Heathers Oneshots!

[MCDUKE]

[ based off 13 reasons why.]

Heather McNamara normally didn't do this stuff. Breaking into her father's liquor cabinet when he was out of town. Then again, she normally didn't have sleepovers with Heather Duke either.

Then again, that was before Chandler passed after all. It was an awakened silence. Unspoken nervousness that hung between the duo as they watched a few rows of movies. Chandler had been the rock—the leader who guided the two. It was almost like they didn't know what to do without her. It was almost like they were missing someone.

And then it was Duke's idea. For the alcohol. 'Let's take our mind off it, that's what Heather would have wanted.' She had said.

And in a way, maybe she was right. Wouldn't the dead demon queen want them to move on with their lives? Even if it started at a drunken sleepover?

"Just one shot or something." McNamara had grumbled, casting a nervous look at the front door. As if her Dad would barge in or something. He wasn't home. He hadn't been home in nearly two weeks. Another infamous business trip. It was routine now.

One shot turned to four. Then it was a beer. Then the dark haired Heather had crashed into the fridge in a tipsy attempt at climbing up on the counter to grab the wine battle that sat up top. Which...had ended successfully. (With a broken fridge handle and a bruise on Duke's side).

Whatever pain it caused ended with the teenage girls laughing on the kitchen tile, pin point tears in both of their eyes.

"Oh my god." The cheerleader snickered, offering out a swinging palm. "Get up, you nerd." Drunken giggles tumbled out. "Don't just lay there the whole night. Let's do something."

"What?" Duke whined with a small whimper of faux pain, staggering to her feet. Her dark eyes gleamed. She swallowed bitterly, placing the wine bottle on the tabletop with an accomplished huff. "I'm drinking it. I almost broke a rib doing it, Mac. I'm drinking it."

"You're paying to fix my fridge." The freckled girl teased with a roll of her blue eyes. "Come on," she lazily clicked her tongue as she scooped up the other's hand and buzzing off to bed bedroom.

They tumbled into the sheets, Heather McNamara propped up against the window. Her green counterpart laying on her stomach, propped up on her arms, wine bottle laced in her grip.

"Dukey," Heather whined suddenly after meek, drunken conversations made of 90% snickers had been passed around. "I'm bored."

Brown eyes stared up stuck in a glossy gaze. "You're the one who dragged me in here, Heather. You think of something to do." She tiredly slurred, giving her thigh a sharp poke.

"Bleh," her head fell back. Echoing a small 'thump' off the carved wood behind her curls. Heather scrunched up her freckled nose in contemplation. "Truth or dare."

"With two people?" Heather openly thought. She got a sharp look in response. "Fine, fine." With a small, weak groan of protest, the Korean student pushed herself up to a sitting position beside her long term friend.

The two normally weren't this friendly. They hadn't been in a while, honestly. Before hand being dragged along like Heather Chandler's personal lapdogs didn't leave much time for socializing independently with one another.

"You go first." McNamara hummed, drugging her fingers on the hem of her shorts.

"No fair," Heather breathed under her breath. She shifted, sitting right to Mac now. The pale teen squinted gently, looking the other over. Her cheeks brushed pink from the alcohol she had drunk within the last few hours. The alcohol that very much had taken affect.