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From the first night she met him, Veronica Lodge had a crush on Jughead Jones.
That first moment of him launching himself over the booth behind them so that he could wiggle in between her and the wall at Pop’s, as if he owned the place, as if he knew her—that kind of casual confidence didn’t come easy. Then there was the dry humor, the intelligent conversation; they spent all night testing each other, trying to find gaps in each other’s knowledge to lord over one another. Once or twice they had completely lost Betty and Archie, only reigning in the talk when they picked up on the blank stares.
Veronica knew she had a crush, but she also saw the way Jughead looked at Betty. He was smitten with the blonde, full blown head over heels. So what that Betty was oblivious right then; she wouldn’t be forever, and Veronica had already put her friendship on thin ice with the Archie situation. She knew how to learn from her mistakes.
So Veronica made a point to not seek out Jughead. She couldn’t cultivate a crush if she didn’t spend time with him. She wouldn’t give into her desire for all things tall, dark, and brooding. Riverdale was a fresh start for a multitude of reasons. One of things she knew she wanted was a nice, uncomplicated boyfriend. Someone that made her smile, and kept her feeling safe. Archie Andrews was the inevitable choice.
For a while it was good. Better than good, Veronica was happy. He loved her, she loved him. Simple.
Then it stopped being simple.
It made it easy to give in and kiss Jughead on the dare.
She hadn’t expected to still be thinking about it over a day later.
Veronica sat on a barstool, elbows resting on the bar that cut the kitchen from the living room, staring at the same page of a magazine she had been looking at for the last ten minutes. She wore a short silk robe over her nightgown, her hair piled in a messy bun on her head, a glass of wine sitting next to her hand on the bar. Archie had passed out over an hour ago, having once again drunk a bit too much, even without the party atmosphere. Veronica knew she should have been pissed, but she didn’t mind. Her thoughts kept circling fretfully; from the shady war she was currently waging with her father, to the distance she felt growing between herself and Archie, to the steamy, heart pounding, head spinning kiss she shared with Jughead the night before, and back around again.
She almost had herself convinced it was merely hormones and alcohol concocting an arousing but ultimately meaningless response... But then she remembered the terrible, heartbroken expression on Jughead’s face in the hallway. She remembered her overwhelming urge to take his face in her hands and will away his pain. She remembered wanting to kiss him so long and so deep that he forgot Betty Cooper’s name.
The sound of a door shutting jolted Veronica out of her thoughts, her posture straightening up on the bar stool. Her pulse involuntarily quickened when she saw Jughead hurry into the kitchen. He wore a dark green terry robe, his hair a mess of damp, unruly curls with no beanie in sight to tame them. He moved so quickly toward the sink that he didn’t even notice Veronica until he was practically right in front of her, and he jumped involuntarily.
“Can’t sleep?” Veronica asked with an arched eyebrow. The longer she looked at him, the more she realized this was more than just insomnia. If she had to put a name on it, he looked... flustered.
“Uh, is Archie awake?” Jughead asked. He moved over to the fridge, opening it up but ultimately not pulling anything out.
“Archie is in the dead to the world phase of drunk,” she said. “It’ll take at least four more hours and a seriously strong Sumatra coffee to rouse him.” She watched Jughead continue to fuss around the kitchen, and realized he was trying to avoid making eye contact.
“Coffee, coffee sounds good,” he mumbled, more to himself than anyone else, and began to hunt through the cabinets.
Veronica leaned to one side, trying to get a view down to the hallway where the bedrooms were. But the cabin was quiet and still, except for Jughead’s rummaging. “Is everything okay?”
“Fine,” Jughead replied quickly. Too quickly, for sure. “Everything’s fine.”
For a moment the air hung heavy with their silence, Veronica watching him get the coffee started up. The action seemed to sooth him a bit, so that by the time the hissing of the coffee pot began, he managed to meet her concerned stare.
Jughead licked his lips nervously, moving to lean forward on the bar, elbows resting almost directly across from Veronica’s. “So. You’d be what I can objectively qualify as, uh, more... experienced than me.”
Veronica’s eyebrows shot up. “As an objective qualifier, you’d probably be right,” she said slowly. “I’m guessing Betty is—“
“Yeah,” he cut in quickly. An embarrassed flush started to creep into his face as he examined the marble of the bar. “Yeah, so, anyway, hypothetically, say you were with someone who was... interested in things that you—not so much...?”
For a moment Veronica could only stare in confusion, before pieces clicked together in her head. “Oh.” Her gaze flicked unconsciously back toward the bedrooms. “So Betty asked you to explore some stuff—“
“She didn’t ask!” Jughead blurted out in a panicked whisper. “Sh-she just walked right in with this whole Regina Mistress of Pain thing full on, I don’t even know where she got a riding crop from, and I recognize BDSM as a healthy perfectly acceptable kink to have but we only had sex for the first time like three weeks ago and she springs this out and given my social upbringing I’m not really sure someone calling me names and telling me to do demeaning things will ever be more than just... name calling and demeaning.”
He finally sucked in a breath and dropped his head into his hands. Veronica blinked, taking a moment to process the rushed admission.
“I know I said if you ever wanted to talk about things, but I didn’t know you’d want me to be your sex therapist,” she finally said playfully.
