And Other Collisions
Raptorlily
Summary: An alternate/expanded take on the first two episodes of Riverdale, exploring characters and relationships in depth
Please do not repost or duplicate without author's written permission.
❤ Raptor Recommended Playlist:
Digital Daggers - Nothing's Broken
Tender - Erode
1.
As soon as the closet door closed, Betty felt like everything warm and necessary inside of her had been scraped out. The blood-warm lights of the Blossom parlor, the miasma of perfume and cologne—all eyes on her, gauging her reaction. She could feel her heart pounding in her ears, the playback of earlier tonight spooling out and looping back, again and again.
'…I have this fantasy of the two of us as a power couple. Is that so impossible imagine?'
'Betty… I'm sorry. But I… don't feel the same way.'
They all knew. They all knew. Anyone could see that she'd been pining after Archie for years and now he was in the closet with Veronica.
"Twenty bucks says our boy is gettin' some, if y'know what I mean?" Reggie made a lewd gesture and Chuck and the other football guys burst into laughter. "What a way to bring in the new school year!"
"The new girl is hot! Solid 9.5"
"Andrews would be stupid if he didn't press his advantage."
"That's the aim of the game, y'all."
Betty couldn't breathe. Her palms were pressed with crescents and she was going to burst into tears at any moment. She could feel it. She stood up, fully aware of Cheryl watching her over the lip of her wine glass (leave it to Cheryl to trot out stemware for a house party) and mumbled something about finding a bathroom.
She needed to wash her hands. Splash water on her face. She needed to leave. Now.
Her whole body was buzzing. The glass of wine she had earlier had gone to her head. Alcohol was supposed to calm your nerves, but instead, the slight buzz only made Betty feel frayed and lost. And God—where the hell was she going? Wasn't the front door down this hallway?
Screw Archie. Screw Veronica. Screw everyone and everything and especially screw this stupid oversized mansion with its weird decorative wood panelling and too many doors. Why the hell did she let herself get talked into this? And why wasn't Kev answering his phone?
She was firing off another 'SOS' to Kev's inbox when she stumbled, unexpectedly colliding with something—someone—warm and solid. A hand shot out to steady her.
"Betty?"
"Jughead? What are you doing here?"
Standing in the hallway together, the two of them were a study in contrast. Her in still in her blush-hued faille dress; him with his signature beanie, black pants, keds, flannel and oversized maroon hoodie . It was obvious he hadn't come from the dance like everybody else.
Then again, there were few things that Jughead did that were like everybody else.
He grimaced.
"Getting lost, apparently. Trying to figure out which one of these doors in the Castle of Otranto will take me to Jason's room. Any ideas? You've visited here before."
Once, maybe, for one of Cheryl and Jason's birthday parties in elementary school. It was in the backyard and she remembered decorative hedges and topiary and a butler handing out freshly squeezed orange juice on a tray. It must've been an off year—in retrospect, she was surprised her mother had let her and Polly attend.
But that was besides the point.
"Why are you looking for Jason's room?"
"I'm investigating," Jughead rolled his eyes, as if sneaking into the room of the hostess' dead twin brother was a perfectly normal thing to be doing at a house party. "For my novel. Cheryl invited half the school, and people are running amuck anyway, humping in corners, using beds that aren't theirs." He shrugged. "I'm not into defiling any furniture. I just want a better feel of who I'm writing about." He then paused, seemingly taking in her face for the first time. "You OK? You look like you've been crying."
Betty's cheeks colored. She must've looked a hot mess if Jughead would mention it.
"They're playing seven-minutes in heaven in the parlor," she sniffed, wiping under her eyes and praying she wouldn't catch any mascara. "Archie and Veronica are—they're playing this round."
It was enough of an explanation. Jughead, out of anyone, knew how she felt about Archie. They had both shared Archie as a best friend since they were six years old. He'd been her sarcastic yet long-suffering confidant for nearly just as long. Which was ironic in a way, because Jug had always shown a disdain for boy-girl drama and school politics. He was the consummate loner. He skulked along the frayed edges of Riverdale social fabric, often catching heat from the more athletic and popular boys in their grade. Sometimes Betty wondered if he had any interest in girls—or anybody—at all, and imagined he must've been relieved when Kev began to replace him as her Archie-whisperer sometime around middle school.
