Work Text:
Don't Stop
1980. It's been a year since the infamous Point Place winter carnival. With Jackie and Hyde figuring out the ropes, holding onto a tentative safety line for dear life, will today's escapade be better than before? J/H
*****
Late November, 1980
Point Place, Wisconsin
3:45 pm
Compared to the turmoil she faced last year, this year's winter carnival is a happy reprieve.
With her puddin' pop by her side, they've been happily engrossed in the festivities. Riding the rides, eating some gourmet burgers and fries. Clinking a celebratory beer and a glass of white wine, without the mere thought of overindulging.
"Steven, thank you." Her heart on her sleeve, sparkling in her amber eyes, Jackie presses her hand into his. "When Michael used to take me on the Ferris wheel, he'd shake the car. Like an immature, wet dog. And everyone would stare at us, but he'd just say he was just having fun..."
They both shake their heads in general disdain, as Steven smiles. "I don't do that shit."
"I know, right?"
Last year, he hurt her so much, pushing her into that creek. But someway, somehow, he's redeemed himself. Like a knight in shining armor, even after pillaging her heart. While promising to never, ever be like a real knight. Never again.
"Fez was just a distraction. We never went anywhere, or did anything. Well, we wanted to see Fame together, but our relationship didn't even last that long."
He somberly chuckles at the thought, of such a farce of a relationship lasting that long. Out of the winter, and well into the spring. A relationship that was built on nothing, but a house of cards.
Destined to fall, as with one nudge, a shaky, rickety London Bridge came falling down. "If you can call it that."
Jackie sighs, remembering her parents. Playing up some disingenuous affection for the cameras, but behind the scenes? They didn't do anything. Other than drink, mope, and fight.
That was her and Fez. Without diamonds being a girl's best friend. She would perform the obligatory theatrics, but behind the scenes? There was nothing. No chemistry, no love. Just a friendship gone horribly, horribly wrong.
And with her and Michael? She did love him, but in a teenaged, puppy love kind of way. It wasn't a blink of an eye, like Fez, but it was a drawn-out, torturous affair. She had to have him on a theoretical leash, so he wouldn't go astray.
And even then, he still took a giant dump on her front lawn. With Laurie, the girl at Sacred Heart...
"Michael was my first love, but it was shallow. It meant nothing." The memories pass her by, and she cringes. "We brought out the worst in each other, but you? Bring out the best. And Brooke does that for Michael. And Betsy does that too."
The thought of Betsy, their lovely little goddaughter, makes her smile. She's so smart like Brooke, but with a bit of Michael's spunk, which can be a good or bad thing. Depending on the day.
Because Betsy squeals when she turns her back for a millisecond, because she wants attention. Hugs and kisses, her stuffed dog Henry. Screaming, Henny! Henny! Until Jackie obliges, and once again? All is well, and she sighs in relief.
But other times? Betsy wants peace and quiet, like Brooke. She loves to stare out the apartment window, her tiny little hand pressed against the glass, looking at the world in total awe. With Henry by her side, and she squeals if anyone tries to take Henry from her.
"I love Betsy so much." Michael grins from ear to ear, still as goofy as ever. "She does the best baby burns ever, and she's super cute. With Henry the dog! I make him bark all the time!"
"Of course she is, Michael," She awkwardly states, glancing at her first boyfriend, "She's your baby."
"I'm happy we're just friends now, even though you're still smokin'." "You have nice boobs, a nice butt, and nice hair, but I like talking to you. But I like Brooke way, way more."
"I like Steven way, way more." She smirks, and Michael is only slightly offended. "I found someone way better than you, and it's great!"
But whenever she sees Betsy, she can't help but think of herself. Betsy could've been hers...well, there would've been an older, different baby, but still. Sarah Michelle for a girl, and John "Jay" Michael for a boy.
She had those names lingering in her head forever, but she never intended to use them. She wanted to have children with Michael, but that was far into the future. When she was in her mid-twenties, not when she was still in high school. And was basically a baby herself.
Her eyes widen in horror at the mere thought of such a horrible, daunting reality, and Steven reads her, like a book. As her loving smile fades, and Betsy is now a reluctant afterthought.
"Oh my God, If I was pregnant when I was fifteen, with Michael's baby..."
Steven cringes too, and his hand thoroughly wraps around hers. Like a safety line, holding on for dear life. "Don't think about that."
But even now, amidst the fading turmoil, she still has names dancing in her head. Because someday? She wants to have children with Steven. A Sarah or a Rebecca, a William or a James. With big blue eyes like their daddy, and dark, beautiful hair like their mommy.
