Crossover Two: Heathers/Addams Family

Another town, another school. He sat on his Harley and surveyed the new territory, mentally assessing and cataloging the cliques. There, geeks. Jocks, stoners, art fags. Ah yes, the Beautiful People. He eyed the quartet of girls cynically. Hmm, that one brunette doesn't seem to have quite the swagger of the others. A weak link perhaps?

Just as he was planning his approach, an engine's roar caught his attention. He wasn't alone, many of the students paused to watch the classic '40s limo roll up to the school. Obviously not a regular occurrence then, but the vehicle spoke of old money. Very old money.

The driver alone was worth a second glance. The guy was easily the tallest he'd ever seen. But when the door opened, his breath caught.

She was slim, almost lean. Her face was as pale and remote as the moon, and surrounded by the darkness of the night – black hair, black dress, black tights, black shoes. Her hair hung in a solid black curtain down her back. Her dress was almost parochial in its simplicity. Even at this distance he could tell her eyes were just as dark. She paused, looking up at the school. The impossibly tall driver handed her a brown bag, and she spoke to him briefly and inaudibly. Then she walked up the stairs into Westerburg High.

In almost a daze, JD followed. Two new kids on the first day of school.

Lunch time, the proving ground. He found an unoccupied corner and watched, a predator surveying the watering hole. As expected, the student cattle arrayed themselves by rank and label. But the actions of the Beautiful People mystified him until he was approached by the erratic brunette. He needled her with his wit, seeing how far he could push her. Her responses were intriguing, until he spotted his dark temptress across the room. To his surprise, her eyes were locked on him.

Perhaps the noise of the cafeteria might have faded away in some old time movie cliché had not his contemplation of her been interrupted by two typically obnoxious jock types. He fired his barbs, but seeing the lack of comprehension, switched to the more direct approach.

They yelped and ducked with almost girlish fear when he fired the gun at them. As the teacher supervising the cafeteria hauled him away, he noted that his dark beauty's eyes gleamed with expressionless approval.

When he finally got out of school, she was standing by his bike. Lighting a smoke to hide his elation, he joined her, perching on the seat of the Harley.

"Jason Dean. Or JD." He said.

After a moment, she replied, "Wednesday Addams."

Another moment of silence. "We just moved here, my dad and me. He's in demolitions," JD said in reply to her non-verbal question. "You?"

Her eyes searched his face for a moment. Whatever she sought, she found, for she answered, "Forced to transfer. I was expelled." He didn't comment, just raised an eyebrow. "Not my fault they can't hold their arsenic," she continued matter-of-factly.

JD felt the smirk pull at his lips, and he delighted in the answering gleam in her eyes.

At first, it was almost normal. He'd arrive at school, wait for her. Often, she'd exit the limo and walk right in, forcing him to catch up. The amount of control she could exert over him was heady. The strongest teenager he'd ever met.

Killing Heather Chandler was almost a non-event. JD conceived a hatred for the prom princess almost from the first moment he'd laid eyes on her. The way she treated everyone around her was only icing, but when she loudly castigated Wednesday's fashion choices, he'd begun to plan.

Wednesday calmly assisted, watching with her dark eyes as he charmed Heather into drinking the cup. His dark inspiration was quickly able to approximate Heather's handwriting at his request, though JD got the distinct impression he'd failed her somehow. It took several days before he mentioned quietly that perhaps he should have found a way to torture or otherwise humiliate Heather first.

The silent spark in her eyes gave him a hard on.

When he first heard the rumor, he was instantly infuriated. When he brought it up, suggested revenge, Wednesday listened patiently, then made a few pertinent suggestions of her own.

By the time they were done, Ram was dead, and Kurt was a gibbering idiot in the mental ward. That morning, JD and Wednesday were late to classes, because they were screwing for the first time under the football bleachers. She bit him and drew blood, which she then lapped up with her pink tongue, and he almost came too early. But he managed to drag his control together, and her quiet gasp of orgasm was most unrestrained she'd ever been around him.

He took her home that afternoon. When his father came home, and showed them the tape of the building blowing up, JD felt so proud. He turned to look at Wednesday, and her expression showed her acceptance.

Eventually, Wednesday invited him to her house. It was a special event – her younger brother was being paroled.

He loved the house immediately. The tall driver, whom he now knew was their butler, Lurch, greeted him. Wednesday's mother was a stunning beauty, her father cheerfully macabre. He talked explosives with her uncle Fester and aunt Dementia. Her brothers Pugsley, and the youngest Pubert, eyed him suspiciously at first, but later gave JD some excellent advice about using acid to remove the serial numbers on guns.

Up in Wednesday's room, he noted an embroidered yarmulka pinned to the mirror frame.

"What's that?"

"A memento."

"From who?"

"An old boyfriend."

"Really?" JD leaned back on her bed, watching her reactions.

"Yes."

"What happened to him?"

She paused to stare at him a moment. Then she said, "He couldn't keep up."

At dinner, Granny advised him to start with the eyes. JD could feel the anticipation of the family as he obediently fished out an eyeball from his plate. It resisted his bite for a second, then burst in his mouth, the vitreous fluid pouring over his tongue.

"Delicious," he complimented, and Wednesday's parent nodded at him, pleased with his reaction. Never had JD felt more at home.

He was sick for two days after that, retching horribly hour after hour as the poison worked through his system. When he finally was able to return to school, he waited as usual for Wednesday to arrive.

She eyed him expectantly, until he said, "Were there any leftovers? My dad doesn't cook so well."

She smiled at him.

She believed in his plan, but she suggested that they should allow a way out. After all, it was only sporting. The smart ones would escape.

Uncle Fester helped wire the triggers. That morning, somehow the entire family managed to visit the school as the bombs went off in a cascade effect. In the end, some two dozen people escaped the destruction, but all were injured in some way, and all traumatized. Wednesday flung herself into his arms when it was over, kissing him so thoroughly, he got a hard on right there in front of her parent.

"Well done, son!" Gomez her father complimented.

"Do come over for dinner again soon, JD." Morticia invited as they piled into the limo and departed, leaving JD and Wednesday to enjoy their success.

They quickly retreated to the woods, in fact to the spot where they'd avenged themselves on Ram and Kurt. Using JD's trenchcoat as a blanket, they had frenzied sex. When Wednesday rode him to completion, her hair made a curtain of darkness around them.

Due to the destruction of their school, they initially thought to attend some other school, but Gomez Addams had them tutored instead. JD's dad approved of the plan, and the Addamses. It didn't take long for Wednesday and JD to complete the exams. Wednesday applied to colleges, eventually deciding to attend a small private college near Salem, Massachusetts. There were members of the Addams clan nearby she could live with.

JD was welcome to accompany her.

They arranged for their possessions to be shipped, intending to ride his Harley all the way. When they bid farewell to her family and his father, JD felt her arms wind about him as he fired up the bike. The sun was setting, and a full moon would light their way. The bike had a full tank, he had his gun loaded, and a ring in his pocket supplied by Granny as formerly belonging to Great Aunt Leborgia.

Turning his head to glance back at her, he asked, "You ready?"

In response, she bit his ear. He groaned, instantly horny, and said, "My Inspiration."

"Mon cher," she whispered back, and the bike roared, whisking them away to infamy.

AN: I honestly don't know if I can top this one...