A/N: So this one took longer than I thought it would! Sorry about that. Hopefully, you enjoy this installment. Personally, I overall like how this one turned out - so let me know what you think! Reviews are great - and helpful!

Disclaimer: I don't own Steven Universe.

"May I have this dance?"

"Hey, Sour Cream!" Steven called out. He saw Sour Cream across the street, in his drive way, messing around with his turntable.

Sour Cream waved Steven over.

Steven asked, "What'chu up to?"

"I got my first paid gig this weekend! So I'm just messing around, figuring out my set list."

"Congratulations! Where are you playing? Maybe I could come see you!"

"It's, uh," Sour Cream said, blushing, "it's at the middle school. It's um – " he sighed, "it's just for a middle school dance."

"That's great!" Steven exclaimed, not knowing why Sour Cream might be embarrassed. "You're such a gifted deejay, they'll love you!"

Sour Cream was blushing from the compliment now. "Thanks, Steven."

Steven opened his mouth to give Sour Cream more compliments when he thought over what Sour Cream had just said. He closed his mouth in perplexity then asked, "You said the middle school? For a dance?"

"Yeah," Sour Cream replied, "I don't think it's for any special occasion either. Just like, under the sea themed or something."

"The Middle School?" Steven asked again. "A dance?"

"Stop," said Sour Cream, "you're starting to make me question everything."

"Sorry! Just wanted to make sure. Thanks, Sour Cream, and good luck! Maybe I'll be there to cheer you on!" Steven said as he walked away.

"Thanks, Steven! I could use a man like you in the crowd!" Sour Cream said, waving goodbye.

Once Steven was further down the road and out of Sour Cream's earshot, he called Connie on his cell phone.

"Hey, Steven!" Connie exclaimed, sounding surprised but excited that he was calling.

"Hi, Connie, how are you?" He asked.

She replied through the phone, "I'm good! How are you?"

"Good," he said, then decided to cut to the chase. "I was just talking to Sour Cream, and he told me he's deejaying a middle school dance?"

He stayed quiet as he waited for her response.

She sighed. "I was going to tell you about that."

"Connie, I'm not upset," he said, "I just wanted to make sure you were going!"

He knew from the night they first fused how much she had wanted to go to her school's last dance and hadn't just because of nerves and anxiety. He wanted to make sure she didn't repeat her mistake, especially since he knew how much she really wanted to go – and, if need be, offer his services in attending with her.

He said, "I know you'd regret it if you didn't."

"I," she started then paused.

By now, Steven had made it to the beach. He walked to the shoreline and slipped off his shoes.

She answered as he put his feet in the water: "I was going to ask you to go with me, I just couldn't figure out how."

He smiled, and he opened his mouth to tell her he would be honored, no, thrilled to go with her, but she was elaborating: "I thought about just texting you, or just asking you when I was over for training. But then I thought maybe I should do something special and huge – so I was going to take us to the place on the beach where we first fused, and I was going to play that song you played when you asked me to dance and – I don't know, it was really windy the last time I came over, and I guess after that I thought maybe that was too big, and I just – "

She stopped herself and sighed. "I know this isn't the ideal way to ask, and I know it's kind of last minute, but, uh, would you like to go to the dance with me, Ste – "

"Yes!" He answered, laughing. He kicked up his leg and splashed the ocean water.

"Really?" She sounded surprised, breathy. Then determined: "I gotta go, Steven. I need to ask my mom if she can take me to the mall tomorrow. I'll tell you what color my dress is so we can match – if you want to – "

"Sounds great!" He replied then heard the beep that the call had ended. He looked down at his phone, reading over Connie and thinking about spending that night with her.

Steven really wanted to wear the pink shirt Connie got him for his birthday. He loved the shirt so much, but he found he rarely had a special enough occasion to wear it, so it hung in his closet more than he'd like it to. He wanted to wear it so much that he thought about calling Connie and asking her to wear pink, since even he knew that, for some reason, people who went to school dances together color coordinated, and, well, he himself was pretty excited about the custom and couldn't wait to match with her, whatever the color she ended up choosing. That was part of the fun, he thought, the surprise of the color.

So when she told him her dress was yellow, bright yellow, she said, like a sunflower or a lemon, he was ecstatic, despite yellow being a color he typically avoided – save for his signature banana pajamas he enjoyed for comfort – because of how the color clashed with his skin tone.

