Chapter 21

Forty-five minutes later, Jughead sat up in alarm. He knew he'd locked the door to the garage when he'd come in here. Yet after a series of scratching noises a moment ago, the door was unmistakably swinging open. His heart thundered, apathy, lethargy and bitterness alike forgotten as he tried to prepare himself for… whatever might come next.

Which, as it turned out, was nothing more menacing than a big-eyed blonde with a brown paper bag in one hand and a familiar paper cup in the other.

"Betty!" Jughead gasped. "What are you doing here? You scared me half to death! I thought I'd locked that door."

"You did," Betty confirmed, closing the door behind her, but hovering near it as if unsure how long she'd be staying. "I unlocked it," she added simply. "And let that be a lesson to all who might underestimate the educational value of Nancy Drew."

Jughead couldn't help himself. He laughed, and with that small sound, the knot in his gut loosened just a little as the darkness seemed a little less intense.

How did she do that, he marvelled. How could this incredible woman make sunshine in the midst of desperation and a dark garage, just by being in it?

"Duly noted," he said aloud, striving to keep his tone light, to avoid throwing himself at her feet and weeping in sheer relief that she had come. When he was sunk too deep to go to her… she'd come to him instead. "I presume the diploma for that particular branch of education can be found hidden in an old clock, somewhere on Larkspur Lane," he added, and at the sound of her giggle, the knot inside his stomach loosened a little more as warmth began to flood back into his body.

"But how'd you know I was here?" he asked, as the thought struck him abruptly. "Please tell me you didn't climb in Archie's window first, looking for me." He was only half joking, but Betty laughed anyway.

"I didn't have to sink so low," she reassured him, "or climb so high, as the case may be.

"I was worried about you," she explained. "Your text tonight sounded… off. So I texted Arch and asked if you were okay. He said he didn't know… because you were here."

"Did he tell you why I'm here," Jughead asked apprehensively, not sure he wanted to know how his friend would have described the situation.

But Betty rolled her eyes and snorted, a sound that would have sent Alice Cooper into the rafters, had she been around to hear it. "Archie?" she asked, her tone heavy with disbelief. "Juggie, he writes term papers like they're Tweets! Have you ever known him to explain anything in writing, except under academic duress?"

Jughead laughed again, forced to concede her point. It wasn't that Archie was stupid – far from it, in fact, despite his characteristic willingness to dwell I the shallows. But the written word, unless set to music, was like a foreign language for Archie. Brilliant in some ways, he was decidedly… Jughead paused in his thought process, not wanting to think unkindly of his oldest friend… other than brilliant at narrative or expository writing.

"So, you came to check on me," he stated the obvious, unable to keep a certain satisfaction out of his tone.

"No," Betty answered, handing him the paper bag and takeout cup he'd noticed earlier but forgotten she was holding. "I went to Pop's and got you a double cheeseburger with onion rings and a chocolate shake. Then I came to check up on you."

"No vanilla shake for you?" he teased to cover the lump in his throat.

Betty shrugged. "There was. I drank it while I was waiting for Pop Tate to cook the burgers," she explained. "Speaking of which, there's a burger in there," she gestured to the bag he now held, "for me too. But I can definitely take it to go, Juggie, if you need your privacy."

Jughead wasn't sure what to say to that, and Betty took his silence for agreement. She reached into the bag and pulled out a burger.

"I understand," she said. "I just wanted to see you before bed, and to tell you I love you." She headed for the door.

"Betty, no…" Jughead began.

"It's okay, Juggie," she said with a sad smile. "You're allowed to want alone time. I really do understand."

"Clearly you don't," Jughead managed to reply, or you'd be sitting down next to me instead of inching away."

Betty smiled at him and joined him on the couch, lifting his feet to make a space for herself and sliding in under them, taking his feet into her lap.

"Do you want to talk?" she asked, unwrapping the foil-backed paper from around her burger.

"Not yet," Jughead answered honestly. "Maybe after food. Unless you're in a hurry to get home?" he added.

But Betty shuddered delicately. "Hardly," she assured him. "I'm, like, 98% sure my parents are having make-up sex right now." Jughead choked on his burger. "If I'm not in your way, I'd really rather stay right here for the present."

"Make-up sex?" he repeated incredulously when he could again draw breath. "So… the prodigal father has returned?"

"I thought you wanted to talk after food," Betty challenged him.

"I can listen while I eat," Jughead protested. "And after supplying me with a truly chilling image of Alice and Hal, mid-frolic, I think you at least owe me an explanation as penance."

And so he listened as Betty told a tale of noises in the night, Alice with a gun to confront the presumed intruder, stolen files and family secrets. By the time she'd finished, the food had disappeared and his chocolate shake was melted and runny

"So... I'm not just dating a cheerleader; I'm dating a cheerleading Blossom?" he said incredulously when she'd finished. Betty nodded. "My reputation may never recover," he mourned, and Betty smacked him.

"Hey, at least I'm an outcast and renegade cheerleading Blossom," Betty comforted him. It was too dark to see the twinkle in her eye, but he could hear it anyway.

"And Polly?" Jughead asked cautiously.

Betty sighed. "Well, obviously, we have to get her out of Casa del los Blossoms ASAP," she said. "But Mom and Dad made a lot of noise about waiting until morning, not disturbing her rest, etcetera, etcetera. But they were looking pretty… get-a-roomy."

Jughead shuddered inadvertently at the image.

"We'll go get Polly tomorrow," Betty concluded. "But what about you, Juggie?" she asked in sudden concern. "I'm going on and on about me and my crazy family… and you're sleeping in a garage. Can we talk about that? Do you… want to talk about it?" she added, suddenly unsure.

But just as suddenly, Jughead did want to talk about it.

"Yeah," he said, rising and carrying their food wrappers to the waste bin in the corner. "But I think better when you're closer," he added, sinking down beside her again and pulling her into his arms. Betty came to him unhesitatingly, leaning into him as Jughead began to talk.

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