Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Heather has been seething for weeks and for good reason. 

Look, the thing is, when Sawyer first arrived Heather could not be bothered to give any fucks about this new nobody waltzing into Sherwood and throwing their complacent little town amuck with gossip and imaginary scandal.

Frankly, Heather thought a little uproar, some drizzling of excitement has been long overdue.

She. Just. Doesn’t. Care.

Except Little Miss Upstart went from having absolutely nothing to do with her to being the most massive annoyance in Heather’s nearly eighteen years of existence.

And she’s friends with Jason Dean who, let’s be real, probably shortened her lifespan by a decade just by being associated with him.

Hell, this whole fiasco is Jason’s fault.

One day, they’re talking about college plans like they usually do then the next thing Heather knows Jason has not shut up about Sawyer. It’s like every opportunity he got he was Veronica-this or Veronica-that or Veronica-somehow-even-though-the-conversation-had-nothing-to-do-with-her-in-the-first-place.

Heather was willing to be forgiving. Was—past tense—being the operative word. His blatant little crush on the newbie was cute. Then, somehow, he manages to infect Heather and Heather and now they’re always talking about Veronica-this and Sawyer-that. 

What? Did they all have a secret meeting called Let’s Discuss Veronica Sawyer at Every Given Opportunity Especially When Heather is Around? 

Heather is pissed but, really, they can talk about whoever the fuck they wanted to talk about. Who cares. She most definitely does not.

Veronica Sawyer is beneath her.

Except.

Heather suddenly can’t dismiss Sawyer as beneath her because the bitch had the fucking audacity of relegating her to second place in the school-wide story writing competition. Three long years of being a winner and this greasy, little nobody puts an ugly smidge on her otherwise perfect record.

Heather would have protested but she read the story and fuck Sawyer but the girl could write.

It was beautiful, honest, and raw—and Heather is really, really, really furious and torn and annoyed. Because how dare Sawyer come to Sherwood and bring her more-than-just-nice writing and make Heather put crummy little second place in her college applications.

Sure, Heather was still a technically better writer but Sawyer apparently conveyed more emotion and tenderness and whatever the fuck Ms. Fleming was gushing about. And as much as Heather disliked to admit it emotions weren’t exactly her strongest suit. And Sawyer just so happened to excel at it. 

Fuck Sawyer.

After that, everything was Sawyer-this and Sawyer-that, and Heather could not go two feet without being bombarded by Veronica Sawyer’s suddenly ever-present self.

And Heather hasn’t even actually met her in person.

But now Heather was frustrated enough to care that Sawyer was suddenly everywhere and on everybody’s lips. She did not endure having Jason Briggs practically dry humping her leg at the college party last week just so Veronica fucking Sawyer can be the talk of the school. 

Because she apparently decked Ram Sweeney and gave him a broken nose. 

Granted, Heather finds Ram getting punched very hilarious and more than likely well-deserved. 

Still. 

Heather is furious and if—when she sees Sawyer, the newbie is going to see just who rules this school.

Chapter Text

“Heather your obsession with the new girl is terrifying.” Duke comments offhandedly, interrupting Heather’s mental tirade. 

“Shut up, Heather.” The girl in red glowers and slams her locker door shut. “I am not obsessed.”

Duke rolls her eyes—the nerve!—and scoffs. Pitching her voice to sound like the other girl, she repeats sarcastically. “I’m not obsessed.”

Heather looked quite literally about to strangle Duke when McNamara jumps in. Placing a hand on Chandler’s arm and angling herself ever so slightly to step in just in case. “Heather’s death wish aside, I think she does have a point.”

Chandler’s glower simmers into a pout. Her face is still scrunched up in frustration but her posture relaxes considerably. “I’m not obsessed. I’m bothered.”

“Sure you are.” Duke agrees with a teasing grin, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Before Chandler can form a retort, McNamara lightly squeezes her arm and takes her attention off of Duke. “All we’re saying, Heather, is that you talk about Ronnie a lot.”

“You’ve talked about her short story way more than I’ve ever heard you discuss ‘the destruction of the poet’ in Lady Lazarus. And if that doesn’t scream crush, I don’t know what else does considering how big your lady boner for Plath is.”

Oh, so when they do it it’s normal but when I talk about Sawyer it’s an obsession? Heather scoffs, pointedly ignores Duke’s jibe in favor of narrowing her eyes at McNamara.

“Ronnie?” Heather just about screeches, scandalized, making McNamara wince. “I didn’t know you were buddies.”