Jughead groaned into his hands. “God, forget it—forget it, this is such a disaster vacation.”
“Hey, I’m only teasing.” Veronica reached out, gently guiding his head back up to look at her. The skin of his jaw was distractingly warm, with just the finest hint of stubble like sandpaper on her fingertips. She willed herself to focus. “If it makes you feel better, I really don’t think Archie would have been capable of having a conversation about this either.”
Jughead snorted. “You’re probably right—he’d be all, ‘I can’t see Betty like that, man!’” He paused, his face darkening. “Except, I guess he can, if he can kiss her.”
The moment weighed on both of them, and made Veronica fall silent. She had told herself for weeks, for months, that she was proud of Archie for being honest with her, that it was a sign of the depth of their relationship. But her mind always wandered back to the long glances Archie gave whenever he watched Betty and Jughead from a distance, the wistful expression he allowed when he thought no one was watching.
You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone Veronica thought.
The sounds of Jughead pouring himself a cup of coffee brought her back to reality. He silently held up a mug, she nodded, and he set about making a second cup.
“I don’t think it’s wrong or bad or gross,” Jughead began again. He headed for the fridge, pulling out the milk and adding the smallest amount of Veronica’s mug, barely changing the color. “I just—I’m freaked out she’s bringing this out this soon. This could be a large piece of her sexuality, and it’s not for me.” He pulled out a teaspoon, drawing out a thin covering of raw sugar from the bag to drop into Veronica’s cup before stirring. “Pain is just painful for me and not much else.”
A perfect cup of coffee dropped down in front of Veronica and she looked at it with wonder. Jughead hadn’t even been thinking about it, he made her coffee like he did it every morning. “How did you...?” she began as she picked up the mug.
Jughead just shrugged, his expression unreadable. “I’m observant.”
Veronica couldn’t help but smile softly. “Thanks,” she said, before taking a sip.
He nodded, taking a longer pull in his black coffee before sighing. “I was just so caught off guard. And I have a reputation for being unflappable, but I’ve been severely flapped several times already on this stupid vacation and I’m ready to go back to town drama if this is the alternative to it.”
“I’m sorry,” Veronica murmured. “You’re right, this really hasn’t been the get away I was hoping for.”
“You had good intentions. Your good intentions just happen to be a fantastic brick layer for Hell, is all.”
She rolled her eyes, despite the smile tugging at her lips. “Did you talk to her at all of did you just freak and bolt?”
“Kinda—both?” Jughead pulled a pained face. “I, uh, I might have said something along the lines of I’m pretty sure the first rule of BDSM is open and honest communication and no, it doesn’t sound fun for you to punish me over a kiss you dared me into. And then bolted.”
Veronica sighed, drumming her fingers against the ceramic mug. “I can understand the impulse, it sounds like Betty came on pretty strong. But you know the only real response is to talk about it.”
Jughead shifted uncomfortably, staring down into his coffee. “Talking is... not our strong suit anymore,” he muttered. “We could full volumes with all the things we don’t say.”
“I know what you mean,” Veronica confessed softly. She hesitated a moment, looking toward the hallway. “Archie took impressing my dad so seriously that I... God, I think he might have a better opinion of Daddy now than I do.”
For a moment both of them only drank their coffee, Veronica still perched on her bar stool, Jughead slouched over the other side of the bar facing her. She couldn’t help but watch him, observing a series of emotions fly across his face, and wishing she knew him well enough to interpret them. He dropped his head ever so slightly as he took another sip of coffee, a wave of hair tumbling down against one side of his face, and she barely contained the urge to run her fingers through it.
The crush on Jughead was long standing, but the chemistry with him was only just confirmed, and dizzingly fresh in her mind. It made it hard to ignore.
“Y’know... maybe we could talk more,” Jughead said slowly, not quite meeting her gaze. If she wasn’t mistaken, there was a hint of a flush in his face as he spoke. “Beyond this ridiculous weekend. Like friends are wont to do.”
It was a terrible idea. Veronica knew it for sure, and she felt as though he had to have some clue as well. The kind of fireworks that went off during their kiss couldn’t be one sided in her experience, and Jughead wasn’t an idiot. One on one time would only be tempting fate, and Veronica did not have the best record for impulse control, especially when it came to relationships.
So no one was more surprised than Veronica herself when she heard her own voice replying, “Well, I wouldn’t want to disappoint generations of friends wonts by denying tradition.”
A sly half smile graced Jughead’s lips, and Veronica felt her pulse jump slightly in response. “That’s the spirit,” he said, before draining his mug and placing it in the sink. “Well, I guess I avoided my relationship drama for long enough. Any last words of more experienced advice?”
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” she replied with a slightly naughty grin. Jughead rolled his eyes, and was definitely blushing now. With a wave he muttered his good night, and shuffled off to his bedroom.
Alone again, Veronica slipped off her bar stool and walked around into the kitchen. She stood over the sink a moment, her stomach suddenly rolling, and she tried to convince herself it was the combination of coffee and alcohol that made her feel vaguely nauseous, rather than the mental image of Jughead going off to have sex with his girlfriend.
She glanced over her shoulder, toward her own bedroom door where Archie lay sound asleep, and couldn’t think of a single reason she wanted to go back in there.
She sat up watching movies on Netflix until dawn, wishing she had never suggested coming here in the first place.