## Preface

Waitin' on the Sunrise
Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at https://archiveofourown.org/works/50498659.

Rating:
  Explicit
Archive Warning:
  Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category:
  F/M
Fandom:
  Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Relationships:
  Jason "J. D." Dean/Veronica Sawyer, Heather McNamara & Veronica Sawyer
Characters:
  Jason "J. D." Dean, Veronica Sawyer, Heather Chandler (Heathers), Heather McNamara, Kurt Kelly, Ram Sweeney, Martha Dunnstock, Heather Duke, Veronica Sawyer's Mother, Veronica Sawyer's Father, Country Club Courtney (Heathers), David (Heathers), Betty Finn
Additional Tags:
  Porn With Plot, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Demisexual Jason "J.D." Dean, Jason "J. D." Dean Loves Veronica Sawyer, Jason "J. D." Dean is Not a Villain, They never go to Heather Chandler's house, Smut, Fluff and Smut, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mild Angst, First Crush, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Morning After, Vaginal Sex, Hand Jobs, Falling In Love, Kissing, Motorcycles, I read 3 cosmo articles for this, First Time Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, I was a theatre major and it shows, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, I don't know where it's going but it's gonna be happy, Heather McNamara is a Good Friend, Victor Hugo move over there's a new king of run-on sentences, Making Out, Touch Starved Jason "J. D." Dean, Vaginal Fingering, Self-Harm, Bud Dean Being an Asshole (Heathers), Abusive Bud Dean (Heathers), Angst, oh my god chapters 17 and 18 got angsty, Canon-Typical Behavior, from other people anyway, Betrayal
Language:
  English
Series:
  Part 2 of In Another Life
Stats:
  Published: 2023-10-02 Updated: 2024-02-27 Words: 92,353 Chapters: 20/?

# Waitin' on the Sunrise

by QueerCosette

Summary

> “Anyway,” Veronica says softly, a little smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, “I’ll be kissing her aerobicized ass on Monday, but right now I just want to cuddle in bed with my new boyfriend and maybe fool around a bit more if he’s up to it.”

> JD and Veronica never go to Heather Chandler's house the Saturday morning after they hook up; instead they get the morning after they deserved, and maybe the chance to fall a little more in love with each other while they're at it. It's probably a lot easier to find a reason to make yourself better when playing God with Drain-O never presents itself as an option, after all.

> (Also there's the added bonus of there tending to be more sex when you don't kill the mood by covering up murder with suicide. I'm pretty sure that's just a given.)

Notes

> So, after I wrote that JDonica smut oneshot back in August, I got the vague idea of writing the morning after from JD's perspective, and it just kind of. spiraled into this. I think we've all contemplated what might have happened if JD and Veronica had never gone to Heather Chandler's house the morning after the party at some point or other. Don't get me wrong, I love the inevitability of tragedy in theatre, but also. What if it wasn't a tragedy? And that is what fanfiction is for.

> Like I said in the tags, Chapter 1 could probably get away with an M rating - if you want the sex to be more, uh, detailed, my oneshot "I was born on the run (but I'll die holding your hand)" is sort of the prologue to this fic. I'm debating making it and this into a series. Anyway, I've written 6 and a half chapters of this so far and chapters 2, 5, and 6 are all pretty definitely E-rated. Chapters 3 and 4 fulfill my need for emotional-porn on top of that.

> Also like I said in the tags, I intended to write JD as being demisexual. 2023 will be the year of demisexual!JD and I'm taking you all along for the ride. I'm aspec myself and decided that we're all in need of more content where emotional attraction and sexual attraction are intertwined, and took it upon myself to provide. It's the 80s so they won't be throwing around definitions or anything, but I wanted to get that out there.

> I think that's all I really wanted to say. OH! Fic title comes from All I Wanted by Avril Lavigne, which is just a very fitting song for these two. Hope you enjoy reading this!

See the end of the work for more notes

## Chapter 1: Lonely Planet Boy

Chapter Summary

> JD's never had a crush before. And then he meets Veronica, and two conversations later realises he's completely fucked, helplessly falling for someone he's pretty sure he can never have.

> ...The good news is that she doesn't agree with that assessment.

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Oh, can't you hear me callin'? I'm a thousand miles away,
And I don't wanna stay - I'm thinkin' words I gotta say,
'Cause I wanna be there with you, and I know what to bring:
I remember from the days you got over everything.

- New York Dolls, Lonely Planet Boy

Friday 22nd September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
Westerburg High School cafeteria
Sometime around 1pm

Jason Dean is in love.

Well, he’s pretty sure he is, anyway. He’s not exactly got much experience in the way of relationships to make any meaningful comparison. His encounters with teenage romance prior to moving to Sherwood, Ohio can be summed up in about five bullet points:

- reading all the Sweet Valley High books out of sheer boredom the summer his father moved them to Glendale and he couldn’t find any other books in the library that he either fancied or hadn’t already read;
- various novels and poetry collections and essays depicting passion and intrigue and courtship and heartbreak that he’d always just figured had been a result of living in a time before vaccines and safety regulations and the resulting we’re all going to die before our time so live every moment as your last mindset;
- an awkward kiss with a girl whose name he can’t even remember during a game of Spin The Bottle at an everyone-in-the-class-is-invited party in Poughkeepsie when he was thirteen;
- watching Wings of Desire at a cinema in Boston a few weeks before they’d moved to Sherwood and briefly musing if he’d ever feel the way Damiel felt seeing Marion for the first time, if he’d ever experience that sudden pop of color in an otherwise black-and-white world, before telling himself it didn't matter and going to get a slushie;
- and a few girls at various high schools who’d shown brief interest in him that he’d only really picked up on after the fact, and virtually all of them had all too clearly only seen him as a short walk on the wild side, something new and exciting and a quick distraction before they returned their interest to potential boyfriends who were both more socially acceptable and less oblivious.

God though. He gets the poems and essays and novels now. He’s finally found a welcome splash of color in his grayscale existence: the girl who’s always dressed in bright blue, with soft dark curls to her shoulders and the biggest, brownest eyes he’s ever seen in his life. He’s fascinated by her, in a way he’s never been interested in anyone before, and it’s not because of her obvious popularity - honestly, if anything, it’s in spite of it.

He’s been vaguely watching her out of the corner of his eye since he started at Westerburg High - how couldn’t he? She’s stunning, beautiful in a way her ‘friends’ can never hope to be - even from a distance he’s able to see the little cracks in her facade that allow her personality to shine through. Faint freckles across her cheeks that she hasn’t quite mastered the knack of covering up with makeup. The dorky laugh that she struggles to condense into a practiced demure giggle. The battered black notebook he sees her scribbling away in during their shared study hall, that she always hurries to hide at the bottom of her bag before leaving to meet up with her clique.

He doesn’t know what possesses him to speak to her in the cafeteria. There’s something in the way she tries to stand up to them - the most popular girls in school, Heather, Heather, and Heather, he hasn’t bothered memorizing their last names - that knocks a few bricks out of the wall he’s built around himself. It confirms that she’s different from the other popular girls. Different in a good way, and it has him voicing his opinion directly to her before he can think it through.

“You shouldn’t have bowed down to the Swatchdogs and Diet Cokeheads. They’re gonna crush that girl.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Ah. Shit. She heard him. And she’s kind of glaring at him. He’s pretty sure she’s about to walk away, and prepares to start cursing himself for blowing his chance to talk to her on, of all the stupid things to say, that.

…She’s not walking away. She’s still staring at him. Oh, right, she asked him a question and people usually respond to those with an answer. He should say something.

“Look, you’ve clearly got a soul,” he tells her, when it finally clicks in his brain that her “what?” was genuine, and not the diplomatic way of telling him to fuck off. “You just need to work a little harder keeping it clean. After all, ‘we’re all born marked for evil’.”

At that, the speed at which she goes from defensive to giggly is actually kind of impressive. And honestly, it might be the fact that she swoons at the obscure 19th century French poetry of all things that makes him realize that yeah, another girl in another town is infatuated with him, but, shit, this time he is infatuated right back.

“Hey, don’t just quote Baudelaire at me and walk away, excuse me!”

He hadn’t expected her to recognise the quote, let alone know that it’s Baudelaire, but she does, and that definitely does something to him. She’s odd. He can’t quite place her. She hangs out with the popular girls, participates readily in their cruelty, but only when she thinks it’s directed at people who deserve it. Pleads with them to reconsider their victim but can’t bring herself to properly stand up to them. She wears short skirts and has perfectly powdered cheeks and photoshoot ready hair, but she’s read Baudelaire’s Flowers of Evil, and took it in enough to recognise a quote from it.

She’s like no one he’s ever met before.

“I didn’t catch your name,” she says, big brown eyes wide and sparkling with interest. He can't resist indulging himself, and shoots her a cheeky smirk.

“I didn’t throw it.”

That crosses the line from teasing to flirting, in a way that’s incredibly obvious to everyone who hears it. Including, unfortunately, the two meathead jocks who materialize in front of him the second he sits back down to call his masculinity into question. The shorter, broader one threateningly sticks his finger right into the middle of the slice of pie JD hadn’t got around to starting on yet.

“You gonna eat this?” Real creative. Christ on a cracker.

“Hey, sweetheart! What did your boyfriend say when you told him you were moving to Sherwood, Ohio?” The taller boy makes his real point by smacking Flowers of Evil out of JD’s hands onto the floor: as far as she’s concerned, you’re gay. She’s not allowed to consider you an option and you’re not allowed to get close enough to make her think you are one. This is our turf.

“My buddy Kurt here just asked you a question.”

JD doesn’t meet their eyes, and quietly leans down to retrieve his book. Don’t retaliate. They’ll get bored and leave you alone.

“Answer him, dick!”

Okay, apparently not. He continues to bite his tongue, though, able to see from a mile away where this is headed. They want you to react. They want you to get defensive. Don’t do it, dumbass. Do. Not. Do. It.

“Hey, Ram, doesn’t this cafeteria have a No Fags Allowed rule?”

“You know, Kurt, I’m pretty sure it does!”

Leave it. Don’t say it, Jason. Don’t fucking say it -

“Seems to have an open-door policy on assholes though, doesn’t it?”

And there it is. He probably (read: definitely) shouldn’t have provoked them further, but honestly, he doesn’t see how that little confrontation could have ended in anything other than physical violence. And more than that, more than his resolve not to take any more crap from the dime-a-dozen alpha males that every high school seems to have, he’s filled with an underlying need to impress the pretty girl in blue who is worriedly watching from the Popular table in the center of the cafeteria.

And, well, when the slightly more eloquent one - Kurt? - tries to grab his arms so his buddy - Ram? - can pummel him unhindered, he decides, oh, to hell with it, and smacks the hardcover poetry collection right into Kurt’s face before swinging his fist into Ram’s jaw.

He gives much better than he gets in the ensuing fistfight, which is doubly impressive because there’s two of them and only one of him. It quickly becomes clear that he has the advantage in that the two jocks have grown accustomed to only punching people who aren’t strong enough to punch back, and the realization spurs him on, the anger that he’s always tamping down bubbling up just enough to push him from trying to make them back off to trying to win.

(Also encouraging him is the sound, above the blood pounding in his ears, of a familiar amused laugh when he swings his motorcycle boot into Ram’s crotch. He feels weirdly proud that he made her laugh, even if it was via doing something as ridiculous as landing a groin shot on the linebacker.)

…Yeah, okay, maybe he enjoys the violent adrenaline rush he gets from headbutting Kurt’s face a little too much, and maybe he should just walk away to find somewhere else to read his book when it becomes clear he’s the winner of the brawl, but she’s still watching him, and he can’t resist the urge to end with a bit of a flourish in the off chance it might make her laugh her lovely laugh again. He pushes his hair out of his face and surveys his handiwork, then makes a point of brushing imaginary dust off his coat - and promptly wishes he’d just gone and found a new seat, because some of the teachers have finally decided to come and do their jobs, and standing over the groaning forms of two alpha jocks, one of whom is clutching his own nards while the other is heaped face down on the floor, doesn’t exactly make JD look like the victim.

He’s dragged out of the cafeteria by an irate gym teacher and sent to the Vice Principal’s office (where he receives nothing more than a stern lecture and a well since you’re new and haven’t got into trouble before I’ll let you off with a warning, thankfully), but on the way out he catches a glimpse of Not-Heather’s face (he doesn’t know her name yet, but he knows there are only three Heathers and that she isn’t one even though she hangs out with them) and frankly? Fucking revels at the expression she’s wearing. She looks impressed and amused and possibly even lovestruck all at once. That feels good.

Friday 22nd September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
The 7-Eleven on the corner of Oak and Crimson
A little after 7pm

He doesn’t expect to see her again until Monday. But she turns up at the 7-Eleven while he’s there on a post-dinner slushie-run, and he’s drawn to her side like a moth to a flame. She’s beautiful at school, but dressed up for Friday night and illuminated by fluorescent lighting, she looks fucking ethereal. The bright blue stockings, glittery heels, and tight black dress with a short flowy skirt (that shows off far more of her legs and cleavage than she could have got away with at school) immediately etch themselves into his brain, and the cherry on top is the slightly-too-big jean jacket that she keeps cutely fidgeting with the sleeves of. Play it cool, he tells himself sternly. Don’t be a fucking creep who just stands there staring.

“Greetings and salutations. You gonna pull a Slurpee with that?”

“No, but if you’re nice I’ll let you buy me a Big Gulp.”

He could probably just buy her a drink and leave it at that, but she’s so intriguing in every other way that he can’t believe she’d willingly choose a Big Gulp over a Slurpee.

“That’s like going to Mickey D’s to order a salad! Slurpee is the signature drink of the house - did you say cherry or lime?”

“I said Big Gulp.” She tilts her head, gazing curiously at him. “I’m Veronica, by the way. Veronica Sawyer. You ever going to tell me your name?”

Veronica Sawyer. It suits her. She looks like a Veronica. Yeah, not a Heather. A Veronica. And that’s a good sign too, isn’t it, that she wants to know his name. It has to be, right? Popular girls don’t typically bother with No Name New Kids. I am going to get a good grade in Crushing On Someone, something that is normal to want and possible to get.

“I’ll end the suspense. Jason Dean, JD for short.”

She shakes his hand, and it should feel dorky because they’re teenagers, not business acquaintances signing off on a company deal, but her skin is incredibly soft and she’s wearing bright blue nail polish that suits her perfectly and her touch sends warm sparks through his whole body. He actually has to force himself to let go of her when she starts to pull away.

“So, Jason Dean, JD for short.”

Teasing is a form of flirting, right? Veronica’s not making fun of him, is she? He doesn’t think she is, but then again, she is a member of the Evil Prom Queen’s ladies-in-hating.

“That thing in the caf today was pretty severe.”

Shit, he can’t tell if she’s impressed or disapproving. He thinks she’s impressed - she’d looked impressed in the cafeteria - but maybe she’s thought about it and decided she doesn’t want to associate with anyone who can fight violently enough to win against two brick-shithouse-build football players. He shrugs noncommittally.

“The extreme always seems to make an impression.”

It gives her an easy out. She can decide for herself what she wants her impression of him to be, even if it kills him a little to think that she might decide her impression of him is ‘crazy psychopath she shouldn’t associate with ever again for her own safety’. But then, to his delight, Veronica Sawyer keeps talking to him. Complimenting his bike. Asking him how come he’d moved to Sherwood, Ohio. She calls him a Baudelaire-quoting badass, which he’s maybe more flattered by than he should be. And then she admits that she doesn’t really like her friends. And for some reason, he winds up asking her to bag the party of the year to hang out with him at a convenience store.

“At the 7-Eleven? Swanky first date.”

First date. Huh. He’s never really thought about going on a first date before. The whole concept always seemed like one of those things on the Teenage Bucket List that he just didn’t have the time nor the patience to bother with. But it hits him then that actually, yeah, he kinda would like to take Veronica Sawyer on a first date. He bats away the images in his head of holding hands and sharing a milkshake and a goodnight kiss outside her front door, scenes from some fucked up teenybopper movie set in the fifties that’s miles away from his reality, and instead defends the honour of the 7-Eleven. And then spends the next five minutes telling her way more than he probably should about his vagabond lifestyle and his dead mom and his fucked up father and his sugary alternative to self-harm. And then, in a moment of panic that he’s said too much, he offers her a sip from his slushie.

And while he’s still internally berating himself for being too weird and coming on too strong, she takes him up on it.

And that is the exact moment he realizes he’s completely fucked, because Veronica Sawyer’s perfectly kissable glossy lips are puckered around the straw he’s just been drinking from while she glances up at him with those big brown doe eyes, and he’s hit with the realization that okay she’s more than just gorgeous, she’s actually really fucking hot too. And the only other thing he manages to think is well, this is new.

He’s embarrassingly smitten by her little brain-freeze-induced grimace, and doubly so at how delighted she is that she’d got to experience it. Too bad Heather - the tall blonde one dressed in red who’s clearly the boss - interrupts them and drags Veronica away. She waves goodbye apologetically and he waves back, and resigns himself to spending the weekend daydreaming about some nonexistent perfect world where he’d be able to ask her out and she’d say yes and they’d live happily ever after.

Saturday 23rd September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
The Deans' rental house
Around 2am

Yeah, so, change of plans.

JD’s Friday night goes pretty much how he expects it to at first: he gets home from the 7-Eleven to an empty house (Dear Old Dad is away for work reasons all weekend), attempts to watch TV and then flicks through his bookcase, trying to find anything that doesn’t make him wonder if Veronica Sawyer would like it, makes a pathetic attempt at sleep before resigning himself to the fact that it’s simply not happening, and finally picks up his Baudelaire again to annotate Spleen, because at least he already knows for sure that she likes this and can’t ruminate on the thought.

He wonders if she’s having a good time at the party. She’d look beautiful out on the dance floor, spinning around, her hair bouncing about her face and her skirt swirling around her legs. Shit, he can’t be the only boy at Westerburg who’s noticed how goddamn electric she is. He tortures himself with images of some chiseled prep her friends approve of joining her, dancing with her, kissing her - then digs his nails into his own shoulder hard enough to sting in order to snap himself out of it.

Where was he?

Oh, right, poetry. Annotations.

…his bed of fleur-de-lys becomes a tomb…

…What would it feel like if he were the one to twirl Veronica under his arm then pull her into a kiss? How would it feel if she kissed him back?

Stop it. Even if she wanted you and your stupid feelings, her friends would never allow it. Quit while you’re ahead, Jason. Guys like you don’t get to be with girls like her.

Poetry. Christ. He can’t help but flick back to Flowers of Evil ; he’s never going to be able to read this poem again without thinking about her.

…Whether you come from heaven or hell, what does it matter, O Beauty!...

JD can’t help himself. Under that line, in blue ink - the only pen he could find, naturally, because that’s just his luck tonight - he scrawls two letters:

V.S.

There. He’s written his confession. It’s there and it’s permanent and it’s incriminating, but he’s done it. He flicks back to Spleen, wondering if maybe he’ll be able to focus now, if admitting it might get it out of his system. Back to his lonely quiet existence, slushies and school and avoiding Dad when he’s had a few too many. Normality.

And then at around 2am on Saturday morning, Veronica Sawyer interrupts his stop-dreaming-about-shit-you-can-never-have-insomnia-powered perusal of his Baudelaire anthology by tripping through his bedroom window, announcing that she fucked up at the party and is about to become a social outcast, and asks him to make her last few pre-execution hours count by having sex with her. Which is unexpected but definitely not unwelcome. Definitely not.

And despite everything practically screaming in his head that it shouldn’t be happening - she’s been drinking (she insists that she’s sobered up enough to give informed consent, and well, she might smell drunk, but she’s talking like a sober person); she’s pissed at Heather Chandler (presumably the red one) and looking to rebel and he desperately wants this to be more than just an act of defiance or a rebound screw (she says she likes him and feels brave enough to ask him for this because she’s no longer afraid of what Heather will say); he stares stupidly when she takes her bra off (she finds it, incredibly, adorable and charming); he doesn’t have a condom (she’s on the pill and both of them are clean) - Veronica Sawyer caps off Friday night and welcomes Saturday morning by taking JD’s virginity on his shitty rental-house twin bed.

The sex itself is amazing. Like, actually fucking amazing. Veronica knows exactly what she wants from him and he listens closely, he’s always been a quick learner. He’s definitely feeling a bit smug that yeah, it’s his first time and he’s managed to bring her to orgasm. Twice. She’s wonderfully vocal, swearing enthusiastically when she likes what he’s doing, moaning into his mouth when he kisses her, and whimpering his name with her head thrown back while her spine arches in ecstasy. He’s read about sex in books before (everything from sterilely descriptive biology textbooks to metaphor-crammed erotic poetry collections, and once even an issue of Cosmopolitan magazine he’d found tucked into a secondhand book he’d purchased that must have been left there by the previous owner that he perused partly out of boredom and partly out of, if he’s being honest, sheer horny teenage boy curiosity) so he does have a reasonable idea of what’s supposed to happen, but none of it could have prepared him for how good actually having sex with Veronica Sawyer is - how soft her hands are when she touches him, how when she sinks down onto him she feels tight and wet and hot and incredible, how she clenches around him when she climaxes and how she looks so beautiful that it’s enough to send him over the edge too.

When they’re finished and she gets up to use the bathroom, he’s half-convinced that she’s about to flee, even though she said she could stay over. But she returns five minutes later and immediately gets back into bed with him, kisses him goodnight and cuddles close and holds his hand so she can peck little kisses onto the bruises staining his knuckles from the cafeteria fistfight, and she tells him sleepily that it’s not just a one-time thing for her, that she really likes him - her actual words, making his heart melt in his chest - and wants to do more of this, and god, he likes her so much it’s overwhelming. Being numb to everything suddenly doesn’t make as much sense as it used to. Veronica is so warm that the thought of being frozen when she’s around is a little painful. He wants to be overwhelmed by her, wants her to surround him and find a way into every facet of his life, wants to fall asleep like this every night forever, intertwined so closely that it’s impossible to tell where Veronica ends and JD begins.

He can’t bring himself to care that it’s too soon, too early, too intense to call it love, because Veronica Sawyer has, for the first time in his life, made falling feel more like flying.

Oh, it's such a lonely planet joy when the song from your other boys -
That's when I'm a lonely planet boy; I'm tryin', oh, I'm cryin',
Can't you see I'm dyin'? Baby, for your love.
Whoa, whoa, yeah… Whoa, whoa, whoa, yeah…
Whoa, whoa, whoa, yeah… My little runaway…

Chapter End Notes

> Up next, JD and Veronica wake up together for the first time.

> “So, we’re definitely doing that again at some point.”
> “Yeah?”
> “Yeah. Nightmare aside, this might be the best way anyone’s ever woken me up. Definitely better than an alarm clock.”

## Chapter 2: Electric Touch

Chapter Summary

> A touch-starved boy and the local girl infatuated with him have a conversation about where they stand as a couple. (And do... other stuff too.)

Chapter Notes

> Hej from Sweden!! I'm on my first holiday abroad in six years :D today I'm going to visit the Malm Whale, a stuffed blue whale that the Natural History Museum used to host dinner parties inside (it has a hinged jaw and a hollow belly) until the 1930s when a couple got caught gettin' horizontal inside! Seems fitting to post a sexy update before I go ;)

> So yeah, this chapter is one of the pretty explicit ones. I'm a little nervous to post it, but here goes nothin'. I'm still pretty new to writing smut, so hopefully it hits right.

> This one also has minor emotional angst (this is what that emotional hurt-comfort tag is for) but it's cleared up by the end. Hopefully that hits right too.

> Happy reading!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

I’ve been left in the rain, lost and pining, trying hard not to look like I’m trying -
‘Cause every time I tried hard for love it fell apart…
I’ve gotten used to no one calling my phone; I’ve grown accustomed to sleeping alone!
Still I know that all it takes is to get it right just one time… Just one time!

- Taylor Swift ft. Fallout Boy, Electric Touch

Saturday 23rd September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
JD’s bedroom
Roughly 9am

Veronica wakes JD up in the morning with a scream.

It takes him a moment to remember where he is and what happened the night before, and then there’s a sudden terrifying thought that she’s screaming because she regrets it, or she doesn’t know how she got here, or she’s upset that it was him she slept with last night instead of some preppy football player in a letterman jacket. Veronica’s face is buried in her hands, and her shoulders are shaking slightly, and JD is seized with the need to comfort her, to protect her from whatever she’s upset about - but he’s also dreading her answer to the necessary question.

“Veronica? Veronica! Is everything okay? Why were you screaming?”

Veronica takes a deep, shuddering breath, and stares at her hands. Her eyes are sparkling with unshed tears, and she impatiently brushes them away. “It was just a dream,” she mumbles. JD presses the back of his hand to her forehead. It must have been a bad one, because her face and shoulders are shining with cold sweat.

“You’re soaking wet,” he tells her, frowning with concern. Her teeth are abusing her lower lip, and she’s conspicuously avoiding his gaze. “What was -?”

“I have to go.”

Oh.

Oh no.

No no no no no no no.

She must have been drunker than she’d let on last night. Drunk and horny and giving in to impulses she wouldn’t have considered otherwise. And they’re both paying the price for it now: she’s embarrassed and regretful and he’s - he’s fucking crushed with sudden and painful devastation. She doesn’t want you the way you want her. She never did and she never will. God, you fucking idiot, Jason.

Shit, was she even actually capable of giving consent last night?

Yesterday JD had thought that the most painful part of liking her was the knowledge that he could never have her, but that knowledge stings a thousand times worse now that he’s actually had a taste of what having her is like. I’m such an idiot, he internally berates himself. I can’t believe I actually convinced myself that Veronica Sawyer might -

He can’t bring himself to finish that thought, and instead watches miserably as Veronica registers that he’s between her and the floor. She wriggles her legs out from under the covers - fuck, he can’t look at her, she’s still naked and the hickeys on her neck and hip are shining purple reminders of everything he’s not allowed to think about any more - and shifts onto her knees, tucking her hair (so fucking soft when he runs his hands through it, stop, don’t fucking think about it) back behind her ear. While she’s still contemplating the trajectory via which she should make her exit, he remembers that he too is still naked, and he feels uncomfortably exposed in front of her. Gripped with the urge to just fold in on himself, he’s about to draw his knees up to his chest when Veronica suddenly swings her leg over his lap, causing him to freeze. The move is so casual, so fucking nonchalant, and it puts her in the same position she was in when she was riding him last night and telling him how good he felt, and it’s never going to happen again and this is the closest he’ll ever get to being back there last night -

He kind of wants to start crying. He doesn’t, because he hasn’t cried since he was nine years old in Dallas, Texas and staring at the pile of rubble that a few seconds before had been a dilapidated library, but he wants to.

But then Veronica doesn’t move. Why isn’t she moving? He glances up at her, trying not to stare at her breasts on the way (which is difficult, because in this position her chest is nearly at eye level, and as chests go it’s a very very nice one, he would know, he had his hands and his mouth all over it last night), and sees that she’s biting her lip again and staring at him with an undefinable look on her face.

And then, with a horrifying stab of physical awareness, he realizes why.

He’s hard.

He cannot catch a fucking break today.

…Veronica’s hands are on his shoulders. Why are Veronica’s hands on his shoulders?

“Maybe…” she says quietly, wriggling closer to him, “maybe I don’t have to go just yet.”

She’s gazing at him through lowered lashes, the same way she’d looked at him last night, and he realizes with painful clarity what she’s after, and he should say no, he should close himself off and work on rebuilding the wall around his heart that she smashed her way through last night, but he can’t resist her, can’t deny himself one last chance to touch her.

Veronica’s lips are soft and sweet and fit so perfectly against his own, and JD realizes that last night conditioned him to pick up on every nuance of even the subtlest changes in movement, because he somehow knows that when Veronica shifts herself to one side so she’s kind of straddling him at an awkward, non-conducive angle, it means she wants to switch positions and have him on top of her. He can’t decide if he’s disappointed or delighted; if she’d stayed on top, he would have been able to relive last night more accurately, but having her underneath him feels - not possessive, exactly, but it means he’s holding her, sort of, feels like he can keep her here with him just a little longer.

His father’s out at a blast site in Toledo all weekend, staying in a motel rather than bothering with the commute, so they’re alone in the house, and JD’s not expected to be anywhere today, so he selfishly drags it out, because while last night was amazing and the urgency was part of what made it so good, taking things slow the second time means he can catalog every moment, every sigh, every gasp, every touch carefully in his mind, so he’ll still have something left of her when this fever dream finally runs its course.

Veronica’s hands roam all over his chest as they kiss, exploring lower and lower until she’s boldly stroking him, her fingers soft yet firm and almost too much but still not enough. JD plants kisses all over her face and neck and breasts and stomach, sucks her nipples and fingers her until she’s breathless and grinding against his hand, and kisses her deeply as he guides his cock to her entrance and eases into her, because he’s desperate to remember every last detail of how this feels in case this is just a fluke, in case this is the last time he ever gets to be with her like this.

There’s something kind of romantic about sleepy morning sex, he thinks, and immediately despises himself for it, but it’s true. Having her on top of him last night was fan-fucking-tastic, he’d been able to touch her and admire her and get drunk on how pretty she was, but having her underneath him is beautiful in a different way, because Veronica’s holding him close and kissing him slowly with her lovely legs wrapped around him, and he can hear every little whine and hitched breath and whimper she lets out as he gently thrusts into her, and give himself over to the fantasy that she isn’t preparing to vanish out of his life.

She feels so good that it’s incredibly tempting to go faster and harder and completely lose himself in her warmth, but if he’s honest with himself, it turns him on even more to know that she’s enjoying it. Veronica has her eyes shut and her head thrown back, and she tugs him closer so she can hoarsely moan into his ear, “God, JD, exactly like that, you feel so good, please don’t stop… yes… yes… yes…” which is pretty good evidence that he’s doing something right here. He keeps his pace steady until she clenches around him with a satisfied little mewl, her calves pressing against his back and her entire body trembling with pleasure, and just like that he’s gone, pressing himself into her as deep as he can and groaning into the soft skin of her neck, whispering her name like a prayer, Veronica, Veronica, Veronica…

They wind up spooning afterwards, and Veronica tangles their feet together and snuggles into his arms, and he feels almost embarrassingly safe, lying there like that with her, because she’s smart and funny and gentle and beautiful and she’s staying for some reason, and god, he didn’t realize how touch-starved he’s been until now.

He indulges himself, kissing the top of Veronica’s head, and in response she lets out a happy little noise that seems to be halfway between a giggle and a sigh. He’s not sure if his heart wants to break or sing. “So, we’re definitely doing that again at some point.”

JD desperately wants to ask her if she means it, that she’s not going to abandon him, but he bites his tongue and simply replies, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Nightmare aside, this might be the best way anyone’s ever woken me up. Definitely better than an alarm clock.”

JD kisses her shoulder, making her let out another happy sigh. “What was the nightmare about, anyway?”

Veronica tenses against him, but she leans back into his chest as if to reassure him that it’s not the question that upset her so much as her answer. “It - god, it doesn’t even matter any more.”

JD tightens his arms around her. It might not matter to her any more, but he’s desperate to know what had her on the verge of leaving his house barely two minutes after waking up. “Tell me anyway?”

Veronica sighs. “I woke up and Heather Chandler was standing over us,” she says quietly. “She said she was going to tell everyone about - well, about what I did with you last night. And that everyone was going to know that Good Little Veronica Sawyer is nothing but a dirty whore.”

JD forces down the anger that flares in his belly at how distraught that bitch Heather Chandler is capable of making her feel, instead squeezing Veronica reassuringly and planting a light kiss just below her ear. Veronica exhales and snuggles against him gratefully.

“She said she’d make me pay for last night,” she continues. “That I would regret everything that happened this weekend.”

“Do you?” The insecure question bursts from his lips before he can stop it. Veronica twists around in his arms to look up at him. “Regret it, I mean.”

“No,” she says, frowning like she’s shocked he thought she might. “Fuck no! I mean, sure, barfing on her shoes probably wasn’t my best move, but if anyone at Westerburg deserves to get their shoes barfed on it’s definitely Heather Chandler. And… regarding what we did last night? That was… amazing.”

At that, JD feels the corners of his mouth tug up into a small, smitten smile. “Amazing?”

“You’ve got me off three times since I climbed through your window,” Veronica says bluntly. “I’d call that amazing. And… whenever I have your arms around me, I feel really… I dunno… safe. Really safe and really happy. I mean… Heather’s, like, the Queen of Mean, right? She’s a mythic bitch. But when I’m with you, it… it feels like she doesn’t matter any more. Like none of it matters except you and me.”

She leans in and kisses him, her tongue languidly sliding against his, and it’s so casual and lazy and goddamn comfortable that it sends warmth flooding through his chest. Veronica eventually pulls away, but leans her forehead against his as she catches her breath, and JD thinks to himself that she’s more addictive than the brain freeze from a slushie could ever be.

“Anyway,” Veronica says softly, a little smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, “I’ll be kissing her aerobicized ass on Monday, but right now I just want to cuddle in bed with my new boyfriend and maybe fool around a bit more if he’s up to it.”

Boyfriend? Boyfriend?! Boyfriend! She’s not walking out, she’s not abandoning you, Veronica wants you to be her boyfriend! You’re her boyfriend! “Boyfriend?” JD stares giddily at her. Veronica looks suddenly mortified, her cheeks flushing red as she avoids his eyes, and when she starts stammering an apology he comes to the horrifying realization that she’s mistaken his elated gaze for reluctance.

“Sorry if it’s… if that’s too much, I get if you don’t want to - if you just want to keep it casual between us -”

He cuts her off with a reassuring kiss, sucking gently at her lower lip in that way that he found out last night is guaranteed to make her moan into his mouth.

“I want to be your boyfriend,” JD says firmly when he finally pulls away. “I want you to be my girlfriend, Veronica.” He grins playfully, remembering the stupid daydream he’d had the day before while they were chatting in the 7-Eleven. “Hey, if I’m your boyfriend now, does this mean I get to take you on a date?”

Veronica’s smile is dazzling. “I’d love that,” she says softly. “I know I joked yesterday that the 7-Eleven isn’t exactly the fanciest first date, but it was really fun just hanging out there and chatting with you. I want to do… well… coupley stuff like that with you.”

JD tilts her chin up and pecks at her lips. “What” - kiss - “kind of” - kiss - “coupley” - kiss - “stuff?”

Veronica kisses him back eagerly. “You know -” kiss - “get slushies together and” - kiss - “sit on the curb” - kiss - “or on the hood of a car” - kiss - “while we drink them” - kiss - “and go see” - kiss - “shitty horror movies” - kiss - “and make out when we” - kiss - “lose track of the plot” - kiss - “and study together for tests” - kiss - “and hold hands at school” - kiss - “and read together” - kiss - “while we cuddle.” She kisses him one last time, and snuggles against him again. “I like cuddling you. I really like having your arms around me.” She blushes. “And I want to, um, do what we did last night and this morning again. Like, a lot.”

“I want all that too,” JD says softly, because what she’s just described sounds unfathomably wonderful. She’s wonderful. “I really want all of that. With you.” I never thought I’d want all that with anyone, but I want it with you. More than anything.

He’s still slightly inclined to believe that he overdid it with the slushies last night and gave himself an amazing sugar-induced hallucination, or even the possibility that he crashed his motorcycle on the way home and is actually lying in a hospital bed in a coma, and he’ll wake up in ten years and Veronica will be married to some prep school lawyer with five beautiful children, but the thing is, he doesn’t want to believe that. Veronica is kissing his neck and tracing her hand down his chest and everything about her is so soft and warm and inviting that he decides fuck everything, it’s real to me. And then his breath catches in his throat, because Veronica’s hand is slowly moving down his stomach and showing no signs of stopping, and she playfully nips at the join of his neck to his shoulder then kisses her way back up to his jaw.

“Good,” she whispers, voice husky in his ear, “because I think I owe you an orgasm.”

And then his brain shorts out because her fingers have just pressed lightly against his lower abdomen and it doesn’t make sense how erotic that is and now she’s raking her fingernails lightly against his skin and moving lower and how is he this hard this quickly?!

“You - nngh - you don’t have to do that,” JD chokes out. Veronica grins wickedly and sits up to push the covers back.

“I want to,” she purrs, before returning to his side so she can keep kissing his neck and jaw. “You made me feel so good last night, JD. I want to make you feel that good.” She dusts a kiss against his earlobe and whispers, “The faces you make when I touch you turn me on so much. I love knowing that it’s me making you feel that way. Okay?”

All he can do is nod, and then he lets out an embarrassingly loud moan as her fingers gracefully encircle the head of his dick and slowly slide down to the base. Veronica hums, pleased, and begins nibbling a bruise onto his neck while the hand wrapped around him pumps up and down. He grows harder, and feels her grin into his skin at his reaction to her touch. He does his best to stifle another moan, but Veronica pulls back from his neck and shifts her free arm so she can bury her fingers in his hair.

“Don’t hold it in,” she tells him huskily, “I like the noises you make. Tell me what feels good.”

He winds one hand into her hair and uses the other to clutch her close, and buries his face in her neck. “Exactly - exactly like that, Veronica,” he breathes into her skin. “Please don’t stop, it feels so - so good.”

He can feel scalding heat building up just below his navel, and he knows he won’t last much longer, especially if she keeps running her nails over his scalp like that. She unintentionally flicks her wrist slightly, making him shudder viscerally, and she gleefully repeats the motion until he’s practically begging her, “Veronica, please, I’m about to - I’m really close - can you -?”

“What do you need?” Veronica breathes. JD whines and pulls her closer.

“F-faster. I need you to - faster -”

She obligingly moves her hand faster, and right when he’s so sensitive he thinks he might just fall apart in her arms, she uses the hand buried in his hair to pull his head back so she can kiss him, and just like that the dam breaks, making the heat in his abdomen suddenly flood through his whole body. It’s a different kind of intensity to when he came while they were having sex earlier, but it’s equally fantastic.

Like he did to her last night, Veronica gently strokes his hair as he comes down, and is gazing lovingly at him with a satisfied smile on her face when he manages to open his eyes again. He thinks to himself that he’d do anything for her, anything she asked him for, and then, more embarrassingly, that he should probably apologize for the fact that he finished on her stomach, but all he can really manage to do is pull her into a shaky embrace (and yeah, they are both definitely going to have to shower when they get up) and breathe slowly in time with her. God, what the hell did he do to merit getting to be here with her, the most wonderful person he’s ever met, to have her stroking his hair and sweetly kissing his forehead and holding him closer than he thought he’d ever get to her? It must have been something good, that’s for damn sure.

It's pushing eleven by the time they find the will to detangle themselves from each other and leave the bed, and even then they wind up showering together - though they don’t make any further attempts at sexy shenanigans because he doesn't have a bathmat and the last thing either of them needs right now is a Saturday morning trip to the emergency room - and then Veronica suggests they go and get breakfast together (or brunch as the case may be) and, well, he's not going to say no to spending more time with her.

(Also, it’s so fucking cute how she got him to join her in the shower, because yeah, she probably could have figured out how to switch it from the tap to the showerhead by herself, and no, they don’t exactly live in a state where droughts are common enough to warrant panicking over water usage, and an extra shower on the water bill at the end of the month is the least of the Dean family’s worries, but Veronica had looked at him with those big brown eyes and asked him to help her, and when he’d tried to be a gentleman and give her some privacy and wait his own turn, she’d batted her eyelashes at him and suggested they just share “to save on water waste.” And he wasn’t about to argue with that.)

He’s a little disappointed when she puts her clothes back on (largely because Half-Naked-Veronica and Completely-Naked-Veronica and Naked-Except-For-A-Shirt-She-Borrowed-From-Him-Veronica are all even better to look at than anything his seventeen-year-old mind could have ever conjured up) but as soon as they’re both dried off and dressed (which takes longer than it probably should because they keep getting distracted kissing each other) Veronica pulls JD’s arm around her and leans up to peck his cheek.

“By the way,” she says, staring up at him through her eyelashes, “you were my first.”

Which, okay, he did not see coming. She'd seemed so confident and assured in what she wanted him to do to her, and she’s clearly popular enough to get any guy she desires. And that makes him realize that, oh, she wants him over everyone else. She likes him enough that she wanted him to be her first. He wouldn't care if he hadn't been - like, yeah, he would have probably been a little jealous at the thought of another guy's hands on her (whatever, that’s his own problem to deal with, not hers, because it's 1989 and women shouldn't be ashamed of having multiple sexual partners, no one should) - but, well, he can't help but be thrilled that he's the only one who's ever gotten to be with her like that.

Before he can think of putting any of this into words, Veronica tugs him towards the door. “Now, come on. You’ve yet to sample the best of Sherwood’s Saturday morning hangover brunch fare.”

As he helps her adjust the strap on his spare motorcycle helmet so it’ll fit her properly (and steals another kiss while he’s at it), JD doesn’t care that they’re just going to whatever probably-shitty local diner they can afford on a high schooler’s budget, because he’s pretty sure she could swan-dive directly into the center of Hell and he would follow her down without a backward glance.

All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life!
Got a feelin’ your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life!
And I want you now, wanna need you forever
In the heat of your electric touch…

Chapter End Notes

> Up next, JD and Veronica get brunch together.

> “Last night, after I left Ram’s party, I couldn’t stop thinking about what might have happened if I’d stayed and hung out with you when you asked. That was kind of the driving force behind me climbing through your window.”
> “I’m really glad you did.”
> “Me too. You, though. I would have figured motorcycle-riding, Baudelaire-quoting, trenchcoat-wearing Jason Dean would have left a trail of broken hearts across America.”

## Chapter 3: As The World Falls Down

Chapter Summary

> JD and Veronica get breakfast and chat about past relationships, past bullies, and decisions that changed the course of the future. Whoever said existential discussions couldn't be cute?

Chapter Notes

> Chapter 3! I'm hoping to stick to a schedule of updating every Tuesday with this one. Fingers crossed I can stick to it this time - I've done it before with another fic which wound up being one of my favourite stories I've ever shared on AO3, so that seems promising.

> This chapter contains a lot of fluff, but also a subtle set-up for more hurt/comfort later on (as in a fair few chapters down the line). A lot of my thought process for fic-writing in general is 'hey what if you gave your own trauma to your blorbos?' lmao :,)

> ANYHOO since this fic seems to really be growing legs and starting to run, I'll update the tags as I go. This is the furthest I've ever gotten with a story that didn't have a planned ending.

> There's also a dirty joke in this one (cheers, French language!) that will be fully explained in the next chapter - although, if (like me) you're terminally online on Tumblr, you might have seen the post that inspired it. 'Coup-de-foudre' means roughly 'love at first sight', while 'coup-de-foutre' means... well, I won't spoil it for you.

> Happy reading!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

I'll paint you mornings of gold,
I'll spin you Valentine evenings!
Though we're strangers 'til now,
We're choosing the path between the stars -
I'll leave my love between the stars.

- David Bowie, As The World Falls Down

Saturday 23rd September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
Pinciotti's Diner
About half past 12

They get brunch at some local allegedly family-owned diner with an Italian-sounding name (that may quite possibly also be a money laundering front for the mob) and do an absolutely horrible job of keeping their hands off each other, not helped by the precedent set by the fact that they took JD’s motorcycle to get there which gave Veronica the excuse to cling tightly to his waist the whole time. They sit on the high stools at the end of the counter farthest from the bar, partly because there are only two booths and both of them are occupied, and partly because Veronica swinging her legs and swiveling her seat from side to side while tangling her fingers with his is fucking adorable. Eating french toast one-handed - with his off-hand no less - isn’t the easiest task, but it’s worth it if he gets to keep holding hands with her.

“I should probably tell you,” JD says, fondly watching Veronica swirl a slice of banana through the maple syrup that escaped her toast, “you were my first too. I’ve never… before last night. You’re kind of the first person I’ve ever wanted to… do any of that with.”

Veronica’s cheeks flush a lovely soft red. “Oh. Um, well, you too. For me, I mean. You’re the first person I’ve ever wanted to be with that way.”

JD raises an eyebrow. “Seriously? You’ve never had a crush on anyone before?”

Veronica snorts. “Come on, JD. You’ve seen the Westerburg gene pool. I mean, sure, I can think of a couple of guys who are objectively attractive, and I went on a couple of dates with this one guy I knew from drama class back in eighth grade - and, like, we were thirteen and only kissed four times with no tongue, so it barely counts - but I’m pretty sure he only asked me out because… okay, you can’t make fun of me for this.”

JD raises his eyebrows expectantly, and Veronica takes in a deep breath. Her cheeks have turned that lovely dusty pink color again.

“He played Rolf in our middle school production of The Sound of Music… and I played Liesl.”

She’s clearly self-conscious about it - but honestly, she seems more embarrassed that she’s proud of it than anything else. JD decides not to go with his first idea of asking to hear her rendition of Sixteen Going On Seventeen, if only because it’s probably poor form to laugh too much at the expense of one’s new girlfriend on their first proper date.

“I would’ve thought Heather Chandler would have demanded the starring role.”

Veronica laughs at that. “Are you kidding? God, no, Heather C was way too cool for musicals by eighth grade. She had to be talked into playing the Baroness, and I think she only agreed because Heather Mac got Maria and she wanted to make sure she didn’t do anything too uncool during rehearsals. Anyway, back to me and my first sort-of boyfriend, we kissed four times and three of them were for the show. Dress rehearsal and two performances. We tried it once afterwards, at the eighth grade semi formal, and it just… wasn’t.”

“Wasn’t what?”

Veronica wrinkles her nose, looking unfairly cute considering a diner is too public a place for JD to press her up against the nearest wall and kiss her senseless. “I dunno,” she says thoughtfully. “It just wasn’t, y’know? He was nice about it, at least. After him there were a couple of other guys who I know had crushes on me at some point, but I never really went for it even though Martha and… um, some other people thought I should just go for it.”

JD notices the verbal stumble, and wonders what caused it, as well as a momentary tinge of sadness in her eyes that she’s probably not even aware of, but decides it’s up to her if she wants to tell him. He swings their joined hands between them, and Veronica smiles again, sadness forgotten.

“Anyway, I think I liked the idea of a relationship with someone more than I liked actually having one,” she continues. Her cheeks have gone pink. “But, um, not to get too serious, but it’s different with you. Last night, after I left Ram’s party, I couldn’t stop thinking about what might have happened if I’d stayed and hung out with you when you asked.” She giggles, looking a little embarrassed again. “That was kind of the driving force behind me climbing through your window.”

At that, JD gives in to the urge to lean over to kiss her, unable to keep caring that they’re in public. She’s his girlfriend now, he’s pretty sure that comes with kissing-in-public benefits. She tastes like maple syrup and bananas, and makes a very cute noise of surprised enthusiasm that turns into a disappointed whine when he pulls away.

“I’m really glad you did,” he tells her honestly. Veronica’s smile widens, her cheeks even more pink, and she tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

“Me too,” she says softly. She glances away, then flicks her gaze back over him. “You, though. I would have figured motorcycle-riding, Baudelaire-quoting, trenchcoat-wearing Jason Dean would have left a trail of broken hearts across America.”

JD laughs at that. “Broken hearts, not so much. Disappointed girls who I never realized had a crush on me until later? Two or three, I think. Maybe. I dunno, I was never great at picking up on the ‘signs’ because I never really bothered to look for them until… well. You recognized that stupid Baudelaire quote, and I kind of understood what all the Romantic poets were talking about when they described, you know. Coup de foutre.”

Okay, so he wasn’t expecting her to visibly swoon at that or anything (maybe just a bit of a blush), but he definitely did not expect baring his soul like that to result in Veronica bursting out laughing - so hard that tears form at the corners of her eyes. Idiot, supplies that little voice in his brain that always articulates his worst self-loathing impulses, the one he knows he needs to do his best to freeze out. You got too intense and she’s laughing because she’s uncomfortable. Fucking moron. You’re going to scare her off. This is why we didn’t do this shit, remember?

His wounded pride must show on his face, because Veronica does her best to stop laughing and squeezes his hand comfortingly. “I’m so sorry,” she says, sounding genuine, but still giggling. “That - that was really sweet, what you just said to me, and yeah, I totally get what you mean, I think that was kind of what did it for me too, a bit, but - uh, you don’t take French, do you?”

It sounds like more of a statement than a question, but he still shakes his head in confirmation. “German.”

“Yeah, so, uh, I think you meant coup de foudre. Coup de foutre means. Um. Something else. Although,” her grin becomes mischievous, “I think we did technically get acquainted with that too.”

JD feels his heart slowly stop racing, and manages a grin back at her. “Do I even want to know what I just said you made me understand?”

“Probably not ‘til we’re in private again,” she giggles. “The French language is always a mispronunciation or a dropped article away from saying something filthy by accident. Madame Santiago has to interrupt at least one student every September during the whole ‘how are we feeling about the coming year?’ spiel to tactfully remind them that there’s a single letter of difference between ‘I am excited’ and ‘I am horny’.”

He snorts at that, and accidentally meets her eyes a second later, which causes both of them to start giggling helplessly. He wonders briefly what the other diners must be thinking of them, a gangly boy in a trenchcoat and combat boots and a girl wearing last night’s party outfit with none of last night’s party makeup, both of them with necks covered in marks that his collar and her hair can’t effectively conceal, refusing to drop hands much to the detriment of their dining ability, and laughing uncontrollably at a dirty joke she made. Then he remembers it’s an authentic Italian diner in the Midwest that isn’t actually very authentically Italian at all, at lunchtime on a Saturday no less, and everyone here is presumably too hungover (patrons) or otherwise hating life (staff) to care about a teenage couple clearly enjoying their Morning After together. He’s not sure how he feels about that, because, yeah, he loves that he and Veronica are getting to have this time together where they’re just goofing around and talking and laughing and kissing before they have to deal with high school politics on Monday, but also he wants the world to know that Veronica is his and that he is hers. He kind of wishes for a moment that his girlfriend wasn’t his only friend, just so he’d have someone he could brag to about how amazing she is.

Putting that thought on the backburner for the moment as their laughter dies down, JD contemplatively sips his coffee. “Madame Santiago. You have to wonder how a Hispanic lady wound up teaching French.”

“The course of predicted events can change with a single decision. Life’s weird that way,” Veronica shrugs. She gestures to their joined hands. “Case in point. Maybe Madame Santiago becoming fluent in French to the point where she could teach it was her version of me deciding to visit you last night after I left the homecoming party.”

“Is that how you joined the Heathers?” JD asks curiously. He’s been wondering, because the more time he spends with Veronica the less and less her personality resembles that of the stereotypical Popular Girl - and she hadn’t seemed at all like the stereotype to begin with. How did someone so soulful wind up with friends who, as far as he can tell, have the collective depth of an inflatable kiddie pool? “A split-second decision that changed the course of events?”

Veronica tilts her head to one side in thought. “Sort of, I guess. Ms Phlegm caught them loitering in the bathroom after the bell for next period had already gone and was about to give them detention, and I’d been practicing Mr Hyde’s handwriting so I could claim extracurricular commitments during the athletics segment of gym class this year, and I just thought, ‘hey, no one fucks with the Heathers, if I get them out of detention then maybe they'll return the favor and let me sit with them and people will stop fucking with me.’ So I forged a hall pass saying the four of us were on our way to a yearbook committee meeting.”

“You forged a hall pass?” JD stares. Sure, he’d been aware that she’d been the one to write the note that she’d been begging the Heathers not to give to Martha, but he figured it had been the Heathers’ idea of a power play, to force her to prank her old friend. It can’t be that hard to make a note look like it was written by an idiot, right? But forging official documents is… a serious skill. “Where’d you learn that?”

Veronica smirks. “Been practicing since kindergarten when I learned that you need more than a page from a Strawberry Shortcake stationary set with a pink crayola note reading ‘Ronnie won’t be in class today, signed Ronnie’s Mommy’ to get out of sports day. I can also do report cards, permission slips, and absence notes.”

“Okay, the last two I get, but report cards? No offense, but you kind of strike me as the sort of person who gets an anxiety ulcer over slipping from an A+ down to an A.”

“Rude,” Veronica laughs. “You’re not wrong, but still, rude. But no, it was for the opposite reason. Back in middle school, when they handed out our first serious report cards, it’s supposed to be confidential, right? But everyone always asks to see what you got, and you don’t think twice about telling people because you’re pretty sure at that age that they’re all still your friends. And once people figured out I was actually taking the end of semester tests seriously instead of dicking around and waiting ‘til Senior Year to worry about results, an actual fist fight broke out over who got to sit next to me in class to copy my test answers. Ram Sweeney and Kurt Kelly won, and they fucked with me pretty much all the time for the rest of the year. My shower drain actually got clogged from the amount of spitballs I had to wash out of my hair. After that I would forge a copy that had less perfect grades and show anyone who asked that version instead of the real one.”

She’s silent for a moment, contemplating something, then shakes herself off and returns to answering his original question.

“Anyway, the Heathers liked the hall pass and the offer of further forgeries enough that they decided, hey, forget sitting with them only once, I can sit with them forever if I keep up the good work. Some mascara, lip gloss, and a trip to the mall later, and Veronica Sawyer is the only Heather not called Heather.”

“I didn’t know you got bullied,” JD says quietly, because it’s the only thing he can think to say. Veronica shrugs.

“Not badly. Not like - not the way Martha gets bullied. It’s not - it didn’t fuck me up mentally or anything. I mean, yeah, my homework got copied and sometimes the football team would throw the ball at the back of my head in the middle of crowded corridors, but it was never, like, personal. Not like Kurt getting everyone to call Martha ‘Martha Dumptruck’. I was there and I was a geek and that was enough. The only thing that felt, I dunno, aimed at me personally was last year when Courtney Graham-Smith and Shannon Murphy heard me and Martha chatting about, um, something silly in the locker room and tried to stick me with a nickname because of it, but Heather Chandler hates Courtney, so it never really caught on.”

JD doesn’t ask what the nickname was, because even though Veronica says it wasn’t a big deal, he noticed how she sucked in a little breath and pursed her lips slightly before telling him. It clearly did bother her, and just like when he fought Ram and Kurt in the cafeteria, he feels that familiar anger flare up inside him. What gives them - all of them - the right to treat other people that way? To treat people like shit just because they don’t fit the mold of wealthy white straight conventionally attractive future socialites?

“Still,” he tells her, squeezing her hand comfortingly. “The thing in middle school, with the copying and the spitballs? That was shit and it shouldn’t have happened to you. And it’s fucked that it was Kurt Kelly and Ram Sweeney, because the main reason they picked that fight yesterday was because I was talking to you and they didn’t like that I was… y’know. Muscling in on their turf.” He wrinkles his nose, not liking the terminology, no matter how accurately it describes the way the Dick Duo had seen things.

“It is a bit fucked how the dynamic changed as soon as they realized I have tits,” Veronica agrees, grinning at the way he blushes slightly at her blunt phrasing. “Anyway, speaking of Heathers, would I be able to ask you a favor?”

He laughs. “After last night and this morning? I’m pretty sure you could ask me for literally anything and I’d say yes.”

She smiles, looking a little smug at that. “I need to go to Heather’s house.”

Dismay floods through him. “I thought you said Heather Chandler didn’t matter any more.”

“Hmm? Oh! No, I meant Heather McNamara. She still has my overnight bag. I was originally planning to hang out at hers until the hangover I’d planned to have from last night wore off, and, well, I kind of shot that plan in the foot. And the bag has my nice pajamas and fresh clothes and bathroom stuff in it, and I’d kind of like it back before Heather Chandler can order it ritually burned as vengeance.”

Trying not to sound too relieved that she isn’t planning on begging Heather Chandler for forgiveness (because he’s not sure he could control his anger if he had to watch the Mythic Bitch Demon Queen of Westerburg High torment and berate the most wonderful person he’s ever met), JD smirks teasingly. “You know, if you didn’t have other plans, you could always stay over at mine again tonight. And you wouldn’t exactly need pajamas or clothes for that -”

Veronica kicks him gently under the table. “Shut up,” she says, blushing. “I mean, yeah, that would be nice. I’d like to stay over again, if that’s okay. But she has my house keys too, and I do actually need those back ASAP.” She bites her lip. “It’s alright if you don’t want to, I get that you’d rather not have to deal with the Heathers. I can walk over there and deal with her myself and then we could meet up again later -”

JD cuts her off with a quick, chaste kiss. “‘Course I’ll go with you,” he reassures her once he pulls away. Veronica’s face lights up, and he both loves and hates how relieved she looks.

“Really?”

“‘Course. You might need backup.”

Veronica hops down off her bar stool and rises up on her tiptoes to sweetly kiss him again. “Best boyfriend ever,” she declares. He’s pretty sure if he was a cartoon character he’d have obnoxious red hearts for eyes right now over how cute she is, but then he notices her free hand sneaking towards the opposite pocket of her jean jacket and realizes she’s attempting to distract him while she tries to grab her wallet. He moves quickly, hurriedly jumping off his own seat and pulling her into his arms so the hand he isn’t holding gets pinned against her chest.

“Don’t even try it, Veronica, this is my treat.”

“Best boyfriends ever get their brunch paid for, it’s the law -”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure you promised me that I’d get to take you on a date -”

Bickering with Veronica over who pays for their brunch feels strangely and heartwarmingly domestic. He eventually manages to persuade her to let him treat her, (“Fine,” she sighs, doing her best to sound annoyed but smiling too much for it to be convincing, “but next time at least let me go dutch.”, and he’s stupidly giddy over the fact that she’s already thinking about a next time, that she wants to do this again) and they head back out to his bike to drive over to Heather McNamara’s house. Watching his girlfriend beg a hungover cheerleader to not hold her overnight bag hostage isn’t his idea of a fun Saturday afternoon, but it’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make for Veronica. There aren’t many sacrifices he isn’t willing to make for Veronica, come to think of it, but doing this means they can spend the rest of today and hopefully most of tomorrow together, and that definitely makes it worth it.

As the pain sweeps through, makes no sense for you!
Every thrill is gone; wasn't too much fun at all -
But I'll be there for you
As the world falls down…
(Falling) As the world falls down…
(Falling, falling) As the world falls down…
(Falling, falling, falling) Falling in love.

Chapter End Notes

> Up next, Veronica and JD retrieve her things from Heather McNamara's house.

> “You don’t have to come in with me if you don’t want to.”
> “We’re gonna go in, get your stuff, and then I’ll drive you back to mine and we can spend the rest of the weekend pretending the Heathers don’t exist.”
> “Sounds good.”

## Chapter 4: Crush

Chapter Summary

> In a flashback to Friday night, Veronica and Heather McNamara talk about boys. Fast forward to Saturday afternoon, and JD and Veronica visit Heather M's house, discuss pets and books, and mull over the possibility that Heather isn't a totally awful person.

