#sry for the awful pics i took of my book

[thechildisgone]

also reading gone girl last night i literally laughed out loud i did not expect a mention of lesbian land and stuff in gone girl

[moominquartz]

rating: T fandom: Steven Universe prompt: Secretly Drawing the Other warnings: None Apply word count: 3.4k requester: @kohakhearts​

[IMG attached]

Connie is in desperate need of a reference picture.

My first complete fic for Fluff Bingo, which is something solely in a writing discord I’m apart of! Yes, it was inspired by BTHB, but it’s fun to have something to go to when I’m all out of angst juice. :)

[Read on AO3!]

~*~

Connie has never been especially talented at anything outside of school. She wins only as many tennis matches as she loses, and she struggles with the advanced sheet music that most of her peers seem to pull off flawlessly. Her grades are always A’s, sure, but that hardly seems like talent or skill, only an ability to test well.

The one thing Connie has never allowed herself to itemize — never allowed herself to compare herself to others, no matter how tempting it is — is her ability to draw.

To be fair, she knows she isn’t very good. When she begins, she’s heavily influenced by the wide-eyed, shoujo anime she adores, and proportions are the furthest thing from her mind. She draws solely for the fun of it, for pure expression. She draws when she’s ecstatic, she draws when she’s angry, she draws when she’s so sad that her tears stain the pages.

It’s only pencil drawings, but they’re very personal to her, and it’s something she doesn’t want anyone knowing she’s doing. Her parents know, because they’re her parents and she needs them to buy her the sketchbooks and the pencils. None of her friends do.

No one except Steven.

“Whoa,” Steven whispers with wide, childlike awe as he holds her sketchbook between his hands. He cradles the book as if it were scripture bound in expensive, gilded leather. “Connie, you’re amazing.”

She blushes. “Oh, it’s not anything special.”

“Are you kidding?” He looks at her with such fervent belief that it throws her off-kilter. “Connie, I don’t know anything about drawing, but look at all the details you put in here!”

That isn’t quite true; Steven draws as well, though maybe not as frequently as she does. Still, she supposes she can see what he’s saying. Even though the proportions are way off and Archimicarus should not be double the size of Lisa’s head, Connie took the time to put in every accessory she loved into Lisa’s outfit. She was determined to make sure Lisa was recognizable, despite the fact that the movie hadn’t come out yet and nobody knew what Lisa was going to look like.

“Okay,” she murmurs, feeling high on the praise. “All right, I’ll take that. Thanks.”

He grins. “Will you show me more sometime?”

“Oh, uh… sure.” Flattered that he’d even ask, she agrees without thinking about it.

-

Connie starts to draw him. Not out of any intention, and certainly not because she wants to. It happens entirely by accident that she looks down at her sketchbook, struggling to find inspiration, and realizes she’s doodled his head in the corner.

It becomes commonplace that, when they’re spending time together — time not always spent doing something, but rather, sharing the same space and simply being — Connie will draw.

Sometimes Steven asks, but more often than not she says no. He takes absolutely no offense at all, and that’s part of why she likes him. He just lets her do her thing while he chugs through another playthrough of GolfQuest Mini or plans out his next TubeTube video. 

Connie’s never been good at drawing real people. They’re even harder to get right than her anime characters. But the doodle doesn’t look entirely bad. It doesn’t look like Steven, but it doesn’t look bad.

And this is how Connie learns to use references: she stares at him while he doesn’t look at her.

She’s nervous at first, watching him while she draws. She’s afraid he’ll realize what she’s doing and draw attention to it. He’ll strike a pose or blush and say something about how she should be drawing someone else, or worse, he’ll ask to see it when she’s done. But Steven doesn’t do any of that. He keeps right on going, completely oblivious.

Connie gets pretty good at drawing him.

-

Years pass and Connie gets pretty damn good at drawing him.

The way she draws him changes with time. Her skills transform and puberty hits Steven like a freight truck. Every time she sees him, he seems to have grown a few inches. She hardly gets the chance to draw him more than once or twice while he’s in front of her. Once she reaches high school, she has far less time to just “hang out” — or if she does, and they aren’t doing anything, she’s forced to spend her time doing homework.

And then she figures out the work-around.

“What’re you up to?” she asks aloud as she types it into text. “Send pics.”

