"Pregnant? What do you mean pregnant," Jughead panics, raking his hands back in hair and knocking his beanie to the floor.

"I mean I'm pregnant Jug," Elise reiterates out of annoyance, "what the hell else would I mean?"

"I don't know," he groans, "Are you sure?" He stares down in horror at the two pink lines on the test he's been clutching with white knuckles from the moment she'd handed it to him.

"Seriously," Elise scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. "What are we going to do?"

What are we going to do?

Those were the last words they'd spoken of it for weeks and they haunted him every night. He was seventeen, homeless, jobless, and now he was going to have a child with a girl he doesn't have feelings for. Sure, Elise is a great friend, his only friend if he's honest and it should have stayed that way.

Last summer, Gladys had kicked him out per her new boyfriend's request. He'd spent a few days squatting here and there and things were fine, for the most part. Out of sheer desperation, on a stormy night, he'd found himself sleeping on Elise's couch. One night turned into a few and eventually, he'd just sort of moved in. She had her own family issues, and her mother was never around. Take their unsupervised status, combine it with raging hormones, and soon enough, they were sleeping together. It wasn't a relationship, they both knew that, and it was never meant to be, but it happened often and they weren't always careful about it. It's no wonder they wound up here, but what now?

"I can't do this," Elise whispers, her eyes trained on her feet as they sit in the waiting room.

"This was your idea," Jughead argues in a hushed tone as he leans over to catch her gaze.

"I know," she chokes out, looking up at him through damp lashes. "I just- I can't get an abortion Jug. I just can't."

Jughead throws an arm over her shoulder, tugging her to his chest and shushing her gently.

"Can we just go," she cries, wiping her tears as she pulls away from him.

Jughead only nods and leads her out.

Aborting the baby was never an option that even crossed his mind, but when Elise brought it up, who was he to tell her no. It was her body and her choice and she had every right to terminate the pregnancy. It was for the best. That's what he told himself anyways, but he can't deny the incredible relief he felt when she had changed her mind.

"What about adoption," Elise suggests one morning as she rifles through the near empty fridge.

Jughead stares up at her in surprise, milk dribbling down his chin as he swallows a mouthful of stale cereal.

"Adoption," he repeats as he mulls over the idea.

"I can't be a mother," she sighs, rubbing her very round belly.

"El," Jughead mutters before clearing his throat, "I know you're scared, but we can do this. We can't- I can't just give up on this baby."

"You didn't even want it in the first place and now you want to play house," she argues, "We have nothing to offer a child Jughead. Nothing."

"El-"

"No Jug. We have no money, no support, hell we haven't even finished school," she rants, "I refuse to damn myself to a life I never asked for."

"Fine," he grits through his teeth.

"Fine," she questions in surprise.

"Yea. Fine," he repeats, "You want out, fine, but we're not putting him up for adoption."

"Then what," she challenges, "Who's going to raise this kid?"

"Me."

Three months later, at 5:43am, Finley Pendleton Jones was born. Elise outright refused to see him, having already signed away her rights and fearing the possible connection with her newborn. Instead, Jughead followed the nurses to the nursery where he was directed to have a seat in a rocking chair before his son was placed gently in his arms. Upon his very first glance, he knew he would die for the tiny life in his arms if it meant he would be safe and happy. He'd never understood how his own mother could write him off as if he had never mattered at all, and now, here, holding his own child, he was only further confused. The baby in his arms, his baby, with his tiny button nose, and squishy little cheeks, he's love personified.

Jughead remained in the nursery for over an hour, marveling at the beauty of the new life in his arms. He'd learned to mix formula and how to feed him properly. He'd even managed to do a diaper change with minimal assistance. After rocking Finley to sleep, one of the nurses offered to place him in a bassinet and he took the opportunity to check on Elise.

"Hey," Jughead calls softly from the doorway.

Elise's gaze remains fixed out the window as he enters the room and it's not until he touches her arm that she breaks her stare. Her eyes meet his slowly, and the emptiness he finds there is startling.

"How is he," she asks, her voice shaky as tears pool in her eyes.

"He's beautiful El," Jughead tells her carefully.

"Good," she nods, snatching her hand away to wipe the tear that has escaped her lash line. "You call your dad?"

Jughead nods, "Last night."

Elise only nods, taking in a sharp breath, her chest quivering as she releases it slowly.
"Take care of yourself Jug."

Later that afternoon, FP Jones arrived at the hospital to embrace the son he hasn't seen in nearly seven years. Tears were shed, wordless apologies weaved into sturdy glances, before Jughead proudly introduced his father to his brand new grandson.

