Author's Note:
Just a warning for mentioned panic attacks and Archie's experience with Grundy. No smut.
(Song referenced is Summer Breeze by Seal & Croft)
He misses her.
In the quiet drawls of class, the extended drills of gym, or the dark shadow over a lonely bed a night, he misses her.
Sometimes it's a want. A desire. To lock her legs around his hips, weave her hair over each of his fingers, press his chest so close to hers that his ribs almost break, and breathe her in until he forgets, where, what, and who he is.
But sometimes it's just a need, a desperate feeling for her to fill the absence at his side. He needs a smile, a quirk, a laugh, a scent. A presence that staples the reality that Veronica Lodge is beside him and not letting go.
The past week he has missed her, desperately, with his wants and needs. There's an itch for every inch of her skin to sear against his own, but also for a conversation with her that will linger too long.
Two weeks without Veronica, Archie realizes, is a sin of starvation.
And he is dying.
Usually her messages could sedate him. A simple pop of a heart on his screen or even a short winded complaint about the unfortunate family dinner she would be floundering in, is enough to keep him smiling for hours into the night. Recently, though, the Lodge house is sealing bars around its Rapunzel and it's hard for her to send a single word out and the dragon of school hardly allows for Archie to receive more than a brief hand hold or a hug goodbye.
Maybe if he was more of a prince he could whisk her away from the suffocating bars over each of her towers. Or save her from the new towering figure in her home that's always lurking nearby.
But Archie's no prince. Recently he's hardly passable as good boyfriend material and besides the bits and pieces of himself that haven't been chipped away he's no longer sure what he's offering the girl. The thought frightens his core because if Archie Andrews has nothing to give, then how can he be allowed to take. How can he ever believe that will Veronica stay?
The internal crisis has become overwhelming and he finally says as much during a particularly grating lunch period of not seeing her all day.
"Uh... last I checked, Aladdin, your princess of the Arabian nights, despite your schedules, still attends Riverdale High," Kevin says pointing at Archie's pitiful slump over the table. "Hey, here's an idea: I heard there's janitor's closet under the left wing stairs that's been a promising hot spot for the couples and you've both got one free period - that's all I'm saying."
A melodic voice answers for Archie in a scoff as another tray falls besides him.
Archie peers up as Betty sits down and forks a dry piece of broccoli into her mouth. "As romantic as that sounds Kev, Veronica's using her free period for cheer rehearsal, and…it's the extra closest connected to the music room," she finishes with a slight hiss and Kevin straightens up to give him an apologetic look.
"Oh shoot, I didn't-"
Archie cuts him off with a wave. "It's fine Kev, the music room is just another classroom. You guys don't have to tip-toe around me." He says it with a truthful reassurance, because really that mistake was history. She was gone, and there was even a new teacher in her place. A dusty music room closet was the least of his concerns.
Although the memory suddenly makes his lunch less appetizing.
"Archie, why don't you two go out somewhere?" Betty adds after a moment of chewing. "I know V's been desperate to get away from her parents for one night." She smiles before it twists down and the vegetable is abandoned.
Archie twists his own fork around a stiff lump of mash potatoes.
"I want to," he mumbles, hallowing out his mash. "But if Ronnie's dad lays an eye on me or finds out she left to meet me, he'll start tying a noose." Archie rubs the heel of his hand over his eye. "He hates me. And going there... after everything with my dad..."
"It's like walking into Voldemort's lair," Kevin finishes the thought with a shrug. "I get that."
Archie directs attention to his fork swirling and not to images of the eyes of an angry Lodge or the sunken cheeks of his father resting on pristine hospital linens.
A small hand presses his arm and he pauses.
Betty grins something unusually mischievous that pulls Archie away from his tray now full of fork holes.
He hadn't realized the swirling changed to stabbing.
"Unless, Mr. Lodge doesn't know you're taking Veronica out," she beams and clasps her hands in a prayer by his nose. "You both deserve some time together! I'll be home tonight, so Veronica could use homework at my place for a cover."
Archie perks up at the idea, and nearly floats off at the warming thought of having one moment alone with Veronica.
Although the idea of Betty's offer nags at his better sense.
"Betty," he frowns trying to display his true feeling of guilt. "I don't want you to blow off your Friday night just for Ronnie and me."
Kevin imitates a manic chortle nearby.
"Oh Betty will be fine- this will give Rapunzel a good cover story for a certain beanie donning prince making a scandalous visit tonigh- hey!"
The half bitten broccoli is flung perfectly into Kevin's eye.
