After visiting FP's trailer last night, Jughead has been oddly quiet. When they'd gotten home, he'd barely uttered a word outside of "Night Betts," and he had been less than interested in cuddling. Even this morning, he'd hardly eaten a thing at breakfast. It's obvious he's struggling with FP's return and Betty has done her best to give him his space, but she can't take much more of this. He's made so much progress with her, opening up and letting her see in through all the cracks in his well-kept armor, yet he seems to have reverted back to the closed off guy she'd met months ago in the matter of an evening.
Now, here she sits, leaned back against the giant desk in the middle of the Blue and Gold room, waiting for her chance to pounce. The moment he steps into the room, she voices a clipped, "Sit," and he obeys hesitantly, taking the seat in front of her as his bag drops to the floor beside him. She stands there, assessing, her brow furrowed and her lips pursed. Jughead looks the part of a kicked puppy and she hasn't even begun to speak yet.
Betty sighs and unfolds her arms. Her goal wasn't to intimidate him or make him feel like he'd done something wrong. Sometimes she forgets how fragile he can be. Leaning forward slowly, she presses a gentle kiss to his lips. He accepts with the fluttered closing of his eyes, breathing a heavy sigh of relief as she draws away.
"Are you going to talk to me," she questions carefully.
Jughead only shrugs, his eyes downcast to the floor.
"Jug," she sighs. "Don't bottle everything up. I'm here, for you. Whatever it is that's weighing on you, just talk to me. Please."
Jughead nods and tugs at the rim of his beanie. "I don't know," he mutters lowly. "I," he lets a heavy sigh. "Am I an idiot for believing him?"
"Of course not," she coos, dropping to her knees in front of him to cradle his face in her hands.
"Then why do I feel like throwing up?" He chuckles slightly, a nervous edge causing his laughter to waver.
"Because you're scared," she says simply, brushing away a stray tear beneath his lashes with her thumb. "You're scared that if you let him in again he's just going to hurt you, but he's your dad. If he says he's trying and you choose to believe him, that doesn't make you an idiot Jug, it makes you brave."
Jughead scoffs tearfully, his hand coming up to cradle hers as he lowers it from his cheek. He toys with her fingers in his lap, fighting to hold back the onslaught of tears brimming at his lash line, but it's no use. His eyes flick upward to meet hers, his lip quivering as the sobs take over. His glassy eyes shed their tears as he rapidly tries to blink them away and Betty is quick to wrap him up in her arms. He reigns himself in quickly, removing himself from her embrace to wipe the dampness from his cheeks with the backs of his hands. Betty offers a sympathetic smile before grabbing a couple of tissues from the desk to pat his cheeks.
"No matter what happens with your dad, I'm going to be here," she assures him.
Jughead only nods, forcing a brave face as he sniffs up the last of his tears. He spends the rest of the afternoon busying himself with various things pertaining to the Blue and Gold, but nothing can distract him from Betty's periodic glances of concern. He's still not used to having someone worry so much about him. A part of him hates that it has to be her. He doesn't want her to worry. He doesn't want her hurting for him, but at the same time he's overjoyed to have her here by his side. So many times before, he's wished for support and been left to claw his way to sunlight alone beneath mounds of gravel and dirt. The load feels a bit lighter with her by his side.
Later that afternoon, Jughead takes a seat on the cold cement stairs outside the school. Reaching into his inner jacket pocket, he pulls out his hidden pack of cigarettes, tapping it against his chilled palm before sticking one slim white smoke between his lips. It won't be long now before spring arrives and he can enjoy a cigarette without the threat of losing a finger to frostbite. Taking care to shield the flame on his lighter within the wall of his cupped hand, he takes a few long drags off his smoke, watching the end smolder and flicker as it burns. Nothing soothes the uncertainty that is his life quite like the buzz of nicotine in his veins. At least he can be certain of one thing; that he and Betty are going home together when she gets out of practice.
As Betty tirelessly performs her absolute best for the third run through of tomorrow night's half time show, her mind wanders elsewhere. She tries hard to keep her focus, already having been called out for missing her count once this evening, but all she can think about is how broken up Jughead has been since seeing his father. She's always known there would come a day when his dad would come back into the picture, but she hadn't been prepared for how much it would hurt her to see him struggle with the uncertainty it brings back into the stability they've created together over these past months.
