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Betty has never been good at sleepovers.
The select few she'd actually been invited to as a kid, usually resulted in her staring up at the ceiling most of the night, even if she was familiar with the surroundings. Something about falling asleep in a bed that wasn't her own just never seemed to take.
It doesn't help that there's nothing particularly interesting about Veronica's ceiling. Back in fourth grade Ethel Muggs had those glow in the dark star stickers all over hers, arranged with real constellations that made for excellent inspiration, and led Betty to winning the science fair that year.
Sometime around what must be two in the morning, she tries to mentally go over her AP biology notes, when Veronica sighs in her sleep and rolls into Betty. The blonde's breath catches when the brunette's arm reaches further to slide across her hip, her whole body freezing at the contact, concentration immediately nonexistent.
She has no idea what to do. If she shifts to escape her friend's sudden snuggle, it could wake her and lead to what can only be an awkward attempt of explanation. If she stays, well, isn't that just as awkward?
It's difficult to gauge how long she stays so ridged, Veronica still not fully unpacked to have a clock in her room, and her phone is on the nightstand on the opposite side of the bed. Finally the courage builds strong enough so that she taps the top of Veronica's hand, though at first it doesn't do much other than incite a sleep muddled moan from her friend. Counting to ten before trying again, Veronica's head lifts from the pillow in a snap, pulling her arm away just as quickly, though she remains pressed into Betty's side.
“What?” Veronica mumbles groggily. “What's wrong?”
“Nothing,” Betty assures. “Nothing's wrong. Just, um, you kind of made me the little spoon?”
Veronica doesn't reply at first, and Betty can't really see the details of her face to know what her reaction is, but eventually the raven haired girl lets out a soft chuckle and dips her head back to the pillow.
“Sorry,” she offers. “Guess I could have warned you I'm kind of a snuggler.”
“It's okay,” Betty replies automatically. Even if it's not really. Even when she can still feel the ghost of Veronica's hand on her hip.
“Hey,” Veronica whispers. “Have you been awake all night?”
Betty turns her head back to the ceiling, keeps her eyes focused straight up.
“Kind of.”
“Does that happen a lot?”
Still staring at the ceiling, wishing for stars.
“Sometimes,” she admits. “When I'm stressed out from school, or from my mom. When I'm not in my own bed, too. It happens at motels and stuff. Vacations always leave me groggy.”
Veronica laughs softly, and Betty feels some of the tension finally begin to loosen.
“Do you want some tea?” She offers. “I think my mom has some of that sleepy time stuff she likes to chase her ambien with.”
Betty knows all about sleeping pills. Ambien, now commonly known as zolpidem tartrate, used to treat short term cases of insomnia. She's had a few prescriptions herself.
“I'm okay,” she insists. “You should go back to sleep, though.”
“While you stare awkwardly up at my ceiling the rest of the night, then politely assure me in the morning that I don't snore? Yeah, that's going to happen.”
“Really,” Betty maintains. “I'll be fine.”
Veronica reaches for her again, stroking her cheek rather than a hip, but this time Betty doesn't seize up on contact.
“How often do you say that?” She asks. “How often is it true?”
Tears suddenly well in Betty's eyes. Always so perfect, so composed, and constantly making sure everyone else around her is happy and content while no one ever bothers to ask if she is.
“Hey,” Veronica starts, feeling the tears fall across her fingers. “Hey, it's okay Betty. It's okay, I'm here.”
Betty tries to get the tears to stop, but the floodgates have opened, as she turns into Veronica on instinct and fully accepts when her friend wraps her up in a warm embrace. Betty isn't sure how long they stay that way, not bothering to count the seconds in her mind, for once in her life accepting the hand offered.
Veronica coos soft assurances against Betty's hair, gently playing with ends of it with her right, and holding firm onto her friend with the left.
“I try so hard,” Betty whispers. “To be perfect. And...and...”
“And nobody is,” Veronica fills in. “That's the catch, isn't it?”
With a quiet sniffle, Betty nods against her.
“I don't think you're perfect,” Veronica says. “But I do think you're wonderful.”
Betty manages a laugh through her tears.
“Thanks.”
Veronica presses a kiss against Betty's forehead, still stroking her hair.
“Since sleep doesn't seem to be an option,” she begins. “I think there might be some ice cream in the freezer. If pigging out on dairy in the middle of the night is your thing.”
“Yeah,” Betty replies through another sniffle. “It definitely is.”
Veronica pulls away and slides off the bed, reaching for Betty's hand, she guides her toward the kitchen and doesn't let go. Betty's eyes dart down to their entwined fingers, finding she doesn't mind this newfound affection, and smiles.
