Chapter Text
Veronica is very rarely the little spoon. Mostly because Heather is like a touch-starved, heat-guzzling kitten who likes burrowing into Veronica anytime they’re cuddling. Which is why she’s taking the time to appreciate being tucked against Heather.
It’s a good day.
If you told her, say, three years ago that she would be spending an afternoon in her childhood bedroom, listening to Heather Chandler humming a tune and cuddling with her while the girl browsed social media—well, Veronica would laugh loudly in your face until she’s dying from laughter, die, come back to life, then continue laughing hysterically.
Except, Veronica isn’t laughing now.
She is smiling though. Happy, content and nearly half-asleep—
When the Pink Panther theme suddenly starts playing, punctuated by a very familiar slurping sound.
Veronica’s smile falls.
The video ends.
Veronica sighs with relief and tries to settle in again.
The video restarts.
Veronica squeezes her eyes tight, face scrunching with frustration. She’d resolved to stay very, very still and not react the entire time Heather is rewinding and replaying the damned thing. Veronica’s attempts at pretending she’s not two seconds away from chucking Heather’s phone into a boiler room and leaving it there to rot is derailed when Heather suddenly jerks and exclaims, “Holy shit we’re viral!”
Veronica buries her head into her pillow with a groan. She knows exactly what video Heather has been replaying for the last, few god-awful minutes.
“You mean JD is viral.”
Heather scoffs loudly at this, extracting her arm from beneath Veronica. Well, there goes relaxing, the brunette thinks glumly.
“Not JD, us.” Heather insists, very, very forcefully, “Look!” repeatedly poking Veronica until the girl finally turns and grabs her arm. She glares daggers at Heather’s phone. JD stares back at her, equally unimpressed.
“I am looking.” Veronica grumbles impatiently. “You’re just showing me the same video of JD drinking slurpee while wearing your pajamas.”
She let’s go of Heather’s arm and tries to re-bury her head in her pillow. Veronica gets all of three seconds of silence before Heather pinches her on the side.
Veronica yelps, jumping violently away from Heather, off her bed, and onto the floor with a loud thud.
“Heather!”
“What?”
Veronica looks at her girlfriend, who’s batting her eyelashes, smiling prettily and looking all innocent. Veronica keeps scowling and waits for Heather to apologize. After a long moment, Heather breaks with an eye roll and a half-hearted apology. “Fine. I’m sorry. But you really should’ve been looking with your eyes.”
“Okay, oh gracious one.” Veronica huffs and climbs back on her bed, sitting across Heather and snatching the phone from the other girl’s hand. “What the fuck am I supposed to be looking at?”
Heather grins cheekily at Veronica and fuck damn it, it should be illegal to look this cute when I’m trying to be angry.
“Look at the comments section first.”
Veronica taps the screen hard, scrolling angrily and expecting to find nothing except the usual comments about JD, Slurpee, and the comforts of satin pajamas (not in that order). Until—
chadsbian commented: Okay. dude in pink is funny but the real mvp are the gays making out in the background
sashayme commented: skip to 0:23 for the gay. you’re welcome
Veronica’s head snaps up, looking at Heather curiously. “Gays making out in the background?”
“Twenty second mark, I think? JD’s left shoulder. Your left.” Heather’s grin widens, turning positively Cheshire-like, eyes glimmering with evident delight.
Veronica presses the the time-stamp on sashayme’s comment. The video buffers. Veronica waits. One, two, three second passes. The video plays and Veronica’s eyes widens at the sight behind JD.
JD, being clad in glaringly hot pink clothes, is undoubtedly attention-grabbing. Just the right amount of ruffled and endearing to keep you staring, swooning, and laughing at him.
Except.
Once you see what’s behind “JD’s left shoulder, your left” at exactly 0:23 seconds into the video.
Well.
It’s impossible to unsee it.
Behind one of the shelves, in a fucking 7/11 store (of all places!), somehow, still nearly in full view of the camera, Heather and Veronica were making out to the tune of the Pink Panther theme while JD slurps away his blue slush front and center.
Veronica replays that portion of the clip over—suddenly understanding Heather’s obsession with the dumbass video—and over.
Veronica doesn’t so much as feel her jaw drop as she hears it clattering on the floor as she watches the scene unfold.
Heather pushing her against the freezer doors. One hand tangled in her hair the other hidden somewhere from view—Veronica idly remembers it squeezing her ass—Heather’s lips on her neck, trailing downwards, kissing, kissing, there’s a moment where Veronica sees herself gasp, head suddenly thrown back, and she knows it’s when Heather had bitten her.
Veronica vaguely registers Heather cackling at whatever expression she currently has smattered on her face.
How does she even look like right now?
Dumbfounded?
Impressed?
Horrified?
Red enough to match Heather’s signature blazer?
JD staring dead ahead at the camera, managing to keep a completely unenthused my-friends-are-assholes-this-is-what-I-have-to-deal-with-everyday facial expression even as he’s angrily gulping down Slurpee while wearing the most ridiculous pair of hot pink satin pajamas in the middle of 7/11 should be the most distracting thing ever.
And yet.
Veronica’s eyes are glued to that tiny little corner on her screen where she and Heather had constructed their own little world.
And just like that, Veronica is back in that moment with Heather. Suddenly, she’s the girl who’s using her hips to twist their positions around and now she’s pressing her girlfriend against the freezer. Both hands on Heather’s wrists, pinning them down, and they’re kissing again, lips, tongue, and teeth, biting and kissing, and Veronica’s dizzy from the softness of Heather’s lips and the girl’s clear propensity for biting.