"Enough," comes Cheryl's shrill voice. "Obviously you all need some serious work, but I suppose it will have to do," she sighs. "I expect you all here for practice tomorrow night before the game, and don't even think about eating carbs tonight. There shall be no bloating on my watch. Class dismissed."
With Cheryl's clap of dismissal and groans of tired discontentment all around, the Vixens retire promptly to the locker room.
"I swear, she's trying to kill us," Veronica groans as she tugs off her sneakers where she sits in a heap on the locker room floor.
Betty chuckles lightly, stuffing her own sneakers back into her locker in favor of her fur lined boots.
"Want to go for milkshakes," Veronica questions hopefully. "My treat."
"I would love to V," Betty replies regretfully, "But Jug's waiting for me."
"Ooh, how romantic," Veronica teases. "He could come too."
Betty shakes her head. "I don't think he's up for socializing tonight. He's had a rough couple of days."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Veronica coos. "Anything I can help with."
"No," she shakes her head, her lips pressed into an appreciative grin as together they head for the door. "I think he could just use some quiet."
"And some loving," Veronica winks as she pushes it open with her hip.
Betty laughs. "That too."
Outside, Betty finds Jughead finishing up his third cigarette of the evening. He quickly puts it out, grinding the lit end into the gravely texture of the stairs before he gets to his feet to meet her. He's quick to take her bag, tossing it over his shoulder and taking her hand to lead her out to his bike.
"You doing ok," she questions, her voice low and gentle in the silence of the near empty parking lot.
Jughead shrugs. "I'll be better when we're home."
After a chilly, but thankfully short ride back to Betty's house, the two of them head straight up the stairs to her room. Jughead drops Betty's bag gently beside her desk and promptly drops to his back on the bed. Betty laughs lightly and comes to stand between his legs where they hang down to the floor. A shriek of surprise bursts from her lips as he snatches her arm and tugs her forward to land hard against his chest. She laughs as she tries to get away, unable to break free of his strong hold around her waist.
"Juggy," she whines through laughter, "I'm gross."
"Didn't you say you like my stink," he reminds her with a smirk. "What if I like yours too?"
"Nope. No way," she disagrees, grinning as she wiggles herself free of his hold. She stands triumphantly a few steps away and folds her arms over her chest. "I'm taking a shower."
"You mean we're taking a shower," he corrects, a singular brow raised as he props himself up on his elbow.
Betty rolls her eyes, her smirk only seeming to grow further as she disappears into her bathroom, leaving the door wide open behind her.
Jughead springs to his feet with her invitation, closing the door behind him as he enters just in time to watch her bra fall to the floor. He begins undressing himself, discarding his shirt first with his beanie trapped inside, too distracted by the dropping of her panties to care. He fumbles clumsily with the button on his jeans, suddenly desperate to feel her skin on his as she stands bare before him.
Betty can't help but chuckle at his eagerness. She takes pity on him, replacing his fumbling fingers with her own, drawing his zipper and carefully lowering his jeans and boxers to reveal his rapidly stiffening member. As many times as she's seen him like this, he still can't help the blush that creeps its way onto the rounds of his cheeks, feeling a bit silly for his sudden desperation. Betty only smiles and kisses his lips softly before stepping into the shower.
The hot water does wonders for the both of them. The ride home had chilled their skin in a way only the warmth of a shower can ease, and the stress they'd both been feeling since seeing FP feels somehow lesser as it's washed away with vanilla scented soap down the drain. Together, they embrace, holding each other beneath the steady stream of hot water, surrounded by a thick blanket of steam and the softness of their water slicked bellies between them. The water pelts against Jughead's back, providing a rhythmic massage as he nuzzles his cheek against the top of Betty's dampened head. Water splashes over his shoulders to drip from Betty's lashes where her head rests firmly against his chest, her ear pressed close to listen to the steady beat of his heart in his chest. It's moments like these when she desires to tell him how she truly feels, to tell him that she loves him, but it's his inner turmoil that holds her back. She fears she might scare him off, regardless of his drunken declaration of loving her too, but it was just that. Nothing more than a drunken declaration of love that has yet to be spoken in the light of day.
