Finding The Words
title: Finding the Words
pairing/characters: Jackie/Hyde
word count: 1307
rating: T
warnings: drug use
summary: He's never been good with words, but he doesn't want to be this guy.
notes: A/N:
I was a fan of t70s back in the old days, and thanks to dvds and constant reruns my love has been rekindled.
This little story just happened last night when I had been "in the circle" and it was the first writing I've done in awhile. It just kind of flowed out of me, and I seriously wouldn't doubt eventually coming back to it and cleaning it up a little if it needs it.
So let's see...this takes place in a world where Jackie never made the ultimatum (or perhaps Hyde had given his answer in time) it's 1982...and I think that's all you need to know.
The title comes from the song "I'm Ready" by Jack's Mannequin.
The cool fall air whipped passed him blowing out the match in his hand. He threw it down on the porch cursing under his breath. He struck another and held it to the joint hanging in between his lips. He took a long drag, letting the burn settle in his chest.
As the tingle began to start in his fingertips he tried to remember a single moment in the last week he hadn’t spent stoned out of his mind. Jackie would probably be pissed if she had noticed. But when he wasn’t high he hurt, every minute of the day his mind was reeling and his body ached.
Things were so good before. He came home from work every night to Jackie waiting eagerly. If she hadn’t jumped him the moment he walked in the door then he would find them something to eat. They would settle in on the couch to watch tv and talk occasionally. Then they would go to bed, enjoy each other in the dark before falling asleep together. Their love was simple, and quiet, and perfect for him.
But exactly six days ago he’d come home to find her on the couch, she’d clearly been crying. Immediately, his mind ran through everything he had said and done the last few days that might lead to this. Before he could come up with anything she just blurted, her voice thick with tears, “Steven I’m pregnant.”
He always thought if he heard those words he would think to run through the scenarios, ask questions, anything. But he didn’t. His brain just shut off. He remembers sitting next to her and she cried in his arms. That was the first night he snuck out to get stoned.
They didn’t talk about it for the first few days. Things were so tense between them that he had tried sleeping out on the sofa. But every night he came back to bed to be with her. His apparent dependency on her made him feel weak.
He’d spent the last three nights on this porch contemplating a way out. He didn’t think he could actually leave her. But if that were really the case, why had be been taking longer drives after work through Point Place, looking for places for rent. Last night he took the laundry Jackie had left folded on the couch straight into the ratty gym bag on the floor of their closet. He just couldn’t deal.
They still hadn’t talked about what they were going to do yet. But when she’d asked him to come with her to the doctor this morning it seemed like the right thing to do. As he sat in the uncomfortable chair next to her in the bright, sterile room he wished he’d loaded another bowl before they left. The doctor came in and confirmed what they already knew. He just sighed and tuned out whatever it was the doctor was telling Jackie while he fiddled with gloves and equipment.
He started think about money. He struggled to keep their bills paid, another mouth to feed would be too much. He’d considered the changes that would happen. His comfortable routine would be completely thrown out the window for a life of complete chaos. No, he wasn’t going to do this. No way.
Then there was a sound; a loud, grainy sound that seemed to be underwater. It’s steady, cloudy rhythm had filled the small room.
“That’s your baby’s heartbeat.” The doctor said while fiddling with some machines
A baby.
It was the first time he’d really thought of it as a child. His child.
Now he was sitting on the porch, his head cloudy and finally clear at the same time. He thought about the duffel bag on the closet and that shitty looking place he’d seen over off of 8th street. He pictured her alone, frazzled, older. She was telling a kid with his curly hair and her brown eyes stories about “your idiot of a father.” He saw half-assed Christmas and birthday presents that arrived too late. They would mean nothing and everything at the same time. It was his entire childhood playing out again and this time it hurt even more.
He thought about what Red might say. He knew he would tell him to be a man. To be a good father. To be the kind of father he never had. The one that Red had tried so hard to be.
It all clicked just like that. There was no way in hell he was leaving. He was better than that. It was time to be that person that Jackie and the Formans had always told him he could be.
But he still felt hesitant as he carefully put out the joint and placed the roach back in the small tin he kept hidden under the porch steps. He started back toward the bedroom, shedding his shirt and jeans on the way.
When he came into the bedroom he could feel the bag in the closet but he walked past it. He stood next to the bed a moment trying to make out her figure in the darkness. Even though he couldn’t see her face he could tell she wasn’t sleeping peacefully. And why would she? He had almost abandoned her completely again because his head was too far up his ass.
He laid down silently next to her, trying to form together everything that was swirling through his mind. How stupid he had been, how much she meant to him, that his life would be a mess without her and he was ready to be the best father in the history of the world.
But he’d never been very good with words. So instead he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to his chest. She stirred and looked up at him with sleepy eyes. He kissed her tenderly on her temple.
“I love you.”
He didn’t say it often. But when he did those three words contained everything he was feeling and she always understood it.
She took his face in her hands, struggling to see him in the dark. She rubbed his cheek slowly.
“Are we going to be okay?” she asked quietly.
