Disclaimer: That '70s Show copyright The Carsey-Werner Company, LLC and Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, LLC.

Author's Note: To any concerned readers, I never post a story unless I've finished writing it, so unless something unforeseen happens, none of my fics will ever be abandoned. Also, new chapters for this story should be posted on Mondays and Thursdays (again, barring any complications). :D

CHAPTER 3
BETTING TAX

The Burkhart Mansion

Eleven Months Later

...

"How long?" Hyde said. He was standing in Jackie's living room and feeling tiny, as if he'd been crushed to the size of a gambling die. The room's immensity had nothing to do with it. Jackie was too damn good at keeping secrets from him. She might as well have chucked his heart into a trash compactor. "How long, Jackie?"

"It's not a big deal," she said, and he glanced away from her face. The room's lights were off, but the place seemed clean and orderly. The couch, from what he could feel, hadn't been torn up. His palm lay on the back edge, and he kept his emotions as flat as his hand. "Two weeks, Steven. Okay?" Her answer drew his eyes back to her. "She's been gone for two weeks."

His fingers gripped the couch, but they relaxed again. "Two weeks? You've been livin' here alone for two damn weeks? Why didn't you tell me, man?" Beneath his boots, the rug was as cushy as ever. Cracker crumbs and broken furniture didn't litter the floor. Jackie hadn't wrecked the house in her mother's absence, something he'd done to his own place when Edna ran off.

"Look," a heavy sigh swallowed the word, "when my dad went to prison, you didn't know what to do, and that made me realize I had to deal with things by myself. You don't have another beard to shave."

"Jackie—" He shut his eyes. Anger was frothing in his stomach. First, she didn't tell him about her family's cabin being foreclosed on. Then she didn't tell him about her birthday, but this latest batch of classified info more than pissed him off. Her mother was still in Mexico, Jackie was using her trust fund to pay the bills, and she had to let go of Maria and Rosa, the housekeeper and cook. "You shoulda told me," he said. They'd been together for seven damn months, his longest relationship by six months and three weeks. She had to know how he felt about her.

He opened his eyes, only to find Jackie frowning and fiddling with the ribbon of her blouse. She was silent, but a curious meow broke into the dark.

"Cat?" He turned on a lamp, and Jackie objected. "I'll pay the extra five bucks."

Shade had padded up to them by the couch. His eyes flashed green for a moment; then he rubbed himself against Hyde's legs. Shade had grown a lot since Hyde first rescued him. The cat was an adult now, about a year-and-a-half-old, and a good fifteen pounds. But his body supported the weight. He was really long, like a sausage.

Hyde reached down and petted the top of Shade's head. Shade chirruped in response, and it prompted Hyde to speak again. "I'm sorry."

Jackie turned away from him. "Don't be. I've been fine on my own. I eat an apple in the morning and have hot oatmeal for dinner. I realized the school lunch isn't so bad..."

He ran his gaze over her back. Huh. That explained why she felt sharper lately, more bony. She hadn't been eating enough.

"No," he said, "I'm sorry for makin' you think you have to keep this crap to yourself." His voice was rough, as if it hadn't expected to reveal so much. Her bones were poking through her blouse a little, and he pulled his focus from her spine. "Must've been sending you some 'great' signals..."

His throat hurt with the confession, felt thick. Kelso finding a way into her skull made sense now. Hyde had given him the parking space. Kelso seemed determined to drive off with her, kept getting her presents and hitting on her.

Maybe part of Kelso's motivation was revenge. Hyde had gone to the Burkharts regularly while Kelso and Jackie were together. Hyde meant to see Shade, but his visits weren't only about the cat. They'd been about Jackie, too—not that he'd ever admitted it.

He should have. They were barely friends, but she'd given him room and board when he'd found himself homeless...

His attention was on Shade now. The cat had flopped onto one of Hyde's boots and begun to purr.

