Je. Still no update on my MLB stories and I'm still terribly sorry about that, but even though the new season brings me great joy, it's hard to get back into the writing hype when your muse kinda fell out of fandom and you're still recovering from burnout.
But what also brought me great joy (and my writing inspiration back) the past months is Steven Universe and while I whole-heartedly embrace and love the fabulously queer content, you gotta blame my dear friends Klav and Ciu for dragging me into LarsSadie hell (okay, I also partly played myself here, I suppose) and more precisely for this one-shot. Which I sort of wrote in a frenzy like about two weeks after the 'Stranded'-special aired. Within one day. Bc I felt so inspired by one of Klav's fanarts she posted to our WA-group. (Where I write drabbles and the other two draw and then we die of feels.) Yeah.
The batch of the most recent episodes (up to 'Letters to Lars') then gave me the motivation to post the story to the interwebs, even though it might isn't up to par with my usual writing style – since it still holds up well to the current canon, I had very much fun writing it, and the only thing I really had to update was the name of Sadie's band. XD What's new is that I had no beta for this one, so apologize in advance for weirdly constructed sentences that escaped my keen eye. I hope you enjoy it anyways and if you liked it, let me know! (So I might post more of those drabbles or we the three of us compile a zine if the demand is high enough.)
Lars rarely slept these days and even more rarely, he dreamed. Although, as he assessed his surroundings that were all a little too bright, all a little too smudged around the edges to be real, he wasn't quite sure if it wasn't a memory instead.
He was back at the Big Donut, tendrils of morning light creeping through the glassy front, illuminating little specks of dust that hung lazily in the still air. It was too early to be out of bed and WAY too early to work.
"Lars?" a female voice said and he started inwardly, although his body remained frozen in place. "Lars!" Sadie repeated; her tone even more inquisitive this time. Finally, he turned, eyes dropping to the smaller woman beneath him who was holding a big box of freshly delivered donuts. "What is it?" he heard himself grumble and in his mind, he cringed – regardless if memory or dream, self-reflection wasn't great in any case when you had used to be a jerk most of the time. "Can you please put the donuts in the upper shelves?" she requested, but there was the slightest sliver of annoyance to the words as if she had asked the exact same question just some seconds ago. "Why?" Lars continued and an expression between resignation and exasperation entered Sadie's face. "Because you are the only one who is big enough to reach them?" she replied, followed by a "Lars, please." "Fine," he caved in, dragging himself forward to retract the small foot-stool from its place under the counter. She deserved better, the aware part of him thought. Someone better than that good-for-nothing boy who treated her like a nuisance rather than a co-worker... or friend.
Lars progressed to the shelves, placing the three-legged step in front of them. The construction had always been a bit wobbly, being a relic from one of the shop's predecessors, but with a bit of careful balancing it had served its purpose well enough. Or had served it up until now, he suddenly remembered.
His dream-body had barely moved into position on the stool as one of its legs snatched with a loud sound. The world around him blurred, there was the sensation of falling – with his arms flailing for some leverage helplessly – and the impact ... was softer than expected. No, he knew Sadie had caught him safely. "G-Gotcha," he heard her say, voice all a bit unsteady, but rather from the shock but the weight in her arms. She could hold him easily, her small form betraying her actual strength. He looked up, Sadie's face so close he could clearly see the small scar on her cheek beneath a flask of ashen hair, her expression nervous while heat was creeping up his own cheeks. "S-stop holding me like a baby," he stammered, struggling to get free...
·
He woke with a sudden start as someone touched his shoulder.
"Captain?"
The memory still all too real to him, he blinked a few times, disoriented.
"Captain, I think we reached our destination," the Rutiles beneath him said as soon as they were sure they had his attention. He glanced to the viewing panel where magnificent blue shone against the vast black of the cosmos. Oceans. In marvelous beauty, they spanned the globe, encircling patches of green, red and grey. "That's Earth, right?" the twins asked, whereas Padparaschda chimed in. "I just had a vision. We will reach Earth any minute and it will be beautiful. And oh, Captain Lars will cry."
He will...? Lars reached up, all at once feeling the moisture on his face and as he pulled back his hand, saw the trickling trial of wet on his glove.
"Captain, is everything alright?" Rhodonite inquired almost fearfully. Lars brushed a tear away. "Yes... yes, we made it" he laughed, feeling like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, before he was swooped up in a flurry of colorful gem bodies and in a victorious embrace. Amidst the hugs and laughter, he looked at the screen again, a warm sensation unraveling in his chest. "We're home."
·
Deciding that Beach City pretty much had its share of alien invasions lately, they landed the Sun Incinerator a bit down the coast, mostly hidden by the steep cliffs surrounding the town.
While the gems flooded off and out the ramp behind him with curiosity and unconcealed awe, he walked some slow steps onto the beach, taking in the sight and the ocean breeze. Only now the realization started to sink in that he really was back. That not light-years but only about a half-mile was what stood between him and... and the people he loved. But just as he wondered just how much Steven had rubbed off on him that he even kindled sappy thoughts like this, a sudden fright rose in him. How... how would they react? Albeit he came back as cool space pirate, there was … here he was ... would THEY see that, too... or only a weird, pink, half-dead... god, he didn't even know himself what exactly he was now. A foolish part of him had believed that everything would be fine as soon as he returned but... was that really the case? Was that enough? Was... he enough?
