Work Text:
War Is Over
After a year of considerable hardships, Jackie basks in her puddin' pop's arms. Fluffy fluff. J/H, some interrupting E/D.
Thursday, January 1, 1981
Point Place, Wisconsin
12:00 am
In a snow-covered world, a frigid winter wonderland, Jackie longs for warmth.
For spring. Its April showers, and its beautiful May flowers.
But she'll always pick his thunder, his rain, over any delusional ray of sunshine. Over any rich boy, any mindless pretty boy. Rich or poor.
Even as he entered good fortunes, money can't buy happiness. Beyond providing a stable cushion to fall back on, because pinching pennies? That's stressful, and without a basic level of comfort, happiness can never truly flourish.
Now, she finds comfort in his arms. After all these unnecessary and unforgiving hardships, all the venom spewed, she's finally ready to sleep in heavenly peace.
Of course, she's not going to curl up and die, going to a splendid, impeccable version of heaven. That's decades away, well into the twenty-first century.
Well into the twentieth century, heavenly peace is a brief slumber. Proudly perched on his lap, her head nestled on her puddin' pop's shoulder, daydreaming of all the years to come. Love, marriage, a couple of baby carriages.
And in time, many other successful endeavors. Because the ball has dropped, and this year, she's not sweeping hair. For even a freaking second.
Kissing his cheek, in loving celebration, she beams. As bright as Times Square, on the television screen.
"Happy new year, Steven."
Steven smirks, the luckiest man alive. Ever so slightly buzzed, a beer firmly in hand. "You ain't Yoko. You didn't break up the band."
"I made it stronger, because I'm amazing." With a convincing nod, she kisses him again. On the lips, of course. "You're lucky I forgave you."
He shrugs, remembering their plight. He still has to make a few amends, and put a massive ring on her finger, but she wants a spring wedding. And she needs time to plan, an absolute masterpiece that the world will remember. Not Eric and Donna's future wedding in the Formans' backyard.
She glances over at the ratty old couch, where the awkward little couple was once cuddling. Like sleepy five year olds, or an old married couple. Either or.
Now, as loving roommates rather than young, oblivious neighbors, they're about to make out. Which is absolutely gross.
I guess she took my advice; go big or go home. Well, go big and go home, eww... "It took awhile, because I was a fuckin' fool."
"If you ever do that again, I'll make you pay. Trust me. And, you have the money now, and I..."
She hates the thought, of being poor. Being supported by Steven, with his record store in West Milwaukee, as she goes through the wringer. Living with Steven, going to school. All while interning at Wake Up, Wisconsin. Finding her way in the world.
"You're gettin' there."
"I know, but it's hard." All she hears is the commotion on the couch, and when she glances over, Eric is as... "Eww, get a room! I don't want to see your nasty Twizzler!"
As hard as a 2x4, through his hideous tan pants, and it's disgusting. Wincing, looking at Steven. As Eric squawks, like a stupid little duck. "This is my parents' basement!"
Steven groans, tiring of his stupid little antics. "I lived down here for four years, Forman."
"Yeah, in the back room."
Jackie helps her annoyed boyfriend. Concisely, and ever so perfectly. "Your room is still upstairs. Go there, please."
"Fine. I will." Eric jumps up, his Twizzler still in full view. "Come on, Donna. I suppose we're not welcome here, back at home, sweet home."
The redhead sighs. She doesn't like to follow orders, especially from a man, but she realizes it's the best course of action. At this particular moment, anyway. "Fine. We can have some fun under your Spiderman sheets."
Waggling his eyebrows, on purpose, Eric attempts some weird wordplay. Some disgusting foreplay. "I think my spidey sense is tingling..."
Rightfully horrified, Jackie screams. "Oh my God! Go!"
They rush up the basement stairs, creaking all the way. Like the bones of a gross old married couple, who nobody wants to see behind closed doors.
Steven sighs in relief. "Good, they're gone."
"But the holiday season's almost gone, too." Pouting and batting her eyelashes, like a doll, she sighs. Ever so dramatically, not in relief. "I think we should play the Carpenters, one last time."
"No."
She plays the same game, batting her eyelashes. Again. "Pretty please?"
"No," He insists, "I've got somethin' better."
He motions for her to get up, and she readily resists.
"Come on, Jackie."
Clinging onto him like a monkey clings onto a tree, she ramps up the game. "Promise you'll play The Carpenters later."
He sighs, in complete and utter defeat. "Fine."
"Thank you, puddin."
She releases him from her iron grip, and he beelines for the cassette player. Big and bulky, like Steven's...
Her dirty thoughts are promptly interrupted, by a familiar tune. A hopeful tune, even if one of its artists happened to break up the most famous band of all time.
So this is Christmas
And what have you done?
Another year over
And a new year just begun
Okay, Yoko may have broken up the band. She may be particularly tone-deaf, and she's really weird and annoying, but she didn't deserve a murdered husband. No way. No one deserves that.
And the death of John Lennon, like the death of John Bonham, has left Steven reeling.
"Everybody's droppin' like flies."
"In the most creepy, unnatural ways." Jackie nods, stirring her tea with a spoon. While Steven enjoys his coffee, nice and black. Or half-black, whatever. Even if he looks as white as snow. "But we're not like the rest of the world, Steven. We're not creepy or unnatural. We're absolutely beautiful."
And so this is Christmas, I hope you have fun,
The near and the dear one
The old and the young
In Steven's warm, strong arms, she feels comforted. Safe. Deeply loved. As long as she has him, and she isn't dirt poor, everything else doesn't matter.
Leading him to the back room, the old cot, she beams. "Right now, we're young. Let's have some fun."
"Carpe diem."
She nods, the world at her fingertips. "Seize the day."
And as the remaining snow begins to melt away, of all formidable winters past, their beautiful, bountiful spring is certainly on the horizon.