"I really care about you, Jackie," Hyde said softly. Maybe too softly. Shade's purring almost drowned him out. "Your freakin' boyfriend should celebrate your damn birthday with you, and..." he moved his gaze to Jackie's heels, "give you a safe place to crash when you need it."

"Wait," she turned back around, "what are you saying?"

He raised his eyes to meet hers. "I'm saying you're staying with me. Pack your stuff."

"All of it? It'll be morning by the time I—"

"No, your toothbrush, shampoo. Something to wear in the morning. I'll drive you back here the next day so you can pick up more stuff."

She stepped closer to him. "How long am I staying with you?"

"As long as you have to."

"In your tiny, dark, dingy room? Where are you gonna sleep?

"Uh..." he bent down and picked Shade up, "with you?" The cat was heavy, but Hyde draped Shade over his shoulder and scratched behind Shade's ears.

Jackie backed up. "This is just so you can get more sex, isn't it? You're gonna paw at me all night until I give in."

Hyde scowled. "I'm not Kelso."

"What about Shade? I can't just leave him."

"You'll be back in the morning."

"He'll get lonely at night without me."

"So we'll bring him," Hyde said. Shade's purr was vibrating into his neck.

"He'll be climbing the walls if he has to stay in your room all night.

"Fine." Hyde knelt down, and Shade crawled down his back and jumped to the floor. "Then I'm stayin' here. I'll sleep in a guest room if you're scared I'll 'paw' at you—"

Jackie's expression softened, and she took his hand as he stood up. "You really do care about me, huh?"

He didn't say it again, but he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.

Steven spent that first night at Jackie's house in the bed with her. To her surprise and delight, he just held her. She'd always imagined the man she loved doing that, and her loneliness of the past few weeks dissolved. Steven's palm was so warm against her chest, and Shade's purr rumbled through the comforter. The cat was curled up on the bed at their feet. Her parents might've been gone, but the three of them—Jackie, Steven, and Shade—felt like a family.

The next two nights, Steven held her the same way. But on the fourth night, he didn't bring his backpack of clothes with him. "You gotta start staying with me," he said. "The Formans are getting suspicious, man. They called me out on not showin' up for breakfast yesterday, and they checked my room last night. They know I wasn't there."

His tone was agitated, but his posture seemed relaxed. He and Jackie were in the living room, and he sat in one of the white armchairs with Shade on his lap. One hand settled on Shade's back while the other scratched Shade's chin and cheeks. They looked very sweet together, and Jackie almost left to get her camera.

"Why don'tcha take a load off?" He gestured to the couch. She was pacing, couldn't stand still. The carpet would've worn away had she not been barefoot.

"I can't believe they have a key to your room," she said. "Don't they believe in privacy?"

"Not Red," he said, "not since I took the fall for your pot and Forman tried to save my ass from being on the streets. He never should've told Red he was hittin' the smoke." He ushered Shade from his lap and stood up. "Anyway, you gotta come over."

"Fine," she said. Staying in her large, lonely house appealed to her less than the alternative. "On one condition: I have to be back here first thing in the morning to feed Shade."

"You can take the Camino."

"I can?"

"Yeah, you know how to drive a stick—'cause I taught ya."

"Ew. Don't get dirty."

"Wasn't trying to, but since you mentioned it..."

He stepped forward and grasped her hips. He pressed soft kisses into her neck that grew more intense, and she giggled. She hardly believed he'd let her drive his El Camino. That car was his baby, but so was their cat... and Jackie herself, it seemed.

His treatment of her this week had led her to believe he loved her. The admission never came near his lips, but the truth was in every hot meal he cooked for her—and his concern for her general well-being. She'd bruised her thigh on the bathroom sink two nights ago. She was getting into her pajamas, and the sink's stupid edges were too sharp. He'd heard her cry of pain and rushed to her side. The tenderness of his touch remained on her leg even now.

And it equaled love even if he wouldn't say the words.

