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

CHAPTER 4
BEATING THE HOUSE

A week into Jackie and Shade's stay with Hyde, Jackie had commandeered one of Hyde's drawers. Hyde didn't mind. Her toiletries smelled fresher than anything he had in his room, both floral and fruity. Shade, meanwhile, had claimed his favorite spots in the basement. He liked sleeping on the worn sofa and sitting atop the clothes drier, especially after it was used for a cycle. If Mrs. Forman left a pile of clothes, dirty or clean, in the laundry basket, Shade would curl up on that, too.

Mrs. Forman never admonished him for sitting where he shouldn't have. She's was half in love with the cat, and Hyde was glad. Her feelings meant she'd keep him safe from Red.

Shade had also grown fond of Donna and Fez. Donna knew how to pet him since she had her own cat, and Fez liked entertaining him with cat toys. In fact, Shade seemed to get along with everyone who came into the basement, even Forman, but Kelso was another story. As soon as Kelso made his presence known, Shade would dart into Hyde's room and hide—

But not tonight.

Hyde had strolled into the basement, ready for some stash-and-cat time. Nothing relaxed him more after a long shift at the Holiday Hotel, save having sex with Jackie. But she wouldn't be around for a while. She had a test to study for, and she couldn't do it in the basement. The place distracted her too much. Kelso usually pestered her for attention every few minutes, which meant Hyde had to frog him every few minutes.

But now Kelso was pestering Shade behind the couch. He'd dumped a can of tuna fish onto the concrete floor, and Shade had been coaxed by the smell. He was chowing down with no thought of Kelso, who was busy strapping fireworks to Shade's back.

"Son of a bitch," Hyde whispered. "Forman was right." He was a good eight feet away from Kelso and made no sudden movements. He didn't want to spook Shade. Instead, he crept slowly and quietly toward the couch. Once he was close enough, he grasped Kelso's shoulder and said, "What're you doing to my cat?"

Kelso stiffened. "Giving him some tuna fish. Damn!"

"With a side of fireworks?"

"Those were on him when I got here."

Hyde bent down and scooped Shade into his arms. He untied the twine Kelso used to strap the fireworks to Shade's body, and the various rockets fell to the floor, some into the tuna fish. Hyde intended to carry Shade to his room, but the cat was having none of it. He scrambled to the ground and returned to his tuna bribe.

Kelso bolted for the basement door, but Hyde grabbed his arm and wrapped the twine around his wrist. Kelso made another dash for the exit, but Hyde had made a noose knot, something Forman had taught him years ago. The knot closed tightly on Kelso's wrist and elicited a yelp.

Hyde used the twine as a leash and dragged Kelso to the basement stairs. He tied the twine's loose end to the wooden bannister, and Kelso shouted, "Hey!"

"You try to escape, you'll lose your hand. I'll cut you free in a minute."

Hyde picked Shade up again and petted his soft, furry head. Shade's breath smelled of tuna. "I know you like that stuff, Cat, but too much ain't good for ya." He deposited Shade safely into his room and shut the door. Then he returned to Kelso by the stairs. "What the hell were you doing?"

"Nothing!" Kelso said. He was attempting to untie the noose knot on his wrist. "I told you, the fireworks were on him when I—"

"Save it." Hyde tugged gently on the twine, and it brought Kelso's gaze to him. "You wanna shoot me with a BB gun 'cause I'm with Jackie? Fine. I'm a big boy. I can kick your ass. But the cat's off limits, got it?" He brought his face close to Kelso's and smiled wickedly. "Otherwise, you're gonna be swimming with rubber ducks.

Kelso's mouth dropped open. "How did—who told you I—?"

Hyde backed off, but his smile deepened. "Your brother Casey, about a year ago. Lit him up with some of my best stuff, and he sang like a canary. Never knew you had a rubber-duck phobia..." his smile turned into soft laughter, "but I found it real interesting."

"All right, all right," Kelso said, and his breath shortened. "I'll—I'll leave the stupid cat alone. Just don't with the rubber ducks, okay? I can't stand their beady little eyes."

"Cat's smarter than you." Hyde walked to the shelves beneath the stairs and grabbed a pair of scissors. He cut Kelso free from the twine, and Kelso rubbed his wrist.

"That really hurt, man," Kelso said. He was glowering, but he'd earned his pain.

Hyde glowered back. "Get out."

