Bright and early Monday morning, Jughead wakes up with a stiff back and a pounding headache. He equates it to spending one too many nights on the floor of Riverdale High's janitor closet and thinks nothing more of it as he tucks his sleeping bag away in the far corner. He collects his things, just his backpack filled with the bare minimum, and hurries off to take a quick shower in the locker room before Principle Weatherbee shows up to open the school.
By noon, Jughead's headache has grown into more of a full face ache. Even his teeth ache and his ears have been ringing all day. It's near impossible to focus on much of anything, but still, he pushes through. All he needs is some ibuprofen and he'll be golden.
After a quick trip to the nurse's office, he does start to feel a bit better. He gets on with his day as usual, ignoring the lingering pounding in his ears and before long it's time to tuck himself back into his sleeping quarters.
By Wednesday, Jughead is fairly certain his headache is permanent at this point. It is troubling, and he has begun to worry a little, but he tries not to think about it. He has things to do and a stupid headache isn't going to knock him down. If only his throat didn't hurt, it might not be so bad.
As usual, during free period, Jughead finds himself in the Blue and Gold room with Betty. They've been working on a piece about school lunches and he's been more than eager to sample even some of the more questionable items in the cafeteria. Today however, he's hardly been able to scarf down a few sips of water without feeling like he just swallowed a mouthful of razor blades.
"Are you ok," Betty questions, her brow furrowing as she watches him wince with his bite of instant mashed potato they're rating.
Jughead nods, clearing his throat a few times. "Yea. Fine." He clears his throat again.
Betty looks entirely unconvinced, but she doesn't press him any further.
Never in his life has he ever been more eager for school to end than he is right now. Pushing through the last few items on their food list is no easy feat and by the end of it he's afraid he might throw it all back up. By the time he lays down for bed, his entire body aches with exhaustion.
The next morning, Jughead wakes in a daze. His head is pounding so hard he can hear the slow thump of his heart in his ears as they ring and crackle. His face feels like it's packed full of cotton and has a hollow ache reminiscent of being punched in the nose. It takes everything he has to get up off the floor and upon standing, he nearly falls back down. He manages to get his footing and shuffles to the locker room where he stands hunched over in the steady stream of hot water until he can snap himself out of it long enough to get dressed
Feeling somehow worse after his shower, he makes his way to the Blue and Gold room, where there's at least a couch he can lie down on for a little while. What he'd meant to be just a few minutes, winds up being a heavy nap until he's shaken awake by a gentle hand.
"Juggy," Betty questions with concern. "Are you feeling ok? You don't look so good."
Jughead shrugs. "Just tired."
"Are you sure cuz-"
"I'm fine," he cuts her off.
Betty only nods, her lips pressed into that tight lipped smile he knows means this conversation isn't over. Thankfully, she leaves it at that for the rest of the morning.
Free period, however, is an entirely different story. Betty would never press him for the truth in front of all their friends at lunch, but here behind closed doors, she has no problem confronting him.
"Jughead Jones. You're sick," she scolds upon finding him half asleep at their desk.
"I'm fine," he grumbles, his eye twitching a bit with the hoarseness in his throat.
"You are not," she argues. "I knew something was up since Monday. Go home and get some sleep."
Jughead's eyes go wide, his face scrunching as he swallows hard.
"Jug," she says in warning.
"Uhm," he clears his throat, coughing into his elbow as he eyes her warily. She knows him too well to lie. She always knows when he's lying. "I can't."
"What? Why," she scoffs. "Juggy you're sick, just go home. I can run the paper myself this week."
"It's not that," he croaks out. "I- I'm not staying with FP. Haven't been for months now."
An unexpected tickle in his throat brings on a horrendous coughing fit, urging him to buckle over in his seat with a hand on his sore chest.
Betty fetches him a bottle of water from her backpack and waits patiently for him to settle himself.
"Can we just," he clears his throat. "I don't want to talk about it ok. I'm fine, I'll be fine. It's just a cold."
Betty sighs, but she knows better than to argue. Jughead is as stubborn as a mule when it comes down to personal matters.
Later that afternoon, Betty packs up her things from Vixen practice, waving goodbye to Veronica before heading for the Blue and Gold to collect her copy of their article. They'd gotten most of it done, but she still has some editing to do. As she turns the corner down the hall, she stops dead in her tracks, breaking into a run towards Jughead who's slumped down against the lockers, his bag strewn carelessly beside him on the floor.
"Jug," she calls as she kneels down before him. "Juggy."
He's unresponsive, groaning as she urges his chin upward with her hand and he is burning up. She knew he was sick! With a heavy sigh, she picks up his backpack, slinging it over her shoulder opposite the one supporting her own.
"Juggy," she coos. "Juggy, wake up. I need you to stand up."
He only mumbles in response and she realizes she's going to have to do most of this by herself. Tucking herself beneath his arm, she does her best to hoist him up as he wobbles on his feet. He whines in discomfort as she shifts his weight into a better position and he groans the whole way out to her car as they stagger across the pavement. She miraculously manages to get his six foot frame into her dinky little car without wailing his head off the door frame. She buckles him as best she can and lays the seat back to keep him from slumping forward as he nods in and out of a feverish slumber.
