but she liked to stick around anyway. "Moral support," she said.

Bill was at the table when they sat down to eat. Steven said it was fine. The glares Bill occasionally shot him across the table made him almost regret that. Almost. After all, he didn't say anything. He didn't acknowledge Steven at all which was honestly the best Steven could hope for. The conversation, to his relief, was peaceful and mundane, spiced up by the occasional "Wait, what?"s and "No way!"s. And, despite everything that had happened that sent Steven's pulse racing and his vision blurring, it was comfortable. 

What really warmed him from the inside was the family themselves. How they spoke to each other with such familiarity and comfort. How easily they laughed and exchanged banter and gossip with names Steven didn't have faces to and stories he didn't have context for. He did not mind one bit. Despite everything, he did like being in this spot. On the outside looking in. He didn't know why that phrase was synonymous with miserable alienation. He liked this part. Wandering into someone else's story and seeing it play out, helping if he could but otherwise just watching. Seeing people being people. Seeing people being human. 

And, sure, it did leave him feeling a little homesick, but that was a feeling he had gotten used to at this point. Ever since he had left Beach City, it had settled like a fog on his heart and hummed faintly in the background of his every thought. It was usually faint, a bit of white noise you learn to tune out. But sometimes, it would spike, growing louder till it filled his head and soaked his heart like a sponge, making it leaden and heavy. He could feel the beginnings of that feeling now, weighing around his periphery and buzzing in his ears. 

"You okay there, kid?" A rough voice pulled him out of the quicksand his mind was slowly sinking into as he snapped his head up.

"Hm? Oh, yeah, I'm fine!" He gestured to his plate with his fork "This is really good, Mr. Pines."

Stan smiled, confident yet strangely bashful. He waved his hand. "'Course it is." 

Steven smiled simply and that was the end of it. He assumed the eyes burning into him were still Bill's. 

After Steven's adamant insistence on helping wash the dishes was shot down for a tenth time, he gave up and decided to get ready for bed. He had to dig around a little in his duffel bag, but he managed to find his toothbrush and an old oversized band shirt that would suffice as sleepwear. Oh, hey, it was Sadie's band! A knife twisted in his gut. Sadie's old band. He balled it up and threw it onto the couch. He looked back down at the bag. He pulled out a towel. Might as well, right? He could still feel the sticky sweat from earlier in the day. It'd be for the best. 

By the time Steven came out of the bathroom, towel around his neck, the house was quiet. Aside from the squeaking of floorboards and the gentle creaking of wood settling, it was still. It was also dark, every light on the lower floor being switched off.

Except...

A warm glow surrounded the couch on which Steven would sleep. What was previously a simple, flat couch had been loaded with blankets and pillows of various sizes. And, as he looked up, he saw the source of the gentle warm light that bathed the scene. Fairy lights. Strung along the walls and plugged into a nearby outlet, the delicate wires draped and entwined with one another, creating something ethereal. Next to the couch arm was a small table that was empty when Steven last saw it. Now it held a glass of water covered by a coaster, a tiny remote for the lights and a bright pink sticky note. Steven smiled as he read it.

Mabel. Of course.

Warm gratitude filled his chest and flooded his eyes as he looked at the setup. He wiped away a stray tear. Man, his nerves were frayed. He really needed to thank her tomorrow. 

He laid down on the couch, settled into the many cushions, and pulled a comforter over himself, and looked up.

It had become a ritual for him now, staring up at another unfamiliar ceiling in another unfamiliar place. He studied the grain of the wood and panelling of the boards. He noted every beam that held it up, every screw that held it together and every stain and scratch that marked it beyond repair. He lingered on each one, each a story that he wouldn't hear, a long forgotten snippet of memory deemed too unimportant to stay. Too unimportant to care about. Steven cared. That was always his problem. 

He sighed, filling his lungs with the scent of the place. The wood and the pines and the earth and the food they had made lingered in the air. A cool breeze drifted in through an open window as he tried gathering his thoughts. Tried gathering his feelings.