God. She was pathetic.
"It's just a stupid game," Jughead said, pity softening his usual petulant tone. "Besides, it isn't like Archie is hurting you on purpose. He doesn't know—"
"—I told him," she interrupted and that was the worst part. It left her with the feeling of a shallow, open gouge somewhere over her heart. "He knows and he said he doesn't feel the same. And then Ginger strong-armed us into this party and Kevin encouraged us to go because Moose was going to be here, but now he just left somewhere and we got stuck playing this game and I—I should have just went home instead of pretending I was OK. I'm always pretending I'm OK even when I'm not…"
Her eyes felt hot. She really was going to cry now. She could feel it. Veronica was supposed to be her friend. Archie was supposed to be her best friend. But anytime she closed her eyes, all she could picture was Archie saying he didn't feel the same and him and Veronica in that dark, enclosed space—mouths, tongues, teeth and hands.
"Christ, Archie," Jughead mumbled, shaking his head, but the hand he put on her bare shoulder was warm and strangely calming. "C'mon, Betts," he told her gently. "You know I can't deal with the waterworks. I can call you an uber or something."
She sniffed again and nodded. She wanted nothing more than to climb under her blanket with a fluffy pillow and a glass of water and not think about anything for a little while. If Polly were home, she would have lain in bed with her and stroked her hair until she fell asleep. Betty missed her sister. She missed Archie. Hell, she even missed Jason Blossom and she didn't know him very well.
She just wanted things to be normal.
Of course, in Riverdale these days, strange was the new normal.
The two of them managed to circle back to the front foyer when they were intercepted by Cheryl and Tina Patel, their heels clacking against the marble floors as they moved to block off the exit.
"What the hell is he doing here?" she demanded, looking Jughead up and down as if he'd been pulled from a swamp. "I don't recall extending any of the Ewells an invite."
"We were just leaving, Cheryl." Betty was too tired and heartsick to deal with Madame Satan right now. "Jughead is taking me home."
"The hell he is," Cheryl moved to block their way again. "You think with all our money and your nosy journalist bitch of a mother, we Blossoms don't have smart-home monitoring? Hello!" She waggled her glitter-embossed smartphone at them, before her gaze flicked back to Jughead. "As far as I'm concerned, Emo Allen Poe, you're either a guest in my house or you're trespassing. And most of my guests are in the next room enjoying refreshments and party-games. Trespassing hobos get a complaint filed with the sheriff." She flipped her hair. "Decide which one you are, tout suite!"
Jughead stared. He couldn't have looked more confused if she'd asked him to escort her to cotillion ball. "You want me to stay and play party games with you?"
"Oh, it's not what I want, sweetie. It's what you want." Cheryl took a threatening step closer. "As a habitué and not a person skulking around where they aren't welcome."
Jughead glanced at Betty uncertainly and Betty frowned, a sour gulch lodging in her stomach. Anyone with a brain could figure out that Cheryl was working an angle. In all likelihood, something had happened between Archie and Veronica, and the soul-sucking succubus wanted them to see it.
Jughead seemed to have come to the same conclusion. "OK, I'll stay," he relented. "But I'm calling Betty a ride-share first."
"No, it's OK, Jug." Betty reached out to stop him from pulling his phone out of his pocket, oblivious to the look Cheryl suddenly exchanged with Tina at her impetus. "I'll stick around for a little bit. After all, our hostess has really gone out of her way to make tonight something special."
She glared at the red-haired girl. Her heart was a leaden, thudding thing in her chest, but her last nerve had finally burned through. She wasn't going to abandon Jughead to a room full of jocks. And she sure as hell wasn't going to let Cheryl Blossom take advantage of her heartbreak and conflict with Archie to stir in some of her patented bullshit.
Besides, if she went home right now, she knew she'd be spending the rest of the night wondering what the hell really happened. And that, she decided, was far more torturous than facing her demons head on.
Cheryl looked like the cat with a bowl of cream.
"Oh, you bet tonight will be something special," she licked her teeth. "Come along, then."
She spun around on her heels, Jughead shooting Betty a puzzled look as they followed her back into the party.
As if on cue, the moment they entered the parlor, the closet door opened and Veronica and Archie emerged to howls and hoots from around the room ('Yes—Andrews is the MAN!') and Betty felt like she was going to throw up.