Kelso wasted no time. He jetted from the basement as if it were on fire.

Hyde cleaned up the tuna fish and fireworks before going back to his room. Shade had knocked Hyde's Old Spice deodorant from the dresser. He was using it as a toy on the cot, batting it into folds of Hyde's blanket then tackling it.

"You got a ton of cat stuff to play with in here, and you still gotta use my crap?" Hyde swiped the deodorant from the blanket. Then he tossed it onto his pillow, and Shade leapt after it. "Come on, get the evil deodorant," Hyde said. "Kick its ass."

Shade tumbled onto his side as if he understood and hugged the deodorant to his fuzzy belly.

Hyde chuckled. "You're just like your mom, man—too damn cute, so you think you can get away with anything." He scratched Shade's cheek affectionately. The cat could play with whatever the hell he wanted. Hyde was just relieved he'd caught Kelso in time... because, at this point, Hyde had trouble imagining his life without the orange fluffball—or without Shade's human mom.

Jackie.

Jackie and Shade had spent two weeks calling the Formans' basement home. Or maybe Steven had become their home. On Saturday night, Jackie went to a party thrown by Julie, the cheerleading captain. Jackie had wanted Steven to come with her, but he couldn't stand her friends. Not that she really considered them friends, more like bitchy colleagues. They had no idea she and Steven were even dating. None of them ever stopped talking long enough to listen to anyone else. But, much to her chagrin, she'd stopped talking long enough to realize this was how they operated.

That was Steven's fault. Ever since he'd opened his doors to her, she'd begun to change. She didn't always like it, but the reward was worth the discomfort, even the headache-inducing thoughts he inspired.

The party had ended, and Jackie was walking back to the Formans'. Julie's place was only fifteen minutes away. Steven had offered to pick her up, but another cheerleader, Alice, lived in the Formans' neighborhood. They went together, and Jackie reached the Formans' backyard without incident.

She tiptoed down the backyard stairs to the basement door. She didn't want to wake Eric's parents, and who knew how sound traveled through their house? The clacking of her thick-heeled boots would probably travel up two floors to their bedroom.

She unlocked the basement door and opened it. Her tight breathing relaxed. She'd come home, but her feet stumbled over something as she stepped inside. She hit the floor with a thump! and whatever tripped her also collapsed with a percussive, melodic crash.

The basement was dark; she'd had no chance to turn on the lights. She tried to stand, but her boot skidded on what had to be her broken assailant. She fell again and landed with another thump! Her hands patted the ground. Something jagged bit into palms. Had someone booby-trapped the basement? "Jackie?" Steven was whispering in the dark, and her eyes stung when the lights came on. His hands lifted her up, and before he shut off the lights, she caught a glimpse of her attacker: Legos. Some idiot, probably Eric, had left a Lego set in front of the basement door. Its craggy detritus littered the floor.

Steven pulled Jackie into his room and turned on his single, bare bulb."What the hell happened?" he said.

"Stupid Eric happened. I've got Legos stuck to my skirt!" She slapped the fabric over her thighs, and two solitary Legos clattered to the floor.

Steven sat on his cot and glanced at his clock radio. "It's late. The Formans have gotta be asleep. They probably didn't hear you—but you gotta look where you're going, man."

"I would have if the thing hadn't been right there." She suppressed the urge to stamp her foot. It would've made another noise they didn't need, and she didn't want to disturb Shade. He was sleeping on the armchair, a ball of orange curled up on green. "Steven, you saw how dark it was. What did you want me to do? Bring a broom to the basement and sweep it in front of me before I entered?"

Steven sighed. "Okay, okay..." and he gestured to her. "Just get undressed and come 'ere."

She did as he said. She got into her soft, flannel pajamas and slid into the cot with him. Her nerves were frazzled, but they calmed down as he cuddled into her back.

"How was the party?" he said. His breath warmed the nape of her neck.

"I'll tell you in the morning.

"So it was boring."

She huffed. "It was not. It was..." She huffed again. No use in fighting the truth. "Yeah, it was boring." Her lips curved into a frown. Steven was discovering what her coded sentences meant. She'd have trouble testing him in the future if he kept that up, translating all her words into their actual meanings. But she let that worry leave her for now. He felt so good lying against her back, with his arm holding her snugly. She grasped his hand and pressed it into her chest. "Good night, Steven."

"Night, doll."

