"Thanks again for letting me stay here tonight."
With a kind smile on her lips, Betty rolls her eyes dramatically. "How many times do I have to tell you, you don't have to thank me?"
"I know, I know, I just," he clears his throat, "you're sure I'm not intruding?"
"Jug, we've done this a million times," she groans. "You weren't intruding last time, or the time before that, and you're not intruding now. I want you here." She smiles softly as she tugs him down onto her bed. "Besides, we both know where you'd end up if you didn't come here tonight, and I'd rather know you're safe with me than wonder if you're ok all night."
Jughead nods, no further arguments to be had. He knows she's right, and too many times has he wound up sleeping at the drive in or, anywhere really, but last time he'd nearly lost his life. He can still hear the sickening crack of his skull as it collided with the pavement and the voices that ran off into the distance as everything fell black.
"Off," she demands playfully, giving a tug to the hem of his shirt.
Jughead complies easily, tugging his shirt over his head as Betty rises to her feet beside him. She's quick to shed her own shirt, allowing her skirt to pool at her feet and Jughead tries his damnedest not to stare. He's seen her like this before, stripped down to her underwear, countless times. That doesn't make it any less enticing to catch a glimpse of her round breasts threatening to spill over the cups of her bra or the long line of her toned legs, the sliver of her ass peeking out from beneath her cheeky underwear. He knows he's staring, and hard too. He wouldn't be the least bit surprised if he were even drooling as she unclasps her bra and allows it to fall to the floor.
Jughead tears his eyes away quickly as Betty comes back to the bed, tugging an oversized t-shirt over her head as she goes. She takes a seat on the bed, raising her brow curiously at him as she crawls beneath the covers. He clears his throat, and finishes undoing his jeans, slipping beneath the covers before she can catch sight of the semi threatening to pitch a tent at the front of his boxers.
Jughead makes himself comfortable, always marveling at the plushness of her mattress no matter how many times he's slept in her bed. Betty turns out her bedside lamp and joins him beneath her fluffy floral comforter and thick cotton sheets. They lie together, face to face in the darkness.
"You gonna tell me what happened with FP," Betty questions gently.
Jughead shrugs, shifting to nuzzle deeper into the soft pillow beneath his head. "I just-" He sighs heavily and flops onto his back. "I can't do it anymore Betts."
Betty sits up on her elbow, leaning nearer to rest a tender hand at his chest.
"When I got home today, he was passed out in a chair at the table. I couldn't even get myself to wake him. I, I didn't even want to."
"You shouldn't have to," she assures him. "You're not the parent Jug. It's not your job to take care of him. He's supposed to be taking care of you."
"Yea, well he's done a great job at that," he scoffs, wiping roughly at his damp eyes with the back of his hand.
Betty's hand shifts from his chest to cup his cheek, her thumb wiping away a stray tear at his lash line. "You're here now," she says gently, her lips pressed into a sad smile.
Jughead only nods and follows her lead to cuddle close beneath the blankets. He curls himself around her, his arm firmly around her waist to pull her ever closer. He doesn't care to be held himself, it makes him anxious and she knows that, but to hold her makes him feel strong, something he craves desperately to feel with his life being so out of his control. If he can protect only her, at least his life is worth something and that's good enough for him.
The next morning, Jughead wakes before Betty, as he always does. Carefully, he slips out of the tangled mess their intertwined legs have created beneath the sheets and gets to his feet. His arms stretch over his head, his back cracking in all the right places as he becomes hyper aware of the too snug fit of his boxers. With a heavy sigh, he drops his arms, grumbling a scoffed, "really," towards his prominent erection. With a quick glance towards Betty, who's still drooling on her pillow, he shuffles into her bathroom in hopes of getting rid of his unwelcome friend with the relieving of his bladder.
With his current condition, it takes much longer than expected to get his stream going. Just as he breathes a sigh of relief, the clicking of the door and a stifled giggle startles him to a stop mid-stream.
"Betts," he groans quietly, his shoulders slumping in defeat.
"Sorry, sorry," she mutters in a rush of sleepy giggles, a toothy grin on her face as she turns her back to him.
A huff of air escapes through his nose, his eyes darting to the mess of blonde waves at the back of her head before he focuses on the task at hand. Finally, he's finished and Betty is quick to take her turn before he's even stepped away. She playfully gives the front of his boxers a poke with her index finger as she sits, giggling as his hips draw away with the startled laugh that comes out of his nose.
"Shower," she questions lazily.
Jughead only nods, already ditching his boxers as he starts the shower.
Customary to any morning spent at Betty's, the two of them take turns washing under the hot stream of water. He's not sure exactly when or how they'd started showering together, but it was devised out of the necessity of avoiding Alice finding out he's here at all costs and Jughead's need for personal hygiene. He supposes it began sometime during their freshman year, right around the time he'd started sleeping here on occasion.
As typical as it is for the two of them to wind up naked and soapy, it's not to say it's always entirely comfortable. There have been plenty of awkward moments over the years, but until recently it hasn't been much of an issue. Sure, over the past two years of growing into their awkward teenage hormones, Jughead has popped his fair share of impromptu boners in the shower. Betty's usual response is to giggle and tease him for it, but it's lighthearted and he's always been able to just brush it off. Unfortunately for Jughead, these past few months have brought into light how he truly feels about his best friend, not only in the form of sweet nothings and desires to hold her hand in public, but in chronic fits of sheer desire to bury his cock inside her freshly shaven pink folds.
"Juggy," Betty giggles, gesturing towards the throb of his rising erection with her razor as she captures her lower lip in her teeth.
Jughead sighs. "You expect me to watch you do that and not get hard?"
