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

ONE DIFFERENCE:
HYDE GOES TO KELSO'S ICE SHACK

Part V

Walking down the mountain with Jackie wasn't an unpleasant experience. Hyde had expected some aggravation and boredom, but she didn't complain about the hike. She didn't talk about her hair or clothing, either. Mostly, she didn't talk at all, except to burn their friends. She and Hyde had dropped to the back of the group for privacy, but some of their friends' conversation traveled.

"Still can't believe Hyde..." Forman said, but distance swallowed the rest of his sentence.

"Stop talking about us!" Jackie shouted. "You should be more concerned about your small pecker!" That was the pattern. Seven or ten minutes of silence, then Forman or Fez would say, "Hyde" or "Jackie," and Jackie would let the burn loose.

She was on edge, and with the sun sinking lower and the air growing colder, Hyde had nothing but sympathy. Fortunately, cars weren't an issue on the road. No one was driving out here. They had a free but long path to the service station. Five miles, Donna had said. Then they'd start calling parents.

The Vista Cruiser would probably be their clunky chariot home. If not, they'd all have to squish into Bob's Eldorado or leave Kelso at the service station, which would be fine with Hyde.

Their last viable resort was Jackie's mother, but, "We'd be lucky to get the cook," Jackie said at the two-mile mark. The Burkharts' housekeeper usually had the weekends off, and their weekend cook wouldn't be at the house until after sunset. "Daddy's on a business trip, and my mom won't be home until dinner... " She looped her arms around one of Hyde's and shivered. "Unless she goes out to dinner with her friends—which she usually does on Saturdays when Daddy isn't home."

Hyde sighed through his nose. Jackie's homelife was far from the spoiled, over-loved, over-sheltered environment he'd always assumed it was. Being rich didn't necessarily make a family happy and healthy. People had to do that job themselves. If a million bucks fell into Bud's lap, he'd gamble it all away by sunrise. If it fell into Hyde's lap, he'd buy his own place the second he turned eighteen.

"What's wrong?" Jackie peered up at him with wide, compassionate eyes. "You're upset about something."

"I don't get 'upset'. I get pissed." But his words sounded flimsy. Her x-ray eyes had already seen past his defenses. "It's got nothin' to do with you. Don't worry about it."

"Great! So tell me." She pressed her chin into his arm, her face full of empathy. Damn it. This girl could draw his deepest secrets from him if he wasn't careful. "I've had a whole day of me," she said. "Well, Michael and Fez pretending to be about me, but they were really about themselves and what they wanted. I'm sick of being the center of attention, fake or otherwise."

He raised both his eyebrows, and a tight grin held back his laughter. She was sick of being the center of attention? Never thought he'd see the day.

She shook his arm a little. "Don't get used to it. I'll be back to focusing on what's important tomorrow, but right now I want to hear what's pissing you off."

He looked away from her. Forman was a good two yards ahead. He was the first person Hyde would go to about his crap, but he'd done enough of that.

"Steven, please..." Jackie squeezed his arm this time, "let me help you, like you've helped me."

Hyde never would have considered it before today. Jackie had a big gossipy mouth, but if she sabotaged their relationship, at least it would happen early. "Bud." His voice was rough, as if he hadn't spoken in days. "He's, uh … he's gotten into gambling."

"How bad?"

"Bad."

"How much does he owe?"

"Got no idea." He used his free hand to scratch the back of his neck. His nails dug into the skin until it burned, but transforming his emotional pain into something physical allowed him to keep talking. "I'm payin' most of the rent and grocery bills."

"Would a thousand dollars get your dad out of debt?"

Her question smacked him full-on in the face. He hadn't considered Bud being in debt, but it was a safe guess.

"Two-thousand dollars?" She released his arm and reached for his hand, the one scratching his neck. "I could cash in a savings bond—"

"Whoa, whoa, Jackie—that's not happening." But he let her take his hand, and she put it to her lips. She kissed his cold skin, and her warm breath blew over it. Then she laid her cheek on top of his knuckles. Part of him wanted to shrink away, not from her affection but his desire for it. "Bud asks me for 'loans,'" he said, "but he never pays 'em back."

