chapter two:

i would do anything for love (but i won't do that)

Jughead's fingers hammer away at his laptop keyboard when he hears the jangling of Betty's keys in the front door. Bewildered, he looks at the clock - 9:20 pm - there's no way she could be back this early.

"Hello?" he calls out just as she enters the living room. And she doesn't look all too happy about it.

"Honey, I'm home," she huffs unenthusiastically as she steps out of one heel at a time, losing about 4 inches in height. She kicks them aside with two loud thumps .

Jughead clears his throat and sits up a little straighter, realizing that in the past two hours he hasn't moved an inch from his spot on the couch.

" That was fast," he says, holding back a yawn and rubbing his eyes til he sees spots. He slowly closes his laptop.

" Ugggghhh ," she groans, peeling her jacket off and stomping into the living room. She scooches between his knees and the coffee table to throw herself onto the couch beside him, burying her face in a cushion. Her feet come up to rest on his lap and his eyes trail down: she got a pedicure today. Her toenails are red.

" That bad, huh?" he wonders, a slight chuckle in his voice as his hand wreathes around her ankle.

"Date from hell," she mumbles into the throw pillow. Her head pops up and she turns to him, her voice low and her eyes wide, "W-w-wait… am I interrupting? Are you with Midge?"

"No," he snorts back, shaking his head. Of course not.

"Well, I would scold you but I'm too relieved," she says, sitting up to throw her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug. Jughead freezes under her touch at first, but then his hands slowly rise to pat her on the back. He can feel his eyebrows pull together in concern.

"What happened?" He was curious before, but now he's starting to get worried. If that guy laid a hand on her-

She falls back against the pillows, heaving a sigh, "Nothing it was just… awful . We had nothing in common. He insulted the waiter-"

"Oof… I know how much you hate that."

"And to top it all off, he spent the last half of the date talking about his ex-girlfriend."

"Oh… I mean… maybe he's-" Jughead searches for any words to come to this guy's defense, but nothing comes to him. Then he wonders why he's even bothering. He owes the dude nothing. Betty deserves the world.

"He cried , Jug." That makes Jughead laugh, despite himself. He's not even sorry - the mental image is too hilarious. "Oh, but don't worry. That was before he left me with the bill." His laughter deepens. Her lips tug upward as well, although he can tell she's fighting it.

"Happy Valentine's day to you, eh? "

"So happy to see my misery brings you so much amusement, Jug." Betty groans as she slowly lifts herself up off the couch. Jughead averts his eyes when her dress shifts and rides up, just barely exposing her black, lacy panties.

And that damn heart-shaped freckle.

"Nice panties, by the way." Betty's cheeks flush and she adjusts her dress, protecting her modesty as she breezes back past him and heads toward the kitchen.

She calls out to him over her shoulder, "Thanks, I got them just for you."

Jughead regrets teasing her, because that response was just too unfair. He shifts in his seat when something in him stirs and he accidentally pictures what it would feel like sliding them off her smooth legs and tossing them aside.

God, he hates when his mind misbehaves this way.

"I think I'm gonna head to bed," he says.

"Nooo!" Betty whines from the kitchen. Her head pops around the corner and she pouts. "Stay up with me! Please? I'll be so lonely without you…"

"Okay…" To say Jug is hesitant is an understatement. He has been spending way too much time thinking about her lately. It is almost as though the decision to get over her just made him want to get under her even more. He rolls his eyes when that thought runs through his head - could he be any more pathetic?

Probably.

"Yay!" She beams, disappearing back into the kitchen. "Time to open that bottle of wine we've been saving! We are getting drunk tonight. Screw this holiday."

"Atta girl." Jughead stands to stretch his limbs. Betty reemerges from the kitchen with a bottle of wine in her hand. She pauses to ask, "There's no Chinese left, huh?"

"Do you really even need to ask me that?" is his rhetorical response. She chuckles lightly and returns to his side, plopping back down on the couch and setting two glasses of wine on the coffee table.

"I guess not."

"Want me to order a pizza?" he offers. He can always go for a third dinner.

