Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10541553.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F
  Fandom:
      Heathers, Heathers:_The_Musical_-_Murphy_&_O'Keefe
  Relationship:
      Heather_Chandler/Heather_Duke, Chanduke
  Character:
      Heather_Chandler, Heather_Duke
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-04-04 Words: 2272
****** Backseats ******
by padlockandpastels
Summary
     Chandler picks Duke up after Ram doesn't show up for their date
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
It's nearly ten at night and when Duke was waiting on the curb for Chandler to
pick her up.
She glared back at the diner as it begun to rain. The seventeen year old shoved
her hands into her pockets. Ram was supposed to be here. He was supposed to
meet her here. Hell, Heather had caught a cab up downtown for this and there
was no way in hell she was spending another ten bucks to go home after her date
blew her off.
With a huff, she glanced back down at her green watch. The screen was clouded
with rain drops. Duke winced as yellow headlights fell on her small form.
Dark eyes dragged up, falling on her friend. She stepped over a puddle,
marching over to the red Mercedes. Duke collapsed in the passenger seat. It
reeked of new car and rain, but she didn't care.
"Jesus, Heather—you're soaking." Chandler sneered at her friend in the leather
seat.
"Sorry," she grumbled. Duke pursed her lips, gaze flickering out the window.
With annoyed huff Chandler reached into the back seat—before tossing a red
shirt in Duke's lap. "So you don't ruin my seats," the queen bee clarified.
"Thanks." Duke grumbled, mind tired she started to unbutton her shirt, but
Heather frantically cleared her throat.
"Jesus, Heather—let me pull into another parking lot or something, unless you
want all of Sherwood to see you." The blonde snapped, gripping the steering
wheel.
There's a roll of brown eyes and Duke leaned against the glass as Heather
pulled into a semi—abandoned parking lot of some closed grocery store. A small
handful of cars littered the lot.
With a sigh, Heather climbed over into the back, shirt in hand. Her friend did
have a point, unfortunately. The last thing she needed tonight was some idiot
from the football team wondering back from his Saturday night hookup and
snapping a picture of her taking off her shirt in Heather Chandler's front
seat.
"So," The blonde upfront begun. "Why'd Ram ditch your ass?"
The girl pursed her dark lips. "I don't know, Heather. I didn't exactly get the
chance to ask." She grumbled, the blouse falling off her shoulders and into the
seat.
Their eyes meet in the mirror. Chandler's narrowed and annoyed. Duke's tired
and frustrated.
"You don't have to be a bitch about it," Chandler huffed, gaze breaking away.
"Whatever." Duke gave an angered huff, stumbling on the buttons of the red
collar before attempting to fasten her tie in the dark.
"Ugh—no. It's crooked, you're doing it wrong—move." And with that, Heather
Chandler slipped off her red heels and climbed over the seat into the back of
the car.
Heather kept her eyes drawn on the leather as her best friend undid the fabric.
"Are you blind?" The teen grumbled absentmindedly, tugging the green tie
straight.
Silence rung in the air as Chandler trails a red nail down the side of a seam.
"Red is so not your color, Duke."
"You're the one who told me to wear it." Her dark gaze flickered up, tone laced
with bitterness.
"Listen. Just because you're mad you didn't get to hook up with that wasted
mess of a boy doesn't mean you get to take it out on me, Heather—"
"Can you shut up?" Duke nearly yelled, gently shoving the blonde back.
Any trace of surprise on the senior's face suddenly flickered to anger. Pale
fingers wrapped around the tie, forcing Duke forward. "Make me."
She didn't exactly understand why she thought it would be a good idea to kiss
Heather Chandler in that moment. How on earth could that make her situation
better? If anything that would just make it worse—
Heather Chandler tasted like cherries and twizzlers. The faint scent of perfume
hung around the air and Duke has never noticed it before. Then again, she had
never been this close to Heather Chandler before, either.
Her grip on the the green fabric weakened, fingers finding their way to the
half buttoned collar before dragging Duke forward.
Duke gave a choked gasp as she fell forward, putting a hand on the side of the
seat so she doesn't fall on top her friend. You're literally making out with
her and you're calling her your friend?
Her short nails tug tugged into the seat as she held herself up. Chandler broke
away, breathing hard. "That's one way to do it." She grumbled.