"You're right. Giving your deadbeat dad money won't help," she kissed the back of his hand again before letting go, "so I'll write you a check. How much is your rent a month?"

Hyde stopped them from walking. He cradled the sides of her face and gave her a peck to the lips. "Appreciate the offer, but cutting checks won't solve my problem."

"As spoken like a poor person," she said, but sadness flickered in her eyes. It was too much for him to take, so he grasped her palm, and they continued on their way. "Steven, money can solve almost any problem."

"Not mine. Bud's an addict, man. It's who he is."

"Even addicts can change … if given the right motivation."

Jackie grew silent for a while, and Hyde bit down his curiosity. Her tone had indicated something deeper than naïve idealism. What lay underneath?

"My uncle, Bill," she shared eventually, close to the three-mile mark. "My mom's older brother. He was a gambler just like your dad, but he didn't throw dice in back alleys. We're talking big money here, Steven." She nodded at her own words, maybe at her memories, and he spotted a maturity—an adultness—he hadn't recognized before. "Daddy put a stop to it. He hired a few 'associates' to scare my uncle into Gambler's Anonymous. And, believe me, their tactics would work on your dad, too."

Hyde's eyes fixed on Jackie's face, and he imagined scooping her into his arms and kissing her until they collapsed in delirious exhaustion. He must've looked like a moron because she cupped his chin and said, "Are you having an aneurysm?"

"Could be." Blood vessels had to be bursting in his brain. She'd given him a personal piece of herself, unasked for, but its value was immeasurable. Kelso had never spilled this side of her … because she'd kept it to herself. Hyperbolic versions of their sex life, her favorite hair-care products, and stupid cheerleader gossip—Kelso spouted it all in the circle. If she'd given him any real secrets, they would've been offered up as a sacrifice to the stash.

"You really wanna help me, huh?" he said in a daze. Chemicals were firing. Blood was rushing where it didn't belong, not right now. Emotion had combined with physical need, a phenomenon beyond his experience. "If you wanna help, chuck some snow at me."

"What?"

"Just throw some snow at me, man."

"You're crazy."

"Close to it."

Jackie had no clue what she was doing to him, and he released her hand. He needed to quit touching her.

"Come on, Steven." She reached for him, but he sidestepped her grasp. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Nope."

Forman and the rest of their friends were up ahead. Before, the distance felt too close. Now it seemed interminable. Maybe if he and Jackie had company, three deadly words wouldn't be crawling up his throat.

And the statement was lethal. It would set off a series of events that would destroy him and Jackie both.
He swallowed, and his eyes searched for help—a distraction—but the pine trees lining the road offered none. They were stiff, silent witnesses to his struggle. Jackie cared about him. Jackie freakin' Burkhart. She'd made herself vulnerable, tried to put them on equal footing. She was willing to be his partner through whatever crap he had going on. Only Forman had ever gone that far, and they'd watched out for each other since they were six.

"Is this it?" Jackie said, and his gaze rose to her. He'd been staring at his boots, the impressions they made in the snow. "Over before we really started … because I said the wrong thing?"

"Shit." He'd wandered to the side of the road, putting significant distance between them. He closed the gap, but she wouldn't look at him. "Jackie, you didn't say the wrong thing, okay?"

He'd been the one about to say the wrong thing. At the wrong time. At the wrong place … but to the right person. They'd barely begun, but within less than an hour, he was already becoming someone else. Someone who could possibly, one day, tell his girl he loved her.

"This sitch with Bud's got me wound up is all." He touched her back, and she didn't shrink away. "It's got nothin' to do with you, all right? And I appreciate the offer to break his legs, but even if Bud quit gamblin', he'd just switch addictions again. Maybe go back to drinking."