" Nah , that's okay," she grunts, popping the top off the wine and beginning to pour. The red liquid swirls like a whirlpool in the oversized wine glass, and Betty wastes no time tipping it back.

" Easy , there," Jughead warns, despite it already being too late. She has most of the glass gone already. "That isn't some seven dollar wine you find at Walmart, this stuff can knock you on your ass."

"Drink with me, Juggie," she pleads, pouring a second glass for him. Jughead isn't typically much of a drinker, but he obliges anyway. They return to their opposite sides of the couch and Jughead watches as she leans her head back, letting the wine get to work on her nervous system.

"Why are you staring at me?" she asks toward the ceiling, not even opening her eyes.

"Don't you want to change into something more comfortable?" Jughead wonders. If he's honest, the skin-tight dress is distracting. He would much prefer her in sweats and an oversized t-shirt - maybe even a burlap sack. But who is he kidding, really? She'd still manage to look stunning. She was just that kinda girl.

She laughs with all of her teeth, sinking deeper into the couch, " No way ." Jug bites his bottom lip and tries not to stare when her hands start to roam over body, admiring the slick fabric. "I spent way too much money on this dress. And I wasted it on Jake."

"Don't you mean Josh? " Jughead corrects, and Betty blinks a couple times before waving him off.

"Whatever."

"Wow… I hope your heart will heal one day from this tragic loss," Jughead's voice drones, sarcastically. Betty snorts and chucks a pillow at him. She misses.

The two of them stare at the TV screen, but the volume is barely audible. Jughead nurses his glass of wine, and he knows from her sigh beside him that she's gonna start talking again. He can practically hear her mind buzzing from here.

"Well, I guess it's just you and me this February 14th. As usual."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Jughead grumbles behind his wine glass before taking another sip.

"Not bad just… typical. " She leans her elbow on the couch arm, propping her head up lazily as she takes another swig. This bottle isn't going to last ten minutes.

"Again, you say that like it's a bad thing. Why do you even care about this dumb holiday?" She doesn't answer the question, just continues her thoughts on the matter.

" No! But I mean, you could have had a Valentine," her eyes narrow at him and she taps him in the bicep with her foot. "-and yet you actively chose not to." Betty has known Jughead for more than half of her life, and yet she seems surprised by this revelation.

"Quality over quantity, Betty."

"But you still haven't said why. Why is that?"

" Whew , gettin' a little deep, are we?" Jughead tries to brush off. He's often avoided this particular topic with Betty, afraid something will slip out. Tonight is no exception.

Because the answer to her question is way too complicated. He's never been all too interested in other girls. Sure, a few have distracted him here or there, but that's all they've ever been: distractions. Something (or someone) to take his mind off of who he really wanted. And sometimes it worked, but it wouldn't take long before his gaze always wandered back to her. Because that girl didn't have Betty's eyes or her mind or her heart.

Maybe she was irreplaceable, after all.

"Pardon my reach," she says, inching her hand towards the bottle of wine. Her glass isn't even empty, she just wants to scoot it closer for when it is. She is the epitome of preparedness, even in cases such as this. Jughead sucks in a breath when she leans across his lap, her golden hair dances across the back of his hand. She's already tipsy and a little giggly - one of Jughead's favorite versions of her. It's when she gets really passionate about her convictions. She gets super nosy and asks a lot of questions. She mixes up words like amoral and immoral - that debate lasted a whole fifteen minutes last time.

She settles back into the couch, now cradling the bottle against her, swirling her glass in the other hand. Her eyes are heavily lidded as she asks again, "Jug. You aren't answering me. Why are you alone tonight?"

"Well," Jughead says, turning his body toward her on the couch. Once again her feet migrate to his lap. "If you really need to know-"

"I do ," she blurts, then giggles again.

"Okay well, shut up and I'll tell you." Now she laughs harder. Those couple gulps of wine are already going to Jughead's brain, too, and he starts to get the giggles. Apparently, they are contagious. "I am alone tonight because first of all, this holiday blows."

"Okay."

