"Betty, next year you're packing. I don't know why the hell you've let me do it myself for so long; this is bloody ridiculous." Veronica stuck her head out of the tent door and brandished a pair of strappy black stilettos. "Why would I bring these? Jimmy Choos in the forest!"

Betty calmly sipped from a large martini glass and sliced tomatoes for salad. "I did ask you that, V. You said it was better to have them and not need them than to need them and not have them."

"Ugh, did I pick that up from 8th grade sex-ed? Who even says shit like that?"

"You do, every year, when I ask you why you need high heels and cocktail dresses to go camping." Her voice had the same patient, melodic tone used by experienced teachers trying to calm irate five-year-olds. "But it doesn't matter. The things are here and they need to be packed."

Veronica groaned dramatically and flopped onto her bed. "I only have myself to blame, but Oh, my God I hate packing."

"Cheer up, it's not like you're packing for an airplane; it's only going in the truck," said Betty.

"Your lack of sympathy is noted for future reference, Elizabeth."

Betty put her knife down and crept into the tent. Veronica was sprawled on the extra-tall air mattress, arms folded over her face in despair. Slipping off her shoes, Betty pounced onto the bed, pinning Veronica and smothering her with sloppy, exaggerated kisses, all over her face.

Veronica shrieked and struggled to escape. "God, you're like a freaking Amazon warrior! How does someone as skinny as you weigh so much?" She dug her fingers into Betty's ribs and tickled her mercilessly.

Betty blew one last raspberry on Veronica's shoulder and sat up, releasing the tiny ball of rage. "You said it yourself, V: I'm ripped. Muscle's heavy." She let out a yelp of surprise as Veronica shoved her off the bed.

"If this was your attempt at an apology for your heartless mocking of my packing predicament, it is not accepted," Veronica snipped, looking down her nose at Betty, splayed on the foam mats covering the floor of the tent. "However, since you smell like vodka and chocolate, you can just make me one of whatever you're having and we'll call it even."

"Well if I'd known it was going to be that easy..."Betty tugged her shoes back on and bounced out of the tent, squealing as Veronica whacked her rear with a bunny slipper.

"Extra chocolate!"

…

Betty was fishing out plates for dinner when Jughead and Archie arrived back at the campsite with the load of firewood.

"Hey guys! I was about to give up on you. Where'd you get to?"

Jughead dropped the heavy bag down near the fireplace and stretched his arms over his head, leaning back and twisting his neck. "We took the long way from the wood pit," he said, rolling his eyes. "Someone," he glanced pointedly at Archie, "had to indulge in what can only be described as 'girl talk'."

"I see." Betty bit back a laugh as Archie glared daggers at Jughead. "I wondered why you felt the need to get firewood. Ron chopped plenty before you got here."

Archie drew himself up to his full height and said with dignity and aplomb, "It's only good manners to leave the wood pile full for the next campers. I was merely observing the conventions."

"Where is our raven-haired Queen, anyway?" Asked Jughead, making faces at Archie behind his back.

"Packing, God help us." Betty reached for her second chocolate martini and took a fortifying gulp. "I love her to death, and she knows that she's crazy which makes up for a lot, but that doesn't make it any more fun to watch her pack at the end of a trip."

"What's to pack? You're staying in a tent; how do you unpack?" Archie gestured at his and Jughead's compact 3-man tent. "You've got a backpack and a couple of changes of clothes. Right?"

Betty scoffed. "Oh Archie. So sweet, so innocent. Did it escape your notice that we are two relatively small women sharing a three-roomed tent, advertised to sleep 12 men?"

"That thing has three rooms?" Archie's jaw dropped as he turned to really stare at the huge tent that he'd largely ignored previously.

"Oh yes, three rooms. Three rooms, three doors, three windows. Pretty sure Harry and Hermione had less space when they were tracking down the Horcruxes."

Jughead leaned on the picnic table and rested his chin on his fist. Blinking expectantly at Betty, he raised his eyebrows and gestured for her to continue. She sighed and forged on.

