Title: Coming Home
Author: Me, duh.
Summary: Steven Hyde ran from Point Place, away from the memories, from Jackie. Now it's five years later and he's back, like it or not.
Author Note: I just started writing in this fandom, and I'm taking a little creative license with the plotlines. This starts during the final season.
Disclaimer: I don't own "That 70's Show" or anything like that. I do own an awesome chocolate chip cookie recipe, though. But it's just not as fun to write about...
"Look at you now, look at you now. You're put in your place, put in your place." Familiar by Incubus
The smell of baking cookies warmed the Forman kitchen. Kitty bent to pull them out of the oven, frowning a bit at she glanced them over. They were a bit too browned around the edges. She wondered if she had time to redo a batch.
"Did he say what time they'd arrive?" Kitty asked, scooping the cookies off of the baking sheet and onto a cooling rack.
"They had just stopped for gas outside of town, so it should be soon," Red answered, noting his wife's nervous demeanor. "Relax, Kitty."
"I'm sorry, Red. I'm just so nervous! And these cookies look just awful. I should start over," she sighed, glancing at the flour still out on the counter.
Red motioned for her, taking her hand as she neared and pulling her towards the seat next to him. He looked into his wife's eyes as he spoke.
"Kitty, the cookies aren't important. I don't want you to get your hopes up about having Steven back here. From what WB said, he has some real problems."
Kitty frowned again, "Well, I know that. I just want to make him feel welcome!"
"Look, he's not too happy about being brought back here. I don't want you to get hurt when he isn't thrilled to see us." Red sighed as he watched his wife's expression.
"I'm just happy he's coming home," Kitty declared, standing up.
"Kitty..."Red began again, but she shushed him.
"And I don't care what Steven says or does, deep down he'll be glad to be home, too," Kitty said firmly. "Now, should I put out juice or water? I know WB said no alcohol! Oh! Maybe lemonade?"
Red looked as if he wanted to say something more, but just sighed again. "Whatever." No matter what he said, his wife had high hopes for Steven's homecoming. Unfortunately, Red had a feeling it was going to be more like a disaster.
When Kitty heard the car turning into the driveway a few moments later, she nearly dropped the pitcher of lemonade in her hands. "They're here!" she exclaimed, smoothing out her skirt. "Oh Red, they're here!"
WB entered through the sliding glass door. Red stood to greet him and they shook hands with matching grim expressions.
"Where's Steven?" Kitty asked, buzzing with nervous energy.
"He's in the car. Asleep, I think," WB said, gesturing towards the car with a frown. "Or maybe just passed out."
"How was the drive?" Red asked.
"The drive was fine. The company was a little rough." WB sighed. "He's pretty angry, though he seems resigned. I don't think he'll take off, but he won't be pleasant. It'll be tough."
"We can manage," Red nodded.
"That's why I called you," WB replied.
The two men shared a meaningful glance, but Kitty seemed oblivious to them. She was staring hard at the car parked in the driveway, as if willing Steven to emerge.
"Would you like a drink?" Kitty offered politely, though still somewhat distracted.
"No, thank you. I've actually got to get back on the road. Everything was sort of sudden. I didn't have time to cover the store," WB explained. "And it's probably best if I don't stay long. He not too happy with me."
"Sure," Red nodded.
"I'll go wake him and bring him in." WB went back out, leaving Kitty and Red alone again.
"I should go get Eric's room ready. He'll probably just want to nap for a bit," Kitty said, already moving towards the living room.
"No, Kitty. You will not be babying him," Red said firmly.
"Well, now, he's just like one of my babies," Kitty cried, hands on her hips. "I have the right to baby him!"
"Kitty, listen," Red began, taking her hands. "I've known a lot of men that had the same sort of troubles as Steven. And all the coddling in the world won't fix them. He needs structure, discipline, rules."
Kitty frowned, not quite agreeing with her husband, but Red went on, "I need you with me on this, Kitty."
Her frown deepened, but she nodded. "Fine. I don't like it, but I understand." She crossed her arms in front of her. "We'll talk more about this later, Red Forman."
The door opened again before Red could reply and for the first time in five years Steven Hyde stepped into the Forman's kitchen again. His eyes were dark, angry, and he didn't meet Kitty's hopeful gaze.
"Steven!" she smiled. "It's so good to see you, honey!"
He didn't answer, but Kitty kept her bright smile as she moved towards him. "Come now, sit down," she instructed, pulling out a chair for him.
WB entered the room, carrying a single suitcase. He handed it to Red, and then turned to Steven.
"I'll call to check in on you later, son," WB said, gently patting his boy's shoulder.
"Don't bother," Steven snorted.
