The race against the Ghoulies draws nearer by the minute and Jughead finds himself wishing for Betty to be at his side. He's certain she would have wanted to be here. They would have fought about it, undoubtedly, until he ultimately gave in. He can picture her triumphant smirk, his eyes rolling in her direction as she tags along close behind. What he wouldn't give for the adrenaline of a heated argument coursing through his veins right now.
"Hit me," he grits suddenly through his teeth.
"What," Sweet Pea exclaims.
"Hit me," he repeats, his fists clenching at his sides.
"I'm not gonna hit you," Sweet Pea scoffs.
With a growl through his teeth, Jughead shoves Pea hard, sending him faltering backwards on his feet.
"What the fuck Jug-"
"Just fucking hit me," he hollers, grunting as Sweet Pea's fist collides with the side of his jaw. An angered growl rises from his chest and he cracks his neck, grinning wildly as he spits a mouthful of blood onto the pavement below.
Sweet Pea can only watch in bewilderment as Jughead gets into the driver's seat of the 1970 Chevelle they'd been working on all week, his eyes wild with rage. He pulls up to the start line, spray painted in white across the old cracked pavement of a road long forgotten on the outskirts of the Southside. His attention draws to his side, Malachai in his monstrosity of a vehicle, taunting him with the rev of his engine. They remain in a stare down, Jughead's rage met with pure crazy as Serpents and Ghoulies alike begin to whoop and holler around them. The race is called to a start by a tiny female Ghoulie with sunken cheeks, her fishnet stocking tattered beneath the studded leather skirt matching her studded leather jacket. She raises her arms into the air, Jughead spitting one last mouthful of blood out the window as his eyes lock on the red bandana in her hand. His knuckles go white with his grip on the steering wheel, his foot at the ready and with the drop of the bandana he's off like a bat out of hell.
It's a straight shot to the bridge, both cars evenly matched in a fight for the lead. Malachai pulls ahead just a hair, losing it as Jughead's bumper inches just past his own. In seconds they approach the bridge, neither willing to let out of it as the road narrows. By the skin of his teeth, Jughead pulls ahead, the side of the car screeching and sparking as its side drags metal on metal, wedged between Malachai and the guardrail of the bridge. Jughead breaks free first, Malachai nearly losing it with Jughead's car no longer leveling the pressure. He dares not look back as he reaches dead man's curve, pulling the e-brake with all his might as he whips it around in a 180, tires screeching, leaving burnt rubber across the pavement and a cloud of smoke in Malachai's path. With the pedal to the floor, his foot heavier than lead, Jughead hauls ass down the straightaway, skidding to a stop as he crosses the finish line just seconds before Malachai.
"Fuck yea," he shouts, his fist to the sky as he jumps out of the car.
Sweet Pea rushes to his side, hollering with excitement as he rings him around the neck to muss his hair, his beanie knocked askew as a horde of Serpents uproar in celebration around him. Malachai throws open his door, cursing expletives as he kicks the tire of his deemed useless car.
"You lost," Jughead taunts, a triumphant grin adorning his face. "Get the fuck outta here. If I ever catch you in these parts again, there'll be more hell to pay than a friendly street race."
Malachai's upper lip curls, spitting saliva through his teeth as he waves a hand for his minions to follow. The Serpents look on with excitement as they retreat, praise given all around for Jughead's impeccable driving before they retire to the Wyrm for celebratory drinks.
After the celebration has died down, Jughead is feeling far less than victorious with the unexpected sorrow brought on by a few drinks. He's been staring into the bottom of an empty glass for nearly half an hour now, his head fuzzy with thoughts of Betty and the pure hatred she must feel for him.
"S' ya show er'," Sweet Pea slurs, sipping at an empty beer bottle and staring into it in confusion with a slow blink.
Jughead shakes his head. "Sh-" he hiccups, "hates me."
"Whaaa," Sweet Pea breathes, again sipping at his empty beer bottle with the same confusion on his brow.
Jughead shrugs. "Mm fucked," he slurs, nearly toppling over as he stands from his seat. He makes his way clumsily to FP's office, struggling to unlock it with the same wrong key three times before selecting the correct one. Inside, he drops into the tattered chair at the desk, glaring at the old landline phone atop the desk as it mocks him. In his drunken haze he dials the only number he has memorized, grumbling to himself as it rings and rings. He hangs it up, dropping his head in his hands to glare at the numbers on the keypad. Once more, he picks it up, his fingers dialing of their own accord and it rings once, twice...
"Hello?"
"Betts," he greets, grinning to himself.
"Jughead," she questions.
"S' me. Mm drunk," he slurs.
"Where the hell are you," she grits.