Heather faintly grinned—leaning forward, but she only ran into a pair of hands.
Chandler's green eyes were gleaming. "That's cute if you think you're
controlling this."
And suddenly, Heather's lips are on her mouth again. Duke held her breath as
she felt Chandler press forward. Heather complied until she was pushed up to
where she was nearly kneeling on the seat. "What are you doing—" Duke managed
to choke out between kisses, her light arms wrapping around the other's neck.
They're feverish and frankly —desperate— but either of them seem to care.
Heather's eyes slip down, gently playing with the tie, unloosing and re—doing
it. "Be quiet," She whispered gently. The piece of cloth then was tugged off
and discarded on the stretch of carpet.
Duke let out a small squeak as she was suddenly shoved back. Her back hit the
seat, and when she blinked—Heather's got a leg on either side of her hip. Oh.
"Did you get this flustered with Ram?" Chandler breathed, staring down. Duke's
face was burning. "At all those stupid parties where he got you drunk just to
drag you off into some guest room to rip your skirt off."
"In my defense—" a finger trailed down Heather's cheek and she has to remember
to breathe. "I didn't agree to nearly all those instances."
Chandler's gaze flickered up. "Ram's an asshole." She bluntly stated. "He
doesn't deserve you." She leaned down, inches apart. "All he's good for is a
winning bet at a Westerberg football game."
Duke doesn't even get to reply before Heather's kissing her goddamn neck. The
girl underneath gave a sharp inhale—she could feel Heather fucking smirking.
Hands slipped under the untucked blouse and Heather lazily ran her hands down
Duke's stomach and sides.
Duke bit her lip gently, mind buzzing. What the hell was she doing? What the
hell were they doing?
Chandler shifted down from where she'd positioned herself straddling Duke's
waist. The blonde lifted her head slightly, curls resting on her pale
shoulders. She gave a kiss below the shorter teen's jaw before pulling back,
staring down at the girl.
It's those few moments of silence as they both stare at each other, mouths
slightly agape that Duke realized maybe she should say something.
"Fuck." Is the first thing that came out. Chandler can't help the snicker that
escaped her red lips, a bold offset from her calm and cold appearance. And it's
suddenly a full laugh. Heather leaned forward, gentle giggles tumbling out of
her mouth.
Duke doesn't move as the girl on top of her laughed. Movements uncomfortable,
new and unknowing, her hands fell on Chandler's waist and apparently it's
enough to snap her girlf—she didn't even know what title worked now, out of it.
She offered a smile. Not a smirk. Not a 'oh my god you're dead on monday'
smile. Just. A smile. Almost endearing.
"Heather?" Duke breathed.
"Hm?" The demon leaned down, snagging a quick kiss from the other before
hovering a few inches above her.
"What?" Duke cleared her throat. "What is this?" Given the look she got as a
reply, Chandler was taken back.
"I mean—" The dark haired girl choked out, grip on other's hips tightening.
"We. What are we?"
"What do you want to be?" Green eyes trailed down, absentminded.
"Just—" Duke pursed her lips. "Do...do you just want this to be a one time
thing. Or like—"
Chandler snickered again, but didn't get the chance to respond yet.
"Stop it." Duke blurted out suddenly. Heather stalled. "Don't—don't laugh at
me, i'm serious." She breathed. "I just—Heather i've liked you forever don't. .
.don't mock me." Her voice wavered with unknown confidence and emotion and then
suddenly there's a hand on her cheek.
"Hey," There was a gentleness in Chandler's tone. "I'm not.." She looked away.
"I'm not mocking you. I'm not making fun of this. You just get so flustered,
it's cute." She bit back a smile. "And to answer," She pulled back, hands on
either side of the teen. "No. I guess I don't want this to be a one time thing.
Do you want to see where it leads?"
"Are you asking me out?"
"You brought it up first."
"I'm not the one who sounds like air supply."
"Shut up, Heather. Just say yes or no."
"Do you seriously have to ask?" Chandler let out a sharp gasp as the girl below
dragged her forward to meet her lips.
There gentle at first. With little force and small sighs. Then—Chandler's
pushed forward. Minutes passed by before Duke's breathing was labored and her
words are half stuck in her throat as Heathers' kissing up her neck and collar,
a pale hand up Duke's shirt.