"Finley Pendleton huh," FP smirks as he adjusts the tiny hat concealing his grandson's dark tufts of hair.

"I wanted to keep with the theme, but I just couldn't stick him with the family curse," he chuckles nervously.

FP laughs, "I like it."

The ride to Riverdale was a long one with a newborn in the front seat of his dad's old pickup, but they'd finally made it, safe and sound. From the moment they passed the Town with Pep sign, memories came flooding back. Jughead had spent the first ten years of his life in this town, and while it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, things had been a lot better than the past seven years. He remembers vividly the day he was ripped away from the place he called home. Gladys had been on a rampage that morning, cursing up and down about his useless father and by lunchtime, she'd packed their entire lives into the trunk of her beat up sedan. FP had been working at the time and he and his mother would have been half way to Toledo by the time he arrived home that evening.

After dropping his things into his old room, Jughead prepares a bottle for Finley and settles onto the same old worn out couch that's always been in the living room. He watches with a sense of awe as Finley's tiny pink lips suckle at his dinner, and the sudden urge to cry comes over him. He blinks his tears away quickly and takes in a steadying breath as FP takes a seat in the arm chair.

"I know it's been a long day, but I have to ask," he starts, scratching at his stubbly chin, "Does your mom know you're here?"

Jughead shakes his head, keeping his eyes fixed on the gently movement of Finley's cheeks.

FP takes in a sharp breath, nodding thoughtfully. "She know about any of this," he wonders, getting a sense that Jughead hasn't had the best upbringing since leaving Riverdale.

Again, Jughead shakes his head, this time chancing a look at his father across the room. He's surprised by the anger he finds etched into his aged features, and suddenly he's a little boy again, desperate to make his father proud.

"Let's keep it that way huh," FP says. "Little Fin doesn't need that woman clouding his head."

Jughead is surprised by his protective tone, but he he's grateful for it. He nods in thanks and FP gives a curt nod. Carefully, Jughead removes the bottle from Finley's lips before he can suck up too much air and rests him gently at his shoulder to burp him the way he'd been taught at the hospital. He's probably more careful than necessary when it comes to moving Finley, but he's terrified of hurting such a fragile little life.

"You're a natural, Jug," FP says in encouragement.

Jughead smiles hesitantly before FP offers to take Fin. FP handles him with a certainty he can only hope to gain through practice and he studies the way his father pats his back. It's firm but gentle and Finley quickly lets out a tiny burp.

"Boy," FP starts quietly, "I can't tell you how sorry I am. For everything. I know I wasn't always present or in my right mind, but I want you to know I'm gonna be."

"You're here now," Jughead grins and FP's eyes well up. He sniffles a little as he nods and holds onto Finley just a little bit tighter.

The first week being back in Riverdale is spent exclusively inside FP's trailer. Getting up at all hours of the night with a hungry newborn has proved to be far more exhausting than Jughead had ever anticipated. FP works for a local construction company, so his days are spent alone with Finley, napping when he can and keeping up with the slew of messes that come with newborns. Such messes as poopy diapers, in which he was glad no one was around to witness his terrible attempt at changing his first one ever. There was so much, and Finley was so wiggly. He shutters at just the thought and can't help but laugh at what he must have looked like trying to bathe a slippery newborn with a foot coated in his own dootie.

"You given any thought to school," FP asks over dinner on Friday night.

After work, he'd stopped to grab takeout from Pop's and Jughead has never been more excited for a meal in his life. Pop's used to be a regular weekend thing growing up, the one thing he and his father ever did together and he hasn't ever found a more delicious burger elsewhere.

"I don't know," Jughead shrugs, "I want to get my diploma, but I just don't see how that's gonna work."

"Bullshit," FP mumbles through a mouthful as he crumples up his burger wrapper. "I have a friend who'd like to help you out."

"How so," Jughead questions before slurping down the last of his vanilla shake.

"Only reason you have not to go to school is needing someone to watch Fin," he says.

"I guess," Jughead shrugs. "He's so little dad. I can't just drop him off with someone I don't even know."

"Course not," FP nods. "That's why we're having dinner with her tomorrow."

"We're what," he argues, "Dad, I can't-"

"You can and you will," he asserts, gripping Jughead's shoulders firmly. "Your boy deserves a good life. A better one than I gave you. You start with finishing school huh."

Jughead nods, accepting defeat. He knows his father is right. Finley deserves the best, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to give it to him.