Authors note: This one is something I just wanted to try out. Forgive me for inaccuracies. I did a bit of research on Cystic Fibrosis for the sole purpose of writing this story, and I'll be honest that my knowledge is not vast. I hope you enjoy anyways :)
"Get up boy," calls FP from the doorway, "We're going out."
Jughead hardly catches the shit eating grin on his father's face before an armful of clothing hits him in the face. With a groan in protest to doing anything that doesn't involve hiding out in his room, he lazily swings his legs over the side of the bed. A coughing fit ensues the moment he's upright. In a well-practiced manner, he picks up the trash can beside his bed, dry heaving between phlegmy coughs before spitting into it. From his night stand, he pulls out his inhaler. Deep breath in, one, two, deep breath out, one, two, three, four, five. With force, he huffs a chesty cough, trash can in hand as he continues to cough five more times before doing the process through once more. It's monotonous, disgusting really if he's honest, but it's how he's started his day for as long as he can remember.
"Good to see you up and about," beams FP from the stove where he's frying up some bacon, "You've really holed yourself up in there since the move."
Jughead shrugs, "It's been three days," he argues as he preps his nebulizer at the kitchen table.
FP grins, "All I'm saying is it's nice to see you willing to try."
"As if I had a choice," he argues, snorting at his father's stuck out tongue and cross eyed expression.
While FP finishes up the bacon and scrambles some eggs, Jughead flips through the book he's been halfheartedly reading for months as he breathes in the misty saline from his nebulizer. Fifteen minutes later, he excuses himself to the bathroom before yet another coughing fit ensues. As he washes his hands of the embarrassing amount of mucus excretion, he stares into his own eyes in his reflection. Every day he is mystified that this is his life and the older he gets the more he hates it. The more he hates himself. What's the point of it all if he's just here to drown in his own secretions?
"So where exactly are we going," Jughead questions as he helps himself to a plateful of eggs and bacon. With an extra slice of bacon between his teeth he slumps down in a kitchen chair and chews it aggressively as he glares at his father's obnoxiously giddy expression.
"I met someone," FP starts and Jughead is almost certain he's blushing. "She, uhm," he clears his throat, "she's real nice. Owns the local paper and has a daughter about your age."
"We've literally been in this town for three days," he scoffs, "when did you have time to meet some chick?"
"Watch your mouth," FP scolds with a stern finger, "Alice is a respectable woman and she invited us to attend a neighborhood barbeque."
"And what," Jughead snorts, "you just thought you might stop by for a beer and a quickie."
"No, you disrespectful ass," he clips, "I thought we could meet our community, make an effort. Hell, maybe you'll make some friends and stop this moping around you been doing since we got here."
"I've been moping around a hell of a lot longer than we've been in this shit hole," Jughead shouts, his chair screeching on the floor as he stands to pound his fists on the table.
Before FP can get in another word, Jughead takes to coughing with the sudden intake of breath. FP stands to pat his back, but Jughead shrugs him off.
"I'm fine," he chokes out, a deep scowl across his brow.
"Jug," FP sighs as Jughead settles his breathing. "Could you just try? It's one day. Meet some people, make friends or don't, I don't care, but I need this."
Jughead nods, his eyes apologetic as he sits back down, "ok."
That afternoon, FP and Jughead show up to the address Alice had supplied. It lead them right to Elm Street on the north side of Riverdale and Jughead can't help but scoff at all the nice houses and freshly cut green lawns surrounded by their stupid white picket fences. It's not that he has anything against the way people on this side of town live, it's just that seeing it reminds him of the burden that he truly is. If it weren't for him his dad wouldn't be a single parent struggling to keep his head above water as he drowns in medical debt. If it weren't for him, his father could live in one of these houses. He'd drive a nice car and have a two car garage to keep it in even though he wouldn't actually need the extra space, he could have it out of luxury.
"You ready," FP questions, a glimmer of excitement in his tired eyes.
"Uh, give me a minute," Jughead nods, "I'll meet you out back."
With a curt nod and a touch of sympathy on his brow, FP leaves Jughead to top off his oxygen levels in privacy.
"FP," Alice beams, her arms extending for a hug. "I'm so glad you decided to come," she says, with a friendly peck to each of his cheeks.