Despite their best efforts to smooth themselves down, Veronica and Archie's hair and clothes were well-mussed. Even if Betty didn't know what game they'd been playing, it would have been obvious. The guilt was written all over their faces.
"Well, that was a lot longer than seven minutes," Cheryl said triumphantly, checking her phone. "Lost track of time?"
She tilted a smirk at Veronica, who glared at her in disdain and followed Archie as he bounded across the room towards Betty and Jughead.
"Betty!" Archie exclaimed in relief. "I'm so glad you didn't leave. I need to talk to you." His large, warm hands took hold of her wrists but instead of feeling giddy and free like usually did when Archie touched her, Betty felt bile creep up into her throat. "I—Veronica and I—we didn't mean…after what you said at the dance…"
But all Betty could focus on was the fact that his mouth was still slightly red from trying to wipe off traces of Veronica's lipstick.
She took an uneasy step back, heartache suddenly swelling in her chest like a balloon filled to its very limit. She wanted to yell, wanted to scream, wanted to explode all over him, but she couldn't. The balloon got so big, it crowded out everything else —words, thoughts, feelings—until it snuffed it all out. She didn't know how to react. She never knew how to react when people stepped all over her.
Betty looked away and momentarily caught sight of Jughead instead. He was frowning.
"It's fine, Archie," she said quietly, pushing off his hands. "You were just playing a game…"
"No, it's not fine." Archie insisted, a panicked note in his voice. "Betty…"
"Save your heartfelt apologies and excuses for later, Casanova," Cheryl interrupted, slipping a slim arm around Betty's shoulder and leading her away. "B is for Betty, so it's Blondie's turn in the closet and I can't think of a better way to welcome my newest guest than by given him first rights."
Her venom-green eyes settled on Jughead gleefully and Betty felt her blood spike with unease as soon as she put two and two together.
"You're going to stick me and Betty in a closet together?" Jughead stared back at Cheryl, both eyebrows raised to the brim of his beanie, completely unfazed. Betty was relieved that he found his voice first. She wasn't sure she'd have half the composure or lazy bite in her words. "That's what you dragged us back here for?"
"C'mon Cheryl," Reggie piped up from the couch. "It's like you're pairing up Emo Tim Drake with Prude Gwen Stacy. They're both dead from the waist down. They'll probably just play candy crush and braid each other's hair for seven minutes."
"I don't do comic book references, you nerd," Cheryl snapped. "But I do see your point. This does need a bit more zing." She tossed her long, cherry curls over her shoulder and turned to Betty. "Kiss him. Here. Right now."
Betty couldn't have been more surprised if she'd been landed with a telenovela slap. She glanced at Jughead, who looked equally as stunned, then back at Cheryl.
"What?"
Cheryl's smile was as sharp as a kitchen knife. "We need proof that you're going to follow the rules."
This earned the hooted approval of everyone else in the room.
"Yeah!" Someone shouted. "Make 'em do open-mouth and tongue!"
"C'mon, Donnie Darko! Man-up!"
Veronica threw them all a look of disgust.
"OK," she said, stepping forward between Jughead and Betty and facing Cheryl. "The obvious stupidity and perv-y voyeuristic nature of all this aside, exactly why are you doing this? Haven't you caused enough drama already?"
Cheryl rolled her eyes.
"Relax, Ada Lovelace. It's just a kiss. None of us believe blondie here would deflower the black dahlia in the closet anyway, so we're going back to kiddie school and down-grading to spin-the-bottle."
"Oh God." Jughead pinched the bridge of his nose. "Could you be anymore of a cliché?"
"You said you were going to stay and play nice and we already established it's Betty's turn," Cheryl informed him primly. She glanced at Ginger, who was perched on the edge of the nearest couch. "Put two minutes on the timer," she instructed, before turning back to Jughead and Betty. "I'm going easy on you, so make it interesting."
Betty's heart was hammering in her chest and on stupid instinct, her gaze flicked toward Archie. He and Veronica were exchanging a look and when they glanced back at her, the expression on Archie's face was more concerned than covetous. Wouldn't someone with even a whit of feeling be a little jealous? Or even protest this kind of public humiliation?
