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Maybe it won't be a terrible year after all?

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Fun. Fun. Define 'fun'. Fun was kicking ass at Mario, or listening to hot probs, or even watching the princess bride with Martha for the thousandth time. Fun was not hanging out in a dark corner at Ram Sweeney's New Years party, watching the sea of drunk toddlers and sipping something from a red cup.

So it was god-damn ironic when Heather had dragged her here under that impression.

/

“Come on Veronica, this is the one good party of the year.” Heather Chandler had been following Veronica around for most of the annual 'Heathers end of the year shopping spree' at the mall. Duke and McNamara had disappeared about a half hour ago to find “Something special for someone important,” as they put it, leaving Veronica to the Demon Queen's persistent attempts at persuasion.

“Shit, Heather, when have you found any party Ram has thrown entertaining?” Heather huffed indignantly before turning to face Veronica, grey eyes meeting mocha.

“Believe it or not, the last one Ram threw was so very.” Heather's face morphed into a smirk, eyebrows raised and all. Veronica scoffed.

“That was in September, Heather, you know what happened in September.” Veronica glanced around at the surprisingly uncrowded mall and sighed. “You know we don't bring up September.”

“Fuck you; I do what I want.” Heather continued her way through the building, making a beeline for the center.

“Where the fuck are you going so fast, Heather?” It wasn't exactly a question. Veronica knew the fountain was smack dab in the middle of the mall, as well as the food court and McNamara's jewelry, which to no surprise to Veronica, was Heather McNamara's dad's.

“I'm going to trade you for Heather.” Veronica blinked.

“Mara?” Heather sighed.

“Yes, Mac. Me and Duke-” Veronica was quick to cut her off.

“Grammar, Heather.” That always got on the blonde's nerves.

Fine, if it's so important to you,” She snapped. “Duke and I are going to look for some shit or other, and I'm sending Mac with you to find something presentable.” Veronica groaned. Heather either didn't hear her or just didn't care. “You can't accessorize for shit.”

/

 

And that's how Veronica found herself in this shit hole once again, an hour from midnight on a sad Monday night she would have otherwise spent watching movies with Martha. But no, Heather just had to drag her into this and leave her to the wolves. How very my ass.

 

A certain red-clad figure was pushing her way through the sea of bad life choices (as Veronica had dubbed it) towards her, and occasionally disappearing behind a taller asshole passing in front of her. The brunette started weaving through the crowd to make Heather's life slightly easier. Only slightly. Once Heather got close enough to talk without yelling over a hundred other teens she started to talk.

“'Ronica, come.” Heather gave a shit-eating grin and grabbed her wrist, trying to drag Veronica through the crowd back the way she came.

“Where, Heather?” Veronica didn't budge, making the (drunk?) girl's life much more difficult.

“The kitchen. Kurt said some shit or somethin' an' he wants you.” Veronica sighed.

“Can we go home after this?” Veronica could almost see gears turning in Heather's head as she chewed her finger and debated her options.

“I can't drive.” Is what she finally said. “I'm drunk, bitch, and the other nerds are staying the night. Sorry.” Veronica sighed. This will be a long night.

“Fine. I'll come, but only so you'll get off my dick.” Heather grinned as the brunette let her drag her through the crowd once again, towards the kitchen.

“That's what I like 'bout you Ronnie,” Heather stated.

“What?” Veronica queried.

“Y'always stay in that fucking corner. So fucking easy to find.” Veronica simpered.

“Glad to know you appreciate my best quality, Heather.” Heather flashed a lopsided grin and pulled Veronica into the kitchen.

There wasn't as many people in here as there was in the living room, or god forbid the back yard, but there were enough so you couldn't walk through without accidentally bumping into someone. Veronica noticed Kurt talking to Heather McNamara, who was giggling at something stupid he probably said. He was quick to spot them, waving and gesturing to the counter on the other side of the yellow tinted room, a sudden change from the dark blues and greens of the room Heather and Veronica had left behind.

“Hey. 'Ronica!” Kurt gave a lopsided grin as they neared.

“Is he drunk?” Veronica straight up ignored him, turning to Mara. She giggled.

“No. He has had a total of...” Mara's face scrunched up as she tried to count one her fingers. “Three Vodka shots.” Heather had abandoned Veronica's wrist in favour of latching onto Mara's arm.

“And how many have you had?” Veronica smiled.

“Zero,” She said. “I'm on Heather watch tonight.”

“Veronica!” Kurt snatched her attention back to him. “I challenge you to a game of shots!” Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.

