"Jughead doesn't have quite the ring of Indiana, but I can make it work."

876 words of Bughead.

-.-.-

"I never photograph people, you wanna be my first?"
(From kazookidisosoabuggie on Tumblr)

Written for my 2019 Summer Prompt Challenge on Ao3.

Photograph

Betty groaned as her ponytail once more hooked on a tree branch. It was easy to disentangle the blond locks, but time consuming. Rather than throwing it back up into her signature hair style Betty decided to braid her hair. It felt…off, but at least it wouldn't snag on any more trees.

"Don't even want to know how many spiders are in my hair now," Betty puckered her lips and started walking again. There was some semblance of a path through these trees and Betty had elected to follow it until her curiosity led her elsewhere.

She snapped photos every few yards, capturing as many angles on as many indigenous plants as possible. She was looking for a bird - a very specific, very colorful one - but other than a few centipedes and the uncounted spiders Betty had yet to see any creatures.

A snap off to her left drew her attention. She let her camera drop back to hang at her neck. Path officially abandoned.

"Oh, you're a person," Betty sighed, shoulders sagging as she took in the man lying on the ground.

He scowled up at her, "Sorry to disappoint." There was a rope wrapped around his torso and a pistol in a holster at his hip.

"What are you doing here?" Betty took a step back. He rolled his eyes and attempted to stand. A grimace brought Betty closer, "Are you okay?"

She was already pushing him onto a log so she could check his ankle - definitely sprained - when he chuckled, "Weren't you just backing away? Ya know, from the guy with the gun."

"The guy with the gun is hurt," Betty shrugged. She yanked his boot off and pulled an ace wrap from the bag on her hip.

"I'm Jughead, Jones." Betty paused, raised a brow. He shrugged, "It's honestly better than my real name, don't judge." Betty pursed her lips and continued wrapping his ankle.

"I'm Betty Cooper." She nodded down at the camera hanging between them. "I'm a wildlife photographer."

Jughead nodded. Betty tried his boot back on for him, something he smirked at, but didn't comment on.

"So, Jughead," Betty stood up straight, interlocked her hands behind her back, "Why are you in this jungle? In the middle of the Pacific…with a gun."

"Looking for something," Jughead smiled at her. He tested his ankle, jostled his foot a bit, before standing up entirely. "And not everyone is as friendly as pretty wildlife photographers."

Betty reddened. She took a step back, blamed it on the gun despite the butterflies hatching in her stomach.

"You wouldn't happen to have a GPS on ya, would you?"

She did, of course, but she tilted her head instead of reaching into her bag. "Why?" He sighed.

"Because mine is at the top of a cliff about…oh, one massive tumble that way." Jughead pointed north. Betty glanced in that direction. She saw trees, and vines, and some disturbed undergrowth.

"Fine," Betty said. She pulled her GPS from her bag and narrowed her eyes on him, "But I'm not leaving you until I get it back."

"Sounds fair." Jugheads smiled at her again, a smirk really, and the butterflies all burst out to torpedo around her stomach. Damn it. She was blaming the beanie. It was cute, looked vaguely like a crown, and obviously it's cuteness was clouding her judgement of the man wearing it.

Yup. Totally logical.

Betty followed him up a windy ridge and was not at all surprised that he'd fallen when she saw his base camp.

"You are aware you made camp on slab of granite, aren't you?" Betty watched his face scrunch up. "Granite crumbles."

Jughead's eyebrows shot up, "That explains some things." He handed her back the GPS before attending to his things. Well, he shoved everything into his pack and swung the monstrosity over his shoulder. "Why do they make counter tops out of it then?"

"Aesthetic." Betty shrugged. She had not joined him out on the ledge. Someone needed to be able to call for help should he break his neck the next time. "And they seal that granite to keep it from crumbling as easily."

"You're good at this." Jughead looked her up and down. Betty straightened. He walked back over to her, "You wouldn't happen to want to photograph something further up this mountain would you?"

Technically the bird she was sent here to photograph was a foraging creature. "I could be persuaded." Betty grinned at him. An idea was forming in her head.

Her agent had been asking her to branch out, do something more edgy. And Jughead Jones had a sharp jawline and a leather jacket. That was edgy

"Name your price." Jughead hooked his thumbs on the straps of his pack.

"Well…" Betty tilted her head back and forth, she kept her eyes on the ground. "I've never photographed people before." She looked up at him through her lashes, "Wanna be my first?"

His ears were pink and he let out a chuckle that was definitely all nerves. He shrugged, "Sure."

"Great!" Betty chirped, ignoring the flipflop of her stomach as Jughead looked into her eyes. "Jughead doesn't have quite the ring of Indiana, but I can make it work."

Reviews Appreciated!