·
"So...when...are...you...going...to...see...her?" Fluorite asked in her melodic voice, conjuring a confused "What?" from Lars.
"She means your best friend. Sadie." Rhodonite explained.
"We thought you would be running off as soon as your feet hit the... that's sand, right?" the twins continued, holding their speech momentarily to gesture at the ground. "Yeah..." Lars trailed off; admittedly at a slight loss over his crew's sudden interest in his... his... could he really still call her girlfriend after all this?
"So...?" the multi-fusion replied, not knowing of her captain's inner troubles. "I'm...," he attempted, yet was unable to find the right words and fell silent again.
"Go. You deserve to see her," Rhodonite said with a light, but meaningful pat on his back.
"Go," Padparaschda also chimed in.
His heart picked up pace, darkening the pink shade on his cheeks. "Fine. Fine!" He exhaled. "Watch the ship while I am gone. I will come and pick you up later."
His crew smiled warmly and he couldn't help but to smile back. Their reply came as a chorus. "AYE, CAPTAIN."
·
The streets were unusually empty as Lars paced them with billowing cape, but at first, he didn't really notice. What if Sadie didn't want to see him? Of course she had all right to dismiss him, but ... he swallowed, trying to tame this train of thoughts gone loose. He had fought worse foes than that. No matter the outcome, he would face what was ahead of him. He wanted to see Sadie. If only to say how sorry he was. Still he was afraid.
·
As he pressed on, it became almost impossible to not to notice the vacated boardwalk. Where was everyone? For a moment he feared that Homeworld had been faster than him until he remembered that possibly only the Diamonds' ships beat the ship stole from Emerald in speed– and that those wouldn't concern themselves with chasing some outcast Gems. He came to a halt, looking around while above him the subdued colors of a summer night slowly started to pool into the blue sky. There were no signs of a sudden attack or a panic. Just the usual remnants of a busy day. Strewn litter next to the garbage cans, a lost flip-flop (Steven's?) right in the middle of the road, some flyers caught between the planks... wait, flyers?
He kneeled down, reaching out for one of them, as in the same instant his ears picked up a faint sound. And with the words 'Beach-a-Palooza' printed on the paper between his gloved hands everything fell into place. He started running again.
·
The beach was bustling with people, aloud with merry chatter and filled with music. They had erected a stage right beneath the shore, with vibrant spots casting their glow into the darkening vault. It was a common sight for Lars by now, but if one had told him before, he never would have believed that it could also be such a comforting one. He blended into the crowd almost too easily - maybe because some pink guy in fancy attire couldn't really faze them anymore after the events of the last two years, but it seemed more like their attention was somewhere else. Like they were waiting for something. Or someone.
·
"And now, are you ready for the main act of this evening?" Mister Smiley asked to receive a roaring applause. "Well then, here is who you all have waited for. Give me your all for the one and only... SADIE KILLER AND THE SUSPECTS!"
·
There she was, up the stage, cheered by the masses, so complete and content and shining brighter than the sun, like she didn't need him - which was probably true.
Although Steven had assured him how devastated she had been after he had left - even more than before it felt like a lie told to comfort him. Who was he trying to fool? He would always be Lars, always the same stupid Lars who didn't really fit anywhere, and it was painfully obvious Sadie had moved on. And if he wanted to save a bit of his grace it would be the best he did the same. Yet just as he was about to turn, the music came to a halt and a breathless voice crackled through the microphone. "Lars?"
His eyes shot back to the platform where he met Sadie's gaze – and the world stopped. All sound, all the commotion around him, everything just faded and became meaningless and void. He could only look at her, look at the play of emotions on her face, her slowly sinking arm, the tremble that run through her body, her lips forming words. "Is that really you?" he read more from her mouth than he actually heard it.
Unaware that the stage ended right before her feet, she took an unsteady step forward into the empty air.
Lars had no time to think, simply dashed forward. He would not fail her another time.
Her weight impacted on his outstretched arms and although he had grown stronger and Sadie was by far not heavy, his whole body was quaking, afraid to let her fall. It was like all strength had drained from his arms, they felt ridiculously weak, and so it took him some moments until he had secured her against his chest. He breathed hard, just as Sadie did. Say something, he thought. Anything. Don't just hold her like that. "G-Gotcha?" he attempted. Sadie looked up, her eyes growing even wider than before and then watery. Her fist then collided with his shoulder. One time. Two times. Pretty fiercely, so that it also hurt pretty much. He probably deserved that, too.
"You come back after WEEKS and this is all you've got to say?" Sadie replied, her voice caught in a place between anger and sadness. "I'm... I'm sorry. I was...I am a jerk," he said, evading her gaze. "Yes, you are." Sadie pressed her face against his shoulder, crying. "My jerk," she added in tear-stricken whisper and, at long last, Lars felt something tight in him unravel. "Never... do that never again, you hear me. I missed you," she spoke against the fabric of his coat - just loud enough that he could hear it. He tightened his embrace, pulling her close. "I missed you, too."
·
They might were not alright, but they were good - and for now, that was more than enough.