She began to fall asleep. Slumber came easily when she was with him, but a loud bang! jolted her awake. The door had burst open, and Mrs. Forman's voice filled the air. "Jackie?"

"What the hell?" Mr. Forman said.

Jackie peered up. The Formans were standing in front of the cot, including a sheet-wrapped Eric. They were all staring at her and Steven, and her pulse tightened. She wanted to escape, to hide beneath the cot, but a gasped, "Oh, my God!" shot from her mouth.

Mrs. Forman echoed the statement: "Oh, my God!"

Steven must have been groggy, though. His focus was clearly on something less important. "Forman," he said. "are you naked?"

Shade's head peeked up from the armchair, and his eyes flashed green. "Mrow?"

"The cat's still here, too?" Mr. Forman said. "Kitty, you told me it was gone a week ago."

"And—and I thought it was," Mrs. Forman said.

That was a lie, and Jackie swallowed a grumble. Mrs. Forman had said Shade could stay here as long as he had to. Her schizophrenic, menopausal hormones must have taken over.

"Everybody upstairs," Red shouted, "to the kitchen, now!

Jackie pushed herself out of the cot. She picked Shade off the armchair.

Red scowled. "Leave the cat."

The Formans discovery of Jackie in Steven's cot was bad, but things got worse in the kitchen. Steven opened his big mouth and told them about her mother's absence, that she still hadn't returned from Mexico.

"Steven, that's private!" Jackie said. Her skin and muscles burned with humiliation. Jackie Burkhart didn't tell sob stories to garner pity. She inspired awe and jealousy at her magnificence. But after much discussion, the Formans agreed to let her spend the night in Laurie's room. Shade, however, had to stay with Steven in the basement.

Steven sneaked her a quick kiss before Mr. Forman ushered him away. She was led to Laurie's room afterward and ordered not to break anything. Mr. Forman didn't seem to know what his daughter had done to her, what Laurie had broken inside Jackie's chest. If Jackie destroyed anything material of Laurie's, it wouldn't even come close to payback.

Fortunately, Steven had mended what Laurie helped shatter. That fact gave little comfort, though, when Jackie got into Laurie's skank-den of a bed. Not only was it a strange place, but thoughts of Michael's cheating assaulted her mind. At least Steven would never put her through that kind of hell. He was too honorable to do such a thing.

She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but most of the night was spent twisting in Laurie's sheets. They were poor substitutes for Steven's arms and Shade's purring. She woke the next morning exhausted and cranky, but her mood soon eroded into anger.

An hour after breakfast, Donna threw a pity party for her—in front of almost everyone. Bob, Mrs. Forman, Eric, Michael... they were all in the kitchen and rallied by Donna to "feel sorry for the poor, little rich girl." Those weren't her exact words, but they were close enough. She'd invited Jackie to live with her, Shade included, because of Jackie's "hard times".

"God, I am so sick of this," Jackie said. "I don't have hard times. I'm Jackie Burkhart. I got voted 'Best Cheerleader' by the largest margin in cheerleader history, okay? I have a wonderful life."

"Yeah, but, Jackie..." Donna's voice grew soft, aggravatingly soft, and it abraded Jackie's self-control, "your dad's in prison, and your mom—"

Jackie's eyes narrowed. As much as she and Shade needed somewhere to stay, it couldn't happen like this. "I'm sorry, Donna, but you're just not popular enough for me to live with."

"I'm not popular enough?" Donna stepped forward, and her tone lost all its gentleness. "I was doing you a favor because I felt bad for you."

"Well don't." Jackie grimaced. Her expression would create lines around her mouth, but she was too furious too care. "I don't need to be your good deed for the day."

"Fine. There's the door. Don't let it hit your popular little butt on the way out."

"Fine."

Jackie stomped out of the Formans' kitchen. Everyone's eyes had to be on her through the sliding glass door. Her back felt riddled with their bullet-like stares, but she strode out of the neighborhood with measured steps. She sped up only once she was a safe distance away, and she frantically unlocked the door to her giant, sprawling house.

Tears and screams poured from her body as she raged through the empty living room. Donna and the rest of them saw her as pathetic, but they were the pathetic ones. They had families. They had guarantees of being loved by people who'd keep them safe. Jackie had only herself. No one around her knew what it was like to be utterly alone—

Except for Steven.

