[ Fred says it first, in the hospital after surgery: We're going to need to go stay with your mother. And Archie knows it makes sense. His dad needs to be taken care of, and Archie can't do it all on his own. But the idea of leaving makes his heat seize up. He hyperventilates in the hallway, panicky about how final the idea of Chicago feels to him. But what can he say? Archie is selfish at the best of times, but he has his father's blood staining his cast and the cuff of his letterman jacket. It's a very effective deterrent. The plaster doesn't get changed out until he's in Chicago in an unfamiliar doctor's office with his mother waiting outside the door for him. It all feels wrong.
The blood had been there when he'd said goodbye to Veronica. He still thinks about her, and maybe that's a good sign. Archie's flighty, and he knows that about himself, but his thoughts over the summer circle back to Veronica after he trips over missing Jughead and Betty.
His mother tries to make a case for the kind of life Archie could have if he stayed with her. No one says that explicitly, and it might take Archie a week to cotton on to what's happening, but he figures it out. And he gets so angry over it that he has to go on a long, twisting run rather than risk an argument. His father's face is pinched and grey with pain most days, and a fight would make it worse. Archie's answer come when Fred's buying himself a plane ticket home, and Archie asks for one too.
Neither of them want him to go. Archie's upset about that too. The anxiety over it carries him through the last month of his time with his mother, and all the way through the journey home. Dread's starting to creep in. Archie hasn't kept in close enough contact. He doesn't know what he's missed, and he worries about what he's coming home to. But Fred collects him from the airport and things are almost back to normal.
Neither of them mention getting take out from Pops.
There's a surprise for you upstairs, Fred tells him, and Archie had expected a guitar, maybe. Something his father couldn't really afford to smooth over the wretched summer they'd had. He hadn't expected Veronica, and he didn't have the heart to wake her. He toes off his Converse and crawls in beside her, nudging her gently to make room.
They aren't together. Archie knows that. But he missed her, and he thinks this is alright. He's shared beds with Jughead and with Betty both. They can do this. ]
[Her consciousness stirs just enough for her to take her book and close it at her side, turning over so that Archie can settle in beside her. Jughead's been gone long enough that the makeshift bed on the floor is missing. She's seen him enough over the summer, has been inside his foster parents' house, and she thinks he's getting the better end of the deal. But then, she's Veronica—some part of her is at least vaguely conscious that her shallow understanding of Jughead's situation is just that. Either way, in her moment of mostly being asleep, she has a hard time having any issues with Archie joining her in bed.
Or maybe that's what she'd been waiting for all along, clichés be damned.
Either way, she only wakes up a little while later, a slow smile coming to her lips as she turns toward him. Her book pokes sharply into her side, and she lifts it up as she turns into him, planting it between them like a barrier. It may or may not be necessary, but it's hard for her to decide. The look in her eyes says that it might be.
Somewhere in the breadth of keeping busy, she's been willfully removed from everything that might have to do with her parents. That includes finding out whether her father had been responsible for Fred's injury. (Though she did correct her mom on referring to it as an accident on more than one occasion.) Some part of her dreads having to deal with that now that Fred's back, now that Archie's returned—especially since it was discovered that the gunman was a man for hire down from Montreal.
But for now, she's acting as she has for the past couple of months: removed, because she knows her father is being investigated, and she's seen the simple yet very apparent threats from her father if she tries to lead anything back to him. She can see the discomfort and lack of ease in her mother's eyes. And she knows that both of them wouldn't want her to be here, stealing this moment before the shit is certain to hit the proverbial fan. They can have this moment, like nothing happened, can't they?
Veronica's fingers tease up along the line of Archie's jaw, that same smile still present.]
[ The relief of being home is a little overwhelming. Archie thinks about how easy it would have been to have gotten stuck in Chicago and never come back. But he's here, in his room, in his bed, with Veronica and her book and his dad on his feet, and Archie thinks he can give himself at least a night to savor all of it. Tomorrow he'd have to start tracking down the person who hurt his dad. It had waited all summer, and it couldn't wait that much longer.