Chapter Notes

> Hey everyone!! I really hope you're enjoying reading this fic as much as I'm enjoying writing it :D This chapter is, like the last, not explicit - although there's brief discussion of sex between Veronica and Heather. Hope you enjoy!!

> Mild warning for discussion of past animal death for this one (pets don't live forever, sadly), as well as slight period-typical internalized misogyny. Although if you're a Heathers fan, it's definitely nothing worse than what's in the movie/musical.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

You make me lose control, your fingers on my bones!
I'm slippin' through the floor, so baby, don't crush me…
'Cause there's no exit here; nowhere to disappear!
There's not a single tear, so baby, don't crush me…

- Avril Lavigne, Crush

Friday 22nd September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
The backseat of Heather Chandler’s Porsche on the way to Ram Sweeney’s Homecoming party
A little after 7:30pm

“What took you so long, anyway?” Heather McNamara asks Veronica. She’s rummaging through her purse, and Veronica isn’t entirely sure if she’s listening properly, but the important thing is that Heather Chandler likes to play her Madonna CD at full volume on the way to important events, so she and Heather Duke (who got promoted to riding shotgun in the 7-Eleven parking lot after Veronica took too long fetching the Corn Nuts) hopefully can’t hear any of what’s being discussed in the backseat.

Veronica awkwardly tugs her jean jacket sleeves over her fists. “I ran into someone and got talking, that’s all.”

“Who?” Heather asks, emerging from the depths of yellow suede armed with lipgloss and a gold compact mirror. She might be the only person Veronica knows who can chat shit while perfectly reapplying Passion Punch Kissing Potion. “I thought anyone worth talking to would already be on their way to Ram’s, and I didn’t see any cars I recognized in the parking lot, so who -? OHHHHH, oh my gosh, it was that guy, wasn’t it?”

“What guy?” Veronica plays coy. Heather rolls her eyes.

“Come on, Veronica, you know! The guy from the caf who you were totally drooling over.”

“I wasn’t -” Veronica splutters, feeling her cheeks flush with heat. “I never drooled - but, yeah. It was, um, him.”

Heather makes a kissing noise at her mirror, then squeals quietly. “Ahh! Did you get his name?”

Veronica nods, smiling in spite of herself. “JD. It’s short for Jason Dean.”

“Ooh, like the guy in Rebel Without A Cause?”

“That’s James Dean. But yeah.” Veronica’s smile widens. “JD has a motorcycle too.”

Heather squeals quietly again. “Oh my gosh, so he’s, like, a bad boy.”

Veronica shrugs. “I don’t know. He was really, um, nice to me when we were talking.” She thinks back on the interaction, remembering how when she’d shook his hand her heartbeat had sped up and she could feel little calluses on his fingertips, how she’d desperately wanted to ask where they’d come from, learn everything about who he is; how his gorgeous blue eyes had occasionally glanced at the bottom of her skirt, at her cleavage, at her lips, before hurriedly looking away, his cheeks - cheekbones like marble banisters - ever so slightly pink, and it hadn’t felt skeezy or pervy, and she’d almost wanted him to keep looking; how he’d seemed actually disappointed when Heather Chandler dragged her away. Heather McNamara appraises her, clearly holding in a third squeal.

“Awww, you so have a crush on him!”

Veronica shushes her hurriedly, but Heather rolls her eyes.

“Relax, Material Girl is Heather’s favorite song, she’s not listening to us.” She leans in conspiratorially. “So, like, do you think you’ll boink him?”

“Heather!” Veronica gasps, the heat in her cheeks suddenly blazing. “I wasn’t thinking about - I, I mean, I don’t know - I, um, I -”

“God, Veronica, it’s just a question,” Heather giggles. She tilts her head, eyes slightly narrowed, but it doesn’t seem bitchy. She looks, if anything, kind of curious. “You’ve never done it, right?”

“Heather!”

“It’s not a big deal, Veronica,” Heather rolls her eyes. “You were, like, a geek until three weeks ago, and, like, no offense, but even now you’re still technically a zeek. Zeeks get a little leeway. You don’t have to do it with every guy who asks, and as long as you’re not a total joanie about it, waiting isn’t a big deal.”

“It sure felt like a big deal last year when Courtney and Shannon heard me talking about how I wanted to wait for the right guy and called me ‘Virginica’ for two weeks straight,” Veronica mutters. Heather rolls her eyes again.

“Rule Number One, Veronica, girls who’ve actually had sex don’t feel the need to brag about it constantly. It’s majorly tacky. Courtney and Shannon only make such a big deal about doing it because no one wants to do it with either of them. They’re both single-temperature joanies bitter that guys prefer three-temperature girls, like us, over them.”

“Sorry, I think I missed the part where temperatures came into it. What…?”

Heather tosses her bouncy blonde curls over her shoulder. “Being a three-temperature girl means you’re simultaneously hot, warm, and cool. Meanwhile Courtney and Shannon both have one thermostat setting: plain frigid. Basically they hate that a cheerleading skirt is a more effective way of getting a guy wrapped around your little finger than an offer of being their plus-one to the country club Thanksgiving party.” She gives the little double-clap that means she’s just had an idea. Probably a habit picked up from cheerleading, Veronica guesses. “Hey, if you think Tall-Dark-and-Psycho might be the right guy, you could always borrow my uniform! Use it to, y’know, reel him in…” She nudges Veronica with a wink and a giggle.

“Yeah, I don’t think jumping around in a spirit uniform is gonna solve my problem. Thanks anyway.” Veronica sighs, thumping her head back against the T-top. “Besides, it’s all a moot point. Even if JD wanted to go out with me, you know Heather would never allow it.”

“Yeah,” Heather sighs too. “Too bad. You’ll never know what it would be like to ride his motorcycle all day, then ride him all night afterwards.”

“Heather!” As they pull into Ram’s driveway, Veronica’s giggling sets off Heather McNamara too. Heather Chandler parks the car and turns around to glare at them.

“What are you two dipsticks twittering about?”

Veronica flashes back to Heather’s scowl in the 7-Eleven, and decides she doesn’t need to know the truth. “I bounced my head off the T-top when you parked, that’s all.”

“God, Veronica, don’t be such a pillowcase.” Heather Chandler rolls her eyes, then turns her glare towards Heather McNamara when the Head Cheerleader lets out a little giggle-snort. “Shut the fuck up, dick-breath! Get out the car. We’re pushing fashionably late into regular late. This party is gonna be majorly very, so let’s motor!”

As the four girls make their way up the drive to the open front door, Heather McNamara catches Veronica’s eye and winks at her, discreetly making the universal motion of ‘zip-it, lock-it, put-it-in-your-pocket’. Veronica smiles gratefully; Heather McNamara has her faults - mainly socially acceptable moral failings - but she can be alright sometimes. The Heathers might feel more like her colleagues at the Being Popular Office than her friends, but maybe Heather McNamara is the sort of colleague you could go to the bar with after work on occasion.

Even if she has no chance with JD, Veronica appreciates the discretion about her crush either way.

Saturday 23rd September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
The McNamaras' mansion
Circa 2pm

Heather McNamara lives in what is either a very large mansion or a small castle; JD’s going with mansion on account of the fact that it lacks a moat. The walls are sandy-colored stone and there are huge columns on either side of the front door that support a large balcony above it, and the driveway could fit four of his own house. There’s a large wrought iron gate with an intercom, but Veronica simply hops off his bike and taps in an access code that makes the gates swing open. She glances back at him, looking nervous again.

“You don’t have to come in with me if you don’t want to,” she reminds him. JD rolls his eyes, smiling, and gets off his bike to wheel it through the gate. He nudges down the kickstand and removes his helmet before offering his hand to her.

“We’re gonna go in, get your stuff, and then I’ll drive you back to mine and we can spend the rest of the weekend pretending the Heathers don’t exist.” Veronica smiles and removes her own helmet, and entwines their fingers together.

“Sounds good.” They hang their helmets on the handlebars of the bike and make their way up the drive. He can feel her tensing nervously as they climb the stairs up to the portico, and squeezes her hand supportively as she rings the doorbell. She shoots him a grateful smile, and tries to look more confident as the front door opens.

Heather McNamara is apparently one of those lucky people who could probably still look cute while wearing a full hazmat suit. She’s not Veronica-attractive, but even clad in a red-and-white Westerburg Cheer Squad hoodie and gray sweatpants with a large shiny Tweety Pie graphic on one thigh, halfway through brushing her teeth, she still looks like she’s doing one of those celebrity ‘At Home’ photoshoots where they wear designer sweats and $1000 slippers and get photographed while sitting on their stupidly oversized sofa and stroking a handbag chihuahua to make them seem relatable.

“Veronica?!” she says around a yellow toothbrush that she hasn’t bothered removing from her mouth, and then chokes slightly and holds up a give me a moment finger. Heather vanishes back into the house and down a hallway that passes what looks like an honest-to-god full-length cocktail bar, and they hear a muffled hacking noise and running water before she comes back into view and beckons them into the impractically large foyer.

“Hey, Heather,” Veronica says awkwardly. “I just came to get my bag and then I’ll be out of your hair -”

Heather cuts her off with a hug that makes Veronica squeak in surprise and drop JD’s hand. She meets JD’s eyes over Heather’s shoulder, and JD shrugs at her, feeling as nonplussed as she looks.

“I was so worried about you, oh my god!” Heather admonishes Veronica. “I woke up and you weren’t there and I thought, ‘oh crap, it happened again, it’s just like when I lost Violet’s Flippin’ Wonder Dog at the park, but worse because this time it’s an actual human person!’ And then your mom called -”

“What?” Veronica gasps, pulling away from the hug. Heather nods, blonde ponytail bouncing.

“Yuh-huh, when I figured you hadn’t just gone home I told her you were still asleep, and she was all ‘oh well, I don’t want to wake her up, should I call back?’ and I was all ‘oh no don’t bother yourself Mrs Sawyer I can take a message for her’ and she was like ‘can Veronica stay at yours again tonight because her dad and I have to go to Cincinnati and probably have to stay there overnight because of a family emergency and stuff’ -”

“WHAT?!”

Heather brushes her worry off with a flick of her perfectly manicured hand. “Don’t freak, I wrote it down on the message pad, it didn’t sound like a total disaster or anything really serious. Point is, she thinks you were at mine all night and that you’re gonna stay over all weekend instead of just today.” She grins mischievously and glances pointedly at JD. “But never mind that! If I didn’t have to run off to cheer practice because of the Homecoming game tomorrow, I would so, like, interrogate you right now. We’re tabling this for Monday.” She snatches up a yellow dance tote with the word ‘CHEER!’ emblazoned across it in sparkly black letters, swinging it across her shoulder and flipping her ponytail out of the way. Veronica blinks.

“Heather, I puked on Heather’s shoes last night. I’m dead socially, remember?”

Heather rolls her eyes. “Veronica, please. She’ll get over it. Literally all of us have blown chunks while drunk at some point and been embarrassed by it, okay? Heather and Heather can’t say shit. Heather barfed up red wine in a dorm closet at the Remmington U Halloween party last year, and Heather actually threw up on Ram at Kurt’s end-of-school kegger back in June.” She glances at JD, looking slightly guilty. “Um, can neither of you tell people about that? Heather and Heather like to pretend it didn’t happen and stuff.”

JD mimes zipping his lips shut and turning an imaginary key. Heather McNamara might be shallow and bitchy and representative of everything he’s against, but her perky cheerleader bubbliness is irritatingly contagious. And he can’t bring himself to fully hate anyone who’s nice to Veronica. Heather smiles at his little gesture of mum’s the word, but Veronica is still staring at her, looking worried.

“But I ruined her prank too, she’s definitely still pissed about that.”

Heather snorts. “Yeah, she’ll get over that too as soon as she remembers how much she liked the doctor’s note you forged to get her out of gym class during the pacer test. Besides, you wrecked the prank so effectively I barely even remember what it was supposed to be, and I helped plan it. There’s no way people are still talking about that when like thirty minutes later Ram and Kurt did a keg stand and Kurt started laughing and accidentally made the beer come out his nose.”

A car horn honks outside, and Heather rolls her eyes.

“COMING!” she yells out the still-open front door, then turns back to Veronica. “Listen, Lavender’s giving me a ride to practice so I gotta run; Violet’s out back with Aurélia so just shut the door when you leave, it’s on a spring latch.” She fixes Veronica with a stern look. “I wanna hear all about this on Monday, okay?”

Veronica stares. “O-okay.”

Heather beams and claps, bouncing up and down on her tiptoes. “Yay! Bye Veronica, bye JD! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” She skips out the door, pulling it closed behind her. A few moments later they hear the screech of a car pulling out of the driveway, and the clang of the gates shutting behind them.

“How does she know my name?” is the only thing JD can think of saying when it becomes clear Veronica isn’t going to initiate a conversation.

At that, Veronica shakes herself out of her daze, glancing up at him then looking shyly away. She’s blushing and biting her lower lip, and he realizes she’s flustered. “I… may have mentioned our conversation in the 7-Eleven to her while we were driving to Ram’s last night.”

JD cups her face in one hand and tilts her chin up so she’s facing him. “You’re so fucking cute,” he grins. Veronica’s blush deepens.

“Shut up,” she murmurs, but he can tell she doesn’t really mean it.

“You were telling your friends about me. You had a crush on me,” he says gleefully.

“I think we established that when I climbed through your window and demanded you fuck me ‘til I couldn’t remember anything else that happened last night. And I can still remember bits of the party, by the way, so you’ve got more work to do there.”

“Your wish is my command,” JD smirks. “You know, the sooner you get your stuff, the sooner I can get started on that.”

Veronica bites her lower lip again, her cheeks a lovely dusty pink, but this time she looks less embarrassed and more enamored. “Come on, then.” She laces their fingers together and drags him across the foyer to the hallway heading off to the right. There’s a wide staircase spiraling up to the next level, and they head up it, Veronica’s heels tapping on the marble.

“Just out of curiosity, who are Lavender, Violet, and Aurélia?” JD asks as they reach the top. There are two doors in front of them, one opposite the top of the stairs and the other off to the right, and Veronica leads him towards the second one.

“Lavender and Violet are Heather’s sisters.”

“Makes sense. Purple flower names. Nice sensible theme.”

Veronica giggles. “You joke, but I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if that was literally word-for-word their parents’ line of thinking. Anyway, Lavender’s older, she goes to Remmington, and Violet’s still in elementary school. Aurélia is Violet’s Au Pair.” She pushes open the door (which has a cute little HEATHER license plate with cartoon bumblebees marking it as the right one) and glances up at his face, grinning a bit at his raised eyebrows. “Yeah, the McNamaras are really wealthy. Her dad’s the owner of McNamara & Co., they make custom engagement rings. They’re, like, old money. Like, old, old money.”

Heather’s room is, unsurprisingly, yellow. The walls, the heart-shaped rug, the drapes, the bedspread, and the canopy of her four-poster are all the same perky shade of canary yellow, with painted and embroidered bumblebees dotted whimsically here and there. There’s an open door leading to a yellow-tiled ensuite with a lifesize poster of Madonna tacked to it, and a white desk and matching vanity against the wall opposite the door, with bumblebee-shaped drawer-pulls. JD’s gaze is caught by a gilded birdcage in the corner. Something about it stands out - it’s clearly been used recently, because there are toys and a little hanging mirror inside it, but there’s no pet bird in sight. Veronica drops his hand and heads over to the message pad next to Heather’s novelty Snoopy phone.

“‘Veronica’s parents gone 2 Cincinnati til Sunday evening,’” she reads aloud. “‘V’s cousins Josh and Jess supposed 2 B staying at friend’s house while their parents R at work thingy but they caught flu and stuff.’” She looks relieved. “Good news, no one’s dead! It’s my kid cousins, my aunt and uncle are at a company retreat thing and Jessica and Joshua have a flu bug so my parents had to go look after them.” She grabs her dark blue overnight bag from where it sits on a fluffy lemon-colored egg chair and hoists it onto her shoulder, then notices him staring at the empty cage.

“Tweety McNamara III died two weeks ago,” she says quietly. “Heather was really cut up about it. She’d had him since kindergarten. It was shitty how he went, too; Lavender lit a scented candle next door without thinking and the smell sent him into cardiac arrest.”

Oh. He feels kind of… sorry for Heather McNamara. Even bitchy Head Cheerleaders love their pets, he supposes. He doesn’t know if he should voice this notion, so instead he asks, “What happened to the first two?”

“They were her grandma’s, I think.” Veronica shrugs. “I feel kinda bad, because when she introduced him as Tweety Number Three, I pretty much assumed her dad was just buying her a new one every time she forgot to feed them.” She takes his hand again and pulls him back towards the door and across the hallway. “Then she said that canaries are supposed to live for, like, fifteen years, and I thought about how I’d feel if JFK died without warning when I thought he’d have a good few years left, and I nearly started crying with her.”

“I’m sorry, JFK?” JD raises an eyebrow. “As in the president who got assassinated twenty-six years ago? I think I missed some crucial context there.”

Veronica smacks her palm against her forehead and laughs. “Oh! Right, yeah. JFK is my cat. My parents met because they both minored in US History, so our cats have always been named after presidents. They had James Garfield before I was born, and Abraham Lincoln when I was a kid.” They reach the bottom of the stairs and she nudges him. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Did you ever have a pet growing up?”

“I had a hamster back in middle school,” he says, leaving out the part where his dad had guiltily bought him it as a ‘sorry it’s the anniversary of you watching your mom kill herself by walking into the building I was about to detonate’ gift. “I named him Jean Valjean because he was really good at escaping and then turning up in inconvenient places, y’know, like the protagonist of Les Misérables.”

Veronica looks delighted. “I love that book! It’s, um, kind of embarrassing now, but back in Freshman year I would sometimes sit in my garden and pretend I was Cosette, waiting for my Marius to leave pages of handwritten poetry for me.”

JD laughs at that, because it’s adorable, and fits so well with everything he knows about her, nerdy daydreamer that she’s turned out to be. “Sorry to disappoint you; I don’t think I’m much of a Marius.”

Veronica snorts and teasingly shoves him. “Oh, please, you’re such a Marius, Mister ‘I’m handsome and broody with dark clothes and hair and I have a complicated relationship with my father.’” She glances up at him, suddenly coy. “I’m not asking for handwritten poetry, but I wouldn’t mind if you keep quoting Baudelaire to me.”

There’s something in her eyes that makes his breath hitch in his chest, telling him she more than simply ‘wouldn’t mind’ if he kept quoting Baudelaire to her. It’s lustful and wanting and ignites sparks through his blood. “I can definitely do that,” he breathes. Veronica grins.

“Good, because my parents aren’t expecting me home until tomorrow evening, and I believe you offered me your company for the rest of the weekend. I might just take you up on that.”

JD feels that it would be inappropriate to shove her up against the wall of the McNamaras’ foyer and have his way with her right there and then, so instead he pulls her urgently out the door and back towards his motorcycle. The urgency is forced to convert to slow anticipation when Veronica realizes they forgot to shut the door and rushes back to do so, and then again when she asks if she can switch out her heels for the comfier pair of blue Converse in her overnight bag before they take off, but finally the gate clangs shut behind them and Veronica wraps her arms around his waist, and they finally head back to his own house, her exhilarated laughter pleasantly ringing in his ears.

Saturday 23rd September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
The Deans’ rental house
About twenty minutes later

As soon as they’re parked up, he helps her off the bike and they remove their helmets before he pulls her into a slow kiss. She sighs happily into it, but then much to his disappointment pulls away.

“Let me go change,” she smiles, “then I’m all yours.”

JD doesn’t see much point in her changing her clothes when he has plans to get her naked again as soon as possible, but he acquiesces to her wishes. He unlocks the door, they cross the main room and pause in the hallway that leads to his bedroom and the bathroom. Veronica drops his hand and pushes open the bathroom door, but then turns back to him with a mischievous smile.

“By the way, at breakfast earlier, when you tried to speak French? You accidentally told me that I made you understand the meaning of cumshots.”

“Oh my god.” JD facepalms and leans back against the wall - more heavily than he means to, making his head bounce off the drywall. “OW, fuck!”

“Oh, jeez,” Veronica gasps, clearly trying very hard not to laugh. She returns to his side and reaches up to stroke the back of his head. “Are you okay?”

JD leans into her gentle touch, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I just - I misjudged how close I was to that wall. New house.”

“Poor baby,” Veronica giggles sympathetically. “C’mere.” She pulls him into a hug and gently strokes his hair. Fuck, he’s pretty sure if he was a cat, he’d be purring right now.

“On second thoughts, I don’t know if I am okay. I might need you to kiss me better,” he tells her. Veronica laughs and raises her eyebrows.

“Don’t you mean, ‘kiss it better’?”

“I said what I said.” JD nuzzles his face against her neck and breaths her in. She smells like his soap. God, he likes her so much. Veronica lets out a delighted peal of laughter, and pulls back to peck his lips.

“Give me, like, ten minutes to change and freshen up. Then I’ll kiss you until you don’t even remember it happening.” She squeezes his hand and vanishes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. He’s still not totally sure why she couldn’t just change in his room - after all, it’s not like he hasn’t already seen her naked, they got all of that awkwardness out of the way last night and this morning - but whatever.

Ten minutes. He’d wait forever for Veronica Sawyer; he can wait ten minutes.

(In his slightly lovesick daze, he automatically moves to slump happily back against the wall, but luckily manages to catch himself in time before a second head injury can be sustained, and decides it might be safer to wait in his room instead.)

It's just the way you are - the way that you walk,
The way that you talk, the way that you read me, baby!
And honey don't hide that look in your eyes -
Darlin', it drives me crazy!
Don't crush, don't crush me, no, say you'll remain…

Chapter End Notes

> Up next, JD and Veronica spend the first afternoon of their weekend together getting a little more, uh, intimate.

> “Would’ve thought you’d be wearing the matching underwear to the party.”
> “Heather told me not to, in case I hooked up with someone. She said matching underwear makes guys think you were expecting it.”
> “Wasn’t the plan to hook up with anyone last night then, huh?”
> “Nope. But it is right now.”

## Chapter 5: Supernatural Girl

Chapter Summary

> Veronica and JD, now with the rest of their weekend free, decide to get closer. A lot closer.

Chapter Notes

> Hi everyone! Happy Halloween!!

> So, I'm a little nervous posting this chapter because it's very explicit. It and the next chapter are the first time I've ever written oral sex, so I really hope I've done a good job. I've also tried to be relatively realistic about it being their first time doing anything like this - I think we've all at some point read sex scenes where we had to stop and yell in frustration, "That's not how that works!!" or something of the like, so my goal here is for you to. not do that. Yeah.

> I actually made a playlist on Spotify for JD's mixtape that they listen to here (with the fitting description of 'songs to go down on someone to idk')! It's available here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1db3QXJtRQ0SwO3Oe3zyk5?si=a3fc81323af440da

> (Yes, the art is by me!)

> Happy reading!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Said to meet you in the car park, face-to-face in the dark, dark.
Now I’m always seein’ stars, stars, now I’m always seein’ stars…
I feel a chill in the air as you hold my hand -
You give me a reason, somethin’ to believe in.
I see the constellations in your eyes, both my hands tracin’ your thighs!
It's only you I see for miles, a feelin’ I don’t recognize…

- The Veronicas, Supernatural Girl

Saturday 23rd September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
JD's bedroom
Sometime around 2:45 pm

JD takes it all back: it was absolutely worth letting Veronica change her clothes, because she’s traded the glamor of her black dress and turquoise stockings for the sexy casualness of a soft navy t-shirt and a sky blue cotton mini skirt. He’d put on a tape while he waited for her (he doesn’t bother much with albums; moving house so frequently, it’s easier if you just take the stuff you really like, so it’s a mixtape he’d made himself of his favorite songs) and she walks into his room right as the Ramones’ Bonzo Goes To Bitburg fades out and, fittingly, Looking For A Kiss by New York Dolls starts.

“There’s no way that’s the local radio,” Veronica says, dropping her overnight bag on the floor and staring approvingly at the cassette player.

JD manages to stop staring at the tempting sight of her bare legs under her skirt (and forces himself not to get lost in the memory of how soft her thighs had felt wrapped around his hips this morning) and offers her a grin. “Nah, this is mine. Ever heard them before? New York Dolls. They broke up ages ago, but I borrowed a couple of their tapes from a library back when we lived in - Vegas, I think? I dunno, before we lived there we were over in Knoxville and you could taste the baptist repression. And this was just… so different and out there and it felt, I dunno, like, actually authentic.”

Veronica bops her head in time to the beat, sliding her hand into his again. “I like it,” she says thoughtfully. “Way better than the Top 40s stuff everyone was dancing to at the party last night.” She sways to the music and grabs his other hand. “I would have rather danced to this.”

“What are you -?” he starts to ask, laughing. She grins widely.

“Come on, JD, dance with me.”

They aren’t really dancing, more just holding hands and grooving from side to side, but it’s goofy and fun and she’s too cute to say no to. She positively beams when he spins her under his arm and starts singing along under his breath.

“Listen when I tell ya, you got no time for a fix, ‘cause I just gotta make it, can't afford to miss. If there’s one reason I'm telling you this, I feels bad… bad… bad, and I'm looking for a kiss.” He punctuates it by pecking her lips, making her giggle and lean up for more.

“Well I been looking for a real… hot… kiss,” he sings along with David Johansen, before dropping her hands and sliding his arms around her waist. “Come on, kiss me.”

She does, her hands finding their way to his chest and her fingers curling into the fabric of his flannel, and as the guitar solo kicks in he backs towards the bed and sits down, pulling her into his lap. Veronica straddles his thighs and darts her tongue across his lips, and he obligingly opens his mouth to deepen their kiss, sliding one hand up to her mid back and the other down to her hip, fiddling with her waistband but not quite daring to untuck her shirt. She breaks the kiss to give him a look of frustration.

“Do not fucking tease me, JD,” she warns him fiercely as the vocals come back in on the track. “You’ve seen me naked, we are past this awkward shit.”

She swears more when she’s turned on, he realizes, and urgently pulls her into another kiss while carefully yanking her t-shirt free from her waistband. He moves his hands up to cup her breasts the way she’d asked him to last night, and she rewards him with a quiet moan into his mouth. She starts pushing at his flannel, and he obediently shrugs out of it before he slips his hands under her shirt and slides them back up to their previous position, loving how soft she feels under his touch, getting drunk on the little noises she lets out as he brushes his fingers over the lacey top of her bra and teases the skin under it.

As the song ends and the next one (David Bowie’s John, I’m Only Dancing) begins, Veronica pulls away from his mouth and begins planting kisses down his jaw, nipping gently at his skin every now and again, not hard enough to leave marks but still enough to make him let out an embarrassing whine in a demand for more. He can feel her smiling against his skin, and she kisses his neck one last time before pulling away altogether.

“Can I take your shirt off?” she asks, biting her lower lip. JD nods and lifts his arms as she starts pulling his T-shirt up. As soon as he’s out of it, she tosses it onto the pillow and eagerly kisses him again, splaying her hands across his chest. God, it’s like something out of every teenage boy’s fantasies, sitting on his bed with a beautiful girl - his girlfriend - in his lap, kissing him senseless and drifting her fingers across his torso as if she’s trying to commit every inch of his skin to memory. Her lips are soft and taste like candy, like she glossed up with flavored lip balm in preparation for this. He whimpers slightly when she wriggles back and stands up, realizing he’s already achingly hard for her, but Veronica gives him a sultry smirk and slowly reaches for the hem of her own shirt.

It takes an almost unbearably long time for her to peel her shirt off, and with every inch of smooth porcelain skin revealed he realizes she’s enjoying teasing him. He’s tempted to point out the hypocrisy of her double standard - she’d vehemently told him not to tease her, after all - but then she gets her shirt past her bust and wriggles it over her head, and he decides he doesn’t mind that much. Or at all, really. She’s wearing the same white lacy bra that she had on last night, with a tiny powder-blue bow in the center, and the thin fabric doesn’t do much to disguise the tight rosey peaks of her nipples - an image he wants burned into his brain forever. JD reaches desperately for her, wanting her back in his lap, but Veronica cups his face in her hands and pulls him to his feet, reaching up to kiss him hungrily while her hands make their way from his face to his shoulders and then down his chest to his belt.

He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of her skirt as she undoes his belt and unbuttons his jeans, and he pulls out of the kiss to check in with her, resting his forehead against hers. “Is this - can I take your skirt off?”

Veronica nods enthusiastically, her breath audibly hitching, and JD pushes at the stretchy fabric until it gives and slides down past her hips and over her thighs. The skirt drops to the floor, and Veronica breaks from him to pick it up and add it to the growing pile of clothes on his pillow. His gaze trails down her body, and he realizes delightedly that her panties match her bra - white lace with a tiny blue bow in the front.

“Would’ve thought you’d be wearing the matching underwear to the party,” he comments. Veronica blushes.

“Heather told me not to, in case I hooked up with someone. She said matching underwear makes guys think you were expecting it.”

“Wasn’t the plan to hook up with anyone last night then, huh?”

“Nope.” Veronica grins wickedly at him. “But it is right now.”

She leans up to kiss him again, once, twice, three times - christ, even the little smacking noises their lips make as they meet and part are stupidly erotic - then presses a trail of kisses against the corner of his mouth, the line of his jaw, his neck, his clavicle, and - holy shit - down his chest as she unzips his fly and slowly sinks to her knees.

“Veronica? What - what are you -?” JD chokes out. Veronica bites her lower lip and looks up at him with those gorgeous brown doe-eyes.

“I just, I want to…” She tucks an errant dark curl behind her ear and takes a deep breath. “Can I suck you off?”

He stares, heat rushing to his face. “Wha…?” he manages to croak out, all the eloquence and wit that had made her fall for him nowhere to be seen.

Veronica swallows, looking slightly nervous. “Um, I’ve never… but, um, I’d like to give - give you a blowjob, if you want it.”

If you want it?!

The memory of the way her lips had looked when she’d taken a sip from his slushie in the 7-Eleven flashes into his mind, red and pouted and slick with gloss with her cheeks slightly hollowed, her tongue flicking out to catch a stray bit of syrupy ice as she handed the cup back. He’d assumed he’d just have to save that image for the spank bank, but if she’s offering…

But what if she’s only offering out of obligation, some warped idea that it’s just what she’s supposed to do, if her ‘friends’ have drilled it into her head that you’ll get bored of her otherwise? JD takes a deep breath.

“If… are you sure? Because, um, yeah, I’d like that,” he gulps, “a lot, but you don’t have to if you don’t -”

“I want to, JD,” Veronica interrupts him firmly. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to.” She takes another deep breath and runs her tongue over her lips, curling her fingers into the waistband of his jeans. He’d kicked his boots off when they got in, and chucked his socks into the laundry hamper while she was changing (partly because socks start to feel kind of gross after you take your shoes off, and partly because he didn’t want to waste time or risk killing the mood if other clothes started coming off) so it’s easy for her to pull his jeans down to his ankles and for him to step out of them and kick them away. “Um, it might be easier if you sit down, though -”

Veronica pulls his boxers down as he sits on the bed, dropping them on top of his discarded jeans and settling herself between his legs. She kisses the crook of his hip and smiles up at him. “Let me know if I’m doing anything wrong, okay? I want to make you feel as good as possible.”

JD nods, biting his lower lip in anticipation. “O-Okay.” And then he lets out a slightly strangled gasp because Veronica has just pressed her lips gently against the base of his cock and is slowly kissing her way up his shaft. She delicately kisses the tip, her tongue darting out to swipe through a bead of precum, and pulls away to smile up at him.

“Am I doing okay?”

“Mmghph - y-yeah. P-please don’t st-stop - ahh…”

He cuts himself off with a groan when she fits her lips around him and sucks lightly, engulfing the head of his cock in wet heat. She slowly takes him in deeper, lips carefully curled over her teeth, and he can feel her starting to drool a little as she hollows her cheeks around him. He clenches a fist into the bedsheets and buries his other hand in her soft dark curls. Veronica hums slightly, sounding pleased (and creating an absolutely fan-fucking-tastic vibrating sensation around him), and brings one hand up to cover what she can’t reach with her mouth, the other one moving to his hip, her thumb gently stroking back and forth.

“Fuck, god - Veronica… Mm - fuck.” She bobs her head slightly, making JD moan embarrassingly loudly, then - much to his dismay - pulls off with a slight wet popping noise to nibble at his inner thighs. “Wh-where did you learn to do that?” he pants, brushing a loose lock of hair back behind her ear. “I thought you said you’d never - nnmph - done this before.” Veronica smirks up at him.

“I haven’t, but the noises you’re making are a pretty good indication of which things you want me to keep doing,” she says, grinning cheekily.

Her lips are red and swollen, and her chin is shining with spit and precum, and god she’s so fucking hot it’s insane. He wants to retort, some clever quip about her cockiness, but it’s lost when she licks a tortuously slow stripe up the underside of his dick, swirling her tongue experimentally around the head before taking him back into her mouth and bobbing her head up and down. Her hand moves in time with her mouth, and she looks up at him and makes eye contact as she deliberately swallows around him. He groans and digs his nails into the mattress in an effort not to thrust up into her mouth.

“Oh god, yes, just like that,” he whimpers, barely able to keep his eyes open but not wanting to look away. “Keep - keep going.”

She does, and JD can feel her smiling around him as she alternates between gently sucking at the head of his cock and moving her lips up and down his shaft, occasionally pulling back to tease the tip with her tongue. Veronica lets out a satisfied little noise that almost fucking vibrates through him, making him gasp as he finally loses the fight to keep his eyes open.

I’m never going to be able to listen to The Runaways the same way again, he thinks hazily, just barely registering Cherry Bomb playing on the tape deck.

Veronica’s other hand leaves his hip so she can teasingly trace her fingertips over his balls, lightly at first then stroking more firmly, but always perfectly, incredibly gentle. She flattens her tongue against the underside of his cock and swallows around him again, and the combination of suction and pressure is overwhelmingly perfect.

“Fuck - shit - Veronica, I’m nearly - god - maybe you should - mm - I’m really close, I’m about to -”

Time slows as his orgasm hits him. Waves of raw scalding heat wash over him, his vision going a little blurry, and he finds himself gasping her name in ecstasy. “Veronica - oh fuck, god, Veronica…”

She’s heaven and holy and perfect and he’s devoted to her now, he’s a convert to whatever religion worships her, he’d tell her that she’s captured his soul but unfortunately she’s also taken his ability to speak. He feels her pull away, and opens his eyes so he can see where she is to reach for her, desperate to hold her close, to show her how entranced he is by her, but she’s moved back enough that if he wants to touch her he’ll have to lean forward. His vision slowly comes back to him, and he realizes belatedly that she has one hand over her mouth and she’s giving odd little jerks like she’s trying to hold in a cough.

“Veronica?” he asks concernedly, his voice hoarse and slightly scratchy. “You okay?” Veronica nods and gets to her feet, holding up two fingers as she backs towards his bedroom door, and he realizes with slightly bleary horror that she has tears in her eyes.

By the time he’s recovered enough to grab his boxers for modesty’s sake and go after her, he finds her in the bathroom, leaning over the sink and coughing slightly as she runs the tap. She wipes her chin with the back of her hand and glances up at him, trying to smile even with tear tracks glistening on her cheeks.

“Sorry,” she says, her voice slightly shaky. “I, um, I tried to swallow, but I, um, I gagged.”

JD pulls her into his arms, one hand stroking her back and the other carefully wiping away her tears. “You didn’t have to,” he says guiltily. “I’m sorry, I should’ve given you more warning -”

“No, no, you were fine,” Veronica shakes her head. She leans into him, one hand resting on his chest as he hugs her close. “You gave me plenty of warning, I could’ve pulled back. I just… I thought I could handle it.”

JD gently presses a kiss to her hairline and reaches over to flick the tap off. “Veronica, you’re incredible. That was amazing, and I loved it. Thank you. But, seriously, you don’t have to do that last part if you don’t like it.”

“It wasn’t bad,” Veronica insists. “It was just… different. Different to what I was expecting. I’ll get used to it.”

“You don’t have to -”

“I want to.” She smiles up at him, a proper smile this time; her eyes are still watering slightly but he understands now that it’s a side-effect of the reflex rather than because she’s upset. Her cheeks have gone a little pink. “I liked - I liked doing that for you. I want to do it again at some point. I, um, I think I might need a break before we do anything else today, though.”

“‘Course. Is there anything I can, I dunno -?”

“Could you maybe get me a glass of water? And then I think I just want to lie in your bed with you holding me, for a bit. Listen to music and cuddle.”

JD nods and kisses her forehead. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

Ohio’s tap water is gross, but luckily there’s three-quarters of a multipack of Sierra Springs in the cupboard left over from the drive from Boston to Sherwood, so he pours some into a glass and sticks the half-empty bottle in the fridge. Veronica’s perched on the edge of the bathtub when he gets back; she gratefully accepts the cup and smiles shyly when he tucks the strand of her hair that keeps coming loose back behind her ear again. JD heads back to his room to wait for her, moves their discarded clothes off the pillow and onto a nearby box (it’s so cute how meticulous she is about not just leaving her clothes crumpled on the floor), and does his best to tidy the bed a bit before sitting down to wait for her.

Veronica returns and pads over to the bed just as the tape starts playing the Ramones’ I Want You Around, which is fitting. JD scoots up the bed to lean against the pillow and pulls her into his arms, to which she lets out a contented little sigh. They settle with Veronica pressed into his side with her arm thrown over his chest, her head snuggled under his chin and one of her legs hooked over his, and JD thinks he’d like to stay there like that forever if she’d let him.

Unfortunately, I Want You Around is the last song on the first side of the cassette, and he has to get up again to flip the tape over, lest the machine start making ill-mannered clunking noises, but he presses play on the second side and David Bowie’s As The World Falls Down begins as he rejoins her, and they lie there together like that, just breathing together and enjoying the closeness. They make it through two more tracks in silence (Good Feeling by the Violent Femmes and Lonely Planet Boy by the New York Dolls) until in the middle of the third song (Haunted by the Pogues) Veronica shifts and props herself up to face him.

“I was thinking… if you’re up for it, I could maybe go for more now?”

Where did you come from? I don’t know why,
You make me feel like it’s the first time!
Where did you come from, Supernatural girl?
Supernatural girl, you’re out of this world!
You’re out of this world, you’re out of this world,
You’re out of this world!

Chapter End Notes

> Up next, JD returns the favour to Veronica ;)

> “Good?”
> “Very. Stay on that side, though. I - I got a second piercing on the other one three weeks ago. I don’t want - mmm - I don’t want to risk any - oh, fuck, do that again…”

## Chapter 6: Prove My Love

Chapter Summary

> JD returns the favour to Veronica, and also takes her up on her request for him to quote more Baudelaire to her.

Chapter Notes

> Hello!! Thank you so much for the lovely comments I received on the last chapter!

> Like I said last week, the last chapter and this one are my first time writing oral sex, so I hope I've done a good job lol. A lot of research went into this, up to and including me reading as many of Charles Baudelaire's works as I could find available online.

> We switch back to Veronica's perspective for this chapter, which we haven't seen since the prequel and the start of Chapter 4. I hope you enjoy this chapter!!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Just last night I was reminded of
Just how bad it had gotten and
Just how sick I had become -
But it could change with this relationship!
De-deranged, we've all been through some shit,
And if we’re a thing, I think this thing’s begun!

- Violent Femmes, Prove My Love

Saturday 23rd September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
JD's bedroom
About quarter past three

“I was thinking… if you’re up for it, I could maybe go for more now?”

Veronica can’t get enough of the way JD looks at her, she’s decided. She’s never felt hot before; even after the Heathers turned her from geek to glam, she still always felt like the Cute Nerdy One. Ally Sheedy next to three Molly Ringwolds. But the way he’s staring at her now, while she’s only wearing her underwear with sex hair and her neck covered in hickeys, makes her insides fucking burn, there’s no other way to put it. And the crazy part is, it’s no different from how he looked at her during breakfast, or when they were discussing pets and books and shit, or, fuck, in the goddamn 7-Eleven yesterday evening. He looks at her like he’s never seen anyone so hot in his whole life, and it makes her want to fucking devour him, kiss him until her lips are bruised and her jaw aches, wrap her legs around him and, if he hasn’t already, have him completely ruin her for anyone else.

He’s like a wet dream come true, if she’s perfectly fucking honest, and she doesn’t just mean physically. He held hands with her in the diner and came with her to Heather’s house (speaking of Heather McNamara, that whole experience is definitely going to need to be unpacked later) and he likes one of her favorite books and he danced with her to rock music in his room. Besides being devilishly handsome, he’s really fucking sweet.

She doesn’t get why the Heathers always sound fed up or resigned whenever they talk about giving head. It felt, honestly, kind of powerful, having him at her mercy like that. The feel of him in her mouth, the way his skin had tasted ever-so-slightly salty, his hand in her hair, his hitched breath and moans and whimpers and the slightly choked tone of his voice whenever he managed to articulate any actual words beyond indistinct noises of pleasure… she’s definitely down to do it again at some point. Forget feeling like a queen - he makes her feel like a goddamn goddess.

And then, when she’d embarrassed herself trying to be sexy and had to run to the bathroom to cough into the sink - she knew in theory what to expect by having him finish in her mouth, but the actual sensation of it still took her by surprise and triggered her gag reflex - he came after her and wiped the reflexive tears off her face and brought her water and held her while she recovered and, holy fuck, all the shit Heather and Heather and Heather told her about their experiences with David and Peter and Kurt and Ram and whoever else - none of it could have prepared her for that.

Fuck, she’s so lucky.

JD sits up and leans in to press his lips against hers, and she sighs happily into it, sliding her hands up around his shoulders so she can gently stroke her thumbs across the back of his neck, loving the way he smiles against her mouth.

She thinks - and she knows it’s stupid and too early and embarrassingly intense, but whatever - she thinks she might love him.

They’re forced to break their kiss to catch their breath, and he leans his forehead against hers and softly strokes her thigh before bringing his hand up to cup her cheek. “You sure?” he checks, smiling when she nods enthusiastically. “Good, because… what you just did there? I was thinking of returning the favor.”

Veronica feels her cheeks flush pink, and she glances at his lips. “Oh! Um, you mean… with your mouth?”

JD nods and kisses her on the nose, and she feels the heat spread out from her cheeks to her whole face. She’s still kind of amazed that he was a virgin when she broke into his room last night, given how good he’d been at… well… giving her everything she asked for. He gently strokes her cheek with his thumb before leaning in to kiss her mouth again, deeper this time, shifting his position to kneel next to her as he does so and pulling her into his lap to hold her close. She feels one of his hands gently slide up her back, and his fingers brush against the fastening of her bra before awkwardly plucking at it. It’s kind of endearing, right up until he accidentally catches the underband with his thumb so it pings against her skin with a loud and deeply unsexy smacking noise.

“Gah! Jeez.” Veronica pulls away from the kiss, trying not to laugh. JD looks mortified.

“Shit, sorry! Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Veronica giggles. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t, like, sore or anything. Just, um, okay, you want to sort of… pinch the clasp instead of plucking at it. Yeah…”

She feels him gently pull the fabric away from her skin, and then the familiar relief around her chest as he successfully unhooks it. He’s - oh fuck her to the moon and back - wearing that stupidly goddamn cute expression of focus again, and his fingers are rubbing soothing little circles into her skin where the clasp was sitting. She lets out a contented sigh and nuzzles her face against his neck. The distinctive riff of Rebel Rebel by David Bowie rings out from the tape deck - one of her favorite songs, not that she’d ever let the Heathers know. She loves that he loves it too.

JD moves his hand up to gently slide her bra straps down her shoulders, before laying her down with her head on his pillow and kneeling over her. He carefully - almost fucking reverently - pulls the straps down her arms and lifts the garment away from her, dropping it onto the pile of abandoned clothes that he must have moved onto a nearby box while she was in the bathroom. He’s staring at her again, eyes wide and blue and intense, and she feels scalding heat flare between her legs, the kind that causes her knees to go all shaky and makes her hyper-aware of her own heartbeat.

“You’re,” he starts, the tiniest tinge of a blush flaring across his nose and cheeks, “you’re really beautiful, you know that?”

…Yeah, she’s pretty sure he’s definitely completely ruined her for anyone else.

Veronica reaches up to bury her fingers in his thick dark hair, and pulls him down on top of her so she can kiss him. It’s unhurried and passionate and comfortable all at once, it makes sparks erupt in her belly, and she knows that she’ll never get bored of it. JD clearly has other plans though, because he eventually presses one last lingering kiss to her mouth before moving to her jaw and brushing his lips softly against it until he reaches her pulse point, then -

She lets out a mewl of pleasure when he playfully nips her skin with his teeth. She can feel him smirking - oh, he remembers from earlier how much she likes when he does that, fucking minx - and then, holy fuck, he delicately nibbles her earlobe, and she never even considered how hot that might be, but it makes her inhale sharply and thrust her hips up towards his, desperate for more more more. JD chuckles, low and velvety.

“Good?” he murmurs. Veronica nods as her eyes flutter closed.

“Very,” she breathes. “Stay on that side, though. I -” she cuts herself off with a quiet whine as he repeats the action - “I got a second piercing on the other one three weeks ago. I don’t want - mmm - I don’t want to risk any - oh, fuck, do that again…”

His lips are on her neck now, and he makes his way down to her clavicle, then kisses along to her shoulder - why the fuck does that feel so romantic, god - and then she realizes, shoulders aren’t exactly the most erotic bodypart in the world but when he kisses her there it makes it clear that he desires all of her, not just the ‘sexy’ parts of her body. His lips move lower, placing long slow kisses on the tops of her breasts before meeting her eyes with that fucking edible grin and taking one of her nipples into his mouth.

His tongue is scorching and sinful and so fucking perfect and Veronica can’t conceal her moan of ecstasy as she automatically arches up into his touch, and then he switches to the other one and sucks licks kisses and fuck fuck fuck she needs him to overwhelm her, needs him to never fucking stop…

“Oh… mmm… oh, fuck, JD, that feels so good,” Veronica manages to whimper, right before he pulls his mouth away. She wants to be annoyed - he’s left her breasts heavy and aching for his touch - but then their eyes meet right as he gently plants a kiss just above her stomach, and another one below it, and then another… His lips make their way down, down, down, belly, lower abdomen, darting to the side to kiss her hip -

And then he pulls away again. Veronica lets out a little complaining cry of betrayal, but, to her great annoyance, JD just grins at her before shifting himself back and hooking his thumbs into the waistband of her panties. Veronica feels her frown melt away as he gently pulls them down, and she lifts her hips slightly to make it easier, and now the pretty white lace is over her thighs and past her knees and JD delicately slides them over her feet before dropping them to one side and grabbing her left ankle. She watches with wide eyes as he kisses her ankle, and then up her calf to her knee, and, okay, the soft skin behind her kneecap is way more sensitive than she thought, and the kiss he places against it makes her viscerally shiver.

He hooks her left knee over his shoulder before repeating the motion with her right leg, kissing his way slowly up her calf and making her whimper slightly with anticipation. JD smirks at her before wriggling down to lie on his front, head between her thighs, and he starts teasing the soft skin there with his teeth, moving up and up and up until -

Veronica lets out an involuntary little squeak as his hot breath ghosts over the most sensitive part of her body. As much as she’s trying to be irritated by the way he’s been teasing her, she realizes it’s absolutely worth it, because it’s got her really fucking wet. JD meets her gaze, and leans his head gently against her thigh.

“‘Thus your soul ignited’,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss at the point where her leg meets her hip, “‘by pleasure’s lusts and needs, sprays into heaven’s reaches and dreams of fiery deeds.’”

There’s a gorgeous boy quoting Baudelaire between my legs, Veronica realizes in wonder. He kissed me all over my body and he’s got his head between my legs and he’s quoting one of my favorite Romantic poems to me. If this is a dream, I never want to wake up.

(Also, ha, take that, every catty girl who called me ‘Virginica’ in the locker room last year!)

“‘Then it brims over, dying’,” JD continues, smirking at the whimper she lets out, “‘and languorous, apart, drains down some slope and enters the dark well of my heart.’” He shoots her another wicked grin before leaning in and - oh holy fuck.

He drags his tongue up across her folds, making her gasp and press her heels against his back, and then sucks at her clit, gentle and delicate, his tongue flicking against her once as if to test the waters, repeating the motion when she moans. Veronica buries her hands in his hair, throwing her head back and closing her eyes. “Oh, fuck -” she cuts herself off with a breathy sigh. She never wants him to stop.

JD releases her clit eventually, making her open her eyes in protest, but she has no time to complain about it because he immediately flattens his tongue against her, and the sensation of hot wet pressure as he licks licks licks makes her grind slightly against his face. Then - oh, fuck - he lifts his head to smirk at her before diving back in to press hot slow kisses against her center. He traces the tip of his tongue up, makes her whine when he purposefully skirts around her clit, then back down and - fuck fuck fuck, darts his tongue briefly into her entrance once, twice, then pulls away again to grin up at her again.

“Good?”

Veronica groans. “Jason Dean, don’t you dare fucking stop -”

She moans, long and drawn out, as he returns his tongue to her clit and traces - shapes? She’s not sure, but she can’t predict at all what direction he’ll move in next, and honestly, it’s insanely erotic. The tape deck is playing something she doesn’t recognize, maybe by the same band they were dancing to earlier, all she knows is that it’s hard and loud and fast and wild and the words wash over her, underscoring every sensation:

When asking you as a person,
Is it a crime, is it a crime
For you to fall in love with Frankenstein?
Is it wrong, could it be wrong,
Wrong, baby, don’t you want a friend?
'Cause you’re trying to be so selective,
You never realize the whole time -
Who’s the one you’re loving,
Misunderstood like Frankenstein!

JD lets out a little satisfied moan as he works his mouth against her, and the vibration makes Veronica shudder with pleasure. He shifts so he can hook his left arm over her thigh, and brings his fingers to her clit right as he pulls his mouth away. Through her fog of ecstasy, she manages to open her eyes enough to sneak a glance at him, and grins delightedly at how his mouth and chin are shamelessly wet, and how even as he works to catch his breath, he licks his lips like he can’t get enough of her.

He continues to work her clit with his fingers, returning his mouth to her entrance and darting his tongue against her again. He kisses and sucks at her until she’s squirming, his free right hand skimming gently up her side to hold her breast. He begins to gently circle her nipple with the pad of his thumb, making her whine breathily, then licks across her folds before finally delving his tongue into her.

“Oh my god, JD, yes, yes, yes, please don’t stop…” She mewls loudly as he finds the most sensitive part of her entrance. “Fuck… just… right there! That, oh, fuck, that feels so fucking good…” Even over the music, she can hear her own heavy breathing, and normally she’d be embarrassed to be breathing so loudly, but right now she can’t bring herself to care.

They’re halfway through the next song before he shifts his position under her, bringing his left arm back down to lean on his elbow and slide two fingers inside of her, curling them in the way she likes best while he licks teasingly around the edge of her clit. It’s amazing and torturous and enough to keep her balanced on the precipice of orgasm but not quite enough to push her over the edge of it - and then JD meets her eyes and sucks hard and slow at her clit, once, twice, three times, and she’s fucking gone.

Her entire body is thrumming with electricity, her thighs are shaking and she’s probably hurting him a little with how hard her heels are pressing down on his back, but it’s one of the most intense orgasms she’s had in her entire life. She’s lost track of time; her vision is blurry and every noise morphs together into an unidentifiable soundscape. She can vaguely hear her own voice, crying out in unintelligible ecstasy, and she wants to tell him how perfect he is, how amazing that was, how happy she is that she gets to be here with him, but her vocal chords aren’t cooperating, so instead she gropes hazily in his direction as he finally releases her and vaguely beckons at him, hoping he’ll understand that right now she wants him to gently hold her until she comes down from her high.

JD maneuvers his way out from between her legs and obligingly shifts up the bed to lie next to her, and Veronica immediately drapes herself over him the way she’s accustomed, head nuzzled under his chin and one arm lazily thrown across his chest. His arms curl around her, one hand brushing her hair back behind her ear again (god, it’s so sweet when he does that) then gently stroking her back.

“‘O moon, o singing fountain,’” he murmurs, and she can hear him smiling, “‘O leaf-thronged night above, you are the faultless mirrors of my sweet, bitter love.’”

“You know how to spoil a girl,” Veronica hums contentedly. Her voice is husky and quiet with satisfaction, and she lightly clears her throat. “I can’t believe you quoted one of my favorite Baudelaire poems between my legs.”

JD laughs a little. “I just remembered what you said earlier, about how you wouldn’t mind me quoting nineteenth century poetry to you. It wasn’t too much, was it?”

“God, no. Please feel free to do that again, any time.” Veronica lazily drifts her fingertips across his chest, drawing vague shapes on his skin. “Where the hell did you even learn how to do that?”

“The… Baudelaire? I just remember stuff I read. The Fountain is one of my favorites too.”

He’s being purposefully evasive. Veronica bites her lip, feeling a little - stupid and unfair, she knows, but that doesn’t make it go away - stab of jealousy in her chest. She was pretty relieved (not to mention smug) to find out that she was his first too, but the fact that he never slept with anyone before her doesn’t mean he’s never done… other stuff, with other girls. God, she hates that she feels this way, she never wants to be one of those petty insecure girls who over-analyzes every interaction their boyfriend has with other people, but it’s there nonetheless.

“No,” she says eventually, forcing her sudden possessiveness over him to stay out of her voice. “No, I mean… where did you learn to… y’know… do that… with your mouth? Because it was, um, really good. I think I saw stars.”

She glances up at him, and realizes he’s blushing. “I… may have at some point read a magazine article about how to do that properly.”

As quickly as it arrived, the jealousy is gone, and Veronica giggles. “Which magazine?”

JD’s cheeks flush pinker. “...Cosmopolitan,” he mutters. Veronica’s smile widens.

“Didn’t have you pegged for a regular subscriber.”

“Hardly. But when your dad drags you from one end of the country to the other every four months or so… Look, I’ll read pretty much anything if I’m bored, and an issue was tucked into some secondhand National Geographic history book I’d bought at, like, a Goodwill or something, and I just thought, what the hell, it’s something I haven’t read before.”

“I’m not complaining,” Veronica giggles. She leans up to gently press her mouth against his, not minding that his lips are still slightly shining with evidence of their previous activities. Shit, if she thinks about it, it’s actually kind of hot. “I’m just amazed you remembered it.”

JD avoids her gaze. “I… may have flicked through it again when I got home from the 7-Eleven last night.”

Veronica feels her smile become a smirk. “You were already planning on getting your head between my legs at some point, huh?”

“I was planning on thinking about it.”

“Not much need for that now,” Veronica teases him. JD cups her cheek in one hand and smirks right back at her.

“Im Gegenteil, I’m pretty sure I’m still going to be thinking about it quite a lot.” Oh. His smirk widens when she blushes, and he leans in and kisses her with the exact slow, lazy passion she wants right now.

“Was that German?” she asks breathily when their lips part. He nods.

“I know French is, like, the traditional ‘sexy’ language, but given how badly I butchered that whole ‘thunderclap realization’ thing earlier, I thought I might be safer with the language I’m actually studying. Didn’t want to risk accidentally, I dunno, calling you a dick or something.”

That makes her laugh, which makes him laugh, and it’s so fucking nice to just be lying there giggling together with their arms around each other. It’s - intimate. In a really good way. She’d never considered that something like this could be so romantic, but it is. It really goddamn is.

Yeah. She thinks she might just love him.

Tell me now,
(What do I have to do?) Oh, tell me now,
(What do I have to do?) I'd do anything!
(What do I have to do?) I'd do it all,
(What do I have to do?) I'd do it all for you!
(What do I have to do?) I'd climb a mountain!
(What do I have to do?) I'd cross the ocean!
(What do I have to do?) I'd do it it all
(What do I have to do?) Oh, to prove my love to you!

Chapter End Notes

> Up next, JD and Veronica watch a movie and discuss Heather Chandler.

> “Makes you think. A well-timed lightning bolt through Heather Chandler’s window tomorrow morning and by Monday all her little followers - shit, everyone would be set fucking adrift.”
> “Well, then, I’ll pray for rain. Look, it’s one thing to think someone deserves to barf themselves to death, but it’s another thing entirely to act on it and make it happen.”
> “Yeah. I… I guess I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about.”

## Chapter 7: Shining Light

Chapter Summary

> JD and Veronica catch a movie on TV, discuss Heather Chandler, order pizza, and talk about music. They're happy.

Chapter Notes

> Oh gosh. I've had so many lovely comments on this fic, it makes me want to write more more more!!! However I am also aware that I might be about to get less time to write as the two jobs I work at (retail and theatre teacher) are both very Christmas-heavy, so I might have to skip a week or two at some point D: I'll post updates on Tumblr @/queer-cosette anyhow.

> Again, thank you so much for the lovely response. This chapter is mostly fluff, although there are a couple of dark thoughts (it's JDonica, so of course there are). Hope you enjoy it!!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Roman candles that burn in the night, yeah, you are a shining light.
You lit a torch in the infinite, yeah, you are a shining light,
Yeah, you light up my life.
You have always been a thorn in their side, but to me, you’re a shining light.
You arrive and the night is alive, yeah, you are a shining light.
Yeah, you light up my l ife.

- Ash, Shining Light

Saturday 23rd September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
The Deans’ rental house
A little after 4pm

It’s only just after four, so they eventually force themselves to get up and get dressed again once the high of fooling around has worn off and being naked starts being more cold than sexy. Veronica considers sliding on the black over-the-knee socks she packed in her overnight bag too, partly for warmth but mostly because she loves imagining the way JD’s eyes might flick down to the band of exposed skin between the top of her socks and her skirt, but decides to leave finding out how that feels ‘til tomorrow instead. Plus, when they wind up in the living room sitting together on the couch with JD’s arm around Veronica, it gives her a good excuse to throw her legs over his lap and enjoy his warm hand gently stroking her bare kneecaps. He flicks through the available channels for something to watch before Veronica makes him stop on one that’s showing The Witches of Eastwick as part of some ‘Spooky Saturdays Halloween Build Up’ thing. She’s shocked to find out that he’s never seen it.

“It’s R-rated and it came out when we were fifteen,” he defends himself. “And my dad isn’t exactly the ‘rent a video for Friday Night family dinner’ kind of guy.”

“Still. It’s Jack Nicholson. I figured you’d be all over that, Mister ‘Greetings and Salutations’.”

“Am I really that easy to read?” JD asks, pouting slightly. Veronica giggles and ruffles his hair. It’s so cute how he leans into her touch.

“You told me earlier that I give the impression that I have a nervous breakdown every time I get ninety-nine percent on a test instead of a hundred,” she reminds him. “I think we’re even.”

During a commercial break, just after the scene where Daryl Van Horne seduces Jane, JD squeezes Veronica’s shoulder and breaks the comfortable silence with a question.

