Disclaimer: Don't own nothing. Including the Led Zepplin song or the Price Is Right. I wish I own the song though. It completely kicks arse.
A/N: This is set in the summer of when Hyde and Jackie hooked up. It's set just after they got together. I'm thinking of continuing it but it could just a one off. Tell me what you think! R&R, pretty please!
That's the way
He hated summer. Well…that was a lie. But he hated how it made him sweat, and how the air would become suffocating.
Well…that was a lie too. He liked summer. It was probably his most favourite season out of all of them. Summer meant girls in bikinis, cold beers on a sweaty night and sleeping naked.
It meant having a long boring summer holiday. It meant lying around the house watching game shows because there was nothing else to do. But that was part of the experience and no teenager would give up their summer holidays, even if it meant watching the Price Is Right ten days in a row.
But he hated how summer made him feel. It made him restless. He couldn't concentrate; it was just too hot to think.
And it was too hot to be around Jackie.
Their 'relationship' wasn't anything at all for the moment. It was just images and flashes of her kissing him, pushing his back to the wall.
Just images of their bodies pressed up against each other, panting and sweating. He liked that. He liked the taste of her sweat, when it trickled down her chest, making a little pool in her bra.
But sometimes, it just got too hot.
They would start to get into it, and into it they would get. But the temperature would rise and not in a good way. It got unbearable sometimes, in that basement of his.
They formed a new system. When they were sure that the house was empty, not Eric or Red in sight, she would come over. She'd put on a song on, always her pick.
Amazingly, she would put on Led Zepplin. She would always put on the Led. Especially That's the way. He always wondered whether she knew that was his favourite song. Probably not. He never listened to her and she never listened to him. But he always told her she play whatever song she wanted. He always expected Elton John.
But That's the way would come on. She would turn around and flash him a shy, small smile. For a second, he would think that he liked her. And that she liked him back.
Then, she would strip down to her underwear. And he would also. It was part of the new system. They would lie there on the couch, in their underwear, barely moving at all, barely speaking at all.
It was the summer, you see. It was too hot to wear denim, too hot to walk anywhere further than two blocks and too hot to fool around.
So they would just lie there, near-naked. Admiring each other. She would speak sometimes. After all, it was hard to shut her up. But they mostly sat in silence, listening to the music.
They'd kiss sometimes. That was their relationship, after all. But it was developing into else. The images and flashes were changing.
It was flashes of Led Zepplin now. Images of her in her underwear, sweating and staring right back at him. Images of him suddenly groping her, daring to test the heat, her giggling and kissing him hard. Flashes of his hands chasing every part of her body.
Flashes of her and him frantically pulling clothes back on, as Eric stomped up above their heads, signalling they were no longer alone in the house.
When he, Fez, Foreman and Jackie were down in the basement, watching some random show, he hated summer again.
Because it made his mind restless. Because he seemed to be watching the Brady Bunch but his eyes were always on her. The sight of her inner thigh when she moved her leg. The way the soft, floaty material looked so good on her. The way her skin glistened from her sweat.
And it had to be the summer heat that was making him think about this. He couldn't care about her, couldn't want to spend time with her. No, it was the summer heat, that heat made him not concentrate, made him restless, made him distracted by anything she did, said or thought.
They went to the movies a couple of times. It was air-conditioned in there and dark. They became expert in choosing the right movie. Foreign, sub-titled films were the best. They sat up the back and were the only two there usually. They could do a lot more in the air-conditioning. He liked the idea of touching her without the fear of melting away from the heat. He liked the idea of touching her full stop. It wasn't really like two, immature teenagers making out in the back seat. It was more than that. It was making out that wasn't really making out.
And to their collections of flashes and images, more were added.
Flashes of his hand delicately sliding up her leg. Her always pushing it away. There were things we do in public and things we don't, she would say. Images of her giving in and him kissing her neck, her hand rubbing up and down his back, sounds of making out that wasn't really making out, while a Japanese movie played in the background.
She liked to wear his glasses in secret. He liked the way her skin smelt like her perfume. She liked to put her arm around him and pretend they were going out. He liked how her lips tasted like strawberry lip gloss.
He hated summer on the boring days. Because he didn't want to just hide in the basement, he wanted to do something. But they couldn't go out, because everyone was out and everyone would see them.
He hated summer on the boring days because she would talk a lot. And he still couldn't stand to be around her sometimes. Especially when she talked too much. And it was too hot to be sitting in a basement hearing about the latest clothes that were going on sale.
On those days, he wanted to strangle her. He probably would have but he didn't have the energy, the heat had sucked him dry. He didn't even have the energy to say shut up. So he just let her talk. And he just got use to it, after awhile. And she got use to him and understood that he found it boring. And she toned it down after awhile.
They still didn't have a 'relationship'. They weren't anything really. They were just used to each other. She knew that he liked to visit her house early in the morning because she would answer the door in her dressing gown with nothing underneath. He knew that her favourite food in the whole world was sun-dried tomatoes but she hadn't eaten them in three years, because she thought she would get fat.
Just images of sweaty bodies, Led Zepplin, lying in their underwear, Foreman stomping above their heads, Japanese movies, strawberry lip gloss, endless pointless conversations about clothes, skin that smelt like perfume, her wearing his glasses, sun-dried tomatoes and above all, a hatred for summer.
Because, god, he hated summer. Summer made him fall for her. The heat brought them closer together. And he hated that. So, therefore, he hated summer.
It was summer that made Jackie wear a bikini, summer that made Jackie strip to her underwear, summer that made Jackie wear nothing to bed.
It was during summer that Jackie and him got together, during summer where they stayed together, during summer where they got to know each other.
During summer where he started to know her, then started to like her.
Damn summer. It was just too hot, that's all.