Author's note: Well, this chapter kicked my butt let me tell you. It was torture trying to get it out. And in the end, it was to long, so I had to stop it early. I had a lot more things planned for this chapter, but it was too much. I'm not really happy with the way it ended, but I just needed to get it done, so hopefully it's not to bad. So read, and if you feel inclined, review.                                                                    

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of That 70's Show; they belong to whoever they belong to.

                                                                      Delicate Cutters

                                                                        "I Stare Ahead"

    For people of the Burkhardt's stature, having a cook was so in the norm that the many generations before the young Burkhardt girl had never felt the need to step into the kitchen. Therefore, they never learned to cook, and since it was improper for people like the Burkhardt's to socialize with the hired help, no one in the household was able to teach the girl the inner workings of the kitchen.

    The girl was resourceful, and with the help of Mrs. Forman, she was progressing in her skills. She had improved so much that she hadn't set off the smoke detector in almost two weeks, to the great relief of her neighbors, who were quite tired of the fire departments frequent visits to their exclusive neighborhood.

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     Jackie had been awake for almost four hours now, and she was running out of things to do. And it was only seven thirty. When she had first woken up, she wasn't surprised to find her clock reading 3:30. She had been having trouble sleeping recently, going to bed at odd hours of the night and rising before the sun. She had found things to occupy her time, like organizing her father's office, reorganizing her mother's liquor cabinet, cleaning, trying on different outfits and experimenting with new makeup and hairstyles. Or, if all else failed, she'd just lie in bed and listen to ABBA.

     But Steven was currently sleeping in her bed, so that ruled out listening to music and experimenting with fashion. And as it was still early, there wasn't enough light to clean properly. So that had left her with two options: her father's office or her mother's liquor cabinet.

     Since she wasn't really in the mood to spend hours inside a small was, because that's what it was in reality, surrounded by alcohol, she chose the former.

     So from four thirty to six, she had sat in her father's leather chair behind his oak-wood desk and organized files she had arranged a hundred times before.  It shouldn't have taken as long as it did, but she was going as slow as she could, in order to use up time. Steven probably wouldn't wake up until eight thirty or nine, so she had time to kill.

     She left her father's office in search of something else to fill her time and her eyes landed on the door to her studio. She bit her lip, glancing at the stairs. Maybe if she turned the music really low, then he wouldn't hear. But what if he comes looking for me and hears me moving around inside? She reached her hand out to run her fingers over the doorknob. Another voice asked her if really mattered if he knew or not. She wanted to listen to it, really she did. But she couldn't.

    Sighing, she dropped her hand. Steven had work today, so he'd definitely be out of the house by eleven. She could hold out that long. In the meantime, he would be up soon and this was a perfect time to test her newly acquired cooking skills. Smiling slightly, she headed down the hall to the kitchen.

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     Making pancakes was hard. You had to watch it, waiting until the top begins to bubble, then you had to flip it, making sure not splatter the batter everywhere. After that you had to constantly check the underside to make sure it didn't burn. All this effort for a stupid, little pancake. One! And Steven would want more than one, so she had to do all that more than once. Honestly, she couldn't understand how Mrs. Forman enjoyed this.

      Jackie shoved a piece of puffy hair behind her ear and picked up her spatula. She never got a chance to blow dry her hair last night, and then she slept on it damp, so it was completely out of control. It was so…bushy when it wasn't cared for properly!! It wouldn't stay in the ponytail she had pulled -more like forced- it into. Honestly, she should've just held Steven off for a half and hour longer last night. It was hard, she knew, for him to keep his hands off her because she was hot, but nothing is worth having bad hair.

      She paused at that thought, stilling her spatula. A small smile graced her lips, well, maybe that was worth bushy hair in the morning.

"What are you smiling about?" Jackie jumped, clutching at her heart.

 "Steven! You almost gave me a heart attack!"

      She glared at where he stood, leaning against the door to the kitchen. He liked to do that, lean against the door with his arms crossed. She supposed he thought it made him look all cool and Zen, but right now he was looking adorably rumpled, with his clothes wrinkled from being in a pile on the floor all night and his hair more curly and puffy than hers. He really was cute when he just woke up. She'd never tell him that, though.

 "I've been standing here for almost a minute. It's not my fault you zoned out."

 "Whatever." She glanced up at him from where she was flipping a pancake. He was looking at her with a strange expression on his face.

 "What?"

 "Are you…cooking?"

      Looking at the light brown circle on her pan, Jackie decided the pancake was done. She slipped her spatula under it and placed it with the others on a plate.

 "Yes."

 "Should I be scared?"

