Title: Fatherhood

Chapter Title: 1984

Words: 1,218

Fandom: That '70's Show

Coupling: Jackie/Hyde

Rating: T

Author's Note: I appreciate the reviews (and corrections) so thank you for all of those! Couple of things to bring to your attention: (1) I had to increase the rating due to a change in the language at certain points. (2) I also strongly urge you to pay attention to the chapter titles as this (short) story is going to be a series of strung together one-shots. The chapter titles correspond with the year in which the particular story is taking place so you'll have a better idea of the timeline. (3) Finally, the doves mentioned in here actually happened at a wedding I attended in Minnesota. Not a pretty sight.

He should have known that after he married her she would find something else to harp on him about. Married less than three months and she started bringing up them having a kid or two. Or four.

Four, man!

He choked on his beer when she dropped that bombshell. Almost asphyxiated when she raddled off the four – vapid, girly, cheerleader – names she's picked for the four girls they were going to have. Donna, the only one strong enough out of the group, whammed on his back to help him clear his airway.

"Uh, Jackie," Eric said slowly. "You know there's a fifty-fifty chance you could have a boy, right?"

"Please," she replied. "Steven knows better than to give me a boy."

He sighs as he drops the used condom into the trashcan next to the sink in the bathroom off their bedroom. He scratches the beginning ofa beard as he stares at himself in the mirror above the sink. He knows what's going to happen when he slips in bed next to her and doesn't really want to have that conversation with her again. But she's all warm and inviting and he can't help but want to visit Tahiti.

He slides back into bed next to her and she sidles up next to him. He knows it's coming even before she lays her head on his shoulder and stares up at him with those damn mismatched doe eyes.

"You know," she says sweetly, "you can stop wearing those."

"Not until you start taking your birth control pills again," he stoically replies.

"Steven," she whines.

"Jackie," he warns as he really doesn't want to start into this with her. Again.

"Please, Steven," she begs with a pout.

"No."

"Why not? We're married! Remember, first comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes baby in –"

"We're not dictating our lives based on some stupid rhyme."

Hooking her leg over his, she shifts so she's on her stomach, perched on her elbows, and staring down at him.

"But, Puddin' Pop," she whines.

"No, Jackie. We're not ready for kids. I'm still paying for your damn doves."

"That's not my fault," she snaps at him as she pushes herself into the sitting position. Her pink underwear peeks out from under the top of her flannel pajamas, and his eyes are immediately drawn down there. "How was I supposed to know it was migratory season for hawks?"

"Each damn dove cost five-hundred dollars, Jackie! And I still had to pay the fee for releasing them in the first place."

"That wasn't my fault," she screeches.

"Well, it was a damn costly mistake," he reminds her as reaches for his lighter. It ignites on the second try but he barely gets one drag in before she steals it for herself. He arches an eyebrow at her; a sort of silent reminder that she wouldn't be able to do that anymore if she has her way.

"Whatever," she replies as she sidles back up to him. She finds that spot on his shoulder where resting her head feels so damn comforting, feels so much like home. They don't say anything for awhile and just pass the joint between them as a way to pass the time before he has to leave for work.

"Steven," she whispers and he knows based on her tone that she's going to ask again. "Can we please have – "

"Dammit, Jackie," he groans as he pulls himself from her embrace and stumbles out of bed. He pulls on his jeans and grabs a clean concert t-shirt off the pile of his clothes by the closet doors.

(His clothes were relegated to that particular spot on the day they moved in as her clothes take up all of the space in their closet and the dresser he borrowed without asking from the Formans' basement. Any money they could have used to purchase another dresser goes towards paying for her damn doves. Or for the clothes and shoes she just has to have.)

"Where are you going?" She demands as she slips out of bed to follow him.

"Out," he snaps as he wrenches the door to their bedroom open and steps out into their small living room.

"Fine. Leave," she replies sharply with her arms crossed over her chest before her voice drops an octave. "Do what you do best, Steven Hyde."

He flinches. Pauses but takes another step forward and another.

"If you sleep…if you nail…I will never," she starts to threaten him until the fear washes over her and her threats turn to anguish. "Please. Don't..."

He stops dead in his tracks. Turns around. Glares at her.

"I'm not gonna go out and nail some chick just 'cause we got in a fight," he spits out, disgusted that she would accuse him.

"Why not?" She scoffs. "You did it before. Skanky nurse. Whorey Sam."

"You got your claws in me now; got my ring on your finger, doll," he reminds her. "And I ain't gonna do that."

"I just…if we had a baby…" She starts, stepping towards him.

"Jackie, we're not ready. Look at us! Fightin' again. And you're assuming I'm going to go out a screw some –"

"I wouldn't have to worry about that if we had a baby!" She interrupts.

"What?"

"You said…You said you'd stick around if there was a baby involved and…"

"Jacks," he starts. Pauses. "That's why you want us to have a kid?"

"No," she replies, but he doesn't believe her for a damn second.

"A baby wouldn't keep us together, okay? A baby couldn't keep Bud and Edna together. Couldn't keep your folks together. Couldn't keep Donna's parents together. Only thing that's going to keep you and me together is us."

"And we did such a fantastic job of it the last three times," she snaps back.

"All the more reason not to add a kid to this."

"You don't think this is going to end like last time, do you?"

He shrugs because he hasn't got an answer for her. He married her, didn't he? And he knows he's got no plans to drive off and screw the next chick he finds. Isn't that enough of an answer?

"No, Steven, a shrug is not going to cut it. Do you not want a baby because you think we're gonna get divorced?"

"I don't know," he replies because, honestly, their track record isn't that great. She gasps and her face crumbles and he knows she's going to cry.

"We've been married for less than a year," he reminds her. "Can't we just try to get that right?"

"You think we're going to get divorced," she repeats slowly like she doesn't believe the words she's saying.

"Jackie," he interrupts. "I didn't say that."

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't."

"Maybe not with words but I know what 'I don't know' means, Steven Hyde, and it means nothing good."

"Look, Jackie," he replies. "When you and I got back together, I told you I wasn't ready to get married yet but that I'd marry you someday. And I did, didn't I? All I'm sayin' is that we're not – I'm not ready to have a kid, yet."

"Yet?" She repeats with hope – or maybe its tears – shining in her eyes.

"Yet," he reiterates.