A whine escaped Heather Duke's mouth as Chandler bit down on her neck. She
pursed her lips, realizing whatever Heather was doing would most likely leave a
mark.
She gave a shaky sigh as Heather's free hand slid up to rest on her hip,
hovering over the waistband of her ruffled skirt.
Heather smiled against the shorter girl's skin as the hand under Duke's shirt
pulled back, undoing the last remaining buttons of the red shirt.
The blonde reeled faintly as she got a glance of permission before unzipping
the side of the green Heather's skirt. Which soon was tugged down past Duke's
knee highs before the fabric ended up on the carpet of the vehicle. Quick,
quick, quick.
Duke got her bearings, dark gaze flickering up with a faint smile. "Overdressed
much?"
Chandler gave a lazy shrug. "It isn't coming off itself." she shifted a few
inches.
With a small groan of discomfort Heather managed to sit up, practically bare
back resting against the door. The clique leader fell back towards her, nearly
pressed against Duke.
"God, Chan." Duke breathed before she dragged her closer for a kiss. Arms
snaked closer, half-hazardously undoing the buttons on the taller teen's shirt.
Brown eyes trailed down, Duke's breath caught in her throat.
There was a thin finger on her chin, lifting her face up. "It's not nice to
stare." Chandler mumbled, eyes gleaming.
Duke went red in the darkness of the backseat as Chandler's hand fell—fell to
the front of her hip, pressing her back.
Heather's red lips were suddenly against her's again. The palm inched down,
down, down until Duke suddenly gave a small groan against the kiss as Chandler
pressed a hand against the fabric.
She could practically feel Chandler smiling against her in amusement. "Worked
up much?" She teased.
"Shut up—" Her words faded off as Chandler's fingers pressed forward suddenly,
touching Heather through her panties. Duke broke the kiss, head resting against
the cold window that sat behind her body.
Chandler didn't stutter, lips switching down to the teen's lower neck and
collar instead. Heather's arm went down, fingers working against the growingly
damp fabric.
Duke let out a small moan despite her best efforts, hand coming up to
Chandler's hair, trying to grab onto her. She gave a gentle tug, breathing
uneven. The action caused Chandler to give a small whine in response. Before
Duke could register what she had done, Chandler had inched her hand up,
slipping it into Heather's underwear.
Her hips jerked slightly at that. Too slowly for Duke's liking, Chandler
pressed a thumb against her clit.
The dark haired girl gave a sharp inhale as Chandler traced circles. Horribly
light—barely even brushing. Her brown eyes opened, mustering the strongest
glare she could give the red Heather at the moment.
She only met a grin.
"Can you not teas—" Duke choked as the blonde pressed a finger into her. Fuck.
The leader of the yearbook bit her lip, breathing caught.
Minutes passed again—until Duke was breathing out of her mouth, desperately
bucking her hips in a pathetic attempt for something. Anything. As Chandler
moved tragically slow, more like torture than teasing. "Heather," She hissed
under her choked gasps.
Chandler swallowed, shifting her poison so she only straddled one of her
girlfriend's (girlfriend?) legs. The Queen Bee ground down letting out a
breathy sigh—before nearly slipping off the seat. Duke laughed at that.
"Shut up Heather." She huffed while straightening herself out, cheeks pink. She
pulled her hand away, much to the girl in front of hers' dismay.
"Make me." Duke couldn't help the meek smirk that tugged at her lips. Chandler
was taken back by the quote from mere, what—15 minutes ago? 20?
"Oh I will," Chandler gave a light hum, green eyes scanning down as Duke's face
heated up. Her words are quiet—practically next to the green Heathers' ear.
"Later." The weight shifted—gone all too soon, Heather was sitting on the
center console, crimson blazer lazily hanging off shoulders. Her eyes seemed to
gleam in the dimmed light.
"What?" Duke groaned, shifting up. A mess. Nearly undressed, parts of her
clothing littering the rugs. "No, Chan—"
She put on a expression of fake mockery, stained red lips agape. "At a
sleepover. It's past curfew, any who. I'm assuming you'd want to spend the
night?"
"You better drive fast."
End Notes
     I don't know how to feel abt this I wrote it on my phone I'm sorry,,
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