It's nearly midnight when Jughead startles awake, gasping as his eyes frantically search his darkened surroundings.
"Shh. Its ok Juggy," Betty coos softly at his side.
"How did-"
"Jug calm down," she urges, resting a gentle hand on his bare chest to ease him back down.
Wait… his bare chest?
Glancing downward, his eyes go wide as he finds himself in nothing more than his boxer shorts.
"Betty," he whines in disapproval
"I had to. You were burning up," she explains. "Your temp was 103. I couldn't just sit here and watch you overheat."
"So you stripped me," he groans, wincing with the sharpness in his throat.
"Oh get over it," she rolls her eyes. "I didn't look if that's what you're worried about."
Jughead only nods, clearing his throat with the tickle that threatens to turn into a full blown coughing fit.
"Earlier, you said you haven't been staying with FP," she starts as he settles. "Where have you been staying?"
Jughead looks to her with caution. They've been friends long enough for her to know the ins and outs of his tragic life, but he's always sugar coated it for her. Why? He doesn't really know. If there's anyone he can confide in, it's Betty, but a part of him doesn't want her to think of him as weak or in need of her pity, or anyone's for that matter.
"Uh," he clears his throat, wincing as he coughs a bit. "At school. I've been staying at the school."
"Jug," Betty coos "why didn't you tell me, or Archie even?"
"I don't need help feeling like a freeloader," he replies harshly, stifling his cough with his elbow as it turns into another and another.
Betty sighs. "Just get some sleep."
Jughead only nods, sighing as he settles back against the pillows she had stacked behind him earlier. She settles down beside him, her arm stretching across him to pull the blankets over him more snugly before it returns to her side. He smiles internally, grateful to have a friend like her, and this bed is so much more comfortable than the linoleum floor in the broom closet. Just for tonight, he'll let her play nurse.
The next morning, Jughead wakes up alone in Betty's bed. He rubs his dry eyes hard before easing himself upward and he regrets it immediately. The room seems to spin around him, his stomach churning with it and he scrambles to his feet to make a mad dash into her bathroom where he hacks up nothing but bile from his empty stomach.
"Jug," Betty calls, startling him as she peeks her head out around the shower curtain.
Jughead groans, a string of drool stuck to the crease of his arm where his head rests over the toilet. "Sorry," he mumbles, gagging with the profuse watering of his mouth.
He's only mildly aware of the shower curtain drawing open before Betty is at his side, her hand pressed firmly against his forehead. Goosebumps riddle his skin as his body quivers with chills.
"You're burning up again," she sighs as she kneels down beside him to rub soothing circles on his back.
"Just kill me," he whines, a pained groan following as his stomach protests once more.
Betty stifles a laugh behind him. It's not funny, but she's never seen him so discontent and it's slightly adorable. Well, aside from the scent of vomit in the steamed up bathroom, but she'll gladly endure it if it helps him feel better.
When his stomach has finally stopped churning, Betty helps him up from the floor. His eyes rake over the fluffy yellow towel wrapped around her otherwise naked frame and a deep red blush heats up his cheeks. He's never been so grateful to be flush with fever in his life. Thankfully, she doesn't notice and he's quick to accept the spare toothbrush in her hand.
"Are you ok if I go get dressed while you brush your teeth," she questions, unwilling to leave him alone if he needs her.
Jughead only nods, his throat sore from the burn of the stomach acid that surfaced only moments ago.
"Hey Betts," he calls weakly as he steps out of the bathroom. "Could I get a- oh, thanks." He takes the glass of water from her outstretched hand and begins to chug it down before she abruptly stops him.
"Sip it or you're going to wind up back in the bathroom."
Jughead nods, doing as she says, though he is absolutely parched. His stomach burns with how empty it is, but he couldn't possibly hold anything down right now. Before he finishes his water, Betty thrusts a cupful of cold medicine at him and a few ibuprofen in her other hand. He swallows them both down, wincing as they slip past his raw throat. The next thing he knows, she has him tucked back into bed, the pillows freshly fluffed behind him and only a sheet covering his chilled skin.
"But I'm cold," he protests as she takes away the comforter for the third time.
"I know Juggy. You have a fever," she reminds him. "You can have a blanket when it comes down a little."
Jughead pouts, but he knows she's right. With a heavy sigh, he wiggles around to get comfortable and passes out almost immediately, his body exhausted, regardless of the near sixteen hours of sleep he got last night.
While Jughead sleeps, Betty makes her way downstairs to the basement. She hopes he doesn't mind her washing his clothes, but how could she not? Especially when she has to do a load of her own anyways. As the wash cycle begins, she heads back up to the kitchen to get started on some chicken soup. Call it cliché, but chicken soup really is the best cure for any sickness and her mother would absolutely question her if she didn't make any. She'd managed to convince her that she was sick in order stay home with Jughead and her homemade chicken soup will really sell the whole ruse.
Once the veggies have been chopped, and the broth has come to a boil, she turns the heat low to a simmer and makes a quick trip back downstairs to put the wet clothes in the dryer. On her way through the kitchen, she pauses to check that the soup is simmering correctly before going upstairs to check on Jughead as well.