That alternate world still lingers in her mind, though. Or one where she accepted Michael's random marriage proposal, out of spite. Or one where she still convinced herself she was in love with Fez. She would be miserable, and without her puddin' pop by her side? She'd feel so, so empty.
Like a Stepford Wife, without the diamonds and pearls. Just a simple, sad white dress, racing to the altar. Towards someone she thought she loved, instead of her soulmate.
Now, Steven's sitting in front of her, with a wholly sympathetic ear. Instead whatever miserable, foreign entity, a foreign pillager, he was last year. With misery in his heart, and vicious venom in his veins.
"I thought I loved him, so I probably would've had his baby too..." She trails off, her dark eyes jumping here, there, and everywhere. Observing anything but his sullen face, until she reluctantly focuses. "It would have been awful."
As silence engulfs them, they break free from the safety line, if only for a moment. As they nibble on their burgers, discarding the tinfoil, and Steven dives right in. With a handful of fries, and a big bite of his burger.
"I've been fuckin' awful." He gets his fill, for now, with a swig of beer to wash it down. "But I've been making it up to you."
She nods, mindlessly twirling a fry in ketchup. Michael says he's like ketchup, and he's good on everything. Ketchup isn't good on everything.
And as she focuses on Steven, once again, she beams. At the love of her life, who would never leave her. In the dust. Never ever. "You have. You really have."
*****
As they stroll towards the exit, having the day she hopelessly and helplessly dreamed of having last year, Jackie spots something. With the corner of her eye. A white, fluffy unicorn. Hanging in front of one of those dart balloon games. Calling her name.
Steven immediately notices her wandering, amber eyes, like she's looking at a diamond in the rough, and lets out an obligatory but loving groan. "Those carnival games are rigged."
"But Michael never won anything." She bats her eyelashes, and gives him the cutest little pout she can muster, as Steven melts. Like candy in the summer sun. "He's a total spazz. And when he dances, it looks like he's having a seizure."
He pretends to be unmoved, surrounding himself in a zen cocoon, but his smile shows it all. "I don't care."
"You do, and you know it." Pointing to the unicorn, she beams. Like a butterfly, not a miserable caterpillar. Eating and eating, until she hibernates. "I want that unicorn, right over there. She's named Stevie."
"I haven't even won the..."
"But you will." She leads the way, like a beam of light, as Steven willingly follows. "Stephanie Nicole Burkhart is mine."
*****
After a quick, not so rigged game of dart balloons, Steven has emerged victorious.
"I told you could do it," Jackie declares, gingerly wrapping her arms around his waist, "Okay, I want that stuffed white unicorn..."
"Carnival games are still freakin' rigged." He uncomfortably smirks, kissing her temple. "I'm just good at darts."
"Thank you, puddin." Sitting in the El Camino, with Stevie happily perched on her lap, Jackie pecks his waiting cheek. On cloud nine, instead of surviving in the trenches. The muddy, rocky creek beds. "You popped so many balloons!"
"I played lots of darts, when Bud dragged me to the bar." Thinking about the past, no matter how distant, it still hurts. It's etched onto his lips, embedded into his soul. "Usually was the only one sober. So I'd make a safe bet, and score some cash. To spend on the necessities. Food, a winter coat. Maybe a little baggie and a pack of gum, if I had extra."
"But you have WB now, and Mr. Forman, and Leo?" But Jackie's hopeful for the future, with the past firmly behind her. Eating her dust. "That's three dads. One, two, three."
"Maybe I should get Leo a little baggie and a pack of gum," Hyde muses, the past's grip still apparent, but in time, it has begun to collectively fade, "Another burger and fries for Red, and WB...I mean..."
"Dad?" But there were still missed opportunities, a photo album of potential memories. "He loves Earth, Wind, and Fire. He totally looks like Maurice White."
"Don't see the resemblance...but okay."
"I don't see the resemblance between you and your Dad." An awkward silence swallows them whole, as Jackie turns up the heat. And the radio. "He totally doesn't look like Philip Bailey, though."
"It's all in the music and the fro. And flippin' off the establishment..."
Don't stop thinking about tomorrow
Don't stop, it'll soon be here
It'll be better than before
Yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone
"To find your way in life?" Jackie concludes, reading his troubled but loving mind, "With me by your side?"
Counting his lucky stars, as the sun begins to set, Steven beams. From ear to ear. "Yep, with you by my side."