Work Text:
The billows rise from the hot cocoa mug silently, as Veronica wraps her cold hands around it. Archie watches her perfectly dark shellacked nails and the way she softly blows the steam away, her berry lips puckered up. She’s right next to him, but her mind is not there.
His mind is busy with her, so when he takes a sip from his mug, he feels the scalding liquid against his tongue and lips.
“ Shit ,” he mutters under his breath, going back to reality.
“Archie,” Veronica scolds him with an amused voice. She giggles when he looks at her sheepishly.
This all feels quite innocent. Being on the couch in his house, drinking hot cocoa made by his mom and a slumbering Vegas laying at their feet. But it’s nice. It’s comforting to have her at his side, not only because it’s been getting colder and there’s a weather alert about a storm that will arrive on Riverdale by Thanksgiving, but because he doesn’t want to spend time away from her if they don’t have to. He cannot fathom the thought of not having her near again. Yet, there’s always that nagging feeling in the back of his head. There’s always the dark shadow of her dad and her family looming over them, people that even if poisonous are still part of her life.
Veronica leans forward to press a peck to his lips, and her now warm hand presses to his cheek.
“Isn’t it strange for you to be here?” He tries tentatively, but his words don’t garner the desired effect. She frowns. “I didn’t mean it like that. I love for you to be here.” Twisting his body, so he can face her. “I love when you stay over, and having you around as much as possible, but…”
“But?” Veronica’s frown deepens. She’s been quieter than usual since she woke up, since last night when they fell asleep while she drew nonsensical patterns on his chest.
“Aren’t you spending Thanksgiving at the Pembrooke?” Archie doesn’t want to mention her family – not Hiram and much less her new-found half-sister. But that’s what he means. He knows family is important to her, just as traditions. He can also tell she’s not only angry at them, at the feeling of betrayal, but also devastated they could do this to her. Their own flesh and blood.
Her back stiffens. She crosses her legs before leaving the mug on the coffee table, on the coaster with a little more force than necessary.
Archie reaches for her wrist, stopping her before she can reply. “Ronnie,” he whispers and feels her relaxing against his touch.
“I don’t want to see them. Any of them, with their fake bright smiles, still holding the knife they’ve used to backstab me time and again.” She grits her teeth, but her eyes are shinier than usual when she looks at him. “But I will, because I won’t give them the satisfaction. They haven’t won, and I’m not afraid of them. I’m disgusted.” She heaves a big sigh trying to put those feelings away before she takes his face between his hands, smiling as she studies his eyes. “I’d much rather spend the day with you, find a fireplace to warm up after a lovely dinner with my Archiekins. Where no one can reach us during the storm. Or ever.”
He gives her a lopsided smile. He’d like nothing more than to keep her safe and happy, but he’s not going to fight her battles for her. She wouldn’t let him, anyway. So the best he can do is keep her happy when they are together.
He snorts a nervous laugh.
“What?” Her eyebrows draw together.
“That sounds amazing, Ronnie, and I’d love to find that place for us, but I’ll be busy this afternoon.” He pulls back from her touch, and rubs his hands on his jeans legs. He looks down at his sweaty hands, and tries to breathe deeply to calm his stuttering heartbeat. “My mom and I will go to the cemetery and visit Dad.” He feels his mouth dry, and whatever else he planned to say is lost.
Veronica leans forward and wraps her arms around his shoulders, a tight hug that he reciprocates by winding his arms around her. He closes his eyes and exhales softly as he feels her warmth.
“You know I’m here for you,” Veronica murmurs close to his ear. “If you need me, I’m always here.”
And isn’t that the best? They have very little, but they have each other. And that might be one of the things he’s more grateful about.
When Veronica leaves, Archie takes the two empty mugs to the kitchen to wash them.
His mom is there too, and it’s when he moves closer to her that he notices an empty mug over the kitchen counter. His father’s favorite mug with the Andrews Construction logo on the side, the one he used every day for his morning coffee, sipping from it while frying bacon and eggs. It’s that what reminds him of his spirit, of when they fed the Serpents in this kitchen, keeping them safe when they needed it the most.
It’s this thought about his dad that gives him the idea.
“Mom?”
Mary rinses her own mug. “Yes, sweetie?”
“What do you think about offering a Thanksgiving dinner for the kids at the Center?” He offers as his wavering voice gets more firm thanks to his excitement. “I mean, we could give them a nice and hot meal and keep them safe from the storm. They deserve it.”