He felt…heavy. Tired. He wasn’t a hundred percent assured of his safety, but, then again, he never was. But for now…he was fine. His brain was still whirring like an engine, but it would settle eventually.

Steven then closed his eyes, gold still lighting the inside of his eyelids but less noticeably. He took a deep breath through his nose, filling up his lungs to capacity and blew it out through his mouth. As the air left him, so did the tension in his muscles as he finally, finally willed himself to relax. 

The weight fell away from him as he sunk deeper into the cushions of the old, beaten and worn couch. 

He breathed out one last breath.

And then he closed his eyes and tried to drift off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Steven couldn't sleep.

He didn't know why. He was so tired, the exhaustion pulling at his eyelids and seeping into his muscles and he just wanted to sink into the soft cushioning of the couch and not have to worry for another 8 hours, but, his brain just wasn't letting him. Every time he would try to shut it up, it only got louder.

He felt horrible. The family-  Mabel - had gone so far out of their way to make him comfortable and all he could do was lie there and shuffle. All he could do was toss and turn as his bones itched and burned under his skin and the ball of spikes in his brain expanded, scratching at the walls of it, begging to burst through. That buzzing from earlier in the day was back tenfold and no matter how he shifted, he couldn't get it to quiet down.

After what felt like hours of pointless shuffling and throwing blankets onto and off of himself, Steven gave up. He sighed and picked up his phone. He realized it was a bad idea as he switched it on and it promptly blinded him. He immediately squeezed his eyes shut against the light. He turned down the brightness. 

He looked at the time. 12:04 AM. Great. His eyes lingered on his lockscreen -the gems, his dad and...Connie. He swiped up and, before he knew it, he was in his contacts, finger hovering over the call button. The call button under his girlfriend's contact. He stopped himself just shy of touching it. What was he thinking? It's the middle of the night, there's no way she'd be awake. Even if she was, she was probably busy studying or preparing for some important test. She always had something more important going on...

Steven brought the phone down to tap his head. 'No, come on, that's unfair. You just miss her.' He chided himself. 

'You just miss her and you're tired.'

He nodded, agreeing with the tiny voice in his head. He should stop. He should just put it down and try going to sleep. 

He lifted his phone up again and looked at the still too bright screen. At the contact. At the tiny picture enclosed in a circle. At her. He should really-

RING!!

Steven's hands lurched to lower the volume as the ringtone blared through the shack. His heart felt like it would tear through his chest any minute. He looked at the screen. 

It was Connie. 

She was...she was calling him.

The camera was on. 

It was a video call. 

His finger moved to accept it before he could stop it.

The screen blurred and buffered. And then there she was. All...four pixels of her. Turns out the network in a shack in the middle of the woods wasn't great. Go figure. 

"Oh -- -od, St--en!" Connie's bright voice came in, choppy and garbled. Man, there had to be some way to fix that. He raised his arms, lifting the phone higher. Then, suddenly, the picture snapped into focus and Connie's voice came in, much clearer now, "I didn't think you'd actually pick up!" With the sheer warmth that flooded his stomach when he heard his girlfriend's voice after so long, he almost didn't notice the pink glowing through his thumbs. Did...did he do that?

"I was just getting to bed and then I realized we hadn’t talked in a while and by the time I checked the time, I was already calling you-" Connie kept going on, rambling about school and exams and roommates and Steven couldn't help but just stare at her. Couldn't help the smile that split his face as she talked, waving her arm and walking around. And as he took her in- her dark hair frizzy and unkempt, the bags under her eyes dark and pronounced and tiny pimple patches that littered her face - he thought about how she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. He really was the luckiest gem on Earth.