Heather jerks her arm out of McNamara’s hand and walks away, just a hint of petulant stomping in her steps. She doesn’t turn around or wait for the other two girls to follow her.

McNamara stares at Heather’s back for a few seconds before throwing a look to the ceiling and sighing. Then she presses her lips together and runs after Heather, with Duke trailing behind her and sporting a self-satisfied, amused expression she doesn’t bother hiding.

“I’m honestly surprised you haven’t met Veronica yet.” McNamara says, carefully, gauging Heather’s reaction, who looks at her with a raised eyebrow. When Heather doesn’t speak McNamara continues. “I mean, JD‘s been following Veronica around most of the time they’re almost never not together since she’s arrived.”

The statement earns her a scowl. Heather suddenly stops walking, causing McNamara to  crash into her. Instinctively, Heather reaches out to catch and steady the taller girl.

“Jason’s little crush on Sawyer has not escaped my notice.” Heather grits her teeth, hands tightening a fraction on McNamara’s arms before letting go with a huff. “If there’s anyone who hasn’t shut up about the newbie, it’s him.”

“Look, if you’re jealous that JD’s—“

Heather doesn’t let her finish, she grabs McNamara’s shoulder and shakes her. “Don’t even think of completing that sentence.”

Mac purses her lips and gives a tiny nod.

“JD is like my brother.” Heather says very forcefully. With a grimace, she adds. “Unfortunately.” 

McNamara, wisely, simply nods again.

With a shudder, Heather continues,  “I’ve seen the guy naked in my backyard when we’re five. I don’t think you understand how mentally scarring that is.”

“Maybe he looks better naked now,” Duke pipes in, jumping away just in time to avoid Heather trying to smack her. Duke laughs loudly, with Mac trying (and failing) to swallow down her own giggling.

Heather rolls her eyes, expression softened by fond amusement. “Darling, if you want to see him naked, he’s all yours.” 

Duke makes a show of gagging exaggeratedly. “I’ll consider him on the off-chance I actually find myself interested in men.”

This actually earns a genuine laugh out of Heather and coaxing more laughter out of McNamara.

“And plus, you know his mom treated me like her daughter,” Heather mutters as they continue walking, expression melting into something distantly wistful and affectionate. And with a soft huff, “As far as I’m concerned, that woman single-handedly raised the both of us. He’s more my brother than anything else.”

They fall into relative silence, each thinking about JD’s late mother. The woman was an angel. Endlessly patient and impossibly kind. She had a heart big enough to dull the sharp edges Heather’s own parents had carved with their carelessness and absence, with each and every slap or ugly word they threw at her.

After a while, Duke breaks the silence with a small grunt of acknowledgement. “I bet you’d be a bigger bitch if she hadn’t mothered you.”

This time Duke doesn’t dodge Heather’s hand, which lands with a half-hearted smack on her arm. 

Instead Duke laughs, throwing an arm around Heather’s neck, forcing the other girl to duck down as she locks her in a half hug. The two start bickering again, poking at each other and laughing as they do so. When the din of chatter coming from the cafeteria finally reaches their ears, the two Heathers step away from each other. 

McNamara reaches out and fixes Duke’s ruffled collar, earning a tiny coo of “Aw thanks, babe,” from the brunette who softens visibly at McNamara’s fussing. Chandler watches them with fond amusement as she fixed her hair.

“Look,” Heather finally says with a resigned sigh, shaking her head. A touch of annoyance settles on her features. “All I’m saying is that if Jason’s so hung up on Sawyer, they should just fuck it out.”

“Gee, Heather, haven’t you ever heard of romance?” McNamara says teasingly. “He could at least start with a date.”

Even as she says this, McNamara sounded very unsure. 

Duke snorts, and then, like she’s presenting a challenge, tells Chandler, “Or you could follow your advice yourself.”

“I don’t sleep with the enemy, Heather.” Came the just-a-tad overly dramatic reply. Chandler adds a hair flip for good measure.

“Sure, you say that now but Veronica’s pretty good on the eyes.” Duke says knowingly. McNamara nods at this comment, adding with a thoughtful hum, “She is. Great bone structure and very symmetrical face.”

Duke, again, adds with utter self-confidence. “And Ronnie’s your type.”

Heather scowls at the nickname more than the actual statement. “I don’t have a type. And if I did. It wouldn’t be Ronnie.”

She blanches at her use of the nickname and Duke laughs at her.

McNamara, seeing a chance, says, “What Heather meant is that we’ve seen you flirting at parties. The people you go for usually have some... shared,” she waves a hand, “characteristics.”

”Dark hair and dark eyes.” Duke starts.

