Work Text:
Betty Cooper is a cliché.
An all American teenage girl living in a nice sensible home, with a cookie cutter family with fake, too-white teeth and sharp smiles that will rip enemies apart. with her hair pulled back without a single strand out of place, not even a wrinkle on sight of her approved attire. All that’s missing is a white picket fence and a dog, probably a Golden Retriever or a German Shepherd, if her mother wasn’t deathly allergic and found dogs to be “vile, disgusting, slobbering creatures, Elizabeth. Why would you want one of those things? To kill your mother?”
The picture perfect girl next door they all made her to be. Riverdale, her parents, and anyone else who believes in this former, now currently, wannabe pinnacle slice of paradise of 21st-century suburbia. With its cracked side walks and lurking shadows of the town’s dark secrets. All at the expanse of ripping and stuffing parts of herself away to fit, until she perfectly molded herself in their eyes, to fill this role.
A formerly straight girl realizing she’s not so straight after a too sudden, exhilarating, first kiss.
Everything about her screams: Been there, Done that, Next!
Which compared to the recent scandals popping around town now, is actually scoring pretty low on Betty’s logical list of things that need to take priority, considering she’s currently residing in a town with someone who murdered a teenager on the loose, and she just so happens to be a teenager. And since she’s still a teenager, and teenagers heavily rely anywhere from ninety to ninety-five percent on emotions and hormones instead of logic to prioritize certain issues, this happens to make it securely into the top three crises of Betty’s, very separate, emotional list.
And at the top of this list, with the dot of the “i” being replaced with a heart like the owner writes it, lies Veronica Lodge. Or more specifically, Betty’s new-found crush on her new best friend, who happens to be a girl, scratch that, who happens to be a very beautiful girl, Veronica Lodge.
Of course she’s even made this even more into a cliché by having her first crush on a girl be her best friend. Again.
This is going to be a very long year, and not just because of the murder.
--
“I’m bisexual and a bitch, but that doesn’t automatically make me greedy. Stereotypes are so 19th and 20th century bullshit, Cheryl. I’m just a woman who knows what I want when I want it, and then I go after it. Simple as that.”
“Or,” Cheryl begins, stretching out the single syllable unnecessarily, filing away at her already perfect nails, “You’re greedy because you’re a Lodge and it runs in your blood perhaps? Just as much as prestige and scandal runs in mine, and definitely yours too by the way. No worries though, it happens to the best of us.” She flashes a smile at Veronica before turning her attention towards Betty, smile unwavering, almost looking kind if it were placed on anyone else. “And just like crazy runs in Betty’s.”
Betty looks up from her school lunch, meets Cheryl’s gaze, smiles just as sharp as her mother that would probably make her proud in some way or another, and rolls her eyes before returning to her lunch.
For some reason, Cheryl happens to pop in and invite herself if she believes that people, specifically Betty and her friends, are talking about her, her family, or her brother. When she finds out that they aren’t, she likes to take a seat and make herself comfortable, while also loudly letting everyone in the premises know that she’d rather be anywhere else. Betty doesn’t like it.
Not as much as Betty hates the peaked interest Cheryl has shown to Veronica since she barged into their private conversation.
Which just so happened to be about Veronica’s ex-girlfriend from back in New York.
A conversation Betty had hoped would have transitioned into a talk about their kiss, one they haven’t, and don’t seem to be having anytime soon, actually ever talked about since it happened.
The next time she glances up at Veronica from across the table, Veronica mouths “sorry” and brushes her bare ankle along Betty’s calf as if to emphasize, or because she’s just simply a touchy person in general. Goosebumps rise along her skin, chasing after Veronica’s fleeting touch, and all Betty can do is try and smile and not choke with a mouthful of food.
Lunch isn’t even halfway over yet and she’s already this close to dying.
“A lot of things run in all our families, and clearly, Betty has the best her family’s genes have to offer,” Veronica says, a smirk on her painted lips. She has her body half turned towards Cheryl then, just as she hooks her ankle against Betty’s without warning. Betty has to keep herself from choking on her meal. Again. “As I was saying though, I miss the LGBT scene back in New York. Riverdale’s single gay club is disappointing and sad, and options are very scarce around here.”
“Well, there are a few out and open kids,” Betty supplies, forcing herself to contain the secret, and maybe a few who aren’t so open about it because they’re really confused and need some help, anybody, please.
Veronica laughs. It moves with her whole body, her dark hair literally flowing in time with it. If Betty took a video right now, she doubts there’d be one single frame that wasn’t beautiful. “Oh yeah, how could I forget? Our mutual gay friend Kevin, Josie and Melody, who are currently dating, by the way,” she points out with her fork, “And our librarian, who’s, like, sixty. And married. So many options here, B.”
Betty shrugs playfully at her then and takes another bite of her sandwich, slowly, to avoid any future potential choking hazards this time around.
“I’m just surprised you haven’t tried anything on me yet,” Cheryl cuts in, carefully fixing Veronica’s hair. Veronica either doesn’t care or doesn’t notice, but Betty sure notices how close Cheryl is to Veronica, considering the amount of open space next to her a clear-cut clue in itself. “I am probably the best option you have here. Rich, beautiful, head of the Vixens. We’re practically the same in spirit.”
“I didn’t know you were gay, Cheryl,” says Veronica, raising a perfectly arched brow in interest. “This town is constantly surprising me.”
Betty’s stomach churns uncomfortably.