/

“Shots, as you know, is a game of roulette,” Mara explained. “Where, you guessed it, you take shots. Except you're blindfolded and you have no idea what was poured. Everyone with me so far?” She waited for confirmation before continuing. Several nods prodded her on. “You drink after the ref, me, calls “Go,” and you have thirty seconds to recover at first, that time slowly diminishing as you get more into it until you get to two seconds.” Veronica grimaced. “First one to choke is out.” Mara grinned a devious grin.

“What's the catch?” Heather flashed her signature drunken smile and stood up.

“The catch, mon ami, is I'm allowed to put whatever liquid I want within reason in the glass,” Heather smirked. “For example, I can put raw egg and vinegar in your glass, or vodka and hot sauce, so long as it's the same as the other ones.” Heather bit her lip to keep herself from smiling too much.

“Alright,” Veronica sighed. “Let's rock this bitch.” Kurt grinned and took his place at one end of the island behind them, gesturing for Veronica to do the same. Mara handed them both blindfolds and started helping Heather set up the numerous contents on the counter.

The first few were easy. Heather was being gracious. A couple of jello shots, some lemon juice, and some mild salt water. Then came the vinegar. It burnt Veronica's throat as it went down, worst than any alcohol, and settled uncomfortably in her stomach.

“Twenty seconds,” Mara stated from her seat on the counter. “And... Go!” Veronica took the next shot placed in front of her and shuddered as she swallowed. Ketchup.

“Heather you bitch.” Veronica heard Kurt mutter from his side of the island.

“Kurt,” Mara said sternly. “You can't trash talk the bartender. That's a penalty shot.”

“Shit.” So you have to take an extra if you badmouth Heather. Fuck me. Veronica heard Kurt cough, and a slight minty smell filled the air.

“Dude, what'd you take?” The brunette queried.

“Blended fish.” What the actual shit.

“Go!” They were snapped out of their what the fuck moment by Mara calling the next round. Veronica sighed and downed her glass, almost coughing at the extremely strong smell and taste of mint hitting her tongue.

“Hey Kurt?” Veronica smiled sweetly even though the quarterback couldn't see.

“Yea?”

“Why the shit didn't you ask Ram to play?” There was a moment of silence before Kurt answered.

“Because he's a pussy.” Veronica snorted.

“Touche, dude, tou-fucking-che.”

“Go!” Veronica downed the next one quickly. The liquid burnt her throat and tasted eerily similar to grape medicine, if not a bit sweeter. Rum and eggnog.

“Come on, Heather,” Veronica smiled. “Christmas was a week ago.”

“Careful, 'Ronica, or I'll put blended corn nuts in a slurpee Jesse James just brought.” Veronica could hear the excitement dripping from the blonde's voice.

“Greetings and salutations.” Veronica stood up straight, and from the sound of it Kurt did too.

“Who the shit brought you?” Kurt sputtered.

“Literal sunshine over there,” Jd was probably pointing at Mara. “Called and asked for the weirdest drinkable liquids I could offer.”

“'An damn did he d'liver.” Heather slurred. “Fucking superb you funky lit- no, you're huge, wait... Fucking superb you funky giant dyke.” She giggled at her own slip-ups. “Y'all are going through fucking hell.” The sound of a cork flying off brought Veronica back to her sentences.

“Go!” The brunette shuddered as she took the next mystery shot.

/

“Shit, that was fucking awful,” Veronica was in one of the many bathrooms in the house, rinsing her mouth for the tenth time. “Why'd I let you talk me into that?” Heather gave a lopsided grin from her place on the counter.

“Cause you love me.” Veronica blinked and stared.

“You hinting at something there, Heather?” Heather bit her lip.

“Yea. You're a fucking dyke.” Heather paused to think, chewing her finger once again. “That's what, uh, Duke! That's what Duke said... No, wait.” Heather's brow scrunched up and she went back to gnawing on her finger.

“It's okay, take your time.” Veronica teased as she leaned against the counter, next to the shorter girl “That's what Heather wishes.” Heather squinted at nothing in particular, trying to guess if that was the correct fact.

“It's not my fault girls are pretty.” Heather gaped at her, face flushing as her far-from-sober brain tried to decode the words that had just left the brunette's mouth.

“Was I right? Are you...” Heather tried to find the non-offensive word in her muddled mind, but Veronica beat her to it.

“Gay? No, Heather I'm not gay.” She didn't know why, but it felt as if someone just sucker-punched her in the gut.

“Oh.” The room fell into an awkward silence for a minute with Heather refusing to look at Veronica, until it was broken by Mac coming through the door.

“Guys, the countdown is going to start in about five minutes.” Heather glanced at her swatch.