He squeezed her tightly and made a promise he was finally ready to keep.
pairing/characters: Jackie/Hyde
word count: 1307
rating: T
warnings: drug use
summary: He's never been good with words, but he doesn't want to be this guy.
notes: A/N:
I was a fan of t70s back in the old days, and thanks to dvds and constant reruns my love has been rekindled.
This little story just happened last night when I had been "in the circle" and it was the first writing I've done in awhile. It just kind of flowed out of me, and I seriously wouldn't doubt eventually coming back to it and cleaning it up a little if it needs it.
So let's see...this takes place in a world where Jackie never made the ultimatum (or perhaps Hyde had given his answer in time) it's 1982...and I think that's all you need to know.
The title comes from the song "I'm Ready" by Jack's Mannequin.
The cool fall air whipped passed him blowing out the match in his hand. He threw it down on the porch cursing under his breath. He struck another and held it to the joint hanging in between his lips. He took a long drag, letting the burn settle in his chest.
As the tingle began to start in his fingertips he tried to remember a single moment in the last week he hadn’t spent stoned out of his mind. Jackie would probably be pissed if she had noticed. But when he wasn’t high he hurt, every minute of the day his mind was reeling and his body ached.
Things were so good before. He came home from work every night to Jackie waiting eagerly. If she hadn’t jumped him the moment he walked in the door then he would find them something to eat. They would settle in on the couch to watch tv and talk occasionally. Then they would go to bed, enjoy each other in the dark before falling asleep together. Their love was simple, and quiet, and perfect for him.
But exactly six days ago he’d come home to find her on the couch, she’d clearly been crying. Immediately, his mind ran through everything he had said and done the last few days that might lead to this. Before he could come up with anything she just blurted, her voice thick with tears, “Steven I’m pregnant.”
He always thought if he heard those words he would think to run through the scenarios, ask questions, anything. But he didn’t. His brain just shut off. He remembers sitting next to her and she cried in his arms. That was the first night he snuck out to get stoned.
They didn’t talk about it for the first few days. Things were so tense between them that he had tried sleeping out on the sofa. But every night he came back to bed to be with her. His apparent dependency on her made him feel weak.
He’d spent the last three nights on this porch contemplating a way out. He didn’t think he could actually leave her. But if that were really the case, why had be been taking longer drives after work through Point Place, looking for places for rent. Last night he took the laundry Jackie had left folded on the couch straight into the ratty gym bag on the floor of their closet. He just couldn’t deal.
They still hadn’t talked about what they were going to do yet. But when she’d asked him to come with her to the doctor this morning it seemed like the right thing to do. As he sat in the uncomfortable chair next to her in the bright, sterile room he wished he’d loaded another bowl before they left. The doctor came in and confirmed what they already knew. He just sighed and tuned out whatever it was the doctor was telling Jackie while he fiddled with gloves and equipment.
He started think about money. He struggled to keep their bills paid, another mouth to feed would be too much. He’d considered the changes that would happen. His comfortable routine would be completely thrown out the window for a life of complete chaos. No, he wasn’t going to do this. No way.
Then there was a sound; a loud, grainy sound that seemed to be underwater. It’s steady, cloudy rhythm had filled the small room.
“That’s your baby’s heartbeat.” The doctor said while fiddling with some machines
A baby.
It was the first time he’d really thought of it as a child. His child.
Now he was sitting on the porch, his head cloudy and finally clear at the same time. He thought about the duffel bag on the closet and that shitty looking place he’d seen over off of 8th street. He pictured her alone, frazzled, older. She was telling a kid with his curly hair and her brown eyes stories about “your idiot of a father.” He saw half-assed Christmas and birthday presents that arrived too late. They would mean nothing and everything at the same time. It was his entire childhood playing out again and this time it hurt even more.
He thought about what Red might say. He knew he would tell him to be a man. To be a good father. To be the kind of father he never had. The one that Red had tried so hard to be.
It all clicked just like that. There was no way in hell he was leaving. He was better than that. It was time to be that person that Jackie and the Formans had always told him he could be.
But he still felt hesitant as he carefully put out the joint and placed the roach back in the small tin he kept hidden under the porch steps. He started back toward the bedroom, shedding his shirt and jeans on the way.
When he came into the bedroom he could feel the bag in the closet but he walked past it. He stood next to the bed a moment trying to make out her figure in the darkness. Even though he couldn’t see her face he could tell she wasn’t sleeping peacefully. And why would she? He had almost abandoned her completely again because his head was too far up his ass.
He laid down silently next to her, trying to form together everything that was swirling through his mind. How stupid he had been, how much she meant to him, that his life would be a mess without her and he was ready to be the best father in the history of the world.
But he’d never been very good with words. So instead he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to his chest. She stirred and looked up at him with sleepy eyes. He kissed her tenderly on her temple.
“I love you.”
He didn’t say it often. But when he did those three words contained everything he was feeling and she always understood it.
She took his face in her hands, struggling to see him in the dark. She rubbed his cheek slowly.
“Are we going to be okay?” she asked quietly.
He squeezed her tightly and made a promise he was finally ready to keep.