The Great Crossover Experiment
So awhile back ago, zenkindoflove and I were talking, and we thought that it would be perfectly loverly if Alby Grant from BIG LOVE could be best friends with Jackie from THAT 70S SHOW. And I started a little crack fic about such a thing. When I got all caught up with GIY, it kind of fell by the wayside. BUT, Matt Ross has been on AMERICAN HORROR STORY as of late and I was reminded of my super uber love for him. And I'm always aware of my super uber love for Mila Kunis. So I picked it up again. I don't know wehre it's going to go, and I don't htink it makes much sense, really. I think this is really more for my own amusement, and zen's amusement. But.... What the frak? May as well post a bit. Just cuz! Chapter 1.
Title: I Don't See What Anyone Can See In Anyone Else But You
Fandom: BIG LOVE/THAT 70S SHOW
Rating: T for language.
Disclaimer: I don't own either of these characters or universes.
Alby Grant sat at his desk, not really doing anything but hoping no one would realize that. It was another one of those days, one of those days where he didn’t want to do what he was supposed to do. Didn’t want to be where he was supposed to be, or WHAT he was supposed to be. Though he didn’t agree with or believe in modern psychology (or any psychology for that matter), the only word he could think of to describe this ever lingering feeling was ‘depressed’. Especially since he’d felt this way since Dale had died. Hell, he’d felt this way for as long as he could remember, except when he was with Dale. Now that he was gone, it felt as if this feeling would never, ever leave him.
He rummaged through the bottom desk drawer, trying to find one of the many copies of their picture. He’d hidden them throughout the crevices in his office, in his house, hoping that the wives wouldn’t find them. Even if they had found them most wouldn’t mention it. Lura, on the other hand, probably would. There were so many emotions he felt towards her, conflicting and battling emotions. Emotions he’d rather not think about. He missed feeling that pure sensation of simple, untainted love. That was how he was supposed to feel about the person he was married to. And he didn’t feel that way about any of them.
He stopped looking for the picture, believing it would simply depress him even more, and was about to call it a day and go home to sleep, just sleep and sleep, until there was a rapt knocking on his office door. He hadn’t been expecting anyone today, so he assumed it was probably Lura. So he reluctantly called ‘come in’ in his most neutral voice possible.
But instead of it being Lura to walk through the door, a petite, wide eyed brunette woman walked into the office. He’d never seen her before in his life. She certainly wasn’t someone who lived on Juniper Creek; even if she was wearing the prairie dresses the other women wore, there was a confident fire in her eyes that he rarely saw among the women here.
“Hi,” she said, stepping up to his desk. Alby looked up at her, still shocked and confused, and she tilted her head to the side, crossing her arms. “Are you Alby Grant? Prophet of Juniper Creek?”
“… Yes?” he answered, the questioning lilt negating his usual sense of smug composure. She beamed and tossed her long wavy hair over her shoulders.
“Nice to meet you Alby. You know, that blonde with the bad hair and bitch face? She was kind of rude to me. Tried to tell me that you were busy and wouldn’t see me, and I was like ‘psh, yeah right, what could he POSSIBLY be doing that’s so important that I’M not a priority’. She let me in, but she wasn’t happy about it.”
“I’m sorry, but who are you and what are you doing here?” he asked, pushing away from the desk finally and standing up. My she was short, and yet seemed incredibly forceful in spite of it.
“Oh right,” she said, and grinned at him again, extending her hand. “I’m Jackie Burkhart. And I’m here because you need me.” She raised her eyebrows smugly, and chewed on her thumbnail in a crisp and haughty manner.
“…. I don’t understand, who ARE you?” he asked, starting to feel more irritated, especially since she was being so cryptic and acting like she WASN’T being that way. She pulled her extended hand back, and continued to look at him like HE was the crazy one.
“I told you, I’m Jackie-.”
“I didn’t ask your name, what are you doing here?” he asked. “You dress like this but I’ve NEVER seen you before, and you act like-.”
“Okay, first of all, this dress?” she asked, tugging on it. “Hideous. I only grabbed one because I figured that I would blend in a bit more if I did. I just went to a costume shop and was like ‘do you have any Laura Ingalls Wilder stuff?’, and they gave me this. It’s atrocious.”
“…. Why are you here?” he asked again, impatience turning to slight begging. He just wanted to know who she was. Why was that so hard to answer?
“Because you need me,” she repeated. “Now come on. You’re coming with me.”