Not if he didn't care. Or if he didn't think he had anything to worry about.
Not if he and Veronica had a good time in that closet.
"Would you hurry this up?" Cheryl's voice edged in. "Don't tell me Betty is so undesirable that neither one of her male friends is willing to touch her."
"Shut up, Cheryl," Jughead said and then flinched in surprise when Betty suddenly stepped into the circle of his arms. Her head was buzzing with… something. An unnameable emotion. Vehemence, maybe. She didn't know. Jug's gaze snapped to hers and she could feel the tension in the line of his shoulders, could see the muscle working in his jaw, but there was something vulnerable—almost earnest—in his eyes.
Her heart fluttered. Did he want to kiss her?
"This is stupid," he muttered.
"I know," she answered, softly. "But you're the one who crashed the party. Try to relax. It's just me."
It's just Jughead, she reminded herself.
She then looked at his lips, swept forward and set her mouth against his in a firm kiss.
In retrospect, maybe it started out as her trying to prove something to Archie or Cheryl. Or maybe, just herself. Jughead was just… well, who he was. She expected he'd dismiss the whole thing with a sarcastic quip or two, and dryly tell her not to do something like this again.
She was completely unprepared for his reaction. Or her own.
Jughead stiffened at the contact at first. He brought his hands up to her arms and Betty half-expected him to push her away, Cheryl and her stupid games be damned. But then, he was leaning into her, the long lines of his body like an arching bridge over hers, one hand at the nape of her neck, the other splayed across her bare back as he returned her kiss, awkwardly, but with unmistakable desire.
Jughead? Betty's initial astonishment was quickly swept away by an answering wave of desire as intense as it was unexpected. There were reactions from around the room—whoops and hollers, lewd suggestions from Reggie, Chuck and their ilk—but she blocked them out. All thoughts of Archie, Veronica, Cheryl, everybody—rocketed out of her head like they'd never been there or ever existed. The whole world was on the edges of her periphery and those edges bled into a vignette. For two minutes, it was just the peppery-pine of Jughead's soap, the thrum of his racing heart beneath her palm, the solid warmth of his chest pressed against hers.
And it felt... good. Better than good. The back of her head was tingling, her entire body charged with a strange, exhilarating current that latched onto her nerve-endings, pulling her off the beaten path to discover someplace unfamiliar but extraordinary.
The chime on Ginger's phone sent her hurtling back to earth.
Betty pulled away, regarding Jughead quizzically. Her heart was pounding like she'd run a marathon. What the heck had happened in the space of just one kiss?
He stared back at her, eyes wide with equal surprise, cheeks flushed and lips slightly parted. He looked like he was about to say something when Cheryl immediately cut between them.
"Well, that was nauseating," she pronounced, "but maybe there's hope for you yet, Monster High." She cupped Jughead by the chin and gave him a carnivore's smile. He jerked away from her in disgust and she laughed, turning to Betty next. "Do you think our plan worked, Betty?" She dropped her voice to a stage-whisper. "Think Gingerboy is hashtag-jealous you tongue-tousled with his weirdo-best friend?"
Her glittering eyes slid towards Archie and Betty's gaze followed, her heart squeezing in her chest queerly, her lips still tingling from her kiss with Jughead. Archie's expression was an unreadable storm of emotion.
Was he jealous? Did it matter? Suddenly, this all felt a lot like some kind of hollow victory.
She then glanced at Jughead. All the blood seemed to have drained from his face. He pressed his lips together and shaking his head, he wheeled out of the room.
Oh no!
"Jug—wait!" Archie was the first to run after him.
Cheryl was grinning triumphantly as Reggie slid next to her and Betty, a wine glass in hand. He slid an arm around Betty's waist, brushing the spot where Jughead's hand been not a minute before, and Betty felt her blood set to a boil.
"Next time, Goldilocks," he leered down at her, "you can just ask me. It'll save you the tetanus shot."
Everyone within earshot burst into laughter.
Betty glared up at him fury and slapped the drink out of his hands. Wine splattered all over Cheryl and her cerise Valentino dress.
"Bitch," Cheryl snarled as Betty pushed away from Reggie and made for the door after Archie and Jughead, Veronica hot on her heels.
Thoughts and Comments are always appreciated. Thank you so much for reading. ❤