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It’s so subtle, she wonders if they even realize it’s happening.
Veronica sips her own milkshake while watching her friends. Betty is tucked alongside her, engaged in conversation with the boys; Reggie has a chair pulled up to their booth, while Jughead and Archie sit on the opposite side. Veronica isn’t keeping track of the conversation in favor of watching her friends interact.
Betty leans across the table as her voice rises with excitement. Reggie has one elbow on the table and his other hand is gesturing wildly about something or other. Archie is relaxed against the booth, arms thrown along the back—one arm nearly draped across Jughead shoulders. Jughead is picking at his fries in between his words, a little hunched over his plate, protective.
Things don’t get interesting until there’s a lull in conversation and Reggie reaches across his own empty plate for Jughead’s. He doesn’t even make it halfway before a resounding slap cuts through the air. Jughead keeps his hand poised to strike again, eyes narrowed, while Reggie sits back with a sulky expression. Once Reggie holds his hands up in surrender, Jughead pulls his plate closer sticks his tongue out.
Conversation resumes not long after that, and Veronica chimes in here or there. She’s not as active as she could be, and she knows Betty is probably getting worried, but she’ll deal with that later. They stay so long, Pop brings by another plate of fries for Jughead; no one else seems to notice that when Archie for reaches one, he skates by without getting slapped. No one else, not even Jughead, seems to realize that Archie keeps stealing fries without any retribution.
Veronica tucks the thought away for later.
Veronica keeps a keen eye out, and sure enough it happens again.
Jughead groans in delight, mouth full, and Veronica wrinkles her nose mostly for show. She’s used to his obnoxious eating habits, as are the rest of their friends. Archie just laughs and shakes his head at his friend’s ridiculousness, digging into his own food.
Betty isn’t here yet, which means Veronica can stare all she likes without her girlfriend getting concerned. She hasn’t told Betty her hypothesis, and won’t until she has a few more instances of data that corroborate her assumption. She perks up when Jughead looks away to shout something at Pop—probably another milkshake or three—but Veronica keeps her mouth shut as Archie reaches for Jug’s plate.
He picks up half of Jughead’s burger and takes a bite out of the side, humming contemplatively. He’s still placing it back when Jughead turns back, but Archie doesn’t seem alarmed.
“S’pretty good,” he says around a mouthful.
Jughead nods eagerly. “Right? It’s a Jughead original.”
Veronica doesn’t call them on it. Not yet, anyway.
The third time, Betty knows what to look for too.
Veronica almost misses it, so enthralled with Kevin’s latest story of a night on the town. All her attention is on him, until Betty pokes her in the side. Veronica shoots her girlfriend an annoyed look, but Betty nods to a few booths down where Jughead and Archie sit. Jughead’s back is to them, Archie across from his best friend. Veronica can barely make out the edges of Jughead’s laptop, and if she strains her ears she can catch the click of frantic typing.
Kevin trails off when he realizes he’s lost Veronica’s attention, and she knows she’ll have to bring him into the fold to make up for it. She does the same as Betty did to her: she prods Kevin in the side until he’s looking over at their other two friends.
Betty, Kevin, and Veronica all watch as Archie stops talking and reaches out. He brings a mug to his lips, the heat steaming his cheeks, and sips at it. He’s got his own icy soda sitting beside him, so it’s clear the mug is not his; it has to be Jughead’s.
Archie’s face screws up in an unpleasant expression and as he sputters, Jughead laughs. Veronica faintly catches a choked-up gasp of, “dude, how can you drink that stuff?” followed by more laughter.
Veronica and Betty share a knowing look, before finally explaining everything to Kevin.
The fourth time it happens, Veronica isn’t sure how much more she can take. Honestly.
Archie sits down at the lunch table, pout clear and flush on his face. Veronica raises an eyebrow, but it’s Betty who hurries to ask what’s wrong.
“Someone took the last strawberry sherbet cup,” Archie explains with a petulant stab at his watered-down salad. “It’s dumb.” He heaves a great sigh and tries to put on a brighter expression. “They’re just—stupidly good, you know?”
