Chapter 1
"I met you in the dark, you lit me up. You made me feel like I was enough…"-Say You Won't Let Go by James Arthur
Jughead pulled his truck into the parking lot, breath shallow as he avoids further hurting his bruised ribs. It's almost midnight and the diner is all but empty so he parks right by the front door to keep his movements at a minimum. He trudges into Pop's, ignoring the twinkling bell that alerts his presence and sidles into the booth at the very back, his position both so he can see the front door and to keep anyone from coming up behind him as he slouches into the cracked, red velvet seat, his leather jacket half-folded beside him.
Sighing, he stays there, feeling content for the first time in…well, years.
His ears twitch as a lovely laugh sounds from the kitchen before the door between the counter and the rest of the diner opens and a pretty blonde steps out in the yellow uniform that all the waitresses wear. She's holding one plate in each hand as she heads towards the only other occupied booth and easily serves the couple, asking them if she could help them with anything else before her eyes scan the tables for her newest patron.
When their eyes meet, he feels a jolt as he recognizes her, surprise nearly making him sit up and he grits his teeth as he forces himself to stay still. She heads his way, not really looking scared as most women would, but calmly. Like, the center of a hurricane.
He wants to curse his luck. He's had a crush on her since first grade and they hadn't seen each other in five years. Of course he would meet her again after so long, and tonight of all nights, when he's barely hanging on by a thread.
"Jughead Jones." She states, leaning her hip against the side of the booth, "I haven't seen you since…"
"Sophomore year." He answers, unable to stop the half smirk that pulled at the corner of his mouth as he adds, "Betty Cooper." He remembers her and she hasn't changed much; the untouchable, perfect girl-next door. No doubt engaged by now to Archie Andrews, her neighbor and his former best friend. She'd always had eyes for the red-haired boy.
She grins, her green eyes lighting up as she slides into the booth across from him, her eyes only briefly catching on the Serpent jacket on the seat, "Pop's hasn't seen you around here since then, either. You used to be a regular." She tells him, like he doesn't know, and her voice slides down his spine like honey, soothing the wildest part of him.
He used to sit in the booth with his laptop, clicking away his stories on the keys as he sipped cup after cup of coffee. He felt a slight cut of nostalgia on his heart as he remembered how simple things were before…before the Jason Blossom murder. "Yeah, well. Life got in the way." He murmurs, using his father's words and half hating himself for doing it.
Her head tilts, her blonde ponytail trailing down one shoulder as she studies him for a moment, "What can I get you? Besides a first aid kit?" There's a touch of humor to her question, as though she's trying to get a smile out of him even though she's serious.
His eyes move to look out the window, looking for any signs that he was followed even as his left eye continually swells, almost cutting off his vison. "Just water." He tells her, though his stomach growls in protest. As much as he wants a burger, recalling how delicious they always were, he knows he can't afford it. He's got maybe forty cents rolling around in his pocket and it couldn't even buy him a shake. Or a fry. He's here simply because it was on the way home and the bright neon lights had enticed him to come to the last place that ever felt safe to him. "What are you now, a junior in college?" He asks, startling her as much as surprising himself because he's never been much of a conversationalist.
He's not sure why, but he's always liked Betty. When no other girl tempted him in high school, she was the one exception.
She placed her chin on her hand, setting her pad and pen on the table and looking at him, "Yes. I'll be graduating a year early, actually."
"Journalism, no doubt." He guesses, turning to meet her steady gaze with his one good eye.
Her brow furrows just a touch as she takes in his eye, her left hand curling like she was stopping herself from touching his eye. "No, auto mechanics. At RCC."
Riverdale Community College, the abbreviation takes him aback, "I thought Betty Cooper would attend a more prestigious institution." He can't stop the sarcasm, it's inherent in him anymore. He doesn't know how to be honest or open. Only knows how to keep people at a distance. It's the best solution for the life he lives.
