Jughead wakes up alone in Betty's room. It's still daylight out, but with the season it very well may be eight-o-clock at night. Before he can panic, Betty comes through the door with a smile on her lips.
"You're up," she beams. "How'd you sleep?"
Jughead stretches, his arms coming to rest behind his head as his legs cross at the ankle.
"Better than I usually do," he shrugs. "What time is it?"
"Like three," she says as she drops down onto the bed beside him. "Why? You have somewhere to be?"
Jughead snorts. "Nope."
"Want to tell me why you didn't sleep last night?"
"Also nope." He shakes his head.
"Come on Juggy," she pleads.
"You know nobody calls me that, right," he laughs.
"I do," she says simply and it brings butterflies to his stomach. "Now stop trying to change the subject."
Jughead sighs, "Betty, I really don't want to talk about it."
"Why not," she wonders gently.
"I don't know," he shrugs. "We barely know each other."
"Isn't that sort of how you get to know people," she points out, "you talk to them, tell them about yourself and your life."
"I guess," he shrugs.
"What if I told you something about my life first?"
"You already told us about your parents getting a divorce and stuff."
"Yea, but I didn't tell you everything," she says, urging Jughead to pay closer attention.
She goes on to tell him all about growing up with her mother's impossibly high standards, her sisters drug problems and her teen pregnancy, her brother putting his life on hold with the need to protect her from their hot tempered father and the slap that ultimately divided their family.
He remains quiet for a while, his brow furrowed in thought before he opens his mouth to speak.
"I'm not living at home right now."
Betty only nods, encouraging him to go on.
"Archie doesn't know, so just, maybe don't tell him," he pleads, his eyes filled with worry.
"Jug, Archie's you're best friend. Let him help you," she says, resting a gentle hand atop his.
"I already mooch off of them enough. I can take care of myself," he argues weakly.
"Can you though," she questions. "Where did you stay last night?"
Jughead stays quiet.
"Jug-"
"Pop's. I stayed at Pop's," he admits.
"The diner," she says in surprise. "Jug-"
"Don't," he clips, pulling his hand away as he gets up from the bed.
"Jughead, stop," she calls with urgency, his hand falling away from the door just as he reaches the knob. "Please don't go. I'm not going to tell Archie, just-" She sighs heavily as she reaches his side, cautiously laying a hand on his forearm. "You can stay here."
"Betty," he sighs.
"Come on Jug, let me help you," she pleads. "At least just promise me you'll stay here if you can't find anywhere else."
With his tongue in cheek, Jughead nods, hesitantly agreeing to her help.
Since that day, Jughead has snuck into Betty's room on multiple occasions. The first time, he hadn't really had a choice. Archie had gone with Fred to visit his mother in Chicago and after two sleepless nights sitting up at Pop's while it poured outside, he finally gave in. Betty had welcomed him with a dry change of clothes and they'd cuddled together much the same as they had before. After that, he'd made home inside the old drive in's projection room. It took a few days of messing with the lock, but he'd finally managed to get inside. Even still, he found himself craving to be with Betty and he'd given in for a second time the very first night he tried to sleep on the dusty old cot in the projection room. Now, he comes not because he has no choice, but because he desires her warmth and kindness. He sleeps better beside her, her gentle fingertips on his skin and the sense of safety she provides that he longs for when he's alone.
On the evening of the fourth of July, Fred hosts a back yard barbecue for Archie and his friends. Jughead, having slept over the night before, is the first to break into the potato salad before anyone else has even arrived. As he shovels a spoonful of potato in his mouth, stifled laughter sounds to his left.
"You leave any in the bowl," Betty teases.
Jughead gives a playful glare as he swallows down his mouthful before mumbling, "I don't even like potato salad."
Betty can't help but laugh as she approaches him to hug him around the waist. He takes a moment to set his plate down on the counter before returning her embrace.
"Missed you last night," she says, grinning up at him from her place at his chest.
"Missed you too," he mutters just loudly enough for her ears. His eyes scan the room for onlookers before he pulls himself from her embrace.
Betty gives him an understanding smile, knowing that he still feels a bit odd about their arrangement.