Sleeping in Steven's cot was a cramped but enjoyable affair. She liked how he held her, not loosely—as if her presence was incidental to him—but also not too tight. She could breathe, had freedom to move, and he let her go when she wanted more space. And he never, not once, pestered her for sex. Not that he had to. They usually made love earlier in the day, but Michael would've bugged her for more anyway.

By the end of the week, though, Jackie grew concerned. Steven was watching Saturday Night Live at her house, and Shade was far more vocal than he normally was. He stood in front of the television, put bits of cat litter into his mouth, and gnawed on Steven's bootlaces. Eventually, Shade brought a foam ball to the couch, and Jackie tossed it for him... and tossed it... and tossed it some more. He was acting needy and clingy, like he missed her.

She gave up satisfying him with fetch and scratched his fuzzy cheeks. The orange rings around his eyes resembled Steven's sunglasses, but they didn't hide his wide stare. The cat was lonely, had probably felt as abandoned as she did by her own mother.

Shade's tail swept onto Steven's lap, and Steven brushed a finger over the fur. "What's up, Cat?"

"He doesn't like being left alone so much," she said.

"We'll be here all night." He stroked Shade's tail again. "Saturdays are all yours, buddy."

Jackie shook cat hair from her fingers. Her plan with Steven was to spend Saturday nights at her place. The Formans wouldn't expect him home before two a.m., and Sunday mornings the Formans went to church. Steven often slept in those mornings, so his absence at breakfast wouldn't raise suspicions.

"It won't be enough," she said. "Shade needs more of me."

Steven arched an eyebrow, as if to say, "The cat'll get over it," but then he said, "We'll bring him over to the Formans'. Basement's big enough for him, and he knows to avoid Kelso, so it should be cool."

"Really?" She covered her mouth to hide her surprise. She'd read him completely wrong, and it wasn't the first time. She misjudged him too often. He was capable of far more than she ever expected of him—or, maybe, her expectations were low for anyone she loved. She'd been disappointed so many times.

"Yeah," he said. "It'll be fun having him around."

"What about the basement door? I don't want him escaping."

"We'll put Donna on alert. Her cat doesn't go outside either since Forman killed her first one."

She gasped and brought Shade to her chest. "Shh!" Then she tucked his head beneath her chin. "Don't talk about that in front of Shade—or me."

Steven laughed, as if the sight of her hiding Shade was funny. Admittedly, he was a big cat, and his body spilled between her arms. But Shade didn't complain or squirm. He purred, and the sound tightened her throat. Only goodness filled Shade's heart; it was such a rare and precious thing.

"I don't want anything happening to him, okay?" she said and let Shade go. He jumped to the floor and chased after a piece of rug fluff. "Ever since Daddy ran over Sugar Plum, I'm just... I'm a little protective, okay?"

Shade became distracted in mid-chase by one of his toys, a fake mouse. He tackled it, and Steven seemed enthralled by his antics. A smile even rose on Steven's face, but it vanished quickly. "Look," he said, "I love the cat, too. I'm not gonna let anything happen to him."

Jackie's breath froze in her chest. He'd done it, confessed he loved someone—okay, the cat—but it meant he was capable of doing such a thing. She'd never heard him declare his love for anyone before now.

Joy tickled her eyes and threatened to come out as tears; then she remembered who lived at the Formans' house. "Doesn't Red hate cats?" she said. "How're we gonna hide Shade from him?"

Steven's smile returned. "I got an idea."

All of Shade's essentials had been sneaked into Steven's room: his litter box, food and water bowls, cat toys, and—maybe the most important thing of all—his first patron, Mrs. Forman. According to Steven, she'd taken Shade to the vet when Steven first found him. She'd paid for all of Shade's supplies, and now she had Shade cuddled in her arms and purring.

"Oh, ho, ho..." she was half-laughing, half-cooing, "you're just a little love, aren't you? Aren't you?" She nuzzled her face into Shade's fur, as Steven often liked to do. Then she said to Jackie, "Of course you can keep Shade here for a few days. Maybe you should make it a week... or two. Those fumigation chemicals are really dangerous for kitties," she bounced Shade in her arms, "aren't they? Aren't they?"