“Please, you wish,” Cheryl says, and even though she’s a very good liar, Betty has seen the way she’s glanced at Veronica three times now just from lunch alone, which can’t be written off as a mere coincidence. “Just exacerbating my point that I’m your top choice in the lady department.”
Which, well, Betty can’t really argue that, no matter how much she may want to.
Because the Blossoms are a very beautiful family in their own way. They remind Betty of vampire stories, partly because her mother had always compared them to blood-sucking leeches, partly because of their pale skin. The ones where the monsters are beautiful, dark and alluring, saying what you want to hear and transfixing you on every word that leaves past their bloodstained lips, luring you into their lair. Waiting to sink their teeth into you the moment they start feeling hungry. There’s a darkness clouding them, like a mysterious forest temping even the kindest souls and beckoning them, calling them to discover the horrors and pleasures alike, like Polly once upon a time.
They’re vile and cruel people, but they have a certain mystery surrounding them, and nothing’s more tempting in Riverdale than that.
“While it’s very sweet that you’re interested in my dating life,” Veronica says, a knowing smile on her face as she glances over Cheryl’s form. If it’s about what Betty is guessing, then does she know about her? “You’re not my type, babe. I’m always searching for new gal pals if you want, but you gotta follow my rules and play nice.”
Betty’s stomach, miraculously and for no specific reason at all, feels suddenly better.
It’s not thought out at all and she can’t stop herself, but before anyone else can cut in, Betty asks, “So… what exactly is your type then?” Veronica genuinely appear surprised at the question, both brows lifting behind her hairline in a rush instead of the precise, calculated way she usually does. So Betty quickly gathers her thoughts to save herself. “Guys, girls, whoever. Just curious.”
Veronica hums thoughtfully, elbows on the table and tapping the tips of her fingers together. Watching this makes the palms of Betty’s hands sweat, and she quickly wipes it on her sweater to distract herself from the anticipation in her gut.
“I don’t know,” Veronica answers finally with a smile, her eyes catching Betty’s and not wanting to let them go, “Although, maybe it’s because I live here now, but I’m definitely leaning towards the small town good girl who has more to her than meets the eye type.”
Betty, in all her great attempts to avoid so, ends up choking on air.
--
A few words float through her brain over the following weeks, months, but eventually she’ll find a word that fits her. A label she, not her mother, not Riverdale, not even Veronica, having any sort of influence over, chooses for herself. One that she doesn’t want to fight, one that she accepts with open arms.
It’ll come to her, and she’ll finally feel where she needs to be. It just takes a little time.
And all they have in Riverdale is time.
--
It still takes a while to get to that point however.
Currently, she’s still unsure about most of this whole thing, except for these undeniable truths: No, she is not straight. Yes, girls are beautiful, have always been, and it only just occurred to her that it’s okay and even be with them in the same way it is okay to want and be with boys. And hell yes, she wants to kiss Veronica Lodge again and again, and this time, she wants to be the one to grab her by the back of her neck and really be the one to kiss her.
For a while, she decides no one needs to know any of this just yet. This is for her and her alone. A little piece of Betty Cooper newly discovered, something she wants to cradle and protect.
It only takes two days for her to get over this and announce to Kevin on one afternoon, “I like girls.”
“Congratulations, but I already knew this, Betty,” replies Kevin. He doesn’t look up from his phone, and Betty’s shoulders slump at the casual response. She can’t help but feel this might be a little anticlimactic for someone coming out for the first time. “You’re not a misogynist, you enjoy letting me know through your opinions and discussions of feminism. Which I know I sound like I don’t enjoy it, because I do, but I’m just trying to get a signal to text Joaquin back.”
Betty blinks for a moment, before stealing Kevin’s phone easily from his grasp and out of reach.
“Hey! I pretty much almost had a bar, Betty,” complains Kevin, loudly, just as Betty reiterates, “I like girls the same way you like Joaquin!”
There’s a silence that falls after. Betty hadn’t even realized just how loud they both were at trying to talk over the other, and Betty’s suddenly glad they walk the scenic route instead of taking the bus.
Kevin, of course, takes this information and sprints with it, his entire face alight at this confession. “Oh, I always knew you had a little gay in you, Betty! I called it, yup, me. Now we just need to wait for Archie to come out of the closet,” he says, and Betty laughs with a shake of her head as she passes his cellphone back over to him. There’s a brief pause, however, before he huffs without any heat to back it up. “Ugh, I know everyone comes out at their own pace and everything, but it would’ve been really nice to not be the only out gay kid until this year.”
“You came out when you were twelve, Kevin,” Betty says, a fond smile on her face. “Kind of hard to keep up with that.”
She remembers that day clearly. Kevin had stood and announced it on the bus for no particular reason on the way to class one morning, and Betty, Archie, and Jughead all stood with him and clapped, Archie whooping to fill the uncomfortable silence that filled the volume of the bus after Kevin had finished. The bus driver simply told them to sit down in a tired voice.
Most ended up not caring, and those that did had to deal with Archie, and no one really wanted to deal with Archie.
“I know. Good thing I did, then no one could’ve tried and accused me that I was doing it for attention, or to be apart of the next “Millennial Trend”, or whatever it is old straight people like to complain about now a days,” Kevin says, huffing. “Not like the whole process of coming out is for their benefit or anything.”