It sounds as if she’s asking for something else, but she absolutely isn’t. She hopes her Mom doesn’t still go through her text messages, or else she’s going to have a very awkward conversation with her later.

Her phone dings in response before she even sets it down.

w/ lars at the bakery!! lookit this! [IMG attached]

Yes, score! She only hopes it’s got a good enough angle—

—aaaaand it’s a picture of a dessert. It’s a very delicious-looking chocolate orange mousse, but it’s not of Steven.

She tries again on a different day, when she’s so tired of studying her eyes will fall out if she has to read one more word. She pulls out her sketchbook, lays on her bed, and texts him again. I’m so boredddd. Doing anything fun?

To prompt a photo in return, she attaches a selfie while she’s lying on the bed. It isn’t the best selfie she’s ever taken, but this isn’t about that. It’s about getting one back.

Steven, as always, replies quickly. sry, @ LH, can’t talk now. No picture. Connie glances at the clock just to make sure it is, indeed, past 8 PM, and she frowns.

Fine. Maybe she can ask for some help.

I am so sorry, Connie. Pearl’s texts are always way longer than they should be. You should’ve asked me a few weeks ago! I had a ton of pictures saved, but I recently exported them to an external harddrive. And he’s been so unwilling to let me take pictures of him recently.

Connie bites her lip. Pearl isn’t exactly a ‘grandma’ with technology — most of the things she’s learned how to operate, she’s done herself or only after one demonstration — but Connie wonders if she pressed, if she asked Pearl to retrieve her most recent picture of him to send to her, that Pearl would be a little too curious in return.

With all other options exhausted, Connie turns to desperate measures.

“Why am I doing this, again?” Amethyst asks over the phone. “Can’t you just, like, ask him yourself?”

“Please,” Connie all but begs. “I can’t tell you what it’s for, I just need a picture of him from the front, and it need to be at least waist-up. Although if you could get a full picture of him standing up, that’d be even better. Oh, and please don’t let him know that it’s for me.”

“Hmm.” Amethyst’s little hum is plotting, and Connie absolutely hates it. “Well, what do I get in return?”

“Huh?”

“What, you’re not expecting me to do this for free, are you?”

Of course. This is Amethyst. Connie chews on her bottom lip, considering.

“Well, what do you want? I could order Fish Stew for you.” Connie’s mom gives her enough of an allowance for her grades that that wouldn’t be a problem. “Or some of Lars’s bakery’s treats, if you like.”

Amethyst’s laugh goes to her bones. “What? I’m gonna need more than that. Hmm… How about this: I’ll take the picture for you, but you gotta come here to get it yourself.”

“What?” Connie’s voice squeaks. “You can’t be serious, Amethyst! It’s a school night!”

Amethyst snickers. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to get it tonight. I’ll text you when I have it, and you’ll get it when you come over. Oh, but when you do, you’d better bring two full pizzas with you, okay?”

“O-kay,” Connie mumbles, defeated.

“Sweet. Catch you on the flip side.”

-

do u need his face showin?

Connie blinks at the text on her phone, three days later. She’s just gotten out of school and Amethyst sent it three hours ago. 

Yes.

dam. well heres the outtake [IMG attached]

When Connie clicks through, she gets the full shot of Steven all right. But he isn’t standing upright and still; instead, he’s rushing past the camera, blurring the shot, a hand in front of his face to block it from being seen.

This is a shitty picture.

i kno, that’s why i sent it to u w/o getting pizza, dam!!

-

In the interim, Connie tries once more to provoke a selfie from Steven. This one requires a little more effort and is incredibly flirtatious — borderline forward — but she has to try it. Her sketches of him seem more and more off by the day, and it’s driving her nuts. She needs that reference shot, at least one.

She has a violin concert one Friday night. She dresses up for it, wearing black slacks, a white button-up with a high collar, and a black blazer. A simple tie, black with blue stripes, adorns her neck, and she lets her hair down. Like this, it would just barely tickle her shoulders. She puts on a little more makeup than she normally would for a concert; she dabbles in foundation, in blush and lipstick, when normally she would settle for mascara and concealer, if she decided on makeup at all.

Eyeshadow is still too foreign for her, but she hopes this is enough.

Then the trick is taking the selfie itself. At first she takes a shot without her shoes on, then decides it would probably look better with them on, especially if she’s trying to get one back. So she puts on her nice pair of loafers and stands at the full-body mirror in her room, taking a deep breath as she tries to set her nerves to rest.