"Ugh, I'm sorry, you probably don't wanna hear about all that, how are you?" Connie looked at him through the screen and Steven blinked stupidly. "Uhh..." He trailed, his voice rough and dry. He should probably drink some water. Connie's eyes seemed to widen in realization as guilt passed over her face, "Oh, no, did I wake you? Steven, I'm so sor-"

"No no no, don't be!" He was quick to cut her off. His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "I was already awake, I was just..." tossing and turning and desperately trying to rip out of my ski- "I was about to call you, actually."

"Wh- really?" 

Steven giggled, "Yeah! I wasn’t able to sleep, so..."

"Wait, so, we were both gonna call each other at the exact same time?"

"I guess we were, yeah."

"Whoa, Steven this is like fate stuff. Like a prophecy, or-or-"

"Soulmates?"

Connie laughed at the other end, "Yeah!" 

Steven couldn't help but return it. They stayed like that for a little bit, sleep-drunk and giggling over nothing.

Connie stopped first. Then she got this warm look on her face, so kind and genuine that it always made Steven feel a little teary.

"So, how are you doing?" She asked, soft and sincere. 

"I'm fine." Steven smiled.

She raised an eyebrow, "Now is that "I'm fine" as in "I'm fine" or "I'm fine" as in "I'm going to turn into an 80 foot tall rampaging pink monster?"

That punched a startled laugh out of Steven's lungs, "Connie!"

"What?! It's a valid concern to have!"

"Con, I'm fine. I mean it."

Connie raised the brow higher.

Steven scoffed, "Wh- hey come on!"

Her face scrunched further and Steven let out another laugh, "Listen, I know, but we promised, okay?" He then took on a faux haughty demeanour, turning his nose up "And I would never break a promise." His eyes sparkled, "Unlike you."

Connie looked startled "Wh- what did I do?"

"You said sorry."

There was a pause. Then realization dawned on her face. 

"Wh- oh come on!" Steven chuckled lightheartedly. "I thought I woke you!" She defended.

"Nuh uh, still counts."

She groaned. Steven giggled. She lightened up, smiling in turn. 

"But seriously, you're fine right?" 

"Yes, Connie. I'm fine."

She looked at him, concerned yet...fragile.

"Alright, I'm not at a hundred percent, but I do feel fine." That was a lie. "I definitely feel much better now, talking to you." That wasn't. Was that weird pixelation or was Connie...blushing?

"I feel better talking to you too." She said. Steven smiled and Connie returned it. 

"Were you up studying?" He diverted. 

"Yeah, I was just finishing up an essay." Connie took the change in stride. "That was actually my first time procrastinating on a school assignment!" 

"Yeah? How was it?"

"Horrible but, in a weird way? Relaxing."

"Would you do it again?"

"Oh, no way in HELL. This is the most stressed I've been in months. 10/10, would not recommend."

Steven giggled. He settled into his pillows as he saw his girlfriend do the same, laying on her dorm bed. 

"The setup there looks nice. What hotel are you at?" She asked. Steven looked around at the mass of pillows and the lights strung along the walls. "Oh, no, I'm not at a hotel." Her brows furrowed and, yeah, maybe he should've led with this. "I'm, uh, crashing on someone's couch? A family. They live out here."

"Where, California?" 

"Oh, no, that's like another 11 hour drive. I'm in Oregon."

"They don't have motels in Oregon?"

Steven chewed his lip. "No, I think they do but, uh, I kinda ended up in a small town."

"A small town?"

"Yeah, have you, uh," he swallowed, "have you heard of Gravity Falls?"

Connie furrowed her eyebrows once more. "Grav- no?"

"Yeah."

Her face smoothed with understanding "Ohh, it's one of those small towns."

"Yeah."

She looked away from the screen in thought. She then looked up at him inquisitively. "So on a scale of 1 to 10, how likely is this town to harbour a secret cult?"

"What? Why is that what your mind jumps to?!"

"I'm sorry! I've been reading a lot of small town horror lately and there's always a cult or some freaky elder god or a coven of vampires or something."

Steven moved to protest. Then he stopped himself. "Well, I guess I haven't met a lot of the locals yet..."