"Wyrm," he hiccups. "Wan go t' bed."
"So go to bed," she scoffs.
"No," he huffs. "Wiff you."
"Juggy," she sighs.
"Hm, Juggy," he repeats with an amused grin.
"I can't come get you Jug."
"No more Juggy," he questions in complaint. "Please?"
Betty sighs heavily, "Fine. Can you walk?"
"Mhm," he hums confidently.
"Alright," she sighs. "I'll meet you halfway."
"Ok Betts," he replies foolishly, haphazardly hanging up the phone, ignoring it as it falls to the desk with his mind set on seeing Betty.
It takes ten minutes for Betty to speed walk to the Southside, her annoyance growing as she passes the halfway point with no Jughead in sight. Her worry grows as she nears the Wyrm, intensifying with the sight of a limp body slumped against the lamp post in its parking lot. She hurries to its side, her heart hammering in her chest as she catches sight of the beanie on his head upon her approach.
"Jughead," she calls as she crouches down beside him. "Jughead, get up."
"Betts," he grins lazily, his head lolling back as he lifts it to look at her.
"Christ, how much did you drink," she scolds.
"S' lot," he slurs through a laugh, his body the equivalent of a wet noddle as Betty tries to get him to his feet.
"You gotta help me Jug," she grunts, hoisting him up with his arm draped over her shoulder.
She manages to get him to his feet, nearly falling over as his footing falters, his weight pulling her small frame along with him. It's a long walk home, Betty fighting hard to keep him upright the whole way. They finally make it home and up the stairs in one piece, somehow managing not to wake her mother up in the process. With her shoulder, Betty shoves open his bedroom door and drops him onto his back on the bed. She takes a step back, her eyes welling with tears as she looks around at the space that once belonged to her sister.
"N' dn't cry," he pouts, his arm lazily reaching out for her. "C'mere."
Hesitantly, she crawls over him on the bed and allows him to wrap her up in a sloppy embrace.
"M' sorry," he mumbles, his lips down turned with sorrow.
"It's not your fault," she says.
"S'you dn't hate me," he stutters, his brow questioning as he fights to hold open his eyelids.
"Of course not," she assures him, her heart hurting for making him think for a second that she even could.
"G'd cuz this is perm'net," he grins, poking at his chest through his t-shirt.
"Permanent," she questions. "What's permanent?"
With a cocky yet lazy grin, he struggles to remove his shirt, Betty giggling as he gets his arm caught. She takes pity on him, helping him remove it only to gasp as she catches sight of his skin.
"Is that-"
"Mhm," he hums proudly.
"Juggy," she coos, her fingers tracing gently the black cursive script of her name tattooed over his heart. "Why?"
"Cuz yur 'mportnt," he shrugs.
"Jug," she coos once more, assaulting him with a tight hug he's quick to return.
"Stay," he requests, earning only a nod as she settles in beside him.
Their comfortable silence is short lived, Betty having to haul him to the bathroom where he loses the contents of his stomach. They wind up on the bathroom floor for over an hour as he dry heaves and gets sick over the toilet, Betty rubbing his back and fetching him water as he groans in agony.
Saturday arrives much too soon for Jughead. He rolls over in bed with a pained groan, his stomach swirling and his head pounding. The first thing he notices is his shirt is missing, the second that he's wearing only boxers. He pries his eyes open as he becomes very aware of the warmth beside him, a damp head of hair resting just inches from his face. He scolds himself internally, cursing expletives in his head as he tries to recall what he'd done last night. He dares not move a muscle, afraid to wake the mystery girl beside him, his head spinning out in search of any memory of her coming home with him. How had he even gotten home?
"Juggy?"
A rush of pure relief comes over him as she rolls over, Betty's sleepy features easing his worries before new ones set in. God he hopes he didn't sleep with her!
"Go back to sleep," she groans, her lower lip pouting as her eyelids flutter in protest to opening.
"Betty," he worries, "did we?"
"Hmm," she questions sleepily, her arms stretching over her head, revealing her bare collar bone.
"Did we have sex," he questions in a hushed tone laced with worry.
"Hm," she hums in amusement, "no."
"Are you," he clears his throat, "are you naked."
"Just topless," she smirks, her eyes still closed as she plays with a strand of her slightly damp hair. "You puked. A lot. We took a shower and you wouldn't let me put a shirt on," She concludes with a shrug as Jughead's jaw falls slack in near horror.
"We showered? Like together?"
Betty only nods.
"Awe man," he complains, "and I don't even remember?"
"Guess not," she smirks sleepily. "Go to sleep."
"How am I supposed to sleep when you're topless in my bed," he groans. "Can I at least look?"