"Three rooms; one each for sleeping and one for Veronica's closet, for lack of a better term. She's got actual furniture in there; a mirror, chairs, folding tables, portable wardrobe; it's like the show room at Ikea but with more clothes."

"She brings furniture camping?" Jughead said in disbelief. "We barely bring food!"

Betty shrugged. "It collapses. I mean, in all fairness, we're out here for two weeks and there's no reason not to be comfortable. We have a huge tent so there's plenty of room, and she's got it down to a science so it's no skin off of anyone else's back. I'm used to it, more or less. She can rough it if she has to, but when she doesn't have to..."

"A woman of discerning tastes and high standards."

"You said it, Juggie." Her glittered mischievously. "I dare you stick your head in the door, see what it looks like in there. If you live to tell the tale, I'll make you one of my famous chocolatinis. Only available on the last day of camp, and only to survivors of Hurricane Veronica."

Jughead grimaced. "Chocolate does not belong in a martini. I'll settle for one of those British beers you picked up today."

….

"Should we check on him? It's been like ten minutes." Archie frowned in the direction of the tent whither Jughead had vanished.

"Nah, he's probably just taking notes for his next thriller. Ronnie won't hurt him, anyway. Too many witnesses."Betty flipped some steaks on the grill and replaced the lid. "This is ready, though. I'll go get them."

She stuck her head in the door of the tent, and found Jughead in the middle of Veronica's walk-in closet, arms full of clothes, while Veronica pulled items from the pile, folding some into an expensive-looking monogrammed suitcase, draping others over Jughead's shoulders.

He gave Betty a look that clearly said he had no idea how he'd fallen into the role of coat rack and no idea how to escape. Veronica, oblivious, muttered away while she took stock, occasionally snorting in disgust at some useless article of clothing.

Betty cleared her throat. "Dinner's ready, V. Have you seen Jughead anywhere?"

"What are you talking about? He's right there."

"You mean that man-sized pile of clothes? There's a person under there?"

Veronica looked at Jughead in surprise, as though she hadn't noticed him slowly being buried during her efforts at organisation. "Shit, Jugs, I'm sorry. Why didn't you say something?"

He winked at her. "Because you scare me and you still haven't told me where you hide your knife when you don't have pockets."

"Ah. Good reason, and I'm still not telling you. Did you say dinner's ready, B?"

"I did."

"Yum." Veronica grabbed the martini glass off of her makeshift dressing table and vanished, leaving Betty to rescue Jughead from the abandoned mountain of couture.

She laughed at him as she undraped the various dresses and blouses from his shoulders. "Ornamental and useful, Juggie; we'll have to keep you." She took the pile of wrinkled clothes from his arms and dumped it on Veronica's bed in the next room. "So. Girl talk, eh?"

"Uh huh. To listen to Archie, our dear Veronica is the most amazing creature to ever walk the Earth; brilliant, beautiful and wonderful in every way. Even the stories of her coffee dependency didn't put him off."

"Well, to be fair, you're almost as bad and he still likes you."

"True, although I only pack one bag when I go camping." Jughead slung his arm around Betty's shoulders and steered her out the door. "Come on, I need that beer I was promised. Did you know she brought an evening dress?"

….

"Oh my God I need some tea. If I have any more of these things, I'm going to start telling you guys how pretty you are.' Betty drained her glass and put it on the table, reaching for the box of matches and deftly lighting the stove. "Ron!" She shouted in the direction of the tent, where Veronica was determined to make sense of her mess before the daylight was gone. "I'm making tea!"

"You're not drunk, are you?" Archie looked at her in surprise. "You seem pretty steady to me."

She curtsied prettily and blew him a kiss. "Definitely not drunk, but vodka loosens my tongue a bit more than is strictly within the bounds of propriety. And you are really very pretty."

"We prefer rugged and handsome," Jughead teased. "You have to be careful with our delicate male egos."

"Who's rugged and handsome?" Asked Veronica, coming out of the tent.