“Right,” says Betty, nodding once in agreement. There’s a mild squint she gives, before she turns and faces Kevin, cutting him off from walking any further. Betty knows this sounds childish, but she has to ask. “I’m not ready for everyone to know just yet. That’s okay… Right?”
“Elizabeth Anne Cooper—“
“My middle name isn’t Anne, Kev.”
“I know it isn’t,” Kevin says, “But it’s what I have to work with considering you still don’t want me knowing, for some strange and unknown reason. Stop interrupting, Betty.”
“Alright, alright,” Betty says between a laugh, raising her hands in surrender. “Please, continue.”
“Elizabeth IStillDon’tKnowYourMiddleName Cooper, it is most definitely more than okay you are not ready to blow the world’s mind with this incredible news,” Kevin reaffirms, taking her shoulders in his hands and placing a chaste kiss to her forehead. Then he wraps an arm around her shoulder, continuing to walk on. “Maybe one day you can say whatever to whomever, what you want isn't impossible, but for now? We will privately celebrate with some ice cream and binge-watching of our favorite T.V. shows. Deal?”
“Sounds amazing, Kev,” Betty says, her arm wrapping around his waist as they continue to walk back to Kevin’s house. “Any other thoughts, questions, concerns?”
Kevin hums thoughtfully, before swiftly snapping his fingers in exaggeration.
“Tumblr was actually right about something for once. Your friend group does end up getting gayer when you’re older.”
--
Pop’s café is alight with teenagers needing a place to eat post victory of the first football game of the season.
It’s probably breaking the capacity limit, but these nights always end up bringing Pop’s the most business, so he always tries to set up a few extra tables here and there outside. Even so, the place is beyond packed.
It had been Veronica’s idea after everyone had met up to find Archie on the field with an arm around Val’s shoulder, bright eyed and shimmering in the post-victory adrenaline, the energy coming off him like a beacon that had everyone gravitating to him. The ache of her crush on Archie has subsided to a minor bruise now, barely painful unless she thinks too hard about it. Nonetheless she smiles at the sight of Archie and Val together, genuinely happy for one of her best friends to finally be in a happy and healthy relationship.
They’re sat in a half-circle type booth, mostly reserved for large parties, but luckily snatched up by the four of them before another group could steal it. Archie and Val on one side, with Betty and Veronica on the other.
Betty tries to ignore the overall double date feeling of all this.
“Well, I already know the line to the bathroom is about to be as bad as that 50% off sale at Chanel a few months back,” Veronica announces, shuddering. If the wait for their waters and to take their orders is anything to go by, the line must be long. “Wish me luck. Betty, care to join me?”
Betty glances at Veronica, radiating and glowing underneath the diner lights, and the line that somehow has gotten longer the last time she checked. “Nope, sorry, V,” she answers, sipping on her ice water. “I’ll be there with you in spirit though.”
“Traitor,” teases Veronica with a playful narrow of her eyes. “Don’t miss me too much, Bets. Or do. Your choice.”
Veronica spins with a force that has her cheerleader skirt twirling with her, the mess of colors and skin leaving Betty staring after her, her cheeks feeling way too hot under the harsh lighting, and deciding she needs water. Stat.
After sitting there a few moments after Veronica leaves, Betty maybe has second thoughts about staying behind.
Because no matter how happy she is that they’re together and happy, nobody likes being a third wheel to a very obvious date. Archie is talking into Val’s ear so she can hear him despite the noise of the jukebox and the overlapping chatter of the diner, making Val laugh so hard that her hair bounces with her. Their eyes are only on each other. It makes something ache inside Betty.
It’s not because of her former crush on Archie though. That’s all she knows for sure.
Staring at them now, hoping not to seem too creepy despite the fact neither one of them has their eyes on her, Betty doesn’t blame Archie for not returning his feelings for her. Val is gorgeous and cool, a member of a successful band and a lover of music, who has a gorgeous smile and matching dimples to boot. Her blue eyes seem impossibly lighter under the hanging lights, captivating and beautiful. Betty glances down from her face to her neck, notices the faint signs of small hickies finally nearing the end of the healing process, and flushes faintly at the indication.
It’s hard not to picture Archie and Val making out on top of his bed. She’s pictured herself plenty of times in Val’s place, but now she’s picturing herself in Archie’s, then both of theirs. Either option has her face feeling far too hot for a November evening.
Betty swallows down more water until all she has left is ice.
Once she realizes that she’s okay and won’t inevitably end up making a fool of herself in front of Val, Betty clears her throat and asks, “Hey, Val? When are the Pussycats having their next show?”
“Oh. You really wanna know?” Val brightens up at the question, sitting up closer. It’s cute, and Betty has no shame in thinking so. Archie seems to think the same, because his attention is all on her, listening to every word with a warm smile on his face. “Don’t tell Josie I told you, but our next big show, and I mean bigger than the Talent Show, is for Riverdale’s Winter Fest. We’ve been practicing nonstop.”
“Trust me, I know,” says Archie, his fingers brushing along her sides in a soothing manner. Betty wonders if he even realizes that he’s doing it. “I’ve already told you guys that you already sound amazing. The sets they have lined up for it right now are seriously good, Betty, you’ll love it.”
“We know,” Val agrees with a confidence that comes with being a Pussycat and knowing you’re the best. “You should totally come see us, Betty. I’ll talk about getting you into the V.I.P. section. Josie already likes Veronica, and I guess I like Archie—“ Archie interrupts by squeezing Val’s sides, earning a dimpled grin and a playful swat his way before she continues, “And you’re pretty cool to hang with, too.”