“It’s fine, Connie,” she murmurs. “It’s fine. It’s just Steven, and what’s the worst thing that could happen? That he just flat out doesn’t respond?”

That is, by far, the worst thing that could happen. She doesn’t know what he’d do if he did that, because Steven is always the type to reply within a few minutes. She doesn’t know if it’s just like that for her or for everyone, but she has to trust that he’ll reply to this.

She takes the picture. It’s a little lopsided because her hand is shaking, but it’s the full picture of her, head to toe. She sends it off with a caption that, she hopes, is not too flirtatious, not too forward, because she would hate to put him off:

Don’t I look nice? What are you wearing tonight?

She bites her lip. Mom calls for her to get going, that she’s taken too long, but Steven’s response is almost instantaneous: a long, long string of heart eyes emojis and hearts of different colors and patterns. Then another text, this one saying, you look amazing!! i wish i was there!!!

It isn’t a selfie, and it doesn’t answer her question, but it makes her heart soften nonetheless. He’s so good to her, and of course that makes him difficult to manipulate. Maybe she really should just ask.

Several hours later, on the drive back home from the concert, she turns her phone back on. And to her surprise, there is a message waiting.

sorry this took so long, i wanted to match!! [IMG attached]

She blinks.

Steven has gone all out for this. He’s wearing a formal dress she hasn’t seen before, the same blue of her tie; an A-line that allows her to see the broadness of his chest, with off-the-shoulder sleeves that proudly display the freckles of his shoulders, and a pleated skirt that begins at his waist. His shoes are the same color, heeled, open-toed, and he’s even done his nails.

His makeup is more intricate than hers. Blush, foundation, eyeliner, mascara, an iridescent violet eyeshadow and vibrant lipstick.

He’s sent multiple pictures. One is of him doing a kissy face, eyes lidded; the next is him laughing, blurred from moving the camera, what might have been a shot he hadn’t done on purpose; and the next is of him doing a peace sign.

Connie’s face burns. She’s glad her mom and dad take the front seats, so that she can have this little moment all to herself.

I love it! She hesitates over the send button. He sent her all those emojis, and she can’t even say more than three words?

You look great! Oh, but he looks more than great, doesn’t he? 

Can I come over? Now that was honest, but way too suggestive!

She deletes it again and then realizes they’re almost home. She has to send something, she’s been thinking way too hard about it!

You’re the most beautiful, most handsome man in the whole world, and I wish I was with you.

She sends it before she can think twice about it. Steven responds immediately with many more emojis.

-

Connie can’t get the way he looked out of her head. In school, she doodles the dress in the margins of her notes. At tennis practice, she imagines trying to wear those heels and run at the same time. In orchestra, she pretends Steven is watching, that he came to her concert in that outfit.

She draws him, of course. For hours in her room, she flips through the pictures and draws, and draws, and draws. She draws him in the dress in different poses, in different settings, with different people.

… Mostly with her.

Her outfit’s different, though. It’s not the same, boring orchestra one she had to wear for the concert. She Googles different outfits and finds some fantastic, colorful tuxes, and of course pretends she would ever be able to wear them.

She’s in the middle of coloring a self-indulgent piece in which the two of them are dancing in these outfits (and this is one she would never, ever show to anyone), when she gets a text from Amethyst.

i got the pic. but uh… kinda havin some issues [IMG attached]

Connie blinks.

It’s a picture of Steven, though not the one Connie asked for. He’s closer to the camera, a rage in his eyes as he moves toward the person taking it, mouth open as if speaking.

Oh, no. Is he mad at Amethyst for sneaking pictures of him? Quickly, Connie tries to call her, but it only rings twice before going to voicemail.

Oh, no.

She calls Steven instead. He hangs up on her, too, but shoots her a short text: can’t talk.

URGENT, she replies in all caps and without punctuation. He does not reply.

She grabs her sketchbook, rushes downstairs. It’s late but not so late that she’ll be in trouble. She runs past Dad at the kitchen island, sipping on coffee before he goes in. “Sorry, I’ll be back before Mom!” she promises, slipping her shoes on.

“Where you going, honey?”

“To Steven’s!”

And when she opens the door, there, waiting for her, is a pink-hued lion.

