A/N thanks kindly for the reviews, even the angry ones :-)
Chapter 11 - Jughead
He hopes Archie isn't sleeping when, at 1am, he hurls a flurry of shale-like gravel against his old friend's bedroom window.
"Hey man" Archie's appears in silhouette in the window almost immediately. "Backdoor's open."
"Thanks Arch" he murmurs as slips silently into Archie's room and sits down on the edge of the bed.
It's more than simply a thanks for inviting him up. More than a thanks for helping him save Betty, more even than a thank you for forgiving him over Veronica. It's a thank you that resonates back and forth through their history. "Thank you for standing up to Reggie", "Thank you for giving me a home when I needed one the most", "Thank you for taking the blame when I spilt paint on Mr Whitaker's desk back in third grade"
He almost wishes that the two of them were the kind of friends who shared hugs. In this moment he craves that contact. He longs to feel Archie, solid and real in his arms, to reaffirm a love he can't remember living without in the firm squeeze of his friends embrace. Right now, he could really use that.
But they aren't, and it's his fault obviously, so he simply accepts Archie's half smile and stiff "Anytime."
There's a strained and creaking silence then in which Archie takes in his exhausted face with worried eyes and he grows acutely aware that the perennial smudges of fatigue beneath his eyes darker than ever against his pale skin. "Dude," Archie voices the thought. "You look like shit."
He laughs then, out through his nose, a single exhalation of mirth that breaks the tension between them. Archie gives him a sideways look and ask wryly. "So, you got a new brother yet?"
"Christ," Jughead, paws at his own face in a clumsy and futile attempt to wipe away the exhaustion that comes over him whenever that thought surfaces in the chaotic eddies inside his brain. "Not at the moment. That guy wasn't Mrs C's kid. Can't be ruled out though. Apparently, Alice never even knew herself who the father was"
"Seriously?" Archie looks as dumbfounded by that as he'd felt sitting beside Betty in the Cooper's living room while the sisters grilled their mother about their long-lost brother's parentage.
Indignation and anger had quickly given way to a fleeting look of shame before Alice had lifted her chin and defiantly stared them down as fearlessly as the lioness he always saw her as.
"I was young," she'd said, her eyes on him, perhaps to avoid having to look at her own daughters. "And your father was-" she'd cut herself off and taken a deep breath before starting again.
"The baby was almost certainly Hal's. We were together and I was living on the Northside. But there were times," another steadying breath and her eyes had lost focus, turning to the past. "FP wasn't an easy man to let go of"
"Gees Mom, you cheated on dad? How could you?" Betty had sounded outraged and disappointed in her mother and Alice had rolled her eyes with a mixture of impatience and scorn.
"Oh, please Betty," she'd looked hard at her daughter before throwing her eyes over him pointedly. "You'd have done the same a week ago and you know it"
He'd looked at Betty, waiting for the expected denial but she'd simply bristled and pursed her lips, her gaze focused somewhere over her mother's shoulder. He'd realised Alice was right, Betty would have. All her love for Archie, all her natural goodness and sense of right, she'd have thrown it away for him. The thought had been at once elating and disturbing and he's glad when Archie's voice pulls him away from the memory. "So, what now?"
He shrugs. "Who knows?"
They sit in silence again though it's less strained this time. More empty - anticlimactic.
Saving Betty had felt like a crescendo. Her heartfelt defiance of her father with declarations of undaunted, uncontainable love. The two of them leaving, with joined hands, all unity and defiance. It had felt like the glorious sweep of the Halleluiah Chorus. But afterwards the music had faded and there was just a stagnant vat of fucked up for them all to drown in.
A marriage crumbling, a brother - Betty's certainly, his possibly - lost, a friendship not yet repaired. He looks at Archie's profile and feels an ache of love and regret so deep it physically hurts his chest. "You gonna tell your dad?" Archie turns to him and he startles a little at the sound of the redhead's voice.
"Betty's mom forbade it until she knows for sure," he shrugs and give a wry smile. "Alice Cooper is not a woman to be defied. Also, there's no point stirring anything up until we know right?"
"That makes sense," Archie agrees. "You wanna crash here?"
And there's that love again thumping on the inside of his ribs like a bass drum. Archie Andrews may be clueless, impulsive and often misguided if they're honest. But he is still one of the best natured people Jughead's ever met, loyal and uncomplicated in his affection, fathomless in his forgiveness. "Yeah, thanks bro."
They set up the air mattress and settle down in silence, he's not even sure if Archie's awake when he mumbles "I'm sorry Archie, truly, for everything," into the gloom.
He hears the creak of bed springs and turns to face Archie's barely visible form. "I know man, it's ok. It sucks but it's ok"
His throat is so tight then that his voice cracks humiliatingly over the "Night Arch," he manages to choke out before he turns over and goes to sleep.
The morning brings Betty to Archie's door asking Fred a little awkwardly if Jughead had stayed there last night.
"Hey Betty," despite that Fred must know that Betty has effectively dumped his son to get back together with him, Jughead can't detect the slightest note of hostility in the older man's tone. "I'm not sure, let me check"
He saves Fred the trouble by materialising in the doorway. "Morning Mr A, hey Betts"
Her smile is wan and her skin is pale with fatigue but her eyes still seem to brighten when they find his and something flutters in his chest. "Morning Juggie, can we talk"
"Sure," he turns to Fred and indicates vaguely towards the stairs. "Sorry for crashing so late. Archie's still sleeping."