FP laughs, his voice gruff with the lump of nerves caught in his throat. "Yea, well it took some convincing to get my boy to leave his damned bedroom but we made it."
Alice laughs breathlessly, touching his chest with her fingertips. Standing beside her, Betty can only watch as the train wreck before her unfolds. Her mother is shit at flirting and so terribly obvious that Betty is actually embarrassed for her.
"Oh, where are my manners," Alice giggles, "FP, this is my daughter Elizabeth." FP reaches out a hand, offering a friendly shake and Betty purses her lips before accepting it.
"Betty," she corrects, "It's so nice to meet you, though I have to admit I never expected you to be such a DILF."
"Elizabeth," Alice scolds as FP's eyes bug wide before he bursts into laughter.
"Why thank you little lady," he chuckles.
"Oh I mean it," she assures with a smirk, earning a scolding glare from her mother, "if your son is half as hot as you are, our family dynamic is going to be one for the papers-"
"That is enough young lady," Alice cuts in, her brow stern and her hands on her hips.
"Alice," FP chuckles, "she's joking. Right princess," he questions, his quirked brow challenging her to try him.
"Of course," she nods, "I was only kidding mom." She can't help the satisfied grin that crosses her lips as FP assures Alice that he is not offended.
"Ah. Speak of the devil," he calls with a proud smile towards the tall, dark haired boy walking towards them. "This is my boy, Jughead," he says, dropping a hand to his shoulder.
"It's lovely to meet you," smiles Alice, "This is my daughter-"
"Betty," she says, her voice smooth as silk as she extends her hand.
"Uh, hi," he stutters, taking her hand in a quick shake before lifting it to rub at the back of his neck. Betty doesn't miss the way his eyes rake over her body and the bob of his adam's apple in his throat. She smiles to herself, thankful that she'd chosen to wear her best pair of cut offs and the cami Veronica had gifted her to "show off her best assets."
"Betty," Alice says, sounding far more chipper than usual, "Why don't you introduce Jughead to your friends while FP and I mingle."
"Come on Juggy," Betty smirks as she snatches Jughead's hand from his side.
Jughead is a mess of nerves as he follows behind the blonde beauty. No one has ever called him Juggy and if he's honest, he likes it a little too much coming out of her mouth. His hands have never been clammier and he hopes with everything he has she doesn't notice.
"Ooh, B, who's your new friend," calls Veronica as she bounces to his side to get a better look.
"This is mom's new boy toy's son," she snickers, "isn't he cute," she gushes, tugging him into her side as she links their arms.
"Awe, he's shy," Veronica coos with the flush of Jughead's cheeks.
Betty giggles, "this is my bestie, Veronica," she introduces.
"Jughead," he offers, stuffing his hands into his pockets, but keeping his arm linked with Betty's. As nervous as she makes him, he feels better about this whole situation with her at his side.
"Jughead," questions Archie as he rings an arm playfully around Veronica's neck to kiss her soundly. "What kind of name is Jughead," he snickers.
"It's a nickname," Jughead clarifies, glancing at Betty from beneath his lashes, "the real things worse."
"Right," he says with a curt nod, "Well I'm Archie," he offers with a kind smile.
"Please tell me you're not leaving me out of this little meet and greet with the sexy new guy," calls Kevin in playful disapproval as he pushes his way into the center of the group. "Kevin Keller," he beams, extending his hand to Jughead.
"Uh, Jughead," he says quietly, taking Kevin's hand before returning it to his pockets.
"Ooh, cute and shy," he gushes, "are you gay by any chance?"
"Kevin," Betty scolds, "you can't just ask people if they're gay."
Jughead chuckles lightly, "It's ok," he assures her, "no, I'm not gay."
"Damn," Kevin pouts, "the cute ones never are," he sighs, earning a laugh from the group.
As Betty mingles with her friends, Jughead sits beside her, completely distracted by her hand on his thigh. Betty can tell he's anxious by the bounce of knee.
"You ok," she whispers against his ear, causing him to gasp with the shiver it sends down his spine. The sudden intake of breath brings the all too familiar tickle in his throat and without an explanation he quickly gets up.