She’s breathing hard. Or she isn’t breathing at all. Veronica doesn’t know anymore. She feels lost. But a good kind of lost. She’s vaguely aware of Heather watching her. Somewhere in the back of her muddled brain, Veronica registers the taunting, almost sultry way Heather is humming the Pink fucking Panther theme song.
The video ended nearly a minute ago but Veronica is still staring at the screen.
hohohoe commented: holy fuck look at Blue and Red go
toohaught4u commented: do you think it’s scripted??? no way they’re just going at it
gentlemanmack replied: yes way they’re just going at it
greenduchess replied: not scripted. just oblivious and gay
bootyfinn replied: and horny
therealslimjd replied: putting the bi in exhibitionist 2k20
Veronica Sawyer, after nearly two decades of being alive on this occasionally not shitty planet, can never again watch The Pink Panther and not think about making out with Heather Chandler.
“Veronica,” Heather purrs liltingly, sounding both amused and enchanting. A tease of a smile at the corners of her mouth. “Where did you go, darling?”
Veronica licks her lips, utterly aware of the grey eyes tracing the movement of her tongue, and swallows. “Heather.”
“Yes?” She draws the word out, grinning dangerously, and fuck if it didn’t make Veronica shiver. If she was any less calm she would have whimpered.
Veronica puts the phone down with too much care than the situation required it was almost comical. She waits for another beat to past before trying again.
“Heather.”
The girl only hums in acknowledgement. Smiling, waiting for Veronica to continue.
“Nearly twenty-thousand people have seen this.”
“And counting.”
And all Veronica can think is, Heather looks way, way, way too pleased about this. Why does Heather look so pleased about this?
Heather’s smile transformed into a full-fledged grin. Slow, mesmerizing, lighting her face up brightly until Veronica feels like she’s basking in the presence of the sun.
Of course, Heather ruins the moment by wagging her eyebrows (a thing she has increasingly done since becoming closer with JD) and saying, “I definitely don’t disagree with JD’s suggestion.
Veronica blinks owlishly. “What?”
“His comment. Didn’t you see it?” Heather leans forward, a conspirator with a secret or a lover about to kiss her beloved. Cheekily, she clarifies. “The one about putting the bi in exhibitionist.”
Veronica makes an indistinct noise, the only thing approximating a response she could come up with at the moment.
“Granted,” Heather continues, chuckling softly as she’s pulling away. “Men are the greatest regret of my life.”
“Heather, focus.” Veronica puts both her hands on the blonde girl’s shoulders and shakes her. “Exhibitionism?”
Heather doesn’t even look annoyed. She simply raises an eyebrow. “Not into it?”
Veronica is not looking at Heather Chandler’s lips.
Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. “Pity. I thought we might’ve had some fun.”
Veronica is looking at Heather Chandler’s lips.
Veronica likes to think she’s a very eloquent writer. She’s not only good at forging handwriting, she’s also good at getting into the person’s mind space and writing as them. Little nuances of grammar and syntax that you wouldn’t normally pay attention to, but it’s there, and Veronica excels at doing it.
She isn’t so eloquent now, however.
Stupid. Fucking. Cheeky. Grin.
In fact, Veronica is sure her brain has completely malfunctioned. Because the only thing her very gay monkey brain can tell her to do is.
‘Must. Kiss. Stupid. Grin. Off. Heather Chandler’s. Stupid. Pretty. Face.’
So, she does.
Veronica pulls Heather in, by the shoulders, for a clumsy kiss that starts more with their teeth clacking together than an actual kiss.
But what the hell.
Kiss stupid grin off Heather Chandler’s stupid pretty face she will.
Veronica pulls away, if only to reorient herself so she can kiss her girlfriend properly. But Heather will probably never be not impatient, and Veronica is too far a heartbeat too long that Heather’s already wounding her fingers tightly into Veronica’s shirt and pulling her in. And kissing her.
Devouring might’ve been a better word.
Insistent, demanding, hot.
Heather is the collision of stars, explosive and all consuming. She fills your senses with the entirety of her being until she’s all you know.
And Veronica?
She revels in it.
It’s in this intensity that she finds herself grounded, whole. Veronica is grinning when they break apart. Heather, now, with a dazed expression.
“Inspired?” Heather asks, eyebrow raised and a little breathless, her earlier smugness tempered by the pink in her cheeks and the puffiness of her lips.
“By you?” Veronica’s voice is fond, her hand gentle against Heather’s cheek. “Definitely.”
Heather scoffs, awkward and forceful, trying not to look too endeared. A thought passes through Veronica’s brain and she grimaces.
“Ronnie?”
“Definitely, definitely, definitely not inspired by JD.” She shakes her head fervently. “Not again.”
Heather looks understandably confused.
“You and I,” Veronica starts to say, finger pointing back and forth, a lot of conviction punctuating her every word. “Are going to have a talk about us and whatever kinky shit we want to explore. No more JD.”
For a moment, Heather seemed caught off-guard. Veronica feels herself on the verge of fidgeting until Heather laughs.
And just
Laughs and laughs and laughs until she’s lying on the bed again, forearm covering her face, and laughing until she’s breathless.
After she tires herself out, she peeks at Veronica. Heather is smiling beautifully, eyes bright with affection. She’s gazing at Veronica like the girl hung the stars in the sky and she’s given up trying to figure out how.
Veronica can’t help the smile that creeps on her face as a response. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” Heather shakes her head, sighing. “It’s just that, I realized I’m a pillowcase,” she smiles fondly, reaching for Veronica’s hand and entwining their fingers together. “And you, Veronica Sawyer, are terribly amazing.”