“Thank you,” Betty says with a smile, her cheeks dusted pink. “I’d really love for that to happen.”
“Don’t mention it. I hope you can make it,” says Val, her side leaning into Archie's, “The Pussycats are always in need of more groupies, or so Josie says.”
Val sends a flirty smirk towards Archie, but then to Betty’s surprise, turns to her and winks at Betty from across the table.
Betty throws the glass back so she can at least chew the ice.
Veronica returns a few moments later, the smell of soap and coconut from her expensive tastes in shampoos giving her away. There’s a level of comfort that washes over Betty at the sight of Veronica returning, a small smile forming on her face that Veronica immediately returns. It’s a moment, Betty’s sure. It’s something that Veronica has to feel with Betty, maybe not completely in the same way Betty means it, but close. Really close.
All she wants to do is reach over and grasp her hand in hers.
“Having fun with those two lovebirds over there?” Veronica asks, her smile sharp but ultimately unthreatening. Maybe it had been once upon a time, but it isn’t with Betty, and she likes that. “I can see how red you are all the way from the bathroom. It’s adorable.”
Betty flushes even worse.
“I have to pee,” she blurts out, which isn’t actually what she meant to say, but actually realizes is true after she’s said them. “Tell me the truth, how bad is it in there?”
“You definitely should have kept me company is all I’ll tell you. Now go, hurry, before they come with our milkshakes and yours ends up being melted because of your poor choices.”
“Right,” Betty says with a playful roll of her eyes, “Don’t miss me too much.”
“Oh, Betty,” says Veronica, a simple fondness in her tone, “There’s never going to be too much of me missing you.”
--
A few weeks later, and Josie and the Pussycats are playing tonight. For Veronica, that’s enough of a reason for her and Betty to dress up for the evening.
That’s how Betty ends up here, in Veronica’s bedroom, facing her enormous closet and trying to keep herself from staring too long at her. There’s music playing in the background and Betty’s stomach is in knots, but she couldn’t be happier.
“Are you sure we should even go dress up for this anymore?” Betty asks, a questioning look on her face. “I heard it was supposed to rain sometime tonight, and I wouldn’t want to let all of this go to waste.”
“Rule one in the fashionista world, Betty, is that you never need a reason to dress up. Rule two, if you don’t want to dress up, that’s totally fine, too. No presh. I just thought it’d be fun for the both of us to do together,” Veronica says, holding up a few dresses in front of her frame, then in front Betty’s. “And a little rain won’t hurt, I’ve endured plenty of it. The worst it will do is make my hair frizzy, at most, and I still manage to look killer.”
Betty chews the inside of her cheek, then shakes her head with a smile. “You already did my hair, so let’s do it.”
“Perfect!” Veronica claps her hands together in excitement, before handing Betty the dress she currently holds in her hand. “Try this on. It will look way better on you than it ever has on me. Trust. Unfortunately, I don’t have the legs for them, but you luckily do.”
Veronica pulls out another dress she’s had her eye on since Betty’s been over, and starts to undress, and Betty takes the cue to turn around and do the same. Once she’s finally dressed, her dress formfitting and stopping a little bit above the knee, she turns back around and looks, really looks, at Veronica.
Dressed in a dark dress with a jewels and beads that shine against the lights of her vanity set, her pearls placed perfectly atop, not a hair out of place. It’s as if Betty’s staring at an actress, or a queen, or a goddess.
Betty’s heart beats that much faster at the sight of her.
“Wow, look at you, B,” Veronica says, her eyes wandering Betty’s frame from head to toe. “See? I told you that dress would look absolutely killer on you. I love when I'm right.”
“Veronica, you look…” Betty breathes out, completely at a loss for words, even more so when Veronica takes a step closer to smooth out the sides of Betty’s dress. This isn’t something she can keep in though. “You look incredible.”
Veronica goes still, her gaze meeting Betty’s in stunned silence.
Betty’s not sure why. Veronica has probably been told that and more plenty of times by plenty of other different people that aren’t her. But the soft look on Veronica’s face and the way her eyes are dark and entranced, makes Betty realize that she doesn’t care either about all those other people, or all those other times. All she cares about now is Veronica before her.
Veronica’s kindness, Veronica’s beauty, Veronica’s strength.
There’s a stray strand of hair in Veronica’s face, right across the bright of her nose, and Betty gently tucks it behind her ear, her fingers skittering over Veronica’s too hot skin as she brushes her soft hair off her shoulder. Betty can see the way Veronica’s eyes glance towards Betty’s lips then meeting her gaze again.
Everything in Betty’s stomach twists in an all too pleasant way, like it does when a rollercoaster is climbing to the top, everything in her building and building, waiting for the drop.
What you want isn’t impossible.
Something tightens in her throat, choking her and making it impossible to breathe. Sweat covers her palms, everything suddenly deafened by the sound of her own rapid pulse. Betty drops her hand and away from her like she’d been burned, then her gaze. She can’t bring herself to look at Veronica’s questioning gaze, shame curdling in her gut at the thought. This isn’t what was supposed to happen, and they both know this.
Betty just feels nauseous.
“I think,” she starts, taking a step away to catch her breath, to quell the fear, “I think we should start heading out now, before we’re late.”