Betty almost laughs, "You practically fell asleep like a nursing baby last night."
"Na-ah," he argues.
"You did," she grins sleepily.
"Sorry," he mutters, a lazy hand falling to his face and dragging his features downward with it.
"Its fine," she assures him. "I didn't say I minded"
A silence comes over them, Jughead kicking himself for his behavior. Betty can feel his eyes on her, his desire to catch a glimpse of the memory he can't seem to locate. With a roll of her eyes she shifts the blanket downward, revealing her love bitten peaks
"I did that," he cringes. "I'm so sorry. I-"
"Jug, it's fine. Really," she assures him once more, rolling onto her side to finally look at him. "Hey," she coos towards his guilty expression, her hand coming to rest upon his cheek. "I said it's ok."
Jughead nods, leaning into her touch with the slightest of smirks on his lips before it gives way to a look of concern.
"I'm sorry about the room," he mutters.
Betty shakes her head. "It's not your fault."
"I know, but I feel bad. If I had known," he trails off.
"I should have told you." She shakes her head again. "Sorry I threw a shoe at you."
"Two of them," he reminds her as an amused grin breaks over his face.
Betty laughs through her nose, her cheeks flushing with the memory.
"Are we good," he wonders with caution.
"We're good," she agrees. "I wouldn't want to make you regret that tattoo."
With her teasing smirk, Jughead's gaze falls to his bare chest, worry swirling in the pit of his stomach as he reads her name.
"I can explain-"
"You already did," she murmurs, her chin tilting upward to press a gentle kiss to his lips.
Jughead draws back slowly, a look of shock on his face. "I- Betty."
His words die on his tongue, their mouths crashing together as he shifts his weight over her. Her hips rock against his, soft moans falling from her lips with the pressure of his swollen length as it drags over her clothed middle. His fingers curl into her waistband, tugging her sleep shorts downward to slip his fingers between her folds. She gasps upon their entry, her hips shifting wildly as he curls his fingers inside her. With every kiss, every touch, she grows hotter, the ache within her core becoming desperate for more. With the trail of her hand down his abdomen, she hooks her fingers into his waistband, tugging it down to reveal his erection as it springs upward. Jughead draws back from her lips with a gasp, his eyes dropping to watch as her hand wraps around his length. His gaze shifts upward, their eyes locking before his disappear behind his eyelids with the careful stroke of her hand. With sheer desperation, his mouth meets hers once more, their tongues wrestling between their lips as they exchange breathless sighs and moans between them. Betty whines in protest as he draws his fingers from her core, a surge of excitement leaping in her chest as he clumsily kicks off his boxers, looking to her with want in his eyes. Betty bites her lip, nodding as he goes for her shorts and pulls them off entirely. Now completely bare, both panting in anticipation, Jughead resettles above her, groaning as his bare length nestles between the slickness of her folds. His head drops into the crook of her neck, his teeth nipping at her skin as they rock together, savoring the newfound bliss between them. With a particularly forceful thrust of his hips, his tip nudges hard at her entrance, earning a sharp gasp as he pushes just inside before he draws back with panicked apology in his eyes.
"Juggy," she breathes, giving a purposeful shift of her hips to capture his tip once more.
"Are you sure," he worries through a moan, unwilling to do this if she has any reservations about him.
With the nod of her head, they're quickly startled apart by Alice's footsteps nearing the door. Jughead hurries to find a pair of pants, tossing Betty a t-shirt as she slips her shorts back on.
"Breakfast," Alice calls with the tap of her knuckles against the door before moving on to do the same at Betty's.
Betty worries her lip at the edge of the bed, her body still reeling with the desire to feel him push inside her. He keeps his distance until they hear Alice descend the stairs, breathing a sigh of relief as he joins her on the bed.
"Juggy," she says in questions, taking in his defeated posture.
He sighs heavily before meeting her gaze, a tight lipped smile on his lips as he takes her hand. "We should go downstairs."
Betty only nods, a new sense of wariness hanging between them as she follows him out.
After an awkward breakfast of nervous glances and concerned looks from Alice, Jughead retreats to his room. He remains there for the rest of the day and makes himself scarce on Sunday. By Monday, Betty has had enough of his avoiding her.
"Alright, this is stupid," she declares upon storming into the English room to find Jughead with a half-eaten sandwich hanging between his lips.
"What," he questions around a mouthful, feeling scolded under her glare.
"What do you mean what," she scoffs. "I almost let you take my virginity and now you're avoiding me, that's what."
Jughead chokes on a bit of bread, his eyes widening as he coughs before washing it down with a quick swig from his water bottle.
