Title: Fatherhood

Chapter Title: 1979

Fandom: That '70's Show

Coupling: Jackie/Hyde

Rating: K+

Author's Note: Cheesy? Probably. But tomorrow is Father's Day (in the US) and the plot bunnies just wouldn't detach their fangs until I typed this little ditty up. I have a rough outline of where this (short) story could go so let me know what you think.

Normally after they make love (she refuses to call it anything other than making love), he'll light up a joint and roll his eyes as she snuggles up against him. He's not the type of guy that cuddles after sex but it is hard to resist a chick pressing her naked body up against you. She'd usually steal the joint from him after a while with a smirk on her lips, and sometimes he'd run his fingers through her long locks. Not enough to make her expect it, but he'll do it every once and a while.

But tonight he lies there stiff as a board. She presses into him, tries to engage him in the here and now through her touch. She steals the joint with a smirk but he does nothing to stop her – doesn't even grunt his dissatisfaction. She wonders if he's angry with what just happened between them but she dismisses the thought quickly because, after all, she's Jackie Burkhart. And nobody is dissatisfied after making love with her.

There is barely enough room to roll away from him because the cot they share is unbearably small. She rolls onto her back and snuffs out the joint on the ashtray on the floor. By the time she rolls back over to face him, he's got his sunglasses back on.

"Steven," she snaps because he knows the rule – no sunglasses during sex.

"Whatever," he replies. She sighs and flops down next him. There isn't enough room in the cot for the both of them and her movements jostle the rickety frame of his bed.

"Jackie!"

"It's not my fault this bed is so small! If you had just left your room the way I decorated it, we wouldn't have this problem."

"No, we'd just be gettin' high off your damn scented candles."

"You loved those candles, Steven," she reminds him sharply. "You said they made you feel like Laura Ingalls."

"Whatever," he repeats as he rolls away from her.

She snatches the sheet and pulls it tightly against her body as she slides out of bed. She gropes around for her clothes; he stripped them off her so quickly that she's not sure where they landed. Her inability to find her clothes impedes her trademarked stomp, cry, and hasty departure, which frustrates her even further because she hates letting him see her cry.

Real tears not the ones she pulls out when she wants him to do something for her.

She pulls on her jeans quickly and sneaks a look over her shoulder to look at him. He's still staring at the ceiling seemingly unaffected by her impending departure. She wants to say something; she wants to be Zen. Instead, she slips her arm through the sleeves of her top and pulls it over her head as she stumbles towards the door.

"Jackie," he starts and she pauses despite herself. "You'd tell me if you got pregnant, right?"

"What?" She cries incredulously as she whips around to face him He's sitting up in bed now; the blanket bunched around his waist.

"Did those shanks on the cheerleading squad tell you I'm pregnant? 'Cause I'm not. I learned my lesson with Michael, and I take my birth control religiously."

There's a slight flinch at the mention of her ex-boyfriend's name but he doesn't say anything in response.

"Steven, I am not pregnant!" She yells back at him fuming over the idea that someone would trying to ruin her reputation and relationship with such a nasty rumor.

"But you'd tell me if you were, right?" He asks again softly.

"Duh," she replies saucily. "You ruin my life? I ruin yours."

He nods his head slowly in response as an uncomfortable silence passes over them.

"Steven, did Julie" she starts before he interrupts.

"Cause, you know, I'd stick around. Even… even if it didn't work out between us... if there was a kid involved in, I'd be there for him. Or her."

"I know," she says softly.

"Cause I know…," he tries to assure her but struggles to find his voice. "I know…I had a shitty dad who was never around and I know what that's like. I'd step up. I wouldn't be like Kelso."

"Is that what this is about?" She asks as she sinks down onto the bed next to him. "Steven, you are nothing like Michael. And I am nothing like Brooke. First of all, I wouldn't let you get off as easy as she's letting Michael off. You'd be changing all our baby's diapers for one thing. And second of all, I would not get pregnant in a bathroom. Let alone at a public bathroom at a Molly Hatchet concert. Eww!"

He smirks at her response because he knows how much she actually likes public places. The smack on his chest lets him know that she knows exactly what he's thinking.

"Shut up," she growls and he smirks again.

Silence passes between them briefly before he – for once, she thinks to herself – initiates the conversation again.

"I'm not going to be like Bud. Or like W.B. I'd be there for our kid."

"You just said our kid!" She squeals. "You wanna have kids with me! Which means you wanna marry me!"

"No, I didn't," he's quick to amend.

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. You said you'd be there for our kid, Steven. You want to be there for little Jackie Junior!"

He grimaces at the idea of little Jackie Junior. Or maybe just at the idea of having kids. (Although he clearly wants them with her. His words. Not hers.) She can't really tell.

"How about Little Beulah?" He teases. She frowns immediately.

"Steven, we are not naming our future beautiful daughter that horrible name!" She snaps at him after she jumps off the bed so she can face him. She glares at him so he understands that she means business.

"I don't know, Jacks. I kind of like the name Beul—"

His statement is interrupted by a swift kick to his shins.

"Jackie!" He snaps. "What did I tell you about kicking me?"

"What did I tell you about mentioning that horrible name around me?" She snaps back. "It's Jackie Burkhart until you decide to finally marry me at which point I will be Jackie Hyde."

He groans in frustration because he slipped up and now she's going to keep babbling about getting married until his ears start to bleed.

"This is a marriage-free zone, Jackie," he reminds her forcefully as he gestures around the room.

"Fine," she snaps as she flounces towards the door. "I'm going to Donna's because I can talk about weddings all I want over there."

"Fine," he snaps back as she slams the door. With a sigh, he stands up and starts pulling back on his jeans. Just as he's zipping up his fly, the door opens again and feels someone's arms snake around his waist.

"Steven," she says softly, "you are a much better man than Bud or W.B. And you will make a much better father."