Veronica looks her over, the questioning look in her gaze still ever present, looking as if she wants to ask Betty if she’s okay or what the hell just happened. Betty hopes she doesn’t, because she can’t answer either of those right now.
“Right. Totally, you’re right,” Veronica finally says, clearing her throat before shining a comforting smile, “Whatever you feel like or don’t feel like doing, I’ll follow your lead. Like I said before, Betty, no presh.”
They both know that what she says isn’t just because Betty wanted to leave for the show already.
It settles the storm inside her anyway.
--
Val came through with the V.I.P. tickets, and Betty and friends have optimal viewing of their show.
Riverdale’s Winter Fest is beautiful as always. Dangling lights twinkle all around the stage and crisscrossing over each other amongst the drizzling night sky. There’s fake snow everywhere, as if emphasizing the brisk air surrounding them, decorations of gingerbread men and Santa Clause’s lined up left and right. Bright and colorful lights shine and flash from the stage. To top it all off, the Pussycats are playing from a mix of their original songs and their own rendition of Christmas classics, looking gorgeous as they do.
Safe to say, everything about the Fest is perfect.
Well, almost perfect.
The Pussycats end up taking their first break of the evening, the absence of music filled with a radio station they’ve picked up. Josie, Val, and Melody all go grab a bottle of water before joining the rest of them in the V.I.P. section until they’re back on stage for another set.
Archie walks up to meet with Val, her arms wrapping around both their shoulders as Archie animatedly speaks to her about great her performance went, with Jughead looking over Archie’s face.
Veronica and Kevin, with Cheryl joining a few moments after, speak amongst each other as they try to come up with ways to convince Joaquin to come join the rest of them at Winter Fest.
Betty simply stands next to them, tugging lamely at the sleeve of Veronica’s coat.
This is probably her fault because she can’t stop thinking about earlier and how she messed up her opportunity to kiss Veronica and how she nearly scared herself to death at the prospect of it, even though all she’s wanted is to do that again. Nothing changed with her and Veronica, no awkward air between them because that isn’t Veronica, but Betty dwells. This is her confused, messy grave she’s dug for herself, and she’s not sure how she managed to do that in the first place.
She forces herself not to glance in Veronica’s direction again, even though it’s painful, until her gaze lands on someone else. Anyone else.
Two someone else’s actually.
Josie and Melody are off to the side by themselves, perfectly content with that fact. Everything about Josie is tense, like she’s coiled and ready to spring forward at any moment, her gaze focused. Melody is rubbing her arm softly, her eyes warm and looking at Josie with the most love stricken face Betty’s ever seen.
“Josie, relax. Our first set went amazing as you knew it would, and it’s our break,” says Melody, before fixing Josie’s cat ears even though they didn’t even look that crooked to begin with. “Let her talk with her boyfriend and… friend? Whatever. We’ll be up in a few minutes again anyway.”
“Exactly, she should be focused still,” counters Josie, finally turning her gaze towards Melody once she plays with one of Josie’s curls. Something aches in Betty’s chest, the memory of soft hair and almosts still on her fingertips. “This is our biggest performance, Mel. We can’t be losing our mojo now.”
“I know, I know,” Melody says, her voice soft. “And we’re killing it, babe, but I’m getting kind of jealous and I really want to talk for my girlfriend for a little, not my band mate.”
Josie’s face softens momentarily at the words, turning her attention to smile at Melody briefly. “You do know you’re dating both, right? I don’t just turn this off when we start talking.”
“Will you ever just let me kiss you without you needing to be difficult?”
“Mm, nah,” Josie answers, the sweet smile from before transforming into a smirk. “Probably not anytime soon.”
Melody rolls her eyes and tugs Josie by her costume in for a kiss, with Josie wrapping her arms around Melody’s neck and falling into it. It’s sweet and familiar, something they’re confident in, something that doesn’t waver. They’ve never been shy of P.D.A. when Betty occasionally sees them outside of school, but Josie’s so professional Betty’s actually has never seen them kiss purposefully in front of other people like this, especially during a performance.
It’s beautiful. They both are, individually, aesthetic wise and personality wise, but the act itself has Betty feeling warm throughout her despite the cold. The ache worsens at the sight, despite the fact that the sight of them brings her an unnamable joy.
Betty knows this is what she wants. The relationship, the soft touches, the kisses. It’s the same ache she’s felt for Archie once upon a time. The same she felt while watching Archie and Val in the booth across from hers. The same one she’s sure Jughead feels for Archie.
There’s a different ache though. A new one that hasn’t always been there until this all started.
Betty wants the confidence Josie and Melody have when they kiss each other in public. The same confidence Kevin had that day on the bus, standing tall, probably expecting ridicule instead of the applause he got. The same one Veronica has whenever she talks about being bisexual without giving a damn on what anyone else thinks.
It’s something she’s been learning to build in herself against the biting words of her mother, the expectations put upon her shoulder, whatever the hell anyone else expects of her. Betty’s been building and building throughout it all year, searching for clues for Jason Blossom’s murder, dealing with Ms. Grundy preying on her best friend, with Jughead being wrongfully accused.
That is what she wants more than anything, but for this part of her. The part of her that wants to kiss her best friend in the middle of her room, the way she flushes if a beautiful girl winks at her across a table at a diner, the soft warmth that spreads throughout her witnessing two beautiful women in love. This vulnerable, new, untainted part of herself that no one has tried to twist into what they want yet.
And it’s not as unattainable as she thinks.