”Devil-may-care style at first glance but absolutely dorky when you get to talking with them.” McNamara supplies.

“Charming, but like, in a geeky way.” Duke agrees, adding. “Not afraid to trade barbs with you.”

”Yeah! You absolute despise people who can’t keep up with your meanness.” McNamara nods eagerly. Both she and Duke ignore Heather’s growing displeasure and reddening cheeks.

“Messy hair.” Duke pipes up, to which McNamara shakes her head and amends. “No, that’s hair she can mess up.”

”That’s not—”

McNamara raises a hand, Heather clamps her mouth shut out of shock and embarrassment.

”Amazing cheekbones, small mouth.” McNamara continues, to which Duke adds. “The second one depends. Also, very expressive.. uh... expressions.”

”Very descriptive.” Chandler mutters, rolling her eyes. “Anyways,” She crosses her arms and looks at the two girls. “There’s absolutely nothing to suggest—”

McNamara cuts in again. “Winnie Cruz. Clint Davis.”

”Sandra Jones. Angel Horowitz.” Duke follows, then after a pause adds, “Maggie Lopez.”

“Oh, and Maggie Smith too!” McNamara adds excitedly. “That guy in the leather jacket and animal print shirt? Uhm.. Hunter? Huntley?”

”Huntley Lee.” Duke supplies, she looks at Heather. “I don’t think I can forget him. You complained about his name a lot.”

“I still think his parents should’ve named him Hunter so it doesn’t sound redundant.” McNamara comments. Duke rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but you forget Heather drunkenly thought it was adorable he was cool with ‘Lily’ being his nickname.”

Chandler is incredibly red. “I didn’t say it was adorable!”

”No. I believe your exact words were it’s so charming and lovely.” Duke retorts, eyebrow raised.

”I was drunk. I don’t remember that.” Heather mutters, pouting, cheeks red.

“Oh so maybe you did say he was adorable.” 

Heather looked ready to pounce and strangle Duke so McNamara steps in again. “Our point is, Ronnie is sorta your type, and she isn’t trying to be your enemy.”

The slight annoyance marring Heather’s features turns into a full fledged scowl, remembering the stupid second-place certificate that’s been tucked away somewhere in her locker to be forgotten. With a noise of disapproval, Heather mumbles, “We’ll see.”

”About her being your type?” Duke waggles her eyebrows. 

Heather huffs. “Shut up, Heather.”

With Duke still cackling and the tip of Heather’s ears still slightly red, the three girls enter the cafeteria.

Chapter Text

“Chansey!” JD’s entire feature lights up with a massive grin when he sees the Heathers approaching. “Just the lovely, lovely person I’ve been looking for.”

“Hello to you too, JD.” Duke greets wryly, rolling her eyes. “Glad to see we’re chopped liver as always.”

For an abrupt moment there’s a pause. A kind of stillness that settles ill-fittingly onto a scene that isn’t meant to be still. There’s a glimmer in JD’s eyes, and a small smirk twisting Duke’s lips. Two co-conspirators with a plan. Beside Duke, McNamara‘s eyebrows are drawn with exasperation. But her eyes, too, are shining with something closely resembling interest.

Chandler doesn’t see any of it. Her eyes are trained entirely on Veronica.

“Heather,” JD begins to say, grin settling into an easy smile. “This is Ronnie.”

The moment resumes, rushing back like the sea collapsing into self after it was parted. Heather breathes in, deeply, suddenly aware she’s been holding her breath. The smell of stale food, sweaty teenagers, and overpowering body spray reaches her and she scrunches her nose up in disgust.

The expression adds to the effect. JD’s introduction goes largely ignored as Heather continues to glare at Veronica, her lips are downturned, and bodily radiating displeasure in heaps and bounds.

Veronica, for her infuriating part, simply takes it all in stride. She meets Heather’s heated glare coolly. Looking into Heather’s eyes as though the taller girl isn’t actually looking down at her.

“So, you’re Sawyer.” The name rolls off Heather’s tongue like an insult. She looks at Veronica up and down, appraisingly and with barely concealed disdain. After a beat, she sneers. “I expected a bit... more.”

Veronica throws JD a quick look, a split second where her eyes dart back and forth between JD and the girl in red before her, as if to say Seriously, this is your best friend?

Groaning internally, Veronica focuses on Heather.

“Honestly, I could say the same about you.” She answers, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. 

At this point a small hush has befallen the students closest the group. They’re listening to the ensuing conversation, some with blatant interest while others pretend (rather poorly) that the possibility of a spectacle doesn’t interest them. 