"We," Connie said over the phone, and she even sounded like she was blushing, "got you a shirt, too. It's just like the pink shirt I got you for your birthday, only it has yellow on it – I hope that's okay."

It was more than okay, he said, thinking about how much he loved the pink shirt and now he had a second shirt from her to love.

The night of the dance, Steven waited for Connie in the living room, and the Gems waited in the kitchen like gushing parents trying not to embarrass him. He heard her footsteps creak up the wooden deck, and he stood up from the couch. He could feel his stomach starting to fill with butterflies in anticipation. His fingers clasped together, and he concentrated on each step that clicked until it all stopped, and Connie threw open the screen door with her mother Priyanka behind her, shouting, "I'm here!"

She giggled, and he couldn't breathe. Her dress was as bright as she said, yellow like the sun, and made of lace with sleeves that went to her wrists and a hemline that rested just above her knees. The front of her hair was pinned back with butterfly clips, and the rest hung on her back in loose curls.

She started walking toward him, and his heart thumped so much he felt it in his neck.

"You look very nice, Connie," Garnet said, making Connie pause and turn toward the Gems.

Pearl and Amethyst agreed.

Connie ducked her head and grinned. "Thanks so much. That means a lot coming from you all."

Their exchange gave Steven a moment to collect himself. He took a deep breath to slow down his heart. He stepped toward her, determined to compliment her, too, but all that came out was a breathy, "Yeah."

She smiled at him, and he could feel his heart beating uncontrollably again.

It wasn't until she was right in front of him, saying, "Here," that he noticed the things in her hands. She gave him a clothing bag as she said, "I hope you like it."

He took the shirt out of the bag and gasped. He held it up to his chest, seeing how it fit and looking over the design: a white shirt with big yellow polka dots. "I love it!"

He took a step away, ready to run to the bathroom to change, when she held out a pink flower.

He stared at it with wide eyes as warmth filled his chest.

She said, "Heteronormativity dictates that I shouldn't be giving you this flower, but when I saw it, it made me think of you."

It took a while for his hand to work, to reach out to take the flower from Connie, as the warmth grew to his cheeks. He brought the flower close to his face, to look at it more closely, to smell its fragrance.

He finally said, "I love it."

He would have kept staring at the flower if Pearl hadn't offered to put it in water while he changed. He agreed then went into the bathroom. He changed into the new shirt that fit him and his khakis. He brushed his teeth again, reapplied deodorant just in case, and made sure his hair was behaving appropriately. He almost left the bathroom without applying his cologne – the cologne his father had given him for Connie's violin recital, the scent she said she liked and asked him to wear again – but ran back to the mirror to pull it from the shelf and spray it on his skin.

"I'm ready!" He called as he rounded the corner from the bathroom.

Pearl was taking pictures of Connie on her smartphone. Pearl moved about, angling herself high and low to get the best picture, while Priyanka suggested stances for Connie to use. Connie, looking slightly awkward and uncomfortable, still smiled. But when she noticed Steven, her smile grew naturally, and she called for him to stand by her.

It felt weird to pose and force wide smiles as the Gems and Priyanka stared, but, he admitted to himself, he was happy to have pictures of him and Connie. They stood shoulder to shoulder.

Pearl suggested, "Put your arms around each other."

Connie and Steven froze then looked at one another nervously. But she reached out her arm first and wrapped it around his shoulders, since she was slightly taller. He put his arm behind her, letting it hover away from her back before he let his arm cup around her lower back. The lace scratched against arm, and her hair tickled his ear as she leaned her face to squish against his, and he knew his smile captured on the pictures would be his most genuine smile.

Eventually, though, through Pearl's constant picture-taking, Connie playfully whined, "That has to be enough pictures!"

Pearl gave Connie back her phone, Priyanka told Garnet that Steven should be home before eleven, and Amethyst, winking, told Steven to have fun but not too much fun.

Steven, Connie, and Priyanka got into the car and drove to the school. On the ride there, he listened to Connie read off the school dance's flier. Her voice blended well with the orchestra music playing low in the background. The swell of violins matched when she joked about the dance's theme of "under the sea." The horns blew as she giggled. He heard a single violin as he stared at her lips, pink and glossy, in the dark of the car.

He was so concentrated on her that he was surprised when the car braked and the music disappeared and Priyanka said, "Greg will pick you two up at 10. Don't be late for him."