Archie decides that's a good cue to slip past the action and search out his own princess to offer the plan.
And when he takes the long way through the right-wing hallway to the gym, he tells himself it has nothing to do with the mentioned music room on the other side.
At eight-fifteen sharp Archie sets the rickety ladder from his garage under Betty's window and waits with Jughead for the signal to operate their switch-a-roo.
The night air is ice and the ground is numbing his toes. He peers to the waiting truck by the street and thinks of its busted heat.
He hopes Veronica dressed warm.
He hopes she's happy with their impromptu date starting with a window escape.
He catches the yellow light from Betty's room, and feels a cutting edge of dread that if he doesn't share something it won't ever be shed.
Archie turns to give a quiet admittance to his friend.
"I just wish… I could do more for her, you know."
He hopes she's still okay with him.
There's not much to say. If there's one person who knows what a train wreck Archie is, it's Jughead. But just slipping out a piece of his insecurities, even without a reassuring response, helps keep the rest of him together.
A sigh forms a puff of air in the corner of his right eye, catching him by surprise.
The boy besides Archie stares up to the window's glow and it almost seems like he's been wandering through a similar thought that night.
Jughead tugs his jacket tighter around his shoulders, and cocks his neck so Archie can't miss the deepening frown on his face. "I know dude, trust me I know."
He wants to press the topic, but a high pitched sound breaks the frozen sound barrier.
"Pssst!"
Archie yanks back and nearly flips onto the icy ground from the familiar hiss.
When his eyes spot the beautiful face of dark lips and narrowed black brows peeking over the sill, he's suddenly too awestruck to be anxious.
Veronica hugs Betty goodbye before gently placing both feet onto the first metal step.
"The things I do for you Archiekins."
Jughead's chuckles besides him mix with Betty's from above as they all grip the ladder during Veronica's descent.
As the shiny black boots make their way down one dangerous step at a time, he can't bring himself to laugh along.
Hot chocolate at Pop's was an appropriate choice for the chilly night.
Spending hours cuddled under a pink florescent glow with Veronica sounded simple enough to bring him out of his recent low, however as they approach the diner Archie feels a different change.
A gradual gravity settles between them during the drive. It mixes their distanced breathing, sharpens his hearing to for shift of her legs and brush of her hair, and it begs him to reach out and drag her closer until there's not an atom of space keeping them apart.
By the time the familiar sign of Pop's Chock'lit Shoppe appears in view, Archie is absolutely sure he's going to lose his mind and consequently crash the truck if he hears another hitch in her breath before they park. And for a moment the truck does swerve dangerously off the road, but it is the soft placement of her palm and not the hypnotizing rhythm of her breathing that's the cause.
As his grip tightens around the wheel Veronica sings a suggestion, which he realizes she had been planning from the start.
"Let's get them to go."
Archie parks, grabs his wallet, and gets the hot chocolate to go.
The Styrofoam cups are placed in the center console and remain untouched until Archie finds a small unpaved road to drive down for the desired privacy they seek.
He knows the tightening tug below the skin is not only affecting him, but Veronica certainly dances around him like it is. Not to mention she only worsens his desire when she decides the only music for the drive will be the drumming of her fingers over his thigh. If she's not careful just an extra brush of skin will make him combust, though as the girl paints on his leg with her usual confidence, Archie feels at ease as her canvas.
When he finally shifts to park, the heavy tension begins to lean towards something else.
The high beams of the truck lower to dull yellow while teasing nails stop their movements and secure gently around his knee. Archie sinks into the seat with a new feeling of relief.
They're finally together.
The realization is sweet, but he rather to do something about it then lay back and relish in it.
A shuffling search starts besides him and Archie turns to find Veronica pulling things from her purse, or rather, backpack, which was definitely, based on the floral blues, Betty's.
He laughs as a long quilted blanket is removed like a scarf from a magic hat.
"It's like you packed for a picnic, what is all this stuff?" he asks with the same light humor.
Veronica smirks before plopping the mystery pieces into his lap. "Betty was insistent we make this a real date. Besides, I can't have you thinking I'm too easy to please." Archie raises a brow at that final addition, but chooses to inspect the gifts now laying in a bundle on his legs. A thick blanket, a string of stars, a candle which was probably too plastic to be real, and a tape labelled in pink sharpie "For V, love B."
Betty was truly a soul too good for the world.
The stars are dragged into Veronica's hands to reveal a small box at the end and as her black nail stops to hit the small switch on the side Archie's blinks and finds that every hanging star is now glowing.