“How’d you even see this movie anyway? I can’t imagine the movie theater at the tri-County mall skimping on checking IDs for this one.”

Veronica laughs. “Martha’s mom never checks the rating on any movies we ask her to rent. She’s got her hands full keeping Mikey and Marty - those’re Martha’s younger brothers - away from the Adult Film section. Martha found it way too dark, but I loved it. We spent ages afterwards arguing which one of the witches we were. We agreed that she’d be Jane, but she thinks I’d be Alex, because I have dark hair, and I think I’m more like Sukie, ‘cause I like writing and stuff.”

JD ponders it for a moment, then gives her the handsome smile that makes her feel like one of those lovestruck cartoon characters surrounded by little floating hearts. “I think you’re most like my favorite girl.”

“Who’s your favorite girl?”

“Veronica Sawyer.”

It’s cheesy and sweet and silly and it makes Veronica’s cheeks glow pink, and she leans up to kiss him for it - short and chaste, but it still makes her heart thrum in her chest.

“Stop being so cute,” she murmurs when their lips part. “If you keep making me want to kiss you we’ll miss the movie, and I don’t wanna miss the cherry pit scene.”

JD kisses the top of her head and winds his fingers into her hair; it’s nice sitting together like that, just quietly enjoying the movie and each other’s company, and they don’t speak again until the scene in question comes up. As the film cuts between the Witches sensually eating cherries with Daryl, and Felicia Alden vomiting up the pits in front of her horrified husband, JD nudges Veronica again.

“Ever wish something like that would happen to Heather Chandler?”

“Have another cherry,” Jack Nicholson tells Susan Sarandon on the screen. Veronica bites her lip.

“She’d deserve it,” she admits. “But I wouldn’t wish it on her. Especially not…”

They watch in silence as Clyde grabs the fire poker and murders Felicia out of fear that she’s possessed by the devil. The film cuts to commercial again, and Veronica shivers slightly, cuddling closer to JD.

“She’s going out with this older guy,” she says quietly, not quite sure why she’s telling him this, but knowing he’s listening. “Heather Chandler, I mean. His name’s David. She’s always bragging about how he invites her to parties at his dorm. She had a go at Heather M the other day for… what was it… not being ‘mature’ enough to appreciate the diff between a Westerburg boy and a Remmington man.”

She brings her left hand up across her chest to where his right arm is slung over her shoulders, and tangles their fingers together, sensing rather than seeing the little smile he gives in response.

“But… I dunno,” she continues softly. “She never talks about him taking her out to lunch or seeing movies together or anything. And it’s always ‘David said I’m the hottest girl in Sherwood’ or ‘David thought my outfit at the party the other night was super sexy’ or ‘David said I’m the best he’s ever had’, and like, good for her? I guess? But it always kind of feels a bit… competitive. She never says that she has fun with him or even that she actually likes him. It’s always just ‘my boyfriend’s in college which makes me better than you’. Some modern day Lydia Bennet type shit.” She pauses, mulling it over. “I had this… moment, last night. When we were, y’know, in your bedroom. I just kind of felt a bit, well… sorry for her.”

JD lets out a small snort. “Okay, I think I missed the part where you went from, if memory serves, puking on her shoes and telling her to lick it up, to feeling sorry for her.”

Veronica laughs quietly. “No, it wasn’t anything to do with that. It was, um, the way you were looking at me.” JD turns to face her, and Veronica meets his gaze, smiling shyly. “I just had this moment of realizing that David’s probably never looked at Heather the way you were looking at me. If he’d looked at her that way, she’d be so fucking smug and bragging about it constantly. And I felt kind of bad for her.”

JD’s cheeks flush beautifully, and he gives her a bashful little smile. He kisses her, soft and slow and making her heart race again, before pulling back and rummaging for the remote.

“See, all I get from that is wondering what kind of loser university student is striking out so badly with women his own age that he can only convince a high school girl that he’s worth her time,” he muses. Veronica laughs.

“God, yeah. I’ve never really thought about that, but yeah.” She leans her head on his shoulder again as he unmutes the TV.

The commercials end and the movie continues, announcing itself with a perky TV graphic and chiming music that clashes ridiculously with the gothic bohemian visuals of the film. If Veronica has guessed correctly, there’ll only be one more commercial break before the last part. Sure enough, it cuts to adverts again after the Witches pretend to forgive Daryl for bringing about Felicia’s murder so he’ll stop torturing them with hallucinations of their worst fears. JD is biting his lower lip when she glances at him.

“Makes you think,” he says quietly. “A well-timed lightning bolt through Heather Chandler’s window tomorrow morning and by Monday all her little followers - shit, everyone would be set fucking adrift.”

“Well, then, I’ll pray for rain," Veronica says sarcastically. She huffs her bangs out of her face. “Look, it’s one thing to think someone deserves to barf themselves to death, but it’s another thing entirely to act on it and make it happen.”

JD shakes himself out of his apparent trance and rests his cheek against her head. “Yeah. I… I guess I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about.”

“No, you don’t,” Veronica tells him firmly. “Look, she doesn’t matter right now, okay? Sure, she’s a bitch and a bully and a narcissist and probably a sociopath of some sort, not to mention her internalized misogyny and hating anyone over 160lbs for daring to exist, but she’s still a person. An awful person, but a person.” She wiggles closer, moving her head from his shoulder to under his chin. “Forget Heather Chandler. You promised me a weekend of not thinking about the fucking Heathers.”

“I did,” he agrees, and kisses the top of her head. “How’s about after the movie we order takeout? I’ve yet to sample the best of Sherwood’s pizza options.”

Veronica smiles as the adverts finish and JD once more unmutes the TV. “That sounds perfect.”

Saturday 23rd September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
The Deans' rental house
Nearly half past 6pm

As the credits roll, Veronica turns to JD with a big wide grin. “So, what did you think?”

“It was good,” he tells her truthfully. He can’t help but be a little smitten at how excited she is to find out if he liked it, that she values his opinion on the things that she likes. “I liked it. I mean, you were right what you said earlier. I don’t think you can go wrong with Jack Nicholson.”

“Knew it,” Veronica smirks. She reaches up to kiss him, and he leans into it eagerly. “I think you’re more charming, though, don’t worry. And hotter. I’d much rather be seduced by you.”

She kisses him again, and it doesn’t take long for it to deepen and for her to climb into his lap. JD gently moves his hands to her thighs, his thumbs stroking the skin just under the hem of her skirt. He’s just weighing up the pros and cons of suggesting they move to his bedroom versus seeing how it plays out if they stay on the couch, but then they get interrupted by Veronica’s stomach gurgling loudly.

“Order pizza and table this for later?” he suggests. Veronica nods, smiling.

Saturday 23rd September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
The Deans' rental house
Sometime after 7pm

Sherwood’s pizza isn’t exactly New York or Chicago-worthy, but it passes muster, and hey, JD’s definitely eaten worse. Luckily he and Veronica both agree on pizza toppings: tomato, mozzarella, and basil, with no need for anything fancier, with a side portion of french fries. The dining room setup in the rental house isn’t so much a furniture set as a foldaway camping table with attached stools that tips from side to side unless he puts a book under it, and three of the stools have worked their way free of the screws so they wobble when you sit on them anyway, so instead of subjecting Veronica to that particular hellish dining experience, they eat cross-legged on the living room floor, the pizza box open between them, like they’re picnicking at a campground or something. If it weren’t out of necessity, it would probably be romantic. And he definitely can’t complain about the company.

“Sukie,” he proclaims a few slices in.

“Hmm?” Veronica has a mouthful of pizza and is looking unfairly cute. JD leans in and brushes his thumb over the corner of her mouth, wiping away a little splodge of tomato and making her blush.

“I think you’d be Sukie,” he elaborates. “Y’know, what you were saying earlier about who you’d be out of the witches.”

Veronica swallows her pizza and smiles, eyes sparkling. “Hmm, I do kinda like the idea of you seducing me in the big fancy private ballroom swimming pool, if I’m honest.”

JD laughs, reaching for another slice. “Well, yeah, I think it would have to be that one. I don’t own silk pajamas and I only play the saxophone, not the piano.”

“You play the saxophone?” Veronica asks eagerly. He nods, feeling slightly self-conscious about it.

“Yeah. I was in Junior Jazz Band back in elementary school. I’m not exactly concert hall material, but I can do a decent enough version of Diamond Dogs.”

“That’s really cool!” Veronica smiles. “No, I’m serious,” she adds when he shrugs bashfully. “People with musical talent are so rad. I definitely want to hear you play Diamond Dogs now. I love David Bowie.”

“I love Bowie too,” JD admits. He decides against throwing in the part where his mom had bought The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars vinyl when he was a toddler and held his hands to help him dance along to Moonage Daydream and Hang Onto Yourself. He shakes off the memory and offers her a smile. “You play any instruments at all?”

Veronica smiles, looking a little embarrassed as she grabs a few fries. “I was an adequate violinist in middle school. First chair of the second violin section in the Sherwood Junior High String Orchestra. But in eighth grade they moved me up to the first violins and the tutor, Mrs Placket, was bat crap crazy. She yelled at this one girl, Betty Finn, until she cried because Betty’s brother accidentally knocked over her violin case and made the bridge pop off. Like it isn’t the easiest part of the violin to reattach. Betty locked herself in the bathroom and didn’t come out until the school called her mom to pick her up. I tried to stick it out but then Psycho Placket had a go at me over some lost sheet music and I just kinda never went back.” She pushes her bangs out of her face and gnaws her lower lip. “I haven’t really played since.”

JD cups her cheek in his hand and tilts her face back towards him. “I’d still love to hear you play sometime. If I have to embarrass myself on the saxophone in front of you, I think it’s only fair I get to hear you play the violin.” She’s smiling again, and he mentally high-fives himself. He loves seeing her smile, loves it even more when she’s smiling because of him. “I can see it now,” he teases her, twirling a strand of her hair between his fingers. “All graceful and elegant with your hair done up, in one of those tight floor-length dresses with a slit up to your thigh. Dark blue and sparkly. Playing, I dunno, Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture.”

Veronica giggles delightedly. “You’re setting yourself up for disappointment, babe. Best I can do is my homecoming dress while I scrape out a passable rendition of ‘Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy’.” She shuffles closer, smiling flirtatiously. “You though, I’m picturing you with your hair all cute and messy, wearing, hmm, a jacket and tie.” She runs her hand gently up his chest, and he can feel heat spreading across his cheeks, definitely helped along by the pet name. Veronica gently traces her fingers against his clavicle, fiddling slightly with the collar of his flannel. She’s biting her lip again, the way she does when she likes something he’s doing, and gazing up at him through her eyelashes. “You’d look so hot like that,” she murmurs. “Super focused on playing, maybe leaning against a wall. Whenever you’re focused on something, you make this expression that really makes me want to kiss you.”

JD swallows the last bite of his pizza, and realizes it was the last slice in the box. The box of fries is empty too. Hunger satiated. No more distractions. He swallows again, this time with nervous anticipation. “Well, I mean, you can kiss me right now if you’d like. Or anytime, really. I’m not fussy.” He means it; he’s pretty sure he’ll never get tired of the feeling of her lips on his, whether it’s deep and slow or urgent and sloppy or gentle and chaste.

Veronica smiles and leans in. “I kind of like the sound of that,” she whispers, before pressing her lips sweetly against his own.

He’s still sitting criss-cross-applesauce-style, propping himself up on one hand while the other is still curled into her hair. She’s on her knees, stretching up so she can wrap her arms around his shoulders, her thumbs gently stroking the back of his neck, and while he loves holding her close, being pressed against each other so tightly they can’t tell where JD ends and Veronica begins, kissing like this is… well, there’s no other word for it but ‘romantic’.

It’s honestly still a little wild to him that she wants him as much as he wants her. Other girls - the ones he did sort of realize fancied him - only ever seemed to like the idea of what they could make of him, the fantasy of a storybook bad boy they’d have a brief fling with before going on with their cookie-cutter lives, but Veronica is the first person who’s ever looked at him with genuine desire for all that he is already, not all that he could be. Not just who he is inside, either; every time she traces her hands over his arms and chest it’s with the same reverence he’s only ever seen girls - at other high schools, on TV, in movies - give to the muscle-bound jocks he looks nothing like. And if she’s noticed the parts of his appearance that he always feels irrationally self-conscious about, like the awkward bump at the bridge of his nose (a souvenir from an alpha male hockey player who’d taken issue with JD’s general existence at a high school in Bemidji, Minnesota about two years previously) or the little scars across his shoulders (left by his fingernails whenever the brain freeze from a slushie isn’t enough to quell the worst of his self-loathing tendencies), she doesn’t seem to be put off by them. He remembers what she told him last night, about how he makes her feel beautiful, and realizes that the reverse is true too - she makes him feel beautiful.

He’s pretty sure he’s becoming addicted to her, if he isn’t already.

Veronica eventually breaks away from the kiss, but leans her forehead against his and smiles blissfully at him. Her eyes are so pretty, JD thinks, grinning dopily back at her. That shade of brown might be my new favorite color.

“I need to run to the bathroom real quick before we do anything else,” Veronica murmurs. She sounds surprisingly tense. “Can you give me a few minutes?”

JD nods. “No worries,” he tells her. “Whatever you need.” I’m just happy to be here, is his first, brighter thought; the second is less cheerful. Plus it’ll give me time to tidy up in here as much as I can before Dear Old Dad gets home tomorrow night.

Veronica’s smile widens and her shoulders untense a little, and she pecks his mouth one last time before getting to her feet and padding around the corner and out of sight. JD watches her go, unable to get rid of his lovesick grin. All the fear from this morning that she was about to walk out of his life and pretend nothing had ever happened between them is long gone, replaced with far more pleasant memories - her hands, her lips, her mouth, her thighs, her laugh, her smile, her intelligence, god, the way she looks at him. And then he’d had that moment, where he couldn’t block out the dark thoughts, and she hadn’t seemed put off, just reminded him of where he was and what their plans were for the night, and stayed cuddled into his side and kissed him the same way she’s been kissing him all weekend.

Veronica Sawyer is a bright, wonderful source of light that JD never expected to have stumble into his life, but fuck, he’s so, so glad that she did.

He tosses the empty takeout boxes in the trash and quickly runs the ancient hand-held vacuum cleaner over the carpet to get rid of any crumbs, switching it off hurriedly when it starts to smell suspiciously like burning dust. Once the vacuum is safely back in its bracket on the wall (he’ll empty it after Veronica goes home tomorrow), he decides to grab a few bottles of water from the cupboard as well as two cups and puts them on top of the box that’s currently serving as a bedside table in his room. They’d had to finish off the half-empty one he’d left in the fridge plus another bottle earlier; who knew that sex could make you so dehydrated? He pulls the blinds down too before heading back to the main room to check that everything’s been left the way it was yesterday (it varies unpredictably what little thing might piss off his father on any given day), then washes his hands in the kitchen sink, vaguely remembering a health class teacher mentioning it as a good idea at one of his more progressive high schools in San Francisco.

He’s just finished drying his hands when Veronica emerges from the bathroom. She seems a little more relaxed now, and she pulls JD into a hug, sneakily tucking her hands into the back pockets of his jeans and smiling up at him. His hands automatically find her waist, and he catches a whiff of light fruity perfume. Her lips are glossy too, and he recalls the sweet cherry-ish taste of her mouth earlier, his heart rate speeding up ever so slightly at the memory.

The prettiest girl in school is wearing flavored lip gloss and spritzing her neck with perfume in preparation to make out with you, he realizes. God, you lucky fucking bastard. “Hey, you.”

“Hi,” Veronica breathes. She leans up and softly brushes her lips against his, giggling when he pulls her in closer for more. “Hmm, I think I like this kind of ‘hello’ from you,” she tells him when their lips part and he begins lightly kissing his way down her jaw. “I might have to make it mandatory.”

“No complaints from me,” JD murmurs into her neck. The hickeys he left on her skin last night are starting to noticeably darken, and are probably a little tender if the current state of the marks she left on him are anything to go by, so he sticks to gently brushing his lips against the join of her neck to her shoulder, making her sigh happily. He pulls back and surveys her seriously. “You okay?”

Veronica tilts her head curiously, looking happily surprised that he asked. “Yeah, definitely. Why?”

JD shrugs, not entirely convinced. “You just seemed kinda anxious earlier,” he tells her. “You know we don’t have to, y’know, do anything if you don’t want to -”

Veronica cuts him off with a sweet kiss. “Best boyfriend ever,” she murmurs, gently playing with a loose thread on his flannel. He feels that same happy warmth in his chest that appears every time she calls him her boyfriend. “Yeah, I’m definitely fine. And I definitely want to, y’know,” she bites her lip again, “do stuff tonight. I just kind of realized, when we were kissing earlier, that hey,” Veronica affects a silly, slightly deeper than normal voice, much to JD’s laughter, “now would be a really bad time to forget to take your birth control pill. So yeah. All set now.” She reaches up and cups his chin in her hand, brushing the pad of her thumb over his lower lip, making his eyes flutter closed in pleasure. “What about you?”

“Hmm?” It takes him a moment to realize that she asked him a question. Every time she touches him like this - whenever she hugs him or ruffles his hair or cups his face in her hands - he wants to just kind of melt into her and stay in her arms forever.

Eight years of being utterly starved of virtually all physical affection from other humans does that to you, apparently.

“Are you okay?” Veronica clarifies. She frowns slightly. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you or anything.”

JD nearly laughs at that, but manages not to, because she does seem genuinely concerned. “I’m very okay. You definitely don’t have to worry about pressuring me.” He kisses her neck, then moves up to her earlobe - the right one, remembering what she’d said earlier about not wanting to fuck about with the new piercing on the left one. He’s rewarded with a little gasp followed by a sigh. “I want you,” he murmurs boldly, tightening his arms around her waist. Veronica outright whimpers at that, her arms returning to their preferred spot draped over his shoulders. He leans in and kisses her, delicately grazing her lower lip with his teeth before pulling away. “Let me show you how much I want you?”

Veronica nods, eyes huge and pupils dilated, and squeals delightedly when he impulsively lifts her off the ground and wraps her legs around his waist. “Bedroom?” she breathes. JD nods and secures his arms around her.

This time, he decides, this time is going to be all the good parts of everything else they’ve done so far. No worrying about whether the other person really wants it, no unpleasant thoughts about what might happen on Monday at school, no pushing themselves further than they know they’re ready for. Also, hopefully, no accidentally pinging Veronica in the back with the strap of her bra.

If he can show her tonight just a fraction of how intensely happy she makes him, that’ll be enough for him.

We made a connection, a full on chemical reaction,
Brought by dark divine intervention - yeah, you are a shining light!
A constellation once seen over royal David's city,
An epiphany, you burn so pretty - yeah, you are a shining light!
Yeah, you light up my life!
Yeah, you are a shining light!
Yeah, you light up my life!

Chapter End Notes

> Up next, Veronica and JD are tender with each other.

> “I don’t feel like this is very fair. You’ve managed to get two articles of clothing off of me while you’re still fully dressed.”
> “It isn’t fair. Maybe we should make things more even, any ideas?”
> “Just a few.”

## Chapter 8: Like A Prayer

Chapter Summary

> JD and Veronica discuss dumb accidents, insecurities, and enjoy their physical attraction to each other.

Chapter Notes

> Hello!! Thank you everyone who's commented so far - you make me want to write more more more!!!

> So this chapter definitely lives up to the rating, and we also get a glimpse into some of JD's past while Veronica is still doing her best to not care about what the Heathers think. They're very nice with each other :) Though I might have to update some of the tags, especially for the next chapter. Let me know if there are any tags you think I should add, both for people who might want to avoid certain topics (although nothing here is darker than the musical/movie) and for people who might enjoy reading it.

> Hope you enjoy!!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

I hear your voice, it's like an angel sighin'...
I have no choice; I hear your voice -
Feels like flying!
I close my eyes - oh God I think I'm fallin'
Out of the sky, I close my eyes -
Heaven help me!

- Madonna, Like A Prayer

Saturday 23rd September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
JD’s bedroom
Thirty-seven minutes past eight

“Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

Veronica giggles a little, reaching out to stroke her fingers gently across JD’s cheek from her position lying against his chest with their legs tangled together. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she insists. “It stopped throbbing after, like, a minute. It doesn’t even ache any more.”

JD can’t help but feel guilty. It had seemed romantic and sexy to carry her into his bedroom and throw her down on the bed, and it was, right up until he misjudged where to put her down and accidentally managed to clonk her head on the headboard. “Still. I am so sorry.”

Veronica rolls her eyes, smiling in the dim glow of his reading lamp. The main light had felt a little too harsh for mild-head-injury-recovery. “It was an accident, babe. Don’t worry about it. I’ve had way worse - hell, I’ve given myself way worse. One time I punched myself in the face by accident while I was brushing my hair. Way more embarrassing. And more painful too, actually.”

That’s enough to break through his concern and make him laugh. “Okay, how the fuck did you manage that?”

Veronica giggles again, smiling embarrassedly and pushing herself upright, shifting to sit cross-legged next to him. “I was, like… fourteen? Yeah, fourteen. And I had really long hair in middle school, but I got a haircut a week before the start of Freshman year…”

She holds her hand flat just below her collarbone, smiling when JD reaches out and twirls a lock of said hair around his fingers.

“About that length. It was the shortest I’d had it since probably Kindergarten. And ‘cause it wasn’t as heavy anymore, it started being less wavy and more curly. So it got tangled way more easily, and it was bouncier too. So one day I’m brushing my hair after washing it, and ‘cause it’s shorter, my brush is going through it quicker than I’m used to, and it’s wet too, so it’s kinda springy, and there’s a knot at the end, so it stretches right out ‘til it can’t anymore, but I’m used to having to pull the brush through it for longer, so I keep pulling and then -”

Veronica raises her fist, pretending to hold a hairbrush and miming it springing back and catapulting her fist into her face. She drags her hand down her face in mock-embarrassment, her giggles increasing as he chuckles.

“It wouldn’t have been that bad,” she continues, “but it was this really solid silver-plated hairbrush that honestly could probably survive being run over by a truck. I had to start Freshman Year with a giant bruise over my eyebrow. I was too embarrassed to tell Martha the truth about how it happened for ages and I’m pretty sure she was convinced I’d been in a fist fight.”

“Who would you have been fist-fighting?” JD chuckles, partly teasing and partly curious. “I thought you said no one really ever bothered you personally before you joined the Heathers.”

To his surprise, Veronica’s laughter trails off, and she shrugs awkwardly. “The summer after Eighth Grade was a weird one. Plus, y’know, Freshman Year, new look, new me, and all that jazz.” She shrugs again and wiggles closer, gazing up at him through her eyelashes. “Back to my original point: do you believe that I’m totally okay and unhurt and that you have nothing to feel guilty about?”

JD elects to ignore her clumsy change of subject in favor of slinking his arms around her waist with a smile. “You’ve convinced me.”

Veronica’s lips quirk up in a little smirk. “Then kiss me already, doofus!”

JD obeys her demand with a grin, sliding one hand up her back to curl his fingers into her hair and keeping the other on her waist, pulling her closer so she’s pressed up against him. Veronica instantly melts into his touch, hands finding his shoulders as she sighs contentedly. She hooks her leg over his hips so she can sit in his lap, and JD moves his hand from her waist to her thigh, sliding up to gently brush his fingertips against the exposed skin just below the bottom of her skirt.

Veronica moves to his jaw, taking her time to press sweet little kisses up to his ear, before ghosting her lips over his earlobe and making him shiver. She sits back slightly to smile giddily at him. “I like your earring,” she murmurs, gently brushing the little silver hoop with the back of her finger. “It’s really, um… really sexy.” She presses a kiss just below his earlobe, one of her hands cradling the back of his head. He shivers again when her thumb starts stroking back and forth against the nape of his neck.

The earring had been a fuck-everything decision on his sixteenth birthday, finally old enough that he could legally get it done in a piercing parlour (rather than risk screwing around with a safety pin and an ice-cube and inevitably fucking it up) without his father’s permission. Big Bud Dean would have never given him the go-ahead, and JD tries to keep it out of his father’s line of sight as much as possible whenever the man is around, knowing instinctively that Bud wouldn’t approve (he can practically hear the man’s voice, “sissy”, “girly”, “faggot”, hell, he might even go as far as tearing it out). He’s only got away with it this long, he’s pretty sure, because Bud Dean doesn’t really look at him that often - a fact of his life that becomes much sadder-sounding than it feels when you articulate it like that. He remembers sitting in the chair, the needle against his earlobe, the savage pleasure brought by the brief sting and dull ache, followed by vague disappointment that it hadn’t hurt more.

And now, here’s Veronica Sawyer, the kindest, most beautiful person he’s ever met in his entire life, gently tracing her fingers over it, a permanent scar representing a moment of self-flagellating rebellion, and telling him she thinks it’s sexy. She’s writing over the original intentions in the best possible way - not dismissing, but renewing.

She must have noticed the way he presses himself into her every touch like a cat that wants to be petted, because she’s gently caressing her fingers along his jaw now, up his cheek, across the ridge of his brow, pausing to sweep the hair that flops over his face out of the way so she can sweetly kiss his forehead. His eyes flutter closed in pleasure, and she giggles as she brushes the pad of her thumb over his lower lip before her fingers return to their path across his face, delicately tracing his eyelids and the slope of his nose - oh, she’s stopped. On the bridge of his nose - fuck, the ugly bump where it broke that isn’t too visible until you touch it, and then you can’t unsee it. Shit.

“JD?” Veronica’s sweet voice sounds concerned. “What happened here?”

JD noticeably winces, and Veronica withdraws her hand. He opens his eyes, missing her touch already, trying to find the words to apologize because he knows it’s awkward and ugly and feels weird to touch, but Veronica speaks again before he can say anything.

“Shit - I didn’t hurt you when I touched you there, did I?”

“No,” he reassures her hurriedly, and she physically relaxes, which is hopefully a sign that she isn’t about to push him away. “Nah, it happened about two years ago. Bemidji, Minnesota. It healed up ages ago.”

“What happened?”

He shrugs awkwardly, unused to anyone looking at him with that amount of care and concern. “Same old. Some jock asshole had a go at me - I think he called my masculinity into question because I was reading during lunch instead of practicing sports, all that fun bullshit. Anyway, I talked back, he threw a punch, I ducked and his fist went into a concrete pillar. He got benched from the hockey team because he broke his hand, so he waited ‘til I wouldn’t see it coming and got revenge by swinging his hockey stick into my face.”

It was the only state where he’d been to two high schools instead of just one; Minnesota was big and cold enough that commuting wasn’t an option for Bud Dean when he secured a new job a few counties over, and the news that they were moving again had aligned nicely with JD being released from the nurse’s office. The school district had been a bit too relieved with that one, he remembers bitterly.

To his surprise, Veronica tenderly cups his face in her hands and leans in to press a soft kiss against the break. “What a fucking asshole,” she murmurs, and, okay, he did not expect to be so turned on by the protective anger in her voice. “God, it pisses me off so much when guys think that just because they can catch a ball or run fast or hit a stupid little disk across an ice rink that it gives them free reign to treat other people who’re just minding their own business like - like fucking trash.” She kisses the bridge of his nose again, gentle and lingering, then leans her forehead against his, looking deep into his eyes. “Joke’s on him, anyway. I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but it kinda gives you this total… rugged sexy badass vibe that I’m sorta really into.”

Oh.

“I don’t mind,” JD starts. His voice has gone all husky. He clears his throat and tries again. “I don’t think I’ll ever have a problem with you being into me. Or calling me a ‘rugged sexy badass’. You can do that as much as you like.”

Veronica leans in and kisses him slowly, her hands moving from his face to his chest and gently pushing his flannel out of the way. JD shrugs out of it without breaking their kiss, and Veronica roams her hands over his biceps, moaning quietly into his mouth.

“God, your arms are so nice,” she murmurs when they part for breath. “Could I, um, maybe, y’know…?” She slides her hands down his chest to push his t-shirt up, and JD nods eagerly and lifts his arms.

Veronica pulls his t-shirt over his head and pauses to gaze at his chest. He feels a little self-conscious, but she’s smiling widely and staring at him with unabashed desire, so genuine and eager that he can’t help but smile too.

“I don’t feel like this is very fair,” JD tells her playfully. “You’ve managed to get two articles of clothing off of me while you’re still fully dressed.”

“It isn’t fair,” Veronica agrees breathily as his hands stray to her waistband and untuck her shirt. “Maybe we should make things more even, any ideas?”

“Just a few.” JD pushes her shirt slowly up her body; Veronica takes over when it becomes awkward and discards it on the floor next to his own. Now it’s her turn to blush as he admires how she looks without it, self-consciously folding her arms over her stomach. JD pushes them away.

“Hey, where’d this come from?” he asks teasingly. “You weren’t shy earlier.”

Veronica avoids his eyes. “I know, just… that was before dinner. Look, it’s stupid, and hey, we said we weren’t going to talk about the Heathers anymore -”

“Veronica.”

She meets his concerned gaze and noticeably chews at the inside of her cheek. “Just remembered something Heather Duke said. It’s really silly, I shouldn’t even - like, her opinion doesn’t matter, y’know? Or it shouldn’t, anyway.”

“Babe,” JD says softly. Veronica stares at him, eyes huge, hopefully blushing more from the pet name than from self-consciousness. “Look, I don’t know what it was that she said, but it’s clearly bugging you.” He reaches up and strokes her cheek. “Do you wanna, I dunno… talk about it or something?” He cringes internally; he’s shit at this sort of thing because it’s never come up before, but Veronica’s clearly bothered by whatever the third Heather - the waifish redhead who wears green, he’s pretty sure - had said, and he doesn’t like to see her upset.

Veronica deflates and avoids his gaze again. “She just said that I could… God, I ate, like, three giant slices of pizza tonight, plus all those fries, and…” She sighs. “Heather said I could stand to lose a few pounds. She might have a point.”

JD pushes down the old familiar flare of anger, this time directed at Heather Duke, in favor of comforting her. “Veronica,” he says sternly, “that’s bullshit.”

“Is it, though?” she mumbles. JD sits up properly and wraps his arms around her waist.

“It is,” he tells her firmly. “It’s like what you said about jocks feeling like they have a free pass to treat other people like trash. I don’t get why girls like Heather fucking Duke feel the need to take their own fucked-up insecurities out on other people. And…” He sighs. He wishes he was better at being comforting. “I like you because you’re smart and kind and funny,” JD tells her honestly. “I like… I like being around you. And… it wouldn’t matter to me if you weren’t, but you’re also really fucking pretty.” He slides one hand up her back to her bra. “I like that you’re curvy,” he whispers, grinning when she blushes harder and relaxes into his touch. “Way sexier than some diet-cokehead after-pic. Can I -?” He brushes his fingers over the fastening on her bra. Veronica’s breath hitches.

“Yeah, o-okay,” she breathes. JD carefully pinches the clasp and unhooks her bra, pulling it away from her body and dropping it on top of their discarded shirts. His grin widens as he admires her.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs, then leans back against the pillow and pulls Veronica down so he can kiss her. It’s deep and wanting but not too urgent, giving them time to savor the feel of each other. Her breasts are pressed against his chest, and everywhere their skin touches seems to ignite with scorching heat that promises more more more.

Veronica grinds down against his lap, gasping into his mouth, and JD presses up against her, feeling his cock starting to harden and rise from the combination of friction from her movements and his jeans. She slides her hands down his chest and starts unbuckling his belt, unbuttoning and unzipping his fly and sneaking one hand into his jeans so she can stroke him as she moves, causing him to let out a moan that’s muffled by their kiss. He moves his hands to her thighs, pushing her skirt up and brushing his fingers along the edge of her panties, relishing in the desperate little whimpers she lets out.

“God,” he manages to groan between kisses. “You’re so fucking hot, Veronica…” Veronica sits up, chest heaving as she catches her breath, and removes her hand from between his legs. JD reaches for her desperately, missing her touch already. “Don’t stop,” he whimpers, unable to feel ashamed that he’s practically begging.

Veronica smiles breathlessly, cheeks still flushed pink. “I’m not, just… Can we take the rest of our clothes off? They just kind of feel like they’re getting in the way -”

He’s pushing at her waistband before she’s finished her sentence. The position they’re sitting in isn’t really conducive to removing their remaining clothes, though, so Veronica climbs out of his lap and they get to their feet instead. JD immediately nuzzles his face against Veronica’s neck, kissing her soft skin and slowly making his way down her collarbone to her breasts, ghosting light kisses over her nipples (and grinning when she whines) before kissing down her tummy and pulling down first her skirt and then her panties. As she steps out of them and shuffles them out of the way with her foot, he’s tempted to bury his head between her thighs again, remembering earlier and how she’d tasted, the noises she’d made, the way she’d twisted her hands into his hair, but he holds off in favor of standing back up to pull her into a desperate kiss.

Veronica, not content with being naked alone, begins urgently shoving his jeans down, followed by his boxers. Their lips part briefly so JD can fully remove them, then they reach for each other at the same time, kissing so hard their lips will probably be bruised tomorrow. She slides her fingers teasingly along his cock, but JD bats her away and slips his hand down between her legs, brushing his fingertips over her center, only having a moment to appreciate how wet she is already before Veronica’s knees buckle and he hurriedly grabs her around the waist to hold her up.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, clearly embarrassed. JD sits back on the bed in his previous position and pulls her down to lie next to him.

“Don’t apologize,” he reassures her. “Can I try that again?”

Veronica nods, biting her lip as JD pulls her close with one arm and moves his other hand down to her thighs, slowly parting them and stroking her gently before dipping a finger inside her, testing. He moves to kneel over her, adding a second finger when she nods that she’s ready, and curls them inside her in the way he’s learned she likes best. Veronica whimpers, grinding eagerly against his hand, and moans when he leans down and takes one of her nipples into his mouth at the same time.

“God, JD,” she whispers, and the way she says his name - broken and husky and wanting - honest-to-god makes his cock actually twitch with desire, “just - just like that, fuck, that’s so, so good…”

JD switches to her other nipple, rolling his tongue over the tight bud and simultaneously flattening his palm against her folds so she can rut against his hand more efficiently, but then to his surprise Veronica stills - with obvious effort - and pulls him away from her chest, tilting his chin up so she can meet his eyes.

“Can - um - JD, that was so, so fucking good, but I - I really want to have sex with you right now, I can’t stop thinking about it, so can we please -?”

“Yes,” JD breathes. He pulls her close to kiss her, burying one hand in her hair and pulling her leg over his lap with the other. “How do you - how do you want to -?”

“Um… Can I ride you?” Veronica’s eyes are huge, her pupils blown with desire. “I really like riding you.”

“God. Yes. Please.”

Veronica shifts so she’s fully on top of him, and JD shuffles back so he can lean against the headboard, adjusting the pillow behind him because the last thing he wants is to have to stop what they’re doing because of a sore back. Veronica’s thighs are shaking slightly, so JD gently guides her hands to his shoulders then reaches down, lightly stroking her folds with one hand and angling his cock against her with the other.

“Okay?” he checks. Veronica nods.

“So fucking okay,” she murmurs. She takes a deep breath and slowly lowers herself down onto his cock, her eyes fluttering closed and a moan escaping her lips. He echoes her as she adjusts herself, and they stay there together like that for a moment, breathing deeply in time with each other. She feels like silk around him, hot and wet and perfect, and he runs his hands over her thighs, up her torso, reaching up to brush her hair out of her face before pulling her into a slow kiss.

“You feel fucking incredible,” JD breathes when their lips part. “God, Veronica, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

“Fuck, JD,” Veronica whispers, breath hitching. She lifts herself up, then sinks back down, slowly riding him, gasping quietly when she bounces a little. “Fuck. You feel so good… so… so… good…” She leans in so their foreheads are touching, rolling her hips forward so her nipples brush against his chest. “Is it… Would it be… oh, fuck… alright if… mmm… we keep going just… just like this?”

“Like… fuck… like what?” JD steals another kiss from her, sliding his hands down from her face to her breasts. She mewls quietly when he starts gently playing with her nipples.

Veronica continues to rock against him, eyes half-lidded with pleasure. “Mmm, god… Slow?”

JD kisses her again; their tongues slide against each other, pressing, brushing, teasing, following the familiar cues that feel like they’ve almost become perfectly fucking ingrained in both of them in the last twenty-four hours.

“Anything you want,” he tells her between kisses. “Mmm, fuck, Veronica, I never… never want to stop - fuck - never want to stop touching you.”

“Don’t stop,” Veronica breathes. “Don’t stop, JD, fuck, please…”

He loses track of time as they continue to move together like that; all that exists to JD right now is Veronica, the feel of her, the noises she’s making, her soft lips and giddy smile and the way those beautiful eyes sparkle with passion when she looks at him. She moves her hands from his shoulders to roam across his chest, cards her fingers through his hair while they kiss, cups his face in her hands and looks at him with so much goddamn affection that it makes his chest feel almost too tight for his heart.

Eventually she loses her rhythm and starts letting out frantic little gasps, eyelids fluttering shut and her mouth falling open, and JD realizes she’s close, so he moves his hands to her hips and buries his face in her neck, gently kissing her throat while he guides her back to their previous pace. It’s not long before Veronica lets out a desperate little sob, her fingernails digging into his back almost painfully.

“JD,” she chokes out, “JD, please, I’m so fucking close, please, JD, please, fuck, I need to - god, please -”

JD smirks into her skin and plants kisses along her shoulder, maneuvering one hand down between them to help her along and sliding his other hand up her back to cradle her head, remembering her - literal - hair trigger that he’d discovered their first time. When Veronica gasps his name again, voice cracking slightly, he delicately bites her shoulder, at the same time fisting his hand in her hair and pulling it just hard enough to sting.

The effect is instantaneous: Veronica’s entire body tenses and she releases a shaky, drawn-out moan, and JD desperately thrusts up into her as she throws her head back and clenches around him. He’s very nearly there himself, so close he’s slightly dizzy, when Veronica recovers from her climax enough to start grinding down on him again, gazing at him with half-lidded eyes and a euphoric, dreamy smile slowly stretching across her face.

“Veronica,” he groans, making her smile widen into a grin, “Veronica, you’re so fucking perfect, Veronica -”

His own orgasm hits him after a moment, his entire body going rapturously numb - except for the places where their skin meets, which burn with what can only be described as searing pleasure.

Veronica eventually blissfully slumps forward against his chest, and she stays there as JD slowly comes back down to earth, breathing heavily in time with him.

“JD?” she murmurs after a few moments.

“Hm?”

“That was… That was amazing.”

JD feels his mouth twitch up in a tired approximation of a smile as he hazily strokes her hair. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Yeah… yeah, it was.”

Veronica smiles into the crook of his neck, lightly tracing her fingers over his chest. “I… I really like you, y’know that? I like you a lot.”

JD huffs out a contented laugh. “I really like you too,” he tells her. His voice is husky with satisfaction. “I like you so much. You’re… you’re my favorite.”

He feels Veronica’s eyelashes brush his skin as she cuddles closer, her glee palpable despite her exhaustion. “Good, ‘cause you’re my favoritest too.”

“I don’t think that’s a word,” he teases her. Veronica flaps her hand lazily.

“Currently finding it very hard to care about that.”

She has a point. ‘Favoritest’ might not be grammatically correct, but it perfectly sums up how Jason Dean feels about Veronica Sawyer.

(It’s made even better by the fact that she feels the same way.)

Just like a prayer, your voice can take me there…
Just like a muse to me, you are a mystery…
Just like a dream, you are not what you seem -
Just like a prayer, no choice, your voice can take me there!
Your voice can take me there -
Like a prayer…

Chapter End Notes

> Next, Veronica and JD deal with post-coital vulnerability.

> “God, I’m so sorry.”
> “What for?”
> “I kinda did a number on your back. Y’know, when we were… and I kind of dug my nails into your shoulders?”

## Chapter 9: My Slumbering Heart

Chapter Summary

> Veronica and JD cuddle, deal with a mild misunderstanding, and Veronica has a dream/nightmare about something that happened four years previously.

Chapter Notes

> Hola!! You guys who have been kudos'ing and commenting make me so so happy!! Hope you're all having a fantastic week :D

> I hope this chapter hits right - it deals a lot with both Veronica and JD being vulnerable with each other, which is a big deal for both of them, as JD has obviously been very lonely and closed off, and Veronica isn't much different, only her walls have been put up to stave off high school bullying rather than the death of one parent and abuse from the other. Anyway, basically I'm a sucker for fluff interspersed with mild angst, so here you go.

> This chapter also deals with past self-harm - nothing worse than what's in the movie, but it's there. It's the section that begins dated 1985, and ends when we return to the present in 1989 if you need to skip over it. Shoot me a comment and I'll reply with a TLDR if you need me to!

> Hope you enjoy this chapter!!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

In my dreams, I see you asleep on a twin bed,
The covers pulled up over your head -
Am I asleep or awake?
And it’s morning, and the captain is playing his radio,
And he’s just put the paint on his new boat -
Am I asleep or awake?

- Rilo Kiley, My Slumbering Heart

Saturday 23rd September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
JD’s bedroom
About fifteen minutes to 10pm

Veronica never thought she could feel so intensely for someone in such a short period of time, but whenever JD holds her like this - her head on his shoulder, their legs intertwining while he wraps his arms around her - the thought crosses her mind that they might have been made for each other, they fit together so perfectly. The irony of their movie choice earlier hasn’t escaped her; the almost supernatural fulfillment of a wish to meet someone who understands her and fits with her and just makes her feel happy is something she can definitely relate to.

…Thank fuck it seems unlikely that JD is actually secretly a demon.

“What’re you thinking about?” she murmurs, stroking her fingers gently across his chest. JD lets out a quiet little chuckle.

“Dunno,” he replies softly, kissing the top of her head. “Just… I’m really happy right now. I think this - this whole day - I think it might be the first time in a while that I’ve felt so happy.”

Veronica can’t think of anything to say in response - she wants to light up at the compliment, but at the same time her heart breaks a little for him - so she takes one of his hands in hers and pulls it up to her mouth to kiss it. She presses her lips to the back of his hand, then his fingers, then moves to his palm and meets his eyes - wide and round and blue - before placing one final kiss on the inside of his wrist. There’s a little rough patch of skin there, with a slightly jagged shape - a scar, she realizes, and recalls something he’d said offhand when they were talking in the 7-Eleven the other day:

“And, y’know, those days when you can’t block out the voice that tells you you’ve got nothing to live for, brain freeze is way better than opening a vein.”

How long has he been silently hurting? Veronica wonders, but decides against drawing attention to it. JD hasn’t commented on the little white burn scar on the palm of her left hand, even though he’s surely noticed it, so she decides it’s a topic of conversation for another day, and merely presses a second kiss to his wrist before lacing their fingers together and burying her face in the crook of his neck.

He smells nice. Soap with a hint of aftershave and the slight salty sheen of sweat left over from their recent activities. She nuzzles her nose against his neck, breathing him in and making him laugh slightly.

“Your hair is tickling me.”

“Sorry,” Veronica grins, unable to sound very sorry at all. She shifts so she’s lying half on top of him and pulls away from his neck to smile up at him. “I’m also really happy right now,” she confesses. “I think this might be the most genuinely happy I’ve felt in a while too.”

JD’s face lights up with that lovely smile that makes Veronica melt inside, and like she just did to him, he pulls her hand up to his mouth to kiss her fingers. “I like when you’re happy,” he murmurs, making her breath hitch slightly. “I could stay here with you forever, maybe.”

Before she can even think of how to respond, how to explain how full he makes her heart feel, he slides his other hand up to cradle her head and pulls her into a soft, sweet kiss. Veronica reciprocates enthusiastically, but even so, sits up when he releases her. She hates to part from his warm body, but is also aware of other factors that are eventually going to make cuddling uncomfortable. JD frowns slightly as she swings her legs over the edge of the bed, looking worried.

“Was that too much?” he asks quietly. “Sorry, it just kind of slipped out -”

Veronica sighs fondly and presses a finger against his lips to shush him. “It wasn’t,” she reassures him, smiling when he relaxes and kisses her finger again. She leans down and grabs her panties from the pile of discarded clothes, awkwardly shuffling them over her feet and tugging them up her legs. “I really like, y’know, cuddling like that, but I just…” She giggles. “It’s making me want to just fall asleep in your arms, and I know if I do that we’ll get cold, so we’ll do what we did last night and cling to each other under the blankets, and then we’ll get too hot so I’ll kick half the covers off and somehow be cold and sweaty at the same time - and probably cause myself to have another nightmare and wake you up by screaming again, so I wanted to grab my pajamas, and, like, brush my teeth and maybe drink some water before we pass out.”

JD grumbles quietly, but acquiesces, sitting up next to her. “You might have a point,” he admits as Veronica quickly shimmies her underwear over her thighs. He wraps his arms around her waist as she tries to stand up though, pressing a kiss against her side as she giggles. “I like you naked, though.”

It’s tempting to give in to the warmth of his arms, but Veronica wiggles away, laughing as she untangles herself from him. “Come on, I’m serious. I don’t wanna wake you up by screaming right in your ear again.”

JD dramatically groans, pouting, but lets go of her and watches as she scoops up her abandoned shirt, skirt, and bra, smirking playfully at the sight of her in just her underwear. His expression softens into a fond smile as she folds her abandoned clothes into her bag.

“What?”

JD half-shrugs and swings his legs over the side of the bed, still smiling as he grabs his boxers from the pile of clothes on the floor. “Nothing. I just think it’s kind of adorable how you always fold your clothes.”

Veronica blushes at that, smiling bashfully. She’d hardly even realized she was doing it. “I hate having to iron stuff,” she admits as she digs out her pajamas (a cute baby blue satin camisole-and-shorts set with a white lace trim that she mostly bought so she’d have something to wear at Heather’s that wouldn’t be considered ‘uncool’, and wow, she never thought that ‘socially acceptable pajamas’ were something that could exist, and yet…). “I try not to crumple my clothes too much so I only have to do one big load of ironing when they come out the wash, instead of going through the whole ordeal of dragging the ironing board out of the utility closet every time I want to wear the same skirt two days in a row.”

“Fair enough,” JD chuckles. “I don’t usually even bother with ironing my laundry.”

Veronica laughs. “Yeah, well, not all of us can be rugged sexy badasses in torn jeans and open flannels,” she points out. She slips the shorts on and wriggles the camisole over her head, fidgeting with the hem and carefully smoothing her hands over the fabric so it’ll sit right without bunching around her hips, only stopping when she feels JD’s arms slide around her waist from behind. He applies his warm lips to the surprisingly sensitive spot just behind her ear, making Veronica sigh contentedly and melt into his embrace.

“Yeah, you’re right. Good thing too,” he murmurs, his hot breath on the shell of her ear making her shiver slightly. “The fewer rugged sexy badasses there are walking around, the better. Fewer rivals for your affections.”

“Hmmm. Not many of those to begin with,” Veronica tells him, doing her best not to purr like a goddamn cat as he teasingly kisses her earlobe. “None who actually stand a chance, anyway.”

She can feel JD smiling against her neck. “Good to know,” he mumbles, and nuzzles his face against her hair. Veronica can’t get over how physically affectionate he is; it’s almost intoxicating. “Also,” he adds, turning her in his arms so she’s facing him, and dusting his fingers against the top of her back exposed by the soft pajama top, “I officially retract all complaints about the pajamas.”

Veronica giggles. “You have to pay a fine to the bureau in order to retract a complaint,” she informs him teasingly. She glances pointedly at his mouth. “Nothing you can’t afford, though.”

JD laughs and grazes his lips lightly against hers, pulling away teasingly when she leans up for more. “Would that cover it?”

Veronica rises onto her tiptoes, chasing his lips. “That adds interest,” she informs him, trying her best to sound stern. “You’ll have to shell out extra -”

JD cuts her off with a proper kiss; he keeps it light and sweet, holding her close with one hand around her waist and the other stroking her back, and even though it’s nothing like the deep, lustful kisses they shared earlier, it’s the kind of properly romantic kiss that makes Veronica whimper slightly and go weak in the knees. She drapes her arms over his shoulders; he’s still shirtless, and his skin is warm under her touch. JD sucks briefly at her lower lip before releasing her, brushing his nose against hers in a bunny-kiss.

“What about now?” he asks playfully. Veronica gazes dopily up at him with blown pupils.

“Hmm?”

JD laughs again and kisses the tip of her nose. “Doesn’t matter. You want some water or something?”

“Water sounds good,” Veronica murmurs. JD pecks her cheek one last time before removing his arms from around her and grabbing a bottle of water off the box serving as a bedside table. He must have put it there earlier, along with two cups, while she was in the bathroom or something. God, he’s so fucking sweet, she thinks, but then gets distracted as he opens the bottle and the light from the overhead lamp highlights several fresh red scratches peppering his shoulders. Shit, I think that was me. I did that.

JD turns back to her and hands her one of the cups; as soon as she takes it he slides his free hand around her waist and guides her back over to the bed so they can sit down together. Veronica affectionately nudges him before taking a sip of water - and promptly downing half the glass, only now realizing how thirsty she actually is. JD lets out a little chuckle as he takes a sip from his own cup.

“Doing okay there?”

Veronica nods, giggling. “Yeah. Just didn’t realize how thirsty I actually was.” She finishes her drink more slowly, smiling when he takes her empty cup back and leans over to replace it on the box along with his own. Her smile fades when she catches sight of the marks her nails left on his skin again, though. “God, I’m so sorry,” she starts. JD glances at her with a confused frown.

“What for?”

Veronica winces. “I kinda did a number on your back. Y’know, when we were… and I kind of dug my nails into your shoulders?”

JD laughs, shrugging. “Honestly, I didn’t even notice,” he admits. “It doesn’t hurt, really. And besides,” he adds, smirking slightly, “it’s hardly the worst way to get scratch marks all over your back.”

“Still.” Veronica slides her hand up his back and gently traces one of the scratches with the tip of her finger. She bites her lip slightly, hating the idea of hurting him, no matter his insistence that she didn’t, and on impulse shifts to kneel next to him and leans over to softly press a kiss against one of the marks. JD freezes.

“What…” he says hoarsely, “what are you…?”

Veronica smiles at him, blinking slightly incredulously. She’d thought it was obvious. “Kissing it better,” she informs him.

She takes her time carefully placing kisses on each of the raised red marks, gently stroking the pad of her thumb against his shoulder as she does so. To her surprise and slight worry, JD doesn’t relax into her touch the way he usually does, and after kissing the last scratch, Veronica sits back on her calves and cups his cheek in her hand, turning his face towards her. She’s shocked to see that his eyes are shining slightly as he bites his lip. He doesn’t look upset, exactly; more… overwhelmed.

“JD?” she asks softly. “Was that… Are you okay?”

JD swipes the palm of his hand over his eyes and avoids her gaze. “Fine,” he says croakily. “I just… I think I need a minute.”

That response doesn’t do much to diminish Veronica’s worry, but she nods, withdrawing her arms from around him and getting to her feet. “Sure. I’m gonna go brush my teeth.”

She grabs her little pouch of toiletries (light blue velvet with a darker blue ‘V’ appliqué) and heads into the bathroom, forcing herself not to glance concernedly back at him. The tile floor is soothingly cold beneath her bare feet, and she goes about brushing her teeth, meeting her reflection’s worried gaze in the mirror.

God, she thinks, what if I crossed a line there? I mean, just because someone consented to one thing doesn’t mean they consented to everything. What if he has, like, some kind of hangup about, I don’t know, kissing injuries better or something? What if I made him really uncomfortable just now?

She spits the toothpaste into the sink and rinses her toothbrush under the tap before tucking them back into the bag and surveying her appearance in the mirror again. Breathe, Veronica. She just has to talk to him when he’s ready. Listen to him. Respect his boundaries. Maybe leave it to him to initiate things until he’s comfortable again.

She goes through the other motions of getting ready for bed; it’s definitely been more than a minute, and yeah, okay, maybe she does drag out washing her hands a little longer than she needs to out of nervousness, but she can’t put off this conversation forever, she knows it. And her lurking fear that JD is going to decide that he doesn’t want to touch her anymore is almost definitely just post-coital vulnerability.

Probably.

When she opens the bathroom door, she’s surprised to see JD standing outside it. He’s wearing the t-shirt he had on earlier now, and seems more relaxed, besides the way he’s kind of biting at the inside of his cheek. “Hey,” he says, although it sounds almost like a question.

“Hey,” Veronica replies. Her voice is quieter than she means it to be.

“I was just going to -” he gestures towards the bathroom. She nods and backs towards his bedroom door.

“Sure. I’ll just be…”

“Oh-Okay.”

Is she imagining it, or did he deflate slightly when she spoke there? Was it a trick of the light, or did his hand twitch as she passed like he was about to reach out to her, maybe to tuck her hair back behind her ear the way he likes to?

She enters his room and hears the bathroom door close behind her, and groans quietly as she returns her toiletries to her overnight bag. They’re out of sync, and she knows it’s her fault. It had seemed cheesy and sweet to kiss the scratches on his shoulders better, but now…

Veronica paces the floor until she hears the bathroom door open again, then forces herself to stop fidgeting and sit down on the bed. She tucks her knees up to her chest and curls her arms around her shins as he enters, wishing she could just throw her arms around his waist and bury her face in his chest before tumbling into bed together and falling asleep in each other’s arms. But the invisible wall that’s sprung up between them is preventing that.

JD sits next to her. He looks nervous, so Veronica shifts to sit cross-legged. The last thing she wants is to close herself off to him. He relaxes slightly, but not enough. Veronica takes a deep breath.

“JD?”

His round blue eyes snap to hers, somehow simultaneously scared and hopeful. Veronica inhales a second time, psyching herself up.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “I should have asked if it was okay before I did that. And I should have stopped when you got uncomfortable. I’m really sorry.”

To her surprise, now JD just looks confused. “Veronica - what?”

Veronica blinks. “When I kissed your shoulder,” she reminds him. “You were clearly really uncomfortable with me doing that, and I should have stopped when you didn’t… respond. I’m sorry. Just… don’t be afraid to tell me if I cross a boundary, okay? I never want to make you uncomfortable. And don’t worry, I won’t do that again if you don’t want me to.”

JD stares incredulously at her. “Veronica - oh, god, you thought - no, no, Veronica, you didn’t make me uncomfortable.”

“I didn’t?” Veronica asks hopefully. She offers her hand to him, but waits for him to close the gap between them. He does, entwining their fingers together and squeezing her hand.

“God, no. It’s just…” Now JD is the one to take a deep breath. “It’s been a really long time since… since anyone did anything like that for me. Since anyone… kissed an injury better. Y’know? It was… it was nice. I just… I needed a moment, that’s all.”

Oh. Veronica wills herself not to well up at that. He’s been alone for so long. “Can I… can I maybe give you a hug?” she asks.

JD doesn’t say anything, just pulls her close and buries his face in her neck, and Veronica shifts to lie down and pulls him on top of her, wrapping her arms around him and stroking his hair with one hand and his back with the other. Their legs entangle; his feet are freezing against her and she suspects her own aren’t much warmer, so she leaves his side just long enough to reach down to pull the covers over them. They settle together like that, breathing in time with each other, and Veronica feels her eyelids flutter slightly with exhaustion. She’s going to miss holding him like this when she goes home tomorrow.

“I thought you were freaked out,” JD says quietly. She frowns and blinks down at him, tired but listening attentively.

“Hmm?”

“When I… when I froze up there. I thought you were freaked out because I was overwhelmed, or something.” He does his best to laugh, but his voice is still a little too quiet for it to ring true, and she can feel his heartbeat fluttering in his chest like a trapped bird. “I thought, ‘fuck, I’ve finally scared her away. She thinks I’m a total weirdo who freaks out about stupid shit.’”

Veronica cups his face in her hands and pulls him up so she can kiss him gently. “JD,” she says firmly, “it’s going to take a lot more than that to scare me away. Promise.”

JD lets out a shaky breath and finally relaxes against her, and she can feel his heartbeat starting to slow and even out. He buries his face against her neck again, and she reaches over to flick off the nightlight before returning her hand to the back of his head and gently stroking his soft dark hair. Her own breaths become slow and regular, and she prepares to succumb to the soporific effects of his comforting weight against her.

“Veronica?” JD says quietly. “You still awake?” Veronica blinks sleepily.

“Hmm? What’s… what’s up?”

“Nothing, just… I’m really glad I moved to Sherwood.”

In spite of her exhaustion, Veronica feels a wide smile curl onto her face. “I’m really glad you moved here too, JD,” she murmurs, before yawning involuntarily. “Sorry. I’m kinda beat.”

She can feel JD smile against her neck. “Goodnight, Veronica,” he whispers. “Sweet dreams.”

Veronica didn’t have him pegged as a ‘sweet dreams’ person, but it serves to endear him even more to her. She kind of wants to ask about it - everyone’s ‘goodnight’ phrase comes from somewhere, after all - but before she can, her eyelids are fluttering shut and becoming too heavy to open again. “Sweet dreams, JD,” she hums in response, right before sleep claims her.

Tuesday 3rd September, 1985
Sherwood, Ohio
Westerburg High School chemistry lab
About 2:25pm

“She hates me.”

“She doesn’t,” Martha insists. “She was just a bit upset. She doesn’t hate you.”

Veronica stares miserably at her best friend - her only best friend now. “Martha, she didn’t call me all summer. Not since the last day of junior high. And I only found out she decided to go to Our Lady of the Rosary instead of Westerburg because she told you and you told me. Let’s face it. Betty Finn totally hates me.”

“Ronnie -” Martha starts, but Veronica barrels over her.

“She thinks it’s my fault. She thinks that I’m a total slut who en-encouraged him.” She doesn’t want to cry in chemistry class, especially not on their second day of high school - doubly so when the Heathers, Kurt Kelly, and Ram Sweeney are also all in this class. She takes a deep steadying breath and gazes dolefully at Martha. “She won’t say it like that, but I know she does. She thinks I wanted him to…”

She can’t say it. Saying it out loud means admitting it happened.

“Betty thinks it’s my fault that Danny likes me more than her.”

“Why would she think that, Ronnie?” Martha asks, wide-eyed and so painfully genuine. Veronica envies her friend’s innocence sometimes.

“I don’t know. Maybe because I was, like, wearing those shorts when we went to the park. You know, the denim ones without cuffs?”

“Those shorts are really nice,” Martha says comfortingly, but Veronica can’t be comforted.

“They’re really tight though. Like, they showed off my -” she lowers her voice to a whisper - “y’know, my butt. And I think she thought it was, like, slutty of me to wear them in front of the guy she liked. And I think she was annoyed that I was wearing my t-shirt knotted up at the front.” She’s kind of angry now, actually. “I mean, sorry it was hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk that day! It’s not my fault I got my boobs before she got hers! And it’s not fair of her to expect me to just wear loose skirts or stretch-pants and giant bulky sweaters my whole life so I won’t have, I don’t know, an unfair perceived advantage over her in making guys like me -”

Veronica cuts herself off. Martha is staring at her with wide, slightly-hurt eyes, nibbling her lower lip, and Veronica belatedly realizes that Martha is wearing stretch-pants and a giant bulky sweater.