“Uh, hello, Barbie,” Josie says, breaking Betty out of her thoughts at the realization that Josie and Melody have stopped kissing a while ago. “Can I help you or something? If you’re going to stare for that long, you should at least pay me for the honor.”
Betty blinks for a moment, then realize how she must have come across, and shakes her head quickly. “No, no, sorry. I didn’t mean to stare or anything, or be weird, but you two were just… really cute.”
Josie quirks a single brow, looking over Betty once. “Well, you're not wrong.”
She’s not sure if that means she’s in the clear or not, but Betty’s not going to push it.
“Thanks for the compliment,” says Melody, her arm fastened securely around Josie’s waist. “We actually should be heading backstage now though. Only five minutes left before show time.”
Betty nods slowly, smiling as the three of them walking backstage.
There’s a moment where Betty glances back at Veronica, who’s already looking at her with soft eyes and understanding, and Betty wonders if she had been listening the whole time. Betty wonders if that even matters anymore.
Swallowing hard, Betty takes a few steps back until their shoulders are brushing. Their arms brush, laying still at each of their sides, their fingers occasionally skimming and sending sparks all throughout her fingertips to the top of her arm. It’s too much and not enough all at once, only leaving Betty wanting more. The next time their fingertips brush, Betty hooks her fingers along Veronica’s, hoping the other can’t feel how much her palms are sweating.
Veronica squeezes her fingers, and the ache in Betty’s chest lessens.
--
The plan had been this: B&V study date, maybe try out a few working theories for motivations behind Jason’s death, and definitely head over to Pop’s for milkshakes and a hot plate of cheesy fries.
They couldn’t have opened their books for more than five seconds before Betty realized it had been a pipe dream.
It starts off with talking about Betty’s childhood pictures plastered around the halls of her house. Along with Veronica suspiciously complimenting the one where Betty’s two front teeth are missing and looking like the pinnacle of disaster child, mud splattered on her face and with matted hair to match. And just as Betty finally gets Veronica to her room, ignoring the whines and protests of Veronica wanting to see her parents room (“Why would you want to see their room?” “Just curious to see if they sleep in coffins or not, Betty. Duh.”), Veronica doesn’t even open her book. She investigates Betty’s room with a surprising amount of ease, like she already knew what she’d be able to find and where. Betty can’t tell if she’s impressed Veronica knows her that well or if she’s really just that predictable.
After a good few hours of Veronica snooping (even if she does violently object to that term) through her old CD’s and DVD’s, back when they were actually a thing that mattered—before Netlix, she calls it on studying, hands flown up in the air in defeat. Betty merely watches on, cap of the pen between her teeth and smile on full display, flat on her stomach with her book flipped open and not even being read.
“I, for one, think I did enough research to last a life time,” sighs Veronica as she falls back on Betty’s bed. There’s a bit of a bounce from the force, one that causes her to smirk the way Betty loves whenever they get into a rush. “I think we deserve a break.”
“We didn’t even get past chapter ten,” Betty reminds, corner of her lips twitching upwards. Although she can’t really complain either way, considering she had just spent majority of ‘study time’ watching Veronica snoop around her room.
“It’s not like Mr. Ross doesn’t read off the power-point in class. What is even the point if he just puts them up on his website anyway?” Veronica pfts and flicks her hand in dismissal. “Let’s just call it for a day. Both of us deserve to have a girl’s night in. No boys, no homework, no crazy murder or suburban conspiracies. Just us two, relaxing, in your baby pink room.”
“Sounds like a date,” Betty says, not missing the way Veronica’s face perks up at the last word. She smiles, already setting her books to the side and off her bed, before taking a quick glance around her room. “And, besides, it’s more of a cotton candy pink anyway.”
“Touché.”
Now they’re simply lying in Betty’s bed, listening to Betty tell some conversation of childhood memories from back before Veronica even knew Riverdale existed. Veronica head is resting against Betty’s lap, her attention focused on Betty’s face, never missing a beat of the story. The absurd amount of pillows is the only reason Betty isn’t all but flat along the expanse of her bed, but she likes this view. She gets to see Veronica’s face and is able to watch her face light up at a particular detail, and she has perfect access with combing her fingers through Veronica’s unsurprisingly soft and silky locks.
It’s nice. Soothing. There’s a sereneness in the expanse of Betty’s room, like this is some liminal space. The outside world and all its problems and dangers don’t filter their way in here right now. It’s like their own personal bubble, where no one else exists. Like no one else can touch them, these two single souls merging.
Even just Veronica’s presence alone brings this feeling to her, but it feels exemplified in the privacy of Betty’s room. Veronica’s like an anchor, always making Betty feel the most comfortable, the most herself. In here, just the two of them, it’s overwhelming instead of anchoring, filling the space with the warmth that comes from a sunrise after a freezing night.
Just two best friend together. That’s all this is, and a little something more.
“And you did what now?” Veronica asks after Betty finishes the climax to her story, the look of shock plastered over all of her features. Her eyes are alight with curiosity and her smile is three times as big as normal and Betty can’t help the way she smiles in tandem. “Betty Cooper, that sounds so scandalous, and absolutely nothing like you. You stealing firearms is definitely less wild than how this sounds.”
“God, I know, I know,” Betty playfully groans, her hand on her forehead as she all but laughs into the crook of her arm. “Like I said, I hadn’t realized Jughead had brought those kinds of special brownies.”