When he gets to the truck out front, he ducks inside, slamming the door behind him in time for his coughing fit to ensue. As he coughs, he digs in the glove box for a few napkins his dad keeps on hand and pulls his oxygen tube from its place on the floor. It doesn't last long, just enough to bring a dull ache to his chest. Closing his eyes, he leans back against the seat and takes a few moments to breathe deeply before there's a knock at the window. In a panic, he yanks off his oxygen lines and shoves them back to the floor before getting out of the truck. Betty eyes him curiously and stands on her toes to peek into the truck, but Jughead steps in the way of her view.
"What are you doing out here," she wonders.
"I, uh, nothing," he stammers, raking his slightly sweat dampened hair back and wishing that his beanie had been appropriate for the heat of the day.
"Ok," Betty chuckles, "well, I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You just kind of ran out on us."
"Yea," he starts, shaking his head, "Yea, no, I'm fine."
"I'm sorry if we made you uncomfortable back there," she says softly, touching his arm with her fingertips, "we can be a little much."
Jughead swallows hard, his throat suddenly run dry with the tingle of her fingers on his bare arm, "no, uhm, I'm just not really used to being around so many people," he shrugs.
Betty smiles gently, "You want to take a walk with me?"
"Yea, ok," he nods, glancing over his shoulder into the truck. He knows he should bring his concentrator with him, but this girl likes him and he's not about to let his illness mess this up. He assures himself he'll be fine before taking Betty's waiting hand in his.
"So where'd you guys move from," Betty asks as they fall in step.
"Toledo."
Betty nods, "any particular reason?"
Jughead glances over at her nervously, "uhm, no, not really," he shrugs.
"Ok," she elongates, "do you have a girlfriend back home?"
His hand rises to rub the back of his neck as he shakes his head.
"Why not," she questions in surprise.
"What do you mean," he laughs.
"Juggy, you're hot," she tells him with a playful nudge to the arm.
"Yea, ok," he scoffs, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
"You are," she laughs, "were you not there when Veronica and Kevin were drooling over you?"
Jughead only shrugs and watches the ground as it moves beneath his feet. Betty gives his hand a gentle squeeze before darting into the tree line. Without thinking he runs after her hoping she doesn't go too far. The sound of rushing water fills his ears as his lungs begin to burn.
"Took you long enough," she laughs as he breaks through the trees, "isn't it beautiful," she says, gesturing to the river, glistening in the sun's rays.
Jughead buckles over, his hands on his knees as he struggles to catch his breath.
"Jughead," she worries, hurrying to his side and laying a hand on his back. Jughead shrugs her off, coughing as he gasps for air. "Jug, you're scaring me," she says, panic heavy in her tone as he gasps for air.
"My dad," he chokes out, coughing roughly between short huffs of air, "call my dad." He digs his phone out of his pocket, thrusting it towards her and she doesn't hesitate before taking it and dialing his dad.
"Oh, FP, you really are so funny," Alice laughs as he finishes the telling of a childhood mishap involving his dad's car, a squirrel and a fishing pole.
"Excuse me," he says, digging out his phone as it vibrates in his pocket. "Jug? What's up," he answers, glancing around the yard for his son.
"FP, it's Betty. Something's wrong," she panics on the other end.
"Where are you," he questions with concern.
"Is everything alright," Alice questions with the strain in FP's expression, but he waives her off.
"At Sweetwater river," she answers quickly.
"Stay with him, I'm on my way," he orders before stuffing his phone back in his pocket.
"Where's Sweetwater river," he asks Alice as he pulls her along to the front yard.
"About a mile from here, why, what's going on?"
Back at Sweetwater river, Jughead has collapsed to his knees, his lips beginning to turn a shade of blue as his lungs wheeze.
"What can I do," she panics as she kneels down beside him. Jughead shakes his head, clutching his chest as his eyes prick with tears. Betty can only watch, feeling completely helpless before FP comes running towards them. She moves out of the way as FP drops down to yank his son back against his chest, putting his oxygen tubes in place. Jughead gasps with the rush of oxygen, clutching at his father's hands on his face as tears stream down his cheeks. His eyes lock on Betty's, and the amount of fear she finds in them brings the prick of tears to her eyes. Alice finally makes it to the river's edge, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she gasps at the sight before her. FP holds his son, as his breathing steadies dropping a firm kiss to the top of his head as the anguish on his brow softens.