"So it's likely!" She then got one of those adorable theorizing looks on her face. "You think you can... y'know..."

And as hard as it was to say no to those eyes, Steven had to decline. "I can't investigate the town, Connie. I'm only here for a week. Or, uh..."

She looked up at Steven, puzzled, "Wait, why are you there for a week?"

"Uh, it's not for a week...exactly" Steven said, suddenly very nervous. "It might be...longer?"

"What, why? Steven, are you okay?"

"Yeah, no, I'm fine! I'm just...a bit...stranded?"

Connie blinked. Then, faster than he could lower his phone volume, she yelled, "YOU'RE STRANDED?!"

"No, no, Connie, it's fine! Please don't yell, there are people sleeping here." 

"What do you mea- Steven!!"

“I promise I can explain if you just calm down a bit.”

She took a deep breath. "Okay...okay. What happened?"

Steven sighed. "The van broke down. And I ran into this family and they helped me. They told me I can stay with them while my van gets fixed."

"The van broke down?!"

"Yeah, but it's fine! I'm safe - I think-"

"You think?!" 

"I'm sure!" 

“You're sure?!”

“I- yes?”

"That's not possible! No one can ever be a hundred percent sure about their safety! Do you know how many deaths are caused by vending machines every year?!"

"So I should be more worried about...vending machines?"

"You should be more worried about everything!"

"That... that can't be good for you."

"It's kept us alive!"

"Connie, I'm not gonna die."

She opened her mouth to speak and then let out a ragged breath. Was...was she out of breath?

"Con? You okay?"

She sighed. Then sucked that breath right back in. "Yeah, I'm fine. Steven, you're sure you're okay?"

"Listen, you're right to be worried, but I'm fine. And if something does come up, I can handle it." 

"I'd rather you didn't have to." She mumbled.

Steven chuckled lightly. "Yeah, me too."

"Do you..." She began. Then her head snapped up and her eyes sparkled. "Wait! I still have Lion! I can send him to you and he can teleport you here!"

"What about the van? I can't just leave it here."

She hummed and tapped her lips in thought. "You could...put it in his mane?"

"How would I... how would I do that?"

"You could...drive it?"

"I don't think it's in driving condition right now. Also, I don't really wanna drive a huge vehicle toward Lion's head. I don't think he'd appreciate it either."

"Yeah, he..." She looked down and sighed, defeated. "He wouldn't."

"Plus..." Steven started hesitantly "y'know this place... it isn't... the worst. I wouldn't mind being here for a bit."

"You're..." She blinked and looked up, "you're curious, aren't you?"

"A bit. I mean, this isn't too different from my other pit stops. And," he added with a chuckle "who knows, maybe this'll be the place for me."

She gave a weak chuckle back "Maybe."

"Are you...okay?"

"Yeah, I just...I guess I was more tired than I thought." Another weak laugh. "I think it just caught up to me."

She did look tired, her head sinking into her shoulder. Steven blinked as he adjusted his eyes. Had the room behind her always been that dark? He realized the only way he was able to see her was from the dull gold light coming from her phone screen. 

"Anything else?" She said. 

"What do you mean?" He asked. He thought his own exhaustion was catching up with him too. As well. 

"Anything else happen? Anything of note?"

"Not really. Everyone's been pretty nice. Well, except..." The corners of his mind lit up with yellow.

"Wha- Who?" 

"Uhh it's just...there's this guy..."

"A...guy?"

Steven bit his lip "I...Okay, I need you to promise that you won't freak out."

"That's foreboding."

"Connie-" 

"Okay! I promise I won't freak out."

"Okay," Steven looked away. Should he tell her? I mean, it was probably nothing, right? There was no point in worrying her with this stuff. "It uh... it's not that big a deal, really."

"If it wasn't a big deal, you wouldn't have brought it up."

Steven sighed. "I- okay. There's a guy living with this family. I don't think he's related to them and he - uh- might not be entirely...human."

Connie's brows furrowed, "What, you think he's...a gem?"