The moment she steps into her room, she knows something is wrong. Jughead has the sheet tugged up over his ear, his teeth chattering and a cold sweat beaded at his brow. She quickly uncovers him, earning a pitiful whimper in protest and she does her best to wake him gently.
"Juggy," she coos softly. "Juggy wake up."
Jughead's eyes pry open into slits, the whites of his eyes red and glassy.
"Hi," she whispers, wiping his sweat dampened hair back away from his face. "I need you to get out of bed Jug."
Jughead only whines, nodding in and out of sleep as she hoists him up with his arm slung over her shoulders. As scrawny as he is, he feels like a lead weight as she guides him limply to the bathroom. Once there, she pauses, having not thought this through very well, before slowly dropping to her knees and guiding him down with her to sit beside the tub. He collapses limply against her chest and she holds him there carefully as she leans forward to draw a bath. The water flows freely as she tests the temperature, aiming for cool but not freezing before she places the drain plug. Now, again, she wonders how she's going to do this with Jughead in a fitful sleep in her arms.
"Jughead. Wake up please," she says gently against his ear. "We're going to get up off the floor."
With his groan in protest, she hauls him up as best she can, knocking into the wall as she steadies him on his unsteady feet.
"Ok," she breathes. They're up. Now how is she going to get him into the tub? She looks back and forth from the tub to Jughead leaned limply back against the wall, then to the boxers twisted almost completely sideways at his hips. She could wash them too if she can get him to cooperate.
"Juggy, take these off," she requests, giving his waistband a gentle tug.
Jughead seems to follow without question, trying to pull them off but he nearly collapses with the weakness of his legs. Biting down on her lower lip, her brow heavy with indecision, she tugs them down for him, holding his weight as he steps out of them clumsily. He can yell at her later. Right now, she has to get him cooled off.
After nearly falling into the tub twice, she finally gets him settled in the water. He gasps harshly as the cool water meets his oven hot skin, forcing his eyes wide with shock.
"S'cold," he whines, his back stiff and his abdomen tense as he clutches at her forearm on the side of the tub.
"I know Juggy. I'm sorry," she says softly, cradling his face in a gesture of comfort.
His teeth continue to chatter, his skin pricked with goosebumps as she pours handfuls of cool water over the surface of his skin. After a while, he seems to relax, no longer shivering where he's laid back in the tub.
"Betts," he groans, sounding far more coherent than he had a short twenty minutes ago.
"Yea Jug," she replies softly.
"You looked."
Betty laughs through her nose, unable to help it with the childlike discontentment on his face.
"I didn't, I swear," she chuckles.
"Lies," he grumbles, his eyes still closed as he smirks. "Just remember I'm cold."
Betty rolls her eyes. "I take it you feel a little better?"
Jughead only shrugs.
"Do you want to get out now?"
Jughead nods. "I'm hungry," he whines.
"I made soup," she assures him. "Come on."
With all the strength she can muster, she lifts him to stand, wrapping a towel around his waist before helping him step out of the tub.
Back in her bedroom, Betty gently lowers Jughead to sit at the edge of the bed before digging through her dresser. She finds the pair of grey sweatpants she'd accidently stolen from Archie last summer when they'd had an impromptu movie night after working on the jalopy with Fred, and hands them to Jughead.
Jughead groans, dropping to his back on the mattress. Just thinking about how much work it is to put pants on has him exhausted.
"Come on Jug, don't make me do it for you," Betty threatens through a touch of laughter.
"Fine," he sighs, allowing her to pull him back up by his arms.
Betty busies herself with fetching them soup from the kitchen, giving him a bit of privacy now that he's more coherent. Upon her return, she finds him laid in bed, the comforter tucked snuggly around him and his towel in a heap on the floor beside the bed.
"Still hungry," she questions, carefully holding out a bowl of chicken soup to him.
"Starved," he groans.
He takes the bowl eagerly, smelling it as best he can through his stuffed up nose before taking a small bite. It takes a long time for him to get through it, afraid it might come back up if he eats too quickly, but he manages to finish the whole bowl.
"When's Alice get back," he wonders as he hands her his empty bowl.
"In a few hours," she shrugs.
"I should probably go soon then."
"No," she disagrees. "You're staying here until you're better. I can't let you sleep in a janitors closet on a good day, never mind as sick as you are."
"Betty, I'll be fine," he sighs, sniffling up the mucus the warmth from his bowl of soup released before it can drip from his nose.
"Jug, I just gave you a bath," she reminds him as she hands him a box of tissues. "You're not fine."
Jughead nods. "Maybe not one of my finer moments," he almost laughs. "You've done enough. Really. It's more than anyone's ever done for me. I usually just lay on the couch and wish for death."
"At least stay tonight?"
"Betts," he sighs.
"Please," she pleads as she leans forward with her hands on his knees and a pout on her lips.
"What about your mom," he questions warily. "Tomorrow's Saturday, she going to find out I'm here."
Betty shakes her head. "She's leaving tonight for a journalism conference in Chicago."