Sleep isn't really on the table. At best he dozes, never quite dropping off to sleep. He's hyperaware of their bodies side by side on his wash-worn coverlet. When she turns into him, it's with her book to block him off from her. It's just as well. Archie's hands seem to have forgotten he's not supposed to automatically reach for her. He drops his hand back to the blanket to trace a seam restlessly as she touches him, smiling crinkling under the trip of her fingers. ]
I really missed you, Ronnie.
[ It would probably be a lie to say he'd like to have told her every day. His time had been eaten up and his focus scattered. And it was probably better he hadn't been texting her constantly. She deserved a summer without the kind of distraction Archie knew he could be. He hopes she managed to have a good one, even if he hadn't been a part of it. ]
Hi.
[ A little nervously, like Archie's just realized he's stranded in some strange space where they're a little more than friends but not quite tipped back into territory where he could kiss her. He wants to kiss her badly, but that's not a particularly new impulse. He ignores it in favor of knocking his knuckles against her book, taking in her face like he's looking for any hint of a change in her. ]
I'd try to say something like, "That makes one of us," just to see how you'd react. But I'm here. [Veronica doesn't bother to hide the fact that she missed Archie. The barrier is there between them, but a book isn't large enough to limit their interaction. She hates that she broke up with him, or that he broke up with her, or however that went—it feels like a haze from another life. She just knows that haze is going to turn into clarity sooner rather than later. It's a mess, and one she's not quite ready to deal with at this time.
That will be for tomorrow, possibly. Or the moment she leaves the Andrews house and has to return to her dad wondering if she was with Archie, because somehow, he's the type of guy who knows everything that's going on. It's going to be a really big issue now that Archie's back.
Her hand drops from his face to his hand, fingers moving over the bumps of his knuckles.]
How was big city life? I wondered how you'd do there. Did you play any shows? [These are stalling questions, because she just wants to push him down and kiss him. Veronica just wants to pretend that she has some self control.]
[ Should he have gotten into bed with her? Archie has a moment of self-doubt, but he doesn't end with him rolling away from her and potentially onto the floor. His hand turns in hers, lacing their fingers together and holding on. There's scarring on his knuckles, but it's hard to see in the dim light of his desk lamp. Everything about this moment feels like a dream. It's so good that Archie never wants to get out of bed. ]
Just a couple, only after dad was moving around better, [ Archie answers obligingly. ] It was just open mic nights at coffee shops. Nothing big.
[ And nothing Veronica should feel bad about missing, though Archie immediately second-guesses that motivation. ]
It wasn't so bad. But I'm glad I'm back. [ More than he could ever articulate. ] Are you okay?
[ There's plenty to ask about: Veronica's family, Jughead, Betty and her sister. The questions are already piling up, and Archie sighs past them, squeezing Veronica's hand. ]
Oh, yeah—summer was nice. Busy. [That's a short answer, one that doesn't even begin to cover any of the bases that she knows needs to be covered between the two of them. Not covering those bases seems like a bad idea, all in all.] I wanted to keep out of the house to avoid Daddy. [That might go without saying, and she knows better than anyone that introducing him into the conversation is like bringing up the wedge that no one wants to acknowledge.] Thankfully, I succeeded.
[Which is undoubtedly much to her father's chagrin. Another problem, another day. Or in another few hours. It'll be that, probably.]
Most of it isn't worth talking about, but I would suggest checking in with Jughead as soon as you can. Even though it was 95 out with too much humidity, he looked way too comfortable in that Serpents jacket.
[ What's he like? Archie wants to ask. Veronica and her mother make sense; there's such a clear sense of connection that it's hard for Archie to consider anyone else being necessary to form their family unit. They feel finished in a way Archie and Fred don't, to Archie's line of thinking. But Veronica's tone dips and she's talking avoidance, not welcome, so Archie just focuses on the way their fingers lace together and lets it pass.
He'll ask later. Someday. Probably around the same time he and Veronica circle around to more serious things, though the conversation is already inevitably inching towards that territory. ]
I'll call him in the morning.