"No one said you had to watch," she teases.
Jughead rolls his eyes. "Yea, well it's kind of hard not to."
"Mmm," she agrees, grinning mischievously as she steps nearer, taking a long, slow look at his cock stood at the ready between them before meeting his gaze. "Did you like watching me shave Juggy?"
Jughead swallows hard. "Uh." He swallows thickly once more as Betty backs off with another giggle to turn off the water.
As they dress in silence in Betty's room, Jughead's mind is spinning out of control. Betty is all too cool, practically having forgotten the whole thing already, but Jughead can't stop thinking about the tone of her voice or the look in her eyes. She'd seemed almost, interested?
Pulling on his boots, Jughead forces himself to stop reading into it. She had only been teasing him. It's what they do. There's no way she thinks about him like that, especially not when she's obviously been crushing on Archie for as long as he can remember. The sudden thought of Betty in the shower with Archie comes to the forefront of his mind and with it a red hot jealousy that has him yanking the laces of his boots tighter than usual.
"Mom's going to be up soon," Betty says softly, pulling him abruptly back to reality. "Meet you outside in ten."
Jughead gives nothing more than a curt nod before heading to the window to take his usual route out of the house.
As promised, ten minutes later, Betty meets Jughead on the sidewalk in front of Archie's house next door. She grins from ear to ear, greeting him with a tight hug as if they hadn't just been in the shower together mere moments ago. No sooner than she produces three banana muffins from her backpack, surely snagged out from under Alice's stubbed up nose, does Archie appear, all coiffed red hair and beaming smile as he rushes down the walk towards them.
"Hey," he greets as they easily fall in step on the sidewalk. "You guys hear about Reggie's party?"
Betty rolls her eyes, looking to Jughead's suppressed grin.
"His parties are always bro-fests," Jughead scoffs.
"Dude, no. Come on, they're fun," Archie insists.
"You think so because you are, by definition, a total bro," Jughead teases, enunciating with air quotes upon his finish.
Betty bursts into laughter as Archie argues his non-bro status. "Arch, you're a football player. That pretty much automatically makes you a bro."
"Oh come on, not you too," he groans.
"Sorry Arch," she shrugs. "I have to side with Jug on this. I'm good with watching all the bulldogs get tanked in Reggie's living room."
"You guys seriously won't come," he groans, his eyes taking on that of a pitiful puppy as he glances between his two best friends.
"Fine," Betty sighs, mock annoyance on her face as she rolls her eyes.
"Yes," Archie celebrates. "Come on Jug, how about you?"
Jughead remains silent, contemplative as they continue down the sidewalk. The last place he ever wants to be is at any sort of party. He can handle crowds, in small doses, but when that crowd is made up of drunk people, it has a way of triggering his anxiety in the worst of ways.
"I don't know Arch," he finally says with a shrug.
"Well, think about it at least," he suggests hopefully.
"Sure," he nods, his lips pressed into a tight smile as he stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets.
Jughead hangs back a few steps behind Betty and Archie the rest of the way. He listens, only partially, to their discussion of last weekend's football game, paying more attention to their body language. They constantly exchange small touches, a tap on the wrist here, a poke in the arm there, and it's more and more infuriating the longer he watches. He can't help but wonder if they've always been so touchy and he just hasn't noticed until today. With a heavy sigh huffed through his nose, he scuffs a pebble on the pavement and sends it skipping into the road. She's touchy with him too...isn't she?
Throughout the day, Jughead has made it his mission to pay attention to how Betty interacts with him. He's never given so much thought to it before and only since this morning has he realized just how much Betty touches him in a day. By fourth period, holed up in the Blue and Gold for their final class of the day, Jughead has come to the realization that she doesn't touch Archie in the same way she touches him at all. With Archie, her gestures are simple. She might touch his hand to grab his attention or nudge him playfully in the shoulder as they laugh, but with him, it's different. Sure, she touches him in the same ways, but he's noticed, now that he's paying attention, that every touch has meaning between them. Something as simple as squeezing his knee can say, "I'm here for you," or the familiar pressure of her hand at his forearm, reminding him to keep calm in stressful situations. It's like their own language, one so fluent he hadn't even realized they've been speaking it all this time.
"Hey Betts," Jughead says lowly, glancing over his laptop at her across the desk.
"Mmhm," she hums around the red pen wedged between her lips as her brow furrows at the marked up article in her hand.
"Uhm," he clears his throat. "Do you uh-"
Realizing his sudden struggle with words, Betty lowers her paper and removes the pen from her lips as she sits up to look at him directly.
"Uh," he stammers again, rubbing at the back of his neck.
"Well, what is it," she chuckles.
"Nothing, never mind." He shakes his head and returns his focus to the blinking text cursor on his laptop screen. Not a moment sooner that he reaches for the keyboard does Betty gently slam it shut.
"You were saying?"
"Nothing," he groans. "It was stupid, just," he shakes his head, "Just forget it."
"Juggy," she sighs as she gets to her feet to round the table. She drops into his lap, her fingers interlocked behind his neck as she waits patiently for him to go on.
Jughead sighs heavily, glancing warily up at her expectant gaze before dropping his gaze to their laps. "Do you-" his voice trails off into an inaudible mumble.
"What," Betty giggles.
A rough groan escapes him before he grumbles out a rushed, "Do you like Archie?"
"Do I," she pauses in brief shock, "Archie? Do I like Archie? Like, like like?"
"Yes. God. See? I told you. Stupid," he winces.
Betty laughs, a bit harder than he thinks necessary, and buries her face in his neck. "Jug," she chuckles as she collects herself, "me and Archie are friends. Nothing more."