      She glared at him while she poured more batter onto the skillet.

 "No. I am a perfectly good cook."

 "Since when?"

 "Just sit down and drink some coffee. Breakfast will be ready soon."

     He walked over to the counter behind her and picked up the pot of coffee, holding it up for a close examination. She turned around, exasperated.

 "Steven!! There's nothing wrong with the coffee! And if you want these pancakes you better stop implying that I can't cooking."

     Steven glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, smirking slightly.

 "I didn't know making coffee was considered cook."

     She threw her spatula at him. He ducked it, laughing.

 "Shut up!"

     He was still laughing at her as he poured himself a cup of coffee. Jackie just rolled her eyes, turning back to the oven ready to flip the pancake only to realize she no longer had her spatula. Growling under her breath, she grabbed another one out of a drawer, making a big show of stomping back to the stove. Steven just looked at her over top of his newspaper from where he now sat at the small kitchen table. She retaliated by sticking her tongue out at him. He snorted.

 "That's real mature, Jackie. First you throw stuff at me and now you're doing that? This isn't third grade, you know. Sticking your tongue out at me now could imply something entirely different."

 "Really. What else could it possibly mean?"

      Never taking his eyes off the paper, he replied.

 "That you want to say screw the pancakes, let's go have more wild sex in my room. Or better yet, let's pull a Forman and do it right here on the kitchen table."

 "Ewww! The kitchen table?! That's gross! I eat there. No, if it's going to be on top of anything, it'd be my father's desk. I don't eat there."

    He put down the paper.

 "Then screw the damn pancakes, let's go screw on the desk."

    Jackie grabbed the plate of pancakes, and set it down in front of him.

 "No."

 "Then don't stick your tongue out at me unless you plan to use it. It's false advertising."

 "Steven, you think everything is false advertising."

 "That's because everything is. Like dating, for example, it's not really about 'I like you, you like me, let's go skipping down the hallway holding hands and giggling; no, dating is-"

 "Prostitution, and you don't always get what you paid for. God Steven, don't you have anything else to talk about?"

    He glared at her as she put the syrup and butter on the table and slid into the seat across from him.

 "Says the girl who can talk about her hair for three hours. I can't begin to count how many times I've heard 'you have to leave your conditioner in if you want to have hair as glossy and silky as mine, not bland and rough like Donna's.'"

    Jackie straightened up, her face breaking into a wide smile.

 "Steven! You listen when I talk to you! And you can quote me. I didn't know you were so interested in hair. But, you know what else gives your hair that desired 'Jackie' shine, is-"

 "Shut your piehole! That wasn't an invitation to start talking about it. I don't care about your hair."

    She slumped back down in her seat.

 "Fine. But you know deep down inside you would hate to be seen with a girl who has icky hair."

 "Whatever."

     He glanced up at her from where he was buttering his pancake.

"What, you're not eating anything?"

    She shifted in the seat.

 "No, I'm not really hungry."

 "Really," He poured a generous amount of syrup onto his plate and began cutting the stack. "Why not?"

   Jackie adverted her eyes, concentrating on swirling designs of the tablecloth.

 "Well, I've been up for a while now. So I already ate."

 "Uh-huh." He was looking at her skeptically now. She shifted again in her seat, uncomfortable.

 "I had a banana, okay."

 "Jackie," He sounded exasperated. "You haven't been eating much recently." Before she could protest, he pushed on. "I mean, a banana doesn't count for breakfast. And whenever we go out to the Hub, you hardly ever eat anything there. In fact, I don't remember the last time I saw you eat a full meal."

    Jackie jumped in here, defending herself.

 "I'm a cheerleader, Steven. I need to be careful of my weight and appearance."

 "Oh, bullshit Jackie!" She looked up, startled. "You weigh like ninety five pounds, there is no reason you should be watching your weight. I can probably throw you farther than I could throw Forman, and we all know what a twig he is."

 "Steven, why are you making a big deal about this? And why now?"

 "Because it's been bothering me for a while. And I didn't want to say anything cause I know how things can get when your parents leave-"

 "My parents didn't leave! My dad's just in jail and my mom's in Mexico."

 "The point is, they're not here. So I figured it was just you adjusting, but it's gone on to long now. Jackie, I-"

    She jumped up, shoving the chair back so it hit the wall, making a loud clattering noise.

 "I'm not adjusting! I don't need to! Everything is fine, okay? I'm fine, you're fine, the whole damn world is fine! Just because I don't eat around you doesn't mean I don't eat and it doesn't mean something's wrong!"