"Yes, ma'am," Connie said, already taking off her seatbelt.

He realized he should be doing the same, and he unclicked his seatbelt.

Priyanka continued. "You know the drill. Be on your best behavior. Say no to drugs and alcohol. Listen to the chaperones."

Her eyes glared a little more seriously next, "Don't leave the vision of the chaperons."

"Yes, ma'am," Connie said, blushing.

Priyanka reached out and put her hand on Connie's knee. "And have fun."

Steven and Connie stepped out of the car and waved to Priyanka as she drove away. The pair walked toward the school's gym entrance, and as they grew closer to the doors, the sound of music grew louder. Boys and girls walked toward the dance around Steven and Connie, and, as the pair got closer, Connie stopped.

"Connie?" Steven asked, walking back to stand in front of her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm…" she started with her head ducked and her voice small, "…nervous."

"It's okay to be nervous," he said.

She looked up at him.

"What makes you nervous?" He asked.

At the sound of a group of teens passing by, Connie paused, and, when she did speak, her voice was low, "People staring at me."

"Well," he said, "does it make you nervous when I stare at you?"

She looked in his eyes. His heartbeat quickened again.

She said, "No."

"Okay, so," he reached out for her hand and held it up to his chest, "just stare at me. If you just stare at me, and I just stare at you, then you won't even notice anyone else."

She opened her mouth to protest, and her eyes darted to the side at more kids passing by them, and then she looked at the gym doors.

"Hey," he said, putting his other hand to hold onto hers, "just look at me. And breathe."

She obeyed, locking her eyes with his. He stared into her brown eyes as her shoulders rose in deep breaths.

"Okay," she said at last, "I think I'm ready to go in."

"Great," he said, still clutching onto her hands, and began to walk backwards.

"Steven?" She said with a raised eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"You can't look at me if I'm beside you," he stated, but she stopped him by pulling his hands toward her.

She said, "I'll be okay."

He looked her over, and, judging that she was telling the truth, he stepped beside her. He started to loosen his grip on her hand, thinking that she probably didn't want to hold his hand anymore, but her hand latched tightly onto his.

As they walked into the gym, hand-in-hand, he was blushing, thinking about how she wanted to hold his hand just as much as he wanted to hold hers.

They stepped into the gym, decorated mediocrely with blue decorations and balloons, with a few pin-up sea creatures on the wall for the theme. But the lights were dimmed and the snack table was long, and children seemed happy enough, especially Steven, who's eyes grew wide as he was ecstatic to partake in a new segment of human culture.

He looked at Connie to read her emotions, and she looked just as happy as he was.

He would have been content just standing there, in the entrance, looking at the decorations and looking at Connie, but as someone brushed against him on their way in, Steven asked Connie, "What should we do first?"

"Oh," she said, eyes scanning the gym, "we could do whatever. We could look around the gym if you'd like? So we get a feel."

"That sounds like an excellent plan," he nodded, and the pair lapped around the gym, holding hands. They looked at the sea creature cut-outs taped on the walls, the tables with blue tablecloths and bowls of sand, the snacks on the snack table—that didn't really go with the sea theme but instead were things like pretzels and chips with dip—and the open space for the dance floor where Sour Cream played the tunes at his table.

Steven waved at Sour Cream from his turntable, and Sour Cream grinned widely and nodded back.

When Steven looked back at Connie, she was staring at him intensely. Her fierce gaze made his cheeks get warm, and he looked away, momentarily, before looking back.

"Sorry," she whispered, eyes still locked, "I just started to get nervous again."

"It's okay," he said, "you can keep staring at me. I like it."

He thought maybe the words sounded funny out loud, so he quickly asked, "What would you like to do? Eat? Dance?"

"Uh," she sounded nervous over the word dance, "do you want to say hi to Sour Cream?"

"I do, but I don't want to interrupt him. Maybe he needs to focus. When he takes a break, we should talk to him."

She nodded. "I was excited when I heard he was playing. I remember really liking his mix when we went to his rave together."

Thinking about their first formation of Stevonnie always made him feel warm in his chest (when he purposefully ignored the whole Kevin thing).

"Connie!"

Steven recognized the girl running up to Connie as the blond-haired girl who sat at Connie's lunch table.

"You better join us on the dance floor!" She said.

Connie, looking shy, but smiling widely, said, "Okay."