"Thank you, Mrs. Forman," Jackie said. "He won't be any trouble. He's really well-behaved."

"Which is surprising," Steven said and stroked the top of Shade's front paw, " since I'm kinda like his dad."

Jackie stared at him. Another startling confession. Steven felt parental toward Shade, and if Steven was the dad, that meant she was the mom—and she and Steven were basically married. Her hands wanted to crash together in applause, but she forced her excitement into a grin.

Mrs. Forman was grinning, too. She put Shade down onto Steven's cot then cupped the side of Steven's face. "You are just so sweet!" she said. "And don't you worry about Red. Schatzi's taken to hiding under the house, and Red doesn't want me going to my 'unhappy' place. A kitty for Kitty is just what the doctor ordered."

Her laughter filled the room before she left. Jackie was glad the Formans' dog wouldn't be a problem, and she hoped Red followed suit. Not that he should hide under the house, of course, but stay out of the basement while Shade was here.

"What?" Steven said.

Jackie's grin hadn't weakened. Her cheeks ached from it, and her joy was trained on his face. "Nothing. Just... thank you."

He leaned in for a kiss. "Yeah."

Hyde and Jackie had agreed, after a short conversation, how to handle Shade's safety. Shade would have to stay cooped up in Hyde's room if none of his protectors were in the basement—meaning Hyde, Jackie, or Donna. The cat wouldn't like it, but the plan was the best they could come up with.

Their living situation wasn't permanent, though. Hyde would probably have to move in with Jackie and help her out. He was eighteen, so legally, he could do that. The money he made from the Holiday Hotel would help with her bills, put food on her table. She had a good future ahead of her, man, but it would go to crap if she had to drop out of high school to survive.

He couldn't let that happen, but thinking about such a commitment decreased his tolerance for enclosed spaces. His room was normally big enough for him, but now it felt confining. The duct running from the boiler seemed lower than usual, and he lay back on his cot for a less-suffocating perspective.

Jackie was off cheering at rally for the football team. He'd wanted to go with her, but she insisted he stay with Shade, to "help him acclimate to his new surroundings." She was right. Hyde's presence always calmed Shade down, just like the cat did to him. But with Jackie's kiss lingering on his lips, Hyde was less than relaxed.

They'd fooled around before she left, but they hadn't been able to finish. She didn't want to be late for the rally. He touched his lips now, tried to soak Jackie's presence into his fingers. He missed her already. Un-freakin'-believable.

Shade leapt onto the cot and walked onto Hyde's stomach. Hyde grunted at the pressure. The cat put a lot of weight into his front paws and insisted burdening Hyde's ribs with it.

"Come on, Cat." Hyde petted Shade's back and gently pushed down on it. Shade got the idea and settled into a more comfortable position. He lay down on Hyde's chest, and his easy purr drew Hyde's thoughts from his mouth. "Jackie's parents really screwed her over, y'know?"

And they might've screwed Hyde's relationship with her, too. Their absence was forcing him to move faster than he wanted. Living with Jackie would be too damn domestic and too soon. He hadn't even said the "L" word to her yet. Didn't matter that he felt it—love—but letting her know was dangerous. She'd use that information to accelerate them into particles.

Hyde rubbed the bridge of Shade's nose, and the cat's eyes fell shut as a flash of light blinded Hyde. "What the—" Shade jumped off his chest, and Hyde grabbed his shades from his dresser. "Forman?"

Forman was standing in Hyde's doorway. Mrs. Forman's Polaroid camera was in his right hand, and his left waved a developing picture. "Donna told me about the cat," he said. "For the record, I think you make an adorable couple."

"Shut it, Forman."

"I don't think so." He held the picture at eye-level. "I'll call it 'The Orphan and His Cat'."

"No, shut the door. Don't want Shade getting out."