His words dried up, and Jackie's eyes finally locked on him. She was waiting for him to continue. Normally, he wouldn't oblige. This wasn't a conversation he enjoyed having, but she'd balanced on a cliff's edge for him. He couldn't let her stand there alone.

"My dad needs serious help, man," he said. Just like his mom did, just like he himself would if he didn't cut back on his own drinking. "But nothing's more important to him than numbing himself out."

"What about you? You're his son."

He laughed, a scratchy and sour kind of laugh. "That doesn't mean shit."

"It should." The back of her hand grazed his knuckles. Her skin was colder than his, and he raised her hand to his lips. His impulse was to kiss her fingers, a return the tenderness she'd given him earlier, but he blew warm air on them instead. "My dad's not around a lot," she said, "but he's working hard to support our family. We're accustomed to a certain lifestyle, and I think..."

Her speech seemed to turn to smoke, but then she said, "I think it gets to him sometimes, the pressure. If he'd actually show up to my next birthday party, I wouldn't care about the car all that much..."

Another hole cut into the ice, revealing the liquid truth beneath. He fought the compulsion to cover it with his own body, to protect her. She didn't need her wounds to be suffocated. She needed a safe place to bleed.

"Anyway," she flipped her hair over her shoulder, as if tossing her thoughts away, "the least your dad could do is pay the rent."

"Hey, you're talkin' about the guy who was back in Point Place for a year and didn't even try to contact me." His free hand balled into a fist. He unclenched it and shoved it into his coat pocket. Anger had seeped into his body. He rarely let that happen, but being around Jackie did strange things to his self-control. "Our first 'father-son' night out, he boozed me up and brought me to a nudie bar."

"Okay, why do you sound mad?" she said. "You love booze and nudie bars."

Another scratchy laugh escaped him. "Think about it. I went to him all pissed off about how he'd left, how he'd exchanged blood for alcohol, how he'd screwed me over … didn't fuckin' faze him at all, man. Called him an asshole, and he agreed, like it was some kinda joke. Then he offered me a damn beer, and I took it 'cause I'm an asshole."

His stomach flattened, pressed into his intestines. He'd never admitted this crap to anyone. Never imagined confessing it to Jackie. His fingers loosened in her hand. He braced himself for a pity parade, but she said, "He also offered you strippers."

"And those." His need for distance was growing again. Had nothing to do with her, but she'd take it that way, so he stayed put.

She began to say something, but the wind kicked up. Must have choked her silent, just as it made him cough. The forceful, frigid air cut through his coat, and she sheltered herself in his body.

"Don't go back to him," he said while holding her. He spoke into her hair, both for comfort and to keep his throat from freezing. "Even if this doesn't work out between us, don't go back to Kelso."

"I—I won't."

Another gust of wind buffeted them, and his arms tightened around her. Were Forman and Donna holding onto each other, too? The icy air sliced his hands, but his body wasn't frozen thanks to Jackie. Being in a relationship … maybe it didn't have to turn to shit like his parents' had.

"You need to move out," she said once the wind died down.

"Don't disagree..." but his flattened stomach shriveled to a raisin. "Problem is, where would I go?"

Where would Steven go? Jackie gestured toward Eric's back. "Duh."

A puff of white smoke obscured Steven's face. He'd blown out a breath, meaning her suggestion wasn't a winner for him, but his future was on the line. The elements of his life were like snow on a mountain side. If he didn't act soon, it would all come down in an avalanche and bury him.

But that disaster could be avoided. All she had to do was go up to Eric herself. Tell him what Steven was going through, and he'd take care of the rest. That would put her future with Steven at risk, but his own future was worth it.

"Your dad needs consequences for his actions," she said, "just like Michael does." Her fingers glided into the spaces between Steven's, and the warmth between their palms grew hotter. She adored holding hands with him, especially now that he wasn't pulling away. "Otherwise, they'll never stop doing what they do. Maybe by Michael losing me, he won't be such a dog with his next serious girlfriend."

