Wedding Favors

by starryjonquil

Summary:

It's the summer of 1983, and five years after high school graduation Eric and Donna are finally getting hitched. Sparks fly when Steven Hyde, the calm, collected best man for his friends’ upcoming wedding, has a chance encounter with down on her luck maid of honor, Jackie Burkhart.

Or

AU where Jackie isn’t from Point Place and met Donna in college.

Chapter 1: Invitations

Notes:

Disclaimer: I do not own That ‘70s Show, nor is this work meant to be read as endorsement of anyone associated with That ‘70s Show. Just something I thought of after rewatching That ‘70s Show and reigniting a passion for the characters (all of whom deserve better).

In this AU Jackie has never been to Point Place (and never dated Kelso). Most things that happened throughout the series still happened (minus Jackie-related things, obviously), but not everything identical as in the series - mostly in the latter seasons (e.g. Eric/Donna not rushing to wed, Eric going to Africa lol, Season 8 is non-existent, etc.). Anyway, since the timeline is so inconsistent throughout the show, I'm bending some of the dates/years of certain things. Still hoping to cram in a lot of nods and references throughout!

This is just meant to mostly be a fluffy, fun fic, hope you enjoy!

cw: Workplace sexual harassment.

April 22, 1983

It had been almost five years since they’d all graduated. The basement had steadily become a lot less lively than when they'd been younger, but every now and then they’d reconnect and hang out on a Friday or Saturday night just like old times. It was happening a lot more often lately, ever since Forman and Donna had finally set a date for their wedding.

Engaged since their last year of high school, they had decided to postpone the wedding until after college—only for Forman’s stint at college to be further postponed for another year after Red’s heart attack. It had been a long time coming, and no doubt an exercise in patience for two idiots in love. Especially considering those two didn’t always make the best decisions.

But, the older they all got, the more they had all come to understand that that's the way life was. It wasn't a race, it was a marathon. Eventually, through the natural ebb and flow, things had settled down. Forman would graduate in a little less than two months, and then two months after that Donna and him would finally get hitched.

It was one such Friday night where they had gathered, and they had all taken old, familiar positions. Forman was leaning against the freezer with a popsicle in his hand, Kelso was sitting in the lawn chair, Fez took a spot on the couch, while he was sitting in his chair when Donna came through the door. Forman’s face lit up the same way it had ever since they were kids—that dopey, lovestruck smile splitting across his face whenever he saw her.

The guys had made fun of him for it endlessly, but they were all secretly happy for them.

Hyde had never had the opportunity to hold onto childhood illusions to believe in things like marriage or true love or whatever other corporate bullshit society was selling to the masses—but if those things really did exist, it must have been for those two. Them, or maybe Red and Mrs. Forman.

“Hey Eric, um,” Donna had a pensive expression on her face as she crossed the room over to him, “Jackie’s going to be coming a little early. She’ll be staying with me and my dad for the summer.”

Forman’s smile curdled instantly, “Wait, how early? The whole summer?”

“She’ll be here by the end of next week.” Donna tried to smile at him, slipping her arms around his waist in an attempt to mollify his incoming complaint.

“Next week? But Donna, the bridal shower is over two months away!” Forman groaned dramatically.

Jackie Burkhart. Hyde had never met her, but he’d heard about her in passing.

She was Donna’s best friend from college, and coincidentally his counterpart in the wedding acting as the maid of honor. She was also his counterpart with regards to Betsy. Kelso had selected him for Godfather, while Brooke had selected Jackie for Godmother. The two had apparently met through Donna, which had been Big Red's primary complaint when she got passed over for Godmother. Kelso had once described Jackie as ‘hot but bitchy’, which explained basically nothing about her. He'd also heard Donna call her Nancy Drew from time to time, on account of her working as some wannabe investigative reporter.

But more than anything, he’d heard that she was also a giant pain in the ass specifically towards Forman.

“Eric, come on!” Donna tried to suppress a laugh, “Listen, she’s having a really hard time right now, and you’re going to be busy with final exams anyways. You’ll barely even see each other for the first month.”

Forman continued to complain under his breath, “But I’ll have to see her next weekend.” Everyone ignored him.

“Jackie’s coming early? Is she staying in Point Place the whole time?” Kelso piped up, sitting a little straighter in the lawn chair.

“Yeah, probably.” Donna turned in Forman’s arms, leaving one of her arms around his waist, to look at Kelso.

“Oh, man!” Kelso grinned widely and looked at Fez, “You should totally try and get with her!”

“Oh, no you don’t!” Donna dropped her arm from Forman and took a step towards them, raising her voice, “None of you dillholes are allowed to pursue Jackie! She’s my maid of honor, not a piece of meat.”

“It’s all right Donna, I am more interested in a different bridesmaid. Rhonda and I have been reconnecting.” Fez smiled up at Donna, “I would never jeopardize the reblossoming of our love by engaging in the conquest of your maid of honor.” Hyde glanced towards him with a grimace, mildly perturbed by Fez’s phrasing. It was nearly enough for him to lean over and frog him, but Donna beat him to it. Fez rubbed at his shoulder, frowning, “Ai.”

She was no longer smiling as she said, “I’m serious, all of you need to keep it in your pants.”

But Kelso carried on, incapable of reading the room as per usual, “Now hold on Fez, you’ve never seen Jackie! She’s pretty hot, you might change your mind.”

Fez raised his eyebrows curiously, but Donna interrupted him before he could say something stupid again, “How many times do I have to tell you all? Jackie is off limits. Off. Limits.”

Hyde was about to ask why he kept getting lumped together with the two dimwits that only thought with their dicks, but Kelso interjected before he could issue a half-hearted, indignant objection.

“Well, damn Donna! I mean she’s not even Hyde’s type so I don’t think you have to worry about that, but if Brooke and I are on a break and Jackie’s single, it’s fair game, right?”

He and Donna spoke simultaneously.

“No!” She shouted.

“I have a type?” Hyde scoffed.

Kelso elected to ignore Donna and stood up from his lawn chair to pace around behind the couch, looking at him with a laugh, “Yeah. Blonde, big rack, easy. Jackie’s the opposite of all of those.” He paused, “But I guess sometimes you like smart chicks, and she is pretty smart.”

Hyde just shrugged. He couldn’t really argue with any of that, but he felt a little unnerved about having apparently become so predictable. He was never one to put himself in a box for anything in life, the aesthetics of his sexual partners included.

“She’s also the devil.” Forman added with a beleaguered sigh.

“Oh!” Kelso pointed at Hyde, “Maybe you would like her! She’s also a former cheerleader, you used to like those back in high school.”

That was also true. Hyde arched a brow thoughtfully—reminiscing on his teenage escapades with various members of the cheerleading squad. He was in the middle of recalling Kat Peterson’s thighs wrapped around his hips, when Forman’s placating voice interrupted his concentration. It was probably for the best, nothing good ever came from dwelling on Kat for too long.

“Okay guys,” Forman took a step forward, a hand lifting to rub Donna’s back, as he begrudgingly said, “You’re all going to behave around Jackie, because Donna asked nicely—and because she’s made of hellfire.”

“Fine, but if she comes onto me, and Brooke and I aren’t together, then it’s game on!” Kelso conceded loudly, returning to his seat with a slight pout. Donna just rolled her eyes.

Kelso and Brooke hadn’t taken the leap into a big commitment despite raising their daughter together, and frankly, Hyde couldn’t blame Brooke for holding off.

Although Kelso was the father of her child, he was still practically phobic of commitment. Not to mention that even at twenty-three he still made more bad decisions than good ones. Hyde couldn’t imagine why she’d want to accept his ring, and co-parenting seemed to be working fine for them, at least for the time being.

But he also knew Kelso, and he could tell his best friend was sweet on Brooke in a way he didn’t seem to feel about other chicks—Kelso was either too oblivious or too stupid to figure out how to move the relationship forward.

“Fine by me!” Fez chirped good-naturedly. Fez would undoubtedly flirt with Jackie if she was even half as hot as Kelso claimed she was, but he was otherwise harmless. Especially if he was trying to reconcile with Rhonda.

Hyde felt every set of eyes in the room turn towards him, the scrutiny lingering for a long moment of silence. He tried to ignore them all, idly scratching at his beard as his gaze remained glued to the TV, but Forman made an annoying ‘ahem’ sound to prompt him to say something.

He closed his eyes and sighed through his nose, "Whatever."

"No, 'whatever' isn't going to cut it." Donna replied, folding her arms across her chest.

Hyde glanced up at the two of them staring at him with faces of stern reproach, waiting expectantly for him to reply. He was tempted to tell 'Mom and Dad' to bite him, but instead his shoulders lifted to his ears, as he said irritably, “I didn’t even say anything!”

Donna raised her brows and repeated her request, “Hyde, just tell me you won’t try anything.”

“Gosh Big Red, all this fuss.” Hyde gestured around the room shaking his head, “Fine. I’m not interested in your precious little maid of honor, so you can stop acting so protective over her.”

He didn’t know what she was so worried about anyway. According to Kelso there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot he’d find appealing about her, and based on Forman’s testament she was a raging bitch. She sounded like more trouble than she was worth. Either that, or more effort than he normally liked to put in.

If anything, he was hoping to survive this whole wedding business unscathed, keeping their interactions as best man and maid of honor to the bare minimum.

But Donna held his gaze for a moment longer, and there was something about the way she looked at him that caused a weird tingle to run down his spine. The sort of feeling one got before a storm hit—a bad feeling. She looked like she wanted to argue the point further, so he set his jaw, practically daring her to keep it up.

She must have thought better of it, nodding slowly, “Well, all right. So long as you agree.”

He shrugged again, ignoring the disquiet that had settled in his chest, “Man, why would I give a damn about Jackie Burkhart?”

 

---

 

1983 was turning out to not be her year. Then again, she hadn’t really had a year since before she turned seventeen.

Jackie was standing in the convenience store considering a third package of beef jerky for her shopping basket. She sighed heavily, placing it back on the hanger and turning to head towards the checkout. She couldn’t afford the third package of beef jerky right now. Not after losing her job earlier that day.

She paused by the liquor aisle. Well, well, there was a sale on tequila. 

She wondered if that was a sign from God that it was time to begin her slow descent into becoming just like her mother.

“I’d need a rich husband for that.” She muttered to herself derisively, before dumping the contents of her basket on the counter. Two packages of beef jerky, band-aids, cherry flavored gum, and a cola pop. She attempted to avoid small talk with the store clerk, who didn’t bother to hide the fact that he was gawking at her.

She knew that, despite her innate beauty, she looked like a total mess right now. Mascara had run and smudged beneath her eyes, her complexion was blotchy from having cried so much earlier. It was but a slight imperfection upon her otherwise effortless charms, but it was enough to arouse the curiosities of random strangers, such as the store clerk. She could see the desire to ask whether she was okay hovering on the tip of his tongue, but she didn't accept pity from anyone—least of all someone with the abomination of a haircut that he was sporting. She leveled him with a cold stare, and it was enough to scare him off from prying.

“Here you go, miss.” He said, hesitantly holding out the plastic bag for her to take. She snatched it out of his hand, a little melodramatically, and left.

Once she was safe and secure in the comfort of her apartment—her home for at least the next couple of days—she ripped open a bag of beef jerky and settled on top of her counter. After tearing off a few hunks, she reached over for her phone and dialed up Donna again.

“Pinciotti residence!” She recognized Bob Pinciotti’s boisterous voice instantly. 

“Hi Mr. Pinciotti, it’s Jackie, is Donna back from Eric’s yet?”

“Oh hi Jackie! Gosh yer sweet, I keep tellin’ you to call me Bob!” His warm, friendly greeting immediately caused fresh tears to spring to her eyes. She swallowed against them, fighting to maintain her composure. “Donna uh, you know what I think she just got in, just hold on there a sec.”

She felt herself nodding even though he couldn’t see her—it was too risky for her to try talking right away while holding back a wave of emotion.

“She’ll be just a moment, but uh while I have you.” Bob carried on, “I wanna tell you again yer welcome to stay here as long as you need. I already told Donna that after all the time you two gals spent together at college, yer basically like family.”

The dam burst, tears slipped down her cheeks and Jackie bit into her lip with the effort to keep from sobbing. Bit down until the taste of copper touched the tip of her tongue. She had almost managed to completely subdue her bout of upset, but as she inhaled a sharp, shaky breath she knew immediately that he overheard it across the line.

“Oh dang, I didn’t mean to make you cry Jackie.” His friendliness deflated a bit with guilt and she released a gasping half-laugh, half-sob in response.

“No, no.” She found herself smiling despite the embarrassment that flooded her, “It’s okay, thank you Mr. Pinciotti—”

“Bob.” He reminded her gently.

She closed her eyes and nodded again, “Thank you Bob. I really can’t thank you enough.”

“Well, I have half a mind to drive down there myself and—oh, here’s Donna.”

Donna’s voice picked up right where Bob’s had left off, “Yeah me too, do you want me to drive to Chicago tonight and kick that guy’s ass first thing in the morning?”

“Donna.” Jackie scoffed, sniffling, “TV trumps radio, you should already know this. It would be bad for your career to beat up the producer of the top local news channel in Chicago.”

She paused, remembering the way he had called her into his office to offer her that long-awaited promotion. How excited she had been to finally be recognized for all of her hard work throughout the past year. The way she had smiled at him—shortly before his greasy, wrinkly hand had slithered onto her thigh with a suggestive squeeze.

She had been paralyzed by the most intense sensation of outrage that she’d ever felt in her entire life, and she hadn’t even known what was happening before the deafening crack of her palm against his cheek snapped her out of her dazed state. Her hand had lingered in the air, stinging sharply from the force of how hard she had hit him. They both stared at each other, his sallow, old cheek rapidly reddening. An oppressive silence had fallen over the entire office, even beyond his closed door, and she somehow just knew that other people had overheard the slap—other people knew what had happened. The two of them continued to stare at each other in stunned silence, and it felt like the stalemate lasted for an eternity and a day.

That is, until those two words escaped him.

“You’re fired.”

He’d even had the audacity to sound offended.

Jackie ripped another piece of beef jerky off, and said through her teeth, “But you would absolutely demolish him. He’d crumble and cry like a little boy against your big, strong lumberjack fists.”

Donna laughed bittersweetly across the line. “Are you sure you’re okay? I could take a few days off and come down to help you pack.” She suggested, and Jackie could hear the concern in her voice. It was like a balm for her hurt and anger, but she was too proud to tell her that.

“No, you need to keep working and save up your money.” Jackie reminded her, shaking her head, “Aren’t you and that stringbean planning on buying a house? You spent all your savings on school and traveling the world the past couple of years, you can’t afford the time off.” She wished it didn’t sound so critical coming out of her mouth. She’d meant well, after all.

Donna exhaled a soft chuckle. No matter how rough Jackie’s delivery was, Donna always seemed able to figure out when Jackie was trying to be good to her and simply failing at being nice about it. She could hear the fond humor in the redhead’s voice as she replied, “All right, all right. Well, you’ll have people here to help you out.”

“Oh yeah.” Jackie mumbled in between chewing on her jerky, “Your dad and I are gonna catch up on The Love Boat and Three’s Company. And I’ll keep busy helping out with the wedding, of course.”

She’d been negligent in her duties as maid of honor thus far—wasting all her time trying to establish a career that had apparently ended up going nowhere. She really needed to step up her game, she only had a little over two months to plan the bridal shower, never mind the bachelorette party.

She could hear the smile in Donna’s voice when she spoke again, “No, I mean my other friends and family will be here too. Eric’s family lives next door, if there’s anything you need they’ll help out. Wedding stuff or otherwise.”

She wanted to believe Donna was being honest, but she admittedly found it hard to take seriously. Good people were so far and few between. She had been let down so many times over the past five years and had become accustomed to shouldering everything on her own. She had gotten so used to thinking Donna and Brooke were the only people she could trust in the world.

How lucky had she been that Donna had decided to attend UW when she had? She hated to think about what her life would’ve been like if they had never met.

“I think I’m just going to throw all my stuff in storage.” Jackie changed the subject, finding the idea of relying on others—at least, more than she already was—uncomfortable. “I might even make it there by Wednesday, if I pack light.”

“Jackie Burkhart packing light?” Donna sounded surprised, not even bothering to hide her sarcasm, “I wonder what that looks like.”

“Well, Donna, you won’t have too long to wait and see.” She perked up, feeling a little better, “Soon I, Jackie Burkhart, will finally grace Point Place with my presence.”

 

---

 

April 27, 1983

Hyde yawned.

The mundane landscape framing the stretch of highway between Milwaukee and Point Place surrounded him on both sides as he drove himself home.

W.B. had requested his presence for a quarterly meeting that had required all store managers of the Wisconsin branches to attend. After nearly four hours sitting in an office listening to the drone of corporate speak—the majority of which he couldn’t recall unless he thought real hard—W.B. had taken him out for lunch.

A nice, ritzy type of place. The hostess’s nose had wrinkled, no doubt put off by his Zeppelin tee shirt and jeans. It was not the typical dress code he wagered, but they had seated them regardless without comment. He had come to learn over the years that that's what it meant to dine with rich folks like his dad. You could dress however you wanted and still receive semi-decent service.

“So Steven!” W.B. had inquired casually, “Seeing anyone?”

That was the main problem with Forman and Donna finally getting married. For some reason it meant everyone suddenly thought his personal business was on the table for discussion. Particularly topics around whether or not he was looking to settle down himself.

“No one special.” He’d replied nonchalantly, although it would’ve been more accurate to say ‘no one, period’.

It had been a number of weeks since his last fling had fizzled out, and he’d been occupying himself with the store so much that he hadn’t really thought much about pursuing any new opportunities.

Or maybe it was just that the one night stands and two week long relationships had begun to lose their allure. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate having a good time, and it was always fun in the moment, but his bed was no warmer after they left. He would never admit it out loud, but lately the free and easy types of relationships he'd become accustomed to were leaving him feeling a little empty afterwards. More and more he found himself—pointlessly—wondering what it would be like to have someone actually stick around. To have something that was a little more than just fucking.

But after the number Edna and Bud had done on him growing up, he couldn’t even begin to imagine what a healthy, normal relationship would or should look like for him. Didn’t even know if he was capable of such things. After all, building up trust and intimacy was easier said than done, especially when the idea of being vulnerable with another person practically gave him hives.

No, it was definitely easier to keep things casual. That was all he needed. This longing of his would pass with time. It hadn’t exactly been what he would consider an unusual stretch of time anyway, but it had been long enough for Fez to comment on his lack of dating. But Fez had always paid a little too much attention to everyone else’s sex life, so that wasn’t exactly a good point of measure.

And in theory a wedding was a great place to pick up chicks for a quick fling, but it was tricky when you were equally good friends with the bride. If he messed around with one of Donna’s friends and it ended badly, then it’d negatively impact their friendship. 

But maybe she’d have a friend—or two—that’d be more interested in something casual.

Regardless, W.B. had seemed disappointed by his answer, and had then offered to set him up with an associate’s daughter. A pretty gal that had gotten into Yale, apparently. Hyde had laughed in his face before refusing. 

“Nah man, I gotta head back to Point Place.” He’d insisted, using it as an excuse to escape the conversation.

And it had worked—W.B. had even praised him for his work ethic.

He was about thirty to forty minutes outside of Point Place, and acknowledged he was making good time—he’d probably be back with an hour or so to spare before dinner.

Farmland and empty highway stretched out ahead of him, all save for a red speck on the shoulder that he was approaching. As he got closer, he could tell it was a car. Someone had pulled over with car trouble from the looks of it.

He slowed down a little as he came up on them, spotting the bottom half of a tiny woman rummaging about under the hood. It was a worn, red Mustang—a little rusted and weathered, like she hadn't been keeping up with maintenance. Watching her backend straining to fiddle with her broken down car nagged at his conscience, and he glanced around. There were no other cars that he could see in either direction, at least for the time being. But who knew what sort of miscreant might drive up after him?

“Dammit.” He sighed, and began to pull the El Camino over.

He threw the car in park and turned it off, before glancing at her behind him in the rearview mirror. She had noticed his approach, and she was no longer fussing with the car. Instead she was watching him carefully. His brows raised slightly—well, she certainly wasn’t stupid.

He emerged from the Camino and began to approach her. He stopped a respectful distance away from her, trying not to appear like a potential threat—which he could already tell was what she thought. He met her suspicious gaze from behind his sunglasses, relaxing his posture, hands resting casually on his belt buckle.

She was a petite, slim woman with loosely curled, raven dark hair. Her mouth was fixed in a defiant pout, and the shape of it almost made him want to smile. She looked like a fairy dressed in a pink blouse with frilly sleeves and a flowery skirt. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he addressed her.

“You havin’ car trouble?” He gestured towards her Mustang.

“Obviously.” She retorted, folding her arms across her chest. The front of her blouse was smudged a little with grease from her leaning over the car.

He pointed back towards the Camino with his thumb, “There’s a gas station about a fifteen minute drive up the road, I can take you there so you can call a tow truck. And I know a place that can take a look at your car in the next town.”

She took a moment to assess him, but did not warm to the idea. Her voice was sharp like a knife as she spoke, “Sorry, I don’t get into cars with random, scruffy men I encounter on the highway. I’d rather not end up as a trophy buried in some farmer’s field.” Someone else might have thought her ungrateful, but it was obvious to him that she was just nervous—and he didn’t blame her for it. She didn’t know he was harmless.

Still, he almost laughed, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, “Do I look like a farmer to you?”

Her gaze swept over him once more, taking in the Zeppelin shirt, worn in jeans, the boots. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and conceded, “No. You look like someone who was a high school burnout.”

Goddamn, she was vicious.

He didn't bother resisting the urge to smile this time, even though he’d meant to keep a neutral face, and said, “Listen, man. You’re in the middle of nowhere, I can’t just leave you here. What if some nutjob tries to pick you up?”

She rolled her eyes and tilted her chin up pridefully, “I’m not in the middle of nowhere. I’m fifteen minutes, give or take, from a gas station. I’ll just walk there by myself, alone.” She began to strut towards him at an angle, aiming to give him a wide berth and try to pass by from a safe distance.

She was wearing a ridiculous pair of shoes that looked uncomfortable on her feet, never mind inappropriate for hiking across the highway. He could see the band-aids covering up blisters sticking out from around her heels. She continued her rant as she stepped around him, “Do you know how many women get picked up by psycho killers on the side of the highway? Too many to count.”

“Come on, man.” Hyde laughed a bit, and took a step back towards the Camino, hands shifting into his pockets, “Is there anything I can do to convince you to let me give you a ride? The guy I can introduce you to will be able to fix your car in Point Place and then you can be on your way.” She looked like she was someone headed for some big city, and if she was driving in the opposite direction of Milwaukee, he could only assume she was just passing through.

“I’m headed to Point Place, actually.” She muttered offhandedly, and then abruptly shut her mouth. Obviously she felt she shouldn’t have told him her destination.

Before he could stop himself, the first question that popped into his head slipped past his lips, “What’s a chick like you going to Point Place for?”

She stopped a little ways from him, glancing over her shoulder. He got the sense that she was trying to discern the meaning of his question—did he mean it as a compliment or an insult? Well, too bad for her, he’d perfected the art of Zen many years ago and ambiguity was the name of the game. Her eyes narrowed, revealing to him her frustration.

“I’m going to a wedding.” She snapped, “Now will you just leave me alone?”

He blinked at her.

Although years of smoking in the circle throughout middle school and high school hadn’t necessarily diminished his overall perceptiveness, it sometimes took him a moment longer to piece together more complex information. But he was still sharp enough to always get there.

The opposite of a blonde, with a big rack, who was easy. A smart, bitchy woman made of hellfire. Going to a wedding. 

One of his hands lifted out of his pockets to point at her, his mouth curving into a wide, curious grin as he said, “Oh my god, you’re that Nancy Drew chick, Jackie Burkhart.”

Notes:

I read a bunch of conjecture about where Point Place would theoretically be located on the map, and ultimately I decided to go with "somewhere between Green Bay and Milwaukee". I don't care if that's technically incorrect, I'm not American and the arguments I read in favor of this were pretty convincing lol.

Hoping to keep everyone mostly in-character, taking into account that they've all had a couple years to mature.

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 2: R.S.V.P

Notes:

('when you were young - the killers.mp3' playing distantly in the background or something idk idk)

The Mustang had always been an unreliable piece of shit—ironically fitting, considering it had been a gift from her parents. But it was one of the few things she had left from the before time. Before her father’s arrest, before her mother’s tequila tour across Mexico, and before her life spinning out overall.

She had managed to scrape by, trading in her previously immaculate, rich kid credit score for student debt and a diploma. Once she had graduated a year ago, she had thought she would finally be self-sufficient. Thought she would begin paying off that debt and building her life back up from scratch. She had moved from Madison to Chicago with big dreams and big plans, but her entry level position barely paid enough for rent and food. Beyond that it was also just difficult for her to stomach work that was so obviously beneath her. 

Nevertheless, she had smiled demurely and spoken sweetly, choking down humble pie. She could swallow it, along with her pride, because eventually she would get her break, eventually she would get a promotion. But when that opportunity finally came, the strings attached to it had been so revolting she had wanted to puke up all her wasted time and groveling.

And then the Mustang broke down, a little less than an hour away from her destination—from her escape from the worst week she’d experienced since Chip.

Because of course it did.

She smacked her palm against the steering wheel in frustration, blowing her hair out of her face. With a heavy sigh, she popped the hood and got out to survey the damage. She checked the engine and tried to get a look at the braking system. It was quiet all around, save for the gentle breeze blowing across the farmer fields. She couldn’t decide whether she felt more unsettled or angry—but maybe it was both in equal parts.

After a few minutes, she heard the sound of another car approaching from the direction she’d come from.

When she’d been a girl, she had often imagined that one day she’d encounter a chivalrous sort of man, the type of guy that might ride a white steed into battle for his lady’s honor. That dream had begun to wither a couple years ago, and then Chip had taken it out back and shot it dead five months ago. There were no white knights swooping in to rescue her from her troubles—not unless they happened to drive a black El Camino.

The car made a sound that was loud and deep, but smooth—almost like a purr—as it came upon her. He pulled over a short distance away and killed the engine. Jackie had stopped fiddling under the hood to face the Camino, watching the driver with suspicious eyes. He got out of his vehicle, and whatever she had expected to see, he was not it (and if he was a serial killer looking to snatch her off the side of the road, he was an awfully lackadaisical one).

He had curly hair and a beard. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of tinted sunglasses. If he wasn’t wearing a Led Zeppelin tee shirt, she might have thought he was some unkempt, backwoods hick. He regarded her curiously, tilting his head to the side slightly as if to gauge her countenance. He stopped a fair distance away from her, recognizing immediately that she didn’t trust him—so she supposed he must be moderately smart.

She was a little surprised by the calm, steady timbre of his voice when he finally spoke, a little more surprised that it sounded pleasant to her ears. He was unhurried and unbothered. Even when she responded by exchanging barbed words for his offers of assistance, it didn’t rile him. If anything, he seemed humored by her behavior.

If she didn’t know better, she would’ve taken his concern for her to be sincere. And if she knew better, she wouldn’t find the ever so slight curve of his grin as he withstood her tongue lashing so attractive.

But he disarmed her enough for her to admit that she was going to Point Place, not driving through it. Even though she knew it was stupid of her to tell him, it had just slipped out.

“What’s a chick like you going to Point Place for?”

The question had given her pause. It was his vague surprise that caught her, but when she looked at him his face was neutral. She couldn’t tell if he meant she looked like she was too good for the podunk town in Wisconsin, or if she wasn’t good enough for the ‘suburban getaway’ known as Point Place. It was practically impossible for it to be the latter, and yet his expression gave no hint as to the meaning of his words. The most frustrating thing was that she had always prided herself on her observational skills.

In her defense, he was hiding almost his entire face beneath facial hair and aviators.

She lost her temper and blurted out the truth. At least he would know that if he was planning to abduct and kill her that people were going to miss her, going to be looking for her.

Then he pointed at her, and she turned away, ready to try and leave him there, before he blurted out, “Oh my god, you’re that Nancy Drew chick, Jackie Burkhart.”

She stopped dead, staring down at the road. Only Donna ever called her Nancy Drew—“Well Donna, if I’m Nancy Drew, then you’re my lumberjack sidekick!”—which meant he was close with Donna. And the wedding party was a small one, which could only mean one thing.

She spun on her heel and looked at him, eyes narrowing, “You’re Steven Hyde, Eric’s brother.”

He arched his brow slightly—was he impressed she had put that together so quickly?

He took a tentative step towards her and said, “One and the same.” He paused, and then satisfied her curiosity, “How’d you know?” So he was impressed.

She hesitated a moment, before her posture began to relax. She took a few, cautious steps towards him as she explained, “Well, I already know Michael, and you’re not foreign, so that only leaves Steven Hyde, Eric’s adopted brother.”

“Foster brother.” He corrected, the corners of his mouth almost tipping upwards again. A ticklish feeling she thought had died some months ago fluttered in her gut as she noticed him repressing the urge to grin. He glanced back towards the highway leading in the direction of Point Place and then sighed, “Well, Donna will kick my ass if I leave you here stranded, so I’m afraid you’ll have to come with me now.”

Right, Donna.

Jackie’s shoulders slumped, and she conceded, “She'll kick my ass if I refuse your offer and stay stranded. Let me grab a few things first.”

“All right.”

He trailed behind her, hands still in his pockets, as she returned to the mustang. She grabbed her purse from the passenger seat, the two pieces of luggage that were in her back seat and set them down on the ground. Then, she grabbed the two others and a duffel bag from her trunk. When she had everything out, she finally turned to look at him. He had an odd look on his face, like something was funny.

“What?” She asked, prickly.

“Nothing.” He responded initially, but there was an amused tilt to his mouth before he elaborated, unable to help himself, “A lot of luggage for such a tiny chick.”

“Well, when you're as beautiful as me, you need an assortment of outfits and accessories to accentuate it.” She said, sincere in her words, flipping her hair over her shoulder. 

He didn't even try to stifle the scoff that escaped him.

“Whatever.” He said, punctuating his statement with a shake of his head. She was about to verbally tear into him and his awful fashion sense, when he reached out a hand to help with her luggage. Her mouth closed.

After they had loaded his flatbed, she reluctantly climbed into the passenger side. She had been staring at him the entire time, but if he noticed he wasn't letting it bother him. Finally, she said, as he turned the keys in the ignition, “I'm trusting you because of Nancy Drew, but I have mace in my purse and I'm not afraid to use it, just in case you're lying.”

The car roared to life, and he slowly turned to look at her. His face was impassive, but he spoke softly, “I believe you, and I'm not lying to you.”

She could sense his honesty, and the tension in her shoulders eased. She gave a quick nod of her head in acknowledgement.

She continued to watch him quietly as he drove. He didn't make any effort towards small talk, forcing her to sit with the thousands of questions swirling in her head—What were Donna and Eric like in high school? What's Point Place like? Are you single?—all of which were better left unspoken.

That last question in particular made her heart hammer a little bit harder in her chest.

Steven Hyde wasn't usually the type of guy she was attracted to, but as she warmed up to him not being a threat, her body’s response to him was immediately obvious to her. The way her eyes had been drawn to his arms as he lifted her luggage. The way she had fixated on all the micro expressions of his mouth. The way his voice and laughter made her skin feel ticklish. The way she had decided his easygoing energy paired well with his scruffy appearance.

And if she were to be honest, her ‘usual type’ usually ended up being assholes.

But maybe she was just keyed up because it had been so long since she'd dated.

The silence stretched out until they pulled over at the gas station, and he finally broke it, “Wait here, I'll make a few calls.” He wasn't looking at her, his eyes trained on a tow truck pumping gas at the next stall over.

“Okay.” She agreed, and watched him leave.

She leaned forward, observing him as he initiated a conversation with an older man wearing coveralls inside the storefront. A relaxed grin split across his face and he clapped the man on the shoulder. Her brows lifted as she saw him pull out his wallet and hand the coverall man a few bills. He then exited the gas station and walked over to the pay phone. He lifted the receiver and leaned against the wall facing away from her. The conversation didn't last very long, and before she knew it he had hung the phone up and was walking back to the Camino.

“That guy's going to tow your car to the shop right now, so we can get it looked at right away.” He informed her as he climbed back in, and her gaze was drawn to the coveralls wearing man walking back to the tow truck. Relief swept through her, until she realized he had paid for the tow.

“I can pay you back!” She opened her purse and began to rummage around for her wallet, “How much did it cost?”

“Don't worry about it.” He said.

“But—” She started, annoyance edging into her voice as she prepared to argue.

“Jackie.” He said, and she immediately stopped moving. A warm flush began creeping up her neck, hearing her name come out of his mouth so familiarly. “It's nothing. I know the guy, he gave me a deal.”

“Fine.” She huffed haughtily, incapable of demonstrating gratitude—after all, she hadn't asked for him to pay.

He just shook his head and said, “Come on, I'll take you to Red’s place.”

As he pulled back out onto the road, the quiet between them had become unbearable for her, so she relented and began trying to make small talk. All she was able to glean from him was that he owned a record store and was returning from a business trip to Milwaukee. After too many one-word answers and noncommittal grunts, she decided to fill the void by telling him about what it was like to live in Chicago—she recommended her favorite pizza spot, the best mall outlet, and all the best coffee shops.

They were approaching the town limit by the time she'd almost finished telling him a story about the downtown traffic in Chicago, when she stopped mid sentence to look at the water tower as they drove by, “—why is there a giant green hand flipping us off?”

He had been relatively quiet the entire drive thus far, but for whatever reason that made him burst into laughter.

 

---

 

Hyde relaxed against one of the cabinets in the back of Red’s muffler shop, hands comfortably resting on his belt buckle. He was observing what was unfolding before his eyes with a keen interest, which he hoped was adequately masked by his affect of Zen.

Red was tinkering around under the hood of Jackie’s mustang, while Jackie was holding a flashlight up for him—listening attentively to everything Red was telling her. The second Jackie had positioned the light, Red had looked at him sideways and said, “Donna’s been holding out on me, she finally found one of you kids that can hold a damn flashlight properly.”

Jackie had glanced at him uncertainly, but Hyde had just shrugged his shoulders at her. Red had wasted no time in getting into the problem with her car, so her attention had been drawn away from him and back to the car.

Which was convenient for him, because he’d been avoiding looking at her the entire drive due to the fact that she had been on high alert and observing him the whole damn time. The awareness of her that he felt, as her eyes followed his movements, had made his skin warm and tingly—as though her mere gaze was enough to set him alight. While he understood her wariness and didn’t begrudge her for it, it had unnerved him to be scrutinized so closely.

Plus Kelso had been right, she was hot. It had been difficult for him not to look at her.

“Now Jackie.” Red stood up straight and wiped his hands off on a rag, “This is a classic problem with the mustang, the front end is—”

“Problematic, I know.” She exhaled a frustrated sigh before she added offhandedly, “It was a gift from my parents for my seventeenth birthday.”

“Well, if they were handing out cars, you should’ve asked for a—”

“Firebird! Am I right?” Jackie interrupted him with an eager voice, her hand raising up to pat Red’s elbow, as though they were in the midst of a gab session but about cars instead of jewelry.

Red smiled, one of those rare, genuine smiles, “That’s right. Now, I can order the parts you need, but the car will have to sit here until I’m able to fix it up. It’s not safe to drive right now.”

She absorbed the information calmly, a wrinkle appeared between her brow as she did some calculations, “How much?”

“For the parts?” Red folded his arms across his chest thoughtfully, “I’ll tell you what, I know you’re going to be dedicating a lot of your time to Eric and Donna’s wedding, how’s about we consider this a gift for your assistance?”

She chewed at her bottom lip, hesitating. He found himself respecting her for that. She didn’t want any free handouts. She had a hell of a lot more integrity than most people he’d met in his life. Well, either that, or she was just insanely prideful. After all, he got the impression that money was tight, and he knew better than anyone that it could be a relief to have someone help you out when tough times came around.

“Okay, Mr. Forman.” Jackie conceded, “But at least let me pay you for the labor to fix it.”

Red considered her counteroffer for a moment, before nodding, “All right, that sounds fair.”

And then she smiled—the first real one he’d seen since meeting her on the side of the road—and suddenly all of his thoughts grew quiet.

Ever since he’d been young, his mind had always been loud. He loved to read, to learn, to think. He loved to listen to rock music that was either noisy or had thought-provoking lyrics. He occupied himself with tasks and games that tested his intelligence, and with the right people he didn’t mind the occasional philosophical debate. He may not have done well academically, but his brain almost always felt busy with thoughts. It only ever calmed when he was either sitting in a circle or after a really good fuck.

That was, until Jackie’s joy exploded all over her face, drawing his complete attention.

The pleasant curve of her cheeks, the way her eyes twinkled with mischief and the flash of her teeth as her mouth turned upwards deliciously. His heart pounded a little quicker with anticipation as she began to turn her face towards him—but her delight dimmed the second their eyes met. He was struck by an errant desire for her to smile at him like that, and the stray thought made him stand up a little straighter.

He didn’t even notice that Red was looking at him the entire time.

“Steven,” Red cleared his throat, addressing him, “Why don’t you take Jackie home so she can drop off her stuff, and then she can come over for dinner?”

“Yeah, okay.” Hyde agreed with a nod.

“Oh, but I’m staying with the Pinciottis’, Mr. Forman.” Jackie objected in a quiet voice.

“I know, but I don’t think Bob was expecting you until Friday, and Jackie, the thing about Bob?” Red was gruff but calm, as he looked at her with a wry smile, “He’s a dumbass, and not much of a cook. I’ll never hear the end of it if I don’t invite you over for dinner after a long day of travel. Trust me, you’ll be doing me a favor.”

Hyde smirked. It wasn’t a lie, he could already picture the horrified look Mrs. Forman would give them if they sent Jackie home on an empty stomach.

She opened her mouth to protest further, but seemed to think better of it and relented, “Well okay, but I don’t want to impose.”

“No imposition.” Red reassured her.

Hyde took a couple steps towards her and spoke up, hoping to alleviate her concerns, “Yeah, and Mrs. Forman always makes too much anyways. I think she’s still cooking as if Forman is still at home full-time.”

Jackie scoffed and blurted out, “Oh, I doubt he eats that much even when he is home, have you seen how scrawny he is?” She winced, hearing her words all too late for the company she was in, and quickly added, “Sorry.”

Hyde and Red both stared at her for a long pause, before Red burst into laughter and met his gaze, “I like her.”

Yeah, I do too.

He shook the thought from his head and gestured for her to follow him back to the Camino. Even if he did find himself mildly fascinated by her, the feeling did not appear to be mutual. She tensed up any time he came even a little close to her. He had reached over to the glove box to grab something while they’d been driving earlier, and the way she had startled, he thought she might actually reach for the mace. She didn’t, thankfully. But he intended to keep his distance anyway, to keep his hands in his pockets.

Still, she hadn't been shy to talk to him. She had asked him a couple questions about himself on the way into Point Place, but she had fortunately grown bored of his ambiguity. Instead she had elected to talk about Chicago and share a little about herself. He now knew she liked Chicago deep dish pizza (but only from a specific restaurant) and vanilla lattes. He knew she hated the traffic in downtown Chicago and whenever it was literally the windy city, because it always messed up her hair.

Man, she could talk. He had learned more obscure facts about Chicago in those thirty minutes on the highway than he ever thought he’d care to know in his entire life. 

But she was quieter now as they drove towards the Pinciotti and Forman houses. She rubbed at her eyes a little, looking out the passenger window. She evoked a sense of weariness, like she was holding up the weight of something crushing down on her, and he was briefly tempted to ask if she was okay. 

She must have felt his gaze, because she looked at him. Her posture straightened and her expression hardened—she didn’t want him prying, he could tell.

So he kept his mouth shut, and eventually they arrived at their destination.

He helped deposit Jackie’s luggage in Donna’s room, while Bob drew her into a big bear hug that she reluctantly accepted. The way her nose scrunched up—either from the excessive affection or Bob’s strong cologne—forced him to stifle a laugh. She was absolutely guileless, her face effortlessly expressing whatever thought or feeling must’ve passed through her mind. Even when she was trying to pretend, she was really bad at it.

She tried one last time to get out of dinner with the Formans’, but Bob placed a hand on her shoulder, “Oh, Jackie, I actually have a date tonight, so you should probably go eat with the Formans’.” He tried to add in a quieter voice, but Hyde overheard him, “Donna told me yer not much of a cook.”

“Did she now?” Jackie smiled again, but it was forced with the effort to hide her obvious annoyance, “Well,” She looked up at him, meeting his gaze, “I guess to the Formans’ it is! I’ll be over in just a minute, I’m going to change out of this” She gestured to the ruined front of her blouse. 

He wondered if she was just going to try to use this as an opportunity to stay at home and avoid coming over—maybe opting to make dinner out of pickles and crackers or something else basic. It was what he had done once upon a time, except back then all he’d had was ketchup and crackers. He grinned wryly and said, “Okay, I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

She scowled, all nice pretenses dropped, “I can find it myself, it’s just next door.”

Hyde shrugged his shoulders, “Well, I told Red I’d take you over, and I live under his roof so…”

“Fine.” She ground out, and he nodded.

Bob glanced between the two of them curiously, and then blurted out, “Well all right then, take care you two!”

Hyde waited down in Donna’s kitchen for what felt like fifteen whole minutes (how long did it take for her to change clothes anyway), but eventually she came through the door. She was wearing a flowy peasant dress. It must’ve been a few years old, as there were little bits of wear and tear, but she seemed a lot more comfortable.

Her wariness returned as she met his gaze, however.

“Let’s go.” He said, and she followed behind him. 

They were both quiet as they passed by the Pinciotti’s hedges, but he stopped as they got about halfway across the Formans’ driveway. He turned to her, briefly touching the ring on his pinky as he said quietly, “Just a heads up, Mrs. Forman likes to make a fuss, so prepare yourself.”

She considered his words and her expression finally softened, “Thanks…and thank you for rescuing me earlier, I don’t think I thanked you properly.”

Rescue seemed like a dramatic way to put it, but he enjoyed having earned her hard-won gratitude. The way she was looking at him also caused a pleasant shiver run down his spine. She was almost smiling at him, he could see the slight hint of it at the corners of her mouth. Before he could stop himself he said, “Anything for you, doll.”

Her eyes grew wide and mouth dropped open in surprise at the use of the pet name. There was an unmistakable blush that bloomed across her face. He couldn’t resist a smirk before he turned back to enter the Formans’ kitchen. She was beautiful when she blushed.

“Oh Steven!” Mrs. Forman chirped merrily as they entered, greeting him with a wide smile, but she quickly looked past him, “And this must be Jackie!”

“Hey, Mrs. Forman.” He said as he entered the kitchen, immediately moving to help with setting the table, “Red should be home any minute.” Mrs. Forman gave him a quick nod, but walked up to Jackie.

“Hi, yes, I’m Jackie Burkhart.” She introduced herself, practically preening, “I’m sure Donna’s told you all about me.”

“Well goodness, she didn’t tell me how pretty you were!” Mrs. Forman exclaimed abruptly. Jackie smiled brightly at the compliment, but he felt a trap set as Mrs. Forman turned back to him, “Steven, isn’t she the prettiest little thing you’ve ever seen?”

He glanced at Jackie from across the kitchen, expecting her smile to have dimmed again, but instead she met his gaze—her brow arched expectantly. She wanted him to answer the question. Her sudden interest in his opinion made him feel prickly. His mouth hung open, stupidly, as he considered what to say, “Uh—” He cleared his throat, reinforcing his Zen, “Yeah, she’s pretty.” He said it matter-of-factly, without any warmth.

Mrs. Forman’s eyes crinkled in slight disapproval, but she waved a hand dismissively, “Please take a seat Jackie, tell us all about yourself!”

“Well, I’ve lived a very interesting life Mrs. Forman, so I’m not sure I have enough time.” 

As expected, Red wasn’t far behind them, and they all sat down to begin dinner before Jackie proceeded to launch into the same spiel she’d given him in the car. She told the Formans’ all about Chicago—the lattes, the pizza, the traffic—and kept things surface level. He thought his warning would have tipped her off that it might not work with Mrs. Forman, but alas.

“And, what do you do for work?” Mrs. Forman asked, for the second time—she had always been more persistent than subtle, he supposed.

Jackie’s throat contracted awkwardly, like she was swallowing a difficult emotion, but her expression remained smooth. Maybe she was a little better at pretending than he had initially thought.

“Well, I’m…between jobs right now.” Jackie supplied vaguely.

“Oh, I see.” Mrs. Forman glanced at Red with a grimace, recognizing that she must’ve touched a sensitive subject. She laughed nervously, but didn’t give up, “Well, Donna tells me you’re working to become some investigative reporter! Are you going to be on TV?”

Jackie’s lips curved into a soft, dreamy smile and she said, with certainty, “Yes, someday.”

“How exciting!” Mrs. Forman exclaimed, “Isn’t that exciting, Red?”

“Thrilling.” Red replied indifferently, without looking up from his plate. Mrs. Forman rolled her eyes and waved a hand.

“Men, the only things they get excited about are their cars and half-naked women.” She muttered to Jackie and then burst into laughter. Jackie giggled too, and the lilting quality of the sound briefly caught him off guard.

He should’ve seen the warning signs for the next incoming trap—but he was busy enjoying a mouthful of mashed potatoes, blissfully ignorant—before Mrs. Forman blurted out with all the subtlety of a punch to the gut, “Speaking of men, are you single? A pretty gal like you must have to beat the men off with a stick!”

Hyde choked on his potatoes, doing everything not to look in her direction, as he felt her eyes upon him once again.

“Kitty.” Red complained.

“Well, Red! I’m just making conversation!” Mrs. Forman returned sharply.

He beat his chest with a fist to help his potatoes go down smoother, and after a slight hacking sound escaped him, he felt breath return to his lungs.

“It’s okay.” Jackie said towards Red, but uttered a forced, uncomfortable laugh as she answered the question, “Um, yes, I’m single Mrs. Forman, and unfortunately—being as beautiful as I am—I do have to dispense rejections quite regularly. But now that you mention it, maybe I should start carrying a stick.” 

He would have thought it was another one of the overly vain, ridiculous things she occasionally said, if not for the way she gripped her fork. Her knuckles were nearly white from the effort to keep her hand from shaking. Their eyes met briefly when he looked up at her face, her gaze immediately dropping to her plate.

Are you okay?

He wanted so badly to just ask her that. He recalled that Donna had mentioned she was having a hard time—he wondered what that meant. He focused on his own plate instead.

“Well, good for you dear!” Mrs. Forman tapped her hand on top of the table, “A pretty, independent, career woman like yourself deserves a good man, not just any old Tom, Dick or Harry!”

He wasn’t looking at her, but he heard her say, “I couldn’t agree more, Mrs. Forman.”

“So what are you up to tomorrow?” Mrs. Forman changed the subject, mercifully, but he had that sinking feeling again, like there was another trap about to be laid. The only thing he hadn’t anticipated was that this one was rigged by Red.

“Oh, I was going to walk further into town and look around. I might catch up with Brooke Rockwell if she’s available.” Jackie informed the table casually.

“Walk?” Red repeated, and he knew Red was looking at him expectantly before he even lifted his head, “Nonsense, Steven will drive you.”

“But—” Jackie was going to try and protest, but Hyde cut her off in order to avoid making this longer than it needed to be.

“I have to go into work tomorrow anyway, I can give you a ride to Grooves.” He shrugged his shoulders, “It’s no big deal.”

“Then it’s settled!” Mrs. Forman declared, and Jackie just stared at him for a long moment.

Eventually, she cleared her throat and said primly, “I suppose I’ll allow you to drive me into town.”

 

---

 

Jackie had already made herself at home in Donna’s room after dinner with the Formans’ by the time Donna got in.

Mrs. Forman had invited her to watch TV with her, but thankfully the excuse that she was tired from traveling all day—and she was tired—was good enough for her to get out of it. Not that she would have necessarily minded spending more time with them, they were absolutely lovely. So lovely, she wondered how Eric had ever managed to be raised by them, being the sarcastic little dink that he was. The point was, she had needed to get away from Steven Hyde.

Anything for you, doll.

He had seemed so cool and collected almost the entire time they spent together. Most of the things he said were either neutral or barely masking amusement at her expense. But when he had said that, when he had called her doll, it had been so plainly flirtatious. And his mouth had curved into a satisfied smirk, no doubt in response to the heat that had flooded her face. 

He had flustered her after luring her into a false sense of security—and after she had offered him her well-earned gratitude! It had set her off-kilter for the remainder of the dinner with the Formans’. She’d become hyper-aware of his presence, and he was a horrible distraction to suffer. She had somehow been roped into discussing things she didn’t want to talk about—her job, her love life—and then to make matters worse she was also saddled with Steven for the next morning. 

She knew she was going to have to see him more frequently the closer they got to the wedding, but she needed to wrangle her feelings into submission. She had gone from distrusting him, to finding him (objectively) attractive, to finding that she liked him and the way he looked at her. She could tell he was at least curious about her, but it was difficult to read much more beyond that. The stupid, traitorous part of her heart was hoping he found her attractive.

She had twirled and tangled Donna’s phone line in her fingers afterward, calling Brooke to see about setting up a lunch date tomorrow while distracted by thoughts of him. Brooke had even commented on her seeming out of it, but Jackie had used the convenient excuse that she was tired yet again.

But that excuse wouldn’t work with Donna.

Jackie was still up reading this month’s Cosmo, currently the article titled “Stop Being So Nice! Hang Tough and Be Good to Yourself If You Want to Get Somewhere”, but she was tempted to move onto the article about the technique for longer and more satisfying lovemaking. Not that there was any lovemaking going on currently or in her near future, but it would be nice to fantasize. Her skin turned to gooseflesh when she immediately pictured the hands of a certain scruffy, bearded man on her naked body—the ring on his pinky finger unmistakable.

“Hey, you got here early.” Donna said as she entered the room, before gesturing to the numerous pieces of luggage, “I see you made yourself at home.”

Jackie fanned herself a little, hoping it would alleviate her flush, “Yeah, how was work?”

“Oh, it was fine, but there’s a couple big concerts coming up this summer so we had to meet to discuss ideas for the inevitable ticket contests.” Donna was telling her as she walked towards her bathroom, taking the work day off of her—shedding her jewelry, her makeup, her bra.

“Neat, are you going to get free tickets?” Jackie inquired conversationally.

“Yeah, of course, do you want to go to Milwaukee and see the Rolling Stones in August?” Donna asked. Jackie was ambivalent about the Rolling Stones. She liked some of their songs, while others she didn’t care for as much. She just shrugged, so Donna dropped it, “How was the drive up?”

“My car broke down again.” She said plainly.

“What?” Donna whirled around, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, actually funny story, Eric’s foster brother, Steven, rescued me. I guess he was on his way back into town from Milwaukee.” Jackie shrugged, looking back down at the article, but her eyes didn’t read any of the words.

“Hyde?” Donna’s expression twisted up in confusion, “He rescued you?”

“Yup.” Jackie said, emphasizing the ‘p’, “He paid for the tow truck and then took me to Mr. Forman’s muffler shop to get it looked at, and then he even brought me over for dinner.”

Donna’s eyes drifted to the middle space of the room as she digested everything Jackie had just told her. After a moment, she asked in a low tone, “Did he behave?”

“Behave?” Jackie repeated, glancing up at her in confusion.

“Yeah, I mean, he didn’t like, hit on you or anything, right?”

“Well,” Jackie considered the question for a moment. Curious, stolen glances didn’t really count as hitting on her—he probably couldn’t help himself, her beauty was enchanting after all. And while him calling her ‘doll’ had felt flirtatious, it was fairly tame compared to what she usually had to deal with. He hadn’t once crowded her space, or gawked disrespectfully, or propositioned her salaciously.

She shook her head, “No, Donna. He was a perfect gentleman, at least as much as could be expected from a scruffy looking burnout."

Donna chuckled a little, slipping into her pajamas and climbing onto her bed, “Well, I’m glad he took care of you, but now I’m worried about what might have happened otherwise.”

Jackie flipped the magazine shut, “It’s fine Donna, don’t be such a worrywart, you’ll get wrinkles.”

“Okay, okay.” Donna smiled at her, and Jackie’s fingers toyed with a tassel on the blanket Bob had given her earlier that night. She could feel Donna watching her, and finally she asked, “What’s up, Jackie?”

“Well…” She attempted to keep her voice light, breezy, “I was just wondering, no reason in particular, but is Steven single?”

Donna rolled her eyes, but failed to suppress the wide grin that burst across her face, “Jackie! You’ve only known him for a few hours and you want to know if he’s single?”

“Donna! I’m just curious! He barely talked about himself, okay?” She replied defensively, scowling.

“Yeah, that sounds like Hyde.” Donna shook her head, “And yes, he’s single. Perpetually so.”

That was interesting, although not entirely unexpected. For a guy that was so relaxed—borderline apathetic—she supposed a long-term commitment sort of deal wouldn’t appeal to him.

“He did have a girlfriend once for a couple months, but it was just the one time.” Donna offered, further satisfying her curiosity, but then the lumberjack went ahead and added, “Trust me Jackie, I don't think he's for you.”

“Well, what is that supposed to mean?” Jackie asked, offended.

“He’s only ever interested in casual flings!” Donna said incredulously, “That’s like, the total opposite of you!”

“You’re saying it’d be another Chip situation?” Jackie glanced down at the cover of Cosmo, her eyes landing on the lovemaking article. She thought about how Chip had dumped her shortly after they’d had sex a few times—after they had fought about his pushy behavior when she had tried going down on him.

“What? No!” Donna asserted firmly, “He might not be interested in commitment, but he’s nothing like Chip is. He would never—” Donna cut herself off abruptly, before settling on, “You know.”

Jackie was relieved, even though she felt like she had already known that just from spending the day with him. Somehow, she had just known he wasn’t the type of guy to be rough and demanding. He seemed to let everything roll off his back and took the events of the day—took her—in stride. He had even picked up on the fact that she didn’t want him crossing her boundaries, and he hadn’t.

“My point is, you want a relationship.” Donna went on, “I don’t know if that's what he's looking for right now.”

“Is he a cheater?” She couldn’t help but ask, now reminiscing on her high school boyfriend.

“Not to my knowledge.” Donna looked thoughtful, “He just doesn’t usually make the commitment in the first place. I know when he was dating Melissa he didn’t cheat, though.”

“Huh.” Jackie nodded slowly, “Well, what if I’m not looking for a relationship?”

Donna’s brows briefly raised in surprise.

Despite marrying her high school sweetheart that she conveniently lost her virginity to, Donna was a feminist at heart. Women enjoying sex and casual relationships was not something that bothered her. It was just that it was uncharacteristic of someone like Jackie—who historically had always sought an exclusive relationship before taking that leap. After all, if it wasn’t a committed relationship, how could she know she was their top priority and the most beautiful girl in the world in their eyes?

Nevertheless, Donna answered honestly, “Well, if the gossipy cheerleaders from when we were in high school are to be believed, he’s really good in bed.”

Jackie flushed again, her hand unconsciously reaching up to rub at her neck. She tried to sound disinterested as she said, “Oh, is that so?”

Donna sighed heavily, “Look, Jackie. I told the three dillholes, Hyde included, that you were off limits, but if the both of you are consenting adults well, I won’t stop you.” She paused, before a grin split across her face, “I mean, it has been five months, you have needs.”

“Donna!” She shouted, trying to sound annoyed, but a giggle erupted out of her as she threw the magazine at that red-headed pain in the ass, “I don’t know if I’m actually interested, okay? He was just basically my savior today and you know how I get when someone acts chivalrously! I’m sure these feelings will go away by tomorrow morning when I see him again.”

“All right, all right.” Donna held her hands up, laughing, “I leave it up to you to decide. But if you get that ‘Jackie-look’ where I can tell you're catching feelings, I'm intervening.”

That satisfied her, with the certainty that surely that attraction would fade with further exposure. Certainly come morning he would be simply average in her eyes.

Notes:

(come morning, he would in fact NOT be simply average in her eyes)

Also for those who are curious, Red 100% snitched to Kitty about the interaction between Jackie and Hyde before he went home (sorry that's his wife, I don't make the rules).

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 3: DJs & Tracklists

Notes:

I listened to a lot of Jefferson Airplane while writing this chapter.

Also, I haven't finished the first draft of every chapter yet - but so far this is the longest chapter (so don't expect this every time, sorry lol).

April 28, 1983

It was a good thing he was the boss, because Jackie was going to make him late.

He was leaning against the Camino, waiting for her to come out of the Pinciotti’s house. He rolled out his neck, trying to maintain an air of nonchalance—trying not to allow his annoyance to show.

Normally he wasn’t so strict about being on a schedule, but there was something that got under his skin about being forced to wait on someone who he was doing a favor for. He should have known better, after listening to her countless expressions of self love the day before. It was obvious that she was the type of chick that took her time to get ready in the morning. If she wasn’t so stunning, he’d think she was arrogant. Well, she was arrogant, but at least she had good reason to be.

Finally, she appeared at the front door. Her long, raven hair was curled into soft waves, sweeping over her shoulders. She was wearing a loose, cropped heather grey tee shirt and tight, fitted, high-waisted lilac colored pants. He didn't care for the majority of the fashion trends that had begun popping up in the eighties—the neon colors, the fanny packs—but crop tops he was a fan of. 

It was a simple outfit, he wasn’t sure what the hold up had been, and a part of him wanted to ask her exactly what had taken her so damn long—but another, less logical part of him was busy admiring the way her pants hugged her legs, the way her shirt rode up and exposed her midriff as she adjusted the purse strap on her shoulder. He chewed the inside of his cheek. She definitely had the figure of a former cheerleader.

She strutted towards him, tilting her head to the side slightly as she looked him in the eye, “Good morning, Steven.” 

Steven. He hadn’t expected her to call him by his given name. Most people didn’t. Donna didn’t, so to Jackie he should have been Hyde. Whenever she had addressed him the day before, she’d just used his full legal name—or her equivalent of ‘hey, you’. His neck warmed as he was pinned by her gaze.

“Hey.” He remarked casually, and his irritable comment regarding the wait died prematurely. He even considered reaching for the passenger door to open it for her. If he was trying to get with her, he might have acted on that thought—but his promise to Donna loomed in the back of his head. He cleared his throat and turned to walk to the driver’s side, “Let’s go.”

She didn’t launch into a storm of chatter this morning as he turned the car on, heading down the road that would lead to Grooves. In fact, she seemed more interested in observing Point Place as he drove through town. He wasn’t going to break her concentration as she assessed the midwestern town, and they had nearly a pleasant cruise. It surprised him a little when she suddenly spoke up as he pulled into the parking lot at Grooves.

“So, do you know if Eric and Donna have made any decisions on what they’re going to do for music for the reception?”

Ah, wedding talk. Seemed reasonable, being that they were the best man and maid of honor. He shook his head, turning the car off, “Not that I know of.”

“Well, I figured with Donna being in radio and you owning a record store, between the two of you there’d be enough connections for a live band—if they wanted it.” She inferred, taking her seatbelt off and exiting the car. Her strappy little purse slung over her shoulder, and his eyes were briefly drawn to her lower back.

“Not a bad idea.” He drew a hand over his beard, as he headed towards the entrance of his store, “Unlikely though, I don’t think there’s anyone local enough that they’d be interested in.”

“Well do you have a section in your store with local bands I could peruse?” She inquired, following behind him.

He hadn’t considered that she would hang around the store when he’d agreed to take her along the night before. He sighed through his nose, preparing himself to be distracted by her flitting about Grooves all day.

She was still talking as they entered the store, “Part of our role is to assist in the vetting and planning process, and if they’re going to go with a DJ, we should help suggest songs.”

She was hot, but she definitely looked like someone with shit taste in music. He was almost certain that Forman would hate anything she picked out, but he was curious so he humored her, “Oh yeah? And what sort of songs do you have in mind?”

“Well, do you have any ABBA?” She looked up at him hopefully, and he scoffed—his suspicions instantly confirmed.

“Not if I can help it.”

The springtime warmth of her expression became frosty, the frostiest he’d seen it since he’d first pulled over to help her out on the highway, and she raised her voice as they moved through the store, “ABBA is perfect for dancing! Donna likes some disco music, you know!”

“No she doesn’t!” Hyde insisted, grinning at her incredulously. Thankfully the store appeared relatively empty this early in the morning. Leo was behind the counter, and had glanced up at them with a smile as they entered.

“Sure she does!” Jackie continued to argue, “Eric took her to that disco when you guys were in high school! And then he proceeded not to dance with her, like a loser.”

Hyde ignored her and nodded in greeting to Leo as he stepped behind the counter, “Hey man, what’re you putting on today?”

It was Thursday, so it was Leo’s turn to pick the tracks for the store. Leo liked Thursdays—“It’s a good day, it’s like, almost the weekend, man!”—so Hyde let him have free reign on that day of the week. Although realistically, he probably would’ve let Leo do whatever he wanted any other day of the week if he’d asked.

“Oh man, we’re gonna have a blast from the past.” Leo grinned, holding up the 1967 Jefferson  Airplane record, Surrealistic Pillow, “Jefferson Airplane man, I used to love these guys—I think.”

Hyde chuckled and nodded, “Sounds good, man.”

“Excuse me, we’re not finished yet!” Jackie interjected, forcing him to turn and face her. She was standing there, her arms folded across her chest, tapping her foot on the ground impatiently. Her fierce ire elicited a smirk.

“Whatever, Forman isn’t going to want ABBA on the list of tracks, and as his best man I forbid it.” He told her in a firm voice, leaving no further room for argument. Her brows raised up and her mouth dropped open in shock, as if she couldn’t believe he had the guts to talk to her like that. Unfortunately for her, he wasn’t about to be shaken down by a ninety-five pound brunette with pink toenails.

“You forbid it?” She repeated his words, almost laughing in disbelief.

“Did I stutter?”

“Well, do you even sell ABBA here? This is a place of business, is it not?” She demanded.

“Hey Leo, man.” Hyde piped up not taking his eyes off of hers, as the song ‘She Has Funny Cars’ began playing in the background.

“Yeah?” Leo walked up to him, glancing briefly at Jackie.

“Can you go grab the ABBA records from the box of banned music in the back room closet?”

“You have ABBA stuffed in a back room closet?” She inquired, her voice shrill with disapproval. He didn’t even bother to stifle his laughter this time, and her eyes widened with offended rage. Leo had shuffled away from the two of them towards the back room.

“What can I say? It’s where they belong.” He shrugged, as though he had no say in the matter.

“Oh, you—” And he could tell she was about to let loose a tirade, so he lifted his hand to interrupt her.

“Here, I’ll give you a peace offering.” He said amiably, “Just take them, for free. You’ll be doing me a favor by getting them out of my store. If people ask for more, I can just write it off as a shoplifting incident and then they’ll restock. But I highly doubt I’ll need to.”

“ABBA is huge, you could make way more money if you would just properly advertise them!” She shot back, still furious despite his offer of free records.

“Well, I have a reputation to uphold so…no.” He continued to grin at her, as Leo deposited the ABBA records on the counter. Hyde gestured towards Jackie, and feigned a customer servicely voice, “Wonderful, Leo can you please set these aside for this nice, young lady?”

Leo nodded as if he understood, and then grabbed a pen and said, “Cool man, I’ll write ‘Reserved for Loud Girl’ on the note.”

“My name is actually Jackie—” She interjected, but Hyde shook his hand beneath his chin to signal for her to give up.

“He’s not going to remember, trust me.”

Her mouth formed a pout as she glared up at him and he immediately bit down on the inside of his bottom lip to keep from grinning at her—because her pouting had begun to incite a temptation to kiss her. She had a loud, bossy mouth, but he'd wager it was also a mouth made for kissing. She probably tasted like that cherry flavored gum she was chewing.