Mary seems to barely be able to place the mug in the dish rack before she turns to him. “It’s a big job, Archie. You need to figure out how many people there will be, how much cooking needs to be done, and supplies.”
He grins. “But we can do it, with a little more effort. I’m sure Munroe and Ronnie will help.” Leaning over the kitchen island, Archie tries the sweet smile he knows his mom likes. “You could join us.”
He sees the way her eyes fill with tears before sob makes it through her lips and she allows herself to cry. He hurries to her to hug her.
“Mom, what’s wrong?” There’s a tightness in his chest because he doesn’t know how to comfort her. Much like Veronica, his mother is always strong, always trying to keep herself together despite the circumstances.
“I miss your dad,” Mary finally mumbles between deep breaths, trying to calm down. “Your dad would’ve done the same. His big heart would’ve brought the children here if he had to, if there was no Center.” She pulls back from the embrace, taking his hands in hers. “He’d be proud of you, Archie.”
“I miss him too.” He takes a gulp of air, trying to smile at the memory of Fred Andrews. “It’s not fair he can’t be here with us, but we’ll honor him. We’ll do what he would’ve done.”
His mom wraps him in a new hug, and he lets himself be comforted by a loving and understanding parent who like him believes in what’s right. That’s one more thing to count as a blessing.
Easier said than done. Well, sure Munroe is all about having Thanksgiving for the kids, including his brother, and to keep them off the streets while the storm hits Riverdale. The thing is that as soon as the idea leaves his mouth, Malcolm and Toby snicker and wonder who is going to do the cooking. Until then, Archie’s idea was to follow tradition and do what his dad did: deep fry the turkey.
Munroe snorts a laugh. “That won’t be enough, Red. These kids need more than just turkey.”
“We can cook. How hard can it be?”
The expression on Munroe’s face is priceless, with wide eyes and lifted eyebrows. He doesn’t seem to have much faith in them being able to cook, but that’s what the internet is for – they can surely follow a recipe. But, where do you find recipes for more than twenty people?
“Mom!” Archie shouts as soon as he gets home with Munroe following him suit.
“Excuse me?” His mom lowers the book she was reading, sitting in the armchair as a soft music plays in the background. She eyes him over her glasses before she can take them off. “That’s no way to greet your mother.”
Munroe smiles with amusement. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Andrews.”
Archie’s cheeks bathe in a soft blush. “Sorry, mom.” He shrugs off his jacket, hanging it on the rack behind the front door. He no longer tries to just throw it that way, because unlike his father, his mom is much less lenient when it comes to his mess. “We need your help.”
Tucking a bookmark between the pages of her reading, Mary stands up. “Sure, what can I help you with?”
“Cooking?” Archie watches the trepidation on his mother’s expression.
Cooking isn’t something she usually does. Most of the food for the holidays was prepared by Fred. He was the one enthusiastic about feasts, that even if simple were enough to keep them content.
“We need some dishes besides the turkey, and we’re not very skilled in that department, Mrs. A.” Munroe moves closer to them, shrugging his shoulders. “Much less with dessert, and I assume kids will be excited about it.”
Mary presses her lips in a tight line before sighing. “Well, admittedly I’m not a great cook, much less a baker. But let’s see what we can do.” She smiles, motioning for them to move to the kitchen and start planning.
As they plan the menu, Archie remembers the pecan pie that Pop’s sells during this time of the year. It was one of his dad’s favorites, so he thinks it’s fitting for them to have it at Thanksgiving. But by the time he calls Veronica to ask if she can give them two pies, he has to explain what’s going on. Of course that means she’s on board and ready to help.
He’s covered in flour when Veronica arrives, and Munroe is no better shape. His mom is doing her best slicing vegetables to make side dishes. But the kitchen looks like a mess and they haven’t done much.
“Oh, my–” Veronica stares at the messy kitchen, the flour sprinkled on the floor and the amount of eggshells piling up on the counter. Her dark eyes widen, as she stops walking right at the entrance of the kitchen. “Are you sure you can cook for thirty children? Do you have the equipment or the supplies?”
“With your help–”
Veronica lifts a hand to silence Archie before he continues. She chuckles at his apologetic and confused expression. “Archiekins, I love you, but you know as well as I do that cooking is not in the top ten of my amazing skills.” She approaches him, grabbing him by the bib of his apron and rising on tiptoes. “Let’s leave the professionals to do it for us.” She pecks his lips, before retrieving her phone from her bag and moving towards the foyer.