"Oh." Forman closed the door behind him. "So, Jackie's place is being fumigated, huh?"

"Yup." Hyde slid his shades onto his face, in case Forman wanted to take another picture. "She's staying at a hotel with her mom. One of Pam's boy toys tracked ants into the house."

A lie. His and Jackie's cover story, and Forman seemed to buy it. He couldn't know Jackie was sleeping in Hyde's room. No one could, not even Donna. She'd easily let it slip to Forman, and then kablooey. The whole thing would blow up in Hyde and Jackie's—and Shade's—faces.

"I know," Forman said, and he sat across from Hyde on the green ottoman. "Like I said, Donna told me." He stared at the developing picture in his hand and frowned. "Actually, it was more like she gave me orders. I have to protect Jackie's cat when no one else is around—on threat of no more sex."

Hyde smirked. Donna knew what happened to animals around here. Kelso had shot Eric's hamster with a BB gun. Red sprayed Donna's first cat, Mr. Bonkers, all the time with a hose. Now Schatzi, Mrs. Forman's dog, was too afraid to crawl out from under the house. The Formans did not do well by pets, and Hyde was glad to have Donna in Shade's corner.

The Polaroid picture was halfway developed, and Forman nodded at it. "Red isn't going to be happy about having a cat in his house. And since I've got to look after a creature I hate—"

"You can't hate him, man," Hyde said. "You don't even know him."

"I know he's a cat, and I hate cats. They're so haughty. Anyway," Forman pointed to Shade's litter box, where Shade was currently conducting his business, "seeing as you're the one who brought the devil's he-beast into our home, seems fair you should be as miserable as me. It's gonna be no picnic keeping Shade safe from Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Fez is liable to eat its food, and you just know Kelso's gonna strap fireworks to its back. So... I'm blackmailing you."

"You're what?" Hyde laughed. Even given a perfect blackmailing situation, Forman would foul it up. Hyde had witnessed this first-hand. Forman couldn't even bust his sister for nailing her college professor.

"I'm serious, Hyde," Forman said with a smile. "If you're not my slave for the duration of the cat's stay here, I'll go to Red with this picture." He held the now fully-developed Polaroid up so Hyde could see it. Shade was a cream-colored ball of fur on Hyde's chest, and his fuzzy chin lay flat on Hyde's shoulder. Not a bad shot. "I own you, my friend."

"You own crap. Red already knows."

Forman's smile fell. "What?"

"He doesn't want your mom going to her 'unhappy place'."

"Damn it!" Forman stood from the ottoman. "Wait, I can still blackmail you. I'll run an article in the school newspaper, 'Rebel Without a Cause Gets a Cat'." I can see it now..."

Hyde pushed himself off the cot and stepped toward him. "Do you want me to go to my unhappy place, Forman? 'Cause I'm startin' to feel real unhappy right now. And you know what happens to people who make me unhappy."

Forman swallowed. Then he tossed the Polaroid at Hyde and fled the room.

Hyde shut the door after him. The Polaroid had fallen by the cot, and Hyde picked it up. The shot really was a nice one of him and Shade. "Thanks, Forman. This one's goin' in the album."

He pulled out a leatherette-bound photo album from his dresser. He'd taken the album from the Fotohut back when he worked there. It was filled with photos. One of his favorites showed Shade as a tiny kitten sleeping on a pile of Hyde's shirts, and he had loads of pictures of Shade with Jackie. Hyde was in a few with him, but Hyde did most of the picture-taking.

At the back of the album were pictures of the three of them—of Hyde, Jackie, and Shade together. They really looked like a family. In another favorite photo of his, Jackie held Shade in her arms like a big, fluffy baby, and Hyde's arm was draped around her waist.

He ran his thumb over the picture. Someday, not soon, he would probably be okay making that family official. But he wanted a few years, maybe ten, to get to that place. If moving in with Jackie was the only way to keep her safe, though, their future might well pay the price.