He walked around the counter towards her, and he reached a hand up near her back, meaning to direct her towards the records for sale. But she flinched away from him, and his fingers curled away from her immediately as his hand fell to his side. He had forgotten himself for a moment, distracted by her everything. He elected instead to point with his left hand towards a bin, then towards the listening pit.

“There’s local bands over there, and you can listen to tracks over there.” He explained, as the fast tempo of ‘Somebody to Love’ kicked up the background.

“Fine, but this isn’t over.” She declared, her eyes narrowing. She turned on her heel and strode away from him, his eyes never leaving her as Grace Slick’s voice sang out the chorus, asking questions and making statements he didn’t want to dwell on at that particular moment.

He returned to the front counter, opening up his notebook and reviewing his to-do list. He had to markdown a couple of records that were going on sale as a part of promotion and restock some bins.

“Man, your new lady seems like a real firecracker.” Leo said to him with a good-natured chuckle as Hyde reviewed his tasks for the morning.

“What? No, she's not my ‘new lady’.” Hyde insisted, glancing at him briefly before he looked back at Jackie as she began to pick through the records of local bands, “She’s just Donna’s friend, she’s here for the wedding.”

“Whoa, there’s a wedding?” Leo gaped at him, “Who’s getting married?”

“Eric and Donna.” Hyde told him, for the millionth time, as he turned to begin organizing the stock behind the counter.

“Eric broke up with Debbie?” Leo exclaimed with the utmost concern, “What happened man?”

Hyde tried not to laugh, but after all these years Leo simply couldn’t remember Donna’s name. What was funnier was that Jackie had been officially dubbed ‘Loud Girl’, and that’s basically all she would be to Leo forevermore. Not that she was staying long-term. He imagined she’d be heading back to Chicago after the wedding.

A couple of minutes passed, and he’d gotten a few of his tasks knocked off his list, but he kept checking on her from the corner of his eye. Keeping tabs on her movements. As the soft, romantic melody of ‘Today’ came over the speakers and Marty Balin’s serenading convinced him to look at her. He had somehow known it would be a mistake, but as he beheld her, he decided it wasn't one he was particularly sorry for.

She must have liked the song, because she had closed her eyes and begun to move her hips slowly in time with the beat of the tambourine. He watched her gently sway, dancing alone in her own little world, mesmerized. Distantly, in the back of his head, he was thankful for his ability to keep a neutral face. He put the box he’d been carrying down and stepped around the counter to go over to her. Whether it was the music or her messing with his mind, he was drawn toward her.

The sound of his footfalls unfortunately broke whatever spell had fallen over her, and she stopped moving her hips as he approached her. Her eyes opened and she regarded him with a look of surprise. It was odd, she didn’t seem frightened of him—the opposite actually, she mostly seemed annoyed by him—but she would occasionally look at him in a wide-eyed manner he couldn’t quite place. Idly, he wondered if she was being bashful, but that would have been presumptuous of him.

“What?” She asked.

“Find anything for local bands, yet?” He gestured with his chin towards the records she’d been filing through.

“I was going to spend some time listening to these.” She lifted up three records to show him, and continued to flip through bands. He peered at the three she’d pulled for review—at least one of them might’ve appealed to Donna and Forman, but it was still a long shot. Their taste in music was fairly specific, and from what he could tell, in direct contrast with Jackie's.

He watched her pause then for a long time on a band called Hot Cure, her finger curled around the top of the record as she stared at the cover. They were a wannabe rock band, local to Point Place if he wasn’t mistaken. The front man was a pretty boy in a brown leather jacket with flippy hair. Hyde wondered if she was staring at him because that was her type of guy, and he felt an uncomfortable twist in his guts that felt vaguely similar to jealousy. ‘Comin’ Back to Me’ started up next in the background, the reverie of ‘Today’ having fallen away for good.

However, as his gaze lifted back to her face, she appeared a little pale and deep in thought. It wasn’t the face of a woman who was smitten. She almost looked angry, and then he remembered what she had said the night before—about needing a stick to beat guys off.

“Jackie?” He said, inclining his head towards her slightly. 

She startled out of whatever thought she’d been stuck on, and continued flipping past Hot Cure . She cleared her throat, her voice calm when she answered, “Yes?”

He could tell she was trying to sweep the moment under the rug, but the question had been nagging him since the day before, so he asked, “You all right, man?”

She straightened her spine and regarded him suspiciously, “No, I’m not. The manager of this horrible establishment besmirches the good name of ABBA.”

It was a deflection, but she turned her eyes back towards the records she was inspecting. She seemed disinclined to discuss further with him, so he went back to work. Eventually, she settled in the listening pit and began reviewing the options for local bands.

Leo came up to him a little bit later, and whispered in a low voice, glancing at Jackie the whole time to make sure she wasn’t eavesdropping—despite the fact that Jackie had the headphones on and obviously couldn’t hear them, “Man, are you okay?”

The march tempo of ‘White Rabbit’ picked up, and it just kept building—mirroring his unease.

“What? Yeah, I’m fine man.” Hyde adopted a confused expression, half-shrugging, “Why?”

“Because you marked these records for sale at six hundred and ninety-nine dollars, and maybe I don't know, man, but that seems a little pricey.” It was. They were supposed to be six ninety-nine. A concerned wrinkle appeared between Leo’s brows, “And you’ve been making googly eyes at Loud Girl for like the past ten minutes. I think you’re all twitterpated, man.”

“Twitterpated, what the hell is that man?” Hyde laughed it off, as he began to peel the incorrectly marked price tags off the records, “I’m not. She’s annoying, if anything.”

“Yeah man, but sometimes the annoying ones are the ones you end up liking most of all.” Leo informed him sagely.

Hyde glanced back at Jackie, holding the headphones against her ears as she bopped around on the couch, listening to some small-time Wisconsin band. Her expression was thoughtful as she moved her head along to whatever the song was. She looked silly and cute—he should have found her ridiculous, but his heart thudded with a sweet, unfamiliar feeling. The realization that he found her both adorable and hot in equal measure suddenly occurred to him, and his mouth formed a frown.

That he might feel anything beyond objective attraction towards her caused dread to crash through his mind just as Grace Slick’s voice sang the crescendoing outro.

 

---

 

Jackie had spent the better part of the morning listening to music at Grooves.

In between listening to the various records of mediocre Wisconsin bands, Jackie was trying to decide which was the greater offense—Steven’s blatant and callous insult to ABBA, or the fact that he seemed to take pleasure in arguing with her. Initially, the affront to ABBA had taken priority, but then she felt him looking at her periodically, and it was the way his eyes followed her made her wonder whether his gentle bickering was his way of flirting with her.

It had begun with her unconsciously swaying to the pleasant melody of a love song from the sixties. She hadn't meant to draw him over to her, but he had come over all the same. Even with his sunglasses on, she could see the way his eyes would linger on places where she would have—theoretically—liked for him to kiss her. After that, she knew with certainty that he at least found her attractive. It shouldn't have surprised her, she was probably the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen. But it was one thing to assume something, and another to be aware of it. The realization sent a thrill through her entire body, ticklish butterfly wings fluttering against her ribcage whenever she felt him look at her.

But it also made her want to behave foolishly, to draw even more of his attention.

Brooke wouldn’t be there for another hour so she had to get out, even briefly, for a break. She was one step away from conspicuously stretching so that her shirt lifted slightly or dropping something on the floor to bend over and pick it up in front of him. While he had (sort of) been a gentleman, she had the sneaking suspicion he would knowingly wait for her to bend over to pick it up, making no move to aid her and openly watching the whole time.

When that thought didn’t bother her as much as it should have, she knew she absolutely had to get out of there and cool off.

“Steven.” She announced, walking back up to the counter.

He looked up from what he was doing, a single brow arching over the rims of his sunglasses, his tone neutral, “Yeah?”

“I'm going to go next door and get a coffee, do you and your hippy assistant manager want anything?” She offered, glancing towards the older man that was talking to another customer—nodding along with a vacant, but pleasant expression on his face.

“Nah man, we're good.” Steven muttered, returning his attention to the notepad he was writing in.

She wouldn't have minded doing the small gesture for him, but she was happy to save a few bucks. Maybe if he was her boyfriend, she would have insisted, but as Donna had informed her the night before, he wasn't really ‘boyfriend material’. Which was just as well, since she was only considering him for a casual fling.

“Okay, I'll be back.” She told him, even though he didn't ask.

“Later.” He said absentmindedly, seeming distracted by his work.

She walked to the adjacent shop, a cafe called Whole Latte Love. Mrs. Forman had told her about it the night before, claiming it was a brand new little place with those ‘fancy coffees’ like the ones she drank in Chicago. Jackie was dubious that Point Place had any quality coffee, but it was worth a try. 

She spied the ‘help wanted’ sign in the window as she entered, before looking at the skinny, blond man standing behind the shiny white counter. He was a little older than her, and initially reminded her a bit of Eric with his beanpole build and overall nerdy attire. However, unlike Eric, he looked at her as though she was a goddess that had graced him with her presence. She glanced at his nametag as she reached the counter.

“Hi Todd, can I get a vanilla latte?” She asked, flashing him a coy smile.

He blushed a little as he took her payment, “Of course, one moment please.”

Jackie sighed in contentment, a self-satisfied grin crossing her face. She slowly walked around the coffee bar as he worked, and he surprised her by making small talk. She'd taken him for being one of those guys that would be too intimidated to talk to her.

“So, what brings you to Point Place? You're obviously new in town, I would never forget such a pretty face.” He inquired casually.

“I’m in town for the next couple of months, my friend is getting married in August.” She explained absentmindedly, looking around the decor. It was cozy with good natural light, clean lines with white paint and warm wooden accents. The dark orange furniture’s upholstery looked like velvet, easily inviting someone in to take a seat and enjoy the atmosphere.

“Ah, well I hope I'll be seeing you around then.”

She had to give him credit for taking initiative. If Steven wasn't her ‘usual type’, this guy was in the ‘never in a million years’ category. Still, she didn't mind the attention or the flattery.

“Well I know the owner of the record store next door, so I might be seeing you around.” She replied in a friendly tone. He was quiet for a moment, and she could see him glance at her every now and then, as he put the finishing touches on her drink.

“Hey, I couldn't help but notice that you said you'll be staying for the entire summer, are you working while you're in town?” Huh. She had planned on working that into the conversation, but he had beaten her to the punch, “If you’ve no other plans, would you be interested in working here?”

She considered him for a minute. She'd worked in the food service industry before while in school, but it wasn't the type of job she enjoyed—nor was she particularly good at it. But she had promised to pay Mr. Forman for the labor to fix her car and she couldn't just freeload off of Bob the entire summer. However, if this was truly a new business, he ought to know the risks of hiring her. She didn't want to be responsible for his shiny new coffee shop folding.

“I'm not really good at making anything, but if you need an alluring beauty behind the counter to run the cash register and entice an uptick in customers, I'm your gal.” She informed him honestly, adding, “I can run orders out to tables as well.”

She half expected him to retract the offer, but he just smiled at her pleasantly, “Well, with a gorgeous creature like you behind the counter, business will be booming. Here you go.” He placed the cup on the counter.

She smiled at him, grabbing her drink, “Oh! I'm also the maid of honor, so if wedding stuff comes up that will obviously take priority, but I'll promise to give you as much notice as I can.”

He seemed unbothered by her confession, “Well, if Monday works, you can start then, how's that?”

“Perfect! Thank you!” She said in her perkiest voice, smiling at him again, and hit him with a wink for good measure.

She hesitated as she moved towards the exit. She thought about what was waiting for her next door—exchanging stolen glances with a man she really shouldn't indulge an interest in—and opted to take a seat at one of the tables. She would sip her coffee, and then Brooke would pick her up for lunch.

She tried to think about other things, mostly about what life after her stint as maid of honor was going to look like, but eventually her thoughts inevitably drifted towards Steven Hyde. 

Donna had essentially given her the pass to go for a fling, so long as they were clear upfront about what it was they were doing and both consented. She understood Donna's hesitancy for her to become entangled with Steven, obviously wanting to avoid drama and tears at the wedding as a result of a broken heart—mostly likely hers. Even when she had said she might just consider him casually, the doubt had been plain on Donna’s face. And it was a complicated spot for Donna to sit in. He had been her friend since they were little kids, and Jackie's meager dating history was practically a shitshow. 

Her high school boyfriend had been on the starting lineup of the football team, she had been on the cheer squad, it had almost been expected of them to date. Back then, it had simply made sense and she had loved him at the time. He had cheated on her, of course. She had taken him back, of course.

But he had swiftly dumped her when her father was arrested—she supposed dating the daughter of a felon had been too tough a sell with his parents.

She had met Chip last year when Donna had taken her to a concert. He didn't care that her dad was in prison, or that her mom would rather drink tequila and work on her tan than pay attention to her daughter. He had just wanted to be with her, or so she thought. 

He had been sweet, if elusive, in the beginning. But there had always been a shadow over his eyes whenever they talked, like he only paid attention to half of the things she said. He had dreams of his band making it big, so he had always told her he could only afford to dedicate so much time to her. She had tried to be understanding, tried to be patient.

They had been together for a little over three months, but she realized all too late he had always been more invested in the sex than the intimacy.

“If I'm gonna be honest, you’re just a little too much for me. But hey, you were a great lay.”

It was odd. How easy it had been for him to fool her. She was usually so good at reading people, but her loneliness must have blinded her to all the sleazeball warning signs.

That was why she could only entertain the possibility of something casual with Steven Hyde. His calm, steady demeanor was too warm and inviting for her to consider anything else. She would be damned before she got bamboozled into falling in love with another emotionally unavailable man. No, if there was anything to be between them, it would simply be a fun summer fling—nothing more.

She thought again about the dubious expression on Donna’s face. That lumberjack was convinced Jackie was incapable of having hot, meaningless sex. Something about how someone who called it ‘making love’ being doomed to attach feelings and intimacy to every naked encounter, whether potential or realized.

She saw Brooke’s car pull up, forcing her to tuck all her needless thoughts and worries away. Jackie tossed her empty coffee cup into the trash and went out to greet her. Brooke had moved back to Point Place late last year after reclaiming her job at the library. Something about preferring the quieter suburbs for raising Betsy—it didn’t hurt that Michael Kelso was making an effort to be as involved with parenting as possible. 

He was a complete moron, but Jackie suspected that Brooke was secretly hoping things would work out between them.

“Brooke!” Jackie squealed excitedly as she exited the coffee shop, jumping into Brooke’s arms, “You look amazing!”

Brooke was an effortless sort of beautiful—she should have been a model, with her height and pretty face—but she seemed modest for how she carried herself. Her button down dress was demure but charming, and her long brown hair curling romantically about her shoulders. Jackie often wondered how Michael had managed to keep her attention all this time.

“So do you!” Brooke exclaimed, and then smiled at her sympathetically, “How are you doing?”

Jackie followed Brooke back to the car. She flipped her hair over her shoulder, a proud tilt to her chin as she said, “You’re looking at the brand new cashier for this fine coffee shop.” Jackie gestured towards Whole Latte Love. “No one can keep Jackie Burkhart down for long.”

Brooke maintained a polite smile, but Jackie could see the worried crinkle at the corners of her eyes. Cashier at a coffee shop was a little bit of a backslide in her career, but it beat sleeping with a disgusting old pig of a man. Instead of pressing the topic, Brooke opted to change the subject.

“So how was your drive up?”

Jackie spent the majority of the next thirty minutes filling her in on everything. Her car trouble. Meeting the Formans’. Steven Hyde. She pretended to miss the way Brooke’s brows rose in keen interest when Jackie spoke of Steven. All she wanted was for Brooke to see her side of their argument that morning, that he had been rude by insulting one of her favorite bands. She seemed gleefully entertained by the story instead.

“Brooke!” Jackie stabbed a cherry tomato with her fork for emphasis, “He’s horrible!”

“He’s opinionated.” Brooke suggested alternatively, leaning back and enjoying the sun from their patio seats.

“Horrible.” She insisted, narrowing her eyes.

“Well, he seems to have certainly made an impression on you, either way.” Mischief danced in the taller woman’s eyes, as she sipped her water.

“Yeah, a bad one.” She retorted sharply, jamming a few more pieces of salad in her mouth.

“Not all bad, you did call him your rescuer.” Brooke reminded her gently.

“So he’s capable of a conscience, that doesn’t mean he’s a good guy.” Jackie said, lying. He had proven that he was somewhat of a good guy, despite being so damn frustrating.

Brooke ignored her little lie, and added, still smiling, “I believe you also said he was ‘good looking for a guy with a beard’.”

“I did not say that, did I?” Jackie’s brow furrowed, trying to recall everything she’d said in the past thirty minutes. When she decided she couldn’t recall, she shook her head, “Whatever, he’d look better clean shaven, anyway.”

Brooke laughed gently, “No disagreements there.”

“Why are you defending Steven so much, anyway?” She accused playfully.

“Well he’s Betsy’s Godfather, and he’s been pretty reliable when we’ve asked him for help.” Brooke informed her with a shrug of her shoulders, “Honestly, he’s pretty reserved. I can’t say I know him all that well, but he’s always been good to us.”

Jackie supposed she couldn’t argue with that. Despite their disagreement this morning and his overall detached demeanor, he had proven himself helpful and trustworthy so far. She was starting to feel her temper cool when Brooke spoke up again.

“He and Michael act a little immature around each other sometimes, I think it’s just a guy thing, though.” She shrugged.

Jackie was about to ask what she meant by that, when they were interrupted by a familiar voice, as though summoned by the mere mention of his name.

“Good afternoon ladies,” Michael Kelso had approached their patio table from the sidewalk, tipping his hat at them both and speaking in a forced, authoritative voice, “I’m going to have to ask you to cease and desist being so foxy, otherwise I’ll have to write you up a ticket.” He had addressed them both, but when he uttered his inappropriate, flirtatious words, he was only looking at Brooke.

Jackie stared at him unimpressed, but Brooke laughed at his stupid joke.

“Hi Michael!” She greeted with a bright smile, and Michael’s demeanor softened immediately.

“How’re you doing babe?” He leaned against the fence surrounding the patio, looking at Brooke with a big smile.

“I’m doing good, I’m going to pick up Betsy from daycare after we’re done with lunch here.” Brooke told him, and Michael nodded, still grinning at her like a big dope. Jackie rolled her eyes, the two of them were such idiots whenever within five feet of each other. Fools in love, the both of them.

He finally looked in her direction, “Hey Jackie, heard you were gonna be staying in town.”

“Hi Michael.” Jackie said, with a lot less enthusiasm than Brooke. Michael blinked at her for a long moment and then a lightbulb seemed to go off in his brain.

“Oh, you should swing by the basement tonight, then I can introduce you to Fez!”

“The basement?” Jackie repeated, grimacing.

 

---

 

He’d been in a rotten mood ever since Leo’s discomforting revelation.

When she had finally left the store, he had thought he’d get a break from her occupying his thoughts. And yet, when she didn’t return with her coffee, he found himself wondering where she was, and whether she had somehow gotten lost ten feet away from his store. He had forced himself to focus and stay on task, busying himself with anything but Jackie Burkhart.

He wasn't her keeper, after all.

And just when he had finally begun to get the brain worm she’d infected him with out of his head, her shrill squeal from outside had drawn his attention.

He watched as she jumped into Brooke Rockwell’s arms and gave her a big hug. The girls began chatting, and left in Brooke’s car to go out for lunch. He knew it was only a temporary reprieve and that they would be back, but he was (unnecessarily) relieved that she hadn’t gotten lost.

Maybe after he finished driving himself and Jackie home, he might be able to retreat into the comfort of the basement. He didn’t smoke nearly as much as he used to, but every now and then he’d do it after a particularly difficult day to help unwind. It was exactly what he needed. Mindless TV, a beer, and a joint. With those three things, he’d be able to forget her and the possibility of him having an ill-advised interest in her.

With that plan in mind, he began to feel a little more settled. Relaxed even. The early afternoon was almost pleasant.

At least until they returned.

Brooke, Betsy, and Jackie all entered together while he was in the middle of cleaning up a crate that had been overturned by some fourteen year old punk. The first thing he noticed was that Jackie had swept her thick hair up into a bouncy ponytail. It shouldn’t have even mattered to him, except now he could see the delicate nape of her neck, a new piece of her that unconsciously drew his attention.

He also vaguely noticed that Jackie was carrying Betsy on her hip as they entered. It was the first time he was seeing his godparent counterpart in action, and admittedly he was a little surprised. He expected a high maintenance chick like Jackie to not like kids, but she was carrying on a very animated conversation with the little girl—wandering around the store in whichever way Betsy pointed without complaint.

He was so distracted by the two of them, that he didn’t notice Brooke approach him.

“Hi Hyde.” Brooke’s calm voice forced him to look away from the pair.

“Hey.” He greeted, clearing his throat a little.

Brooke Rockwell was someone he had considered a square back in high school. Valedictorian, moderately popular, a good girl that wore high-necked, button down blouses. She was, of course, objectively hot—tall, leggy, gorgeous—but if he’d had a ‘type’ she still wouldn’t have been it. It was just as well, since she’d encountered Kelso at a Molly Hatchet concert which had resulted in a life long commitment between the two in the form of their daughter.

Although they had little to nothing in common, he didn’t mind her company. At the very least he respected her, which had always seemed mutual for her part. She was smart and observant, and she never felt the need to make meaningless conversation with him. Which was one of the reasons why he gave her his full attention when she addressed him—and there was that sinking feeling in his gut, like she was about to tell him something he didn’t want to hear.

“Michael ran into us at lunch,” She started, and he groaned internally as she smiled at him apologetically, “He invited himself, Jackie and Fez over to hang out in the basement tonight.”

His head fell backwards, looking up at the ceiling and rolling his eyes as he fought to maintain his composure. All he had wanted was some quiet time. He righted his head and rolled out his neck, exhaling a long-suffering sigh, “Goddamn Kelso…all right thanks for the heads up.”

He glanced over at Jackie, who had wandered up to the front counter. She was holding up one of the ABBA records Leo had set aside for her, no doubt indoctrinating Betsy with her poor music tastes. His mouth formed a thin line, plainly expressing his annoyance.

“By the way, thanks for taking care of Jackie yesterday.” Brooke said, and when he looked back at her there was a twinkle of mischief in her eyes, “She’s very important to me.”

“Oh.” Hyde shrugged slowly, “It’s no big deal.”

Brooke glanced over at Jackie, before adding conversationally, “Did I ever tell you why I picked her to be Betsy’s godmother?”

“Nope.”

“Well, I don’t know if you remember but, a lot of people I thought were my friends dropped me when I decided not to immediately get married to Michael, and chose to be a single mom instead. Donna didn’t, and she brought Jackie with her to Chicago for a visit one weekend.” She briefly glanced at him as she explained, before looking back at Jackie with Betsy. Jackie had met Brooke’s gaze, and she gave that smile again. That stunning one that made his heart beat faster. The one she had yet to give to him.

“—anyway, I was a little intimidated by her at first. She’s very intense,”

Understatement of the year, he thought to himself.

“But she looked at me after we’d gotten to know each other a bit and she said, ‘Brooke, I have a question for you, and maybe a follow up, but is the father still involved? ’ And I told her that Michael was doing everything he could to be involved, and then she asked if she could see a picture of him.” Brooke laughed gently, “And do you know what she said when I showed her a picture of us together?”

Hyde glanced at Brooke, meeting her gaze. He gave a slight shake of his head.

Brooke had a fond look on her face as she finished her story, “She smiled and said ‘Well, Brooke, that kid is going to have a gorgeous head of hair and a killer smile, you must be so excited’...aside from my own family and Michael’s friends and family, it was the first time someone had reacted with such genuine positivity. And I’m sure if I had told her the opposite, that Michael wasn’t helping out, she would’ve had a litany of awful things to say about him instead.” Brooke shrugged her shoulders, “She just has a way about her.”

Brooke’s story lingered in the back of his mind for the rest of the day, all the way up until he drove them back to the Formans’ abode. Beyond informing him of her new cafe job, which meant he was going to see a lot more of her than he’d been expecting, she didn’t offer up much conversation—except to briefly complain that his store needed to expand its selection. He took the opportunity of the mostly quiet drive to ponder her and the ticklish feelings lingering in his chest.

Obviously he was attracted to her, but the way he found her charming despite her frustrating, ridiculous mannerisms was disconcerting.

She just has a way about her.

Brooke’s words repeated in his head as he ruminated, and his movements were almost mechanical as he led her down to the basement. Down to his space, he realized all too late.

He glanced over his shoulder, a blank expression on his face as he watched her take in the space that had very much been a home to him almost his whole life, long before he’d even moved in.

Her nose wrinkled a little—not altogether an unexpected reaction from her—but then she said, “It’s certainly well-loved.”

He laughed a little, “What do you mean?”

“The furniture,” She gestured to the couch, his chair, the lawn chair, “It looks like it’s a thousand years old, but it’s still intact.” She reached over to pick at the duct tape on the couch, and her voice was a little wistful when she spoke, “I’m sure you all have a lot of memories down here.”

He knew she was looking to get into investigative reporting, but it still surprised him how perceptive she could be sometimes. He cleared his throat, rubbing at the back of his neck, “Yeah.”

She met his gaze then, and they stood there for a long moment. Her lips parted, but he would never discover what it was she had intended to say, as Forman’s heavy footfalls stomped down the stairs.

“Hey Hyde, I made it back before the weekend, I figure if the devil’s gonna be staying with Donna starting tomorrow, I better finish up my assignments and get back here quick for some good ol—” Forman’s voice cut short as he saw Jackie standing there, in the middle of the basement.

Her lips curved into a vicious smile as she glared daggers at Forman, “Hey, Eric.”

“Jackie!” Forman gulped, glancing between the two of them, before he tried to play it off, “Hey…I heard you were coming to stay for the summer, and you’re early, welcome!”

“Yeah, and I got here a little earlier than you, guess you didn’t get those assignments done quick enough, huh? So you’ll have to go without some good ol you-know-what.” She turned towards Forman and squared her shoulders.

From this angle, he could admire the nape of her neck a little more closely, with her hair up the way it was. He ignored their bickering, indulging in the opportunity to observe Jackie without her catching him.

“Eric, why don’t you go pick up your fiancée from work instead of coming down here to gloat to your friends about your perverted plans?” Jackie proceeded to scold him, “You know, do something romantic like surprise her, instead of just thinking about yourself and your dick.”

Forman sighed deeply, “Well, I was going to do that anyway, I just wanted to say hi to Hyde—”

“And you can forget about coming over to Donna’s to bump uglies, I live there now.” She gave a full body shiver to emphasize her disgust, “I’d rather not sleep in the same room you were recently naked in.”

“Well, Jackie, I hate to break it to you but I’ve definitely been—”

“Eric,” Jackie interrupted him, exasperated, “No one wants to hear about that.”

Hyde couldn’t resist laughing. He was finally starting to understand why Forman referred to her as the devil. Every other word that came out of her mouth seemed specifically designed to burn him. Forman looked to him, perhaps a silent request for assistance, but Hyde just shook his head as his chuckle petered off.

“Man, ain’t she something?” He said instead.

“If by something, you mean the devil, then yes, yes she is.” Forman smiled sarcastically.

Jackie rolled her eyes, “Whatever, Eric, stop being such a baby, and go pick up Donna.” She dropped onto the couch, making herself right at home.

Hyde looked down at her and said, “Kelso and Fez should be here in a minute or two, I’m gonna go grab a beer.” He felt Forman watching him, but kept his expression neutral, focusing his gaze on Jackie. She reclined a little further on the couch, and her crop top rode up a little more to expose her midriff again. His throat bobbed.

“Could you get me a glass of water, while you’re up there?” And her voice was so, so sweet as she asked.

He hesitated. He could tell she was manipulating him, but he was heading up to the kitchen anyways, so he didn’t have a good reason to say no—unless he wanted to be a petty dick. Which he did consider, briefly.

“Yeah, sure.” He agreed coolly, before heading up the stairs. He heard Forman following close behind him.

“Okay, what the hell was that?” Forman asked as soon as they reached the kitchen.

“What?” He said, playing stupid.

“You and her, there’s a weird energy.” Forman gestured with his hands, as if that sufficiently expanded on his statement.

“It’s not weird.” He lied. 

“Oh, it’s weird. And you promised to behave, remember?” Forman poked his shoulder.

“I am behaving.” Hyde responded, annoyed, “I’m getting her the glass of water she asked for.”

Forman’s eyes narrowed, “No, no, something’s going on and if you don’t watch it, I’m going to have to report you to Donna because well, she’s gonna be my wife so…you know.” Then he shrugged, as if that was enough of an explanation.

Hyde chewed the inside of his cheek, trying to suppress his irritation, “Nothing’s going on, Forman. I’m getting her a glass of water.”

“All right, well, I’m keeping my eye on you.” He punctuated his statement by sweeping two fingers from his eyes to point at Hyde. 

“Whatever.”

Forman left to go pick up Donna, while Hyde returned to the basement. He silently handed the glass of water to Jackie, before he took his seat. She took a generous sip, sighing contentedly before placing it on the wooden spool table in front of her.

“Thank you, Steven.” She said, with a more genuine sweetness.

It left him unsettled. Why the hell did her saying his name like that have such an effect on him? He sipped his beer instead of responding.

He didn’t have time to ponder it any further, as Kelso burst through the door with Fez not far behind.

Kelso circled around the back of the couch, grinning widely, “Hey Jackie.”

“Hi Michael.” She said, sounding bored.

“This is Fez!” Kelso gestured towards their friend with both hands, as though presenting him, and then mimicked the gesture towards Jackie, “Fez, this is Jackie!”

Fez approached Jackie—and Hyde just knew something stupid was about to come out of his mouth. Fez took a knee in front of her, and he watched her bristle not unlike she had whenever he came near to her. He opened his mouth to tell him to back off, but Fez went ahead and said the stupid thing.

“My, but you are a gorgeous, raven-haired goddess!” He exclaimed sincerely, and to his surprise he watched as Jackie relaxed a little—enjoying the compliment. Hyde rolled his eyes, she was unbelievable.

“Donna mentioned you were a flatterer.” Jackie preened, smiling at Fez.

Unfortunately, Fez was still an idiot. He reached towards Jackie’s ponytail, scrutinizing the ends, not noticing how she froze up, “My but you have split ends, you should come by the salon and—”

She smacked his hand away, interrupting him.

Fez backed off, whining loudly, “I was just going to invite you to my salon!”

Hyde sighed and stood up, he crossed the basement and frogged Fez on the arm, “Don’t do that without asking.”

“Ai, no.” Fez sat down in the lawn chair with a pout.

But he was just one of two idiots. Kelso climbed over the back of the couch to sit next to her. He put his arm around Jackie’s shoulders and pulled her in for a half hug. Despite the fact that she didn’t seem uncomfortable—just annoyed—by Kelso’s antics, Hyde felt his hand curl into a fist before Kelso even opened his mouth.

“Hey Jackie, Brooke and I haven’t made things exclusive yet, you know in case you have any physical needs while you’re here in Point Place.” Kelso waggled his brows suggestively.

Before she could say anything, Hyde punched him in the arm, twice as hard as he had Fez. Kelso immediately cried out in pain, lifting his uninjured arm from her shoulders to rub at the sore spot.

“Damn Hyde! I was just offering to be polite!”

Hyde returned to his seat, pinning his friend with a stormy glare. A confused wrinkle appeared between Kelso’s brows before he looked at Jackie as she spoke up.

“Michael, don’t be ridiculous.” She was saying, “You don’t want to be with me, I saw how you were looking at Brooke earlier today.”

Kelso considered her words for a moment, and then nodded slowly, “Yeah, you’re right. But you’re just so hot, so you know, sometimes I just say stuff.”

“Yeah, you do just say stuff.” Jackie gave a slight nod, before rolling her eyes.

Kelso turned his attention back to him, and asked, “Hyde you sure seem grumpy, what’s got your beard in a twist?”

Hyde cast him a sideways glance, “Well, Kelso, it might have something to do with the fact that I was planning on ‘enjoying some film’ tonight and you invited yourselves over.”

Kelso blinked at him for minute while his brain deciphered what he was getting at, and eventually he smiled widely, “Oh man, let’s just all ‘enjoy some film’—Jackie’s cool, right Jackie?” Kelso bumped her with his elbow suggestively.

“Okay, what are you guys talking about? You’re being weird.” She glanced around the room at each of them.

Fez piped up first, explaining too literally as usual, “Hyde wants to have a circle because he’s too tense right now. I keep telling him he needs to get a girlfr—”

“Hey Fez, you want me to come back over there and hit you again?” Hyde interrupted him, his neck growing warm from embarrassment.

“No.” Fez looked down, chastened.

“Okay wait, do you mean pot?” Jackie was looking at him now, and there was a hint of a smile on her mouth—her perfectly shaped mouth. Mischief danced in her mismatched eyes, and he was compelled to tell her.

“Well, yeah.” He shrugged, his voice a little more hesitant than he’d meant it to be.

“Oh, Steven.” The affectionate tone of her voice made his heart stutter, and her expression shifted again, as if she found him endearing. His ears grew warm beneath her gaze as she said, “Donna and I smoked from time to time in college, if that’s what you want to do, we can do it.”

“Oh, cool.” He said, nodding slowly—completely forgetting Kelso and Fez were in the room, watching the exchange. That was until Kelso’s voice broke the spell he’d been put under.

“Well all right, let’s get it on!” He shouted.

They all got into positions, Hyde lit the incense, and soon enough smoke was curling around in the air between them. Tension and stress did ease from his limbs, but he was unusually quiet and stuck in his head, while the rest of them engaged in humorous banter. He was too busy watching Jackie giggle at every little thing.

His mind and eyes continued to drift to her as she sat to his left, and he felt his inhibitions loosen—felt the peril of saying something to her that he couldn’t take back. Something like how she was beautiful. Something like how he’d enjoyed being around her the past two days.

Kelso was sitting across from him, and after some time inquired thoughtfully, “Jackie, why are you staying in Point Place anyway?” His grin twice as dopey as usual.

She was sitting to his left, her eyes closed and her head tilted to the side, exposing the column of her throat. Hyde coughed a little, forcing his eyes elsewhere in the room.

“Hm?” She opened her eyes and glanced at Kelso, “Oh. I got fired.”

“But why, you are delightful!” Fez declared. He was sitting to his right, looking rather offended on Jackie’s behalf.

“Well, my boss offered me a promotion, actually.” She admitted, and her shoulders seemed to relax even more as she continued her story, as if she was lifting a weight off by telling it, “But only if I supplied favors for him, so…”

He wasn’t sure how long the three of them were silent, slowly absorbing her words in their addled minds. It was so unexpected, Hyde swore he nearly became sober from the bolt of anger that suddenly struck his body. Kelso was the first to speak up, however.

“But that’s…that’s illegal, I think.” He blinked at her, his smile having faded. Kelso was probably never going to be at the forefront of women’s rights, but having a young daughter had certainly made him think a lot harder about how girls and women ought to be treated—yet another boon from his sexual misadventure with Brooke, “I’m a cop, and I’m…I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.”

 “Favors are illegal?” Fez asked, a little confused.

Hyde sighed and glanced over at him, somehow managing to keep his voice calm, “He was asking for favors, Fez.”

“Favors?” Fez repeated, his eyes narrowing, “Like a ride to the bus stop?”

Jackie laughed, “No, Fezzie. He groped my thigh, those kinds of favors.” Fez gasped, but Hyde glanced at her sharply—that bolt of anger erupting in his gut.

“He touched you?” He asked in a low voice and she looked over at him, a curious glint to her eyes.

“Yeah, no, that's definitely illegal.” Kelso said, unhelpfully.

“Well, yeah.” She giggled again, looking slightly uncomfortable—like she just realized what she had been talking about—but it seemed as though she couldn’t stop herself as she said, “I don’t remember ever slapping someone that hard. I think the entire office overheard.” She raised a hand to conceal a smirk.

“Well good for you, he deserved it!” Kelso pointed at her, shaking his head.

“Yes, that no-good sonuvabitch!” Fez agreed emphatically.

Hyde was quiet, his eyes watching her as the rage continued to simmer in his gut. He swallowed against the quagmire of emotions that had begun to lump in his throat. Despite the lightness of his mind at that moment, he had enough wherewithal to better understand why Donna was so protective of her—he was starting to feel the same way, after all.

He wondered if she could read his thoughts, as she looked at him again. She blinked at him slowly, softly and her lips curved into a slight hint of a smile again, but never committed fully. She looked away from him, before she bravely declared to the room.

“It’s fine guys, I work at the new cafe next to Grooves for now. I’ll figure it out. I’m Jackie Burkhart, after all.”

And she said her name as though it were synonymous with being unstoppable.

Notes:

I feel like Leo is a guy that would say "Happy Out of Touch Thursday" in modern times (it's still Thursday here so it counts for me).

Chapter 4: Gift Registries & Guest Lists

Notes:

There's a wee bit o' spice at the beginning of this chapter! Just a (hopefully tasteful) hint, a dash if you will.

May 1, 1983

She had been having the same dream for the past three nights in a row.

She was, seemingly, alone in Grooves, swaying her hips to the ambient sound of ‘Today’ by Jefferson Airplane on repeat. Smoke curled in the air as she danced, and eventually she would hear the now familiar footfalls of Steven Hyde approaching her from behind.

One of his hands settled on her hip, while the other cupped her face as he pulled her in for a tender kiss. He would start soft, before slowly deepening the kiss, until the leisurely glide of his tongue against hers sent pleasant shivers across her skin, until she was hot all over from kissing him. She imagined that he was the sort of guy that took his time, working her up until she was desperate for more.

The dream would shift unevenly, as she felt his warm hands slowly peel her clothes off, before moving across her bare skin with ardent intent. He pressed open-mouthed kisses against her throat, and she imagined the scratch of his beard sent a satisfying thrill through her body. One of his hands touched her breast appreciatively, while his other gripped the skin near her hip, pulling her against him—he was hard. Her hands would slip to the hem of his shirt, lifting it off of him, before she unbuckled his belt.

Marty Balin’s gentle voice singing about love would echo off the walls and ceiling of the record store—while her mind conjured a convenient bed in the center of the space. Steven slowly pressed her into the mattress, his hands sliding down her ribs to her hips, and that's where the dream would deviate depending on her mood.

Sometimes, he kissed a trail down her body, before he lifted her leg over his shoulder. His hand slid gently up to the top of her knee in a comforting manner, before he pressed a hot kiss against the inside of her thigh. Slowly kissing lower and lower…

However that night, he slipped his hand between her legs, moving his fingers just the way she liked until she was arching against him. She dug her nails into the skin of his back and demanded for more against his throat. His voice was huskier as he laughed affectionately against her neck.

“Anything for you, doll.”

She imagined the delicious, aching pleasure of being filled by him, his mouth on hers, their hands entwined.

And then she woke up.

Jackie blinked into the darkness of Donna's room. She had woken damp and aroused for the third time in a row, her thighs unconsciously, shamelessly pressed together from the desire racing through her veins. She shifted onto her back, a hand settling on her chest in an effort to soothe the wild beating of her heart.

She took a couple deep breaths, and then sat up. She was thankful Donna had spent the last few nights in Eric’s room. It was lucky for her that he would be leaving later that afternoon to head back to Madison for his final assignments and exams, so the two lovebirds had spent every available moment they had all over each other. Which coincidentally offered Jackie some privacy. She couldn't think of anything more mortifying than waking Donna up with the sounds of her having an erotic dream about her childhood friend.

She hadn't seen much of him since the circle they'd shared Thursday night, but distance had only served to intensify her attraction to him. She was hoping that there would be some opportunity for her to douse the remaining cinders of her desire that day, putting an end to her wanton thoughts for once and for all.

The only problem was, she was going to be spending the majority of the day with Kitty Forman to begin planning for the bridal shower, so there was always a risk that the opposite could happen. There existed the risk that she would run into him and he would throw gasoline on the fire instead.

She couldn't hide from him forever, though.

She showered and dressed, donning a cute floral top and light denim jeans. She styled her hair to perfection. She did her make up in a way that was subtle, but accentuated her eyes. Once she looked her best, she felt her best. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she made her way over to the Formans’—feeling ready to brave the day and Steven Hyde.

However, as she entered through the sliding door, she saw him sitting at the table eating breakfast and her stomach plummeted into a bundle of nerves. He glanced up and their eyes met, as he stabbed at the eggs on his plate. His brows rose slowly over his sunglasses, as though to express a question.

Logically, he was probably just curious about why she was there so early, but an anxious voice in the back of her head whispered, ‘He can totally read it all over your face, your naughty thoughts about him.’

She felt herself flush, heat climbing up her neck, and she blinked at him with a stunned look on her face as she fought to maintain her composure. An inarticulate sound escaped her, “Um…” She turned to close the door behind her, but it caught on her purse and she spun around clumsily.

She felt her embarrassment spike as she worked to disentangle her purse from the door and close it. But she didn't want any hint of him affecting her to show, so she ran a hand through her hair and exhaled a deep breath through her nose, trying to calm herself before facing him again.

He was still looking at her with that unspoken question, chewing idly.

“Good morning.” She said abruptly, awkwardly, as she took a step towards the table. He nodded in greeting.

Just then Mr. and Mrs. Forman entered the kitchen, and Mrs. Forman greeted her warmly, “Oh Jackie! Please have a seat and I'll grab you a plate.”

Mr. Forman gave her a very small smile—really just the slight curve at the corner of his mouth—in greeting, before taking his seat and opening the paper. Jackie slowly slid down into the seat next to Mr. Forman, giving her space between her and Steven. Mrs. Forman sat in the vacant chair between the two of them, setting a plate down in front of her. 

Steven went back to eating his breakfast, while Jackie focused on filling up her plate. She felt the older woman glance conspicuously between the two of them, which made her cheeks even warmer. She took another calming breath, trying not to think about the lewd dream fresh in her mind, the weight of him above her, his hips moving against her hips—

“Oh Jackie, make sure you get a nice, big piece of sausage!” Kitty exclaimed innocently enough, but Jackie made a gasping noise and began to choke on the piece of toast she had been chewing on.

She slammed a hand against her chest, her eyes watering—half from the choking, half from the irony—and a glass of orange juice was quickly placed in front of her. She gulped some down, and finally swallowed. She waved a hand in front of her face, and exhaled smoothly.

“Whoops, sorry.” She said, forcing a smile.

Mr. Forman had turned towards her with a mildly disgruntled (or maybe concerned, she wasn't sure) look on his face, while Mrs. Forman and Steven had stood up. Both of them looked as though they'd been preparing to give her the heimlich maneuver. Once it became apparent that the danger had passed, the two of them sat back down slowly. Steven resumed eating, while Mrs. Forman patted her back gently.

“See Kitty, those damn chicken sausages are no good.” Mr. Forman said dryly.

“Oh Red, the sausages are just fine, and the chicken is healthier for your heart!” Mrs. Forman responded, looking a little bewildered. Her expression softened as she looked back at Jackie, “Are you okay dear?”

“Yes, sorry, my throat was a little dry, that's all.” She reassured them.

She didn't look at Steven for the remainder of breakfast—finding that the best solution was to pretend he was invisible. The only time it was impossible to ignore him was when Mrs. Forman volunteered him to drive her to work until her car was fixed up. He had agreed to do so without complaint, and she had thanked him—but she didn't glance in his direction. Eventually he finished eating and headed out to work. Only then could she breathe a little easier.

Mr. Forman wasn’t far behind him, heading out to the garage to take care of some task or other, leaving just her and Mrs. Forman sitting together at the table.

“A bridal shower, this is so exciting!” Mrs. Forman smiled widely, clapping her hands.

“I mean it should be! But Donna told me she just wants it to be a cozy, private affair.” Jackie said, frowning in disapproval.

In the past, she had always dreamed of a huge venue for any and all wedding related activities of her own, but nowadays she supposed she wouldn’t have a good reason to. Her social circle was fairly small these days, to say nothing about the fact that she couldn't afford such grandiose parties and events. Initially, following her father’s arrest, she had continued to cling to the idea that everything would work out and she would still have all of those milestones her parents had instilled in her mind to want—but it hadn’t been long before she came to understand that hopes and dreams were not a blueprint for reality.

She shrugged, “So we're hosting it at the Pinciotti's. Bob offered to barbecue, but I convinced him just to cater the event instead and then transition to a family barbecue following the party.”

“Probably for the best,” Mrs. Forman agreed, grilled meat really didn't scream ‘bridal’ after all. The older woman’s brows lifted in excitement, “Oh this means we'll be able to decorate for both indoors and outdoors!”

Jackie's mouth popped open in surprise, “Oh my god, you're right! For the afternoon we’ll do chic party decorations in the living room with finger sandwiches and tea, and for the evening we'll decorate the backyard with twinkle lights for the family barbecue. Donna will get two celebrations all about her in one day.” Jackie nodded satisfied, “It’s what she deserves!”

Mrs. Forman and her proceeded to talk about party details—the color of the streamers and flowers, how many twinkle lights for the yard, the catering, and the guest list.

Although, as the hours ticked by, they got to chatting about other things while Mrs. Forman whipped up a batch of cookies for them to eat with an afternoon coffee. The older woman spoke of her career as a nurse, her favorite recipes, and her family. The last topic in particular was a risky one, since Jackie was desperately trying to find reasons not to feed her interest in Steven Hyde.

It was clear that the Formans' adored him, Mrs. Forman perhaps most of all, and Jackie could already see the hazard of learning things that would make her fondness for him grow. However, she had also always been the sort to flirt with a little risk when her curiosity was piqued—and in her defense, Mrs. Forman made it easy for her by constantly bringing him up in conversation.

“I'm so excited my little boy is finally getting married, one down two more to go!” Mrs. Forman laughed loudly, and placed a plate of freshly baked cookies on the table. Her smile dimmed a little as she added, “Well, I guess two down and one more to go if you count Laurie's temporary marriage to Fez?” She waved a hand to dismiss the memory, “No, the point is, Steven is the last of my children to really settle down, despite being such a handsome, caring, and intelligent young man! I have no idea why a nice gal hasn't taken a shine to him yet.”

Jackie pursed her lips, trying very hard not to appear charmed by Mrs. Forman’s attempts to talk him up. After a moment, she smoothed her face into a thoughtful expression, before asking, “How long has he been a part of the family, if you don't mind my asking?”

“Oh well, let's see.” Mrs. Forman glanced off, recalling the years passed, “I’ve known him since he was about six years old, the most serious six year old I ever met, mind you—” Her fond laughter at the memory burst out of her, “You know, he was always acting mature beyond his years, pretending he was a 'hired gun' to protect Eric from school yard bullies. Cutest darn thing I ever saw!”

Jackie could just picture him, a small boy with frizzy hair, acting much tougher than he ought to in order to protect other kids. Affection—which she had no business feeling towards a potential fling—stabbed down into her heart at this newfound knowledge. It was precisely what she had wanted to avoid, but the acute feeling burst forth almost reflexively. Even worse, was the way it lingered heavy in her chest with nowhere to direct it.

“He came to live with us when he was about…sixteen or seventeen, I can't recall.” Mrs. Forman finally said, “And it's a good thing too, because that boy needed some stability in his life.”

Of course, she had known one didn't become a foster child if they had a childhood full of sunshine and rainbows, but even so she wanted to know more details. The temptation to ask left her feeling giddy for secrets, the curiosity enticingly sweet upon her tongue, even if there would be the bitter aftertaste of guilt that lingered with it. She knew full well that asking would be an infringement on his privacy. Thankfully, for the sake of her conscience, Mrs. Forman liked to gossip.

“His parents were just awful, abandoning him the way they did.” Mrs. Forman was saying, shaking her head and rolling her eyes, “I swear it's a miracle he grew up to be such a wonderful man. They did not appreciate the little gem they had. But Red and I, why, he’s like our little diamond in the rough!”

“You really love him.” Jackie said rather than asked. She could tell simply from the way Mrs. Forman spoke of him that she thought of him as her son, blood or no. How lucky he was, she thought with just a smidgen of envy. Regret for the knee-jerk, selfish thought settled in her gut. After all, her childhood had been the definition of sunshine and rainbows up until a certain point. She had been Jackie Burkhart, the doted upon daughter of a lawyer turned politician, with a gorgeous real estate agent for a mother. She had never wanted for anything—toys, clothes, jewelry—though her parents had always been short on quality time and affection.

Even with the cushiest upbringing she could have asked for, it hadn’t made her fall from grace any softer.

More like that of an egg hitting the pavement.

“Yes, he’s a good boy, or man now, I guess.” Mrs. Forman said again, smiling, but this time after a moment she added a question, “Don’t you think?”

She gave Mrs. Forman a knowing smile, taking a bite from a cookie to provide her time to think. 

How would she describe him having known him for such a short amount of time? When she thought of the definition of a stereotypical ‘good man’ she decided that he didn’t fit the type. He wasn’t nice. He wasn’t polite. He wasn’t friendly. But, there were qualities about him that were admirable.

She thought about how he had patiently offered her his help on the side of the road, proving to have been genuinely worried about leaving her there alone. She thought of the look in his eye after she’d told them about how she got fired. He’d had no reason to be so angry on her behalf, and yet it had been there, plain as day in his eyes. He had a protective, noble sort of energy about him beneath his calm countenance. If she weren’t wiser to the world, she might have really started to think her knight in shining armor had arrived driving a black El Camino.

But she absolutely could not tell the woman who was basically his mother that, because it would undoubtedly reach his ears in record time. She had embarrassed herself enough in front of him for the day.

“He seems very loyal.” She decided, finally, before finishing her cookie.

“Oh, Steven is the most loyal and down-to-earth of the bunch!” Mrs. Forman agreed immediately, “Eric is a good man too, but well, you know I think I spoiled him a little too much, so he can be a little self-involved from time to time.” Jackie barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes and say ‘ugh, i know’.

“And Michael…well Michael…he’s sweet but he’s just not very bright and makes some very poor choices. Fez is also very sweet and has a big heart, but he was always in such a hurry to catch up to everyone else and seek the approval of others, sometimes he made poor choices too. But Steven?” Mrs. Forman raised her brows and tapped her hand upon the table to emphasize her next words, “He’s rock solid.”

“He’s so lucky to have you all.” Jackie admitted her previous thought, her smile a touch melancholic.

Mrs. Forman appeared as if she wanted to pry further, but thankfully she didn’t. Instead she pivoted to a much more fascinating topic, perhaps to brighten her mood.

“Oh! Do you want to see some old pictures?”

Jackie’s pensive expression lit up like fireworks on the Fourth of July, “Oh my god, yes!”

Mrs. Forman’s tinkling laughter trailed through the house, as she nearly jogged through the door to the living room to grab a photo album off the shelf. Jackie didn’t even bother to mask her excitement, clapping her hands excitedly as Mrs. Forman—who was equally bouncy—returned with the album in hand.

She listened carefully, as Mrs. Forman flipped through the pages. There were many group photos, such as the night they went to the disco, them posing in their high school graduation gear, and what appeared to be pick up games of basketball in the driveway. There were several pictures of a young Eric and Donna together, most notably their prom night. And then there was a picture of Mrs. Forman posing with Steven—he was wearing what appeared to be a handknit sweater with his name on it. Jackie paused on that one, her fingers lingering around the border of the photo. There was something unbelievably adorable about his resigned expression, nearly making an effort to smile, which contrasted sharply with Mrs. Forman’s obvious, buoyant excitement.

“Oh, that was his eighteenth birthday!” The older woman’s eyes lit up briefly, but then her brow furrowed as she added, “You know, now that I think about it, I haven’t seen him wear that sweater ever since.”

Jackie was smiling at the photograph, as she said absentmindedly, “He really should shave that beard off, he cleans up nice.”

Her stomach did a little flip, realizing she had said it out loud—again, to the person who was essentially his mother, who also had a big fat mouth. She straightened her spine, forcing her face into a neutral expression.

“You know, I just mean objectively speaking, because beards are scruffy.”

Mrs. Forman sent her a sideways glance, “Honey, you’re telling me! I tell him to shave that damn thing at least twice a week!”

 

---

 

Hyde had expected the initial intensity of his attraction to Jackie Burkhart to fade after a two day reprieve from seeing her, but Brooke’s words stuck in his brain like gum to the bottom of a shoe. 

She just has a way about her.

Yeah, an annoying way.

Even with her absence for the two days following the circle, she had somehow burrowed underneath his skin and whenever he had a moment where his mind was allowed to wander, he’d wonder where she was or what she was doing. He had spent the first day lying to himself—telling himself that she was just a hot chick and that her unavailability due to the promise he’d made to Donna was the extent of her allure. But it had been impossible to ignore the shift ever since she had relaxed in their company, expressing to them what had happened to cause her to blow into Point Place months before they were expecting her. He wondered how she was doing almost as much as he wondered other things, which wasn’t typical for a mere attraction.

Even if he had wanted to interact with her, he couldn’t think of a good enough excuse to visit her or engage her in conversation, so he’d been forced to sit with his unsatisfied curiosity.

That is, until that morning, when she appeared out of seemingly nowhere. She’d had the oddest look on her face, before struggling with the sliding door. Almost like she was nervous. Or maybe guilty?

He contemplated her face for the majority of the morning in between work tasks, thinking about how she had been harassed by her boss. It wasn’t like him to linger in a self-conscious space, but he was beginning to worry she was afraid of him—and while he’d never consider himself a nice guy, for the most part he didn’t want to be a guy people were scared of. At least, not so much in recent years. He wondered if maybe he’d been a little too forward with his looking at her, his joking with her, his smirking at her, or his comments towards her. Maybe he had just been making her uncomfortable the entire time.

He felt caught in this weird space between attraction and concern, and rare were the times when he felt irresolute. Ever since he’d been young, he’d been put in situations where he had to make decisions for himself, leaving no time for him to dawdle in a place of doubt—although, usually those circumstances had been accompanied by much more dire consequences than offending a chick. 

He had been expecting Donna on radio station business and as she entered the store, he decided he would try to get a sense of Jackie’s mood towards him should the opportunity provide itself. He nodded in greeting and gestured for her to follow him to the backroom. As they entered together, he had to bite down on the temptation to immediately just bring her up. A lesser man—Forman, Fez—would have instantly caved and sought to ease their conscience or satisfy their curiosity, but he had a reputation to uphold. He had to be Zen. So he stayed calm and composed, and focused on the business upfront. The two discussed plans to advertise for an upcoming ticket contest and the logistics for the event that WFPP wanted to host at Grooves on location.

“All right, this sounds good, thanks for offering to post up flyers ahead of time, Hyde.” Donna finished jotting down some notes, looking pleased with how everything was coming together.

“No problem, it’s good for our business too.” Hyde said with a shrug.

Donna reclined back in her seat then, closing her notebook. Their business was done, she could have left but she stayed. She looked at him with a smile, “So, how are you doing?”

“Good, same as always.” He replied, his face a perfect example of Zen, “What about you?”

“I’m excited for Eric’s finals to be done and for him to finally graduate.” She admitted, “It feels like the next chapter will finally be starting once we get through this summer.” 

“Yeah, been a long time comin’. Engaged for five years, was it?” He said with a laugh, a hand reaching up to stroke his beard thoughtfully.

She laughed too, “Well it beats getting married right out of high school.”

He nodded. As someone who hardly believed in the institution of marriage, he had no disagreements on that one. Hyde wagered that some folks judged them for not tying the knot earlier, if not immediately after the proposal. But thankfully the two of them had had the good sense not to let others dictate their relationship. Forman had finally grown a pair, and Donna had known it was never about the wedding or the legalities. It was about their commitment to one another, a promise for a future together.

“Besides, now that everything is settled, I’ll have the wedding I was always meant to have with the people that were supposed to be in it.” She added thoughtfully, and Hyde saw his opening—he wasn’t about to let it escape.

“Hey, speaking of,” He cleared his throat, leaning back in his chair and fiddling with his pinky ring, “Can I ask you a question about Jackie?”

Donna’s brow furrowed slightly with general concern, “Yeah, what’s up?”

“Well,” He started, uncertainly, “She mentioned what happened with her old boss on Thursday night, I dunno if she told you she told us.”

“She mentioned it.” And he could see the way Donna’s expression turn stormy at the reminder. He mirrored her, feeling his anger briefly surface at the memory.

He hesitated, before finally he muttered, “Well Jackie…she’s been a little jumpy and snappy around me, lookin’ at me all bug-eyed. I thought it was funny at first, so I kept teasin’ her, but now I’m worried she’s actually scared of me or something.” He averted his gaze as he spoke—hating the unfamiliar twist of guilt in his gut—but he glanced back at Donna once the words were out, looking to gauge her reaction.

The anger had drained from her face, and instead she was making that face she did when she was trying to contain her amusement. She sucked her lips in, trying (and failing) not to smile. She even snorted from the effort not to laugh.

“Hey, I’m being serious.” He said, irritably.

“Sorry, I mean, she is scared of you, Hyde.” Donna feigned an apologetic expression and tried to sound serious. He felt his heart drop a bit—but then she added, smiling widely, “But not for the reason you think.”

“Man, what do you mean?” Hyde gestured with his hands, feeling his frustration building.

Donna’s expression finally sobered, and she looked at him directly, “Jackie’s going to be so pissed I told you this, so I’d recommend not telling her you know, but it’s just because she’s like…aware of you, like as a man.”

Hyde shook his head, still confused, because of course he was a man. “And?”

Donna rolled her eyes, “Come on, do I have to spell it out for you? She’s attracted to you. She thinks you’re foxy.”

Oh. Aware of him. Attracted to him. It had been mutual. He hadn’t imagined it.

He blinked slowly, “Oh.”

Donna smiled at him slowly, “You promised to behave, so don’t use this info to burn her, otherwise I really would have to kick your ass.”

He relaxed in his chair a bit and said plainly, “Why would I burn her? It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Lots of women find me attractive.”

Donna rolled her eyes at his confident declaration, “Yeah, well, Jackie’s not like a lot of women.”

He wondered what Donna meant by that, but instead he said, “For what it’s worth, I think she’s totally hot, so I don’t know why she’s so weird about it.”

“Hyde.” Donna’s humor dimmed again, and her tone came out as more of a warning, “At the risk of incurring Jackie’s wrath, I’m only going to tell you this once. I was serious when I said for all of you to leave her alone. But…I can’t stop you two if you’re both consenting adults.” He tried not to allow his surprise to show, thankful he’d kept his sunglasses on. He had never expected to get a free pass out of his promise during this conversation—but his anticipation was short-lived as Donna elaborated, “But I’ll never forgive you if you break her heart. She’s not really the type for a casual relationship, and she’s had a lot of bad luck in love. She needs a win, not a meaningless fling.”

His jaw tensed and his temple throbbed from the force with which he was using to withhold the questions he wanted to ask. Asking them would disrupt his Zen, would reveal too much his interest in her, exposing him and his feelings to further scrutiny. But he thought about Jackie’s pouty, bossy mouth and sharp, mean tongue. He thought about her lilting laughter and her pretty eyes. He thought about how she managed to both amuse and arouse him.

Zen be damned.

“What do you mean, bad luck?” He asked, grateful he’d maintained a neutral tone at least.

Donna averted her gaze, debating on the merits of continuing this conversation. After a moment of consideration, she said, “I’m only telling you this because honestly, I want you to look out for her. Not just from the two idiots, but if anyone else starts acting up.”

“Yeah man, of course.” She didn’t even need to ask for that, he was going to do that regardless.

“Well, her high school boyfriend was an unfaithful piece of shit that dumped her when—” Donna paused, seeming to realize she was getting into territory she ought not to have, “It’s not important,” She said, even though it sounded important, “Anyway, I actually introduced her to her next boyfriend, a regret I have to live with every day.”

The furious look on Donna’s face was enough to make his anger begin to build up prematurely, his hands curling into fists.

“He was…rough with her.”

His heart pounded, his pulse loud through his ears as he asked, very calmly, “He hit her?”

Donna looked at him for a long minute, before she said quietly, “No, not exactly, he was just…rough, and selfish. And I know she’s tough, but it was hard on her.” Donna looked down, guilty for her involvement he figured—but it wasn’t her fault, “It’s hard to explain and it’s not my story to tell. Anyway, the point is he’s from Point Place but he travels a lot so I’m hoping she doesn’t run into him while she’s here.”

He unclenched his fists, forcing himself to relax, “All right, so who’s the guy?”

“You remember that local band, Hot Cure? The lead singer, Chip.”

He remembered the way her finger had paused on the record, the look on her face. Rough and selfish . He made a mental note to have the records removed from the crates at his store, and had half a mind to contact W.B. and ask for them to be removed across the entire chain of stores. He would figure that out later, though, after he had decided just how far to take it.

“Anyways, she doesn’t need any broken hearts right now.” She said sternly, “So if you’re going to let her down, let her down gently.”

“I can respect that.” He agreed, nodding slowly.

He could suffer an unfulfilled desire, it wouldn’t be the first time. It went without saying that his friendship with Donna was more important to him than getting laid, and he had begun to feel a bit fond of Jackie. More than that, he had never been the sort of guy to actively seek out breaking someone’s heart. He preferred his relationships to be casual and to end amicably. Tears and hurt feelings were always best left avoided for all parties involved.

She was in a tough spot with a bruised heart, and he’d be damned if he'd ever become the kind of guy that would kick someone while they were down.

He glanced back at Donna and thought about the two of them, nearly complete opposites. Jackie was this perky, spunky, little brunette that wore pastel colors and high heels. Donna was this calm, tomboyish, statuesque redhead that wore Zeppelin tees and plaid. He thought about Brooke’s story from last week, and before he could help himself he blurted out, “Man, how’d the two of you become friends anyway?”

She must not have expected the question, because a surprised laugh burst out of her, “Oh man, that’s a funny story.” She shook her head, smiling wistfully, “Remember when I dyed my hair blonde?”

“Yeah.” He said, beginning to see where this is going.

“Well she was sitting in front of me in one of our classes, and I had mentioned to another friend that I had been thinking about going blonde and—” Donna looked half annoyed, half amused, “She turned around and said ‘I know it’s unfortunate that you were born with red hair, but I wouldn’t recommend blonde with your complexion’.”

Donna laughed as she imitated Jackie's shrill, high-pitched voice. He laughed too.

“So I called her a midget and told her to mind her own business, and she called me an ungrateful lumberjack.” Donna sighed, “Anyway, she was right. Blonde totally washed me out, and when my roots came in I was upset about how bad it looked. But she turned around again and offered to come back to my dorm and help me out, and the rest is, as they say, history.” She shrugged her shoulders, “She doesn’t have a lot of friends, so she kind of bonded to me, like one of those little frou frou dogs that look harmless but will bite the fingers off someone who messes with their people. She’s ridiculous most of the time, but…”

“She just has a way about her.” He finished her sentence, unconsciously repeating Brooke’s words. Donna looked at him, her eyes narrowing slightly and he knew immediately he had revealed too much. He cleared his throat and sat a little straighter in his chair, adopting an air of indifference.

She remained suspicious, however, nodding slowly as she said, “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”

He had allowed the conversation to go on for too long, and he needed to back out. Discussing her any further would be far too risky. He opened his mouth to change the subject, but Donna interrupted him by tossing him a new worry that he should have recognized this morning before he’d left home.

“Speaking of Jackie, you did know she’s spending the day with Mrs. Forman, right? Which means they’ll probably be talking about you at some point.”

The neutral line of his mouth dropped into a frown, and suddenly it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

 

---

 

By the time Donna got home from work, Bob and her had already eaten dinner and were in the middle of watching The Love Boat. After they finished the episode and Donna had finished her dinner, the two of them retired to their shared room. Donna began to change into her pajamas, while Jackie sat on her cot, pulling her legs up to sit cross-legged.

“So I had a conversation with Hyde today.” Donna began, bringing him up out of nowhere. Jackie wondered if that lumberjack could somehow see the affection for him already blossoming within her ever since her visit with Mrs. Forman.

She kept her face as impassive as she could, “Oh? What about?”