Mary and Munroe stand there, behind a frowning Archie. They look as Veronica talks on the phone giving orders, and asking favors like pro. Like the boss she is. They have no idea who she’s talking to, but when she returns, there’s a bright and smug smile on her face. Her heels click with confidence on the kitchen floor, even when she slips a bit on the flour.
“Everything is ready for tomorrow. The Country Club will provide all the food we need, so now we can worry about decorations. And decor is one of my top ten skills. My top one being managing, as you just witnessed.” Veronica smiles, pleased with herself when Archie kisses her cheek – knowing perfectly well that hugs are off the table until he gets cleaned up.
Being a wonderful girlfriend is her best skill, actually.
“Love you, Ronnie.” He whispers to her, before turning around to his mom and Munroe. “So, let’s clean up, and save ourselves from a painful evening.”
They spend part of the evening and the next day decorating the Center to place tables and chairs, and add a few touches to make it look more welcoming. Even a few of the kids help them, the smaller ones making colorful paper turkeys. It’s nice, and Archie feels his heart a bit lighter than during the last couple of weeks.
After the food is delivered, and they make sure everything is ready for their guests to enjoy dinner, Archie takes a deep breath appreciating their hard work. Not even Hiram Lodge could prevent them from having Thanksgiving. He refuses to let anyone ruin such a special holiday from a group of children who have so little.
He feels a light touch on his hand and then Veronica is right in front of him, in a burgundy sweater that makes her stand out, not that she needs anything but herself to stand out.
It’s hard not to smile when she looks adorable and she managed to provide enough food for everyone in time. Including the pecan pies he wanted, courtesy of the Pop’s owner.
His arms wrap around her waist loosely, smiling down at her.
“Look at you,” he speaks softly, “You saved my Christmas once, and now Thanksgiving. Aren’t you an overachiever?”
There’s this mischievous glint in her eye, a playful smile as her hands slide up his shoulders, her arms wrapping around him when she takes a step closer. “Not yet,” Veronica whispers, her mouth close to his, breathing the same air. “Just wait until Valentine’s. Then you’ll see I’m an overachiever.”
Lifting his eyebrows with surprise and excitement, he feels himself grinning when he leans in to kiss her. Her pliant lips against his, as his hands slide over the soft sweater and the top jacquard miniskirt with the tips of his fingers.
The smell of the food is rich and the pies, sugary. But sweeter is the taste of Veronica’s mouth, softer is her touch against the back of his neck.
There’s a fun and family atmosphere in the Center, and Archie can see it in the way everyone is smiling as they amble around the tables, talking and drinking mulled apple cider. His mom seems happy to share with the children, even if the smaller ones seem to ask too many questions and be bubbling up with energy.
Veronica enters the office with a few blankets in her arms, as Munroe finishes placing some mats on the floor. They are just making sure that if some of the kids cannot leave, they have a place to stay. Munroe also offered himself to supervise them if that was the case.
“We’re ready,” Veronica reaches for his right hand, tugging it gently. “We should start dinner before the children begin to take samples from the dishes.”
“I stopped Malcolm from taking a slice of pie,” Munroe quips as he moves around the mats. “And I also want to try those roasted potatoes with rosemary. They smell great.”
Archie chuckles. “Yes, I guess it’s time.”
It’s surprisingly easy to have the kids sitting at the table. They all look expectantly, with big smiles and bright eyes as the food is placed before them. It’s this happiness the main reason why he planned Thanksgiving – to give something back because he’s grateful to be home, with the people he loves. And to honor the one who’s no longer with them, the one who instilled these values in him.
“We were never a particularly religious house. But the one thing we always did, the one thing my husband always liked to do, when we sat together to eat as a family was to say grace.” There’s a weak and pensive smile on his mother’s face at the memory of his father. Fred Andrews was a man who valued family more than anything else. Archie can remember that even if his parents were separated, they still tried to get together for holidays and his birthday. His father always kept traditions close to his heart and made sure to be home for dinner every day, no matter how much work he had. “He believed in that.” When she turns to him, her smile grows a bit wider and her shoulders relax. “Archie, would you do the honors?”
These are big shoes to fill, but Archie wishes more than anything to make his dad proud by following his steps.