“Oh, Martha, I didn’t mean you,” Veronica whispers. She feels like the worst person in the world.

“I know,” Martha says quietly.

“You always wear what makes you feel comfortable,” Veronica tells her, slightly pleadingly. “I love that for you. It’s just…” She’s struggling to find the words. “I want to wear what makes me feel comfortable. But I think Betty was upset that my comfy clothes were more revealing than hers were. Because she like-likes Danny and he…” Veronica chokes slightly at the memory of what had happened in the park that day. “He acted like he like-liked me. Even though I don’t like him that way.”

“Alright, one person from every pair come up and get a bunsen burner, and the other one come and get a lighter,” the teacher, Mr Goralnik, calls. Martha heads up to the line for bunsen burners while Veronica goes for a lighter.

She doesn’t miss the way Kurt Kelly barges past Martha and stage-whispers “Stay in the slow lane, Dumptruck,” or the Heathers’ mocking giggles.

I’m such a fucking bitch, Veronica thinks miserably, taking the lighter and heading back to her bench. It’s not enough that I accidentally stole my best friend’s crush, now I just insulted my other best friend’s fashion sense when she’s being picked on every day for just fucking existing. God, no wonder Betty hates me.

Martha sits back down next to her and plugs the bunsen burner into the gas tap, adjusting the hose until it’s no longer making a suspicious hissing sound. Veronica stares at the lighter she’s holding - a cheap drugstore cigarette lighter, not the proper stovetop lighters they’re supposed to use. School budgets. It takes her a few tries to spark it properly and get a flame out of it, but finally it ignites and there’s a dainty lick of orange fire flickering in front of her.

She should light the bunsen burner for the experiment.

Instead she savagely presses the flame right into the palm of her left hand.

Sunday 24th September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
JD’s bedroom
Roughly 1am

Veronica jerks awake with a little gasp. It’s been so long since she dwelled on that memory; she generally tries not to think too much about that entire year if she’s being honest. Maybe it’s this whole thing where she and JD have been opening up to each other about their fears and insecurities that’s triggered it.

She glances down at where the boy in question is still snuggled against her. He’s migrated from having his face pressed into her neck to lying with his head on her chest - his pleasant weight somehow has a calming effect on her, and she almost wants to come up with a joke for the morning about how he can’t stop touching her boobs - but then it hits her that he’s angled so his ear is pressed against the left hand side of her chest.

He’s listening to her heartbeat.

She nearly wells up at the realization. God, he’s so fucking cute.

She nuzzles her face against his hair and slowly drifts back off to sleep, this time much more peacefully.

One of the best things about JD, Veronica has decided, is that whenever they’re together, she just feels really, really - there’s no other word for it - safe.

She’s so glad they found each other.

And I become just like a chemical stress,
Tracing the lines in my face for
Something more beautiful than is there -
I’ve barely been gone…
And I’m not a failure, I swear!
I wish you could see it from over there.
I’ve got a lot over here without you,
I’ve barely been gone, gone dreaming.

Chapter End Notes

> Next up, JD and Veronica have breakfast together.

> “Okay, we’re out of cereal, but we do have half a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter. Toast?”
> “Toast works. Your toaster’s a normal one, not some ancient relic I’m gonna have to wrestle into submission, right?”
> “Yeah. I mean, I’ve not had to pry the toast out using a fork yet, so I’m assuming it’s in full working condition.”

## Chapter 10: I Believe In Miracles

Chapter Summary

> JD and Veronica spend their second morning waking up together much more relaxed than the first. They eat toast, talk about books, and get frisky with each other - not necessarily in that order.

Chapter Notes

> Hello! Hope you're all having a nice week :D Thank you so much for continuing to read this story and leave lovely comments, it means the world to me!

> Another chapter that lives up to the rating ;) They're both very physically affectionate so yeah. I'm also buggin' a bit because this chapter led to me writing better analysis of The Catcher In The Rye by J.D. Salinger than I wrote when I did my damn English Literature dissertation on that book. If you follow me on Tumblr, you may be aware that this is not the first time writing this fic has made me scream into my hands lmao. Just the most recent.

> In doing research for this fic, I also discovered that 'himbo' is actually 1980s slang, so it's totally plausible for Veronica to use it! Agatha Christie's Poirot aired its first season in January-March 1989 too, so it's also plausible that Veronica watched it and called Captain Hastings a himbo afterwards (because. he just is one). I love how stuff works out sometimes.

> Hope you enjoy :D

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Tattooed your name on my arm -
I always said "My girl's a good luck charm!"
If she can find a reason to forgive,
Then I can find a reason to live!
I used to be on an endless run -
Believed in miracles 'cause I'm one!
I've been blessed with the power to survive,
After all these years, I'm still alive!

- Ramones, I Believe In Miracles

Sunday 24th September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
JD’s bedroom
Sometime around 9am

Veronica is adorable when she’s asleep, JD thinks. Unlike yesterday, he’d been able to slowly awaken and properly appreciate the sequence of where am I-what happened last night-what time is it recollection rather than speedrunning it while trying to calm down his screaming girlfriend. Anyway, waking up next to Veronica Sawyer is even better than falling asleep next to her. Again, he feels so, so glad that she climbed through his window the other night.

He spent most of the night asleep with his head on her chest, one of her hands gently stroking his hair while he listened to her heartbeat slowing to resting pace. At some point though, they’d both wriggled around so they were sharing the pillow, with her on her back and him lying on his side curled against her. He’d woken up in that position, the first thing he saw being her peaceful profile, smiling slightly but otherwise free of expressions, with her chest slowly rising and falling under the arm he has draped over her.

She rolls her head slightly so she’s almost facing him, and JD recalls a line from a storybook his mother had read to him when he was little, a collection of Stories from the Ballet that she would only ever bring out on Friday nights when Bud Dean could be guaranteed to be out for the night at a bar with his deconstruction team. It had been from Sleeping Beauty, when the Prince had finally found his way to the Princess’s bedside:

‘As their lips touched, her eyes flew open, and his fate was sealed. Beautiful in her sleep, his Sleeping Beauty was still more lovely half awake.’

When his mom had read it to him, he had squealed and giggled and said it was yuck, because kissing was gross. He’d preferred the more action-packed stories - the vengeful spirits in Gisele, the dramatic deaths in Romeo and Juliet, the murdered puppet come back to life in Petrouchka. He doesn’t dwell on the part where his mom had tucked him in afterwards, and told him that her kisses were the opposite of the Prince’s, because they would send him straight off to sleep, and then kissed his forehead goodnight. Instead, he realizes - fuck, he gets it now. He gets the romances and the gentleness and the knowing without words. Veronica makes it all make sense to him.

He’s certainly not a prince in a fairytale, he knows that, but even so, JD can’t help himself: he leans in and lightly brushes his lips against her cheek. Veronica lets out a little sigh in response, so he repeats the motion on her other cheek, then the tip of her nose, then her forehead, and finally the corner of her mouth. At that, her eyes flutter open, and her sort-of smile widens into a criminally cute grin.

“Good morning,” Veronica murmurs, and leans in for a proper kiss. It’s soft and sweet and lazy, chaste but still leaving him irrationally breathless. Their lips part and she nuzzles her nose against his. “Hi,” she giggles.

“Hey,” JD smiles back. Veronica pecks his mouth again before yawning and sitting up.

“What time’s it?”

JD shrugs, sitting up next to her and pushing her hair to one side so he can apply his lips to the back of her neck. “Dunno,” he murmurs into her skin, smirking when her breath hitches. “Does it matter?”

Veronica giggles as he moves to the sensitive spot just behind her ear. “I wanna know if I’m eating breakfast or brunch,” she hums, then squeaks when JD pulls her into his lap so she’s leaning against his chest and reaches round to delicately tease her earlobe with his teeth. “Hmmm,” she sighs pleasantly. “How - how did you sleep?”

JD releases her earlobe and nuzzles his face against her neck. “Really good,” he admits. “It’s nice having you next to me.”

“Me too,” Veronica smiles, leaning into the kisses he’s trailing down her neck and reaching up to run one hand through his hair. “I slept well, too, I mean. I’ll miss this tomorrow,” she confesses.

“Yeah.” JD sighs a bit at the thought, then leans his chin on her shoulder. “You said you wanted breakfast?”

“Mmhm.” Veronica turns her head so she can peck a kiss onto the corner of his mouth. “What are our options?”

JD returns to kissing her neck. He maybe didn’t think having her sit in his lap all the way through, because it’s turning out to be a serious turn-on - the soft satin of her pajama shorts, her warm skin against his own, the friction against his groin every time she slightly shifts her ass. He slides one hand down to her belly, sliding gently under her top, and decides to take a risk. “I don’t know about food, but I can think of something I’d like to eat,” he murmurs into her ear. Veronica’s cheeks flush beautifully.

“We’ve been at it like rabbits, how are you still horny?” she admonishes him, although it’s slightly ruined by the way her breath catches in her throat, and how she grinds down onto his lap purposefully. JD slides his hand further up her shirt, gently cupping her breasts.

“That’s not a no,” he points out, maneuvering his other hand to the waistband of her shorts and pushing at them. Veronica moans as his thumb brushes over one of her nipples.

“It’s more of a ‘make it quick while still being as good as it was yesterday and I’ll blow you after’,” she informs him. JD laughs. He’s been repeatedly pleasantly surprised all weekend by how her physical attraction to him is as strong as his to her.

“Not like I needed an incentive, but I’m not complaining,” he tells her. They shift themselves into a doable position with JD kneeling between her legs and her top hiked up past her breasts. Veronica whines as he manages to get her shorts and underwear off but ignores her freshly exposed skin in favor of kissing her nipples.

“What happened to making it quick?” she complains, even as she pushes her chest up into his touch. JD releases her, his fingers taking over from his mouth, and grins as he wriggles down to place a kiss on her belly.

“Hey, you said you wanted it to be good,” he points out. Veronica lets out a frustrated moan.

“Well, yeah, I loved you drawing it out yesterday, but right now -”

JD plants his mouth directly between her thighs, and she promptly stops complaining.

It doesn’t take long for him to have Veronica squirming under his touch, her hands buried in his hair and her head thrown back as he eagerly works his mouth against her. He’d paid close attention yesterday, and while she’d certainly seemed to enjoy the entire experience, this time he sticks to switching between the few moves that had had the most effect on her - flicking his tongue against her entrance, then licking his way up to suck at her clit, alternating between gentle and delicate then hard and purposeful. Eventually he removes one hand from her breasts so he can finger her at the same time, and it’s not much longer before she orgasms with a wonderfully drawn-out moan, thrusting her chest up into his touch and grinding slightly against his face. He continues to suck at her until she finally goes limp with satisfaction, only pulling away when she gently tugs his hair and wriggling back up to answer her nonverbal request for kisses. Her post-climax bliss has her giggling enough that the most she can manage is chastely brushing her lips against his, but she’s adorable like this, so he doesn’t really mind.

“Good?” he grins at her between kisses. Veronica nods.

“God, yes,” she giggles. “All earlier complaints are officially retracted.”

“You have to pay a fine to the bureau to retract a complaint,” JD teasingly echoes her words from last night.

Veronica giggles more and slides her hands down his chest, one pulling his shirt up and the other pushing his boxers down. JD takes over removing his shirt, and they switch positions so now Veronica is kneeling between his legs. She drops his boxers to one side right as he discards his shirt, then pulls her own top all the way off and leans in to kiss him. JD can’t help the little groan of anticipation he lets out as their lips part and she kisses her way down his chest.

“God. How are you this fucking hot? It’s not fair how hot you are.”

Veronica smirks smugly, and in lieu of answering verbally, simply leans down and takes his cock into her mouth, drawing a second, louder groan from his lips. Like he did to her, she forsakes drawing it out in favor of wrapping her hand around his shaft and bobbing her head up and down, occasionally letting out enthusiastic little moans, especially when JD buries his hands in her hair and tugs lightly. Her other hand gently strokes his lower abdomen, his hip, his inner thigh, before lightly teasing his balls and making him whine her name, and he can feel her smiling around his cock. In this position, with her kneeling over him, her hair flops down around her face in a way he loves, partly because it’s an incredibly sexy look for her and partly because the soft tendrils occasionally brush against his skin as she licks-sucks-touches.

He wants to be embarrassed at how quickly he gets off, but it’s not really that surprising to be honest, because going down on Veronica did almost as much for him as it did for her. When he realizes he’s nearly there, he pulls Veronica gently back by her hair so she won’t choke, hoarsely gasping that he’s close, but Veronica merely smirks at him and begins kissing the tip of his cock, occasionally flicking her tongue against him while she pumps her hand up and down his shaft. He finishes with a low groan, twisting his hands into her hair and biting his own lip almost hard enough to bleed; he feels her release him and shift her position, but can’t bring himself to do more than breathe deeply and vaguely reach for her, gently stroking her thigh. When he finally recovers enough to register reality again, Veronica is sitting up next to him, sipping water from one of the cups they left next to the bed last night. She offers him a satisfied smile.

“Would that cover it?” she asks playfully. JD blinks at her, brain still slightly foggy. Veronica giggles charmingly. “The fine for retracting a complaint. Would that cover it?”

JD can’t help the incredulous but happy laugh that bursts out of him. He sits up and wraps his arms around her waist, leaning his chin on her shoulder. “Only you could make bureaucracy sound sexy,” he informs her, to which she grins smugly. “You’re okay, right?” he checks. “I wasn’t too… too rough or anything, was I?”

Veronica’s grin softens. “You were fine,” she assures him. “I, um, remembered a… thing Heather Mac told me about, that I could do with, um, with my tongue so I wouldn’t, y’know, choke this time. And I really like when you pull my hair.” She glances at him through her thick dark eyelashes, blushing a little. “Honestly, I wouldn’t mind if you were actually, like, a little bit rougher when you do that.”

“You sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

She nods eagerly, and fuck, he knows he’ll do it, he’d do anything she asks him for. JD takes her empty cup and returns it to the makeshift bedside table before leaning in and capturing Veronica’s lips with his own, kissing her deeply and pulling her close when her squeak of surprise turns into an enthusiastic sigh. Sex with Veronica is amazing, he loves being with her like that, but there’s something so wonderfully intimate about just kissing her like this, with no plans of going further.

It reminds him in the best way that Veronica is here because she likes him, it’s not just sex or physical attraction (although that certainly factors in), it’s that she likes spending time with him, likes talking and laughing together and holding hands and just being with him.

It’s been a long time since JD knew what love feels like, but with Veronica, he thinks he might be starting to remember.

Sunday 24th September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
The Deans’ rental house
Sometime just after 10am

It takes longer than expected for them to finally make it into the kitchen, namely because JD playfully held Veronica’s underwear for ransom (read: kisses) while she was trying to get dressed, but eventually they manage to keep their hands off each other long enough to wash up and put clothes on. Veronica is wearing the same outfit she wore yesterday, but with the addition of black over-the-knee socks and a soft oversized gray cardigan that serve to make her even cuter. She leans against the counter while he searches the cupboards for anything resembling breakfast, and he nearly bumps his head on the door more times than he cares to admit from glancing back at her to smile to himself at the way she keeps pulling her sleeves down to cover her hands.

“Okay,” JD announces at last, when he’s gone through every cupboard twice in the hope of finding more variety and failing, “we’re out of cereal, but we do have half a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter. Toast?”

“Toast works,” Veronica smiles. She takes the bag of bread and the jar from him. “Your toaster’s a normal one, not some ancient relic I’m gonna have to wrestle into submission, right?”

JD chuckles. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve not had to pry the toast out using a fork yet, so I’m assuming it’s in full working condition.”

Veronica puts the jar down and gently whacks him with her sleeve. “That’s so dangerous, don’t do that!” she admonishes.

JD laughs, grabbing her hand and rolling her sleeve back to kiss her knuckles. “Maybe I like living dangerously, baby,” he teases her. She continues to stare at him disapprovingly. “I unplug it first,” he adds to assuage her worries. “I’m not an idiot.”

“Good,” Veronica says, mollified. She pulls four slices of bread out of the bag. “You make coffee and I’ll do the toast?”

“Sounds good.” JD tries not to grin too much at the domesticity as he switches on the Coffeemaster that came with the rental. It doesn’t matter that it’s early days; he already knows he wants this relationship to be a long-lasting one. “Milk, no sugar?” he checks, remembering her drink order in the diner yesterday. Veronica nods, smiling as she drops the toast into the toaster and pushes the levers down.

“Milk, no sugar,” she confirms, blushing a little. “I can’t believe you remembered that.”

JD shrugs slightly, embarrassed. Is it weird that he took note of her coffee order? Is she freaked out that he remembers? Is it too intense of him to be thinking about a future where they get to have this sort of morning together - waking up in each others’ arms and making breakfast together - more often than not?

Veronica cups his face in her hands. She’s blushing and smiling, which is hopefully a good sign. “It’s sweet that you remembered,” she says softly, then leans up and presses her lips against his. JD leans into the kiss, smiling a little too much for it to be a particularly skilled one, and slides his arms around her waist, parting from her only when the Coffeemaster announces it’s ready and the toast pops up within a few seconds of each other.

They eat breakfast off paper plates leaning against the counter; Big Bud Dean prefers paper plates as there’s less washing up afterwards, and the only mugs he bothers with are tin camping mugs that won’t get smashed when he throws them in a box in the moving van. Not for the first time, even though she seems happy enough, JD wishes he could show Veronica a more sophisticated time. It’s not like his father couldn’t afford something nicer, it’s just that the man doesn’t bother. The most expensive thing in the house - JD’s bike doesn’t count, because it was second-hand, yet another “sorry your mom killed herself in front of you” apology gift on one of the rare occasions Bud’s normal disdain for his son turns to please-don’t-leave-me guilt - are his father’s pair of M1911 Colt handguns, inherited from JD’s grandfather. Another little spark of rage flares inside him at the thought: Didn’t have time to talk about Mom, didn’t have time to give me the Talk when I hit puberty, doesn’t have time to fucking - scout out a rental house that actually has dining room furniture, but the gun laws for the new state every time we move? That gets a sit-down talk-through, sober and everything.

He doesn’t dwell on it, instead smiling at Veronica as she sips her coffee. They’d got back onto the subject of books at some point, and so far he’s learned that she’s a huge The Chronicles of Narnia fan, admitted he prefers The Lord of the Rings, and also discovered they both love To Kill A Mockingbird, One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest, and A Streetcar Named Desire.

“Okay, favorite Agatha Christie,” Veronica smiles at him over the rim of her mug.

He doesn’t even have to think about it. “The ABC Murders, easy. I dunno, I love how the guy was relying on Poirot thinking the murders were by someone who was insane, but it didn’t work because it was a sane man’s idea of how an insane man acts. What’s yours?”

Veronica tucks a stray curl back behind her own ear. “I know it’s cliche, but Murder on the Orient Express,” she admits. “I always cry at how Daisy was so loved that all those people traveled the world to bring her killer to justice when the law failed them. And I find it hilarious that Poirot will just… encourage people who haven’t done any long-term harm to just kinda… keep it to themselves and start over honestly. I really hope they do an episode based on it when season 2 of the TV show airs.”

“Is the show any good?” JD asks eagerly. “I really wanted to watch it, but we moved to Tulsa right when it started airing and it took forever to get the TV working because our electricity wound up crossed with our neighbors’. Season 1 had finished by the time we could get a signal without snow covering everything.”

Veronica gasps, playfully outraged on his behalf. “Okay, we are so having a date night where we rent season 1 on video so you can appreciate how well they adapted it. Captain Hastings is such a himbo.”

JD snorts. “I’m sorry, ‘himbo’?”

“You know,” Veronica waves her hand, “like a bimbo but male. Kinda ditzy, doing his best but mostly failing, but ultimately good-hearted. Heather usually uses it as an insult, but I’d take a himbo over any of the Westerburg male population any day. Present company excluded, of course.”

JD laughs and grabs her hand, lacing their fingers together. “Well, we definitely have to watch it now.” He takes another sip of coffee. “Okay, favorite Thomas Hardy?”

“Tess of the D’Urbervilles,” Veronica says, clearly not even having to think about it.

“Ouch. That one’s, like, the saddest one.”

Veronica laughs in agreement. “I actually sort of hated it all the way through, mostly kept reading it out of spite, and then I got to the end and realized I loved it. It’s just… It really makes a statement about how women are treated, y’know? It’s one of the most realistic books about that time period, from that time period. What’s yours?”

“Jude the Obscure,” JD admits. Veronica laughs again.

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Well, it’s like you said isn’t it? Hardy was controversial because he told the truth. I dunno, I like that he wasn’t afraid to call it like it is, even when he got censored by his publisher.”

“I didn’t say that was a bad thing,” Veronica says, stroking the back of his hand with her thumb. “Um… favorite Salinger?”

“The Catcher -” JD starts. Veronica finishes the sentence for him.

“In The Rye,” she smiles. “That’s my favorite too. I hate that people use it to justify murder and hatred, though. I mean, it’s all about protecting the traits you have as a kid that you lose as an adult, right? Generosity and kindness and spontaneity and whatever. And Holden’s stuck in the middle trying to be an adult but not ready to give up being a kid yet, because he thinks that he’s going to actively give up all those traits if he wants to grow up and doesn’t realize that other people just kind of… stopped being that way unconsciously, and that’s why he’s so alienated.”

JD just nods, grinning slightly dopily at her. Just when he thought he couldn’t fall any harder for Veronica Sawyer, he’s proven wrong. He could listen to her talking about literary analysis all day, getting drunk on the passion in her voice, the way her eyes widen as she makes her point, how she gesticulates enthusiastically with the hand that he’s not holding. She’s right too, he’s never really thought about it like that, he’d mostly picked it up to piss off a teacher at the school he’d attended back in Knoxville who’d denounced it as unsuitable for children, but god, she’s so right. He wants to read it again after she goes home, do his best to see what she sees, make notes in the margins so he can properly appreciate it the way she does.

After they bin their plates and clear away their mugs - more domesticity, her washing, him drying, she insisted, god, she’s so cute - JD glances hopefully at Veronica. “What time do you need to be home by?”

Veronica shrugs. “My parents are pretty cool as long as I’m home by, like, dinner time. So I should head home at, I guess, five-ish at the latest? Unless - if you have other plans I get it, we didn’t exactly plan to spend the weekend together -”

“You can stay,” JD interrupts her, unable to keep himself from grinning. “I’d like if you stayed. It’s… nice hanging out together.”

Veronica positively beams at him. “That sounds nice,” she smiles. “I have some reading to do for school, and I’m gonna have to do my makeup before I go home -”

“Why?” JD cups her cheek in his hand. “I mean, y’know, it’s your choice to make, I’m not telling you what to do or anything, but… you’re beautiful either way.”

Veronica’s cheeks flush a soft pink, and she turns her head to kiss his hand. “Thanks,” she mumbles shyly.

JD shrugs. “Just being truthful,” he murmurs, then leans down and captures her lips in a gentle kiss. Veronica’s hands find his shoulders, and she presses close, sighing happily. When they part for air, JD doesn’t hesitate before diving back in and playfully kissing her neck, sliding the hand cupping her cheek back to cradle her head. Veronica giggles and squirms in his arms.

“That’s why,” she gasps as he grins against her skin. She squeals when he reaches her collarbone. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t think my parents seeing my neck covered in hickeys is the best lead-in to me being like ‘hey, Mom and Dad, I have a boyfriend!’ They’re cool, but not that cool.”

JD laughs and releases her, but keeps his arms loosely around her waist. “You might have a point there. I would like to live long enough to have that Agatha Christie’s Poirot date with you.”

“My dad wouldn’t kill you,” Veronica insists. She giggles. “I’d honestly be more worried that he might pass out from the shock of finding out that his sweet, innocent little Ronnie-Bunny has been -” she gasps theatrically - “kissing a handsome motorcycle-riding rebel!”

JD sniggers. “Hey, it was a fair bit more than just kissing, Ronnie-Bunny.”

Veronica throws her head back as she laughs, the sound ringing out beautifully. There’s something so wonderful about hearing her real laugh, not the demure giggle she uses in front of the Heathers. “Okay, true, but if he knew where my mouth was this morning he’d probably have an actual heart attack. Like, for real. Also, word of advice, don’t call me ‘Ronnie-Bunny’ if you ever want to see me naked again. That’s been my parents’ nickname for me forever and it’s, like, the least sexy thing I can think of. Instant turn-off.”

“Noted,” JD chuckles, sighing a bit as he mentally waves farewell to his momentary idea of teasing her about the goofy nickname. “So…” he changes the subject, “you said you had reading to do?”

“Cliff notes on Act One of Antigone,” Veronica nods. “Heather and I were gonna go through them together before her cheer practice yesterday. I’m taking Theatre Arts as an elective this year because it’s supposed to be better for understanding the plays they always assign in English Lit.”

“Cool. I’m supposed to read chapter three of this book about the Civil War for History.” He grins and brushes his nose against hers. “I vaguely remember you saying something yesterday about wanting to read together and cuddle?”

Veronica beams at that, her pretty face lighting up, and JD never wants this day to end.

I close my eyes and think how it might be;
The future's here today -
It's not too late, it's not too late, no -
I believe in miracles,
I believe in a better world for me and you!
Oh-oh, I believe in miracles,
I believe in a better world for me and you -
Alright!

Chapter End Notes

> Next up, Veronica heads home and diaries about her weekend with JD.

> “I’m gonna miss you tonight.”
> “I’ll miss you too. Here’s your helmet back.”
> “You keep it. I’ll pick you up for school tomorrow, if you want?”
> “I’d like that. I’d really like that.”

## Chapter 11: Haunted

Chapter Summary

> Veronica diaries about her weekend with JD, and we meet her family.

Chapter Notes

> Hello! This chapter is a bit of a breather before all the drama JD and Veronica will have to deal with at school on Monday. The vast majority of the word count is Veronica's diary entry and her processing her feelings, although there's a little angst here and there mostly in regards to her friendship with Martha.

> More funny things that happened while doing the research for this chapter: first I accidentally started a large debate on discord over how to correctly make a grilled cheese while trying to find out the American name for it. And then, while watching the footage of Haunted being sung at the tribute to Shane MacGowan, my dad casually dropped (in true Dad fashion) that he knows Cate O'Riordan. So that blew my mind a little.

> Hope you enjoy this chapter!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The first time I saw you standin’ in the street,
You were so cool, you could’ve put out Vietnam!
All the girls ask ‘what’s he like?’
I say ‘He’s kind of shy,
But that’s the kind of girl I am,
He’s my kind of guy!’

- The Pogues, Haunted

Sunday 24th September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
Outside the Sawyers’ house
A little after 5 o’clock

Too soon, five o’clock rolls around and JD gives Veronica a ride home. She climbs off his motorcycle with a sigh, already missing having her arms around him, and pulls her helmet off, smoothing her hair back into place. JD leans against his bike, the picture of cool, and Veronica smiles giddily at him.

“Thanks,” she says softly, squeezing his hand. He pulls her fingers up to his mouth so he can kiss them.

“No worries.” He smiles a little sadly. “I’m gonna miss you tonight.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Veronica sighs. She leans up to kiss him, and he brings his hand to her cheek so he can gently stroke her face as they kiss. God, he’s so sweet. They part and smile at each other for a moment, before Veronica holds up the spare helmet. “Here’s your helmet back.”

JD gives her that adorable little half smile that always makes her want to kiss him. “You keep it. I’ll pick you up for school tomorrow, if you want?”

Veronica beams at him. “I’d like that. I’d really like that.” She kisses him one last time before backing towards the front gate of her house, brushing their fingers together as they drop hands. “See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow,” JD smiles. He waits until she’s unlocked the front door, leaning against his bike and blowing her a kiss when she turns back to wave at him. She makes a production out of catching it, making him grin fondly at her, before he finally climbs back on his bike, secures his helmet, and drives off.

Veronica shuts the front door and squeals slightly to herself, before leaning against it, dazed. Wow, is all she can think. The whole weekend has been amazing - well, minus the oldest-friend-betraying and the pool-deck-shoe-spewing.

Fuck. What am I gonna tell Martha? She’d promised to explain everything later, back when she’d hustled poor Martha out the door after the piñata-meet-pool incident. If I tell her the truth it’ll make me seem like the worst person on earth. And if I lie and she keeps chasing after Ram… he’ll break her heart, and if it gets traced back to me through him, that’ll make me seem even worse. What the fuck am I supposed to do?

A jingling bell accompanied by the tip-tap of paws on hardwood provides a welcome distraction. “Hey, JFK,” Veronica coos as the tabby cat winds himself around her ankles, purring like an engine. “Hiya baby! Aww, did you miss me?” JFK - John Fitzgerald Kittendy - miaows loudly and stretches his front paws up towards her, wanting to be picked up. Veronica scoops him into her arms, kissing one of his little white paws. “Were you left here all by your lonesome? Just Mrs Chapman popping through last night and this morning to give you your dindins, huh? Poor kitty.” JFK nudges his little head against her chin, enjoying being fussed over. Veronica plants a kiss between his ears. “Hey, I gotta go unpack, then I’ll make your dinner, huh? Sound good?”

She puts him down - much to his discontentment - and heads into the main room and up the stairs, JFK trotting impatiently after her and mewing like his little heart will break if she doesn’t pick him up and cuddle him right this instant. He’s not used to being on his own; they usually host their extended family rather than traveling for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and Martha looks after him at her house on the rare occasion the Sawyers do go on vacation. As soon as she opens her bedroom door, he darts through it and jumps up onto her bed, clearly trying to entice her into joining him for snuggles. She can’t right now, though; she knows if she doesn’t unpack right now she’ll leave it until she inevitably trips over the bag.

Veronica throws her jean jacket over the back of her desk chair, then unzips the bag and shakes her belongings out onto the bed, making JFK hiss in protest and dive for the sanctuary of the top of her bookcase. She ignores him, dividing everything into piles to make things easier. Antigone notes, pencil case, Theatre Arts notebook - desk. Shoes, shoe rack. Dress, stockings, underwear - those should all go in the laundry. She pauses, thinking it over, then grabs a clean pair of panties and heads into her en-suite bathroom - not as big as the one Heather McNamara has, but Veronica doesn’t see the point of having a bathroom with a massive amount of additional floorspace. God, she thinks, I really need to start appreciating how nice it is to have fresh underwear every day.

She discreetly slides off yesterday’s underwear and leans back into her room to chuck it onto the laundry pile, then slips the clean pair on under her skirt and quickly checks her neck in the bathroom mirror. JD had been more of a hindrance than a help while she was doing her makeup - a very attractive hindrance, to be fair, but a hindrance nonetheless, and she’s a little worried she might have missed a spot. Lesson learned: one hickey at a time in future, or at least ask him to leave them only in areas she can cover up with clothes without it looking suspect.

Her neck thankfully looks thoroughly unsuspicious, so she goes back to her belonging-sorting. She smiles as she folds her pajamas and slips them under her pillow. She loves how sexy they made her feel in front of JD, and lets herself briefly get lost in the memory of how his hands had slipped under her shirt this morning, stroking her skin, his lips teasing her neck…

Veronica giggles to herself before hmming at the laundry pile. She makes a face. Her party dress still has a lingering aroma of marijuana smoke, as well as a hint of vodka from someone bumping into her and making her spill her drink on herself. She glances at the two pairs of dirty underwear, assesses the damage, and immediately blanches at the thought that her mother might see them and infer what Veronica’s been up to all weekend instead of studying at Heather McNamara’s.

“Okay,” she says aloud, partly to gather her thoughts but also a bit at JFK, still ensconced on top of the wardrobe, “so I’ll do a load of laundry, then get dinner for his royal furriness.”

JFK is thoroughly peeved at this development, but fortunately not so peeved that he’s willing to ignore his favorite bowl being filled with tuna in gravy. Veronica decides not to push her luck with him though, and sets up shop with her diary at the breakfast table. JFK likes having company while he eats, and always loudly complains during holidays when dinner gets served in the fancy dining room away from his bowl. Veronica sighs happily to herself before beginning a new entry.

9/24/1989

Dear Diary -

Wow. What a weekend.

Ram’s party was wild. Heather Mac showed me how to do tequila shots properly, I drank more alcohol than is probably advisable - seriously, that was, like, the most drunk I have ever been in my life - and I also saw more of Ram Sweeney’s body than I ever wanted to see - not in that way, ewww - because he took all his clothes off and canon-balled into his swimming pool. It was pretty hilarious.

Speaking of Ram - oh god, this is like the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life. Heather Chandler asked me to write a note in Ram’s handwriting - a love note. It’s not the first time we’ve done the old note prank - it worked beautifully on Shannon Murphy when Heather Mac needed cheering up a few weeks ago (you remember, you were there) - but… fuck, this time it was my oldest friend.

If she’s even still my friend after this.

I didn’t know it was for her. That’s the best defense I can come up with. It was so exciting the first few times, but, god, it feels really icky now. I read over my entries from the last few weeks and I think, ‘what a callous, self-serving bitch this Veronica Sawyer chick is’.

And it was so horrible what they tried to do to her too! I remember being like, “Hey, where did Heather Duke go?” and she showed up two minutes later with the goddamn Razorback piñata all dressed up to look exactly like Martha. Wig, glasses, big bow on one of its ears… and in case it wasn’t obvious, she hung a sign around its neck saying ‘MARTHA DUMPTRUCK’. And Heather McNamara had blindfolded Martha and gave her the bat so we could watch Martha smash it apart. All on Heather Chandler’s orders, of course.

Heather Chandler. God, she is a mythic bitch. One I’m not serving any more, owing to the fact that I threw the piñata in the pool, puked up half the minibar on her stupid designer heels, and then for good measure, while I was still wiping the vomit off my own face, I told her to lick it up. And then I showed her my middle finger, also covered in vomit.

It felt really good when I did it, but she’s going to actually crucify me tomorrow. At least, she said she would. Heather Mac doesn’t seem to think so, but Heather Chandler was really mad. Like, really mad... So who knows.

Anyway, I’ll deal with all this tomorrow at school. Dear Diary, something else happened this weekend, something really, really good.

I HAVE A BOYFRIEND!!!!

His name is JD, short for Jason Dean. I met him properly on Friday. We have study hall and English Lit together, but we’d never talked before, although I thought he was gorgeous. I think I wrote about it here actually. Yep, from September 4th:

‘In other news, there's a new guy in my English Lit class and he’s super cute. We have study hall together too. He doesn't talk a lot, but he’s really handsome.’

Well, Dear Diary, JD isn’t just really handsome - he’s also really smart and funny and he just gets me. It’s so nice being with him. Kurt and Ram had a go at him for flirting with me, and he totally kicked their asses in the middle of the cafeteria. It was kind of seriously attractive. And then I bumped into him in the 7-Eleven and he asked me out!

I had to say no sadly - I was on my way to Ram’s party, and Heather would have probably ripped my head off if I ditched her for the new kid. But, um, after I puked on her shoes and left Ram’s, I was walking home and I recognized JD’s motorcycle outside his house - and I kind of climbed through his bedroom window.

Okay, I know it sounds crazy, but I’m really glad I did it. JD was awake and he was surprisingly cool about it. I kind of tripped and smacked my face on his floor, and he cracked a joke about how I shouldn’t worry about it because I wouldn’t even remember it by the time I got the hang of being the world’s prettiest cat burglar. God, he’s so funny. And so freaking sweet! ‘World’s prettiest cat burglar’, fuck. And, well, one thing led to another and…

Okay, he is so good at kissing. I know I don’t have a whole lot to compare to, but wow. He’s such a gentleman too, he was really polite and gentle and respectful. He didn’t do anything unless I told him it was okay, and then when he did do things… Fuck.

And, well, I kind of wound up having sex with him.

Actually, no ‘kind of’ about it. We had sex and it was freaking amazing!!! It wasn’t even like, ‘oh my gosh, I’m losing my virginity!’ I didn’t have this… movie moment of, god, I hate this phrase, ‘becoming a woman’. It was just like… we were together and it was amazing. He made me feel so good. Whenever I’m with him I just feel… so so happy.

We did it three whole times, and, god, I’m blushing so hard writing this, JD also went down on me. TWICE! Oh my god, it was actually incredible. I didn’t know it was possible to, you know, feel like that. The first time might have possibly been the most intense orgasm I’ve had in my entire freaking life. The second time was really nice too, don’t get me wrong, but the first time - oh my god. He kissed me pretty much all over my body and then he quoted The Fountain by Baudelaire while he had his head between my legs. Holy fuck. It was like every romantic daydream I’ve ever had combined with the most amazing wet dream conceivable, except it was REAL.

I also went down on him, even though he kept saying I didn’t have to if I didn’t want to. Is it weird that the fact that he was such a gentleman about it made me want to do it more? I kind of liked doing it actually. It was honestly kind of a huge turn-on, like him being turned on turned me on. It was so embarrassing though, I thought it would be sexy if I let him finish in my mouth and I freaking gagged. But he was so sweet about it, he got me a glass of water and said it was okay if I just wanted to cuddle for a while. Thank god the second time I remembered that thing Heather Mac said you can do, where you block your throat with your tongue.

It wasn’t even bad or anything, it just felt a bit weird and different/new. I wonder how it feels for him when I finish while he’s going down on me?

(God, I hope my mom never EVER reads this!!!)

Anyway, we didn’t just have sex the whole time. JD also took me to brunch at Pinciotti’s, we got french toast and held hands while sitting at the counter, and it was kind of ridiculously romantic. We also watched The Witches of Eastwick - can you believe he’d never seen it before?! - and got takeout pizza. And I got to ride on the back of his motorcycle, which was kind of the most exhilarating thing I’ve ever done. Way better than being on a rollercoaster. And today we studied together and he made me pasta for lunch. Can you believe that, Dear Diary? Geeky little Veronica Sawyer has a handsome rebel boyfriend who made lunch for them to eat together! I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat pasta again without smiling like a maniac.

It was the most romantic weekend of my entire freaking life. I’m so happy that JD moved to Sherwood and we got to meet each other. Heather Chandler can crucify me all she likes, actually. When I’m with JD and he’s holding my hand and smiling at me I feel safe and brave and like none of it matters except us. I know it’s way too soon for me to say I love him, but I really think I might. If I don’t yet, I’m definitely going to someday soon.

♥ Veronica Sawyer + Jason Dean ♥

♥ V.S. + J.D. ♥

♥ Mrs Veronica Dean ♥

Veronica stares at the last three words, hardly daring to believe she just wrote them, and hurriedly scribbles them out. She’s past the age of this kind of grade-school crush nonsense - for god’s sake, at this age it stops being cutesy and starts being kind of creepy, even if he is her boyfriend.

Boyfriend. Veronica sighs happily to herself for the millionth time since Saturday morning. “I want to be your boyfriend,” JD had said, kissing her breathless and smiling that gorgeous smile at her. “I want you to be my girlfriend.” It definitely ranks in the top ten most romantic moments of Veronica Sawyer’s entire life.

She’s startled out of her reverie by the garage door loudly squeaking as it opens, then again a few minutes later as it closes again. Veronica hurriedly closes her diary and slides it into the deep pocket of her cardigan, sticking her pen behind her ear, as the door from the garage to the house opens and her dad’s voice calls out.

“Ronnie-Bunny? You home?”

“In the kitchen!” she calls back. Her parents appear a second later, lugging overnight bags and looking tired, but they both smile warmly at her.

“Good weekend, sweetie?” her mom asks, putting her bag down on one of the chairs. “I’d hug you, but Jess and Josh were coughing all over me all day, and I don’t want you getting sick next.”

Veronica makes a face. “Yeah, no thank you. But I had a really good time at… Heather’s, and Ram’s party was great.” At first.

“I’ll grab a shower, then I want you to tell me all about it.” Her mom blows her an air kiss and heads upstairs. Her dad chuckles and calls up after her.

“Don’t use up all the hot water, Sarah! Jess and Josh coughed on me too!” He smiles fondly at his daughter. “Glad you had a good time, Ronnie-Bunny. Also, did you put a load of laundry on?”

Veronica nods. “I spilled pop on my dress at the party. We were all dancing and stuff and Tracy Luhrman tripped into my back.” The facts that it had been more vodka than lemonade, and that Tracy Luhrman had been probably too stoned to tie her own shoelaces, aren’t for her parents to know. “How’re Jess and Josh?”

“Ah, you know Josh, still trying to play Super Mario on his Nintendo even when he was sneezing so hard he could barely open his eyes. Should’ve probably just told him to go to bed and sleep it off. Why didn’t I do that?”

“Because you’re an idiot, Dad,” Veronica teases. Her dad laughs.

“Oh yeah, that’s it.” JFK pads over from his dish to rub his head on her dad’s shin. “Hey buddy! Mrs Chapman get your dinner okay?” JFK meows and goes back to his meal. Her dad chuckles and returns his attention to Veronica. “Jess was asking for you.”

“Oh,” Veronica nods. She never knows how you’re supposed to respond to that statement, ‘so-and-so was asking for you’. It’s not like you can say ‘I’m good, thanks for asking, how are you?’ at that point.

“Yeah, wanted to know when her big cousin Ronnie was gonna come visit her.”

“That’s sweet of her,” Veronica smiles. “Well, maybe I’ll log some babysitting time at some point.” She gets up from the table and heads over to the fridge. “Want me to warm up some leftovers for dinner?”

Her dad nods. “Good idea, Ronnie-Bunny. I’ll go wash up.” He heads up the stairs, and Veronica can hear him calling her mom’s name. “Sarah! Sarah! How long will you be in there? Ronnie’s heating up some leftovers.”

Veronica huffs out a little laugh at nothing as she digs out two tupperwares - one filled with spaghetti, one with beef casserole - and realizes that there isn’t enough for all three of them, so she sticks the spaghetti in the microwave and goes about making herself a grilled cheese. ‘Ronnie’ is a nickname she really only tolerates from family members at this point - the circle of people allowed to call her that shrank slowly from everyone in kindergarten, to friends and family in middle school, and finally to just her family after the summer before her freshman year. She even feels uncomfortable if Martha calls her ‘Ronnie’, which she doesn’t anymore, but Veronica sometimes gets the feeling Martha misses those days - although it’s mostly the whole being ‘Ronnie-and-Martha, best friends since diapers’ part, probably. The nickname is just the most obvious part of it.

It had felt weird when JD called her ‘Ronnie-Bunny’ - not just the obvious, that it’s her parents’ nickname for her, but also, she thinks, a bit because she started to hate being called ‘Ronnie’ for reasons she really never wants to associate with JD. The summer of 1985, when she decided she was just going to be Veronica from now on, was probably the worst time of her entire life thus far - Westerburg might be an endless pit of misery, but that particular summer was rock bottom. JD is so wonderfully sweet and smart and funny and she wants to keep feeling happy when she’s with him, rather than looking back at something that made her miserable. She knows she’ll probably have to tell him why eventually, and she really does want to open up to him and have him open up to her, but right now she just wants to enjoy the feeling of falling in love for the first time.

Sunday 24th September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
Veronica’s bedroom
Roughly half past nine

Veronica can’t stop smiling as she changes into her pajamas. They remind her of falling asleep with JD holding her, his face nuzzled against her neck and his chest rising and falling in time with her own. It had been cramped cuddling in his twin bed, but there was something so intimate about it too, something she’ll miss tonight. Although it will be nice to starfish in her own double bed tonight.

Her mom had headed up to bed shortly after dinner, yawning apologetically that the weekend of looking after two flu-ridden ten-year-olds has her beat and that Veronica will have to tell her about her own weekend tomorrow. Veronica can’t deny that she’s a little relieved, because it gives her time to think up a plausible lie regarding how she spent all of yesterday and most of today.

She heads into her bathroom to remove her makeup; it takes longer than usual, given how she had to cover up the marks JD left on her neck. She can’t help but grin as the bruises come back into view - she never thought she’d love feeling… spoken for like this, but she does. There’s also something hot about covering it up in front of other people, making it something just for the two of them.

Veronica brushes her teeth and runs a comb through her hair, before grinning at her reflection one last time and heading back into her room. She pauses in the bathroom doorway, suddenly sad on JD’s behalf. His room is so… barren, compared to her own. Her parents got it done up exactly the way she wanted it as a present for her sixteenth birthday. Where she has a wardrobe and a bedside table and a vinyl organizer, he has boxes and a clothing rail. She has posters and pictures and fairy lights and cute floral wallpaper; he has empty walls painted rental house beige. Her bookcase and desk and chair are all vintage beechwood inherited from her grandparents - his are cheap collapsible things barely above camping equipment. She has throw pillows and a pretty blue duvet cover that matches the curtains and a patchwork blanket her mom sewed by hand for a Christmas present, and he has Target sheets and a single pillow and an old canvas roller blind. He doesn’t seem bothered by it, but still… he deserves nice things as much as she does.

She skips over to her bookcase and runs her hand along the spines of her extensive collection - Veronica’s always been a bookworm, encouraged endlessly by her librarian mom and history professor dad. Her usual habit is to go upstairs to bed early so she can snuggle up with a good book until she passes out. She considers picking one of her Agatha Christies for tonight - she’s just finished a reread of The Mysterious Affair at Styles - but then her finger stops on the perfect book for the occasion.

Veronica slides her battered old copy of The Catcher in the Rye off the shelf. She grabs a bookmark from her desk and turns out the overhead light before climbing into bed and snuggling under the covers, angling her bedside lamp to light up the pages as best as possible. JFK snuggles himself up on her feet - he likes to doze there until she goes to sleep before retiring to his basket - and Veronica smiles to herself as she opens the book to chapter one.

(She doesn’t know that, back in his own room, JD is sitting up in bed with his own copy, also smiling to himself as he makes a note in the margin.)

I’ll build my world around you, I bless the day I found you!
I’ll stay beside you, I’ll never leave or tell you all those lies that you’d never believe…
I wanna be haunted by the ghost, I wanna be haunted by the ghost,
I wanna be haunted by the ghost, I wanna be haunted by the ghost
I wanna be haunted by the ghost, I wanna be haunted by the ghost,
I wanna be haunted by the ghost, I wanna be haunted by the ghost
Of your precious love, of your precious love…

Chapter End Notes

> Next, JD and Veronica face their first day of school as a couple, and Veronica worries about how the dynamic with certain friends has changed.

> “This is all in confidence, right?”
> “Duh.”
> “You’re not gonna tell anyone? Including Heather, Heather, and Kurt?”
> “Can I tell Ram? Kidding, kidding! Pinkie-promise. This is all between us.”

## Chapter 12: Nobody Knows

Chapter Summary

> JD and Veronica face their first day of school as a couple, and Veronica deals with changing friendship dynamics.

Chapter Notes

> Hi everyone!! Wow, I can't believe this story has twelve chapters already! If you've read this far, thank you <3

> Martha finally makes an appearance in person - she's a sweetheart and I love her dearly, but also keep in mind that in the musical she straight up tells Veronica to her face that she thinks Veronica's boyfriend might be a murderer (never mind that she was right). A lot of tension is starting to bubble between these two here :(

> Also, brief warning, I guess: this chapter doesn't have any E-rated acts in it, but Veronica and Heather McNamara do have a rather E-rated conversation. So. Yeah.

> Thanks for reading!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Caught in the rain with no protection,
Biding my time with no sense of direction.
That look in your eyes keeps getting stranger -
Caught in the rain, helpless without you…
Let the sorrow wash you over…
Let the sorrow wash you over…

- First Aid Kit, Nobody Knows

Monday 25th September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
Outside the Sawyers’ house
About 7:20am

JD nervously stands outside the Sawyers’ house, trying to work up the courage to ring the bell. He parked his motorcycle a few doors down from Veronica’s house, figuring that making ‘motorcycle-riding hoodlum’ her parents’ first impression of him might not be in his best interest. He’s slightly apprehensive that it might be one of her parents who answers the door - has Veronica told them about him yet? Is he ‘presumably Veronica’s boyfriend’ or ‘weird guy in a trenchcoat ringing the bell at stupid-o’clock in the morning’?

…Which one of those is he more scared of being to them?

Bite the bullet, he tells himself. Don’t wuss out. He grits his teeth and forces himself to press the button next to the door. JD hears the faint sound of the bell ringing, followed by a muffled voice that sounds vaguely like Veronica’s. The door opens a moment later, but he barely has time to appreciate his girlfriend looking exceedingly pretty in a blazer, blouse, soft knitted sweater vest, and plaid skirt all in varying shades of blue with a matching ribbon adorning her soft dark brown curls, before she inexplicably shrieks, “JFK! NO!”

Luckily, JD’s quick reflexes allow him to duck down and grab the tabby cat that darts around Veronica’s legs before it can get down the steps. Even more luckily, the cat seems too surprised to fight back, and Veronica hurriedly takes it from him, tutting.

“Bad kitty! You know you’re only allowed in the backyard with supervision! Naughty!” she tells the tabby, presumably JFK. She glances at JD. “God, thank you so much for grabbing him. I’ll be two seconds.” She darts back into the house, and he can hear her scolding the cat before shutting a door, presumably making sure JFK can’t get back into the hallway. She reappears a moment later with her purse slung over her shoulder and holding the helmet he told her to keep, smiling shyly and tucking her hair back behind her ear.

“So that’s JFK, huh?” JD chuckles. Veronica nods, rolling her eyes and giggling.

“John Fitzgerald Kittendy himself. He’s supposed to be an indoor cat, he’s only allowed in the backyard with one of us looking after him, but he wants so bad to be an outdoor cat. It’s not happening though; my parents’ first cat, James Garfield, was an outdoor cat and he didn’t live as long as he should’ve. Hit by a car.” She shifts her purse to sit more comfortably and offers him an apologetic grin. “Anyway, sorry about him. Hey.”

JD laughs. “No worries. Hi.” He offers her his hand. “So, you ready to go?”

“Yup. Just one more thing.” Veronica takes his hand and pulls the door closed behind her, before leaning up and kissing him in greeting. She beams at the presumably-dopey expression JD makes when their lips part. “There. Now I’m ready to go.”

…God, he is so fucking gone for her.

When they arrive at school (with his heart racing slightly from having Veronica’s arms wrapped around his waist, fuck, it’s just so nice having her close and being held by her) JD helps her off the bike and waits for her to finish fussing with her hair before reaching for her hand. Veronica takes it, and he notices that she’s slowly scraping the lipgloss off her lower lip with her teeth. He also doesn’t miss the way she clings a little tighter than normal, or the shaky breath she takes.

“You okay?”

She nods. “Just… Heather said she was going to crucify me today, y’know? I’m trying not to freak, but…”

JD pulls her hand up to his mouth and presses a kiss to her knuckles. “Hey, it’ll be okay,” he insists, wishing yet again he was better at being comforting. “She’s just a garden-variety high school mean girl, remember? She doesn’t matter.”

Veronica sighs as they start making their way through the parking lot towards the front steps. “I know. I know one day in the future I’ll look back and think, ‘God, remember all the drama with Heather Chandler back in high school? That was crazy, wasn’t it?’ But it’s not the future yet, it’s right now, and it’s still - fuck, I hate this, I hate that it’s still kind of terrifying to me. I mean, you know, whatever, she’s a high school mean girl, but we’re in high school. People listen to her here. Sure, in the next few years the people who listen to her will shrink down to her sorority and then her little circle of fellow socialite wives, but right now everyone listens to her. They don’t like her, but they listen to her. And, I don’t know, it’s silly in the grand scheme of things, but I still don’t want to spend the rest of the year with everyone… like… ignoring me.”

They’re at the bottom of the steps now, and JD squeezes her hand supportively. “Well, hey, it wouldn’t be everyone. I won’t ignore you.” I don’t think I could if I tried.

Veronica affectionately nudges him. “Thanks,” she says, huffing a little laugh that doesn’t entirely conceal the sincerity in her voice. She swings their joined hands between them as they start up the steps, and catches his eye, biting her lip again. “Hey, my parents both usually work late on Mondays. I don’t suppose you’d maybe want to come over after school? We could… study together, or something.”

JD nods, catching her drift. “I’d like that. Study together… or something.”

Veronica smiles, her eyes lighting up, and takes a deep breath as they reach the front door. “Okay. Let’s do this. Carpe Diem, or whatever.”

“More like ‘crappy diem’ at this school, in all fairness.”

Veronica bursts out laughing, and does her best to get it under control as they enter the school. JD can’t help but feel proud of himself for making her laugh, even if she’s had to condense it into her practiced Popular Girl demure giggle.

It’s not like some Teen Movie or sitcom moment. The main hallway of Westerburg High School doesn’t come screeching to a halt when they enter. There are a couple of whispers, sure, mostly from the kids popular enough to have been at the party, but there’s no bolt of lightning, no unnecessary glaring, nothing that’s particularly out of the ordinary for Westerburg. They actually make it to Veronica’s locker virtually unscathed.

JD doesn’t bother going to his own locker; his first class of the day is Woodshop, which means he can use the time he’d spend otherwise grabbing textbooks or assigned reading to lean against the locker next to Veronica’s and chat to her while she rummages for her copy of Antigone. He might prefer her proper laugh to her manufactured one, sure, but it’s nice making her giggle about stupid things - and it’s also nice to finally be able to tell someone about his internal running bet in his Woodshop class, namely what will be the most likely cause for Dwight Hossmeyer to be sent home with a serious injury: goofing about with a tool, or Mr Podmore getting sick of Dwight’s wannabe Class Clown act and finally throwing a two-by-four at his head.

He’s a little worried when Veronica’s laughter suddenly trails off, and she starts chewing her lip again. JD follows her line of sight and realizes what’s perturbing her: the arrival of Martha Dunnstock, waving eagerly and dodging her way through the agility course of students to get to Veronica. He glances at his girlfriend.

“I take it you haven’t told her about the note.”

Veronica shakes her head, pursing her lips in worry. “I don’t know what to do. On one hand, she’ll hate me if I tell her the truth. She’s been my best friend since diapers. But on the other hand, if I let this whole thing go on, and she keeps crushing on Ram…”

JD nods, but doesn’t say anything because Martha has finally reached their bubble.

“Veronica!”

“Hey, Martha,” Veronica says, and JD can tell she’s doing her best not to sound apprehensive. Martha glances at him, smiling nervously, before returning her attention to Veronica.

“Did you get home safe from Ram’s? I tried calling you on Saturday but I just got your answering machine.”

Veronica laughs nervously. “Yeah, don’t worry about me, I had plans to sleep over at Heather’s. McNamara, Heather McNamara’s. I wasn’t home when you called.”

She’s rambling, giving too many unimportant details and not enough significant ones. JD recalls the argument he’d witnessed on Friday, between Veronica and the Heathers, and how Veronica’s voice had wavered the same way when Martha had shown her the note and she’d played along, not yet daring to defy the Heathers in public. She can lie as easily as any other teenager, but can’t bring herself to fully commit to it when it comes to Martha.

Martha glances awkwardly at JD again, then back at Veronica. “Veronica, um -” she starts. Veronica interrupts her.

“Hey, Martha, have you met JD?”

JD gives Martha a little salute of acknowledgement; she stares back at him like a deer in headlights, then awkwardly half-nods, half shakes her head.

“Sort of?” she squeaks. “We have American History together.”

JD nods, remembering. Martha sits alone at the front, meticulously taking notes with her sparkly pink Disney stationary set. She’s the only student besides himself in that class who doesn’t use the teacher putting on a taped lecture about the Civil War as an excuse to turn around and chat to her classmates.

Veronica smiles more genuinely, and gestures between JD and Martha. “Martha, JD. JD, Martha.”

The bell indicating they’re to start heading to homeroom rings just then, and Veronica hurriedly shuts her locker and turns to JD. “Gotta motor. Meet up at recess before English Lit?”

JD leans in and kisses her quickly. “See you then. I’ll be counting down the minutes,” he adds teasingly. Veronica giggles.

“Goofball. Bye.”

JD waves to her as he heads down the hall towards his own homeroom, nodding at Martha, who stares back at him, more deer-in-headlights than ever. He shakes it off, used to it. Until Veronica, girls would have one of three reactions to him: vapidly attracted to the fantasy of taming a bad boy, general disgust at the scruffiness of his appearance, or nervous apprehension ranging into mild fear. It’s not ideal that his girlfriend’s oldest friend is apparently scared of him, but it’s still better than the other options. Or, hopefully, she might just have been surprised that he and Veronica are already so physically comfortable with each other. He reminds himself that the last time Veronica interacted with Martha was at Ram’s party on Friday night, when Veronica was still single and, in her own words, almost completely inexperienced.

Anyway, he can’t be too bothered by it today - this has already been the best non-weekend morning JD has had in a long time.

Monday 25th September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
Westerburg High’s Theatre Arts classroom
First Period

Veronica feels a shoe connect with her shin, and glares at Heather McNamara sitting opposite her. Heather hasn’t stopped making ‘start talking’ expressions at her since class started ten minutes ago. Ms Flemming is, fortunately, going off on a tangent about how she was once in the chorus for a production of Antigone, so doesn’t notice when Heather flicks a note across their shared table. Veronica unfolds it and places it on her notebook, holding her pen next to it so she can feign taking notes while she reads it.

Tell. Me. Everything.

Veronica glances across at Heather, who raises her eyebrows expectantly, then glances back down at the note and scribbles under it:

Not. Here.

She flicks it back at Heather, who reads it and pouts, then writes her reply.

Veronica!!! You promised!!!

Heather. We are in class. This is sensitive information.

So?

I’m not willing to risk being overheard!

Write me a note then.

I’m also not willing to risk Ms Phlegm catching us passing notes and doing that thing where she makes us read it out like a dialogue.

Heather sighs exaggeratedly, but acquiesces. Ms Flemming is now sitting down with Rodney Mackay and his geeky friends, trying in vain to get them to explain Creon’s character arc without likening it to that of Darth Vader. Veronica glances from the teacher to her sort-of-friend, then sighs and gets up, hooking her purse over her shoulder.

“Ms Flemming? I need the bathroom.”

Heather hops up too, grabbing her own purse. “Me too, I also need the bathroom.”

Ms Flemming narrows her eyes at them. “Both of you at the same time?”

“We’re having lady problems, Ms Flemming,” Heather says unflinchingly. The other girls’ expressions range from sympathetic to disbelieving, while the boys all look either grossed out or terrified. Ms Flemming falls firmly into the ‘disbelieving’ category.

“Both you and Veronica, right now?”

“We’re synced up, Ms Flemming. That happens when you’re friends. You know that. I mean, you have friends, right?”

Ms Flemming looks flustered as sniggers break out across the classroom at Heather’s little dig, and flaps her hand at them. “Don’t doddle,” is all she says. Heather and Veronica leave the classroom and break into giggles as soon as they’re out of earshot of the door. Heather links her arm through Veronica’s.