"Betts," he whispers suddenly, his voice drawing her from her musings.
"Hmm," she hums in reply, tilting her head up to find him looking at her with such depth in his recently tormented blue eyes.
"I… uh. We should probably get out."
Betty nods, the sudden hopeful flutter in her chest sinking deep within the pit of her stomach to set heavy like a stone thrown to the bottom of a lake.
Back in her bedroom, the two of them settle into bed, foregoing pajamas in favor of lying skin to skin while they can without the risk of her mother finding them. Jughead lies on his back, one arm tucked behind his head and the other wrapped around Betty's back to hold her snugly against his side. Her head rests gently on his chest, her fingertips tracing patterns on his still slightly damp skin as they lie together in the dark. Betty has had enough of feeling tormented today. Between her concern for Jughead and her own struggle with concealing her feelings, she just wants to forget it all, if only for a moment.
With the gentle tilt of her head, her lips press against the soft skin at his ribs, her fingers making their way lower beneath the sheets to dance carefully around the steady rise of his erection. He sighs in contentment, his eyes closed and his lips slightly parted as she teases the tender skin at the crease of his groin.
"Please touch me baby," he pleads just above a whisper.
Betty complies with his request, brushing her fingers along the underside of his swollen shaft to earn a heavy sigh of relief. He's been so tightly wound today, he deserves this release. She won't tease him, not this time.
Rising onto her knees, Betty is quick to straddle his hips. He stares from beneath hooded lids as she sinks down onto his length, his fingers digging into her hips as he bottoms out inside her. His eyes close once more with the first of his pleasured moans, only to be followed by more as she rides him with great care. Her movements are steady and precise, each slow and lengthy, stimulating every inch of his sheathed length within her walls. His breathing picks up, his chest heaving as he grows nearer to his inevitable end, but he's not ready to give this up just yet.
With a firm hand, he stills her hips, rolling them together to hover over her as she shifts beneath him on the bed. He kisses her soundly, thanking her for taking such good care of him before he forces himself inside her at a punishing rate. He hikes her legs up over his shoulders, folding her in half as he drives deeper within her core. Every cry and moan that falls from her lips draws him nearer to the edge until there's no turning back. She writhes beneath him, his name like a mantra on her lips as her walls squeeze every drop of his release from his swollen tip until he collapses against her in a heap of exhaustion.
Neither of them make it a concern to get cleaned up, rather, they remain sweat dampened and sticky as they fall into a boneless sleep in one another's arms.
The next morning, Betty is in high hopes that Jughead will be feeling a little better after a good night's sleep. Her hope turns over to worry as they prepare for the day in silence, Jughead's brow furrowed with confliction as his mind is so clearly somewhere else. She lets him be, for as long as she can bear it, but the loss of her appetite over an unsettlingly quiet breakfast urges her to speak up.
"Jug," she calls gently, startling him from his thoughts with the touch of her hand on his forearm across the kitchen table. "Is everything alright?"
Jughead continues to stare at her hand on his arm before he slowly shakes his head. His other hand settles over hers, squeezing gently as he brings his gaze to meet the concern in her eyes.
"You can talk to me Jug," she reminds him with a gentle smile.
Jughead nods. "I uh," he clears his throat, leaning back in his chair as his fingers scratch at his scalp beneath his beanie. "Would you be mad if I didn't go to the game tonight?"
Betty furrows her brow in confusion, her head tilting to the side as she tries to make sense of the odd question. "Why would I be mad," she wonders aloud.
"I don't know," he shrugs. "I can go if you want me to, I just," he pauses, releasing a heavy sigh as he drops his gaze from hers. "I want to go see my dad."
"So go," she encourages with a smile. "It's just a football game Juggy. Making amends with your dad is so much more important."
Jughead looks utterly relieved as he nods in hesitant agreement.
Betty can't help the adoring grin that tugs at her lips, the fluttering in her chest urging her out of her seat to hug him around the neck from behind where he sits. "Is that what's been bothering you all morning," she chuckles lightly.
Jughead only shrugs, earning a kiss on the cheek as a means of reassurance.
With the weight of the world momentarily lifted from his shoulders, Jughead finally tucks into his breakfast with hope that today might not be so bad after all. He's not certain why he'd been so afraid to tell Betty he wanted to see his dad, but he should have known better than to assume she'd be upset with him. Sometimes he forgets that she is so willing to support him and he's not sure he'll ever feel deserving of her compassion.