“You.” Donna told her plainly, not looking at her directly.

Her blood thrummed with an anxious excitement, “Me?” She sounded surprised at first, and then asked, a little more self-assuredly, “Did he finally admit that he finds me breathtaking?”

Donna looked at her and lifted a hand in an effort to hide her little smirk, struggling to keep her tone serious, “No, he was worried that you're scared of him because you keep staring at him all bug-eyed.”

“Excuse me! I do not!” Jackie snapped, embarrassment warming her cheeks, “There is nothing buggish about my beautiful eyes, you take that back you big goon!”

“His words, not mine, and I mean you kind of do.” Donna informed her, arching a brow and shrugging her shoulders, “And when you're not doing that, you're arguing with him.”

“No I'm not!” She protested.

“Really? Because you talked at length about the atrocity he committed by putting ABBA in the backroom closet.” Donna reminded her, still smirking.

Jackie considered the facts that she was being presented with. Were she to reflect objectively, she would concede that, perhaps, she hadn't made the best impression on him. But she only ever knew how to be Jackie Burkhart, and Jackie Burkhart was a force of nature—the inevitable byproduct of an ambitious father and a narcissistic mother.

You're a little too much for me.

An old wound stung sharply, as though her nail had accidentally snagged on a scab.

“So, he's not even a little bit interested in me, then.” Jackie murmured her dawning realization, and Donna’s expression softened.

“Well,” She hesitated, “I wouldn't say that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Donna drifted off, waging some internal war about what to say, before, “He wouldn't have even brought you up if he didn't care at all.”

“Whoa wait, he brought me up?”

She felt a little light-headed from the delight that shot through her body. Steven Hyde, self-possessed and aloof, had been the one to bring her up? Her imagination began to run away from her—treating this morsel of gossip as equivalent to him buying her a bouquet of roses. That she occupied his mind in any capacity beyond physical attraction meant she had the means with which to further entice him. Whether anything came of it remained to be seen, but it was the first time in a long time that she was excited about the prospect of chasing—of being chased.

She stood from the cot and paced around the room, smiling against the nail of her thumb, “Donna this is huge!”

“Why is his worrying about you being unsettled by him huge, again?” Donna inquired with a dubious expression—she could tell when Jackie was about to concoct an elaborate scheme where a simple solution would have served just fine.

“Because, I knew he was attracted to me—well, obviously—” She punctuated her statement with a shake of her head, “But this means that he has a modicum of interest in me beyond sex.”

“Well, I mean…maybe?” Donna shrugged slowly, “He’s not a complete dick, so he could just be trying to be nice. I don’t know if I would read too much into it.”

“Donna, I’m not ‘reading too much into it’, the signs are there as plain as day.” She stopped her pacing in front of her friend and placed a hand on her chest, “I’m a beautiful, mysterious woman that he was fated to meet and fall for, you just watch.”

The redhead shook her head and sighed, “I think you’re more than a little full of yourself right now, but since the chance isn’t zero percent I guess I have to have this talk with you too.”

“So you admit that there’s a chance!” Jackie interrupted her, pointing and smiling.

Donna adopted a stern expression, “Jackie! You can’t play games with him either, he’s my friend too! If both of you are just looking for something casual then have at it, but you can’t just treat him like a toy while you’re in Point Place and then abandon him after the wedding.”

Her glee faded. She hadn’t thought about the after, just about how she was feeling in the moment. The intoxicating sensation of being smitten with someone new. The friction of enamored gazes felt and exchanged. The hunger that always accompanied blooming feelings in her chest, craving satisfaction. What would happen if those feelings developed? What would happen if those feelings were reciprocated?

“I wouldn’t do that.” She said, but the words didn’t sound believable even to herself. Her life was nothing but uncertainty, instability at this point—only murkiness stretched out beyond the point after she saw Donna through to the wedding and into her marriage, into her next chapter. Steven Hyde was tempting in a way she hadn’t experienced before, but that wasn’t a future, wasn’t a promise.

“Well, good.” Donna said, taking her words at face value no matter how unconvincing they may have been, “Because while he’s not usually one for serious relationships, he does have feelings…from time to time, at least.”

“Well,” Jackie settled back down on her cot, shifting beneath the blankets, “If he confesses his everlasting love for me, I promise to be honest with him.”

Donna snorted as she laughed, climbing under her own blankets, turning off the bedside lamp, “Well then I have nothing to worry about, because that will only happen when pigs fly.”

There was a lengthy period of silence, and as Jackie lingered in wakefulness, pondering this interesting development, she thought that Donna must have already fallen asleep. However, the redhead piped up once more, interrupting her fanciful daydreaming.

“You're getting that ‘Jackie-look', by the way.” She said, her voice gently warning.

“Donna, you can't even see my face.”

Donna yawned and said sleepily, “I don't need to, I can just tell.”

Jackie rolled over to face the other way. She was neither going to try to lie about nor admit to the affection that had begun to bloom within her for Steven Hyde. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she tried to focus on resting. She slept soundly that night, even as she still dreamed of him.

He touched her in the dream this time too, but softer this time. He had his arms around her, holding her against him. She imagined leaning against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, while his fingers drew lazy patterns along her spine.

She woke up well-rested and ready for the new day. Her first day at her new job, which he would be driving her to.

She was meticulous, but efficient as she began getting ready for the day. She had made him wait the last time he had agreed to give her a ride, but if it was going to become a more regular occurrence then she would do what she could to respect his time. But she wouldn’t be seeing him in a state of unbeauty—if not for her pride, then for the customers she'd promised to charm for Todd.

She exited the Pinciotti house and crossed the street over to where he waited, leaning against the El Camino.

He looked the same as he always did. Relaxed posture, hands hanging off of his belt buckle, his sunglasses obscuring half of his face, with the idle movement of his jaw chewing gum. He only gave a curt nod by way of greeting, his face revealing nothing.

But she was hopelessly hungry for his attention, and she felt the irresistible tug at the corners of her mouth. She smiled at him—wide, bright, sincere—as she said, “Good morning Steven, thanks for driving me on my first big day.”

He stared at her, unblinking for a moment. His jaw stilled, then clenched. He inhaled deeply, before he spoke calmly, “It’s cool…come on, let’s go.”

He moved towards the driver's side, while she climbed in the passenger seat. She turned towards him as he started the car and began to pull out onto the road.

“Hey Steven, can I ask you a question?” She leaned towards him, and saw the way he cast a quick glance in her direction. He was quiet for a moment, but she couldn’t tell what exactly he was considering. Finally, he answered.

“Sure.”

She smiled at him again, “How do you like your coffee?”

Notes:

I dunno, I think Kitty Forman would make a pretty good wingwoman.

There will be a few points in time where we skip ahead to other dates over the next few chapters, hoping to adequately convey the developments as we go! I also reduced the chapter length back down to 14 - I thought I would need 16 chapters but the pacing just wasn't working out so we're going to proceed as is! (This may change later but as of right now...it will probably be 14.)

As always, big thank you for reading!

Chapter 5: Reception Venues

Notes:

Okay a smidgen of drama this chapter, then back to our regularly scheduled programming of fluff and pining.

TW: misogyny, verbal abuse

May 18, 1983

It had been just shy of a month since Jackie Burkhart swept into Point Place like a storm, bringing with her the rains of change. She was singular in a way that didn’t quite fit in a town like Point Place, but she was so tenacious she forced her way in regardless. She had been working next door for nearly the same amount of time that she’d been there, so he saw her more frequently than he had initially anticipated he would. This was due in large part to the fact that he had continued to drive her to work everyday since she started working at that stupid coffee shop, even after her Mustang had been fixed up by Red.

“Well, it’s right next door, there’s no need for both of you to waste gas!” Mrs. Forman had suggested, trying to sound economical, logical. The worst part was that he hadn’t even put up a fight. He didn’t mind driving her, and had even come to enjoy their rides together.

After the initial newness of their first meeting passed, their conversations had become less awkward. Her sharp wit and readiness to rile became an endless source of entertainment for him. Her opinions were as varied as her moods, ranging from thought-provoking to superficial, and everything in between. She was able to carry on a conversation with him, and even when she veered off course into frivolity, the banter remained fun. He had learned a lot of meaningless details about her over the past couple of weeks—she collected unicorns, she preferred hot rollers to styling wands, and she loved fancy deviled eggs.

He had learned all of these things mostly against his will as she opened herself up to him, and as though caught in the siren song of her company, he had begun to share little pieces of himself with her—his favorite band was Led Zeppelin, he knew how to play chess, and the El Camino had been a gift from Leo.

There still existed an air of mystery about her, always tempting him to ask more personal questions, but she would change the topic if their conversations ever strayed too close to something more personal. It was just as well, he was equally gun-shy to allow for deeper conversations to evolve between them. After all, they weren’t really friends. Just friends of friends—there was no need for either of them to express a deeper interest in each other.

So they both skimmed the surface, keeping things light. Safe.

Occasionally he would wonder what it might be like to get closer to her, usually whenever she smiled at him.

That smile he’d wanted her to direct his way just once she now gave freely and frequently. She seemed to know just how beguiling she was when she flashed her pearly whites, her gaze always alight with mischief and cheer. He swore she could probably knock a man dead with the twinkle in her eyes.

But he figured his curiosity was just as a result of the pleasure of being in the company of a pretty chick that made him laugh—nothing more, nothing less.

“Steven!” 

As if summoned by his meandering thoughts, she burst through the door of Grooves calling out to him. Her voice had that whiny, shrill quality that he’d come to understand meant she was about to ask him for something. His mouth curved into a wry grin as he turned towards her.

“Jackie?” He responded evenly, his brows raised slightly, waiting for her to make her request.

“Donna just called the cafe, she said the venue they had picked out for the reception party cancelled their booking.” She stopped in front of him, wringing her hands, “Would you be able to drive me to their back up plans after my shift? Donna has to work late again, and I want to take some pictures for her to help her decide.”

“Sure.” He agreed easily.

Her pout softened into a smile as she beamed up at him, eliciting that warm, ticklish feeling to burst all around the cavity surrounding his heart—as it so often did when she looked at him like that. Her hands shifted behind her, fingers lacing together, as she leaned forward slightly and took another step towards him, a playful lilt to her voice, “Thank you, Steven, that’s very helpful of you.”

He sensed she was fishing for a reaction.

Every now and then she would test the waters between them with flirtation, and his skin would prickle with the want to reciprocate. It went without saying that he thought she was attractive, but Donna’s words always hung in the back of his mind, causing him to hesitate. Thankfully, his Zen had not lost its impact over the years.

He shrugged, and said nonchalantly, “Maid of honor and best man task, right? It’s cool.”

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, and he was so distracted by the gesture that he didn’t notice the door open behind her. He wasn’t sure what she was going to say, because as she opened her mouth to reply, she was interrupted by a man’s voice.

“Jackie?”

The humor drained from her face instantly. She stood upright, spine straightening as her hands came up in front of her curling into fists, and an icy glint appeared in her eyes. Hyde glanced past her, and all those warm feelings he’d been enjoying in her company evaporated instantly—his temper flaring as he recognized the man standing behind her. Front man for Hot Cure, Chip, with his feathery hair and cocky grin, was standing behind her.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Chip asked. Slowly she turned towards him, but Hyde stepped forward to interpose himself between the two.

“Hey, you better watch your tone, man.” He warned him, sounding a lot calmer than he felt.

Chip scoffed, ignoring Hyde, as Jackie met his gaze, “Jackie, what the hell is all this? You tryin’ to ruin my career or something?”

She seemed to find her voice then, responding coldly, “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Chip.”

Chip looked from her face to Hyde’s, “Well, the way I hear it, the Point Place location of Grooves is no longer selling our band’s records. So I drive all the way up from Chicago to find out why, and then I find you here—all cozy with the owner.” Chip then flashed them both an ironic grin that did little to mask his anger.

He felt Jackie glance at him as Chip revealed this information. He hadn’t mentioned anything to her about it since Donna had told him it was a sensitive topic. He closed his eyes briefly, inhaling against the wave of guilt that washed over him—realizing that his intention to remove Grooves' support of the band had inadvertently created this mess. Still, he had to take responsibility for his actions.

“Hey, man,” Hyde interjected, shifting slightly so he blocked Jackie from view a little more. He briefly glanced over his shoulder at her—she had folded her arms across her chest, and her chin tilted slightly as she expectantly waited for him to explain. She was pissed off, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out. He turned back to Chip and cleared his throat, “Look, the stock wasn’t selling and it’s taking up valuable real estate in my store. I’m the owner and your shit made the blacklist, it's as simple as that.”

Chip huffed a humorless laugh as he glanced at Jackie again, “Yeah, and I’m sure it has nothing to do with her—just like WFPP’s Hot Donna refusal to play any of our music doesn’t have anything to do with her either.” 

“You ever think that maybe your band’s just not good?” Hyde returned easily, tilting his head to the side. 

“Whatever.” Chip said, shaking his head, “I see this was a waste of my time.” 

Hyde mistakenly thought that would be the end of it, thinking it a relatively painless, if unpleasant, verbal altercation. But he should have seen the next words coming—he had never known the wounded pride of an arrogant, entitled man to go quietly or honorably. Chip looked past him, glaring down at Jackie.

“Damn, took me three months to get you into bed.” He gestured crudely towards Hyde, “You miss me so much, you willin’ to give it up just to spite me and get my attention? Or maybe you finally learned how to get down on your knees and—”

The Zen he’d maintained throughout the conversation was nearly superseded by the urge to punch his stupid, pretty boy face—but Jackie reacted a little faster than he did. She bulldozed past him, using both of her hands to push at Chip’s chest, as her loud, furious voice interrupted the guy's temper tantrum.

“Don't you dare finish that sentence, you disgusting pig!” She pushed at his chest again, “As if I would ever do anything to get your attention! You lazy, selfish jerk! Steven's right, I wouldn't be surprised if the only record you ever sold was to your own parents! You know what, maybe that’s the pitch I should’ve given to the station to get a promotion!”

She mimed holding up a microphone and flashed a fake smile, “Good evening, this is Jackie Burkhart for Chicago Channel Nine News, we have a breaking story—Hot Cure? Or Cold Virus? Local, talentless hack attempts to make it in a band, despite the fact his guitar playing is mediocre at best, incompetent at worst, and his whiny singing voice is a plague to anyone with functioning ears—yeah that's right, I only pretended to like your music, and guess what, it wasn't the only thing I was pretending to do you lousy—”

He had been willing to let her handle her business—especially when she was on such a tear—but the second Chip reached to grab her by the arm, well, he had never been one to play the idle witness to an unfair fight.

“God, don't you ever shut up, you bi—”

Hyde grabbed his wrist before he could touch Jackie, squeezing hard enough to hurt and pushed him back away from her, “You really don’t want to finish that statement.”

He wasn't sure what about his attitude implied he was someone who could have been persuaded to see the other guy's point of view, but Chip tried regardless, “You can’t be serious dude, she’s a total—”

“We here at Grooves acknowledge your complaint, but you’ve violated our no asshole policy so I’m gonna have to ban you from the store. Indefinitely.” He shoved him towards the door again, rougher this time. Chip looked ready to argue or fight, but Hyde said in a low, calm voice, “Get the hell out, and I don’t want to catch you around here again.” He punctuated his warning by lifting a finger at him, the threat clear.

Chip seemed to wise up to the fact that a fight would go poorly for him, and he stormed out dramatically—but not before the loser flipped him off. Hyde lingered in the doorway, watching to make sure he got into his car and left. Only then did he turn back around to face her. 

She was still standing there, fuming mad, her arms folded across her chest. Leo was standing next to her with a hand upon her shoulder in a comforting manner. The two of them were talking in quiet voices, but they stopped as he approached. Jackie immediately looked up at him and squared her shoulders. Yeah, she was pissed.

“Steven, is what he said true? You pulled Hot Cure off the floor?” She demanded, the look in her eyes frosty.

His own agitation was still racing through his veins, and he hadn’t quite regained his typical calm yet, so his voice came across a little harsh, “Yeah, I did, and I’m not going to put it back out.”

“Why?” She said through her teeth.

His mouth formed a thin line as he looked at her. He didn’t know every detail about her ex, but he’d seen enough to get an idea. Still, his response was ambiguous, allowing her to fill in her own blanks, “You know why.”

She shook her head and said in a low voice, “I never asked you to do that.”

“Hey dudes, let’s all just take a deep breath.” Leo appeared to sense the tension in the air and he stepped in between them, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. He glanced towards Jackie first, “Loud Girl, Hyde was trying to do the right thing, and their music is like, not good, for real. I mean, I can't even remember it!”

He then glanced towards Hyde, “And Hyde, you should have told Loud Girl that you knew about her ex before you did that man, that’s not cool. What if he'd bumped into her in the parking lot and she was alone, man?”

He knew the moment the words registered, Leo was right. Hyde rolled out his neck, feeling the anger and tension easing, and he sounded a lot more composed as he admitted, “Look, Donna told me because she was worried about you. I’m not apologizing for taking his music off the floor, but…I’m sorry you had to run into him because of it.”

He saw her soften, her typical warmth was swift to return to her gaze, and she sighed heavily, “Well, his music is pretty terrible.”

He grinned a little, and he could see from the way she pursed her lips she was resisting the urge to smile back at him. Leo chuckled, his eyes crinkling, and gave both of their shoulders one more gentle pat.

“All right dudes, glad we cleared that up.”

Leo wandered back towards the front counter to help a customer, leaving the two of them alone once again. She inhaled sharply, and a more serious expression came over her face. Her wrath had abated, but he could see that she was still a bit rattled—her shoulders trembled slightly as she ran her hands through her hair and fussed with her clothes. She said absentmindedly, “I was only supposed to be here for a few minutes, I should get back. I have about an hour left, if that works for you.”

“Just ask to leave early. Your manager won’t complain.” Hyde suggested immediately. From what she’d mentioned about him, it sounded like the guy worshiped the ground she walked on. More importantly it wasn’t worth her going back to work after that ugliness she’d had to deal with. He spoke up again, trying to coax her, “Come on Jackie, let’s get out of here for a bit. It’s an hour, just play hooky.”

She considered him for a long moment, and he wondered if she was just stubborn enough to reject his idea. Her shoulders relaxed, she relented, “Fine. I did tell him that wedding business takes priority…let me go grab my stuff.”

“All right.” He said with a slight grin, following behind her.

 

---

 

Todd made a big show of expressing sympathy after she explained what had happened. He gasped in shock and shook his head, “That’s awful! He’s lucky he didn’t come in here—I’m a black belt, you know. I would have knocked him right out.”

Jackie forced a smile and resisted the urge to roll her eyes, “Yes, I know, you’ve mentioned that before.” She cleared her throat, “Anyway, is it okay if I leave a little early today? I’m feeling a little off, after all that.”

It wasn’t really a lie. Unexpectedly seeing Chip and hearing him sling insults at her had left her upset. A mix of anger and embarrassment had flooded her system the second she’d heard his voice. She hadn’t let it demoralize her too much, though—and it had been satisfying to unleash some of her lingering anger on him. She’d been too stunned when he’d dumped her all those months ago, and now that she’d gotten all that off her chest she felt a little better for it.

“Well of course you can leave early!” Todd said, briefly glancing over her shoulder at Steven who was standing behind her. Todd gestured for her to come towards him and opened his arms, “But not before you get a Todd hug.”

Reluctantly, she allowed him to hug her. He patted her back gently, and she tried to take a smidgen of comfort in the gesture. Instead she felt uncomfortable, knowing Steven was right there waiting for her.

“Okay, I have to go Todd.” She extracted herself and ran towards Steven, who watched Todd for a moment longer before he followed her out the cafe.

They both climbed into the Camino wordlessly. She remained quiet, buckling her belt, before she glanced towards him. Their eyes met, and he didn’t avert his gaze as he so often did—rather it looked as if he was assessing her.

Her heartbeat pounded in her chest, recalling the way she had basically had a volcanic meltdown in the middle of his store. All of the effort she had put into establishing a good rapport with him the past few weeks had probably been upended. She flushed and looked away—he probably thought she was a raging bitch now.

“You okay?” He asked, and the gentle quality of his voice almost made her want to open her big mouth and let the mess of feelings bound tight in her chest out.

She handed him the piece of paper with the addresses written down, continuing to look out the window—choosing not to answer his question. He read the paper and then pocketed it. She thought he might leave it there, but as he pulled onto the road and began driving to their first destination, he pressed the issue.

“Jackie, are you okay?”

She swallowed against the raw emotion climbing up her throat, then looked down at her lap as she murmured, “You ever have someone try to make you feel less than? Insignificant?”

He was quiet for what felt like an eternity, before he finally admitted, sounding a little uneasy, “Yeah, more than you know.”

She looked at him. His eyes remained on the road, but she could see the way he shifted in his seat, seemingly discomforted by her gaze. She thought about what Mrs. Forman had told her about him. She knew that he had come from the poorer part of town and that his parents had abandoned him. He’d probably had it a lot worse than she had. Different, but also worse.

She also knew that he’d had very few steady girlfriends, despite being a handsome, successful business owner. It could have just been a personal preference of his like Donna said, but the potential she saw in him left her wondering…

She smiled wistfully, looking back out her window as her feelings began to leak out of her—she was grateful for her ability to keep her tone blithe, at least, “Well, it was very sobering for someone like me, as you might imagine. I was Jackie Burkhart. I came from a well-to-do family, I was on the cheerleading team, and I was perhaps one of the most beautiful girls in the world—”

He snorted and shook his head, clearly humored by her blatant vanity. But he didn’t interrupt, he didn’t tell her to shut up—and once she started talking, it was as though a dam within her burst.

“Well, that all ended when Daddy went to jail for fraud and embezzlement.” She swallowed, remembering the day she’d gotten the call that he’d been publicly arrested at City Hall. All the while knowing that her mother was off in some foreign country, and that she would be going home to an empty house with nothing but the uncertainty to keep her company. Her voice trembled a little, “Josh—my boyfriend at the time—he told me it was all a little too much for him to deal with. We’d been together for almost two whole years, but I guess that didn’t mean much to him. I got kicked off the cheer squad in senior year too, because well, I had gone from being Jackie Burkhart—the prettiest member of the team—to the daughter of a convict.”

Steven was quiet, but she could see him from the corner of her eye—shifting in his seat, as if he was considering whether to speak or not. He remained quiet, though.

“With Daddy in jail on fraud charges, they froze most of our assets and we were forced to liquidate almost everything. We foreclosed on our cabin, lost the house, the Lincoln…I only got to keep my Mustang because it had been in my name.” She paused, before murmuring, “Packing up alone was the hardest part.”

“Alone?” The word burst out of him, surprising both of them, but he added in an annoyed tone, “Man, where the hell was your mom?”

“Oh, she was dealing with it in her own way.” Jackie laughed humorlessly, “Partying across Mexico with her pilot boyfriend, drinking as much tequila as she possibly could. She came back briefly for my high school graduation, but she met a man who owns a couple of hotels in Hawaii shortly after that, and I haven’t seen her since. I think she lives in Honolulu now.” 

She risked looking in his direction. Even with his beard, she could see the way his jaw set, contemplating his anger. With his left elbow propped up on the open window, he pressed his fingers against his temple, as though to mitigate an incoming headache. She leaned back against her seat and smiled at him admiringly, while he focused on the road stewing in his outrage over her story.

She had come to find that she had been right about him. Steven was exceedingly loyal with a strong set of values. With every beat of her heart, affection for him spread throughout her body like a blush. It wasn’t just that he was handsome and foxy and successful—although all of those things certainly added to his attractiveness—he resembled the kind of guy she’d always hoped for. He might not have looked anything like how she had pictured her prince charming, with his band tees and curly hair, but she felt safe around him. It made her want to keep sharing things with him, even though he hadn’t asked. He didn’t change the subject or tell her to be quiet, so she kept talking.

“I made it through college all on my own.” She continued, forcing herself to look away from him for this next part, “And then I met Chip and he…he was charming, and very different from Josh. And I was looking for something different, but…well, as you may have guessed based on our conversation, he was only interested in one thing. He also said I was a little too much for him. I guess I’m just a little too much for everyone.” She paused, feeling her temper flare as she recalled his words again, and before she could stop herself she mumbled scornfully, “But hey, at least he told me I was a great lay.”

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, as she realized what she had just allowed to slip out. She covered her face with a hand. It must have either sounded pathetic or conceited coming out of her mouth, and she wasn’t sure which interpretation was worse. 

“Sorry, just, can you pretend you didn’t hear that?” She asked, mortified.

“Consider it forgotten.” He said casually, pausing with a thoughtful expression. He seemed to be mulling over his next words, before he finally added, “Been there, for what it’s worth. Not an identical situation of course, but I was kinda with a chick in high school that didn’t want to be seen in public with me, but she was happy to keep me on retainer—if you get my drift.”

“Well, if the cheerleaders from when we were in high school are to be believed, he’s really good in bed.”

She recalled Donna’s words in that moment. Initially, when Donna had explained what she knew of Steven’s dating history to her, Jackie had assumed he was just a teenage boy that had hit the jackpot. He was so good in bed that girls wanted to have meaningless sex with him with no strings attached—wasn’t that every teenage boys’ dream? But the way he spoke of it painted a different picture. It seemed like it almost bothered him that he’d been used in such a manner, as though while it had been fun in the moment, it had left him feeling lesser.

That he had even made the attempt to relate to her by sharing something similar and personal made her feel better. Immediately, she wanted to comfort him, so she spoke softly and said, “Well, it’s her loss that she didn’t appreciate you.”

He bristled against her kind words and tried to make light of it, uttering a half-hearted scoff as he insisted, “Nah, I mean she had a good time. I had a good time.”

“Still, her loss.” Jackie insisted, looking back out her window.

He was quiet for a long moment, before Steven offered, “His loss, too. You're about the most significant chick I've ever met. You deserve a lot better than that dumbass.”

She was leaning her head against her hand, her elbow resting on the window, and she had to turn her mouth into her palm to hide the shy smile his words drew out of her. She smoothed her features out into a confident countenance before she looked back at him, “Well, obviously, Steven, I’m Jackie Burkhart.” She placed her hand on her chest, “Chip is a buffoon with a bad haircut, his words are basically meaningless to me.”

She paused, before she added in a softer tone, “Thank you, though.”

He glanced at her briefly, before turning back to the road. He shrugged his shoulders once more, and said nonchalantly, “Yeah, no problem.”

They drove in comfortable silence until they reached their destination. By the time they arrived she was beginning to feel a little more like herself again. Chip wasn’t worth more than being a blip in her day, and she almost certainly wasn’t going to waste anymore of her tears on the likes of him. 

And in any case, she had maid of honor duties to attend to.

Steven had provided her with a couple of cameras from Grooves’ back room closet—explaining that Leo had a bunch of ‘old stock’ leftover from the photography shop they used to work at—so she took one out of her purse and began to take pictures. She took a picture of the building and the parking lot for logistical purposes, and then she began to tour the grounds.

“Hey, aren’t we supposed to take pictures of the venue?” Steven called after her, gesturing towards the building with his thumb.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, before snapping a picture of the garden space, “Yeah, but what about photos on the day of, Steven! Some people might want to pose outdoors, it is a summer wedding.”

“With their luck it’ll probably rain.” She heard his voice begin to approach her, following after her slowly. 

“Don’t say that!” She looked at him sharply, “You’ll jinx it!”

He grinned at her, completely indifferent to the possibility of having beckoned fate to summon a thunderstorm for Donna and Eric’s wedding. He looked delighted at having earned her offense as he said, “Trust me, if anyone’s jinxing it, it’ll be Forman.”

“No arguments there.” Jackie conceded, rolling her eyes at the mention of Eric.

She spotted a large, older tree on the grounds in the distance and began to walk in its direction. He called after her in a half-hearted protest, but she was suddenly possessed by an idea so she picked up speed, running towards it. She wasn’t sure if it was the earlier tension, or the jitteriness from confiding in Steven about things she normally didn’t share with others, but it felt good to run. It felt exhilarating even, to move her limbs, to feel her blood pumping—even if it also felt a bit like she was running away from him. 

She came to a stop in front of the tree, breathing a little heavy. She looked up at the hefty branches of the canopy overhead, and what she was envisioning began to take shape. She was so absorbed in her thoughts, that she didn’t hear him approach.

“Jackie.” His voice startled her slightly, and she looked over her shoulder at him. For some reason she hadn’t expected him to follow her—she never did, and yet there he was. His brow was arched, expressing his confusion.

“Will you stand next to the tree?” She requested, and he blinked at her. She could see the refusal to take part in the pictures poised on the tip of his tongue, but she interrupted him with a slow smile, “Please?”

 

---

 

Steven stared at her—pink-cheeked and smiling—and found himself swallowing his refusal of her request. He muttered a cuss under his breath, and walked over to lean against the tree. She lifted the camera to her eye, and clicked the button.

He had known the instant she had made the request that this was her objective—and despite hating having his picture taken, he’d relented simply because she had said ‘please’ with a smile.

“This will help with perspective.” She explained, as she snapped a second picture, “I was thinking we could get a swing to hang from the branch, get a floral arrangement out here—it might be a nice spot for photographs.” She turned and began to walk back towards the venue hall.

“If it’s perspective, why don’t you pose and I take the pictures.” He suggested irritably, following after her, “I’m the one who used to work at a photography shop, after all.”

“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you gave me the cameras.” She responded in a playful tone, smirking at him over the curve of her shoulder.

“You’re the one with the purse!” He argued back. She responded by turning on her heel to walk backwards and snapping a candid photo of him. He scowled at her, “Jackie.”

“Steven, I don’t know why you don’t like getting your picture taken.” She said conversationally, “You’re such a handsome guy!”

He knew she was teasing him, baiting him, and his skin tingled again with the desire to rise to the challenge. But it was just the desire to reciprocate the flirtation of a beautiful woman—there was no deeper meaning. His heart had not begun to thump with a real affection for her.

No, if anything he just respected her, that’s all it was. For all her vanity and posturing, she’d really had a tough go of it in the last couple of years. She’d known hard times and she had survived.

She snapped one more picture, and he sighed, trying to appeal to reason, “Jackie, you’re going to waste all the film before we even get to the venue.”

“Steven, you gave me like three cameras, we’ll have more than enough.” She lowered the camera from her eye though, and added thoughtfully, “You’d better shave that beard before the wedding.”

“Why would I do that?” He inquired, resisting the urge to smile at her antics.

“Because, you look even better clean shaven. Mrs. Forman showed me the pictures.” She told him, a teasing grin reappearing on her face. He felt his ears grow warm with embarrassment at the thought of her looking at old pictures of him. It was such a Kitty Forman thing to do, showing a pretty chick the old family photo albums, so he wasn’t all that surprised. She carried on, a giggle escaping her “I loved your handknit ‘Steven’ sweater by the way. It was even blue, to bring out your eyes.”

He really ought to have been annoyed with her, but he was secretly glad she had recovered her usual pep. She was impressively resilient, bouncing back from everything that had happened—either that or she was just faking it until she made it. He could understand either tactic.

“Steven, just agree to shave your beard for the wedding at least.” She continued to pester him, “A beard with a tux just doesn’t go together—” Her ridiculous shoes were not made for walking backwards while simultaneously not paying attention, and her heel slipped in the grass. 

Immediately, he reached out and caught her wrist, pulling her towards him. She fell against him, and his other arm instinctively circled around her back to hold her upright. The first thing he noticed was her floral perfume. The second thing was how perfectly she fit against him. The third, and most maddening of all, was her gasp of breath tickling the skin around his neck. He abruptly took a step back, dropping his arms from her as though she’d burned him. He exhaled, trying to calm the wild beating of his heart, before saying in a gruff voice, “Watch where you’re going will ya?”

He shoved his hands into his pockets and stepped past her, heading back towards the venue. That’s where they were supposed to be, taking pictures for Donna, not tripping and falling over each other—wasting time flirting when they both knew nothing was going to come of it.

It had felt good in a way, that she had trusted him enough in the brief amount of time she’d gotten to know him to confide in him to a degree, to reveal what he’d only guessed at. However, it also left him feeling empty, because if he could have held a deeper interest in her, then it might have sparked something in him for her. But he couldn’t and it didn’t.

Even if he could theoretically commit to her as Donna warned him he should if he'd wanted to pursue her, she was leaving at the end of the summer. The end of August would come, and she would be gone.

But that was only something someone who was at risk of developing an interest in her had to worry about.

Nevertheless, he found that the realization had tempered his good mood. He allowed her to take pictures of him and he made brief conversation as they moved through the venue, but the enchantment of her company had been dispelled for the day. He didn’t behave resentfully, but it was impossible for him to entertain her any further. His Zen was the perfect tool to handle the remainder of their little tour.

She seemed to sense the change in his mood, so her flirtatious behavior came to a stop. Their conversations regressed back to surface level topics. With that distraction removed, they completed their task efficiently and soon enough he drove them home.

It was for the best, he told himself, as he parked the Camino and got out. It was for the best, he told himself, as they walked towards the hedges separating the Forman and Pinciotti driveway. It was for the best, he told himself, before she faced him and reached for his wrist.

He startled out of the tangle of his thoughts, reflexively yanking his hand away from hers.

“What?” He prompted, regretting that his nerves came across as annoyance.

“I…” She started, pausing to look down at his hand. She sighed, “Thank you for today, and I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He heard himself ask.

But she didn’t answer. She just turned away from him and retreated to the Pinciotti home. He stood there, in the night air, for a long moment trying to parse through what she could’ve possibly been sorry for. All theories remained inconclusive, so he went home.

“Oh, Steven! You’re home late, but just in time for dinner!” Mrs. Forman’s merry voice shook him out of his thoughts, while Red offered a welcoming smile from the table as he entered.

“Thanks, Mrs. Forman.” He grabbed a plate and sat down at the table.

“What’s bothering you, dear?” She asked—always quick to pick up on his mood.

“Nothing, just a weird day.” He explained, he chewed a mouthful, before adding idly, “Jackie’s asshole of an ex showed up at the store, had to kick him out.”

“Oh, I hope the poor dear is all right!” Mrs. Forman glanced towards Red worriedly—who adopted an expression that was as near to concern as he would typically exhibit.

“It’s fine, he won’t be coming back if he knows what’s good for him.” Hyde hesitated before elaborating with a laugh, “Jackie really laid into him though—you should’ve seen it. I just about knocked the guy out, but I let him off with a warning after the number she did on him. Man, you couldn't pay me to get in the way of her fury.”

Red chuckled a little, seeming pleased with this knowledge, “Yeah, I bet that girl uses words like a carving knife.”

He grinned across the table at Red, “Oh yeah, she went right for the jugular.”

“Good for her!” Red declared.

 He shook his head a little, before he looked down at his plate and added as an afterthought, “Although he really did deserve to get hit.”

“Well, I don’t condone the use of violence, but I’m sure she was practically swooning with you there to back her up.” Mrs. Forman interjected with a knowing smile.

“What?” Hyde glanced at her, his brow furrowed.

“Steven, I am quite certain that girl likes you.” Mrs. Forman punctuated her statement with a loud laugh, “You know, she was so interested in learning more about you when we had our little planning session a couple of weeks ago.”

He sighed, knowing full well that Mrs. Forman had probably been the one to constantly bring him up in conversation—not Jackie, “I highly doubt that, Mrs. Forman.”

But she shook her head, and her tone was stern, leaving no room for further argument, “Trust me Steven, a mother always knows, and that girl is smitten with you. After all, I knew Donna had a crush on Eric long before those two started dating.”

Well, he hoped to hell Jackie wasn't smitten with him, because if she was then that’d really complicate things for him.

Notes:

I'm back up to 16 chapters and I'm done waffling. Debating adding slow burn to the tags (I don't know what counts as slow burn anymore lmfao).

I should be able to post Chapter 6 soon (I dunno how frequent is too frequent to update but I'm making good progress).

Thank you for reading!!

Chapter 6: Cake Toppers

Notes:

This is not my best work in my opinion, but it *is* a necessary chapter - hope it's an enjoyable read regardless!

May 19, 1983

“Thank you, Fez.” Jackie said, as he opened the sliding door to the Forman residence. She deposited the boxes she’d been carrying on the countertop. There were two of them, each holding ten cupcakes in a variety of flavors. With Eric away in Madison, it fell to Donna and handpicked members of the bridal party to help with the selection of the base for the wedding cake. Donna had already told her that both Fez and Rhonda’s sweet tooths were practically legendary, so the pair was the obvious choice to enlist for aid.

“What flavors do they have for us?” Rhonda inquired, peeking over her shoulder to look at the box.

Jackie glanced up at Donna's third bridesmaid and former wrestling teammate, Rhonda Tate. She had met Rhonda only a handful of times before, but they had never really bonded. They didn't have a lot in common, except maybe the fact that the both of them usually spoke their mind. However, Rhonda was a lot nicer about it than Jackie—or perhaps she was just nicer in general.

Initially, Jackie had merely tolerated her, since the taller woman’s rambunctious nature was in direct contrast with Jackie’s more delicate sensibilities. That said, she had recently begun to take a liking to her after Fez told her about how Rhonda wrestled with Michael and defeated him by a landslide.

Still, Jackie wished she was just a little more ladylike from time to time.

“Well, the most popular choice for a wedding cake is their vanilla.” Jackie pointed to each flavor as she listed them off, “They also said the chocolate and red velvet were popular choices, but they have a couple novelty flavors like coconut and strawberry cakes for us to try.”

Rhonda clasped her hands together and gave them a little rub, “My gut’s telling me Donna’ll probably go with a vanilla cake, but I’m interested in that red velvet. Maybe we can convince her to pick that.” She reached for one of the boxes, but Jackie placed her palm on the top of it.

“We have to wait for Donna to get here, she’ll be getting home from work in just a minute!”

“Hey, be nice to Rhonda, you bossy little woman.” Fez interjected quickly.

She supposed her tone had been a touch harsher than was probably necessary—but it was her job to keep the eager taste testers in check until the bride arrived.

Luckily for her, Rhonda wasn’t the sort to anger easily. Jackie almost certainly would get knocked flat on her ass in record time if the opposite had been the case. The taller woman just smiled at her and elbowed her playfully, which still caused Jackie to nearly collapse against the counter.

“Oh, it’s okay Cocoa Puff” Rhonda exclaimed with an easy laugh, before she looked back at Jackie, “You're like one of those tiny cinnamon candy hearts! Tiny and spicy, but with just a little bit of sweetness.”

Jackie stared at the warm, friendly grin on Rhonda’s face for a moment, before she relented and smiled back, batting her eyelashes a little, “That was acceptable for a food analogy. I am like a little cinnamon candy heart.”

“See, I knew she’d warm up to me.” Rhonda winked at Fez, and he laughed.

“But of course my dear Rhonda, you are positively charming.” Fez winked back. Rhonda swayed to and fro, seeming delightedly bashful from his compliment.

The saccharine atmosphere surrounding the two of them nearly made Jackie want to throw up. While Brooke and Michael were fools in love dancing around each other, Fez and Rhonda were in that flirty honeymoon phase. Jackie wasn’t sure if they were going steady or not, but there was definitely something going on. As a lover of love in general, she tried not to grimace too much—she didn’t want to turn into a bitter old hag of a woman just because her love life had consistently alternated between disappointing and dumpster fire.

Fortunately, she didn’t have to watch the two moon over each other for much longer, as Donna emerged through the door.

“Hey, thanks for picking those up for me, Jackie.” Donna said, her eyes immediately drawn to the two boxes on the counter.

“Of course, I’m the best maid of honor in all of Point Place.” Jackie walked over to the cupboard and grabbed a few plates for everyone. The rest of them sat down at the kitchen table as Jackie described the intel she had gathered on her little errand run to the bakery, “Now Donna, the bakery said they can make a cake as tall as five tiers and I took some pictures of the designs they had on display for you to look at later.”

“Wow, how diligent of you Jackie.” Donna was smiling broadly as she accepted a plate from her.

“Well, I had a camera left over from my little trip to the venues with Steven yesterday.” She said with a shrug, trying to sound casual about it.

She hadn’t seen him since she had fled from him the evening before. She thought of how the apology had sprung to her mouth, and when he had asked her why she was apologizing she had been unable to think of a lie to tell him. Truthfully, she had worried she’d made him uncomfortable by overstepping some boundary she’d not been aware of. For all her attempts to initiate flirting he’d been reluctant to partake, though not outright dismissive. However, the way he had reacted to their nearness after she had slipped and nearly fell, she wondered if maybe he really just wasn’t into her like that. It was a tough pill to swallow—rarely did she meet someone who wasn’t at least a little bit attracted to her. In fact, she was almost certain Eric Forman was the only man she'd ever met who genuinely expressed his complete and utter lack of sexual interest in her. It didn't bother her terribly, the feeling was mutual after all.

“Steven?” Rhonda repeated, chuckling a bit as her brows raised.

Jackie glanced at her sharply, a scowl touching her features, “What? That’s his name.”

“I’ve never heard anyone call Hyde ‘Steven’, except maybe teachers at school.” Rhonda shrugged her shoulders. Jackie was about to pursue an argument with her, but she pointed towards one of the boxes, “All right whatever Cinnamon Stick, he’s Steven, now let’s crack open those cupcakes.”

Jackie’s eyes narrowed—it was a less flattering nickname than the reference to the cinnamon candy heart before, but ‘Cinnamon Stick’ rolled off the tongue a little easier. And she supposed she did look like a little stick compared to Rhonda’s more buxom type of beauty.

“Fine.” She snapped, opening the top box and began distributing bite-sized pieces of the cupcakes around the table. A red velvet for Rhonda, vanilla for Donna, chocolate for Fez, and she took a coconut one for herself.

They underwent a number of rounds of taste testing, all of them having at least one piece of each flavor to really determine which one to go with. Jackie was hoping that Fez and Rhonda’s palates would be good enough to help Donna come to a decision, because after the third bite of cupcake all she could really taste was sugar. There were faint hints of the overarching flavor, but she was unable to discern any real notes or quality.

“I thought the strawberry would be sweeter.” Fez said, frowning slightly, “I admit I am disappointed.”

“Which one did you like the most, Cocoa Puff?” Rhonda asked, popping another piece of the red velvet into her mouth.

Fez considered her question, lifting his hand to his chin thoughtfully, “Well the chocolate was good, I enjoyed the vanilla, and the red velvet is a happy medium between those two. But I also enjoyed the coconut. Ai, it is hard to decide.”

“We’re not doing the coconut.” Donna cut in, eliminating at least one of the flavors right away, “It’s good, but I have a feeling our more traditional family members will complain.”

“Well I think red velvet is always a winner.” Rhonda suggested, “Plus it’s got that bold color—it’d look nice with your accent colors, Donna.”

“That’s true. I was leaning towards the vanilla—” Rhonda exchanged a knowing look with Jackie as Donna spoke, “—but, you’re right. The red velvet is more ‘wow’ to look at.

Jackie laughed as her eyes met Rhonda’s, before she leaned forward, “Donna, I think the red velvet gives a Valentine’s Day vibes which is fitting for you two considering your first real date—and it’s more romantic than vanilla. I think you should go with that one.”

“And, at least you know no matter what flavor you choose, the cake will be good!” Fez said, as he grabbed an entire chocolate cupcake for himself. She couldn't believe that he had an appetite for even more sweets after trying all those cupcakes. The thought of more turned her stomach, so she cleared her plate and loaded it in the dishwasher.

“Yeah, I think you guys are right.” Donna said, coming to a decision as she took one more bite of the red velvet. With a cake base decided, Jackie would be able to help Donna cross one more thing off of the list in preparation for the wedding. Now all Donna had to do was let the bakery know how many tiers to bake and if there was a specific design she wanted done. 

She had anticipated that Fez and Rhonda would leave shortly after the taste testing was done—probably to go on some sort of date and be nauseatingly happy elsewhere—but Fez grabbed the remaining box of cupcakes and grinned at them all. He gestured for them to follow him downstairs, “Why don’t we go enjoy some ‘film’ and maybe eat the rest of these cupcakes.”

“No, we have to save some for Steven!” She said, snatching the box out of his hands, “It’s not fair, he has to work today while we’re all eating cupcakes. We have to save at least one or two for him.”

“You sweet on Hyde or somethin’?” Rhonda asked, her brows raised curiously.

Jackie glanced from the other woman to Fez—who had suddenly arched a brow, looking awfully interested in her forthcoming answer to the question—and immediately felt the need to quash the rumor before it could even become a rumor. It was one thing for her to talk about it with Donna, but it was another for her to bring it up with Fez and Rhonda, two veritable unknowns in her life that she hadn’t yet come around to trusting.

“No, I’m not sweet on anyone!” She lied poorly, unable to adequately rein in the defensive anger that burst out of her. A side effect no doubt of feeling as though he had, in a way, rejected her the day before. Still, he had been kind to her after everything with Chip, so despite what she suspected was his rejection, she didn't want to swing too far on the pendulum and begin insulting him to throw others off. Instead she shrugged her shoulders and presented a perfectly reasonable excuse, “I just think he’s Eric’s best man, and he should get to try some of the cake—you know, since Eric isn’t here.”

Fez and Rhonda shrugged, but she saw the look on Donna’s face. She could tell the redhead did not believe her. However, their companions were impatient, and provided a sufficient distraction to end any further discussion on the undesirable topic.

“All right all right, we’ll save some for Hyde, let’s just go!” Fez whined impatiently, before he began to head towards the basement with Donna and Rhonda not far behind him. Jackie hesitated, looking down at the box in her hands, before she followed them down the stairs.

 

---

 

He knew Jackie wasn’t working at the cafe that day—not after her manager had agreed to give her time off for a wedding errand and a day to ‘recover’ from the events of the day before—but he went next door at the regular time she would’ve normally brought him and Leo coffee anyway. There was only one other person sitting in the cafe drinking a coffee at a table near the window, so Hyde walked right up to the counter.

“Ah, you’re the manager of Grooves next door.” The blond guy—Todd—said in a polite tone, “You’re the friend that came here with Jackie yesterday, after all that awfulness.” It did not escape his notice how Todd emphasized the word ‘friend’.

Hyde did in fact have plans to order coffee for himself and Leo, but he had ulterior motives for visiting the cafe while Jackie was off work. Namely, to address the fact that he hadn’t liked the way Todd had used the opportunity of Jackie’s ex talking out of his ass and upsetting her to hug her the day before. It had given him a bad vibe, and the fact that it was one of the first things he brought up wasn’t doing the guy any favors.

“Yup.” He responded, feigning a pleasant smile.

Todd nodded slowly, but remained quiet—perhaps waiting for him to elaborate further. When Hyde didn’t, the other man cracked and asked, “How’s she doing?”

“She seemed fine to me, last I saw her.” He said, neutrally.

Todd adopted a dubious expression, clearly not taking Hyde’s words for truth. It was about all he needed to see in order to get a better understanding the guy's motivations, before Todd even opened his mouth to respond.

“Well, I’m sure she’s just putting on a brave face.” He said, his tone playing at sympathy, exposing himself for what he was.

He was the type of guy that would linger around a chick, pretending at friendship and support—biding his time until some unfortunate occurrence came to pass, and then he would use it as an opportunity to pounce and ‘comfort’ her. Hyde wagered he might have even been pissed at him for being around the day before, having acted as an obstacle to that type of scheme. While he had been able to manipulate a hug out of Jackie, the scheme itself hadn't truly come to fruition.

After all, Hyde had been the one she had confided in.

He nodded slowly, acting as though he was considering the other guy’s words, before he shrugged, “Oh, I don't know. Jackie’s a pretty tough chick from what I can tell.” She doesn’t need you, was the message he hoped he was able to convey.

Todd smiled slightly, and his face suddenly looked a hell of a lot more punchable. “Well, I'm not sure tough is the word I would use to describe that resplendent creature, but if you say so.”

In the past, if certain social norms occasionally went over Fez’s head, he would say inappropriate things from time to time, but he would usually come around and learn to be better. Todd, however, knew better and was just being a creep. Hyde clenched his jaw, trying to control the wave of irritation that swept over him. “I do say so.” He paused, before asking, “You talk about all your employees that way, man?”

Todd maintained a polite smile, but there was a slight glint to his eyes—picking up the meaning of his words. He could have been a man about it and acknowledged his inappropriate attitude towards Jackie, but he opted for the coward’s route—changing the subject. “Are you going to order anything, sir?”

“Actually, on second thought, I’m not really that thirsty." Hyde muttered, before turning to leave. He was tempted to give the guy a straightforward warning, but he didn’t want to create any more problems for Jackie than he already had with the Chip situation.

But it wouldn’t hurt to recommend she look for work elsewhere.

Part of him wished Donna hadn’t asked him to look out for her, even if it ultimately wouldn’t have mattered in the long run. He knew that he would have ended up stuck here regardless—feeling protective over her. She had some kind of magnetic pull on him, and either way he had been doomed to end up in her orbit.

Still, he wasn’t happy about having to worry about all this extra Jackie crap on top of work and his own shit. He remained in a somewhat dour mood until he finally got home. He had expected the basement to be empty, but as he reached the bottom step he could hear the sound of laughter and conversation on the other side of the door. He sighed to himself privately before he opened the door.

“Steven!” Her voice was the first to reach him as he entered. Her excitement at seeing him shouldn't have caused those fluttery feelings in his gut, especially after how they'd left things the day before, but his insides were suspiciously ticklish as he saw her beaming at him from the couch.

“Hey.” He gestured with his chin as he entered, hanging his denim coat up on the rack before walking towards his chair. She grabbed for his wrist as he passed by her on the couch, forcing him to stop and look at her.

“Steven, I saved you a couple cupcakes from our taste testing session earlier.” She released his wrist, thankfully, and scooched to the edge of the couch and reached for the box, “But I was only able to save two of the five flavors from those two.” Jackie sent a glare in the direction of Rhonda and Fez—neither of whom looked particularly chastened.

He blinked down at her, before he cast a look towards Donna sitting in the lawn chair and asked, “Were you able to pick somethin'?”

She had a vague grin on her face, observing the two of them, before she answered, “Yeah, we’re going with the red velvet.”

“That’s this one!” Jackie interjected, pointing at the red cupcake with white frosting, “I wasn’t sure if you liked sweets or not, but I figured since you had to work while we were here having fun you should get to try some as well—I mean, you are Eric’s best man, after all.”

“Oh, thanks.” He nodded slowly. Donna had already decided, and Forman probably wouldn’t argue with her choice, so ultimately it didn’t matter what his opinion was. But as he looked down at Jackie’s expectant face, he felt a small bit of gratitude for her attempt to include him in the process in Forman's stead. He reached down for the cupcake she’d pointed out and took his seat. He glanced at her and said, almost as an afterthought, “I don’t mind sweet things.”

For whatever reason, this revelation seemed to make her smile. “Really? I wouldn’t have guessed that about you.”

He shifted in his seat, a little disconcerted by the endeared look on her face. It wasn’t that he found it embarrassing to admit to his fondness for sweets, but the fact that she so obviously thought it was ‘cute’ certainly bothered him. After all, of the group, Fez’s sweet tooth beat his own by a long mile. He said nothing to her, jamming half of the cupcake into his mouth instead.

“I’m impressed you managed to nearly eat that cupcake in one bite, Hyde!” Rhonda shouted with a quick grin, “I almost want to steal that last one from you and see if I can beat ya!”

The rest of them started to laugh, so he flipped them all off as he chewed idly on his mouth full of cupcake. The red velvet was pretty good. He wouldn’t profess to be an expert or anything, but he wagered it was a good option for the wedding cake.

“Steven, you have frosting in your beard.” Jackie was trying to suppress a grin, as she gestured to her top lip to indicate the spot. He made a grunting noise and stood up, walking back towards his bathroom. She hollered after him, “I did tell you that you should shave your beard, this is just another reason why!”

“Whatever!” He attempted to mutter out the side of his mouth, but it sounded more like muffled gibberish in between his chewing.

He removed his sunglasses and began to scrub his face clean. He paused to look at himself in the mirror, thinking he looked a lot more tired and moody than he actually felt. Or maybe his irritability over dealing with Jackie Burkhart just made him seem that way. He blinked slowly, trying to remind himself that there was no need to get worked up over her, before he splashed a little more cold water on his face. He grabbed a towel to dry himself off quickly, before he put his sunglasses back on, ready to go out there and act natural—act Zen. He saw Fez and Rhonda were collecting their coats as he emerged from the bathroom and walked back towards his chair.

“You two headin’ out?” He asked.

“Yes, Rhonda and I have a date tonight.” Fez beamed at him, while Rhonda bashfully punched Fez on the arm.

“Well don’t stay out too late you crazy kids.” Donna joked with a smile.

He was glad that Fez had seemingly mended his relationship with Rhonda. Of all the women Fez had dated, she’d always seemed to be the one he got on the best with, and Rhonda herself was a pretty cool chick. They departed, and it wasn’t long after the two of them left that Donna stood up.

“All right, I should also head out.”

“Oh?” Jackie looked up at Donna from the couch. She leaned forward, almost as if she was thinking about standing as well, but she hesitated.

“Yeah, I’ve been doing some freelance writing on the side for some extra cash.” She sighed, looking a little weary, “I’m going to try and get another article submitted and published by the end of the month. See you two later.”

Once the door closed behind Donna, Jackie looked over at him. They were alone again. But this time without the parameters of a simple drive to their respective workplaces or a wedding errand—something that he had a feeling they ought to avoid after what had happened the day before. She seemed to agree, because after a brief awkward silence she stood up and smoothed the front of her skirt and said, “I guess I should go too.”

Against his better judgment, he shrugged and said, “If you want to.”

She tilted her head to the side slightly, swaying back and forth as she considered his words, “You mean it’s okay if I stay and we hang out?”

“Yeah.” He said after a moment, “That’s all right with me.” Everyone else treated the Formans’ basement like they could come and go as they pleased, why shouldn’t she? Besides, if she stayed he might get a chance to talk to her about her creep of a boss.

She sat back down on the couch and said to him, “I guess we’re kind of friends now, so it’s okay if we hang out.”

He wanted to remind her it was never not okay, so long as their interactions remained just that, friendly. But mentioning that would draw attention to all their little interactions that fell into the territory of flirtation, inviting a conversation he really didn’t want to have. So, instead he did what felt more comfortable, deflecting and distancing himself.

“Friends of friends.” He corrected her. Her lips pressed into a pout, looking as though she wanted him to take that back—he just grinned at her.

As Hyde sat back down in his seat, Jackie glanced at him. Her pout faded, regaining some of her earlier amusement, and she said to him quietly, “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to make fun of you before. It’s just that—and this would, of course, never happen to me—but if I had food on my face or in my teeth, I would want someone to tell me.”

“It’s fine, Jackie.” He looked towards the TV. Reruns of ‘The Price is Right’ were on.

“I just think it’s another indicator that I’m right about your beard.”

He sighed, lifting a hand to pinched the bridge of his nose from beneath his sunglasses, “Listen man, running a business is almost an all day every day gig, the beard is lower maintenance than shaving almost every morning.” He shook his head, wondering why the hell he was even attempting to explain himself to her. It wasn't even that he disagreed with her—he’d really just gotten lazy the last few months and had fallen out of the habit.

She was quiet for a moment, “Oh, well, I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

He didn’t reply, choosing to settle more into his seat a little more and try to focus on the TV.

Unfortunately, as he had come to learn over the past few weeks, Jackie Burkhart was someone who usually preferred conversing over sitting in silence. Today happened to be one such day where her preference leaned towards talking. It should have bothered him, but ‘The Price is Right’ was dull, and he found himself listening to her voice as she propelled the two of them towards a new conversation.

 

---

 

She hadn’t expected him to answer her honestly about his beard—she hadn’t even thought about how running his own business would be very time consuming. All things considered, he had been very generous with his free time especially where she was concerned. The realization gave her more of those reckless, fluttery feelings in her chest, but she did her best to ignore their existence. Beneath his gruff exterior was just a nice person. Given his behavior from the day before, she doubted there was any deeper meaning to him spending time with her. As impossible as it was, she might have had to face the fact that he was immune to her charm—which was just her terrible luck, what with her liking him so much.

Alternatively, maybe he just needed further exposure to her in order to understand the full extent of her charms.

“Do you know what you’re getting Donna and Eric for their wedding present?”

“Yup.”

She made a face when he didn’t elaborate, forcing her to ask, “And? What are you getting for them?”

“Why?”

“Because I want to know.” She said, a little more demanding.

He glanced at her, and slowly his lips curved upwards into a grin. He said rather than asked, “You just want to make sure I don’t get them a bad gift.”

“I didn’t say that!” She blurted out defensively, “I said I want to know!”

He just continued to smirk at her. When he seemed disinclined to provide her with the details, she rolled her eyes, “Ugh, fine Steven, keep your secrets.”

He was like a vault, refusing to share even the tiniest morsels of information for the singular purpose of annoying her. She was, nevertheless, determined to get something out of him, so she decided to change to a different wedding-related topic. 

“So, Steven, have you given any thought to what you’re going to write for your best man speech?”

“Write?” He furrowed his brow, “First of all, the wedding’s not until August. Second of all, I’m gonna wing it.”

“Steven, you cannot wing it!” She nearly shouted, offended by the mere suggestion.

“And why not?” He asked in an even tone, not the least bit ruffled by her increase in volume. His apparent lack of consideration immediately got under her skin, irritating her, but she tried to remind herself that he was allegedly a good, long-time friend to both Donna and Eric. Maybe he just needed some coaching on proper wedding etiquette, something she was more than willing to bestow upon him free of charge.

She took a deep breath, and tried to explain in a reasonable tone, “Because, Eric and Donna are your oldest friends and it’s one of the most important days of their lives? Isn’t Eric like a brother to you? He picked you for best man for a reason!”

Steven had slowly shifted his gaze over to her as she had spoken, but his expression remained inscrutable. It was impossible for her to tell if she’d offended him or gotten through his thick skull. He let her wait, mulling over her words before he finally broke his silence—offering her nothing but a sarcastic comment in response.

“Jackie, he picked me because Kelso would probably set something on fire, and Fez is more interested in a certain bridesmaid and the wedding cake.”

She groaned and rolled her eyes, “Okay, while those things might be true, I’m sure he mostly picked you because you’re his most important friend.”

Steven looked back at the TV and shifted in his seat, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge that she was right. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, so she decided to keep talking at him until he agreed with her. “If that’s not a good enough reason for you to take this a little more seriously, how about the fact that you’ll be speaking in front of all those people?”

He was quick to respond to that, stating very plainly, “I don’t care what anyone else thinks of me.”

“Oh really?” Her brows raised up as she stared at him, doubt clear in her gaze, “So if you have a catastrophic speech that embarrasses everyone, you won’t even feel the least bit bad if you upset Mrs. Forman? It's an important day for her as well, her youngest son is getting married.”

He cast her a sideways glare, and she grinned victorious—having so easily discovered one of his weaknesses. It had been obvious after she had seen that picture of them together on his eighteenth birthday. He sat up a little straighter and set his jaw, clearly viewing this conversation as a challenge, “Why are you so sure I’m going to do a bad job?”

She sighed, trying her best at a placating tone, “That’s not how I mean it Steven, and you know that.” She paused, “I just feel like you probably have a lot of funny anecdotes and stories to share, since you’ve known them the longest. If you write it out ahead of time it will flow better and it will be as thoughtful as I'm sure you can make it. Think about it this way, the speech you give will be a nice memory that they’ll hold onto for years to come.”

He seemed to relax a little at her words, and finally he relented with a slight shrug, “Whatever, I’ll think about it—I still got like three months.”

“Well I’m just glad I brought it up now instead of in July.” She said, smiling, pleased with herself for having helped him see good sense. “Now you’ll have time to prepare.”

Steven didn’t express any gratitude. Instead, he surprised her by completely switching the topic of conversation, throwing her a curveball by bringing up Todd out of nowhere.

“Hey, I ran into your boss today.”

Her brow furrowed, “You ran into him? Like he went into Grooves?”

“Er, no.” Steven wasn’t looking at her while he spoke, “Look, all I want to tell you is I don’t like the guy—he gives me a bad vibe. You should maybe think about looking for other work.”

“Is this because of his little crush on me?”

“Little seems like an understatement.” He muttered under his breath.

“Oh Steven, he’s harmless.” Jackie waved a hand dismissively, “I’m used to people being irresistibly charmed by me. I know we just met but this is actually a very common occurrence.”

He scoffed and shook his head, his eyes still watching the TV, “Whatever.”

“Listen, I know yesterday was…” She glanced down at her nail picking at the fabric of the old couch, “I know it was unpleasant, but I can take care of myself.”

When she looked back up, she was surprised to find him watching her. It was difficult to tell at first glance behind his sunglasses and his beard, but she could see his expression had softened just slightly. Her cheeks grew a little warm beneath his gaze, but her face remained calm—if not for the small wrinkle that appeared between her brows.

“I can.” She insisted.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t.” He paused, “I just don’t like him.”

“Well, it’s only temporary anyway.” She said, a little snappier than she’d meant.

His expression hardened once more, as he pressed his mouth into a thin line and turned his attention back to the TV. She got the impression that he was annoyed, though she wasn’t quite sure why her cafe job being temporary would annoy him. The corners of her mouth pulled downward instinctively, and her heart ached with a sensation alarmingly close to the desire to soothe his bad mood.

“Steven, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” 

Her eyes narrowed and she muttered, “Liar.”

But she was unable to get much of anything else out of him for the remainder of ‘The Price is Right’, and once the credits began to roll she had a feeling she had overstayed her welcome. After all, running one's own business was ‘nearly an all day every day gig’, he was probably tired. She stood up, feeling the way his eyes followed her movements.

“Well, I'm going to head out.”

“Later.”

She hesitated by the door, turning to look at him over her shoulder. He met her gaze, his brow arched slightly. He was busy. He was tired. He had already been so helpful to her.

She gripped the doorknob, trying to contain her greedy desire for his company—but trying to resist something she wanted had always been a truly pointless endeavor. She had no one else to really spend time with on a regular basis, after all. Brooke had Betsy to take care of and Donna was busying herself with work. She didn’t want to hang out with Michael or Fez, and she didn’t have enough in common with Rhonda to seek her out. She didn’t have a lot in common with Steven either, but she enjoyed his company.

She gave up on holding herself back, and asked, “Steven, is it okay if we hang out more than just tonight? Even if we're only friends of friends?”

He considered her words for a moment longer than she thought it would take for him to answer. She wondered what he was thinking about, but his voice was calm and steady as he answered, “That's cool.”

It wasn’t a yes or a no, but her ears heard it as a ‘yes’ regardless—no matter what, she was going to choose to receive it positively.

She smiled broadly at him, “All right, then I’ll see you later.”

Notes:

There will be another short time skip next chapter, when they continue to investigate this whole 'hanging out with each other' type deal. ;)

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 7: Centerpieces

Notes:

Almost at the halfway point now! Hope you enjoy!

June 2, 1983

When he had agreed to hang out with Jackie outside of their usual commute to work, he hadn’t expected her to sucker him into a shopping trip on one of his rare days off—and yet there he was, trailing behind her as they wandered through the furniture store located in the mall. 

She was breezing past several couches at once, making a snap decision on each one she walked by, “Ugly. Ugly. That pattern makes me want to puke. Ugly. Ugly. Oh, this looks promising!”

Her face lit up with glee just before she sat down on a bright pink loveseat sofa that was just a shade more pastel than Pepto Bismol. He came to a stop in front of her and looked down with a grimace. He exhaled a scoff, “Jackie, I thought you were shopping for Forman and Donna’s wedding gift.”

“I am.” She frowned up at him, confused.

He gestured towards the pink monstrosity she was perched upon, his incredulous face a picture of dismay, “Man, both of them would hate this.”

“I know, but everything else is so ugly!” She whined, “This one is pretty and comfy, here take a seat.” She patted the space next to her. Reluctantly, he sat down next to her. The cushions dipped beneath his weight, and it was comfortable—if not for the fact that her hip slid towards his the instant he relaxed back. She didn’t seem bothered by their closeness, instead turning towards him with a smile.