"Yea but-"
"But nothing," she interjects. "Why are you suddenly concerned if I have a crush on Archie?"
"I'm not," he scoffs, unable now to meet her gaze.
"Whatever you say," she teases, smirking as she returns to her side of the desk.
Later that evening, Jughead again finds himself climbing in through Betty's window. After school, he had hung around for a bit, finishing up his article on lunchroom mystery meat while Betty headed to Vixen practice. He'd waited for her when he was finished, only to find out Veronica was insisting on a girl's date to Pop's. Now nearly five-o-clock, he ditches his jeans and flannel, his suspenders, beanie and t-shirt joining his pile of clothes on the floor before he crawls beneath Betty's plush comforter.
Sometime later, Jughead wakes with a start as Betty slips into bed beside him.
"Sorry," she giggles with his wide eyed expression.
Jughead sits up on his elbow and rakes his unruly hair back from his face. "What time is it," he mumbles sleepily.
"Ten," she replies as she nuzzles her face into the side of his chest. "I brought you dinner."
"And a shake," he questions with excitement as he sits up further.
"And a shake," she nods, smiling up at him from where she's sunken beneath his ribcage with his abrupt change of position.
Jughead gets out of bed with the enthusiasm of an excitable puppy, immediately spotting the greasy paper bag on her vanity. Betty snickers to herself as he bounces back onto the bed and tucks into his burger straight away.
"Mph, starving," he mumbles through a mouthful.
"I see that," she teases as she sits up in bed. "You give any thought to Reggie's party this weekend?"
"M' not goin," he grumbles as he chews.
"Please," she pleads, leaning forward on her hands to dramatically bat her eyelashes. "I know you don't like parties, or drinking, or drunk people, but pleeeease? Archie's going to be tanked like two drinks in and I don't want to be alone."
"Isn't Ronnie going," he argues, wiping his mouth on his discarded t-shirt from the floor.
Betty shakes her head. "That's why she wanted to go to Pop's. She's leaving tonight. I guess her dad sprung a surprise trip to Paris on her as an early birthday present."
Jughead sighs. "Fine."
The next thing he knows, he's on his back, french fries flying everywhere as Betty assaults him with a bone crushing hug muttering, "thank you, thank you, thank you," into his neck.
Jughead laughs, poking her in the side with his index finger. "Look what you did." He feigns anger, gesturing to the mess of french fries on the floor.
Betty rolls her eyes, a huge smile still on her lips as she gives him a playful shove back down to the mattress.
Together, they clean up the fries, Betty shooting him disgusted looks as he periodically shoves a few into his mouth.
"What? Five second rule," he shrugs through a laugh.
Betty just rolls her eyes and gets up to discard his trash in the waste bin beside her vanity. Jughead makes a quick trip to the bathroom to brush his teeth before falling back into bed beside her. She's quick to scoot herself back into his front, sighing contentedly when his heavy arm wraps around her waist to pull her close.
As Jughead begins to doze off, he's coaxed awake by Betty shifting in his arms. In his sleepy state, the wiggle of her hips sends a shiver down his spine. Unconsciously, he presses forward, a breathless sigh passing through his lips before his eyes snap open with the rapid rise of his erection. He doesn't dare move, doesn't even dare to breathe, for fear that Betty might notice, if she hasn't already.
Betty shifts again, inching back to put an overwhelming amount of pressure against his swollen cock. His grip tightens around her waist, willing her to still, but she does it again and again. His breath comes in unsteady huffs as he fights to keep himself in check, but the rock of her hips has her ass grinding perfectly against his hard on and he can't help himself. With his mind hazed over with lust, he shifts his own hips, subtly matching her pressure as his fingers curl tightly into the fabric at the front of her t-shirt. He manages to stop every moan and appreciative sigh from passing through his lips until the tight coil in his groin finally snaps. A low groan escapes him, his grip around her waist nearly crushing as he cums hot and thick against her.
His breath comes out in shaky pants as his body cools. Betty stills against him and he becomes rapidly aware of the sticky mess in his boxers, his heart thumping in his ears with the realization of what they've just done. Neither of them moves, both afraid of what might happen if they're forced to face each other. It takes a long time for Jughead to fall asleep that night as he grows exceedingly uncomfortable with the drying mess in his shorts, but eventually he gives in to exhaustion.
"Jug. Jughead wake up!"
Jughead's eyes fly open, rapidly scanning his day lit surroundings as he sits up abruptly from the bed. He's startled by the clapping of Betty's hand over his mouth, paired with the hush of her index finger to her lips.
"I forgot to set my alarm. You have to go," she whispers with urgency.
Jughead only nods and inches himself carefully out of the bed, wincing with the reminder of his dried arousal as it tugs the hair beneath his boxers. His cheeks suddenly flush hot, the tips of his ears burning as he scans the floor for his discarded clothing. He dresses as fast as humanly possible, tripping into his boots as he shuffles towards the window. With the sound of Alice's approaching footsteps, he slips out silently and makes quick work of the trellis before he hits the ground running.
Across the yard, he dives into the bushes in front of the Andrew's house. He keeps hidden, watching as Alice scolds Betty for sleeping in.
"Jug?"
Jughead freezes in place, slowly turning around, and his eyes wide as he stares up at Fred Andrews' concerned expression.
"Uh." He scrambles back a bit, brushing off his jeans as he gets to his feet.
"That was some escape," Fred nearly chuckles. "You want to explain to me why you're scaling the Cooper's house in broad daylight?"
"I uh, uhm." He clears his throat and sighs in defeat.