"Anytime Jug," Fred's voice is it usual combination of husky and sincere and he thinks, not for the first time, how alike Archie and his father are. "You know that"
"Thanks"
He leaves with Betty and they walk in silence, meandering ruderlessly through the streets until Betty falls away behind him and he finds himself having to retrace a full three strides to reunite with her on the park bench she's settled on.
"What a mess" she says with a heavy sigh as she turns to him.
"I know," he can feel his mouth turned downwards and he shakes his head in mournful bafflement. "Exactly nothing about the last twenty-four hours makes even an iota of sense"
Her lips twitch then and she looks at him from under her lashes before coyly averting her eyes. "Nothing at all?" she asks, the words heavy with suggestion and her eyes come back to his, expression both shy and expectant.
"Well," he draws out the word, carefully but he can feel his own smile beginning to form. "Maybe one thing"
Betty shifts so she's facing him fully. She catches her lower lip between her teeth and the movement draws his gaze like a magnet making him powerless to look away, or prevent himself from nervously wetting his own lips.
"It does make sense right Jug?" she asks suddenly seeming unsure. "I'm not crazy to think that in all this madness that this, us, still makes senses?'
"Certainly makes sense to me. God," he has to pause and take a breath before he lets his regret tumble out "I can't even remember why I thought we should break up. I can't imagine myself ever believing that was for the best. I am so sorry Betty"
She dismisses his apology with a shake of her head, a pretty delicate frown on her forehead. "I missed you Juggie"
Her hand finds the side of his face and he leans into her as he replies, his voice a murmur. He doesn't trust it not to break on anything louder. "I missed you too"
She has doe eyed, hopeful expression of a woman who wants to be kissed and who the hell is he to deny her. His mouth finds hers and she melts immediately into him her body moulding itself to his so that he can feel her curves against his chest. Her hands are travelling over his body greedily and he thinks vaguely that he doesn't remember her being so grabby but she feels familiar and warm and so very Betty that his brain quickly shuts out everything until all there is in his mind is his own voice repeating her name.
He pulls away briefly so that the words can break out of his skull and inhabit the air between them. "Betty, God, Betty I-"
"Jug," she interrupts. "Can we go somewhere? Somewhere private"
"Sure," he stands and takes her hand pulling her up with him. "The trailer, we can talk there"
As soon as the door of the trailer closes he realises talking isn't at all what she has in mind. She presses him back against the closed door, one hand delving beneath his shirt while the other knocks his beanie from his head and buries in his hair.
He'd be lying if he said her sudden aggression didn't do things to him. The force of her mouth against his, the eagerness of her touch as she maps his body with her hands are exhilarating and frankly a massive turn on that has him rock hard in moments. He's considering a tactical retreat before she notices when she reaches down between them and grasps him roughly through his jeans.
He hisses and she squeezes him again, her other hand grasping the back of his neck possessively and he's losing the ability to think straight when she whispers in his ear. "Tell me your mine, Jug"
"I'm yours Betty"
"Only mine"
His brain is clouded with lust and his body is doing its best to drown out any and all conscious thought but he's just lucid enough to slowly catch up with what's happening here. Betty's whispering against his ear, huskily demanding confirmation. "Only mine Jug, Say you're only mine"
"Betty," he pulls back a little, capturing one of her wandering hands and pulling it between them. "Betty stop"
The lust clears from her eyes leaving them huge and unsure. "What's wrong Jug"
"Not like this Betty," his voice cracks and he swallows thickly. "Come on, not like this"
She presses her lips together and tries to pull her hand away but he tugs it back and uses his other hand to catch her chin. "We should wait, shouldn't we? Let the dust settle"
Her jerky nod tells him she doesn't trust her voice and part of him hates himself for denying her, but another part, a larger part, knows that he's right and this is not the right time.
She's marking her territory. She senses how Veronica lingers on his skin, how vivid and fresh the memories of her are. Betty wants to erase them, drive them out with her body, with the wet slide of her tongue and the heat of her pussy. He gets it, he does, but he just can't, because she's right and Veronica is still too close.
With barely any effort he can conjure the soft feeling of her breasts in his palms, the scent of her skin, the hot wet trap of her pussy, and the last thing he wants is to find himself comparing that echo to the reality of Betty.
For so long he was certain Betty would be his first, that everything he understood about sex he'd learn with her, he never imagined having any point of reference. But now he does and he just needs a bit of time for it to fade because Betty is his everything and the thought of comparing her to another woman makes him feel physically queasy.
But she's hurt and insecure and he has to do something. So, he pulls her to the couch and settles them so their lying side by side, he angles his hips away from her and kisses her his with his hands on her jaw and his thumbs running tenderly over her cheeks.
When they break apart she gives him an embarrassed smile.
"Ok?" he asks softly and she nods and replies in kind.
They spend the morning in the trailer, they kiss and they talk and they kiss some more back and forth over things that matter: "Would you care? If we share a brother", "No would you?"- and things that don't: "Cruel Intensions is a modern classic Juggie", "No, sorry that's it. We're broken up again, you're clearly deranged"
The hours pass like minutes and he thinks how perfectly Jughead and Betty it is, no comparison necessary. No comparison possible.