After their little trip to check out the venues in May, when she’d been nearly close enough for him to hold her, he’d been making a conscious effort to keep his distance from her. She crowded towards him now, though, “See, isn’t this one comfortable? And it almost looks like the one you guys have in the basement—except for the color of course.”

She was close enough that he could smell the floral notes of her perfume, which meant she was too close. He stood up abruptly and blurted out, “Yeah, it’s comfy, whatever.” He paused, clearing his throat, “They’re still not going to want a pink couch.”

She was unfazed by his brusque tone, instead absorbing his words with a thoughtful expression. After a moment, she perked up, “Well, maybe I can get it in a different color, or—oh! Reupholstered! What a great idea, Steven. Then it will be really personalized for them.”

“That’s not—”

“No, no, you’re right! Donna can barely tolerate pink lipstick, much less what's going to essentially be the centerpiece of her future living room.” She continued to prattle on as she stood, glancing around—no doubt in search of an employee to terrorize with her questions, “But if I can pick a different color then it’ll be the same fabric, and I’ll be able to guarantee that they’ll have a comfortable place to sit once they have their new house.” She clasped her hands together excitedly.

He sighed, “Jackie, man, can you even afford something like this?”

“It’s fine Steven, I have two paychecks under my belt and I can pick up some extra shifts or work overtime—and me working overtime makes it easier for us to commute together anyway.” She waved her hand as she spoke, clearly unconcerned about forking up the cash, “Besides, this will be two birds one stone—a wedding gift and a housewarming gift all in one.”

“You don’t even know what the house they’re going to get even looks like yet.” He said, trying to reason her out of such a big purchase.

“Steven.” She said, looking at him as though he was a complete novice at these sorts of things—which, to be fair, he’d never been furniture shopping before in his life—before she explained, “There are many neutral shades I could try to get, that way it will go with anything and everything. Besides, knowing Eric their house will probably end up looking beige.”

He sighed through his nose, annoyed with himself for even caring this much. If she wanted to waste her hard-earned cash on a stupidly huge present that wasn’t even going to see any use until September at the earliest, who was he to stop her? Still, the impracticality of it all bothered him.

She patted his shoulder placatingly, smiling at him a bit, “It’ll be fine Steven, I like getting people presents and Donna has done a lot for me, she deserves a nice, comfy couch in her future home. And that one is on sale, which means it's destiny.”

Destiny, what a load of crap. He rolled his eyes.

“Or it means it was overpriced to begin with, and you're falling victim to marketing schemes designed to trick you into being more likely to make a big, unnecessary purchase.” He suggested sharply.

“It's not unnecessary. Every home needs a comfortable place to sit, Steven.”

He observed her, as she continued to walk through the aisle. She had turned away from him and refocused her attention back to seeking out an employee to flag down and barrage with questions. However, she kept talking to him as she wandered.

“Donna and Bob are basically letting me live with them rent free until I figure things out at the end of summer, even though I should be paying rent right now.” She paused to shrug, “And she would always take me to concerts using the free tickets she got—sometimes it would only be because Eric was busy with school, but sometimes she’d take me to a concert even though it was a band I liked and she didn’t.”

“Donna doesn’t expect anything in return for all that.” He mumbled quietly, not meaning to argue with her intent to get them a big gift, but feeling like it needed to be said.

“I know.” She cast a look back at him over her shoulder with a cheeky smile, “Like I said, I like getting people presents, and they need to be presents they’ll enjoy or use. Besides, my first idea for a present would’ve just been a burn against Eric—and as tempting as that was, it would’ve been an inappropriate gift to give a newlywed couple.”

His brow furrowed as his mouth tipped up into a curious grin, “Oh yeah? What were you going to get them?”

“I can’t tell you that! It’s a secret between us ladies.” She giggled a bit, looking ahead once more to hide the playful look in her eyes, “But let’s just say it involved a very nice, decorative candle.”

He shook his head, not picking up on whatever inside joke she was making, but the grin remained on his face. There was something appealing about her devious propensity for a little bit of mischief.

He realized, as he continued to watch her while she wandered through the store, he should have declined her request to spend time with him outside of their usual commute. He didn’t want to get to know her anymore than he already did. The more he discovered about her, the more peril he felt in her presence. If he continued to allow himself to like her and enjoy her company, he was at risk of wanting things he shouldn’t have. Couldn’t have. She was still leaving at the end of August, after all.

And despite Mrs. Forman’s insistence that Jackie seemed to have ‘taken a shine’ to him, once they had settled into a more natural state of knowing and understanding one another, she didn’t really treat him all that different from anyone else. Except for, he supposed, the fact that she seemed to spend most of her free time with him. But that didn’t mean much—they were the only single, childless people in their immediate circle of friends, and she didn’t really have anyone else in Point Place.

It was too late for him to renege on his offer anyway. She would undoubtedly get upset about it, which would force Donna to ask him what the hell his problem was—and he didn’t have a problem, not really. He tried to focus on the fact that his attraction towards her was likely grounded in the physical. A deeper interest in her beyond looking out for her did not exist.

“Oh, there’s someone!” She pointed at a store clerk, briefly turning to smile at him once more—reflexively he smiled back at her.

A deeper interest did not exist.

“Excuse me, I’m interested in purchasing a couch, but it’s pink—and as much as I love the color, the couple I’m buying it for hate fun, pretty colors.” She rolled her eyes and spoke with her hands as she launched into her full explanation without much preamble. The store clerk appeared a little bombarded, looking past her to meet his gaze. He just shrugged, with no real aid to offer the poor guy. “Anyways, I was hoping that the same couch might come in a different color, but if not, I'd be interested to know if you can recommend some way for me to get it reupholstered? The preference would be that you already sell it in an alternative color, since I like the texture of the fabric it has now.”

Jackie gestured for the store clerk to follow her as she continued to explain her situation—now discussing how it was a wedding gift for her best friend and that she was the maid of honor. Initially, he wondered why she felt the need to share all those extra, pointless details with a complete stranger, but as he watched her practically shine with pride, he realized she was just gloating. Was this wedding and being the maid of honor really that big of a deal to her?

She looked at him suddenly, her brows raised expectantly, “Steven, what do you think?”

He blinked, “What?”

“The couch, it comes in three other colors. Taupe, brown or should I go for the light blue? Donna might like the blue, I heard her complimenting the decor in Bob’s living room.” Her nose wrinkled—clearly the aqua and chrome was not to her taste.

“I dunno.” He shrugged, “Why are you asking me?”

“Because, you’re here?” She said, as if it was obvious, “I’m curious what you think.”

“Well, most of the couches in my life were covered with stains of various, unknown origins.” He shrugged his shoulders, smirking a little, “I couldn’t tell you what color they were.”

“Ew, Steven.” She laughed a little, but then she stopped and adopted a thoughtful look, “But the staining, now that’s a good thing to consider. I don’t know if they’re going to start having kids right away, but they probably will one day, and kids are messy.”

He hadn’t meant for her to take it seriously, and yet she used his sarcastic comment to come to a decision.

“I think I’ll go with the brown.” She turned towards the store clerk, “Is there a way for me to put in an order, but hold off on the delivery? I don’t have an address for you to deliver to yet.”

He tuned the rest of the conversation out as Jackie began organizing the paperwork with the store clerk for her to make her ridiculous and unnecessarily big wedding gift purchase. Once she had it all squared away, the two of them walked back through the mall. He tried to steer them towards the exit near where he’d parked, hoping to get the hell out of there before she dragged them into any other stores.

He was successful as they exited the mall, before he asked, “What are you going to do if they end up not liking the couch?”

“Steven, I have never had anyone return anything I’ve given them.”

“That you know of.” He suggested, smirking down at her.

“I’m an excellent gift giver.” She insisted, “Play your cards right, and you may even be on the receiving end one of these days.”

He shook his head, “Whatever.”

She giggled—for some reason, she always seemed to interpret his ‘whatever’ as her winning the conversation.

“Besides, if they don’t like it, they’ll put it in the basement and their kids will use it someday.” She fell quiet as they approached where the Camino was parked, then she spoke up again as the two of them got into the car, “Speaking of basements, did you want to hang out when we got back? I know it’s your day off.”

He remained uncertain about lingering in her company, and his initial gut reaction was to say ‘no’. But she had asked nicely, and he found himself easily convinced out of that ‘no’ when he met her gaze. He’d only avoid her if a deeper interest in her existed—and it didn’t—so he gave a slight nod.

“Sure, I don’t mind.”

 

---

 

Jackie tried her best to resist the urge to frequently smile in Steven’s direction while he drove them back to the Formans’ residence. She hadn't expected him to agree to her request to hang out, but he had actually done so fairly easily. She had suspected early in May—their little hiccup during their first few meetings notwithstanding—that he had come around to enjoying her company. She felt it was inevitable that they would become friends, though if she were being completely honest his attitude towards her seemed relatively unchanged. He still scoffed at some of the things she said, and he wasn’t particularly warm or overly nice towards her, but he also didn’t act rude or cold. He was, for all intents and purposes, on the kinder side of neutral.

Although, the most recent development was that he didn’t seem to be avoiding spending time with her ever since she’d asked if they could hang out. From time to time they’d watch TV in the basement, or he’d offer to go get lunch with her in between their work shifts. But they had never spent this many consecutive hours alone together.

As they parked and walked down towards the basement she briefly noticed that the Formans’ Toyota was gone and the lights in the house were off. Maybe Mr. and Mrs. Forman were on a date or a day trip? She didn’t ask Steven though, as she was too busy explaining how much more involved the role of maid of honor was compared to best man. She couldn’t recall why she was attempting to compete with him on which role required the most work—but she was winning.

“Think about it, all you really have to do is plan the bachelor party and make sure Eric shows up on time for the wedding, meanwhile I have the bridal shower, the bachelorette party, and I have to make sure Donna's wedding day preparation goes smoothly and without any problems.” She was arguing very passionately in order to prove her point, while he seemed relatively unfazed, “That means the dress, the make-up, and the hair.”

He flipped the TV on—it looked like an episode of ‘Little House on the Prairie’, before he changed it to the channel that had been running ‘The Price is Right’ reruns for the past couple of weeks. She briefly wondered who had been down there watching the previous channel, but chose to focus on the topic at hand as he replied.

“Yeah, but Jackie.” Steven countered, taking a seat in the horribly uncomfortable chair she had come to understand was ‘his’, “You don't have to deal with Kelso. At least you have Brooke and Rhonda to help out, neither of them will be an active detriment to the process and create problems that shouldn't be problems.”

She leveled him with an austere stare as she tried to find fault with his logic, tried to find an excuse for her to be right and him to be wrong. Eventually, she was forced to roll her eyes. “Fine, you got me there. I wouldn’t be surprised if Michael found some idiotic reason to have to drive Eric halfway across town fifteen minutes before the ceremony.”

“Exactly.” Steven folded his arms across his chest as he sat back in his chair.

“Well, I could always send Brooke over to help, if you need it.”

“I can handle Kelso.” Steven reassured her, pausing only to lift his right hand that had curled into a fist, “He just requires a firm hand from time to time.”

She laughed as her eyes flicked over to the TV, “Why were we even talking about this again?”

“Oh, you were telling me about all the planning you have to do for the bridal shower, and I told you it seemed like a big waste of time.”

“Steven!” She exclaimed, “You can’t honestly say Donna’s bridal shower is a waste of time.”

He sighed, “No, that’s not what I meant. I just think weddings in general are a time sink and a money pit. Donna deserves her bridal shower, or whatever.”

“A time sink and a money pit?” She repeated, incredulously, “How can you say that? A wedding is the most romantic event of any couple’s lives!”

“Jackie, you only think that because society has programmed people into thinking they need to get married, and in order to do so, you have to throw a big, expensive party.”

“Wait, you think people shouldn’t get married?”

“Yes, most people should never get married!” A scoff escaped him, “The institution of marriage is a legal contract and a tax break, nothing more, all that romantic crap is just the corporate machine at work, looking to profit off of the hopes and dreams of the poor suckers who believe in a ‘happily ever after’. Not to mention divorce rates have been steadily rising over the years, so you know, it’s doubly expensive that way.”

She knew that he wasn’t necessarily wrong. She would be the first to admit her parents probably never should’ve gotten married, given how obvious it was that they had never truly loved each other—and sure, the wedding industry was an industry looking to generate revenue—but his abject cynicism still left a sour taste in her mouth. She folded her arms across her chest, and countered him with what she considered to be an infallible argument, “But what about if you love someone? Like Eric and Donna love each other?”

He shook his head and glanced at her, “Jackie, come on, that doesn’t count.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t count?” She demanded.

“Those two, that’s like one in a million.” He glanced back at the TV, “It doesn’t count.”

She stared at him for a long moment, before she whispered, “Oh my god, you don’t believe in true love.”

“No, I don’t. I also believe there are some people who should never be parents, but they pop out kids just because it’s what society expects them to do.” He sighed as he folded his arms across his chest, as he muttered more to himself than her, with another shake of his head, “Get married to someone you hate, buy a house you can’t afford, and have kids that you don’t want. Yeah, what a scam.”

A little over a month ago, there was a wounded part of her that may have overreacted and verbally attacked him for being yet another commitment, romance hating man. But all she chose to hear in his naysaying was someone who hadn’t been in love before—and how could he make a rational decision if he didn’t have all the facts? Even when she had been in the midst of mending her broken heart, the closer it got to Donna and Eric’s wedding, the more her belief that love—real love—was out there surged.

“Oh, I don’t know Steven.” She suggested casually, “The universe might surprise you.”

He glanced towards her, his neutral expression provided little to no insight into his thoughts. Finally, he blurted out, “Yeah, well, I don’t like surprises, unless they involve something funny.” She giggled at that, and he shifted in his seat—clearing his throat before he said, “You wanna watch a movie or keep watching ‘The Price is Right’?”

She smiled slowly at him, “I could watch a movie.”

“Well, in that case I’m picking since you dragged me around the damn mall all morning.” He stood up and headed towards the stairs, she jumped up to follow behind him.

“That’s fine by me, just so long as you’re not a big Star Wars fanatic like Eric.”

She heard his laughter as he ascended the stairs, “Star Wars is fine, but trust me he takes it to another level. But there was a movie he recommended I watch based on a book I read in Freshman year, I think he said he left it in his room.”

“Cool, um, do you want any popcorn?” She blurted out as they reached the kitchen, “I can make some. Mrs. Forman showed me where the snacks are.”

“Sure.”

“Okay.”

He moved through the door to go upstairs while she set to work making popcorn—and just then, the phone began to ring. She considered leaving it alone, or waiting for Steven to get back, but after two rings her curiosity forced her to pick it up, “Forman residence, this is Jackie Burkhart speaking.”

“Jackie?” The familiar, baffled tone of Eric Forman accosted her, “What are you doing at my house? Why are you answering the phone?”

“Yes, Jackie—hence why I said ‘Jackie Burkhart speaking’, duh Eric.” She rolled her eyes even though he couldn’t see her, “Steven and I are hanging out. Your parents are out right now, and Steven’s busy getting a movie out of your room.”

He was quiet for a moment, digesting all of her answers, before his suspicious voice posed another question, “Why are you and Hyde hanging out?”

“Because, we’re friends of friends.” Her brow furrowed, “Why? Am I not allowed to hang out with your best man?”

“No, you’re not.” He replied without hesitating.

“Well, I’m not leaving unless Steven asks me to leave.” She said in a singsong voice.

He sighed heavily, and she noticed for the first time that he sounded tired. She pursed her lips together, hating the smidgen of compassion his weariness inspired in her, “Eric, what’s up, why are you calling? Shouldn’t you be studying?”

“I needed a break, okay? And Donna’s at work right now so I thought I’d call and see if I could talk to Hyde—and clearly the universe hates me, since I’m stuck with you instead.”

She ignored his griping, and asked, “Well, how many exams do you have left?”

“Two.” She could practically hear the eyeroll in his voice as he answered.

She chewed on her bottom lip, considering her next words carefully, before she finally said, “Do you think maybe you have time for a visit this weekend?” 

“What? No, I don’t have time to drive all the way back to Point Place, Jackie.” He said, exasperated—clearly annoyed that she had even suggested it. He really didn’t think beyond the first thing that popped into his mind.

“Not you coming here, dummy.” She growled at him, “If Donna took a bus out to Madison, would you have time to visit with her this weekend?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Don’t worry about the ticket fare.” She interrupted him before he could argue further, “I know you two are saving up for a down payment, but I think a few of us could pitch in.”

“Jackie, we don’t need—”

She interrupted him again, “It’s not charity, it’s called a gift. Besides, Donna’s been working herself to the bone and she misses you.” 

“She does?” His voice had softened, and she almost wanted to be nice to him—almost, but not quite.

“Yes, so I’m not even suggesting it for you.” She responded in a snippy tone, “I couldn’t care less about your happiness, but you make Donna happy so that’s all that matters.”

“Aww Jackie, that’s… almost sweet of you.” His voice possessed that sardonic, begrudging sort of affection, and she could see his annoying, slappable face in her mind’s eye.

The door to the living room swung open as Steven reappeared. He gestured with his chin to express his curiosity as Eric continued to babble on in her ear.

“But, seriously, why the hell are you hanging out with Hyde? Are you trying to trick him into doing something with your womanly wiles? Because it's not going to work shady lady, he's too smart for that.”

“Eric, I’m not tricking anybody into anything.” She snapped, leveling Steven with a glare. He just furrowed his brow, clearly confused as to why she was giving him that look, “You know what? Why don’t you just ask him yourself.”

She handed the receiver to Steven, and set about dumping the popcorn that had completed cooking in the time she’d wasted talking to Eric into a bowl for the two of them to share. She lingered a little bit, too curious not to eavesdrop. Unfortunately, Steven’s ambiguous manner of talking extended even into his conversation with Eric.

“Hey.” He paused, then grunted at something Eric said. Another pause, then he laughed at something else Eric said, before he spoke up again—periodically rattling off vague answers to questions or comments she couldn't overhear, “Whatever. Cool. Yeah, I got it. Good luck, man. All right, bye.”

He hung up the phone and turned to her, “Hey, don’t worry about the bus ticket, I got it covered.”

Her smile faded a little as the two of them began to walk back down the stairs. “Oh, but it was my idea.”

“Yeah, and it’s a good idea.” He shrugged, “I got it.”

As she reclined on the couch, placing the bowl of popcorn down next to her, she gave him a broad, endeared smile, “That’s very sweet of you, to buy a bus ticket for Donna to go see Eric for a romantic weekend visit, Steven.”

He actively ignored her attempts to call him sweet, instead popping the movie into the VCR—she saw the title on the cover sleeve read ‘Blade Runner'. He then took a seat next to her on the couch. It was the first time she had seen him sit anywhere other than the ugly, worn chair that he normally occupied. He reached for a handful of popcorn and tossed a few pieces into his mouth.

Of course it was for the popcorn, she couldn’t let her imagination get away from her too much. Jackie turned her attention back to the TV, hoping she found whatever film he’d picked out distracting enough that she didn’t glance at him the entire time.

 

---

 

In general, Hyde had a preference for reading over watching movies, what with Hollywood being representative of a lot of things he hated about society—but from time to time he’d enjoy a film. Forman had been right in his assessment with ‘Blade Runner’, the themes were thought-provoking, if bleak, and visuals had been cool. Overall he had enjoyed it, but he mostly kept thinking about how he ought to reread the book it was based on. Not to mention, about a quarter of the way through he had wondered whether Jackie was finding the movie boring. 

When he had asked as the credits rolled, she admitted that it had been a little slow and she didn’t care for the ‘sci-fi stuff’, but she said she enjoyed the mystery plot. She had immediately followed up her comments with her emphatic gushing about the supposed ‘love story’. He didn’t really see what was so romantic about it—if anything, it was depressing—but who was he to question her interpretation of the story?

Even after the movie had ended, after the emptied popcorn bowl had been abandoned on the spool table, they remained on the couch together. ‘The Price is Right’ reruns continued on the screen in front of them as they sat side by side. He had even gotten up to grab them both a pop at one point, but instead of sitting back in his usual chair, he had unconsciously sat back down next to her; and by then it was too late for him to move once he realized what he had done. It would've been impossible to get up and move over to his seat without drawing attention to it.

So he stayed put, leaning against the arm of the couch with his fingers rubbing at his temple.

“Another old lady.” Jackie scoffed, “She can't even reach the wheel!”

He made a laughter-adjacent grunt from within his chest, which caused her to look at him with a slight giggle. He glanced at her when he felt her gaze linger on him, and they looked at each other for a long, quiet moment. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth in an effort to mask her smile, clearly thinking about something. His fingertips itched to reach for his sunglasses that he’d left on the table during the movie, feeling the need to put them back on and hide his eyes. His face grew a little warmer and the corners of his mouth tipped upwards slightly into his own bewildered smile. 

“What?”

Her teeth released her lip and she let her smile grow, her eyes nearly sparkling with glee, “I had a lot of fun today, Steven.” With no popcorn bowl to keep them separated, she scooted a little bit closer to him on the couch. His posture straightened as she reached forward and placed a hand on his forearm, “It's been awhile since I had this much fun, so I really appreciate you spending your day off with me.”

He glanced down at her hand lingering on his arm. She followed his gaze and removed her hand immediately, “Sorry.”

“It's fine.” He paused, clearing his throat, “It's no problem, glad you had a good time.”

After a minute, she asked, “Did you hate every minute of it?”

He rolled his eyes—she always spoke in such grandiose extremes, offering no chance of a middle ground. An incredulous laugh escaped him as he shook his head, “No, okay? It was…” He thought for a moment, before he grinned a little, “It was no worse than bowling.”

Her brow furrowed, “Bowling? What does that even mean?”

“I don't hate bowling.”

“Well, do you like bowling?” He only shrugged, which made her groan loudly in frustration, “How do you do that?”

He laughed again—she really was too easy to get all riled up. He turned and propped his elbow up on the back of the couch, angling his body towards hers as his hands clasped together in front of him, “Do what?”

“Sometimes, it feels like you almost never give a straight answer.” 

“Sure I do.” He argued gently, but didn’t elaborate. He was as of yet unwilling to explain the intricacies of Zen to her.

She playfully shoved at his shoulder, “Just tell me if you like hanging out with me or not.”

He basically already had, but instead of telling her that he asked, “Why?” 

She patted his forearm this time, “Because, Steven, I want to know! Are we friends yet, or are we still just friends of friends?”

He pretended to consider her question, before grinning at her and saying, “I said what I said.”

“Oh, you! You like hanging out with me, you just won't admit it.” He felt her gently swat his thigh with the back of her hand as she rolled her eyes. Somewhere in the back of his mind, where logic was still functioning, he was thinking about how he ought not to be encouraging this—it was bordering on flirtation again, if not well past the line. But she kept touching him, and the more she touched him, the more he didn't mind it.

“I don't know, that’s a pretty flimsy argument.”

“Oh, I'll make you admit it one of these days.” Her face was stern, tempered only by the hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth. “I'm very persuasive, I'll have you know.”

“Whatever.” He said, continuing to smirk at her—she made another noise of frustration and reached towards him with both of her hands, looking ready to pinch him. He was quick to react, however, catching her wrists before she could grab at him. He held her back, as he exclaimed, “What are you doing, you weirdo?!”

“Steven Hyde, just say it!” A peal of laughter escaped her as she made a futile attempt to struggle against his hold—but there was no weight behind her efforts to get at him, so he could tell she was just pretending to fight him.

He resisted the urge to laugh with her, “Are your supposed persuasion skills just trying to force people to say what you want them to say? God, stop!”

Her arms stilled in his grasp, and she blew at a lock of hair that had fallen across her face. The skin of her wrists was soft beneath his fingertips. She smiled at him after a moment and said slyly, “People usually end up telling me what I want to hear in the end.” She said it with the utmost confidence, like there was nothing the universe could do to convince her otherwise. She was an absolute lunatic. His grip grew slack, but he didn’t quite let go of her.

Idly, he wondered if he’d actually been the one caught, not her.

Something he couldn’t even begin to put into words began to bubble up in his chest, and his face warmed as his thumb swiped across the elevated pulse of her wrist. The distant sounds of clapping and cheering on the TV became like white noise, his focus completely drawn into the playful expression on Jackie’s face, into the way her hands began to slide down, almost as if she meant to try and take his hands in hers—just before the door swung open with a loud, abrupt sound. 

Both of them pulled away simultaneously as Fez’s voice broke the charged silence that had fallen between them, “What are you two doing?”

“Nothing!” Jackie blurted out quickly, “We were watching ‘The Price is Right’.”

“Okay…why were you two sitting so close?” Fez asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Steven had something in his eye, I was just helping him get it out.” She offered up the lamest lie he’d ever heard, but he took that opportunity to grab his sunglasses and put them back on. He also shifted off of the couch and reclaimed his usual spot. She stood up at the same time, stepping away from him, “Anyways, um, thanks again for today Steven. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, later.” He coughed a little, pulling one of his legs up and over the other one as he fixed his stare at the TV screen.

“Jackie, wait.” Kelso held up his hand like he was still in uniform, stopping a pedestrian on the sidewalk. She stopped in front of him, and even with her back facing him, he could tell she was rolling her eyes at Kelso.

“What, Michael?”

“We were gonna order pizza, you sure you don’t want to stay?” Kelso laughed, and slapped a hand against her arm playfully.

“No, um, Bob and I have dinner plans.”

“Really? I thought Bob went to a car show on a double date with the Formans’ and his new lady.” Fez said casually, taking a seat in the lawn chair.

She flushed, glaring at the back of Fez’s head at having been caught in her lie so easily—she had yet to understand that Fez somehow knew everything that was going on in people’s lives at all times. Something about hair salon gossip, if he had to guess. She didn’t look in his direction, instead smoothing her expression out and forcing a smile to the surface, “Oh, is that so? Well, I must have my dates mixed up. Regardless, I have something I have to do, so enjoy your pizza.”

“Bye Jackie.” Fez and Kelso said in unison, and he could finally breathe once the door had closed behind her. The only problem was Tweedledee and Tweedledum both turned towards him with the biggest shit-eating grins on their faces the second she was gone.

“Did you forget we were hanging out tonight, Hyde?” Kelso asked, his brows lifted suggestively, “Looked like you two were pretty cozy there just now. Big D’s gonna kick your ass if you’re not careful.”

“I didn’t forget. And we weren’t close, I had something in my eye.” He said firmly, latching onto the stupid lie she had provided.

“What was in your eye?” Fez asked, pausing only briefly before he added, “Was it your love for her?”

Kelso and Fez both laughed obnoxiously, and the sound was like flint kindling his annoyance. But it should have only bothered him if there existed a deeper interest in her beyond the fact that she was a hot chick. And that deeper interest did not exist—because that would be moronic of him to invest energy in wanting someone who he knew was leaving.

His eyes closed briefly as he tried to inhale a calming breath. Zen, he had to be Zen. But deep breathing and inner thoughts did not always translate to results, as his voice remained tense and irritable when he replied tersely, “Whatever.”

Zen also didn’t always work around people he’d known for many years, but it certainly helped when his inner peace wasn’t being disturbed by Jackie Burkhart.

“Man, what’s up with you and Jackie? I’ve never seen you like this over a girl before.” Kelso commented, still laughing—clearly having not believed him.

“Nothing’s up with me and Jackie.” He said through his teeth.

“All right man, whatever you say.” Kelso exclaimed with an eyeroll, not sounding the least bit convinced. He paused before adding, unhelpfully, “Well, for what it’s worth, I think she likes you.”

That was the second person in the past few weeks that had suggested Jackie having a thing for him. Combined with the knowledge that Donna had provided about Jackie finding him attractive, he found himself conflicted over whatever nonsense feelings were burgeoning within his chest. Even though his fingertips were still buzzing from the sensation of her skin against his, he knew it wasn’t something he could waste time pursuing—because if he did, he’d be so utterly and categorically fucked.

Notes:

Stay tuned for dress and tux fittings next chapter!! :)

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 8: Dresses & Tuxes

Notes:

Slightly shorter chapter, but I have some (hopefully) good news to share at the bottom of the chapter!

Also adding the Eric/Donna tag because even though they're technically a background couple - this whole story IS about their wedding, and I have some sweet moments planned for them! :)

June 17, 1983

Jackie wandered through the dress salon, admiring the various wedding dresses—big princess style ball gowns with sleeves that were either obnoxiously poofy or sheer and detailed with embroidery—as she and the other bridesmaids awaited the bride to return wearing her own gown. Afterwards the attendants would prepare the fitting rooms for the rest of them and their bridesmaid dresses. Altogether, this was one of the wedding activities Jackie had most been looking forward to, and so far she was truly enjoying herself.

However, it was a surprisingly upscale place in Milwaukee for what Donna and Eric were looking to spend, but Donna had mentioned the day before last that Steven’s biological father had provided them with connections in all the right places. Her pride had smarted at that, feeling as though he was already doing a much better job at being a best man than she was a maid of honor. After all, Donna and Eric had no doubt received a discount as well.

Jackie lifted a thumbnail to her mouth and bit down in frustration. If her life hadn’t ended up so much different from her original plan, she would have been the one to provide Donna with the connections. But then, if her life had stayed the same, she doubted she would even know Donna—she probably would have married Josh out of high school and popped out a kid or two. The thought was sobering, and almost made her grateful for the hardships she'd faced.

She would've never met any of them—Steven included.

Still, her competitiveness had been enough to provoke her to call her mother. She recalled how the update on current events going on in her life—including the fact that she had lost her job—had seemed uninteresting. Pam Burkhart had breezed past that topic with a sympathetic exhale and a, “Oh Jackie, well, I'm sure you'll figure something out!” The topic had then been changed to how gorgeous the beaches were and how the hotel bartender mixed a really good tequila sunrise. Jackie had sighed, and proceeded to ask if she would be willing to get her new husband to offer Eric and Donna a discount on their hotel for a honeymoon. Pam had leapt at the opportunity, “Oh, of course dear, it would be my pleasure to have them come bask in the beauty of our resort!” 

There had been no mention of the possibility of Jackie going for a visit, but that was just fine by her. She didn't want to see her mother anyway.

She turned away from the bridal gowns, refocusing her thoughts on the task of the day. She knew the guys were going to be at a tux shop doing their own fitting down the street. They had all driven out together before splitting off for their own activities. Brooke had driven the women in Michael’s van, while Eric had driven the guys in the Vista Cruiser. On the way down, Jackie had sat in the passenger seat and had noticed one of Michael’s mixed tapes labelled ‘M. Kelso’s Favorite Led Zeppelin Tracks’. Curious about Steven’s favorite band, she had asked Brooke if she could play it—and had regretted the decision halfway through the drive. The music itself wasn’t inherently bad, but the majority of the lyrics were some degree of vulgar and not exactly to her tastes. She had gotten through about three songs before she shut it off—in spite of Donna's complaints.

She wondered if all the music Steven listened to was like that. Her neck grew warm with embarrassment as she thought about him at that moment, dressing up in a formal tux—a sight she very much wanted to see. For all her attempts to ignore it, her attraction and affection for him had been quietly growing within her. Their little day together some weeks ago, when they’d ended up on the couch with him holding her wrists gently, had certainly left an impression on her. She remembered thinking, in that moment, that it wouldn’t have been so bad if he’d tried to kiss her.

But he hadn’t—or hadn’t had an opportunity to, with their time together interrupted. But he also had made a distinct and obvious effort not to be alone with her in private since. If she allowed her imagination to get away from her, she would imagine that he was so smitten with her he was avoiding her for the sake of protecting his gentle heart. The reality was more likely that he wasn’t interested in her—fling or otherwise. It was nothing for her to concern herself over, as she had more important things to pay attention to that afternoon.

Donna had emerged from the dressing room, so she shook the thoughts from her head and joined the other two bridesmaids on the couch. She clasped her hands together and exhaled, “Donna you're so beautiful!”

Donna blushed a little as she stood in the center of the viewing space. Midge had given Donna her blessing to wear the wedding dress—after that moron Eric had ruined her first choice—and Donna had accepted. It would have been considered out of fashion in the current era, with the tulle skirt and lace covered bodice, while everything else in the store currently for sale had big sleeves and shiny, satiny fabric, but Donna was a vision of beauty in the dress. It was also probably the most feminine thing she had ever seen Donna wear.

“You should try on a veil.” Brooke suggested.

“Yeah, and don't these places usually have a spare bouquet or something?” Rhonda hollered from the couch, glancing around.

“Come on you guys.” Donna laughed bashfully as one of the seamstresses began taking measurements for her. But Jackie was not about to let Donna humble herself out of this moment. It was time to bring out the big Burkhart guns.

She stood from the couch and took a step forward, snapping her fingers, “Someone hurry and bring me a tray of veils right now.” Her tone was demanding as she pinned one of the attendants with a look.

“Jackie.” Donna rolled her eyes and laughed, “You could ask nicer.”

“Fine, please, someone hurry. I wouldn’t have to be so demanding if I wasn’t worried you might bolt on me, time is of the essence!” She argued back, and after a moment a selection of veils was brought out for them to view. She was a little more courteous this time as she said, “Thank you.”

She turned her attention back to Donna and saw that Donna's eyes were lingering on a veil that had a headband styled after a flower crown. For a girl that had spent her formative years growing up in the seventies, one of which happened to be the year she was engaged, a flowery headband seemed more than appropriate—if not perfect for her.

“Donna, let's just try it on.” Jackie encouraged her gently with a smile.

“Okay, okay.” Donna’s fair complexion was rosy as she conceded, and Jackie plucked the veil up. She gestured for Donna to bend down, before placing it upon Donna's head. She fluffed up the fabric of the veil, and adjusted the flower crown so it lay just right upon her head.

As she took a step back, she heard Brooke sigh in admiration behind her, while Rhonda gave a whoop of approval. Jackie felt the prick of tears in her eyes, “Stunning…if Eric doesn't cry, I'm going to kick him in the shins!” Her hands lifted quickly to swipe under her eyes in the hopes of preventing tears from slipping out.

Donna laughed softly and turned to look at herself in the mirror. They fawned over Donna for a few minutes more until the seamstress had completed taking her measurements and it all became too much for her. She stomped towards the dressing room, trying to hide the grin on her face, “All right, now it's your turn, all of you get in those bridesmaids dresses!”

The three of them piled into separate dressing rooms, changing into the gowns that Donna had selected for them. Much like her own dress, they were not necessarily to the current style—with long, sheer bell sleeves instead of poofy shoulders, skirts that draped and moved freely around their knees instead of the longer, bulkier look of current styles. The bodices were fitted and high-necked, with a pearlescent row of buttons that traveled down their spines. Donna had told her the dresses were ‘red’, but Jackie had corrected her and informed her that the proper shade was called ‘carmine’—Donna had merely rolled her eyes and insisted it was red. It was fine though, since Jackie happened to look excellent in the color carmine.

As the three of them emerged and stood in a line, Jackie felt acutely aware of how much shorter she was compared to the rest of them. On the one hand, she would look like a tiny, porcelain doll standing next to the Amazonian line up, on the other hand they were all gorgeous to varying degrees. Brooke was graceful and gorgeous, Donna was hot and tall, and Rhonda was buxom and charming. Jackie was breathtakingly beautiful—of course—but as her gaze alighted on Rhonda’s assets, she couldn’t help but feel the slightest twinge of jealousy. Rhonda caught her eye and grinned at her good-naturedly.

Donna was smiling broadly from the couch, “Now aren’t you guys glad I picked out a dress that will look good on each of you?” Brooke stepped up on the podium first to have the tailor take her measurements as they continued to chatter.

“Looks like the small fry has some opinions, though.” Rhonda winked at her.

“What, no I don’t!” Jackie flushed, embarrassed and annoyed at the prospect of her insecurity being exposed.

“Jackie, you look beautiful.” Brooke assured her gently, before adding unhelpfully, “I’m sure Hyde will think so, too.”

Donna’s brows raised slightly, and Rhonda laughed a little, “Ahh, still 'not sweet' on him, I take it?”

Her face grew even warmer, and she lifted a hand to fan herself—she had half a mind to complain to Donna about the choice of fabric being far too warm for a summer wedding. She tilted her chin up and insisted in a haughty tone, “I’m not, I have no interest in being sweet on anyone—Steven Hyde or otherwise.”

Brooke met her gaze in the mirror, “Well, I think it’s okay if you do like him, Jackie—he’s a good guy, and I think he likes you too. It’s about time you had eyes for someone decent.”

She narrowed her eyes at Brooke in the mirror—but failed to think of an adequate rebuttal. She thought about the lure of his company, how comfortable she felt talking to him. But she also thought about how he’d pulled away from her and how he had been keeping a distance from her, diligently erecting and maintaining the boundary between them. A deranged thought popped into her mind about how badly she wanted to scale those walls, to climb into his arms and see if he was just as warm as she imagined he would be.

However, she had come to believe that after Chip’s manipulation that it was hard to trust her own judgment. She didn’t want to allow herself to willingly fall for another guy that might end up hurting her. She supposed, though, she had never been willing when it came to Steven. Feelings continued to simply happen—her traitorous heart escaping her control and making decisions without her.

“Even if that were true it wouldn’t matter.” She muttered, stubbornly determined to dramatically stew over her unrealized feelings. But Rhonda abruptly jostled her with a friendly elbow.

“Aw, why the long face cinnamon stick?” She laughed, “You too proud to admit to your feelings?”

She could hear Donna stifle a laugh from the couch and Jackie sent her a withering glare, “I’m not the proud one, if anything he is! I’ve tried flirting with him, but he always pulls away…which can only mean he’s refusing to make a move or he’s just not into me, because if he was, then he would be mine—I’m Jackie Burkhart, I’m practically irresistible.”

“Yeah, you’re right. You’re the humble one for sure.” Donna said sarcastically, and Jackie glowered at her.

Brooke interjected casually, “Did you ever think that you maybe make him nervous? You can be a little intense, and like you said you're very pretty.”

Jackie scoffed at the idea that Steven might be intimidated by her, but kept her mouth shut. 

“He kicked Chip out of his store after he badmouthed you.” Donna said, adding more fuel to the fire of this conversation, “And didn’t he spend almost his entire day off hanging out with you a couple weeks ago?”

“You didn’t tell me that!” Brooke exclaimed, looking at her reproachfully.

“It’s not a big deal. Chip was just being disruptive in the store and he was only helping me with picking out a wedding gift.” Jackie insisted.

“Really, because the way I heard it, Hyde almost punched him out.” Donna supplied, chuckling at Brooke’s reaction before she added, “And he didn’t seem to mind hanging out with you.”

‘It was no worse than bowling,’ Donna had laughed so hard when she had told her that—but had refused to explain why she found it so funny.

Brooke stepped off the podium and said, “You must really like him, if you’re withholding these details. Normally you blab about everything.”

Normally she would blab if it was a sure thing, but no amount of her attempts to entice him with flirting had worked out. He had been nothing if not elusive, every time she would reach for him, he would slip away—with an infuriatingly calm, detached expression. 

“I think seeing Chip again has convinced me that it’s not even worth it.” She informed them all firmly, stubbornly flipping her hair over her shoulder as she stepped onto the podium for her measurements. She maintained an implacable countenance as she added, “I need to get a grip, and so do the rest of you.”

She expected Donna to put forward a counterargument based on logic, or Brooke to say something in an attempt to mollify her, but Rhonda was actually the first person to speak up.

“Yeah, you’re right, cinnamon stick.” She agreed, rather easily, “Hyde would probably make a bad boyfriend anyway, I haven’t seen that guy care a whole heck of a lot about anything. Ever.”

Normally, Jackie preferred—demanded, even—that people agree with her.

However, what she felt the moment Rhonda’s words landed was not relief, but righteous offense. 

“Oh how well do you even know him?” Jackie snapped, looking at Rhonda in the mirror, “Steven acts like he doesn’t care, but he’s incredibly kind and thoughtful. He’s also exceptionally smart and successful. He’s not a disgusting pig like most men I meet, and while he looks like he’s trying to emulate a curly-haired Grizzly Adams, he’s a perfect gentleman—and handsome to boot. Any woman would be lucky to have him.”

But Rhonda didn’t look the least bit chastened after her tirade. She just grinned back at her, bright and kind, with a knowing twinkle in her eye. Jackie’s gaze drifted over to Brooke and Donna, both of them were looking at her expectantly, and she felt as though she had just ripped her chest wide open and dumped all of her feelings out on the ground in the center of the dress shop. Her hands raised to cover her face.

“Oh my god, I’m such an idiot.” She wouldn’t say it out loud, but it was obvious that this was not a fleeting fancy. Foolishly and unmistakably, she was beginning to fall in love with him.

The attendant finished taking her measurements, but she refused to remove her hands from her face as she stepped off. She felt Brooke’s hand at her elbow and heard Donna speak up, “Jackie, you’re not an idiot.”

But her embarrassment remained, and she whined loudly despite knowing she was being unnecessarily dramatic, “Yes, I am!”

Brooke stifled a laugh and then suggested conspiratorially, “Jackie, why don’t we change out of our dresses early and see if we can catch the guys while they’re still wearing their tuxes? We can even say it’s just because I want to see Michael.”

She lowered her hands at the suggestion with a thoughtful look on her face. Her desire to see Steven all cleaned up in a suit greatly outweighed the devastating revelation that her feelings were in danger of becoming serious. Even though she knew doing so would be like adding kindling to the hungry fire in her heart.

She was nothing if not greedy, though.

“Okay, let’s go.”

 

---

 

“Well, don’t you all cut fine figures?” W.B. was reclining on the nearby couch, smiling at the four of them dressed up in their suits.

“Mr. Barnett I can’t thank you enough for introducing us to this tailor.” Forman said, genuine in his gratitude, as he admired himself in the mirror. The tailor taking measurements was grimacing every now and then, as Forman kept shifting his pose and displaying some attempt at a smoulder to his reflection. “Man, I look like James fucking Bond in this.”

The tailor’s grimace deepened—no doubt thinking the cussing was inappropriate for a place like this. Unfortunately, W.B.’s name and money spoke a little louder than the gang’s lack of decorum.

“Yeah maybe if James Bond weighed one ten soaking wet.” Hyde commented idly, grinning.

“Burn!” Kelso jeered.

“Come on guys, admit it, I look roguishly handsome.” Forman insisted, his confidence having not been shaken in the least—maybe that was the power of a well-fitted tux.

Hyde personally hated it. He couldn’t wait to take all of it off and get back into his jeans and his tee shirt. Still, he knew it wasn’t about what he wanted, and he’d tolerate it for Forman. He continued to tug at the starchy collar of his shirt, but didn’t vocalize his discontent.

Forman’s gloating was getting out of hand, though.

“Yeah, Donna’s going to melt when she sees this guy at the altar.” He winked at himself in the mirror, and Hyde rolled his eyes.

“It’s a good thing Donna provided the color swatches for the bridesmaid dresses, so we will be matching them.” Fez commented, adjusting his red bowtie, “We’ll be the most dashing wedding party in Point Place this year.”

“Yeah,” Kelso agreed with a wide grin, “Man, Eric I’ll try real hard not to look more handsome than you on your big day, but no promises all right?” Kelso winked at him and hit Forman lightly on the chest, before laughing.

“Sure, Kelso.” Forman rolled his eyes, and stepped aside as his measurements had (finally) finished. Hyde stepped up next, standing as still as possible as the measuring tape was fitted in various spots.

“So Hyde, you planning on dancing with Jackie at the reception?” Kelso asked, looking at him in the mirror with that huge, annoying, dopey grin of his, “I bet she won’t be able to say no with you all dressed up like that.”

“Who’s Jackie?” W.B. perked up at the question, barely masking his keen interest in the new topic of conversation.

“Donna’s maid of honor.” Hyde answered him, before glaring at Kelso, “And no.”

“You know what they say Hyde, the Nile is a river in Egypt.” Fez chimed in.

“It’s denial. Denial is a river in Egypt.” Hyde corrected in an annoyed tone.

“I know, that’s what I said. The Nile.” Fez shook his head, looking at him like he was the moron.

Between Kelso bringing it up now, and Fez bringing it up in the drive down from Point Place, he was starting to get fed up. It was bad enough she had crawled under his skin, infecting nearly all of his stray thoughts, but his friends constantly teasing him about something that may as well have been non-existent made it all the worse.

And now W.B. knew about it.

“What’s she like?” W.B. asked, turning to Fez.

Hyde continued to glare at Fez, but as he was in the middle of getting his measurements taken, the threat of getting a swift punch to the shoulder wasn’t as present. Fez grinned slowly—and he remembered him singing the ‘Hyde and Jackie Sitting in a Tree’ song with incorrect lyrics in the car on the drive down.

“Would you shut up Fez? That’s not even how it goes.”

“Well, is it making you mad?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then that’s how it goes!”

“Mr. Barnett, she is a beautiful goddess, and Hyde is quite taken with her.” Fez responded.

Hyde rolled out his neck, trying to relieve the tension slowly building up within him. He could feel W.B. watching him, but maintained his Zen and did not let slip his muddle of feelings he’d securely bottled up inside. He couldn’t even tell which one was at the forefront at that point, but it was probably frustration—though the source was unknown. It would have been logical to say he was annoyed with his friends for bringing it up in the first place, but frustration often accompanied thoughts of her. Most often he was frustrated about how he felt stuck, not knowing how—or if he even should—approach her with an intention.

What that intention might be, he hadn’t even decided.

“No he’s not.” Forman cut in at that moment, “Right, Hyde? Because Jackie’s off limits, and she’s the devil—not a goddess.”

He really ought to let Forman in on the little secret that his forbidding of any pursuit of Jackie was making him want her even more. Between his own stubbornness and his love for the taboo, Forman’s objection to the union nearly made her seem twice as hot.

“She’s not the devil.” Hyde muttered casually, “Just because she burns you on the regular.” His measurements took a lot less time since he wasn’t posing like a moron, so he stepped away and let Kelso take center stage.

“Well she certainly sounds interesting.” W.B. commented idly.

“She works at the coffee shop next to Grooves.” Kelso added conversationally, “She got fired from her job in Chicago, it was a big mess.” Hyde punched his arm as he walked past him.

“Don’t bring that up, man.”

“She got fired?” W.B. inquired, looking mildly concerned, and Hyde sighed.

“It’s not like that, it’s complicated.” He explained, “Don’t listen to these idiots.” W.B. nodded in acknowledgement, but there was a knowing glint in his eyes when he smiled at him.

“The important thing is—” Forman spoke up again, “There’s nothing going on between them, they’re just friends. Right, Hyde?”

“Right.” He agreed, and he brought his hands together in front of him, fiddling with his pinky ring.

He saw Fez exchange a look with W.B. and shake his head from the corner of his eye, but Forman brought up the honeymoon trip he was planning for Donna—“Speaking of Jackie, one thing she’s good for is getting me a discount on our hotel in Hawaii,”—and Hyde became hopeful. Hopeful that this would be the extent of Jackie talk for the remainder of the trip.

But the universe must have been in a particularly shitty mood that day.

“Yeah, it’s gonna have an oceanview, and I’m going to carry her across the threshold, there will be rose petals on the bed—”

“Carry?” Hyde closed his eyes, recognizing her sharp voice immediately, “Oh Eric, that’s ambitious for you. I’d recommend you start weight training now, if that’s your plan.”

All of them, except Hyde, turned to see the new arrivals. His skin prickled as he felt her gaze land on his back. He couldn’t believe he felt weird about her seeing him dressed up in a tux, but it was accompanied by a small, unmistakable desire for her to think he looked good. 

“Jackie, so nice of you to join us.” Forman replied sarcastically, he opened his mouth to say something else snarky, but Brooke’s squeal of delight interrupted him.

“Oh Michael! You look so handsome in your tux!”

She swept past them all to kiss Kelso on the cheek, who shifted his weight from one foot to the other, giddy as he said, “Yeah, I’m like a solid ten out of ten every day of the week, but this tux really cranks it up a notch!” She laughed at his stupid, vain joke.

Kelso had mentioned that Brooke and him had decided to give dating a try again—apparently it was going well.

Hyde turned away from the two of them finally and met Jackie’s gaze. She stared at him for a long minute, ignoring whatever gripe Forman was expressing to her, before W.B. approached her.

“Jackie, was it?”

“Oh!” She blinked up at him and offered her hand for him to shake, “Yes, hi, I’m Jackie Burkhart, maid of honor, Donna’s best friend, and the most beautiful person in the wedding party besides the bride.”

“Third most beautiful!” Kelso shouted in protest, but everyone ignored him.

W.B. gave her hand a shake, smiling slowly, “William Barnett, I’m Steven’s father, it’s a pleasure to meet you—we were just talking about you, actually.”

“Yeah.” Hyde cut in, before anyone could make it worse, “Forman mentioned that you helped get them connections in Hawaii.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. She was trying to discern whether or not he was lying. He just tilted his head slightly, challenging her to find something in the cool apathy of his expression. After a beat, she turned her gaze back to W.B.—whether she saw anything in him, he couldn’t tell.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you as well, Steven’s mentioned you.” She told him, smiling that brilliant smile of hers, “You know, I was actually wondering if we could discuss the possibility of reintroducing ABBA to the—”

“All right, we’re not here to talk about business.” Hyde interrupted her, annoyance cutting into his voice. She pouted at him again, and he nearly let it disarm him—as he so often did. But he held fast, his expression not softening beneath her gaze. She gave up, and switched tactics.

“Well, Mr. Barnett, maybe you can convince Steven to shave his beard for the wedding.” Jackie smoothed her pout into a smile as she glanced at W.B. once more, “Don’t you think it will look better for pictures?”

“Well,” W.B. cast a glance between him and Jackie, half-smiling as he said placating, “Steven does look good clean shaven, I don’t think that’s a false statement.”

Hyde tilted his head to the side, pressing his lips into a thin line, of course he would toe the line of neutrality.

“See Steven, you ought to listen to your father—his sense of style is impeccable.” She said, before glancing up at W.B., “I love the cashmere, by the way.”

“Well, thank you,” W.B. said with a smile, before he glanced back at him with a wink, “She certainly has good taste.” 

Between W.B.’s jovial response to her and Red warming up to her fairly quickly, he felt strangely satisfied. It was an odd thing to be glad that his two current and most relevant father figures seemed to approve of her, especially when he wasn’t even dating her. Hell, he imagined that if Bud was still around, even he would have something positive to say—something like, “Damn, she’s a looker, good for you!”, if he had to guess.

Jackie grinned cheekily, blatantly pleased with having received W.B.’s indirect approval. It both infuriated and amused him.

“But I will say this,” Jackie turned her attention back to him, and the look in her eye sent an unexpected shiver down his spine, the hair on his neck standing up. He held his breath, hanging on the next few words she spoke, “You clean up nice, Steven. You look very handsome in that tux—even with a beard.”

His throat contracted, fighting to maintain his Zen and not draw attention to the flush creeping up his neck, and he mumbled, “Whatever.”

He was unable to withstand the tight collar and the look in her eye any longer, so he walked back towards the change rooms.

 

---

 

After a long day in Milwaukee, Donna and Jackie found themselves relaxing in their shared room fairly early into the evening.

They had all toyed with the idea of having a circle and hanging around the basement, but responsibility had beckoned. Eric had to drive back to Madison in the morning to finish packing up his dorm and prepare for the graduation ceremony, and the rest of them had to work in the morning. So they had all separated and retired for the night.

Jackie was trying to act cool and unaffected, reading her Cosmopolitan casually, but there was lingering embarrassment from her little revelation at the dress shop earlier in the day. And with Donna being Donna, it was only a matter of time before that meddling lumberjack brought it up.

“So, do you want to talk about Hyde?” She inquired casually, flipping through her own magazine—Rolling Stone.

“No, if I did I would have brought it up, Donna.” She responded curtly

“Jackie.” She could hear the seriousness in Donna’s tone, the request for her to pay attention and look her in the eye, “Can I be honest with you for a second?”

She sighed, letting the rest of the pages of Cosmo flip past her thumb until the magazine closed shut. She looked up at her best friend, a mask of disinterest firmly in place, “Yes?”

“Look, I was against it at first because I…well I was worried you weren’t ready to get back out there.” Donna briefly glanced down, picking at the fabric of her blanket. Jackie swallowed hard, immediately feeling a surge of warmth and admiration for their friendship bubble up in her gut. 

Donna had probably been right. When she’d first lost her job and decided to move to Point Place for the summer months, she had not been in the right frame of mind to consider dating. A fling probably would have suited her better, but she now knew that would never be possible with Steven Hyde—at least not for her part. She had spent too much time in too close proximity to him, she was already too fond of him. And she was grateful that Donna was looking out for her, because had she not and Steven had come on strongly, Jackie probably would have fallen into bed with him too soon. It would have been a wound waiting to happen.

“And Hyde’s always been…I dunno.” Donna paused, looking for the right words, “I do think he would make a good boyfriend, but he doesn’t let people in very often. To this day, I’m pretty sure the only person he talks about the hard stuff with is Eric, and even then he usually tries to make light of it and laugh it off.”

She could see why he would do that. It was easier to pretend and act like other people hadn’t hurt you. Letting them see the hurt was a form of self-betrayal, relinquishing control and power over you to them. To a degree, she felt she understood it—even if it was nearly impossible for her not to express her emotions as she felt them.

“But I…” Donna hesitated again, thoughtful, before she laughed gently, “You know, the two of you almost met last year? I had invited him to a concert we were going to and I had thought about introducing you two—maybe even trying to set you two up. I don’t know if Hyde would have ever gone for it, but he’d had to work anyway, and then you met Chip, and well…” She drifted off and looked back down at her hands.

Jackie’s heart was hammering so heavily within her chest she was afraid it was going to burst right out of her chest. For a moment all she could do was stare at Donna and all sound seemed to fade, all she could hear was the rush of her pulse in her ears.

Donna had thought that they might have been compatible a year ago? There was a potential universe out there where they might have met and been dating already?

She blinked, unsure how long the pause between them had gone on for, but she said finally, “Well, maybe it was supposed to be this way.”

Donna’s brow furrowed slightly, “Supposed to happen what way?”

Jackie smiled slowly, “Well, I only mean, maybe we were supposed to meet—regardless of Chip. And maybe he would have said no had you tried to set us up, but we met anyway.”

Donna rolled her eyes and laughed, “I would ease off on the talk of destiny and soulmates if I were you, I don’t think he’d like it.”

“Like it or not, we were obviously meant to meet—the circumstances just weren’t what you were expecting.” She argued, her tone growing increasingly sharp, the frayed edges of her nerves getting the better of her, “And it wasn’t what I was expecting, either. I mean my life is a disaster right now and he just drove up in his El Camino. What am I supposed to do?”

“Jackie, what do you mean?” Donna adopted a concerned expression.

“I mean…I mean…how can it not seem like I’d just be taking advantage of the situation, trying to use the aid and comfort of a guy to get my footing back.” She paused, before adding bitterly, “I’d be just like my mother.”

Maybe the tequila being on sale back in April had been a sign.

“Jackie, I think you’re getting ahead of yourself.” Donna cautioned gently, “You don’t even know how he really feels, maybe you’re making something out of nothing.”

She supposed Donna was right—with her lumberjack logic. She was basing her belief that he was attracted to her, that he might feel something for her, off of speculative evidence. Caring about someone else on a human level was different from romantic feelings, after all. Steven had a good heart, and he hadn’t really returned her flirtations. Maybe she should let it lie.

“I think you should just have a conversation with him.” Donna said, “Get it out in the open.”

Jackie scoffed, “As if!”

“What? Why not?” The redhead furrowed her brow.

“Because, Donna! It’s Steven, which means it will just be me admitting to feeling something, and giving him all the ammunition to shoot me down! He’d probably just say ‘that’s cool’ or ‘whatever’.” She flushed at the idea of being rejected. It hadn’t been her year after all, and it would be just the icing on the cake for her to take another chance and fall flat on her face.

“That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard, he wouldn’t be like that.” Donna was quick to defend Steven, but she hesitated after a beat, before amending her statement, “Well, I mean, only talk to him when it’s you and him alone, because if there’s an audience, yeah, he might do that…”

Jackie rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“I think you’re just scared.” Donna said, and then added in a gentler tone, “And that’s okay, I understand why.”

Her temper flared at the accusation that she was acting out of fear, but the truthfulness of the statement forced her to seethe quietly. She chewed her lip, before declaring, “I’m not going to swallow my pride anymore. I did enough of that in Chicago.”

“Hey, don’t be like that.”

“I won’t do it, Donna.”

Donna sighed, which may as well have been an admission of defeat. Or so she thought, before Donna added, “For the record, he didn’t help you get that job at the cafe, you did that all on your own.”

She was right, again. That damn lumberjack logic. But it didn’t make her want to take the risk.

But her hesitance wouldn’t stop her from foolishly following after him—hoping he might just make the first move.

Notes:

Hoping folks enjoyed this chapter! I'm excited to say that I have officially completed the initial drafts for all of the chapters of this fic, so I am hoping to be uploading updates more frequently - looking at a pace of every 4-5 days depending on how busy I am with life stuff! In addition to that, I'll be uploading my next fic soon too (hoping this weekend).

For those who are reading my stuff, thank you so much and I genuinely appreciate your support!

Chapter 9: Champagne & Toasting Glasses

Notes:

This was one of my favorite chapters to write - and it's a long one!

*cranks the dial on the mutual pining up*

June 30, 1983

He had never been particular about a woman’s looks. The color of their hair, their eyes, their skin. He supposed Kelso had been right, historically he’d ended up with a lot of blondes with big racks—but it wasn’t as though he had ever been intentionally choosy. If there existed even a small spark of attraction there, it was enough for him to make a move so long as the attraction was mutual. With the exception of a few rare encounters, his dating history tended to blend together in the canvas of his memory. Most of his nighttime fantasies were equally hazy. He would think about the physical act itself, rather than specific details.

He would focus on the brush of long hair against his skin. The soft feeling of cupping breasts or ass. The warmth of a woman’s legs cradling his hips. The press of lips against his own or against his body. The pressure of a woman’s nails against his back. The various sounds he’d collected over the years of his partners’ pleasure. The desperate thrill of fucking. The gratifying sensation of mutual release.

But in the two months since Jackie Burkhart had rolled into Point Place, his fantasies had begun to take more shape, possess more structure. He would often find himself lying on his cot in the dark of night, staring at his ceiling—knowing what was going to happen once he slipped into a state of slumber. Knowing she’d be there, with mischief dancing in her hazel eyes.

The hair was almost always dark. The breasts were smaller, perfectly fitting in his palm or mouth. The weight over or under him belonged to a petite, slender woman with limber legs. A bossy mouth would always smile or pout at him, before stealing his breath with kisses that never seemed to end. The nails were manicured and perfect, provoking against his skin. The voice was unmistakable—her voice—gasping and desperate and demanding.

But there was no satisfaction for him at the end of those dreams, just his hand and a long shower. The reality that she wasn’t there, and was as of yet off limits, also loomed. There was nothing for him when it came to her—just the bottomless void of a black hole that he had been unwillingly pulled into.

He had refused to listen to the Stones’ ‘(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction’ for nearly two weeks because the irony had become too much for him to bear. That morning, a Thursday, he had forbidden Leo from putting the record on for the first time since he began running Grooves—and the dazed, hurt expression on Leo’s face had nearly broken his heart.

“Man, you’re really harshing the vibe.”

No, Jackie was harshing the vibe. His vibe.

But she was inescapable.

He couldn’t believe he was starting to come around to the point of agreeing with Fez of all people, but he really needed to get laid. He was convinced that this fixation upon her was all because he hadn’t been focusing on dating, convinced that once he released his pent up desire it would end. Surely, afterwards, it would diminish.

And he was in luck, Forman was finally back for good that night and they were going out to celebrate his graduation at a bar.

As if summoned by the course of his thoughts, Kelso and Forman entered the store at that moment. Kelso had Betsy sitting on his shoulders, and a stupid grin on his face. Forman finally looked relaxed, with school and moving all his shit back from Madison behind him.

“Hey man.” Kelso greeted, still grinning.

“Hey Hyde.” Forman said, nodding in his direction.

“Hey.” He walked around the counter to lean against the front of it and talk to them, “We still on for tonight?”

“Oh yeah, now that all the boring stuff is out of the way, it’s time to really celebrate—by drinking an irresponsible amount of beer.” Forman shrugged, as though getting drunk was unavoidable.

“Great.” Hyde nodded, feeling relieved, and then glanced up as Betsy began to reach towards him with grabby hands. He glanced at Kelso and asked, “She sticky?”

“Oh.” Kelso reached above his head and checked his daughters hands, “Nope!” He then lifted her off his shoulders and passed her to Hyde.

Hyde held Betsy against his torso, sitting her in the crook of his arm and letting her do what she always did whenever he held her. Her little hands began to squish and explore his beard and curly hair—something he only ever tolerated for her. 

Kelso glanced at Forman with a conspiratorial wink. Hyde’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t say anything.

“So we’re thinking about going to that new bar off the highway. Donna says it’ll be a good anecdote for when she’s on air, supporting local businesses and all.” Forman said conversationally. He was saying something else about the bar, but Hyde had tuned him out as all his plans to find a suitable one night stand came crashing down in front of him. He interrupted whatever Forman was babbling on about.

“What the—” Hyde paused and looked at Betsy, “Hey, Betsy, earmuffs, okay?” The little girl considered him for a moment, then abandoned his beard to cover her ears. Hyde turned back to Forman, whispering furiously, “Donna’s coming, what the hell man? I thought it was just going to be us!”

Forman adopted a look of confusion, “Well, Hyde, she’s my fiancée so…”

Kelso laughed, gently hitting Forman's arm, “I told you he’d be mad.”

Forman glanced from Kelso to Hyde, “What’s up, you and Donna have an argument or something?” He asked the question in a slow, leading manner, almost as if he wanted him to say yes.

“No! But if she goes, then Jackie will be there, man!” Hyde exclaimed. That was not the answer Forman wanted to hear, but Forman tried a different tactic.

“Oh.” Forman nodded as though he was commiserating with him, “Yeah, unfortunately the hellbeast will be accompanying us, I hate her too. But at least there will be alcohol to help tune her out.”

“No, man!” Kelso chimed in, his voice an immature singsong, “He doesn’t hate her—he loves her.”

Hyde glanced at Betsy to make sure she was still covering her ears, before he said between his teeth, “Man, would you shut the fuck up?” And frogged Kelso on the arm with his free hand—Betsy giggled.

“Ouch!” Kelso whined, “Hey, man I’m doing you a favor!”

He didn’t have a chance to ask him what the hell he was talking about, because at that moment Jackie walked in. Like clockwork on her morning break, she would bring him and Leo coffee.

Their eyes met and she smiled, before glancing around the room and finding Leo. She went over to the older man first, and he could hear Leo exclaim, “Hey, Loud Girl!” He accepted the coffee and took a sip, before telling her what he told her every day she came by, “Whoa thanks, this is just how I like my coffee! How’d you know?” And Jackie humored him every single time, laughing wryly.

His heart began to pound in his chest as Jackie turned towards them, and he didn’t notice that Betsy had dropped her hands from her ears while looking at him very closely. The little girl gently patted his beard and said, “Uncle Hyde?” Her voice was curious, sounding a little bit worried about him.

He swallowed hard and bounced her a little, “Uh, I’m fine, it’s—”

“Hi Betsy!” Jackie ignored all three of them, smiling first at the toddler (who giggled cheerfully in response), only then did she turn to him, “Here you go Steven.” She set the coffee down on the front counter beside him.

“Thanks.” He managed to say casually.

There was a mischievous curve to her smile, before she finally looked at the other two, “Hey Michael.” Offering him a neutral smile, before it faded completely, “Eric.”

“Hey Jackie, enjoying your little vacation away from Tartarus?” Forman inquired in a mock-friendly tone.

“Well, I certainly was until you got back.” She shot back without flinching.