Fred takes pity on him, throwing an arm over his shoulders to lead him into the house.
After a much needed hot shower and a snagged pair of clean boxers from Archie's room, Jughead finds himself at the breakfast table with Fred. The two of them sit across from one another, both sipping silently at their coffees, Fred clearly mulling something over in his head.
"FP drinking again," he questions lowly.
Jughead only nods, keeping his focus on the dark liquid in his cup.
Fred sighs. "You been staying in Betty's room?"
Again, he only nods, chancing a look at Fred's disapproving gaze.
"If Alice finds out about this-"
"I know," he sighs, tugging his beanie down over his eyes. "I can't go home Fred. I can't." He pauses, rubbing his tired eyes with the palms of his hands. "You don't know what it's like. I'm exhausted all the time. I can't do it anymore."
"And you shouldn't have to," Fred assures him, reaching across the table to grip his forearm. "But you also can't be sneaking into Betty's bedroom at night."
Jughead nods, ducking his head to rub at the back of his neck.
"You'll stay here," Fred suggests firmly.
"Fred," he sighs.
Fred shakes his head. "I'll talk to FP, see if we can get him to write me off as your legal guardian until he can get himself sorted out."
"I can't ask you to do that-"
"You're not," Fred reminds him with a shake of his head. "Me and FP go back a long time. I promised him when you were little that I'd be here to look out for you. Thing about your father is, he knows he has a problem, he always has, and maybe he doesn't do a good job of showing it, but he loves you. More than anything."
Jughead nods, staring angrily at the ceiling as he's overwhelmed by the sudden urge to cry.
"Besides," Fred adds more cheerily, "Can't risk you knocking up the Cooper's daughter."
Jughead is ripped back to reality with the hot flush of his face as he stumbles to find his words. "I'm not- I didn't- we're not..." He swallows hard as Fred begins to smirk.
Fred only chuckles, zipping his lips with a raise of his brows and a sip of his coffee as Archie makes his way into the kitchen.
Half an hour later, Jughead follows Archie out of the house, his eyes shifting to his feet as Betty joins them on the sidewalk.
"Hey Betts," Archie beams, flashing his bright white smile in her direction.
Betty responds with a bright smile of her own before linking arms with Jughead, bringing his startled gaze to her gentle green eyes.
"Juggy agreed to go with us to Reggie's tomorrow," she announces with excitement.
"Yes," Archie celebrates. "How'd you convince him?"
"Food," Jughead shrugs, rolling his eyes as they snicker beside him.
The three of them fall in step easily, just as they have every morning for the past three years, but it feels entirely different this morning. Betty, who typically gives Jughead his space, has yet to release his arm and he can't shake the prickle of heat rising at the back of his neck. The heat spreads to his face as they walk and soon he's subtly shaking Betty off to cough nervously into his elbow. Betty offers an understanding smile before getting ahead of him to chat with Archie the rest of the way.
Later that afternoon, Jughead paces outside the blue and gold room for what feels like an eternity. If he were a nail biter there'd be nothing but bloodied nubs at his fingertips, but his beanie has taken the brunt of anxious fidgeting. How is he supposed to go in there and face Betty, alone, for an entire class period, when he feels so... Weird? With a steadying breath and the furrow of his brow, Jughead forces himself to open the door.
"Hey Jug," Betty greets with a toothy grin. "I was starting to wonder if you were skipping out on me. I need you to look over those articles," she points to a stack of papers on the desk, "and we need to get this printed like yesterday."
"Can do," he nods, rocking back on his heels before hiding his grimace with a tug of his beanie.
Can do?
Can do!
Since when does he say that? Can do.
Before he has a chance to make an even bigger fool of himself, he drops down into his familiar desk chair and gets to work.
It takes nearly the entire class period, but with the both of them working diligently, focused solely on the paper, they finally get the printing process started. Regardless of Jughead's earlier worries, this has been a more than typical Friday afternoon for them. Fridays are always crunch time. Last minute editing, late additions, and scanning images into the school's dinosaur of a computer consumes their free period in preparation for Monday morning's issue of the Blue and Gold to be distributed bright and early among the school community.
With the last copy of Monday's issue just printed hot off the press, there's nothing left for them to do except wait for the bell. Betty collects her things, tucking them safely into her backpack as Jughead flicks a pencil wildly between his fingers.
Betty looks to Jughead, a slight raise of her brow as she zips up her backpack. "Everything ok?"
"Uh." Jughead freezes, stilling his pencil in his fist. "Yea. Yea, I'm fine," he shrugs.
"Jug," she says, her tone laced with doubt.
Jughead sighs. There's so much that's not alright right now, from the fact that FP took a dive off the deep end and he can't go home, to being caught by Fred climbing out of Betty's room. Worst of all, he's horribly confused by Betty's blatant disregard of whatever it was they did last night.
"I uh," he clears his throat, Betty squaring her shoulders to give him her full attention. "Uhm, Fred. He saw me this morning."
"Oh," she worries.
Jughead nods slowly. "I'm going to be staying there until my dad can," he trails off.
Betty nods just as slowly. "Ok. Well, you'll still come with me to Reggie's tomorrow right?"
"What? Yea, of course," he nods. "I mean, why wouldn't I?"
"I don't know," she shrugs. "I thought maybe, last night?"
"Oh," he mutters, swallowing thickly as the tips of his ears heat up beneath his beanie. "No. It's fine. I mean, uhm-"
"So I'll see you tomorrow then," she cuts in.
Jughead nods furiously, beyond relieved that she'd cut off his useless sputtering before his face could catch up to the cherry red hue of his ears. The bell sounds over the intercom and he flees with nothing more than an awkward glance over his shoulder.