She slumped onto her white, cushiony couch. Thank God he hadn't been at the pity party. She didn't need him looking down on her, too. But had he heard Donna's awful words, he probably wouldn't have been swayed by them. Both his parents had abandoned him, more than once.

Fresh tears tumbled down Jackie's cheeks, and her throat felt achingly thick. Steven still had something she didn't: a best friend who understood him. He'd never shared the specifics of how he came to live with the Formans', but Eric couldn't have used pity to invite him. Steven never would have accepted it.

And neither could Jackie. Not from Donna, not from anyone.

"So, what? It's my fault because I didn't ask her right?"

Donna's question made Hyde's fingers tighten around his bottle of Amber Draft. For someone so observant, she could be damn dense sometimes. Once Mrs. Forman gave him the news—that Donna had royally screwed up with Jackie—he found Donna in her kitchen, red-faced and pissed. He kept his own emotions level. She could be pushed only so far, and he had to practice what he preached. He had to approach her the right way.

"Okay," he said, "how about when your mom left? Think about how you would've felt if you walked into a room full of people, and everyone's talkin' about how sad your life is and how much they pity you."

Donna raised her bottle of Amber Draft to her lips, but she frowned instead of taking a sip. "Yeah, I guess I get that."

He was close, man. He just had to bring it on home. Jackie was full of pride. Donna had a load of it, too, but her life wasn't an unstable pile of rocks. She had a guaranteed place to live, the commitment of all commitments from Forman. Hyde couldn't give Jackie either of those things.

Not now, at least. He had too much crap to figure out, like what he wanted to do after high school. Jackie needed to get her ass to college and set up her future, and she wouldn't be able to do that without a secure base of operations. Their relationship had to come second to that.

He spoke again. He tried to remain Zen, distant, but some emotion squeezed through his defenses. "I'm just saying that Jackie needs a place to stay. And it'd be really cool if, maybe, you could ask her in a way that doesn't make her feel bad."

Donna leaned her head back and groaned. "Fine." Then she ranted about how popular she actually was—citing free Slurpees from brain-damaged Tommy as proof—but Hyde only half-listened.

He'd been on edge since last night, when he had to sleep without Jackie against him. He wouldn't relax until she agreed to live with the Pinciottis. Because she had to, man. For herself, for Shade, for Hyde... for the sake of their family.

Jackie sat in the Formans' tacky kitchen, at their breakfast table. Donna was sitting across from her, and she looked reasonably scolded. Her red hair hid half her face, but the flush in her cheeks came through. Someone must have chided her for what she'd done earlier. Was it Mrs. Forman? Mr. Forman?

Regardless, Jackie's muscles were tense. Her arms were folded over her chest, but she listened intently while Donna pleaded her case.

"So you see, Jackie," she said, "the reason I asked you to stay with me before is because... well, you were right. I am unpopular."

"Go on."

"I'm too tall, and red hair is gross. If I don't do something soon, my unpopularity is gonna follow me to college—" Donna clasped her hands together, prayer-like, on the table, "unless you help. Please come stay with me! Jackie, help me..." her voice lowered, almost to the point of muting her last words, "be more like you."

A smile tickled Jackie's lips, but she refused to give it life. "Well, as long as everybody knows I'm doing it for you, I'll do it."

"Great," Donna did allow a smile, but it looked pained. All the better.

Jackie knew Donna had no intention of becoming more like her. She'd been pressing Donna for years to do it, but appearances were what mattered. Their friends and classmates would think she was doing Donna a service.

They stood from the table, and Jackie said, "Hey, Donna," before enclosing Donna in a hug, "thank you." She held Donna a little longer than she normally would have. Donna was sacrificing her pride to keep Jackie safe... and Jackie was grateful.

Hyde sat on his cot and played with Shade. They were using a plastic straw attached to some yarn. Hyde had made the toy, and it was one of Shade's favorites. The cat seemed to love jumping up and batting at it. Sometimes he'd capture the straw in his mouth and try to walk away with it.

Playing with Shade offered a good distraction, one Hyde needed. Anxiety had taken up residence in his chest. Waiting for the end of Donna and Jackie's private "meeting" had him chewing gum until his jaw hurt.

Shade pounced on the straw as Hyde's door swung open. Jackie entered, freakin' cute in her pigtails. The colorful ribbons in her hair made her appear younger, too young. No dirty thoughts could enter his head, not with her looking that way. All he saw was a vulnerable kid on the verge of being homeless.