“Enough of all that,” Kelso pushed Forman out of the way, looking at Jackie with a waggle of his brows, “You excited to go to the bar tonight?”

She gave Kelso an unsure smile, her eyes assessing him suspiciously, “Yes? I can’t say I see the merit in celebrating Eric, but it’ll be nice to cut loose for an evening.” Her gaze briefly shifted towards him, before she looked back at Kelso and added, “I finally had an opportunity to go shopping, so I’m excited to wear a new outfit.”

“Oh man, I can’t wait to see it!” Kelso winked suggestively. Jackie just rolled her eyes.

She glanced back at him then and asked, “You’re going too, right Steven?”

“Yeah, ‘course.” He answered calmly, despite the pit settling in his stomach. How was he going to be able to pick up a chick with her there, looking at him like that? How was he supposed to focus when it was impossible for him not to be distracted by her? She disrupted his flow, with her pink nail polish, bouncy hair, and floral perfume. 

“Cool.” She said, and she smiled at him again—his skin grew warm, and he was only vaguely aware of Betsy still mussing his hair. She bit down on her bottom lip as she watched him, the gesture immediately drew the attention of his gaze, before she said, “All right, well just a reminder Donna and I are going to Fezzie’s salon this afternoon, so you don't have to wait for me.”

“Cool.” He responded with a nod.

She had a look in her eye like she wanted to say something else, but thought better of it. She cleared her throat and said, “Anyway, I should head back…bye bye, Betsy!” She reached forward and shook the girl's foot affectionately.

“Bye bye, Auntie Jackie.” Betsy said, with a yawn and a wave.

Jackie glanced at the rest of them, her eyes lingering on his and said, “See you later tonight.” 

His eyes followed her as she left, feeling Betsy lean a little heavier on his shoulder. 

“See, he loves her!” Kelso shouted obnoxiously the second the door closed behind Jackie, and Hyde rolled his eyes.

“I do not.” He retorted sharply, but Forman took a step forward and plucked his coffee off the counter.

“Then how do you explain this?” He held up the coffee cup as though holding up evidence of a crime. ‘Steven’ was written in her flourishing, girly handwriting with a little heart drawn underneath it.

Hyde shrugged, “That’s just how she writes man, she does the same for Leo’s.”

“Yeah, probably only to cover her conniving butt.” Forman mumbled, placing the coffee back down.

“You’re so gonna get with Jackie!” Kelso raised his arms to take Betsy back from him. She had started to drift off, so Hyde handed her back carefully, “There’s nothing chicks dig more than a guy who’s good with kids, it’s like catnip to them! You’re welcome, man!”

Hyde blinked at him, “That’s your favor?”

“Yup,” Kelso nodded, positioning Betsy so her head was resting against his shoulder comfortably, “I told Betsy to ask you to hold her, because I know you can’t say no to her. Trust me it works! I was able to get Betsy to stop crying the other day after she skinned her knee, and Brooke was all over me later that night.”

“Kelso! You promised you’d behave! And here you are trying to make this—” Forman looked from Kelso to him, gesturing with his hand trying to think of a word, before settling on, “This abomination, happen!”

“Eric, Hyde’s the one who’s driving her to work all the time like he’s her boyfriend!” Kelso said, attempting to defend himself.

“Would you two shut up! God, you’re worse than Fez!” Hyde said, anger creeping into his voice, “Nothing’s going on between me and Jackie!”

Forman was unfazed by his annoyance, however, “Really? Because she’s bringing you free coffee and writing your name all cutesy with hearts. That doesn’t seem like ‘nothing’.”

“Yeah, and Hyde’s always looking at her like an idiot whenever we all hang out together, kinda like how you look at Donna.” Kelso interjected, unhelpfully. He was lucky Betsy was currently acting as a human shield, because he was nearly seized by the immature temptation to tackle him to the ground and punch him in the eye.

“I do not.” He said, grinding his jaw against his irritation.

“Yeah, I guess Eric looks way dumber, but you still look at her a lot.” Kelso agreed after considering it, to which Forman rolled his eyes.

“Well, regardless, Jackie’s off limits, remember?” Forman said, and Hyde had finally heard enough.

He centered himself, and said with a practiced indifference, “Look, my plan is to toast to you finally reaching adulthood like the rest of us, pound a few beers back and go home with a chick not named Jackie tonight.”

 

---

 

“Jackie, I am so happy you decided to come to the salon.” 

Fez was behind her, securing the snaps of the cape draped around her. His fingers combed along her scalp before flipping her hair over her shoulders.

She had been maintaining her hair with quality products over the past few months, but on her pittance of a salary regular trims had been few and fair between. Thankfully Pamela Burkhart had bestowed upon her excellent genes, and she could get by with the bare minimum maintenance. The average person wouldn't notice her split ends, but Fez had immediately pointed it out all the way back in April.

His brazen comment and stroking of her hair had earned him a slap on the wrist, but she was now more appreciative of his offer. 

She took a deep breath as he inspected her hair carefully, Donna sat in the empty chair next to her, flipping through one of the hair magazines.

“So Jackie, what are we thinking?” Fez inquired, finally looking at her in the mirror.

“Well,” She shifted in the seat, “I was initially thinking it would just be a trim, but I don't know what my life will look like five months from now…so maybe we cut a little more off?”

Donna glanced up and leaned over to peer at her in the mirror, “Oh you know what? You should get the cut you had when we met. Just past your shoulders with bangs looked good on you.”

She remembered the cut. It had actually been an accident. Her stylist had been new and misjudged the layers, forcing her to cut it shorter than she usually did. The bangs had been an impulse decision in an attempt to salvage an unfamiliar style. Despite the circumstances that had led to her cutting her hair, she had liked that style too.

But she hesitated, “Maybe…”

“What’s wrong, Jackie?” Donna asked, arching a brow slightly.

Fez smiled wryly as their eyes met in the mirror, “I think, Donna, that Jackie here is concerned that Hyde prefers longer hair.”

Ever since they had gone for the dress fitting, it had been a slow descent into a full blown catastrophe. Her plans of pursuing Steven for a mere physical affair had been all but dashed. Her desire for him remained keen, of course, but romantic feelings had already taken root in her—growing and blossoming with each of their interactions. She crossed her legs at the ankle, chewing on her bottom lip, thinking about when she’d seen him earlier, holding Betsy. The toddler playing with his beard and hair, and him tolerating the attention with his unaffected, neutral expression firmly in place had been one of the cutest things she had ever seen.

Donna grinned and shook her head, “Jackie, it’s not like you’re shaving your head, he won’t care.”

“Donna is right—” Fez added, patting her on the shoulder, “Hyde will still think you are hot.”

“Did he say that to you?” She asked, sitting up a little straighter in her seat.

Donna rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to her magazine, “I thought you said it was ‘obvious’, Jackie.”

“Well, Donna!” Jackie exclaimed, as Fez stifled a laugh, “It’s different knowing it intrinsically , and knowing whether he talks about you to his guy friends!”

“Come, I will shampoo you.” Fez gestured for her to follow him.

She stood and trailed after him, but she pouted, “You didn’t answer my question!”

“I said shampoo!” Fez ignored her request and carried the conversation in a different direction—and she wondered if he was secretly the most stubborn of Donna’s Point Place friends. He focused on discussing her hair care while he washed and rinsed her hair, and she was impressed by the breadth of his knowledge. She had been leery at first about the prospect of going to a salon in this podunk town, but he alleviated her concerns with his understanding of products and techniques.

By the time it was done, she had shed a number of inches so that her hair fell just past her shoulders, her layers were all cleaned up and offering volume and dimension, and her freshly cut bangs swept flirtatiously off to the side.

Fez removed her cape with a flourish, marveling at his work, “You are truly a goddess, and with this look you will have him eating out of the palm of your hand.”

Jackie ignored Donna rolling her eyes again, as her expression lit up with glee. She leaned forward in the chair, teasing the curls that framed her face, “Well, with the outfit I have planned, you’ve all but guaranteed success.”

“Well it’s about damn time, he needs someone to love, not nail.” Fez informed her. “After all these years it will be Donna who is the one to successfully get Hyde a girl, again.”

Jackie’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t inquire further as to what he meant by that. It felt like a story she didn’t have time to waste on. Not when she still had to get ready for the outing. She thanked him, then she and Donna returned to the Pinciotti residence to make themselves foxy for their outing. Donna was ready much faster than Jackie was, who took her sweet time to put all the finishing touches in place.

“Aren’t you going to get cold in that?” Donna asked, looking comfortable in dark jeans and a tight black tee shirt. She had allowed Jackie to curl her straight hair into loose, romantic waves.

“Donna, it’s almost July! How could I possibly be too cold in this?” Jackie declared bravely, admiring herself in the mirror.

A pair of high-waisted denim shorts showed off the length of her legs, which appeared longer in the wedge sandals she was wearing. Her pastel pink sweater was loose fitting at the top, before cinching in around her waist. The deep v-neck gave the effect of nearly slipping off her shoulders, revealing her collar bone and much of her shoulders. With a delicate necklace laying around her throat and her hair curling around her shoulders, she thought it a romantic, tempting look without being too revealing. Coquettish was her objective.

She looked at Donna over her shoulder, “Too much?”

“No, I guess not, better this than the halter top.” Donna conceded with a sigh.

“Donna, tonight is neither the time nor the place for the halter top—I want to charm Steven, not start a drunken bar fight.” Jackie gestured for them to go out and meet the guys, pretending like she didn’t sound just like her mother bragging about inciting a fist fight on a topless beach in Venezuela. 

The two of them met the guys by Eric’s Vista Cruiser, intending to all travel together.

Steven was facing away from her as they approached, and unfortunately Michael and Fez crowded her space immediately—causing her to miss his reaction, if there was any, to seeing her. She felt him looking at her, but by the time her gaze found him, his expression was familiarly neutral. She chewed the inside of her cheek, trying not to let her disappointment show.

“I guess we should compete for who's the designated driver.” Michael brought up abruptly.

“Foot, Cockroach, Nuclear Bomb?” Steven inquired, scratching at his beard.

“No, I always lose that game!” Fez complained.

Donna and Eric cuddled as they leaned against the car, laughing at their friends’ antics, having been automatically excluded given the reason for their outing. But Jackie took a step forward.

“I’ll volunteer, then everyone gets to have fun.” She spoke up, folding her arms across her chest. Truthfully, sometimes, she still felt like an interloper within the group. A third wheel that had just happened to be the sixth person in the group. Plus, she had never enjoyed drinking all that much, anyway—it reminded her too much of her mother.

“Kick ass!” Michael hollered.

“Thank you, Jackie!” Fez exclaimed.

Steven said nothing, but tilted his head slightly to the side.

Eric was actually the one to protest, “Jackie, that’s sweet and all, but I don’t know if I can trust you with the Vista Cruiser. You might just…open a portal to the netherworld and kill us all.”

She just rolled her eyes, “Eric, I’m trying to be nice, don’t start. You're going to lose.”

“Well, I mean the Vista Cruiser you know—she’s bulky, hefty some even say she’s—”

“A boat?” Steven supplied, and Michael laughed.

Eric rolled his eyes, “She’s a big vehicle, and you’re just a…tiny little imp.”

“Eric, I used to drive my Daddy’s Lincoln Continental all the time.” She cocked her hip to the side and arched her brow, looking up at him—extending a challenge, “Now I know the Vista Cruiser is practically an aircraft carrier, but I think I can handle this old rust bucket for one trip home from the bar.”

The guys and Donna laughed, and Steven was the first to speak, “Jackie uno, Forman nadda.”

Her pout twisted into a wry grin—it almost sounded like Steven was proud of her. She patted Eric’s arm, “But you can chauffeur us to the bar, thanks.” 

She turned on her heel and climbed into the back seat. She sat in the middle, while Steven got in on her left, Michael on her right.

“Jackie, your hair looks real cute!” Michael complimented her, and she flipped it over her shoulder in Steven’s direction, smiling broadly.

“Why thank you Michael.” She leaned forward and tapped Fez’s shoulder in the front seat, “Fezzie here is very talented, so all the credit goes to him.

As she sat back, she noticed Michael exchanging a glance with Steven over her head, but when she turned to look at him, he had glanced out the window. She realized, as Eric began driving them towards their destination, that this was the closest she had been to him in a number of weeks. If she shifted her leg to the left, it would be touching the fabric of his jeans. His right hand was resting on his thigh, fingers strumming along in time with the music that Eric was playing in the car—the pinky ring catching stray light with each movement. Her stomach did a flip, and she barely resisted the urge to look up at him—curious to see if he would look back at her.

At one point, Michael leaned forward towards the front seat abruptly and, whether intentionally or not, pushed her into Steven. She was pressed against his arm, her hand gripping his shoulder in an effort not to fall completely on top of him. She couldn’t tell which of them was more tense from the sudden contact. It felt like every muscle in her body froze up in an instant, while she felt his entire torso flex in surprise.

Heat flooded her face as she realized how close they were. She recognized that familiar scent of his soap, with vague woodsy notes. Clean, masculine. Her skin tingled, and her hand instinctively gripped his shirt before she could force herself to relax.

She could tell from the way his body twisted that he was looking at her, but she stared straight ahead. She felt him shift and reach behind her and grab Michael’s shirt to yank him back into his seat. For the briefest moment, Steven’s arm was around her shoulders.

“Would you sit the fuck down? How old are you?” He said, annoyed.

Michael glanced at the two of them and sat back, “Oh, sorry Jackie.” But he didn't sound particularly apologetic.

“It’s fine.” She murmured in a tight voice, trying to maintain some composure as the wave of nervous desire dissipated, “Sorry Steven.” He gave a brief shrug, as though it were no big deal. Her fingers fiddled with the hem of her sleeves, restless in her lap for the rest of the ride there.

Eventually they arrived, and Steven exited the car the instant it was parked, leaving the door open for her to follow. He didn’t wait for her though, immediately strolling towards the bar. The rest filed out and headed inside, meeting Steven in the entryway.

Steven turned to them as they all entered, looking directly at Michael, and said, still sounding annoyed, “Kelso, why didn’t you mention your brother works here?”

“Oh, yeah!” Michael laughed, “I forgot about that, yeah he works here part time now, in between his other job. Well, Jackie it’s too bad you're the designated driver, Casey would’ve given you free drinks all night.” He punctuated his statement by elbowing her playfully, before he strode towards the bar. The rest of them followed suit. She recognized the name, and trailed behind them to get a peek at him before he saw her.

As they reached the bar, she saw a roguishly handsome man in his mid to late twenties. He gave an easy smile as his eyes first found Donna, his voice was nonchalant and gravelly when he spoke, “Hey Pinciotti, you’re lookin’ good.”

“Hey Casey.” Donna said with a neutral expression, Eric looked annoyed almost immediately.

“Hey Foreplay, I heard you finally graduated, congrats—” Jackie barely stifled a laugh at the nickname, “First beer’s on me, but take it slow, okay little buddy? Don’t want you to be pukin’ in the parking lot before the hour’s out.” Casey winked at Eric, and opened a beer bottle to hand to him.

Eric hesitated, before relenting and accepting the free beer with a sigh, “Thanks, Casey.”

He nodded, before looking at the rest of them, nodding in greeting to each, “Michael, Hyde, and…other guy. Cool.” His gaze finally landed on her, and he flashed that easy smile once again, “Wow, now there’s a face I’m not likely to forget. Pinciotti, why don’t you introduce me to your friend?”

“Oh,” Donna shifted to stand next to her, draping an arm protectively across her shoulders, “This is Jackie Burkhart, she’s my maid of honor.”

“Hey, that’s right, you and Foreplay are finally tyin’ the knot this year, better late than never I guess.” He shrugged his shoulders, before looking back at her as he leaned over the bar, “Burkhart, eh? Man, I think you might have the prettiest eyes I've ever seen.”

She knew it was a line—one she heard often.

Donna had mentioned Casey Kelso to her once, the only other guy she had dated besides Eric. She had said he had a disarming sort of charm that seemed appealing at first, but that he was the definition of a player. She could see what she was talking about; he had a nice face—handsome, not too pretty—and an effortless sort of confidence. He spoke calmly and casually in a way that made him seem less threatening. She could only imagine the trail of broken hearts he’d left in his wake, Donna’s included.

She wet her lips, preparing a bitchy comment to communicate her disinterest, but Steven interrupted the exchange before she could reply.

“Can we order some fucking drinks, or are you too busy over there?” He’d been irritable almost the instant she saw him in the Formans’ driveway, but there was something else edging into his tone now. It sounded defensive or protective—but her brain immediately wondered (or hoped) it was jealousy.

She stared at him, willing him to look in her direction. He ignored her.

“Why are you in such a hurry there, Hyde? Don't worry, I’ll get you a beer, I’m just trying to get to know your new friend.” Casey glanced back at her, winking.

Curiosity always made her reckless, always made her push boundaries—always made her want to push other people's buttons. She leaned forward, smiling up at him coyly, “Why, yes, Casey, I consider my eyes one of my top five features.”

Casey gave her a lopsided grin, his gaze briefly sweeping over her in blatant interest, “Tell you what, I’ll let you drink for free tonight.”

“Thanks, but I’m driving tonight,” She pouted a little, before suggesting, “Maybe some other time?”

Casey nodded slowly, “All right, we'll rain check that then.”

A round of beers was brought out for them, and she tried to catch Steven’s eye as they toasted to Eric—but he was busy scanning the room as he sipped his beer slowly. Michael had sat between them, but was conspicuously looking at the two of them, paying keen attention to their interactions. Or rather, the lack thereof.

Jackie Burkhart wasn’t someone who gave up easily, though, so she leaned towards him and said, “So Steven, how was work today?”

“Fine.” He muttered indifferently, not meeting her gaze. She felt Donna looking at them now, and her face flushed as her temper spiked.

“Are you mad at me?” She blurted out, her annoyance obvious, before she could stop herself.

“Whatever.” He was all he said, still not looking at her.

He’s not a toy. 

She remembered Donna’s words all too late in her urgency to satisfy her curiosity, and wondered if she had pushed the wrong buttons. Maybe she had just gone and blown it. Her face flushed, feeling slightly embarrassed by how she’d been behaving.

To her further dismay, Steven wordlessly got up and left the table, approaching a tall, blonde woman sitting alone at the bar. Her heart nearly beat out of her chest as she choked on the taste of her own medicine, feeling an intense bolt of jealousy as she overheard him say:

“Can I buy you a drink?”

 

---

 

He needed to get away from her.

When she had shown up in the driveway, in her little shorts and pink sweater and her hair all bouncy, it had taken a great deal of mental fortitude to stay Zen and not stare at her slack-jawed. He didn't believe in a higher power, but had he, he might have prayed she didn't notice him stealing glances at her.

He knew before he had even climbed into the Vista Cruiser that it would be a mistake to sit next to her, but his body had moved to where she was before he'd even thought about it.

And the awareness of her proximity had been immediate.

He had caught whiffs of her perfume in passing over the past couple of weeks, but then she was right next to him, flipping her hair around ridiculously. He could smell the faint, astringent scent of hairspray (courtesy of Fez no doubt), but overwhelmingly her floral perfume smelled warm and sweet, like she'd bottled the essence of a rare tropical flower. It was a tantalizing scent, inviting one to bury their face into the crook of her neck and press kisses against her skin.

She may as well have lit a match and set him on fire there in the car.

And then Kelso had pushed her into him, and the soft press of her body had doused him in even more gasoline.

Then there was Casey Kelso, the fucking prick.

He'd been an incorrigible, selfish ass his entire life, but his traditional ‘Kelso good looks’ and flippant charm made him popular with women. With Jackie being no exception apparently, easily batting her eyelashes as he heaped on the praise. But then, he'd come to know her as someone who delighted in the worship of her appearance.

He didn't know why it was so important for her to hear what was plainly obvious—it was an objective fact that she was beautiful.

But she always preened and smiled at people who complimented her hair, her eyes, her clothes, her face. With Casey being no exception. He had meant to distract from their interaction—Casey was a bad guy, the exact sort of problem Donna had wanted her to steer clear of, but his comment had somehow spurred her forward. Watching the two of them flirt with the idea of getting drinks another time made his earlier desire cool into a frosty, inappropriate sort of resentment. He sipped his beer, and the ill feeling began to stick in his guts like an uncomfortable block of ice.

He needed to get away from her.

He spied a woman drinking alone at the bar. Blonde, big rack—his ‘type’—and got up to go see if she was his easy ticket out of the black hole named Jackie Burkhart.

The woman turned towards him as he approached. She looked a few years older than him, neither gorgeous nor ugly, and she smiled, so he asked casually, “Can I buy you a drink?”

She considered him for a moment, glancing at her nearly empty beer, her watch, before she said, “Actually, I gotta head out. My babysitter’s curfew is coming up…” She looked back at him hopefully, “You're welcome to come with me, though. Maybe we can have that drink back at my place?”

He stared at her unblinking for a moment, trying to parse through the immediate, involuntary way his stomach clenched in self-disgust. On principle, he had no problem with single mothers or them looking for a good time, but he had never been that guy. The kind of guy that went into a home with kids he didn't know, fucked their mom while they slept, and then either left in the middle of the night or even worse, hung around the next day to make conversation with them.

Hyde had spent the better part of his childhood being the kid at home when his mom would bring random men around. He had lost count of the nights had he been woken up to the sounds of noisy fucking carrying through the paper thin walls of Edna's house. He remembered stray features of the faces of his many ‘uncles’, their faces all blurring together in a hodgepodge of ‘memories he'd rather forget’. They had always smelled like booze and cigarettes, their greasy hands mussing up his hair as they tried to make nice with him, like he didn't know what they were really there for.

He was too sober for this. Too sober to swallow the realization that he was approaching an age where he might become like one of Edna's men. The mere thought had basically taken any desire he may have had out behind the bar and shot it dead. However, he didn't know her story, and it was no business of his what she did with her life—the fact that she had gotten a babysitter at all meant she was a hell of a lot more responsible than Edna—so he tried to extricate himself respectfully.

He maintained an impassive expression as he took a swig of his beer, shrugging his shoulders and said, not unkindly, “Thanks for the offer, but I can't quite head out yet, my friend’s celebrating.” He gestured to the table behind him.

Her disappointment was mild, and she shrugged in return, “Suit yourself.”

He took a couple more generous swigs of his beer, before he turned back to the table and cursed, “Goddamn fucking Kelso.”

Kelso had stolen his chair and was in the middle of an animated conversation with Fez, leaving the only available space on Jackie's right. She glanced at him, unsmiling. She looked back at Kelso, listening to him talk, but there was a peevish shadow over her expression. Idly, he wondered if he had just made her jealous.

His attempted escape had been futile, and he walked back over to reclaim a seat at the table—into the infuriating pull of her orbit.

“You strike out?” Kelso stopped telling his story the second Hyde sat down to ask, drawing the entire table’s attention to him. Hyde refused to look to his left, where he felt her gaze upon him.

“Yup.” He lied. It was easier to admit to that, than expose the old scar he’d just rediscovered, killing his mood. It wasn’t that he was in untrustworthy company, but the guard he’d securely built around all his weak points wouldn’t allow for it. 

Forman and Jackie’s gazes lingered on him, but Kelso resumed telling his story and they carried on, drinking, laughing. If he couldn’t escape her, then maybe he could ignore her in the bottom of a couple rounds. Eventually, the first round had been drunk, and it was time for another round. Kelso lost the game of Foot, Cockroach, and Nuclear Bomb, so it was his responsibility to buy the next round. 

From the corner of his eye, he saw Jackie sit up in her chair, and he could see her open her mouth—perhaps to offer to go back up to the bar to help—and before he could stop himself he spoke up abruptly, “I’ll help.” He felt foolish for wanting to prevent Jackie from interacting with Casey Kelso as much as possible, but he stood and followed Kelso to the bar regardless.

“Man, why are you blowing it with Jackie?” Kelso asked him quietly the second they stepped away from the table.

His temper flared, so he took a deep breath before he said, “I’m not blowing anything with Jackie, because there’s nothing to blow. I keep telling you that.”

Kelso flagged Casey down and put the money on the bar, before he turned back to him and said in a voice that was surprisingly earnest, “Hyde, I may not be the sharpest fork in the drawer, and I know me and Brooke are a mess most of the time, but what’s your excuse? You’re refusing to take a chance on Jackie because what? Because we’re making jokes? It’s obvious you like her, and she likes you. I know you’re stubborn, but you don’t usually let others, you know, impact your decisions.”

Hyde stared at him for a long moment. Rare were the times when he actually felt his age around Kelso. As one of his best friends since they were seven, it was easy for them to slip into old habits and behave younger than their years. But they were older, and Kelso had matured in the years since he’d become a father.

He rolled out his neck and scratched at his beard, hoping to shake off the discomfort that always accompanied conversations like this, before he said, “Because she’s only here until the end of August so far as I know. Even if you were right, what’s the point?”

Kelso tilted his head to the side and grinned at him in a way that almost said ‘oh you’. Kelso hit his arm with the back of his hand gently, as he said placatingly, “Man, just give her a reason to stay. Jackie’s life is all—” He made a spastic, wild hand gesture, “—you know, you could be her safe harbor or whatever.”

Hyde digested the words. He’d only known Jackie for a little over two months, and in all that time he hadn’t even considered seriously dating Jackie as an option. He didn’t like to think too hard about the future, about the direction he was going, and he had never had a relationship where both parties were equally involved.

He had been a novelty for girls like Kat Peterson, the ‘bad boy’ fantasy that she would indulge in behind closed doors, but he had never been good enough for her to take out in public. Melissa had been fond of him, and he of her, but she had never had any intention of staying in Point Place for long, and whatever they’d had hadn’t been enough for him to fight for or follow after her. 

But neither of them were Jackie Burkhart. She was like a summer thunderstorm. There were those moments, sudden bursts of lightning, where she incited intense feelings throughout his entire body. Of desire. Of humor. Of irritation. But there was also the pleasant roll of thunder that always followed. The fondness for her that lingered long after she’d gone.

It felt different, maybe even momentous. Terrifying, and it was too heavy a burden for him to deal with that night.

He opted to deflect, “Kelso, what’s up with you man? That was shockingly insightful.”

“Brooke and I have been talking a lot.” Kelso explained with a nod, “I think we might be getting serious like for real, so I guess now I’m serious.”

“Here you go boys.” Casey dropped five beers and a cocktail on the counter for them, “And a Roy Rogers for Burkhart.” He looked past the two of them and must have caught Jackie’s eye, because he winked. Hyde bristled, his temper sparking again. He wasn’t sure if he was just paranoid or if Casey sneaking alcohol into Jackie’s drink was something he might try to do. Past behavior indicated that, yes, it was a possibility.

“She didn’t ask for that, man.” Hyde said, pushing it back towards him on the counter.

“Yeah, but she doesn’t have to have water just because she’s drivin’ Hyde.” Casey shrugged his shoulders, “Man you’re sure touchy tonight, she your girlfriend or somethin’?”

“No.” He answered immediately, and then Casey smiled slowly, knowingly—smiling that jackass smile of his.

“But I bet you sure wish she was.”

He said nothing to him, and grabbed a few of the bottles and turned towards the table. He looked at Jackie, she was talking to Donna about something but trailed off and glanced his way. She pursed her lips a little, straightening her spine and flipping her hair over her shoulder. Idly, he wondered if he had wounded her ridiculous pride by making her jealous. Unwittingly, he smiled at her, and her brow furrowed, perplexed, in response. He lifted his second bottle of beer to his lips and took a swig, his mind teasing with the idea of asking her out on a date.

They returned to the table, and for the first time that night he began to feel a little more settled. It could have been that he was well into his second beer, or it could have been that Kelso’s words had left him feeling like he had permission to consider possibilities.

However, Jackie made a point of ignoring any and all attempts he made to initiate a conversation with her. Maybe Kelso was right, maybe he had blown it—although he thought she was overreacting a little bit, which made him annoyed in turn. At one point, Fez and Kelso were whispering something to each other, before Kelso got up and went over to the nearby jukebox. It didn’t register to him as them setting up a burn, until he recognized the familiar guitar riff of ‘She’s So Cold’ by the Rolling Stones kick up in the background.

Kelso and Fez both looked at him from across the table, snickering into their beer bottles, while Mick Jagger lamented about receiving the cold shoulder in the throes of desire.

Hyde set his jaw, glancing towards Jackie—she only briefly met his gaze, pouted, and turned her attention back to Donna. He took another swig of his beer.

More rounds were bought, and while he had initially planned to pound a bunch of beers back, Hyde continued to nurse his fourth beer well into the night. Just enough to keep his buzz, but not get drunk off his ass—unlike Forman. When the conversation started to slow and Forman was slumping forward on the table, it heralded the end of the night and they returned to their chariot the Vista Cruiser.

Donna was helping Forman walk, while Kelso and Fez were leaning against each other behind them, laughing about something stupid. Jackie was behind them all, just a few steps ahead of him, dangling Forman’s keys in her hand. She shivered a little as she reached the car, and he felt like he should have offered her his coat. But the opportunity had passed him by, she turned up the heat in the car once she climbed into the drivers side.

Donna and Forman took two of the backseats, while Fez climbed in to sit on the other side of them. Kelso shouted, “I call shotgun!” Before waving him over with a conspiratorial wink, “So you gotta get in there Hyde, I’m getting out first after all.”

He felt Jackie watching him as he wandered around the front of the car, before he took the middle seat next to her. She turned on the radio. Forman, Fez and Kelso began to sing off-key as she shifted the car into drive. She didn’t speak at any point, instead focusing on the road as she drove them all home, at a careful and safe pace.

Fez and Kelso were dropped off first at their apartment, and Hyde shifted away from her into the vacated passenger seat once they exited. Eventually they arrived at the Formans’ house and she did a nearly perfect park job.

Donna cleared her throat and broke the silence, “I’m just going to take him up to his room Jackie, don’t feel like you have to wait for me.” She reached towards the front seat to take Forman’s keys back, which Jackie relinquished without complaint. She did cast a sideways glare at Forman’s drunken form, however, and he suspected she would expect an apology in the morning for all his melodrama about her ability to drive. 

The four of them exited the Vista Cruiser, and Donna and Forman entered through the side door of the house. Jackie leaned against the car and watched them go, lingering in the quiet of the night. He was starting to sober up, but he swayed a little as he took a couple of steps towards her. She shivered again.

“Steven.” She said, softly. It was the first time she’d addressed him directly since before they got to the bar. His annoyance from earlier in the evening began to ease.

“Yeah?” He replied quietly, stopping in front of her. She looked up at him, trying to search his eyes behind the sunglasses. He could have removed them and made it easier for her, but he didn’t feel like it—not quite yet.

“I’m sorry for teasing you tonight.” She murmured finally, admitting she had been trying to get under his skin. He tilted his head to the side, arching a brow in question, pretending to be oblivious. Pretending like her entire existence didn’t tease feelings in him. She blinked slowly, looking tired, and then said, “Casey. I’m not interested in him.”

He was quiet for a long moment. In the back of his head, he’d known that. With everything he’d learned about her up to this point and her fierce loyalty to Donna, there was no way she would seriously consider dating Donna’s trashy ex. Logically, it didn’t even make sense, and yet she’d stirred that protectiveness in him all the same, and as a result he’d ruined every potential opportunity to talk to her that night.

His mouth twisted into a self-deprecating grin as he couldn’t resist asking, “Why are you tellin’ me that?”

She stood up and took a step towards him, broaching what would’ve been considered a respectful, safe distance between them. The enticing scent of her perfume assailed his senses again. His hand twitched with the urge to reach for her wrist, to tug her closer, against him. She tilted her chin up just so, her lips parting—and for a heart-stopping second he thought she was going to kiss him.

But she shrugged her shoulders, “You know why.” 

She glanced at his mouth and then turned away from him, walking towards the Pinciotti’s house. He felt her absence acutely, and those whispered words replayed in his mind as he moved towards his room in a dazed state. Had she meant for that to be an indirect confession?

He reclined on his cot, staring up at his ceiling—knowing she was going to be there with him again. Only this time it wasn’t just the lewd imaginations that were waiting for him, there were other things he unconsciously longed for. He pictured her smiling, her laughing, her nestled close against him seeking the warmth of his touch.

In his dream, that black hole named Jackie Burkhart leaned up on her elbow and looked at him with bottomless affection, as if he was the most important person in the world to her.

“Steven.” She said his name gently, full of love.

Notes:

Sorry, the slow burn torture will be just a little longer!

Also Casey Kelso is not a high school gym teacher in this AU, that man should not be allowed around youths.....

Also also, I genuinely feel like without all the Kelso/Jackie baggage and with Brooke in the picture, Kelso would genuinely be supportive of Hyde as his friend? Just trying to explore that here.

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 10: Open Bars & Bridal Showers

Notes:

Otherwise known as "Of course I'm right," the chapter.

Hope you enjoy!

July 15, 1983

“You know why.”

For all of Steven's ambiguous doublespeak, Jackie had initially thought herself a beautiful genius for throwing it back in his face. Those three words could have been a flirtation, or they could have been absolutely meaningless.

She had thought he might respond by following up with her the next day and inquiring on their meaning—maybe offering a sly hint at his feelings in return. What she found instead was that he behaved as though the conversation had never occurred at all. And not that she had been counting his beers, but she knew he hadn't been that drunk that night.

So she had spent the past two weeks in quiet frustration, unable to stomach the idea of being the one—the fool—to bring it up first.

By the time the morning of the Bridal Shower rolled around, she was nearly ready to burst. But she absolutely had to keep it together. She was going to be doing preparations with Kitty Forman, and initially she didn’t want her dissatisfaction at Steven’s lack of reaction to be revealed—fearful it would get back to him in some fashion. However, in the short amount of time she'd been in Point Place, the older woman had adopted a rather friendly attitude towards her. She was effortlessly maternal that way, making sure Jackie was fed and happy whenever she happened to be over for a party planning session. It was hard not to confide in someone who made sure everyone around her was as comfortable as could be.

It was still risky to share something like this with her, though. Mrs. Forman had a big mouth, and Steven was basically her son. If Jackie spilled her guts to her, she would probably tell him all about it in the hopes that it inspired him to do something about it. She simply couldn't risk exposing herself in such a way, but she could perhaps try to trick her into providing advice.

It was at least worth a shot.

“Say, Mrs. Forman, can I ask you a question?” Jackie broke the silence, while taping some balloons up.

“Of course dear!” She said in a merry singsong voice, her brows shooting up curiously, “You can ask me anything!”

“I have this friend from college, her name is, um,” Jackie took a moment to think, as she pulled a chair over to the back wall in the Pinciotti living room, “Bess, and she’s having a bit of guy trouble.”

Jackie leaned down to pluck the banner she had made by hand with Mrs. Forman’s assistance.  

“Ooo, what kind of guy trouble?” Mrs. Forman’s shoulders shimmed in excitement at the prospect of gossip.

Jackie laughed a little awkwardly, “Well, there’s this guy, and she’s been dropping hints that she’s available all over the place, but he still hasn’t asked her out—and she is convinced he finds her attractive.” She was so busy focusing on standing on the chair to finish fastening the banner to the wall, that she didn’t notice the way her voice got progressively snippier.

“Dropping hints? Like what?” The older woman inquired behind her.

Jackie took a moment to admire her work before she responded, stepping down from the chair. The banner read ‘Bride to be, Donna Pinciotti’ in sparkly silver glitter. She knew that lumberjack would probably roll her eyes at the silly sign, but Jackie thought it looked cute. She would have preferred to use purple or pink glitter, but that would have clashed with the aqua and chrome living room.

“Um, well you know, like trying to make him jealous and then reassuring him she’s not interested in other guys.” As she heard the words out loud, she realized how juvenile it sounded, and she felt herself flush in embarrassment.

Mrs. Forman surprised her by exploding in a hearty fit of laughter, “Oh, honey, your friend—”

“Bess.”

“Right, Bess.” There was a twinkle in Mrs. Forman’s eye, “Well, depending on the type of guy that might work, but it might also backfire entirely.”

“That’s exactly what happened!” Jackie took a step towards her, “St—I mean, he started flirting with some floozy at the bar after she did that, and then even when she told him she wasn’t interested in other guys—he’s acting like the conversation never happened!”

“Well,” Mrs. Forman was still smiling sympathetically, “It sounds like your friend Bess has a tough cookie on her hands. It may help for her to just be straightforward about her feelings.”

“What if that’s not possible?” Jackie asked, as she looked down at her hands fiddling with a bundle of streamers.

“Well, I think it’s always possible. Scary, sure, but it’s possible!” Mrs. Forman laughed gently, “You know Red was technically supposed to date another gal instead of me—one his mother approved of—but after I told him that I was falling for him, well, it just so happened he was also falling for me!” 

Jackie smiled at the story, immediately thinking it romantic.

“But if Bess chooses not to tell him, well, she might have to let this one go.” Mrs. Forman shrugged her shoulders, “You know, most men, especially the stubborn ones, they don’t like to talk about their feelings or be vulnerable because they don’t think it’s manly.” Mrs. Forman rolled her eyes, “It’s so silly, as if telling a woman how much he loves her wouldn’t make her absolutely swoon.” She paused briefly again before adding with an affectionate wink, “Sometimes we women have to be the brave ones—but I wouldn't tell your friend Bess to be too discouraged if she's still hesitant. If he's the kind of guy I think he is, he might get there eventually.”

Jackie nodded, and said absentmindedly, “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right.” Mrs. Forman punctuated her statement with another chipper laugh, before she disappeared into the kitchen.

Jackie tried to focus her attention on the room, making sure everything was in the right place.

Donna had been fairly hands-off about the planning of the Bridal Shower, beyond putting in the request that Jackie didn’t ‘Jackie-ify’ every single aspect of it. So she had forgone the fancy teapots and teacups as a result, while maintaining tasteful finger sandwiches, fruit platters, cheese trays and small tarts for the catering. For beverages there was tea, but it was served in regular mugs, and there was also an assortment of pop—with a bottle of champagne reserved for the tail end of the party, before the barbeque began.

Mrs. Forman came through the kitchen door at that moment, with Midge not far behind her—she had flown in from California a few days ago, planning on staying in Point Place until after the wedding.

“Okay! I have the bingo cards!” Mrs. Forman chirped merrily, holding a stack of blank cards in one hand and a bunch of markers in the other. Jackie and Mrs. Forman had decided that the guests would play a game of Bridal Bingo for Donna’s gift opening. The two of them had spent an afternoon the previous weekend designing them together.

She smiled brightly at the two mothers as they entered and said, “Well, decorating is finished, and the guests should start arriving at any minute, now we just need to get the bride-to-be.”

“I’ll go grab Donna.” Midge said with a smile, before slipping through the door.

“Well, Jackie, I think this party is going to be a big hit.” Mrs. Forman said, buzzing with excitement.

“Well I couldn’t have done it without your help.” She said, stepping over to the table to grab her pink, sparkly notebook, “You were even able to convince Eric to sit down for an interview with me so we can see how well he knows Donna.” Another Bridal Shower game, mostly Jackie’s idea, and ultimately she really just wanted to make sure he loved and appreciated Donna as much as Jackie felt she deserved to be.

Admittedly, she knew she didn’t even need to go through the process of presenting Donna with the questions and seeing how in alignment his answers were with hers anymore—she had already been able to tell from how he’d been during the interview that he was head over heels in love with her. Truth be told, she had always known that, but he made it so easy for her to grill him. More importantly, it would be a bunch of fun for the group of them to gab and giggle over a smitten groom.

“Oh well, Eric has never been good under pressure, but I figured it was all in good fun.” Mrs. Forman waved a hand and then laughed, “I love watching the Newlywed Game.”

Jackie was about to tell her it was a favorite of hers too, but another voice caught her attention first.

“Wow Jackie.” Donna entered the living room with Midge behind her, smiling widely as she looked around, “This looks great, and you were able to keep the amount of glitter palatable.” She pointed towards the handmade banner and shook her head, “Cute.”

Jackie flashed her a pleased grin, and plucked the plastic tiara with a veil attached off of the table to hand to Midge, “Only the best for you, my favorite lumberjack.” Donna rolled her eyes, but allowed Midge to place the tiara on her head and arrange the veil.

The doorbell chimed at that moment, and Jackie perked up—placing her notebook back down, “I’ll get it, you take a seat and get ready to be pampered!”

She ran towards the door and opened it to reveal Brooke.

“Hey Jackie!” Brooke leaned down to embrace her in a hug before stepping inside, “How are you?”

“In my element.” Jackie said confidently, “I was practically designed to be maid of honor, if you and Michael ever make the leap you better pick me to be yours too. Donna is so busy keeping me on a tight leash, she just wants these small little intimate parties, but if it was you and Michael—just imagine what I could get done.”

Brooke laughed as they walked towards the living room, “I like these smaller gatherings, it feels more personal and cozy.”

“No!” Jackie lamented, “I need at least one of you to want to splurge on excess!”

Brooke just shook her head, and moved into the living room.

Afterwards it was a steady stream of guests. Rhonda was the next, then some of Donna’s feminist friends from the various rallies she’d participated in around Point Place, and then a few women Jackie recognized from college. They all gathered in the living room, mingling over tea and sandwiches. While everyone else was enjoying themselves, Jackie ran through the interview questions she’d grilled Eric with last weekend—only revealing his answers after Donna had responded.

“What was the first thing Donna said after you two kissed for the first time?” Jackie asked, and Donna hid her face.

“The night we went to a Todd Rundgren concert, I kissed him first. He asked me what I did that for, and I told him ‘I just wanted to see what it was like’.” She answered, and Jackie revealed in her notebook that Eric had remembered correctly. Some of the women whooped, and Midge uttered an airy peal of laughter.

“Donna, you kissed Eric first? That’s so sweet.” She turned towards Mrs. Forman, “That Eric’s such a nice boy.” Mrs. Forman laughed as well, with a nod.

“What did Donna do on their first date?” Jackie asked, and Donna flushed a bit, but laughed.

“I got drunk, by accident! Eric held my hair back while I threw up, bought me some coffee and then he asked me to be his girlfriend.” She paused, smiling fondly at the memory, “And he even kissed me after I had puked.” There was a collective ‘aww’ throughout the room, followed by another chorus of ‘Eric’s so sweet’. Jackie revealed that Eric had indeed gotten the question correct.

Jackie had left out the bit where Eric had elaborated on the story, telling her what he’d said while asking her out.

“I said, ‘Look, Donna I wanna be your boyfriend, and you’re all I ever think about, and will you wear my class ring?’” Eric’s brows had lifted and his smile had been a little smug, but there was an underlying current of affection as he reflected on the memory, “What can I say? Sometimes honesty pays off.”

Jackie had rolled her eyes at him, but she inwardly had melted a little bit—it was a very romantic confession, after all. As a punishment for making her think he was romantic for even a second, she threw in the next question, even though it wasn’t about Donna.

“What did Eric say after you told him ‘I love you’ first?” Jackie asked, grinning impishly. Donna immediately burst into laughter. 

“That’s not how this game is supposed to be played, Jackie!” Donna exclaimed, in a half-heartedly attempt to save the groom’s dignity.

“Answer the question!” Jackie demanded with a laugh.

Donna was still chuckling, “He said ‘I love cake’ after staring at me like a deer in the headlights for an entire minute.” 

The room burst into laughter, and once Mrs. Forman’s laughing fit had subsided, she said to the room, “He’s really not good under pressure!”

Jackie continued with the questions as people continued to enjoy the luncheon. Eventually they moved onto the gifts and the bingo game. Donna was gifted with a number of home goods (a toaster and a kitchenware set), a few experiences (gift certificates for restaurants and a couples massage), but the gift that aroused the most conversation was Midge’s.

“It’s an illustrated copy of the Kama Sutra.” Donna said in an embarrassed voice, as the crowd of women tittered around her.

“I figure this will be nice for your honeymoon.” Midge winked at her daughter, “To help you two get your marriage off on the right foot.”

“Thanks Mom.” Donna tried to hide her face, and Jackie was sure to snap a picture of the bashful bride.

With the majority of the activities winding down, people broke into groups to mingle while Jackie arranged Donna’s gifts in a neat stack on a nearby table. Brooke approached her, holding the Kama Sutra open in her hands, idly flipping through the pages.

“So,” Brooke began conversationally, “We haven’t had a chance to talk about how things are going with Hyde.”

“Brooke! Today is supposed to be all about Donna!” Jackie reprimanded, but after a moment—and a quick glance around the room to make sure no one was eavesdropping—she sighed and shook her head, “Even if we were allowed to talk about this, there’s nothing to talk about.”

Brooke smiled sympathetically, she flipped to another page depicting the Utphallaka position. Unwittingly, Jackie found her eyes drawn to the illustrations as heat climbed up her neck.

“What happened?”

“Absolutely nothing.” She opened her mouth to go on, but then closed it.

Brooke raised her brows and murmured, “But?” She flipped another page.

This page’s illustration was the lotus—a position that looked enjoyable, offering ample opportunity to kiss intimately. Her dress felt a little too warm, a little too tight. She shook her head, remembering the conversation she was in the middle of, and the accompanying annoyance she felt.

“I might have to give up.” Jackie finally muttered, “Otherwise I’ll have to be the one to make a move.”

Brooke flipped to another page—this one depicted Nirvana—and she hummed thoughtfully. Then she inclined her head towards her, flipping the book closed and placing it on top of the pile, “I think you should just talk to him about it, Jackie.” She paused and shrugged her shoulders, “Communication is key for any relationship, romantic or otherwise. You’d be surprised how much better things got when Michael and I started being honest with each other. Even if nothing comes of it, you two could still be friends.”

“Well that's the problem Brooke, he’s not really good at the whole talking thing.” She raised her thumb to her mouth and bit down on the nail, “I’ve tried to get him to open up but he’s just—” She shrugged, unable to decide on a word to describe him.

Brooke shook her head, before addressing her in that bossy librarian tone she’d perfected, “Talk. To. Him.”

She continued to stare into the middle distance, and Brooke patted her shoulder gently, “Look, why don’t you just try to get him alone during or after the barbeque? You won’t have to run the whole show like you did with the Bridal Shower, take a break.”

“We’ll see if he’s in the mood.” Jackie rolled her eyes, “Sometimes he can be so hard to read.”

Brooke smiled at her, “If anyone is clever enough to see through that man, it’s you.”

 

---

 

“So, Steven, how are things?” W.B. asked as they strolled down the street, towards another one of W.B.’s fancypants lunch spots. 

“S’fine.” He mumbled, resisting the urge to yawn.

“Really? Because you seem distracted.” His father said, glancing at him with slightly raised brows. Hyde averted his gaze.

“You know why.”

He’d had to leave early that morning, early enough to miss all the Bridal Shower prep Mrs. Forman and Jackie were doing. He had thought about being late for his meeting just for the chance to bump into her that morning—another opportunity to consider taking a gamble on asking her out on a date. However, work had provided him with such an easy excuse to run away, and so he was in Milwaukee—with no upcoming dating prospects, thinking about a night that’d happened two weeks ago, when her mouth had nearly glanced off of his.

“That so?” He addressed W.B.’s comment, maintaining an aloof tone.

W.B. smiled at him briefly, “Does it, perhaps, have anything to do with Jackie?”

Hyde cast a sideways glance in his direction as a warning, but didn’t say anything. His silence may as well have been an admission, though.

“Ah.” W.B. nodded slowly, “Well, she seems very bright, and she’s very pretty, I can see why you like her so much.”

“Oh, yeah. She’s a vain, chatty, ABBA fan, what’s not to like?” He muttered sarcastically.

“But you do like her, otherwise you would have just said you didn’t.” W.B. countered casually.

Hyde shrugged his shoulders, before he reluctantly said, “Even if I did, she’s probably just going to go back to Chicago after the wedding.”

“Did she tell you that?” W.B. inquired.

“Well, no.”

“Then why do you assume her plans are set?”

Because leaving is what everyone does, eventually. He wanted to say, but the words stuck to his throat—refusing to budge. He swallowed against them, instead offering only another half-hearted shrug.

“Steven, let me give you some words of advice.” W.B. patted his shoulder, smiling good-naturedly, “You don’t want to live a life of regret, especially when it comes to things like love. Which is what you’ll end up doing if you never take a chance on anyone. So she might be currently planning to leave for Chicago come September, but I’d wager she also doesn’t yet know all the cards you’re willing to put on the table?”

He didn’t say anything, just glanced at his dad as they walked, which was code for 'yes'. W.B. had gotten a lot better at reading his moods over the last couple of years. Idly, he wondered whether W.B. and Mrs. Forman had conspired together to draft a guideline titled ‘The Many Ways to Understand the Feelings of Your Taciturn Son, Steven Hyde’.

“Well, then you should probably make that a little more clear to her—because you can hardly blame her for making a decision to leave when she doesn’t know there might be a good reason to stay.”

His skin became itchy with discomfort at the thought of exposing vulnerabilities, but he couldn’t find fault with W.B.’s thought process. It was getting a little tiresome to sit in this perpetual state of wondering and not knowing. He had never wasted so much time contemplating making a move on a woman before, which had to stand for something—and he knew it was different than anything he’d felt before.

It felt like she had planted a foreign object in his heart from the moment she had smiled at him. He felt it lodged in his chest with every beat of his heart, and every time she looked at him she pushed it even deeper—or maybe she just added another object, another feeling. His chest cavity was now rattling around with all these unfamiliar, tender notions, leaving him wanting for things he had once thought himself above craving. Or maybe they were things he thought he had no business hoping for.

Still, no amount of logic made it any easier for him to surrender.

“Me, a good reason to stay?” He scoffed, “You must be thinking of some other guy.”

W.B.’s typically sunny expression grew somber briefly, an unspoken grief etched in the lines of his face. It was an uncomfortable, impolite topic, one Hyde liked to throw out whenever people waded too close to sensitive scars. Usually other people would drop it, left so discomforted by the ugly dose of reality he would show them.

“Steven, I only met her briefly, but the way she looks at you…” He paused, looking wistful, “It’s clear she cares for you, and if you don’t see that well, I don’t know what more to tell you.”

“Well, she might have hinted at it once—maybe.” Hyde said absentmindedly, repeating the events of that night again in his head, picturing the way she had looked up at him before looking at his mouth. He shook his head, “I don’t know if the timing is good.”

W.B. was quiet for a long moment, before he finally said, “Steven, I’m gonna give you another piece of advice—the timing is never good. That’s life, and life is both inconvenient and short. You have to make your own decisions, even if they might be difficult.” He paused once more, before adding an afterthought, “If you do nothing, I guarantee you nothing will happen.”

Hyde nodded slowly. He couldn’t argue with any of that.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” He finally conceded.

“Of course I’m right.” W.B. patted his back then, “I’ve lived much longer than you, wisdom comes with age for most folks.”

He continued to think about this wisdom hours later, as he was driving himself home. He could just go for it, and if she left then he would just have to live with all the shrapnel she’d stuffed in his chest. His heart was a beaten, leathery piece of muscle already—he’d survived worse and he wagered he could survive her rejection.

The sun was on the cusp of beginning to set by the time he made it home, and based on the familiar cars parked along the street it seemed like the post-Bridal Shower barbeque was in full swing.

He exited the Camino and walked across the street towards the Pinciotti residence, the smell of cooking meat and the din of friendly conversation carried across the air. He saw the canopy of twinkle lights and white ribbon Jackie had been gushing about the other day, something about providing a romantic atmosphere. Hyde didn’t know if it really made a difference—lights were just lights—but he wondered if it’d make her happy if he told her they looked nice.

He entered the backyard where people had congregated, and his hunger immediately drew his gaze towards Bob and Red chatting near the barbeque. His stomach growled in protest when he didn’t immediately walk over and grab himself a burger, instead scanning the crowd of people looking for a familiar face. He saw several familiar faces and finally he saw the one he’d been searching for—but she appeared to be in the middle of running something back inside the house.

His initial instinct was to follow after her and say hello, but Fez intervened before he could get over there.

“Hyde, come say hello to the bride and get a beer!” Fez must’ve already had a few, he was in that overly jovial, smiley mood that usually accompanied him being tipsy.

He glanced past him, but Jackie had already disappeared. He sighed through his nose, trying not to allow himself to get annoyed just yet, “Fine.”

He was led over to one of the patio tables, where Forman, Donna, Mrs. Forman and Midge were sitting together. Mrs. Forman was the first person to take notice of his arrival, smiling brightly at him, “Oh Steven, you made it!”

“Hey Mrs. Forman, and yeah, of course.” He nodded, before looking over to the bride and groom. 

Donna was grinning from ear to ear, a plastic tiara glittering in her red hair with a veil cascading over her shoulders. It was a little weird to see Donna with such a girly piece of jewelry on, but she seemed happy. He nodded in greeting to Forman, who gave a brief wave—he was in the midst of a conversation with his future mother-in-law so he turned his attention back to Midge. But Donna stood up with her arms open for a hug, so he took a step towards her.

“Congrats Big Red.” They embraced and he felt her hand pat his back.

“Thanks, Hyde, glad you could make it.” She pulled back with a laugh, “I know you must be tired after driving all the way back from Milwaukee.”

He shrugged, and then cleared his throat, “Nah, it wasn’t so bad.”

By a stroke of luck, Fez reappeared next to him, thrusting a cold beer can into his hand, “Here you go, amigo!”

“Thanks.” He opened the beer and chugged half the can in one ‘sip’, despite his grumbling stomach craving a meal. He glanced around again, wondering if Jackie was back outside, but Mrs. Forman appeared in front of him with a burger on a paper plate.

“Steven, eat something first before you have any more of that beer.” She instructed him, plucking the can out of his hand and replacing it with the plate.

“All right, all right Mrs. Forman.” He didn’t argue simply because he was too hungry to do so. He took a couple bites, as Mrs. Forman continued to chatter about what a success the Bridal Shower had been all thanks to Jackie’s help. He nodded periodically to let her know he was listening to her story, but kept his eyes looking around for her.

“—now that I think about it, you should make sure that girl eats something.” Mrs. Forman frowned suddenly, “She ate like a bird during the Bridal Shower, and I don’t know if she’s had dinner yet.”

He wanted to remind her that he wasn’t Jackie’s keeper, but he found himself nodding along. He wolfed down the remainder of his burger, and took his beer back. He washed down his food with another generous swig, and then said, “All right, I’ll make sure she has something to eat.” 

He turned to walk through the crowd. Kelso and Brooke caught his eye, both of them lifting their drinks in greeting. He lifted his own in response, but kept moving. He polished off his beer, and started in on a second one. With the faint buzz going and anxiety expanding in his chest, he was finding himself drinking a little faster than he normally liked to nowadays—he knew it wouldn’t really settle his nerves, but it was almost easier to fall back into a bad habit.

“Steven, you made it!”

He turned towards her and was immediately struck by the nervous tempo his heart began to beat at. He suddenly realized—looking into her big, beautiful eyes—that while he could live with her rejection, he wasn’t so sure he could live with her loving him. She would blow apart his heart to smithereens if he let her—which was exactly what would happen if she ever fell out of love with him. Which was almost a given, because what the hell did he have to offer someone like her?

Her brow furrowed curiously, as he continued to stare at her without saying anything. Finally, he blurted out in a gruff voice, “Yeah, I'm here. Why is everyone so surprised by that?”

“Because you’re such a hard worker, and all of this doesn’t seem like your favorite thing to do after a long day of driving to and from Milwaukee.”

“I’m not that hard of a worker.” He countered, drinking deeply from the can.

“Steven, yes you—”

He interrupted her, before she could initiate a bickering contest, “Jackie, have you had something to eat yet?”

“Oh, um, no not yet.” She blinked.

“Yeah, I can tell by how unsteady you are in those stupid shoes.” He said sternly, pointing at her feet, “Stop running around and go get a damn burger before you collapse.”

She gave him a look to indicate that she did not appreciate his tone, but he just arched a brow meaningfully in response. She relented, “Fine, but don’t leave without saying goodbye—I want to talk to you.” She turned away from him and started to walk towards Red and Bob at the barbeque.

“About what?” He called after her, but she just waved a hand and kept walking.

Jackie stopped swaying so much after she finally ate something. He watched her talk animatedly with Bob and Red as she ate her burger. Bob seemed to find whatever she was saying engaging, while Red looked like he was just listening along with a neutral expression. Once she had finished her burger, he watched her walk over to one of the coolers and grab a pop. She took a drink and then almost looked back at him, but Fez and Rhonda intervened and she was pulled into yet another conversation. 

He sighed through his nose and shook his head a little bit. He didn’t know how she had the energy for so much socializing. Well, he wasn’t going to rain on her parade, despite the nagging curiosity she had left him with. He went to grab another beer from a cooler, but then he saw a full six pack. She had wanted to talk to him, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what she had to say—the right thing to do would’ve been to remain clear-headed and continue to contemplate W.B.’s advice.

Instead, he picked up the six pack and found a reclusive spot to sit and drink.

A little over an hour had passed by the time he polished off his sixth beer and began on his seventh before he heard another voice approach him.

“Hey man, you might want to ease up a little.” Forman told him, gently bumping his arm with a fist. Hyde knew it wouldn’t be very classy for the best man to get drunk at the afterparty of the Bridal Shower, but then he had never been a very classy guy.

He looked up at Forman with an apologetic grin, “Nah.”

He kept drinking, but Forman persisted which sparked his annoyance, and drew unwanted attention.

“Hyde, what’s up with you? You seem—” Forman cut himself off abruptly, as someone else approached.

“Steven?” 

No thanks to Forman’s nosiness, Jackie had found him. She leaned over him, her sparkling eyes filled with concern. He blinked up at her a couple of times, briefly trying to discern whether she was real or not—the soft glow of the twinkle lights above her head almost looked like a halo.

“Yeah?”

“Steven, is everything okay?” 

He could have told her it was better now that she was there.

“Not really.” He finally said, the alcohol having loosened his lips more than he was usually comfortable with.

She looked at his face for a long moment, and then she leaned forward and he felt the pleasant tickle of her breath against his ear as she whispered, “Do you want me to take you home?”

Well, how could he say no to her when she asked like that? He reached for her hand.

 

---

 

Steven’s hand was warm against hers, still holding onto her as he nodded in response to her inquiry. He had removed his sunglasses at some point in the evening, and when she had met his gaze there was a touch of sadness around the corners of his eyes despite the fact that he was smiling at her.

“Okay, let’s get up.” She pulled at his hand, and he stood to follow her in an unsteady motion. She pulled his arm around her shoulders and allowed him to lean against her for support.

“Hey, Jackie, are you sure you don’t want a hand?” Eric took a step towards them.

“No, I’ve got him.”

“Are you sure, you’re kind of small to be—”

“Eric, it’s fine. I got it.” To further prove her point, she kicked off her high-heeled sandals, “There, better?”

“All right, well,” Eric paused, before a sarcastic grin split across his face, “Don’t be too mean to him, he’s sensitive.”

“Shut up, Forman.” Steven muttered sullenly, and he took a swing towards Eric’s arm but overshot it and lurched forward. He nearly pulled Jackie with him, but she planted her feet and leaned in the opposite direction to right his balance.

“Oh, you’re so delightful when you’re drunk.” Eric ignored the drunken animosity, and picked up Steven’s sunglasses to hook them on his shirt collar for him, “All right, you’re good to go.” Eric winked at Steven and patted his arm.

“Oh be careful you two, don’t trip down the stairs.” Eric said as a final piece of advice, before waving them off.

“Thanks, we’ll try not to.” Jackie said tartly, rolling her eyes. With that she began to lead Steven away from the party, the noise and atmosphere falling behind them as they passed by the hedges.

“The twinkle lights looked nice.” He said suddenly, as they walked across the Formans’ driveway. He wasn’t completely wasted, but she wagered he needed a glass of water or two.

She looked up at him with a furrowed brow, “Steven, you don’t care about the twinkle lights.”

He nodded slowly, “Yeah, you’re right, but you were excited ‘bout them.”

She laughed a little, “Okay, you might want to focus on being quiet, much as I’d love to interrogate you right now and discover everything you’re willing to share in this moment, I think you’ll regret it if you talk too much.”

“Okay.” He responded reasonably, and fell quiet as she did her best to help him down the stairs. They nearly stumbled—no thanks to Eric’s jinxing it—but he managed to grab the railing and steady himself all on his own.

She led him back to his room, and although this was not precisely how she had envisioned coming into his space for the first time her stomach did a little flip in curious excitement. Initially though, she had hoped he would drag her back there, kissing her passionately, to finally, finally make love to her. Alas, she was the one doing the dragging, and there wasn’t an ounce of passion to be had between either of them in this state.

It wasn’t a very big room, but he kept things tidy. He had stacks of books and old records on his shelves, an armchair in one corner, and a sizable cot for a bed—which was where she sat him down.

He reclined back and then looked back up at her, his head tilting to the side as if realizing she was there for the first time.

“Am I dreaming?” He asked in a hoarse voice, his brow furrowing in slight confusion.

She blinked at him a couple times, before her mouth curved into a delighted, coy grin. He would be angry with her, he might not even forgive her for taking advantage of his disorientation, but she couldn’t help the next words that slipped past her lips, “Steven, do you dream about me?”

Something must have clicked in his head as she asked that question, and suddenly he was a little more alert, a little more guarded.

“No.” He blurted out, defensively.

“Steven, it’s okay if you dream about me. I’m very beautiful.” She informed him, grinning cheekily.

He looked at her for a long moment, unsmiling, before he agreed plainly, “Yeah.” Her humor dimmed upon seeing the look on his face. He sighed to himself and cast his eyes towards the ceiling, his voice a plaintive whisper as he continued to talk to himself, “Wish you weren’t so goddamn beautiful.”

He sniffed a little and scrubbed his face with his hand, forcing his expression into a mask of indifference. The act was like striking flint against her temper, and she felt the bitter taste of irritation pool in her mouth.

“Yeah, well I wish you would tell me this when you were sober, and not after you’ve had almost seven beers.”

“Why?” He made a face then, annoyance flickering across his features, “You always have everyone telling you you’re beautiful. All the damn time.”

She knew it was irrational and futile to argue with someone who was inebriated, but she couldn’t help herself, she needed him to know, “I don’t care about everyone else.” Even as the words flew out of her mouth, she wondered if he would even remember them. Remember that she wanted him to tell her she was beautiful.

He pressed his mouth into a thin line and seemed disinclined to say anything else, so she just sighed. Futile, indeed.

She turned to head upstairs to the kitchen to get him a glass of water, but his hand reached for her before she could leave. He caught her wrist gently, his warm fingertips sliding against the sensitive skin. Her face burned as she felt ticklish all over.

He didn’t say anything, only looked up at her imploringly. But the gesture itself was enough to communicate what he meant to say.

“Don't go.”

She knew he wouldn’t say the words, but she also knew what that look meant. She had given that look to others plenty of times before. She reached down to extricate herself from his hold, “Steven, I’m just going to get you some water okay?”

He continued to hesitate, but she felt his hold loosen. If she had wanted to, she could have pulled away from him easily. She stood there for another moment, wondering how she could reassure him—the look on his face was enough to elicit the type of heartache she hadn't felt in awhile.

She had planned on hanging out with him anyway, just until he started to sober up, so she smiled at him sweetly, “Steven, I’ll stay until you feel a little better, okay? You can let go, I’ll come right back.”

He didn’t say anything though, choosing only to acknowledge her words by dropping his hand from her wrist.

As she ascended the stairs to the kitchen, she thought a little more about what Mrs. Forman had said, and wondered if it really was just a ridiculous show of masculinity. She considered the possibility that Steven had a big bundle of feelings he was desperately trying to keep bottled up—masked by beer and his indifferent attitude.

She grabbed a glass from the cupboard and began filling it up, watching the water level slowly rise. She had no use for an emotionally unavailable man. If she was going to seriously date someone, she wanted there to be the potential for love. She wanted to love someone fully, and she wanted to be loved fully in return. No half measures were going to cut it with her. Jackie Burkhart deserved the best, after all. 