The linoleum is cold against their bare feet, Veronica casually separating their hands as she moves toward the fridge, Betty taking a seat on one of the stools set in front of the breakfast nook and watching as her friend shuffles around the freezer.
“Aha,” Veronica declares after another few moments, turning to show Betty there is indeed dessert to be had. She shifts over to a drawer, pulls out two spoons, and takes the stool on Betty's right while placing the carton between them.
“Neapolitan, okay?” She asks.
“Of course,” Betty affirms, grabbing for her spoon and stabbing into the strawberry side.
Veronica goes for chocolate, and if Betty recalls, also went for chocolate when it came to milkshakes at Pop's.
“Your favorite?” She asks with a nod toward Veronica's spoon.
“Hmm?” Veronica questions around the bite of ice cream.
“Chocolate.”
Veronica licks her lips before answering, immediately going for another spoonful. “Oh. Yeah. Chocolate everything.” She scoops another healthy portion. “You're full of surprises,” she teases. “Here I thought you were all vanilla.”
Betty looks down at the hunk of strawberry perched on her spoon.
“When it comes to milkshakes? Absolutely. But ice cream on the whole, I tend to be all over the place. Butter pecan. Black raspberry marble. Mint chocolate chip.”
“You scream, I scream?”
Betty finishes her latest bite.
“Well, we don't want to wake your mom.”
Veronica's brow furrows at the impossibly lame joke, but a second later she's laughing regardless, playfully bumping Betty's shoulder.
“Speaking of moms,” she begins. “Doesn't yours hate me?”
Betty suddenly finds the ice cream carton very worthy of attention.
“I wouldn't say that,” she denies. “She's just overprotective. Always was. But especially after what happened to Polly.”
“Not a big thing if she does,” Veronica deflects. “Trust me, I've been on the receiving end of many a Manhattan mom stink eye. I was just wondering, I mean, I can't imagine she approved of our little slumber party here. So where does she think you are right now?”
Betty instantly feels guilty for having to lie, just to be able to spend time with her friends, even if she believes her mother crosses the line from overprotective to overbearing far too often and easily.
“At Midge Klump's,” she confesses.
Veronica mulls the name over in her mind.
“Isn't that Moose's-”
“Girlfriend?” Betty answers, unable to keep her fingers from air quoting. “Yes. But she's also a really nice girl. I tutored her in history last year and she covers for me anytime I need her to.”
Veronica looks impressed, placing a dramatic hand to her chest.
“You are full of surprises,” she says approvingly, leaning in for another scoop as her shoulder brushes Betty's, and lets the contact linger.
It's strange, Betty muses. Just minutes ago Veronica's casual attitude toward physical contact was nearly a point of contention, but a simple conversation later it feels like the most natural thing in the world. They eat their dessert in silence for awhile, just enjoying the cool sweetness and each others company.
A lock of hair falls into Betty's face, and Veronica's hand is there in an instant, tucking it back behind her ear.
“Betty?” She starts softly. “I think you're the most beautiful girl I've ever met.”
It's so unexpected, Betty can't help but snort with a spoon in her mouth, pulling it out quickly and swallowing what's left of her ice cream. She can't possibly mean that. She's from New York for Pete's sake, she probably knows like, real life models or something.
“You don't mean that,” she's quick to rebuff.
“No I do,” Veronica insists, hand kind of toying with Betty's ear. “I really do.”
Betty smiles at her sincerity.
“Well, thanks.”
Veronica returns the smile.
“Anytime.”
Once they effectively kill the rest of the ice cream, Veronica pops up from her stool to toss the empty carton in the garbage and drop the spoons in the sink. She offers a hand to Betty, who takes it without pause, and they shuffle back down the hall to Veronica's bedroom. Once they slide back under the covers, Betty begins to stare up at the ceiling once more, but Veronica reaches over to tilt her chin so they're face to face.
“No more of that,” she states firmly.
Betty's eyes widen a moment before she nods against her pillow.
“Okay.”
Veronica inches closer, sliding her arms under Betty's, and stopping only when their foreheads nearly touch.
“This is a safe place,” Veronica assures. “You can sleep here. With me.”
She's so sure, Betty almost believes she can.
“I can't promise that,” she says despite herself.
Veronica yawns softly.
“Then just promise me you won't let go when I do.”
Betty smiles with the flutter in her stomach.
“Sure.”
Veronica's quiet a moment, her breathing steady, and Betty thinks she's nodded off when she speaks again.
“I really like you,” comes out a whisper.
Betty smiles once more.
“I like you, too.”
She falls quiet again, and this time Betty knows the sandman has come to claim, habit wanting her to turn toward the ceiling anyway but it's not possible with the way she's being held. Instead she imagines constellations forming on the dreamers eyelid, and thinks to herself, that the stars have nothing on Veronica Lodge.