-

When she throws open the door to the beach house, Steven is still yelling: “—you know I don’t like it when you take my picture—”

“Why?!” Amethyst yells. “Just because it’s me?!”

“No, it’s because I don’t want y’all snapping pictures of me for a scrapbook like I’m a baby—”

“AHEM.”

Connie’s clearing of her throat cuts through it, startling them both. They spin back around to face her, and while Amethyst’s glance goes askew, almost ashamed, Steven sees in her an immediate ally.

“Ugh, Connie, this isn’t a great time!” His voice is high, angry, but not at her; clearly, he thinks she’ll be on his side. “You won’t believe this, but Amethyst’s been trying to snap photos of me all week when she thinks I haven’t been looking, without even asking me or anything, and I’m in the middle of confronting her about it because if she thinks this is funny—”

“She doesn’t!”

“—just because that concealer isn’t working on the dark circles under my eyes, then she’s got another thing—” He cuts himself off, and Connie feels her nerves spike as he turns to her again, looking almost like a startled animal. “—uh… what are you talking about, Connie?”

“I asked her to do it.” Connie’s voice is one of defeat. Shame makes the room feel so much hotter than it is, and she wishes she could hide. She makes do by pressing her face into both of her hands and speaking against her palms. “I’m sorry. I just… I needed to get a picture of you and I didn’t want you to know, and that was probably really weird and creepy of me, and I’m sorry.”

The silence is suffocating. Steven whispers something to Amethyst, and Connie can’t hear the response. He must think she’s so creepy, that she’s been manipulating him somehow, and that she’s a horrible, untrustworthy person—

A moment later, Steven is right by her side. “Hey.” His voice is soft, and he pries a hand from her face to enfold in both of his. It should be comforting, but for a moment, she feels even worse; like she’s tricked him into offering her this kindness. “Um… So, why didn’t you just ask me?”

“I thought you’d say no.” That’s not quite it. “I… I thought you’d ask why.”

“Well, now I kinda really wanna know.”

“I…” And here it is, the big moment. The confession. She looks down, unable to meet his gaze as her free hand fists at her side. “I’ve been drawing you and I needed a reference.”

There’s another beat of silence. Then two. And then Steven bursts into laughter, loud and relieved and maybe even playful. It still is humiliating to hear, but at the same time, she’s so, so glad he isn’t angry.

“You totally could’ve asked! I would’ve sent one to you, because that’s like… really, really nice of you to draw me.”

“No, it’s not!” And as she looks back at him, she can see just how much he doesn’t see this. She doesn’t tug her hand free because, selfishly, she hopes he never lets go. “I haven’t been doing it because I’m planning to paint you a portrait or anything, I’ve been solely using you for practice and it’s probably a really selfish thing of me, I-I even used the selfies you sent me that one night, and I’ve kind of lost all control over that, because you were so gorgeous in that dress and I…”

“Wait.” He cuts her off, and she bites her tongue. “Can I, like… see the drawings you’ve done? Or a few of them? I know you don’t like it when I ask, but there’s got to be at least one or two you’re proud of, right?”

“You… want to see them?”

“I want to see everything you’ve ever drawn!” His voice is so sincere and enthusiastic that her heart soars, forgetting immediately every single thing she said that could have soured their relationship. “But only if you’re cool with it! You’re such an amazing artist, Connie.”

“I don’t know if that’s true.”

“Don’t start with me. I can go on and on.”

She smiles. She fidgets with a strand of her hair, and though it’s juvenile, she plays witness to the way such a small thing makes Steven’s face light up in adoration.

“Hey.” The word cuts through the moment, startling the both of them, and they look over at Amethyst leaning against the fridge with a raised eyebrow. “So now that like, the truth is out there and all that, I think I’m owed something.”

Connie opens her mouth at the same moment Steven groans, cutting her off. “I… yeah. I’m sorry, Amethyst. I shouldn’t have yelled at you, and I’m sorry for just… assuming stuff.”

Amethyst’s gaze then turns to Connie.

“Uh… Thank you, Amethyst.” Connie sighs. “For doing all of this for us.” 

Amethyst laughs. It startles Connie a little, but Amethyst just shakes her head, a knowing grin on her face. “I can think of, maybe, a way for you two to express just how sorry and grateful you are…”

Steven blurts out a “huh?” while Connie giggles, reaching for the phone in her pocket. 

“On it.”