"You planned this," he scoffs through a smirk, his eye squinted in scrutiny.
"Yes Jug," she rolls her eyes. "I just knew you were going to be deathly ill this weekend and wanted to hold you hostage in my room."
"I knew it," he snickers, his arms folding triumphantly over his chest.
"I think I liked it better when you had a fever," she laughs, shoving him by the chest hard enough to knock him back into the pillows.
"Hey," he whines. "No fair, I'm sick."
"Oh poor Juggy," she mocks, yelping with the surprise of his arms locking around her waist as he knocks her to her back on the bed.
Jughead grins like a fool as she fights against him, laughing as she tries to smack him anywhere she can reach.
"I thought you were sick," she chokes out as his fingers tickle relentlessly at her sides.
"I am," he laughs, coughing over his shoulder before dropping to his back. "Oh man, I need a nap now."
The two of them break into easy laughter as they catch their breath, Jughead's fingers finding their way into her hair where it's splayed on the bed at his side. Her eyes close, a soft smile on her lips as his fingertips scratch gently at her scalp.
"Hey Betts," he mutters just above a whisper.
"Hmm," she hums in reply.
"Thank you. For everything."
"Of course," she replies softly as she rolls onto her stomach to prop herself up on her elbows. "I'd do anything for you Juggy."
A flicker of a smile twitches at the corner of his mouth before he pries his gaze from hers to rub at the back of his neck.
"I should go pick up the kitchen," she declares as she gets up quickly from the bed.
Jughead nods, suddenly having a hard time looking at her as she crosses the room to the door. The second the door closes behind her, he releases the breath he hadn't even realized he was holding. Of all the days to tell her how he feels, today is not the day. He can only imagine how gross he looks and the stench of sweat on his skin, regardless of his soak in a chilly tub is strong enough even he can smell it. And oh god, she saw him naked! A groan rumbles in his chest as he drops back against the pillows before he rolls limply out of bed. The least he could do is shower now that it seems the worst is over.
Downstairs, Betty busies herself with packing away leftovers and washing dishes.
"I'd do anything for you Juggy," she mocks in her head.
What is wrong with her? Desperate much? He's as sick as a dog and here she is falling all over him like some pathetic school girl. They've been friends forever and she chose today to get all gushy on him? Rolling her eyes at herself, she runs down to the basement to fold the clothes in the dryer, mocking herself further as she tosses his boxers in with a load of towels from her bathroom.
Upon her return to her bedroom, she raises a brow at Jughead. He looks to be freshly showered where he's kicked back atop the comforter that he's taken care to smooth out.
"Uh, I washed your clothes," she tells him as she sets the pile of folded laundry on her vanity.
"Oh. Thanks," he grins sheepishly, clearing his throat of the raspiness lingering in his voice.
Betty takes a seat at the edge of the bed, glancing warily at him as she tugs at the hem of her t-shirt. "Do you want to watch a movie or something?"
"Do we have time," he wonders as he rubs at the back of his neck.
"Close enough," she shrugs, "I'll just have to hide you in the bathroom if mom comes up to check on me."
Jughead only nods, watching as she gets up to collect the remote from her dresser before turning out the light and settling beside him on the bed. Their friendly banter comes easily as they try to decide on what to watch and both of them are glad for it. Unfortunately, the moment it's quiet again, nothing but the movie intro breaking the silence between them, the awkwardness returns. Jughead can't seem to sit still, his ankles crossing and uncrossing and he has no idea what to do with his hands. Betty on the other hand has become stoic. She dares not even move for fear of worsening the strange rift between them. Luckily for the both of them, Jughead's fidgeting doesn't make it much past the opening credits and Betty finds herself sighing in relief when she catches his eyes falling closed. How could things get so weird so fast?
About halfway through the movie, Betty having not even spared it a glance with Jughead sleeping so soundly at her side, the sound of a car door draws her attention.
"Jug," she whispers urgently. "Juggy wake up."
"Wha-"
"Shh. My mom's home," she worries in a hushed tone.
Jughead only nods, sitting up from the bed on full alert. Before Betty can even instruct him, he's on his feet, tiptoeing to the dark bathroom where he takes a seat in the tub and draws the curtain closed. Betty musses up her hair, rubbing it against her pillow for added effect before settling fitfully beneath her comforter. Alice's footsteps stop just outside her door as she closes her eyes, pretending to have fallen asleep as the door slowly creaks open.
Alice steps into Betty's room as quiet as a mouse. A frown tugs at the corner of her lips at the sight of her poor girl nestled in bed. Crossing the room almost silently, she turns off the TV. As she turns back to the bed, her attention is drawn to the crumpled towel on the floor. Her brow raises as she picks it up, finding it peculiar for Betty to have left a damp towel lying around. Even sick, she's never been careless about laundry.
The bathroom light suddenly flicks on and Jughead has to stifle his surprised gasp behind his hands. He is so fucked! She had to have heard him, there's no way she didn't. His eyes squeeze shut in anticipation, his whole body on edge as he wards off the urge to puke with the swirling of anxiety in his gut. Just as suddenly, it's dark once more.