After watching Jughead quite literally run out of the room, Betty heads off to Vixen practice with a sigh. She should probably regret what they did last night; what she did, to him. She's never seen him as horribly uncomfortable as he's been today and he's uncomfortable with most things. She should regret it; regret changing their years of close friendship into, well, something, but she doesn't. She can't. Not when she's spent the last three years wishing they could be something more.
Later that night, Jughead lies awake in bed, staring at the ceiling in the Andrews' guest room. For the first time in far longer than he can remember, he arrived home from school to plenty of snacks to choose from and a tidy place to do his homework. He's grateful for Fred; grateful to have dinner in his often hollow stomach, grateful for the hot shower and clean clothes, and especially for a warm bed to sleep in, but he can't shake the nagging ache in his chest. No matter how comfortable he is here, Archie being like a brother to him as well as Fred like the only real father he's ever had, neither of them are Betty. He misses her warmth and he craves the gentle brush of her fingertips on his skin. He longs to hold her, to curl around her like her own personal suit of armor so he can feel that semblance of worth she sparks within him.
With a jagged sigh of discontentment, Jughead sits up in bed. His fingers rake back his unruly hair as his eyes fall upon Betty's window across the way. She's right there, so close and yet so far. Before he can think better of it, he's out of bed, tugging on his beanie as he sneaks down the hall. Every step protests beneath his feet, each creak and pop of aged wood amplified by the silence of the house. He makes it to the bottom of the stairs unscathed and checks his surroundings before going for the door. Ever so slowly, he turns the knob, a nearly silent click sounding through the house like a roll of thunder as it gives way.
"Going somewhere?"
"Jesus," Jughead all but yells as he whips around to find Fred leaned cross armed against the staircase in his pajamas. "Uh, I, uh."
"I thought we talked about this Jug," Fred sighs.
Jughead sighs, his shoulders slumping as he leans back against the front door. "I need her," he admits under his breath.
"Jug," Fred sighs. "You can't keep sneaking into her room."
"I know," he sighs. "I just," he clears his throat. "I just need her ok?"
Fred nods slowly, one of his hands scratching at the stubble on his chin. "Go," he sighs.
Jughead's eyes light up with excitement and he immediately goes for the door.
"Jughead," Fred calls, stopping him dead in his tracks in the doorway "this is not a nightly thing."
Jughead only nods before hurrying out the door and across the lawn.
As quietly as he can manage, he pulls himself in through her window, freezing momentarily with the thud of his kneecap against the window frame. Once he's through, he makes quick work of kicking off his boots before he tip toes to the bed.
"Betty," he whispers just beside her ear. He gives a gentle shake to her shoulder and she whines in protest. "Betts, wake up."
"Jug," she questions sleepily, one squinty eye trying hard to get a good look at him in the dark.
"Can I stay here tonight?"
Betty says nothing. Instead, she simply scoots over, and buries her face in her pillow. Jughead chuckles silently to himself before climbing into bed behind her. He pulls her close, hauling her back with a tight arm around her waist. Soon, he finds himself drifting off with a nose full of honey vanilla shampoo and the brushing of gentle fingertips at his wrist.
The next morning, Jughead stirs slowly awake with the reach of his arm across the mattress. He comes to, his head darting up from the pillow when his hand meets nothing but cold sheets beside him. Of all the night's he's spent here, never once has he woken up alone. He sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he leans back against the headboard. His eyes go wide as he catches a glimpse of the illuminated 11:45 on Betty's alarm clock.
It's nearly noon? He slept in until noon? In Betty's room? With the new rapid pace of his heart pounding away in his chest, he scrambles to his feet to tug on his boots. With his laces untied and one leg of his pajama pants stuffed into his boot, he hurries to the window. How could she just leave him to potentially be found by Alice like this?
"Jug?"
With the window slid halfway up, he drops his hands and turns around to find Betty, wrapped in a towel and snickering behind her hand.
"Shower," he mutters to himself, his palm colliding with his forehead in a humiliating 'duh' moment. "You were in the shower?"
Betty nods. "I was going to wait for you, but you were dead to the world," she laughs.
"Alice," he questions, glancing again at the time.
"She's gone," Betty shrugs as she slides open her closet. She pulls her favorite grey sweatshirt from its hanger and turns to face him as she slides the door closed again. "I got up pretty early and we had breakfast. I guess she got invited last minute to this journalism conference she's been wanting to go to for years. She won't be back until tomorrow night."
Jughead nods. His fingers rake back into his hair as he tries to process everything with his sleep fogged brain, only half aware of Betty digging through her dresser for the rest of her clothes. He comes to with the drop of her towel to the floor, his eyes wide as he forces himself to look away.
"What's up with you today," Betty chuckles as she pulls on a lacy white pair of underwear.
"Uh, I, nothing," he shakes his head, looking anywhere but at her naked breasts as they settle into the cups of her bra.
"Ok," she says doubtfully as she pulls her sweatshirt over her head, her snickering grin hidden behind the fabric. "Did you want to hang out today before we go to Reggie's later? We could just watch movies or something."
"Uh, yea, sure," he nods, trying desperately to shake the familiar swirling in his gut. "Just let me, uh, go shower and stuff."
"You can shower here," she suggests with a shrug as she bounces down onto her bed.
"I didn't bring any clothes," he argues, shuffling back towards the window.
"I still have a couple of your t-shirts and you could just borrow some sweatpants until later," she suggests. "It's not like you haven't before."