She walked back down the stairs and heard music playing from his room, and called out to him, “Steven?”

“Yeah?” He responded, so she knew he hadn’t drifted off at least.

She entered his room again and held the glass of water for him to take, “Here, drink this.”

He took it and complied with her request, taking a few gulps, before placing it down on one of his shelves. She gathered the skirt of her dress under her, and took a seat on the armchair across from him. She crossed her legs, and her foot began to bounce a little with the effort to sit still and not bombard him with questions in the hopes that he might let slip a secret torrent of feelings. They sat there, quietly listening to music while he drank his water—only parting briefly once for her to refill his glass. She looked at him as he was about halfway through his second glass of water, and felt tired of the lingering silence between them.

He met her gaze, but his facade had been left imperfect from the alcohol. She could see the cautious look in his eye, the firm line of his mouth expressing his lack of trust in himself to speak. Fine, if he didn’t want to talk then she would.

“See, I came back.” She said, a soft smile playing upon her lips.

“Whatever.” He replied, quietly.

She wasn’t fazed by his response, her smile growing a little as she asked, “Didn’t you want me to stay?”

“I didn’t say that.” He muttered stubbornly. He took the glass off the counter and drank a bit more.

“Well you grabbed my wrist earlier, so I just thought maybe—”

“I don’t know why I did that.” He admitted, interrupting her—as if he couldn’t let her finish that sentence. He was looking away from her now. He took another gulp of water.

“You want to know what I think?”

“Not particularly.”

“I think you adore me.” 

He scoffed.

“I think I’m just irresistible to you.”

He looked at her as if she was a lunatic and shook his head, incredulous.

“Oh yeah?” He finally spoke, “And do you have any evidence of this, Nancy Drew?”

She drew her lip between her teeth thoughtfully as she watched him. He stared back at her, refusing to budge. She released her lip to allow a mischievous grin to slip, as she shrugged her shoulders, “Not yet.”

He was quiet for a long moment, and then he moved to stand up. She shifted in her seat to also stand, but he made a gesture for her to stay put. “I’m fine, I don’t need your help.”

“But—”

“I’m going to take a leak, I don’t need your help.” He explained tersely, and walked out of the room, leaving her there. 

She looked around his space again, resisting the terrible temptation to rifle through his stuff and discover little personal details. But she saw enough out in the open—his brand of deodorant, the way he had his clothes neatly folded, which books on his shelf were more worn along the spine to indicate he’d read them multiple times. Her foot continued to bounce impatiently.

Eventually, he returned. He met her gaze before he said, “You’re still here.”

“Well I told you I’d stay until you felt better.” She reminded him, her brows raising a little as she asked, “Do you feel better?”

“I feel fine.” He said, almost too quickly for her to find it believable. But he was a little steadier on his feet as he arranged himself to sit back down on his cot. He reached over for the glass and finished off the last bit of water that was left.

“Do you want me to refill that?”

The question seemed to hit a nerve, because his tone was a little more irritable than before, “Jackie, I don’t need you to take care of me.”

His bitter ungratefulness should have reignited her temper, but it didn’t stir any anger in her. She knew more than anyone how awful other people’s pity felt, but she needed him to know that that wasn’t what motivated her. She stood up and took a step towards him—and as he looked up at her, his eyes were stormy with some complicated emotion she couldn't quite place.

“Steven, I know you don’t need me to take care of you.” She met his gaze as she leaned over him and asked, “Is it so terrible for you if I want to anyway?”

His lips parted, so she waited for him to answer. She waited for what felt like forever, but finally his mouth closed. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either.

Unconsciously, she reached for him, but hesitated. When he didn’t flinch away from her, she gently placed her hand against his cheek. He surprised her by leaning into her touch slightly. The irritable tension tightly wound throughout his body seemed to release, and his expression became gentler. She thought then that maybe she was the one almost bursting at the seams, as affection for him exploded all along her insides with a tender, fluttery feeling. She smiled down at him and stroked his cheek with her thumb, before she said softly, “Good night, Steven.”

“Good night, Jackie.” He murmured.

Slowly, she pulled away to leave—he didn’t reach for her this time.

Notes:

LISTEN, HEAR ME OUT - the slow burn era will be ending soon, I promise!

Also I don't really drink much anymore - but Google told me 6 beers in about an hour was enough to get drunk so sorry if that seems unrealistic lol.

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 11: First Dances

July 22, 1983

Hyde had been avoiding Jackie ever since the night of the barbeque. Well, more like ever since the night of Forman’s grad celebration at the bar, but her little stunt at the barbeque had left him even more unsettled than before. A part of him knew that W.B. was right, but there remained an ever present lingering doubt in his mind that he’d just end up being another bad experience in her dating history. A disappointment. A reason to leave. And yet he continued to want her, to want things he wasn’t sure he was cut out for. Her hand against his cheek as he navigated his last, sobering moments with her that night had nearly been his undoing. 

He could no longer pretend his feelings away. Could no longer pretend that he had been looking to avoid her by binging on beer that night. Could no longer pretend that it had instead resulted in her devastating him with her affection. He had been pondering her response to his attempts to push her away, to insist that he didn’t need to be taken care of—that he’d never needed to be taken care of.

“Is it so terrible for you if I want to anyway?”

Yes, had been his immediate thought—but only because of the way his nerves chafed against the increasing warning signs that he was going soft. She had disarmed him in so many ways, shoving all those feelings into his chest cavity, peeling back the tough armor to expose those vulnerable parts of him that were prone to bruising. Yes, because if he let her in, then he wasn’t quite sure what state he’d end up being in after she was gone.

But as he thought of her on that night, her hand against his cheek, the wry patience of her voice, he knew. He knew he was already all soft on the inside for her. She’d made him that way—or maybe, she’d just reminded him of those parts of him he’d tucked away long ago.

So, he’d been avoiding her, getting up extra early to go into work before she had even a single hair on her head curled to perfection, and pretending like her red Mustang sitting in the parking lot at work didn’t make him feel a little bit guilty. But that particular morning, Red was up even before him—lying in wait at the kitchen table. Hyde tried to act normal, grabbing himself a poptart from the cupboard.

“So, Kitty tells me you’ve been avoiding the Loud One?” Red said by way of greeting, without looking up from his paper.

He didn’t normally like to lie to Red, so he shrugged and conceded, “Maybe.”

Red glanced up at him from the paper, his brows raised in slight surprise, before he smiled wryly, “That so? I never took you to be the sort to scare easily, Steven.”

He half snorted, half sighed, and said with a slight shake of his head, “I don’t know Red, she’s pretty scary.”

“Yeah, I wager a gal like Jackie would probably bulldoze over a lesser man.” Hyde didn’t have time to ask who he thought the ‘greater man’ might be in such a scenario, as Red kept talking, “She’s smart as a whip and she speaks her mind, but she’s a nice young gal, and she knows a thing or two about cars…here’s hoping whatever guy she winds up with isn’t a total dumbass.”

Hyde could only nod, he didn’t know what to say to that. He was quiet, pondering his circular, self-deprecating thought pattern, before he finally blurted out a question that might have an answer to help clarify things for him, “Hey Red, how did you know when you were good enough for Mrs. Forman?”

The older man threw his head back with a bark of laughter almost immediately, “Good enough, ha! Steven, I’ve never been good enough for Kitty. She’s essentially a saint and she’s, well she’s—” Red shifted in his seat and cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable with the prospect of finishing his thought and revealing anything more than he already had, so instead he finished with, “Look, the point is, I just happen to be the lucky bastard that she loves back.”

“Huh.” The thoughtful sound escaped him, as he digested Red’s words—feeling like maybe he’d been overthinking it all too much. Maybe he wouldn’t ever be good enough for her, but he could at least try. Maybe he’d end up lucky like Red, and she’d love him anyway.

“Everything all right, Steven?” Red asked, his brows knit together.

“Yeah, thanks Red.” He finished his poptart and then said, moving towards the side door, “I think I’ll see if I can drive Jackie to work today.”

Red snapped his paper open a little wider and grinned knowingly, “Atta boy.”

It was still quite early, but the WFPP concert ticket contest was going on at Grooves today, so there was no doubt in his mind that Donna was at least up and getting ready for the day. Without hesitating, he rapped his knuckles on the door and waited. After a moment, Bob Pinciotti opened the door wearing a robe and pajama pants.

“Steven? It’s not even seven in the mornin’ what are you doin’ over here, somethin’ wrong?” The older man punctuated his question with a yawn.

“No uh, I was just wondering if you could tell Jackie I can wait to take her to work—if she wants to, that is.”

“Oh, that’s sure nice of ya!” Bob smiled through his sleepiness, “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll cheer her right up!”

“She been down lately?” He couldn’t resist asking.

“Yeah, I think she liked drivin’ with you in the mornings.” The older man gave a nod, but then added with a laugh, “Of course, she knows yer busy runnin’ yer store and all, she didn’t wanna complain too much. But a father who’s raised a daughter knows a thing or two about why gals might be mopin’.”

Bob winked at him and tapped his chest with the back of his hand.

“Cool, I’ll wait out front then.”

Bob disappeared back inside, and Hyde went to lean against the Camino. He thought about the busy day ahead, about when might be a good time to spring the question on her. Ultimately, bringing it up on the drive over didn’t feel right—he didn’t want to be rushed into it, and then be torn in several directions the second he arrived at work. But maybe later that day, maybe on the drive home…

Eventually, Donna exited the house—waving at him briefly—before she and Forman climbed into the Vista Cruiser to head off to Grooves. He knew Leo was technically going to be there (hopefully with the keys), but he was starting to get a little antsy about Jackie making him late. She must’ve sensed his impatience, because not a moment later Jackie appeared out the door and nearly jogged over to him.

She smiled widely, “Are you sure you don’t mind? I know you’re really busy today!”

“Hey, I already told you.” He said, allowing himself a brief grin, “Anything for you, doll.”

Her brow furrowed, perplexed, and she looked ready to point out that he’d been avoiding her for the past week. But after a moment, her expression softened and she said, “Well, all right.”

They entered the car and off to Grooves they went.

It quickly became apparent he wouldn’t have been able to ask her out that morning, anyway. She immediately launched into an update of her past week. She talked about the cute shops she’d found around Point Place, a gossip column she’d read recently about Nancy Reagan, and other chatter she’d eavesdropped from customers at work the past few days. It was impossible for him to get a word in edgewise, so he just listened to her talk—and eventually they had arrived at their destination.

By the time Hyde pulled into the parking lot, he could see Donna and Forman were grabbing supplies out of the back of the Vista Cruiser and a WFPP van was parked nearby. He raised his hand to rub at his eyes from beneath his sunglasses, already feeling the anticipation of having to deal with a bunch of rowdy customers all day. He knew these sorts of events were necessary and good for business, but he didn’t have to enjoy it.

“Hey.”

Jackie’s voice broke through his rumination, and he turned towards her. He realized, belatedly, that she had fallen quiet once they parked. She got like that sometimes, sensitive to his moods. Her normally chatty, gregarious self would soften just a little and she would smile at him—like she was doing now—and he would be once more struck with his wanting for her. Sometimes it surprised him, just how much he wanted her.

Something must have flickered across his face, because she attempted to reassure him, “It’s just one day, you and Donna will be fine. I’ll bring you coffee around eleven, okay?”

“Okay.” He said, blankly.

She winked at him and exited the car, her red skirt fluttering with every step she took towards Whole Latte Love. 

He sighed, and spoke to himself, “Let’s get this show on the road.”

He opened the store and the WFPP crew started setting up shop, while Hyde moved some of the crates to the perimeter to allow for a table where Donna would be set up to periodically speak on air, interview contestants, and report on all the activity and promote his business. As things were coming together, he felt Donna clap him on the shoulder and turned to see her and Forman standing there, with grins on their faces.

“Almost opening time, you ready for the crowd?” She asked, cheerfully. Donna had always been confident and adaptable, she was versatile in the way she could adjust between high-key and low-key atmospheres. People liked to believe he was the unflappable one of the group, but it was Donna that really could roll with whatever was on the docket for the day.

He glanced towards the clock, they had a little while before the store would open and the contest would begin. Out of respect for her request earlier in the summer, he had a nagging feeling of wanting to let her know his intentions with Jackie. He knew the timing was shit, but he was starting to feel like nothing would happen if he didn’t say it out loud. He cleared his throat and asked, “Hey, Donna, can I talk to you for a sec?”

Her expression grew serious as she met his gaze, and she nodded—briefly glancing at Forman, “Yeah of course, Hyde.”

He gestured for the two of them to follow him to the back office, and once there closed the door. With no idea how to delicately approach the topic of conversation, he chose to state it plainly, “Uh, well, I’m thinking about asking Jackie out on a date.”

Donna and Forman reacted simultaneously.

“Wow, okay!” She said, grinning.

“What, no!” He said, frowning.

Hyde shook his head slightly, as the two of them glanced at each other, mutually confused.

“Donna, I thought you didn't want anyone trying to date Jackie.” Forman said in a quiet voice, turning towards Donna.

“Well, yeah I said that but,” Donna briefly glanced in his direction before she looked back at her fiancé to continue, “But Eric, I think they really like each other.” She looked at Hyde again, pausing—maybe waiting for him to deny it—before asking, “Am I right?”

Hyde inhaled a deep breath. He had anticipated this question, owed it to her after promising not to pursue Jackie, but that didn’t mean he was comfortable with exposing every little piece of himself. He adopted a calm expression, briefly fiddling with his pinky ring, and exhaled slowly as he admitted, “Yeah. I’m not just fooling around.”

Donna smiled at him, while Forman blinked at him in surprise and said, “Oh my god, you’re serious about her.”

Hyde ignored Forman and continued to talk directly to Donna, “Look, Donna, I want you to know I didn’t plan on this happening, it just…happened. But I am. Serious about her, I mean.”

“I know.” Donna said softly, still smiling, “I can tell.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Uncomfortable with how transparent his feelings for Jackie apparently were.

“Well,” Forman started, still sounding dubious, “If you really like her, I guess that’s okay.”

“Well thank you so much for your permission, Forman.” Hyde remarked dryly, rolling his eyes. 

“Okay, well you better ask her out soon. I won’t steal your thunder and blab, but don’t get cold feet or I’ll beat your ass.” She threatened him with a gentle laugh, before turning to kiss her fiancé, “All right, I’m heading back out there.”

Once she left Hyde glanced back at Forman, who had a shit-eating grin on his face. Hyde’s shoulders raised slightly as he asked, “What?”

“Nothing, I mean I saw this coming.” Forman said casually with a shrug.

“You saw this coming?” He scoffed.

“Trust me, I know what being overprotective of a gal around Casey Kelso looks like, and you were basically in full guard dog mode.”

Hyde shook his head a little bit, an incredulous laugh escaped him, “It wasn’t that bad, man.”

“Oh, it was bad.” Forman lifted a brow and sighed dramatically. “So Jackie Burkhart’s the one who ended up bagging Steven Hyde.” 

“Well I haven’t asked her yet.” Hyde reminded him, “I might still be outta the bag.”

“Oh no, she definitely bagged you, weeks ago man.” Forman raised his brows and grinned at him, “Like I said, the bar. First there was your misstep with the blonde, and then all your failed attempts to get Jackie’s attention at the table afterwards.” He sighed sympathetically and clapped a hand on his shoulder, “It was kind of hard to watch, to be honest.”

He shifted away from him, annoyance edging into his voice, “Whatever.”

“Still, I’m kind of surprised.”

He arched his brow, a query for Forman to elaborate.

“Well, I just mean, all the wedding stuff going on.” Forman gestured around the room with his hand, “Jackie seems like a girl that gets pretty serious pretty fast, and you’re going after her with all this big commitment stuff flying around. I would’ve thought you’d be scared of that.”

He was scared—terrified, in fact—but he couldn’t say that out loud.

“But maybe you just love her that much.”

Hyde rolled his eyes and moved to head back out to the store—he could only tolerate so much of the badgering about his apparently obvious ‘love’ for Jackie.

“My mom’s going to be so excited, by the way!” Forman called after him, “She’s been talking about you having a little crush! Hey, maybe Donna and I should make you guys do the best man and maid of honor dance!”

He kept walking, shouting over his shoulder, “Whatever, Forman.”

He moved about the store then, getting set up for the rush. The cash register was prepped, the bins were full of accurately priced records, and the Rolling Stones were playing over the speakers. Donna sat down at her table, ready to run the “Song Snippet Challenge” where contestants hoped to score an opportunity to enter to win tickets to the upcoming concert next month.

Hyde glanced up at the door, seeing a crowd of people already begin to gather outside.

“Leo,” He turned towards the older man, who looked at him with a wide, tranquil smile, completely unbothered by all the impending chaos. “I need you to work the cash register today.”

“No problem, man.” Leo gave a slight nod, “I can do that.”

He was a little unsettled leaving such a task to Leo, but he had to make due with the tools at his disposal. If there were any large discrepancies at the end of the day, well, he’d worry about it then—after all, he had skimmed the till at Fotohut many times in his youth. If karma existed, he supposed he would have earned it to an extent.

With one more heavy sigh, Hyde moved to open the door to the store—and Rolling Stones fans pressed forth, all beelining for Donna’s table. She lit up, all smiles and laughter shaking the hands of the first few guys that made it to the table first. The charisma of her radio personality in full ‘go mode’. Meanwhile, he moved to start to direct folks on how to properly line up to maintain at least a modicum of order.

The constant stream of people, the chatter from the radio table—“This is WFPP’s Hot Donna coming to you live from Grooves, we’ll be on location until two o’clock today,”—and fielding the requests and questions made him begin to lose track of time. He had lost track of everything that was going on, running around acting like a disgruntled parent in charge of disorderly toddlers.

“Hey, get down from there!” He had to yell at some teens that were standing on the couch in the listening pit, trying to peek over the crowd to get a look at Donna.

“Hey, put your shirt back on! Haven’t you ever heard of no shoes, no shirt, no service!” He had to shout at some guy that had complained about it being too hot in there—well no shit, it was August in Wisconsin, so of course it was as muggy as Satan’s asshole.

“Hey, you keep it up and you’re disqualified from entering the contest!” He had to shout at a couple of guys trying to boo and jeer and throw off whoever was sitting in the hot seat trying to complete the contest with Donna.

He was weary, and he had gone without any break—and probably wasn’t going to be getting one until after the radio contest was over. But idly, in the back of his mind, he was still hoping to catch a glimpse of Jackie whenever she got around to dropping off coffee for them. He wondered what time it was, meaning to glance at the clock behind the front counter, before a hand tapped his shoulder.

He looked down to see Jackie, having donned a WFPP tee shirt, smiling up at him, “You go take a break, I can handle the crowd for a little while—your coffee’s behind the counter.”

 

 

---

 

The first couple of hours of her shift went by fairly quickly, the overflow from the ticket contest was generating a lot of foot traffic in the cafe as well. When it was time for her morning break, she grabbed two cups and began to write out Steven and Leo’s regular orders. A black coffee and a coffee with cream and sugar. She paused as she was in the middle of drawing the heart beneath Steven’s name—before tossing the two cups out. She grabbed clear cups and began to rewrite the orders.

She looked over her shoulder at Todd and asked, “Todd can you make my regular orders in an iced format?” She grabbed a third plastic cup, “Oh, and can you add another one? Since Donna’s here.”

“Of course, Jackie.” Todd said with a passive expression, before he began to arrange her coffee orders. She waited impatiently until Todd was done.

“Here you go, three iced coffees.” He arranged them in a tray for her before handing them over.

“Thanks.” She said, smiling to herself, before she left the cafe.

Grooves was crowded with customers, people oscillating between filing around the crates perusing the selection to crowding around the table where ‘Hot Donna’ was sitting down and periodically interviewing contestants. She saw Steven in the center of the store, helping direct people to where they needed to go and managing the line-up to talk to Donna. Jackie maneuvered through the throng of people, and made her way to the front where Leo was running the cash register.

She slipped behind the counter without asking for permission, feeling comfortable enough to do so, and placed the coffees on the counter.

“Hey, Loud Girl!” Leo greeted her, smiling serenely despite the chaos surrounding him.

“Good morning Leo, how are you doing?” She asked, placing a coffee down in front of him.

“Oh you know, can’t complain.” He said with a lighthearted chuckle, “Hey, this coffee is chilled! That’s cool.”

She smiled at him, “Yeah, I figured that it might be a little hot in here with the summer weather outside and all the sweaty competitors.”

She observed Steven in the middle of the crowd. There was a slight furrow between his brows, a tenseness in his posture and a seeming easiness with which he frowned that indicated to her that he was stressed out. She didn’t blame him, surrounded by a bunch of desperate Rolling Stones fans who were all eager to take a seat at Donna’s table and try their luck to enter into the contest. She glanced at the clock, the contest would be going on for a couple more hours yet, and it was going to be lunchtime soon.

A thought occurred to her, and she quickly dashed through the crowd to get to the cafe. She immediately ran up to the counter, causing Todd to look at her in surprise.

“Jackie?”

“Hey Todd, I was thinking of taking my lunch a little early, is that okay?”

“Oh, um—” He glanced from her face to the clock, then back to her face again, “Uh, yes, of course.”

She wasn’t sure why he was so hesitant to say yes, when he’d been so eager to appease her before. But as she thought of Donna and Steven drowning next door, she pushed the odd, worrying feeling about Todd’s attitude from her mind as she ran back over to Grooves.

Jackie entered and beelined for the WFPP table, tapping a finger on the shoulder of one of the techs—a young guy that couldn’t have been older than eighteen. He smiled at her immediately, which she mimicked as she asked, “Hey, I’m friends with Donna and the owner of Grooves, I was hoping I could lend an extra pair of hands—do you have a spare shirt?”

She gestured to the ‘uniform’ for the WFPP employees. After getting a brief thumbs up from Donna, he was quick to grab her a tee shirt, and before she knew it she was on shift for WFPP—though her intent was to help out Steven more than anything.

“Hey, Steven!” He didn’t hear her as he was busy answering someone’s question. She waited until the guy had been dealt with before she reached up and placed a hand on his shoulder. He turned to face her, “You go take a break, I can handle the crowd for a little while—your coffee’s behind the counter.”

She could see him hesitate, his lips parting to disagree with her, but she raised a hand to interrupt any potential arguments he might offer, “Steven, I am perfectly capable. I spent almost an entire day in here, remember? I know where everything is and Donna explained her thing to me already. If I need help, I’ll call.”

“Jackie—” He started, and not in the agreeable tone she was hoping for, so she interrupted again.

“Steven, I am a former cheerleader—I know how to make my voice carry, now go.”

He sighed heavily and relented, and she saw him grab his coffee and head to the back room to decompress. After he left, she set to work whipping the would-be contest winners into shape and providing assistance to customers that were there to shop. After about thirty minutes of her efforts she had managed to get people filing through the store in an orderly fashion. The Rolling Stones fans seemed disinclined to give her any trouble—as handsome as he was, she wagered that him batting his eyelashes just wouldn’t have the same impact as when she did it.

She had just finished entertaining a few folks in the line up for the concert ticket contest with her sparkling conversation, when she felt a hand tap her shoulder in the same cadence she had done to Steven’s earlier. She knew before she turned to look that it would be him, but she was surprised to see him grinning at her widely with a certain look in his eye. An affectionate look, if she wasn’t mistaken—her heart stuttered at the thought, and her mind tried to tell herself she was imagining it.

“Hey.” He said, and the timbre of his voice immediately elicited a pleasant shiver across her skin. What was happening? Something was different about him.

“Hey.” She said, sounding as dazed as she felt.

He looked at the crowd and gestured with his chin, before he said, “Thanks for helping, but I can take over.”

“Are you sure?” She protested, “It’s only been like thirty-five minutes.”

It was an excuse. With him being the way he was—whatever this Steven was being—she didn’t want to go back to work. She wanted to keep hanging out here, with him. It felt like something had shifted. Even earlier in the morning, when he had offered to give her a ride again, his energy had been different. New. She wondered, hoped even, that maybe he realized he had feelings for her. 

“Yeah, it’s all good.” He insisted gently, before adding in a wry tone, “You’re gonna put me out of a job if I don’t take over.”

She pursed her lips together in an effort not to smile at his veiled compliment. She rolled her eyes, “All right, well, if you ever need someone to come over here and boss a bunch of people around—”

“You’ll be the first person I call.” He promised with a nod, and she let herself smile.

She returned to the coffee shop reluctantly. After all, they would always have the drive home to talk. They would be alone, and maybe—just maybe—she had a feeling he might ask her out.

Luckily the rest of the day went by quickly and painlessly. With all of the activity next door (as well as her putting in a good word about the coffee shop), the foot traffic in the cafe was considerably elevated, which should have put Todd in a good mood—but even towards closing time he continued to be pensive, acting as though something was bothering him. His lack of gratitude for all the good business that they’d drummed up throughout the day, as the minutes ticked by towards the end of her shift, had begun to grate on her temper. Her curt and forced responses to his idle conversation should have alerted him to the precarious nature of her irritation, but he shocked her by pouring gasoline on it instead.

“You and that owner of Grooves seem pretty close.”

Jackie gave Todd a withering look, masking her surprise that he would even bring something like this up while they were still on shift. She shook her head and tried to focus on wiping down one of the tables, “We’re friends.”

“It just seems like you do a lot for him, more than ‘just a friend’ would.” He added conversationally.

She glanced at the faint outline of her reflection in the window, before sighing heavily and looking back down, “Well, Todd, maybe you don’t have very good friends if that’s what you think.”

“Oh, I just mean, the hearts on his coffee cup, the helping out with his event, the way you smile whenever you talk about him.” She rubbed the cleaner into the table harder, “I just worry that you’re setting yourself up for a heartbreak, you know, since he doesn’t seem to appreciate you the way you do him.”

Todd had begun to slowly sweep the broom over to where she was cleaning tables, the sound of his approaching steps increasingly chafing against her anger. His voice was directly behind her when he spoke next.

“If I were your boyfriend—”

She whirled around on him, her mouth open to sling a vicious insult in his direction—but she hesitated. He was standing a lot closer than she had expected him to be. She inhaled a shaky breath and straightened her posture, before she responded with an icy calm, “Well, you’re not my boyfriend. And it’s pretty high and mighty of you to throw criticism at Steven when I don’t seem to recall you asking me out either.” 

He tilted his head to the side, looking mildly chastened, before he leaned closer to her, “Well, I didn’t think I had a shot until now.” He inclined his head towards hers slightly, but her arms immediately slammed against his chest to push him away. He took a step away from her, blinking at her in surprise.

“What are you doing?” She asked, incredulous.

“I…well I thought—”

“You thought that was an invitation for you to make a move?”

She stared at him, furious, as she attempted to untangle the jumbled mess of angry words in her brain to piece together exactly how she should eviscerate him with a scathingly sharp phrase. She raised a hand, wagging her finger at him admonishingly, but before she was able to articulate anything, he spoke. And as his half-assed apology tumbled out, an idea occurred to her.

“Jackie, I’m sorry, I just thought—”

“Shut up, Todd.” She snapped, her eyes narrowing, “You’re going to give me a raise.”

He digested her words, his expression becoming confused, before repeating her words as a question, “I’m going to give you a raise?”

“Yeah, because I did such a good job today. And you'll make it a big one.” She grinned wickedly, “We’ll never speak of this again and you’ll not come within three feet of me, or I might just start shooting my mouth off and actively try to ruin your business.” She paused, lifting her brows into a meaningful look, “You’ll find I can be very convincing, and I’ll remind you I’m currently in a position with very little to lose, Todd.”

He gulped and nodded, “Yes, of course, a big raise and we’ll not talk about—”

“Ah ah!” She mimed sealing a zipper shut across her lips, before throwing away a metaphorical  key, “What did I just say?”

“A big raise, then.”

“So glad we could come to an agreement, Todd.” She offered him an overly sweet smile, “Now, I’m feeling a little sick to my stomach, so I think I’m going to leave early.”

She didn’t wait for his permission. She moved towards the staff room to collect her purse, and then stormed through the cafe and out the door. Leaving behind Todd to reflect upon his actions, and determine whether or not he understood what a greenlight signal for such a move even looked like.

There was only one man she wanted to embrace or kiss her in such a way, and she planned on seeing him as soon as possible.

 

---

 

He was in the middle of cleaning up and reorganizing the store back to its natural state when he heard a knock at the door. His first instinct was to scowl, given that he had closed early and wasn’t interested in entertaining any more customers for the day, but his expression softened when he saw Jackie standing there, giving him a little wave. He glanced at the clock—she was supposed to have another thirty minutes or so on her shift. He leaned the broom against the counter and walked over to the door, unlocking it.

“Hey, everything all right?” He asked, opening the door for her.

She had an odd look on her face as she opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She seemed to think better of it, and instead smiled a little as she stepped in, “Yeah, Todd just let me off a little early.”

“Oh, cool. I’m still cleaning up.” He said as he locked the door behind her, “I can call you a cab, if you want.”

“No way, I’ll just help you.” She stepped inside, throwing her purse and jacket on the couch in the listening pit. 

He watched her walk around as if she owned the place, finding stacks of records that had been rifled through or misplaced. She collected them in her arms and began to one-by-one sort and place them in their rightful spot. He found himself looking at the floor and smiling as he walked towards where he’d the broom was waiting for him. Despite her intense sense of self and her sharp tongue, she had this caring and sweet side of her—and he should have known a long time ago that the warmth of it was just too much for him to resist. He wondered how she’d never managed to meet someone who appreciated her in the way she deserved to be. It seemed a damn shame—criminal, even. He knew that ugly, scarred part of him would probably never stop feeling unworthy of her, but the voice of it wasn’t loud enough to stop himself from wanting her.

He wagered that nothing ever would be.

“What?” Her voice cut through his thoughts, drawing his attention up from the floor.

“Hm?”

“You look like you’re thinking hard about something.”

He looked back at the floor. “It’s nothing.”

“Really?” She laughed a little, sounding unconvinced. She turned her attention back to the crates, “If you say so.”

They worked quietly on the few tasks remaining, periodically making small talk about Donna and Forman’s wedding, until she brought up the tracklist again. Asking, again, whether Eric would consider putting any ABBA on the list of songs.

“He didn’t seem interested in considering it.” Hyde informed her, stifling the urge to chuckle at her persistence.

“They literally have a song called ‘I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do’, it’s practically made for weddings!” She complained as she placed the last record in its rightful spot. He just shrugged in response, and she narrowed her eyes, “Well, I hope he’s not putting any Led Zeppelin on the list.”

“Of course he is.” He responded immediately without looking at her, his brow furrowing in slight offense.

“Ew, Steven!” She exclaimed, laughing a little, “He can’t! Can you imagine the look on Bob’s face when he hears lyrics referring to ‘every inch’ of Eric's love at his daughter’s wedding—gross!”

He stopped what he was doing and turned towards her, unable to prevent himself from grinning. She had been listening to Led Zeppelin, enough to pick out lyrics and form an opinion of them. She met his gaze, her brow furrowed in confusion. He continued to look at her for a long moment, smiling at how easily she had revealed herself to be trying out new music—his favorite kind of music.

“What, Steven? Can you imagine? It’s so crass!” She shook her head, before she kept scolding him, “I know you’re practically their biggest fan, but I expected more from you as Eric’s best man. Even you must know that kind of music is inappropriate.”

“Forman’s not going to put that song on the tracklist.” Although she was right, Bob’s red face would’ve been quite a sight to behold, and it would have been a hilarious way for Forman to embarrass himself in front of his brand new in-laws. He laughed gently, before adding, “Led Zeppelin has love songs you can slow dance to.”

She rolled her eyes, the doubt obvious in her voice, “Uh huh, sure they do.” She shook her head and looked away from him.

This time, he was eager to seize the temptation and rise to her challenge.

“You just weren’t listening to the right songs, man. I’ll prove it to you.” He said, putting the broom away and wandering behind the counter over to the record player. He crouched down and began to flip through the selection of records he kept in the store until he found what he was looking for. “Ah, here it is.”

He stood back up, holding Led Zeppelin’s Houses of the Holy album in his hands as he looked at the cover. He glanced over his shoulder at her, his fingers strumming on the record thoughtfully. Her expression was skeptical, with her brow arched and her mouth forming an expectant pout.

He smiled, recalling a memory.

Red’s stern voice from years ago came back to him, “Well then you got a problem son, cause women wanna dance. They always wanna dance.” He remembered the meaningful look Red had given him leaving no room for further argument, “Always.” He continued to smile wistfully at the memory and how doomed his initial motivations to learn how to dance for Donna had been.

But Jackie was a woman who was available—and as far as he knew, didn’t have eyes for anyone else. She was a woman that probably liked to dance, too. Maybe those lessons hadn’t been a waste after all. He looked back at the record player, placing the vinyl on the track, before lifting the tonearm to find the right groove for the song he was looking for.

The soft strumming of ‘The Rain Song’ began to play and he took a few tentative steps towards her. She watched him, her head tilted to the side slightly as she listened to the first few moments. She seemed intrigued by the melody, so he extended a hand towards her, “Wanna dance?”

A blush bloomed on her cheeks, but she maintained a calm face, “Sure.”

She took his hand and he gently pulled her towards him, leading her into a swaying slow dance as his other arm came around her waist to hold her close. She relaxed in his arms, allowing him to lead and embrace her there. He could have kept the position of his hands more textbook, but he continued to hold onto her hand up by his shoulder. She didn’t seem to mind and she drew even closer to him. Robert Plant’s voice softly serenaded them as he followed the gentle rhythm of the music.

It wasn’t his favorite Led Zeppelin song, but it was perfect for what he needed in order to show her. As the romantic lyrics washed over them, he also felt they were fitting for the mood, for the moment—she really was warm like sunlight, and her touch may as well have made him glow. The lengthy musical interlude that followed the first verse offered an opportunity for him to talk to her.

“So, what do you think?” He asked.

She was quiet for a moment, before she finally admitted, “It’s nice, I like it.”

“Not so bad for Led Zeppelin, then?” He smiled down at her, and she rolled her eyes before clarifying.

“Not so bad to dance to.” 

They fell into a comfortable silence as they continued to sway together. She seemed to be considering a thought, before she finally asked, “But I’m a little surprised, how did you learn to dance?”

“Oh, I have Mrs. Forman to thank for that.” He grinned wryly, “Figured it’d help me out with chicks.”

The airy sound of her laughter tickled his ears, made his chest swell with all of those tender feelings for her. She shook her head as she continued to look up at him. She spoke with a sense of awe, though her smile was teasing, “How are you still single?”

He tilted his head slightly, a broad grin splitting across his face, as he muttered incredulously, “What do you mean?”

“Come on, Steven,” She said his name almost as if she meant to affectionately scold him, and it sent a pleasant shiver down his spine, “You’re handsome, smart, sweet and you know how to dance? Anyone could fall in love with you.”

He laughed, feeling a little self-conscious, and murmured, “I think you’re overselling me a little.”

Her smile faded as her expression grew a little more serious, and her voice was so earnest it nearly broke his heart, “No, I don’t think I’m overselling you at all.”

He cleared his throat, hesitating, before he suggested in a tone he hoped sounded calm and confident, “Maybe I just hadn’t found the right chick yet.”

“Hadn’t?” She repeated. Of course her ears keen for details would hook right onto that word. 

They continued to peacefully sway to the melody, looking into each other's eyes. The part of him that was still scared wanted to avert his eyes, to hide from the insinuation he’d just made, but he was caught by her gaze and he felt it; the moment he had been waiting for.

“Hey,” He began, his voice just above a whisper, “I was wondering if you were planning on heading back to Chicago at the end of August.”

Her gaze fell from his as she moved closer into him—tucking her head neatly beneath his chin. He took the opportunity to lean his cheek against the top of her head, closing his eyes. At the very least he could savor holding her, no matter how brief it might be.

“I don’t know,” She admitted quietly, “I don’t know where I’m going.”

The two of them were quiet for another moment. The words he had been wanting to say to her for weeks clamored in his chest, screaming for release. But he was still scared. Scared of the feelings she’d planted inside his chest, and how he’d be left with all that sentimental shrapnel if she rejected him. But he also knew, if he didn’t say anything at all she’d leave for certain—and either way he’d go to pieces.

“You could stay.” He finally spoke the suggestion out loud, regretting not the words but the cautious hope that had slipped into his voice. Exposing his want for her to stay, even a little bit, well, he may as well have handed her a knife so she could cut his heart out. But they were words spoken, words he couldn’t take back and they hung between them for a brief, tense moment.

“I could.” Her tone was calm—and a part of him expected the worst—before she pulled her head back to look up at him again. Their faces were very close, and hope painfully twined around his heart as her lips curved into a curious smile, before she murmured, “What would you do if I stayed?”

“Well,” He started, watching her lashes lower as she glanced at his mouth, before drifting back up to his eyes, “I would…” He inclined his head slightly, and she responded by angling her chin just so. She leaned forward and her eyes fluttered closed, and the thought he’d meant to finish was temporarily forgotten as their lips connected in the soft press of a kiss. His body nearly sung with relief as they finally, finally kissed—and he found he had been right all along, she had a mouth made for kissing.

But he had only meant to kiss her once or twice, just gently, chastely even—but as he moved to pull away, she reached for the fabric of his coat and held him there. She demanded more with another passionate, eager press of her mouth. He staggered forward as she pulled him, as the bridge of the song crashed around them, one of his arms held her against him and while the other braced them against the front counter, and he responded immediately—deepened the kiss. Every cell in his body seemed to soak in the awareness of her, as her tongue glided against his. He moved even closer towards her, his legs crowding between her own as he leaned into her. Her hands left his coat and touched through his beard along the outline of his jaw, before settling at the back of his neck, tangling in his curly hair. He was unable to resist groaning into her mouth, as he felt the delicious scrape of her nails against his scalp. He had the wherewithal to keep his hands in relatively respectful positions and not get too carried away. Instead his focus was entirely fixated upon discovering each and every angle she liked to be kissed—swallowing every pleasant sigh and gasp exchanged between their lips.

However, eventually, they both needed to breathe.

He pulled away, and his hands lifted to cup her face—and he couldn’t resist just one more kiss as she looked up at him with rosy cheeks and heavy-lidded eyes. So he gave her one last peck, before he finally said, breathlessly, “Well, I’d ask you out on a date for starters.”

The upward curve of her mouth turned into the most radiant smile of hers he’d seen yet, her utter delight melting whatever attempt he could’ve made at keeping cool, keeping Zen. He swore her eyes were literally sparkling with an effervescent sort of happiness, as she said playfully, “Well, then I guess I better start looking for a more permanent job nearby.”

He was unable to completely hide his own joy, naturally smiling back at her. But he had to make sure he hadn’t misheard her, as he whispered, “Yeah?”

She nodded, still smiling from ear to ear, “Yeah.”

She leaned up onto her tiptoes to seal that reassuring promise with one more kiss.

Notes:

I hope everyone's ready for some (mostly) tooth-rotting fluff, because we're in the home stretch now!

Thank you again for reading!

Chapter 12: Preludes & Plus Ones

Notes:

It's time for a first date y'all.

July 23, 1983

After Steven had dropped her off the night before, Jackie had spent a good hour recounting everything that had happened to Donna—strategically withholding the parts about Todd trying to make a move on her. She didn’t necessarily want to lie. She merely viewed the information as ancillary to her big news with respect to Steven.

Donna had listened patiently, interjecting briefly to make sure that she wasn’t going to stay at the coffee shop forever just because of the raise. Jackie had emphatically confirmed she was going to quit that place as soon as she could. Then she’d proceeded to spend another half hour discussing possible date outfits. Donna mentioned that she might not want to dress too formally—“Hyde’s sort of a low-key guy, just be prepared for that,”—but she had already figured as much. Which was just as well because her selection of formal wear was scarce on the budget she’d been living on.

Yet after discussing it (at length, much to Donna’s chagrin) and sleeping on it, Jackie was still left undecided on what to wear.

It was one of his rare days off, coincidentally, but she decided that she would interrogate him for more details on the date if she could convince him to drive her to the coffee shop that morning. She’d slept restlessly the night before, fitful from her excitement, yet she remained full of energy—there was simply nothing that would prevent her from enjoying the day.

She got ready for work and made her way over to the Formans’. When she arrived at the sliding door, she saw Mrs. Forman and Steven discussing something by the kitchen counter. Mrs. Forman’s expression was practically overflowing with glee, she could hear her laughing through the glass. She was pointing at something on the counter, and Steven looked as though he was deep in thought, listening carefully to whatever Mrs. Forman was saying. 

Jackie opened the door, interrupting their conversation. Mrs. Forman slammed shut what sounded like a book, quickly opening a drawer and placing it inside, before shutting the drawer. 

“Jackie!” Mrs. Forman shouted conspicuously. 

“Hey.” Steven said, and her heart fluttered as one corner of his mouth curved up into an affectionate, lopsided grin.

“Hi Steven,” She smiled widely, before looking at Mrs. Forman, “Good morning, Mrs. Forman.”

Mrs. Forman couldn’t contain her own smile, but she said nothing—clearly not trusting herself to speak without revealing any potential secrets related to what she and Steven had been discussing.

“Will you drive me to work this morning?” She asked with a bat of her lashes, and the stifled huff of laughter it earned suggested her attempts to beguile him were unnecessary—he would have taken her regardless. He gave her a nod.

“Sure thing.” Steven walked around the counter, pulling his keys from his pocket.

“Thank you.” Jackie said, before catching Mrs. Forman’s eye briefly, a curious arch to her brow. Mrs. Forman just giggled and waved her off—apparently she wasn’t going to give anything away, other than her own excitement.

Turning away from her curiosity was difficult, but Jackie followed Steven to the Camino, and unleashed her list of questions, “How should I prepare for tonight? What time are you picking me up? Where are we going?”

He laughed a little, but answered her questions in order, “Dress comfortably. I’ll pick you up at quarter to six. It’s a surprise.”

“Steven!” She whined, but her lips were still pressed into a smile, “How am I supposed to wait all day!”

“Be patient.” He said with a wry grin, and the way he looked at her caused her breath to catch. She didn’t—couldn’t—pester him for any more details with him looking at her like that. So they made small talk while he drove her to work.

Once they arrived at Whole Latte Love, Steven parked and turned towards her. She smiled at him as their eyes met, and he reached for her hand. There was something that passed over his expression as he ran his thumb along her skin. There was a moment where it looked like he wanted to say something soft, maybe something sweet, but he pivoted and instead said, “I gotta get some stuff organized for tonight, so Forman will pick you up from work, if that’s cool.”

She arched her brow curiously, but gave a slight nod, “That’s cool.” She tilted her head slightly, wondering whether he was going to give her a goodbye kiss. Their eyes lingered on each other, but he didn’t make a move—maybe he was trying to be respectful. She tried not to pout as she said, “I’ll see you tonight Steven.”

He did give her hand a slight squeeze before releasing it, “Yeah, see you later.”

She got out and entered the cafe. Todd did not argue with her when she told him she wouldn’t be working overtime that day, he did not come within three feet of her, nor were there any further offers of ‘Todd hugs’. Altogether, it was an inoffensive, if boring, work shit, with the worst part being the awkward silence during lulls. 

Eventually, the minutes began to tick down to the end of her shift so she went to the staff room to collect her bag. She didn’t feel particularly inclined to re-establish a friendly rapport with Todd, so she had intended to leave without so much as a goodbye—however Todd stopped her before she could escape.

“Hey Jackie, one more thing before you leave.”

With a roll of her eyes, she turned towards him adjusting the purse strap on her shoulder to signal her impatience, “Yes, Todd?”

“Look I know we agreed not to discuss what happened yesterday—”

“If we agreed, then why are you continuing to talk about it right now Todd?” Jackie interrupted him, raising her brows.

“I just feel like I owe you an apology. It would mean a lot to me if you would at least hear me out.”

She rolled her eyes again, before she reminded him, “Your apology is meant to be you never talking about this again, Todd.”

Todd nodded slowly, briefly glancing past her, before he said, “You’re right, but I just feel awful and I know you’re looking for other work, but I don’t want things to be awkward like this while we're still here.”

Her ears didn’t register the door chiming behind her, indicating a customer entered, as she was distracted by Todd’s begging. She shrugged her shoulders and relented, “Fine. Go ahead.”

“Well,” Todd began, “I am deeply, truly sorry I tried to kiss you.”

“Whoa, what? ” Eric Forman exclaimed behind her, and Jackie’s eyes widened as she turned around.

“Eric!”

Jackie glanced back towards Todd, who grimaced apologetically and said in a quiet voice, “Oops. I’m just going to—” He swerved away from them and returned to the coffee bar.

“Jackie?” Eric prompted her, though his voice lacked the usual thorny quality it did when he normally addressed her.

She groaned, caught halfway between frustration and embarrassment, “Eric, let’s just go.” She stormed past him, easily spotting the ginormous Vista Cruiser parked on the street and beelining for it.

She slammed the passenger door to the Vista Cruiser closed behind her and lifted her hand to her forehead. It looked bad—it looked like something, even though it was nothing—but she could still do damage control. She turned towards Eric, who had gotten into the driver’s seat and was giving her a bug-eyed, worried look.

“Eric, nothing happened. Todd made a pass at me, but I promise, nothing actually happened.” She immediately launched into an explanation, “Listen, I’m handling it and Steven doesn’t know—”

“Wait, you didn’t tell Hyde?!” Eric exclaimed, suddenly looking even more worried.

“Nothing. Happened.” She said through her teeth, “There’s nothing to tell.”

“Jackie,” Eric said with a long-suffering sigh, “Come on, first your boss in Chicago and now this guy, staying in this kind of environment isn’t good for you—you should tell Hyde and Donna.”

“No, both Steven and Donna will overreact, they’ll tell me I should quit immediately.”

“Good! You should quit immediately!” Eric returned, rolling his eyes and clearly annoyed that she didn’t see the ridiculousness of her argument.

“Eric, I can’t afford to quit yet—I’ll quit when I get another job.” She paused before adding, “And listen, I told Steven I could handle myself, and I can. I’m handling it. It’s handled, in fact.”

“Jackie, he’s not going to be mad, he’s going to be concerned.” Eric paused before he added as an afterthought, “Which may come across as him seeming mad, but that’s only because of his limited capacity to express emotions usually lands somewhere between amusement and anger.”

“I don’t need him to be concerned!” She laughed uncomfortably, “That’s why we don’t need to tell him, or Donna, because there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Well, you can’t honestly expect me to keep this a secret from them.” He scoffed, as if the idea was preposterous, then glanced at her. His hopeful expression soured immediately as she met his gaze, “Jackie, no! I’m a terrible secret keeper, I get all twitchy and guilty, come on you know this!”

“Eric!” She yelled at him, “Just be a man for once in your life!”

“You know what some people think is manly?” Eric posed his rhetorical question in a fake, chipper tone, before he yelled his answer, “Telling the truth!”

The corners of her eyes began to sting with the threat of tears. She had just landed a date with the first guy in a long time—maybe ever—that she felt a genuine connection with, and her stupid boss coming onto her was about to cast a shadow over the whole thing. Still, she didn’t want to give Eric the satisfaction of making her cry. She lifted a hand to dab at her eyes as she muttered bitterly, “Fine. Tell them.”

Eric must’ve glanced at her, because she heard him release an obnoxious, aggrieved sigh before the Vista Cruiser pulled over and parked.

“Jackie, why are you crying about this? If it’s not a big deal then why are you making it a big deal?”

“I’m not crying! And because, Eric!” She blurted out, her voice threateningly watery, “Steven finally asked me out on a date, and I really like him, and Todd just so happened to try making a move the same night. I want our first date to go smoothly. If—if he had known about it—” She paused, inhaling sharply to prevent her emotions from getting out of control, “If he had known about it, he probably wouldn’t have even asked me out because he’s too noble. He would’ve felt like he’d be manipulating me.”

Eric rolled his eyes and groaned loudly, “Eugh, fine! I’ll keep it a secret, but as someone who has kept—or at least, tried to keep—the occasional secret during what is the most important relationship of my life, I, you know, wouldn’t recommend it as a starting point.”

“I’ll tell him, I will.” She reassured him with a sniff, “When the time is right.”

Eric gave a reluctant nod and began driving again. She smiled at him, mostly only because he was focused on the road. There were a number of things she would never see eye-to-eye with Eric about, but Donna had ultimately been right about him. For all his snark, he was a compassionate, good guy.

“Thank you, Eric.” She said in an almost-sweet tone.

He cast her a sideways glance, grimacing a little—before a genuine smile crept across his mouth, “Whoa there Jackie, don’t thank me yet—because if Hyde somehow finds out I kept it from him, I’m taking you down with me, so let’s just keep it real, okay? Okay.”

She laughed, before tucking away the worries related to Todd. She had to focus on getting ready for this date. Steven had told her to dress comfortably, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to look beautiful for him—and beauty, the sort that this date was deserving of, took time and focus.

If only time and focus could make her come to a decision about her outfit.

“Donna, what am I going to do?” Jackie whined into the phone, her luggage had been completely turned inside out—the majority of it strewn across Donna’s bed.

“Jackie, I need you to make this quick, I have to get back on the air after this song.” Donna said, completely unhelpful.

“Well, tell me what to wear!” She demanded, throwing another garment across the room. Donna made a sound that was somewhere between a scoff and a sigh.

“Why don’t you wear that halter top?” Donna suggested, “You can dress it down with a pair of jeans or dress it up with a long skirt.”

“Donna, have I ever told you that you’re the smartest, most genius lumberjack I know?” Jackie blurted out, but didn’t give her an opportunity to respond, “Okay, bye!”

She hung up the phone and began to rummage around the room in search of the items she sought. She opted for the black halter top and a skirt with a floral print that came to about her knee. It was made of a flowy fabric and showed off enough leg that she could be flirtatious with it, without it being too revealing—while her top would show off her shoulders and upper back, the sweetheart neckline drawing attention to her throat and collar bones. She was sure to completely bewitch him with this combination.

She tidied her make-up and then checked the clock—Steven would be knocking on the door in less than fifteen minutes. She knew he would probably be willing to wait for her if she was running behind, but she wanted to at least try and be on time. She glanced back at her reflection, debating whether or not to put her hair up or down. If her hair was a little longer she might have been obligated to put her hair up in order to show off her back (it was a halter top after all), but with her new cut it looked fine with it down. She touched up a few of the curls around her shoulders, and made her way downstairs.

“Wow Jackie, don’t you look nice!” Bob Pinciotti’s brows shot up in surprise as she walked through the living room towards the front door, “Where you off to tonight?”

She was unable to resist the huge smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth, “I have a date with Steven tonight!”

“Oh, is that so!” Bob shifted in his seat awkwardly, “Well, I know yer a grown woman and all, and Steven’s always been a stand up friend to Donna, but I also think, you know, he should be treatin’ you gentlemanly like. You know, bringin’ you home at a reasonable hour and all.” She could see him struggle with the effort to contain his protectiveness. Jackie giggled fondly at him.

“Don’t worry, Bob. I’m sure Steven will be a perfect gentleman.” Jackie reassured him, and just on time there was a knock at the door. “Oh! There he is, have a good night Bob!”

In her youth, she had often fixated upon trying to act cool and coy—letting the man do all of the chasing—but now she ran towards the door, unable to keep her excitement contained. And, it appeared, her excitement was for good reason. When Jackie opened the door, revealing Steven behind it, she nearly fell over from the shock.

“Steven! You shaved your beard!” She exclaimed, staring up at him with delighted awe.

He was clean shaven, looking much like his younger self with the sideburns—looking rather dashing, if she had to be honest. She immediately flushed, just barely resisting the urge to take his face in her hands and press a kiss to his lips. He gave a slight shrug, and said casually, “Well, I have a hot date tonight.”

He was certainly dressed casually, wearing a Led Zeppelin tee—the one he had been wearing when she’d first met him, she noticed—with a dark jacket and jeans. But also she noticed the way he was leaning against the door frame—was he trying to look cool? How cute.

Even behind his shades, she could see the way his eyes swept over her after the initial shock of revealing his clean shaven face, and he stood up slightly straighter, as he said, almost absentmindedly, “Wow…you look beautiful.” He then seemed to remember himself and cleared his throat, almost as though he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

The date hadn’t even really started and her cheeks were already starting to hurt from smiling so much. She tried to seem coy, batting her eyelashes, “Thank you, Steven, and you do look very handsome by the way.” Unable to resist the urge any longer, she stepped up onto her tiptoes and pressed a kiss against his cheek. 

She felt his hand almost instinctively settle on her waist as she did so, before he said, “Well, uh, you ready to go?”

“Whenever you are!” She answered, stepping out of the house and closing the door behind her.

He gestured for her to follow him out to the Camino, so she did. After a few steps, he tentatively reached towards her hand—she was quick to catch his hand and intertwine their fingers. She was starting to realize that while he didn’t seem to have a natural inclination towards talking, he was surprisingly physically affectionate. 

She knew the talking would come with the comfort of time and trust, and she loved it when he touched her. In fact, it was taking every ounce of her resolve not to melt into a puddle at his feet right then and there. A small part of her began to worry that he was going to make it difficult for her to maintain some semblance of composure for the entire date night.

“Where are we going?” She asked, as he put the car into drive and started down the road.

“Mount Hump.” He told her, glancing briefly to catch the bewildered look on her face. He grinned widely, and added, “Look, it’s just a nice date spot—don’t worry about the name.”

She knew she had no cause to worry, but she couldn’t resist teasing him, “Well okay, because Bob might just beat you up if you act out of line.”

“I promise, no funny business.” He assured her, then added, “You know Forman and Donna considered it for a wedding spot? It’s nice up there.”

Adequately mollified, she settled back into her seat and shook her head, “Only those two would ever consider a place like Mount Hump for a wedding ceremony.”

The drive wasn’t terribly long, and once they arrived he draped a blanket across the flatbed and began to rummage around in a cooler. With her curiosity burning under her skin, she was unable to stand still and wait—instead circling around behind him, trying to sneak a peek at whatever it was that he was organizing. It looked like a picnic, with a number of items to snack on. 

He glanced at her from over his shoulder and gestured towards the flatbed, “You can sit down.”

She plopped down, smoothing her skirt with one hand, while she leaned on the other over the cooler full of food. He was busy taking the caps off of the two bottles of cola he’d fished out, while she took stock. There appeared to be some fancy looking sandwiches, a salad, something wrapped up at the bottom that she couldn’t see—dessert, maybe—and oh god, were those deviled eggs?

“Steven, where did you get all of this?” She murmured, it looked like restaurant quality food.

“I made it. Well, most of it.” He responded casually.

“You made all of this?” She stared at him, but he avoided her gaze. She wasn’t sure if it was the glow of the sunset or if he was feeling shy, but his ears looked a little red, and her heart nearly burst out of her chest. No one had ever organized something like this for her before. How was she supposed to control herself with him pulling stunts like this?

It was a good thing he handed the cola bottle to her, because she was perilously close to pulling him into the flatbed, hiking up her skirt and straddling him then and there. She sipped gingerly, watching him arrange two plates.

Eventually, he looked at her again—she felt him watching her while she took her first couple of bites. The sandwich was filling and hearty, the salad was refreshing, and the fancy deviled eggs were the best she had ever eaten before in her entire life. Conversation had all but stalled, because she was far too busy humming in delight with every bite of food. Stuffing her face on a date was not something she normally liked to do—but she couldn’t be bothered to care, his cooking was that good. And in any case, he seemed pleased by the fact that she enjoyed his food.

Once the plates were cleared and they were left with their half-drunk colas, Steven pulled out the wrapped container—which he finally revealed to hold lemon bars.

“Steven! Lemon bars!” She loved tart treats, how did he know that?

“Mrs. Forman may have helped me with this one.”

He handed her a smaller dessert plate with a lemon bar, and then sat back down with his own. She was going to savor this one, and she was finally going to get back to the point of this date—which was to get to know him better, not just stuff her face.

But first, one bite. She sighed happily, enjoying the pop of lemon flavor in her mouth, before she opened her eyes and looked at him, “Steven, this is the best date ever.”

He arched a brow at her in what appeared to be disbelief, “We haven’t really talked in almost twenty minutes.”

“Well, it’s your fault!” She told him, gently smacking his thigh, “How can I talk when you’re putting all this good food in front of me?” He grinned wryly, but didn’t say anything. Her tone remained playful, but she narrowed her eyes, “Am I allowed to start asking you personal questions then? Because I’m a trained reporter you know, I’ll uncover all your mysteries.” She punctuated her question with taking another bite of the lemon bar.

He shoved the remainder of his lemon bar in his mouth, perhaps to buy him a few moments to reflect upon her question. He chewed thoughtfully, before wiping his mouth and hands with a napkin. Afterwards, he finally placed his empty plate in the cooler, and turned to face her, “Yeah, okay Nancy Drew, I’ll answer what I can.”

She tilted her head to the side, considering him, before she asked, “What do you mean?”

He inhaled and held the breath in his chest for a moment, before exhaling slowly, “I mean I’ll answer what I want to.”

He really didn’t trust her as much as she trusted him, she realized. Had she been younger and less wise to the world, she might have grown frustrated in her impatience—but she nodded at him instead. “Fair enough.”

His shoulders seemed to relax slightly, as though he’d been holding tension in his body. He cleared his throat and then said, “I can ask you things too, right?”

She knew she was a fool. Perhaps the most foolish woman in the entire world. In his company the memory of all her past hurts and disappointments felt so distant to her now. She felt so sure that he wouldn’t hurt her, and so she was willing to give him every opportunity to do so. She wanted to believe in love again, even at the risk of him possibly stomping all over her heart like every other boy before.

It didn’t matter, because he was worth that risk.

She smiled brightly at him, “Of course, for you I’m an open book.” She finished off the last few bites of her lemon bar, while he sat there blinking at her.

 

---

 

Hyde stared at her for a long moment, as she wiped the crumbs of her lemon bar from her mouth and tossed her empty plate into the cooler.

She was utterly fearless. After all he’d learned about her dating history, and how her mother had all but abandoned her in her time of need—he couldn’t believe how unafraid she was of trusting him. What had he even done to earn that, he wondered? 

A part of him envied her.

She met his gaze, her mouth nearly stunning him with another smile, but her brow arched curiously instead and she asked, “Well, are you going to ask me something, Steven?”

“Ladies first, you said you had questions.” Personal questions. He tried to swallow against his burgeoning anxiety.

“Okay.” She thought for a moment, and then asked him a question he wasn’t expecting at all, “So, remember the night we went to the bar to celebrate Eric’s graduation? You tried to pick up that woman, and now you’re taking me out on a date. Can I ask why you’re suddenly interested in me?”

He blinked at her. She didn’t seem upset, just genuinely curious. He supposed it had been sort of a leap, and he’d been kind of an ass avoiding her the past couple of weeks. He shrugged and answered honestly, “I was trying to get away from this.” He gestured between the two of them, “Didn’t think you’d consider staying around Point Place, so it all felt a little pointless.”

She nodded, absorbing his words, and then asked, “What all felt a little pointless?”

My feelings for you, he wanted to say, but instead he said, “Just, you know.” He shrugged.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, it wasn’t a sufficient answer—it wasn’t what she wanted to hear—but she didn’t press him. Instead she gestured towards him, “Your turn.”

Well, since they were on the subject anyways.

“Why were you so mad at me that night?” He asked, his tone matter-of-fact rather than accusatory.

She pursed her lips, clearly displeased with the question he’d posed, but she relented after a moment and answered him, “Steven, you dismissed me! You were basically ignoring me until you weren’t!” She paused, “And I was jealous, okay? But mostly, I don’t like being ignored. No one should even be capable of ignoring me!”

He remembered what she had said, about other people making her feel insignificant, and he was struck with a sharp stab of guilt. He cleared his throat, “Sorry, old habit.” He said that as if it was a good enough excuse, but gestured towards her and tried to move past it. “Your turn.”

She considered him for a moment and then asked, “What do you mean by old habit?”

“Pass?” He suggested, but the pout on her face indicated that she didn’t appear inclined to accept that for an answer. He glanced at his hands, fiddling with his pinky ring, “All right, it’s like Zen.”

“Zen?” She repeated, her brow arched slightly, indicating she didn’t understand his meaning.

“Yeah, Zen. At peace. Aloof. Zen. You know, if someone’s tryin’ to get under your skin, just don’t let them—or don’t let them know if they do.” He paused, wondering if he should explain more to her. But she absorbed his words thoughtfully, and slowly there was a look of realization that dawned upon her.

“Oh, that’s why you’re so ambiguous sometimes.”

“Yeah, man. Sometimes, it’s just easier to act like things don’t affect you, you know? Never quite grew out of the habit but I do it more when—” He paused and shifted, feeling a little uncomfortable. He could feel her watching him—he knew she wanted to ask him why, but he didn’t want to talk to her about Edna, Bud or the gaping hole of abandonment and trust issues that existed somewhere in the chambers of his heart. Not tonight, at least. It’d be a real mood killer. He finished his statement belatedly, “It depends.”

Jackie’s lips twitched, and she appeared to be resisting the urge to smile at him. Had that answer endeared her to him somehow? Her curiosity must’ve found it somewhat satisfying, because she just murmured, “Your turn.”

He shifted in his seat, feeling the need to redirect the conversation elsewhere, “So, what’s the deal with wanting to be on TV to do the news? Couldn’t you write for a paper or magazine or something?” She scowled at him, immediately seeming offended by his question. His brow furrowed, “What?”

She pointed at herself and said, “Steven, this is not a face for writing in the paper! I have a face for TV!” She sounded vexed that he had even needed her to explain it to him.

He laughed, unfazed by her annoyance. He leaned over to bump her shoulder with his, “Your turn.”

She didn’t even hesitate, immediately blurting out her question, “What do you like about me?”

He felt his neck flush with heat nearly reaching up to his now exposed cheeks, and he was forced to look away from her. He kept his eyes down, focusing on a patch of grass off to the side while he shook his head. It wasn’t the right thing to say—he hadn’t always been great at saying the right thing—but he couldn’t help himself from answering her question with a question, “Aren’t you supposed to be getting to know me, not fishin’ for compliments?”

“Well I wouldn’t have to fish for compliments if you would tell me what you like about me.” She responded, and he could tell she was pouting without even looking at her, “Tonight was the first time you’ve ever complimented me sober, you know.”

He hadn’t even meant to let those words slip out—was it really the first time he had complimented her like that? Well, Mrs. Forman had basically cornered him into telling her she was pretty that first day they’d met, but that didn’t really count.

“You don’t need me to tell you you’re beautiful, you already know you are.” He argued, and her hand shoved his shoulder gently, no doubt trying to get him to look at her. He didn’t.

“Steven, I like to hear it when my man thinks I’m beautiful! Which should be daily, if not hourly, by the way!”

He wanted to lean into feelings of jealousy or stubbornness—point out that she always had loads of people calling her beautiful and she always batted her eyelashes at them whenever they did—but a ticklish feeling had replaced it when she called him ‘her man’. Against his will, he smirked as he lifted his gaze and looked at her. He asked, softly, “One date, and I’m your man, huh?”

She blinked at him, tipping her chin up slightly, “Well I—you said you want me to stay after August.”

“Yeah, I did say that.” He agreed with a nod. His eyes searched hers, and after a quiet moment he finally admitted, almost sounding annoyed, “Look, Jackie, I don’t really believe in beauty standards and all that crap…but I’ll try to say it more often if it makes you happy, all right?”

“All right.” She looked pleased to no end by his words, and her pout curved into a bright smile, despite the fact that his tone had been irritable. She was so damn beautiful, it frustrated him to no end.

“To answer your question, though, there are a lot of things I like about you—not just your looks.”

“Like what?” She immediately asked, but he shook his head.

“It’s my turn now.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Did you always want to go into journalism? To be on TV?”

“Oh.” She shook her head. “No, when I was younger I expected I’d end up a lot like my mom, married to a wealthy man, taking care of the household and rearing children. But with the threat of being out on the street I had to give up on that pretty quick.”