After what feels like forever for all of them, Jughead sits up from FP's chest, his breathing nearly back to normal, and buries his face in his hands atop his knees. FP gets up from the ground, ruffling Jughead's hair before walking over to where Betty and her mother just witnessed everything.
"He's embarrassed," FP tells Betty just above a whisper as he gives her shoulder a squeeze. Betty nods and watches FP and Alice walk back the way they came before going over to Jughead.
"Jug," she says softly as she sits down on the rocks beside him, "are you ok?"
With the touch of her hand on his lower back, he lifts his head to glance at her out of the corner of his eye. He only shrugs, sighing heavily as he rakes his hair back.
"Should you have had that with you," she questions with a nod of her head towards the oxygen compressor between them. Jughead nods, his eyes remaining fixed on the ground at his feet. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I just wanted to be normal for one day," he mutters angrily, his voice hoarse.
Betty rests her head on his shoulder, her hand rubbing soothing circles against his back. They sit together for a while, listening to the rush of the river and the hot summer breeze in the trees.
"Could you maybe not tell anyone about this," he asks suddenly, his tone holding so much shame it nearly breaks her heart.
"Of course," she agrees softly, "our little secret." With a gentle smile, Betty gets up from the ground offering him a hand before they walk in the direction their parents had come from.
As they pull up in front of the Andrew's house, Betty can tell Jughead isn't really feeling up for a party. Honestly, she isn't either.
"Hey mom," Betty says as Alice steps down from FP's truck, "could me and Jug hang out at our house for a bit?" Out of the corner if her eye, Jughead looks as if he's about to protest, but he settles back in his seat with the squeeze of her hand on his knee.
"Oh, I dont know-"
"Ah, let them be Alice," FP suggest with a smile as he slings an arm over her shoulders, "I'm sure Jug could use the break."
"Alright," Alice sighs, "I suppose if you stay on the first floor-"
"Mom," Betty scolds, "I'm not trying to get in his pants."
FP hardly manages to stifle a laugh as Alice turn a lovely shade of rouge beside him.
"Come on Juggy," she says, tugging him along and throwing an eye roll over her shoulder at her mother. She's really not trying to get in his pants, at least not at this particular moment anyways.
Once inside, Betty leaves Jughead on the couch and goes to the kitchen to get them each a glass of sweet tea. From his place on the couch, Jughead looks around, finding the whole place to be as immaculate as something out of a magazine. He's almost afraid to move for fear of messing up the neatly displayed throw pillows and the perfectly folded blanket on the cushion beside him.
"Do you like iced tea," Betty asks as she settles beside him on the couch, holding out a glass for him to take.
"Uh, yea, thanks," he stammers as he takes it from her outstretched hand. He watches her as she takes a long sip from her sweaty glass before setting it directly in the coffee table. He almost breathes a sigh of relief that they're not so uppity to worry about such things as the required use of coasters. Betty giggles beside him as he chugs his glass and he pauses, eyeing her from the corner of his eye.
"Thirsty," she laughs.
Jughead laughs through his nose as he lowers his glass, "Could I get another actually? My, uhm, throat-"
"Of course," she grins, "You don't need to explain."
Jughead nods and watches her as she goes to the kitchen, finding himself hung up on the sliver of her ass peeking out from beneath her shorts. He quickly shakes the thought from his head, knowing now he doesn't even stand a chance. Not that he really thought he did, but she said it herself, she's not interested.
"You ok," Betty questions as she takes in his saddened expression. She sets his glass down on the coffee table, and sits beside him, tucking on leg under herself to be closer to him.
"Yea," he grins, though it doesn't touch his eyes, "just tired."
"You sure," she asks gently, her hand coming to rest on his thigh, "If you want to talk, I'm not going to say anything," she assures him.
"I don't know," he shrugs, "I'm just sorry you had to see that."
"It's really ok," she assures him, giving his thigh a gentle squeeze, "I'm just glad you're alright."
The seriousness in her tone takes him by surprise, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. He hadn't noticed before but the green of her eyes has such a sparkling depth that they're easily more beautiful than emeralds themselves. As he realizes he's been staring too long, he shifts to grab his drink from the table and focuses on the cool liquid as it slides down his throat.
"If you don't mind my asking," Betty starts, "what's uhm-"
"What's wrong with me," he finishes for her.