[ And hope he answered. ]
I wanted to believe he'd have gotten rid of that stupid jacket by the time I got back. Jug's smarter than this.
[ Smart isn't really the word Archie means. Archie's his friend. They've been attached at the hip since they were small, Archie's mess of a summer notwithstanding. He wants to believe that connection is stronger than whatever the Serpents are promising. ]
[There are a number of things to say, but none of them seem appropriate after that final question. Veronica would like to point out that what's going on with Jughead is likely less a matter of intelligence, and more a matter of feeling lost. She doesn't know Jughead well—but she's picked up enough from Betty's discomfort and allusions along the way to figure out that he just wanted his family back together. She can sympathize with that. She's been there. Seeking out a family where he doesn't feel like a ruinous splotch is probably—well. It's fair.
She just doesn't expect Archie to get that. Not right away. He's coming from a different angle, with a father who believes in doing right and having morals and a number of other things. Archie's naive belief that they can just talk things out comes from a very obvious source: Fred Andrews himself. In a lot of ways, he's a rabbit among snakes. Veronica knows better than to exclude herself.
Which is why the next bit comes out of her mouth:]
I want to. I'm not even sure I should be here. It's not fair to you. ... Or to me. [They know what lies ahead. It goes unspoken.] But I missed this ... you. We didn't even get our second date set.
[ The more serious topics of conversation drop, and Archie's relieved for a split second. He's being selfish, maybe. Insulating himself for an entire summer while life went on in Riverdale and his friends dealt with the fallout of the secret they'd dragged into the open was likely a selfish thing to do. Archie's fingers twist restlessly though Veronica's as she speaks, before settling back to lace their hands firmly together. ]
You can stay if you want. It's not...I don't think it's unfair. Not to me, at least.
[ Though Archie didn't always have the best grasp of what is and isn't fair. But he still doesn't take to the idea of unfairness Veronica's presenting to him, though her own well being pulls him up. ]
This is just about the best welcome home party I could have gotten, Ronnie. But I'll understand if you don't stay. I get it.
[Reason tells her that staying is wrong, but that's in the bigger picture. In the immediate moment, she's holding the hand of the boy she's missed all summer. She's kissed other guys, but it was always one-offs, never sex, never anything that would amount to anything. They had broken up, they had, but Veronica wonders if she fooled herself when she believed she wasn't counting down the days to ... this. Here. Him.
Veronica lifts up his hand, fingers still twined, but all with the intention of pushing him and it back, hand placed over his head, fingers untangling and retangling as he finds herself satisfied by the closeness that she's brought them to.]
I'm worried about what's going to happen to you when I leave. To us. [But she knows her father won't hurt her, not in the way he might her mother.]
But I think, ultimately ... [Her eyes find his here, as her body shifts more comfortably so her body is placed over his, legs on each side.] It's unfair to leave. For both of us. [They can make it work. And if there's anything about straddling Archie Andrews, it's that it sends a big message.]
[ None of Veronica's concerns are unfounded. Archie worries about what's coming next, and he worries about his father's safety here. They could still be in danger. But it's hard to feel any of that with Veronica holding his hand. She pushes and Archie yields, back hitting the mattress as Veronica's weight settles into his lap. His fingers tighten on her hand without any attempt to tug free. ]
I'm going to be fine, [ Archie promises. ] No matter what happens, we're going to be alright.
[ They'll be friends, even if they aren't together. Archie can't imagine not caring for her. Even if his breathing's gone shallow as his free hand palms over her thigh, hips hitching up, it doesn't change the simple fact that this is about more than sex. He cares for Veronica deeply. As flighty as Archie can be, he's certain that won't change. ]
Can I kiss you? Is that okay?
[ Even though Veronica's in his lap, Archie still asks. He doesn't want to misunderstand. If Veronica keeps moving and tips out of his lap to leave, Archie would let her, even if he's choking on how much he's missed her. He's spent a whole summer wanting to be close to her, and that's abruptly overwhelming for him. ]
That you even thought to ask is exactly why I like you, Archie Andrews. [The urge for the pet name to slip out instead is there, but there's something that restrains her. Veronica believes in the importance of names, of knowing how significant it is to hold on to that. Once they leave this room, her name—the Lodge of it all—will change and influence every choice they make. Once they leave, Hiram Lodge will throw his name around, and he'll try to smother the Andrews of it all. Knowing him, he has a plan.