Later that afternoon, Betty sends Jughead off with a kiss, wishing him the best before he takes off to see FP. She stands in the parking lot, her eyes fixated on his back until he's out of sight. With a heavy sigh, she turns back to the school, rushing inside to get changed for the Vixen's pre-game run through.
Four-o-clock rolls around far sooner than she'd expected with Cheryl's barked demand that they hit the showers. Routine run throughs are always brutal, but today Betty had welcomed the distraction of the burning in her muscles. She can't stop worrying about Jughead and how things might be going with FP. Worst of all, she can't stop wondering if she should just tell him how she feels.
After a quick shower, Betty gets into uniform, tying up her hair in a neat ponytail and applying her usual makeup of mascara and lip balm. She partakes in the usual locker room chatter before a game, but no matter the topic, she can only think of one thing, or one person rather. Jughead.
"Archie," Betty calls on her way out to the field. She calls his name again, breaking into a light jog to catch up with him as he steps off the pavement to the grass. "Arch. I need to talk to you."
"So talk," he says in a rush, falling back from his team to give her what he can of his time.
"It's about Jughead," she warns.
Archie comes to a dead stop, sighing as he turns to face her expectantly.
"I," she worries her lip. "Ok don't be mad, but, do you think I should just tell Jughead that I'm in love with him?"
"Can't you talk to V about this," he groans.
Betty shakes her head. "She wouldn't understand. She doesn't know Jughead like we do. I'd have to explain too much about his life for her to get it and I can't do that to him."
Archie sighs, glancing over to where his team has begun practice drills on the field. "I don't know Betty. He's got a lot going on with his dad right now. Maybe it's not the best time."
Betty nods, her eyes dropping to the grass between her feet. "I thought so," she agrees in defeat.
"I uh, I gotta-" He gestures to his teammates with his helmet in his outstretched hand, a forced smile of sympathy pressing his lips tight together.
"Oh. Yea. Me too," she nods.
On the south side of town, Jughead is having a surprisingly good time, enjoying dinner and conversation with his dad and little sister. It's reminiscent of the few and far between memories he has of FP taking he and Jellybean to Pop's, lighthearted banter and laughter all around. It feels good.
"So where's your girl tonight," FP questions as he leans back in his chair to pat his overly full stomach.
"Oh, uh," he rubs at his neck, suddenly feeling exposed with his father's interest in his love life. "She's, uh, she's a cheerleader, so she's at the game."
"And you're here," Jellybean scoffs. "What kind of guy passes up watching his girlfriend dance around in a tiny skirt?"
"Jellybean," FP scolds as Jughead nearly chokes on his drink.
"What," she shrugs.
Jughead shakes his head. "First of all, I don't have to go to a football game to watch my girlfriend dance around in a tiny skirt," he mimics.
"Ew," Jellybean scoffs.
"And second of all, she wants me to be here," he adds in a more serious tone as he looks to FP directly. "The other night, I had a hard time with being here, but I want to give this a chance. Honestly, if it weren't for Betty, I don't know if I could do this, but I'm glad I did."
FP nearly grins from ear to ear as Jellybean rolls her eyes in disgust.
"Being in love is gross," she scoffs.
FP laughs easily, but Jughead goes rigid in his seat. Is it so obvious that he's in love with her that his thirteen year old sister can see it clear as day? And if Jellybean picked up on it so easily, could that mean Betty has too?
"Alright, leave your brother alone," FP scolds gently before turning his attention to Jughead. "So what do you say? You want to go see her?"
Back at Riverdale High, Betty is just coming off the field, her whole body abuzz with the satisfaction of nailing their halftime routine. She and Veronica exchange squeals of excitement before they part ways, Betty heading off to grab a hot chocolate from the concession stand while she still has some time. As she's waiting in line, she catches sight of a familiar face out of her peripheral.
"Jug," she questions as she bounds over to him with excitement, forgetting all about hot chocolate.
Jughead greets her with a smile, hugging her around the waist as she jumps up to hug him around the neck.
"What are you doing here," she wonders, a smile on her face as she looks to FP and Jellybean at his side.
