A/N: It's the holiday season and I'm feeling the spirit. So I present to you a fluffy little Christmas one shot! I highly suggest you listen to the Carpenter's song "Merry Christmas Darling" if you haven't before. Or maybe just listen to it again since it is Christmas time. You know what to do; write a review! And have a blessed New Year, no matter what you celebrate this holiday season!
Disclaimer: I don't own That 70s Show or any of it's characters, settings etc...I also do not own the Carpenter's song or any of the movies referenced. I am making no money off of this whatsoever. Please do not sue.
Jacquelyn Burkhart rubbed her hands together, trying to stimulate a little warmth. In hindsight, it probably wasn't the best idea to walk to the Post Office in the middle of December, but she wanted to make sure that her Christmas cards got sent on time. Neatly packaged in ruby red envelopes, she had painstakingly wrote out her yearly letter on quality cream-colored stationary, addressing them to all her friends and family. 10 stamps and one long walk through the snow later, they were on their way.
The one that went to her mother she knew would remained unopened, at least until sometime after New Years. Christmases for Pamela Burkhart were spent in far-flung countries, lounging on beaches with half-naked jailbait and margaritas.
Jack Burkhart would surely get his card, Monday when the guards delivered the mail to his cell. And there wasn't a lot of hope of getting a nice card back. He'd probably just thank her when she visited him in prison on Christmas morning.
The Forman's would no doubt hang her card on the refrigerator. Fez's card, that contained within it's envelope a gift card to the candy store, would lay discarded until he had finished the entire box of chocolate that he would no doubt buy. Michael would surely take the card for him as a sign that she wanted to sleep with him. She could no doubt expect an unwanted assault from her former boyfriend under the mistletoe. The separate card to Brooke and Betsey would be tastefully displayed on the mantle. She was sure to receive a card back in exchange. The card for Bob would probably have tear stains on it from the heartfelt note she had enclosed. Donna and Eric would thank her politely, perhaps with an awkward hug.
And then there was Steven. She didn't know what to expect from him. Even when she had fancied herself the object of his affections, his praise for her romantic efforts had always been lukewarm. He wasn't one for cards, or cakes or gifts, or the holiday spirit in general. During their relationship she had tried to impose her Christmas spirit on him, hoping to build a family tradition together. While Steven responded to the neglect they had suffered as children with indifference, Jackie had always fought back with an excess of excitement. They were polar opposites, coping with the shambles of their families in very different ways. So different, yet so alike. Or so she thought. That was months ago, before the fight, before Chicago, before Sam. When things were simpler. When she loved him and he tolerated it.
Jackie opened the door to her apartment. She carefully stepped over the stack of carefully wrapped packages in the doorway. She had the presence of mind to get her shopping done before the rush. The gifts were pristinely wrapped, awaiting their recipients. All but one. It sat in it's box, looking lonely and out of place on her coffee table. She was debating giving it in the first place. She would be better served, perhaps, by getting Steven a gift from the alley behind the Piggly Wiggly, or maybe some sort of burn gift about getting left for a middle-aged man by your fake stripper wife. Instead, she had chosen something that meant something. Nestled on a worn black t-shirt was a thin notebook. It was girly, the sort of thing Jackie knew Steven hated, all pink and frilly. But what was inside was what mattered. The pages were filled with her neat hand-writing, each sentence proclaiming exactly how she felt about Steven from the moment of their first kiss on her Daddy's Lincoln until the moment Sam had arrived at the Forman's front door.
Jackie didn't know why she felt the urge to give it to him. Maybe it had something to do with the horrible things he had said to and about her this year. Or maybe it was that he still thought she had cheated on him. Or maybe it was because she desperately craved closure, an ending to a saga that had taken her through several years, multiple heartbreaks and more tears then she cared to count.
She shook the thoughts from her head, instead focusing her energy on making her apartment positively beam with the Christmas Spirit. She was fully aware that it looked like a Christmas store had exploded in her tiny living space. She didn't care. The twinkling lights, holly and wreaths made her feel more at home then the Burkhart mansion ever did.
Sometime in the evening, she answered a knock on the door to admit in Fez, Donna and Eric. Their faces were pink from the cold, their hair windswept, but they looked exhilarated. Or Fez did at any rate. Donna made up for her lack of enthusiasm by holding up two bottles of wine. Eric was laden down with bags filled with food, looking like he might topple over. Jackie took them from him, got out the wine glasses, and enjoyed making egg nog and decorating her apartment with her friends. She was doing well until they settled down to watch Christmas movie on television, a tried and true tradition. She tolerated Eric and Donna's lovey-dovey hand holding and smooching. After all, it was Christmas and she was happy to see them back together. She even smiled as Fez raved about his new love interest, a girl named, what else? Candy. Then How the Grinch Stole Christmas came on. Jackie tried to ignore the pang in her stomach as she realized that the person who loved that movie most was conspicuously absent. No one noticed that her smile faltered and that her excitement vanished into thin air. And why should they? After a lifetime of disappointment, she had perfected the skill of acting happy.
The next few weeks flew by in a hurry, ushering in Christmas Eve. The Forman's were throwing their annual Christmas Eve party, and Jackie was, of course, expected to attend. So she curled her hair, did her makeup, donned a tasteful red cocktail dress and showed up with all the bells and whistles. She made a big show of placing her immaculate gifts under the Forman's tree. She complimented Kitty on the food. She assured Donna that she looked great, and yes, Eric was bound to ask her to marry him tonight, or at least by New Years. She dodged Michael under the mistletoe, warned Fez to lay off of the hot chocolate and peppermint Schnapps and cooed over her goddaughter.