And, of course, where Heather Chandler is, a spectacle usually follows.

“Well,” Heather hums, taking her eyes off Veronica and tapping her chin as if thinking. Then with a grin that looked as if she might devour Veronica on the spot says, “I’m not opposed to showing you more if you beg.”

Veronica blinks. 

The reply catches her off-guard. She expected the conversation to go some direction. Just not...

That.

Beside her JD chokes, he makes a sound somewhere between strangled laughter and disbelief. Duke quiets him with a loud smack and a wheeze of her own, dragging him out of Chandler’s line of sight.

“Would it hurt your feelings if I said I’m not interested?” Veronica asks, trying not to sound as testy as she felt.

Instead of the desired effect she wanted to provoke, Chandler only grins wider in response. “Well, we can’t all have taste.”

Veronica finds an opening, and she tries to fight the smirk tugging at the edges of her lips. “Oh so you’re the kind who’ll take ‘go fuck yourself’ literally?”

The hush from the listening crowd of students turn into a very tensed silence. Most everyone in the room watching are suddenly holding their breaths. Some are waiting for a kind of cataclysm to happen. Which, to be fair, should be the end result of trying to butt heads with Heather Chandler. 

But the way JD and Duke are clutching at each other very excitedly, with their too-wide grins making their cheeks ache, clearly they were waiting for something else to happen. And with the way Veronica and Heather are angled toward each other, incrementally closing the gap with each quip that comes out of their mouth, the rest of Westerburg that’s watching is inclined to agree.

Heather remains tongue-tied longer than she wants to be. That snip of a smirk, that challenging little lilt in Veronica’s voice when she says “go fuck yourself” flusters Heather more than actual jibe.

What the fuck?

It takes a lot to render Heather speechless. And Veronica has very much succeeded in doing just that. Her brain’s rushing towards different directions but the loudest is screaming Who the fuck gave this— this greasy, little nobody the right to look at me with that infuriating glimmer in her stupidly deep brown fucking eyes? 

Neither girl seem aware of the fact that Heather has just brought herself yet another step closer to Veronica. Now they’re standing at barely an arm’s length away from each other.

Veronica still with that smirk plastered on her face and Heather seemingly trying to pin down her with a glare.

“Well, you’re certainly a bitch.” Heather finally spits out, wishing she had a better come back. But that’s all she manages because, at the moment, she was very much distracted by how much she wanted to wipe the smug expression from Veronica’s face.

Evidently, her comment was the wrong thing to say because, rather than make Veronica falter, the other girl’s smirk only turns more dangerous. 

It draws out a snarl from Heather’s features that Veronica decidedly ignores (and inwardly enjoys).

“Calling me a bitch isn’t very creative, Chansey.” 

Heather didn’t think the dumb nickname could sound any more annoying but coming out of Sawyer’s mouth, it definitely hit differently. It squirmed in her guts in a way that was definitely nothing like the mild irritation she felt when JD drawls it out.

But, damn it. Heather doesn’t get a chance to dwell on it because Veronica’s tilting her head, smirk turning into a sweet smile no less taunting, and then asking—

“Or is this your way of saying you’d like me on all fours?”

Heather’s sucks in a breath, sharp and deep. She does the impressive thing of not letting her jaw drop considering just about every single person who heard Veronica’s comment are definitely gaping at them. 

Duke and JD are both radiating varying degrees of shit-eating glee. They’re both grinning so wide the expression might as well be frozen on their faces. McNamara’s eyebrows have shot up, looking pleasantly surprised and, after a shake of her head and a small smile, just a bit resigned.

Everyone is staring at Heather, not breathing, waiting for what she has to say.

“Seeing you on your knees would certainly be an improvement.” Heather throws right back. The retort wasn’t half bad. In fact, Heather liked to think it would’ve been a clever retort if she hadn’t said it partially through gritted teeth. She scrunches her nose, annoyed with herself.

Veronica revels in catching Heather off-guard. She bares her teeth, just so. Enough to get Heather’s hackles rising.  

“If you beg,” Veronica throws her own words back at her. “I might even bark for you.”

Heather stares, just a beat too long, at Veronica’s mouth before dragging her gaze to meet her eyes.

“Bark, darling?” Heather asks with a raised eyebrow, half mocking and half unimpressed. Her voice evens out, and with just the right amount of interest coloring her tone, she adds, “I’d prefer you making better use of that mouth of yours.”

Duke’s positively thrilled squeak and JD’s accompanying wheeze goes unnoticed once more. McNamara smothers a snort in her hand. And every student watching them are all wondering the same thing—Just how the fuck did Veronica and Heather end up flirting?