"Virginity," he chokes out. "You're a- Betty I, I'm sorry. I had no idea. God, did I hurt you," he worries, crossing the room to take her shoulders in his hands.
"I'm fine," she grits, shrugging him off with a scowl. "I can't believe I almost had sex with you."
"Betty-"
"No," she cuts him off. "How can you just avoid me after something like that?"
"I…" He sighs heavily, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I freaked out."
"You seem to do that a lot," she scoffs, her arms folding over her chest.
"Betty, I don't know how to do this," he sighs. "Sex is one thing, but with you," he shakes his head. "Half the time we're fighting and most of the time I don't even know where I stand with you."
Bettys scowl softens, her eyes dropping to the floor with a sigh.
"We fight all the time," he reminds her, reaching out to take her hand. "I can't just have sex with you Betty. It's not that simple, not with you, and especially not if I'm your first. If anything ever happened between us, I would never forgive myself for taking that from you."
Betty only nods, steadying herself with a deep breath before darting out of the room.
In the cafeteria, Veronica leaves Archie with a quick peck on the lips at the sound of the bell and heads for her locker. After collecting her books, her locker door is slammed shut by one highly irritated Cheryl Blossom.
"Vixen practice is cancelled until further notice," she grits, a look of disgust curling her upper lip.
"Cancelled," Veronica questions in surprise.
"Seems my Vixens have been sharing more than tampons in the locker room," she scoffs. "Aside from you, Betty, and mwah, the entire team has contracted gonorrhea."
Veronica makes a face, earning an eye roll from Cheryl.
"Whatever, just tell Betty," she demands. "Toodles."
With a shake of her head, Veronica hurries off to find Betty. By the time she reaches the English room, she's officially late for her own class. She peers inside, landing on the empty seat beside Jughead.
"Excuse me, Mr. Smithson," she says politely as she comes into the room. "Might I borrow Mr. Jughead Jones? It seems he's needed in the office."
"Certainly," he nods. "Mr. Jones?"
Jughead gets up in a huff, wondering what they could possibly be trying to pin on him this time as he follows Veronica out of the room.
"Where's Betty," she questions once their down the hall a ways.
"What," he questions in surprise. "You brought me out here to ask where Betty is?"
"Yes," she huffs, "Now where is she?"
"I don't know," he shrugs.
"What do you mean you don't know," she clips. "Betty would never miss class unless something was wrong. What did you do to her?"
"Why do you assume I did something to her," he scoffs.
Veronica rolls her eyes, crossing her arms expectantly.
"OK," he sighs. "We sort of had a small argument and I think she's upset with me."
"Duh," Veronica scoffs. "Argument about what?"
"Nothing."
"Jughead, I swear to god I will shove one of my Louboutin's up your ass if you don't start talking," she threatens.
"Alright, Jesus," he says as she backs him into the lockers. "We almost had sex, except her mom knocked on the door, and then I freaked out because I don't want to have sex with her. I mean, I do, I really, really do, but she thinks I don't and she just took off and I think I'm in love with her."
Veronica stands wide eyed and slacked jawed for a moment before a grin breaks over her face. "You're adorable."
"What about that was adorable," he calls as she speeds off down the hall.
Now more than fifteen minutes late for class, Veronica accepts the fact that she's not going to make it to third period today as she reaches the girls locker room at the far end of the school.
"Betty," she calls as the heavy door swings closed behind her. "Betty, it's V. Are you in here?"
"Over here," she sniffles.
Veronica rounds the corner, her lips downturned as she finds Betty slouched down against the lockers in tears.
"Oh B," she coos, embracing her in a tight hug as she joins her on the floor.
"I feel like such an idiot," she cries.
"I think, maybe, you just misunderstood him," Veronica suggests.
"Oh I understood loud and clear," she scoffs.
"Betty, I really think you should talk to him," she tries again.
"How am I supposed to talk to him," she sniffles. "I almost let him take my virginity and he basically told me he doesn't want me."
"I promise you that's not the case," Veronica says with a look of astonishment. "I think he tried his best to communicate something to you and it didn't come out exactly right."
"What do you know," Betty inquires with a curious brow.
"All I know is that he meant well and you should give him a chance to make it right."
Betty nods, knowing in her heart that Veronica is right, no matter how much her head is telling her otherwise.
"Oh," Veronica starts. "Speaking of sex. Vixen practice is cancelled indefinitely."
"What does that have to do with sex," Betty laughs as she pads away her tears.
"Apparently our team is made up of a bunch of skank ass bitches, but we already knew that," she teases, coaxing a laugh from Betty. "Gonorrhea."
Betty feigns a gag, the two of them breaking into easy laughter on the locker room floor.