And that's assuming it didn't start with Fred's now-permanent limp.
Her hand frees his hand, drawing back to feather over his jaw. She's missed him, and it hurts a little how much she has. It's weird for her, weird to comprehend that, weird to understand how significant this is and how significant she needs it to be.]
Of course you can kiss me. [She leans in close, breath close to his mouth, inviting him in. There's only a second that passes before Veronica herself loses patience and completes the connection there, hips shifting down against his with ease.]
[ Kissing Veronica feels like an affirmation. Breaking off what had been sparking between them had been the right thing to do, and Archie doesn't have any doubts about that. But it all kindles back to life the minute their lips touch. Archie thinks he'll need to hold onto that in the daylight, when he and Fred both have to square off against whatever is waiting for them in the once idyllic town of Riverdale. ]
I missed you so much, [ Archie whispers, telling her again as if she hadn't believed him the first time. ] And I really missed kissing you.
[ They're good at kissing. There's no point in talking about how Archie got so good at kissing. It was never meant to be a topic of conversation, and it certainly doesn't need to be one now that he's finally putting his hands back in Veronica's hair and tipping his head back obligingly to invite her in. He and Veronica had known how to fit together from the beginning, from those seven fateful minutes in the closet. A summer apart hadn't eroded that. ]
[There's something so ... well, the first word that would come to mind for Veronica is simple, but that's not right at all. No, a better word is idyllic. There's something so idyllic about kissing Archie Andrews. Veronica knows that she's the prototypical big city girl who's found herself enamored with the small town boy who's just a little too sheltered to know the ugliness of the world. It's a trope that she'd only like in fiction when it's done right. Living it out, on the other hand, is something else. It's hard to explain.
Maybe it's because it's something outside of those roles. They both want to be good, but are considerably clumsy in their handling of that. Maybe it's something else. Veronica just knows that she connects with him on a level that almost scares her sometimes. She's the most sentimental person alive, and she knows exactly what sentiment flows into this bond.
Veronica can't help but push an amused sound against his mouth when he says he missed kissing her, because that, too, is almost ... scripted. Perfect. But in that way where it's neither of those things. Archie's a walking cliché at times, but in the most earnest, well-meaning way possible. And she's okay with that.]
It was a very good idea to hit pause on this, [she says, mouth lingering over his. Veronica has zero intention of ending this.] It means ... that we can both hit play again now that we're ready. [Another cliché? Somehow, she can't help it.]
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The blood had been there when he'd said goodbye to Veronica. He still thinks about her, and maybe that's a good sign. Archie's flighty, and he knows that about himself, but his thoughts over the summer circle back to Veronica after he trips over missing Jughead and Betty.
His mother tries to make a case for the kind of life Archie could have if he stayed with her. No one says that explicitly, and it might take Archie a week to cotton on to what's happening, but he figures it out. And he gets so angry over it that he has to go on a long, twisting run rather than risk an argument. His father's face is pinched and grey with pain most days, and a fight would make it worse. Archie's answer come when Fred's buying himself a plane ticket home, and Archie asks for one too.
Neither of them want him to go. Archie's upset about that too. The anxiety over it carries him through the last month of his time with his mother, and all the way through the journey home. Dread's starting to creep in. Archie hasn't kept in close enough contact. He doesn't know what he's missed, and he worries about what he's coming home to. But Fred collects him from the airport and things are almost back to normal.
Neither of them mention getting take out from Pops.
There's a surprise for you upstairs, Fred tells him, and Archie had expected a guitar, maybe. Something his father couldn't really afford to smooth over the wretched summer they'd had. He hadn't expected Veronica, and he didn't have the heart to wake her. He toes off his Converse and crawls in beside her, nudging her gently to make room.