After hanging Betty's towel, Alice takes one more glance at Betty. Her eyes shift from the bed to the folded pile of clothes on the vanity and back once more with scrutiny before she takes her leave.
Wide awake in bed, Betty waits for the sound of Alice stepping off the last stair below before even daring to open her eyes. Nearly an eternity passes, watching the clock for an agonizing five minutes before she finally slips silently out of bed. On her toes, she skips silently to the bathroom, leaving the light out just in case.
"Juggy," she whispers.
"Betts," he calls back.
Betty stifles a laugh as his head peeks out from behind the curtain, pure fear in his eyes.
"I thought I was fucked," he laughs quietly.
"Shh," she giggles. "Come on."
As quietly as they can manage, Betty guides Jughead back to the bed in her darkened room. He manages to stub his toe at the foot of the bed, biting down hard on his lip to keep from hollering as tears pool in Betty's eyes from the restraint of her sudden onset of fitful laughter. They manage to get beneath the covers, Jughead smacking her playfully in the arm for laughing at his pain.
"Now what," Jughead questions just above a whisper as he stares up at the darkened ceiling.
"Now we wait," she shrugs. "I'll pretend to wake up in a bit and go down for dinner, but until then, we have to keep quiet."
Jughead only nods and the two fall into silence. It's that strange sort of silence, the kind that buzzes in their ears as giddy laughter threatens to break through their tightly sealed grins. Each of them has to refrain from looking at the other until the foolishness subsides.
When all is calm, both Jughead and Betty watch the ceiling as the evening light flickers over the room through the curtains. Their hands begin to migrate, shifting ever closer until skin brushes skin; just the ghost of a touch. Jughead draws back, his gaze shifting to hers where his sunken blue eyes meet sparkling green. He's quick to look away, his eyes shifting to the ceiling once more, his heart pounding in his chest as her dainty fingers slip perfectly into the spaces between his own. They lie there for an eternity, both their hearts racing with the ring of silence in their ears and the damp heat between their palms.
In all the stillness, Jughead's exhaustion catches up with him. His whole body is tired and his eyelids threaten to close with the warmth of Betty's hand in his. He's startled from his impending slumber by her shifting beside him. He glances at her through heavy lids, his head lifting just slightly from the bed only to drop back down as she nestles herself into his side. He's quick to pull her close, as best he can with the limpness of his arms.
Betty sighs contentedly, tugging her lip between her teeth as she looks over his tired features. Even sick, he's beautiful and she can resist the urge to really touch him no longer. Mustering her courage, she rests a hand low on his abdomen, startling him with a low gasp that quickly turns into a heavy cough. Betty hurries to cover his mouth, shushing him through silent laughter as she claps both her hands over his mouth. He's quick to roll over, stifling the sound of his cough into the pillows and groaning in discontentment while Betty chuckles silently beside him.
"I should probably get up now. There's no way mom didn't hear that," she laughs.
"Just leave me here to die," he grumbles, looking absolutely pitiful in a heap on the bed.
"I'll be back as soon as I can, just," she pauses as laughter bubbles at her lips, "don't cough."
With a lazy salute, his arm flopping back down to the bed as quickly as it had risen, Betty slips out into the hall. She takes a moment to really mess up her hair, pinching her cheeks and even her nose to bring a bit of redness to her features, then slumps her way down the stairs as convincingly as possible.
"That cough doesn't sound good," Alice comments as Betty shuffles into the kitchen. "Maybe I should skip the conference."
"No," Betty says a bit too eagerly. "I mean, you've just been looking forward to it, and I'm fine, really. I just need to get some rest."
Alice looks her over, her brow furrowing with indecision as she stirs the reheating soup on the stove. "You're sure you'll be alright?"
"Yes." She fakes a cough.
"Alright, I'll go, but if you need anything, please just call me."
Betty only nods and takes her seat at the table to await her bowl of soup.
Just over an hour later, after finishing dinner and saying her final goodbyes to her mother, she finally makes it back upstairs. She steps into her room silently, finding Jughead sound asleep and snoring like a motor boat through his stuffy nose. With a gentle smile on her lips, she tucks him in and brushes his hair back from his face with her fingertips. He stirs slightly, leaning into her touch before he stills once more. She can't help but marvels at his features and the changes they've taken on in the past few years. Where his cheeks used to be soft and squishy, are now sunken and his jawline chiseled and angular. He's not the little boy she's always adored but a man that has her feeling strange in the best of ways as of late. With a gentle sigh, she leaves him be and heads into the bathroom for a shower.
Jughead wakes to the chime of Betty's phone notifying her of a new message. He sits up slowly against the headboard, rubbing at his tired eyes as he yawns. He doesn't feel half as horrible as he had yesterday or even this morning for that matter. As he gathers his senses, groggy from the heavy sleep he'd been in, the bathroom door opens.
"Oh," Betty exclaims, clutching her towel tighter at her chest. "I uh, thought you'd still be asleep."
Jughead blushes and clears his throat, coughing a little with the vibration on his vocal chords. "I can uh," he thumbs towards the door across the room.