“I’ll do no such thing.”
“I’m not kidnapping you or anything, I’m taking you to the mall,” she said, rolling her eyes and reaching for him. He pulled back. “Oh my GOD you’re really kind of paranoid, aren’t you? I just want to go to the Mall. And you should totally come with me.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s FUN!” she replied. “You look like you could use some fun today, am I right? And don’t say I’m not… I know what sad looks like. I SHOULD know. I used to be really sad a lot of the time.” She trailed off, tossing her hair again and squirming in the dress she was practically drowning in. Then she clasped her hands together and continued. “Come ON! I’ll buy you a new bolo tie. I notice a lot of guys wearing bolo ties around her….”
Alby was going to throw this forward and impetuous woman out of his office. But she made a good point. He could use some fun today, as he was sad. And being in his office, on the compound, it all just seemed to make him sadder.
So, he sighed, and stood up. “Fine,” he said. “We’ll go to the mall.” That was strange to say.
She began to squeal and hop up and down. “Yay!! We’re going to have SO much fun!”
Alby doubted that. Why was he even going with her? WHY was he letting a woman tell him what to do? His father had always said that women were here to serve men. And yet here he was, letting this short loudmouthed girl tell him what they were doing.
Of course, how was that much different from his and Lura’s relationship? Besides the height difference?
Jackie took him by the wrist, and marched out of the office, confidently. “Now, we have to walk aways, since I parked outside the compound and walked up the road. So I hope you have boots that are made for walking!”
Alby flushed at the mention of that song, and paused. “….. I don’t think I want to go out after all,” he said, suddenly overcome with grief. His office was safer for this. He could lock the door of his office if he needed to just… shut down.
Jackie turned around, and smiled at him sadly. “Trust me. You want to go out with me. I’m the best person to hang out with when you’re sad. I’m FUN!”
Alby was going to protest once and for all, but Lura turned the corner of the house, and stopped, shocked to see that not only was Alby out of his office, but this mysterious girl was holding his wrist. Inappropriately.
“Alby?” she asked, eyes narrowing, and both Alby and Jackie looked at her, Alby clamming up and Jackie cocking a hip out. “What are you doing?”
“We’re going out!” Jackie announced.
“You’re… Alby, can I talk to you?” Lura asked, voice not even trying to mask her surprise and disapproval.
“I-,” Alby began, and Jackie shook her head.
“Sorry, we have a lot we have to get done and he doesn’t have time to talk,” she sniffed, and snagged him by the wrist again. “He’ll be home tonight.” And before Lura could protest any further, the short interloper had dragged the Prophet out of the house and towards the dirt road.
“Phew! What a BITCH,” Jackie muttered, kicking dirt up from the road.
“She’s my wife,” Alby said, voice a bit tight, even if sometimes he was inclined to agree with her.
“Yeah, like one of fifty or something, right?” Jackie snorted.
“NO, not fifty,” Alby snapped. “… It’s five.”
“Oh only FIVE, my mistake,” she said, and shook her head. “Whatever. I’m not here to judge you about that…. Though I will say that I would never share my husband with anyone, so the girls around here put up with a lot.”
“It’s the Word of God-,” he began, and Jackie shook her head.
“Not interested, I’m just here to talk about clothes and boys,” she said, shaking her head. “Ugh, it’s so hot in these dresses. And it’s so dusty! I pretty much hate all of this, Alby, can we take your car to the mall?”
“YOU’RE the one who wants to go to the mall!” Alby exclaimed, flabbergasted at how flighty and pushy she was.
“And yet I can’t help but notice that you’re coming with me,” she pointed out.
“…. Okay. We can take my car.”
They got in his large SUV, and she looked at the interior, shaking her head. “Huge…. I’m not used to large cars like this.”
“It isn’t unusual, how couldn’t you be used to it?” he asked, since he knew that SUVs were rather popular.
“I don’t know,” she said, wistfully. He looked at her like she was nuts, but started the car. Once they had started down the road, Jackie turned on the radio.
“We don’t allow modern music on the compound!” he protested.
“Psh, you’re the Prophet, aren’t you? You can do whatever the hell you want!” she scoffed. She turned the stations a bit and settled on a classic rock sound. “Ooh! Electric Light Orchestra!” She bounced in her seat, and began to unbutton the dress. Alby kept his eyes on the road, though when he noticed that she was beginning to remove her clothes he turned a deep shade of red.