“God. She is such a pillowcase.”

“I can’t believe she bought that,” Veronica agrees. They enter the girls’ bathroom, which is thankfully empty, and Heather grabs a paper towel and swipes it across the counter to ensure it’s dry before hopping up to sit on it. She giggles.

“So?”

Veronica eyes her warily. “This is all in confidence, right?”

“Duh.”

“You’re not gonna tell anyone?”

Heather shakes her head. Veronica raises her eyebrows.

“Including Heather, Heather, and Kurt?”

“Can I tell Ram?” Veronica stares at her in horror. Heather rolls her eyes. “Kidding, kidding! Pinkie-promise. This is all between us.” She holds out her pinkie, and Veronica, laughing in spite of herself, links her own pinkie with Heather’s. She can’t remember the last time she made an honest-to-god pinkie-promise with someone.

“So… what do you wanna know?”

“First things first. How did you wind up hooking up with him? Like, did you just run into him somewhere or what?”

Veronica bites her lip. Heather did sound sincere when she said she wouldn’t tell anyone. And she hadn’t told Heather and Heather about what they discussed on the way to the party, after all… “I was walking home, and I recognized his motorbike outside his house.”

“So did you just go up and ring the bell?”

Veronica drags one hand down her face, giggling embarrassedly. “Not exactly. I kind of climbed through his window.”

Heather gasps eagerly. “Shut up, you did not!”

Veronica nods, and they both burst into wild giggles. She didn’t realize how nice it would be to giddily tell a friend about her first time. Heather claps excitedly.

“God, you’re either the bravest person I know, or the craziest. Okay, so, tell me more!”

“It was just…” Veronica searches for the words. “Okay, so, the most I ever did before that was that time at your fourteenth birthday party -”

“Ooh, with the ice cream sundae bar?”

“Yeah, that was the one. We played spin the bottle and I got Andy Dilmore.”

Heather wrinkles her perfect nose. “Eww, he’s such a dork. I can’t believe my mom made me invite him.” Veronica raises her eyebrows. Heather’s mom had been the only reason most of the people there, including herself, were invited. Heather realizes this a second later and winces. “Anyway. You kissed him during spin the bottle?”

“Yeah, he tried to put his tongue in my mouth but I wasn’t having it, and he wound up licking, like, half my lip gloss off. It was gross. But, back to my point.” She takes a deep breath, a little nervous to admit it to someone other than her diary. “When JD kisses me, it’s like… I understand all the clichés in books and shit about feeling fireworks and making your knees go weak. It’s just like… wow, y’know?”

Heather squeals and claps again. “Oh my god, that’s so very! I love it! Okay, so, you guys did it, right? Like, you didn’t just make out the whole time, right?”

Veronica nods giddily, and they both squeal again. “We basically spent all of Saturday in bed,” she confesses. “I mean, like, we went for brunch and then we went to yours, and we watched a movie on TV later, but besides that -”

Heather gleefully bicycles her legs and throws her head back with a cackle. “God, you’re killing me here, Veronica! Okay, next order of business. How big?”

Veronica stares gobsmacked at Heather, certain her cheeks have turned fire-engine red under her powder at the audacity. “No.”

“Aww, come on, Veronica -”

“No!”

“Fine, we’ll come back to that.”

“We will not!”

Heather ignores her. “What did he do? Was he good?”

Veronica glances nervously at the door before leaning in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “He’s really… attentive. Like, he made sure I… y’know, you know.”

Heather raises her perfectly plucked eyebrows in surprise. “He did?”

Veronica nods, feeling her cheeks flush under her makeup. “Six times, actually.”

“Damn!” Heather stares at her, jaw dropped. “Like, for real? You’re not just saying that, right? Six times?!”

Veronica nods again. “Once with his fingers, and three times while we were… y’know. Then twice with his mouth. God, it was… it was honestly incredible. And it was actually, y’know, his first time too. But it was amazing.”

“Okay, now you’re messing with me.”

“What? No, what would I even -?”

“No guy is that good on his first time.”

“Well, JD was,” Veronica says obstinately. “I told you, he’s attentive. He listens.” But she can’t ignore the sudden pinprick of doubt in the back of her mind. She’s had no reason to doubt JD - has no reason - but… Heather McNamara has a reputation of being, well, experienced. She and Kurt Kelly are known for their tumultuous on-again off-again dating-the-other’s-teammates-to-make-them-jealous shenanigans. She shakes it off. “Oh! Thanks, by the way.”

“For what?”

“The other week, we were in here after lunch and Heather Duke was complaining about how Ram always, you know, forces her head down whenever she, you know. ”

Heather sniggers. “Yeah, someone’s gag reflex is not what it used to be. You know how I told you about how she threw up on him back in June?” Veronica nods. “Guess what she was doing?” She holds her closed fist up to her cheek and makes the other side of her face puff out.

Veronica gasps. “No!”

“Yuh-huh. It was so bad. Me and Kurt had to, like, run defense and help them clean up so Kurt’s parents wouldn’t murder him for letting people upstairs and one of them barfing, and Heather Chandler couldn’t stop laughing.”

“God,” Veronica remarks, not knowing what else she can say to that. “Hey, um, speaking of Heather Chandler, has she… said anything to you about what happened on Friday night?”

Heather shakes her head. “I haven’t seen her since we left Ram’s,” she shrugs. “She wasn’t at the game yesterday, and we don’t have the same homeroom this year.”

Veronica lets out a little sigh of relief. A little more reprieve time. “Anyway, back to my point,” she continues. “You know that thing you told Heather Duke to do, where you block your throat with your tongue?”

“Oh, sure, that’s the current Number One Cosmo tip.” Heather narrows her eyes at Veronica, then grins madly. “So you’re saying you -?”

“Mm-hmm,” Veronica nods and blushes. Heather squeals. “Twice. I kinda liked doing it, actually. Is that…?”

She’s not actually sure what she’s trying to ask - slutty? Weird? Normal? - but Heather seems to get the gist and shrugs. “I mean, I guess everyone’s different? I don’t mind it. I don’t love it, but it’s alright, y’know?” She bites her lip, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “What… what made you like it?”

Veronica shrugs, a little wary about admitting it. “He was really… like… respectful, I guess? I asked him if he’d like me to, y’know, and he kept saying that even though he would really like it, I didn’t have to if I didn’t want to. And then he had his hands in my hair and it was like… He really liked it, and that made me like it. I don’t know, it…” Her cheeks feel red hot admitting it. “It felt like I could have asked him for anything and he would’ve said yes. And afterwards we cuddled and he was playing with my hair and it was just… really nice.”

“Huh,” Heather says quietly. She rummages in her purse and pulls out her lip gloss, and begins fidgeting with the cap. “Kurt… isn’t like that. He asks for it a lot. It mostly feels a bit like… something I have to get done and out the way whenever we’re together, I guess. And we don’t… we don’t cuddle afterwards. It’s like, it’s over, and he’ll drive me home and we’ll kiss goodnight and that’s it.”

Veronica frowns at her. “Heather… have you ever, y’know, finished with Kurt?”

Heather doesn’t meet her eye. “It’s… it’s stupid. The first time we did it, I lied and told him I did, because it was his birthday and I didn’t want to embarrass him. But, like, that was a year and a half ago, and… it’s getting harder to admit it, the longer it goes on, y’know?”

“Have you ever finished with… anyone?”

Heather’s silence is enough of an answer on its own. Veronica awkwardly turns to the mirror and touches up her own lip gloss. Heather doesn’t speak again until Veronica begins rummaging for her hairbrush, making an unnecessary fuss of the activity mostly just to have something to do.

“So you’re really not going to tell me what it looked like?”

Veronica gives her a deeply unimpressed look. Heather rolls her eyes.

“Fine.” She kicks her legs again, then breaks into giggles, her brief moment of self-consciousness forgotten. “Still, I’m so proud of you! I can’t believe you just, like, went for it like that. So is JD, like, your boyfriend now and stuff?”

Veronica nods, and they both squeal again. “He’s coming over after school today. My parents are working late, so…”

“Girl, you have to tell me all about it tomorrow!” Heather hops down from the counter and checks her yellow and white Swatch. “Oh, shit, we’d better head back. If Ms Phlegm gives us detention for, like, taking too long, Tammy Bradshaw is totally gonna start angling to replace me as Head Cheerleader again. God, she’s such a dipstick.”

Ms Flemming looks thoroughly annoyed when they return, and grills them intensely on their characterization analysis - Ismene for Heather and Antigone for Veronica - but luckily the bell rings before the teacher can voice her likely unflattering opinion on Heather’s ‘Ismene understands the high school Popularity Ladder’ theory (which, in Veronica’s opinion, honestly isn’t that far off the mark. After all, Antigone rebels and does what she knows is morally right, while Ismene obeys the ‘rules’ out of fear for her life, although in this case it’s her literal life rather than her social life. Honestly, in the hands of a competent teacher, it would make quite an interesting setting for the famous Tragedy).

Second period is physics, the only class she shares with Martha this year, and Veronica is hit with another wave of guilt over what happened on Friday when her friend enters the classroom and makes a beeline for the seat next to Veronica at their usual desk.

“Hey, Veronica.”

“Hey, Martha.”

“So…” Martha fidgets awkwardly with her pencil case. “You and JD, huh?”

Veronica nods, smiling a little more genuinely. At least this is better than Martha asking about the end of the party. “Yeah. He asked me out on Friday and, well…”

God, she needs to get over herself and act normal. This is Martha! Martha Dunnstock, they’re Veronica and Martha, best friends since literally forever! Hell, they talked about all of this the summer before senior year, crushes and boyfriends and real first kisses and sex. Martha had said she wanted proper romance, dating and saying ‘I love you’ beforehand, making a big deal out of it, rose petals and candles and sappy music. Veronica remembers thinking that Martha would probably be able to find someone who wanted that with her if she stopped hanging onto the kindergarten fantasy of it being Ram Sweeney, but not saying anything because Martha takes so much shit every damn day and the last person she needs it from is her best friend.

(Oop, there’s another stab of guilt about what happened on Friday.)

Veronica can’t even remember what she wanted her first time to be like prior to meeting JD. It doesn’t matter anyway, because when it happened on Friday night (technically Saturday morning) it felt pretty damn perfect. It shouldn’t feel this weird, the idea of telling Martha about it, when she’s already told Heather McNamara. She’s closer to Martha. Martha would tell her, if their positions were switched. Veronica takes a deep breath and beckons Martha closer.

“Remember last time we had a sleepover?” she whispers. Martha nods. “And that thing we talked about? About, y’know, first times.” Martha nods again, eyes widening behind her thick glasses. “Well, me and JD…”

Martha gasps, cottoning on. “You mean you gave him, y’know…” she glances around, making sure no one is within earshot before whispering, “your flower?”

Veronica groans. “Martha. Just call it sex, or, like, ‘doing it’, or something, okay? It really creeps me out when people call it that.”

“I feel awkward calling it that.” Martha fidgets with one of her pink sparkly star-shaped earrings. “Did you, though?”

Veronica nods, feeling a grin creep onto her face in spite of herself. Martha’s eyes are huge.

“Wow,” she murmurs, sounding a little awed, but also a little shocked. She glances nervously at Veronica. “He…” She sounds nervous. “He didn’t pressure you or anything, right? I just mean, he’s, um, he’s kind of intimidating.”

Veronica stares at Martha, shocked that she’d even suggest it. “Of course not,” she frowns. “Martha, do you think I’d… Do you think I’d do it with someone who pressured me?”

Martha bites her lip and shakes her head. “No… no, of course not, Ron- Veronica. Sorry, I don’t know why I said that.”

Veronica feels her excitement rapidly deflating, along with a slight twinge of annoyance at the hint of the hated nickname. They stop talking as the teacher, Mr Miller, claps his hands to get their attention and begins explaining the basics of Conservation of Angular Momentum, and don’t talk again until he asks Nancy O’Hara to hand out some worksheets. As soon as Nancy moves past them, Martha leans in again.

“I was just worried, Veronica, y’know? I mean, you always said you wanted to wait for the right guy, and if JD only asked you out this weekend… it just seems a bit, y’know, fast. And it was kind of scary when he got into that fight with Ram and Kurt on Friday. I… You’re my best friend and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Veronica scuffs her shoe against the floor. “I appreciate that, Martha, you know I do, it’s just…” she says quietly. I guess I just figured you’d be happier for me. She sighs. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

Mr Miller claps his hands again and tells them to get on with the work, and unlike that space-case Ms Flemming, he’s far too eagle-eyed for them to pass notes. Veronica can’t bring herself to meet Martha’s eye for the rest of class, out of a combination of self-loathing and guilt over the note incident, and hurt that Martha seems so… almost disapproving of JD as Veronica’s boyfriend.

I’ve never once said a bad word about Ram in front of her out of respect for her feelings, she thinks bitterly to herself, even when Ram went through his eighth-grade phase of firing spitballs at my head.

It’s a fucked-up world indeed, where Heather McNamara somehow feels more encouraging of Veronica’s happiness than Martha Dunnstock does.

All of your love slips through my fingers!
All of your love slips through my fingers!
Nobody knows me…
Nobody knows me the way that you do!
Nobody knows what we have been through!
Nobody knows me the way that you do!
Nobody knows what we have been through!
Nobody knows me…

Chapter End Notes

> Next up, the rest of the school day does not get more peaceful.

> “Fancy meeting you here.”
> “Small world. So… your house?”
> “Dad stays in his office ‘til half-six and Mom’s on shift at the library ‘til seven. He’ll pick her up on his way back, which gives us the house to ourselves until… roughly quarter past seven. Um, before we go, though, I have to do something. I’m going to tell Martha the truth.”

## Chapter 13: I Don't Care

Chapter Summary

> JD and Veronica face the rest of their day at school; Veronica and Heather Chandler come face to face for the first time since the party.

Chapter Notes

> Merry Christmas to anyone who's celebrating!! I'm currently sitting in a new snuggy with the cutest avocado pattern from my best friend, drinking coffee from a mug with my initial on it that one of my vocal coaching students gave me. I also got Love Sux and Violent Femmes on vinyl, both of which are full of songs I very much associate with JDonica. The title of this fic and the title of the prequel even come from two of the songs on Love Sux!

> Hope y'all don't mind if I take next week off - next Tuesday being the day after Hogmanay, there is a good chance I will not have gone to bed until about 4am the day before, and I'm working on the Wednesday (the joys of my second job being in retail). See yous back in the new year proper!

> Apologies for anything inaccurate about my portrayal of the American school system. I did my best to research it, but not only am I not American, I also live in a devolved nation that works with a completely different school system even to the shitty ruling country we're attached to. So yeah. And obviously 'typical American school schedules' aren't really something they want to give out to random people on the internet.

> Veronica and Heather C start this chapter by having a conversation in French, which I'll translate in the end notes. Happy reading!!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

All my friends think you're weird, but they don't know much about you
While they just disappear when you're hanging out with us.
So your hair is a mess? They don't know how good you treat me!
I pay no attention 'cause I know who you are!

- Rock Angelz, I Don’t Care

Monday 25th September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
Westerburg High’s French classroom
Third Period

French is the class Veronica’s really been dreading today. It’s the one class she shares with Heather Chandler, meaning it’s the moment of truth - she’s about to learn her fate.

Heather is already sitting at their usual desk, and Veronica tries not to tremble with trepidation as she approaches her. But Heather Chandler doesn’t say a word as Veronica puts her books down on the desk. She stays silent while Veronica unpacks her notebook and her pencil case, doesn’t blink when Veronica sits, just stares coldly at the blackboard. She doesn’t say anything at all as Madame Santiago hands out the essays they handed in on Friday, stays silent as they go through the grading and read a chapter of the textbook, only speaks when the teacher asks her to summarize a point in the book. She continues to be eerily silent as they begin writing their next essay, and in fact doesn’t even acknowledge that Veronica is sitting next to her until Madame Santiago instructs them to turn to their deskmate and spend the last ten minutes of class conversing in French.

“Et si j’entends un anglais ou vois quelqu’un assis en silence,” Madame Santiago warns, “il y aura des devoirs supplémentaires pour vous tous!”

Veronica bites her lip and turns to Heather. French is the one class Heather Chandler excels at, having been on vacation to France so many times, and she surely won’t want to be the cause of extra homework for the entire class - she’ll say something. Plus, the only other people in the vicinity are Rodney Mackay and Archie Kellburn, and Heather would almost certainly rather shave her own eyebrows off than speak to either of them. “Salut Heather. Avez-vous fait beaucoup de choses samedi?” she asks tentatively.

Heather purses her lips. “C'est drôle que tu devrais demander,” she says coldly. “J'ai passé la journée de samedi à chercher un pressing qui accepterait de nettoyer mes chaussures.”

Veronica winces. The shoes. They were nice ones too, red satin peep-toe heels. “Je paierai la facture du pressing,” she offers, although knowing Heather’s tastes and how difficult it probably is to rescue satin, the dry-cleaning bill will be extortionate. “J'en suis vraiment désolé.”

Heather sniffs. “Je suis sûr que vous êtes.” She continues to glare at her own fingernails, turning her hand this way and that to survey her glittery scarlet nail polish from every angle, before deciding that Madame Santiago is getting too close for comfort and speaking again. “Qu’as-tu fait ton samedi? Vous pleurez d'avoir trahi votre meilleure amie qui perd gros?”

Even if she is a little annoyed at Martha right now, Veronica’s hackles are raised at the insult. She mulls over the question, suddenly determined that she isn’t going to bow down to Heather Chandler - she’ll pay the drycleaning bill for the shoes, but that’s it, as far as her reparations go. She remembers JD holding her hand and telling her Heather Chandler doesn’t matter, remembers how he held her while she recounted her nightmare on Saturday morning, remembers their conversation during the ad-breaks in The Witches of Eastwick, and suddenly strikes right on the perfect answer.

“En fait,” she says slowly, enunciating every syllable, “j'ai passé mon samedi à me sentir désolé pour toi.”

Heather slowly turns to face Veronica, her gray eyes narrowed and incredulous. “Excusez-moi?”

Veronica picks her next words carefully, feigning coolness with everything she has. “Rappelez-moi, quel est le nom de votre petit-ami? Darren, n'est-ce pas?”

Heather glares at her. “Son nom est David,” she says icily. “Vous le sauriez si vous étiez capable d’écouter.”

“Oh, bien sûr, comment pourrais-je oublier?” Veronica rolls her eyes. “David. Le roi David.”

Heather tosses back her head with an airy laugh, but the effect is ruined by the way her fists are clenched in annoyance. “Jalouse, Veronica? Jesse James ne semble plus si… sophistiqué, hein?”

Veronica glares back at her. “Non, mais maintenant que tu le dis, il s'avère qu'il est doué pour embrasser.”

Heather laughs venomously this time. “Bien sûr que tu le sais.”

Ignoring her, Veronica examines her own nails. “J'avais juste une question à propos de David.”

“Oui, c'est censé durer plus d'une chanson,” Heather sneers.

Veronica gives a loud, fake gasp of surprise, keenly aware that Rodney and Archie are listening intently behind them. “Je ne savais pas que ça pouvait se terminer aussi vite.”

Heather laughs, loudly and fakely, shooting an overly cheery smile at Madame Santiago when the teacher glances their way. “Félicitations à vous,” she grinds out sarcastically. Veronica rolls her shoulders back, mustering confidence she didn’t know she had, and looks Heather right in the eye.

“Non…” she drags it out purposefully, gathering her books, aware the bell is about to ring. “Je me demandais juste…” Veronica recalls JD’s words while they watched the movie, “quel genre d'étudiant échoue tellement avec les femmes de son âge qu'il doit sortir avec une petite lycéenne idiote?”

Rodney and Archie gasp. The bell for morning recess rings right then, and Veronica leaps out of her seat and scurries for the door, hardly daring to believe she just said that to Heather Chandler. She doesn’t dare look back.

JD is waiting for her at her locker, nose in a book, and Veronica feels herself sag with relief at the sight of him. No weighing up how much she can afford to admit to, no flickering between crushing guilt and betrayed irritation, no pushing-pulling-which one of them will capitulate first-bullshit. Not with him.

Hopefully not ever.

Monday 25th September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
Westerburg High School
Morning recess

JD isn’t necessarily opposed to Veronica greeting him by sliding her arms around his waist under his coat and hiding her face against his chest, but right now it’s far-removed enough from their earlier light-hearted teasing and hand-holding that he’s a little concerned. He’s been looking forward to seeing her again since saying goodbye to her before homeroom - between Dwight Hossmeyer nearly concussing himself with a mallet in Woodshop, his Chemistry teacher, Mr Goralnik, spending the first fifteen minutes of the period yelling at and humiliating some poor kid for being tardy, and Heather freaking Duke sweetly manipulating Frauline Glück into wasting half of German talking about her summer vacation in Bavaria, the prospect of seeing Veronica again has been the only thing keeping him sane. He slips his copy of The Catcher in the Rye into the deep pocket of his coat and slips his arms around her waist.

“Hey, you.” Veronica merely groans in response. “Morning that bad, huh?” She looks up at him, pouting, and JD reaches up to tuck her hair back behind her ear. “Wanna go hide in the library or something?”

Veronica nods and extracts herself from under his coat to grab his hand. She doesn’t say anything until they’re safely ensconced at a table in one corner of the school library. “So, I told Heather Chandler where to stick it. Again.”

JD almost laughs, but doesn’t, because Veronica looks so glum. “What prompted it this time?”

“She had a go at Martha,” Veronica sighs. “Asked me if I spent my weekend crying over, what was it, ‘betraying my fat loser BFF’. So I told her I actually spent my weekend feeling sorry for her.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, babe, but I wouldn’t exactly call that ‘telling her where to stick it’.”

Veronica huffs a laugh. “Yeah, no, remember that thing you said about her boyfriend?”

JD frowns, trying to remember. “The college guy?” What kind of college guy is failing so hard with women his own age that he has to date - “OH.” He chuckles, kind of impressed. “You said that to her?”

“Yup.” Veronica pops the ‘p’. “And if she wasn’t going to kill me before, she sure as hell is now.”

Her tone is light, but JD can tell from the way she grips his hand that her adrenaline rush is quickly fading to panic, and once again he feels a little twist of anger at Heather Chandler. It’s not fair, he thinks bitterly. It’s not fair that she can get away with terrorizing everyone including her supposed friends into doing what she wants. “Man, Heather Chandler is one bitch who deserves to die,” he says contemplatively.

Veronica huffs her hair out of her face and leans her head against his shoulder. “I dunno, I’d settle for cursing her with petty annoyances for the rest of her life. Like being a dollar short every time she goes to pay after filling up her car. Or, like, every time she does laundry, one of her socks goes missing.”

And just like that, the darkness is gone, and he can’t help but laugh. Veronica glances up at him, a smile starting to tug at the corners of her own mouth.

“God, why can’t it be three o’clock yet?” she sighs. JD smirks and leans in conspiratorially.

“We could always ditch,” he suggests, but Veronica shakes her head with a regretful smile.

“Unfortunately, I can’t risk that. We start A Streetcar Named Desire in English today, and Heather McNamara and I are also doing a scene from that play in Theatre Arts. I don’t want to miss any of it.” She twirls a lock of hair around one finger and glances at him through her long dark eyelashes. “Hey, we could sit next to each other, if you wanted?”

JD nods, his smirk softening into a genuine smile. “I’d like that. But will Mrs Henderson allow us to?”

Veronica shrugs and grins. “I’m Mrs Henderson’s favorite. She’ll let me sit in the back, no questions asked, because she trusts that I’m not going to mess around. Honestly, I only sat in the front because I missed English the first day back and, well, the only other open seat was next to you, and, no offense, but you didn’t exactly look like you wanted company.”

JD laughs. “Which will now rank as the number one biggest regret of my life.”

Veronica bats her eyelashes at him, giggling. “Well, we can make up for lost time now,” she teases, and kisses his cheek. “It’s funny we should mention this actually. I, um, I keep a diary, and I found an entry talking about that.”

“About what?”

“About seeing a mysterious new kid in my English Lit class on Monday the fourth.”

JD grins. “Mysterious, huh?”

Veronica smirks. “Well, my exact words were more along the lines of ‘super cute’ and ‘really handsome’.”

JD can feel his cheeks warm, and Veronica leans in and ever-so-gently brushes her lips against his own - and then the bell for the end of break and the start of fourth period rings and much to his disappointment she pulls away and stands up.

“Come on, the sooner we get through the rest of the day, the sooner we can go back to mine and… y’know. Study.” And, well, he can’t argue with that logic.

Veronica is right: Mrs Henderson doesn’t even question her change of seating. It’s… wonderful, actually, sitting next to her. They lean against each other as they read through the first five acts of the play, and during the second half of the double period, when they’re writing out their answers to some basic analysis questions on the board, Veronica slips her left hand over so she can lace their fingers together while leaving his right hand free to write.

It’s too bad that their little private bubble has to pop when the bell for lunch rings. Veronica groans and slumps against him, feebly groping at her books and making a half-hearted effort at hooking her purse over her shoulder. JD chuckles as he gets up, and pulls her to her feet.

“Come on.”

Veronica pouts at him. “Do I have to?”

She’s clearly dreading walking into the cafeteria after her second - or is it her third? - act of defiance against Heather Chandler. JD comes to a decision.

“Want to go to 7-Eleven for lunch?”

Veronica immediately perks up. “Can we do that?”

JD shrug-nods, and takes her hand again as they leave the classroom. “Don’t see why not. It’s not like they’re gonna chase down two seniors.”

Veronica looks as relieved as she did when he offered to go with her to Heather McNamara’s house, and yet again JD feels a little twist of anger at Heather Chandler. But he decides it’s not important right now; Veronica is sitting behind him on his motorbike with her arms around his waist as she presses up against him, her giggles filling his ears as they pull out of the parking lot, and it’s very hard to care about anything else.

Monday 25th September,1989
Sherwood, Ohio
Veronica Sawyer’s locker
3pm

JD is waiting for her at her locker again when the final bell rings, and Veronica can’t help but beam at him. They’d got turbo dogs and slushies for lunch, and made out leaning against his bike for a little while before heading back in time for Study Hall. JD had suggested ditching again, but Veronica’s last class of the day is also her worst one, American Government, and she can’t risk missing any assignments being announced. Although, for all that happened in that class, she might as well have ditched. Mrs Kelcher is one of those teachers that the school board clearly wishes would retire already - almost constantly bad-tempered, calls all the girls ‘Delilah’ and all the boys ‘George’, and ‘teaches’ by handing out worksheets before sitting at her desk and visibly scratching lotto cards, only looking up to yell at people for breathing too loud. Heather Duke sits next to Veronica in that class, and today spent the whole period side-eyeing her with that one expression all popular girls seem to have perfected - the one that says ‘I know something you don’t’. The sight of JD waiting for her at her locker cheers her right up.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she says teasingly. JD glances up from his book, and his eyes light up as he smiles at her.

“Small world,” he teases her back, and she can’t help but giggle a little. He marks his page and tucks the book into his pocket. “So… your house?”

Veronica nods, grinning. “Dad stays in his office ‘til half-six and Mom’s on shift at the library ‘til seven. Her car’s in the shop right now, so he’ll pick her up on his way back, which gives us the house to ourselves until… roughly quarter past seven.” Her grin fades. “Um, before we go, though, I have to do something.” She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I’m going to tell Martha the truth.”

JD lets out a low whistle. “What made your mind up?”

Veronica bites her lip and scuffs the sole of her shoe against the lino floor. “I just… What if Heather Chandler tells her the truth, to get revenge on me, before I have time to explain and apologize? Martha should hear it from me. She’s been my best friend for nearly seventeen years, I owe her that much. She’ll… she’ll hate me, but I’d rather she got the honest version from me, that I didn’t know the note was for her when I wrote it, and that I wish I’d never done it, rather than some version where I targeted her from the beginning and wanted to humiliate her.”

JD doesn’t say anything, just nods understandingly and waits for her to put her books back in her locker and retrieve the helmet he gave her. As soon as she hoists her purse more securely onto her shoulder, he takes her hand, and they make their way out of the school to the parking lot. He squeezes her hand supportively before dropping it, which she appreciates. “I’ll go wait by my bike.”

Veronica makes her way to the bus zone, but even though she stands on her tiptoes - and then, when that’s not effective enough, climbs onto a low wall to survey the heads of the students boarding - she can’t see Martha anywhere. But then - dammit. Martha is already on her bus, sitting in her preferred position at the front nearest the driver’s seat. Smart. Martha would get turfed out of a safe seat right at the back in an instant, and anyone sitting in the back half of the bus generally gets fucked with all the time, while the majority of the front half of the bus makes a few consecutive tours of Vietnam seem like a nice sunny vacation. The front seat is the only safe place, because at least the driver can kind-of police what happens there.

Veronica waves urgently at Martha, trying to get her attention, but Martha has her nose in a book - probably Anne of Green Gables again. Maybe Little Women or Pride and Prejudice, depending on what kind of mood she’s in. Veronica smiles a little, recalling how Martha always skips the chapters where Matthew and Beth die in the first two, but always rereads the final proposal scene in the third, and the thought makes Veronica gather her resolve and wave harder. She and Martha are close enough that Veronica knows silly things like that about her. She owes Martha the truth.

Martha still doesn’t look up, until a girl - some impressively chipper sophomore with eyes that are somehow still full of hope - passing her as she boards the bus taps her on the shoulder and points out the window at Veronica. Martha looks up from her book and waves back at Veronica, half-smiling at her. Veronica urgently beckons - get off the bus, I need to talk to you - but Martha just waves back harder, grinning now, clearly thinking it’s a goofy bit that Veronica’s doing. Some ‘don’t worry, we’re still best friends’ signal.

And then the bus doors slide closed and the bus pulls away, Martha waving cheerfully out the window until Veronica can’t see her any more.

God fucking dammit!

Veronica drags her fingers down her face and screams quietly into her hands. The longer she lets Martha go on believing the note was from Ram, the worse Veronica will come off as when she tells Martha the truth. Why didn’t I tell her the second I saw her this morning?

JD is waiting for her by his bike like he said he would, reading his book again. He looks up when she approaches, staring inquisitively at her when it becomes clear she’s frustrated as opposed to upset. “What happened?”

“She was on the bus already and thought I was waving to her,” Veronica groans. “Fuck, I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell her now. God, I fucking hate this. And it doesn’t help that she pissed me off in Physics today.”

“How come?”

Veronica bites her lip, not wanting to tell him that her disagreement with Martha had been about him. “God, it was something really stupid. Like, really stupid. It just… it kind of feels like she wants to go back to when we were younger, I guess. She’s my best friend, and I love her dearly, but it sometimes feels like she still thinks we’re twelve, not seventeen.” She huffs out a frustrated sigh and bumps her head against his shoulder. “Doesn’t matter. Can we just go back to mine now?”

JD tilts her chin up and sweetly kisses her cheek. “Sure.”

It’s about a twenty-minute ride from the school to Veronica’s house - the joys of living in the midwest - and Veronica spends most of it with her cheek pressed against JD’s back, unable to enjoy the rush as much as she usually does. She doesn’t say anything until JD reaches her street and slows to a halt, turning around to ask her where he should park.

“Just in the driveway is fine,” Veronica shrugs. “Like I said, my parents won’t be home for, like, four hours.”

“I parked in front of your neighbor’s house this morning,” JD admits as he pulls into the driveway. He parks up, then climbs off the bike and offers his hand to Veronica.

“Which one?” She takes his hand and hops off the bike. JD leans in to help her remove her helmet.

“The one with all the plastic flamingos in the front yard.”

“Oh, thank god. That’s Mrs Chapman’s house. She’s easily my best neighbor. She’s about eighty years old, has a spiritual bond with Hello Kitty, and six budgies. It’s honestly kind of badass, how much she doesn’t give a shit what people think of her. That neighbor, on the other hand,” Veronica points to the house on the other side of her own, “that is the Hopkins’s house. They’re the worst. If anyone parks in front of their house, there’s a good chance they’ll call a tow truck within five minutes. If you park in front of their house, there’s an extremely good chance that Mrs Hopkins will straight-up call the police to report a gang threat.”

JD chuckles incredulously. “You’re not serious?”

“Deadly.” Veronica fishes her keys out of her purse and unlocks the front door. “When I was a kid, I kicked a soccer ball into their yard by accident and when I went to get it back Mr Hopkins burst it with a gardening fork. Like, in front of me.”

“Jesus. What kind of psychopath…” JD follows her into the house and stares around the foyer. Veronica feels a little self-conscious, remembering how plainly furnished his own house is, and shuts the door behind him before taking his hand.

“Who was your worst neighbor?” she asks curiously. “Like, out of anywhere you’ve lived.”

JD lets out a low contemplative whistle. “Uh… huh. I had an upstairs neighbor in Boston this summer who would blast Eurodance at all hours of the night. But I honestly kind of respected it.”

Veronica laughs. “How come?”

“They didn’t stop even when my dad had a go at them over it. Bostonians are a different breed. They really don’t give a fuck over there.” He ponders the question further. “Back in… where was it… It wasn’t Vegas… Denver? Maybe? We had a neighbor who I’m not entirely sure understood the concept of pants. But he was just kind of a moron, not completely fucking batshit like yours. The kind of dense where getting too close meant you risked getting stuck in his event horizon, sure, but he never did anything worse than forget to pull the drapes over the french window while cooking fully in the nude. And that was, at least, y’know, funny.”

Veronica splutters out a laugh. “I’m sorry, cooking fully in the nude?”

“Fully nude,” JD nods solemnly, somehow keeping his face perfectly straight. “Bad idea.” The corner of his mouth twitches slightly. “Livened up Saturday mornings, though.”

For the first time in three whole weeks, Veronica lets a properly ugly cackle escape her lips, her shoulders shaking slightly as she clutches her belly. JD breaks at that, his grin widening as he lets out a delighted little laugh that shouldn’t be as adorable as it is.

They’re interrupted by the arrival of JFK, miaowing curiously at the unfamiliar human. Veronica manages to stop laughing long enough to scoop him up and present him to JD. “Hey, you two need a proper introduction,” she giggles. “JD, JFK. JFK, JD.” JFK chirps at JD, clearly hopeful that this new human might have snacks for him. JD awkwardly holds out his hand to the cat, apparently unused to meeting cats. JFK sniffs the offered hand, before butting his head into JD’s palm. JD chuckles and gently pets JFK between the ears, making the tabby cat purr loudly. Veronica beams.

“Want your catnip mouse?” she coos at the cat. JFK’s ears immediately twitch at the words. Veronica winks at JD and hoists JFK more firmly into her arms. “Yeah, you love your catnip mouse, don’t you, sweetie? You’d waste the whole day playing with it, wouldn’t you?” She carries JFK through to the family room and puts him down on his scratching post tree, then grabs the catnip mouse from the box of cat toys in the corner. She drops it on the floor, and JFK immediately pounces on it, completely entranced. Veronica giggles and turns back to JD, who is standing behind her and looking up at the two story main room in awe.

“Your house is really nice,” he says. His eyes are very wide. Veronica reaches for his hand again.

“It was my mom’s godmother’s house. She didn’t have any kids, and she left pretty much everything to my mom when she died on the condition that she moved in here rather than selling it.” Veronica pulls him towards the stairs. “Come on.”

She’s on the bottom step now, making her tall enough to lean over and kiss him without having to stand on her tiptoes. JD seems surprised at first, but eagerly leans into it after a moment and gives her that adorable little smile when she pulls away, his lovely blue eyes lighting up. Veronica pecks his lips one last time for good measure before smiling flirtatiously and backing up the steps, pulling him by the hand. With her free hand, she pulls at the neat pussybow of her shirt. It comes undone and unravels, hopefully looking gracefully sexy and elegant as it unveils her throat. She bites her lip, loving the way JD’s eyes flick down to her collarbone then back up to her face, his smile widening into a grin, and leans down to whisper in his ear.

“Come up to my room.”

I don’t care what they say, I don’t care what they do,
‘Cause they all fade away when it’s just me and you!
Well, it’s more than a crush; an impossible rush!
I don’t care what they say -
When you’re there, I don’t care…

Chapter End Notes

> Heather and Veronica's conversation in French class, roughly translated:

> Madame Santiago: And if I hear English or see someone sitting silently, there will be extra homework for all of you!
> Veronica: Hi Heather. Did you do a lot on Saturday?
> Heather: It’s funny you should ask. I spent Saturday looking for a dry cleaner who would clean my shoes.
> Veronica: I’ll pay the dry-cleaning bill. I’m really sorry about that.
> Heather: I'm sure you are. [...] How did you spend your Saturday? Crying over betraying your fat loser BFF?
> Veronica: Actually, I spent my Saturday feeling sorry for you.
> Heather: Excuse me?
> Veronica: Remind me, what is your boyfriend’s name? Darren, right?
> Heather: His name is David. You would know that if you were capable of listening.
> Veronica: Oh, of course, how could I forget? David. King David.
> Heather: Jealous, Veronica? Jesse James doesn’t seem so… sophisticated anymore, huh?
> Veronica: No, but now that you mention it, it turns out he’s really good at kissing.
> Heather: Of course you know that.
> Veronica: I just had a question about David.
> Heather: Yes, it is supposed to last more than one song.
> Veronica: I didn’t know it could end so quickly.
> Heather: Congratu-[fucking]-lations.
> Veronica: No… I was just wondering… what kind of college guy is so unsuccessful with women his own age that he has to date a silly little high school girl?

> In the next chapter, Veronica and JD... 'study' together. More specifically, each other.

> “God, you’re perfect.”
> “Wait, wait… I should shut the door.”
> “Yeah, good - good idea. Wouldn’t want JFK ratting us out to your parents.”

## Chapter 14: I Think We're Alone Now

Chapter Summary

> Veronica and JD have sex in Veronica's bed for the first time, and also have cookies. JFK is that special kind of silly only cats can manage.

Chapter Notes

> Hi guys! Thanks for being patient while I took Hogmanay off. It's lowkey annoying me because I thought I wouldn't have this chapter ready last week, and then on Monday I wrote the rest of it and most of the next one :,)

> Shoutout to Fae for putting up with all my nonsense on Discord while I was doing research for this chapter and the next one! Love u bestie <3

> Also the three-ingredient peanut butter cookie recipe is real and 80s-accurate! It used to be printed on the label of jars of peanut butter. I found it in Baking Yesteryear by B Dylan Hollis, a fantastic cookbook you should absolutely buy if you like vintage sweet treats paired with funny anecdotes about the first time Dylan made them. I made this one when my friend came over for dinner and I didn't have time to buy a dessert; they're ridiculously simple and quick but so so tasty. And gluten free!

> Happy reading <3

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“Children, behave!”
That’s what they say when we’re together!
“And watch how you play!”
They don’t understand and so we’re
Running just as fast as we can,
Holding onto one another’s hand!

- Tiffany, I Think We’re Alone Now

Monday 25th September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
Veronica’s bedroom
About half-past three

JD leans against the doorway as Veronica enters her room and toes off her shoes, watching as she chucks her blazer onto the back of her desk chair and wriggles out of her sweater vest. She glances back at him, smiling as she ruffles her hair back into place. “Aren’t you coming in?”

He pushes off the door frame in that effortless way that always makes warmth flare in her cheeks, and chuckles slightly as he shrugs out of his trenchcoat. “Your room is… very you.”

Veronica laughs. “Is that a good thing?”

JD nods, smiling at her. “I particularly like the photos.” He points at the display of blue, white, and purple picture frames arranged in a heart shape on the wall opposite her bed. Veronica plonks down onto her bed with an embarrassed giggle.

“God.” She drags her hand down her face. “Don’t look at those, half of them are embarrassing childhood photos my mom thinks are cute and won’t let me take them down.”

JD won’t be dissuaded, examining the photographs with a wicked grin. “Good. If you’d taken them down, I wouldn’t have got to see Baby Veronica dressed in a hand-knitted - is that a mouse costume?”

Veronica buries her face in her hands, her cheeks red hot with embarrassment. “An elephant costume,” she mumbles. Her grandmother had knitted it specially for Veronica’s first Halloween. It was a little too big for her at the tender age of six months, so the hood with its two large pink-lined ears droops slightly around Baby Veronica’s confused little round face.

JD laughs, though not unkindly. Not like how Heather Duke had laughed when she’d seen the photograph. “That’s adorable.”

“Shut up,” she says playfully, and pats the spot next to her on the bed, tucking her feet up. She slips her shirt off one shoulder, revealing her bra strap, and pulls the ribbon out of her hair and tosses it onto her bedside table. “Come join me over here. I’m lonely.”

JD finally tears his gaze away from the photographs, and shoots her that wonderfully sexy smirk, the one that makes her bite her lip and her breath hitch in her chest. “Well, we can’t have that,” he says, chucking his coat on top of hers and kicking off his motorcycle boots. He scuffs his socks off too, throws them on top of his boots, and sits next to her, one warm hand gently resting on her stocking-ed calf. Veronica giggles and slides her hands up his chest to rest on his shoulders, before leaning in for a kiss.

The first touch of their lips against each other is soft and sweet, and they continue like that, with short, gentle, giggly kisses broken up by them pulling away to smile at each other, until JD pauses and leans his forehead against Veronica’s, smiling at her with so much warmth she thinks she might melt.

“You’re pretty,” he murmurs, his smile a little goofy as she blushes. “I like you a lot, y’know?”

Veronica beams at him and brushes their noses together in a bunny kiss. “Good, I like you a lot too.”

They shift further up the bed into a more comfortable position, and Veronica eagerly kisses JD, slowly lying back until her head hits her pillow and pulling him down on top of her. They kiss slower and deeper, one of JD’s hands weaving into her hair, tugging slightly as he adjusts their angle, and Veronica feels scalding heat shoot to her lower abdomen. She whimpers slightly into his mouth, and again when he shifts to kneel over her and she feels his hand that isn’t tangled in her hair untuck her shirt from her skirt and slip under it, gently caressing her side.

It’s tempting to just keep kissing him like this forever, but his warm hand under her shirt is making her want more; just like the first time, she’s desperate to feel skin on skin, so eventually she pulls away from his mouth and sits back up to remove her shirt. As always, she gets a little thrill from the way JD looks at her, eyes full of want and lust and awe, like he’s happily overwhelmed by the fact that it’s him that she wants.

“God,” JD mutters. He’s doing his best to shrug out of his flannel, a task hindered by the fact that his gaze is fixed firmly on her chest. “You know half the guys at school would probably kill to be where I am right now?”

Veronica gazes at him through her eyelashes, purposefully biting her lip as she gently traces her fingers along the lacey edge of her bra under the pretext of flicking her hair out of the way. “Do you really wanna be talking about other guys right now?” She giggles as he finally extracts his hand from the cuff of his flannel and tosses the shirt onto the floor, then runs her hand down his chest and slips a finger under the waistband of his jeans, loving the way his breath hitches and the barest hint of a blush spreads from his nose to his cheeks.

Veronica reaches up and grazes her lips against his, before pulling his t-shirt up and off and leaning in to kiss his chest. She can hear his heartbeat speeding up, and smiles to herself as she slowly makes her way up to his neck, her hands tracing down his abs to undo his belt. As she gets the buckle undone, she delicately glides her tongue over his collarbone before gently biting the join of his neck to his shoulder, making him gasp and pull her down so she’s lying on top of him.

JD tangles one hand in her hair and pulls her up to kiss her properly; everywhere their skin touches feels like it’s burning with scorching heat. She feels his other hand move down, his fingertips drifting teasingly over her spine, and start pushing at her skirt. She rubs her hand between his legs over his jeans, making him hiss into her mouth and grind forward against her, his normally skilful fingers suddenly clumsy on her waistband.

“It’s got - got a - zip,” she breathes between kisses. JD pauses and blinks at her, chest heaving as his fingers still. “My skirt,” Veronica explains. “It’s not stretchy like the one I was wearing the other day; it’s got a zip.”

She reaches back and grabs his hand, guiding it to where the zipper sits just behind her hip. His wrist presses against her momentarily, and he kisses her again as the zipper finally gives, his hand sliding under her skirt to rest lightly over her underwear. His fingers are irresistibly warm over the silky arctic-blue fabric, and Veronica hooks one leg over his hips so she can grind against him, moaning into his mouth as he moves in time with her.

“God, you’re perfect,” JD murmurs, pulling away from her mouth to kiss down her neck. He nips briefly at her collarbone before going lower, gazing up at her with those gorgeous blue eyes as he plants kisses down her décolletage. His hand leaves her hair - to her momentary disappointment - to skim down to fiddle with the fastening of her bra; it comes undone after a moment, but Veronica stops him before he can slide it off.

“Wait, wait…” she says breathlessly, forcing herself to sit up and climb off of him. He looks slightly panicked, ready to start apologizing, and she hurriedly elaborates. “I should shut the door.”

JD glances from her to her still-open bedroom door, and acquiesces. “Yeah, good - good idea.” He cracks a grin. “Wouldn’t want JFK ratting us out to your parents.”

Veronica laughs as she makes her way over to the door, awkwardly holding her skirt up with one hand, biceps pressed to her sides to keep her undone bra from falling off. “I think we need to worry less about that and more about JFK coming in and jumping up onto the bed while we’re… y’know. Might kill the mood a little.”

JD laughs too. “Just a smidge,” he agrees. Veronica gives a cursory glance into the hallway - JFK is nowhere to be seen, hopefully still occupied with his catnip mouse - and closes her bedroom door, ignoring the slight shuffling sound of JD shifting his position on her bed. She turns back to JD, seductive ‘now, where were we?’ comment on the tip of her tongue - and stops dead: in the time it took for her to close the door, he’s managed to strip completely naked.

She slowly walks back towards him, taking her time so he can see her gaze mapping his body, a victorious grin spreading across her face. Veronica reaches the edge of the bed and lets her skirt drop to the floor, rolling her stockings down and off, then shimmying her bra down her arms and climbing back onto the bed. She wants to say something, anything, try for something seductive and flirtatious, but all she can think is, oh my god, I have an incredibly good-looking boyfriend and he’s naked in my bed, right now, so we can have sex. Giddy, giggly glee is bubbling up inside of her and she’s having to fight the urge to squeal with delight.

“Okay?” JD asks her quietly. She honestly genuinely loves how considerate he always is of her. Veronica nods.

“Very,” she giggles. Again, he shoots her that gorgeously sexy smirk, making her bite her lip in anticipation.

“Good,” he murmurs huskily. “I can’t stop thinking about touching you.”

Veronica’s breath hitches. JD reaches out and pulls her close to kiss her, and they slowly lie back together, their heads hitting her pillows with a slight thump. Her breathless laugh as he rolls her on top of him turns into a moan halfway through when one of JD’s hands lightly caresses her breasts and the other slips between her legs, one finger brushing against her intimately, making her whimper slightly, wanting more. He obliges, slipping his hand under her panties so he can touch her directly, his fingers rubbing teasing circles against her, occasionally dipping into her, almost too much but still not quite enough.

“God, you feel amazing,” JD breathes. He kisses her jawline up to the sensitive spot just behind her earlobe, and Veronica buries her face in his neck with a moan. “Fuck, how are you so wet already?” He gently pinches one of her nipples, and at the same time finally - fucking finally - pushes one finger fully into her, curling it inside her to test the waters and adding a second finger when she moans.

“Fuck, JD,” Veronica gasps, grinding against his fingers and yelping when he simultaneously tweaks her other nipple and brushes his thumb over her clit, “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, that’s - oh, god, fuck, that’s so, so fucking good, fuck -”

She outright whines when he pulls his hand away, but then he starts pushing her panties down, his fingers enticingly warm on her thigh, but too slow for what she wants right now. She shifts off him to lean back against her pillow, impatiently shoving her underwear off and dropping it over the side of the bed then cupping his face in her hands and pulling him on top of her to messily kiss him. JD props himself on his forearms so he can lean over her and kiss her properly, and Veronica can’t help the little whimper that escapes her lips when their bodies press together and she can feel his hard cock brush against her thigh. She slips one hand down between them and rubs her palm over the underside of his cock, relishing in the groan he lets out, before encircling her fingers around him and gently stroking him.

“Veronica,” JD gasps against her lips, making her grin widely and move her hand a little faster, “god, fuck, Veronica - Veronica, I need you.”

And, oh, okay, she didn’t expect those three words to have such an effect on her, but it’s like a bolt of molten energy has ignited right below her stomach, sending sparks through her blood. Veronica pulls her hand away and parts her legs for him, shivering slightly with anticipation. “How bad?” she breathes, loving how his eyes darken with desire.

“So fucking bad.” JD moves to kneel between her legs and drapes her thighs over his hips. Veronica props herself on her elbows as he lifts her hips so their bodies align. “God, you’re so fucking hot, Veronica, please, can I -?”

“Yes,” Veronica nods hurriedly. “God, yes. I - I want you so bad right now, JD, please -” She gasps at the first tentative touch of him against her, and spreads her legs wider, desperate for more.

JD pushes into her for what feels like forever, his arms sliding around her waist to support her, holding her gaze the entire time and making her cheeks blaze. When he’s all the way in, he leans down and brushes his lips against hers, laughing slightly when she urgently flings her arms around him and deepens their kiss.

“Good?” he murmurs when their lips part. Veronica nods, unable to stop herself from moaning a little. She loves being with him like this, loves the feel of him inside of her, the way they always seem to fit together so perfectly.

“God, JD,” she breathes, “god, you feel so - so good. Don’t - don’t hold back, I’m so ready, I need you -”

JD kisses her again, and she moans into his mouth when he begins gently easing in and out of her. She wraps her legs around him, pulling him in deeper, and her cheeks flush slightly, remembering Heather McNamara’s overly-intimate request for information earlier. Veronica obviously doesn’t have any other experience to compare JD to, but she’s come to the conclusion that it doesn’t matter, because the way she feels when he’s inside of her is, well, honestly kind of perfect. Blushing even harder at that thought, Veronica tilts her hips up a little, and a moment later cries out shamelessly, because this new angle allows his cock to slide right against the most sensitive part of her core.

“Oh, god, yes,” she gasps, one hand buried in his hair and the other clutching at the bedsheets, “just - just like that, right there, right fucking there, oh, fuck, that’s… that’s so, so good…”

JD nips at her neck, moaning into her skin, one of his hands sliding from her waist to her breasts, his nimble fingers quickly beginning to tease her nipples. “Fuck, Veronica,” he gasps hoarsely into her ear, sending a shudder of pleasure through her, “you feel so good, baby, fuck…”

He tugs one of her nipples, a little harder than usual, and she does her best to muffle her embarrassingly loud moan, but JD kisses her messily, biting at her lower lip then sucking it soothingly, pulling even more noises from her. His lips move down her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, and he tugs her other nipple and gently bites her shoulder at the same time, making her cry out with pleasure.

“God,” he groans into her neck, “Don’t hold it in, fuck, I love the noises you make, they turn me on so much… God, you’re so fucking gorgeous, Veronica, so goddamn sexy…”

He breaks off into a moan, and Veronica echoes him. They’re perfectly in sync, getting high on each other’s pleasure; any awkwardness has completely melted away at this point, allowing them to completely give in to the exhilaration of their strong mutual attraction. Veronica pulls him close to kiss him again; the now-familiar feeling that’s reminiscent of an elastic band being pulled taut is building up inside her with every perfect thrust of his hips, and she realizes it won’t be much longer before she tips over the edge.

“Fuck, JD,” she gasps, almost a sob; he has her achingly sensitive under his touch, but she still needs more. “Fuck, can you - I need you to -”

“Anything,” he whispers huskily; he meets her gaze, eyes dark with desire, and she realizes with a jolt of unexpected intensity that he means it. “Anything you want, Veronica, tell me what you need.”

“Harder,” Veronica whispers. “Harder and… fuck… faster. I’m so fucking close, JD, please -”

JD pulls almost completely out, then thrusts hard back into her, abandoning his previous steady pace and almost slamming his hips against hers in the exact way she wants him to. Veronica throws her head back with a desperate cry: it’s almost perfect, but something’s still missing.

“God, fuck, fuck, fuck,” she gasps, her voice cracking a little from the intensity. “JD - fuck - I’m nearly - oh, god - fucking please -”

“Do you -” JD cuts himself off with a groan. “Fuck, Veronica, you’re so perfect…” His hand leaves her breasts and moves to her thigh, pushing her leg up so he can thrust deeper. “Do you want me to touch you?” he asks, his voice a hoarse whisper.

The question sends another surge of arousal through Veronica’s body, and she nods urgently. “Yes,” she whispers. “God, yes, please, JD, please touch me.”

The hand that’s still holding her waist slides down over her hip, and he brings his fingers to her clit and starts working tight, insistent circles against it. It’s exactly what she needs; Veronica feels her insides tense up, and then the shock of her orgasm hits her so hard her entire body trembles with pleasure.

A few seconds later, JD buries his face in her neck with a low, drawn-out groan, shaking slightly as he presses fiercely into her. Veronica grins blissfully to herself and gently strokes his hair, her limbs suddenly feeling unusually heavy.

She sighs a little when he gently pulls out and rolls off of her, but then his arm slides around her waist and pulls her close, and she buries her face in his neck and happily breathes him in. She thinks to herself that she finally understands what chemistry textbooks mean when they go on about things returning to a state of equilibrium; the thought makes her giggle, and then she can’t stop. JD cups her face in his hand and tilts her chin up so he can smile at her.

“What?” he murmurs. Veronica smiles at him, goofy and giddy and helpless.

“It’s not even that funny,” she admits, still giggling a little. She dances her fingers across his chest and pecks a kiss onto his shoulder, loving the way he sighs and pulls her closer. “I just feel… really really amazing right now. I, um…” She’s a little self-conscious to admit it, but takes a deep breath and meets his gaze. “I really like… being with you, like… like that.”

JD reaches for her hand and pulls it up to his lips. “I really like being with you like that too,” he says softly, then sweetly kisses her fingertips. “Was everything… okay for you this time? I remembered what you said about, um, liking me to be a bit… y’know, rougher, but if it was too much -”

“It wasn’t,” Veronica assures him. She’s a little lightheaded thinking about it. “God, it was so, so perfect.”

“I didn’t hurt you or anything?”

Veronica shrugs. “I’m a little sore, but it’s in a good way, y’know?”

“Where?” JD’s eyes are wide with concern, and Veronica is a little taken aback by how much she likes it. She vaguely gestures at her chest, feeling slightly silly for being embarrassed to say it out loud. JD shifts himself out from under her, and leans down to gently kiss her breasts. Veronica gasps quietly; his warm mouth is surprisingly soothing on her sensitive skin, and when his tongue darts out to delicately lick one of her nipples her legs suddenly feel like jelly. JD takes his time, attentively switching between each one, before planting a trail of soft kisses up her neck and jaw to her mouth, smiling into their kiss when she reaches up to cup his face in her hands.

They wind up lazily making out for a good ten minutes before finally forcing themselves to get back up when JFK begins meowing loudly and insistently outside Veronica’s bedroom door. While JD pulls his clothes back on, Veronica chucks her stockings and underwear into the laundry, neatly folds her blouse and skirt and leaves them on the end of her bed (she hurriedly smooths the rumpled sheets too, so as to prevent any suspicion should her parents happen to glance into her room later), and grabs jeans and an oversized t-shirt with the poster for Labyrinth printed on it. She blushes at the grin JD gives her when she closes her wardrobe door.

“I like your shirt,” he chuckles. Veronica beams, turning this way and that like she’s showing off a new outfit and not her old comfy lazy-day clothes.

“I heard As The World Falls Down on that tape you played on Saturday,” she grins. “I love Labyrinth. When Martha and I went to see it, I just remember thinking that I wanted to wear Sarah’s silver ball gown to Prom.” Heather Chandler had wanted her to throw the shirt away, drop it off at a Goodwill or something, but Veronica couldn’t bring herself to part with it. She’s doubly glad that she kept it, now.

JD pulls his flannel back on and pads over to slide his arms around her waist. “You look cute,” he tells her, almost bashfully. Veronica glows. “It reminds me a bit of… Friday night. Or would it be Saturday morning? When you were wearing my shirt.”

Veronica’s cheeks flush at the memory, and she gently slides her hands up his chest to rest on his shoulders. “I liked wearing your shirt,” she confesses. “It, um, it smelled like you. I liked that.”

She leans up for a long kiss, sighing when JD’s teeth lightly graze her lower lip and his tongue darts soothingly across it. It’s one of those kisses where it takes her a few moments to collect herself when they part, making butterflies erupt in her belly and her knees go a little weak. She wants to go for a second one, but then JFK yowls outside her bedroom door, and she limits herself to a quick peck before slipping out of JD’s arms and taking his hand as she heads over to the door.

“Come on. We’d better go and see what His Royal Furriness wants.”

As soon as she opens the door, JFK trots into the room with a quiet little “Marrh” noise, all big green eyes and tail sticking straight up, and winds himself around Veronica’s legs as if he hasn’t just been crying his lungs out for the past five minutes.

“I see,” Veronica sighs, fondly annoyed. She bends down and strokes JFK between his ears. “You, sir, are an over-dramatic idiot.”

“Mrrep,” JFK agrees, butting his head against her hand. He turns and pads back out of the room, pausing in the doorway to glance back at them as if to say why aren’t you following me? Veronica laughs and stands up, squeezing JD’s hand.

“God. Normally when I get home I raid the cookie jar and give him a treat at the same time. We’d better go and feed this poor starving creature before he wastes away.”

JD chuckles as they follow JFK down the stairs and through to the kitchen. “Will there be any raiding of the cookie jar?” he asks hopefully. Veronica laughs and nudges him.

“Of course, what kind of hostess would I be if I didn’t offer you cookies?”

She grabs a shrimp-flavored Pounce for JFK, who politely takes it from her hand and scurries off to enjoy it under the kitchen table, then washes her hands and heads into the pantry for the cookie jar.

“Score!” she calls out to JD, who has awkwardly seated himself at the breakfast island. “My mom made three-ingredient peanut butter cookies!”

“Three-ingredient?” JD asks, sounding skeptical. “Like from the recipe on the jar? Does it actually work?”

Veronica pretends to be scandalized. “You’ve never made three-ingredient peanut butter cookies?”

She regrets the words as soon as they’re out of her mouth; instead of laughing and going along with her fake shock, JD bites his lip and shrugs, folding in on himself a little.

Oh. Fuck. Dead mom. Dad he clearly doesn’t get along with. Probably not a whole lot of cookies being made in that house. Veronica could slap herself for putting her foot in her mouth like that.

“Well,” she says instead as she emerges from the pantry, two cookies in hand, “that can be another date night for us. Making cookies, or brownies, or something.”

The slightest hint of a blush dusts JD’s cheeks as he takes the offered cookie and she sits next to him. “We’ll have to see what the jury rules first,” he says teasingly. Veronica feels warm at the return of his smile.