"Oh. No," Betty shakes her head. "It's fine. I'll just grab some clothes and," she trails off, gesturing to the bathroom.
Jughead nods, his lips pressed into a firm line as he rubs at his neck. He picks mindlessly at a loose thread on the comforter as she collects her clothing, breathing a huge sigh of relief when she returns to the bathroom. He can't even grasp what the hell just happened. He's never felt so awkward in front of her, and, oh god, he suddenly remembers that she saw him naked. Butt ass naked and freezing. His face runs hot with just the thought of what she must think of him. Before he can run himself too far into the ground, Betty returns, fresh faced and clothed in a pair of far too short cotton shorts and a t-shirt.
"You ok," she questions as she nears the bed.
Jughead nods. "Yea, uh. Yea fine."
"Ok," she says with a raise of her brow. "You want to finish that movie?"
"Oh, uh, yea, sure," he stammers.
"You sure you're alright," Betty questions again, feeling his head with the back of her hand.
Jughead only nods. "Uh, your phone. You got a text," he tells her, hoping shift her focus from his sudden weirdness.
Betty looks to him curiously, but reaches for her phone anyways.
"Oh god," Betty groans, her palm smacking against her forehead.
"What," he worries, leaning toward her to look at her screen.
Betty holds it out for him to see. It's a message from Alice, letting her know that she made it to the airport just fine and reminding Betty to take Jughead's underwear out of the dryer.
"She knew the whole time," Betty almost laughs.
"Should, should I go," he worries.
Betty shakes her head. "She didn't seem too concerned."
Jughead only nods and settles back against the pillows. He watches, pondering as Betty collects the remote from her dresser and settles in beside him.
"This is gonna sound stupid," he says suddenly, "but, I'm a little offended your mom is ok with me being here alone with you."
Betty laughs. "Why?"
"I'm a guy," he argues as if it should be obvious.
"And?"
"And, I don't know," he shrugs. "Shouldn't she be worried that we're like messing around or something?"
"But we're not," Betty points out.
"Right. Yea," he nods, falling silent as he leans back, wishing the pillows would just swallow him up.
A strange silence falls between them as the movie plays. Betty keeps glancing over at his never changing position against the headboard. His arms have been crossed, a discontent scowl on his face from the moment their movie began. He's so pitiful with his little sniffles every so often and Betty just can't take it anymore. Without hesitation, she scoots herself towards him, earning a questioning brow as he glances her way.
"Would you stop pouting," she teases as she snuggles into his side.
"I'm not pouting," he argues, unmoving as her head comes to rest atop his folded arms.
"You are too," she argues, tilting her head up toward him.
He completely ignores her, just his eyes flicking to hers for the briefest of seconds before he focuses back on the TV. With a heavy sigh, Betty rolls over dramatically, sprawling out on her back across his lap. The slightest of smirks tugs at the corner of his mouth, but he refuses to laugh. Raising her arms over her head, she stretches her back, wiggling around just enough to annoy him only to recoil and squeal as he pokes her in the belly.
"Quit that," he grumbles.
"You were less grumpy when you had a fever," she complains, rolling onto her stomach to rest her head atop her forearms across his thighs.
Things fall quiet between them once more. Betty watches the movie, or she tries to anyways, but all she can think about is how close her hand is to his groin. Jughead is in a similar state, his brow lowered as he focuses on the screen, but his mind is racing with the hope that Betty won't notice the steady rise of his erection just inches from not only her hand but her head. He resists the urge to sigh, finding himself absolutely pathetic. They lay like this all the time, and sure, he's popped a boner a few of those times, but he usually has jeans on to keep himself restrained. With only the thin cotton of his sweatpants, there's nothing to hide behind.
Keeping her eyes ahead on the TV, Betty shifts her hand, her fingertips tickling against the crease of his groin and he gasps as she comes in contact with the hardness she finds there. She draws back as he clears his throat, her whole body abuzz while she waits for him to settle. Again, she grazes him, just her fingertips touching what she can reach from her odd position.
"Betty," he scolds in a whisper.
Betty sits up, looking to him nervously as she tugs her lip between her teeth. "Sorry."
Jughead clears his throat once more, nodding as he coughs lightly. He watches her warily, lifting his knee to conceal his arousal as she sits against the headboard beside him. They exchange awkward glances, their eyes flitting from the TV to one another periodically as they both stare straight ahead.
"I'm going to get snacks," Betty declares suddenly, rising from the bed and heading for the door without as much as a glance back.
Jughead lets a disgruntled sigh as the door closes. He's such an idiot! He had to open his stupid mouth. Now she knows he wants to do a whole lot more than cuddling with her and of course she would try. She would do anything to make him happy, she's always been like that, but this? He can't let her do this, he just can't.
Betty returns with armful of chips and cookies, which she sets on the nightstand beside her bed. Jughead returns her tight lipped smile as she settles on the bed, startled when she tucks herself into his side to rest her head on his chest.