     She was pacing now, and her anger was clear on her face. Steven turned in his chair to watch her frantic movements with a slight look of worry.

 "You know, everybody's been expecting me to fall apart. They've all been watching me, saying 'look at the poor Burkhardt girl," and 'she's never done anything by herself before, how's she going to get by?' They look at me with their big, sympathetic eyes and shake their heads."

   She spun around, facing him, her face flushed with frustration.

 "Well, you know what? I'm not going to fall apart. I'm stronger than that, and I can get by. I can take care of myself and I don't need people feeling sorry for me! And I thought you of all people would understand that the best."

   He narrowed his eyes, trying to hold in his anger.

 "Jackie, I wasn't feeling sorry for you, I was just saying that I noticed you weren't eating!"

   By the time he finished speaking, his voice had risen in volume and it was apparent that he was upset.

 "You were implying it!"

 "You're reading to far into things."

 "Me?! You're the one accusing me of being anorexic!"

 "Jackie-"

 "No, you know what? I don't care. Think what you want. Its just…God!" She ran her hands through her hair before she remembered that a flimsy elastic was all that was holding it in check. Before she could do anything, it snapped. Her hair immediately sprung up, falling around her face like a big, bushy cloud.

 "Dammit." She muttered, trying to gather the strands in an attempt to tame the mess it had become. She looked up when she heard a muffled snicker.

    Steven was pressing his lips together, trying hard to hold in his laughter.

 "What, you think this is funny?"

     He couldn't hold it in any longer. Laughter burst from his lips as he doubled over in his seat.

 "You have a bigger fro' than I do, man!"

     Jackie made a small squeaking sound as she clamped her hands around the back of her head, trying to push down her hair.

 "Take that back! I do not have a fro'."

 "Sorry man, you definitely have one. And it looks really funny."

     She gasped, eyes going wide.

 "Steven!"

 "Well, it does. I think this is the first time I've seen you with bad hair. I wish I had a camera. Hey, is there one around here?"

  "Steven, I can't believe you! I just, I need, I'm going now."

      With her hands still securing her hair, Jackie began to quickly make her way to the door only to be stopped by Steven's arm snaking around her waist and pulling her into his lap.

  "Steven, let me go! I need to fix my hair, I-"

 "Come on Jackie, I was kidding." He began to play with her hair, pulling away from her face. "It's not that bad, really."

 "Yes it is."

 "You're right, it is."

 "Steven!"

 "What? You want me to lie to you?"

 "Yes!"

       She began to struggle in his arms, but his tightened grip stopped her from making much progress.

 "Steven, let me go!"

 "Jackie, just calm down. You can make it through a few minutes with bad hair. It's not the end of the world." She turned to look at him with raised eyebrows. "Really, it's not. Now, if I recall, I was going to tempt fate and try your cooking."

 "My cooking isn't bad!"

        He stabbed a piece of the fluffy cake.

  "Let me be the judge of that." He brought the fork up slowly and took a deep breath, and put it in his mouth. Jackie looked on anxiously, biting her lip. She watched as he chewed, a look of contemplation on his face. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore.

 "Well? How is it?"

 "Well," he said, swallowing. "It's not half bad."

      She squealed, throwing her arms around his neck.

  "Hey, I'm eating here! Are you trying to choke me?"

      She quickly with drew her hands, apologizing, but she couldn't keep the smile off her face. Steven, seeing the grin that was threatening to split her face, gave her a small smile back before he continued eating.

       The rest of the meal was uneventful, and by the time Steven left for work, the tension from the argument earlier was gone. Gone, but not forgotten. She headed back to the kitchen to clean up, another thing that Mrs. Forman had taught her. She knew that Steven had let it go, because of how upset she got.

       For the first time in her life, she was thankful her hair was so uncontrollable.

      But that was only a lucky diversion. He would bring it up again. At least now she would expect it. She had time to come up with reasonable explanations. Because, the truth is, she wasn't quite sure what was going on with her. And that scared her. She liked being in control. She was a controlling person by nature. She hated not knowing things.

     There was only one thing right now that would take her mind off it. She put the last of the now clean dishes away in their respective cabinets. She would go to a place where she was always in control. Jackie left the kitchen, and headed down the hallway, stopping in front of a door before turning the knob and entering the studio. Her studio. A feeling of peace washed over her as she stepped across the threshold. Everything that was wrong in her life was left on the other side of the door. In here, nothing mattered. In here, she was home.

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Author's note: So, yeah, it's been awhile. Umm, not much to say except yay Jackie angst! And to expect much more ahead. So, please keep reading when I update and please review, it makes me happyJ