Veronica liked to think she had a fair idea of what to expect from Heather Chandler. JD talked about the girl so much Veronica thought he might be secretly in love with his childhood friend.

Veronica knows Heather loves Sylvia Plath. That JD’s mother had gifted her with a copy of The It-Doesn’t-Matter-Suit and the rest was history. She knows that Heather has a miniature garden that she dotes on. That Heather adores cats but is also secretly a softie for puppies. That Heather loves singing but she only does it when she’s alone, or thinks she’s alone.

Veronica even knows things about Heather that she thought she shouldn’t have known. Because JD talked so much about her. How toxic her parents were. How her mom all but abandoned her after the divorce, or how her dad kept trying to buy Heather’s obedience whenever the punishments stopped working. Veronica even knows about the nights Heather used to spend sleeping in JD’s room because her mansion of a house was either too empty or too loud.

Veronica has heard so many things about Heather especially since the girl had a reputation for not taking anybody’s crap and being brutally straight to the point. Well, that and also because she’s very rich, and also very

Hot.

Like.

Intimidatingly so.

“So, what about it, Sawyer? Fancy putting your mouth to good use for me?”

Veronica has decided that knowing about Heather and meeting her are two very, very different things. 

And it is a fucking whirlwind. 

“Very cocky, Chandler.” Veronica retorts for lack of a better response. Her brain stalling at the sight of Heather licking her lips while pointedly looking at her mouth, sporting a very cat-will-eat-the-canary expression.

“Cocky?” Heather repeats, her tone just on the dramatic side of mocked indignation. “Unfortunately not, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

At this, Veronica finally wrenches her gaze away from Heather’s lips to meet her appraising gaze. She swallows, carefully, then with another one of her easy smiles, replies, “My tastes are pretty diverse.”

Heather raises an eyebrow, a silent question to which Veronica just shrugs and says, “I’m very flexible.”

Veronica’s response is met with a wide grin from Heather, no longer as sharp as before but still just as blinding. 

“Finally, something interesting.”

Chapter Text

“We knew that was going to happen.” JD declares. His statement starts off strong, ruined only by the fact that his face scrunches up with bewilderment. ”Right?”

He looks at McNamara and Duke with wild eyes and a searching look. Bemusement and amusement warring on his features.

“What?” Duke asks with a scoff. “Heather being massively gay for Veronica?”

“Of course we did,” McNamara answers without missing a beat, even though she had been the most skeptical about the outcome amongst the trio.

“I mean,” JD begins to say before stopping abruptly. In the interest of not emulating a suffocating fish, he presses his lips together. And after a long pause, he finally says, “Y’all didn’t expect more resistance from Heather?” Then, just a bit more incredulously. “Or Ronnie?”

“What Plan Talk-Their-Ears-Off-About-Each-Other suddenly worked too well for you?” McNamara asks teasingly. Then, she deepens her voice, pretending to be JD. “The Power of suggestion is the most powerful force that will bring the gays together!”

JD grimaces, but nonetheless laughs at McNamara’s comical impression of him. “First off, I don’t sound like that. Second—.”

“Besides the obviously lack of heterosexual in our growing friend group,” Duke interrupts, waving the other two off. “JD you were literally excited for this wholeass thing to happen.”

JD makes a noncommittal sound. “True.”

“And now it has happened.” Duke waves her hand in a dramatic flourish as if to say Ta-da! 

“But I wanted to tease them a bit more.” JD complains, pouting like a child who didn’t get their way.

Chapter Text

Somewhere else, Heather and Veronica are also whispering conspiratorially between each other.

“You’re really not gonna tell them we’ve met before?”

Heather scowls at Veronica good-naturedly. “And say what?”

“Dunno,” Veronica answers unhelpfully. “We’re lowkey internet friends?”

“And admit I met you because of your fanfiction for The Bell Jar?” Heather hisses under her breath, looking around to check if anyone might be listening. Heather pokes Veronica in the rib. “Are you insane?”

“Too proud to admit you read fanfiction?” Veronica asks with a playful grin. Clearly trying to provoke Heather, she says the last three words louder.

Heather glares at her, then relaxes. She snorts inelegantly. “As if,” Heather mutters with a dismissive scoff. “The Aeneid and the entire Divine Comedy are labeled as classics.”

“Aaaaahh,” Veronica nods, drawing the vowel out, eyes twinkling with mirth. “Still too proud to admit you actually love my writing?”

Immediately Heather feels her face and ears grow hot. “Now who’s being cocky?”