“Here.” Jughead cuts in without looking up from his notes. He’s got his own, unopened strawberry sherbet cup in hand, extended for Archie to take. “Have mine.”
Betty chokes on her next sip and Veronica can’t help herself from gaping a bit.
Even Archie seems a little surprised, but he takes the offering slowly. He sets it on his own plate and stares at the soft pink plastic cup in disbelief.
“It’s not going to kill you,” Jughead teases.
“No, I know.” Archie seems to struggle for words. “Just. Thanks, Jug.”
Jughead waves him off, but Veronica sees the smile curling at his lips, even with his head ducked down over his notebook.
Eventually, Veronica decides enough is enough.
Her timing is well-thought out for maximum embarrassment and sickening cuteness. She opens her mouth just as Jughead leans over, spoon poised, to take a scoop out of Archie’s sundae. Archie isn’t paying him any mind, deep involved in some game-talk with Reggie. (Reggie is watching Jughead like a hawk, but doesn’t butt in)
“So,” Veronica says loud enough that all eyes snap to her. She stares at Jughead, who looks entirely unashamed. “Why do you share food with Archie, but no one else?” She rests her chin in her palm and drums her nails on the counter expectantly.
Reggie lets out an awkward breath of a laugh, and Betty looks disappointed in Veronica for making such a scene out of it.
“What?” Jughead asks, still frozen half-way to stealing a bite. “I don’t—I share with other people.”
Veronica hums and shakes her head. “You really don’t. I mean, you’re not mean about it, but…” She looks first to Reggie, who nods in agreement, then to Betty who nods as well. “You don’t let anyone else take food from you, except Archie-kins.”
Jughead blushes and sits back in his seat. “I don’t. That’s just. What?” He looks at Archie’s sundae and scowls. “I was taking his food! Archie lets everyone take his food!”
“I got tired of waiting for him to try and take a bite of yours again, I had to address it now before the disgusting amount of cuteness killed someone.”
Archie seems to finally tune into the conversation, and his face is nearly as red as his hair. “Veronica,” he starts, then stops. He looks over at Jughead. “You do… you do let me take your food. You share a lot. With me.” The unspoken ‘and only me’ hangs in the air.
Jughead sputters, flabbergasted. “You’re all out of your minds!” He throws his hands up. “Just because I let Archie—my best friend, mind you—share my food, what, that means I like him or something?”
Pop’s is stunningly silent in the aftermath of Jug’s outburst.
“I never said that,” Veronica replies swiftly. “But, if the shoe fits.” She adds with a shrug.
Jughead doesn’t talk to her for a week after the incident; he doesn’t let anyone, not even Archie, steal any of his food for that entire week either.
She’s surprised when Archie texts her that they’re still on for their usual Saturday night hangout at Pop’s. Betty doesn’t seem surprised, but won’t tell Veronica anything, which is superbly unhelpful.
Betty and Veronica get there first, and Pop lets them know their usuals are already getting fired up. Hand in hand, the girls drift to their favorite booth and slide in together. Betty fumbles around on her phone while Veronica stares unwaveringly at the door.
Archie walks in, Jughead at his heels, hands linked and hanging between them. Archie spots Veronica immediately and waves; he gets the same confirmation from Pop that their usual orders are almost finished, before pulling Jughead along to the booth.
After the boys sit, silence settles over them.
Veronica decides to be the one to break it. “So, that’s new.” She nods to where Jughead and Archie are still holding hands. Their linked fingers are on the tabletop, and Archie’s thumb is moving in smooth, rhythmic circles over Jughead’s skin. It’s adorable, even if Jughead is pouting like a sourpuss.
Veronica lets it drop, even when their food arrives. Even when Archie snatches a fry off Jughead’s plate and dips it in Jughead’s milkshake before popping it into his own mouth. Jughead is grinning by the end of the display, cheeks blotchy and bright. Even as Archie and Jughead take an obnoxiously long moment to stare at each other, as though Betty and Veronica don’t even exist.
She doesn’t say “I told you so.” Not right now, anyway. She figures she’ll save it for their wedding.