Chapter 11

"So… homecoming," Jughead said. He and Betty were in the student lounge, long since abandoned for the day by the rest of the student body. Betty's lap was full of page proofs for the next edition of the Blue and Gold; they'd brought their work in here after the school became quiet, preferring to work in the cozy and comfortable atmosphere of the lounge whenever possible. The Blue and Gold office, with its straight-backed chairs, archaic computers, and overflowing shelves and filing cabinets, didn't tend to inspire creativity… or closeness as they worked together.

Betty was sitting at one end of Jughead's favourite couch in the corner, reviewing the proofs. He was at the opposite end, Betty's feet in his lap, reviewing his notes from the Blossom investigation. There was something he was missing… some connection or link that he could sense, but not quite see yet, and he was determined to pin it down. But at the moment, he had other subjects on his mind.

Betty didn't react immediately to his comment, still frowning with an adorably wrinkle brow as she focused on some detail on the pages in front of her, her tongue poking out between her teeth.

Jughead waited, familiar enough with Betty to know that his words would penetrate her concentration… eventually. A moment passed, then another.

At last, Betty raised her head and looked at him in slight puzzlement, as if just noticing his presence for the first time.

"Sorry… what?" she asked. He smiled at her and squeezed her toes quickly.

"I said: 'so… homecoming,'" he repeated.

"Don't remind me!" Betty groaned, falling back and letting her head drop over the arm of the couch dramatically, a pose that momentarily distracted Jughead by thrusting her breasts into prominence. "I haven't even convened a meeting of the planning committee yet," she continued, unaware of his distraction. "I mean, I've made the overall timeline for the preparations, and made up checklists for each committee member to work through, but…" Jughead chuckled, and she sat up – dang, that pose had been… interesting – to eye him suspiciously. "What's so funny?"

"You," he answered unabashedly. "Or possibly me. You make it incredibly difficult for me to be detached and off-hand about asking you to homecoming when you persist in either not hearing me, or not understanding me.

"Although, on reflection," he added, "why I'm trying to act detached about asking my girlfriend out is perhaps a question best left unexplored."

"You want to go to homecoming?" Betty repeated, as if unsure she'd heard him correctly. "Together?"

"Is that a problem?" asked Jughead, his smile fading a little.

"Of course it's not a problem," Betty scoffed. "I'm just… surprised. I didn't really figure homecoming was your scene. Have you ever gone to any school dance before?"

"No," Jughead conceded, his equilibrium restored. "But then, I never had a gorgeous girlfriend who was thoroughly invested in planning the dance before either." He felt a rush of satisfaction when she blushed at his compliment.

"Well then, Mr. Jones," Betty replied, her cheeks still pink, "you've got yourself a date."

A thought had just occurred to Jughead, though. "You won't mind…" he hesitated, feeling like a fool.

"What?" Betty asked when he didn't continue. "What?" she repeated more insistently when he only shook his head.

Jughead had to clear his throat before answering. "I won't be the best-dressed guy there," he observed. "My wardrobe doesn't really run to formalwear."

Betty rolled her eyes at him. "The horror, the horror," she said flatly. "Wear what you wore to Jason Blossom's memorial," she suggested. "You looked adorable that afternoon."

Now, Jughead was blushing. Had she really thought so?

"Or wear the sweater you wore to Polly's baby shower," she continued, "or what you're wearing right now. Jughead… I want to go with you, not your outfit!

"Just promise me one thing," she added.

"Anything!" Jughead promised rashly.

"No sequins," Betty stipulated, straight-faced.

Jughead gasped in mock horror. "Are you stifling my self-expression?" he demanded with imperious dignity. "How dare you?! This date is off! Good day to you, madam."

Betty broke first, dissolving into giggles – God, he loved making her laugh – at his outraged tone. Jughead joined her in the laughter.

"Are you sure I can't have just a few sequins?" he pretended to plead. "Just a handful, on my beanie?"

"Juggie, you can paint yourself purple and glue sequins to your eyebrows for all I care," said Betty. "It just really means a lot to me that you'll be there.

"Besides," she added, "my only real problem with sequins is that I don't want your dazzle to outshine me."

"Not possible," he replied promptly, leaning in to give her a quick peck on the cheek. "You have more dazzle than sequins could ever add."

Betty gave him another smile before turning back to her proofs.

Betty had to be home for supper. Despite her mother's recent involvement with the Blue and Gold, she would not accept the school newspaper as a reason for relaxing her rules on that point.

"Your father and I have run the Riverdale Register for the past 15 years, and we've always sat down to supper as a family," she insisted.

That was, of course, pure fiction. Betty had initially learned to cook as a survival strategy; she and Polly were often home alone until late in the evening, even when they were too young – according to their parents – to walk to Pop's on their own.

But historical accuracy and intellectual consistency were, as Betty herself expressed it, not a hill she was prepared to die on. Which was why by 6:15 that evening, after a quick good-bye at Betty's door, Jughead was letting himself into the Andrews house, debating whether his budget would stretch to cover a burger at Pop's. Fred was out for the evening, and dining on leftovers at home, tête à tête with Archie and his rage issues didn't hold a lot of appeal. On the other hand, he hadn't found another job since the drive-in closed, and his savings were gradually dwindling.

The front hall was dark, so he didn't notice Archie sitting on the steps until he all but stepped on him on his way upstairs to see whether there might be a forgotten twenty lurking in the pocket of his other jeans or the lining of his bag.

"Archie," he gasped, falling back a step in surprise. "Dude, you scared me half to death!" He paused to flip on a light. "Why are you sitting here in the dark?"

Archie shrugged and half smiled. "Mostly to scare you half to death." Jughead chucked a little.

"Have you eaten?" Archie asked after an awkward pause. Jughead shook his head. "Wanna go to Pop's?" Archie offered. "My treat."

"Why?" Jughead asked suspiciously. He wasn't generally one to question such largesse – he couldn't afford to be – but at the end of a day characterized by alternate shouting and icy silence, this sudden affability did seem to demand that the question be asked.

Archie looked self-conscious, as if he'd hoped this question would come up later, if at all. "Because… it's come to my attention that… I may have been a bit of a jerk to you today," he answered, not quite meeting Jughead's eyes.

Jughead couldn't resist teasing his old friend a little. "'May?'" he repeated, eyebrows raised. But Archie knew him too well to rise to the bait.

"Look, do you want a burger or not?" he asked, ignoring Jughead's teasing.

"Definitely," said Jughead. "Always."

Author's Note: Just a quick thanks to everyone who's left a review so far! I think I've been able to respond to all the "logged in" reviews, but for guest reviewers, I want you to know how much I appreciate your comments!

Best,

Blue