Chapter Text
Steven Hyde was happy.
Happy!
It had been two weeks since their break-up, and he was fucking happy!
How was this possible?
It had to be some terrible dream.
Jackie pinched herself and cried out, earning a glare from the others for interrupting Gilligan's Island.
Well, a glare from everyone except Steven, who didn't even glance her way.
It was as if she didn't exist, and Jackie loathed the feeling.
She had loved Steven, had loved him with all her body and heart and soul, had re-decorated his room (and the ass didn't even appreciate the sentiment!) and had jeopardized her friendships for their secret rendezvous; yet when she had accidentally called Michael her boyfriend, Steven had just ended their relationship as if those months had meant nothing.
No longer was she Baby or Darling or Doll; now, she was just Burkhart, just another statistic in the whole wide world.
There had to be a reason for this inexplicable joy. Her Steven couldn't possibly be happy because they had broken-up. No, he had to be miserable, had to be dying inside as he saw Jackie lean against Michael's side.
Hazel eyes scanned the languid form, raking over the curly Afro and unruly beard before settling on his lips, which were quirked at the corners in a subtle smile--the same smile he would send her way when they were dating.
"Oh my God!" Jackie exclaimed as she smashed her face right into the lightbulb, everything clicking into place.
"Damn, Jackie, would you shut up for a moment?" Michael growled.
Eric sighed before leaning forward, grabbing the remote control, and increasing the volume.
Ignoring the boys' protests, Jackie gazed at Steven, flabbergasted.
Steven Hyde was dating someone.
Steven Hyde was dating another girl.
Steven Hyde was dating another girl who wasn't her.
The realization struck a match in her stomach, kindling a wildfire that raged across her organs and left smoky trails in its wake.
She could already see it, see his toned arms wrap around the curvy body of the unknown woman, see his lips glide across the glossy lips of his lover, see his hands slip underneath her blouse and unbuckle the bra with finesse.
Jackie could imagine everything Steve would do with that skank because they were all the things he had done to her--things that he should do only to her.
Pinching her shiny lips together, Jackie crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the television, her heart hammering against her chest as she stewed in her rage.
Steven Hyde didn't deserve to be happy, especially not with some random whore.
No, he could only be happy with her, and Jackie was going to make sure her Puddin Pop realized it.
"Jackie, I really don't think we should be doing this here," Michael whispered as he fidgeted with the hem of his jacket, his eyes flickering around Steven's room wearily.
"Michael, don't be a wuss," She snapped as she placed her bag down and toed off her shoes. "Steven's gone, the others are gone, there is literally nothing to be afraid of."
"Well, yeah, but it just doesn't feel right," Michael protested softly as his eyes landed on Steven's cot. "I mean, you two used to be...you know, a thing, and to do this in his room where you two used to do it just feels...it feels wrong."
Of all times for Michael to develop a moral compass.
Jackie hissed in frustration before fixing her face and whirling around with a coy smile gracing her lips, "Are you sure about that, Michael?"
Before Michael could even open his mouth to continue his protests, Jackie unbuttoned her blouse and revealed her lacy white bra.
"Oh," Michael groaned as he stared, fixated, at the lingerie.
"Come on, Casanova," Jackie purred as she kneeled on the cot. "Don't you want to do it?"
Michael whipped his head up and down before frantically tearing off his jacket and shirt, his eyes never leaving her chest.
As he pounced on her, Jackie bit her lip from giggling.
Her plan was finally coming to fruition.
It didn't take long for Michael to come (it never did), but her unsatisfied state didn't bother her this time, as it had so many times before when they were together.
No, all she could feel was a sense of euphoria when she heard the tell-tale signs of the group returning, the doors of the Corvette slamming close as feet thundered inside the Forman residence.
"Shit!" Michael ripped himself off her and began haphazardly dressing. "We're screwed, Jackie! Hyde is going to kill us and bury our bodies somewhere no one will ever find them!"
Rolling her eyes at the hysteria, Jackie calmly sat up and began sliding her skirt, bra, and blouse on.
"Hurry up!" Michael hissed as he threw her shoes and purse at her.
"I'm coming!" Jackie snapped before placing the last articles of clothing on her body.
Well, all except one.
"Fuck, I'm not getting caught," Michael whimpered as he heard the basement door open.
In two seconds, Michael had fled the room, leaving Jackie alone.
With a smirk that would put the Grinch to shame, Jackie grabbed the white cotton panties that she had bought for this very occasion from the floor and partially tucked it underneath the mattress, leaving the pink bow exposed.