"Did you stay here last night," she wonders.
Jughead nods, "Yea. I was gonna stay tonight too, but I could-"
Betty cuts him off with the holding up of her palm. "You do what you want to do Jug. Don't feel like you have to come over because I said I missed you."
Jughead only nods and allows her to lead him out to the back yard where people have begun to arrive.
The party is in full swing as the sun begins to sit low on the horizon. Fred made enough burgers and dogs to feed an army and with all the side dishes and chips, Jughead is thoroughly satisfied. He's kept to himself most of the night, he and Archie not really sharing the same friends. He has though, been watching Betty interact with them all. Archie had introduced her with the eagerness of a Labrador prancing around with a shiny new ball and every one of them accepted her with excitement. He'd foreseen that she would like Veronica, the Lodge heiress actually being pretty cool once you get past her high status persona. He'd even assumed she would hit it off with Kevin Keller given that Kevin gets along with pretty much anybody. What he hadn't foreseen was Reggie Mantle and his cliché meathead jock attitude winning over Betty's attention. She's spent a fair amount of time chit chatting with Veronica and Kevin, but Reggie has her practically eating out of his hand with his crude jokes and he can't stand it. If he keeps skimming his hands under her skirt he is going to fucking lose it!
As Jughead glares from his seat by the food table, Archie comes strutting over with a beer in hand.
"Dad said we could have a few, you want one," he questions, holding out a bottle to Jughead.
"Nah," he replies curtly, his eyes never leaving Reggie's hand on Betty's knee. "Who the fuck does he think he is?"
"What? Who," Archie questions in confusion.
"Reggie," he grits. "He's got his hands all over her."
"Calm down killer," Archie teases. "He's just flirting with her."
"Flirting," he scoffs. "Hardly. He's had his hands under her skirt twice and she's just letting him do it."
"I think you're over reacting," Archie suggests. "I was just over there. She pushed him away both times, Reggie's just over confident."
"He's a fucking dick is what he is." Without another word, Jughead gets up, tossing his empty plate into the trash as he storms off into the night.
Across the lawn, Betty watches as Jughead storms off. She looks to Archie for answers, but he offers nothing more than a shrug.
Betty wakes up the next morning to the sun shining brightly through her window. She stretches out in bed, a pout crossing her lips as she realizes she's alone. She had gone to bed alone, of course, but after whatever it was that had happened between the boys last night, she thought that maybe Jughead would show up. She goes through her morning routine of shuffling down to the kitchen for a bowl of cereal and getting dressed for the day before heading over to Archie's.
Up in Archie's bedroom, Betty sits on his bed, her back leaned against the wall and her legs draped over his where he's still beneath the covers.
"So he just never came back," she questions after asking about Jughead.
"No," Archie tells her again, groaning with the headache of one too many beers the night before.
"What did you say to him," she asks in an accusatory tone.
"Me," he scoffs. "I didn't say anything. He was pissed because Reggie was all over you."
"I told him off multiple times-"
"I told him that."
"What does he even care anyways," she sighs.
"Well for one thing he and Reggie hate each other, and secondly, he likes you."
"He does not," she scoffs, almost laughing at the implication of Jughead having romantic feelings for her. "We're friends."
Archie shakes his head. "Can we do this when my head isn't throbbing?"
"I should find Jug anyways," she sighs as she gets up from the bed. "Any ideas?"
"He's probably at FP's in the Sunnyside trailer park on the Southside," Archie suggests.
Betty thanks him with a nod on her way out the door, but she knows Jughead is anywhere but FP's trailer.
It's well into the afternoon when Betty finally finds Jughead on her third stop into Pop's Chock-lit Shoppe. He's seated in the very same booth she'd found him in a few weeks ago, sipping on the same black coffee as he stares at the wall. She approaches him silently and slips into the seat beside him, mirroring his slumped back position.
"Think it's ketchup or blood," she wonders aloud of the dime sized stain on the wall.
A small smile tugs at his lips, muttering "Definitely blood," as his eyes flick to hers.
"You ok," she asks gently.
Jughead nods. "Just needed to clear my head. Think you'd spot me a burger?"
"Always."