"Guess what, Steven," she said cheerfully. "I'm going to be Donna's popularity coach! It's a full-time job, so I'll have to move in with her."

Donna strode into the room a moment later. A canvas bag was slung over her shoulder, and Hyde offered her a silent thank you. His shades were off, and his eyes had flicked up to meet hers. Donna seemed to understand because she nodded once.

"You can start with this." Jackie plucked Shade's straw toy from Hyde's fingers and wound the yarn around it. Then she tossed it into Donna's bag.

"Packin' Shade's things?" Hyde said.

"Uh-huh." Jackie yanked Hyde's backpack from where he'd wedged it, between the armchair and the wall. "Can I borrow this?" Hyde gave his assent. "I have to pack my own things—"

He laughed once. "All your crap won't fit in there."

"Of course it won't. This is just for the stuff I kept here." She opened her drawer in his dresser and began shoveling her toiletries into his backpack.

Donna, meanwhile, picked up Shade's toys. They were scattered on the concrete floor, and Hyde said, "Hope Mr. Twinkle Toes doesn't mind gettin' a brother."

"They'll probably fight it out for a while before settling into their alpha-beta positions," Donna said.

"Oh, they better not!" Jackie jabbed a finger in Donna's direction. "If your mangy cat puts one hair of Shade's out of place—"

"Shade takes after his old man," Hyde said. "He'll protect himself."

Shade was sniffing at Donna's boots. He must have smelled something he liked because he rubbed his cheeks against them repeatedly. Then again, he did the same thing to Hyde's sweaty undershirts after work. Maybe the cat just wanted to cover up the funk with his own scent.

"Shade isn't a fighter, Steven," Jackie said. "He doesn't have a bad bone in his body. He barely moves if you're about to sit on top of him. He purrs instead."

She was right. Shade was the gentlest animal Hyde had ever encountered. He never bit, never hissed. He purred if Hyde or Jackie simply looked at him. Even when they had to clip his nails, he relaxed in Hyde's arms and rumbled away as Jackie did the deed.

Hyde cast a warning glance at Donna. "You gotta keep your cat from messin' with ours."

"Aww, is Hyde worried about his widdle kitty?" Donna dumped three foam balls into her bag. "You've become such a softy!"

"Yeah, well, Shade better not get all twitchy by living with you. Don't turn him into Forman."

"Don't worry," Donna said. "If the cats get too rough with each other, there's always the spray bottle."

"That you'll only use to spray your cat with," Jackie said.

"No, whichever cat's doing the aggressing,"

Jackie didn't seem to like Donna's response. She had her hair dryer in her hands, and she pointed it at Donna like a gun. "Don't make me plug this in, Pinciotti."

"Hey," Hyde stepped between them, "Bob better have a spray bottle of his own... 'cause he's gonna need it if you two get too rough with each other."

"Oh, whatever." Jackie lowered the hair dryer and put it into Hyde's backpack. "Donna, could you bring Shade's litter box over first? Consider it your first lesson in how to be popular: Kissing Up to Those More Popular Than You."

Donna gritted her teeth but forced a smile. "Of course." She dragged the litter box out of Hyde's room, and Jackie shut the door behind her. Then Jackie thrust herself into Hyde's arms.

"What's up?" he said. The urgency of her embrace startled him. She was sniffling into his chest, and her body shook. Was she was crying? Damn it. He hated when she did that. All he wanted to do was fix it, to rid her of the hurt—even if he didn't know how. Worse, when he didn't know how, it increased his chances of screwing up with her. "Jackie?"

"Shade's gonna miss you..." she whispered. "I'm gonna miss you."

He stroked the back of her hair. He had a tendency to do it frantically when she cried, but he forced his hand to go slow. "I'll be right next door."

"I know, but it won't be the same." Her voice became wet with tears, and she held him tighter. "I got used to sleeping in the same bed with you."

He said nothing but continued to stroke her hair. Jackie didn't know it, but her living with the Pinciottis was the best thing for them. He was going to miss her at night, too—and miss their cat being around—but the distance meant they had a shot at making it long-term. Being pushed into a situation they weren't ready for was a future-destroyer, man. He'd watched it happen to his own parents. He wasn't going to let that happen to him and Jackie. No damn way.

Author's Note: Feeding cats tuna fish is bad for their health, and I don't recommend it. This story takes place in the 1970s, before the danger of tuna fish to cats was widely understood.