"He's here for the short skirts," Jellybean pipes up, a mischievous glint in her eye as she sticks her tongue out at a glaring Jughead.
Betty can't help but laugh. "Is that all?"
"And the dancing," he shrugs, both he and FP chuckling as Jellybean gags herself with her index finger.
"I take it things went well," she questions a bit more quietly.
Jughead nods. "Really well actually."
"I'd love to have you over sometime too Betty," FP cuts in.
"Absolutely," she smiles.
With a few minutes to spare before she's due back on the field, Betty listens to all the Joneses share the events of their evening. She's delighted to see Jughead so lighthearted. If not for fear of peeing herself from laughing too hard, she could listen to he and Jellybean bicker all day. As FP is sharing his experience with his new job, Jughead's happiness quickly turns sour. From somewhere on the bleachers overhead, they can clearly hear a small group whispering about FP. FP doesn't look fazed in the least. He knows he's no innocent and people are sure to talk, but Jughead takes immediate offence.
When the hushed remarks turn to comments on, "his poor kids," with rude mutterings of, "It's no wonder he's so weird," Jughead's had it. He tried to keep his cool, he really did, but he refuses to stand here and be shit on by a bunch of overprivileged northsiders. With the clenching of both his jaw and fists, he storms off in a huff.
"Jug," Betty calls as she takes off after him. "Jughead stop."
Ignoring her calls, he treads on, too angry to slow down.
"Jughead," she scolds as she catches up with him to grab him by the arm.
"Let go," he grits.
"Don't do this," she pleads, releasing his arm in hopes her compliance will soothe him.
"Don't do what Betty," he grits as he gets in her face. "Don't be a fuck up from the wrong side of town? Don't be the son of the town drunk?"
Betty recoils as his voice gets louder and louder.
"I knew this was going to blow up in my face. I fucking knew it," he spits. "How could I be so god damned stupid? Thinking I could ever have a normal life, with a normal family, and a girlfriend. It's all just a cruel fucking joke!"
Without another word he storms off, leaving Betty in tears where she stands. How could things have gone from being so right to being so wrong, so fast? Drying her tears with the thin nylon sleeve of her undershirt, she makes her way back out to the field.
"Betty," FP, calls gently as she nears their previous location.
With glossy eyes, she meets his gaze. The raw concern in his eyes is only made worse by the fact that all she sees when she looks at him is Jughead. Her eyes pool with fresh tears, her lip quivering where she stands with her arms hugged tight around herself. Jellybean is quick to embrace her, rubbing her back in a soothing manner as FP rests a steady hand on her shoulder.
"Let me take you home." FP offers kindly.
"I can't," she disagrees, "the game."
"I'm sure they'll manage without you," he insists. "I hate to break it to you, but you sort of need a little pep to be a cheerleader."
Sudden laughter bursts from her lips, her vision fuzzy as tears are blown from beneath her nose with the sudden rush of air.
"There she is," FP coos with a nudge of his elbow to her arm. "Come on now. Let me get you home."
The ride from the school is just long enough for Betty to regain her composure. FP comes to a stop at the end of her driveway, shifting the old truck into park with a hearty tug on the stiff rusted gearstick. He turns in his seat, his forearm rested on the steering wheel as he looks around Jellybean's seat in the middle.
"If there's anything I do know about my son, it's that he feels deeply, and he lets his anger get the best of him."
"I know," she says lowly with the nod of her head.
"I'm sure whatever he said to you, he regretted it the moment it came out of his mouth," he sighs. "Maybe give him a little leeway on this?"
Betty nods, doing her best to offer an assuring grin before thanking him for the ride and heading inside.
Late into the night, Betty is woken by the dipping of the mattress beside her. She pries her swollen eyes open, squinting through heavy lids in her moonlit room.
"Jug," she questions, her voice raspy from crying herself to sleep mere hours ago. She blinks a few times as her vision adjusts, taking in his red rimmed eyes.
"I'm sorry," he mutters. "I'm so sorry."
With the break of new tears in his eyes, she pulls him close, shushing him gently as he clutches at her shirt between them. She kisses his head, pure relief urging her own tears to spring from her eyes. Nothing more need be said between them, all having been forgiven the moment he made the choice to come back to her.