So, I have rediscovered the brilliance that is That 70's Show. Unfortunately, this also means finding out the horror that is season 8 (which I now refuse to watch ever since the greatest tv relationship was ruined by writers). But, this also means I had to write That 70's Show fanfiction. This probably isn't my best, but enjoy.
Disclaimer: If I owned That 70's Show, the last season would have gone A LOT differently.
Red Forman felt as if he'd gotten sucked back in time. Here he was, enjoying his cup of quiet and his coffee, and with the opening of that damned door that might as well have been the sound of the guillotine dropping on him, the calm was ruined by a loud bossy cheerleader. Who was crying. While hugging him.
"I just don't understand how this could h-happen!" she sobbed, clutching his shirt. He had tried to remain straight-faced, ready to whip out the old "foot-in-your-ass" comment that was sure to send her darting down to that basement, but then she started crying. A lot. Red Forman could deal with anything but a weepy female.
Which is how he found himself awkwardly patting her dark hair as she continued with the insistent wails. She was all short and tiny and innocent looking, but she had those sharp little nails that were currently tearing through his precious layers of skin as she clutched his arm, blinking her big eyes. "How could he be such a jerk?" she whispered, sniffling. Red would deny it until the day he died, but the little heartbroken words made him feel queasy inside. He didn't like feeling queasy over some teenager girl's melodrama.
"He's a dumb ass," Red said. She couldn't help but smirk a little, the bratty side of her peeking out. Red sneaked a quick peek at the calender, making sure it wasn't actually 1979. All of this was too familiar- an emotional midget running to him for comfort for whatever dumb ass thing her boyfriend had done. But little details proved that no, he was not a time traveler. Her eyes were an eerily familiar blue, her self-satisfied smirks a little more her father's than her mother's. Her last name wasn't Burkhart, and her father wasn't in prison and her mother wasn't a tramp partying in Mexico.
"Layla!" they both turned to look as a young man with goofy hair and a panicked expression burst into the kitchen, making Red mentally remind himself to get a lock for that door. A nice, sturdy lock. A teenage proof lock.
"What Luke?" she said haughtily, tossing her hair just like her loud-mouthed mother did. He blinked nervously, suddenly aware of Red's presence.
"Um, Grandpa, could you-"
"If your about to ask me to leave my own kitchen, you're a bigger dumb ass than your father is. Why don't you two take this down to that drug-filled basement and give me some peace and quiet?" he barked. Layla blushed, smoothing out her pleated cheer shirt as Luke stuttered.
"We don't, I mean, not, I would never, what gives you the idea that there's drugs in the-" Red cut his rambling grandson off again.
"Because your-yes, I'm talking to both of you-" he added, giving Layla a look that wiped the innocent expression off her petite features,"parents thought they were just as sly as you all do," Red said. Luke blinked while Layla grinned, probably filing that particular information away for later use as blackmail. She might have looked almost identical to her mother, but her personality almost mirrored that of her father's (except, of course, for the crying and the emotions-overload. That was a Jackie thing).
"Well?" Layla looked at her possibly-ex-but-most-probably-still-current-for-the-moment boyfriend a nod, gesturing to the door. "I think you have some apologizing to do. And when I say some, I mean a lot," she added. Luke simply nodded, looking like a plastic bobble head (he, on the other hand, was almost a copy of his father, except the vicious red-haired genes inherited from his mother that completely demolished his father's meek brown hair genes, causing the boy to have fiery red hair that flopped everywhere) as he went out the door. Layla took a step to follow, then quickly turned back around and ran up to Red.
"Thanks," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. She beamed up at him before skipping out to go make her maybe-boyfriend grovel for forgiveness.
"She's so Steven's child," Red turned around to see Kitty standing beside the fridge, nodding to herself.
"Where in the world did you come from?" he asked, leaning down and kissing her. She smiled, then sighed.
"Oh, I just wanted to enjoy the moment," she explained, giving her Kitty laugh at the confused expression on her husband's face.
"History has a way of repeating itself," she said wryly. "Which means a foreign boy is about to prance through her talking about completely inappropriate things in an unfamiliar accent," she smiled. Red frowned, opening his mouth to argue.
"Ow! My eye!" he rolled his eyes as the voice carried from outside.
"When did Kelso get here?" he grumbled.
"How do you know that's not one of his children?" Kitty laughed, walking back towards the living room. Red paused for a second, his mind blank, before following after.
"Who on Earth allowed Kelso genes to reproduce?"
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