They both take a bite - these are the sort of thick, cakey cookies you’d dearly love to scarf down in two seconds flat, but you know would make you choke if you did - and Veronica feels thoroughly smug at the way JD’s eyes go wide and he stares back and forth from her to the cookie.

“Three ingredients?” he says as soon as he swallows, slightly slack-jawed. “You’re not bullshitting me?”

“Three ingredients,” Veronica confirms with a grin. “And they only take, like, fifteen minutes.”

JD takes another bite, clearly caught between wanting to devour the rest of the cookie as quickly as possible and savoring it. “Don’t take this the wrong way, darling, but you may actually have a rival for my affections now.”

“Rude,” Veronica giggles. “You just want me for my baked goods. And here I thought we had something special.”

JD reaches out and weaves their fingers together, gently squeezing her hand. “We do,” he says quietly. Veronica feels her cheeks glow pink, and leans over to give him a sweet, cookie-flavored kiss.

All her guilt over Martha and fear of Heather Chandler can wait til tomorrow, she’s decided. Right now she wants to live in the moment, joke with her boyfriend and kiss him when he says something sweet and laugh when he groans and gently butts his forehead against her shoulder when she suggests actually studying together.

All the teen advice booklets and school guidance counselors say that you need to find a happy place, and this - laughing with JD as they hold hands in her kitchen - is Veronica Sawyer’s.

Trying to get away into the night,
And then you put your arms around me
And we tumble to the ground and then you say:
“I think we’re alone now -
There doesn’t seem to be anyone around!
I think we’re alone now -
The beating of our hearts is the only sound!”

Chapter End Notes

> In the next chapter, JD and Veronica go on a date, and we meet someone from Veronica's past. Veronica also comes to a decision about the next step forward in their relationship.

> “Does Martha still have a crush on Ram Sweeney? I remember she always used to plan their wedding in homeroom. I think I still have one of her little bridesmaid dress doodles in some old folder somewhere.”
> “Yeah, she does. But he’s going out with Heather Duke now, so…”
> “Aw, that’s too bad.”
> “I’m actually - Martha and I aren’t so close any more. Weirdly, I’m actually more friendly with Heather Duke.”

## Chapter 15: I Melt With You

Chapter Summary

> JD and Veronica go on a date and have an awkward meeting with someone from Veronica's past, and Veronica decides it's time to take a step forward in their relationship.

Chapter Notes

> Hi everyone!! Thanks for continuing to read this story <3 If you've commented and I haven't replied I do mean to, I appreciate each and every comment and I love that you've taken the time to tell me what you liked about this story! My life is just kind of mental right now, I work part time in retail and part time teaching so both my jobs are taking a lot of my energy and what's left is going into actually writing the story.

> A lot of this chapter wound up being me giggling to myself going 'what if I gave my characters my trauma?' so um. Sorry Veronica. We look a little at the Thing that caused Veronica's nightmare back in Chapter 9, but not in depth yet! That'll happen later.

> A lot of this chapter is fluff, I hope you enjoy it! Thanks for reading <3

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Dream of better lives, the kind which never hate,
(You should see why)
Trapped in the state of imaginary grace!
(You should know better)
I made a pilgrimage to save this human race,
(You should see why)
Never comprehending the race had long gone by…

- Bowling For Soup (Modern English cover), I Melt With You

Friday 29th September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
Westerburg High School
3pm

The rest of the week passes in much the same way, and it’s - honestly, it’s the happiest JD has been in the last eight years, maybe even his entire life. Veronica seems wary about what Heather Chandler might be planning; apparently the Demon Queen of Westerburg is ignoring her so hard in French class that she actually turned around and spoke to Archie Kellburn instead of Veronica, asking him for his thoughts on her most recent lunchtime poll question, whatever that is, but so far nothing more than that. Veronica also admits to him, when they’re cuddled together on his bed on Thursday - her dad takes a half-day at work that day, while her mom works the morning shift and gets home by four - that she still hasn’t managed to tell Martha the truth about the note, and she’s more apprehensive than ever about admitting that it was a prank. He wishes he could give her advice, tell her something that would make her feel better, but the last time JD really had a friend at all was probably back in his Junior Jazz Band days. And a lot of that time - virtually everything pre-August 1981, and a lot of the first few years after that too - is, honestly, kind of a blank.

He doesn’t dwell on it; he can be there next to her, supporting whatever decision she wants to make, and that will have to be enough.

At the end of the day on Friday, Veronica is waiting for him at her locker; normally he gets there before her, but he has Chemistry last today, and Mr Goralnik is one of those teachers who insists that “The bell doesn’t dismiss you, I do,” and of fucking course Kurt and Ram chose today of all days to turn up late from Football Practice. JD would like that Goralnik doesn’t put up with Alpha Jock behavior if the man wasn’t such a hardass about everything else too; as a result he’s running a little late owing to Goralnik’s pointless lecture about good timekeeping. He quickly stops caring about that, though, because Veronica’s beautiful face lights up when she sees him, and when he reaches her she greets him with a quick kiss.

“Hi,” she beams at him, and it immediately feels like the rest of the hallway slows to a blur and a spotlight lights her up.

“Hi,” JD replies, a little breathless from her kiss. Veronica shuts her locker and leans against the door, reaching out to take his hand.

“So, are we going to yours?”

JD shakes his head regretfully. “My dad gets home early most Fridays.” If Big Bud Dean isn’t staying in a motel near the deconstruction site, he likes to change out of his work gear before hitting the bar for the night. JD normally only drops off any books or homework he accumulated over the day before fleeing to the sanctity of the nearest 7-Eleven, but he doesn’t want to drag Veronica around like that. Veronica bites her lip.

“Damn. My parents are usually at home on Friday afternoons. My mom will probably insist that we leave my bedroom door open, if she even lets us go upstairs.”

JD lets out a slow breath that’s almost a sigh. They’ve agreed it’s best that Veronica tells her parents she has a boyfriend and lets them adjust to the idea before springing a meeting on them; he’s even more wary about introducing her to his father, and honestly a little terrified that if she does meet the man she’ll be scared away forever. Veronica pushes off her locker and they join the throng making their way out the door to the parking lot. He mulls their prospects over in his head, and an idea finally comes to him when they reach the bottom of the steps.

“Hey, do you want to go get ice-cream?”

“Ice-cream?” Veronica looks up at him, blinking. He nods, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah. Come on, let’s go hit up Dairy Queen.”

“Okay then,” Veronica smiles. She’s blushing, her gorgeous brown eyes sparkling excitedly, and when they reach his motorcycle she pauses before putting her helmet on so she can lean up to kiss him again. He eagerly leans into it, a little regretful that they can’t go back to one of their houses for more right now, but also smug that he’s the one she’s kissing in public, for all their classmates to see.

Not some preppy lawyer-to-be, not Kurt or Ram or any conventionally good-looking jock; she likes you. You’re the one who gets to hold her hand and go on dates with her and kiss her. The smartest, prettiest, coolest girl in Sherwood chose you.

Half an hour later, they’re sequestered in a corner booth at Dairy Queen, sharing a large chocolate sundae (JD wants to be annoyed by how romantic it actually is, all this shit he was certain he was above, but he can’t quite be bothered for some reason) and making funny observations to each other about the other customers.

“Okay, okay,” Veronica says quietly, subtly pointing at a couple with a kindergartner sitting a few tables away. “Check out the size of the sundae that kid has. His parents are totally about to give him news he’s not gonna be happy about.”

JD glances at them out of the corner of his eye. “Divorce or little sibling?” he ponders. Veronica tilts her head.

“Mom and Dad are holding hands, and Mom’s not eating anything. Little sibling. I’m guessing he wants a brother and is about to find out that it’s a sister.” The kid’s mom leans forward, and the six-year-old takes his eyes off his ice-cream. Veronica holds three fingers up under the table. “Three… two… one…”

The kid’s face crumples on cue, and Veronica and JD both wince on his behalf. “Fucking same,” JD murmurs when the little boy wails loudly, the tears starting to pour, but not so much that he can’t manage another spoonful of ice-cream. Veronica hurriedly averts her eyes, doing her best not to giggle.

“God. Makes me kind of glad I’m an only child, y’know? Heather, Heather, and Heather all have siblings, and I don’t think I could handle that.” She takes another spoonful of their sundae; JD frowns thoughtfully.

“Heather Duke and Heather McNamara, sure, I could see them having siblings. But Heather Chandler? She has, I dunno, this vibe of, like, always getting what she wants.”

Veronica shrugs, pulling the spoon from her lips with a slight popping noise. JD glances at her mouth, wondering if it’s inappropriate to kiss her here. Her lips are red from the cold and shining with her favorite cherry-flavored lip gloss, and it’s incredibly tempting. “Her dad gives her everything she wants, sure. But her step-mom apparently couldn’t care less. I don’t know, I’ve only been to her house twice, and I remember Lillian didn’t even say hi to me, just told Heather to take her friends upstairs and not hang around in the kitchen. Heather has a half-sister, but I don’t think she really considers her family. Jennifer tried to come into Heather’s room while we were hanging out and Heather told her, ‘buzz off or your Miss Rosebud doll is going in the blender’. And I got the impression that that’s ‘nice’ for them.” She tilts her head thoughtfully. “I think that’s why Heather is the way she is. She overcompensates with bitchiness to make up for her lack of power at home.”

JD doesn’t really care what might have made Heather Chandler the bitch she is, but he finds himself slightly smitten with how well Veronica is able to read her - the way she reads anyone and everyone. She’s so intoxicatingly intelligent, and he loves it. He’s pretty sure - certain, in fact - that he might just love her, but holds back the urge to tell her that, to shout it from the rooftops, knowing that a week into their relationship is almost certainly way too early for that sort of thing.

“You should become a psychiatrist or something,” he tells her instead. Veronica laughs self-consciously, blushing.

“I dunno.”

“You should,” JD insists, smiling warmly at her. “You’re so smart, all the Ivy League schools should fight over who gets to say you graduated from them.” He pulls her hand up to his mouth to kiss her fingers. “You could go as a sexy doctor every Halloween and you wouldn’t even have to put on a costume,” he teases her. Veronica throws her head back as she laughs, her smile wide and gleeful.

“Oh, stop it,” she giggles, but she’s leaning in, her lips already slightly puckered.

“The sexiest doctor,” JD proclaims as their noses brush. “And the prettiest. And the smartest.”

“Flattery will get you anywhere,” Veronica murmurs, reaching up to close the distance between them.

Their lips softly brush together then part, once, twice, three times, and one of Veronica’s hands gently cups his cheek as they kiss, making them pause to smile at each other, foreheads leaning against each other. JD almost blurts out the thought that’s spent the week becoming more and more comfortable in his head, the ‘I love you’ that’s surely far too intense for one week in, but then they’re interrupted by a voice, one that makes Veronica tense up and pull away from him, her hand leaving his cheek and plummeting back down to her side.

“Veronica? Veronica Sawyer? Is that you?”

Veronica looks up at the girl who’s stopped next to their table holding a chocolate-dipped ice-cream cone. JD glances at his girlfriend’s expression and feels his stomach drop unpleasantly: her smile is nowhere to be seen, her eyes are huge and nervous, and she’s biting her lower lip - not the sexy way she does when she’s seducing him, but slightly violently, scraping her lip gloss off, practically gnawing. JD turns his attention to the girl standing in front of them, expecting to see some Heathers-adjacent prep standing smugly over them, and thoroughly taken aback when instead it’s a plain, bespectacled, slightly dorky-looking girl, wearing a Catholic school uniform and thick horn-rimmed glasses, hair swept up in a high ponytail like a 1950s ingenue.

“Gosh,” Veronica says awkwardly. The word doesn’t sound right, coming from her mouth. Like she’s trying to speak a language she hasn’t studied in years. “Betty Finn. Hey. How- how are you?”

“Good,” Betty Finn says. She smiles nervously. JD tilts his head curiously at her; the name rings a bell, like Veronica might have mentioned her, but he can’t place where. “I’m very good, thanks. How are you?”

Veronica smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, I’m… I’m alright,” she replies quietly. JD hates it, hates seeing her so uncomfortable. He wishes he could subtly take her hand, but Veronica is twisting her fingers together in her lap under the table, and something tells him that touching her right now might make her jump quite badly.

“I’m, um, I’m here with some friends,” Betty says. JD flicks his gaze over her, and notes that she looks quite as tense as Veronica does. “From, um, from school.”

“Cool,” Veronica nods. One of her legs is twitching with nervous energy. She glances at JD, and gestures to him, her hand dropping down to rest on the booth bench, clenching into a fist as if to prevent herself from continuing to fidget. “Um, this is JD. My boyfriend. JD, Betty.”

JD raises one hand in a lazy wave-salute combo. Betty glances at him, her smile becoming visibly more nervous. He tries not to roll his eyes.

“Betty and I were in Junior Orchestra together,” Veronica elaborates, and JD nods slowly, remembering where her name had come up before. The kid who got yelled at so badly that she locked herself in a bathroom stall and wouldn’t come out until her mom came to the school. He wisely doesn’t say that, though; he doubts Betty would appreciate it being brought up, especially by a stranger.

Something peculiar comes over Betty’s face just then, a flicker of hurt almost, like she was expecting Veronica to say more about their past together, but she recovers quickly and smiles more softly. “How are Martha and… and Danny?” she asks, sounding a little wistful, her cheeks slightly rosy. In stark comparison, Veronica seems to turn a shade paler.

“Martha’s… well,” she says, clearly choosing her words carefully. “I, um, don’t know about Danny. We haven’t spoken since eighth grade, actually.”

JD’s certain he’s not imagining the tension in her carefully chosen words. He slides his fingers along the vinyl covering of the booth bench and rests his hand on top of hers, rubbing his thumb against her knuckles. She shoots him a grateful smile, before returning her gaze to Betty, who’s biting her own lip now.

“Oh. I thought -” She cuts herself off, forcing out another nervous smile. “Does Martha still have a crush on Ram Sweeney? I remember she always used to plan their wedding in homeroom. I think I still have one of her little bridesmaid dress doodles in some old folder somewhere.” She laughs, dorky and slightly nasal, but Veronica merely shrugs glumly.

“Yeah, she does,” she says dully. “But he’s going out with Heather Duke now, so…”

“Aw, that’s too bad.” And the thing is, Betty does sound genuinely sympathetic, to JD at least, but Veronica just shrugs again, and he wonders if it’s her guilt over the prank that’s got her so down. That doesn’t explain all of it, though.

“I’m actually - Martha and I aren’t so close any more. Weirdly, I’m actually more friendly with Heather Duke.”

And, okay, that’s a straight-up lie. Heather McNamara, sure, but Heather Duke? Last time JD checked, Heather Duke had been the Heather Veronica was least close to. The only conclusion is that she’s saying this for Betty’s benefit.

“Oh,” Betty says. She frowns a little. “Are we thinking of the same Heather Duke? The one everyone used to say couldn’t help gossiping because her nose was so big it just kept getting stuck in other people’s business?”

Veronica shrugs. “People change,” she says quietly. Betty blinks, looking embarrassed.

“Sorry,” she says, sounding remorseful. “I shouldn’t have said that about your friend. That was rude of me.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Well, hey, I think your friends are waiting for you,” Veronica says hurriedly. Betty glances back at her gaggle of Catholic-school-uniform-clad friends, who are huddled together and glancing at Veronica and JD the way a herd of antelope might nervously glance at a couple of napping cheetahs.

“Yeah, I should get back to them. Well, um, it was nice to see you. If you get the chance, tell Martha I said hi.”

Veronica presses her lips together in an approximation of a smile. “Sure.”

Betty waves goodbye awkwardly, and heads back over to her waiting friends. JD waits until she’s firmly out of earshot before turning to Veronica and nudging her gently.

“Hey,” he says softly. “I didn’t imagine how awkward that was, right? Are you okay?”

Veronica purses her lips, but she leans into his touch, which is a good-ish sign. “Honestly, I don’t know,” she sighs quietly. She gnaws her lower lip again. “I haven’t seen or spoken to Betty Finn for… three years now, actually. June of ‘85, I think.”

“How come?” JD asks curiously, then quickly adds, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I just thought, if you, I dunno, wanna talk about it -”

Veronica huffs her bangs out of her face. “We just,” she swallows, “we had this massive fight at the end of eighth grade. And we didn’t speak again after that.” She sighs and leans her head against his shoulder, smiling a little when he wraps his arm around her shoulders. “I do wanna talk to you about it,” she says quietly. “But it’s not the sort of conversation we should have in a Dairy Queen.”

“‘Course. Anything you want,” JD tells her. He kisses her cheek, to which she smiles a little, and picks up his spoon, returning their attention to the chocolate sundae in front of them. “You wanna maybe… catch a movie or something?”

Veronica nods, smiling softly at him. “That sounds really nice. I’d like that. Thanks.”

“For what?” JD grabs a spoonful of ice-cream. Veronica giggles.

“For just… I dunno. Not pushing. Listening. Being you. Helping me take my mind off stupid shit. Thanks.”

JD nudges her gently. “No worries. Although,” his smile turns mischievous, “what was that Betty was saying about Heather Duke’s nose being so big she couldn’t help sticking it into other people’s business? Last time I checked, Heather Duke’s nose was, like, unnaturally small.”

Veronica finally cracks a full smile. “Oh, yeah. Would you believe that they ‘had’ to reduce it to ‘fix’ her ‘deviated septum’ in Sophomore year? I should show you an old yearbook picture some time. Although it’s nothing compared to what her mother’s had done.” She leans in conspiratorially. “Her nose doesn’t even look like a human nose any more. She’s currently recovering from her third nose job. It’s less a nose and more a bandage over a bump at this point.” JD shudders at the thought. Veronica nods. “Yup. God, it’s genuinely freaky. And when we were over there her mom was like, ‘oh, Veronica, darling, take my plastic surgeon’s number, in case you ever rethink that nose.’ Like that’s a normal thing to say to your teenage daughter’s friend.”

“God, don’t take her seriously.” JD cups Veronica’s face in his hand and traces his thumb down her nose. “I like your nose. It’s cute.”

Veronica’s cheeks glow pink, and she smiles bashfully. “Thanks. I grew it myself.” And he can’t help but laugh at that, loving how the color slowly comes back to the rest of Veronica’s face as she lets a giggle slip out.

They finish their ice-cream in companionable silence, until JD asks her what movie she wants to see.

Veronica pushes the remainder of the sundae towards him, a clear ‘you have the last bite’ gesture. God, she’s sweet. She tilts her head thoughtfully as he finishes the ice-cream, fidgeting with her spoon. “Y’know, I kind of fancy Sea of Love. Y’know, that neo-noir thing with Al Pacino?”

JD nods, getting up and clearing the empty plastic cup and their spoons onto the tray (no point making the staffs’ jobs harder). “Sea of Love sounds good. Isn’t it an 18, though? Will we even get in?”

Veronica smirks smugly, that little wicked spark that he loves coming back to her eyes. “Don’t worry. The ticket booth staff at the Tri-County Mall Movieplex have thought I was eighteen since I was sixteen. Martha didn’t want to watch Die Hard and wouldn’t ask her mom to rent it, so…” She shrugs with a grin. “They won’t even ask for ID.”

“God, you’re cool,” he breathes, not really meaning to, but it makes Veronica grin properly and blush a little, which he counts as a win.

“The coolest?” she says hopefully. JD laughs and plants a quick kiss on her lips.

“The coolest,” he agrees, offering her his arm. She takes it, beaming. “Come on then, Queen of Cool. The movies await.”

They’re slowed down a little in leaving because Veronica decides to use the payphone to call her parents and let them know she’s going to a movie, but eventually they’re back on his bike and on their way. True to her word, the girl at the ticket booth doesn’t ask for ID when they buy their tickets, chatting to Veronica with warm familiarity. They grab nachos and Icees - not up to the standard of a Slurpee, but good enough - from the concession stand and head into the cinema, and when they take their seats and she leans her head against his shoulder - as casually as if it’s something she’s done a thousand times before - JD feels so goddamn ecstatic that he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do with it.

For the first time in eight years, he doesn’t even bother trying to give himself brain freeze with his slushie.

Friday 29th September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
Outside the Sawyers’ house
Around 7pm

Veronica loves how, even though it’s easy enough for her to hop off the back of his bike herself, JD likes to climb off first so he can help her down. It feels… chivalrous, but not in the creepy way some of the boys at school do it, like calling her ‘milady’ and acting like not being vocally sexist means she owes them something. It’s polite and genuine and sweet and makes her heart race a little. It’s so cute, how JD doesn’t even seem to realize how much of a gentleman he is.

Sea of Love was for the most part pretty good; Veronica didn’t see the plot twist at the end coming at all, and though JD keeps insisting it was obvious to any horror fan, Veronica swears she heard him mutter a quiet ‘no fuckin’ way’ under his breath when the killer’s identity was revealed. Either way, they both agree that, although otherwise it was good, the film’s weak point was the lack of foreshadowing. And the sex scene - and it makes sense why the film is rated 18 - did make them both blush quite a lot. Weird, how seeing sex in a movie feels far more awkward than actually having sex with each other does. JD had even politely looked away from the screen at one point, muttering something about how he feels weird seeing a girl who isn’t Veronica without any clothes on, to which Veronica couldn’t stop an incredibly smug smile from sneaking onto her face.

JD walks her up to her front door, and they pause on the porch. It’s an old Tudor-style house, with a stone tower on top of the vestibule reminiscent of a 13th century castle, meant to look like the Tudors built the house around some far older structure, rather than some land developer building it all at once in the 1890s. But it does have this lovely echoey, isolated, romantic quality, like they’re in a scene from some mass-market fantasy romance paperback novel.

“Well, um,” Veronica starts. “I guess this is goodnight.” She swings their joined hands and turns to face him. The corner of JD’s mouth quirks up in a wistful half-smile.

“I guess it is,” he says softly. “I wish we could, y’know, do what we did last Friday night.”

Veronica sighs. “Me too.” She misses the feeling of falling asleep in his arms and waking up together the next morning. The closest they’ve gotten to doing that since last weekend was when they took a brief nap together in her bed on Tuesday, JD only wearing his boxers and Veronica only wearing JD’s t-shirt, but it’s not quite the same. “Well, um, I was thinking of maybe telling my parents about us tonight.”

JD raises his eyebrows, apparently surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah. You’re…” she takes a deep breath, “you’re important to me. I don’t want to sneak around forever. And I was thinking that maybe tomorrow, if, you know, if you wanted to, I could rent Season One of Agatha Christie’s Poirot and you could come over and we could watch it together.”

JD’s eyes light up as he smiles. “That sounds great,” he says softly. “I’d really like that. What time should I come over?”

Veronica hums thoughtfully. “Around two, maybe? I’ll walk down to the Blockbuster in the morning.”

“Cool. I’ll bring, like,” he shrugs, “Jiffy Pop or something.”

“Sounds good.” They smile at each other in the dim light of the porch lamp. “Well, um, goodnight.”

JD slides his hands around her waist and leans down. He’s so close she could count his eyelashes if she wanted to. Veronica rises slowly onto her tiptoes, her eyes fluttering closed. “Goodnight, Veronica,” he murmurs.

Veronica shivers happily as their lips meet; they’ve kissed dozens of times at this point, but it still never fails to make her feel that same combo of her heart racing and butterflies in her tummy and weak knees and sparks dancing across her skin that she felt the first time. She really sincerely hopes that it never gets old. JD’s tongue glides across her lower lip, and she opens her mouth eagerly, knowing they shouldn’t give in to the passionate need that’s always vaguely floating between them, but unable to bring herself to care - until a light switches on in the foyer, shining through the glass panels in the door.

They pull away from each other, and JD plants one final gentle kiss on Veronica’s mouth, before dropping her waist and heading back down the front steps. “Goodnight,” he calls when he reaches the gate. Veronica waves, giggling.

“Goodnight, JD,” she sighs happily. She waits even after he’s out of sight, until she hears the low rumble of his motorcycle pulling away, then opens the front door and cautiously peers into the hall. Thank god, it’s empty. She hurries to stash her helmet in the coat closet before heading into the main room. Her dad is sitting on the couch with JFK curled up beside him, reading what’s probably a spy thriller, and looks up when she comes in.

“Hey, Ronnie-Bunny.”

“Hey, Dad.”

Her dad gestures towards the archway that leads into the kitchen. “We heard the gate; your mom’s just heating your dinner.”

“Cool.” Veronica heads through to the kitchen; her mom looks up from where she’s serving spaghetti onto a plate.

“Veronica, there you are.” Veronica sits at the breakfast table, where a place has been laid for her, and her mom brings over the plate. “Spaghetti, lots of oregano,” Sarah Sawyer smiles. “Your favorite.” She puts the spaghetti down in front of Veronica and sits opposite her. “So, how was the movie?”

Veronica nods. “It was really good.” She takes a mouthful of spaghetti; she can’t think of anything else to say without admitting she sneaked into an 18.

“How’s Martha?” her mom asks. Veronica shrugs.

“Dunno. She was alright in Physics last period, I guess. We didn’t talk much, Mr Miller doesn’t really let anyone chat.”

Her mom frowns. “Oh. I thought - just from what you said on the phone, I thought you were going to the movies with her. You two usually have movie night on Fridays, so I figured…”

Veronica takes a deep breath. “Actually, I was at the movies with someone, but it wasn’t Martha. I…” It’s now or never, Sawyer. “I was on a date.”

Her mom blinks. “A date?”

Veronica nods shyly. “I, um, I have a boyfriend.”

It takes her mom a moment - a long moment - of blinking and staring a little, but at last Sarah Sawyer smiles and leans forward. “Oh, that’s wonderful, honey!” she says excitedly. “A boyfriend, wow. So, what’s his name? How long have you been going out for?”

Veronica smiles relievedly. “His name’s Jason. Jason Dean. But he goes by JD for short. We’ve been going out for a week.”

“Jason Dean…” her mom hums. “Hmmm, I don’t recognize that name. He didn’t go to the same middle school as you, did he?”

Veronica shakes her head, loading more spaghetti onto her fork. “He just moved to Sherwood this summer.”

Her mom nods and rests her chin on her hands. “So, what’s he like?”

Veronica hurries to swallow her mouthful of spaghetti, a little embarrassed at how much she loves getting the chance to gush about JD to her mom. “He’s… he’s really nice,” she says, unable to stop a wide smile spreading across her face. “He’s so smart and funny, he makes me laugh a lot.”

“That’s good,” her mom says approvingly.

“And he’s really… he can be really sweet too,” Veronica admits. “We sit together in English Lit, and he’ll hold my hand under our desk. And the other day, JD was helping me read lines for A Streetcar Named Desire, ‘cause I’m doing a scene from it with Heather Mac for Theatre Arts, and he was reading in for Blanche, so he put on this really silly high-pitched Southern accent, and… I couldn’t stop laughing. It was so funny. And he always smiles when he makes me laugh. He… he has a really cute smile too. He’s very handsome. And tall. And he has nice eyes.”

“Aww,” her mom coos. She squeezes Veronica’s hand. “I’m happy for you, honey. I’m glad you’ve found someone who can keep up with you.” She pauses, suddenly looking a little concerned. “What, um, what do your friends think?”

Veronica’s smile wavers a little, and she takes her time chewing her mouthful of spaghetti this time, not quite sure how to answer that. “Um, Heather Chandler isn’t his biggest fan, but you know, she’s not really…” She sighs. “We’re not really talking right now. I called her out for something she did that was just… out of line, and she’s kind of mad at me right now. And Heather Duke just goes along with whatever Heather Chandler wants.” She brightens. “Heather Mac likes him, though. She thinks we’re cute together.”

“Well, that’s good,” her mom says. She smiles. “Heather Mac was the politest whenever you had the girls over. I like her.” She seems to be waiting for Veronica to say something else, but Veronica isn’t sure what, and continues eating her spaghetti. “What…” her mom gently prompts her at last, “what does Martha think of him?”

Veronica’s face falls. Her mom stares concernedly, and she knows she should say something, but she doesn’t know where to begin. Does she confess to the note trick? Say nothing? Give an edited account? Eventually she takes a deep breath and decides on the last option.

“Martha doesn’t know him,” she says quietly. Her mom opens her mouth, and Veronica hurriedly continues. “I mean, like, she won’t get to know him. She thinks he’s scary.”

“How come?”

Veronica shrugs. “He was in a fight last week. Kurt Kelly and Ram Sweeney had a go at him over… something, and they tried to beat him up, but he fought back and kind of kicked both their butts. But they started on him, he was only defending himself.”

“Ram Sweeney, Martha’s ‘fiancé’?” her mom asks teasingly. Veronica rolls her eyes.

“Mo-om, he was never even her boyfriend. He kissed her once in kindergarten and played House with her a few times and that was it. It’s kind of weird, honestly, because he’s going out with another one of my friends now.”

“What friend?” her mom asks curiously.

“Heather Duke.”

“Oh. I thought Heather had taken Heather’s side in your little tiff -” Veronica gives her mom a look. “Never mind. Look, honey, sometimes girls can be a little daft about boys they have a crush on. You and Martha have been friends for way too long to let a silly thing like that get between you.”

Veronica shrugs. “Hopefully.” There’s a big difference between Martha being daft about Ram, and Veronica being unthinkingly cruel to impress the Heathers.

“It’ll work out, honey, I promise.” Her mom pauses and tilts her head, smiling. “So, do we get to meet JD?”

A smile crawls back onto Veronica’s face, and she shrugs again. “May-be. He’s coming over tomorrow. We were gonna rent some videos, pop some Jiffy Pop. TV date.” Her eyes suddenly widen anxiously. “You and Dad aren’t gonna… like… hover over us, right?”

Her mom chuckles, shaking her head. “Dad’s reviewing research proposals this week. He’ll be in his study all day tomorrow. And JFK has a check-up appointment at three with the vet over in Cincinnati, so I’ll say hi if I’m still here but probably rush out right afterwards.” She fixes Veronica with a stern look. “But I’d prefer if you two stay downstairs, and if you do go upstairs, the door stays open, okay?”

Veronica feels her cheeks redden - partly out of embarrassment at what her mom is implying, that Veronica and JD might try to have sex while her parents are distracted, and partly out of fear that she might have guessed that they already have. “Mom!”

“I just want you to be safe and sensible, honey. Teenage boys can be very charming, sometimes, and a lot of them only have one thing on their minds.”

Veronica twirls her fork, fidgeting uncomfortably. “JD’s a total gentleman,” she reassures her mother, at last, truthfully. “He treats me so nicely. Super respectful.”

“Oh, good. So I don’t have to worry about him pressuring you or anything?”

“Um. No. Definitely not.”

“I’m glad.” Sarah Sawyer purses her lips, nodding thoughtfully. “You’ve seemed more relaxed this week, honey. More yourself. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks.” Veronica smiles gratefully at her mom and continues to eat her spaghetti. A thought occurs to her right when she’s swallowing her last mouthful, and she glances up nervously. “Um, do you think Dad will be happy for me?”

Her mom nods. “I do. I think if you’re happy, he’ll be happy. I don’t think he’ll even consider being worried, to be honest. I love your father to death, but he can be more than a little oblivious.”

Veronica gets up to take her plate to the sink, glancing over her shoulder at her mother. “Can you maybe be the one to tell him?” she asks cheekily. Her mom laughs.

“Sorry, Ronnie-Bunny, but no. It’s got to come from you.”

“Damn.” Veronica sighs and washes her plate, then dries her hands before heading into the main room to tell her father. As nervous as she is for his reaction, she’s also happy that they know. It makes her feel like JD is a much more permanent part of her life now.

And when she thinks about it, she’s certain that she wants him to be a permanent part of her life for as long as possible.

I'll stop the world and melt with you!
(Let's stop the world)!
You've seen the difference and it's getting better all the time…
(Let's stop the world!)
There's nothing you and I won't do -
(Let's stop the world!)
I'll stop the world and melt with you!

Chapter End Notes

> In the next chapter, we get a look at JD's feelings the night Veronica climbed through his window, and he and Veronica have their Agatha Christie's Poirot date. We also meet Big Bud Dean :(

> “Hey, where’d you park your bike?”
> “Um. I walked over”
> “That’s, like, over half an hour.”
> “Just figured it was easier. And less likely to annoy your crazy neighbor.”

## Chapter 16: While My Guitar Gently Weeps

Chapter Summary

> We take a look at JD's perspective of when Veronica climbed through his window, then fast forward to just after the end of the previous chapter and meet Big Bud Dean for the first time :( and finally, JD and Veronica finally get their Agatha Christie's Poirot date.

Chapter Notes

> Hi everyone! Just a quick content warning for this chapter - JD's interaction with Big Bud ends in a slight physical altercation. Nothing worse than is implied in the musical as of 2022, but it's there. I find all three interpretations of Big Bud Dean (1988 film, off-Broadway musical, West End musical) really interesting, and have done my best to combine them into my own take.

> There's also an easter-egg for anyone who's a fan of Poirot - if you know the plot of Murder in the Mews, you'll understand why I had to make that one JD's favourite short story.

> I did a lot of research into period-accurate cosmetics for this one! Veronica uses Gee, your hair smells terrific! shampoo and Opium perfume by Yves Saint Laurent. Relevant, I promise!

> This chapter is basically an angst sandwich in fluffy bread. Hope you enjoy it! The next chapters get REALLY angsty ;)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

I look at you all, see the love there that's sleeping,
While my guitar gently weeps…
I look at the floor and I see it needs sweeping -
Still my guitar gently weeps…
I don't know why nobody told you
How to unfold your love!
I don't know how someone controlled you -
They bought and sold you…

- Regina Spektor (George Harrison cover), While My Guitar Gently Weeps

Saturday 23rd September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
JD’s bedroom
Sometime around 2am

“Um, sorry I knocked your boxes over.”

JD has to laugh at that. Everything he’s learned about Veronica Sawyer adds up perfectly to her fucking apologizing for knocking over his unpacked boxes of clothes after, of all things, breaking into his house by climbing through his bedroom window. “No worries, I think those ones were just clothes,” he reassures her. “But, um, speaking of you knocking over my boxes, how come the world’s prettiest cat-burglar is crawling through my window at fuck-o-clock on a Saturday morning?”

The cutest little pink hint of a blush crawls from the tip of Veronica’s still rather red nose across her face, settling on her cheeks. God, he’s so fucking gone for her. She lets out a little laugh. “The world’s prettiest cat-burglar may have ruined Heather Chandler’s attempted prank on Martha Dunnstock, then puked on her shoes and told her to lick it up,” she admits.

JD chuckles delightedly. “You didn’t!” he says approvingly. Veronica nods, the corners of her mouth curling into a little embarrassed smile.

“I figured I have until eight AM on Monday morning to have my last bit of fun before she ruins my reputation beyond repair, so…” she takes a deep breath, “Iwasgoingtoaskifyouwantedtohavesexwithme.”

JD stares at her, his mouth falling open slightly in surprise. She wants - she climbed in here to ask - fuck, this has to be a dream. In lieu of pinching himself, he discreetly jabs his fingernails into the soft flesh of his bare calf.

Holy shit. He’s awake. Veronica Sawyer really climbed through his window and just asked him if he wants to have sex with her.

“Me…” he chokes out, after struggling to make his voice work for an embarrassingly long moment (that really only lasted about ten seconds), “with… you?”

Veronica’s cheeks fade from pink to bright red, but she holds his gaze fiercely, almost as if she’s preparing for him to reject her. As if that was ever a possibility. Why would she even think that?

…Oh, right, he’s just staring at her without saying anything. JD clears his throat, feeling his cheeks flush with awe. “Yes.”

Veronica stares at him with those beautiful brown eyes. “Yes?” she repeats, a wide smile spreading across her face. JD nods, standing up and offering her a hand to pull her to her feet. She stumbles a little, but catches herself on his chest, her smile widening when his hands automatically find her waist and pull her closer.

“Yes,” he repeats. Her hands are irresistibly warm on his chest as she rises onto her tiptoes, and he realizes her eyes are starting to flutter closed - holy fuck, she’s going to kiss him. Veronica Sawyer is about to kiss him. She smells so good, something fruity and flowery and slightly spicy (cinnamon or nutmeg maybe?), fuck, he wants to be able to remember her scent every day for the rest of his life. He leans down, his own eyes slowly closing as their lips get closer and closer, and breathes her in deeply - then stops.

Alcohol. Under the sweet scent of her hair and the fresh perfume that clings to her skin and the slightly minty smell of her breath is a strong undertone of vodka and tequila, and a bitter hint of beer.

She’s drunk. Fuck, does she even know what she’s doing right now?

“Veronica?” JD says quietly, pulling away from her. Veronica’s eyes open, and he hates the hurt that briefly flashes across her face, but he can’t take it back. He needs to know.

“What?” she grumbles.

“How much alcohol did you drink tonight?” JD bites his lip, honestly scared of what the answer might be. “Just… you know where you are and who you’re talking to, right? I don’t want… if you’re just here because you’re wasted and pissed at Heather Chandler…” He takes a deep breath. He needs to know that this isn’t just some rebound fling, a drunken decision made out of spite, because he doesn’t think that he can do this if it means nothing to her when it means everything to him. Fuck, if they do do this and she wakes up tomorrow regretting it, he thinks that it might actually kill him. “I don’t want to take advantage of you,” he says quietly. “I don’t want to be that guy. How drunk are you right now?”

To his surprise, Veronica grins at him, her lovely eyes sparkling, and she stretches up on her tiptoes to whisper into his ear. “Just drunk enough to feel brave enough to ask for this,” she murmurs, and then presses a light kiss to his neck, making him shudder slightly. Her lips are warm and soft on his skin, slightly sticky with gloss, and the smell of her hair surrounds him, and god, his resolve is weakening rapidly.

“Not so drunk that I don’t know what I’m doing,” Veronica continues. She kisses his neck again, and once again he shudders, and this time his arms involuntarily tighten around her waist. “It’s mostly out of my system, I’m practically sober by now. I knew exactly what I was doing when I climbed in here.”

JD swallows slightly and pulls back again, leaning his forehead against hers. She’s so damn pretty. “Is this real?” he asks softly. He’s 99% certain it is, but he needs her to confirm it, needs to hear her say it, even if the thought of what her answer might be terrifies him. “I’m not hallucinating, right?”

Veronica grins dopily at that. “You’d hallucinate about me?”

“I don’t know how anyone couldn’t,” he tells her honestly. “You’re the coolest, weirdest, most incredible person I’ve ever met, and I’m not entirely sure that I didn’t overdo it with the slushies earlier and send myself into some bizarre sugar-induced delirium where you…” he chews his lip, but bites the bullet and admits it. “Where you want me the same way that I want you.”

At that, Veronica’s smile becomes almost painfully tender. “This is real,” she whispers. “I want you, for real. I’ve… I’ve wanted you since you first spoke to me in the cafeteria this afternoon.”

Oh.

She’s still talking. “I want you because every time we’ve spoken to each other, I’ve felt understood, like you actually fucking get me. I want you because of all the smart, snarky shit that comes out of your mouth every time you open it, and how you’ve made me smile more in the last twenty-four hours than I have in the last three goddamn weeks.”

Oh.

“Because everything about you has been unexpected, your fucking Baudelaire quote, your obsession with sugary ice water, hell, the fact that I climbed in here and practically threw myself at you and you stopped me to check that I'm sober enough to give informed consent.” Veronica takes a deep breath. “I want you because when I’m with my friends, it’s like Martha just wants to see the old Veronica, and the Heathers pretend they can’t see anything except the new Veronica, but you… it’s like you see all of me. The whole real Veronica Sawyer. The good parts and the awful parts, and you don’t want me to change any of it. I want you, Jason Dean,” she emphasizes, pressing closer to him and sliding her arms up his chest to drape them around his neck, “because you’re beautiful. You might be the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. And when you look at me… you make me feel beautiful.”

“You are beautiful.”

Veronica laughs, and it’s wild and happy and free, and he thinks that he likes this laugh way more than the demure giggle she’d used in the 7-Eleven. “God, you say shit like that and you’re still doubting that I want this with you?” she murmurs. He shrugs. She is beautiful, and he knows he’d regret not telling her that when life has, for some reason, given him the chance to. “It’s not because you’re convenient or… or new-and-exciting, or some other shallow popular girl bullshit. I know who you are and why I’m here and what I want to ask you for, Jason Dean.”

JD swallows again, and can’t help but glance from her eyes to her lips. “What do you want to ask me for?” he asks. His voice has suddenly gone all husky.

Veronica meets his gaze with a grin. Her eyes are darker than ever, her pupils dilated with desire. “I want to ride you ‘til I break you,” she breathes.

And that is the exact moment Jason Dean’s brain stops working, because all the blood that normally gets supplied to that part of his body has very suddenly plunged decidedly south.

“I want to not be able to walk tomorrow,” Veronica whispers. He just barely bites back a moan at that. “I want you to leave marks all over me, and I want you to pull my hair until it hurts, and I want you to fuck me until I forget everything else that’s happened tonight. I want to lock the rest of the world out and just be with you. I want to make this beautiful.”

He needs to kiss her. He thinks he might die if he doesn’t kiss her right now.

“That works for me,” JD whispers blissfully, and he’s not quite sure which one of them leaned in first, because suddenly her mouth is crammed against his and they’re kissing fiercely.

She tastes like cherry candy and mint, and the smell of her shampoo or perfume or whatever it is completely surrounds him, and if this is a dream - an incredibly realistic one where he can feel her warm wet mouth on his, her soft curves pressing against him with her arms flung around his neck as he tangles his fingers in her hair - then JD never wants to wake up again.

Friday 29th September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
The Deans’ house
Half-past seven-ish

JD curses under his breath when he gets within view of his house and sees that the lights are on. Dad’s home. He considers turning his bike around and heading over to the 7-Eleven to kill half an hour in the hope that Big Bud will head out to the nearest bar in the meantime, but by that point he’s already in the driveway and his father has surely heard the engine. Dammit.

He tries not to make too much noise as he parks up and pulls the cover over his bike (they have a garage, but it only fits one car), and treads quietly as he climbs the porch steps. It really varies what might set his father’s temper off on any given day: if the steps creak, it’ll be because JD is being too loud; if he closes the door too harshly, he’s risking the security deposit; and if he’s too quiet, he’s being any number of delightful slurs his father refuses to share a roof with.

(He blocks out the feeling that Bud might just be looking for an excuse to lose his temper at JD.)

JD enters the house and carefully closes the door behind him - not too hard, not too soft, just right, like he’s some kind of anthropomorphic teddy bear in a fucking fairy tale. One where Daddy Bear is sitting on the couch inhaling a can of cheap beer and staring at the TV, pretending to watch while it plays back the baseball highlights. Hardly what you’d call happily-ever-fucking-after. He tries to slip down the hall to his room, but he’s not fast enough.

“Gee, Pop,” Bud says coldly, not taking his eyes off the TV. “I didn’t realize you were going to be this late getting home today.”

“I…” JD swallows. His mouth is suddenly uncomfortably dry. “I was busy.” His father doesn’t respond. JD tries again. “Sorry, son, something came up after work.” He hates this stupid game his father makes him play. It was funny when they started it thirteen-odd years ago, but now it just serves as yet another reminder of how fucked up the Dean family is.

Bud’s still not looking at him, but JD knows he’s being scrutinized intently. “Some friends of mine could have used your help this afternoon.” So that’s what this is about: JD not being around to assist on unofficial deconstruction work. “Must have been a pretty big ‘something’ for you to be this late, Pop.”

From any other parent it would probably be teasing, maybe concerned. From Bud Dean, it feels like a threat. Bud sucks down the remainder of the beer and crushes the can in one hand, chucking it in the vague direction of the kitchen before he speaks again.

“Go on then, Pop. Don’t leave me hanging. Where the fuck were you?”

JD can feel the muscles in his jaw working furiously as he tries not to let his face screw up in miserable rage like that kid in Dairy Queen earlier. He desperately wants to shout back, to scream until his throat is raw, to tell his father what he really thinks of him, but he doesn’t dare. “I went for ice-cream. With my girlfriend,” he says quietly.

Bud Dean slowly gets up off the couch and turns around to face his son, his head slightly cocked to one side in a mockery of curiosity. “You went for ice-cream?”

JD nods, staring at the ground as his father’s footsteps get closer. “With my girlfriend. And then I took her to a movie.”

He’s expecting the shove, but he’s taken aback by the fact that it’s hard enough to make him stumble backwards into the wall. The next thing JD knows, he’s slid heavily down the wall onto the floor, new pain blossoming up his left wrist where he landed on it.

“You know, Pop,” Bud grins, “I hear some people bolt the door at night even if their kid isn’t home yet. Thanks for not being one of those parents.” And with that he swaggers out the door and slams it hard behind him. JD doesn’t move until he hears the roar of Bud’s pickup truck as it pulls out of the garage.

He gingerly gets to his feet and checks the wall for damage; Bud will be even angrier if their security deposit is put at risk. He purposefully doesn’t think about how fucked it is that he’s checking the wall for damage first, himself second. Luckily the plaster is unscathed; he wishes he could say the same for his wrist, though. It’s throbbing and red, certain to bruise, and there’s a raw patch of carpet burn on the palm of his hand below his thumb. JD bends it one way then the other, and immediately hisses at the sharp twinge that goes through it. That’s not a good sign.

He chucks his coat and his flannel into his bedroom then runs his wrist under the cold tap in the bathroom. That will have to do as far as first aid goes; he’s not sure they even own a first aid kit. Not for the first time, he wishes he could march into his father’s bedroom, grab the two stupid handguns that Bud probably loves more than JD, point them at the man’s head and pull the trigger. Stick him on a pile of his own fucking explosives, press the button, make him understand what it’s like to - to -

He manages to talk himself out of punching the wall only because risking injury to his other hand is too stupid even for his currently rage-lowered better judgment. The desire to turn the tables on his father is harder to push down, and he only manages it in the end by reminding himself that patricide = prison = no Veronica. The worst day with her around is guaranteed to be a billion times better than the best day without her.

Veronica. God, he misses her right now. What he’d give to have her here with him, sweetly kissing his sore wrist better, making him laugh as he grabs a pot of instant noodles and fills it with hot water, cupping his face in her hands and telling him “it’ll take a lot more than that to scare me away.”

He eats without really tasting anything, chucks the empty container into the garbage, and goes through the motions of getting ready for bed as quietly as possible, even though his father isn’t even in the neighborhood at the moment. JD debates riding back over to Veronica’s, climbing up to her window and asking her to make him forget everything but her, but his wrist isn’t cooperating enough that he feels he could safely drive his bike.

Funny how just a few weeks ago, he would have climbed on without a second thought, maybe even kind of hoping he’d crash and it would all be over.

Veronica makes him want to live.

He scuffs his boots off, chucks his socks in the laundry and leaves his jeans piled on the floor, then climbs into bed with his copy of Animal Farm, giving into the desire to leave the window cracked in the unrealistic hope that Veronica will turn up outside again.

You’ll see her tomorrow, he reminds himself desperately. You just have to make it to tomorrow.

It takes him far too long to fall asleep, wishing she was lying next to him, holding him and kissing him and playing with his hair while he listens to her heartbeat.

Saturday 30th September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
The Sawyers’ house
A little before two o’clock

JD takes a deep breath and rings the bell, then stands back from the dark polished wood front door. His feet are slightly aching from walking all day - first to the 7-Eleven in order to grab lunch and fulfill his promise to bring Jiffy Pop, then from there to Veronica’s house - as his wrist still isn’t functioning as well as he’d like it to. He nervously scuffs the toe of his boot against the stone porch; Veronica had said to come over around two o’clock, and it’s twenty-one minutes to two right now because he didn’t want to risk being late. If she hadn’t warned him about her crazy 911-happy neighbor, he might have waited another fifteen minutes to ring the doorbell.

He hears vague chatter from inside, then a moment later Veronica eagerly pulls open the door, beaming at the sight of JD standing on the porch. She flings her arms around him and hops up to enthusiastically kiss him in greeting, and JD relaxes a little as he slides an arm around her waist and kisses her back just as enthusiastically.

“Hi,” Veronica sighs happily when their lips part.

“Hey.” He bites his lip, still slightly worried. “I’m not too early, right? I didn’t want to risk being late, but if -”

“Oh, hush,” Veronica giggles. She takes his arm and pulls him into the house. “I said two-ish, didn’t I? And I’m definitely not complaining about getting to see you twenty minutes earlier than I thought I would.” She glances out into the street as she pulls the door shut. “Hey, where’d you park your bike?”

“Um. I walked over,” JD admits. Veronica blinks at him.

“That’s, like, over half an hour.”

He shrugs uncomfortably. “Just figured it was easier. And less likely to annoy your crazy neighbor.”

She clearly senses that there’s something more to it than that, but doesn’t push. “Fair enough, I guess. Hey, let me get your coat.”

JD hands her the popcorn and shrugs out of his trenchcoat, doing his best impression of casual, but Veronica’s sharp eyes clearly don’t miss the way he has to slide his left arm out of the sleeve far more gingerly than his right. She takes his coat and hands him back the popcorn, and glances worriedly at him as she hangs it up in the coat closet. “Is your wrist okay?”

JD smiles at her, uncomfortably aware that it doesn’t meet his eyes. “Just a little sore. I tripped up my porch steps last night, that’s all.”

“What?” Veronica closes the closet door and rushes back over to him. “Let me see.”

“Really, Veronica, I’m fine -” he starts, but she’s already gently pushing his sleeve back. His wrist, far from being fine, has developed from red and raw to being bruised and slightly puffy, and Veronica lets out a worried gasp. He winces; normally lying comes to him as naturally as breathing, but lying to Veronica feels… wrong.

“God. Did you catch yourself on it?”

JD can’t help but exhale a little in relief when she says that, even though a pit has formed in his stomach from the lie. “Yeah. Full weight on it. Not fun.” He pulls his hand out of hers and slips his arm over her shoulders. “Really, darling. I’m fine. Promise.”

Veronica turns her head to gently peck a kiss onto the side of his hand with a little sigh, but acquiesces to his wishes and drops the subject. “So, I told my parents about us last night.”

“Oh.” JD nervously starts chewing his lower lip again. “What’d they say?”

Veronica giggles slightly. “Relax, would you? They’re actually happy for me, believe it or not, because I’m happy. Mostly I think they’re relieved that I have a part of my social life that doesn’t involve Heather Chandler.” JD lets out a little chuckle at that, and Veronica nudges him gently. “I should warn you, though, my mom is super excited to meet you, so prepare yourself.”

Oh. So Meeting Parents is going to be part of this date, even if it’s not the focus. Okay. He can meet parents. Probably. He thinks. It’s never really come up before. JD takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, embarrassingly aware that his eyebrows have involuntarily shot up in surprise. “No problemo,” he mutters, and takes another deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.”

They head into the main room, where a woman who can only be Veronica’s mother is currently loading an indignant JFK into his pet carrier. She has the same dark brown hair, albeit slightly streaked with dark gray and set in a Diana haircut, and the same narrow face and big dark brown eyes. She has a snub nose, though; Veronica must have inherited her own straight nose from her father. Mrs Sawyer looks up when they enter, and offers JD a friendly smile. She wears pince-nez glasses on a silver chain, and even though as far as he knows Veronica doesn’t need glasses, there’s something familiar about the slight quirkiness of choosing a pince-nez over regular spectacles.

“JD, this is my mom,” Veronica says, sounding both nervous and excited. “Mom, this is JD. My boyfriend.”

Mrs Sawyer closes the latch on the pet carrier, doing a spectacular job of ignoring JFK’s pitiful wails from inside. She straightens up and dusts her hands off on her skirt, hurrying forward to offer JD a handshake. “Hi, Jay-JD? It’s nice to meet you. Ronnie was absolutely gushing about you last night.”

“Mom!” Veronica hisses, turning slightly pink. Suddenly feeling far less nervous (and, if he’s honest, thoroughly amused), JD grins and hands Veronica the popcorn so he can shake her mom’s hand.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs Sawyer,” he says, offering her his second most charming smile (his most charming one is reserved for Veronica). “And that must be the infamous John Fitzgerald Kittendy in the pet carrier there.”

Mrs Sawyer chuckles. “You’ll have to meet him some other time, I’m afraid.” Clearly Veronica left out the part where this isn’t his first time at their house. Mrs Sawyer leans in conspiratorially. “He’s on his way to the V-E-T.” She glances at the little silver timepiece hanging on a chain around her neck - the kind that looks like it might be vintage 1940s. JD's grandmother used to wear one of those. “Ah, in fact I’m going to have to leave with him now if we want to get there in time. Too bad, I won’t be able to dig out any photo albums with pictures of Ronnie in kindergarten today.”

Veronica’s cheeks blaze, and she fixes her mother with a stern glare. “You promised there would be no photo albums!”

“Of baby photos, sweetie. You didn’t say anything about kindergarten.” Mrs Sawyer winks at JD, who laughs, unexpectedly liking her.

“Aah, babe, if I’d known there were kindergarten photos available I would have come by earlier,” he teases Veronica, who leans her head on his shoulder and mutters something that sounds like “Dick,” under her breath.

“Veronica Rosalind Sawyer, I heard that,” Mrs Sawyer says sharply as she picks up the pet carrier. She grabs her coat from where it’s slung over the back of an armchair in preparation. “Sorry to rush off like this, JD. You’ll need to come over for dinner at some point so we can chat properly.” She walks like Veronica too, legs clipping towards the stairs that must lead down to their garage at a pace so fast it almost seems like she would trip over herself if she went any slower. She waves over her shoulder at them, only turning back to call, “Remember, Veronica! The door stays open if you go upstairs!”

“God,” Veronica groans as soon as they hear the sound of the door into the garage closing. “She promised not to be embarrassing and everything, I don’t know why I believed her.”

JD squeezes her shoulder fondly. “Your mom is nice,” he says honestly. “I like her.” Veronica deserves nice parents like that. He knew they had to be nice, to have raised someone so lovely.

Veronica’s pretty face emerges from its hiding place against his shoulder. “So you’re not going to run for the hills?” she asks hopefully.

And JD has to laugh, really, he does. After his last interaction with his own father, Mrs Sawyer’s friendliness and politeness and clear care for her daughter make his heart ache a little. He’s a little jealous, to be honest, but he doesn’t resent Veronica for it. She deserves it.

“No plans to run for the hills any time soon,” he reassures her. Veronica looks adorably relieved, and he leans in to steal a quick kiss, loving the way she chases his lips a little when he pulls away. “Come on,” he tells her as her eyes slowly flutter open. “Let’s go pop some popcorn. You promised me himbo Captain Hastings.”

Veronica laughs and leads him through to the kitchen. “That I did.”

Once their popcorn is made, they seat themselves on the couch opposite the TV, Veronica curled up against him with his arm around her and the popcorn in his lap. Veronica presses play on the remote - she had the tape already set up before he arrived - and kisses his cheek.

“Okay. Prepare for the best detective show ever.”

JD raises an eyebrow at the excessive special effects used in the opening credits, set to what seems to be an ‘80s take on ‘20s jazz music. “What’s with the rotating graphic of David Suchet’s head?”

Veronica giggles. “Do you think you could play the opening theme on your saxophone?”

Probably, but you’d never take me seriously again. “What story is it?”

“The Adventure of the Clapham Cook.”

JD racks his memory for the plot of that one. “Huh. There’s a big old-fashioned luggage-box thingy involved, isn’t there? But I can’t remember the plot twist.”

“Good.” Veronica grins at him and cuddles closer. “Stop trying to guess the ending all the time. It didn’t work with The Witches of Eastwick and it didn’t work with Sea of Love. Just watch and be amazed.”

The episode opens on a man with wide, anxious eyes urgently tying a rope around the luggage-box thingy in question, and JD nudges Veronica. “There’s definitely a body in that thing,” he mutters teasingly.

Veronica rolls her eyes and throws a kernel of popcorn at him. JD smugly catches it in his mouth. “Show-off,” she mutters, smiling. “Sshhh, we’ll find out what’s in it. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Captain Hastings hasn’t even said one ‘Good Lord!’ yet.”

Saturday 30th September, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
The Sawyers’ living room
A little after 5pm

“God, you’re so right. Captain Hastings is a himbo. That’s the word for him.”

“Told you.”

They’re three episodes in (including one based on his favorite of the shorter stories, Murder in the Mews) and the popcorn is long gone. One of Veronica’s hands has made its way up JD’s back and her fingers are gently stroking the short hairs on the back of his neck, making him shiver a little. She uncurls from next to him, causing him to let out a little whine of protest, but it’s only so she can move the empty popcorn bowl onto the coffee table, and when she returns to his side she reaches over to take his left hand in her right one, entwining their fingers together and gently stroking her thumb against the side of his hand. It feels amazing, and JD goes to move his hand from his side into his lap so he can mirror her movements, but then his swollen wrist twinges horribly, and he lets out an involuntary yelp. Veronica’s head turns sharply, and she grabs the remote and pauses the TV in the middle of the opening credits for the next episode.

“Your wrist’s worse than you’re letting on,” she says, “isn’t it.” It isn’t a question. JD bites his lip and shrugs.

“I just… It just twinged a bit, that’s all,” he says feebly. Veronica frowns and gets up, leaving him feeling suddenly cold.

“Stay there.”

She vanishes into the kitchen, and JD fights the urge to fold in on himself. Has she figured out he lied about the origin of the injury? Is she mad at him? Where’s she going?

Veronica reappears a moment later, holding a blue box with a white lid. She sets it down on the coffee table as she sits next to him, and he sees the bright red writing across the top:

FIRST AID KIT

“Veronica, you don’t have to -”

Veronica places a finger against his lips. “Will you stop protesting and let me take care of you? Come on, humor me.”

He obediently shuts up, and watches with wide eyes as she carefully rolls the sleeve of his flannel up to his elbow, then opens the box and takes out a tube of Arnica cream and a roll of Ace bandage. Veronica squeezes a blob of the Arnica cream onto her finger and takes her time delicately rubbing it over the worst of the bruising, then carefully wraps the bandage around his wrist and hand, so tenderly it makes his heart ache a little, and secures it with the little metal clip. When it’s in place, she delicately brings his hand up to her mouth so she can gently kiss it.

“There,” she smiles, satisfied. “All better.”

She gets up and grabs the first aid kit, heading back into the kitchen to put it away. When she returns, she pulls him against her, her hand sneaking back up to its previous position stroking his neck again. JD leans his head on her shoulder, feeling slightly embarrassed at how safe he feels cuddled against her. A lock of her hair is tickling his cheek slightly, but he doesn’t mind: it’s soft and sweet-smelling and mixes with her fruity perfume, creating a new scent that’s uniquely Veronica. It never fails to take him back to the first night they were together, the night that changed everything.