The glassy texture of the lights fill every inch of space around them and the lines of twinkling stars twirl over his thin blue shirt until they end at the blue veins of each hand for sadden hue. But even with his whole body aglow, Archie's eyes can't leave the halo of shimmering gold that melts into every dark strand of the angel before him. The light flows down to her crown and drags him along with it to the expanding brown of her eyes that he knows would shine even without the stars in her hands.
When she moves and brings the sparkling lights above their heads the light dances around her in a kaleidoscope that has him wishing he could take this moment as his eternity.
"If I don't use everything that amazing girl painstakingly packed me I'll never forgive myself… So you better help me string up these lights," she commands while handing him the battery pack end of the stand.
"Of course, Ronnie."
After a few minutes of tying lights around visors, placing a battery powered candle on the dashboard, and exploring the mixtape Veronica says she and Betty collaborated on they settle on a song Archie recognizes from his dad's music collection. Veronica gives him a look to make sure the choice is okay, but he brushes it off and tries to distract her with wrapping the warm blanket around them. She surrenders and they are soon snuggling in comfortable silence in the passenger side seat, which is perfect fit for their tangled limbs, as the music drifts along.
Archie finishes off his hot chocolate and places the empty cup on the floor.
— A little light a-shinin' through the window —
A weight falls to his shoulder and he finds a half empty cup being passed his way.
"It's half full, you can finish it if you want," Veronica offers as she wraps her arms around his torso.
There's a slight coloring of purple over the opening of the container and although the stain of her lipstick usually doesn't make him hesitate to share her drink he finds himself passing the cup to the floor.
— Lets me know everything's all right —
Just knowing that the color still holds the outline of her lips is enough to pull Archie away from enjoying another sip of his favorite hot chocolate.
"I'm good, but thanks," he whispers and begins turning to position her over his legs as he stretches them across both seats of the truck.
Veronica complies with the movement but keeps her head hidden in the crook of his neck.
He nearly misses the words she whispers out against him.
— Summer breeze, makes me feel fine—
"What?" he asks, turning his ear towards the missed sound.
"I'm sorry," she says again now raising her head over his own.
His face must be holding some shock because her face crinkles slightly. Archie shifts up to fully face her.
"Wait, 'sorry,'" Archie almost chuckles. "What are you apologizing for?"
If there was any apology between them it should be coming from him.
Veronica, even with guilt sagging her features is still an absolute vision as she brushes her hair around to one side.
She sighs. "I don't know, for everything? We've hardly even seen each other as of late-"
"We're seeing each other right now," he mumbles lightly and begins playing with her hair.
"And when we do its only long enough for me to sing you my current sob story-"
"Well I happen to love hearing you sing," he smiles twirling a small strand over his thumb.
"Not to mention my Dad spits fire whenever he sees you and at everything you do-"
He finds a shorter strand by her neck. "But that's him and not you."
"And after everything that happened I still haven't done anything for you, Archie."
—Blowin' though the jasmine in my mind—
He pauses his ministrations just shy of her spine. There's an unsettled air settling from her words and Archie recognizes the scab Veronica wants to pick at.
It's still an open wound that's susceptible to peel open and recently he feels it opening more often lately.
It peels open every time he meets the hateful eyes of Hiram Lodge. Every time he passes too closely by the dusty music room of Riverdale High. Every time he walks down the hospital corridors to the always occupied room for a visit. Every time he remembers he has a wound he's desperately trying to keep from bleeding and staining Veronica.
"Ronnie, I'm fine." He speaks the sentence like a heart monitor flat line.
"Archie," she chokes, and if he didn't know Veronica Lodge better he would have thought she was begging.
He silences her with a firm kiss and in his own way a plea, to end the questioning before he can't hold himself together anymore.
She tilts her head and digs her knees along his sides. The lipstick covers comfortable streaks over his mouth and he can feel himself drowning in what he tells himself is only from the weight of her lips –opening, sucking, pulling, tugging– and when they pull away to breathe, her cheeks flushed and lips parted, he believes it with ease.
Their foreheads rest together as the mixing flavors of chocolate and pure Veronica settle around his tongue. She sucks in his air and he prepares for another fall of his senses from her presence until she sits back, tall and intimating, on his lap and gives him a frightening glare.
"You may not think so but I know you Archie Andrews, and I know when you're not fine," she states gripping the collar of his shirt.
"Veronica…"
"Please Archie, I want to listen to your sob story too. Tell me what's going on…" she exhales into a pensive but gentle smile. "I like to hear you sing too, remember?"
"I know, and I will. I promise," he swears, but the way it slips sounds like a lie.