"Not exactly."

"You think he's like you?" 

Steven's eyes widened. He hadn’t thought of that. 

"I thought there wasn't anyone else like me..." he said, so quiet he was surprised Connie heard it at all. 

"I mean...there could be, right?"

"But then- no, that wouldn't make sense…'cause he knew me, he knew my name. He knew..."

"What? What did he know?"

Steven's mouth felt dry. "I- he knew...my mom? I think? Or- maybe he heard about her? About me?”

"You think? You didn't ask him?"

"I- uh..." he remembered the ice running through his veins and the sweat dripping down his forehead and the way his heart hammered against his ribs, wanting to rip through- "I never got the chance."

Connie looked dubious. 

"I mean, he had one of his eyes covered. Maybe he's hiding a gem, who knows? "

Her expression didn't change.

"I'll ask, Connie, I promise."

"No it's not that, it's...Steven, are you sure you're okay?"

Something spiked in the back of his brain as she asked the question for the tenth time. Something sharp and hot and familiar. That dark, undulating mass of thorns that poked and prodded inside his head, begging to tear right through it. "Of course I'm okay! I already told you I'm okay! Why do you keep ASKING ME?!"

Connie's eyes were wide. 

"I just- why can't we drop this? Why can't we just- I'm fine, Connie! I'm freaki-"

"Steven." 

"What?!"

"Pink."

Steven swallowed. He saw the look on her face. Tired and sad and concerned and scared. Not of him- never of him- for him. His eyes widened and he looked down.

 "It..." a hand rose to cover his face and raked through his hair. "It happened again, huh?" 

She nodded. 

He didn't say anything. What was there to say?

She took a deep breath. "You..." she began, "wanna... talk about it?"

Steven couldn't help the bitter laugh that came out of him. It alarmed him how unlike him it sounded. He covered his face with an arm. He didn't think he could look at her face. "What's there to talk about?"

He heard fabric shifting. "Plenty of stuff. Like what happened or how you're feeling."

"I feel fantastic."

That...that wasn't what he meant to say. Wait, that was so much harsher than he meant, why the hell did he...

He raised his head out of his arm. "Oh god, Connie, I'm so sorry. I- I didn't-"

"I know, Steven." She looked like she meant it. 

Steven gulped, throat still dry. Man, he really needed to drink some water. "I..." he hid under his arm again. "I don't wanna...talk about it?" He hadn’t meant to make it sound like a question. 

"That's fine." Connie said, far too quickly.

"No, it isn't." He huffed. "We tell each other everything. It's not like I don't want to tell you, it's just..." he trailed off. He just...

"Can't?" Connie finished for him. 

"I-" 

"Steven, it's okay. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to."

"But..." Steven was so lost. He chewed at his lip. "But we had a fight about this, right? Before? I didn't tell you stuff and it-"

"This is different, Steven. Back then you..." She looked away from her screen. "You scared me. I was so worried about you. I had no clue where you were, if you were okay, if you were even still alive, but, it's not like that now and... I'm just happy I can call you. I'm just happy I can talk to you at all. I just..." She chewed her lip. "Are you...hurting? Is it... is it bad?"

Steven gulped, "It's not bad. I'm just...I'm freaked out."

"That makes sense."

"Talking to you helps."

She giggled. "You already said that"

"I still mean it. I'm sorry for, uh-"

"It's fine. Really." 

Then she smiled, soft and warm and Steven couldn't help but smile back. 

"So, tell me about the family," she said. And so he did. 

The topic then switched and they talked about that. Her friends, her family, her college life, they just kept going. Eventually, the fatigue caught up and the conversation got more giggly and unfocused.

The last thing he remembered seeing was the white text on his phone screen reading "2:30 AM" when he looked up to check the time.

The last thing he remembered hearing was his wonderful girlfriend's laugh as she said "I love you."

The last thing he remembered feeling was warm, sweet nostalgia as he and Connie, after so, so long, fell asleep talking.