"I wasn't going to put it like that," she assures him, worrying her lip as she hopes she hasn't offended him.
"It's fine," he shakes his head before clearing his throat, "uhm, I have cystic fibrosis."
Betty looks at him as if he's just spoken in some foreign tongue and he can't help but grin.
"I'm basically drowning in my own mucus is the simplest way I can explain it," he says as lightheartedly as possible. The exact look he was hoping to avoid takes over her features causing him to sigh heavily, "Could you not look at me like that."
"Like what," she wonders, pressing her lips into a tight line.
"Like I'm a wounded animal or something," he clips, "this is exactly why I didn't tell you in the first place."
"Jug-"
"No, it's ok," he huffs, getting up from the couch, "I'm just gonna go."
"Jughead," Betty snaps, grabbing his arm and stopping him in his tracks, "Would you just calm down for one second. You just told me you're suffering and yea, I feel bad, but don't push me away before you even give me a chance to understand."
With a heavy sigh, Jughead sits back down, keeping his eyes fixed on his shoes.
"Look, I get it," she starts, touching his hand on his knee, "You don't want to be pitied, and the last thing I was trying to do is offend you."
"I know," he sighs, accepting her fingers as she threads them between his.
"How about, for now, we watch a movie," she suggest, "and maybe another time, when you're feeling up for it, we could talk more?"
Jughead nods, "ok."
A smile sparks in Betty's eyes before she reaches for the remote. Jughead's not so certain she'll want to stick around once she knows more about his illness, but for now, he's going to enjoy her willing company.
After the two of them spent nearly an hour searching for a movie with playful banter of their opposing interests, they finally settled on an old classic that catered to both their interests. A bit of cut throat action for him and an underlying romance for her. About halfway through the movie, Betty has settled into his side, tucked snugly beneath his arm where it's slung over the back of the couch. Jughead has spent the last ten minutes trying to talk himself into putting his hand on her shoulder, but he just can't bring himself to do it. With the sudden eruption of gunshots through the speakers, Betty startles, her hand coming up to clutch at his t-shirt. He chuckles lightly, earning a playful glare from beneath her lashes.
He hadn't expected her to leave her hand where it's now rested on his abdomen, and he's suddenly terribly nervous with the realization that she's not planning on removing it. It becomes all he can think about and when her fingers glide south to dip beneath the hem of his shirt he suddenly can't breathe for a whole new reason. He tries to focus on the movie, he really does, but with her fingertips tracing the line of dark hair beneath his naval all he can think about is the growing erection behind his zipper.
Betty is entirely content pressed into his side, her fingers getting lost in the incredibly sexy trail of hair that leads to the bulge beneath his jeans. He has yet to protest to her advances, so she tries her luck. Carefully, she inches her hand lower, her arousal almost unbearable as she cups his firm erection. Jughead suddenly clears his throat, sitting straight up and effectively removing contact before he starts on a throaty cough into his elbow. He eyes her nervously as he reaches for his drink, taking a few sips before settling back against the couch.
"Sorry," he mutters shifting a bit awkwardly in his seat. Betty only smiles before settling herself back into his side, keeping her hand high on his stomach. She's not going to give up so easily, but she's willing to give him the time he's clearly asking for. They did just meet after all, perhaps she's being to forward. As she begins to scold herself for making him uncomfortable, she's reassured by the sudden squeeze of his arm finally coming to wrap around her.
As the credits begin to run, the sound of fireworks brings a wide toothy smile to Betty's face.
"Oh Juggy," she beams, shifting her weight into her hands on his thigh as she leans forward over his lap, "can we go watch? Fred does the best fireworks!"
Jughead chuckles at her sickeningly adorable excitement, "only if you can find me something to eat, I'm starving."
"Deal," she agrees, immediately jumping up to get her shoes.
"Hey betty," he calls as he removes his oxygen from his nose, "still our secret?"
As much as she wants to protest that he shouldn't be ashamed or embarrassed, she understands where he's coming from. So instead, she dramatically zips her lips and revels in the smile it brings to the corner of his lips.
They spend the rest of the evening, cuddled together under the night sky. Jughead has never been happier than he is in this moment with her, their fingers woven together as a million bursts of color twinkle in her smile brightened eyes.