While she was downstairs, she decided that this whole thing is stupid. They're being awkward for absolutely no reason. He's been shirtless for two whole days, she's seen him in his underwear, she's seen him naked and she gave him a bath for Christ sake. None of it felt weird at all, so why now? Sure, maybe he was taken off guard since she's never actually touched him before, but this is them! They do everything together. They cuddle, they share secrets, the small touches they constantly exchange. It's all there! Jughead Jones doesn't let anyone in, and he sure as hell doesn't let anyone hang all over him the way she does. They're practically a couple by now, so why is he being so weird about it?
Feeling empowered by her thoughts, Betty dares to rest a hand low on his abdomen. He doesn't move and he might not even be breathing, but he hasn't pushed her away. As they watch the remainder of their movie, Betty's fingers begin to trace the line of dark hair beneath his navel. His eyes squeeze shut, fighting off his inevitable arousal with the gentle tickling of her fingertips. He takes in a shaky breath as her fingers skim along the sensitive skin at his waistband, dipping just slightly beneath them with each pass.
Betty can't help but grin, her whole body tingly and warm as she watches his pants begin to tent. He's yet to scold her, so she skims lower, trailing her finger along the crease of his groin. His breathy sigh and the twitch beneath his thin cotton pants sends a flood of heat between her thighs. She's desperate to hear more and she allows her hand to glide over the bulge in his pants.
"Betty," he breathes with urgency, his hand wrapping tight around her wrist as he draws her away.
She glances up at him warily, meeting his scolding glare, but she can see the torture in his eyes. She lets it go, happy for now with her hand rested back at his waistband, but it doesn't keep her content for long. She tries again, this time succeeding in applying a bit of pressure as she palms his erection. His hips shift upward, a near silent moan escaping his lips as she grabs hold of him over his pants.
"Betty. Stop," he pleads breathlessly. "You don't have to do that."
"I know," she assures him. "I want to."
Jughead's eyes go wide, rolling back slightly as she strokes him over his pants. He watches, half in horror and half in elation as her hand disappears beneath his waistband, grunting with the contact to his naked shaft.
"Betts, you really don't have to- oh god," he moans, gripping the sheets at his side with the stroke of her hand along his hardened length.
Just as quickly as he'd seemed to give in, he's pulling her hand away and sitting up at the edge of the bed.
"Jug," Betty whines.
"I can't let you do that Betts. It's not right."
"Why," she scoffs.
"Because," he sighs. "You're just doing it because I want you to."
"You, you want me to," she questions in surprise.
Jughead glances over his shoulder at her, a doubtful look on his face as he meets her surprised expression.
"Of course I do," he grumbles.
Betty sighs as he hangs his head in his hands atop his knees. He really thinks she's just doing this to appease him? With a roll of her eyes, she yanks him by the shoulder, knocking him to his back as she climbs over him to pin him playfully to the bed.
"You're so stubborn sometimes," she teases, her hands pressing his forearms into the mattress as her lips meet his in the briefest of kisses.
Jughead's eyes are wide as she draws back. "You- I..."
Betty giggles at his flustered state, her chest heaving as she grinds herself against the hardness beneath her.
"Betty," he groans, his eyes rolling back with the shift of her hips. "Fuck. Keep doing that."
She doesn't need to be told twice, a shaky moan slipping out with her exhale as she drags her middle over his hardened length. Her hands shift to his chest, supporting herself better now and he's quick to grab hold of her hips. His fingers bite into her skin as he drags her more firmly against him and he groans loudly with the moan that falls from her lips. With fumbling fingers, he slips beneath the leg of her shorts, releasing a heavy breath as he finds her wet and bare.
"Fuck. Betty?"
"Hmm," she hums, lost in the sensation of his fingers just barely grazing her sensitive nerves as she seeks more friction against his length.
Without a word, he flips them, his body now hovering over hers and she whines with the loss of contact. His eyes search hers, flicking downward to her hands as she pulls his waistband away from his hips. His cock springs upward, twitching upon its release and his gaze returns to her face. He's more nervous than he's ever been in his life and he watches her carefully as she gazes upon his bare length. With gentle fingertips, she grazes the underside of his swollen shaft, her hooded green eyes flicking to his with the shuttered groan he releases. Their eyes lock, both darkened with lust as she wraps a careful hand around him and begins to stroke him eagerly. His head drops with his moan, his hips shifting slightly to meet her strokes and all Betty can think about is that this is what he would look like if he was inside her. The thought alone has her clenching her thighs, though she's unable with him hovering between them.
"Juggy," she says steadily, releasing his length as he looks to her in question. "I want to have sex."
"You- wha- I," he stammers, his eyes wide as he tries to find his words. "Betty, I've never," he trails off with a shake of his head.
"Me neither," she assures him. "I want you to be my first."
Jughead swallows hard, his cock twitching with just the thought of pushing inside her wet heat.
"Betty, I don't have a condom," he worries. "I mean, it's not like I carry them around. Girls don't tend to have sex with the weird kid," he chuckles nervously.
Betty grins, tugging at her lower lip with her teeth. "We can do it without one," she suggests. "I mean, I'm on the pill and you could just, pull out?"