"And also…"

"Yeah?" He can see her holding back more laughter, but he feels a seriousness wash over him. This could be it. This could be the night he really tells her how he feels - how he's felt - all these years.

"I'm alone tonight because… my Valentine had another Valentine."

Betty's smile fades, and her eyes lock onto his. They widen, and he wonders if she understands what he's attempting to tell her.

"Who? " she breathes.

Aaaand nope. Right over her head.

It actually makes him laugh, again. He shakes his head.

"Don't worry about it."

"No, I want to help!" She sits up and scoots closer to him. Her dress rides up again, and that it is the opposite of helpful. He reaches over and subtly pulls it back down.

"Look. Can we just forget about it? I'm not good at this stuff-"

"You know," she tells him, pointing a pink fingernail in his direction. She looks quite sure of herself as she advises him, "If there is a girl you like, you should just tell her."

"No kidding," Jughead mumbles, adding more wine to his glass.

"And you should just be yourself!"

Jughead scoffs - Betty is a smart girl. How could she possibly be this dense?

His tone is not without sarcasm when he says, "Oh, wow, that's so deep, Betty Cooper." She shoves him, lightly.

"Shut up-"

"No, I mean it. Did you make that up yourself? I've never heard that one before-" She readjusts in her seat, getting even closer to him to try to re-explain her very basic logic of the situation.

"I just mean… I dunno. You are completely different with me than I ever see you with other girls."

This should be her first clue. But the wine is fogging her brain and she's just not connecting point A to point B.

"That's not true," Jughead assures her. "I'm a simple man. What you see, is what you get."

"If you want someone to fall for you, you gotta be you, Jug."

"Yeah, well," he huffs out, somberly. Turning back towards the TV and polishing off the last of his wine. He winces as it goes down, "I don't think I like me enough to introduce him to other people."

"That's a shame," she says quietly, and he can feel her breath on his neck before she leans her head on his shoulder. "Because you're pretty amazing."

Jughead's eyes close and he lets his head fall to the side, resting atop hers. He can smell her perfume even more now, and it's driving him crazy. Ever since they were teens, she's always worn the same perfume in the same ol' recognizable pink bottle. He couldn't name it if his life depended on it, but the smell is embedded into his memory forever.

Jughead swallows when she takes his hand in hers, gently tracing shapes into his palm. He can hear his own heartbeat in his ears and just prays that she can't.

"I bet Midge thinks you're pretty amazing, too..." she nearly whispers. Jughead's eyes open just so he can roll them.

"Oh, c'mon. Will you get off of that?"

"Well, you must have done something right. She's utterly obsessed."

"Girls like guys that are assholes."

"But you're not an asshole."

"Maybe not to you ."

"What makes you an asshole in this case? Did you hook up with her and not call her or something?" Jughead freezes, his words caught up in his throat. His body stiffens and he feels hers do the same. She lifts her head, her eyes searching his, "… Jughead Jones, did you?"

He can't tell her how he feels about her, but Jughead can't lie to her. He's never been able to.

"It was not my grandest idea," his voice croaks. She sits up even more, her hand on his chest to push herself from him a bit more. She's trying to stitch the pieces of his story together.

"So, wait. You slept with her?"

Jughead's hand finds the back of his neck nervously and he shrugs, "We didn't really sleep- "

"You rocked her world...-"

"With my body, yes."

"...And now you haven't called her since? "

"No, I-"

She gasps, smacking his shoulder, lightly, "Jug! Seriously?"

"I did call her-"

"So that's why she's been blowing you up!" He hates the way that she's looking at him right now.

"Betty, no." He sets his wine glass down - it's empty anyway. He turns to her, forcing her gaze to his. "I did call her… she just… didn't like what I had to say."

"Oh…" She untenses, leaning back in toward him, "what did you tell her?"

"I told her I didn't want anything serious… with her."

"I mean… I'm sure it hurt her to hear that... but at least you were honest with her."

She hugs onto him, and his arm drapes over her. He wants to reach under her chin and tilt her head up toward him so badly. Wants to taste her more than ever. He curses himself for being here and not going to bed like he knew he should.