"I am. These two are pretty, so I get to be the guy."

Veronica nodded sagely. "Cool. I came to recruit some muscle to haul all of my crap to the truck, and I guess that was you volunteering." Her face was completely impassive as she looked at Betty, waiting.

Jughead and Archie fell over each other laughing at the look on Betty's face. Her mouth open in shock and outrage, she shook a finger at Veronica, struggling to come up with a retort. Finally, her shoulders dropped in defeat. "Fine. I completely walked into that. Lead on, Lord Commander."

"Tea first, please, if you don't mind." Veronica settled herself prissily in a chair. "I've been working very hard, you know, while you've been sipping martinis."

Betty rolled her eyes for the benefit of the boys and said "Anything else, Milady? Caviar? Foot rub? Champagne?"

"Hmm, all three, I think. Thanks, B. You're so thoughtful."

"Bite me, Ronnie."

"Betty! Not in front of the kids!" Veronica clutched her pearls and pretended to look shocked.

Throwing her arms in the air, Betty poured hot water into the tea pot and stalked into the tent. "I'm not even going to try to answer you until my tea's ready, V. I've got nothing." She emerged a moment later with a folding table balanced on her shoulder, held upright with one hand. In her other hand, she carried a bulging suitcase.

"Christ, Betty, what did we say about fragile masculinity? Could you at least pretend to struggle with that?" Jughead crossed the campsite to help her ease the table into the truck, jumping into the bed to push it to the back.

"Thanks. And, no. I tried the whole delicate flower thing once, in deference to a male ego."

"What happened?" Jughead asked as he hopped to the ground.

"Well I didn't get my damn pickles. He couldn't open the jar!"

A look of heartbroken sympathy on his face, Jughead placed a hand on each of Betty's shoulders. "I'm so sorry about your pickles, Betty. That's terrible."

Betty wiped away an imaginary tear and clasped her hands to her heart. "It was tragic, I won't deny it."

"If we're not careful, you and I are going to be replaced as their respective best friends," Archie muttered to Veronica. "The more time they spend together, the more like him she seems to get."

"She's got better triceps," Veronica whispered back.

Betty looked over at the sound of their quiet laughter and gestured towards them. "Check out the little yuk-fest. Think we should leave them alone?"

Jughead nodded. "Definitely. Let's load up the royal belongings. Let them bond."

Archie saw them hauling pieces of furniture and bags out of the tent and called over, "Can I help, guys?"

"Nope, we're good!" replied Jughead. "Didn't Ronnie want a foot rub?" He added over his shoulder, throwing Archie a cheeky, exaggerated grin.

He and Betty ducked into the tent, giggling, and peeked out through one of the windows.

"You're such an ass, Juggie. Look at his face! It's as red as his hair."

"He never used to get so skittish around girls. She must be special."

"Yeah, or maybe you don't usually tell him to get up close and personal with a stranger's feet."

"What are you talking about? How are they strangers?"

Betty stared at him. "Seriously? They met yesterday."

"Baptism by fire, Blue Eyes. If you can't get to know someone camping, you can't get to know them at all."

She pondered that. "I suppose that's true. You really get the full range of Veronica Lodge on a weekend like this."

He dug his elbow into her side, and she yelped. "Shhhh. Look!"

Veronica had slipped off her shoes and dropped her feet into Archie's lap. Jughead's face split into a wide grin.

"Oh my God, you're worse than a teenage girl," Betty hissed at him.

"Shush, you. I'm a romantic."

"I really can't see what's romantic about Ron's smelly feet, if I'm being perfectly honest."

"Somehow I doubt she'd let them get smelly. Look! Now that definitely has the potential to bloom into romance."

Archie was softly tracing his fingers along the top of Veronica's foot, smiling at her as she talked.

"Aw, look how happy he is. Guys with crushes are so cute. I don't think we should be watching this though. I feel like a Peeping Tom." Betty turned her back on the window and surveyed the remaining furniture. "We'll give them three minutes then we'll finish this up. It's getting late and I want to relax tonight."