“What are you DOING?” he demanded, and she waved him off. “You can’t-!”
“Relax, I have REAL clothes on under here,” she said, rolling her eyes at him for what may have been the fifth or sixth time. “Jeeze, Alby, lighten up.” She unbuckled her seatbelt and yanked the dress over her head, tossing it in the backseat. She did have other clothes on under the outfit, though they weren’t exactly modern. They had a distinct 70s vibe to them, with the high boots, scarf, paisley skirt, and Farrah Fawcett-esque shirt. It was something that he may have seen on MARY TYLER MOORE reruns when he snuck TV when he was younger. She ran a hand through her hair, and reached into her purse, removing a hand mirror.
“Ugh, the dry air is doing nothing for my skin,” she muttered, and snapped it shut. “So! Talk to me, Alby.”
“About what?” he asked, looking ahead again.
“Whatever you want to talk about. I get the feeling you don’t get to talk much when you’re back home,” she said, and rested her elbow by the window. “At least, not in a fun and gossipy kind of way.”
“I have no interest in gossiping,” he muttered, and she shrugged “And I have no interest in talking to you, a complete stranger. How do I know you aren’t completely insane? Or worse, someone Bill Henrickson has sent to spy on me?”
“Okay, first of all, I don’t even know who that is, and second of all, I’m not insane!” she snipped. “You want to talk insane? YOU live in the middle of nowhere and you have, like, FIFTY wives!”
“FIVE WIVES.”
“WHATEVER. Don’t call ME insane, Alby Grant, because YOU don’t seem to be very normal to ME,” she bit, crossing her arms.
They drove in silence for a few minutes, and he furrowed his brow. Why was he even doing this? She was clearly insane, as much as she protested it. Insane, pushy, kind of a harpy. These were things he didn’t like in women. Anyone, really.
He was going to turn his car around, when she turned to look at him. “Say, how about I buy you some ice cream at the food court?” she offered. “Everyone loves ice cream. Fifty wives or not.”
“…… Five wives.”
“Whatever,” she smiled at him, voice quite a bit tamer now. He glanced over at her, and couldn’t help but smile back, at least a small amount.
“….. I like ice cream.”
“Me too! Usually I don’t eat it because I don’t want to get fat, but you know what? Today I’m gonna eat it. Just for you.”
“How self sacrificing,” he said, and chuckled a little bit.
“I’m not like this for just anybody, you should be thanking me,” she said, haughtily.
“We’ll see if I’m thanking you or cursing you by the end of the day,” he said, shaking his head.
“I bet it’s the former,” she said, confidently.
He wouldn’t bet on it.
Title: I Don't See What Anyone Can See In Anyone Else But You
Fandom: BIG LOVE/THAT 70S SHOW
Rating: T for language.
Disclaimer: I don't own either of these characters or universes.
Alby Grant sat at his desk, not really doing anything but hoping no one would realize that. It was another one of those days, one of those days where he didn’t want to do what he was supposed to do. Didn’t want to be where he was supposed to be, or WHAT he was supposed to be. Though he didn’t agree with or believe in modern psychology (or any psychology for that matter), the only word he could think of to describe this ever lingering feeling was ‘depressed’. Especially since he’d felt this way since Dale had died. Hell, he’d felt this way for as long as he could remember, except when he was with Dale. Now that he was gone, it felt as if this feeling would never, ever leave him.
He rummaged through the bottom desk drawer, trying to find one of the many copies of their picture. He’d hidden them throughout the crevices in his office, in his house, hoping that the wives wouldn’t find them. Even if they had found them most wouldn’t mention it. Lura, on the other hand, probably would. There were so many emotions he felt towards her, conflicting and battling emotions. Emotions he’d rather not think about. He missed feeling that pure sensation of simple, untainted love. That was how he was supposed to feel about the person he was married to. And he didn’t feel that way about any of them.
He stopped looking for the picture, believing it would simply depress him even more, and was about to call it a day and go home to sleep, just sleep and sleep, until there was a rapt knocking on his office door. He hadn’t been expecting anyone today, so he assumed it was probably Lura. So he reluctantly called ‘come in’ in his most neutral voice possible.
But instead of it being Lura to walk through the door, a petite, wide eyed brunette woman walked into the office. He’d never seen her before in his life. She certainly wasn’t someone who lived on Juniper Creek; even if she was wearing the prairie dresses the other women wore, there was a confident fire in her eyes that he rarely saw among the women here.
