Archive of Our Own ^beta

Maybe it's because she has her hands on the wheel of Cheryl's iconic, Blossom-red, car, and she doesn't want to think about what it would mean if she parked it back in Riverdale with so much as a scuffed tire. Yes, that might be it. Against the steering wheel, her palms are clammy and they slide just that little bit further down with each bend in the road. She's used to the handles of her motorcycle, and the thrum of the engine between her legs. This, completely different gestures to the same end, having something with a back to sit on, leaning back instead of hunched over, this is something new. Toni just doesn't want to mess it up, especially after Cheryl's trusted her with her baby. 

With her chin briefly tucked in to her neck, Toni nods and tells herself that, yes, that's why her stomach is somersaulting.

But then Cheryl rests her hand over hers on the gearshift, and she knows it's something else. It's someone else. It's those words they said, back on the beach, and those moments, stumbling on the ice rink.

Toni thinks back to just an hour ago, when the world was fading shades of blue and pink and purple, and not this pitch black that she's honestly a little scared to be driving in. The breeze shifts, and Toni's shoulders jolt with the memory of Cheryl's arm resting around them, always so casual. The crescendo of the music lulling from the radio peaks with the chorus, and her ears echo with the recollection of Cheryl's words.

"Let's be a fabulous gay couple," they're nearing the beach, slowly, ankles still aching from the hour in those ill-fitting skating boots. Cheryl breaks the silence and, suddenly, her arm is around Toni's slim shoulders. She was cold after the ice rink, and the air this time of year has a bite to it, so she's wearing that extravagant red coat, the one with the faux-fur that could never have belonged to a real animal because it's just so long. It tickles at the back of Toni's neck. She doesn't complain; this really isn't something she wants to ruin. Even if she is weighed down by the silent just for tonight she knows Cheryl means to follow her statement. 

She snakes an arm around Cheryl's waist, pulling her just that little bit closer. "Okay," and she's agreeing with a forced laugh, throat dry. This is something she wants -- god, she's wanted this for months. But, not like this. Not when the words coming out of Cheryl's perfect red lips are all atmosphere and spur-of-the-moment silliness for her. But it's as close as she's going to get; so she'll take it.

They're on the beach now, and it's reached that point in the day when the light that winks back at them from the sea could be from the sun as it sinks, or the moon as it rises. It's that point in the day and that time of the year when no one really wants to be at the beach, so they have the place to themselves.

The ground shifts beneath them, but it's stones and not sand that means Cheryl is ducking down to take off her heels so she doesn't fall over and break a leg. Or worse, her shoes. She would have had to do the same with sand, though, and there's so much more variety with the stones. Toni knows this from countless daytrips down here as a child (her family never had the money to stay any longer). It's too dark to see that now, but that doesn't matter. Day has it's beauties (the color of sea and sky at midday, the hum of activity, being able to see the different shapes and shades of the stones at their feet), but so does night. The skeleton of a lighthouse is one such beauty. It's been there, thrust out of the sea like a mighty fist, ever since Toni can remember, and the way it's remains cast a shadow across the beach when the sun is low in the sky is almost better than all of the day's perks combined.

Toni loves this place.

"What do you think happened?" Cheryl speaks again, and Toni's thoughts are no longer of periodical wonders, but of the wonder at her side, beautiful through day and night. "To the lighthouse, I mean."

"Uhh," she's never given it much thought before. "I think it was arson. Burnt down years ago." The thoughts come slowly, struggling to break through the hazy knowledge that the Cheryl Blossom has her arm slung around her shoulders, suddenly the better half of their fabulous gay couple.

"Maybe it was a pirate ship," Cheryl muses, a curl in the corner of her mouth hinting at humor, "maybe they were just trying to guide them to shore, just doing their job. But the pirates were there to pillage and plunder, so they really didn't want anyone knowing they were there. The light from the lighthouse was giving them away. So, they stopped to burn it down before they got to shore."