The girl noticed Steven. "I remember you. Was it…Steve?"

"Yeah!" He said. "Well, it's Steven, but that's pretty close!"

"Grace," she said, putting a hand on her chest. She waved goodbye to the couple and joined her friends on the dance floor.

"We could join them," suggested Steven.

Connie said, "We can. Um, maybe we should get some punch or something first? You know – have the whole middle school dance experience."

"I couldn't agree more."

It was quite easy to have the whole "middle school dance experience," Steven found. After all, just being there was part of the experience. They were in a gym with tacky decorations and sweaty pre-teens.

Connie and Steven got their punch, their cups of pretzels, and they stood off in the corner. She told him about the people there, pointed out which teachers were her favorite and her least favorite. She pointed out the principal. She admitted she didn't know her peers too well, just kind of knew their faces – she pointed out the kid who sprayed her with water from the water fountain, the guy who slacked off on their group project and made Connie do it all, the kid who made fun of her nose when he thought she couldn't hear him – and it took everything in Steven not to march to each kid and tell them off.

When she noticed his rising anger, she pointed out the nicer kids: the girl who lent her a pair of gym shorts when she forgot hers as at home, the guy who explained mitosis to her, and all the girls who let Connie sit at the same table as them.

But after all that, they had already experienced everything about a middle school dance except the dance part.

He didn't want to pressure her, so he waited quietly as she sipped her punch. But he knew she was drinking it slowly on purpose – and he knew she wanted to dance. He couldn't forget the words she said to him, on the beach, the night they fused, how excited she was to go – to dance! – and her anxiety had just gotten the better of her.

Not tonight.

So he stepped out in front of her, held out his hand, and asked, "Will you dance with me?"

She looked down at the cup of punch in her hand. She spoke quietly – he needed to take a step toward her to hear her – and she said, "I'm just so scared."

He took her hand. He stepped close to her, close enough for him to lean his lips near her ear. He wanted to make sure she heard each word he said, "It's okay to be scared. But don't let your fear stop you."

He reminded her of all the things she had accomplished despite fear: fighting off the robot that spat fire, saving him from falling after Lapis returned the ocean, dancing as Stevonnie, learning to sword fight, fighting a monster in the hospital, racing Kevin, fighting monsters, fighting Jasper, fighting Topaz, see, he said, she's always been brave.

And she took a deep breath, smiled at Steven, then nodded.

At first, they walked together, side by side, hand in hand, to the dance floor. But as they stepped into the crowd, Steven led them in.

She was breathing in and out, in and out, standing still. He danced around her, moved his hands high and low, jumped up and down.

"Just dance with me," he said. He took her hands again. He continued to jump in time with the song, and he moved his arms toward her then away from her, and slowly, eventually, Connie began to dance along with him.

The song blended into the next, a song with an even quicker tempo, and Steven dropped her hands to spin, jump, and throw his arm in the air, all while squinting his eyes and pursing his lips to make Connie laugh.

And laugh she did; it rose above the music as she threw back her head and squeezed her eyes shut. It felt so good, to hear her laugh, that he felt his stomach flutter.

He shouted over the music, "Let me see your best move."

"My best move?" She teased.

"Your best move."

"All right," she said, taking a step away from him to give herself space, "but I don't think you're ready for it."

He raised his eyebrow to her challenge, but she wasn't looking. She flipped her hair and spun around with her arms outstretched – and hit a kid beside her. He glared at her, and she stepped away from him quickly.

"Sorry!" She exclaimed as she moved back to Steven. Her hands clasped together against her chest and her head was slightly bowed.

They stood close together, so close, Steven realized, that he just needed to take a step forward to be pressed against her.

He smiled. "You beat me."

It took her a moment, but then she let out a laugh and shook her head. She took his hands. He began to move their arms, just a little, as their dance.

The song changed, one that was still upbeat, but slower than the previous, and he took the opportunity to spin her.

She moved out as she spun around, but, as she faced him again, she moved into him. She came in quickly, her body brushed against his for a moment before she took the smallest of steps away. She put her hand on his chest to stop herself and left her other hand in his.

He froze.

With rosy cheeks and a shy smile, she began to sway with the music, and he echoed her movements.

She was happy, comfortable, dancing with him. She was smiling, giggling, blushing, and seeing her happy made him relax, dance with her. He felt a warmth in his chest, where her hand was resting, and the feeling moved down to his stomach –

His gem.