Betty is different, she gives him a rueful grin as she tells him the simple truth of the events that kept her here when she deserves more, "That was the plan. Until my mother left my dad for a younger man. Took off to California. I didn't have the heart to leave him when Polly is away at Columbia."
Once more, her words throw him off, "Alice left Hal?" He wasn't attuned to the Riverdale gossip anymore, spent too much time in the Southside to pay any attention to it, but he feels like something like that would have made it even across the tracks where Alice Cooper grew up.
She sighs, leaning back in the red velvet booth and clicking the pen on the lacquer top of the table, "I haven't had to tell anyone the dirty scandal in a while, everyone heard about it so quickly." He catches her green gaze fall once more to his leather jacket before she meets his eyes, "Alice Cooper left her husband with the next-door neighbor…" She pauses, letting him guess she means Fred before her mouth hisses and she completes it, "…'s son." She grinned as she watches him follow her words, "Archie Andrews." She adds for clarification.
He actually sits up at the news, wincing as his ribs seem to scream at the sudden movement, "Archie and your mother." He deadpans, inwardly appreciating the smug expression on her face as she enjoys his surprise at her gossip. "I always thought you and Red would end up together." He realizes his words are the wrong one, a sudden sadness entering her sage eyes.
She shrugs and stands up from the booth and he's annoyed with himself for scaring her off, "Well, we didn't. My mother always hated him…" She bites her lip, worrying it as she finally murmurs,
"Perhaps it was because she was actually attracted to him." Her nose scrunches as if the thought makes her sick before she sighs, rolling her eyes and waving her hand as though she can wave away the pain, "So, a burger, fries and a milkshake." She reads from her tablet, though he knows there's nothing written on it.
"I have forty cents to my name." He tells her, wishing his face didn't hurt so much that he could give her his best apathetic glare.
She's already walking away, calling over her shoulder, "On the house." He thinks he hears her tell Pop, "The prodigal son returns." Causing the dark-skinned man to smile at Jughead and chuckle.
Jughead sits there, stunned. At the catching up, the easy banter, and the blonde ghost from his Riverdale High days. He tries and fails to remember the last time someone was nice to him, someone other than a Serpent who wanted something from him. In a matter of minutes, Jughead wishes he'd went to college, did something else with his life other than join a gang, anything that would impress the one girl that always caught his eye. But, it's too late for what-ifs and besides, if he went to school he'd have been followed and when would he have time to do homework when he's fighting to stay alive?
He leans his head back and watches as she comes back out, the first aid kit tucked under her arm as she visits her other table, asking if they want dessert and leaving the bill when they decline. She smiles cheerily and tells them to come back before heading back to his table.
"Really, I'll be fine." He can't bite back the words, the habit of appearing tough ingrained in the five years since he joined the Serpents, "I've been in worse shape." He adds.
Betty Cooper looks at him with a shade of empathy glimmering in her peridot colored eyes. "I'm sorry to hear that, Juggie." Voice softer than his favorite blanket from his childhood, the nickname she hadn't called him since middle school is a sledgehammer to whatever shred of dignity he's managed to hold onto this long.
Sighing, he moves his jacket from beside him, allowing her to sit down and open the first aid kit. She rummages through it before taking out an alcohol wipe to clean up his face, the first one coming back mixed with dirt and blood that makes her bite her lip in an adorable manner as she surveys it. She regards him for a moment, "Hang on." She says, finally, getting up and all but running back into the kitchens before reappearing with a bag of frozen vegetables.
He hisses as she presses it on his swollen eye, the pain biting at first before melting into relief as the cold numbs the spot. He reaches up to hold the bag and feels the slightest shock jolt across his skin as their hands brush briefly. "Thanks." He mutters, not meeting her eyes.
That didn't mean he couldn't sense her smile as she asks, "Where else are you hurt?" But, she doesn't wait for a reply before she reaches out, just barely skimming his thermal shirt near his ribs and he jerks to avoid her touch, both because of the pain and the electricity between them. Growling, he bites the inside of his cheek as the pain throbs at his movement and she shakes her head, "Jughead Jones, you're letting me take you to the hospital when my shift is over."