"Agreed."

"Sorry about him," Archie said to Veronica. "He's kind of a dick but he means well."

She shrugged gracefully. "I don't think he could be more obvious if he wore wings and carried a bow and arrow. What's his deal?"

"He has no interest in dating himself, but he loves throwing girls at my head." He looked at her shyly. "He has good taste, at least."

"Does he?" She raised her eyebrows. "Thank you."

"You can put your feet up, if you want." He chuckled. "I'm the only one not contributing to the packing effort; I should do something useful tonight."

Veronica laughed and slid off her shoes, leaning back in her chair and resting her feet on Archie's lap.

"Wow. Your feet are really tiny."

"No shit, Sherlock. They match the rest of me."

"So that massive tent and the accompanying baggage are compensation?"

She kicked his arm gently. "Watch it, Andrews. Those tiny feet are attached to cheerleader legs."

He laughed and traced patterns on her feet. "New subject then. What's your favourite song?"

Her face screwed up in concentration. "Just one? Who has one favourite song?"

"Fair point. Okay, what's stuck in your head right now?"

"Cat food commercial." He gave her a Look. "Ok, ok. Ummm...Thunderstruck. AC/DC"

Archie looked impressed. "Classic rock kind of girl?"

"Yeah, but not as much as Betty is, and she got to pick the music driving up. I like jazz best." Her face lit up. "There used to be this great little jazz café not far from Vancouver. Betty and I went there all the time in high school. We thought we were so cool." She laughed and shook her head. "Black clothes and smoky makeup, choking down espressos that neither of us could handle."

"Sounds like the typical high school experience; thinking you're so much older and cooler than you really are. We used to hang out in this little diner by the tracks. It was like the gravitational center for all the kids in Riverdale. Man, if those booths could talk."

"Riverdale sounds like a little slice of Normal Rockwell."

"If Norman Rockwell used blood and tar instead of paint, maybe."

Veronica looked at him questioningly. "All about the image? Perfect until you look too closely?"

"Exactly." He squeezed her foot gently. "But it was home, and we loved it for what it was. There's always a silver lining. Jug's articles wouldn't have happened if the ugly hadn't boiled to the surface, and if they hadn't been written nothing would have changed. It's getting better now." He stared off into the trees for a minute. "Sorry, I didn't mean for that go get so heavy."

"All good. Tell me more about the diner."

"Technically it was a Chock'lit Shoppe," he corrected her. "You know, it was a typical diner that was built before the war and never really changed. Juke box, vinyl booths, milkshakes with two straws. It was the only place in town to hang out. Jug wrote most of his book there, and I think every date I went on started or finished in the booth in the corner."

Veronica abruptly changed the subject. "Are you guys checking out with us tomorrow?"

"Yeah, we want to get settled into the apartment before JB and I start school. Why?"

She grinned and shook her head. "I know something you don't know. You'll find out tomorrow."

Archie had just opened his mouth to start asking questions, when Betty and Jughead stumbled out of the tent carrying the last of the furniture.

"I probably should have helped them, huh?"

"You did, goober. You kept me out of their way. Usually Betty waits until I'm in the shower before she loads the truck. I drive her mental." Veronica reluctantly put her shoes on and stood up. "Her tea will be stewed, I'm going to make some more. Want anything?"

"No, thanks. I'm good with beer."

The tailgate slammed shut. Archie jumped at the sound and turned to look at the truck. "Oh my God. Ronnie, are you seeing this?"

Jughead, who had been in the bed of the truck stacking everything neatly, was just about to jump down when Betty held out her hand to assist him down. Jughead smiled coyly and took her hand, jumping carefully to the ground and smoothing imaginary skirts. He fluttered his eyelashes at her and thanked her shyly, then took her offered elbow and let her escort him to the chairs, simpering and tittering all the way.

"Lord. Jughead and Tipsy Betty. Who needs cable?"