He takes his mother’s hand in his right, and Veronica’s in his left. His heart is also occupied by the memory of his father when he closes his eyes.
“Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive. For this day, for this food, for my father who not only taught me to keep the faith for a better world, but to work hard for it.” Archie takes a breath to calm his heartbeat, and ease the lump that forms in his throat. “For my mother and her support, for teaching me the value of what’s right. For my friends, old and new. And for my girlfriend who’s been my support and my light through dark days.” He feels Veronica squeezing his hand, her thumb caressing his knuckles. “We thank you. Amen.”
“And then he would say?” Mary prompts, leaning towards him, happy smile on place.
Archie’s mouth curls up. “Dig in, everyone. I’m grateful to be alive and be here with you.” Because even if he wasn’t really there, Fred’s spirit would always be with them.
Before Archie can take his fork to follow his own advice, Veronica kisses his cheek. Her hand rubs his bicep as she speaks softly to him. “Thank you, for giving me the chance to be with you, amongst the people who makes me want to be better.”
His heavy heart feels lighter when he meets her warm eyes and her sweet smile.
Now he knows who he inherited the easy blush on his cheeks from. His mom snorts a laugh when she almost trips on the steps leading to the front door of their house – her cheeks are tinted pink and it’s not because of the cold. The single bottle of red wine Veronica took for them to celebrate during dinner didn’t go to waste, and his mom appreciated it more than anyone.
Archie steadies Mary, taking her elbow. She’s not drunk. Just tipsy. But it’s funny nonetheless. She gets more bubbly and chatty, but she deserves to have fun after how hard these last few months have been for them. Besides, she has left her life in Chicago to stay here with him and make sure of his well-being.
“I think it’s time for me to go to bed,” Mary comments after hanging her coat.
Veronica and Archie can’t help but chuckle as they watch Mary taking her shoes off before she climbs up the stairs. At least she’s taking precautions, because even under the influence of alcohol, his mother is responsible.
Once alone, Archie looks at Veronica. He places his hands in his pockets, and squints at her. “Do you want something to drink or–” He’s cut off when Veronica hooks her index finger on the collar of his shirt and pulls him down so she can reach his lips. His hands fall on the curve of her hips over her coat, and then they glide around to zero in on her behind.
Her fingers card through his hair when she teases him by biting his lower lip.
Rooted to his spot, Archie watches Veronica take a step back, slowly unbuttoning her coat and shrugging it off. It’s a silent question, and he answers it just as quietly when he takes it from her hands to hang it on the rack and outstretches his arm, offering his hand. As soon as she takes hold of him, he feels his heart beating faster.
It might be the glass of wine he drank during dinner, or it might just be her, but he gives her a little spin before he tugs her closer. Veronica giggles, before pecking his lips as she slips her shoes off. He toes his boots off the best he can, which is not nearly as elegant as the way Veronica elegantly climbs the staircase, one dainty foot after the other.
The swing of her hips beckons him as his strides eat the steps two at the time.
Veronica squeaks when he wraps an arm around her and kisses her neck. They are trying to be quiet but it’s proving to be a difficult task. The last step of the stairs creaks when Archie almost misses it, but Veronica pulls him to her by the shirt.
“Careful, Archiekins. Need you in perfect condition.” Her hushed voice makes her voice as smooth as velvet, and he cannot wait until he can hear it against his ear, hot breath against his skin. This is why they stumble into his room, his lips almost touching hers when he closes the door of his bedroom. He has to lean against it to support himself when Veronica slides the zipper of her skirt open. His heartbeat picks up as she turns around, slipping her sweater off, looking at him over her shoulder.
The corners of his lips tick up at the sight of her in the cream colored lingerie set. She might look like a femme fatale in black, but this look with her olive skin and onyx hair is only fueling his desire to keep her close in his arms. And as innocent as the light color can be, the see-through fabric is sexy enough to make it Veronica’s.
“You better follow me here,” Veronica warns him before turning around, popping one hip, “I didn’t come here to give you a show.”
Taking one step towards her, Archie raises a finger asking for a pause. He hurries to his desk and rummages for a box underneath it. When he pulls a dreadful looking lava lamp, Veronica shoots him a look he knows very well – he’s making no sense. But he grins.
“I’m sorry I cannot give you a roaring fire to keep us warm and blind me with the glow of your skin, but–” He plugs the lamp and turns it on. The faint orange radiance looks cheap, but he guesses he’s done right when Veronica bites her lip and looks at him through her eyelashes, her hands working on the button of his pants.
