Other side of paradise (Jason Dean x reader)

𝐅𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧

JD hopped off the bike, but when you almost tipped it over trying to get off, so he ended up helping you off as well.  After the ride and the struggle to get off, you no longer liked motorcycles all that much.  They were still cool and looked neat, but you didn't want to ride one anymore.

JD lead you inside, straight to a couch, there were boxes surrounding it.  Imagine a castle from the dark ages, surrounded by smaller buildings only a small distance away, surrounding it in a circle.  There was a bigger box across from the couch, with a nice little television set prepared on top.  JD sat down, and patted the spot next to him.

"I honestly thought you were joking," you said, looking around.  "Is everything actually packed?"

"I have no reason to lie," JD replied.

You shook your head and sat down next to him, and he grabbed a remote sitting on the arm of the couch.  In one hand he held the remote, the other somehow wound up draped over your shoulders.  You could feel that god forsaken blush starting to creep up on your face.  JD chuckled and turned on the television, and the first thing that started playing was the news.   It was an interview with Heather Duke about Chandler's death.

"You know, we were the same size, so sometimes we'd borrow each other's clothes for fun," Duke said sadly.  "We could mix it up, it was fun."

JD pressed a button and changed the channel, only to see an interview with Peter Dawson.  About Chandler's death.

"I remember I won her a stuffed rhino at the 4H club for-"

JD changed the channel, only to see another interview with Duke about Heather's suicide.

"You know, we liked the same types of clothes," Duke told the camera.

"How many channels did she go to," you questioned.

"We liked a lot of the same things," TV Duke stated.

JD changed the channel yet again, only to see another interview about the death of Heather Chandler.  At least this one was some random student you didn't recognize.

"It's not gonna be the same without her.  Every English class I looked forward to seeing her..."

At this point, JD didn't even bother changing the channel.  He just turned the TV off and leaned in towards you even more.  

"Heather Chandler's more popular than ever," JD told you.

"I know.  I didn't think it was possible," you replied.

Then a door slammed shut somewhere behind you.  You jumped from shock, but JD stayed put.  But you got even more surprised when a grown man in a strange workout uniform walked in, headed towards the only other thing unpacked in the room.  A treadmill.  But you were about to be even more confused by the twos' running joke of inverted roles.  It had been going on for years, and they knew it was running a bit thin, but they kept it up... for whatever reason.

"Hey son, I didn't hear you come in," JD greeted.

"Hey dad, how was work today," the father responded.

The father climbed up on the treadmill, and you looked between the two men, wondering what the hell they were talking about.

"It was miserable," JD's father Bud said, answering himself.  "Some damn tribe of withered old bitches don't want us to terminate that fleabag hotel... all because Glenn Miller and his band once took a shit there!  Just like Kansas.  Remember fucking Kansas?"

"Yeah, that was the one with the wheat, right?"

"'Save the memorial oak tree' society.  Showed those fucks," Bud smirked.

"Thirty of those Fourth of July fireworks attached to the trunk.  Arraigned, but acquitted," JD shared with you.

"Gosh pop, I almost forgot to introduce my partner," Bud said, pointing at you.

"(y/n), this is my dad.  Dad, this is (y/n)," JD introduced.

You smiled at Bud, trying to seem genuine.  He was just like JD when you first met him.  Creepy.  Actually, he was still kinda terrifying, you just got over it quickly thanks to your little crush.

"Son, why don't you ask your little friend to stay over for dinner," JD suggested.

"I can't, my mom's making one of my favorite dinners tonight," you tried to say politely.

"How nice.  Last time I saw my mom, she was waving at me from a library window in Texas.  Right dad," JD asked.

Bud stopped walking on his treadmill.  He looked right at JD, this strange look in his eyes.  It was like a raging storm, but no one could really tell how bad it was. 

"Yes son," Bud deadpanned.

You could almost feel your flesh crawling, you suddenly realizing how terrifying these two were.  JD's grip around your shoulders tightened, and Bud went back to his workout.  The television stayed off, but everyone sat in silence rather than make conversation.