Jughead nods, the realization that he's not going to get out of this settling like a lead weight beside the growing ache in his loins. Taking a set of clean clothes from Betty's outstretched hands, he makes his way slowly to the bathroom, locking the door behind him as he goes. He leans over the sink on his hands, his head hung low as he breathes a heavy sigh. He needs to get it together. It's just Betty. His best friend. Who he's seen naked a million times; who he's been sharing a bed with and cuddling for years. He's always struggled with his feelings for her, but the other night? How is he supposed to just act like everything is fine when he craves so badly for more?
After a much needed cold shower, Jughead emerges from the bathroom to find he's alone again. He assumes Betty is downstairs, hopefully getting snacks to quiet his rumbling stomach. On the way to the bed, now made up perfectly, he tosses his damp towel into her laundry basket. He stands beside the bed for a few moments, admiring the smooth fabric and the properly placed pillows. He smirks a little at her Alice like tendencies before flopping onto the bed, the pillows tumbling and the comforter crinkling around him as he gets comfortable with his ankles crossed and his arms tucked behind his head.
"Alright. I figured you might want actual breakfast so I- Jug," Betty complains as she takes in the sight of her completely rumpled bed.
"What," he laughs. "I thought we were gonna watch movies."
Betty sighs before a slight grin tugs at the corner of her lips. "You're a pain, you know that?"
"Ah, but I'm your pain," he laughs, snagging a slice of toast from the plate in her hands.
Betty rolls her eyes, smiling as she hands over the plate of eggs and toast and takes a seat beside him.
An hour later, Betty is tucked snugly into Jughead's side where they lie on the bed, the latest horror film playing on the TV on her dresser and Jughead's empty plate long forgotten on her bedside table. Jughead couldn't even begin to guess what this movie is about, something with chainsaws he assumes, since his focus has been entirely on the creep of Betty's hand as it's traveled the length of his body.
When they'd started the movie, it had been rested just above his bellybutton, which he didn't pay much mind to. Soon, it began to slowly creep lower until her fingers found their way just beneath the hem of his shirt to toy with the dark trail of hair that lies there. At this point, he found himself desperately trying to think up every nasty injury he's ever had, the scent of the bathroom at the Whyte Wyrm, he even resorted to drawing up the one memory he has of walking in on his buddy Sweet Pea shaving his balls. That seemed to do the trick until she'd slipped her index finger beneath the waistband of his pants and skimmed the sensitive skin there so lightly it had sent a shiver down his spine.
Now, he's been lying here, staring at the glaringly obvious tenting at his hips while Betty's hand has migrated to tickle at his inseam. He doesn't dare move and he's hardly even breathing at all. He fights hard against the low moan building in his chest as she reaches the crease of his groin, his eyes squeezing shut tight as his cock twitches beneath the thin fabric of his pants. He can feel the short burst of precum as it seeps from his swollen tip and god does he hope she doesn't notice the wet spot it's sure to leave.
All his efforts in remaining quiet and still fliy out the window with the pressure of her hand against his hard on. A choked out groan escapes his lips as he quickly draws his hips back into the mattress. His face feels like it's on fire as she shies away, his heartbeat erratic in his chest as she resettles her hand high on his stomach. They lie there, just like that, in silence for the remainder of the movie.
As the credits roll, Betty sits up to stretch her arms over her head.
"We should probably start getting ready to go," she suggest, followed by a lengthy yawn.
Jughead can only nod as he brings himself up to sit as well, checking for any signs of a stain at his crotch as he leans his elbows on his knees. He gives his unruly hair a ruffle, eyeing Betty shyly from beneath his lashes before he gets up from the bed.
"You can use the door," she giggles as he makes way for the window.
"Oh, uh, right," he nods, rubbing at the back of his neck.
A touch of amusement shines in Betty's bright green eyes when he doesn't make a move right away and it's enough to send him swiftly out the door.
Back at the Andrews', Jughead paces the floor in his room. He's horribly on edge, both wanting to hide from Betty for the rest of his life and go back over there and force his aching cock down her throat. He pauses mid stride, throwing his arms behind his head as he glances from the bed to the lock on his door. Faster than he's ever moved before, he clicks the lock into place and bounces down onto the bed before his pants have even hit the floor. He bites back a jagged moan as best he can with the firm grip of his hand wrapping around his tortured member. He strokes himself furiously, desperate to rid himself of the sweltering desire to know what it feels like to sheath himself in his best friend's mouth; what it must feel like to push inside her wet heat as she moans his name against his ear.
"Fuck," he chokes out under his breath, his eyes rolling back as his cock spits thick white ribbons onto his stomach.
With the heavy rise and fall of his chest, his sticky hand falls to his side and he glares at the ceiling. He grumbles to himself something along the lines of, "What is wrong with me," before rolling out of bed to clean up.
Later that night, Jughead, Betty, and Archie stand outside Reggie Mantle's house, eyeing each other warily as the deep thump of music rolls through the air.
"Come on guys, it's gonna be fun," Archie encourages, taking the first step forward.
"If you say so," Jughead sighs, the tips of his ears burning under Betty's smirking gaze.
They go in together, pushing past groups of their peers who clearly started drinking long before the party began. Archie leads them straight to the kitchen where Reggie whips around to greet them with a beaming smile.
"Ey' you made it," he cheers. He quickly hands Archie a beer, turning back with two more for Betty and Jughead. Betty takes hers gingerly, eyeing Jughead a bit warily as he turns his offered drink down.
"Designated driver," Reggie assumes cheerily.
"Uh, yea. Something like that," he nods.
"Cool. I can respect that," he nods. "If you're itching for something a little more mellow, I got you," he winks, pointing to the joint that's surprisingly well hidden in its place tucked behind his ear.