And all the while she managed to keep her mind off of the fact that Steven hadn't said a word to her all night. Mostly.
It came time for the presents. Donna looked skeptical over the makeup kit she had been gifted, but her face lit up when she saw the large (and boring) book underneath it. Eric had squealed with girlish delight over the Star Warscomic books she had found in some dingy shop in Kenosha. Fez and Michael gave her goofy smiles and jumped all over her like puppies when they were given the two tickets to Muppets on Ice. The Forman's complimented her on the bottle of expensive wine she had given them and Bob's eyes began to water when she gave him the white, rhinestone-bedazzled crock skin boots wrapped in metallic paper.
She momentarily stopped breathing when Steven opened his present. He looked at it silently, reaching into the paper to open the cover of the notebook. Then, without removing them, he closed the lid of the box again, looked up at her and uttered two words.
"Thanks Jacks."
She nodded, her heart rattling her ribs in a frantic tattoo. "Merry Christmas," she replied.
The house was a flurry of motion a moment later when Eric dropped to one knee and asked Donna to marry him--for real this time. Her affirmative reply was lost under the sound of Kitty's scream of pleasure. Jackie smiled like she knew Donna wanted her to, offered the appropriate thanks, and counted down the moments until she could escape home. Steven mysteriously vanished, taking her gift with him.
Hours later, Jackie sat in her pajamas on her couch, staring forlornly at the image of a log in a fireplace flickering at her from the screen of her television. The Forman's had an actual fireplace. They lit it every Christmas Eve. She had left the party before she could see the tradition carried out. She had no desire to watch the flames in such close proximity to Steven with no hope of him pulling her close to his side. The twinkling lights of her Christmas tree drew her eye. The top branch was noticeably bare; Jackie hadn't been able to put the star up herself. When she had been a child, her father had lifted her up to place it on top. When it was safely nestled in it's rightful place, Jackie had always made a Christmas wish. During her teenage years, the housekeeper did it when no one was home. This didn't stop her from wishing, but the trivial hopes of a child had changed into the more desperate pleas to God to bring her mother and father home so she wouldn't spend the holiday alone. Then, one Christmas with Steven, she had confided in him that she missed putting it up herself. Without a word, he had driven them to her house, taken her by the waist and hefted her up to the top of the massive pine.
Without warning, Jackie felt the sting of tears. The warm liquid spilled down her bare cheeks and her body shook with the sudden sense of loss. She looked through her tears at the tree, realizing she had forgotten to even buy a star. Her perfect vision of a perfect Christmas flitted away.
A knock on the door startled her out of her trance. She sat silently, willing her visitor to go away. The knock sounded again, more insistently this time. Jackie hastily wiped her eyes, straightened her robe and asked who it was.
"It's Steven," was the answer. Jackie would have been more inclined to believe it was Santa Claus, except she heard the warm baritone voice through the wood of her door.
"Steven?" she asked as she pulled the door open. He was indeed standing there, snowflakes trapped in his wild curls, his glasses gone.
"Can I come in?" Jackie stood back to admit him, watching him shake the snow off of boots she had bought him so long ago.
"What are you doing here?" she found her voice at last, cursing her decision to remove her makeup and wondering if her eyes looked as puffy as they felt.
"I read your present," he said simply. Jackie felt her heart lurch, the familiar sensation of butterflies spreading through her body.
"Oh," she murmured, crumbling under the glint in those pale blue eyes. "I just thought--"
"I know what you thought," he cut her off. "What did you want me to think about it? Out of nowhere you give me back my shirt? And the notebook…" He trailed off. Jackie felt the threat of tears build again behind her eyes. "Why did you give it to me?"
"I--" Jackie stuttered. "I just needed you to know." she finished hesitantly.
"Know what?" Steven was standing right in front of her now, the light from the television casting a warm glow across his face.
"How I felt. That I truly did love you. That, even after all we've been through, I still--" Jackie realized what she was saying. She snapped her mouth shut, her courage gone.
"That you still love me." Steven finished for her. Jackie expected him to goad her, to assure her that he didn't love her, to insult her in some way. Instead, he looked contemplative.
"You left before I could give you your present," He said at long last, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
"My present?" Jackie knew she sounded unintelligent. But she truly was bewildered. She watched, baffled, as he reached into his coat and pulled out something wrapped in black material.
"Sorry," he apologized. "I had to improvise the wrapping paper." he handed it to her. Whatever it was, it was light. Jackie let it fall into her palm, realizing with a start that the black "wrapping paper" was in fact the shirt she had given back earlier. She let it distract her for a moment, wondering what it could possibly mean, before she chanced a glance at what it had held.
A bronze star in the exact same design as the one Steven had helped her put up in her house, gleamed from her hand. She looked up at him, mouth open in shock.
"Donna mentioned you didn't have one. And you know, I just thought you might need help putting it up." he smiled almost bashfully at her. Jackie nodded, gesturing to the tree. Steven grasped her waist, filling her with desire that she tried in vain to extinguish. He lifted her up, steadying her confidently as she placed it on the tree. She took her time straightening it, not wanting the moment to end. When she could pretend no longer, Steven lowered her. He maintained his hold on her. "Did you make your wish?" he whispered. She nodded. "What did you wish for?" he asked.
"A kiss," she said quietly.
Steven didn't waste time with words. He leaned down and captured her lips with his own. It could have been decades, but was likely seconds, when he pulled back.
"Merry Christmas, Jackie," he whispered. "I love you."
Jackie smiled against his lips. "Merry Christmas, darling."
The star twinkled in the background as the two met again in an unrushed embrace.