Work Text:
Point Place – Summer 1977
The sun barely filtered through the lace curtains when Jackie Burkhart opened her eyes. She didn’t move. She lay on her back, hair messy against the pillow, staring at the ceiling as if the tiny cracks in the paint could give her an answer.
What the hell did you do, Jackie?
The question hammered in her head. It wasn’t a bad dream. It wasn’t a fleeting impulse. It was real. She had gotten involved with Steven Hyde, her ex-boyfriend’s best friend.
It had all started innocently, just four weeks earlier. A few stolen kisses in the middle of nowhere—kisses that could be justified with a “it just happened.” But then came more… longer, hungrier, harder to stop. In less than a week, her underwear stopped being a reliable barrier; their hands explored skin and trespassed forbidden territory. She had touched his erection through his jeans, and he had groaned against her mouth. Neither of them stopped.
Jackie closed her eyes, heat flooding her cheeks. Yesterday they had crossed the line. It was no longer just touches or teenage games. She had seduced him—yes, she knew perfectly well that it had been her who didn’t stop—and they ended up naked, sharing a secret that could never be spoken.
Sex. Real sex. And not the clumsy kind she had known before, but something that shook her from head to toe. Steven turned out to be fire and patience, roughness and tenderness all at once. He had made her moan, lose herself, break apart. Three times. Three orgasms in a single afternoon.
Jackie bit her lip, feeling again that venomous mix of pleasure and guilt. She never imagined he would know so much, that he could read her body as if he had studied it. She had felt worshiped, and that confused her even more.
Because it wasn’t just sex. It was him. Kelso’s best friend. The boy she should never have gotten involved with.
She covered her face with both hands, muffling a groan of frustration.
“You’re so stupid, Jackie Burkhart,” she whispered to the emptiness of her room.
And still, the most dangerous thing was that she didn’t regret it.
When she got up, clarity was quickly replaced by fear. What if Steven never spoke to her again? What if it had all been just a cruel joke, a dirty game to mock her and, in the process, get back at Michael? The idea twisted inside her. What if she ended up being nothing more than a fling, the perfect piece of gossip for Eric Forman and the rest? She could already imagine them laughing, reminding her of the days when they despised her at school.
No. She wouldn’t allow it.
As she put on her makeup in front of the mirror, she decided she would walk in with her head held high. If Hyde wanted to laugh, she would kill him with her own poison: she would tell him she had only done it to get back at Michael. That there were no feelings. That he was nothing, too.
She finished her eyeliner with a steady hand, added a touch of lip gloss, and stared at her reflection with the determination of someone preparing for war. She barely had some juice and toast for breakfast, enough to quiet the knot of nerves in her stomach, and left her house without looking back.
Jackie walked quickly toward the Formans’ house. Each step brought her closer to the basement, closer to the secret she shared with Steven Hyde.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she reached the street. Somewhere deep in her mind, one thought flashed like lightning: either he wanted her as much as she wanted him… or everything would end that very morning.
When she arrived at the basement, Jackie descended the stairs cautiously, listening to the murmur of the television. No laughter, no voices, just the hum of the screen. She swallowed hard, pushed open the door—and there he was.
Steven Hyde.
Sitting on the couch, arranging a chessboard on the table, the TV droning in the background. Worn-out jeans, band shirt, boots… and of course, his inseparable sunglasses. He stared at her, as if trying to read her. God, he looked so manly, so shamelessly sexy with that scruffy beard.
And then, he smiled.
Jackie had barely taken two steps when Hyde stood up, walked over, and without warning, kissed her. It was soft at first, but she parted her lips, and his tongue slid against hers, firm, hungry. Jackie smiled into the kiss: he wasn’t ignoring her, he wasn’t mocking her.
He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes.
“Good morning,” he murmured with a crooked smile.
“Good morning,” she whispered back.
Hyde pulled her closer, his hand sliding down her back, squeezing her ass with a confidence that stole her breath. He leaned to her ear, his voice low and dangerous:
“This afternoon we’ll be alone. We can repeat yesterday.”
Her cheeks burned. Jackie looked straight into his face and nodded, unable to hide her conspiratorial smile. He smirked, and as if he hadn’t just made a promise that set her body on fire, he took her hand.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s play.”
He guided her back to the couch, settling her beside him as he set the chess pieces in place, as though what he had just whispered was the best-kept secret in the world.
Years later, Jackie remembered those mornings of uncertainty, when she didn’t know if Steven Hyde would even look at her, or if it had all been just a game. She remembered how she masked her fears with makeup before going to the basement, convinced it was probably just an affair.
And yet here she was now, in another bed, in another time. She watched him asleep beside her, his chest rising and falling steadily, the deep breathing of someone who no longer needed to prove anything.
She smiled. Although they had started as a risky secret, they had never been just a fling. Destiny, stubborn and relentless, had carried them much further than she ever imagined.
Jackie lowered her gaze to her hand, caressing the wedding ring that glimmered in the soft morning light. She twisted it gently with her fingers, then looked back at Steven.
“Who would’ve thought,” she whispered, before curling against him, certain that this story—their story—had been worth every doubt, every fear, every forbidden kiss.