“Hi,” she said, stepping up to his desk. Alby looked up at her, still shocked and confused, and she tilted her head to the side, crossing her arms. “Are you Alby Grant? Prophet of Juniper Creek?”
“… Yes?” he answered, the questioning lilt negating his usual sense of smug composure. She beamed and tossed her long wavy hair over her shoulders.
“Nice to meet you Alby. You know, that blonde with the bad hair and bitch face? She was kind of rude to me. Tried to tell me that you were busy and wouldn’t see me, and I was like ‘psh, yeah right, what could he POSSIBLY be doing that’s so important that I’M not a priority’. She let me in, but she wasn’t happy about it.”
“I’m sorry, but who are you and what are you doing here?” he asked, pushing away from the desk finally and standing up. My she was short, and yet seemed incredibly forceful in spite of it.
“Oh right,” she said, and grinned at him again, extending her hand. “I’m Jackie Burkhart. And I’m here because you need me.” She raised her eyebrows smugly, and chewed on her thumbnail in a crisp and haughty manner.
“…. I don’t understand, who ARE you?” he asked, starting to feel more irritated, especially since she was being so cryptic and acting like she WASN’T being that way. She pulled her extended hand back, and continued to look at him like HE was the crazy one.
“I told you, I’m Jackie-.”
“I didn’t ask your name, what are you doing here?” he asked. “You dress like this but I’ve NEVER seen you before, and you act like-.”
“Okay, first of all, this dress?” she asked, tugging on it. “Hideous. I only grabbed one because I figured that I would blend in a bit more if I did. I just went to a costume shop and was like ‘do you have any Laura Ingalls Wilder stuff?’, and they gave me this. It’s atrocious.”
“…. Why are you here?” he asked again, impatience turning to slight begging. He just wanted to know who she was. Why was that so hard to answer?
“Because you need me,” she repeated. “Now come on. You’re coming with me.”
“I’ll do no such thing.”
“I’m not kidnapping you or anything, I’m taking you to the mall,” she said, rolling her eyes and reaching for him. He pulled back. “Oh my GOD you’re really kind of paranoid, aren’t you? I just want to go to the Mall. And you should totally come with me.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s FUN!” she replied. “You look like you could use some fun today, am I right? And don’t say I’m not… I know what sad looks like. I SHOULD know. I used to be really sad a lot of the time.” She trailed off, tossing her hair again and squirming in the dress she was practically drowning in. Then she clasped her hands together and continued. “Come ON! I’ll buy you a new bolo tie. I notice a lot of guys wearing bolo ties around her….”
Alby was going to throw this forward and impetuous woman out of his office. But she made a good point. He could use some fun today, as he was sad. And being in his office, on the compound, it all just seemed to make him sadder.
So, he sighed, and stood up. “Fine,” he said. “We’ll go to the mall.” That was strange to say.
She began to squeal and hop up and down. “Yay!! We’re going to have SO much fun!”
Alby doubted that. Why was he even going with her? WHY was he letting a woman tell him what to do? His father had always said that women were here to serve men. And yet here he was, letting this short loudmouthed girl tell him what they were doing.
Of course, how was that much different from his and Lura’s relationship? Besides the height difference?
Jackie took him by the wrist, and marched out of the office, confidently. “Now, we have to walk aways, since I parked outside the compound and walked up the road. So I hope you have boots that are made for walking!”
Alby flushed at the mention of that song, and paused. “….. I don’t think I want to go out after all,” he said, suddenly overcome with grief. His office was safer for this. He could lock the door of his office if he needed to just… shut down.
Jackie turned around, and smiled at him sadly. “Trust me. You want to go out with me. I’m the best person to hang out with when you’re sad. I’m FUN!”
Alby was going to protest once and for all, but Lura turned the corner of the house, and stopped, shocked to see that not only was Alby out of his office, but this mysterious girl was holding his wrist. Inappropriately.
“Alby?” she asked, eyes narrowing, and both Alby and Jackie looked at her, Alby clamming up and Jackie cocking a hip out. “What are you doing?”
“We’re going out!” Jackie announced.
“You’re… Alby, can I talk to you?” Lura asked, voice not even trying to mask her surprise and disapproval.
“I-,” Alby began, and Jackie shook her head.
“Sorry, we have a lot we have to get done and he doesn’t have time to talk,” she sniffed, and snagged him by the wrist again. “He’ll be home tonight.” And before Lura could protest any further, the short interloper had dragged the Prophet out of the house and towards the dirt road.