Jughead nods. "I'm good man, but thanks."
Reggie gives a curt nod. "Alright, well you kids enjoy the party huh?" He winks again, shooting finger guns as he back steps and disappears into the crowd.
Archie runs off soon after, his beer infused confidence urging him to hit the dance floor. When Jughead and Betty's laughter finally dies down after watching Archie get swarmed by nearly every one of their female classmates, they're left with the awkwardness that still lingers from earlier. Without Archie as a buffer, all Jughead can do is worry that Betty somehow knows what he did when he got back to the Andrews'. Betty downs her beer and quickly replaces it with another. Her eyes scan anything and everything except Jughead's face as they stand there in the kitchen, for fear that he might actually be upset with her. She feels badly that she clearly pushed his boundaries, and yet she's absolutely dying to do it again, and so much more.
"Hey Betts?"
Betty snaps out of her stupor mid sip with a startled, "hmm," beer dripping down her chin that she quickly wipes away with her sleeve.
"Uhm," we should talk. We need to talk? God, I want to fuck you! "Uh, n..nothing. Never mind."
"Ok," she draws out, her brow lowering just a touch with intrigue.
An odd silence hangs over them, louder than the music blaring just a few feet away. Even with all the chatter and moving bodies around them, they're being swallowed up by the weird rift between them.
"We should dance," Betty announces suddenly, dragging Jughead out to the middle of the floor before he can protest.
Betty immediately starts moving to the music, her hips swaying and her body bouncing in time with the rhythm. She draws nearer, giggling as she places her hands at his hips and urges him to move.
"Betts," he groans, his eyes darting around for onlookers. "You know I don't dance."
"Please Juggy," she coos, her lower lip pouting in just the way she knows he can't resist.
"Betts-" before he can utter another word, a startled grunt escapes him as her ass collides with his zipper. He instinctively goes for her hips, his fingertips curling into her jeans in a poor attempt to still her. "Betty-"
"Just dance with me," she pleads, her hot breath tickling at his ear with her head craned back against his shoulder.
She continues to rock against him, so purposefully, and he's frozen in place. He's worried someone might see them, might get the wrong idea about them, but he can't seem to give up the pressure of her firm ass against his slowly rising cock.
"Shit," he mutters under his breath. In a moment of unexpected anxiety, he pushes her off and bolts for the front door.
Outside, he makes it to the end of the driveway where he buckles over to steady his breathing. What the hell is she trying to do to him?
"Jug?"
Jughead straightens up immediately, his eyes wide as he finds Betty making a careful approach.
"Sorry. I just, uh, it was hot. Needed air," he stammers, tugging at the beanie on his head as she draws nearer.
"I didn't mean to-"
"You didn't do anything," he cuts her off. "Just hot."
"Right," she nods, her lips pressed into a tight line as they exchange wary looks. "Do you, uh. Do you want to walk me home?"
"We just got here," he reminds her, "don't you want to go back in there."
Betty shakes her head. "Honestly, I just came for Arch," she shrugs. "Seems to me he's having the time of his life in there."
With Betty's snicker, Jughead feels somehow lighter. It's as if the air between them has cleared and they're just them, teasing Archie for being girl crazy.
"So, walk me home," she questions again.
"Yea. Yea, of course," he nods.
It's not a long walk back to Elm Street, just lengthy enough for shy gazes and the opportunity for a bit of hand holding. It's weirdly normal for the two of them, walking together hand in hand, but it's different somehow.
When they reach Betty's front porch, Jughead walks her up the steps, their hands separating to allow her to unlock the door. Opening it just a crack, she hesitates, glancing back at him before turning to face him. He hasn't moved an inch, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he wonders what's going on inside her head. They stand there, staring at each other, uncertainty washing over them like a riptide ready to pull them under.
In a split second, Betty grabs him by the collar of his t-shirt and hauls him against her, her back colliding with the doorframe as their mouths connect in a bruising kiss. Teeth and tongues nip and lap at swollen lips as their hips crash together. Jughead's fingers find their way, first into her hair, fitting her mouth more snugly against his to savor the sweet strawberry tang of her lip balm, then to her ass to haul her closer, right where he needs her with a low grunt. She gasps with the contact of his chilled fingers to her bare breasts as his hand snakes beneath the cups of her bra, her own hands working clumsily to open his jeans. Jughead draws back, his hand slipping from beneath her shirt to still her with a firm hold on her wrists. He swallows hard, eyeing her nervously before releasing her hands to lead her inside.
Upstairs, Jughead pulls her into her room, shutting the door gently behind them. She moves for the bed, kicking off her shoes as she goes and he takes a hesitant seat beside her. It's Betty who makes the first move, breaking their momentary fidgeting with a soft kiss to his bitten lips. His eyes remain closed as they part, savoring the tingle left on his lips before he dives back in for more. It's everything he's always dreamed it would be and so much more.
"I should go," he mutters between kisses as he hauls her into his lap.
"Uh-huh," Betty agrees, sighing in contentment as she rocks her hips against the hardness in his jeans.
"Fuck," he whispers, his eyes squeezing shut as he buries his face in her chest. "I'm gonna go."
Betty only nods, breathless and panting as he gently shifts her out of his lap and gets up from the bed. He makes the mistake of taking one last look at her over his shoulder, his cock throbbing angrily behind his zipper at the sight of her riled up and red lipped because of him. It takes everything in him to walk out the door, but he knows he made the right choice. She's had a few drinks and he just doesn't feel right about it, but he'll be kicking himself for the rest of his life over this.