“A true romantic,” she quips as he pulls his shirt over his head.
“Just trying to make your wish come true,” he babbles, before he lifts Veronica in his arms to take her to his bed. He climbs on top of her, her hands quickly traveling up his back when he leans in to kiss her, his arms supporting him until she forces him to let his weight fall gently against her. When she gasps, Archie’s tongue delves into her mouth and her nails scratch his back until her fingers hook on his boxers.
“Guess my next wish,” Veronica mumbles as her legs hike up his waist to help her hands in their endeavor to get him naked.
He smirks.
Their legs are tangled together as he watches the slow movement of the lava lamp. Veronica’s lashes pepper butterfly kisses against the scars on his chest, and her left hand is in his right. He kisses the tip of each of her fingers.
“I love you,” he mutters softly, listening to her content hum.
“I love you, too.”
Archie’s running his other hand up and down Veronica’s spine, almost as if he were fidgeting with his guitar.
“We did good today, right?” Archie turns to look at Veronica’s dark eyes. Her lipstick is gone and she’s studying him. “I have you, my friends, my mom, and I just helped a bunch of kids giving them a proper dinner, so why do I feel there’s something missing?”
Veronica pushes herself up, a hand flat against the middle of his chest. “Your dad?”
Pursing his lips, Archie feels his eyes burning as he nods. He doesn’t want to feel this way, but how could he not? His father was the one who led him through life and supported him in each of his decisions, always ready to welcome him with open arms whenever he chose poorly. Fred Andrews was what made the house a home.
“I miss him, too,” Veronica whispers. “You don’t know how much I wish I could trade mine for yours, Archie. Your father was a great man, and it shows because you are wonderful. You make me want to be better, and I know your dad did the same for you.”
“Ronnie–”
“This world needs more Freds, and yet it’s full of Hirams.” Veronica places her chin over her hand on his chest. “Fortunately for me, I have Archie Andrews, and he’s my light in the dark.”
He smiles, lifting his head to peck her lips before he hugs her and turns them over so he can kiss her properly, making her giggle.
Inside him bubbles the feeling of uttering the word forever, of telling her that he wants this love to last for eternity, and have her in his arms and be in hers always. But he’s not going to scare her with his intense emotions – he’s learned his lessons. He’ll show her, each day, little by little.
“I still remember that time your father and you were covered in cranberry sauce.” Mary heaves a long sigh when Archie snickers. “I come back home, and see my baby and my husband covered in what at first glance seemed to be blood.”
Veronica gasps. “Why?” She looks at Archie. “That’s terrible.”
“Dad was a good cook, but I was a one-year-old and I started playing with the food. It was a mess.” Archie smiles at the memory. “There was a time I fell into a puddle of mud at a construction site. I was four, and my dad made me wear his flannel, nothing else.”
“Nothing else,” Mary huffs, as Veronica sips her coffee. “He was wearing a helmet, a flannel and before the day was over, he showed his tush to Fred’s client.”
“Archie!” Veronica giggles, leaning against him while he blushes from head to toe, deciding to focus on feeding Vegas bits of pancakes. The dog waggles his tail, even if he misses one piece.
This breakfast was proving to be very informative for Veronica, helping her to realize her boyfriend was a mischievous little boy but adorable at the same time. Like when Mary told them about the first fishing trip when Archie was five, how much he cried about the fishies until Fred had to return them to the river and promise they were okay.
“Do you know the first thing Fred bought when I told him I was pregnant?” Mary asks, her eyes lost in the cup of coffee. “A guitar, for him to sing lullabies. I was so angry because we didn’t have money to spare, but then his voice was the only thing that appeased our baby. Only Fred could make Archie stop kicking my bladder at night, and after he was born, only his father knew how to make him stop crying.” She blinks quickly, taking a mouthful of air to stop herself from crying. “Before anything else, Fred was a father.”
Veronica reaches to Archie’s hand over the kitchen island, and squeezes it. “He was a protector,” she adds wistfully. “And so are you.”
“He’d be proud of you and what you’ve done for those children, Archie,” Mary provides, looking into her son’s eyes, seeing nostalgia but also a gleam of hope.
Archie licks his lips before speaking, linking his fingers through Veronica’s. “I want everyone to realize how important Dad was for Riverdale, and how much he loved this town. That’s why I’ve decided to name the community center after him.”