Jughead is happy that the next morning is a Saturday. He cracks an eye open at 8 am, silently cursing that he is up so early, but he is too comfortable to move. Sweet Pea nestles into his back, his breath slow and even. He usually prefers to sleep in more, but he knows Sweet's is having a harder time.
He silently stands up and pads into the kitchenette, scowling when he sees the lack of food and supplies in the cupboards. FP wins father of the year award, again. He sees a single can of instant coffee and shrugs, at least it's something, he'll drag Sweet Pea out later to get food. He flicks his kettle on, fingers drumming on the counter as he waits for it to reach a boil. He glances out, seeing new snowflakes emerging from the sky.
"Snowing again?"
Jughead nearly leaps out of his skin at the sound. Sweet Pea is still there, shirtless, and smirking at the response, he evoked from Jug. "Jesus, since when are you quiet?" Jughead quips, rolling his eyes, but he can't help but return his glance at Sweet Pea's chest. Again, he sees bruises and scars littering his skin. Sweet Pea notices and quickly turns his back, opening a barren cupboard and snorting.
"You have nothing to eat here," He notes, raising an eyebrow.
Jughead rolls his eyes and continues drumming his fingers on the counter, waiting for the kettle, which only has a bit of steam rising. Damn, they need a new kettle. "I like eating, not cooking," he quips.
"Believe me; everyone knows you like to eat. I cook, you know. I have to go back and check on Pop, see you." Sweet Pea declares and docs out of the kitchen, grabbing his jacket on his way out. Jughead didn't say goodbye, just stood on his tiptoes, and watched Sweet Pea stride out of the trailer and into the cold gravel yard.
His kettle finally goes off, and he reaches for his chipped white mug and single clean teaspoon lying on the counter. He drops four heaping teaspoons into the cup and then adds the boiling water into the mug, watching the swirl of steam rise into the air. He breathes in the bitter scent before sipping it, not bothering to add anything. He is still feeling tired, so he is hoping this will help.
Jughead has been avoiding checking his phone, mainly because he's worried about seeing a text from Betty, or seeing nothing from her. It's stupid, and it's evident that Betty was angry about Jughead trying to protect her, but he couldn't help it, he loved her too much to want her to get tangled up with the Serpents.
Ironically, the phone text tone dings. Jughead huffs before walking to his bed, where the phone lies. Jughead practically has his eyes closed as he checks his phone, seeing just a check-in from Archie. As he strolls back to the kitchenette, he sees several empty bottles of vodka littering the ground.
"Fuck sakes' dad," Jug growls as he kicks the bottle harshly, making it fly to the other side of the room. He feels his anger rising, but he tries his best just to ignore it. The laptop is lying precariously on the couch, and he swipes it, plopping down on the couch and ready to ignore his feelings about his deadbeat dad.
"You forgot your coffee,"
Jughead nearly tumbles off the couch. Sweet Pea is standing behind him, smirking, holding his coffee and a brown paper bag. Jughead is breathing heavily and holding his chest. "Christ, you're quiet when you want to be."
Sweet Pea walks over, shoving the mug into his hands and dropping the bag of food onto Jughead's lap. "I didn't want you to be hungry, and I owe you for letting me crash in your house," Sweet Pea murmurs huffily, before once again leaving the trailer.
Jughead watches him intently before poking his head into the paper bag, seeing a homemade bagel breakfast sandwich and an apple. He can tell that Sweet Pea didn't buy this from a restaurant; he must have sprinted home, made it quickly, and sprinted back, which explains why he seemed to be out of breath. Jughead smirks, before getting his phone and typing in Sweet Pea's number.
From: Jughead.
Thx.
A moment later, his phone dings again.
From: Sweet Pea.
See u tonight?
He smirks, taking a bite of the sandwich, and typing out a response immediately.
From: Jughead.
Of course. Can't wait.
