There were two things Steven Hyde never did. He never asked a girl to the dance, and he never was nice to Jackie Burkhart. Yet here he was, broken down by his friend's obliviousness and the She-Devil's crying, at the stupid Junior Prom.

He didn't know what possessed earlier to tell her she was beautiful. She looked like a doll, small and perfectly dressed. Like a Victorian figurine. And now, she had reeled him in for a dance. He wished now that Mrs. Forman hadn't taught him to dance because all he wanted to do now was sit down and stop making a fool of himself.

This can't be good for my rep.

Jackie was silent, for once, and he was grateful. He supposed he had to be nice to her, until the end of the dance at least. Or until Kelso got his dumb ass in gear and realised she was the one he wanted to be with.

Of course, Kelso was wrapped around Pam Macy, pointedly looking away whenever Hyde looked up at him. Hyde internally scowled.

Damn it, man! If you want her, come get her.

But Kelso didn't understand the silent message.

"It's just that, I always pictured Michael and I together at the prom," Jackie interrupted his thoughts. "That's the way it was supposed to be, y'know?"

He didn't want to hear about the screwed up lovers, and he forced back a retort. Besides, it was hard to mean to someone who currently looked like a fragile porcelain doll. Tomorrow, he could go back to being mean. Tonight, he'd be the perfect gentleman.

"Yeah, I know," he responded, turning her to get a look at Kelso and his date. "Hey, Pam's butt looks really big in that dress."

"No, it doesn't."

"Yeah, no it doesn't."

She began to pull away, a small smile on her lips. "But thank you." Holding her hands together, she asked if they could go sit down. He offered to go get some punch.

But why?

He wasn't a gentleman to a girl. His girls didn't need petty reassurances of their beauty. His girls didn't go to dances in doll dresses. His girls didn't cry over an ex taking someone else to a dance.

Then he remembered she was in no way his girl. She was Kelso's, whenever Kelso got it through his head.

Which was apparently now. He saw his best friend push Pam away and come to him. Giving him a piece of his mind, Hyde agreed to take the yellow clad girl off his hands.

She was like his girls. Quick, no strings attached. The one who didn't mind doing it in the back of the Lincoln Continental. Who could desert her date.

As he led her out of the gym, he couldn't help but spare a glance at Jackie. She was standing in front of Kelso, moving to dance with him.

Looks like they'd both get their night.

()()()()()()()()

Hyde didn't do several things. He didn't dance in his dreams with tiny doll-like brunettes the night after his first—and only—Junior Prom. He didn't pretend to like the She-Devil. He didn't like people calling him Steven. He didn't punch out guys for calling girls bitches, even if he'd really never to it himself. He ignored little girls looking at him like some knight in shining freaking armour. He didn't listen Mrs. Forman interfere with his love life. He didn't share his pop, wrap his arm around a date, or give her his jacket.

Sometimes he wondered how much different Steven was from Hyde. Hyde pushed the bubbly cheerleader away. Steven danced with her when her ex was being a moron. Hyde made some silly Haiku to tell Jackie he hated her. Steven sat in the woods on the hood of a car, arm wrapped around a tiny brunette—once dressed in that pretty doll dress—holding his pop and wearing his jacket.

Why did Steven do these things for Jackie?