Cookies

Rated T for mature themes. Or immature, depending how you look at it.

With love to jeasterl. This little story began this morning, with a talk about cookies, Wednesday Adams and goth daughters, and it was totally Easter's concept. So thanks for handing it to me on a silver platter, Easter. I offer the platter back to you. Full of cookies. Thin mints, and white chocolate macadamia nuts, and triple chocolate fudgies.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Three members of Mrs Stanley's girl scout troop stood hesitating in the driveway. The people in the house were outsiders, strange and intimidating. They did not mingle. They did not seem to do anything, much. They weren't on teams or in clubs or anything. And they certainly didn't show up for Friday Night Bingo at the Lutheran church hall.

"Just go, Mindy," said the tall, awkward blonde girl, pushing her glasses up onto her nose.

"Why don't you go up there, if you're so brave?" Mindy said, pulling at her skirt. The uniforms were horrible, constrictive cotton in the humid summer air, and the neckerchiefs were torture today.

"We're wasting time here. I don't want to go back to the troop with less boxes sold than that Lisa again," the small Asian girl said, scratching a mosquito bite on the back of her leg.

"You go then, Winnie," the blonde ordered, pushing her.

"Fine! You're gonna owe me though, Ashley." Winnie marched up the stone drive, looking warily at the ostentatious house. The other girls trailed along behind her. She climbed the porch steps with her shoulders back and her head held high, lip jutting out almost defiantly. She rang the bell of the glass door, and waited, her companions fidgeting uncomfortably behind her.

A flicker of movement was discernible behind the tinted expanse of the house's glass wall. Winnie felt a glimmer of unease. Why, oh, why had they not just skipped this house? They could sell their cookies to somebody else. Somebody who did not live in the middle of nowhere. Somewhere where decent people could hear the screams of a group of 12 year old girls, were they to find themselves in a dangerous situation.

Winnie shuddered. "Let's just go," she begged. "We should go sell these over in a busier neighbourhood. No need to bother the folks here."

Just then, the door opened, surprisingly fast. The most dangerous, most beautiful boy that the girls had ever seen was standing there. The little scouts' knobby knees started to shake. They stood on the stoop, speechless, with eyes round as dinner plates.

The boy was lanky and blonde. His longish hair was a wavy, tangled mess. He had eyeliner and purple lipstick on, and his neck was graced by a studded dog collar. His naked chest, covered in silvery scars, was accentuated by the long line of a black leather leash, which dangled past black jeans held up by yet another, studded leather contraption. The boy was altogether beautiful, and lethal-looking, and the girls had no idea what to make of him.

"May I help you young ladies with something?" The boy said in a surprisingly deep voice that was touched by the music of the South.

"Oh!" Winnie squeaked as Ashley pinched her arm. The boy glared at Ashley as though he'd seen her do it, even though she'd been really sneaky about it.

"Um, hi. We're from Troop 12, and we're fund raising for our annual trip to Mount Olympus. Would you, uh, care to buy some ... girlscoutcookies?" Winnie squeaked.

The boy stared at her for several seconds, then looked at her companions before returning his gaze to her. She gulped nervously, caught like a rabbit in the snare of his weird, yellow eyes. She decided that it might be wise to smile at him, to make the sale. He did not respond. Rather, he stared at her like she was something to eat.

"That depends," he drawled, leaning one arm against the door frame, unintentionally accenting his inhuman beauty. He stared at their ugly uniforms disdainfully.

"Um, on what?" said Ashley, who had found her voice at last.

"Are they made from real girl scouts?" he asked casually, bringing his eyes up to meet hers. They darkened perceptibly as he stared.

Before the girls could turn to flee, there was a flash of movement. A little, dark-haired girl no taller than Winnie was now tucked beneath the boy's arm. She laughed with the sound of bells, her eyes dancing in response to the boy's question.

"Oh, Jazzy!" she giggled throatily, placing a hand over the barbell piercing his nipple, and tweaking it. "You're going to scare these poor little girls to death."

Jazzy smirked at her, unfazed. "I'll be waiting for you in my room, Alice," he growled. "Good luck with your ... cookies, little ladies." He disappeared.

The three girls turned their bewildered, frightened eyes back to the little, perky teen. She was buttoning the top two buttons of her white, frilly blouse, concealing the black lace of her bra. "Don't mind Jazzy," she ordered. "He's just trying to get a rise out of you. He thinks you'll recognize the quote of Wednesday Adams."

The girls looked at Alice in confusion. "Who's Wednesday Adams?" Mindy asked.

"Wednesday. You know, from "The Adams Family"? The movie?"

"Oh." Ashley said. "We're not allowed to watch that. My mother says it's demented, and unfit for proper young ladies."

"I see," said Alice, blinking. "So. You have ... cookies?"

"Yes, mint chocolate or vanilla cream. Three dollars a box," Winnie said, growing more confident.

"Why don't you wait for a minute, and I'll get my purse," Alice suggested.

"Uh, thank you," Ashley said.

Alice shut the door. In moments, she returned and thrust a fistful of hundred dollar bills into Ashley's hand. "For the troop. You should see if your leader will invest in new uniforms. Those ones are terrible for this climate, and they aren't attractive at all." Alice wrinkled her nose at the girls.

"Uh, I'm afraid we don't have enough boxes of cookies with us to give you for all that money," Winnie stammered, blown away.

"Well, consider it a donation," Alice ordered. "My family isn't really into eating ... cookies," she said. "I'll just take the one box."

Alice took the box of chocolate cookies out of Winnie's numb hand, smiling at her in a manner meant to be reassuring. "Uh, thank you?" Winnie said, stupidly.

"You're most welcome. Now you'd better go sell those cookies, or that annoying Lisa girl is going to beat you again this year. She's a pain in the neck. I hope you trounce her butt."

"Uh, gee, thanks," Ashley said.

"Have a nice day," Mindy said awkwardly. "Thanks for uh, the donation."

"You have a good day, girls. Now off with you. Bye-bye!" the odd girl said, shooing the young girls away with her hands.

The girls tromped down the wide steps, turning to look back at the house as they hit the middle of the driveway. "Are they ever weird," Mindy whispered, wrinkling her nose.

"Yeah," Ashley concurred with a grimace

The door whisked open, and the goth boy stood upon the porch once again. His muscular arms snaked around the little girl Alice's front, and she covered his arms with her hands, cocking her head as she looked down the drive at the girls. She reached up, grabbed onto the boy's leash, and pulled his head down for a soft kiss.

"Just one more minute, love," she said gently, her eyes smouldering.

"I just wish you'd bought the scouts, and left the cookies," he complained, plenty loudly enough for the girls to hear.

The little girls ran away, as fast as their gangly legs could carry them.

As they ran, their fears subsided.

By the time they reached the public road, they had themselves convinced that the boy was only joking. And now, they had a lot of money in their box. After a little discussion, they agreed that they couldn't wait to tell everyone they knew about their encounter with the strange inhabitants of the Cullen house.

Back at that locale, the young girl, Alice, was addressing the goth boy. "Jasper Hale, you are a very, very naughty boy," she crooned. "I am going to have to punish you."

"Oh, yes, Lis. Mmmm. Bring the whip?" he asked, eyes flickering to her mouth, his tongue visible against his sharp, wet teeth.

She said nothing in response, but trailed her finger down over his lip. She looked over her shoulder at him flirtatiously as they walked back inside, shutting the door, and the world, away from them.