“Phew! What a BITCH,” Jackie muttered, kicking dirt up from the road.
“She’s my wife,” Alby said, voice a bit tight, even if sometimes he was inclined to agree with her.
“Yeah, like one of fifty or something, right?” Jackie snorted.
“NO, not fifty,” Alby snapped. “… It’s five.”
“Oh only FIVE, my mistake,” she said, and shook her head. “Whatever. I’m not here to judge you about that…. Though I will say that I would never share my husband with anyone, so the girls around here put up with a lot.”
“It’s the Word of God-,” he began, and Jackie shook her head.
“Not interested, I’m just here to talk about clothes and boys,” she said, shaking her head. “Ugh, it’s so hot in these dresses. And it’s so dusty! I pretty much hate all of this, Alby, can we take your car to the mall?”
“YOU’RE the one who wants to go to the mall!” Alby exclaimed, flabbergasted at how flighty and pushy she was.
“And yet I can’t help but notice that you’re coming with me,” she pointed out.
“…. Okay. We can take my car.”
They got in his large SUV, and she looked at the interior, shaking her head. “Huge…. I’m not used to large cars like this.”
“It isn’t unusual, how couldn’t you be used to it?” he asked, since he knew that SUVs were rather popular.
“I don’t know,” she said, wistfully. He looked at her like she was nuts, but started the car. Once they had started down the road, Jackie turned on the radio.
“We don’t allow modern music on the compound!” he protested.
“Psh, you’re the Prophet, aren’t you? You can do whatever the hell you want!” she scoffed. She turned the stations a bit and settled on a classic rock sound. “Ooh! Electric Light Orchestra!” She bounced in her seat, and began to unbutton the dress. Alby kept his eyes on the road, though when he noticed that she was beginning to remove her clothes he turned a deep shade of red.
“What are you DOING?” he demanded, and she waved him off. “You can’t-!”
“Relax, I have REAL clothes on under here,” she said, rolling her eyes at him for what may have been the fifth or sixth time. “Jeeze, Alby, lighten up.” She unbuckled her seatbelt and yanked the dress over her head, tossing it in the backseat. She did have other clothes on under the outfit, though they weren’t exactly modern. They had a distinct 70s vibe to them, with the high boots, scarf, paisley skirt, and Farrah Fawcett-esque shirt. It was something that he may have seen on MARY TYLER MOORE reruns when he snuck TV when he was younger. She ran a hand through her hair, and reached into her purse, removing a hand mirror.
“Ugh, the dry air is doing nothing for my skin,” she muttered, and snapped it shut. “So! Talk to me, Alby.”
“About what?” he asked, looking ahead again.
“Whatever you want to talk about. I get the feeling you don’t get to talk much when you’re back home,” she said, and rested her elbow by the window. “At least, not in a fun and gossipy kind of way.”
“I have no interest in gossiping,” he muttered, and she shrugged “And I have no interest in talking to you, a complete stranger. How do I know you aren’t completely insane? Or worse, someone Bill Henrickson has sent to spy on me?”
“Okay, first of all, I don’t even know who that is, and second of all, I’m not insane!” she snipped. “You want to talk insane? YOU live in the middle of nowhere and you have, like, FIFTY wives!”
“FIVE WIVES.”
“WHATEVER. Don’t call ME insane, Alby Grant, because YOU don’t seem to be very normal to ME,” she bit, crossing her arms.
They drove in silence for a few minutes, and he furrowed his brow. Why was he even doing this? She was clearly insane, as much as she protested it. Insane, pushy, kind of a harpy. These were things he didn’t like in women. Anyone, really.
He was going to turn his car around, when she turned to look at him. “Say, how about I buy you some ice cream at the food court?” she offered. “Everyone loves ice cream. Fifty wives or not.”
“…… Five wives.”
“Whatever,” she smiled at him, voice quite a bit tamer now. He glanced over at her, and couldn’t help but smile back, at least a small amount.
“….. I like ice cream.”
“Me too! Usually I don’t eat it because I don’t want to get fat, but you know what? Today I’m gonna eat it. Just for you.”
“How self sacrificing,” he said, and chuckled a little bit.
“I’m not like this for just anybody, you should be thanking me,” she said, haughtily.
“We’ll see if I’m thanking you or cursing you by the end of the day,” he said, shaking his head.
“I bet it’s the former,” she said, confidently.
He wouldn’t bet on it.