"Or he'll just get sneakier." Steven ran his thumb over the top of her hand, and pleasing shivers rippled up her arm. "I should've told you what he was doing. If I'd known you were..."

He stopped talking. His half-spoken confession was intriguing—and aggravating—but she was losing focus. Maybe he was trying to distract her.

"And by you moving out," she said, forcing her thoughts to stay in order, "by you leaving your dad the way he left you, maybe he'll reevaluate what's important to him. Even if not, you'll be safe with the Formans."

The sky had darkened considerably since they left the ice shack, but Steven's face was still visible. A grin slid across it, and he put his arm around her shoulders. She cuddled into him as they continued to walk, but what was he thinking? Had her words soaked in at all?

"Man, if I'd known you were like this," he gave her shoulders a little squeeze, "I wouldn't have been such a dick."

"What do you mean?"

"See Kelso and Fez up there?"

"Barely. Donna's lumberjack physique is blocking them."

"They tore off a few branches, and they're whackin' each other with 'em."

"Really?" She got on her tiptoes, but she was still too short.

"Here..." His arm slipped off her shoulders. Then he stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her hips. He raised her into the air, at least a foot-and-a-half taller than she was, and she saw them. Michael and Fez were hitting each other with pine branches. Snow flew off the needles, and neither Donna nor Eric seemed concerned by the fight.

"So they're idiots," she said. "So what?"

Steven put her down, and his arm returned to her shoulders. "That's what I was doin' to you and Kelso," he said. "Part of me wanted Kelso to get caught, so I set him up. But I also wanted to prolong his suffering, so I never told you the straight shit. I hinted at it, provoked you … but it wasn't enough."

"Vanstock." The word floated from her mouth. "You were so eager to have me go along … because you knew. You knew he was sleeping with Laurie. And you—Three's Company, Steven?" She hit stomach, and he let out a quiet grunt. "What's wrong with you?" On that trip, he'd led her and Laurie in a rendition of the Three's Company theme song.

"Thought I'd get this crap out in the open. You gotta know who you're dealing with. I enjoyed messin' with both of you."

"That was before you went to jail for me," she said.

"Yeah."

"Before you punched that jerk Chip."

"Yup."

"Before you admitted what you just admitted."

His fingers tapped a quick beat on her upper arm. "Guess so."

"I know who I'm dealing with." One of her arms was slung around his back, and she managed to stick her hand into his coat pocket. "So ... what am I like, Steven?" She fluttered her eyelashes and pursed her lips a little. It was a look she'd practiced in the mirror countless times. She called it mild seduction.

"A lot more complex than I ever gave you credit for," he said.

"And?"

"And what?"

"What else? Give me specifics."

"No."

"Steven!" She punched his hip through his coat pocket. "We're going to work on your romance skills."

"Oh, we are, are we?" He leaned in and kissed her—far more than a peck—and the tingling inside her mouth buzzed through her whole body. "Yeah, think I've got that covered."

"Romance isn't just Frenching." She was trying to act annoyed but failed spectacularly. A dreamy smile had conquered her face. God, that boy could kiss. "But it's a very good start."

He gazed at her smugly and stroked the side of her face. "Don't gotta tell me." Then his smugness softened, into an expression she couldn't quite characterize. "Gonna get the ball rollin' on somethin' else, too."

Their pace quickened. He was leading her up the snowy road, toward, their friends. "Hey, Forman," he said, and Eric glanced back at them. Revulsion flickered in his eyes, snarled his lips. Steven must have seen it because he said, "Ask your mom about those nausea meds 'cause I'm movin' back in."

"What?" Eric and Donna's arms were entwined, but Eric whispered something in her ear. They separated, and she joined Michael and Fez farther up ahead.

"Okay, so..." Eric fell back to Steven's side. He'd grown paler than usual and had begun to shiver. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Y—yeah, what happened?"

"I bet on the wrong horse," Steven said.

"And his dad bets on horses," Jackie said.

