HEATHERS (the musical oneshots)

Party at The Crazy Kids House

His bed is littered with crumbs. I sit on the edge as he lays the big, black, soft blanket over his bed, only for the purpose of preventing the crumbs from touching me.

I hate the feeling of crumbs on my legs. Jason Dean is treating me like a Heather - - like I'm the queen of his world. I don't hate this treatment, but I don't love it.

Loud music is blasting through the halls of his house and faintly, I can hear the muffled shouts of eighteen year old girls. I don't know why Jason Dean is throwing a party at his house - - frankly, I don't care - - but I'd like to know why half the school came.

My blue blazer is on the floor, my hair is a knotted mess, and I'm drunk. Jason Dean is both high and drunk, and his scleras are red in an oddly gorgeous way.

Jason Dean's room is clean for once - - the only other time I've seen it clean was...

Nevermind that.

There's a few bottles on the floor - - I don't know if they're beer or soda, and I don't bother to ask.

Jason Dean turns to me with a charmingly psychotic smile pasted on his lips and sits down on his bed, legs spread in just the slightest.

He pats the spot in front of him, and I know that this time, he is in control. The music from from the hallways flows into my ears, faintly; I take a deep breath, and sit in front of him.

He pulls me onto his lap, his hands on my lower back, and I bite my lip because I can feel him against me.

Time feels slow, and my breathing is heavy as he reaches up to unbutton my undershirt.

Jason Dean pulls off my shirt and lets it slide from my shoulders to the blanket, leaving me in my skirt and bra. For just a second, I notice his eyes scanning my body, and they linger on my chest - - just for a second.

He smiles at me again - - You're so beautiful, Ronica - - He tells me - - I think you're perfect. His smile is almost terrifying. Almost.

His hands skate down from my lower back to my thighs, and he pushes me down into him for a moment, before he pushes me back to unbuckle his belt and stuff.

And then, here we are: I'm back on his lap. This time, there's the slightest rhythm, and I'm rolling my hips. Jason Dean is breathing heavily - - he curses under his breath and in a low voice, he says to me - - You're so good at this, Veronica. Just like that, baby.

It's sweet to hear someone say these things to me. I've never heard these words before, and it's just sweet.

Jason Dean is doing what he is doing - - and he's doing it perfectly. It makes me wonder if he's done this with another girl.

I start to move slower to catch my breath - - who knew sex required so much stamina? - - and before I can even process it, Jason Dean lifts me up and pushes me onto my back. He is full in control, now, his thrusts are rhythmic, and it feels amazing.

Then it starts - a feeling I only recognize from the first time, where it felt like there was a knot in my stomach, and the more I pushed myself against Jason Dean, the more loose it felt.

This time, I curse when the supposed knot unravels, but Jason Dean keeps going even though he knows I've finished.

But, a minute later, he pulls out, and I breathed a sigh of relief - - overstimulation is something I can't deal with.

I stare up at him, catching my breath. Jason Dean above me was panting, a hand thread through his hair. He smiles down at me, putting a hand on either one of my knees, and closes my legs.

I blush, pulling myself - - and my undergarments - - up, as we hear Chandler scream something in her "party voice" and Jason Dean turns to look at me.

We should fucking kill that bitch. He laughs, pulling his pants back on and standing up. I stare at him as he zips his fly - - I'm still trying to catch my breath. My legs shake as I stand up and pull my undershirt back on.

No, J.D, what? No.

He cocks his head, taking my face between his fingers. Yeah? Why not, baby? She deserves it - - come on. He laughs, his other hand slipping under my shirt. I bat it away.

No, Jason! I shout, watching as he pulls away from me, and pulls his trench-coat back on; he's made his way to the door by now.

Are you coming? He asks, crossing his arms.

I groan, walking over to him and leaving my blazer on the ground. He kisses me quick and unlocks the door, taking my hand with a scary amount of force. I follow him, wincing, and he whispers to me - - Go get Heather, let's fucking kill her, baby. Shivers run down my spine, and he slithers his arm around my waist.

I shake my head and tell him to drop it - - We're not killing her, Jason Dean, she's my best friend.

But he shakes his head and says - - No, Veronica, you hate her.

I groan again and slip from his grasp, walking into his kitchen, and he follows me. He hands me a cigarette, lighting it, and just as I hold it to my lips, Heather drunkenly stumbles over to me, a mischievous smirk on her wine-red lips.

Veronica, let's go get stoned. That would be great, right? Please, Ronica, let's get stoned - - You're angelic, Veronica, you know that, right?

A blush spreads across my face - - I assume so, at least. Since when has Heather Chandler been so sweet? Whatever she smoked or drank tonight has done something to her, because I've never seen her act so sweetly.

She pushes Jason Dean out of the way and grabs a beer out of the open fridge. She holds it to her lips for a minute, and I can assume it's half-empty, now. Heather takes my hand and pulls me to the couch, pulling me down with her and settles herself on top of me.

Heather and I make out for thirty minutes and Jason Dean watches, annoyed - - there will be a murder attempt, tonight, and it will be against me.

The music is loud, and Heather's skin is cold.

Fuck my psycho boyfriend, fuck killing people, fuck Big Bud Dean, fuck boys, fuck faking my own death, and fuck the Heathers being horrible.