Beronica Oneshots

Straight girls get married on Facebook all the time

“Soooo,” Veronica drawled, dropping on her back on the porch swing, a bottle of Smirnoff Ice in her hand, her head falling into Betty’s lap. “What do you want our wedding to be like?”

Veronica was drunk. And Betty was pretty sure she’d heard the word ‘our’ in there. “Our wedding?”

Veronica looked startled, like she’d been caught out, and then she narrowed her eyes and laughed purposefully. “Your wedding. To,” she wrinkled her nose. “Archie, or whoever you thought about.”

Betty sighed. “You know it was Archie.”

“He doesn’t deserve you. Manslut.”

That . . . wasn’t untrue. After she’d found out about his thing with the false Ms. Grundy she hadn’t been able to see him in the same way. “I guess I don’t really know anymore. Archie was kind of like a ken doll, good to pose in place. But also I knew him—or thought I did—well enough to predict what he’d want. It would be important to me what the other person wanted.”

Veronica tried to prop herself up to look Betty in the face, but the position was wrong. The swing swung and she yelped, and Betty grabbed her before she fell. Veronica smiled at her, with an expression Betty might have classed as ‘lovesick’ if it wasn’t one of Veronica’s basic three expressions: Lovesick, Bored, and Evil.

“What do you want? If they love you, they’ll care about that too.”

Betty smiled. Veronica was sometimes her favorite person in the world. Other times she was just out there, so it was hit or miss, really. “Um, well, I don’t want my mom there.”

Veronica nodded seriously. “We should elope.”

“Um—”

“Only I want my mom there, not my dad though. We still need witnesses, so I’ll have my mom, and you can bring Kevin. Is Kevin good?”

Betty laughed a little. “Sure. Kevin’s great to bring as a witness to our gay marriage.” Veronica was hilariously drunk. But it was nice, when she wasn’t fully in control of herself, to know that she still cared about Betty—maybe a little more than friends usually did. But Betty kind of got it. She didn’t trust it, but something low and deep inside said the same thing that Veronica said much louder, and to everyone in school. They were going to be best friends forever.

“Good, that’s settled. Now, dresses. Strapless or spaghetti straps for you. I want to see your beautiful shoulders babe.”

Veronica started thumbing through her phone and showed Betty various dresses. Lazy, on the porch swing, they drank and Veronica pinned things to her new Pinterest board.

*

“So,” Veronica said. “It has come to my attention that I was very drunk last night. Mainly because I don’t remember any of it. Except . . . your lap?”

Betty laughed, feeling the flush coming out on her cheeks despite herself. “Um, well, you decided that we should plan our wedding.”

Veronica’s face was a picture—mostly horror. Betty wrapped her arms around herself and laughed, awkwardly, but kind of pleased. “A little presumptuous, don’t you think?”

“Mhm?” Veronica squeaked.

“Asking me to pick a dress and a witness when you haven’t even gotten down on one knee?” Betty shook her head. “Silly girl.”

Clearly relieved that this wasn’t bothering Betty, Veronica started to laugh. “I’m so sorry. I am a terrible pre-fiancée.  Will you ever forgive me?”