"Hmm, very subtle," Toni laughs. This is out of character for Cheryl, to be so whimsical. She's definitely not complaining.

Cheryl nudges Toni's hip with her own. It's a shove, really, but the arm around her shoulder prevents her from stumbling. The fact that it's still there -- it's not uncomfortable yet, Cheryl's not budging, and neither is she -- sets the strangest mix of emotions to swirling in Toni's chest. There's happiness, because this is perfect; the two of them, coiled around each other and talking, just talking. And there's uncertainty; what does this mean for Cheryl, Cheryl who says she's straight? And, then, there's sadness, because there's the question, yeah, but deep down she knows that they're only a couple until they get back to the car, or maybe they'll make it all the way back to Riverdale first.

There's a silence that hangs in the air for a moment, but it isn't awkward. None of this is awkward yet. Not even Toni's fingers curling into Cheryl's waist to pull her a little closer. Not even a little bit.

Once again, it's Cheryl who breaks it with light conversation. Only, it's not so light. "Do you want kids?"

Now this, Toni has thought about. It's a quick yes, the one that jumps to her tongue. And then, a slower explanation, "I know my life right now doesn't seem at all like one that's gonna lead to children. I'm pretty much homeless, sleeping on a different couch every night, and life with the Serpents isn't the safest. But I feel like, knowing what I do, and with the experiences I have, I could give a kid a pretty good home. When I actually have one, that is."

"So, what, you'd want to adopt?" Somehow, Cheryl's tone this time is less theoretical than it was before. She's certainly not joking about pirate ships and flaming lighthouses anymore.

"Yeah." Adoption has always been her plan, if she was ever to have children. She has spent most of her childhood, and all of her teenage years, dodging social workers and the like in a desperate attempt to avoid the system, so it would only make sense to get someone out of it. And she would like to avoid pregnancy and childbirth at all costs. Since joining the Serpents, Toni's put her body through the ringer, but somehow that doesn't sound like a gauntlet she wants to run.

"Me too."

By the time they're at the car, they've named their children. 

Toni took a left where she should have taken a right a few miles back, insisting that she was taking Cheryl the 'scenic route', when really she just wanted the night to last just a little longer. They've lapsed into silence now, but the two hours of driving before this, they spent planning their lives together. They talk about how many years they'll date for before they get married, when they'll move in together, who's last name they'll take, who cooks dinner, who stays in with the kids and who works. They plan their wedding, down to the color scheme, and their honeymoon. The one thing they aren't quite sure about is the proposal; Toni's announced that she'll be the proposer, and Cheryl the proposee. But neither is quite sure of the specifics. They talk about these things like it's written in the stars, like they aren't just two friends playing around.

Friends. God, Toni loves being Cheryl's friend, she really does. But, fuck, she hates it.

And they're back home now, in Riverdale, where friends is all they really are. The fabulous gay couple that walked barefoot together on the beach and held hands in the car is no more. Cheryl offers Toni her couch (she offered her bed first, but that was too much), and she knows no one on the Southside is going to be pleased to have her knocking on their door in the middle of the night, but somehow she finds herself saying no, she'll find somewhere else for the night.

She so desperately wants to kiss Cheryl goodnight, to sweep her off her feet and mumble I love you against her lips. But they covered this in the car, and I love you's don't come until month six of dating, and their first kiss is over a shared milkshake at Pop's, not in Cheryl's driveway. So, she plays it safe with a hug and a wave.

Sweet Pea smiles when he sees her at his door, but she knows he's not happy to see her.

A week later, and Toni can't stop thinking about that stupid proposal. How does it happen? Where does it happen? Does Cheryl even say yes? (No, Toni thinks one night, agonizing again over a something that will never be, she doesn't. Because she doesn't even like you like that. She never will.)