Archie knows Veronica deserves someone sturdy and whole, someone who's not moments away from shattering into little pieces.
Veronica doesn't need him to hold her together. He does.
He can't afford to lose her, if he does he'll break. But if he knows, if he breaks, he'll lose her.
—Blowin' though the jasmine in my mind—
A tightening in his chest rises to his throat, as he peers into the honest and loving eyes of his sun – still shining from the lights hanging over the dashboard. There's still desperation to keep everything hidden away but he's already drifting into her orbit and suddenly he feels safe and ready to tear open every wound and bare himself to her – damn the consequences.
Archie swallows and searches for somewhere to start, but words always failed him, so he gives her the only truth he can manage.
"I've missed you," he croaks, because really it's not enough.
But for her it's just enough, and she melts.
With her towering position Veronica reigns control and pushes his head back against the window as her mouth seals over his own.
Her hips shift up and closer, heavy and hot.
Archie shudders as she tightens her legs and her weight comes to rest over a piece of him that nearly makes him go blind. He's trying to keep up and stay grounded by brushing fingers over the sinfully smooth skin of her legs while she reaches a hand to run fingers through the hair above his neck. The new grip gives her full authority over the kiss and she holds him close as she merges their lips once more, only pausing to nip and sigh between.
As her body grinds over his with a fire that could seal wounds and burn every source of pain to ash Archie feels himself forming a whole. The half of him that has been floating away with anxiety and splitting at the seam from doubt is settling.
He groans as her nails scratch his scalp, he lays a palm over the small of her back, the foggy window presses against his back, and Veronica whispers a plea into his ear.
"Please, Archie."
And just like that, something in him snaps.
The fire goes out and the fingers are foreign. The whispers and weight are not who he wants.
He can't breathe and the car is swallowing him, he's trapped behind a window that's too dark, too close, and too familiar and suddenly he's back there.
Back with her.
And then before he can struggle the view of the night is shrinking. Its round and its vibrating. There's a siren that keeps shrieking as more hands push him down and keep him away, and the force sparks him to fight.
He struggles and twists and yells because he's dying. There's something wet covering his hands as he pushes back and he's covered in blood and he's dying.
They're holding him back and his dad is dying.
His head spins between the ambulance and the car. They're trapping him, touching him, choking him, killing him. His hands are sticking against every surface and he wants to sob because he doesn't know if it's blood or the slickness of her want.
He needs to get it off.
He needs to get out.
He's kicking and clawing, away and away and away. There's something forcing him down, keeping him still, and keeping him there, so he fights it, pushes it, scrambles away from it in a blind search for the door until its open and he's out.
The air stings and his fall to the hard ground does too, but as Archie crawls farther from the car the pain is a freeing grace. The fingers, the moans, the screams, the pleas, the way they bleed, he knows it's all moving farther and farther away with every strike on his hands and knees.
He's not trapped behind the window, he's not there – it's gone.
So then why does he feel like it's still caking over his skin?
He chokes, sputtering with tears as an overwhelming burn fills his throat.
"Fuck."
Archie vomits into the mix of snow until all that's left are empty heaves and hot streams down cheeks that end in a messy brown pile. His body trembles with heavy exhaustion when he finishes and he finds comfort in the end. He pitches forward not caring that he's going to fall into the disgusting mix of tears and regurgitated slop.
Except he doesn't.
As his hyperventilating stops there's something pulling him away. It pulls around his torso and even though he's too tired to fight the feeling is so dainty and safe that he knows he doesn't have to.
It brings him to a soft trembling chest and his head rolls back to meet the watering brown eyes he always preferred clear.
"Ronnie," he tries, but his throat feels torn and it cracks into less than a whisper. It must be a pitiful sound because it has her leaking tears onto his shoulder.
Her head shakes and a knotted strand of black tickles his cheek.
"Don't," she begs, curling into herself so her cheek brushes his own. "Just breathe."
An echo from somewhere passes through.
— Feel the arms that reach out to hold me —
And he does. Slowly, he does, if only because the air is washed with the pomegranate scent of her shampoo and filled with the taste of wet salt that's running off her chin. She is steady and unwilling to let go, so he breathes in and gives her it.
— In the evening when the day is through —
"I've got you," she promises, and for the first time he truly lets himself lay broken in Veronica's arms.
And even as the night drifts on, her fingers turning a slight blue, her grip never weakens around his whole.
Note:
Let me know your thoughts about this one. This is my first time writing Archie and Veronica as well as tackling the inner demons of my All-American Andrews boy. Hope you enjoyed it!