Any girl worth her eyeshadow would see the panties and draw the same conclusion: Steven Hyde was a cheater.
And when the poor girl inevitably broke things off with her Steve, the man would come crawling back to her, and she would be waiting with arms wide open.
After all, no one could satisfy Steven Hyde like Jackie Burkhart could.
There was a pair of panties in Steven's room.
Eric cocked his head to the side as he ran his fingers over the fabric, the cotton scratching unpleasantly against his sensitive skin.
He probably should be freaking out right now. He should probably be thinking that Steven had cheated on him and that he was unsatisfied with being with a boy and would rather return to the soft curvy embrace of a woman.
Except, Eric knew that wasn't true.
It was laughable, really, how different his reaction was now than when it had been with Donna.
With Donna, he had never felt good enough, never felt like he could say the right thing or do the right thing. With Donna, he always felt like he was playing a part, always trying to be the man but never achieving it no matter how hard he tried to meet the reputation. With Donna, he was always aware--because everyone was always saying it--that he was the lucky one while Donna was the one settling.
With Steven, though, it was different. There was nothing Eric could do that wasn't accepted. There was nothing that Eric could say that wasn't understood. Eric wasn't too girly or too weak or too whiny or too needy or too anything. He was enough. Every odd edge that adorned his puzzle piece was worshipped by Steven's, every contorted curve slipping into place so easily with the other's.
It wasn't that Eric was lacking or that Donna wasn't the one; it was that Eric needed a man, one who could guide him and take control and calm the nagging thoughts with the touch of a hand.
With Steven, everything was perfect (sure, they had their arguments and spats, but it never left Eric hollow or feeling like a failure the way every fight with Donna had).
Shaking his head, Eric returned his attention to the white cotton underwear.
Steven wouldn't cheat on him, so there could be only one explanation for the panties: he wanted Eric to wear them.
Blood rushing to his cheeks, Eric stared at the clothing as he drowned in his thoughts.
Sure, they had an active and dynamic sex life. They dabbled in BDSM, and Steven had this thing where he liked calling Eric "baby girl" and his dick a "pussy," but they've never done this before.
Maybe Eric should be worried that Steven's feminization kink was actually a sign of the other boy trying to rationalize their homosexual relationship, trying to make it "okay" and "normal" by pretending Eric was a girl, but it was kind of hard to delude oneself like that when Steven would be stroking his cock, no matter how many times he pretended it was otherwise.
Snorting, Eric forced himself to focus on the situation at hand.
Steven obviously wanted to add this to their life, but the question was how Eric felt about it.
Eric stroked the pink bow a few times, his mouth pursed.
Steven was always open to Eric's suggestions. The man had been willing to explore BDSM more in-depth when Eric researched it, had been willing to tie Eric up, had been willing to play a Daddy Dom to his little boy, and had agreed to bottom when Eric requested it (though he quickly realized how much he hated topping because there was just too much pressure and too many internal expectations of being perfect).
Steven was always willing to try new things just to make Eric happy, so if he wanted Eric to wear these fucking panties, then he damn well would!
Chucking off his pants and boxers before he lost his courage, he slid the panties over his pale, smooth legs (because his body was apparently more estrogen than testosterone, yay!) before looking in the standing mirror.
Eric immediately grimaced.
It wasn't necessarily the sight--well, okay, the ding dong shaped camel toe jutting out from the side of the underwear wasn't exactly what Eric would consider "sexy"--but the texture. The cotton felt like sandpaper grating over his hairless groin.
Yeah, not sexy at all.
Eric huffed as he eyed his lower half in the mirror, trying to see what Steven obviously saw if he purchased these blasted panties.
Blue eyes dropped to the pink bow adorning the top half of the underwear. That part was kind of pretty.
Pretty.
Goosebumps burst along Eric's skin as his mind short-circuited before revolving around the word.
Pretty.
Pretty.
Eric could practically hear Steven's husky voice along the shell of his ear, "Such a pretty girl."
His cock jerked along the panties, and he bit his lip to stifle a moan.
Okay, so Steven might not be the only one who likes feminizing Eric.
And Eric definitely now knew he'd wear women's panties for his boyfriend.
Not these panties, though.
He needed something larger, to keep little Eric tucked away, and he needed something softer.
Where the hell would he get those panties, though?
Eric closed his eyes and groaned in mortification as the answer hit him: the mall.
Was he really going to go to the mall to buy women's underwear?
He peeked at the mirror and eyed the image reflected.
Yes.
Yes, he was.