She pushes forward and he lets their bodies fall back, snuggled up close and laying together on the couch. It's not the first time they've cuddled before, but it feels different. Her hand is resting on his heart, her leg snaked up over his waist. He thoughtlessly presses a kiss into her hair.

Even if this is all he ever gets from her for the rest of his life… it's more than enough.

"You know what?"

Jughead hums back a quiet and disembodied response.

"I think you're my favorite Valentine every year." Jughead glances down at her briefly, shaking his head.

"You are so full of it, you know that, Cooper?"

"No, I'm serious," she promises, gripping onto him tighter and giving him a light shake. "I should have just spent the whole night here with you… I always have fun with you," she adds shyly. Jughead just smiles weakly and takes in a slow breath, closing his eyes.

"Oh, c'mon, Betts. I'm sure you say that to all the guys."

" Yeaaaahhh right."

"Oh, don't act like you don't know that 90% of the guys you meet have harbored a crush on you at one point or another… and the others are probably into dudes. You just don't see it like other people do. You don't pay attention."

The last statement comes out more sternly than he meant it to. Frustrated. Jug just stares forward now, afraid to see her face as he bravely adds, "a lot of guys would be interested in being your boyfriend."

He swallows hard and clenches his jaw to keep himself from saying anything more. And although Betty looks taken aback at first, she smiles softly and leans in towards him as though she is letting him in on a huge secret.

"Well… maybe so. But that doesn't really matter to me, because I'm not really interested in being a lot of guys' girlfriend ," she concedes with a careless shrug. He turns his head down toward her now, their faces close. The melancholy is still there behind his faint smile.

Always there.

Always longing for what he can't have.

"I like that about you, though. You've always been… different."

"Different," she repeats in a sigh and a chuckle, "Is that the word?" Jughead thinks for a moment, then nods, pleased with his answer.

"Yeah. Good different. But different."

"Thanks," Betty whispers, "I like that you're different, too."

"Now, if we could just make you a little bit funnier, you'd be a full 10."

"Oh, ha- ha . Not everyone can be a comedian like you, Jug."

Jughead can feel his heart thrashing hard in his chest. Something has shifted, something is happening. And his default reaction is fear: he is suddenly scared for so many reasons now, each one repeating in her head over and over again.

This could only end in heartache.

This is his roommate.

No, wait. This is his best friend .

This kind of stuff is messy. Complicated.

Jughead is complicated. Jughead is messy.

They both know it.

But the way she is looking at him now makes him wonder if that is going to change.

"Juggie…" she whispers, her voice wavering. "Can I… can I try something?"

Jughead forgets to breathe, but he musters up a brief nod.

Betty's eyes connect with his again and she sets her hand on his cheek, gently stroking the smooth skin of his jaw, his neck. Jug decides right then and there that he isn't going to give Betty the chance to kiss him because instead he leans forward first and presses his lips to hers with more certainty than he has felt before.

She murmurs softly into his mouth when their lips connect, both of them in a bit of a stunned stillness. At first, she barely reacts as his lips catch hers. So he pushes harder, and before he knows it she is pressing back. Her hand snakes up to the back of his neck, bringing him closer.

They fumble a bit like two amateurs in the dark, which was ultimately what they are. Jughead feels drunker off of her lips than he did from the wine and there's more adrenaline pumping through his veins than maybe ever.

They slow, lips parting, breath hitting hotly against skin as his forehead butts hers, softly. Their eyes open and reconnected and Jughead can't remember a time that he didn't hope this would happen one day.

"I always wondered what that would be like," Betty admits, curling up closer to him.

"Me too," his voice cracks.

He sobers though, the gravity of the situation beginning to weigh down on him. How were things ever going to be normal again?

"This is a bad idea, isn't it?" he asks her.

"Probably," Betty says, her voice a low hum. Betty slowly rises from him, scooting away from him on the couch. They sit in the silence for a moment, and when he glances over at her, her fingertips are ghosting over her mouth where his lips once were.

" Fuck it ," Jughead breathes, and Betty meets him in the middle of the couch. But before they can stop themselves, their lips find each other in the dark once more.

To be continued...