“Thanks Mara, we'll be out by then.” Veronica chirped. How dare she be happy. She didn't know why, but that bothered her immensely now. They watched Mac go, leaving them alone again. Heather pushed herself off the counter and stretched.

“I'm going.” She was stopped by a sudden hand on her forearm.

“Heather, wait.” She tried to squirm out of Veronica's grip, failing miserably. “I have a question, Heather.” Heather froze.

“Ask away.”

“Heather, I need you to look at me.” Heather reluctantly turned so she was now facing the taller girl. “Heather,” She started, placing both hands on her shoulders. “Are you gay?” Heather squinted, not fully understanding the question.

“Am I what?” Veronica's face met her hand as she groaned.

“A dyke. Are you a dyke. Do you like girls?” Veronica winced at the words that came out of her own mouth.

“No.” Heather said, eyes widening in panic and having seemed to have sobered up a little. “No. No, no no no fucking way I'm not a fucking dyke it's-” She was stopped by Veronica pulling her into a hug.

 

Her breathing quickened and her throat tightened, making it seem impossible to breath. Heather felt like she was drowning, yet the only water in sight was in the toilet bowl across the room. Veronica must of felt her tense up because all of a sudden Heather was sitting on the floor shaking uncontrollably and Veronica was locking the door and sitting behind her.

“Heather.” Veronica's voice was calm and low, and reminded Heather of sitting in front of a fire in the middle of winter. “Heather, is it okay if I touch you?” Heather nodded, her voice still gone. Veronica's arms wrapped around Heather's waist from behind. “Is it okay for me to move you?” Another nod. She was moved closer to the brunette, onto her lap now. “Alright Heather.” Her name sounded so nice rolling off Veronica's tongue. “I need you to do something for me, okay?” Heather nodded again. “I need you to find five things you can see.” That got to be the stupidest thing I've ever heard.

“O-okay. Um... The bottle of mouthwash you used, the flickering light in the corner.” This was harder than she thought. “The, um, the blueish-purple towel, the knob on the cabinet.” Heather's breath started to return. “And um, us. In the- In the mirror.” Veronica tightened her grip slightly.

“That's good. Now I need you to find four things you can touch.”

“The carpet, um, shit uh... My dress. Your hair.” Heather could breath a little clearer, as if whatever beast had her by the throat was slowly losing it's grip. “And your hand.” She gave a pained smile when Veronica took her hand.

“That's great hun, now I need you to find three things you can hear.” Heather closed her eyes. Just listen.

“Your breathing. My heartbeat. The rest of the party, muffled by the door.” Veronica rested her head on top of Heather's.

“Okay, now two things you can smell.”

“Your laundry detergent and axe body spray. Are you wearing axe?”

“You got me there,” Veronica murmured into the blonde's hair. “Now I need one thing you can taste.”

Heather paused to think about this.

“The taste of the coffee smell that always seems to follow you.” Veronica smiled.

“How are you?” Heather didn't know. She could breath again, but she was still shaking.

“I don't know.” Veronica turned the shorter girl around so she was facing her and pulled her in for a tight hug, which Heather cautiously returned.

 

“I think you had an anxiety attack.” Heather only hugged her tighter, shutting her eyes. Veronica seemed to take notice. “Are those a normal thing with you?” Heather nodded. “I'm sorry.” Veronica's apology took her by surprise.

“For what?” She sat back so she could make eye contact.

“I think I triggered it.”

“Oh.” Veronica bit her lip.

“Can I try something?”

“Sure.” Heather shrugged, not really caring any more. Not really caring until she felt a warm hand cupping her cheek and Veronica's soft lips on hers. It was short, and Heather wasn't sure if it was real because suddenly Veronica was pulling her out of the bathroom and into the living room to join everyone else in the countdown.

They found a spot next to Mac and Jesse James (was that his name?) and watched the television, waiting for the clock to reach zero. Heather's hand found Veronica's and a small smile spread across her face. She stole a glace at Veronica and saw the same smile on her lips and a small blush across her cheeks.

Drunk toddlers were yelling, counting down from ten, but it all seemed so far away in Heather's mind. She could only focus on the girl beside her, stealing sideways glances. Fuck, maybe I am gay? Heather pushed the thought aside in favour of tuning into the world around her, which had just erupted in cheers.

Duke came up between her and Mac and handed her a party popper, pointing at an oblivious Veronica with a mischievous glint in her eye. Fuck. Of course. It was Veronica's birthday, the lucky fucker. Heather nodded, and glanced at Mac, who was thinking the same thing.

An audible 'pop' resonated throughout the room and Veronica jumped at least three feet in the air.

“Happy birthday bitch!”