“My Betty. A stoner. Words I never thought I’d hear before in my life.”
Betty’s stomach flips. The words my Betty ringing in her ear like a song.
“For one thing, I’ve only had the one. And when Jughead said special, I honestly thought he meant some sort of special recipe!” Betty laughs, cheeks dusted pink at her attempt to defend herself under the prosecution, and other usual Veronica-related reasons. “I still feel bad though. Archie still doesn’t trust Jughead and I in a room together, especially if there’s ice and firecrackers in the premises.”
“Archiekins is a big boy, I’m sure he holds no ill will against you,” Veronica says with a smile. Her gaze glances over Betty’s face for a split moment, and Betty doesn’t ignore how soft she looks through the light shining through her bedroom window. “You’re one of those people it’d be impossible to stay mad at. I think it might have something to do with your eyes.”
“Oh yeah?” Betty asks, quirking her brow. “What about them?”
“They’re big and innocent. Bambi eyes,” Veronica informs, like she’s given serious thought about this. “Anyone who doesn’t know you would expect you to get down on your knees and pray for forgiveness for squishing a bug, or something like, but I being me and your literal soul mate, just so you know, know better.”
“You just said I’m easily forgiveable,” Betty says, unsure of how to respond to the soul mate bit without her cheeks burning.
Veronica smiles and rolls her eyes. “I didn’t say I was immune.”
Betty smiles, her head ducking for a moment before she flicks her gaze back to Veronica. “You’re forgetting that you have that power over me too. It only took me, what, a day to forgive you after Cheryl’s party?”
“Are you trying to compete over who’s more impossible to stay angry at?” Veronica asks, a challenging tilt of her brow accompanying her. “Because you’ll lose, Betty. Very easily. Sorry not sorry.”
“I’m pretty sure I’d do better than you think.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes, I know you, and I know how you and I work together,” Betty confirms. “Like you said, we’re soul mates. It’s all apart of the Veronica Lodge package.”
There’s a quiet lull that falls over them, nothing uncomfortable or awkward, because Betty never has that feeling around Veronica, but it holds a certain weight that she can’t ignore. The only sounds come from Betty’s overhead fan and the garbled voices on the T.V., but the silence is somehow louder than both of those combined.
Betty has her fingers raking through Veronica’s silky, dark hair, needing something to distract her, and simply because she wants to. Has wanted to for quite a while now.
It’s like Betty’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, but her stomach isn’t twisting like it does with her mother. Her pule is even, her breathing soft and steady. This is the most relaxed she’s ever been, even despite everything surrounding Riverdale and their turbulent and trying lives.
Safety. That’s what this is.
“Betty, I have a question,” Veronica announces, breaking the silence.
It causes Betty to stop brushing her fingers through her hair. Veronica sounds very professional and business like, as if she’s ready to discuss a deal or close a deal instead of whatever she had been building up to. It’s a little off-kilter of the current mood in the air, but she looks cool and collected, so Betty doesn’t worry.
At least not too much, anyway.
“Sure. Yeah, of course,” Betty answers, moving to brush the last strands off her face and behind her ear. She sits up a little then, just as Veronica has, and smacks her hands together, eyes focused. “Uh, ask away I guess then.”
With a soft chuckle and a shake of her head, Veronica merely asks, “You like me, right?”
“Of course I do,” Betty answers so fast she’s almost tripping over her words. She wonders if Veronica’s feeling as if Betty’s liked her less as Betty is undergoing learning this newly discovered part of herself. “I know I’ve been… weird lately, but that’s—it’s not because of you, Veronica. Promise. ”
This is what she means: yes, I like you. In one way, more ways, and all the ways she could possibly mean it.
She’s not as self-unaware as some people may think.
“No, Betty. I mean, like me the way I like you.” Betty can only swallow hard, her focus unwavering. “For example, wanting to kiss you every time you do something dangerous like breaking into vehicles and private property, because it’s stupidly hot and heroic. Or even if it’s just because you ducked your head because I reminded you of how badass you are, which for some reason you always like to forget,” Veronica states as if it’s a fact. There’s a part of Betty that glows at the knowledge that this is all probably fact for her. “I like you in the wanting to take you out to Pop’s kind of way and sharing a single milkshake, even if it’s plain old vanilla anyway. I wouldn’t even care because I’d just want to be spending time with you.”
All her words have always have held such weight for Betty, even from the first moment she’s met Veronica, she had a way of making her words captivating and unable to look away. It’s this electric and only exemplified a thousand times right here, right now. Betty can’t stop listening, even though it’s beginning to get harder and harder to comprehend that this is actually happening, right here, right now.
Betty’s jaw hangs slightly open. There’s barely any time to process any of this but Veronica trailblazes onwards without a hitch of her breath, with Betty trying to rush and catch up with her.
“Look, let me know if I’m ever too much or too forward. I haven’t exactly been hiding anything, in case you haven’t noticed.” Veronica smirks at her like this is nothing, easy. Betty wonders if she’s secretly afraid or if she’s actually this confident, or if she really is able to handle a conversation like this without a stutter or a slip. And Betty’s selfish, because she likes the idea that no matter the outcome, Veronica trusts Betty with this to not turn her away, to not let this ruin them. “I like you, Betty, even more than like you a good majority of the time. And it’s okay if you don’t like me. I don’t care,” Veronica pause for just a moment, before she adds, “Okay, I care, obviously. What I mean is, I just want to be your friend, first and foremost, before anything happens or doesn’t happen between us. That’s always what it’s been for me.”