She's thinking about it again at Pop's, sharing a milkshake with Cheryl, when it suddenly comes to her. It's so simple, so obvious, Toni doesn't know how she didn't think of it before. So, she takes her straw into her mouth, draws in a mouthful of strawberry milkshake, and smiles.

"I know how I propose to you, by the way." There's been no mention of what happened on the beach, what they talked about in the car, between the two of them since it happened. Toni wonders if it would have been different if she had accepted Cheryl's offer that night; she wonders if Cheryl was so quick to give up her bed because she would be in it too.

"Oh, really?" Toni knows she has her attention, because Cheryl actually turns her phone off and places it, face down, on the table. "Pray, do tell."

A gulp, the milkshake thicker in her throat than it was in her mouth. That tone Cheryl's using. . . flirting? "I make a whole day of it," she begins, "first, we go ice-skating. Like last weekend, and we're holding hands the entire time, even though I've taught you how to skate by now." By some ironic turn of events, the ever-talented heir to the Blossom fortune, could not skate to save her life. Something Toni found more than a little funny. "I take you out into the middle of the rink, spin you round so that we're facing each other, and kiss you like no one's watching." Like I wanted to last weekend. "Then, we go to dinner, something fancy this time because I have enough money to get you what you deserve now. I wine and dine you and it's romantic as hell, but I keep the ring in my pocket for later." She pauses, scanning Cheryl's face for any sign that it's too much. That she should just stop talking now. She finds none.

"Then, at sunset, we walk along the beach. Your arm is around my shoulder, and mine's around your waist. We take off our shoes, and we're just talking. I stop, look at you, and ask you what you think happened to the old lighthouse. You laugh," god, I love it when you laugh, "and tell me that stupid story about the pirates. We're both laughing for a moment, and then you turn to look out at the lighthouse. When you turn back around, I'm on one knee. . . Cheryl Blossom, I love you with all of my heart. Will you marry me?"

There's a smile on Cheryl's lips when Toni finally raises her gaze to look at her. It's a good smile, not one of those mocking sneers she reserves for the people at school. "Well then, my future self would be a first-rate idiot to say no, wouldn't she? But I think you've jumped the gun a bit there, T.T. We haven't even been on a date yet."

Yet. Toni's heart thunders in her chest, and it's a wonder Cheryl can't hear it. She glances down at the table and there's blood roaring in her ears. A shared milkshake at Pop's. One hand goes to grasp Cheryl's, and the other, trembling just a little, goes to cup her face. There are three, maybe four seconds, were Toni leaves the two of them just sat like that. It's long enough for Cheryl to get up and leave, if she wants to. But when she leans in towards Toni, it becomes clear that she doesn't want that. Not at all.

Their lips meet, and they both taste like the same strawberry milkshake, and it's perfect.

Six years later (the exact amount of time agreed upon in the car that fateful night when this was all just a joke), and they're back on the beach.

She's taken Cheryl skating, and kissed her deeply in the middle of the rink like she said she would. The promise of a fancy dinner is fulfilled, and Toni's hugely proud of herself for being in a place where that was something she could do for Cheryl, all by herself. They've skated, and wined and dined, and now they're on the beach with Toni asking her girlfriend when she thinks happened to the derelict lighthouse, yet Cheryl seems completely oblivious to what's about to happen.

She's looking out at the lighthouse, a wistful sigh on her cherry-red lips. When she turns around, Toni's on one knee.

"Cheryl Blossom, I love you with all of my heart. Will you marry me?"

Cheryl, of course, says yes. But really, Toni didn't need to ask, because this has been decided already, in the car, driving back from the beach and holding hands. In the same way they decided that their children would be called Jason and Cassie, and that when they moved in together (nine months into their relationship, after their first I love you's) it would be far away from Riverdale. It's the same way they decided everything about their relationship; from the color of the walls in their bedroom (a warm grey, but red in the kitchen as a compromise), to the length of time they promise to love each other (forever, that was an easy one). 

And Cheryl would be a first-rate idiot if she said no, wouldn't she?