He sneers as he pushes with his feet to slide farther into the booth and away from her, "Like hell." He growls at her, "I don't have money for food, what makes you think I have money for medical bills?" Just the thought of going to the hospital makes his stomach roll. Medical bills, doctors, the health industry as a whole, really, had a pretty hand in the eventual end of his parents' marriage. He doesn't trust anything to do with it, "The Serpents have a guy who's good at fixing us up. I'll be fine."
The mention of his gang brings a sadness into her green eyes that makes him almost regret his words, "Juggie, you need your ribs wrapped up. You need to rest and heal. You can't go back to the Serpents just to get sent back out in your condition."
Scoffing, he folds the one arm that wasn't being used to hold the frozen bag of peas on his eye against his chest, "What do you even care?" The words are lame, his last attempt to push her away, get her out of his booth, to stop whatever was building inside of him in her soothing presence.
She doesn't get a chance to reply, as Pop rings the bell to alert Betty that her order is up and she gives him a hard stare before leaving him to grab it. He breathes easier when she leaves the space beside him, but she's still within his line of vision and he watches her hungrily as her blonde ponytail sways back and forth, her skirt moving in tandem with it. Like they are in a dance together.
A very primal part of Jughead suddenly imagines bending her over the table, fisting her ponytail in one hand as he pushes up her skirt with his other hand and buries himself inside her. He groans at the thought and once more bites his cheek as he pushes the inappropriate thoughts away. He can't be imagining such things when she gets back or he'd have to move his jacket onto his lap to cover what was becoming embarrassingly obvious. He peeks up to see her making her way back, a plate in each hand and he feels dread at the thought of sharing a meal with her.
She was too good for him, why the hell was she being so…kind?
Betty sets the plates down, one in front of him and one across, and then turns away to retrieve the two milkshakes Pop puts on the counter. Jughead closes his eyes as he inhales the aroma of the fries and burgers. Instantly, his mouth is salivating and he reaches out to take a single fry, sure that the taste couldn't really be as amazing as he remembers.
It's even better than his memories.
"How long since your last meal?" Her whispered question startles him, catching him with a mouthful of fries as he pauses to watch her sit across from him. He's equally surprised to find no pity in her eyes, just a sadness he can't pinpoint the source of.
Slowing down his eating, he swallows the greasy, salted fries that are in his mouth before thinking seriously back to the last thing he'd eaten, "Wednesday?" He questions, setting the melting freezer bag of peas on the table.
Her eyes, the green of sea glass, trail over his swollen, black eye and she sighs as she takes a bite of her burger. She chews in silence, sipping her vanilla shake, before clearing her throat, "Did you join the Serpents right after you transferred?"
"Yeah." He mutters, shortly, not really feeling like diving into his origin story but feeling as though it was inevitable, "Had to survive the southside somehow. It beat living in Riverdale with a target on my back."
"You had friends…we could have figured out a way to protect you from the Blossoms." She murmurs, though the words were hollow. They both knew that there was little she and Archie could have done.
He musters his best dry look, "My father turned in Clifford for the murder of his son. A murder Clifford paid my dad to clean up, not rat him out. There was never a chance a few teens could save me from the men Clifford sends out after me."
Her mouth drops just a touch and he doesn't even feel satisfaction at surprising her, "He actually sent men after you?" She asks, her eyes searching his face, perhaps wondering at his beat-up state.
Jughead turned away from those eyes that make him wish he's human and he glances out the window to his right, wondering, again, if he was followed, "He's still sending men after me. There's nothing Blossom wants more than my head on a shiny, silver platter."
A/N: This is also on my AO3 account under my pen name citrusmuppet. Also, this is an AU where much of the tv show didn't happen. Let me know what you think in a review!
Truly,
Joker is Poker with a J~