I love you, he wants to say, meaning it. I love you so much already, Veronica Sawyer. I love you more than I thought I would ever love anyone.

“Thanks,” he murmurs instead. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Veronica presses play on the remote and turns her head to gently kiss his hair. “Silly boy,” she mutters fondly. “Yes, I did. I care about you, y’know?”

He does.

I don't know how you were diverted -
You were perverted too!
I don't know how you were inverted -
No one alerted you…
I look at you all, see the love there that's sleeping,
While my guitar gently weeps…
Look at you all…
Still my guitar gently weeps!

Chapter End Notes

> In the next chapter, Martha is insecure, and all too easy for Heather Chandler to manipulate for her own vengeful reasons.

> “I did… I kind of, well, I asked her if JD pressured her into it, and she got a bit defensive and annoyed, but I just… Whenever we talked about, you know, who we wanted to give it to, Veronica always said she wanted to be sure it was the right guy. And, like, he only asked her out the day before, so…”
> “Thanks for listening, anyway, Martha. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one worried about her. Ha, maybe we’re right, or maybe we’re panicking for no reason. I hope we are. Too bad we can’t see inside Veronica’s head, read her thoughts and know what she’s thinking or something, huh? Well, see ya!”

## Chapter 17: Teen Idle

Chapter Summary

> Martha is lonely and confused in the aftermath of Ram's party, and is an easy target for Heather Chandler's manipulation... Meanwhile Veronica and JD are planning a night together, and Veronica is thinking of taking the opportunity to make a serious step forward in their relationship...

Chapter Notes

> Hello beloved readers!! As promised last week, angst galore!! ;)

> A note on Martha's behaviour in this chapter: remember in canon, Martha straight up tells Veronica to her face, 'I think your boyfriend is a murderer' based on the note Veronica forged in Act One. Even though she was right, imagine if she'd been wrong? One of my favourite things to do with characters is not to add flaws, but to stretch their good qualities so far that they become flaws ;)

> As always, thank you so much for your comments and kudos!! I suck at replying but they do make me want to keep writing <3 Enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

I wanna be a bottle blonde;
I don’t know why, but I feel conned!
I wanna be an idle teen -
I wish I hadn’t been so clean!
I wanna stay inside all day,
I want the world to go away!
I want blood, guts, and chocolate cake -
I wanna be a real fake…

- MARINA, Teen Idle

Monday 2nd October, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
Westerburg High School library
A little after the final bell

Martha Dunnstock is lonely.

She’s not sure what’s going on. Ram invited her to his party - she has the note pinned on the corkboard above the desk in her bedroom as proof - but he barely spoke to her during it, and hasn’t even looked at her in the week since. And Veronica said she would explain everything that happened - the scuffle while Martha was blindfolded, the shouting, the splash and subsequent conspicuous lack of a Razorback piñata - but she hasn’t explained a thing.

In fact, she’s barely spoken to Martha since she started going out with her new boyfriend.

Jason Dean. New kid. Cool guy nickname, ‘JD’. He didn’t say anything in their shared American History class for three weeks, then got into a fight with Ram and Kurt the Friday before the party and won it. Martha has no idea why the fight didn’t terrify Veronica the way it terrified her. Ram and Kurt are the pride of the Rottweilers’ football team, yet JD took both of them down seemingly without breaking a sweat. And then he asked Veronica out after the fight, and their date apparently went so well that Veronica went all the way with him afterwards? No, something feels off about the whole thing.

But… they seem happy when she sees them together around school. Veronica lights up when JD puts his arm around her, and JD actually smiles when Veronica’s near him - Martha didn’t think he was capable of smiling before now. She accidentally walked in on them kissing at the back of the library earlier today during break, and the part that she felt the most awkward about seeing wasn’t the kissing itself, but the tender way they were looking at each other when they stopped. Like the world could implode around them and they wouldn’t care, as long as they were together.

If Martha’s honest with herself, there are a lot of confusing feelings bubbling up that she isn’t used to. She knows she should be happy for Veronica, but she’s… struggling to be. She’s worried. Worried that Veronica only said yes to JD because after seeing the fight she was scared of what might happen if she didn’t. And a little hurt too that Veronica only told her about JD the Monday afterwards, and only gave her the most basic of details. Martha would be on the phone to Veronica immediately if a boy so much as talked to her.

Everything changed once already, after Betty fell out with Veronica and decided she wasn’t going to Westerburg with them. Martha hoped that Veronica being friends with the Heathers wouldn’t change things a second time, but…

She misses Veronica. She misses the way things used to be.

“Hey, cool if I sit here?”

Martha looks up, and her jaw drops. Heather Chandler is standing in front of her table in the school library, all stylish red blazer and perfect makeup and glossy blonde curls, smiling her widest one–million-megawatt never-needed-braces smile at Martha. Heather tilts her head, still smiling.

“Earth to Martha,” she says sweetly. “Cool if I sit here?”

Martha nods, dumbstruck. She knows Heather Chandler’s reputation, knows Heather has laughed at her and called her ‘Martha Dumptruck’ and cheered on Kurt Kelly whenever he comes up with a new cruel thing to try and make Martha cry, but… she’s Heather Chandler. Martha is still slightly starstruck by her, like she’s a rockstar. A rockstar who’s asking to sit at Martha’s table in the library.

“Thanks,” Heather smiles, sitting down. “Real very of you.”

Martha searches for the hidden insult, the joke, the ‘I know something you don’t’, but there… there doesn’t seem to be one. She glances around the library - there are free tables, Heather could have sat at any one of them, yet she’s choosing to sit next to Martha. She chose Martha to whack apart the mascot at Ram’s party too.

…Is it insane to think that maybe Martha’s wish that the Heathers would be nicer has come true?

Heather hums quietly and taps her perfectly painted scarlet nails on the table. Martha glances at them, a little envious. Whenever she paints her own nails, they always wind up a little lumpy, and they chip in no time. Heather’s nails never chip. Heather glances around, before smiling at Martha again.

“Hey, listen,” she says charmingly. “I’m real glad I ran into you here, Martha. I was hoping to talk to you about something.”

“Oh,” Martha manages. Heather nods.

“Look… we’re both friends with Veronica, right?”

Martha nods. “Yeah,” she stammers. “Yeah, best friends.”

“Best friends,” Heather smiles. She tilts her head again. “Hey, from one best friend to another, can I confess something?” Martha merely nods, not sure she can control the volume of her voice right now. Heather leans in conspiratorially. “I’m a little worried about her. Veronica, I mean. I just… I guess I just wanted your opinion.”

“Anything!” Martha squeaks, a little too loud. She feels her cheeks flush red, and clears her throat and lowers her voice as best she can. “I mean, if it’s for Veronica…”

Heather Chandler beams, and Martha knows she was right to believe the best of people. It’s not true what everyone says about Heather, that she’s a Mythic Bitch. She cares about her friends, including Veronica, and that endears her to Martha to no end.

“Look, just… am I being silly?” Heather sighs. She does look worried. “Ever since Veronica started going out with this JD kid, she hasn’t been… available for hanging out. She’s always preoccupied with him. And, I mean, I was… surprised she agreed to go out with him, I had no idea she liked him! And don’t get me wrong, I would so have encouraged her if I had known, she’s my friend and I want her to be happy, but… I don’t know, it just… felt a little unexpected, I guess.” Martha nods; she feels comforted by the fact that she’s not alone in her worry about Veronica’s new paramour. “And then…” Heather sighs. “Look, I read this article in Cosmo. About watching for signs of abuse. And it said that one of the potential signs is isolating someone from their support circle. You know, their friends. And I just… I can’t help but worry…”

Martha stares at Heather, eyes huge. “You think…” she whispers, “you think he might be abusing her?”

“Silly, right?” Heather laughs sadly. “I might just be paranoid, I don’t know. But… you’re so close to Veronica, I just… I wanted to check if I’m just imagining things. I mean, if she’s been hanging out with you, then I know it’s a her problem and not a him problem. Right?”

Martha bites her lip. “Veronica hasn’t really talked to me a lot lately,” she confesses. “I mean, I thought at first she was just annoyed because I asked her if she gave JD her ‘flower’. She doesn’t like when I call it that.”

Heather tuts sympathetically and pats Martha’s arm. “Oh, don’t listen to her. I think that’s just adorable. Don’t let anyone tell you what slang is and isn't okay to use.”

“That was a week ago, though,” Martha continues, a little starstruck by the vindication. “And she’s still not really talking to me. I did… I kind of, well, I asked her if JD pressured her into it, and she got a bit defensive and annoyed, but I just… Whenever we talked about, you know, who we wanted to give it to, Veronica always said she wanted to be sure it was the right guy. And, like, he only asked her out the day before, so…”

Heather sighs and nods. “Thanks for listening, anyway, Martha,” she says, getting slowly to her feet. “It’s nice to know I’m not the only one worried about her. Ha, maybe we’re right, or maybe we’re panicking for no reason. I hope we are.” She hooks her stylish red leather handbag over her shoulder and glances back at Martha. “Too bad we can’t see inside Veronica’s head, read her thoughts and know what she’s thinking or something, huh?” She smiles with closed lips, all perfect red lipstick and rosy cheeks. “Well, see ya!”

Martha gazes after Heather Chandler long after she’s gone, not really seeing anything. The cogs in her head are turning. It’s a horrible thing to do, and she knows she shouldn’t, but if Veronica’s being coerced, it might be the proof they need to help her leave.

The thing is, Martha knows there is a way to see inside Veronica’s head and know what she’s thinking. A way to literally read her thoughts.

Veronica’s been writing them down every day since she was old enough to hold a crayon.

Friday 13th October, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
Westerburg High girls’ bathroom
Nearly the end of lunch hour

The thing is, once the idea has taken root in Martha’s head, it’s there to stay. She can’t stop thinking about it. If she could just get proof…

But reading Veronica’s diary crosses a line. She doesn’t think she’s wrong to believe Heather Chandler’s theory, but if she’s right… Would that make the proof worth it?

She saw them, JD and Veronica, at the arcade last Friday night. Martha had been doing her best to free a new Troll doll from the claw machine for her collection, and they’d walked in, JD’s arm over Veronica’s shoulders, completely oblivious to anyone else in their seemingly happy little world. JD had been involved in some scuffle with Kurt Kelly in the locker room that day apparently, allegedly Kurt trying to get revenge for the first fight - at least that’s what everyone was saying - and Veronica had seemed even more starry-eyed around him than usual. They’d stopped at one of those Big Buck Deer Hunter games, the kind with the fake gun (far too violent for her own tastes) and against her will, Martha had walked past them and stopped to retie her shoelace, listening intently to their conversation.

“Oh my god, you do suck at this game.” That was JD. Was this proof?

“Shut up, I told you.” Veronica. But she was laughing. JD had chuckled too, low in his throat.

“Let me show you how you’re supposed to do it.”

Martha had glanced up at them, the bunny halfway around the tree at this point. JD hadn’t, as she’d expected, taken over the game, but instead wrapped his arms around Veronica, his hands over hers, helping her aim.

“And… now.”

Veronica had laughed giddily, and Martha had glanced at them one more time and felt indecent: the way Veronica had looked up at JD, all big eyes and glowing smile, clearly wasn’t for anyone else to see, especially when he leaned down, wearing the same kind of smile as he looked at her, and gently brushed the tip of his nose against hers. “My hero,” Veronica had murmured, and if Martha wasn’t much mistaken, JD had actually blushed.

That was nearly a week ago, now. And it’s been nearly two weeks since Heather Chandler confided in Martha. Now she’s hiding out in a bathroom cubicle post-lunch, mulling it over in her mind, unsure if she’s trying to talk herself out of it or into it.

The door creaks open, and two sets of footsteps enter the bathroom. One person is wearing sneakers that squeak on the floor, while the other person is wearing something clunkier. Oxfords? Maybe? Martha tucks her feet up onto the seat so whoever it is won’t see her if they check under the doors.

“Okay, so, update me!” Martha thinks that might be Heather McNamara, the head cheerleader. Her bubbly high-pitched voice is hard to ignore. “You and Tall-Dark-and-Psycho seem to be getting pretty hot and heavy, I wanna know everything!”

“Heather!” the other girl hisses, and Martha freezes. It’s Veronica. “There’s someone in here!”

Heather’s sneakers squeak over to Martha’s cubicle, and Martha holds her breath, but then they squeak away again. It’s not like Westerburg’s royalty to wear shoes that sound like that, but all the pep squad members have been wearing their uniforms all day in preparation for tonight’s pep rally. “Relax,” Heather says. “There’s no one in there. I bet it’s locked for cleaning, or ‘cause the flush stopped working or something. So?”

Veronica giggles. “Okay,” she says, and again, Martha feels that little stab of hurt, that Veronica has barely told her anything, but hardly needs persuasion to confess to Heather McNamara. “So, um, we kind of… the other day we tried doing it with him, like… behind me. ”

Heather McNamara wolf-whistles, and Veronica laughs.

“Don’t get excited, we were there for about one minute and we both decided we didn’t like it like that.”

“How come?” Heather sounds disappointed, and Veronica giggles again.

“I like being able to kiss him,” she confesses, “and… he said he likes being able to see my face.”

Heather squeals and claps. “Oh my god, that’s so cute!”

Martha can hear the smile in Veronica’s voice. “He’s honestly… it surprised me how sweet he can be sometimes.” She lowers her voice a little, and Martha can picture her leaning in conspiratorially, the way she used to when they would tell each other secrets at sleepovers. “Normally we go out on Fridays, but his dad’s working over in Gary this weekend so he said we could go to his place and, um, have a ‘study sleepover’.”

Heather positively cackles. “Oh my god, is he going to help you with your ‘biology’?”

Veronica laughs loudly, and Martha knows she’s clutching Heather’s arm in mirth, the way she always used to do when Martha would reference some in-joke between them. She can’t help but feel hopelessly jealous.

“Is it cool that I told my mom that I’m going to yours tonight?”

Heather giggles. “If anyone asks, you were with me all night.”

“Lifesaver!” They both giggle again, squealing a little.

“Oh, well,” Heather says after a moment, “you two have to come to my Halloween party in two weeks.”

“Really?” Veronica sounds incredulous.

“Yuh- huh! Come on, Veronica, it’s gonna be really very! Kurt and I are doing a couples costume, he’s going to be the Mad Hatter and I’m going as the March Hare. That’s like a bunny, right?”

“It is. I dunno, Heather, you know JD doesn’t exactly get along with Kurt and Ram…”

“They can’t fight at a party,” Heather says impatiently. “Oh, come on, Veronica, it’ll be fun! Please? Pleeeease?”

Veronica sighs. “I’ll talk to him about it.”

Heather’s squeal is drowned out by the bell ringing for the end of lunch, and Martha hears her and Veronica leave the bathroom, still giggling together. She slowly puts her feet back down and stands up, and cautiously emerges from the cubicle. She washes her hands carefully, finding it difficult to meet her own reflection’s eye in the mirror.

There’s evidence pointing one way, that Veronica’s relationship with JD is perfectly healthy and she’s not talking to Martha and Heather Chandler for unrelated reasons, and other evidence pointing the other way, that JD is slowly isolating Veronica from her friends so she’ll have no one to turn to when he starts tearing her down. And the selfish thing is, the more evidence there is pointing to the first option, the more Martha realizes she kind of wants it to be the second one.

I have to do it, she decides. I have to know. Reading Veronica’s diary is possibly the worst thing she’ll ever do, morally, but… she just has to keep telling - no, reminding herself that it’s for Veronica’s own good. I don’t want her to get hurt, and if this stops her from getting hurt… it’s worth it.

She’ll go right after school today, while Veronica’s at JD’s house. She’ll have to take a different bus than usual, but Jim the driver will hopefully assume she’s staying late for the pep rally. And she’ll tell Auntie Sarah that she’s there to pick up some Physics notes that Veronica said she’d give her. The thought of all that lying makes her stomach twist, but her mind is made up.

It’s what any good friend would do.

Right?

Friday 13th October, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
The 7-Eleven on the corner of Oak and Crimson
About ten minutes after school let out

“When was the first time you realized you liked me?”

“Huh?” JD looks up at Veronica from where he’s busy filling their cups with slush (cherry for her, blue raspberry for himself). Veronica giggles and reaches up to push back his hair from where it’s flopping into his face.

“I’m just curious. Today’s the three-week-iversary of you asking me out. When was the first time you realized you liked me?”

JD finishes filling her cup and passes it to her so she can grab a lid and a straw. He chuckles, eyes wide and awed. “Three weeks. Huh. Feels like longer.”

“Longer?”

“I feel like I’ve known you a lot longer than three weeks. Do you ever feel like that?”

Veronica feels her cheeks warm, and she smiles shyly. “Yeah. I know what you mean. Sometimes I feel like… like we were always meant to find each other.” JD tenderly cups her cheek in one hand, and Veronica laughs and flinches away. “Cold!”

“Ah.” JD chuckles, glancing from his hand to the Slurpee cup he’s just finished filling. “Sorry.” He makes a little considering noise, grabbing a lid and a straw for himself. “To answer your question, I… I don’t know. I mean, y’know, I thought you were pretty since the first time I saw you.” He tilts his head to one side in thought, then shoots her the cheeky smirk that never fails to make her blush and giggle. “I guess I knew it was more than just thinking you were pretty when you recognized that stupid Baudelaire quote. I just kind of knew then that you were, y’know… different. Special. I couldn’t figure you out, and it was like…” He shrugs. His cheeks are adorably pink. “I wanted to know… you.”

Veronica squeezes his free hand, beaming. She feels special when she’s with JD. Since he suggested she come over this weekend, she’s been very seriously considering using the occasion to tell him the three words that she can’t stop thinking about him.

I love you. I love you, JD. I, Veronica Rosalind Sawyer, am in love with you, Jason Ulysses Dean.

She’d badgered him into telling her what the ‘U’ stood for after catching sight of his driver’s license. It was kind of adorable, how embarrassed he was to admit it, but she maintains that they’re on equal grounds now, since he learned her middle name when her mother was telling her off for swearing. But even though she’s embarrassed about how he found out, she’s not embarrassed about him knowing. Silly as it might sound, she wants him to know trivial things like that about her.

She loves him.

They pay for their slushies and head out to the parking lot to drink them while leaning against his motorcycle, free hands laced together tightly. It might not be the kind of date that gets fantasized about in movies and pulp romance novels and that awful cheesy muzak that always plays in department stores around Valentines Day, but it makes Veronica feel like her chest is too tight for her heart, or like her feet are about to leave the ground so she can float around like a cartoon Cupid.

“When did you realize?” JD asks her after a moment. Veronica considers it before glancing up at him with an embarrassed smile.

“It was actually when… when I said that I didn’t catch your name, and you said that you didn’t throw it.” JD chuckles, and she strokes her thumb against the back of his hand. “It was the first time a guy had ever flirted with me and not been, like, gross about it. I dunno, I just thought, ‘I want to know his name. And make him look at me like that again. And maybe also kiss or hold hands or something.’”

“Well,” JD says, and she can hear the smile in his voice, “we’re holding hands…”

Veronica looks up at JD, and blushes at the soft look in his eyes. Her eyelids automatically flutter closed when he leans down to kiss her, and the taste of their slushies mingles with her lip gloss exactly the way she hoped it would.

“What about the ‘or something’?” she murmurs. JD brushes his lips against hers one more time.

“We can get to that later.” He grins suggestively at her, making her blush more than ever. “After all, we have my house to ourselves all night.”

A little thrill goes through Veronica at the thought. Although they manage to snag their fair share of alone-time after school most days, this is the first time since their first weekend together when they’ve been able to spend the whole night together. She squeals when JD drops her hand to slide his arm around her waist, then pulls her in and presses his cold lips to her neck.

“We could be naked the entire time,” he murmurs wickedly. Veronica giggles and puts on her best fake-seductive voice.

“Even when you answer the door to the takeout delivery guy?”

JD drops her waist and wrinkles his nose. “And there, ladies and gentlemen, is a perfect example of Instant Mood Killer,” he pouts. Veronica openly laughs at his expression of distaste.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll be over it by the time your cheek warms up again.”

JD stares at her in confusion. “What do you -?” he starts, then splutters indignantly when she shifts her Slurpee into her other hand and presses her freezing palm against his cheek. Even as he squirms away from the cold, Veronica manages to hold it there for exactly six and a half seconds, at which point she starts laughing so hard her knees buckle. JD promptly takes revenge by shoving his own frozen hand down the neck of her sweater, making her squeal and swat at him - to which he grins and pulls her back in for another long kiss.

When they finish their drinks (and after making out a little too, his hands slipping under her jacket and hers under his coat less out of hormones and more to thaw out a bit), Veronica manages to persuade JD to swing by her own house first so she can run in to drop off her school stuff and grab her overnight bag. Since her parents are under the impression she’s going to Heather McNamara’s tonight, the plan is for JD to wait down the street for her. Heather’s neighborhood is only about a twenty minute walk away from Veronica’s house, so her parents won’t question her not needing a lift.

When they pull up in front of her house (or, well, technically in front of Mrs Chapman’s house. Her parents still don’t know about the motorcycle. She loves them dearly, but Christ can they be oblivious), Veronica hops off the back of JD’s bike and hands him her helmet, then blows him a kiss with a wink. JD mimes catching it, grinning widely, then takes off down the street to wait for her - out of view of the Hopkins’ house. Veronica skips up her garden path and lets herself in, poking her head into the kitchen to wave at her mother.

“Just grabbing my bag before I go to Heather’s!” she calls. Sarah Sawyer looks up from where she’s laying out a tray of patê and crackers.

“Oh, Veronica, I couldn’t find those physics notes for -”

Veronica’s already halfway up the stairs by that point and misses the end of the sentence, hurrying down the hall to her room. Her bag is already packed and ready to go, so she just has to leave her homework on her desk and retrieve her keys and wallet from the purse she usually takes to school. Veronica pushes open the door to her room - and stops dead.

Martha Dunnstock stares back at her like a deer in headlights, standing next to Veronica’s desk with a familiar black notebook open in her hands.

“Martha?” Veronica whispers after what feels like an age. Martha’s hands are shaking.

“You wrote that note?” she whispers. “The one from Ram inviting me to his homecoming party? You wrote it?”

Veronica feels her whole body shaking, out of shock or rage or heartbreak or all three, she’s not sure. “You… you - you read my diary?” she croaks.

“I can’t believe -” Martha gasps out a little sob. “I can’t believe you did that. Veronica, you were my best friend - we’ve been best friends for nearly seventeen years.”

“You read my diary.” Veronica feels angry, humiliated tears starting to pool in her eyes. “You actually - I put it under my pillow this morning. It wasn’t lying out, it was closed - oh my god. You went through my room looking for it!”

Martha’s tears are already pouring down her cheeks. She’s always cried more easily than Veronica. “I can’t believe you would tell the Heathers how I feel about Ram! That was a secret, Veronica! It was between you and me!”

“I didn’t tell them that!” Veronica shouts back at her. “I tried to talk them out of it! I didn’t know they were going to give that stupid note to you when I wrote it!”

“You still wrote it!” Martha’s voice cracks a little. “Oh my god, no wonder Heather Chandler thinks you’re acting weird! The Veronica Sawyer I know would never -”

“What?” Veronica says sharply, her incredulity enough to overpower her anger for the moment. “Where does Heather Chandler even come into it?”

“She was-was wo-worried about you,” Martha sniffles. “You’ve -” she hiccups - “you’ve been acting really weird since you started g-going out with J-Jay-JD. She t-told me she was worried that he-he was co-coercing you b-because you were af-af-afraid of what he might-might do if you said-said-said no.”

“Was she fuck!” Veronica gasps. She snatches the diary back and hugs it protectively against her chest. “JD has been nothing but polite to you, but one little word from Heather fucking Chandler has you convinced he’s, what, abusing me or something? Well, guess what! Heather Chandler is pissed at me because I stopped her from screwing with you even worse, did you get that far?!” Martha flinches, but Veronica’s tears have finally started to fall, and her anger is overpowering any desire to apologize for the note prank. “Yeah. She picked you to smash apart that fucking piñata because Heather Duke had dressed it up in the same sweater you were wearing and hung a sign around its neck with that awful fucking nickname Kurt Kelly came up with, and I snatched it off her and threw it in the pool because I was fucking sick of seeing my best friend getting picked on for just fucking existing! After you left, she started screaming at me about how my social life was gonna be over, and then I puked on her shoes and told her to lick it up. Because I decided, hey, being popular isn’t fucking worth it if I have to watch her do shit like that to you! My best friend! You were my best friend! And you fucking read my diary!”

“I -“ Martha’s voice breaks off into a sob. “I was worried about you, Veronica!”

Veronica screws up her eyes against the tears. Fuck, she hates crying. “Well, you’ve got a funny way of showing it. What I write in my diary is personal, Martha! And you read it.” Against her will, her voice cracks. “You went behind my back and read it.”

Martha is still sobbing loudly. In contrast to Veronica, she’s a noisy crier, never self-conscious about wearing her emotions boldly on her face. “If I was your best friend, how could you tell Heather and Heather and Heather ab-about - about me liking Ram?! That was private, Veronica, you know that was p-p-private!”

“You’d know about ‘private’, wouldn’t you?” Veronica snarls, holding up her diary. Martha flinches back as if Veronica’s struck her. “I didn’t tell them. I didn’t have to, they already knew!” That vicious streak that Veronica is always trying to keep down, the one that allowed her to make it with the Heathers for three weeks, is rearing its ugly head. She doesn’t mean the words that come pouring out, but in that moment she wants to lash out and cause hurt, as if doing so will soothe her own heartbreak at Martha’s betrayal. “Maybe they wouldn’t have known if you didn’t always act so weird about him!”

She slaps her hand over her mouth, wanting to take the words back as soon as they’re out, but it’s too late. Martha lets out a little squeak and claps her hands over her mouth too. She screws up her eyes, sobbing noisily, and dashes for the door, pushing past Veronica without looking at her. Veronica hears the front door slam behind Martha, and buries her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with her own repressed sobs.

“Veronica?” her mom’s voice calls up the stairs. “Was that Martha leaving? Did she get the physics notes?”

What the fuck is she supposed to say? Veronica doesn’t think she can bear to admit the truth and see the disappointment in her mom’s eyes. She needs to talk to someone who isn’t going to judge her for her part in it, someone who she’s certain will let her cry it out instead of pushing her to jump straight to talking it through.

JD. I need to talk to JD.

“Yeah,” Veronica calls back to her mom, realizing she still hasn’t answered the question, trying not to sound like she’s been crying. She’s still cradling her diary like it’s a small injured animal. “Yeah, she got… she got what she came by for.” She dumps her purse on her desk and shoves her wallet and keys into the overnight bag she packed this morning, and tucks her diary carefully down the side of her mattress, where it’ll hopefully be safe from further privacy invasions.

“I’m just heading out now,” she calls to her mom as she heads down the stairs. “See you tomorrow afternoon.”

“Have a great time, sweetie!” her mom calls back, happily oblivious to the confrontation that took place in Veronica’s room only five minutes ago. “Bye!”

JD is waiting for her down the street where he said he would be, leaning against his bike and reading the book he usually keeps in his pocket; today’s choice is Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë. It’s one Veronica lent him, actually, after she found out he’d never read it. The sight of him makes her want to start crying again.

JD looks up as she approaches, all handsome lopsided smile and sparkling blue eyes. “Hey there, pretty girl,” he says teasingly as she approaches him, but then he sees the look on her face and frowns concernedly. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

Veronica scrubs at her eyes. Her hand comes away with a dark sticky mascara smear across her knuckles, and she sniffs, hating how pathetic she must look. “Can we just -” She hiccups slightly, and swallows, trying to get her breathing under control. “Can we just go back to yours? Please?”

JD nods and returns his book to his pocket, pulling Veronica into his arms and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “‘Course. Come on.”

Veronica spends the entire ride from her house to his with her face pressed against JD’s back, clinging tightly to his waist and trying to fight the urge to just start sobbing into his coat. She’s so zoned out that it takes her by surprise when they arrive and park up, and JD climbs off and offers her a hand down.

“Sorry,” she sniffles, doing her best to smile as she takes his hand and hops down. “I think I got mascara on your coat.”

JD squeezes her hand and leads her up to the door. “Don’t worry about it.” He takes out his keys, unlocks the door, and heads inside, Veronica following like a zombie. He doesn’t say anything until they reach his room, and even then he waits until she’s scuffed her shoes off and dropped her jacket and her bag onto his desk chair, and sat down on his bed with her knees tucked up under her chin. JD kicks his boots off and shrugs out of his coat, but instead of dropping it onto one of his unpacked boxes like he usually does, he sits down next to her and carefully drapes it around her shoulders. It’s warm, and it smells like him, a mix of laundry soap and engine oil and something else - something sweet and slightly citrusy - that she can’t quite put her finger on (aftershave, maybe?) that she finds inherently comforting. The gentle act of kindness makes Veronica’s effort to not cry completely crumble, and she clutches at JD’s shirt as his arms slide around her while she silently sobs. She feels his lips gently press against her hair as he holds her.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. She shakes her head, and he kisses her hair again. “It’s okay, Veronica, I’ve got you.” He holds her until her sobs finally subside, gently stroking her back the entire time, and one of his hands cups her face, gently tilting her chin up so he can look at her. “What happened?”

Veronica takes a deep breath. “I went up to my room to get my bag,” she starts. Her voice is still shaky. “When I opened the door, Martha was in there. She’d told my mom she needed to borrow some physics notes, but she was holding my diary and it was open. I left it under my pillow this morning, so it’s - it’s not like it was lying around and she stumbled across it. She - she went looking for it.”

JD exhales slowly and strokes her hair. “Does she know -?”

“About the note prank?” Veronica sighs and nods. “Yeah. I should have told her sooner. I didn’t want her to find out like - like that. But I’m so - so angry at her. Those are my private thoughts. If I wanted to tell her the stuff I write in there, I’d tell her. I just… I can’t believe she’d go behind -” She can feel herself starting to cry again. JD pulls her in tighter. “I can’t believe she’d go behind my back like that. I know I fucked up, and I know I should have told her ages ago - I know I should never have agreed to write that fucking note in the first place! I just…” She sniffles. “I feel like my diary isn’t a safe place anymore. I mean, I always hid it when I was with the Heathers, because I - I knew they probably wouldn’t respect that it was private. But Martha… Martha was my friend during the worst time in my life. She knows that writing my thoughts down helps me not… like… panic about stuff. But she did that. She went looking for my diary and she read it.”

JD gently strokes Veronica’s cheek, and she closes her eyes and leans into it. She feels his thumb carefully wiping away her tears before he lightly kisses her temple. “I’m sorry, Veronica,” he says quietly. “I’m really sorry she did that. Is there… is there anything I can do?”

“Just…” Veronica hiccups again. “Just… Can you just hold me for a little while? Please.”

“‘Course. C’mere.” JD scoots back and pulls her close as he lies down. Veronica curls into his side, burying her face in his neck with a shaky sigh as he continues to stroke her back.

She’s not sure if she should tell him she loves him tonight. She doesn’t want to hold it in any longer, but she also doesn’t want to associate it with this. She lets out another shaky breath and comes to a decision.

“JD?”

“Hmm?”

Veronica sits up. JD pushes himself up on his elbows, frowning concernedly, and she slowly exhales. “Remember how we were at Dairy Queen a few weeks ago, and that girl Betty Finn came up to us, and I kinda freaked out?” He nods. She takes another deep breath. “I think… I want to tell you why.”

Yeah, I wish I’d been, I wish I’d been a teen, teen idle;
Wish I’d been a prom queen fighting for a title
Instead of being sixteen and burning up a bible,
Feeling super, super, super suicidal!
The wasted years, the wasted youth,
The pretty lies, the ugly truth!
And the day has come where I have died,
Only to find I’ve come alive…

Chapter End Notes

> In the next chapter, Veronica confesses the truth about her fight with Betty Finn to JD.

> “God, this was supposed to be a fun night. Sorry.”
> “Hey, no. Don’t… We can’t control what other people do. Don’t… Don’t blame yourself for being… being affected by their actions. Sorry. I’m not really good at… feelings.”
> “I mean, I’m not exactly a shining example of being in touch with my emotions either. God. My mascara’s everywhere, I probably look like a raccoon.”

## Chapter 18: Kaleidoscope

Chapter Summary

> Veronica admits to JD why she and Betty Finn stopped being friends, and asks for physical comfort. She also makes an important decision.

Chapter Notes

> Hello!!! I'm so sorry this is being posted later than usual!!! I went out last night and didn't get home til 9am this morning, having had three hours of sleep, I passed out for six hours, woke up at 3pm, and 20 minutes later got an emergency call as the theatre school I work at was down a teacher and needed me to make up the numbers so there was a safe ratio of adults to kids, so I literally sprinted into a taxi, drove a county over, and helped run classes for four hours. All while experiencing the WORST hangover of my entire life. A word of advice: if anyone offers you Buckfast, say no. Do NOT drink that shit.

> Hope you enjoy this chapter! Warning: the 'Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings' might come into relevance here - warning for mild past non-con. We make up for that with some very consensual action later, luckily. Happy reading!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

This is me, I'm not the best; I've been a bad, bad girl, I make a mess
Out of you, out of me - I'm having too much fun to give up being free…
I was never really good at sorry.
This is you, your heart is real! You've been a good, good boy, you make me feel!
My crazy world, a reckless dream… Yeah, I'm not what I might always seem to be,
But you tell me, baby, don't you worry…

- The Veronicas, Kaleidoscope

Friday 23rd June, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
Sherwood playing fields
Nearly 4 o’clock

Veronica lies back on the grass blissfully. School’s out for the summer, the sun is shining down, and she’s got her two best friends in the world at her side. Betty, Martha, and Veronica. Best friends dream team.

“Hey, wait up, ladies!”

Oh. And Danny. Veronica rolls her eyes a little. She finds Daniel James-Wickett honestly quite tiresome. He’s one of those boys who always has to be the most… whatever. The most everything. He simultaneously acts the part of the misunderstood loner and the nerd everyone envies for his test scores and the class clown, while in reality being exceedingly average. Average notoriety. Average test scores. Average ability to be funny. He once attempted to impress Veronica and Martha by claiming he was building a real gun in his room and would bring it to school to show them, only for it to turn out to be a Star Wars collectible. She would have told him to get lost long ago if it wasn’t for the unfortunate fact that Betty is utterly infatuated with his ‘Let me get the door for you, milady’ brand of wannabe chivalry.

Veronica glances at Betty with pursed lips, and sits up. “Betty,” she says through gritted teeth, “I thought it was just gonna be us three hanging out today. You know, like we do every year on the last day of school.”

Betty gives her a slightly pleading look. “Oh, I know, Ronnie, but he was asking in Math if I was doing anything later, and, well… What if today’s the day he maybe asks me out or something?”

Veronica sighs and pulls her waist-length hair out of its ponytail, shaking it out and using the hairtie to secure the front of her shirt into a knot so it shows off her bellybutton. It’s too hot out for the thick cotton T-shirt she put on this morning for her classmates to sign. “Fine.” She tucks the knot up under her shirt and lies back down. Betty can’t say she’s not a great friend.

Martha plainly isn’t paying attention, gazing dreamily over at where a bunch of boys from their school are playing touch football. “Doesn’t Ram look cute with his new haircut?” she sighs. Betty shoots Veronica a warning look, and Veronica bites her tongue. Martha doesn’t notice. “You’re so lucky he signed your shirt, Ronnie. I wish he would’ve signed mine.”

“I wouldn’t say he ‘signed’ it, exactly,” Veronica mutters, scowling down at the hem of her own shirt, where Ram’s crude drawing of male anatomy still peeks out from where she’s done her best to tuck it out of sight. Betty nudges her as Danny finally reaches them and plonks down on the grass.

“What’re we talking about, ladies? Hope I’m not interrupting anything.” He winks at Betty, making her giggle, and Veronica groans internally and sits up again. She feels a little… exposed , lying down like that while Danny is sitting next to her, hovering slightly, and she once again wishes her friends had better taste in boys. “Hey, Ronnie,” Danny adds. Veronica rolls her eyes.

“Hi,” she says flatly, still annoyed that he’s here at all.

A smaller, less popular group of boys walks past them, and GJ (Ginger Jeff) waves to Veronica from the middle of the pack. She waves back, then notices Betty frowning at her.

“Isn’t it awkward between you two since you broke up?”

Veronica shrugs. “Not really. It was mutual, it’s not like we had some big blowup like in an ABC Afterschool Special.”

“It’s too bad,” Betty sighs. Veronica rolls her eyes. Betty doesn’t seem to get that she doesn’t have a say in Veronica’s dating life. Betty would kill for boys - even the gross, immature boys they go to school with - to look at her the way they’ve been looking at Veronica since she started wearing a bra. “It was kind of exciting, you having a boyfriend. We could have gone on double dates or something.” She glances at Danny, but he isn’t listening, busy tearing up grass and dropping it on Veronica’s bare shin. She shoots him an annoyed look and brushes the grass away, to which he grins irritatingly at her, but she ignores him and turns to Martha, pushing herself up onto her knees.

“Earth to Martha,” she says, waving her hand in front of Martha’s face. Martha doesn’t respond, merely sighing sadly, and Veronica follows her line of gaze. “Oh.” Ram Sweeney isn’t playing football any more, instead talking to Heather Duke and quite clearly shamelessly ogling her, obvious even from a distance. Heather is still flat-chested, but she’s taking advantage of the fact with a tight green spaghetti-strap top that shows off her equally flat stomach - the kind of thing Martha doesn’t have the confidence to wear. Veronica desperately racks her brain for a way to distract her friend. “Hey, Martha.” Martha finally looks up at her, and Veronica pokes her shoulder. “Tag, you’re it!”

Martha actually laughs at that, and Veronica’s already sprinted away by the time she manages to sit up enough to swipe at her. Martha turns to Betty, who’s nearest, and jumps to her feet as she slaps Betty’s ankle. “Tag, you’re it, Betty!”

Betty laughs and leaps up; Martha ducks away from her swatting hand so she turns to Danny instead. “Tag! You’re it now, Danny!”

Danny laughs and gets up to chase after her, but swerves after about ten feet to go after Veronica instead. Veronica thinks it’s because she’s closer, and she regrets starting this, feeling awkward at the thought of Danny touching her at all. She’s running uphill now, and Danny swipes at her, and his hand hits her bare thigh just below her shorts. Veronica stumbles in shock - and then feels his hand slide up under the hem of her shorts, and he… he grabs.

She freezes like a frightened rabbit, and then his nails dig into her skin, and she tries to scramble away, but because she’s going uphill, she winds up falling to her knees and catching herself on her forearms. Her elbows and shins are going to be red raw tomorrow. She hears Martha calling her name, asking if she’s okay, and then Danny’s voice, closer.

“Heh, sorry, Ronnie. Didn’t mean to shove you.”

You didn’t shove me, she thinks, still too shocked to move. You groped me. Please - please be an accident, please be a mistake. If you’re not gonna bring it up, please be because you’re embarrassed because you didn’t mean to.

And then she feels Danny’s hands on her waist, guiding her to her feet, and she follows obediently, not really knowing what else to do.

And then one of his hands slips up under her shirt.

She squirms away from him, folding her arms over her chest protectively. Veronica stares at Danny, feeling humiliated and violated at the same time. Why would you do that? she thinks miserably. Why would you do that to me? I didn’t want you to!

She looks up at her friends; Martha is frowning concernedly, still some distance away. But Betty is closer, and is staring from Veronica to Danny in slight disbelief.

You saw that, right? Veronica begs Betty in her head. I didn’t imagine it, you saw what he did to me, right?

“You okay, Ronnie?” Danny asks, all smiles. “You fell pretty hard there.”

She nods automatically, and then shakes her head. “Ow,” she murmurs - the friction burns on her shins and forearms have hit her all at once. “Actually, I think I might just go home. My mom’s making my favorite dinner tonight. Spaghetti. Lots of oregano.”

“Want me to walk you?”

Veronica shakes her head, a little too emphatically. “Thanks, but I think I can find my house on my own,” she says tartly. Martha finally reaches them.

“You’re going home, Ronnie? Well, hey, Betty, we might as well head home too. It’s not the same without Ronnie.”

“Sure,” Betty says quietly. Martha glances from her to Veronica, frowning, then waves at Danny when it becomes clear neither of them are going to politely bid him adieu.

“Um, well, bye, Danny. See you later.”

“Bye, ladies.” Danny mimes tipping a hat. “Make sure Ronnie’s okay, won’t you?”

Veronica shudders. Betty purses her lips. Martha knits her eyebrows in confusion.

Veronica, Betty and Martha walk home from the park in silence. On the surface it feels like the lack of conversation is caused by the stifling heat, but underneath the surface something is bubbling unpleasantly, getting ready to rupture any minute. Martha’s house is nearest; when they reach the door she awkwardly ducks out from between the two other girls and waves a little too enthusiastically.

“Well, this is me!” she says loudly, as if they haven’t been going to each other's houses every week since kindergarten. Betty and Veronica remain silent. “Bye!”

“Bye Martha,” Veronica manages. Betty nods.

“Yeah. Bye.”

“Betty,” Martha calls back to them when she reaches the front door, “make sure Ronnie’s alright, won’t you? I mean, it looked sore when she tripped.”

“Yeah,” Betty murmurs. Her voice is oddly flat. “Yeah, it looked really sore.”

In spite of the hot weather, Veronica feels a chill go down her spine at her best friend’s tone.

“Betty,” she says quietly as they start walking again. “Betty, you saw what happened, right?”

Betty stops dead. “Of course I saw. How could you do this to me, Veronica?” she whispers. Veronica stares at her.

“What?”

“What, you were mad that I invited him, so you decided to… to make sure he wouldn’t even look at me?!”

“What are you - what are you talking about?!”

“You’re supposed to be my best friend, Veronica! But the second a guy pays more attention to me than to you, no, you can’t have that! Rolling up your t-shirt, proving that you got - got a bra before everyone else, wearing your tiny shorts and showing off your legs because you know I don’t feel comfortable doing that!”

Veronica stares at Betty, unable to believe what she’s hearing. “You mean,” she whispers, “you don’t believe I didn’t want him to - Betty, please, I would never try to hurt you like that! It’s hot out, that’s all!” I didn’t want him to do that, she thinks desperately. Why don’t you believe that I didn’t want him to?!

“And it’s not just boys!” Betty continues. “I mean, you know how badly I wanted to play Liesl in The Sound of Music, but you auditioned for her anyway! Everything I want, you have to have! It’s not fair!”

Veronica gapes at the girl who, up until a few minutes ago, she saw as one of her best friends in the world. She’s angry now too. “I won that audition fair and square!” she shouts back. “Did it never occur to you that maybe I wanted to play Liesl even before you announced you were auditioning for her? Betty, I want nothing to do with freaking Danny! I think he’s gross and annoying and I don’t know why you like him!”

“Yeah,” Betty snaps. “Yeah, ‘cause that’s what it looked like back there, when you practically had your butt in his face!”

“I didn’t,” Veronica whispers. She can feel tears springing to her eyes now. Shit, she hates crying. “Betty, I didn’t want him to.” She backs away, going cold with the realization: You’re not gonna believe me, are you?

“I don’t know what to think, Veronica,” Betty sniffles. She’s crying too now, though God knows why. “I can’t… I can’t trust you anymore.” They’ve reached the crossroads where their way home diverges, and Betty turns on her heel and marches towards the crossing. “Don’t - don’t call me.”

“Fine by me,” Veronica whispers. She doesn’t wait like she normally does to make sure Betty gets across the road safely, instead sprinting down the street for the safety of her own home, scrubbing furiously at her eyes.

It’s not the humiliation and the groping that’s making her cry, however awful it is. It’s the fact that her best friend believes she encouraged it in order to hurt her.

She’s wearing glittery plastic jelly sandals, and she’s nearly at her house when she loses her footing and trips properly, throwing her hands out to catch herself before her face hits the sidewalk. She slowly pushes herself up; one of her knees is sticky with blood now. The shock actually makes her stop crying.

Veronica slowly walks home and lets herself in. The house is quiet, and there’s a note waiting for her on the breakfast table - her mom is working late tonight, covering for someone else, and her dad has popped out to get celebratory burgers and fries in honor of Veronica graduating from middle school.

She manages a smile in the direction of the note, then zombiesquely gets out the first aid kit and sits herself at the counter to mop up her knee. She can’t tell her parents about what happened. Her mom will want her to talk it out with Betty and listen to her point of view, but how can Veronica do that when Betty is so wrong? And her dad - she loves him with all her heart, but he’s also clearly uncomfortable with the fact that his little girl is growing up. What if he tells her that maybe she shouldn’t have been wearing shorts with her t-shirt hiked up? What if neither of them believe her?

She’s not sure she can take it if three of her favorite people in the world think she set out to hurt her friend on purpose.

Friday 13th October, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
JD’s bedroom
About half past four

“Whoa.”

“Yeah.” Veronica sighs and leans against JD’s chest. He pulls her in tighter, almost afraid she’s going to vanish out of his arms if he doesn’t hold her close right now.

“I’m really sorry that happened, Veronica,” he says quietly, because he isn’t sure what else to say. I’m so sorry that asshole violated and humiliated you. I’m sorry someone who was supposed to be your friend believed you’d encouraged him. I’m sorry you were just a kid but still had to deal with it on your own without anyone taking your side.

“S’alright,” Veronica mumbles. She sniffs a little. “Like I said, it wasn’t the… it wasn’t what he did that fucked me up. It wasn’t fun, but I’m not traumatized by it. It was the fact that Betty didn’t believe me. Martha admitted when I caught her reading my diary that she basically thinks I can’t take care of myself, which was why…” She meets his gaze, her eyes big and dark and sad. “God, I just want one friend to trust me, y’know?” She sniffs again and gives a slightly wet-sounding chuckle, mopping her eyes with the back of her hand and smearing her mascara in a way he’d find cute if it weren’t for the fact that, y’know, his girlfriend is crying. “Thanks for… listening to me. Putting up with all this dumb shit.” She sighs. “God, this was supposed to be a fun night. Sorry.”

“Hey, no,” JD says firmly. He strokes his thumb across her cheek, making her smile shakily. “Don’t… We can’t control what other people do. Don’t…” He feels his voice getting involuntarily quieter, and clears his throat embarrassedly. “Don’t blame yourself for being… being affected by their actions,” he says softly, trying not to think about that August day in Texas, the one that’s haunted him for eight years. “Sorry. I’m not really good at… feelings.”

Veronica laughs wetly again. “I mean, I’m not exactly a shining example of being in touch with my emotions either,” she says, clearly going for lighthearted joking but falling a little short. “God. My mascara’s everywhere, I probably look like a raccoon.”

JD tries not to laugh at that. She does, but a very cute one. Veronica examines the black smears across her knuckles and lets out a rueful chuckle that thankfully sounds slightly less clogged with tears than her last one.

“Mind if I use your shower or something? I always feel kinda gross if I’ve been crying.”

JD grabs her hand and gently presses a kiss to her knuckles, mascara smears be damned. “Sure.”

Veronica nudges her head affectionately against his shoulder before getting up. His trenchcoat slides off of her, and she carefully picks it up and drapes it over his desk chair on top of her own coat, then glances back at him, biting her lip.

“You know,” she says quietly, her cheeks turning slightly pink, “I, um, wouldn’t be opposed to you maybe, um, joining me.”

JD feels his own cheeks flush the same color as hers. He’d honestly been prepared to take a rain check on any of those… activities tonight. “You sure?”

Veronica nods. “I just… I really don’t want to be alone right now. And, um, I like being in your arms. It’s…” She blushes even harder. “It’s really… comforting.”

Well, who is he to argue with that? JD gets up from his bed and walks over to pull her back into his arms. Veronica sighs, sounding relieved, and sinks into his embrace. She futilely wipes her face with the side of her hand again and giggles quietly, sounding more herself.

“Maybe wait ‘til I wash my face before we kiss, though.”

Friday 13th October, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
About 4:45pm
JD’s bathroom

Veronica watches in the mirror with warm cheeks as JD leans over the edge of the bathtub, admiring the contours of his bare back as he adjusts the temperature of the water to that delicate balance of neither freezing nor scalding. Although it was his mysterious loner vibe that reeled her in, and it’s who he is inside that she’s fallen rapidly in love with, it’s a nice bonus that his intelligence and wit and intensity come wrapped up in such a gorgeous package.

They’re both only wearing their underwear, having agreed that it’s probably a good idea to leave their clothes in his room rather than undressing in the bathroom and risking splashing them. Veronica is honestly a little embarrassed at how reassuring it felt when JD watched her strip off her socks, pinafore dress, and turtleneck sweater with that same awed look he always gives her when she undresses in front of him. It’s a relief to know that he hasn’t been put off by seeing her crying all over the place, or by hearing her admission of what happened to her the summer after eighth grade.

JD turns back to her, and Veronica doesn’t let her gaze waver, openly checking him out. Right now she wants nothing more than to completely lose herself in his arms, wash away the evidence of her hurt and heartbreak, and feel like nothing else matters but the two of them for a while. She finishes removing her raccoon-esque makeup with one of the face-wipes she was forward-thinking-enough to put in her bag, drops the wipe in the bin, and meets her boyfriend’s wide eyes in the mirror as she reaches back and unclasps her bra. She shoves her underwear down and steps out of it, and turns to face him, running one hand gently down his arm before stepping into the shower.

She hears JD scrambling out of his underwear behind her, and sighs when he follows her into the shower and pulls the shower curtain closed before sliding his arms around her waist. Veronica leans back against his chest as the hot water flows over them, humming blissfully under her breath as JD gently presses his lips to the join of her neck to her shoulder. She hears him laugh, low in his throat, and turns in his arms so she can kiss his chest.

“What?” she murmurs.

“You usually sing in the shower, don’t you?” he asks teasingly. “I remember you humming the first time we did this too.”

“Ah. Sorry.”

“No, it’s cute,” JD insists, grinning at her. One of his hands glides up her body to cup her face, tilting her chin up. “C’mere,” he murmurs. Veronica lets her eyelids flutter shut, and she carefully rises onto her tiptoes to meet his lips with hers.

It’s probably a combination of the hot water pouring over their heads and her still slightly-elevated heartbeat from crying, but she finds herself clutching desperately at him, kissing him far more frantically than she’d intended, pressing as close as she can and moaning when his hands begin roaming her torso. He cups one of her breasts with one hand and rests his other lightly on her ass, never grabbing but instead gently stroking her skin with his calloused fingertips.

“Is this okay?” he murmurs, pulling away from her mouth for a millisecond. Veronica nods urgently.

“Yes,” she breathes between kisses. “Yes, please, JD, I -” she gasps into his mouth when he rolls her nipple between his fingers - “I wanna - wanna not think about - all that. Just you and - you and me for a little while. Please…”

JD gently kisses his way down her jaw and neck, brushing his lips over her collarbone and leaning down to drag his tongue across the delicate skin between her breasts, then carefully takes her other nipple into his mouth and teases it with his teeth before sucking lightly. Veronica sighs breathily and buries her right hand in his dark hair, her left hand drifting down his chest to her own stomach, slipping down between her legs so she can lightly touch herself. JD switches his mouth to her other nipple, his tongue flicking eagerly against the tight bud before he pulls away and kisses her mouth again, parting his lips yieldingly to her prodding tongue. Veronica lazily circles her fingers against her clit as they kiss, moaning into JD’s mouth when his hand leaves her ass and slips between her thighs.

“Couldn’t wait, huh?” he murmurs against her lips. She shakes her head, whining slightly when he slides his fingers over her own, then whimpers when he pulls away from her altogether.

“JD -” she gasps, feeling slightly betrayed. JD has the nerve to laugh.

“Turn around,” he whispers huskily. “I want to… just…”

He guides her around so she’s leaning against his chest again and returns his fingers to their position on top of hers, rubbing gently at her while he kisses her neck. Veronica sighs into his embrace, throwing her head back when his other hand slides back up her body to play with her breasts. She can feel his hard cock pressing against her ass, and he lets out a quiet moan when she grinds back against him. His fingers carefully circle her entrance a few times before two of them slowly push inside her, forcing a high-pitched squeak from her lips.

“Oh, fuck,” Veronica gasps. JD gently curls his fingers inside her, stroking gently, and kisses the sensitive spot just behind her earlobe. Although it’s far from the first time he’s fingered her, she’s never been in this position before, usually lying down next to him or on top of him; but leaning back against his chest with his arms around her means he’s supporting her even when her knees threaten to buckle under her, and the angle is incredible. She usually prefers this as foreplay, but JD starts thrusting his fingers inside her while she continues to rub at her swollen clit, and she realizes she’s close to finishing.

“God,” she chokes out. “JD - JD, I’m really close, just like that, fuck - I’m nearly -”

JD moves his fingers faster, keeping them curled so his rough fingertips rub perfectly inside her, and removes his other hand from her breasts to turn her head so he can lean down and kiss her. He nips at her lower lip in that way she loves, then swipes his tongue over it before sucking soothingly at it, his hand sliding back down to tease her nipples again, and that’s enough to tip her over the edge.

Veronica slumps blissfully back against JD’s chest as her orgasm washes over her, feeling her legs shake as her muscles clench in that way that sends sparks through her whole body. JD continues kissing her the whole time, stilling his fingers but not removing them, knowing she likes the continued pressure inside her until she comes down from her high. When she finally recovers, he kisses her gently one more time as he removes his hand from between her legs. Veronica turns in his arms and presses close, resting her hands on his chest as she sighs breathlessly. JD’s hands move to rest lightly on her back just above her ass again.

“How was that?”

“Good,” Veronica breathes. “God, really good.” She leans up and nips at his neck. The hickeys she left on him the first weekend they were together have faded by now, and she moves her mouth to his shoulder and sucks gently, scraping her teeth lightly against his skin, loving the way he inhales sharply and glides one of his hands up her back to hold her close. She looks up at him with a small smile. “You look cute with wet hair.” She reaches up and runs her fingers through his hair, making it stick up and making JD close his eyes with his own quiet blissful sigh.

“S’nice,” he mumbles. Veronica smiles wider and reaches up to kiss him gently, moving one of her hands to his chest and the other to his back. She lets her fingers roam across his skin, her hands making their way down until she reaches his ass and squeezes teasingly, her other hand resting on his lower abdomen.

JD breaks their kiss with a laugh. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

Veronica giggles. “You have a cute butt,” she murmurs. JD lets out another surprised laugh, to which she giggles harder. “Come on, I’m allowed to perv a little over my own boyfriend.”

JD nods solemnly at that, clearly trying not to let out another laugh. “That seems fair,” he agrees, but cuts himself off with a moan when she slips her other hand down and wraps her fingers around his dick. “Fuck, Veronica -”

Veronica smirks into his neck and pumps her hand slowly, making his arms tighten around her as he groans quietly. She loves touching him like this, loves the way he pulls her close and shudders, loves the desperate little noises that escape his throat. She touches him as slowly as she can manage and presses kisses all over his chest until he thrusts urgently into her hand, whimpering slightly. Veronica moves up to kiss his neck again.

“Faster?” she whispers. JD nods, eyes shut tightly as he bites his lip.

“Fuck, god, yes,” he gasps, and she obligingly moves her hand faster. “Christ - Veronica, fuck, that feels so fucking good, please don’t stop -”

It’s not much longer before JD buries his face in her neck and shudders hard against her as he finishes. Veronica gently removes her hand from him, knowing that any further stimulation is a little painful for him at this point, and strokes his back while she discreetly rinses her hand off. She turns her head to kiss his cheek, a little self-conscious over how much of a turn-on his cum on her skin is.

“Okay?” she murmurs into his ear. He nods, but doesn’t move from his position holding her close with his face pressed against her neck. “JD,” she giggles. “We should probably, y’know, actually shower at some point.” He groans, and she thinks he might be pouting against her neck. “Come on, darling.”

“Make me,” JD says stubbornly. Veronica smirks wickedly and reaches for the bottle of Target-brand shower gel in the corner.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she grins. She maneuvers it open one-handedly and allows him one more moment of peace before shaking the bottle vigorously at him and promptly beginning the Great Soap War of ‘89.

Friday 13th October, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
JD’s bedroom
About half past five

Veronica flops back onto JD’S bed, watching him dress through her eyelashes. She couldn’t be bothered to pull her own clothes back on, instead stealing one of his t-shirts and slipping her panties on under it. It’s just long enough to cover her ass, and it’s soft and smells like his laundry soap. She can’t help pulling it up over her nose while his back is turned to breathe in the familiar comforting scent.

JD sits down next to her, now wearing black sweatpants and a worn gray t-shirt, and she sits up to cuddle against his side. He kisses her still-damp hair and drapes his arm over her shoulders. “How are you?”

Veronica shrugs tiredly. “Dunno. Hungry, I guess. D’you want Chinese food? There’s a pretty good place a few streets away that does delivery. The Lucky Panda or something.”

JD raises an eyebrow. “That’s not what I asked.”

Huffing her bangs out of her face, Veronica slumps glumly against him. “I know,” she mumbles. She lets out a sigh. “I mean, I liked what… what we just did there,” she waves her hand vaguely in the direction of the bathroom, “but I’m still angry. And hurt. Embarrassed. And honestly, I’m annoyed. I really… I really wanted this to be a special night for us.” JD squeezes her shoulder, and Veronica manages a brief half-smile. “I feel guilty too,” she admits. “Partly for the prank, but also… I said something really cruel to Martha when I caught her. Something I shouldn’t have said. I just… I knew exactly what I could say to hurt her the most, and I lashed out. Have you ever…?” She glances up at JD, biting her lip. “Have you ever done that? Said something that crossed a line out of spite and anger?”

JD sighs. “‘Course.” He flexes his fist, staring at his knuckles. “Never to a friend, though.” He laughs slightly, making a face that scrunches his nose. “I don’t mean - I’m not a saint by any means, I’ve just never really… God, the last time I really had a friend I was probably still in elementary school.” He laughs again, sounding slightly despairing. “Fuck, I’m supposed to be making you feel better, not worse.”

She laughs in spite of herself. “Weirdly, you kind of are.” She reviews what he’s just said and groans, dragging her palm over her face. “Not - I didn’t mean - because - fuck. I just… I really appreciate the effort, is what I’m trying to say.”

JD grabs her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles and smiling that cute lopsided smile at her. “C’mere,” he murmurs, and gently kisses her. Veronica leans up into it, feeling herself relax. He tilts his head slightly, changing their angle and making her sigh happily, and their tongues touch briefly before JD parts from the kiss and leans his forehead against Veronica’s.

“Want me to go order Chinese food?”

Veronica nods, a little dazed. “Shrimp fried rice with crispy seaweed,” she murmurs. JD pecks her lips one last time before getting up.

“You got it. Back in a moment.”