Betty wants to stop her right there, but her lips are parted and the functionality to use her words? Broken. Fried. Done-zo. She honestly feels as if her brain might be disconnected from the rest of her body, but she feels pretty in the moment, so se can’t be sure.
“I just want to know what you’re thinking. Because sometimes I look at you and think you might feel the same way too,” she says. There’s a lilt of buried hope in her tone that has Betty heart’s coiling in her chest. “And other times? I think I that I’m just way in over my head here.”
You’re not, Betty thinks desperately, wishing Veronica can read her thoughts, I feel this, I do, I do, I do.
Veronica takes a deep breath, hands clasping together quickly as she shares a smile towards Betty. Betty sure doesn’t miss the way Veronica’s gaze is locked on hers, questioning, or the fact that they’re so close together.
“So, are you going to say something?”
Betty surges forward and kisses her like she’s wanted to since the first day she met her.
If their first kiss was hot and for show, leaving Betty breathless and shaking and only wanting more and more, this is sweet, and gentle, and makes Betty want to give and give until she has nothing left to offer Veronica. It’s slow, both of their eyes fluttering shut at the contact of her lips, soft like rose petals. In all the ways Betty’s pictured their second kiss, she never thought of it like this, but now she wouldn’t change it for anything else. Betty can feel the brush of Veronica’s lashes against her own, something she couldn’t remember the first time they did this, something she wants to keep to her memory now.
Veronica’s soft. Betty’s hands are cradling her cheeks, her jaw, the pads of her thumbs stroking along the smooth skin, feeling the way Veronica shivers under her touch. This close, the coconut from her shampoo is strong, settling everything in Betty. It makes her dream of kissing her far, far away from Riverdale. Just the two of them on a beach, the soft waves crashing along the shore, the two of them wanting to watch a sunset together but distracted by this. All of this.
When they finally pull apart, cheeks flushed and breathless, they smile before it turns into unconstrained giggling. Betty hasn’t moved her hands from her cheeks, she can feel the moment where the muscles in Veronica’s mouth lifts up, the way her whole body moves with it.
Veronica lets her forehead rest against Betty’s, her lips close to hers as she says, “That wasn’t an answer, Betty.”
“It wasn’t?” Betty asks, her eyes fluttering open, because she could’ve sworn it was. There’s a smile on her face, her nose brushing softly against Veronica’s. “I thought I made myself pretty obvious there for a second.”
Betty can feel Veronica’s smile against her lips, and she can’t but mirror it.
“Do you like me, Betty?”
“I do.”
“Do you want to be my girlfriend, Betty?”
“I do.”
“Are you ready to be my girlfriend, Betty?”
“I am,” Betty answers, her eyes flicking to meet Veronica’s, dark and beautiful. “My mom can’t know.”
Veronica nods, simply and without protest. “I know.”
“I wish I could give you more than that,” Betty confesses, quietly. “Wish I could be more for you."
“I know that, too,” Veronica replies, soft. She brushes Betty’s hair back by the palm of her hand, and it soothes and settles something in Betty’s chest. “Not at the risk of your mom sending you away though, or doing something more insane than what she’s already tried to do. You don’t need to be anything more for me than you are right now, you know that.”
Betty raises a curious brow. “And you're sure you won’t mind?”
“What?” Veronica asks, dumbfounded. “Oh Betty, I don’t care if I can’t rub it in the face of every single person who lives in this town in order to make them jealous. Perfectly wasted moment and opportunity, but one I can live without.” There’s a playful smirk there, and Betty laughs quietly, shaking her head as she pictures what that kind of life would be like. “I’m fine with whatever you want to do, as long as I’m there with you.”
Something’s making Betty’s eyes burn with tears. It might be because of the dust in her room, but she as soon as Veronica cradles Betty’s cheek in the palm of her hand that that’s just a boldfaced lie
“And besides,” Veronica continues idly, like they’re sharing gossip instead of emotional and heartfelt confessions on Betty’s bed. “I totally would love to be your dirty little secret. Very hot and scandalous.”
Betty actually laughs, and shakes her head, smiling all the while. “You wouldn’t be my dirty little secret.” She’s glancing up at Veronica then, on the way her single perfectly sculpted brow peaks in interest. “More like a secret I don’t want anyone to ruin just yet.”
The smile on Veronica’s face softens, her whole face radiating with a warmth that spreads through Betty. Then she leans forward and takes to kissing Betty again, slow and gentle and comforting. Betty merely sinks into it, giving back as much as she takes from her.
“You’re my girlfriend,” Veronica mumbles quietly against her lips, before kissing the corner of Betty’s mouth, her cheek, her temple. “I don’t care about how we show that, just that we are.”
“Yes, yeah, I’m your girlfriend,” Betty agrees, smiling brightly and slightly breathless. Her cheeks hurt, achy and on fire, but it’s nothing that she’d want to change. "And now you're mine.”
This is a cliché: two teenagers kissing on her bed while her parents are out, breathless and giggly with it. A special secret in a small town where secrets are revealed and torn apart and ripped up until they’re changing and hurting lives. A good girl with a girl who feels like she needs to try to be good, but already is. All of this is a cliché, but some clichés are popular for a reason, Betty realizes. It's good, so good, and that's enough.
They kiss and kiss and kiss, until there’s nothing left to do but kiss some more.