Sunday comes and with it the looming regret of the night before. Betty spends her morning nursing a beer headache that just won't seem to let up. After a remedy of a hot shower, half a gallon of water, and a handful of ibuprofen, it finally breaks, but nothing can cure the pang of worry in her chest. She hadn't been so drunk last night to have forgotten what she and Jughead had done, and even now, at half past noon, she can't stop thinking about it. A part of her is excited with the discovery that he too longs for their connection, but another part of her, a bigger part, worries that they've ruined their friendship for good. It takes some convincing of herself, but by mid-afternoon, Betty finally musters the courage to confront him.
After being let inside by a bright eyed Fred Andrews, Betty paces the hall outside their guestroom door. She can't even fathom how she's this nervous to see him. With the brush of her sweaty palms on the stretch fabric of her leggings, she finally opens the door.
It's dark in what's now Jughead's room, the thick curtains still firmly closed, blocking out mid-day sun. She swallows hard with her approach to his bedside, worrying her lip as she looks him over. He's still dead asleep, and who could blame him? His opportunities to sleep in have been far and few between throughout his life. Holding on to the eagerness he's expressed just last night, Betty musters the courage to slip off her shoes and ditch her leggings. Carefully, so as not to disturb him, she crawls into bed beside him, scooting herself as close as she can manage until she's tucked firmly against his side.
"Betts," he mumbles, his voice raspy with sleep as he peers down at her through the slits of his eyelids.
"Hi Juggy," she whispers shyly.
With a sharp breath through his nose, he rolls onto his side and tugs her into his chest, his chin rested firmly at the top of her head.
"What are you doing here," he murmurs.
Betty shrugs. "Are we ok?"
"You're in my bed," he chuckles sleepily.
"Yea, but, last night-"
"Betts, we're fine," he assures her.
Betty only nods as she nuzzles herself deeper into his embrace.
They lay there for some time, just holding on to each other and enjoying the shared warmth between them. As calm as he may seem on the outside, still appearing to be half asleep, Jughead's mind is racing. He's been fighting against the growing arousal in his loins from the moment he realized she was beside him, but he can't take this anymore. If last night was any indication, tipsy or not, Betty wants him as badly as he wants her and he's had enough with resisting. With a gentle hand, he grabs her wrist from its place at his chest. She allows him to guide her easily, slipping her hand beneath his boxers and cradling her fingers around his swollen length. She doesn't make a sound, doesn't move a muscle other than the steady pumping of her fist as she begins to stroke him eagerly. A shaky breath escapes him, his cock twitching in her hand as he slips his own hand beneath the leg of her panties. She lets a silent gasp as he first inserts one finger, adding a second almost immediately to curl against the slick softness of her inner walls.
"Jug," she breathes, only to be shushed gently as his thumb meets her sensitive bud.
Her hand has stilled entirely, now just holding his length, twitching within her grasp as she moans softly at his chest. Her moans grow louder as he quickens his pace, his fingers fucking into her as he skillfully flicks at her nerves. He whines almost silently with the release of his near tortured cock from her grasp, hissing through his teeth as her fingernails clutch at the skin at his ribs. Her legs begin to shake as he continues his steady pace at her core, her moans purposefully muffled by his chest as she takes the plunge, crying out as her thighs clamp around his wrist with her dive into bliss.
As her breathing levels out, her chest heaving, and her fingers still clutched at his side, he draws his hand away. He's quick to remove his boxers, wiping his hand clean before tossing them to the floor. Betty remains boneless against the mattress, pliable beneath him as he rises to his knees to tear away her panties with urgency. She tugs her own shirt over her head, eager to feel his skin against hers as he leans down to press a firm kiss to her lips. His cock twitches with excitement as it settles between her folds, his breath shaky as he searches her gaze. With the capture of her own lip between her teeth, he can wait no longer, biting back a deep moan as he forces himself inside her. She clutches at his back, drawing him closer, chest to chest, as she adjusts to the stretch he provides.
"Oh fuck Betty," he groans into her hair, his teeth scraping at the skin of her neck as his arms tighten around her to force himself deeper. "I'm gonna cum so fucking fast," he near whimpers.
"I don't care," she breathes, urging him to move with the buck of her hips.
With a breathless groan he draws his length, forcing himself back inside with a held back moan. His movements are slow and lengthy, wanting nothing more than to draw this out as long as he can. He's wanted this for so long, certain he would never have it, and now that it's his, he never wants it to end. With Betty's growing impatience, he picks up the pace, thrusting his hips into hers as hard as he can manage without alerting Fred or Archie to their current position with the slapping of their skin. It takes mere minutes for Jughead to reach the point of no return, his arms shaking as he holds back with everything he has.
"Betts," he chokes out, "Oh, fuck, Betty, I'm-" His eyes squeeze shut, his jaw clenching to barricade the moan threatening to barrel from his chest as his cock pulses wildly within her walls, coating her insides in a sticky sheen of white.
Not a moment sooner than his abdomen stops quivering does he draw his length and drop to the mattress beside her, his chest heaving and his head swimming with pure exhaustion and bliss. Betty rolls onto her side, smiling up at him as he tries to catch his breath.
"What," he chuckles breathlessly.
Betty shakes her head. "Remind me why we waited so long to do that."
Jughead chuckles, a huff of air escaping through his nose as a boyish grin breaks over his face. "So this isn't going to be weird now?"
"Hardly," she scoffs playfully.
"Good, cuz I plan on doing it again," he grins, his chest still heaving as his eyes fall closed. "Give me like twenty minutes," he mutters with a wave of his hand, "And Betty?"
"Hmm," she hums through a touch of giddy laughter.
"Will you get me something to eat," he smirks. "I'm starved."