That wasn’t necessarily true. She had good enough looks to be a trophy wife, she could’ve probably gotten any rich guy to put a ring on her finger. His confusion must have registered in his expression, because she smiled at him again and said, “Steven, I also wanted to be in love with my husband. The rich thing was mostly because of my upbringing, I had a certain lifestyle before, you know.”

He knew it was technically her turn, but he asked a follow up anyway, “Do you regret it? Going to college, I mean?”

“No.” She was still smiling, “I don’t think I would’ve found that life fulfilling, to be honest with you. Life is hard right now, but I’m not unhappy. Plus I wouldn’t have met Donna…and I wouldn’t have met you.”

Hyde didn’t believe in soul mates. It went against all of his core principles to give weight to something as incidental as destiny or fate. To him, making a conscious choice to be with someone meant more than some nonsensical bullshit about the stars aligning. But, sometimes, the way Jackie talked about him or looked at him made him want to go back to a time in his life when he at least believed in things like true love.

He cleared his throat, and said lightheartedly, “Not to mention you can’t really cook, so you’d probably make a better breadwinner anyway.” 

“Hey!” She slapped his shoulder playfully, but giggled, “Anyway, it’s my turn.”

“Shoot.”

“I know you mentioned your father gave you Grooves, but did you ever want to go to college?”

“No.” He answered immediately, drawn into old memories of his frequent truancy, “I always hated school.”

“But you’re so smart!” She complained, and he felt a warmth spread in his chest at her compliment.

“Doesn’t mean I enjoyed school.” He said nonchalantly, “Honestly, I don’t know where I’d be if W.B. didn’t give me the store. He invited me to work at the office in Milwaukee for a while, but it wasn’t really my style. I doubt I would’ve stuck with it. I guess I’d have probably ended up working at Red’s muffler shop—and that wouldn’t have been so bad, either.”

She absorbed his words quietly, with a pout. “Well, all right. Your turn.”

He glanced out over the view, the lights of Point Place glittering below them, before he asked idly, “What are some other dreams you have?” He glanced back at her, and saw she had followed his gaze out across Point Place.

She hummed thoughtfully, before she began with, “Well I’d still like to get married and have a family one day.”

Huh, she really was an open book, not the least bit insecure about declaring that on a first date. He’d be a liar if he said it didn’t give him a little bit of anxiety, but he kept his expression neutral. He could respect that she knew what she wanted out of life, and that she wasn’t going to lie about it.

“But besides that I’d really like to travel some more, maybe see more of Europe. My parents took me to France once, but I was six so I don’t really remember it all that well.”

He nodded slowly, and raised his brows, “Your turn.”

“Well, I want to ask this, but I promise it’s just out of curiosity.” She started, and his gut clenched with anxiety—worried she was going to ask him something he didn’t want to answer. But then she said, “Trust me, as someone currently squatting at the Pinciotti’s, I mean this with no judgment but—you have a thriving business, you’re self-sufficient, and yet you still live with the Formans’, why?”

Oh. It was another question he hadn’t quite expected, but it was warranted he supposed. He was twenty-two, turning twenty-three in November. And she wasn’t wrong, there really wasn’t a good reason for why he hadn’t moved out on his own. He shifted in his seat, wetting his lips before he answered.

“Back when I first moved in, the factory Red had been working at closed down and times were tough for them. Then things seemed to get better, but then he had a heart attack in ‘78. Mrs. Forman was working herself to the bone, Forman even postponed going to college.” He paused briefly, before he shrugged, “When he finally went off to college the following year, I met W.B. and got the record store, so I decided to stay. And Mrs. Forman kept telling me she wanted me to stick around with Forman gone, but I mostly stayed, because you know…just in case.”

“In case they needed financial help.” She finished his sentence for him, forcing him to give a slight nod.

“Red keeps talking about retirement, and when he finally does then I’ll know that they’re good.” It wasn’t necessarily a guarantee, but it was the logical conclusion his brain had arrived at. He glanced at her, and she had a look on her face that he couldn’t quite place. Admiration, maybe? 

“Rock solid.” She whispered.

“What?” He asked, but she shook her head.

“Nothing, never mind.” She gestured towards him, “Your turn.”

His mouth curved into a slight grin and he leaned back on his hands, before posing a question she’d asked back to her, “What do you like about me?”

Her eyes narrowed and she made a face, deepening her voice in an attempt to mock him as she mimicked what he had said, “A lot of things.”

He laughed and nodded slowly, prepared for her to fix him with another question, but instead she kept on answering, rattling off a list of unexpected things. Unlike her, excessive praise usually made him squirm—and this time was no different—but his discomfort was slightly tempered with the thrill he felt, knowing just how much she liked him.

“You’re handsome, smart and self-assured, it feels like you know who you are—although I think you’re too stubborn for your own good. And I hate that you hate ABBA. In fact, most of your taste in music is questionable.” He tried to suppress his grin as she deviated from properly answering the question. She sighed then, “But you’re a good man. I can tell you have a good heart. And I…I feel safe when I’m with you...”

He met her gaze as her sentence drifted off, his grin fading slowly. His heart pounded in his chest with a type of joy he had never quite felt before, but each beat was weighed down by a sense of responsibility. It was terrifying, how much he cared about her—how much he didn’t want to let her down, not ever.

“A lot of things.” She repeated quietly, her eyes never leaving his.

He swallowed against some words that he wasn’t quite ready to say, and instead said, “Your turn.”

He watched the slow swoop of her lashes as she blinked, and then she asked in a soft voice, “Are you going to kiss me again tonight?”

She was leaning towards him, tilting her head just slightly—inviting him to answer the question. 

He responded immediately, not shy about seizing an opportunity he had been waiting for. He moved closer towards her slowly, giving her time to hesitate or pull away, but she was drawn towards him. Her eyelashes fluttered shut as their lips touched, gentle at first. His focus narrowed to the point of contact. Much like the previous night relief and desire flooded him. When she stayed there, with him, he was unable to resist pressing another soft kiss against her mouth. He then felt her warm palm against his jaw and a shiver ran down his spine, the permission he’d been seeking. 

He deepened the kiss slowly, deliberately, wanting to savor tasting her. She inhaled through her nose and sighed against his mouth—and God he wanted to touch her, wanted to kiss her for the rest of the night, wanted to kiss her until she was breathless. But if he was going to be really serious about her he had to pace himself.

As they reluctantly pulled away from each other, she was looking at his mouth, and she exhaled appreciatively, “Wow.”

He sounded a little dazed to his own ears as he said, “Yeah.”

She looked into his eyes for a long quiet moment, before she finally recovered and said, “Um, your turn?”

His body was buzzing with excitement, with the want to kiss her again, but first things first—he had to make sure this wasn’t going to be a one time thing. He grinned broadly and asked, “At the risk of you turning me down, since I’m so stubborn and you hate my taste in music so much, but do you wanna go out again?”

She didn’t hesitate or tease him—the smile on her face outshining the moon and stars above, as she said cheerfully, “Yes, I would love to.”

 

---

 

Truly, she could not have imagined the date going better than it had. She didn’t want the evening to end, but eventually the evening had encroached upon them and she could tell Steven was taking this seriously—he had even lent her his coat after she’d shivered when a breeze had blown by. He wanted to treat her right, so he cleared his throat after a little while, “Well, I should probably take you home.”

“Okay.” She agreed, her disappointment at the approaching end apparently obvious.

He got up off the flatbed and held his hand up for her to take to help her off the flatbed. She took it, and when he spoke she could hear the amusement in his voice, “Jackie, you already agreed to go on a second date, we’ll hang out lots.”

“Promise?” She pressed, unable to resist the urge even though it made her seem needy.

“Yes.” He laughed a little.

“I’ll hold you to it, Steven Hyde.” She pointed at him as she walked around to the passenger side of the car.

Without missing a beat, he returned flirtatiously, “You can hold onto me whenever you want.”

She blushed and giggled, “Oh is that so?”

He offered her a good-natured grin, and after starting the Camino up, he held his hand out towards her for her to take. She laced her fingers with his and held his hand as he drove them back down the road to the Pinciotti and Forman residences.

Jackie had never been the sort of woman to get naked with a guy on the first date, but when he had kissed her earlier she’d be a damned liar if she said she hadn’t thought about it. The way he kissed practically made every nerve ending along her body wake up, and the pleasure surreptitiously promised simply from the way his mouth moved against hers sparked an intense temptation. However, the scars of her past relationship with Chip still remained—she was over him, but she was nevertheless hesitant about jumping into bed with someone right away. 

Logically, she knew Steven hadn’t asked her out just to sleep with her for the simple fact that Donna would probably kill him, but she still wanted to wait for the right time. She had the sneaking suspicion Steven wasn’t in a particular rush—as if he felt that they had a lot of kissing and caressing to catch up on first.

They drove home, discussing simple things like the music on the radio and where he might take her on their second date—he was even open to going out to see a movie of her choice—and eventually they reached their destination.

He continued to surprise her by walking her to the door, and she couldn’t resist the giddy smirk that appeared on her mouth. Privately, she knew she had to tell Mrs. Forman that no matter his upbringing, she had raised him to be a real gentleman. He noticed the smile on her face and arched his brow curiously as they came to a stop at the door. She shook her head, not wanting to share with him her little secret—not yet.

“Thank you for tonight Steven, I had a wonderful time.”

“You’re welcome, I had a pretty great time too.”

She took a step towards him, placing her hand on his chest as she went up on her tiptoes to press a goodnight kiss against his lips. His hand found the small of her back and held her there for a moment longer, as he doubled up with a second peck. Slowly she lowered herself back down, her eyes never leaving his.

“Good night, Steven.” She murmured.

His mouth curved into another slow smile, and he appeared thoughtful for a moment, before he said quietly, “Good night, Jackie.”

He turned to leave as she reached for the door, and once inside she collapsed against the door with a soft, dreamy sigh—her hand settling over the fluttering of her heart. She resisted the urge to squeal in delight, knowing Bob or Donna might already be in bed, and instead moved quickly and quietly through the house up to the room.

She saw the light on below the door to Donna’s room—thank god.

She gave a quick knock, “Donna, I’m home, can I come in?”

“Yeah.” Donna called from inside, and once she opened the door she saw Donna was looking at her with a brow arched curiously, “So, how did your date with Hyde go?”

“Oh my god, Donna.” She sighed happily again, feeling a blush across the surface of her entire body, “It was the best date ever. He cooked for me! He made a little picnic, and then we just hung out and talked all night.”

“He cooked for you, wow!” Donna grinned widely, and Jackie could tell immediately that the redhead intended to tease him about this newfound knowledge, “That’s quite the date, you must’ve melted.”

“Oh Donna,” Jackie scoffed and began to pace around the room, still buzzing from excitement, “It took nearly all of my strength not to turn into a puddle all night. When he kissed me, I swear, I nearly demanded he take me right there in the flatbed—but outdoor sex is so risky. What if someone walks by? What if a wild animal attacks you? What if the cops pull over? I maintained my composure, but just barely.”

She laughed, “Well I’m glad you had a good time.”

“Donna.” Jackie came to a stop in front of her, her hands together in front of her as she picked at her nailpolish, “I wasn’t able to really be ‘chill’ though, what if I came on too strongly?”

“Jackie.” Donna rolled her eyes, “He would’ve said something if you’d made him uncomfortable, trust me.”

“No, not like that, I mean, oh god—” She ran her hands through her hair, “He’s so easy to talk to, I just blabbed the truth to every question he asked! Donna, I told him I want to get married and have kids in the future.”

The redhead grimaced slightly, “Yeesh, on a first date, Jackie?”

“Donna!” She exclaimed in a whisper shout—still keeping her voice down in case Bob was trying to sleep, “I mean—I didn’t say I wanted to marry him, just that I want to get married and have a family someday. That’s a pretty normal wish for women my age, I think.”

“Well, I mean, that’s less bad.” Donna said reasonably, “It’s good for him to know where your head is at long-term, because the last thing you want to do is sink several years into a relationship and find out you’re irreconcilably incompatible.”

She blinked at Donna, as another realization dawned upon her, “But Donna, I didn’t ask him what his future dreams are. Oh my god, what if we are irreconcilably incompatible?!”

“Jackie, like I said, if anything you’d said was a red flag—he would’ve just told you so.” She shook her head slightly, “Hyde doesn’t like to waste his time either. And for what it’s worth, I don’t think he plans too hard for the future of anything.”

“So you’re saying he might be open to me and him long-term, like for real?” She asked, slowly lowering herself down onto her cot.

Donna smiled again, “Yeah, I can honestly say, I haven’t seen him like this anyone else before.”

Her heart was pounding in her chest—beating to the drum of cautious, but excited optimism—and a smile returned to her face, “Well, I can honestly, truly say I don’t think I’ve felt this way about someone before either.”

Notes:

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 13: Veils & Garters

Notes:

A wee bit o'spice in this chapter!

August 12, 1983

Jackie had tried to be low-key about asking him to go on a date the day before the bachelor and bachelorette parties, but it hadn’t taken him long to suss out that she was feeling insecure over the fact that he was going to be looking at a bunch of naked women the following day. He figured it was because they hadn’t quite gotten to the point of being naked with each other yet. They’d had plenty of intense make out sessions over the last couple of weeks—usually fully-clothed—and she’d straddled his hips and grinded against him a couple nights ago. However, they had mutually (if reluctantly) pulled away from one another. Though that spark of desire clearly existed between them, he could tell she wasn’t ready yet.

And he was fine with that—but he still didn’t like that she felt weird about the whole strip club deal.

Hyde had been hesitant to draw attention to it, not wanting her to get the wrong impression and feel pressured to put out—so instead he had tried to overcompensate with affection. He had held her hand at every reasonable opportunity, he had held her face when he kissed her, and he had tucked her against him with his arm around her shoulders during the movie.

She had seemed to be in a good mood after he had dropped her off next door, and he had retired to his bedroom to read. He had made it about a third of the way through a chapter of the book he’d been reading, when he heard what sounded like a muffled, disgusted shriek. His brow furrowed as he dog-eared the page he was on, before hopping off his cot and walking towards the back door.

“Jackie?”

There was a pause, before he heard her voice—quieter this time—accompanied by a gentle knock, “Hey, sorry, can I come in?”

Immediately he unlocked and opened the door, “Hey, is somethin’ wrong? What’re you doing here?”

“Yes!” She said dramatically, “It’s so wrong, Steven!”

He had seen her less than forty minutes ago, and as his gaze swept over her, she looked the same as she did when he’d left her on the porch—except a little more bothered than the way she’d looked after the long, languid goodbye kiss they’d shared. He blinked at her, unable to fully mask his concern as he pressed her to explain, “What’s wrong?”

“Eric and Donna are having sex!” She blurted out in a whiny tone, grimacing. The relief that hit him like a truck was immediate, but it was quickly chased by humor rattling down throughout his entire body. He stifled a laugh as she continued to complain, “I didn’t want to interrupt them, but I also didn’t want to wait around for them to finish. So I was trying to leave a note telling Eric to just stay the night—you know, because I’m such a nice person. But now I really wish I hadn’t, because I overheard him—Eric—moaning! Ew Steven, ew!”

Stifling his laughter became impossible at that point. “Steven, I'm serious! I’m afraid I heard something that I can never unhear!” She walked past him and collapsed on the couch as a full body shiver wracked her, undoubtedly an attempt to shake off the jitters she was dealing with.

He smirked and settled down onto the couch next to her. He placed his arm across her shoulders and tucked her against his side. She moved with him, leaning her head on his shoulder and curling towards him with a sigh, “Steven, can I crash on your couch?”

He angled his head to look down at her, “Nah, just take my cot, I’ll use the couch.”

“Steven, no, I’m not going to steal your bed.”

“It’s not stealin’ if I’m offerin’, Jackie.”

She lifted her head from his shoulder and peered up at him, the look in her eyes revealing that she was contemplating something. He felt her fingers idly toying with the fabric of his shirt, tickling the skin of his abdomen beneath. Eventually, she spoke.

“Well, I mean, if we count the night you asked me out, we’ve been seeing each other for three weeks.”

He blinked at her, uncertain as to the trajectory of her thought pattern—he wondered if she was suggesting they share the cot, but didn’t want to jump to conclusions. His tone was neutral when he responded, “Okay.”

“I just mean, it might be okay to share a bed. Maybe. I don’t know.” The words tumbled from her mouth, and he felt her body tense with nerves.

“Jackie, we don’t have to share the cot—really, I don’t mind.”

“Well, I don’t mind if we do.” She admitted, before clarifying, “I mean, to sleep, you know?”

He considered her words for a moment before he nodded slowly, “Yeah, just to sleep.”

“Really?” She asked, her expression a mingling of surprise and relief before she raised her brows and smiled at him, “Are you sure you won’t find me irresistible?”

He grinned and stated bluntly, “Well, I never said I wouldn't get a boner, but I won’t have any expectations.”

She laughed and lightly smacked his chest, but repeated her question, “Really though, you wouldn’t mind?

His brow furrowed, utterly bewildered at her course of thought, “Why would I mind having you in my bed?” Honestly, there were only a few things he could think of that would be better than getting to hold her close all night—and those few things also happened to involve holding her close, but he was fine with all of that coming later.

“Well, you know, if we’re just sleeping it’s kind of like…” She drifted off, seeming unsure about the words she wanted to say. Finally, she rolled her eyes. She gave up on finding a delicate way to phrase it, and blurted out, “It’s kind of a girlfriend boyfriend thing to do, don’t you think?”

“So?” 

“Well I—I mean…” A wrinkle appeared between her brows, and suddenly she looked annoyed.

“Jackie, why would that bother me? Aren’t we…?” He shrugged as his sentence petered off.

“Boyfriend and girlfriend?” She supplied, her eyes narrowing.

“I mean, yeah.” 

“Steven!” She smacked his chest again. He could tell she was trying to appear stern or annoyed, but her mouth betrayed her by curving into a wide smile, “Why didn’t you tell me you thought of me as your girlfriend?”

He chuckled, feeling a little incredulous, “I thought that was obvious when I asked you out on a date and said it’d be cool if you stayed nearby instead of going back to Chicago?” 

She didn’t—or maybe couldn’t—stop smiling at him, her eyes sparkling with utter delight. He scoffed gently and added, “Jackie, I have no plans to see anyone else right now, do you?”

“Absolutely not, I only want to be with you.” She said immediately, placing her hand on his chest and leaning forward to kiss his cheek, instigating that now familiar burst of fluttery feelings all throughout his chest cavity. She sighed happily and leaned her head back on his shoulder, “I’m so glad we had this talk, I feel so much better now. I never thought I’d say this in a million years, but I’m glad Eric’s getting laid tonight.”

He laughed and lifted his hand to turn her chin up so he could kiss her. She pressed her lips against his mouth softly, sweetly. When she pulled back she sat up a little straighter and patted his chest, “Okay, well I’m going to run to that convenience store that’s open late—it won’t be my usual stuff, but I am not going to try and sneak into Donna’s room and get my toiletries."

He rubbed her back as he looked down at her, “Nah, I’ll drive you.”

Later, after an impromptu errand run, they had returned and dressed for bed. He’d lent her one of his tee shirts, while he’d put on his usual sweats and a tank top. They stood in the space of his room, looking at each other for a long moment, both of them unsure how to initiate getting into the bed. Eventually, he turned off the light and moved to settle onto the cot. Wordlessly, he reached for her hand and gently guided her to get in beside him.

He had expected for them to just lay down and try to sleep—but she climbed in facing him and began to talk instead.

“Steven, this is really nice of you to let me stay.” Judging from her tone, she wasn’t sleepy at all and he wagered she’d be up and talking for the next little bit. Which was fine by him, because it was hard to not react to her fingers moving across his skin as she touched and caressed him with a fretful sort of energy. He kept his limbs loose though, and listening to her prattle on would help calm him down. She continued to tell him random things, about work or pop culture, until she finally blurted out,“I love cuddling, and now I get to cuddle you all night—isn’t this great? You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind.” He repeated, smiling in the dark of his room, recalling a time when they had all teased Forman relentlessly for ‘just cuddling’ with Donna when she’d slept over the first time. He could hear Kelso’s dumb voice echoing in his head—“But Eric, why cuddle when you could do it!”

As if to retroactively make a point—or perhaps correct his own immature thinking from that time—his arm draped over her to cuddle her properly, his hand settling between her shoulder blades and his thumb idly stroking the fabric of the tee shirt.

“You’re very affectionate, Steven.” She told him suddenly, and he wasn’t sure why, but her voicing it out loud made his face grow warm and left him feeling almost boyish, almost shy. He didn’t know what to say, or if he was even supposed to say anything at all, but she continued to throw out her observations regardless. “When we first met, it seemed like you didn’t like being touched hardly at all and you crossed your arms a lot, but ever since we started dating…”

She left the statement incomplete, and after a moment he cleared his throat. His voice was quiet, but sarcastic as he offered an explanation, “I wasn’t hugged a lot as a kid. Kinda the opposite, really.”

He couldn’t see the finer details of her face in the dark, but he could see her eyes looking at him. Her hand reached up and gently touched his cheek, and his initial instinct was to bristle—as a part of his brain involuntarily interpreted the contact as pity and reacted accordingly. He inhaled and exhaled a deep breath, forcing himself to relax, and she surprised him by understanding.

“It’s okay Steven, I get it.” She said softly, pausing as her thumb followed the natural curve of his cheekbone, before her tone became more conversational, “When you’re not used to something, it’s easy to receive it negatively. When Donna and I first became friends, she would try to offer me budgeting advice—and I would get so upset with her. I thought she was mocking me and feeling sorry for me, and I felt stupid because I’d ended up nearly penniless at nineteen after having lived my whole life never having to worry about money at all. But I want you to know that I’m not trying to pity you or mock you—I just care about you. Really, I do.”

“I get it, I get it.” The words burst out of him, as the uproar of simultaneously anxious and joyful feelings tangling together in his heart needed to silence the tender course of her admission. However, Jackie didn’t always stop talking when she had thoughts she wanted to share.

“You deserved better.” She blurted out, her voice tinged with a gentle ire.

He smiled again, in spite of the thunderous, nervous beating of his heart in his chest. He sighed a little, “Well, so did you. You know just as well as I do that the leavin’ was the worst part.”

He saw the outline of her jaw move as she opened her mouth to say something, but then she closed it slowly, allowing the ensuing silence to pervade. Maybe she was waiting for him to tell her more or explain what he meant. He could have told her that when Edna was smacking him around or yelling at him, at least she was paying attention to him—and as awful as all of it was, as angry and hurt as it had made him feel, being so unimportant to her to be forgotten or left behind had somehow stung worse.

He didn’t want to tell her that though, because she was emotional and the last thing he wanted was for her to start crying or ranting about how horrible his mother was. But maybe one of these days he could explain it to her fully, so she understood him a little better. Trusting a girlfriend with some of those things was what a normal boyfriend would do—wasn’t it?

He closed his eyes and sighed deeply as he held her. He said softly, “Let’s not spoil the mood.”

“It’s not spoiling the mood to tell me about yourself, Steven.” She murmured after a moment, “But I don’t want you to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

He felt her press a kiss against the corner of his mouth. He responded by turning his face to kiss her fully on the lips, before settling his head back down on the pillow. She tucked herself against him, exhaling a contented breath.

“You’ll talk about it when you’re ready.” She told him, and he believed her. She changed the subject then, whispering into the quiet night about whatever random things popped into her mind. They laughed together, exchanged a few secrets with one another, idly chatting until Jackie’s restless energy began to settle down. By that point he was already fighting to stay awake, and he was relieved when the silent pauses in between her words grew longer, her sentences were punctuated with soft yawns and he felt her breathing relax.

And finally, before he slipped off into unconsciousness, he heard her murmur one last, “Good night, Steven.”

 

---

 

August 13, 1983

It had been so gradual that part of her could see how she would miss it—but then again, intrinsically, it had been so obviously inevitable she wondered how in the world she hadn’t noticed. Before sleep claimed her the night before she must have been half, if not altogether, in love with him.

It felt early—too early to rouse completely from sleep. She felt Steven’s arm securely around her torso, warm and safely tucking her against his body. They’d shifted sometime in the night, with him now spooning her. His sleepy exhales tickled the back of her neck as she took stock of their position. One of his legs had settled between hers, his hand was placed over her heart as he held her back against his chest.

She stretched a little bit, hoping to cause him to wake—but the only response was him holding her even closer. She laughed a little at that, and the sound of it must’ve been what he needed to rouse him out of sleep, because she felt him begin to stir as his grip loosened. She turned towards him as he rolled onto his back and did his own stretch.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” She said in a chipper mood.

He grunted in response, before propping himself up onto one elbow. He blinked down at her for a moment, and when he spoke his voice was still hoarse from sleep, “Oh no, you’re one of those morning people, aren’t you?”

“Steven, I’m delightful at every time of the day.” She informed him, smiling widely. He scoffed and scrubbed his face with a hand. She wanted to kiss him, and she could’ve just been spontaneous and done so right there, but she categorically refused to do so before she had an opportunity to freshen up—at least not this early into a relationship. She got up and walked towards his closed door, but paused before she opened it, “Mrs. Forman isn’t going to come down here and do a bunch of laundry right now, is she?”

“Why, you don’t want her to get the wrong impression about us?” Steven teased, still stretching out along his bed.

“Steven.” She implored.

He glanced at the alarm clock on his counter, “Nah, it’s still pretty early.”

“Okay, I'm just going to freshen up a bit before I collect my things and head back to Donna's.” She slipped out of his room, across to his small bathroom. She wasn’t necessarily expecting anything that morning—but on the off chance he wanted to make out a little before she went back over to Donna’s, she would be ready. She was in the middle of brushing her teeth when he knocked on the door, she opened it and watched as he entered. He smiled at her a little, before he wordlessly copied what she was doing and started brushing his teeth.They watched each other for a moment, before she spit her toothpaste out and rinsed.

She met his gaze again, shortly before she slipped back to his room.

As she entered, she looked at her clothes from the day before neatly folded and left on the armchair in his room. She considered that it might be presumptuous for her to remain in nothing but his tee shirt and her panties, that it would signal she was expecting him to make a move the moment he got back. However, she found she didn’t care much if it was, and climbed back onto his cot to inspect the books on his shelves. There were a few fiction books, but most of them appeared to be non-fiction in one way or another. She wondered if he had enjoyed academics if he would’ve gotten a political science degree.

“What’re you looking at?” He inquired as he returned a few minutes later.

“Your books.” She told him, glancing back over her shoulder with a grin. He was standing behind her, so she turned to face him—reaching for his hands. He took her hands in his and tilted his head to the side slightly as she smiled up at him. “So, here we are, the morning after our first sleepover.”

He nodded slowly, “Here we are.”

She pulled gently, and he responded by climbing back onto the cot, letting go of her hands to brace himself above her as their lips met. They slid back down to a horizontal position, as the kiss was drawn out into a second and third. When they broke away from each other, she whispered, “I’m feeling romantic, what about you?”

“Romantic?” He repeated the word with a slight grin, “I’m feelin’ something.”

He kissed her again, deeply this time—she could feel his erection through his sweatpants as he pressed against her, his hands roaming languidly before settling on the small of her back. She returned the kiss passionately, her own hands traveling up the firm plane of his chest before her fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. Things always seemed to increase in intensity rapidly between them, whenever they were alone and touching each other, and their breathing became heavier as they continued to exchange fervent kisses.

“Jackie—wait.” He mumbled against her lips suddenly, “I gotta say something first.”

Her head relaxed against his pillow and she blinked up at him, waiting for him to elaborate.

He cleared his throat, “This isn’t about the bachelor party later today, is it? Because I don’t want you to feel like you gotta…do anything, just ‘cause of that.”

Her fingers continued to touch his hair gently, “It’s not really because of that, I mean…I don’t like that you’re going to be looking at other women later—I can be very jealous, Steven—but I know it’s just a tradition.” She paused. She knew he was right and she agreed with him. She didn’t want their first time together to be associated with her insecurities about him going to a strip club, but then she suggested in a mischievous tone, “But we don’t have to have sex right away…there are other things we could do.”

His mouth curved into a roguish grin, and she felt his hand slowly slip beneath the hem of the tee shirt she was wearing—the warmth of his fingertips playing with the lacy trim of her underwear at her hip. The timbre of his voice was a little deeper then, “There are other things we could do, if you want to.”

An excited giggle bubbled up and out of her. Her hands slid forward from his neck, her fingers brushing against his sideburns and the stubble along his jaw, “Steven, I promise you now, when I’m ready I’ll tell you straightforwardly, okay?” He nodded, “But yes, I want to do more than just kiss—if you want to.”

He didn’t say anything in response, instead reaching for the hem of the tee shirt and slowly tugging it up. She sat up and allowed him to pull it over her head. He tossed the shirt to the ground and sat back on his heels. For a long moment, he just stared at her. She felt her skin warm with a blush and pursed her lips together in vague amusement.

She nudged his hip with her knee as she said, “Steven, you’re staring.”

He blinked and pulled his own shirt off as he said, “Yeah, sorry.”

Another giggle escaped her as he covered her with his body and pressed a kiss to her throat. But her laughter slowly tapered off into a breathless gasp as he moved his hands along her body—and it wasn’t long before she was moaning against his mouth.

“If the rumors are true, he’s really good in bed.”

He’d lit the wick of her desire, and everywhere he touched the fire spread. She wanted more and took hold of one of his wrists, pulling his hand lower—towards the apex of her thighs. Jackie Burkhart was not someone who typically begged, but she was near there when she asked him to touch her. His lips pressed against her jaw as he trailed kisses down and his tender laughter tickled her ear, as he obliged her request. 

His fingers expertly built up the desire that had been dammed up inside her for months, and a release that she felt like she had been chasing for forever—far more intense than anything she’d been able to achieve on her own—crescendoed with a moan against his mouth, smothering the noise so it didn't travel too far up in the house. She was trembling and smiling as she caught herself, relief mixing with happiness and her affection for him soared. He met her gaze, and immediately her hands cupped his face to pull him in for a deeper, more ardent kiss.

Her own hands traveled down his front, before one slipped beneath the elastic of his sweatpants. She knew Steven wouldn’t ask, and he certainly wouldn’t beg—but she couldn’t leave that morning without having him be almost as desperate for her. She touched him until his face was pressed into the crook of her neck, muffling his own unsteady breaths until his own pleasure peaked and they were both satiated.

They stayed together—kissing, touching and whispering to one another—until they ran the risk of getting caught in a certain state of undress. Eventually Jackie had to make her way back over to Donna’s, though it was in no way a walk of shame.

“Where’d you stay last night?” Donna asked as she entered the room, though the knowing smile on the redhead’s face indicated that she already had her suspicions.

“Obviously, I slept over with Steven, Donna—where else was I going to go while you and your husband-to-be were practicing for the honeymoon.” Jackie informed her, trying to keep her tone annoyed despite the grin still plastered all over her face.

“Sorry,” Donna said, though she didn’t look particularly apologetic, “He was just trying to reassure me that none of the ladies at the club were going to be able to hold a candle to me, and you know, one thing led to another.”

“Yeah, yeah, Donna—I don’t need to hear the details of you and Eric’s foreplay activities, thanks.” Jackie held up a hand to stop her, but her tone was light with humor, “And it’s fine, really, Steven and I had a good talk. He told me that he thinks of me as his girlfriend.”

“A good talk and the girlfriend title, well that’s nice.” Donna paused, before asking, “And, what else did you do?”

“We slept, Donna. And then, you know, now I’m here to have breakfast before we have to get ready for your bachelorette.” Jackie explained vaguely.

“Wait, you two didn’t have sex?” Donna asked, and Jackie felt her face grow warm.

“No, we didn’t have sex—not yet. But we did some stuff, and I think we’re almost there…soon, maybe.” She looked at Donna for a long moment, “Don’t tell Eric, but he just held me all night—Donna it was…” She didn’t even have a word to quantify her statement.

Donna shook her head, almost in disbelief, but then she said, “You don’t have to tell me I totally get it. I love it when Eric just holds me.”

The two of them sighed dreamily, before Jackie clapped her hands together—forcing them to snap out of it.

“Okay, enough daydreaming about those two, we have to make sure we’re ready for an evening of fun and shirtless guys.”

With that the two of them set to preparing for the day—and towards the later afternoon, Rhonda and Brooke arrived at the Pinciotti residence all dressed up to the nines. Brooke looked classy in a flowy teal dress, while Rhonda was a knock-out in fitted, black dress with a plunging neckline. Jackie opted for a hot pink, strapless dress with a ruffled skirt that stopped above the knee, while Donna had opted for tight, dark wash jeans and a black crop top—the outfit accompanied by the same plastic tiara with attached veil that she’d worn to the bridal shower.

“Okay ladies, I was able to convince Bob to foot the bill for a limo so we’re all free to drink tonight.” Jackie explained as they all congregated in the kitchen, she paused to glance at the clock, “It should be here in about five minutes, let’s go wait outside.”

They exited onto the front porch, and the guys happened to be leaving from the Formans’ at the same time. It looked like Steven had organized a limo for them as well; she wondered if he’d stolen the idea from her. Michael and Fez immediately unleashed a chorus of well-intentioned wolf whistles, while Eric shouted appreciatively, “Hey, check out those pretty ladies.”

This heralded a burst of coy laughter from the women, and Jackie’s eyes immediately looked for Steven. He was looking at her with a broad grin, his sunglasses were hooked in his shirt, and he winked when their eyes met. She winked back before she blew him a kiss—she knew he wouldn’t play along and pretend to catch it, but she also knew it would go where it needed to regardless.

Each party disappeared into their respective chariots, each to be carried off to their own version of titillating fun and games. Much to Donna’s chagrin, Jackie was able to get Rhonda and Brooke to join her in—poorly—singing a rendition of ABBA’s ‘Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)’ on the way to the strip club. Towards the end of the song, though, Donna had joined in, clapping along to the off-key, pitchy sound of their warbling.

Upon arrival, the four of them found a table near the front of the stage, where there were several performers in various degrees of undress. Rhonda gave a loud whoop as a man dressed in firefighter gear began to strip down to nothing but pants and suspenders. Soon after the firefighter was down to nothing but his underwear, a dancer dressed in a faux-policeman outfit walked out on the stage, which made Donna elbow Brooke playfully.

“Michael has given me a striptease before, let’s see how this one compares.” Brooke informed them all with a wink. Laughter erupted at their table, and Jackie’s eyes had begun to water by the time Rhonda stood up and began dancing in time with the music—encouraging the performers as much as she could.

Jackie took that opportunity to go to the bar to grab them all a round of drinks, and was surprised to see the familiar face of Casey Kelso. She arched a brow as their eyes met, “You work here too?”

“Hey, Burkhart, been awhile,” Casey said, his mouth curving into that familiar easy smile, “And yeah I pick up a shift or two here—the tips sure make it worthwhile.” He punctuated his statement with a wink, before gesturing to her with a jut of his chin, “Hey, we never did catch up on having that drink.”

“Oh, yeah, well I have a boyfriend now.” Jackie confessed—or, more like gushed excitedly.

Casey nodded slowly, “Ah, Hyde did somethin’ then, I take it.”

“He certainly did.” She said, practically gloating with the way she was smiling about it.

“Well, I guess if that’s your type, then good luck to ya.” Casey shrugged, completely unbothered by the revelation. “But hey, if things don’t work out, I’m always available for that drink. Hell, even if they do work out, we could keep it quiet if you get my meaning.”

Jackie scoffed. Donna had told her that Casey Kelso was an unrepentant womanizer, but for him to be so brazen about it immediately after she had bragged about her new boyfriend was astounding. She shook her head in disbelief, before her mouth curved up into a smirk.

“Hey Casey, you ever see those guys that peaked in high school? You know the type of guy that continues to think of himself as a hot catch long after his infantile behavior stops being attractive? You know how they usually end up alone and pathetic, with a receding hairline and a bulging beer gut?” She wrinkled her nose and glanced down towards his torso, “Yeah, I’d think long and hard about that, if I were you.”

His eyes narrowed just slightly, but his smile didn’t vanish—she supposed he wasn’t the sort to care so much about the opinions of women, unless that opinion involved an invitation into their bed.

“Damn, you sure got a mouth on ya, Burkhart.” He replied casually, unaffected.

“So I’ve been told.” She returned calmly, batting her eyes a little bit, “Anyway, I’d like two beers and two margaritas.”

Once the drinks were provided, she took them back to their table—without casting Casey a second look or thought.

 

---

 

He was in a good mood. Jackie had spent the night, they’d fooled around in the morning, and then he and the guys had smoked in the circle before they were off to the strip club for dinner and a show. Yeah, he was in a good mood—so good, that he had thought there was nothing that could dampen his spirits. 

He had, of course, been wrong.

“So Hyde, has Jackie started looking for a place to rent around Point Place yet?” Fez inquired, “Because Kelso is planning on moving back in with Brooke, so I will have a spare room if she wants to be my roommate.”

“Hey, yeah, that’s not a bad idea!” Kelso chimed in, “I’ve got plans to start moving my stuff out first week of September.”

Hyde lifted his brows thoughtfully, it was actually a pretty good idea. He trusted Fez, and the two of them had a strange amount of things in common, so they probably wouldn’t maim each other in close living quarters—unless they were fighting over hair products, or something.

“Yeah man, that’d be cool, you should let her know.” He said, and Fez nodded at him. After a moment, he added, “I think she’s waiting until she finds something a little more permanent for work before she moves out of Bob’s place, but I’ve been thinkin’ about a way to help her out with that.”

“Oh yeah, like what?” Kelso asked.

Hyde fiddled with his pinky ring, before he admitted, “Well, I was wondering if W.B. has any golfing buddies that work in TV in Milwaukee, maybe he could ask around if any of them are hiring—plus he could vet them for, you know, the sleazeball factor.”

“That’s a good plan.” Forman piped up, grinning widely before he asked, “Are you doing this because of what the coffee guy did?”

Hyde tilted his head slightly, wondering if he’d misheard the question for a moment. He blinked at Forman and asked in an ironic, upbeat tone, “What did the coffee guy do, Forman?”

“Oh.” Forman pressed his lips together, avoiding his gaze by glancing around the limousine, the ceiling lights seemed to suddenly be particularly fascinating to him. Eventually Forman winced and sucked his teeth, “Yeah, I uh, wasn’t supposed to tell you that. I may have had a little too much in the circle back there, whoopsie.”

Forman laughed—but Hyde didn’t laugh with him. He didn’t bother repeating his question, and instead just lifted his brows expectantly waiting for Forman to cave and elaborate.

“Look, Hyde, he made a pass at her—and in my defense, she told me she was going to tell you, but I guess she was waiting to do so until after she got another job maybe…I can’t remember.” He paused, and then said, “Nothing happened though, and for what it’s worth it happened before the two of you were considered dating so it’s not like she owed it to you to say something—though I mean, it probably only happened like thirty minutes before you asked her out or something.”

“Yikes! Eric, maybe shut up!” Kelso suggested with an uncomfortable laugh, while Fez grimaced.

“Man, I am really not good at keeping a secret!” Forman blurted out, also laughing uncomfortably.

All three of them were staring at him, but all he could do was focus on the plush, carpeted floor of the limo as he processed the information—his expression fixed in a state of mild irritation and confusion. Finally, after a moment, he said, “Huh.”

Forman’s eyes narrowed, “You’re not…mad?”

A part of him was livid. A part of him would have loved nothing more than to have the limo drive them right down to the coffee shop so he could break that guy’s nose. But a bigger part of him, the louder part, was stuck wondering why she hadn’t just told him. That part of him wanted to know if he’d somehow, unknowingly, fucked up and she didn’t feel comfortable telling him something like that. He cleared his throat, looking Forman in the eye again and shrugging his shoulders.

“Nah, I mean you said, she said nothing happened, right? So nothing happened.”

Forman stared at him for a long moment, and he wondered if he was going to voice the fact that he obviously didn’t believe what Hyde was saying. Thankfully, Kelso did what he did best—which was to provide a distraction.

“Oh man, Hyde you’re so much more mature than me,” He shook his head, “Guys come onto Brooke all the time and I get real jealous about it—I mean, I know she would never do nothing, but it’s still really annoying, you know? She told me that sometimes they back off the second she tells them she has a three year old—which then makes me kinda mad for a whole other reason, because Betsy’s the best! Why wouldn’t any guy wanna be her stepdad? They’d be lucky if they got to be her stepdad and marry the most gorgeous librarian in Wisconsin, sheesh!”

The rest of them nodded slowly in agreement—it would, of course, be an honor for anyone to be Betsy’s stepdad. The conversation branched off from there, before eventually circling back to their intended destination. There were varying degrees of excitement expressed about the strip club, and about random women peeling their skimpy outfits off piece by piece.

As they entered the club, Hyde found himself feeling fairly neutral about it overall. He, of course, didn’t mind the titillation of looking at nude chicks, but his mind was still stuck on Jackie from this morning—replaying over and over unveiling her breasts, the sounds she made when she felt good, the feeling of his hands on her, and her hands on him.

It would’ve been nice to just have that to think about—but after Forman’s little bean spill in the limo, he was also feeling nervous about the potential that he might fuck up and lose all of that. He wanted to talk to her about it, but he wasn’t supposed to know and if he brought it up out of nowhere he wagered she’d feel ambushed and react angrily.

He drank his beer, occasionally looking up at the women on the stage—a blonde with a big rack winked at him as she pulled the string loose on her top, letting her breasts slip free. He raised his brows and offered her up a bill, but his grin faded the second she turned her attention to someone else.

After some time passed, maybe around his fourth beer, Forman leaned towards him and said, “Hey man, you okay?”

“Yeah.” He replied evenly.

“Really? Cause you seem kind of down.”

Why was Forman always so annoyingly sensitive to these things? He was almost as bad as Jackie that way. He rolled his eyes, but admitted in a quiet voice, “Just pondering how a fuck-up goes about not fucking up something they really don’t want to fuck up.” He took another swig as he slouched lower in his chair.

“Well, as a top tier fuck-up, maybe I can give you some advise. Is this about Jackie?” Forman asked, and then said, “Man, just have an honest conversation with her, it’ll work out.”

Hyde only stared at him, arching a brow dubiously.

“Listen, I know I like to call Jackie the devil.” He sighed, “But she’s probably one of the most devoted people I know. She just about murdered me after Donna told her the story about what I did to Donna’s first wedding dress.” Forman stared off into the middle distance, “I hadn’t been that scared for my life since I destroyed Red’s TV with the bowling ball. Who knew such a tiny woman could be full of so much rage? And I think if Donna had ever wanted to murder me, Jackie would’ve been ready with a shovel to help bury my body—and there would’ve been nothing the cops could’ve said to make Jackie snitch on her.”

“I mean, you ruined Donna’s dress, man.” He said, grinning a bit at the memory.

“No, I know, I’m not defending myself.” Forman agreed with a shake of his head. “Anyway, my point is, once she really cares about you, you’d have to like commit a catastrophic, atomic bomb level of fuck-up for her to leave you. So you should just talk about it with her—I mean, yeah, she might get mad, on account of her being made of fire and brimstone, but she’ll come around. You’d have to like, cheat on her or something to get her to leave you—and even then, the way I hear it, she took her high school boyfriend back like three or four times.”

Hyde scowled. He wasn’t exactly reassured by those words. The idea that it would take such drastic actions to disgust Jackie enough to break things off was disconcerting to say the least. He had initially thought of her as someone with a lot of pride—which wasn’t necessarily untrue—but the closer he got to her, the more he saw that she was a little more insecure than she let on. She obviously craved the act of giving someone love, and receiving love in return. Her shitty parents and shittier exes probably had something to do with that. She deserved the best, not a wretch barely above the lowest bar.

“What’s this really about?” Forman poked his shoulder.

He shifted in his seat. It was about wanting her to feel like she could tell him things. It was about wanting her to feel like she could lean on him if she needed to, instead of forcing herself to work at a job where the boss was a creep just so she had some income. He took another generous swig of beer, and shook his head at Forman. This was not the right venue to talk about such things—and he could figure it out later.

“It’s fine, man.” Hyde said with a shrug, “I’m cool.”

Forman lightly tapped his arm with a fist, “All right, if you say so—you want me to buy you another beer?”

Hyde laughed a little, “Nah, I’ll get us another round—you’re the sucker that’s about to be married for the rest of his life.”

“You got me there, and man, I can’t wait to be!” Forman declared with a grin.

Notes:

Eric, as per usual, as a classic case of foot-in-mouth-itis.

Thank you for reading!!

Chapter 14: Rehearsals & Altar Flowers

Notes:

A bit more spice in this chapter. ;)

August 22, 1983

She admired herself in the mirror after she finished putting her earrings in. Her hands smoothed down the front of her plum-colored dress, the v-neck showed off a tasteful amount of skin, the flowy skirt stopped just above her knee, the puff sleeves were cute and flirtatious. It was, altogether, the perfect outfit for the wedding rehearsal and later, dinner. She turned her attention back to Donna, who was finishing up curling her hair with the styling wand.

“Steven’s driving me, so I’ll meet you at the church if that’s okay?” She asked.

“Yeah, see you there.”

She exited the room and made her way downstairs. She had begun getting ready extra early that afternoon with the intention of beating Steven to the Camino and surprising him by being ahead of schedule (for once). She was sure he would get a laugh out of it and maybe tease her a little—or so she hoped.

Final wedding preparations over the past week had left them all busy and stressed, but in the brief moments she had to spend with Steven, she'd noticed that he had been in an odd mood. He had been cagey, a little quieter than usual. Except after she got off the one shift of work she’d had that week, then he’d asked her a million questions about how her day had been and if anything noteworthy had happened. She’d had to inform him that the most interesting thing was an overly complicated coffee order some customer invented that day. Her answer had made the muscle in his jaw flex, like he was withholding something he wanted to say. But when she inquired about it, he changed the subject or told her it was ‘cool’.

Her intention was to bring it up with him again, and maybe this time not let it go so easily. 

She didn't have long to wait before she saw him walk around from the basement stairs, spinning his car keys on a finger before he caught them in his hand. He was wearing a plaid button down shirt and jeans, she supposed that was the nicest he was going to dress for tonight—accounting for the expectation he was going to be wearing a tux for the entirety of the following day.

She smiled at him as he approached. He reciprocated with a wry grin, a touch of humor to his voice as he spoke, “You're early.”

“I wanted to surprise you.” She said, as he reached for her hand. She took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together, and bridged the gap between them—lifting up onto her tiptoes to peck his lips. “And I wanted to talk to you about something on the drive over, I figured it might be good for us to have a few extra minutes.”

He arched his brow at that, and if she wasn't mistaken she could've sworn he seemed interested to hear what she had to say—as if he'd been waiting for her to tell him something. He cleared his throat and nodded, “Cool, well I actually have something to talk to you about, too.”

“Oh?” She intoned, her ravenous curiosity obvious, “Well, why don't you go first—wait is it something good, or are you about to tell me Michael broke his leg and he won't be able to walk down the aisle tomorrow and be a groomsman?”

He laughed, opening the passenger door for her, “Nah, it's nothing like that. It's good news, I think.”

He closed the door for her, and she watched him as he walked around to the driver's side, trying to gauge his mood based on his body language. He seemed to be in a relatively good mood, and he spun his keys on his finger and caught them again. She wondered if he was nervous or excited, but his expression seemed calm as he climbed into the car next to her and started up the Camino.

She angled herself in the seat to face him as he drove them to their destination. He glanced at her briefly, before he looked back towards the road. “So, I know you've been busy with wedding prep and all, but uh, I reached out to W.B. last week.”

“Oh?” She said, not quite following the course of the conversation yet.

“He has some golfing buddies that work for a couple of TV networks in Milwaukee, and he said he could ask around about some job openings.”

She absorbed his words slowly, finding she was unable to decide on a reaction—her mind immediately came into conflict. On the one hand, she was ecstatic about the prospect of getting back into her chosen line of work, on the other, her pride instantly flared up. Her gaze drifted from him to the road as she sought to sort through the multitude of feelings bubbling to the surface, but Steven must've looked at her again as he further elaborated.

“You’d still have to have to apply and everything, so it wouldn't be a guarantee. But—” She looked at him again, and he shrugged sheepishly, “It'd be a foot in the door, you know?”

As she stared at him, she felt her pride dilute amidst a strong burst of affectionate gratitude. Her eyes immediately began to water. They came to a red light, and he glanced at her again.

“Come on Jackie, just say some—whoa, what the hell!” An anxious quality she'd never quite heard from him entered his voice, “Are you crying?! Why the hell—listen I'll tell W.B. to never mind all that!”

“Steven!” She shouted, her voice almost accusatory as she lifted her hands to dab at the corners of her eyes, “How dare you tell me something so sweet after all the work I put into my make-up!”

“What?” He said, incredulous, “These are happy tears?”

“Of course, you jerk!” She pulled her compact mirror out of her purse and checked to make sure not a single lash had dripped or smudged, “That's—I mean, that's one of the nicest things a guy has ever done for me.”

She wasn't sure of his expression, as she was in the middle of inspecting her make-up, but his voice was quiet, almost shy, “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It is a big deal, actually.” She argued softly, “So thank you.”

He sighed through his nose, and tried to change the subject, “Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Oh,” She had almost completely forgotten about that, “Well, I was actually just going to ask you if everything was all right with you.”

His brow furrowed slightly and he briefly glanced at her, his confusion obvious, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be all right?”

“Well, you’ve been a little weird the last week or so—like you’re annoyed about something.”

“How so?”

She scowled, unsure whether he was being purposefully obtuse or if he really hadn’t noticed his behavior. She supposed she didn’t mind needing to jog his memory, so she elaborated, “Okay, remember two nights ago, after my shift at the cafe? You had a bunch of questions about how my day was and if anything happened, and then when I answered you, you didn’t say much besides ‘cool’.”

Whatever was bothering him registered immediately in his expression—his confusion evaporating as he adopted a look of mild annoyance. He didn’t say anything, though, so she pressed him.

“Steven? What’s wrong?”

He remained quiet as he pulled the Camino into the church parking lot as they arrived. He parked before he looked at her and said, “Jackie, I know about Todd.”

She blinked at him, taking a moment to process before she erupted in anger, “Eric told you! That twitchy little—”

“Hey, in his defense, he was high at the time—I don’t think he would’ve told me otherwise.”

“Oh, I don’t care! I’m still going to make him pay for this.” Jackie’s eyes narrowed, contemplating her anger.

“Jackie, who cares about Forman?” He said, an irritated tone edging into his voice slightly.

She glanced at him with a frown, “So you know about Todd, what does that mean?”

His mouth formed a thin line, and she could see the way his jaw tensed, before he muttered, “Forman said he made a pass at you—but he also said that you said nothin’ happened.”

“Well then, there you go. That’s basically every important detail.” Jackie gestured towards him, “Now you know.”

“Jackie,” Steven removed his sunglasses and looked at her as he asked, “Why the hell didn’t you just tell me?”

She bristled, “Steven there’s nothing to tell! I rejected him, okay? I handled it!”

“Jackie—” He started again, and his tone had softened somewhat, but it was already too late—a thought had occurred to her and she interrupted him immediately.

“Wait, Steven, did you only ask your father to help me because of what Todd did?” She demanded, her embarrassment over the situation and her anger towards Eric causing her temper to be perilously close to slipping away from her, misdirecting it towards Steven. She regretted the words the instant they flew from her mouth, as an odd expression touched his face. He was normally so stoic, that she almost couldn’t tell what it looked like when the words had affected him. Still, the look was gone nearly as quick as it had appeared, as he leaned into his own frustration.

“You really think I can’t try and help you out without an ulterior motive?” He countered, arching a brow.

Her heart was beating too fast, her pulse loud in her ears as she stared at him. Too many feelings jumbled up in her throat as she struggled to articulate a response, a veritable war waged in the center of her chest as she fought to decide how she was going to react. Briefly, she recalled the many fights she had had with her first boyfriend when she had been no more than a girl, both of them children really. She thought about how the both of them had merely retaliated towards one another with the first hurt feeling felt.

She didn’t want that kind of relationship with Steven—and she didn’t want to give Todd the satisfaction of having made them fight about him. After a long, tense moment of silence, the feeling that triumphantly overcame the rest within her heart ultimately wanted to relinquish her anger and seek peace. 

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t think that.” She lifted a hand to her forehead, sighing as she asked, “Did Eric even tell you why I didn’t tell you?”

Steven blinked at her. His own body seemed to respond in kind to hers, yielding to a more relaxed posture. He scratched at the back of his neck before answering her, “He said you were probably waiting until you got another job.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, before she said, “Of course he didn’t remember to tell you that part. Steven, I didn’t say anything that night because first of all, I wanted to forget about it, because ew. Second of all, I knew you and Donna would just tell me to quit immediately, but it was really not that big of a problem. He backed off immediately once I rejected him, and there was no need for me to quit until I had another job lined up. I told him he had to keep three feet away from me at all times and that if he ever brought it up again, I would do everything in my power to give his cafe bad publicity until it went out of business. And third—”

A playful smirk appeared on his face suddenly, causing her to stutter in the middle of her rant. She blinked at him and her brow furrowed in curiosity. However, she persevered and finished her point.

“And third, well, maybe you could say it was just a feeling—but you were different that day. You were in an…amorous mood.”

“I was in an amorous mood?” He repeated, still smiling at her.

Her voice grew quieter as she clarified, “Yeah, maybe I just had a feeling you were going to do something, and I knew that if I brought it up…you wouldn’t ask me out.”

“I would’ve asked you out.” He paused, before he acknowledged, “Maybe not that night, but I would’ve.”

She shrugged, still scowling at him as she said, “Well, I wanted you to ask me out as soon as possible.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head a little, before he said, “You need to learn to be more patient.” But he reached his hand towards hers, curving one of his fingers to hook around one of hers and tugging gently—an invitation to hold hands. She responded by taking his hand and holding it tightly, fingers laced together properly. He cleared his throat and said, “Listen, I’m sorry too, all right? I just don’t like the guy.”

“I know. I don’t like him either.”

“And I was already planning on talking to W.B. about you before Forman even told me—for the record.”

“Oh, Steven!” She smiled broadly and leaned forward to kiss him. He met her halfway and she felt the warm, lingering press of his lips against hers. 

He nodded slowly as they separated from each other, and then he added in a mischievous tone, “Not going to lie though, it’s pretty badass that you blackmailed him with the threat of ruining his business.” His thumb stroked the skin of her hand, as he gazed at her admiringly. Suddenly, she felt warmth rise to the surface of her skin, as the mood once again became what she would consider ‘amorous’.

“Steven Hyde, you have the strangest proclivities.”

“Oh you don’t know the half of it.” He teased flirtatiously, and the timbre of his voice turned her skin to gooseflesh. Whether intentional or not, he was the worst sort of temptation to suffer—she would have loved nothing more than to pursue the lewd course of his thoughts, but they had a wedding to rehearse for.

However, two could play at that game.

She lifted his hand to her lips and placed a gentle kiss on his knuckles, “Well, maybe I’ll let you tell me all about it later.” Her mouth curved into a sly grin as his throat bobbed. She disentangled their hands and gestured with her head—people had begun arriving in the parking lot, “Come on, Steven, we have somewhere to be.”

He followed behind her, a sarcastic lilt to his voice as he said, “Yes, dear.”

 

---

 

After the wedding party had all gathered in the main foyer, they had been forced to listen to Pastor Dave crack a few inoffensive, Christian-safe jokes that only seemed to land with Mrs. Forman, Bob, and Midge—although Forman and Donna had tried to smile and nod out of a desire to be polite. At the very least listening to Pastor Dave’s meek bible humor was a good way to diminish his burgeoning desire for Jackie. 

Although they had nearly swerved off course into an argument, they had managed to avoid it. He had seen the way her intensity had nearly overwhelmed her with getting swept away in her pride and anger, and he had nearly succumbed to his first instinct to fight back. But she had paused and reflected, and he had allowed her the time and space to do so—and the conflict had fizzled into a comfortable sort of space. The craving to exchange mutual apologies and reassurances had surprised him. He had known, in the back of his mind, that it wouldn’t always be that easy—her manager Todd just happened to be a worthless excuse for a fight—but so long as she wanted to come back to a place of peace, he felt sure he’d be willing to take those steps to meet her there. 

He felt good, content—and Jackie looked hot in that dress of hers. It'd be a real waste to spend time thinking about some guy who was worth no more than a footnote in the day, or worrying about some job she was going to leave the second she found something better.

“Well, shall we get started? As they say, time waits for no one! Of course, God didn’t say this, but I still think it’s a good lesson to live by.” Pastor Dave said, nodding sagely before he gestured for the wedding party to get into position.

Pastor Dave walked down the aisle first, followed by Red and Mrs. Forman. Mrs. Forman had asked for about the millionth time that morning whether Forman had wanted to be escorted by them down the aisle. Both Red and Forman declined almost simultaneously, and so Forman followed behind them alone.

Then it was his turn. He met Jackie at the entry point of the aisle and offered his arm, she took it eagerly—but not before flashing him one of her stunning smiles. His heart stuttered in his chest as he reflexively smiled back at her. He managed to keep his composure, walking her down the aisle without stumbling before they reached the altar and separated—he to the groom’s side, her to the bride’s side. His eye was drawn to her the moment he stood next to Forman, but she was glaring at Forman, clearly expressing her displeasure with him. Forman furrowed his brow and then glanced at him over his shoulder—Hyde just shrugged, playing stupid.

The rehearsal proceeded. Brooke and Kelso were right behind them, followed by Rhonda and Fez to bring up the rear. Instead of walking, Betsy ran down the aisle with her arms open for Kelso to catch her, who lifted her giggling form up into his arms once she reached him. Brooke whispered something about hoping she could remember to scatter petals during the official ceremony, but she did so with a smile on her face. He wagered that not a single person in attendance would care one way or the other—she was cute enough that she could do the role of flower girl poorly and get away with it.

Finally, Donna appeared, being escorted by both her parents on either side. Everyone heard the, “Oh jeeze!” seconds before Bob started to blubber halfway down the aisle, despite the fact that this was all a trial run; like a domino effect, Mrs. Forman began to tear up, which in turn made Red wrap his arm around her shoulders and cast a look heavenward, commenting on the need for a couple boxes of tissues for tomorrow.

As Bob handed Donna off, Pastor Dave initiated the practice of exchanging vows and rings. Forman cracked a few jokes in an effort to bring some levity to the room, or maybe just because he was uncomfortable with all the sentimentality—Jackie audibly groaned and rolled her eyes in response. Before the two of them could come to blows, Pastor Dave wrangled them to proceed with completing the rehearsal. Forman and Donna exchanged brief hints of their real vows before he and Jackie provided the rings. With that, Pastor Dave finished the rehearsal ceremony with a smile and the words he would be repeating the next day. 

Afterwards, the wedding party dispersed to mingle amongst themselves.

“No way man, I think if we take Flintwood Ave we’ll be able to get to the venue way faster.” Kelso was arguing with Red, who had leveled him with an irritable glare.

“Listen you kettlehead, if we go up High Street and take a right at Pine Boulevard that’ll lead us straight to the venue with less lights—it’s faster.”

“No, Red, you’re wrong!” Kelso insisted, which caused Red’s brows to shoot up, astounded by the audacity. Kelso snapped his fingers and pointed at him, “Oh! We gotta swing by the venue before this rehearsal’s officially done anyway, let’s have a race!”

“All right, fine. But only because I’m right, and you’re wrong!” Red grumbled.

Forman walked up to him and hit his shoulder with the back of his hand, “Did you tell Jackie or something, man? She looked like she was ready to run up the aisle and kick my shins as hard as possible.” His voice was caught somewhere between scared and annoyed, he glanced around at the floor suddenly, “And she’s so small, like an evil little gnome, that she could sneak up on me when I’m least expecting it.”

“Oh, yeah, we talked about it.” Hyde responded casually, “I have to say, I’m impressed Forman—maybe you really are ready to be married. Your whole ‘have an honest conversation and talk it out’ advice really did the trick. Everything’s resolved.”

Forman blinked at him, and briefly he seemed relieved, “Hey man, that’s great—” He nodded, before he added in a sarcastic tone, “But if that’s the case why is she still mad at me?”

Hyde grinned smugly and shrugged, “Because you’re the one who spilled the beans.” He punctuated his statement with a light slap to Forman’s cheek.

“Well, I guess it wouldn’t really be a rehearsal unless she was annoyed with me—I’m sure she’ll find something else to nitpick tomorrow.” Forman said with a resigned sigh.

“All right, everyone into your vehicles!” Red hollered, “And someone time the damn commute to the reception venue so we know what to expect for tomorrow!”

Everyone exited the church, Jackie followed behind him towards the Camino. As they got in and he turned the keys over in the ignition, he looked up at the sky. The clouds were an angry shade of grey, building in a way that suggested an imminent thunderstorm. Maybe all those months ago he had jinxed the weather—or maybe it would storm a little and blow over by tomorrow. 

They all drove to the reception venue, and discovered Red had been right and Kelso had been wrong.

“Oh, you know what, maybe I thought it was faster because the last time I drove that way I was in my cruiser on the way to a call and I ignored all the lights.” Kelso said good-naturedly.

“Yeah, maybe.” Red said dryly, rolling his eyes.

As they all congregated in the main foyer, Jackie had begun wandering through the hall—taking a critical eye to make sure all the decorations and tables were accurately set up. Idle chatter surrounded him, but he was watching Jackie, Mrs. Forman and Donna fuss over the details, before a loud crash of thunder sounded above the building.

Conversation grinded to a halt as everyone looked upwards. The sound of heavy rain pelting the roof quickly followed the rumbling echo of thunder overhead. His gaze was drawn back down as Jackie rejoined him, while Mrs. Forman moved to stand next to Red and Donna looped an arm around Forman’s torso.

“Well, at least it's raining today and not tomorrow, right?” Donna said, smiling at Forman.

“That's right dear, I’ll bet the sun won't be able to keep from shining on my little girl's big day!” Bob rallied with her, his eyes crinkling as he flashed a wide, happy grin.

“Yeah, I'm sure it'll be fine.” Forman agreed, nodding slowly—before another sharp crack of thunder sounded above them, causing him to startle slightly and hold Donna closer.

“Well you better hope so, otherwise the weather might cause Eric to bolt.” Jackie said with a cheeky laugh, before she suddenly began glancing around the room—like she was looking for something. 

“Well, we better just give it a few minutes—you know sometimes these summer storms only last a short while and then poof they're gone!” Mrs. Forman said, punctuating her statement with a loud laugh, “After all, we wouldn't want to get all wet in our nice clothes before the rehearsal dinner at The Vineyard!”

“Oh no.” Jackie gasped suddenly.

“What?” He asked, looking down at her—seeing the dawning horror on her face. 

She fled from him without answering, running to the window overlooking the entrance, before she exclaimed in a shrill voice, “Why the hell would they leave it outside when the wedding isn't until tomorrow?!”

Before anyone knew what was happening, Jackie flung the front door open and dashed out into the rain. Everyone moved to the window and watched as Jackie was assailed by the deluge outside.

Donna was the first to speak up, “What the hell is she doing? She’s going to be drenched, she won’t be able to go to dinner like this!”

He watched his crazy girlfriend fearlessly run through the storm—the thunder burst and rolled overhead, sounding as if the sky was breaking open—and he could’ve sworn the rain started falling even heavier. But she kept running, in her ridiculous shoes, right across the grass, towards that stupid tree with the stupid swing, and the stupid floral arrangement she’d ordered for Donna. She picked it up, but it looked too heavy for her to carry all on her own, in high heels across the wet grass.

“She’s trying to salvage that stupid photo spot she wanted to create.” He muttered, annoyed, before looking at Kelso, “Give me this!”

He grabbed Kelso’s coat and half-forced him to take it off, Kelso whined indignantly, “Why does it have to be my coat, Hyde?!”

“Because, you’re taller than me!”