Steven's arm grew stiff on her shoulders. She'd messed up. He probably wanted to handle this his own way, make up some weird story, but Eric was concerned and freezing. In other circumstances, she'd enjoy watching him suffer, but not today. Even if it meant damaging her standing with Steven.

His arm fell away from her, and she shuddered at the warmth he took with him. Then his fingers curled around her hand. His touch was gentle, soothing. In a heartbeat, he'd forgiven her.

"Found betting slips on him this morning..." he said, and Eric listened while he told him the story.

His words became a comforting thrum as Jackie marveled at today's events. She'd influenced him—no, they'd influenced each other—to change. In just an hour. She'd laid herself bare to him, in a fashion she'd never done with Michael, and he'd opened himself up to her in return.

Influence without manipulation or coercion. It was a power she wasn't used to, and they'd have to wield it carefully.

"Yeah, man," Eric said after Steven was done, "of course you can move back in. In fact, my mom keeps refreshing your sheets every week 'just in case'. And Red bought a twelve-pack of I Like Worms and put in the deep-freeze."

"Uh..." Steven scratched his cheek, "I'm the only one 'round here who likes cherry pop."

"See my point?" Eric poked him in the shoulder. "My folks'll be thrilled having you back in the house, and the best part of this? You'll get to do half my chores again."

"Super." Steven was scowling, but Jackie knew he didn't mean it. She hugged his waist, and he hugged her back, half-distracted. Then his lips pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. That was the second time he'd done that, and she reveled in his affection. He was going to be a great boyfriend ... once he had a little more training.

She nestled her cheek against his chest and silently thanked God for finally being clear. Steven was embracing her fully now. His hands had locked firmly around her back, but their hug was cut short. Donna was dashing toward them. Snow flew up around her boots, and two brown jackets were in her hands. They trailed behind her like banners, but she shoved them at Eric.

"Quick, take these!" she said then kept herself in front of him.

"Why?" Eric said, but the answer became evident. Michael and Fez were running toward them, jacket-less.

"They were getting too nosy." Donna snatched the jackets back from Eric. She tossed them to the ground, and her boots kicked snow over them. "And too grabby. Kelso pinched my freakin' ass while Fez went for my boob—but all Fez got was an elbow to the neck."

Jackie giggled and hid her face in Steven's arm.

"It's not funny, Jackie!" Donna said.

"No, it isn't funny at all," Fez said. He and Michael had reached them. "All we wanted is a little action, and she stole our jackets!"

Eric pushed himself in front of Donna. "So you went after my girlfriend?"

"Does anyone really have a girlfriend, Eric?" Michael said. "Why do we put labels on everything?"

"Because she's my girlfriend!"

"Well, we can't go after Jackie anymore!" Fez waved in Jackie's direction. "She's Hyde's girlfriend now, and if we try anything, he'll kill us."

"That's right." Steven tightened his arm around Jackie's back, and she liked it.

"And I won't?" Eric said.

"Oh, you'll try," Michael said, "but you can barely cut a steak."

Eric shook his head. "That's—no. That's not—" He was trying to respond, but he didn't do well under pressure. Jackie had experienced that first-hand. It made burning him too easy.

"Dude, have you seen yourself try to cut steak?" Michael laughed. "It's hilarious."

"Yes, yes. Hilarious." Fez knelt to the ground and plucked his corduroy jacket from the snow. "Ai..."

Michael went for his jacket, too, but Donna put her boot on it. "You might not be afraid of Eric," she said, "but I'm not afraid to knock your teeth in. If either of you pull another stunt like that, you can say goodbye to chewing food."

"Might be worth it," Michael said, and Donna flashed him an I-Dare-You smirk. "I changed my mind." His voice cracked. "Can I have my jacket now?"

She removed her foot, and he stood up with his jacket. He flapped it around, getting snow everywhere, including Jackie's face.

"Watch it!" she shouted, and Steven brushed the stray snow from her cheek. "Thank you, baby."