He reacted quickly, without thinking, and he pushed himself from Connie forcefully. Her hands dropped, thudding against her body, as Steven's hands moved around his body to make sure he had pulled away in time.

After he breathed in relief, he looked up and noticed her: the hurt look on her face.

He moved quickly to her, to explain, "we were about to fuse."

She understood then. She nodded.

The pair stood awkwardly, motionless on the dance floor.

He looked around, "I'm sorry, Connie. I…I don't mean to ruin your dance – "

"Ruin it?" She asked, then laughed in disbelief. "You're making it."

"But…but we can't dance, and – "

She smiled mischievously. "Come with me."

As she led him off the dance floor, holding his hand, she whispered to him, "we have to be like spies."

His eyes lit up, and he nodded.

When they got to the doors, she dropped his hand.

They waited for the teacher stationed at the door to be distracted with grilling another pair looking to leave the gym, and they exited the doors. Connie took him down the hall until she found a classroom that wasn't locked and led them inside.

"It's," she said slowly, looking over the classroom that smelled like whiteboard markers and was littered with desks out of their rows, "not the same kind of feel, but it'll work."

They paused, standing in front of one another, in the dimly lit room.

He said, "if you listen hard, you can kind of hear the music."

She listened. "Oh, yeah, I hear it. It – kind of sounds like a slower song."

Knowing that a slow song usually meant slow dancing, he looked at her sheepishly, "Is that a problem?"

She took a step toward him. "Nope."

"Then," he said, putting out his right hand for her to take, "may I have this dance?"

She nodded, taking his hand, and she placed her left hand on his shoulder, and he gingerly put his hand on her lower back. They swayed together to the faint rhythm the best they could, often straining to hear it through the walls, pausing to make sure they were swaying in time and together.

"Are you having fun?" he asked after he had paused yet again to keep on beat.

"I'm," she said, bowing her head shyly then looking into his eyes, "I'm have the best time, so…thank you."

"For what?"

She smiled. She stopped swaying to stare into his eyes as she said, "For making this the best time."

They stood, smiling at one another, as the music thumped in the background, in the dark of the classroom, with their hands sending warmth into one another. But, soon, their smiles began to fade away, and he licked his lips without realizing he was doing so, and she was leaning her face forward slowly, and he closed his eyes and waited –

When the door opened and the light turned on and a teacher was shouting at them that they were in trouble, that they were calling their parents, and that they were leaving immediately.

They were stunned into silence and compliance as they were led to the office and told to wait for their ride.

The car ride was just as silent as Priyanka drove them with her hands clenched on the steering wheel.

Connie tried once, speaking up, "It wasn't —"

Priyanka glared from the rearview mirror, and Connie was silent.

She was sent to her room, and Steven sat on the couch to wait for his dad to pick him up. It felt like forever, sitting alone and in silence, until he got the text that his dad was outside.

He looked around, unsure if he was supposed to just leave or let Priyanka know he was leaving. So he called out for anyone to hear, "Uh, my ride's here."

After no reply, he stepped outside. He stepped off the porch and toward the van when the door opened behind him. He turned around to see Connie peaking her body from the doorframe.

"I just wanted to say goodbye," Connie whispered, "and tell you not to worry. When my mom is calm, I'll tell her everything. We…might have to introduce her to Stevonnie, but that's fine. We needed to show her anyway. Might as well be now."

She was still wearing her yellow dress, and her curled hair looked more wavy now as it draped over her shoulder.

He took a step toward her, closer to the door, but that was all he could do. There was so much he wanted to say: I'm sorry, you're beautiful, I'll smell the flower you gave me the second I get home, I had a great time tonight, I don't ever want to take this shirt you gave me off, thanks for taking me, I want to kiss you, but all of the words jumbled on his tongue and wouldn't let go. His lips parted, but no sound came out, as he just stared at her.

She seemed to understand, smiling, putting a strand of hair behind her ear, "Goodnight, Steven."

She shut the door slowly, keeping her eyes locked with his for as long as possible until the door was shut between them.

He walked sluggishly to the van and unloaded the details of the night when his dad asked him what happened, about how they had to step away so Stevonnie wouldn't cause a scene, but he did leave out the moment when they almost kissed.

Greg just chuckled to himself, "Does that mean though that you two had a nice time?"

Steven looked out the window, watching the streetlights glare against the glass. He said yes.