With Kelso’s coat in hand he moved towards the door—Rhonda was already there holding the door open for him. He lifted Kelso’s jacket above his head for a makeshift umbrella, but Rhonda’s voice caused him to look forward, “Oh, I think she’s gonna—oh, down she goes.”

He caught the tailend of Jackie’s spill on the venue grounds, seeing her legs swing up as she fell on her ass—wet petals erupting into the air as the floral arrangement fell along with her.

“Godammit.” He muttered, dashing out into the rain after her.

She stayed down and he began to worry she had hurt herself as he picked up speed, running through the rain. He was breathless by the time he reached her, and incapable of hiding the sincerity of his concern as he called down to her, “Jackie! Are you okay?”

She glanced up at him—her make-up had begun to run, her hair was flat with water, and the pretty, flowy dress she’d worn was a shade darker, sticking wetly to every curve of her body. Pink and red flower petals were stuck to her skin and dress, the floral arrangement destroyed and abandoned next to her. Her expression was one of irritation though, as she muttered, “I think I hurt my ankle.”

He tried not to grin as he realized she was sopping wet and fuming—but all in one piece. “Can you walk?”

“Yeah, if you help me.” She said, reaching her hand up for him to aid her.

“Here, hold Kelso’s jacket up with your hands.” He instructed as he knelt down next to her. His jeans were already wet, so there was no point in trying to keep them dry or clean. She did as he asked, and once she was securely using the jacket as an umbrella for the two of them, he used both arms to scoop her up and carry her—perhaps fittingly or perhaps inappropriately—bridal style.

He felt her eyes watching him as he held her against him and began slowly walking back towards the venue, but he couldn’t get distracted by her now—focusing on keeping his steps as careful and steady until he’d made it back to the venue. She didn’t say anything to him either, only looking at him. He wondered what sort of expression was on her face.

As he neared the door, he could hear the bustle of everyone indoors. 

“Red, get a chair.” Mrs. Forman said, to which Red responded with a blunt order.

“Eric, go get a chair.”

Once he reached the venue and had a roof over his head, he slowly lowered her legs to the ground, keeping one arm around her torso to hold her up. Jackie held out the dripping wet coat for Kelso to take, and then Donna was there, an incredulous look on her face, “Jackie, it’s just some flowers, why did you do that?”

“It’s not just flowers, Donna! It’s about the vision you had for your day—not that it matters now, since whichever moron left them outdoors ruined them.”

Donna shook her head and laughed a little, but Hyde interjected, “Jackie, we could’ve just called the florist.”

“Steven! They would have less than twenty-four hours to fix this!” She insisted, collecting her wet hair and wringing it out away from him.

Forman returned with a chair, and Mrs. Forman directed Jackie to try and put a little pressure on the ankle by walking to the chair. She was able to walk, but he heard the sharp, stubborn inhale of someone pretending it didn’t hurt as bad as it did. He was about to call her out, but there was no need—Mrs. Forman’s trained nursing ears picked up on it immediately. She gestured for Jackie to take a seat, “All right, let me take a peek at this ankle.”

Jackie lifted her right ankle, and Mrs. Forman tentatively touched around the joint, and after a moment she said, “It’s probably a mild sprain. I’d recommend some ice and rest—oh, you should keep it elevated as well, if you can.”

“I guess I’ll have to sit out the rehearsal dinner.” She said, pouting.

“Hey, we’ll bring you some food home.” Forman piped up quickly, and Donna nodded in agreement. A lopsided grin appeared on his face as he pointed towards Donna, “I have it on good authority that the chicken is pretty good.”

Jackie was able to smile a little at that, seeming mollified, “Thank you, Eric.”

“Hey, no problem—it was a valiant effort.”

“Well, I’ll take her home.” Hyde said then.

“Are you going to join us after you get Jackie all situated?” Mrs. Forman asked, and he met Jackie’s gaze. Her expression was unusually inscrutable, as she quietly and patiently waited for him to respond. He arched a brow at her, but she didn’t say anything.

“Uh, we’ll see.” He responded vaguely, “Maybe, if not just grab me whatever and bring it home, too.”

“Okay, dear.” Mrs. Forman said, before adding, “That was quite gallant of you Steven, to run out in the rain to save her.”

His ears warmed and he shifted uncomfortably in his wet jeans, mumbling, “Whatever.”

At that, Jackie’s mouth curved into a slight smile that left him feeling warm and prickly all over. The feeling remained with him as they climbed into the Camino and began driving back home—she was oddly quiet the whole time, and for whatever reason, hardly any words came to mind for him to make conversation.

“I’ll call the florist when we get there.”

“Thank you, Steven.”

“Are you cold?”

“A little, but it’s okay, Steven.”

They carried on like that—him asking the occasional question or making the occasional comment, and her providing a simple or vague response—until they reached their destination.

He turned to face her, and she turned to face him. Her hair was still damp, curling messily from the humidity and moisture clinging to it. She had touched up her make-up a little in the car, softening the smudges beneath her eyes. Rainwater had created little rivulets along her skin as the fabric of her dress retained the water, and his eye was drawn to a particular stream that disappeared between her cleavage. There was a flower petal still stuck to her neck, and he reached for it unconsciously. He removed it gently, dropping it somewhere in his car as he met her gaze.

“So, you want me to take you to your room?” He asked.

“No.” She responded, smiling at him coyly.

His brow furrowed a little, “Well, what do you want to do?”

“I want to get out of this dress.” As if to make her point, she lifted her skirt and let go of it—it dropped back to her thigh with a wet, smacking sound. She added in a light tone, “But I need you to help me with the zipper.”

A wry, knowing grin spread across his face, but he hesitated—she hadn’t said the magic words just yet. So instead, he asked, “What about your ankle?”

“It’s tender, but it’s not as bad as I was making it seem.” She confessed, continuing to grin at him.

“You faked an ankle sprain to play hooky for a wedding event?” He murmured, before uttering a low whistle to express his surprise.

“They don’t need me there.” She argued playfully, before adding, “And I’m in an amorous mood.”

“That so?”

“Yeah. Mrs. Forman was right, it was very gallant of you to rush out into the rain after me.”

It should have been easier for him to just accept the compliment—to lean into the want that hung in the air between them, but he faltered. He shook his head a little, despite the desire thrumming in his blood, warming his skin, he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “I’m not that guy.” 

“Yes, you are.” She told him, forcing him to meet her gaze—and he saw the depth of her conviction in those words. “Steven, even if you don’t believe it, you can’t help it, because you are so much that guy.”

He swallowed against a feeling he couldn’t quite place, some burgeoning emotion in his chest—a feeling for her that nearly burst from under his skin. He couldn’t find words to say, so she filled the silence and spoke those magic words out loud.

“I want to make lo—” She cut herself off abruptly, but his ears caught the intent of her words. He gave her a slight smile, endeared by her ridiculously romantic sentiment. “I want to have sex with you.” He was quiet for a long moment, so she asked, “Are you going to the rehearsal dinner?”

“No, I’m not going to the rehearsal dinner.” He said, then added with another grin, “You asked me to tell you about my proclivities, after all.”

Wordlessly, he helped her out of the vehicle and down the stairs to his bedroom. His fingers trembled slightly as he pulled the zipper down slowly—he wasn’t sure if he was nervous because it was Jackie, or if it was because it had been awhile since his last time. But as she peeled the soggy garment off of her body, stepping away from the wet pile on the floor to stand before him in nothing but her bra and panties, he decided that maybe it was a bit of both.

She immediately went for the buttons on his shirt, seeking to equalize their state of undress as her deft fingers undoing them quickly. He felt her hands brush against his skin as she pushed the shirt off of his shoulders, before her fingers curled beneath the hem of his undershirt and pulled it up, over his head. 

He reached for her as the shirt dropped to his floor, forgotten. Their lips met, tender and chaste at first. His hands cupped her face, before they slowly roamed, grazing along her ribs, pressing against her hips, before traveling up the length of her spine. He unhooked her bra with a practiced expertise that had never quite grown rusty, and it fell in the space between their feet. He kicked the offensive garment away from them. 

His breath hitched as she dragged her fingertips down his front towards his belt buckle—and she took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. She swallowed the groan that escaped him at the sensation of her tongue against his, while her fingers worked swiftly to undress him. She undid his belt and the button on his pants, and only then did his hands leave her to shuck his damp jeans off. Stripped bare of everything but their underwear, they collapsed on his bed in a tangle of limbs—kissing each other ardently.

Every sound that he pulled out of her with his touch tickled his ear, causing the blood in his body to rapidly travel south. Every glancing caress of her skin against his left a trail of fire, inciting a greedy desire for as much of her to be touching as much of him all over. Had he been a man of words, he might have told her he needed her—he needed her so much closer.

But first—with the house being empty and all to themselves—he wanted to hear just how loud she could be when she came.

She said his name breathlessly as he began kissing a purposeful path down her neck, as his fingers slid suggestively underneath the hem of her underwear. She tasted like a thunderstorm, as he touched his tongue to the curve of her collarbone. 

“You don’t—you don’t have to—” She panted, her hands gripping his shoulders nervously. 

He placed a kiss against her sternum, before he paused his trajectory, “I won’t if you don’t want me to—but I’d like to.”

“O-Okay.” She said after a minute, nodding her head. One side of his mouth curved up into a grin, before he kissed his way lower and lower.

He maneuvered the leg with the injured ankle over his shoulder and patted her thigh affectionately, “Remember, you’re supposed to keep this leg elevated.”

 

---

 

Initially, at the beginning of summer, a small part of her had doubted the rumors Donna had told her about him—after all, rumors were usually either a dramatized version of the truth or a complete fabrication. 

But she had been quick to stow those doubts a few days ago when they’d greeted the morning with sensual touching—and now, with his mouth on her, she banished them forevermore from thought or consideration. Rain mingled with sweat as he wound up that burning hot coil of her desire, winding it tighter and tighter, until the carnal tensions in her limbs nearly forced her to beg for it. He obliged her, though she was sure she could feel him smirking against her skin. She was still trembling from her release as he lifted himself back up and over her, a deep, pleased hum resounding in his chest as he pressed a languid kiss to the hollow of her throat, another against the curve of her jaw—before looking her in the eye. 

She immediately cupped his face and pulled him down for a passionate, grateful kiss. A brief noise of surprise caught in his throat, before he laughed gently against her lips. His hands stroked along her body calmly, as his mouth tried to coax her into a slower pace. She responded in kind, one of her hands tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, while the other slid down his front—hovering over the rapid beating of his heart.

She broke away from their kiss and inquired, “Steven, are you going to take off your underwear?”

“You ready?” He inquired once more, grinding himself against her with a deep groan.

“Yes. Please, Steven?” 

He appeared to require no further convincing, as he leaned forward to grab a condom from one of his drawers, lifting off of her briefly to remove his underwear. He returned to her, settling between her parted thighs with a slow, thoughtful kiss before he entered her. For a moment they stayed there, still, joined together for the first time, feeling how close they were—before he began to move in deep, steady strokes. His hips moved against hers at a deliberate pace until she involuntarily moaned and began to whisper pleas against his skin, warm from exertion. He angled his thrusts until she felt herself chasing another release, tears of joy and pleasure stinging at the corners of her eyes as it continued to build.

She maintained enough of her wits not to whisper something foolish against his ear, instead focusing on sucking a kiss against the junction of his neck and shoulder. She came again clinging to him, uttering his name with a broken, breathless cry, and he followed quickly behind her—grinding against her deeper, muffling his own tender words and moans against her throat. 

After a long, reflective moment taken to catch their breath, they parted and cleaned themselves up, before settling back down on the cot together. Steven seemed to express a new kind of bashfulness, while she was instead emboldened to hold him as close as she possibly could. Many words and notions built up in her chest, but nothing quite sounded right on her tongue. 

Finally, she kissed him and said, “Steven, I want you to know that I’ve never felt this way about someone before—so, thank you.” 

He cleared his throat, but said nothing—instead electing to kiss her again. And when he brushed his lips against hers, she felt like maybe it was the same for him. They settled against each other after that, and briefly slipped into a light slumber.

Sometime later, the sound of the TV in the basement roused them from the little nap they’d been taking.

“It sounds like they’re home.” She murmured to him, lifting her head from his chest to look at him.

“Yeah.” He yawned, stretching, “You hungry?” 

Her stomach growled at the prospect of food, as if to answer his question. He laughed gently and grinned at her, “All right, I’ll be right back with some grub. You can grab a tee shirt from my drawer if you want—or you can eat in the nude, I’m not picky.”

She gently smacked his shoulder, as he lifted himself off the cot. He threw on some clothes and then slipped out of the room. She could hear the sounds of voices talking, but couldn’t discern what was being said. After a moment, she heard the sounds of footfalls heading up the stairs—he was probably going to grab a couple of plates from the kitchen. She slipped off his bed and over to his drawer, filing through a few tee shirts until she picked out a pale red one. She put it on and tried to use her fingers to comb through the tangles still remaining in her hair.

Once she had at least something covering parts of her, she sat back down—her foot tapping the ground impatiently as she waited for him to return.

Eventually, footfalls coming back down the stairs sounded overhead, and shortly afterwards his door opened. He snorted a little as he saw her, “Damn, I was kinda hopin’ you’d elect to eat in the nude.”

“Steven!” She blurted out, trying to sound stern and scolding—but her mouth betrayed her by smiling at his crude humor.

“What?” He said, not looking particularly chastened, “You’re beautiful, I like lookin’ at you.”

A blush spread across her whole body. It was hard to be annoyed with him when things like that came out of his mouth.

He handed a plate towards her, which she took graciously. He put some music on his record player to fill the silence between them as they ate. Only after she had consumed the majority of her plate and satiated her hunger, did she say anything to him.

“So did we miss anything at the dinner?”

He chuckled, “Well, apparently Kelso, Fez, Rhonda, Forman and Donna had a pool going about whether we were going to ‘do it’ instead of going back to the rehearsal dinner. So, cats outta the bag on that one.”

She flushed a little, trying to sound offended, “What a bunch of pigs!” She paused, briefly, before she asked, “Well, who won?”

“Kelso, Fez, and Rhonda obviously.” He said, then added, “‘Mom and Dad’ thought I would never ‘ravish you’—their words, not mine—while you were ‘recovering’, but I guess they didn’t account for the possibility of you exaggerating your injury.”

She scoffed a little, “Well that’s just silly. I have explained to Donna on more than one occasion that sometimes theatrics are necessary in order to position yourself in a way to succeed. She should know this about me already.”

“Oh yeah?” He said casually, before adding in a playful tone, “Well, I can think of a few more positions we can try out in order to ‘succeed’.”

She couldn’t resist grinning at him, but attempted to sound stern as she said, “Steven, we have a big day tomorrow!”

“All right, all right.” He said with a laugh, taking her plate from her and leaving to go put the dishes away. 

Her mind wandered in his absence, thinking about the electrifying sensation of his skin against hers, the way their bodies had fit together so perfectly and the culmination of their union. Like it was meant to be. He probably would have laughed at her for having such a romantic interpretation of the sex between them, but she couldn’t help the way her pulse quickened and the affection for him grew with every beat of her heart.

Eventually, he returned to the room and she went to him, leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss the corner of his mouth. He chased the sensation, turning his lips to catch hers. He walked the two of them back towards the cot, but halted as the back of her calves collided with it.

“Wait, I thought you said we should turn in early.”

“Well,” She murmured, her fingers slipping beneath his shirt, across his ribs, “It’s not that late yet, perhaps we could evaluate another position or two.”

He grinned, reaching his hands down to lift her off the floor and wrap her legs around his hips. She clenched around him, her hands bracing against his shoulders. He spun them around and sat back down on his cot, with her straddling him—he was already half-hard.

“Let’s make the most of it, then.”

She giggled as he peeled his tee shirt off of her and planted ticklish kisses along her neck. They smiled, kissed, and laughed, until the sounds between them grew soft and breathless—and the intimate chorus of their passionate joining were caught and trapped within the corners of his ceiling.

Notes:

All right, next is the big BIG day!

Thank you all for reading!

Chapter 15: Rings & Vows

Notes:

All right folks! We made it to the big day! The final big chapter!

Prepare yourselves for romantic fluff of sickening proportions!!

August 23, 1983

“Oh my god, where are my vows?!” Forman exclaimed suddenly, for the third time in the past hour, patting along the front of his tux frantically.

“They’re exactly where they were twenty minutes ago.” Hyde said calmly, smacking the spot on Forman’s chest with the back of his hand.

Forman slipped his hand into his left chest pocket, and both of them heard the audible crinkle of paper. He sighed heavily, “Whew, close one. Boy am I glad you're my best man—nothing really shakes you Hyde. I’d be an absolute basket case without you here to keep the calm with your ‘Zen’ or whatever.”

He shrugged with a wry grin, “Well someone needs to be the cool one around here.”

Both of them glanced towards Fez and Kelso, who were trying to toss melon balls into each other's mouths. 

“Yeah, anyway,” Forman turned towards him and said, “Really man, I can't thank you enough. I can honestly say without your friendship to both Donna and I, this relationship probably would've taken a lot longer to get to this point—I mean, I'm getting married today! To Donna! The girl I've been in love with since I was like four!” Forman’s voice had that pitchy quality to it that happened whenever he was simultaneously experiencing intense excitement and nervousness.

Hyde couldn't resist a genuine smile, finding no real desire to burn the man who may as well have been his brother despite his sappy, sensitive rambling. “Yeah, man. It's pretty awesome.”

“D’aw, you're turning into a big softie.” Forman commented, facing the mirror again and adjusting his bow tie, “Jackie's making you soft.”

“Actually, she makes me pretty hard.” He returned without missing a beat, a sly grin appearing on his face as he met Forman’s gaze in the mirror.

Forman groaned in annoyance, “Ew, please keep the details of your hellish coupling to yourself.”

“You’re the one who brought her up, man.”

“Be that as it may,” Forman shrugged, and changed the subject, “You’ve been a little different this past month—in a good way. You seem happy, or at least happier since you were at the beginning of the year. It’s good, I’m glad.”

“Forman, why are we talking about me—it’s your big day.” He said, eager to bypass the current topic of conversation and get back to the festivities at hand. Hyde lifted his hand and fussed with the starchy, too-tight collar of his tux.

“Because, it’s kind of like Donna and I brought you two together, kinda like the universe finding balance with all the help you gave the two of us over the years—it’s kinda nice, is all. Like we’re spreadin’ the love around.” The man who was both his best friend and brother was grinning widely at him, reveling in the way he sighed and squirmed in discomfort.

“Yeah, yeah, thanks for all your help.”

“All right, I’ll stop teasing you.” Forman chuckled, having proceeded from adjusting his bow tie to fussing over his hair in the mirror.

Hyde glanced over his shoulder as Red entered the room and approached the two of them, which coincidentally was right around the time when Forman started yapping again. “The only thing I have to worry about now is trying not to cry at the altar.”

“Well, a little birdie told me that if you don't cry at all when you see Donna walking down the aisle, the maid of honor might assault your shins with her foot.” He warned him, folding his arms across his chest.

“Yeah but Red will say something about how I better not turn into Bob with the waterworks.” Forman rolled his eyes, too focused on his own appearance to notice Red was standing right next to him, just out of view of the mirror, “Not that I care what Red thinks or anything, I mean it is my wedding day.”

Red chose that moment to announce his presence by clearing his throat and saying, “Eric.”

“Dad! Hey you're here.” He forced a chuckle out, “That's great. I was just—”

“Yeah, I'm here…dumbass.”

Hyde grinned as he glanced from Forman to Red, observing a familiar sight that never seemed to get old. But it didn't take long for him to notice it was a little bit different than the usual exchange between the two of them. He watched as Red brought his hands together in front of him, wringing them in discomfort. The older man coughed a little, before he spoke in a gruff voice.

“Listen, uh, there are a few times in a man's life when it might be appropriate to get misty-eyed—not cry, mind you, just get misty-eyed.” Both of them turned towards him and listened carefully. They were soon joined by Kelso and Fez, who took an interest in whatever words of wisdom Red was about to bestow upon them all.

“First is the death of a close family member—a real family member, not something like a damned hamster.” He glanced meaningfully at Forman, who rolled his eyes, “Second is the birth of your firstborn.”

“But not your secondborn?” Forman cut in, glancing towards Hyde with a smirk, “Looks like Laurie got all the tears outta Dad first.”

“There were no tears, I was misty-eyed!” Red responded sharply.

“Wow, Red, you're way tougher than me, because I balled like a baby the first time I held Betsy!” Kelso interjected with a laugh, “Like full on, snot outta the nose, crying, I was so happy—and nervous at the same time!”

“Look dumbasses, I'm not finished talking!” Red all but shouted, forcing the rest of them to quiet down finally. He cleared his throat again, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other, “And third is when you're getting married. Now Eric, do you love Donna?”

Forman adopted a more serious expression, before he answered honestly, “More than anything in the world.”

“Well, all right.” Red displayed one of those rare, genuine smiles—a brief glimmer of pride showed in his eyes, before he coughed a little and said plainly, “Today is the one day where it's okay to show your feelings about that, if not for yourself, than the woman you love more than anything in the world.”

Forman nodded slowly, a bashful grin appearing on his face. He clapped his father on the shoulder affectionately and said, “Thanks, Dad.”

Red allowed the gesture, but his voice and expression turned stern again—where he felt more comfortable being, “Well, you're a man now, and you're about to be a husband—I hope you take that responsibility seriously.”

“I do.” Forman said solemnly, before winking and pointing at his father, “See, a little practice for later.”

Red cast his eyes heavenward and sighed heavily, before he said, “Always a smart-mouth.”

“Wait, I do.” Forman suddenly looked twitchy again and glanced at the rest of them, “I do. I do. Guys, how did that sound—I don't want to mess up saying ‘I do’.”

“Forman, it's two words, just say them like you mean them.” Hyde said, shaking his head slightly.

“But what if they come out sounding weird? Then Donna will remember how I said them weird for the rest of our lives! I do. I do. I—” Forman continued to practice saying ‘I do’, while Red grew more and more impatient.

“Well, dumbass, you better figure out how you're going to say it soon—because time's a-ticking, Eric!” Red said, the volume of his voice approaching an annoyed shout.

Eventually, after another five minutes of Forman practicing the perfect cadence with which to devote himself to Donna in holy matrimony, he finally looked ready to head down to the altar. As they moved to exit the room, his hands patted down the front of his tux one more time, “Wait, do I have my vows?”

Hyde scoffed a little, “Still where you left ‘em, man.”

“Right, right.” Forman exhaled as he placed his hand over his left chest pocket. Then he reached for him, and Hyde allowed him to pull him into a tight hug. As they embraced, both laughed a little as Kelso and Fez also put their arms around them in a brief group hug. As they pulled away from each other, Forman placed a trembling hand on his shoulder, “Okay man, let's do this!”

 

---

 

A part of her thought to be impressed with how smoothly everything had been going so far—but the louder part of her was practically shouting on the inside, ‘Of course it's going perfectly, only the best from Jackie Burkhart!’ 

Fez had arranged for some of his fellow stylists from the salon to do hair and make-up for the bride and the bridesmaids, but Jackie had brought her own collection as back-up. Not because she didn't trust the skills of the professionals, but just in case someone was missing the right palette of eyeshadow or needed a different shade of blush.

However, all things proceeded according to the plan—hair was styled, make-up was applied and dresses were donned.

As they all stood in the bridal room, awaiting the moment to head out and commence with the ceremony, Donna pulled her aside.

“Hey,” She said with a smile. She looked elegant and calm, truly the picture of a gorgeous bride with her copper hair in loose waves, beneath the flower crown veil. There was not a hint of doubt in her eyes, rather they sparkled with a merry excitement.

“Hey, you.” Jackie said, smiling back with an arched brow.

“I wanted to thank you, for everything…and I'm happy you're my maid of honor.” She pulled her into a gentle embrace, though it wasn't long before Jackie clutched at her tightly—the sting of happy tears peeking in the corners of her eyes.

She squeezed Donna once more before she forcefully separated them and waved a hand in front of her face, “Okay, that's enough you big lumberjack—I’m not scheduled to get emotional yet, I need to maintain my make-up for the ceremony!”

“All right, all right.” Donna laughed, before they were both accosted by the flash of a camera.

“Oh no, girls, go back to hugging! I missed the chance to capture the moment!” Mrs. Forman demanded, gesturing with one hand for them to move towards each other again.

Donna draped an arm around Jackie's shoulders and pulled her in close, both of them flashing smiles and posing together as Mrs. Forman snapped a couple more pictures. “Oh don't you both just look lovely, and Donna you're just the most beautiful bride—” Mrs. Forman inhaled sharply in an attempt to contain an outgoing sob, “Gosh, I remember when you were just a little girl!”

“What a vision, hey? Now that she's all grown up.” Midge said in a breezy voice, coming to stand next to Mrs. Forman—smiling wide and proud at her daughter.

Jackie glanced towards the door as she saw Bob Pinciotti enter in his tux. She could see he was already flushed from the effort to keep his emotions in check. He would no doubt be a puddle of proud papa tears walking his ‘baby girl’ down the aisle momentarily. She looked at the clock, there was still a little time left before they had to go.

“Mrs. Forman, would you mind if we discussed something out in the hall?” She asked, in between a few more pictures being snapped of Midge and Donna. She fabricated a little white lie, hoping to entice Mrs. Forman to follow her, “You know, Eric told me he really wanted you to snap some more pictures of him and the groomsmen before the ceremony.”

“Oh of course dear!” Mrs. Forman was seized by the distraction, and immediately went out into the hallway.

She moved to exit the room, following closely behind her, Rhonda and Brooke. She paused briefly, peeking through the crack in the doorway as both Midge and Bob walked up to Donna, their arms open to take their daughter into a big embrace. She smiled privately, before she shut the door behind her—leaving the Pinciotti's to their moment.

The rest of the wedding party gathered near the aisle, awaiting their cue. The faint sound of instrumental music played over the speakers, and Jackie could hear the guests begin to congregate in the pews. She was drawn to Steven’s side, grinning mischievously as Mrs. Forman continued to snap photos of them all. Eric appeared to be sick of the attention already, but Michael and Fez seemed to be competing for who could get the most poses in. Eventually, they both roped their corresponding bridesmaid into the pictures. Brooke seemed modest as she smiled next to Michael's cheesy expressions, while Rhonda was posing just as much as Fez was.

Mrs. Forman then turned towards Steven and her, snapping a picture of them relaxed, observing the circus of their friends. The older woman laughed merrily, “Oh Steven, won't you smile, just for one?”

“All right, all right.” He said, tucking her closer to his body as the camera flash temporarily blinded her. She blinked against the star-like spots dotting her vision, before she looked at Steven.

He was grinning down at her, looking utterly content.

“You're in a good mood.” She whispered to him.

“Should I not be?” He asked her quietly, inclining his head towards her, “My best friends are finally getting hitched, and I got the prettiest chick for a date to the wedding.”

“Steven, shh!” She admonished playfully, tapping his chest with the small bouquet in her hands, “You can't say that about anyone but the bride today!”

“Well, to be fair, I haven't seen the bride yet.” He countered easily, his hand giving her hip an affectionate squeeze. She gave him a stern look, and eventually he conceded with a nod, “Fine, after the bride, I got the prettiest chick for a date.”

Her smile bit down on her bottom lip, before she said, “Well, I have the most handsome date—and no, I will not be adding any caveats to that statement in order to flatter the groom.” Though she spoke quietly enough that Eric wouldn’t overhear her burn, Steven still laughed at her joke.

“All right everyone, just as we rehearsed the day before, let’s all get into positions!” Pastor Dave called from around the front of where the wedding party was crowding, waving his hands to gain their attention. Everyone began lining up for the procession, and she looped her arm through Steven’s as the two of them stepped up to take their spot as best man and maid of honor. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and felt him glance at her.

They didn’t have a moment to say anything to each other, as the music indicated that the ceremony was about to begin. Much like the day before, they all proceeded in their designated order, and eventually Steven led her out and down the aisle. The decorations were arranged perfectly and the attendees seated in the pews were all turned towards them, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the bride. She felt a giddy tremor shake down through her bones with every step, her eyes briefly landing on Eric. He looked like he was busy focusing on maintaining his composure through deep breathing, but the excitement kept slipping across in the smiles that burst onto his face.

For perhaps the first time in her life, she smiled fondly at Eric—though he completely missed it. His gaze was fixed upon the aisle, awaiting the appearance of his bride. 

They reached the altar, and she was forced to part from Steven as he went to stand next to Eric, while she took her place opposite him. Their eyes met, and he grinned at her. She pursed her lips, resisting the urge to smile back at him as she turned her gaze down the aisle. Soon the rest of the groomsmen and bridesmaids were in position, before the music adjusted to the tune of ‘Here Comes the Bride’, heralding her arrival.

Donna emerged, her parents escorting her on either arm, and there was a collective, admiring sigh emitted throughout the crowd. She was radiant as she gracefully approached the altar, but Jackie had to briefly glance at Eric once more—just to make sure he knew how lucky he was.

And she saw that he did—from the way his joy showed in his smile so genuinely, to the way his eyes watered and his hand lifted up to brush along his bottom lashes.

She looked back at Donna, who only had eyes for her groom—a knowing chuckle escaping her as she saw Eric’s expression. As expected, Bob and Mrs. Forman were both weeping happily as Donna finally reached the altar—turning to kiss both her parents on their cheeks before Bob finally handed her off.

“Dearly beloved…” Pastor Dave began, as the ceremony got underway. After he was finished with the introduction, he smiled from Donna to Eric and prompted, “I believe the two of you have prepared personal vows?”

“Yeah,” Eric said, smiling at Donna as if he was still a lovestruck teenager laying eyes on her for the first time. He reached into his left chest pocket and then paused, “Actually, looking at you now, I realized I don’t need my notes. I know exactly what I wanted to tell you, Donna—”

Jackie’s eyes grew wide with surprise, as she bore witness to one of the most swoonworthy things Eric had ever said in his entire life.

“I love you so much. You’re my absolute best friend in the whole world. You know me better than myself, and I have it on pretty good authority that it might be because I talk about myself too much.” He chuckled and smiled at Donna affectionately, “You always know what to say when I need help and I could never thank you enough for the love and support you’ve given to me all these years. With you I feel like I can achieve anything, and I can honestly say I wouldn’t be who I am today without you. Donna, I’m the happiest when we’re together and even though we’ve known each other for forever, I fall more and more in love with you each and every day. I promise to devote the rest of my life towards making you happy. I can’t promise I’ll get it right every time, in fact I’m almost certain I’ll screw up the first couple of times, but I’ll do everything I can to be there for you. I love you, and with you by my side, I can’t wait for all the years to come.”

Pastor Dave turned from Eric, to Donna gesturing for her to go next. Even standing behind her, Jackie could see the blush that covered her fair skin, and she heard the gentle humor in her voice as she spoke.

“Eric, you’re my best friend and I love you. You have been with me through all the ups and downs throughout our lives, from when we were little kids, to two teenagers exploring our first love, and now as young adults navigating the next steps in our shared life together. You always know how to make me laugh and smile, and I cannot thank you enough for the amount of joy and happiness you’ve given me all of these years together. You’re my biggest inspiration, your support gives me strength, and I know I can be my truest self when I'm with you. No matter the challenges we may face in the future, knowing you’ll be there for every step of the journey, I am confident we can handle them together.” Donna paused to smile at Eric, who had been forced to lift his hand to swipe at his eyes again, “Eric, standing here with you today, I know that I will never love anyone as much as I love you. Come what may, I promise I will always love and cherish you.”

Pastor Dave smiled fondly, opening his hands towards both her and Steven, “Now, may we please have the rings.” She untangled the ring that had been tied to her bouquet and handed it to Donna with a wink.

Pastor Dave said in a soft voice, “Donna, do you take Eric to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to love and cherish him, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto him, for so long as you both shall live?”

She could hear the smile and the sentiment in Donna’s voice as she said, “I do,” her voice cracking just slightly before Eric slipped the ring onto her finger. 

Pastor Dave smiled at that, before he turned towards Eric and repeated, “Eric, do you take Donna to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you promise to love and cherish her, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her, for so long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” Eric said, his voice gentle and affectionate, but certain as she slipped the ring onto his finger.

Pastor Dave’s voice was buoyant as he declared, “I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may now kiss the bride!”

They reached for each other in tandem, and sealed the promise of their future together with a tender kiss.

 

---

 

“What a beautiful ceremony.” Jackie murmured for the fifth time since they’d climbed into the Camino and he’d begun driving them towards the reception venue. She was in a dreamy daze over it all, staring out the window and no doubt replaying the events they’d just witnessed.

“Yeah.” He agreed, for the fifth time. Although he was not nearly as enamored by the ceremony as she was, he still felt how momentous the event that had just occurred was. Forman and Donna were actually married—like husband and wife married. Something had irrevocably shifted, and would remain forever changed between the two of them and all of their closest friends. But it felt good, in a way.

Change in his life had almost always been accompanied by negativity or discomfort; and although he had learned from an early age it was better to bend instead of break in the face of change, rare were the instances where he could say there was nothing but good vibes attached to a significant adjustment.

He would have a lot of time, maybe even years, to ponder the implication of this event for the future for him and all his friends, but for now he glanced to his right—waiting for her reaction.

She was looking out the window, so he knew she’d notice the second they pulled into the parking lot. She sat up a little straighter in her seat, and gasped, “Steven! The flower arrangement! When did you—” She broke off, as he felt her look towards him wonderingly.

He shrugged and answered her nonchalantly, “I gave them a call when I grabbed us dinner last night, and then I called them again this morning the moment they opened to make sure it was gonna be ready on time.”

“But how—why? You said it was just a bunch of flowers.” She whispered to him.

He parked the Camino and looked at her with a smile, “Well, are you happy?”

The smile she smiled at him in that moment beat out the sun and all the stars, as she exclaimed, “Oh Steven, you are the coolest and sweetest man I’ve ever met, yes I’m happy!”

He tried to shrug it off, but she lunged at him from across the seat and planted a kiss upon his lips. She always kissed him so intensely and passionately, like she was in possession of a bottomless greed for his affection. He tucked her hair behind her ear and eased them into a softer, gentler kiss before he pulled away.

“Let’s hold that thought for later.” He said quietly.

“You’re right, we have a wedding reception to basically host and speeches to give.” She paused, her fingers following the trail of the buttons of his shirt up to his bow tie, “But you owe me kisses later!”

He gave her an affirmative nod—knowing he would kiss her wherever she wanted for however long she wanted when they were alone together later that evening.

“Okay, are you ready?” She asked, poking his arm, “Did you prepare a speech in advance like I told you to?”

“Yes, I’m prepared.” He reassured her with a wry grin, “Let’s go.”

As guests began to arrive, the wedding party began to gather around the photo spot that Jackie had designed for Donna. The photographer—not Leo, unlike Bob and Midge’s vow renewal—began taking photos of them all. He took various photos based on instructions Forman and Donna had provided him with for what they wanted, and by the time they were done most everyone had finished arriving and settling within the reception venue.

As the wedding party began to move back towards the hall to join the rest of the guests, Hyde sidled up to Jackie and took her hand in his. She smiled up at him as she matched the pace of his steps comfortably.

Upon entering together there was a flurry of activity and the loud din of chatter within the room. As most of them began making their way up to the big table where they’d sit, Hyde and Jackie were intercepted by W.B. and his sister, Angie.

“Steven!” W.B. greeted warmly, “I didn’t get a chance to say hello before the ceremony—and what a lovely ceremony it was!”

“Hey W.B., Angie.” Hyde separated from Jackie and gave his dad a pat on the shoulder before nodding at his sister, “Glad to see both of you made it.”

“Well, Donna said your family is her family, so how could I say no to that.” Angie admitted with a grin.

“And I helped organize the tailors, so I was expecting an invite either way!” W.B. said with a laugh, before he looked down at Jackie, “And Jackie—” He glanced back to Hyde briefly, with a knowing smile, “It’s so nice to see you again.”

Jackie stepped in front of him and crowded his family, bravely thrusting herself in there without a hint of fear as she held out her hand for them to shake, “Hi, it’s so nice to see you again W.B., and you must be Steven’s sister, Angie—” Both of them shook her hand as she formally introduced herself to Angie, “I’m Jackie Burkhart, the maid of honor and Steven’s girlfriend.”

He tried to keep a neutral expression despite the way she obviously swelled with pride at announcing the words to his family as a part of her introduction.

“Is that so? Well, you and I will have to catch up later.” Angie smiled wryly and winked at her.

“Oh, I would love to hear anything—”

“All right, Jackie, look Donna’s trying to wave you over to the table—you better get over there.” Hyde pointed in the direction of the head table where they were expected to sit for the dinner portion of the reception, and then gently nudged Jackie in that direction.

“Okay, I’m going!” She began walking away, but hollered back at them over her shoulder, “Angie, I’ll come find you later so we can talk!”

He shook his head as he watched her go, before W.B. said, “All right, I’ll catch up with you later—I’m going to go say hello to the Formans’ before everything begins.”

“All right, man.” Hyde said, glancing at him before he looked back at Jackie—she was reviewing the seating chart and making sure everyone was getting into the proper spot and not trying to ‘clique jump’ between tables.

A brief laugh escaped Angie, which drew his eyes back to her, “Man, dad wasn’t kidding. You really like her.”

“What? No, I mean, we’re just dating.” Hyde shrugged.

“She’s very pretty.” Angie said, continuing to needle him for a reaction, “And perky, I’m surprised Steven.”

“Yup that’s Jackie Burkhart, pretty and perky.” He muttered idly, fiddling with his pinky ring—refusing to yield anymore information to his meddling sister.

She flashed him a wide grin, “Gosh, you’re so stubborn.”

“Like you’re any better.” He shot back, casting her a sideways glance. She just shook her head.

“Relax little bro, I’m not going to tell her anything too embarrassing about you, although it would have been so easy for me to do so.” Angie informed him, still smiling.

“Whatever.” He said, trying to not to allow himself to be humored by the prospect of his sister and his girlfriend gossiping about him. He cleared his throat, “Anyway, I should probably head over there—I got responsibilities and stuff.”

“All right, we’ll see you later.” Angie pulled in him for a brief hug, before she walked around to find her table.

Eventually, everyone began to find their seats—Hyde claiming his own in between Forman and Kelso. Forman and Donna shared a few words welcoming and thanking all of the guests before dinner was served. The sound of cutlery scraping against plates, polite chatter, and the inoffensive violin music out of the speakers filled the room as everyone ate. About three quarters of the way through the main course, Kelso piped up next to him.

“Oh, here we go, man!” He laughed, “Bob’s about to kick off the speeches, that plate of chicken is about to be drowning in tears.”

Hyde glanced up, immediately seeing what Kelso was saying. One would think after the tearful handing off of Donna at the altar, Bob Pinciotti would be all cried out—but the man was practically moist with joy and affection. Per the schedule that Jackie had drilled into him, Bob would be the first to go, then the expectation was that Red would share a few words, followed by Jackie’s maid of honor speech, and his best man speech would bring up the rear. Initially, he had said ‘whatever’ when she’d told him—but he felt a slight twinge in his nerves to be the closing act for the official toasts.

Bob wept through the majority of his speech—making many proclamations about how proud he was of Donna, how much he loved her, how excited he was to gain a son that day, before he finished up with a reminder to take care of Donna. It was a classic Bob speech, and the crowd expressed a collective ‘aww’ at the emotional display.

Red had no intention of following that act with anything similar. He kept his speech brief and direct, with an even tone that never once wavered into the territory of sensitivity. Of course, he spoke fondly of Donna—welcoming her into the Forman family formally—and he was able to smile again, publicly stating his pride in the two of them. But it was over nearly as quickly as it began, as he punctuated his final statement with an abrupt clearing of his throat and sat back down. Mrs. Forman looked over the moon with his efforts, and she whispered something into Red’s ear—causing him to smile bashfully.

A few minutes later, the main course had been removed, and soon it would be time to cut the cake and dispense the dessert—which meant it was their turn to speak.

Jackie stood up first, clinking her champagne flute with a fork—though she didn’t really need the aid to gather people’s attention. “Hi everyone, I’m Jackie Burkhart, the maid of honor and Donna’s best friend!” She shouted across the room, flashing everyone a bright smile. Dinner conversation slowed, as Jackie continued to talk above the quieting din, “I wanted to share a few words about how important Donna is to me, and how happy I am for her!” 

“For those who don’t know, I met Donna in college during a very tumultuous time in her life. She had made the mistake of going blonde—after I had told her not to—and she was struggling with a bad case of hot roots. Now, I had heard Donna share her opinions and thoughts throughout our shared class together, and I could tell she was a smart, strong woman—but what I didn’t know yet was just how kind and fun she was. A little hair dye and a few beers later, and we had become fast friends. Donna, you’re my favorite lumberjack, you’re the sister I never had and you’re the best friend a girl could ever hope for and I love you so much.”

She paused to flash another one of her winning smiles to the entire crowd, “Anyone who knows me or the groom, knows that Eric and I don’t often get along. But you have to understand, before I met Eric I was certain that there would never be a guy good enough for Donna. But I know, despite our differences, there’s no one better for her than Eric. The love they share is the real thing, and Eric—” Jackie turned her gaze away from the guests and looked directly at the bride and groom, “—I know that you’ve made Donna the happiest woman in the world today, and for that I’m forever grateful. So I hope everyone will join me in raising their glass to true love!”

The room raised their glasses in unison, drank and clapped politely as Jackie sat back down, heralding the end of her speech—which meant it was his turn next. He cleared his throat and adjusted the tight collar of his tux before he stood up. 

“Hey everyone, I’m Hyde—brother of the groom and one of the bride’s best friends, so believe me when I say I’ve seen these two at their best and worst, both individually and as a couple. And boy, there were quite a few awkward patches in those teenage years," He paused, as a collective, knowing chuckle dispersed through the crowd. He glanced at Forman then with a smile, “Now, ever since we were kids, Forman’s been the best of us—I can honestly say I wouldn’t be standing here today without him. He's the most loyal guy around, and I consider myself lucky to be his brother.” He paused, clearing his throat again, pushing through the discomfort in order to finish his speech, “And Donna, well, you already heard Jackie—there’s no better friend anyone could ask for, and from the moment Forman knew he was in love with her, he’s never had eyes for anyone else. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see just how obnoxiously happy they make each other.” He spoke with a wry grin as there was another chuckle from the crowd, glancing at two of his best friends in the whole world.

“Now those who know me, know I can be somewhat of a cynic, but when I look at you two I can’t help but think, man, maybe true love does exist, and I’m wishing you two all the happiness in your future together, I love you guys.” He raised his glass to toast, “To Forman and Donna!”

 

---

 

The cake cutting proceeded after the numerous speeches and toasts; a few folks from the crowd opted to also provide well wishes and statements to the newlyweds. Jackie had very clearly and adamantly told Eric not to smash the wedding cake into Donna's face, as it would create a whole mess of problems with her hair and make-up. Thankfully, Eric had abided by her strict order—instead, the two of them had poked each other's nose with a small bit of frosting before they completed cutting the cake together. It was a much more adorable practice, rather than having to wipe off sugary icing, with all the foundation and blush along with it.

Eventually, after everyone had enjoyed the sweet treat of red velvet cake, the music shifted away from the delicate, instrumental ambience setting music to something with a beat for people to dance to.

Jackie had been forced to grab a few tissues watching Eric and Donna's first dance together. She had also been forced to gently smack Steven in the gut after he teased her about being more emotional than Donna was about the whole thing. By the time Bob and Donna took to the dance floor for the father daughter dance, she was sure her mascara had begun to smear. A part of her was so overcome with happiness for the two of them, but there was also a pang of envy that lingered in her heart.

Once Mrs. Forman and Eric took to the floor, Jackie excused herself to the bathroom. Steven had asked if she needed anything, but she had just given his hand a reassuring squeeze in response. The real reason she needed to go to the bathroom was because she had to check and see just how smeared her mascara was—she wouldn't dream of doing the best man and maid of honor dance without her face looking immaculate.

She checked the clock and timed her touch up, slipping back into the reception hall in time for their song to begin.

“Steven, do you know what song Eric picked for our dance?” She whispered, catching the tail end of the mother son dance.

“All he told me was that you and I start with one song, and then they'd switch over to Hall & Oates, which I guess is the signal for the rest of the wedding party to jump in.” He informed her with a shrug, casually taking her hand and leading her towards where they were supposed to cue up the dance. He continued to explain, “Then it basically becomes a free for all, the DJ will just go through the tracklist and people can dance if they want to.”

“Okay, well how are we supposed to know how to dance, Steven?” She asked in a sharp voice, a scowl touching her features. Eric, Steven and Donna had monopolized the music selection for the reception party—effectively banning her involvement. There was no reason why he wouldn’t know what song was supposed to play next—unless he had fibbed to her about it. She looked up at him suddenly, and he glanced at her with a wry grin.

“Steven—” 

“Don’t worry about it.”

He pulled her onto the dance floor, as a familiar song and a familiar voice came over the speakers. Her eyes grew wide as Agnetha Fältskog’s clear voice began with the first verse of ABBA’s ‘I’ve Been Waiting For You’. It wasn’t quite a slow dance, but he led her into a more upbeat, swaying rhythm following the beat of the song, and she followed him despite the overwhelming astonishment that caused her thoughts to jumble altogether. She looked up at him, as the crowd observing them blurred in the background.

Suddenly, a laugh burst out of her, and she said, “You told me Eric refused to add any ABBA to the tracklist!”

He grinned widely, shrugging his shoulders, “I told them if they were gonna make me dance in front of an audience, that I get to pick the track.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t pick something else more your style.” She said quieter, arching a brow curiously, “And this is one of their older tracks, too.”

“Well, just for the record, I’ve already been telling everyone you picked the song for the dance. I have a reputation to uphold after all.” He said, grinning at her, before he cleared his throat, “And as for how I found this track, well, I had a customer a few months ago tell me I need to expand my section of dance and pop music. So I had to take some time to listen to some tracks.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I’m saying, I may, eventually, be persuaded to reintroduce ABBA to the floor.” He explained slowly, avoiding giving a definitive clarification—but she knew that, ultimately, he would come around to incorporating some more options. It was just better for business, after all.

She giggled again, as he spun her away from him before pulling her back—their hands clasping together as the song began to draw to a close. The song transitioned seamlessly into Hall & Oates’ ‘You Make My Dreams’. Steven easily followed the change in rhythm of the music, and she saw Michael pull Brooke onto the dance floor from the corner of her eye, followed shortly by Fez and Rhonda. By the time the song was halfway through, the dance floor had filled with people joining in the merriment and fun.

Minutes turned into hours, the dance floor remained lively with people having a good time. Steven and her danced periodically, though at some points in the night they were drawn into other conversations and tasks. Eventually came time for the bouquet toss, and Jackie was able to find him before she scoped out the best spot in the crowd of single women hoping to get a chance to catch it.

“Steven,” She announced, he glanced at her and lowered the beer from his lips.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want this to be weird for you, but I am going to be competing during the bouquet toss.”

He stifled a laugh, “Why would that be weird? Isn’t it tradition?”

“Because,” She blurted out, as though it were obvious. She scowled at him then, “Steven! We just started dating, are you sure you’re not going to be weird about it if I win?”

“Jackie, the only one who’s makin’ it weird is you.” He informed her, arching his brows. He was thoughtful for a moment, before he added, “Should I be prepared to call a cab in case Rhonda knocks you out of the way and we need to go to the hospital?”

Jackie narrowed her eyes, feeling her competitive streak sparked like a match, “Oh just you wait, I’ll catch that bouquet!” She turned on her heel and stormed off to where the unmarried women had begun to gather, while Donna was getting into position for the toss.

“Good luck!” She heard him call after her, though she could tell he really didn’t think she was going to win—but Jackie Burkhart didn’t give up until she had won at games she wanted to win at. She won at everything she set her mind to.

But there was nothing she could do to win a contest of height.

Compared to Brooke and Rhonda, she was severely lacking in reach and physicality. It should have been no surprise that her fingertips barely skimmed the silk ribbon hanging down from Donna’s bouquet, as Brooke was able to reach out and snag it out of the air above her. The taller woman showed off her prize by waving it in the air, before she glanced out into the crowd in search of Michael Kelso, winking at him. 

She should have been happy for them—and perhaps, tomorrow, she would be—but Jackie forced a smile and bowed out of the crowd of giggling, giddy women and wandered towards the outskirts of the reception hall. She glanced around the crowd, briefly spying Steven’s head of curly hair as he was engaged in a conversation with Mr. Forman about something—the two of them threw their heads back with a laugh.

She chewed the inside of her cheek, not wanting to rain on anyone’s good mood with her temporary bout of jealousy. She slipped out into the warm, evening air and wandered over to the little photo area she had designed—that Steven had helped complete. As she reached it, she took the rope into her hand that bound the simple, wooden swing to the large tree branch above and took a seat. 

She swung back and forth a little, listening to the way the rope stretched and pulled against the tree branch, looking down at her feet pushing off of the ground. In the distance she could hear the sound of the music from within the reception hall, the chorus of laughter of a few folks who had stepped outside to smoke a cigarette, and the general buzzing of nighttime insects waking in the darkening hours of late August.

She would be in Point Place for four months next week, with plans on staying and moving in with Fez for the time being—while she looked to potentially establish a career in Milwaukee. She had found someone she was falling in love with more and more every day—feeling sure as a new day would come, that her feelings for him would only continue to grow. She wondered, if she had caught the bouquet, if that would’ve guaranteed them for the long-term, ordaining their fate in the grand cosmos.

He would’ve said that that was stupid, probably, and that they’d be together regardless of what the cosmos had to say about it.

That cheered her, imagining that he would say something like that—though she didn’t have to imagine for long as he appeared, as though summoned by her ponderings.

“Jackie,” He said, and she saw that he had untied his bow tie and left the first few buttons undone at the top of his shirt—she could only imagine he was itching to get free of the suit.

“Hey, Steven.” She said, smiling up at him.

He came to a stop next to her, his hand lifting out of his pocket to hold onto one of the ropes of the swing, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I take it you saw me lose the bouquet toss.” She suggested, laughing a little.

“Yeah, but, man—who cares.” He shrugged, “It’s just a stupid tradition, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“I know—but I’m telling you, one of these days I’m going to get that bouquet.” She insisted, pointing up at him, “It’s a matter of principle, Steven. I deserve to win a bouquet toss, and I deserve for it to mean something.”

“All right, all right.” He shook his head, giving up on trying to make her see how pointless it was to fixate upon it. 

She smiled slowly, kicking her feet off the ground, which caused the swing to spin towards him as he continued to hold the rope—she hooked her foot behind his, keeping her near to him, “But I’m okay, I just wanted some air. Otherwise, I was liable to start a fight with Michael by making a comment about Brooke’s giraffe-like height.”

He laughed a little, “Well, that would really make Forman’s day—if you were the one to make a mistake at the wedding and cause a scene.”

“Steven!” She pushed at his hip, but he didn’t budge or stop smirking down at her. She tilted her head slightly and said, “What about you? Are you okay?”

He nodded, “Yeah, I’m fine—a little tired, but I figure I can put up with it since it won’t be happening too often.”

“I don’t know Steven, Brooke looked pretty interested in making good on her bouquet trophy.”

“Yeah? You think Kelso and her will tie the knot?”

“I do.” She informed him, smiling coyly, “And I’m almost certain they’ll pick us to be the best man and maid of honor again—you know, since we did such a good job this time.”

He rolled his eyes, “Well, hopefully it won’t happen right away—I need a break from all this shit.” He punctuated his statement by tugging at his collar again. 

“You’ll be fine.” She told him.

He was quiet for a long moment as he looked at her, before he said thoughtfully, “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He paused, glancing over his shoulder towards the venue once more, “Well, should we head back?”

“Sure,” She said, but didn’t stand up immediately. She waited until he looked back down at her before she added, “We can head back, right after you kiss me.”

He grinned again, releasing his hold on the rope before he leaned over her, his warm, gentle hands cupping her face as he placed a soft kiss against her lips. She reached for and held onto the front of his suit jacket as she kissed him back. They separated with a smile, and he said, “I think we got time for another,” before he pressed his lips against hers once more.

Notes:

I hope you all enjoyed the snippets of Eric and Donna's wedding from Hyde and Jackie's perspective!

Next is the epilogue!

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 16: The Bouquet

April 27, 1985

It was a pleasant, relaxing Saturday afternoon as Jackie moved through the apartment towards the kitchen. She walked past the dark, charcoal grey couch that was decorated with throw pillows displaying a colorful, floral print in the living room. The couch was flanked by bookshelves with an assortment of novels and non-fiction books, while on the coffee table in front of the couch was a pile of magazines, Rolling Stone and Vogue were the immediate titles visible, with a Time peeking out from beneath them. There were a few pieces of decorative art on the walls in the living room, and a massive, wooden entertainment console against the one wall with a TV, a VCR, and record player—the shelves adorned with a large volume of records and cassettes, with one shelf near the bottom that held a couple of movies. Upon one of the shelves of the console was a framed picture of her wearing a dark pantsuit with a fuschia colored blouse, wielding a microphone in one hand—a member of the crew had agreed to take a photo of her from the very first shoot she’d done as a reporter for the Milwaukee news station she worked for.

She entered the kitchen—which was a tidy space since she normally didn’t spend a lot of time in it—and opened the fridge. She grabbed her leftovers from the previous night’s dinner, a pasta dish with a delicious, homemade red sauce. She briefly stopped to look at the various photos hanging from the fridge. A couple of pictures of a trip to the UK from the year before, a photo of her and Steven taken at Donna and Eric's wedding almost two years prior. She warmed her lunch in the microwave before eating it quickly. She’d just eaten a small portion, since she had dinner plans for later that evening.

Afterwards, she rinsed her dish in the sink and loaded it in the dishwasher, before she moved back towards the bedroom. She glanced towards the band posters adorning the wall of the hallway to the bedroom—they were worn, but she had insisted on getting them properly framed before they’d been hung up. Mostly because it looked classier, but also because they would maintain their quality for longer.

As she passed the threshold to the bedroom, she glanced at the king size bed taking up most of the room. The bedding was a dark charcoal, similar to the couch in the living room, but had a plum-colored pattern to brighten it up. The sheets were a matching plum color—a color she’d had to fight for. If she hadn’t, she was sure almost all of the decor would’ve ended up black. She smiled a little to herself, before she entered the massive walk-in closet, lined with what was probably too many dresses, suits, and other outfits of hers. The drawers in the built-in shelving unit were likewise filled with her items, with the exception of the top two shelves—and there was a small section of the closet that had more masculine clothing hanging on the hangers.

She flipped through a few dresses, humming thoughtfully on each one she inspected. She plucked a few options off of the rack and tossed them on the bed to try on later. She moved towards her vanity and sat down—her eyes drawn instinctively to the framed picture she kept on the countertop, amidst all of her make-up and beauty tools.

It was a picture of her and Steven together, at a barbecue that the Formans’ had hosted last summer. Steven was sitting in a chair, and she was perched upon his lap. She had her arm around his shoulders, while his arm was curved around her back to hold her against him. It had been sunset, and the sun had been at the perfect angle in the sky to give her the perfect glow to her skin. Steven looked handsome, with his sideburns and his beautiful eyes uncovered, his sunglasses hanging off the collar of his shirt. They were both smiling at the camera—which had been held by Mrs. Forman. She had her teeth showing as she beamed up at the camera, while he had his typical close-lipped smile, but she could tell from the look in his eyes that in that moment he had been utterly content. 

She turned her eyes to her mirror briefly, before she sorted through her make-up palettes to select the look she wanted to go with for that evening.

Steven had told her—as she’d lingered in bed, their bed, watching him get ready for work—that he had plans for a date night later. Jackie had wondered if he had remembered that it was the anniversary of the day when they had first met. Two years ago to the day, her little red Mustang had broken down on the way to Point Place, where she had intended to live with her best friend for the summer and help out with an upcoming wedding—and when she’d been stranded, a man driving a black El Camino had pulled over to offer her help. The man that she now lived with, had been with for just a few months shy of two years, and was deeply in love with. She’d wondered if he had remembered, but she hadn’t brought it up.

That he had even asked her to go out with him that night had left her feeling giddy with romantic sentiment—but if it turned out he’d forgotten the date, she didn’t want to know or allow it to diminish her mood. No, she wanted to believe that Steven did remember and wanted to—even if quietly—celebrate the date that they had met. Even if it hadn’t been the date that they had fallen in love or the date that they had begun their relationship, it was definitely a date that had irrevocably changed the course of both of their lives.

Jackie selected a color palette and stood from her vanity and moved back towards the outfit options she had selected for consideration. She picked a romantic dress with a floral print, something that felt appropriate for a springtime date with her handsome man. He had left for work before she had gotten up out of bed, enjoying a lazy Saturday morning with no need to commute into Milwaukee for work that day, and she had every intention of making herself look drop dead gorgeous for him.

Even if it wasn’t going to be a special date, with a special acknowledgement of when they’d first met, she wanted to look nice for him. And she planned on giving him a big kiss the moment he got home to get ready, and another when they got home from their date—even if it turned out he didn’t remember. She glanced at the clock. She had a few hours before he would be home from work to freshen up, so she set to work—an impatient excitement having seized her limbs, barely capable of waiting until she saw him again.

 

---

 

Although he and Forman may have outgrown hanging out and eating lunch at The Hub, there were other places they could sit down for a quick bite to eat. Hyde had found a new local diner where a lot of folks their age or older often stopped by to eat. It wasn’t the familiar, nostalgic taste of The Hub’s cheap, greasy food—but he found that the older he got that the inevitability of change was not something to resist, but rather explore and enjoy. 

Many things had changed for him in the past two years. He’d moved out on his own, and with a sizable chunk of savings he’d accumulated over the years he’d been able to get a nice, spacious apartment—one with a big walk-in closet. He’d lived on his own for a few months in concept only, because Jackie had slowly eased into living with him. First he’d purchased a vanity so she would have a place to do her make-up in the morning after sleeping over, then he’d offered her space to leave clothes in his closet, and then he’d given her a key—and eventually, she had moved out of Fez’s place and into his. 

Full-time living with a chick—his chick—had been an adjustment as well. There had been frivolous arguments about aesthetics, organization, distribution of chores, among many other things that he could hardly recall. Even when he tried to bring memories of angry words to the surface, instead his mind would replay the moments that actually mattered. The first time they’d ‘broken in’ his new bed. Dining together on the couch while they watched a funny show. Cuddling close to her under thick blankets on a cold winter morning. The peaceful quiet of the evening, interrupted only by the turn of a page as they sat together in bed reading their own books. Her hands gently rubbing out his shoulders after he’d had a stressful day. Him holding her and rubbing her back as she wept about something upsetting or infuriating.

All of that change had been thrilling and difficult and worthwhile—and he was about to experience more.

“Once Kelso and Brooke get back from their honeymoon, we should all get together and hang out—maybe Donna and I will throw a party or something at our house.” Forman was saying, before he took a sip of water.

“Yeah, that sounds fun man, we should do that.”

“Speaking of, you know Donna’s been complaining about how she got passed over for maid of honor. First it was the Godmother thing, now it was the maid of honor thing.” Forman paused, grimacing a little, “I gotta say, as someone who was also passed over for Godfather and best man, I kind of feel the same.”

Brooke and Kelso had gotten engaged around Christmas time back in ‘83, but they had only formally had their ceremony just a few weeks prior. Kelso had nearly scheduled the ceremony for April Fools—but Brooke had intervened and insisted it be after the first of the month. Eventually they had agreed to be wed on Saturday the sixth of April—Hyde and Jackie had reprised their roles as best man and maid of honor, much to the chagrin of the rest of their friends.

Hyde chuckled, grinning smugly, “What can I say? Jackie and I did such a good job on your wedding that they opted for the sure bet instead of the wild cards”

“Oh, I don’t know—I still feel like Donna and I would have done a good job.” Forman argued half-heartedly. 

He nodded slowly, and then added in a casual tone—as though he was commenting on the weather or the quality of the sandwich in front of him, “Well, if it will make you two feel better, you can have your kick at the can at our wedding.”

“Obviously. If you two didn’t select Donna and I, I think we’d have to stop being—” Forman’s rant stalled, as his brain belatedly registered what Hyde had said out loud. His expression became bug-eyed and frantic with surprise, as he began wildly gesturing with his hands, “Wait! What? You two—you two are getting married?”

“Settle down, Esmeralda.” Hyde said with a laugh, before he explained with a shrug, “And, well, I think so. I’m planning on asking her tonight—I feel pretty certain she’s going to say yes.” He reached for the ringbox that had been sitting in his coat pocket for some time and pulled it out, “See?”

“So I guess you succumbed to the whimsy of fate, since Jackie caught the bouquet at the wedding reception.” Forman suggested, grinning wryly. She had caught the bouquet at Kelso and Brooke’s wedding, and even though she had told him she ‘knew it was just a tradition’, he had heard the lingering tone of hopefulness in her voice. It had taken everything in him not to just reassure her then and there and spoil the surprise, but he had kept quiet and Zen.

“Nah man, I bought this back in January.” Hyde explained with a shrug, “I just didn’t want to upstage Kelso’s big day or anything—and it seemed fitting to wait for today.”

“Why, what’s today?”

He glanced out the window as he recalled the now fond memory of seeing her for the first time on the side of the road—all prickly and angry over her bad turn of luck, with car grease smeared across her bright pink blouse. He thought about how smart and funny she’d been, only to fall hopelessly victim to the realization that she was also sweet and loving in ways he had never fathomed someone might be towards him. He had never thought there would be someone out there for him, someone that would make him reconsider what the future might hold.

But she had fallen in love with him, and she continued to love him. More fiercely than anyone ever had before, and by the time he had been ready to push past his own discomfort and articulate just how much he loved her back, he had already known. He had known there would never be another woman for him—no, there was only one Jackie Burkhart in the entire world and she had taken up too much space in his heart for anyone else to ever have a hope of replacing her.

He glanced back at Forman and said plainly, not even the least bit embarrassed, “Two years ago today was when we first met.”

“Aww, what a sap you are for her.” Forman said with another smile, “Well good luck with tonight, man. I can’t wait to sit in the living room with Donna for two hours listening to Jackie tell Donna everything that happened in great detail over the phone.”

“Yeah, consider this my courtesy heads up.” He laughed, knowing full well that Forman’s prophecy for the night would almost certainly turn out true. It would be a long evening, and there were sure to be tears and kisses and loving words exchanged—and he couldn’t wait.

He couldn’t wait to see the way the joy burst across her face, or the way her love for him glimmered in her eyes when she was just so overwhelmed by the intensity of her feelings. ‘Too much’, she’d told him once that people always thought she was ‘too much’—and maybe to some people, she was, but he would never get sick of the way she looked at him. The way she would gaze at him as if he was the most important person in the world to her. He could only hope that when he looked at her, she saw that she was the most important person in the world to him, too.

But most of all, he couldn’t wait to tell her that he wanted to marry her and spend the rest of their lives together.

Notes:

Just so everyone's aware, Hyde was the one who insisted on framing the photo of her first official day on TV and putting it in the living room for all to see, because he was just so proud of her.

I cannot thank everyone who has read this story enough, and to all those who have been so welcoming in the community! Your encouragement really helped me to complete this story as fast as I possibly could. If nothing else, I hope this story continues to put a smile on people's faces, I know I had a lot of fun writing it myself. :)

I'm not sure if I should pigeonhole myself into writing "AUs where Hyde and Jackie meet as adults (instead of dealing with messy teenage love triangle bullshit)" but I can tell you I already have two ideas percolating that are similar in that way LOL. One is *much* more serious than this one, while the other would be in a similar romantic comedy sort of vibe. Whatever I decide, Wedding Favors will always hold a special place in my heart for my first big fic completed!

In the meantime, I'll be chugging along on my other long form fic, 'Love, Wisconsin Style'.

Thank you again to everyone who has been reading my writing! <3