Jughead can't believe what he's hearing. Good girl Betty Cooper, his best friend since pre-k, wants to have sex, with him, and without protection? He nods dumbly, too eager to know what she feels like to argue. He sits back as she sits up, kicking his pants off the rest of the way as he watches her remove her shorts. He looks away as she takes off her shirt, unsure if he should give her a moment of privacy, but when she pulls him back by the arm, a shaky gasp escapes him at the sight of her bare breasts.
"Holy shit," he laughs nervously under his breath.
Betty bites her lip, clearly a bit shy as he openly stares at her chest. He glances upward, pleading with his eyes to touch and she nods. With unsteady hands, he palms her breasts, his cock twitching in his lap as he squeezes their weighty softness. Goosebumps rise on her skin as his fingertips graze the round of her breast and once again he pleads silently as he ducks his head toward her pearled peaks. Betty can only nod, entranced by the need in his gaze as his lips press softly around one of her rose budded peaks, his tongue flicking ever so gently to draw a sigh from her lips. Her fingers find their way into his mess of dark hair, holding him at her breast as he begins to kiss and suck more rapidly. Betty moans softly as he tugs at her breasts, feeling herself dampen with every desperate thrust of his bare cock against her thigh.
"Jug," she breathes, tugging him back gently to bring his questioning gaze to hers. "I want," she trails off, capturing her lip between her teeth as she glances towards the throbbing between his thighs.
Jughead only nods, his gaze filled with nerves as he shifts between her legs. "You're sure?"
Betty nods, pulling him down by the back of his neck to kiss his lips gently. Jughead draws back, his eyes wide with the sheer disbelief that this is happening, and god does he hope she doesn't end up sick from kissing him. With all caution to the wind, he takes a steadying breath and lines himself up with her entrance. Just his tip against her slick heat has his cock jolting with overwhelming sensation and when he begins to push forward, her squeak of discomfort has him ready to blow.
"Fuck. You ok," he breathes, groaning with her nod in reply.
He continues forward, every inch like a vice squeezing him from all sides as he goes. A low grunt escapes his chest as he bottoms out inside her, his cock twitching wildly within her walls with the overstimulation.
"Betty, I'm," he takes a deep breath. "I'm not gonna last."
"I don't care," she tells him with a shake of her head. "You just feel good inside me Juggy."
"Fuck," he almost laughs. "You're gonna make me cum saying shit like that."
Betty giggles, burying her face in her hands and he leans down to kiss her head. He feels foolish now for being worried about all of this. They're still them, even if he is buried to the hilt inside her.
Slowly, he draws back, his eyes rolling into his head with the shiver it sends down his spine. He pushes forward, grunting as he reaches the end of her depth and repeats the action carefully. With every push and pull, his body threatens release and the way Betty's begun to pant only draws him nearer to the end. He pushes through it, unwilling to give up the beautiful sounds she's making and he begins to move faster, pushing harder and deeper within her walls. Sweat beads on his forehead as he uses everything he has to delay his climax. He nearly loses it, a strangled moan sounding in his throat as he leaks within her and he stills, his eyes going wide.
"Keep going," she pleads, wiggling her hips against the tight hold he has on her.
"Betty, I'm gonna-"
"Juggy," she whines. "Keep going."
"Fuck," he groans, drawing back to thrust himself hard inside her.
A surprised moan squeaks past her lips, urging him on. He thrusts deeper and harder, his resolve slipping away with every moan and cry as she eagerly meets his every move.
"Fuck Betty," he pants, "I'm, I'm, oh fuck!"
Like a hot bolt of lightning, his climax rips through him, his eyes squeezing shut and his hips thrusting forward hard against hers, sure to leave bruises as he spills deep inside her walls. He'd meant to pull out, he really had, but he can't move, his whole body surrendering to the sheer ecstasy of it all as it washes over him from head to toe.
"Fuck," he breathes shakily, his arms quivering where he holds himself above her as his body slowly cools.
He looks to her, conflicted as he pulls out and rolls onto his back beside her. Things are quiet, both of them gazing up at the ceiling as the reality of what they've just done hits them in different ways. Jughead fears she's mad at him for not even trying to pull out, but Betty can only dream of doing it again.
"I meant to," he trails off, swallowing hard as he glances over at her. "I should have, uh. Betty, I came in you."
Betty's lip quivers, and for a moment he worries she might cry, but she burst into laughter instead.
"I'm sorry," she laughs. "It's not funny, but, your face." Her hand waves in front of her face as she clutches her side. "Jug it's fine."
"You're not mad?"
"Why would I be mad," she chuckles, her laughter trailing off.
"I don't know," he shrugs, "What if I just got you pregnant?"
"I guess Mom just won't trust you for sleepovers anymore," she shrugs.
Jughead stares at her in shock, fighting hard against his smirk. "Not funny. This is serious Betts."
"Jug," she giggles. "Relax. We'll be fine."
"If you say so," he sighs, dropping to his back from his elbow.
"I'm more worried about getting sick," she teases. "We kissed."
Jughead rolls his eyes at her feigned disgust. "I didn't ask you to swap spit with me," he teases with a gentle shove to her arm. "That was all you."
Betty scrunches her nose and smacks him in the chest, leaving him chuckling on the bed as she runs off for the bathroom.