WB just shook his head. Red walked him to the door, both quiet. There wasn't much to say. When WB had first called for Red's help, there had been awkwardness between the men. Now they both felt a silent understanding pass between them. WB wouldn't be calling again. He'd never been a true father to Steven and he couldn't now. That's why he had called. In a way, he was giving his grown son to Red.
They regarded each other evenly.
"Have a safe drive," Red finally said, shaking hands with the other man once more.
"Good luck," WB replied. And then he was gone.
Just a few moments later, Steven was seated at the Forman's kitchen table, his arms crossed defensively in front of him. He had ignored the plate of cookies Kitty had placed in front of him, choosing to glare at far wall instead.
"I really am just so glad you're here," Kitty cried, breaking the silence. She reached out, as if to take his hand, but then thought better of it. "Can I get you anything?"
"Yeah, a damn ride home," Steven growled.
"Watch your tone," Red warned, his eyes narrowing.
Seeing the look, Steven forcibly swallowed back whatever reply he was going to give and settled for a muttered, "Whatever." He sunk lower in his chair, hoping the chair would disappear and the floor would swallow him whole. Anything to get him out of the place he'd been running from.
"Now, it's okay," Kitty said as she patted Red's hand, her tone placating. "Steven's had a rough day."
"No, Kitty," Red shook his head. "Steven is not going to be living on excuses anymore. It's time to pull his head out of his ass."
Steven's anger bubbled over again, and he leaned towards Red. "Screw you, man! The only reason I'm here is because WB was sick of playing Daddy! This is the last place I wanted to come!" he jumped to his feet. "I don't need you or this tough love bullshit!"
Red, who had silently listened through Steven's rant, rose to meet his angry gaze. "You through, son?" he asked, his voice dangerously controlled.
"Hell no, I'm not!" Steven shouted. "You're not even my real parents! I don't need this crap from you or anyone else I'm a grown man now, dammit!"
"Steven!" Kitty cried, also jumping to her feet.
"Just stop it!" Steven held his hands up, as if warding off Kitty's advances. "I don't want your help or your love," he sneered.
"Alright, Steven. That's enough!" Red shouted. He pointed a finger in Steven's face, forcing the younger man to look at him. "I won't hear one more word out of you!"
"Excuse me?"
"No more talking, young man! You're back in my house, under my roof and you are going to show some goddamn respect! Parents or not, we are responsible for you and we're going to get you back on track. So you're done running your mouth now. You talk about being a grown man, but all I see it a mouthy little boy. So it's time for you to grow up and I'm going to make sure it happens. Until then, you're a child in this house, understand?"
Steven started to reply, rude words already forming on his tongue. But Red cut him off, voice full of authority.
"Get your bag, march your ass up the stairs. You'll be staying in Eric's old room and it needs a good cleaning. I don't want to hear a word from you. Get to it."
Frustration threatened to boil over. But Steven bit it back, held his tongue and tried to remember his respect for the family that had taken him in when he was younger. He gave Red a curt nod, indicating he understood. Kitty looked between the two, eyes full of worry.
"I'll help you clean up, Steven," she offered.
"No, I'll do it," Steven replied, meeting Red's gaze. "No problem." He knew a challenge when he heard one, and Red was obviously testing him.
He grabbed his suitcase and headed upstairs, following the familiar route to Eric's room. Opening the door was like going back in time. Not much had changed, down to the Star Wars action figures gracing most available surfaces.
He threw his bag down, noting the cleaning supplies someone had placed in the corner. Still fighting back his anger, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and got to work.
Just an hour later, the room smelled of bleach and dust. The dust was because it had been sitting empty since Eric had moved out nearly four years ago. The bleach was due to Steven's half-hearted attempt to scrub down the surfaces of the room. It was giving him a headache.
Dropping the rag he'd been using, he slumped to the floor, leaning against the wall. Not only did his head hurt, but also he was starting to feel sick again.
He couldn't believe he was actually back in the Forman's home. He felt like he'd gone back in time, like he was just some dumb high-school kid again. Red had certainly treated him like one.
It was such crap. He'd been on his own for five years, taking care of himself just fine. But now everyone had decided his lifestyle choices, if you could call them that, were a problem.
He was pissed. But not enough to do anything drastic, not yet. He'd play Red's little game, be a good little boy. But only to get WB to shut-up and give him his damn job back.
Then he was out of Point Place, for good. If he never saw the small town again, it would be too soon.
Groaning, he forced himself to his feet. The room still needed some work, but it was good enough for a nap. The bed had fresh sheets, courtesy of Kitty.
Moving towards the bed, he managed to kick off his boots. He was suddenly exhausted, barely able to keep his eyes open. The clock showed that it was barely 6pm, but he didn't think he'd be able to stay up any longer.
As he pulled the sheets up over him, he was already falling asleep.