They aren't together. Archie knows that. But he missed her, and he thinks this is alright. He's shared beds with Jughead and with Betty both. They can do this. ]
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Or maybe that's what she'd been waiting for all along, clichés be damned.
Either way, she only wakes up a little while later, a slow smile coming to her lips as she turns toward him. Her book pokes sharply into her side, and she lifts it up as she turns into him, planting it between them like a barrier. It may or may not be necessary, but it's hard for her to decide. The look in her eyes says that it might be.
Somewhere in the breadth of keeping busy, she's been willfully removed from everything that might have to do with her parents. That includes finding out whether her father had been responsible for Fred's injury. (Though she did correct her mom on referring to it as an accident on more than one occasion.) Some part of her dreads having to deal with that now that Fred's back, now that Archie's returned—especially since it was discovered that the gunman was a man for hire down from Montreal.
But for now, she's acting as she has for the past couple of months: removed, because she knows her father is being investigated, and she's seen the simple yet very apparent threats from her father if she tries to lead anything back to him. She can see the discomfort and lack of ease in her mother's eyes. And she knows that both of them wouldn't want her to be here, stealing this moment before the shit is certain to hit the proverbial fan. They can have this moment, like nothing happened, can't they?
Veronica's fingers tease up along the line of Archie's jaw, that same smile still present.]
Long time no see, Archiekins.
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Sleep isn't really on the table. At best he dozes, never quite dropping off to sleep. He's hyperaware of their bodies side by side on his wash-worn coverlet. When she turns into him, it's with her book to block him off from her. It's just as well. Archie's hands seem to have forgotten he's not supposed to automatically reach for her. He drops his hand back to the blanket to trace a seam restlessly as she touches him, smiling crinkling under the trip of her fingers. ]
I really missed you, Ronnie.
[ It would probably be a lie to say he'd like to have told her every day. His time had been eaten up and his focus scattered. And it was probably better he hadn't been texting her constantly. She deserved a summer without the kind of distraction Archie knew he could be. He hopes she managed to have a good one, even if he hadn't been a part of it. ]
Hi.
[ A little nervously, like Archie's just realized he's stranded in some strange space where they're a little more than friends but not quite tipped back into territory where he could kiss her. He wants to kiss her badly, but that's not a particularly new impulse. He ignores it in favor of knocking his knuckles against her book, taking in her face like he's looking for any hint of a change in her. ]
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That will be for tomorrow, possibly. Or the moment she leaves the Andrews house and has to return to her dad wondering if she was with Archie, because somehow, he's the type of guy who knows everything that's going on. It's going to be a really big issue now that Archie's back.
Her hand drops from his face to his hand, fingers moving over the bumps of his knuckles.]
How was big city life? I wondered how you'd do there. Did you play any shows? [These are stalling questions, because she just wants to push him down and kiss him. Veronica just wants to pretend that she has some self control.]
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Just a couple, only after dad was moving around better, [ Archie answers obligingly. ] It was just open mic nights at coffee shops. Nothing big.
[ And nothing Veronica should feel bad about missing, though Archie immediately second-guesses that motivation. ]
It wasn't so bad. But I'm glad I'm back. [ More than he could ever articulate. ] Are you okay?
[ There's plenty to ask about: Veronica's family, Jughead, Betty and her sister. The questions are already piling up, and Archie sighs past them, squeezing Veronica's hand. ]
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[Which is undoubtedly much to her father's chagrin. Another problem, another day. Or in another few hours. It'll be that, probably.]
Most of it isn't worth talking about, but I would suggest checking in with Jughead as soon as you can. Even though it was 95 out with too much humidity, he looked way too comfortable in that Serpents jacket.
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He'll ask later. Someday. Probably around the same time he and Veronica circle around to more serious things, though the conversation is already inevitably inching towards that territory. ]
I'll call him in the morning.
[ And hope he answered. ]
I wanted to believe he'd have gotten rid of that stupid jacket by the time I got back. Jug's smarter than this.