She leans back on the bed again as he leaves the room, and touches her fingers to her lips, still kiss-swollen from earlier. She still feels awful from what happened in her bedroom a few hours ago, but spending time with JD always has that wonderful effect of making her feel like things are going to be okay. He’s so different from anyone else she knows, and it’s honestly a welcome departure. Her parents are well-meaning and loving but utterly oblivious; her friends have ranged from only-doing-the-right-thing-because-she’s-petrified-of-screwing-up Betty to believing-in-the-inherent-goodness-of-familiar-people-to-the-point-of-naïvety Martha to the cruel-for-kicks, desperate-to-be-loved, craving-fearful-hero-worship-to-block-out-their-insecurities Heathers. Maybe it is true, that from Martha’s point of view Veronica and JD have moved faster into their relationship than is normal, but no one else could possibly understand how it feels - they’ve connected so intensely, so quickly, because to do so feels like a relief after a lifetime of keeping it all in. He freezes his brain and she burns her palms because neither of them for the longest time could bear daring to feel things with their whole hearts, but when it comes to each other, it’s like the fear melts away until there’s nothing left but understanding.

Two broken souls that, when they’re together, don’t feel quite so broken any more.

Fuck it. Fuck everything. She’s going to tell him tonight. She doesn’t want the world to take that from them. She might not get the opportunity again for ages, and this isn’t something she wants to leave to chance or do publicly. She wants to tell him, to take the time to watch him react, to show him physically what she means and fall asleep in his arms afterwards.

She’s made up her mind. Tonight, for the first time, Veronica Sawyer is going to tell Jason Dean that she loves him.

'Cause in your eyes, I'm alright - not a flaw you want me to hide!
In your mind, beautiful, even when I'm spinning out of control!
You turn me 'round, inside out - all my colors shine 'cause you love me like a
Kalеidoscope, kaleidoscope, kaleidoscope…
Yeah, I'm a girl who's on the run; caught me off guard when you came along.
I fell in love, it wasn't planned - got my heart when no one else could understand…

Chapter End Notes

> In the next chapter, Veronica acts on her decision.

> “That was… wow.”
> “Yeah.”
> “Can we go through to your room? I, um, I want to talk to you about something. It’s important.”
> “Sure.”

## Chapter 19: Dare To Love Me

Chapter Summary

> Veronica asks JD to be her date to Heather McNamara's Halloween party, and finally tells him the thing she's been dying to say for so long.

Chapter Notes

> Hi everyone!! Sorry about the update being a little late - I literally didn't finish writing it til now. The words simply Refused To Go.

> I think I might have to take a little break from updating this fic. Don't get me wrong, I love writing it, and I love that you guys have loved reading it, but I really want to give you the best writing possible, and I think I'm burning the candle at both ends a little right now. Real Life is also getting in the way a little. I'll post updates about when I'm thinking of continuing to update this fic (it's one of my favourites) over on my tumblr @/queer-cosette. Thank you so much for your patience!! I love you guys :D

> Without further adieu, Chapter Nineteen!!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

I try to let down my guard, I cover up my scars,
Yeah, there’s no denying.
It’s not that I don’t care - it’s just I’m fucking scared,
It’s terrifying.
‘Cause I know it’s a slippery slope,
And I don’t wanna give up hope!
Damn, why’s it gotta be this hard just to open up my heart?

- Avril Lavigne, Dare To Love Me

Friday 13th October, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
The Deans’ kitchen
Nearly half-past six

JD didn’t think he’d feel so utterly smitten at the sight of Veronica Sawyer eating shrimp fried rice with damp hair while only wearing one of his t-shirts and her underwear, but it’s such a warm, domestic sight that his heart is doing that thing where his rib cage feels too small for it. They’ve risked sitting at the table, JD making sure Veronica has the one seat that doesn’t wobble, and planting his feet almost painfully against the floor to prevent it from rocking from side to side. He remembers her own kitchen, all diamond-shaped floor tiles and sky-blue cabinets, checked cushions on the wooden bar stools at the island and matching colorful jars of coffee and tea and sugar on the worksurface, and once again wishes he could take her somewhere nicer than this, that his dad would bother forking out for somewhere to live that has more than the bare minimum. If she minds, she doesn’t show it, never complaining once about the lack of dining room furniture or the tiny cramped worktop space in the kitchen or the fact that JD only has a creaky single bed with springs that squeak loudly at inopportune moments and forces them to squish together if they want to cuddle (okay, she probably doesn’t mind that last one). But still. She deserves better than this, he’s certain.

“Oh, hey,” JD looks up from his sweet-and-sour pork at the sound of Veronica’s voice, thankfully no longer thick with tears. “I was meaning to ask you, before…” she gestures vaguely with her fork, “before all that shit happened. Heather McNamara’s throwing a halloween party next Saturday and, um, we’re both invited.”

“Oh,” JD says, because he’s not sure what else to say. Veronica fidgets with her fork some more, her expression… apprehensive? Worried? What’s she worried about?

“I mean, we don’t have to go, if you don’t want to, but I just thought… it might be fun, maybe, if you wanted to. But we don’t have to -”

“Veronica,” JD interrupts her babbling, unable to stop the corner of his mouth from twitching with amusement, “do you want to go?”

Veronica scuffs her bare foot against the floor, shrugging. “A bit,” she murmurs. “But… I don’t want to go if you’re not there.”

And, well, he doesn’t particularly want to spend a Saturday night watching his classmates attempt to give themselves costume-augmented alcohol poisoning, but he does like seeing Veronica happy. And Heather McNamara is alright-ish, for a Heather. He can suck it up for one evening. And the thought of the other Heathers being shocked at not just him being there, but that he was invited by the host herself, is, if nothing else, mildly amusing.

“What do you think we should go as?” he asks Veronica, feeling his reservations vanish at the sight of her excited beaming smile.

“Well,” Veronica grins, clearly putting a lot of effort into not squealing with excitement, “I was thinking maybe… we could go as Jareth and Sarah. You know, from Labyrinth. There’s a costume-rental place near the video store, I should be able to find a silver dress of some kind, and I could get you a cloak… You could probably wear your jeans and motorcycle boots, it wouldn’t have to be too complicated or expensive…”

And then she’s talking about salvaging accessories from her wardrobe, and offering to do his makeup, and it’s so adorable how excited she is that JD can’t even find it in him to regret agreeing to go. Veronica could probably talk him into or out of doing literally anything.

God, he’s so in love with her that it’s almost embarrassing.

Neither of them manages to finish their takeout, but JD assures Veronica that it’ll taste fine in the morning if they leave it in the fridge overnight. It shouldn’t be endearing, how concerned she gets about wasting food, but then again, he’s pretty sure there aren’t many things she could do that he wouldn’t like.

Except… She could break up with you, the little voice in his head reminds him. He wishes he could scowl at the voice. Fuck off, he thinks, really starting to hate that he has those thoughts. Veronica’s not breaking up with me. Why would she break up with me? She says she likes me and cares about me and I believe her.

What if she gets sick of you never wanting her to meet your dad? What if you tell her how you feel about her and she freaks out because it’s too intense for her? What if she finally realizes she deserves better than what you can give her?

Shut up shut up shut up shut up! She’s not leaving! She won’t!

Everyone leaves eventually… even when you think they won’t.

He puts those thoughts to the back of his head, firmly ignoring them and focusing on reorganizing the fridge to hold their leftover takeout while Veronica uses the bathroom. He never really noticed how many intrusive, self-deprecating thoughts he has until he started having a reason to disagree with them.

He feels a little self-conscious to still be so excited that Veronica likes him, that she’s sticking around, that she’s been his girlfriend for three weeks now. He hated seeing her crying earlier. It felt like someone was twisting a very tiny knife into his heart. And he’d been helpless to do anything about it; if it had been something Kurt or Ram or some other asshole guy had done he would at least have been able to beat the offender senseless. He’s honestly kind of tempted to track down the guy who groped her three years ago, and would if he didn’t know Veronica would hate having attention called to the incident when she’s clearly done her best to forget it. But no, it was Martha Dunnstock who hurt her today. Martha, Veronica’s best friend since diapers, sweet, polite Martha who’s so gentle that she probably can’t even bring herself to swat flies, who went behind Veronica’s back and read the private thoughts in her diary. He can’t reconcile the action with his mental image of her.

At least with the Heathers, he can remind Veronica that they’re bitchy girls whose opinions won’t matter this time next year. He’s not sure he can say anything about Martha without upsetting her further.

“Doing okay there?” a sweet voice enquires.

JD blinks, realizing he’s been just staring into the fridge for a few minutes, closes the door, and looks up at Veronica, who’s leaning her folded arms on the island and smiling warmly at him. Her hair is tousled and falling in natural soft curls around her face, and she’s sans makeup, save for the familiar sheen of cherry-flavored lip gloss on her lips, and he thinks to himself, fuck, she’s so beautiful like this.

“Yeah.” He makes his way around to the other side of the island; Veronica doesn’t move from where she’s leaning, her gaze following him instead, and he realizes why with a smirk: the position makes her (well, his) shirt ride up just enough to give him a glimpse of the pale blue floral-print panties she’s wearing underneath. JD slides his arms around her waist from behind, and Veronica pushes off the counter to lean back into his embrace. “You?”

“Yup.” Veronica pops the ‘p’ slightly and turns in his arms, resting her hands on his chest. Her eyes thankfully aren’t red anymore, although she still seems a little on-edge, and she smiles softly up at him. “I’m… I feel… I always feel better whenever I’m with you,” she says quietly, and JD is quite certain that it makes his cheeks flush pink as his smirk softens into a shy smile. She leans up and brushes the tip of her nose against his in that way she does whenever she’s feeling particularly affectionate, then gently fits her mouth against his.

JD closes his eyes and sinks into the feel of her with a little contented hum, which becomes a moan when Veronica glides her tongue over his lower lip, making their kiss an open-mouthed one. JD slides one hand from her back down to her waist, then lower so his fingers are resting right over where the waistband of her panties sits. Veronica lets out a little moan, and slides her hands up from where they’re resting on his chest to drape them over his shoulders. She tilts her head, changing their angle a little, and JD gives in to the urge to push her up against the nearest wall.

Veronica gasps into his mouth as her back hits the wall, and whimpers unabashedly when JD moves the hand that was on her back up to cradle her head, tangling his fingers in her messy hair. He slips his other hand down and sneaks it under her shirt, skimming his hand over the soft silky fabric of her underwear.

God, JD’s never really had… well, fantasies before. Sex before he met Veronica was only ever interesting to him in a sort of abstract way, becoming unappealing the second he tried thinking about having any other actual people involved. But since she caught his eye, it’s been a completely different story. After he dropped her off at home, their first weekend together, he’d had to take a cold shower because he couldn’t stop thinking about how incredible it felt to have her mouth around him. When he’d left the 7-Eleven that fateful Friday night, he’d dug out that old Cosmopolitan article about oral sex, convincing himself that it was just hormonal curiosity when he’d secretly been thinking about the way Veronica might look at him, with lust and want and anticipation, if he ever somehow got the chance to go down on her. Even the first few weeks, before he knew her, when he found himself unexpectedly and embarrassingly mooning over the pretty girl in blue who shared his English Lit and Study Hall, there were some nights when he found himself jerking awake in confusion from sudden, surprisingly frequent dreams that started with perfectly innocent cuddling and progressed to her straddling him fully clothed, blushing and laughing her lovely laugh while grinding against him. The dreams always ended before he could ask what her name was, and always before he came, leaving him painfully hard and somewhat ashamed for daring to imagine that that could ever be a possibility.

But that’s not the case any more now that she’s his girlfriend, now that she’s made it explicitly clear that she very much wants him to think of her in that way. And the image of her only wearing his shirt and her panties is… doing things to him. He’s honestly slightly desperate to ask her to keep the shirt on if they have sex later.

They break their kiss to catch their breath, chests heaving, and Veronica looks up at him, giggling slightly. “That was… wow.”

“Yeah,” JD agrees. He’s about to lean down for a second kiss, but Veronica pulls back a little and reaches back to grab his hand that’s still tangled in her hair. She pulls it away from her head and laces their fingers together, squeezing slightly as she swings their joined hands between them. She looks up at him, biting her lip a little, not quite nervous, but not trying to seduce him either. Somewhere in the middle.

“Can we go through to your room?” she asks shyly. “I, um, I want to talk to you about something. It’s important.”

JD tilts his head curiously, furrowing his eyebrows as he wonders what she might be wanting to talk about. “Sure.”

Veronica leads him through to his bedroom, carefully shutting the door behind them. The blind is still pulled down from when they had changed earlier, and Veronica drops his hand to turn his reading light on and the main light off, before sitting cross-legged on his bed and patting the space in front of her. JD perches next to her with one leg tucked up and the other dangling off the bed, unable to stop his automatic reaction of nervousness, although his worry is assuaged a little when Veronica takes both of his hands in hers, rubbing her thumbs over his knuckles.

“Okay,” Veronica starts, then takes a deep breath and sighs it out. “Right.” She lets out a little chuckle and squeezes his hands.

“You okay?” JD frowns. She nods, taking another deep breath.

“JD,” Veronica says. She looks surprisingly determined. “I want to tell you… I’ve been so, so happy the last three weeks. Getting to know you, spending time with you… It feels like we just… fit, y’know? Like we were always meant to find each other.”

He can’t figure out where this is going. It doesn’t sound like a breakup speech, but then again, it’s not like JD would know what a breakup speech sounds like. Veronica takes another deep breath and glances down at their joined hands before looking back up at him.

“I’ve been thinking about this a lot,” she says quietly. “And I want you to know it’s not… I’m not saying this because I’m emotional about what happened with Martha, or… Look, she called our relationship into question, pretty much, and I need you to know that I’m not saying this out of spite, it’s not some kind of ‘fuck you’ to that. I planned on doing this tonight and I nearly didn’t, after what happened, but…” She breathes out slowly, smiling shyly up at him. “I really want to tell you. I really want you to know this.”

“You can tell me anything,” JD assures her, frowning curiously. “You know that, right?”

Veronica nods. Her cheeks have gone all rosy, and he’s reminded vividly of the way she’d looked that wonderful first night, when she’d looked him in the eye almost fiercely, as if she was bracing herself for rejection.

Why would she look like that now? he thinks, feeling like his brain is slightly too slow, like all his thoughts are wading through treacle right now.

“JD, I…”

Veronica’s eyes are so beautifully round and dark and sincere right now, and her lower lip is dark pink from where she’s been worrying at it with her teeth. It’s taking everything he has not to just pull her in and kiss her right now, but JD holds off, desperate to know what it is she wants to tell him. Veronica takes one more deep breath, and smiles at him with such earnestness that he feels slightly undeserving of it.

“Jason Dean, I love you.”

Friday 13th October, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
JD’s bedroom
A little after 7pm

JD isn’t saying anything, and it’s making Veronica slightly terrified if she’s honest. He’s just staring at her with those vivid blue eyes, mouth slightly hanging open, his cheeks and the tip of his nose dusted with pink. She can feel her hopeful smile withering to worry; she’s offered him her heart on a platter, pretty much, and he isn’t saying anything.

“JD?” she says quietly, her voice quavering a little. I just told you this huge thing and you’re not saying anything. Please say something, even if it’s just that you aren’t ready to say it back.

“Do…” JD manages at last. He closes his eyes and breathes in deep. “Veronica, do you mean that?” He sounds a little desperate. “Please…” he says quietly, opening his eyes to gaze imploringly at her, “please don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

Veronica furrows her brow. “Of course I mean it,” she says softly. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t, JD.”

“Can…” A moment ago, JD couldn’t tear his gaze from her face, but now it seems he’s looking anywhere but. He clears his throat, looking more nervous than she’s ever seen him. “Can you say it again?”

Veronica feels her heart melt. “I love you,” she whispers, smiling. “I love you, JD.” She giggles, remembering practicing in front of her mirror. “I, Veronica Rosalind Sawyer, love you, Jason Ulysses Dean.”

And then JD is kissing her desperately, pulling her into his arms and holding her tight, and it’s slightly uncomfortable because she’s still cross-legged and not flexible enough to lean that far forward on her own, but she can’t bring herself to care right now. Veronica slides her arms around his neck and kisses him right back, and when he releases her she’s left feeling slightly dizzy. JD stares at her with that same wild happiness he’d had their first night together, his smile the same as the one he’d worn when she proclaimed herself his girlfriend, and Veronica thinks she’d like him to keep making that expression forever, maybe.

“God,” JD murmurs. He sounds like he’s about to start crying. Veronica might cry again herself if he keeps looking at her like that. “I love you too. I love you, Veronica Sawyer.”

Veronica frantically presses her lips to his again and shifts onto her knees so she can reach him more efficiently. JD’s hands slide from cupping her face down past her shoulders and round to hold her waist, and pulls her over on top of him, leaning back until he falls onto his pillow with a slight thump. They both giggle a little before JD pulls Veronica back in, one hand weaving into her hair and the other sliding down to hold her waist.

“I love you,” he murmurs again, then pulls her into a deep kiss, the kind that if she wasn’t already lying down would make her knees buckle.

Veronica moves to straddle him, stroking her fingers over his collarbone and clutching at his shirt, and lets out a breathy sigh when he playfully cups her ass. He’s always so gentle when he touches her, even when she asks him to be rough; every move is deliberate and careful, only doing what he’s certain she likes. The first time he’d touched her ass properly it had been an accident while they were napping together in her bed; he’d been adorably apologetic when he’d realized, and then she’d surprised even herself by rolling on top of him and moving his hand back into place, enjoying his warm palm on her bare skin. It’s miles removed from the humiliating nails-digging-in grab she’d experienced at fourteen, and far more seductive than the objectifyingly clumsy butt-slap some asshole had chanced at Ram’s homecoming party, while she’d been too drunk to properly protest. Everywhere JD touches feels like it’s on fire, like his hands are setting her blood alight with every stroke and touch and caress.

He loves her. JD loves her. He feels the same way about Veronica as she does about him, and she feels ridiculously giddy about it. Her heartbreak at Martha’s betrayal, and the older feelings it had stirred up, seem to finally take a backseat in her head so she can focus on the fact that she told JD she loves him and he fucking said it back. His lips are on her neck now, and he murmurs it again into her skin, a quiet “I love you,” that she feels more than hears, then he moves up and sucks on her earlobe and whispers it again into her hair when she moans.

“Oh, god,” she breathes, and JD recaptures her lips and drags his teeth across her tongue, his hand leaving her hair to cup her face, a perfect blend of rough and romantic. “I -” she gasps into his mouth, “oh, god, JD, I love you too. I love you so fucking much.”

She trails her hands down his chest and clutches at the hem of his shirt, and JD breaks their kiss, his arms moving up automatically for her to pull his shirt over his head. He moves to kiss her again, but Veronica presses her lips to his neck, kissing her way down to his collarbone and scraping her teeth gently against it, giggling when he hisses slightly. She kisses her way down his chest, then teasingly licks her way back up before returning her attention to his collarbone and sucking at it, loving the way his hand returns to her hair and tugs slightly. Veronica pulls back to admire the reddish mark she’s left on him, a possessive thrill running up her spine. He’s hers, all hers, no other girls get to see him like this, have his arms around them like this, only Veronica. She’s seen the way some of the alternative girls at school, the punks and the goths and the metalheads, look at him, all blind lust and covetousness, like he’s some fucking prize to be won, and the way they look at her, with scorn and jealousy and outrage and disdain, hating that popular, preppy, valedictorian-to-be Veronica Sawyer is the girl he’s after. Well, fuck all of them. JD loves her. He loves her. She meets his eyes, and the look in them is so soft that she nearly melts.

“I love you so much, Veronica Sawyer,” JD murmurs. His lovely blue eyes are sparkling as he smiles up at her, awed and adoring, almost fucking devoted. “I didn’t think I’d ever love anyone,” he admits, and she almost wants to cry at how boyishly vulnerable he suddenly looks. “Especially not… not this much.”

She has to kiss him again for that, deeply and urgently, practically bruising his lips. JD gasps into her mouth, taken aback for a brief moment before he begins matching her move for move. All of the trashy romantic drugstore paperbacks Veronica read when she was fifteen constantly described the best, most lustful kinds of kisses as being like a competition, all ‘battling for dominance’ and tongues being described with unfortunate sports metaphors, but kissing JD is more like they’re following the steps to a dance that they both know really well. They’ve kissed each other like this nearly every day for three weeks, and it hasn’t gotten old at all. She hopes it never does.

JD’s hand on her ass moves up a little, tugging at the waistband of her underwear, managing to slip the soft baby blue floral-print satin down to her mid-thighs before sneaking his hand between her legs and touching her intimately. Veronica breaks their kiss to moan breathily and bury her face against his neck, and mewls with pleasure when he circles his fingertips against her clit.

“You’re so fucking sexy, Veronica,” JD murmurs, his voice irresistably husky as he slips two fingers inside of her. “God, I’m so fucking lucky, I can’t believe you’re mine.”

“Believe it,” Veronica gasps out, bucking eagerly against his hand. “I’m yours, JD, oh, god, I’m fucking yours.”

She reaches down and begins eagerly shoving his sweatpants and boxers out of the way, not wanting to waste time - this isn’t slow seduction, it’s not teasing, it’s not figuring out what the other likes, it’s just urgent desperation to physically connect with each other, to touch and intertwine, to love, love, love. They untangle for a moment so JD can wriggle out of his clothes, and Veronica shoves her own underwear off and goes to lift the borrowed shirt over her head, but JD reaches out and stills her hand.

“Keep it on?” he asks, sounding slightly nervous. “I love seeing you wearing my clothes.”

Veronica feels a slow smile spread across her face, and pulls him in for a kiss, sliding one arm over his shoulders and letting her other hand drift down his stomach to wrap around his cock, slowly stroking him as they maneuver themselves into a workable position, JD lying back against his pillow, Veronica straddling him. His hands skim up her torso to her chest, and he begins playing with her nipples through the fabric of the shirt. The slightly stiff cotton adds something to the sensation, a sort of pleasant abrasiveness that makes her squirm a little, and Veronica almost can’t believe how physically sensitive she’s become just from hearing JD tell her he loves her while they kiss. She involuntarily grinds against him, giving him a taste of how ready she is, loving the way JD’s mouth falls open slightly as his breath hitches.

“Fuck,” he gasps, then hisses when she rolls her hips slightly. “Fuck, Veronica, please - I fucking need you. Oh, fuck, god, please, baby, I’m - I’m fucking yours, Veronica, I’m yours -”

Veronica leans down and kisses him deeply, sighing into his mouth when he continues teasing her nipples, then pulls back, lifting herself up and angling his cock against her. She slowly sinks down onto him, getting high on the moan he lets out, and lets her body adjust, her hands roaming across his chest and upper arms. JD is staring at her in a way that sends shivers down her spine, like he can’t get enough of her, like she’s the most amazing thing he’s ever seen, and she can’t help herself from giddily giggling a little.

“What?” JD murmurs, still looking at her with that adorably soft expression. Veronica giggles again, moving her hips a little and sighing at the sensation.

“You love me,” she grins. JD grins right back at her, looking almost overwhelmed with happiness.

“I love you,” he agrees. “And you love me.”

“I love you,” Veronica giggles. She lifts herself up a little and sinks back down, humming blissfully at the feeling of him inside her. “I like saying it,” she admits.

JD’s hands move to her hips, making her pout a little, wanting him to keep touching her breasts, but then he begins guiding her movements, and she throws her head back a little, crying out shamelessly.

“I like -” she gasps, right as he thrusts up into her, hitting a delightfully sensitive angle deep inside her, “oh, god, fuck, fuck, fuck - I like hearing you say it.”

“God, Veronica,” JD groans. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good… Oh, god, I’ve been wanting to say it for so fucking long, I just didn’t want to - fuck - scare you… Jesus fucking Christ, I love you.”

“I love you,” Veronica echoes him. She lifts herself and leans down to kiss him, gasping into his mouth when he thrusts hard into her. “Oh, fuck, JD, god, just like that, please, please, don’t fucking stop, I love you -”

And then it’s a frenzy of kissing and clutching, so urgent that it becomes biting and scratching, lips, teeth, skin, nails, needing to be as physically close as possible, the shirt she’s still wearing riding up as JD roams his hands over her waist and hips and ass, fuck, he feels so fucking good inside her, and then just when she thinks she might be about to break in half from the intensity, he tugs at her earlobe with his teeth and whispers it again, “I love you,” and she orgasms so hard her vision blacks out, leaving her with nothing but blurry stars all around her, floating in space, feeling nothing and everything all at once.

JD finishes soon after her, holding her close and burying his face in her neck as he shudders heavily beneath her, and Veronica sighs happily and flops against him, her high giving way to tranquility. She kisses JD’s neck lazily, nipping playfully at his skin and leaving a trail of tiny marks up to his jaw, brushing her lips lazily over his cheek before reaching up to cup his face in her hand and turn him to face her. To her surprise and worry, his eyes are closed, his mouth trembling slightly and his eyelashes damp with tears.

“Darling?” she murmurs. “Are you okay?”

JD nods, but doesn’t open his eyes, and Veronica rolls off of him, sighing a little when he slips from her, and cuddles into his side. She kisses his cheek gently and brings her thumb up to gently wipe the unshed tears from his eyes.

“I love you,” she tells him gently. “Jason Dean, I love you so fucking much.” JD still doesn’t open his eyes, instead biting his lip as his chest heaves a little, like he’s suppressing a sob. She remembers the way his eyes had shone and how hoarse his voice had gone that night she’d accidentally scratched his back and then carefully kissed each mark better, his overwhelm at being treated so tenderly, and how surprised and relieved he’d been when she’d still wanted to hold him close afterwards. “This was a lot,” she mumbles into his ear. “Do you want to - do you want to just cuddle for a while?”

JD nods, and Veronica gently kisses his forehead before curling one hand into his soft dark hair and slipping the other around to stroke his back as he wraps his arms around her. She thinks about what he told her in the 7-Eleven the day of the Homecoming party, how he didn’t let himself feel anything, and she realizes that in fact the opposite is true: he feels so much, so intensely, that he’s afraid of accepting it for fear of getting hurt. Something has hurt him before, cut him deeply and left him with the kind of scars that don’t always show on the outside, and he’s so terrified of it happening again that he chooses the frozen pain of brain freeze over daring to let himself open back up. Her boy is so predisposed to having such a sincere, gentle heart that he’s built a million barriers around it to protect it. Bringing them down, even just some of them, must be quite painful, christ, no wonder he’s overwhelmed.

They lie there like that for a while, until JD at last lets out a long, slow breath and props himself up on one elbow. “Sorry,” he says quietly, sounding so genuinely apologetic that it’s honestly quite painful. Veronica gently trails her fingertips down his cheek, smiling at the way he presses eagerly into her touch.

“Don’t apologize,” she tells him. “I told you, it’ll take a lot more than that to scare me away.” She tilts her head, smiling up at him. “I love you.”

JD scrubs at his eyes with his palm, his fingers pushing his hair out of his face as his cheeks flush pink, but he finally manages a shaky smile back at her. “I love you too,” he says softly. “God, Veronica, I love you so much.” He leans down and kisses her gently, chaste and sweet and… fuck, there’s no other word for it but devout. When their lips part, he brushes the tip of his nose against hers, and fuck, she’s felt like her heart is melting so many times tonight that she’s sure it must be an entirely liquid puddle at this point, probably close to fucking evaporating by now.

Wanting to get it out of the way and return to his arms, Veronica practically sprints into the bathroom and speedruns through her nighttime routine, and then waits curled up in bed for JD to rejoin her, but at last they’re both ready for bed, and JD turns off the reading lamp and snuggles into her arms, wonderfully warm and pliant next to her, and it’s not much longer before they both drift off to sleep. Her heart will hurt in the morning when she remembers what Martha’s done, but right now Veronica Sawyer is happy and warm and loved, and that’s all she needs.

JD loves her, and she loves him, and that’s enough.

So don’t tell me that you love me if you don’t mean it,
And don’t say another damn word if you don’t believe it!
Only tell me if you care, tell me if you care,
Tell me if you care about me!
Only tell me if you dare, tell me if you dare,
Tell me if you dare…
If you dare to love me…
If you dare to love me…

Chapter End Notes

> Next time, now that we've addressed Veronica's emotional issues, we begin to address JD's:

> “It’s dumb. It was eight years ago, I need to get over it.”
> “I don’t think that’s the kind of thing you can just ‘get over’.”
> “Maybe.”

## Chapter 20: Mama

Chapter Summary

> JD remembers the day his mother died. Veronica considers her fight with Martha with a clearer head. They talk.

Chapter Notes

> Hello! Thank you for being so patient while I took some time off. I'm still not up to continuing to update every Tuesday (life is... A Lot right now) but I've finished Chapter 20 and am too eager to share it to wait. This one is... very emotional. I really hope you guys enjoy it! Again, thank you to all of you for your patience and lovely comments <3 I love you all!

> Another note: JD would have fucking loved My Chemical Romance. My apologies to Fae for the sheer amount of MCR I've added to our shared JDonica playlist since I started listening to them. Mama, Kill All Your Friends, Na Na Na, and Demolition Lovers are all big JD vibes if any of you guys want to give them a listen <3

> Warnings for this chapter: Emotional and Physical Abuse are Very Much Present, as is JD's mother's death by her own hand!! All of these things are implied in the musical, but still, please mind your health!! Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings is not the same as No Archive Warnings Apply. Everything after the marker of Saturday 14th October, 1989 is more on the same level as previous chapters regarding implication vs presence, if you need to skip ahead.

> Happy reading!!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Mama, we're all full of lies, Mama, we're meant for the flies!
And right now, they're building a coffin your size - Mama, we're all full of lies.
Well, mother, what the war did to my legs and to my tongue -
You should've raised a baby girl, I should've been a better son!
If you could coddle the infection, they can amputate at once -
You should've been, I could have been a better son!

- My Chemical Romance, Mama

Friday 7th August, 1981
Dallas, Texas
Helena Dean’s car
Half past 1pm

“Stone love, she kneels before the grave,
A brave son, who gave his life
To save the slogan
That hovers between the headstone and her eyes,
For they penetrate her grieving…”

Mom isn’t singing along to the radio today. It’s weird, because she loves David Bowie, and Soul Love is one of her favorites. She seems distracted, a little out of it, Jason has to tap her hand and yell “MOM!” about three times when she forgets to signal or when she doesn’t brake as early as she should when they reach a set of traffic lights. Her knuckles are white on the steering wheel and her lips are pursed, like she’s trying to suppress how jittery she is. Like how Jason does after he buys a paper bag of bonbons when he gets sent to the corner store for cigarettes, then eats all of them in one go to prevent his dad from finding out he wasted money on candy.

He knows she’s not jittery from eating too much candy, though. His mom barely eats most of the time nowadays, subsisting on coffee and cigarettes even though Jason keeps disapprovingly telling her it’s bad for her. He wondered for a while if maybe it’s because she’s too tired to cook, but when he tried bringing her a sandwich (peanut butter and raspberry jelly, the best kind of sandwich, no one in their right mind should be able to resist it, he thinks), she’d smiled widely and kissed his cheek and told him what a good boy he was, but then only taken the tiniest bite and left the rest on the plate. He’d eaten the rest when it became clear she wasn’t going to finish it. His dad doesn’t like when they waste food.

There are a lot of things his dad doesn’t like.

Why he wants them to come down to the demolition site is beyond Jason. It’s a little early (or maybe a little late) in the year for Take-Your-Child-To-Work-Day. Besides, he doesn’t need to watch Bud Dean getting paid to be an asshole to the deconstruction crew when he can sit at home watching Bud Dean voluntarily being an asshole to his family.

His upper right arm is still twinging a little from what had happened two nights before. He’s wearing an oversized T-shirt, one he’d been sent by some old aunt and uncle for his birthday, he thinks, that Mom had wanted to exchange for something that fit him before his dad had shouted her down. Something about Jason, still quite small and shrimpy for a nine-year-old, being able to grow into it, and that it was badword rude and badword disrespectful to his dad’s relatives, Jesus badword Christ, what will they think if they come visiting, Helena, are you badword stupid? Jason had kind of wanted to exchange it for one that fit, and with a different character on it, he didn’t really like Iron Man. Or superheroes in general. He wasn’t really into comics and cartoons; he preferred proper books and full-length movies. A Star Wars shirt, now that would have been cool, but his dad made them keep the oversized one. He’s glad of it today, though; it hides the bruise on his bicep that’s shaped like his dad’s fingers.

Mom had cried about it, when it happened, but she’d already been crying a bit anyway, so he wasn’t sure it counted. Bud had been yelling at her because she was still in bed when he came home from work. Jason hated when his dad would shout at her, calling her useless and lazy and stupid and a million other cruel words that didn’t seem fair. How could you get mad at someone for just being tired? He hates his dad, sometimes. Bud had shouted at her to “get the badword up, you stupid cow!” and grabbed her wrist, tight enough to bruise, and that’s when Jason had shoved him, and said the rude thing that his dad says all the time that Jason isn’t supposed to say, but he knows if he says it, his dad will leave Mom alone and start in on him instead.

“Fuck off, Dad!”

Bud Dean had frozen, his incensed gaze turning from his weeping wife to his furious son.

“Don’t fuckin’ talk to your son like that, Pop.”

And then Bud Dean had grabbed his arm and twisted it behind Jason’s back, growling out a warning regarding what would happen if Jason ever spoke to him or shoved him like that again, and pushed his son hard to the floor before storming out of the house and driving to the nearest bar. Jason had slowly gotten up, trying not to wince, and grabbed a tissue for his Mom to mop up her tears.

For some reason that had made her weep even harder.

Now they’re in the car, barrelling down the highway to the deconstruction site, some messed up take on a family outing. Bud Dean had been all apologies and smiles yesterday, promising that after the building came down he’d take them to tea at Pizza Forest (which Jason is really too old for at this point, seriously, the concept of joining in with a rendition of Row, Row, Row Your Boat sung by a waiter in a squirrel costume hasn’t excited him since kindergarten, but you don’t argue with Bud Dean), and like always, Helena Dean just nodded and smiled and accepted and agreed. Jason did too, though he didn’t mean it. His dad’s apologies are never real, so why should Jason’s forgiveness be?

He wonders if maybe Mom’s forgiveness was fake too, if that’s why she’s so tense and not singing along to the radio. She doesn’t even complain like she usually does when the DJ talks over the fade-out of the saxophone solo, doesn’t turn to Jason and teasingly ask her normal question whenever there’s a song with a saxophone solo on the radio.

“I think I could play that,” he says softly, because maybe she’s just forgotten the script.

Helena Dean only nods vaguely. “Probably,” she hums.

They reach the parking lot for the deconstruction site and she ignores the first few available spaces, instead pulling into the closest one to the edge of the blast zone, the car facing the decrepit library. She turns and looks at him, and Jason stares back at her, a little unsettled by the way she looks right now. Her skin is pale and papery, her eyeliner smudged and careless, her lipstick scraped off by her teeth. She smiles, and it’s shaky and sad and her eyes are weirdly shiny and it’s all wrong.

She hasn’t bothered putting her hair up the way his dad likes her to.

“Jason,” she says, and her voice is soft but he hears every word, even over the muffled sounds of the deconstruction crew shouting at each other. “My lovely boy. My big, grown-up, smart, talented boy. I love you. So much, Jason. So, so much, don’t you ever forget that.”

He wriggles and blushes a bit, starting to get to the age where it’s a bit embarrassing to hear his Mom praising him like that. “I love you too, Mom,” he mumbles. She looks like she wants to say more, but instead she just presses her lips together and smiles without it reaching her eyes.

“Are you gonna be okay on your own?”

“Mo-om.” He’s waited in the car on his own hundreds of times. He’s nine, not a kindergartener any more.

“I know, I just… I worry, baby.”

She reaches across the center console and squeezes him in a hug, and even though he’s sure he’s too old to be clinging to his mother like this, he wraps his arms tightly around her, not caring that his hip is getting a bit bruised by the booster seat he’s embarrassed to still need. Helena Dean pulls back and smiles again, still shaky and shiny-eyed and unsettlingly wrong.

“Keep an eye on my purse, sweetie?” He nods, and waits for her to say the next line, I’ll be right back, Jason, don’t you worry, but she doesn’t. She just kisses his cheek and gets out of the car.

Jason kicks his legs. He fidgets with the seat belt. He sings vaguely along to the radio, that new ABBA song his Mom loves -

“Slipping through my fingers all the time,
I try to capture every minute -
The feeling in it.
Slipping through my fingers all the time,
Do I really see what's in her mind?
Each time I think I'm close to knowing,
She keeps on growing -
Slipping through my fingers all the time.”

…Huh. The radio’s still playing. She’s left the key in the ignition. Weird. She never does that, always paranoid that someone will steal their junky old car and terrified that Jason will be in it when they do. Where is she?

A movement through the windshield catches his eye. The car is close to the blast zone, pretty much as close as they can get without getting in the way of the crew, and there’s something moving in the upstairs window of the library. He undoes his seatbelt, even though Mom says it’s dangerous for him because he’s still little, but his dad doesn’t bother wearing one, and neither does she much any more, and scoots off the booster seat to awkwardly stand up and peer at the movement.

It’s his Mom. And she’s waving to him.

Jason flings open the car door and trips out onto the asphalt, ignoring the pain in his hands and knees and scrambling to his feet, yelling, “DAD, NO, WAIT -”

- but he’s too late.

“Three!” yells his dad. “Two! One!”

And just like in his commercials, Big Bud Dean pushes down the plunger.

Kaboom.

Saturday 14th October, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
JD’s bedroom
Twenty-two minutes past eight

Veronica awakens slowly and blissfully, blinking and wriggling one hand out from the cocoon of blankets to scrub the sleep out of her eyes. She’s decidedly dehydrated. She ate… Chinese food last night? Shrimp-fried rice with crispy seaweed, washed down with store-brand cola. All salt and sugar and delicious at first but slightly sickly sweet by the time she gave up on it. Yeah, she remembers now. She’s in JD’s room. He bought her Chinese food because… she’d been crying.

Oh, fuck.

Martha. Yesterday she caught Martha going through her diary. Martha had found out about the note prank. Veronica had lashed out at her. Martha had cried. Martha had said some awful things about JD…

Veronica told JD she loves him.

She becomes aware of an arm that isn’t hers draped over her waist, and the soft rise and fall of slow breathing, and feels a gentle flush creep up her cheeks when she realizes JD is spooning her with his face snuggled against her neck. Veronica slowly rolls over to face him, careful not to disturb him - she’s not entirely convinced he gets enough sleep; he always has dark shadows under his eyes and while it fits with his brooding, mysterious loner vibe and certainly doesn’t detract from how handsome he is, part of loving him - something she’d never really considered would be a part of loving someone like this - is really wanting to see him healthy and relaxed.

He looks so young like this. His cheeks seem rounder, and his dark eyelashes fan delicately over them, making him look ever-so-slightly angelic. Like a Saint painted by a Renaissance artist. She leans forward and ever so gently brushes her lips against his; he doesn’t kiss back, too deeply asleep to probably realize, but Veronica is fine with that.

JD loves her.

He loves her. She told him she loves him and he said it back, and he’d looked so, so painfully relieved that her heart had simultaneously sung in her chest and shattered in two. When was the last time someone said those three words to him? From what she knows of his father, and she doesn’t know much - JD has seemed almost fearful whenever she’s brought up the concept of meeting the man - she suspects that Bud Dean isn’t the type of father to tell his son he loves him. Veronica knows she’s JD’s first and only girlfriend, so it seems unlikely that anyone else has said it to him and meant it the way she does. And she knows from experience that even the most overzealous of teen girls with a crush know better than to bust out an ‘I love you’ to even the most handsome teenage boy without an existing relationship. When was the last time he heard it then? His mother?

JD hasn’t said much about his mother in the three weeks they’ve been together. He’s let the odd comment slip out - when they’re studying together with the radio playing and a song comes on that his mom had loved; when they’d passed a claw machine in the arcade and he’d made some vague comment that his mom always had a knack for winning the prizes; once Veronica had asked his opinion on her new sun-moon-and-star earrings and he’d gently touched one and smiled when he said they were nice and that his mom had once had a pair like that - but nothing more. Certainly nothing regarding how long ago she died, or how it happened. And Veronica doesn’t want to push - she wants to know who he is, wants to learn what events shaped him into a witty, intelligent young man who fears emotional pain far above physical hurt, of course she does, but she wants him to tell her on his own terms.

He loves her, and she’s so, so happy about that, but she also wants him to trust her, and she knows that although love and trust often go hand in hand, the two are not mutually exclusive.

She might have learned that better than anyone, yesterday afternoon.

Veronica sighs glumly, the hurt and rage and humiliation flooding back to her as she remembers what Martha’s done. She realizes she needs to sort it out properly in her head, piece it together accurately now that the hurt is a dull ache rather than a stabbing pain. She presses a gentle kiss to JD’s forehead and carefully slips out of his arms, tiptoeing from his room to the bathroom.

The mirror in the Deans’ bathroom is a small, cheap, square thing, and Veronica needs to stand back from it if she wants to view the state of her hair properly. Her natural curls are wild about her face, slightly flatter than usual from drying off without any of the hair gels and creams and sprays and mousses the Heathers recommended. She still remembers being in Walgreens with the Heathers that fateful Friday afternoon six weeks ago, Heather Chandler asking if her then-slightly-straggly curls were natural, Heather McNamara squealing when Veronica nodded and snatching up a selection of shampoos and conditioners and various other hair products to dump in their basket, and Heather Duke staring enviously, one hand self-consciously running through her own perfectly styled yet straight-as-a-bone auburn blowout. It feels almost like another life - which, Veronica supposes, it kind of was.

Back when the Martha Veronica knew would never have even thought of reading her diary.

Now that’s a thought. How did Martha come up with the idea? It’s just not like her. If Martha has ever been worried about Veronica before, she’s shown it in the form of asking a lot of questions and being overly insistent that she’s always around if Veronica ever wants to talk. Veronica casts her mind back to the confrontation, sure there was something Martha had said about where the idea had come from…

“I can’t believe you would tell the Heathers how I feel about Ram! That was a secret, Veronica! It was between you and me!”

“I didn’t tell them that! I tried to talk them out of it! I didn’t know they were going to give that stupid note to you when I wrote it!”

“You still wrote it! Oh my god, no wonder Heather Chandler thinks you’re acting weird! The Veronica Sawyer I know would never -”

Huh. Heather Chandler. Veronica had been surprised then too at the mention of Westerburg’s resident Demon Queen. What was it Martha had said?

“She was-was wo-worried about you. You’ve - hic - you’ve been acting really weird since you started g-going out with J-Jay-JD. She t-told me she was worried that he-he was co-coercing you b-because you were af-af-afraid of what he might-might do if you said-said-said no.”

Heather Chandler, concerned about Veronica and asking Martha Dunnstock for advice. Something isn’t right with that image, Veronica had known that even during the confrontation. She’d gotten distracted lashing out out of hurt at the betrayal, but she knew even then that something was off with Martha’s excuse.

Martha doesn’t have the inclination nor the unscrupulousness to lie to teachers about forgotten homework, nevermind to her best friend regarding what on its own sounds like a dreadfully flimsy justification. Veronica recalls a line from The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis, one of her favorite childhood books:

“You know she doesn’t tell lies and it is obvious that she is not mad. For the moment then and unless any further evidence turns up, we must assume that she is telling the truth.”

Martha isn’t crazy, Veronica’s sure of it. Ram-crazy, maybe, book-crazy on occasion, more than a little sappy-romance-crazy, but not wacky-town banana-pants insane crazy. And she’s not likely to lie. So… there’s a very high chance that Heather Chandler did talk to her about her ‘concerns’ regarding Veronica.

So the question now isn’t Where would Martha get the idea? It’s Why would Heather Chandler bring up her imaginary concerns to Martha?

Because the thing is… Heather Chandler never seemed actually bothered that Veronica had a crush on JD. Veronica had denied it out of fear of being told that JD was off-limits, but Heather had seemed… amused, mostly, at least in the aftermath of the cafeteria fistfight. She’d only really gotten annoyed when Veronica had taken too long buying the Corn Nuts, so it doesn’t seem as if it was JD himself that she disapproved of.

More likely, the thing that unsettled her was the idea of Veronica putting Heather Chandler second to someone else.

As soon as Veronica realizes that, it all slots into place. Heather Chandler doesn’t care long-term about the prank being ruined or Veronica vomiting on her shoes, even if she’s a little pissed about both of those things. She’s angry that Veronica chose Martha over her. That’s the thing she wants to make Veronica regret.

And Veronica might have been discreet about writing in her diary in public when she was with the Heathers, but she never really bothered hiding it before. Veronica Sawyer was too much of a nobody for anyone whose opinion mattered to bother with, and it was unlikely that anyone was going to try and read her private thoughts, but she’s shared classes with the Heathers since kindergarten. No matter how much they act like knowing details about their classmates is beneath them, Heather Chandler is incredibly people-smart. She knows Heather Duke’s insecurities so well it’s child’s play to keep her in line and crush her petty rebellions. She recognizes Heather McNamara’s need for friends who’ll keep her powerful and included, and uses it to keep the Head Cheerleader loyal and mostly obedient. She spent three weeks reading Veronica like a fucking book…

Veronica’s memory floats back to that discussion she’d had with JD in Dairy Queen two weeks ago, about the time she met Heather Chandler’s family. She’d known for ages that Heather Chandler’s parents were separated; Heather’s never been shy about telling people about the luxurious holidays in Paris where her mother lives now, engaged to a big-name gallery owner and editing some prestigious fashion magazine for the super-wealthy. She spent all of fourth grade bragging about how she was going to be the flower girl at her father’s wedding to his fiancée in the summer, and a good chunk of the first week of fifth grade showing off the photographs of her beautiful and expensive flower girl dress. But…

She’s never had anything good to say about her mother’s fiancé or her father’s new wife. And Veronica remembers scores of other kids chattering happily away about new siblings being born and taking their first steps and saying first words - Heather McNamara and Martha and even Heather Duke included - but never Heather Chandler. Veronica’s only ever seen Mr Chandler at school open houses, no sign of his wife, and she didn’t even know Heather had a younger half-sister until she’d visited the Chandlers’ house for the first time a few weeks ago.

Is it possible that Heather Chandler has been put second by other people her whole life? Her mother leaving her behind for a wealthy fiancé in another country, her father starting a new life with a new woman and a new daughter. Little Jennifer Chandler is as spoiled as Heather, perhaps more so - she has a nanny who lives with them, and although Heather is quick to turn her nose up at the idea - “Stupid clueless baby needs to grow up, I never needed a nanny!” - does she perhaps see it as one more way her father and step-mother prefer her sister over her?

Veronica shakes her head, scrunching her nose a little. It’s not her job to analyze what made Heather Chandler who she is. But it does explain why Heather would target Martha. She wants Veronica to regret standing up for Martha at the expense of Heather Chandler’s pride.

Martha, as much as Veronica hates to admit this about someone she loves - loved? She’s not sure any more, Martha has betrayed her so thoroughly - has an irritatingly simple mindset. She prefers familiarity over change - that is to say, she shies away from the fear of the unknown to the point of holding herself back. Her kindness and belief in the inherent goodness of the people she grew up with is endearing to a point, but it’s not the first time her naïvety has greatly frustrated Veronica.

Put simply, Martha has known Ram since kindergarten and has mooned over him nearly as long; therefore, in Martha’s mind, Ram can’t be in the wrong. So JD is. And because she formed that opinion before she knew how Veronica feels about JD, it’s the one she’s sticking with. Heather Chandler, who acts the part of the vapid, shallow, mallrat party girl because she knows it would be harder to control her peers if they knew how smart she really is, read it in Martha’s face as easily as a sixth grade girl powering through a Sweet Valley High book. She used her knowledge gained from the time spent molding Veronica into Heather Number Four to perfectly put together a plan to take down both Veronica and Martha in one simple move…

Her intention was probably only for Martha to learn that Veronica was behind the note prank and then let the chips fall where they may, and the fact that Veronica actually caught her in the act is likely just a bonus.

Heather Chandler. The Demon Queen of Westerburg High who likes to pretend that when you graze the surface of her personality, you’ll only find more surface, because she’s terrified that someone will figure out that what’s really inside is a lonely little girl desperate to be loved, screaming for someone to put her first for once. Veronica would feel sorry for her if she wasn’t such a manipulative mega-bitch.

And Martha. Martha Dunnstock has stayed by Veronica’s side for sixteen goddamn years. She’s helped Veronica run lines for the school musical, passed notes with her to giggle about teachers’ haircuts, and most of all, she believed Veronica when Veronica had told her the truth of what happened the day she and Betty Finn ended their friendship.

Maybe Veronica can forgive her for being wary of JD. But she’s not sure she can forgive Martha for acting on her suspicions.

She thinks she might be able to talk to her mother about it when she goes home now. She knows she couldn’t have handled it in the miserable state she’d been in when it had happened - Sarah Sawyer is a good mother in many ways, but has a complete lack of understanding of teenage social customs, and Veronica knows her mom wants her to go back to the days when it was Veronica-and-Martha instead of the-Heathers-and-Veronica, even if she doesn’t mind Heather McNamara. She often lacks sensitivity and tact, and is completely embarrassing when it comes to things like boys and menstruation and, oh god, ‘the birds and the bees’. Case in point, telling Veronica to keep the door open if she and her boyfriend went upstairs in front of said boyfriend.

A problem for later, she decides. She feels somewhat better now that she’s managed to hash it out logically in her mind. Martha was manipulated, she’s certain, and although she’s not sure if she can forgive, she understands at least.

She grabs the little purse of toiletries she left in the bathroom last night and quickly brushes her teeth, dabs a little perfume onto her pulse point, checks her appearance one last time - JD has left her neck unmarked, although there’s a slight hint of a bruise on her right earlobe that was definitely left by his teeth, but that can probably be explained away as the result of sleeping in cheap earrings - and adjusts the borrowed shirt she’s still wearing, the cold from the lack of blankets finally catching up to her, before grinning at her reflection and exiting the bathroom. Veronica Sawyer is more than ready for a lazy morning of sleepy cuddling and possibly pajama-clad breakfast with the boyfriend who loves her.

Saturday 14th October, 1989
Sherwood, Ohio
JD’s bedroom
Thirty-one minutes past eight

JD really fucking hates nightmares.

He doesn’t suppose it’s much comfort to have something he considers a ‘normal’ nightmare, but at least he knows what to expect. Mom acting weird. Mom in the car. Mom leaving the keys in the ignition. Looking around for Mom. Spotting her in the window. Mom waving. Dad detonating a redundant amount of TNT. Kaboom. Wake up hyperventilating - and if he’s already been on edge about something or other, with eyes full of tears - then glumly remember it already happened eight years ago and scold himself for still being soft enough to cry about it. Fall back asleep: pleasanter, more plotless dreams if the last few days have been good; rinse and repeat if otherwise.

But today…

It starts normally. Mom acting weird. Mom in the car. Mom leaving the keys in the ignition. Looking around for Mom. Spotting someone in the window of that dilapidated old library - but this person has shorter, darker hair, and none of his Mom’s Texas-sun freckles. They’re far away, but he knows. The person turns and waves, not wearing the stripy padded sweater and powder blue slacks he forever remembers as Helena Dean’s final outfit, but a royal blue blazer gathered at the waist over a short tartan skirt and a navy turtleneck blouse…

Veronica tosses her hair, giggles, and blows him a teasing kiss, and like always Big Bud Dean pushes down the plunger before JD can stop him.

Kaboom.

JD jerks awake as the building implodes, breathing heavily, and scrunches his eyes against any potential tears. Just a nightmare, he reminds himself, just a stupid fucking nightmare.

Even so, he reaches out to pull Veronica closer and reassure himself that she’s alive and well next to him - except she isn’t next to him. He’s alone.

He sits up, eyes wide, breathing fast. He’s been lying with his back almost pressed into the wall, suggesting he has been sharing the narrow twin bed with someone, and his right arm is outstretched as if he’s had it wrapped around that person’s midriff, but there’s no other sign of Veronica’s presence. In his bleary-eyed, not-fully-awake state, JD feels his panic rise as he wonders if maybe he made it all up in his head, and it’s still September and Veronica never actually climbed through his window, all just a dream.

Or worse, if it was real, and she’s just decided that it isn’t love after all, that she’s made a mistake, and has taken the chance to flee back home while he was asleep.

(Yes, okay, under his ‘I don’t give a fuck’ exterior, Jason Dean is actually very prone to catastrophizing. He didn’t do feelings for eight years for a reason.)

He has his face in his hands, eyes screwed tight shut and fingers slightly tugging his hair while he tries to prevent his too-fast breathing from becoming outright hyperventilating, so he doesn’t notice Veronica re-enter the room until she sits down next to him and slips her arms around his shoulders. He freezes, hardly daring to believe she’s real, but then she presses a kiss to his neck and he automatically relaxes into her embrace.

“Nightmare?” she murmurs into his skin, when he finally manages to get his breathing under control. JD nods, closing his eyes and sighing shakily. Veronica slips back under the covers and entwines her legs with his. Her feet are freezing, but her touch is so comforting that he can’t bring himself to mind. “Wanna talk about it?”

JD nods, then shakes his head, then nods again. He’s not sure if he’s ready to tell her the truth about the end of Helena Dean’s life. He settles on giving her the basic facts; it’s a sore tooth he knows not to poke at, but maybe telling Veronica will lessen the pain a little. Not today though.

“My mom died when I was nine,” he says eventually. “I… saw it. I have that nightmare a lot, sort of… reliving that day. I know what’s going to happen, but I can’t…” he nearly says ‘stop it’, but that might clue in Veronica as to what happened, and he doesn’t want her to try and guess. “...change anything. But…” JD takes a deep breath, slightly scared to admit it. “There’s a moment where she turns around and I see her face, only this time… it was you.”

Veronica doesn’t say anything, but she holds him a little tighter and runs her fingers through his hair. JD sighs and lets himself relax into her for a moment, before flopping back onto the pillow.

“It’s dumb,” he murmurs. “It was eight years ago, I need to get over it.”

Veronica tilts her head, turning slightly towards him and pursing her lips. “I don’t think that’s the kind of thing you can just ‘get over’,” she says quietly. JD shrugs and rolls over to face the wall, finding himself unable to meet her sincere gaze.

“Maybe,” he murmurs, not really believing it.

Veronica flops down next to him and pulls him into her arms so she’s spooning him, sending an unexpected flush across JD’s cheeks. He has a slightly primal moment of No Thoughts Head Empty Needs Met Happy Want To Stay Here before his brain starts working again and he experiences the self-conscious realization of Ah, this is why Veronica likes it so much when I hold her like this.

“What was she like?” Veronica murmurs into his ear. “Your mom, I mean. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t, y’know, want to, but… I dunno. You’ve met mine, I’m curious about yours.”

And okay, he can do that. If he skirts around the bad parts, it might be nice to tell Veronica about his mom. He casts his mind back, trying to remember the details beyond what happened that last day.

“She loved David Bowie,” he starts off. “She bought The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars as soon as it came out. Soul Love was her favorite from that album, but her all-time favorite was Drive-In Saturday. Whenever one of them came on, she’d always ask me, ‘Do you think you could play that on the saxophone?’ and she even bought me the sheet music for some of them. She loved the theater and mythology and history and stuff like that, and she was the best at reading stories. She actually…” he manages a smile, remembering it. “She volunteered at the library, doing Story Time for all the kids. She would do voices for all the different characters, and it… it felt like they were really alive and there with us in the room. And… I think I told you I was in Junior Jazz Band?” Veronica nods against his shoulder. “She would pick me up from practice and ask me to give her a private concert, just me, when we got home. And she came to all the recitals and sat right in the middle and… we knew boys didn’t get flowers after a show, so she’d bring me a cupcake with an icing flower on it instead. I used to play Little League Baseball, and she’d come to all those games too, and we’d go for pizza afterwards…”

He swallows the lump in his throat, remembering the game when he’d been voted MVP, and his mom had been so proud she’d made him a special Congratulations pie, made it herself instead of just buying it from Mrs Baird's. JD hadn’t even minded that the pastry was a little burnt, even though his dad had called it flavorless and wasteful, because it meant his mom was proud of him.

“She would have liked you,” he says quietly, meaning it. His nose is suddenly aching in that way it hasn’t ached for eight years, a sign that the frozen dam he’s build around his emotions is about to crack. He sniffs, furiously trying to keep it in. “I know she would have.”

Veronica gently strokes her fingers against his arm, rubbing her thumb over his bicep. “What was her name?” she asks softly.

JD sighs and leans further into her embrace, closing his eyes and feeling moisture start to gather in his lashes. “Helena,” he murmurs. “Her name was Helena.”

He’s not crying. He’s not. Jason Dean doesn’t cry, not beyond the annoyance of the involuntary tears that pool in his eyes when he wakes up from the nightmare.

He hasn’t dared to remember this much about his mother since probably about a year after her death.

Veronica is holding him tight, and his breath is shaky and his cheeks are damp, but he’s not crying. He’s sure he’s too frozen inside to cry. Or, at least, he was.

…He’s not sure any more. Veronica Sawyer chipped the ice that day they first spoke, and has been slowly melting his defenses every day since until she broke through all the way last night when she told him she loves him, that she means it.

And the scariest part is that he doesn’t want her to stop until nothing is left of the walls he puts up but a pile of rubble next to his heart.

And when we go, don't blame us, yeah,
We'll let the fires just bathe us, yeah!
You made us oh, so famous -
We'll never let you go!
She said, "You ain't no son of mine!
For what you've done, they're gonna find
A place for you and just you mind your manners when you go!
And when you go, don't return to me, my love," that's right!

Chapter End Notes

> It's been a while since I've updated this fic (life has got in the way quite massively this year) but I've seen some things in the fandom that concern me so I would like to take the time to say that under NO circumstances do I give anyone permission to feed this fic into an AI generator to get the 'ending'. If you are the sort of person who would do that, which I hope none of you are as you've all been so kind and encouraging, then I think my writing is not for you to read. And you should maybe go to the nearest park and listen to the sounds of nature and realise what the supercomputer required to generate fanfiction - that is likely based on real authors' stolen words - is burning through and destroying to get you your 'content'.

> Thank you so much to everyone who has commented and is willing to wait patiently for me to not be under siege by, among other things, mostly my own brain chemistry any more. I truly appreciate it and you make fandom worth it.

## Afterword

End Notes

> If you read this far and didn't hate it, I'd love to hear what you liked! Preferably in the comments, but also feel free to hit up my askbox on Tumblr @/queer-cosette. Thank you for reading!!

> Also a quick shout out to A, my beloved IRL who is my Numero Uno cheerleader for this sort of thing <3 this fic wouldn't exist without your encouragement :D

Please drop by the Archive and comment to let the creator know if you enjoyed their work!