Random One Shots

Jason Dean #2 - Heathers

You gave a small laugh, rolling your eyes to the football players' table. "See the loser with the blond on his lap? I trusted him with everything for years. Last time I trust anyone."

"Ah I'm sure that's not true. People has a weakness to letting other people in. It's all about keeping the wrong people out."

"And I suppose killing them is the way you do keep them out?" You questioned, smirking slightly at the mystery boy.

He smirked back. "Something like that."

A few moments of silence passed, in which you were approached by two jocks. Kurt and Ram, if you were remembering correctly.

"You gonna eat this?" One of them asked, sticking his fingers directly into J.D.'s food.

Ugh. Rude and gross.

"Hey, what did your boyfriend say when you told him you were moving to Sherwood, Ohio?" the second one asked.

J.D. just raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Answer him, dick," Jock #1 said.

"Hey Ram," the second one said, meaning that he was Kurt, "doesn't this cafeteria have a no fags allowed rule?"

Look who's talking. You can feel the bromance oozing off of the pair.

"They, ah, seem to have an open door policy for assholes though, don't they?" J.D. questioned mockingly, shooting you a wink.

"What did you say, dickhead?" Kurt questioned angrily.

J.D. sighed. "I'll repeat myself."

And then he pulled out a gun and fired twice.

The rest of that situation was a blur. Holy shit he had shot two people. But they were blanks, so it was okay...right?

And why was what he did so impressive to you? It shouldn't be, it really shouldn't be. But hot damn...that kid was a hell of a fighter. Who knows, maybe he would fight for you. Maybe you could move on.

You let out a sigh, shaking your head. Your last relationship was a fiasco; this was no time to be looking at mysterious, gorgeous guys that fell into your life. You had homework.

...

...

...

Homework that was going nowhere.

Between seeing your ex and the excitement with Jason Dean, no way could you focus now.

You got up, brushing yourself up and checking your hair before meandering downstairs and grabbing your purse. You didn't bother mention to your father that you were leaving, he likely wouldn't notice anyway.

You walked the short distance from your house to the closest Snappy Snack Shack. You needed some chocolate therapy, or maybe a Turbo-Dog...oh or you could totally go for a slushy.

Your reverie was broken when you noticed a familiar figure leaning against a motorcycle.

Laughing softly, you approached the boy. "My, my, Jason Dean. If we keep meeting like this people will start to talk you know."

His head flipped around, a cigarette between his lips as he smiled. "Greetings and salutations, gorgeous. What's a fine little thing like you doing out alone in the dark?"

You felt heat in your face and hoped the blush wasn't too obvious. "I needed a walk. Maybe a slushy. It was an exciting day, especially with your little stunt in the caf."

"Well," he threw the remains of his smoke to the ground and stomped it out, "the extreme always seems to make an impression." His eyes flickered up to yours almost hopefully.

You felt your mouth quirk up. "Indeed it does. You're lucky they were blanks though, otherwise it would've been a lot worse than a suspension."

He shrugged. "They deserved it."

You shook your head. "They deserve a hell of a lot more than that. (E/N) included."

J.D. cocked his head, curious. "You believe they should die."

"I never said that," you said lightly, walking around his bike and towards the doors of the store, "but let's just say I'd help someone hide a body."

A few seconds of silence passed and you nearly hit yourself. You got too weird, and now he was probably afraid of you. You continued walking on to the doors of the store when his voice rang out.

"Cherry or Coke?"

You paused, turning around to face the devil standing there.

"Excuse me?"

"The slushy," he explained, walking up to you with a smile on his face. "Do you want me to get you cherry or Coke?"

A grin split across your face. "Surprise me."

.net/8^q