"Man, she's calling him 'baby' already?" Michael put on his jacket, but he seemed half-a-foot shorter. He was slouching and shuffled in the snow as he walked.

"I know," Fez said, "and Hyde let me call Jackie his girlfriend. He's never let me call any of his whores that before."

"Fez," Steven said, and Jackie expected him to deny the girlfriend title, especially now that Fez had made it explicit, "this is your last warning, man. Either the name 'Jackie' and the word 'whore' part ways in your mouth—or your mouth's gonna part ways with your tongue. Your choice."

"He's called me a 'whore' before?" Shock cut through Jackie's voice, but not from Fez's duplicity. Steven considered her his girlfriend. She was Steven Hyde's girlfriend. She worked the idea over in her mind, but she'd need days to process it. "When?" she said. "When did he say that?"

Steven coughed, as though he were uncomfortable with her question. "He was stoned."

"Oh." She fought the urge to fling her arms around his neck and cover him with kisses. He'd defended her honor, even when she wasn't present. "You've warned him before."

"No, I didn't," he said, too quickly.

"Yes, you did. You told him that was his 'last' warning, not his first—"

He slid two fingers gently beneath her chin. "Man, if you keep pointing this shit out..." nothing threatening existed in his eyes, only affection, "you're gonna ruin my rep." His face drew close to hers. She parted her lips slightly, anticipating his kiss, but then—

"Stupid corduroy!" Fez shouted. He was stuffing his jacket into his backpack. "Why do you have to be as coated in moisture as Kelso's tongue?" They had two miles to go before they reached the service station, and he was shivering. Jackie tried to muster sympathy, but he'd put himself in this situation. Plus, he'd earned a little payback. "Kelso," he said a minute later, "I'm cold."

"I know, buddy." Michael put his arm around him. "We'll get through this together."

He could offer Fez warmth but not her? "I'm never going back to him, Steven," she whispered. "No matter what."

"Good," Steven whispered back, "'cause he just made a move on Fez."

"Fez could do better." She stopped walking, and he stopped with her.

"What's up?" he said.

A reckless impulse had taken her over, or maybe it was fear, but she had to try something. "Trust me for twenty seconds." She stepped in front of him, pulse tightening with each breath, and held both his hands. "Please?"

He swallowed but said, "Sure."

She unfastened the first three buttons of his wool coat. His dress shirt already had the first button undone, and she undid the next two. He kept blessedly silent, but her pulse pounded in her ears, her neck. She'd exposed his chest to the cold. She was potentially humiliating herself, but before her bravery withered, she laid a tender kiss over his heart.

I love you, she mouthed then buttoned his shirt back up.

Her fingers were stiff. She indulged in two quick flexes before starting on his coat, but he took over. "Don't know what that was," he said afterward.

She shut her eyes. "Did you hate it?"

"No."

Her eyes snapped open. He hadn't rejected her. He'd let her try a bold, silly, self-indulgent move. In the dead of winter. With gusts of frigid air hitting them, and he didn't hate it.

He loved her. He might never say it, but he did. Without trying, without wanting to, he'd won her heart—and somehow she'd won his.

"Hop on." He was crouching, as if he wanted her to climb onto his back. She did, and he carried her piggy-back style. His gate was a little rough. His muscles had to be stiff like her fingers, but his grip on her legs was firm. "Don't think you're gettin' a free ride," he said when she started giggling. "You're gonna carry me at the one-mile marker."

"I don't think so." She hid her face in his soft curls, still laughing. In little over an hour, she'd experienced more from this relationship than she ever had with Michael. And, from the way Steven was acting, he had to be enjoying himself just as much.

He kicked aside a chunk of ice but didn't lose his balance. "Sorry for the bumps," he said, but she patted his chest in appreciation.

They'd probably encounter a lot of ice chunks down the road. Get bruised, maybe even scraped. But something extraordinary existed between them. Whatever it was, she'd fight for it. Wherever their destination, she'd ride out the bumps. Because he was worth it.

They were worth it.