[ Smart isn't really the word Archie means. Archie's his friend. They've been attached at the hip since they were small, Archie's mess of a summer notwithstanding. He wants to believe that connection is stronger than whatever the Serpents are promising. ]
Are you going to stay?
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She just doesn't expect Archie to get that. Not right away. He's coming from a different angle, with a father who believes in doing right and having morals and a number of other things. Archie's naive belief that they can just talk things out comes from a very obvious source: Fred Andrews himself. In a lot of ways, he's a rabbit among snakes. Veronica knows better than to exclude herself.
Which is why the next bit comes out of her mouth:]
I want to. I'm not even sure I should be here. It's not fair to you. ... Or to me. [They know what lies ahead. It goes unspoken.] But I missed this ... you. We didn't even get our second date set.
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You can stay if you want. It's not...I don't think it's unfair. Not to me, at least.
[ Though Archie didn't always have the best grasp of what is and isn't fair. But he still doesn't take to the idea of unfairness Veronica's presenting to him, though her own well being pulls him up. ]
This is just about the best welcome home party I could have gotten, Ronnie. But I'll understand if you don't stay. I get it.
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Veronica lifts up his hand, fingers still twined, but all with the intention of pushing him and it back, hand placed over his head, fingers untangling and retangling as he finds herself satisfied by the closeness that she's brought them to.]
I'm worried about what's going to happen to you when I leave. To us. [But she knows her father won't hurt her, not in the way he might her mother.]
But I think, ultimately ... [Her eyes find his here, as her body shifts more comfortably so her body is placed over his, legs on each side.] It's unfair to leave. For both of us. [They can make it work. And if there's anything about straddling Archie Andrews, it's that it sends a big message.]
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I'm going to be fine, [ Archie promises. ] No matter what happens, we're going to be alright.
[ They'll be friends, even if they aren't together. Archie can't imagine not caring for her. Even if his breathing's gone shallow as his free hand palms over her thigh, hips hitching up, it doesn't change the simple fact that this is about more than sex. He cares for Veronica deeply. As flighty as Archie can be, he's certain that won't change. ]
Can I kiss you? Is that okay?
[ Even though Veronica's in his lap, Archie still asks. He doesn't want to misunderstand. If Veronica keeps moving and tips out of his lap to leave, Archie would let her, even if he's choking on how much he's missed her. He's spent a whole summer wanting to be close to her, and that's abruptly overwhelming for him. ]
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And that's assuming it didn't start with Fred's now-permanent limp.
Her hand frees his hand, drawing back to feather over his jaw. She's missed him, and it hurts a little how much she has. It's weird for her, weird to comprehend that, weird to understand how significant this is and how significant she needs it to be.]
Of course you can kiss me. [She leans in close, breath close to his mouth, inviting him in. There's only a second that passes before Veronica herself loses patience and completes the connection there, hips shifting down against his with ease.]
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I missed you so much, [ Archie whispers, telling her again as if she hadn't believed him the first time. ] And I really missed kissing you.
[ They're good at kissing. There's no point in talking about how Archie got so good at kissing. It was never meant to be a topic of conversation, and it certainly doesn't need to be one now that he's finally putting his hands back in Veronica's hair and tipping his head back obligingly to invite her in. He and Veronica had known how to fit together from the beginning, from those seven fateful minutes in the closet. A summer apart hadn't eroded that. ]
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Maybe it's because it's something outside of those roles. They both want to be good, but are considerably clumsy in their handling of that. Maybe it's something else. Veronica just knows that she connects with him on a level that almost scares her sometimes. She's the most sentimental person alive, and she knows exactly what sentiment flows into this bond.
Veronica can't help but push an amused sound against his mouth when he says he missed kissing her, because that, too, is almost ... scripted. Perfect. But in that way where it's neither of those things. Archie's a walking cliché at times, but in the most earnest, well-meaning way possible. And she's okay with that.]
It was a very good idea to hit pause on this, [she says, mouth lingering over his. Veronica has zero intention of ending this.] It means ... that we can both hit play again now that we're ready. [Another cliché? Somehow, she can't help it.]