Okay, guys, THE FINALE. I both loved it and felt cheated - like it should have been a 90 minute (TV time, not actual episode time) episode because that beginning section was so rushed and we lost out on some potentially amazing moments. Also, much to my surprise considering her now seemingly pointless interference with Bughead, I wanted more Toni-well, more Choni.
Then again, royalty. *swoons and dies*
SO, if you wanted more from that intro, I did post a drabble-y one-shot about Betty waiting for news with a surprise guest. Check my profile. And if you somehow haven't read Mogitz's take, do that, trust me. I've been following her since her Until Dawn fics, and my heart!
Back to our AU, wherein we have a little lemon scented fluff, and fixing some troubles amongst the core four.
Song: We Used to Wait - Arcade Fire
Disclaimer: Not mine, although if it were, someone would have been stabbed in that finale, if you follow me.
Fifteen: We Used to Wait
"Now it seems strange
How we used to wait for letters to arrive
But what's stranger still
Is how something so small can keep you alive..."
Communication. Connection. I've been thinking about them, about their symbiotic relationship. How one fosters another. How communication has evolved from the time of our parents, from even our elementary school years.
We speak in binary now, in ones and zeroes. We speak in short phrases, text-speak, ever mindful of our character count as we hit send. Sometimes, we can't even be bothered to write it down. We Snapchat it. We share a clip of our lives, captioned cleverly with emojis.
We are always too busy for a real conversation, one with sentences, one where we pour out our hearts and share our secret fears. We seldom make the time.
I miss letters. There's something therapeutic about grabbing a pen and scribbling madly at a piece of paper, front and back if you're really going for it and feel bad about the trees you're killing. You can't see the ellipsis of a response forming—or never being sent—with a letter. You can confess to a letter. You can admit the feelings you can't bear to speak aloud.
You can tear it up, if you still can't stomach someone knowing the truth.
Archie, Betty and I used to write to each other. One of us—usually Betty—would start it, passing it along to whoever was closer in class. We'd each add to it in turn, struggling not to laugh at Archie's doodles of Reggie. A single sheet of paper would circulate throughout the day: three shades of pen and three sets of penmanship (Betty's being the neatest, of course).
I would always try to be the last to receive the letter of the day. The wrinkled page would be carefully folded, tucked in a back pocket and carried home. It was tangible proof of a bond, a reminder that I had two friends I could count on. It was a record of our hopes, our fears and shared jokes.
When I left for Toledo, I wrote letters to Archie and Betty. Archie, he wrote back once in a while (he preferred the phone), but Betty was faithful for the first few months. Every week, it would arrive: a white envelope stuffed with pastel pink stationery, usually three pages front and back. It was a record of her life without me: her classes; her latest find at the bookstore; a song she'd discovered on the radio. She signed each one off the same way:
Riverdale isn't the same without you, Juggie. Be safe out there.
Love you, Betty
My letters, in turn, would speak of JB, of our collection of thrift store vinyl. I'd speak of the future, of wanting to be in New York City, wanting to be a writer and maybe a bartender to pay the bills. Collecting stories for my books. Betty always loved that idea. And when I signed off, I, too, always ended the same way:
I miss our book club. Can't wait for you to drive down here with Pop's like you promised.
Love you more than burgers, Jughead
I'm combing through the letters now, having woken up an hour before my alarm. They're one of the few things I brought back from Toledo. I remember digging the pen into the page each and every time I wrote those words. I remember thinking it was okay, that she would never know how I meant them, because she would always tell us she loved us. Betty has always had that open, giving heart.
In hindsight, I wonder: was she playing the same game? Was it all coded communication, to protect ourselves? More pressing to the day ahead, is Archie doing the same?
The day passed far too quickly for Jughead's liking.
FP had dropped him off at school, his mood improved after their late-night burgers and casual banter about movies. His father had slept the entire night, a first in a week, and Jughead was relieved to see that sparkle of peace in his eyes again. They'd run later than intended that morning, having stopped at Pop's to grab bacon and egg sandwiches to go, which meant no chance to see Betty before classes. It was worth it.
Betty's friends continued to escort her between classes, and aside from a brief staredown with Chuck between first and second period, things were oddly quiet on that front. Archie, too, was noticeably silent at lunch, absently eating his cafeteria mac and cheese as the group chattered about an upcoming Pussycats gig and the Blossom gossip—namely, that the board of trustees did not want tempestuous Cheryl inheriting the maple business.
Jughead texted Betty, holding the phone on his lap. How did your talk with Archie go?
He watched as Betty glanced down at her buzzing phone and picked it up. Biting her lip, she tapped out a quick reply.
OK. He's more upset at me than you, promise.
That still didn't fly with Jughead. Archie had no right to judge Betty for her choices under duress. His phone buzzed again, and Jughead smirked as he read it.
No liver punches for Archie.
Clearly, he was wearing his displeasure on his proverbial sleeve. Taking a deep breath, Jughead chugged his Coke to steel himself for the awkwardness ahead.
"Hey, Arch. You don't have practice tonight right?"
The unusually quiet ginger glanced up from his half-eaten meal. "Huh? No, not tonight."
"Did you want to grab a bite at Pop's after school? I could use your help with something."
Jughead kept his expression calm, despite the roiling acid within his gut. Archie hesitated briefly, seemingly perplexed, but ultimately flashed that trademark smile.
"Sure, Jug. Meet me at my locker?"
"You got it." Noticing Betty staring intently at her phone, Jughead tossed a crumpled napkin across the table. "What's going on, Betts?"
"Just making plans to get the playbook."
Archie grimaced, shaking his head. "I really don't like the idea of you going after that right now. Especially with how pissed off Chuck is."
"Agreed," Jughead chimed in.
"I obviously wouldn't go alone," Betty protested. "And I'm not having this discussion with either of you again."
Ahh. Archie's pissed about it, too. Jughead was reassured somewhat by the exchange. Betty insisted Archie was more upset with her than anything. Perhaps this was the reason why.
Hoping to lighten the mood, Jughead rolled his eyes. "We've never been able to tell her what to do, Archie. Remember the time she tried to climb that tree by the clearing?"
Betty's brow furrowed. "Jughead Jones!"
"You mean the time she insisted she was too light to break that branch, then broke it as she fell into poison oak?" Archie laughed as Betty threw a handful of French fries at him.
"That was not funny! It was all over my thighs. I couldn't sit for three days!"
At this, Veronica and Kevin burst into laughter, only fueling Betty's indignation. Archie, clearly in the mood for mischief, continued to press his luck.
"Or that time Betty swore she could help fix your sink and got a mouthful of rusty water when she turned that pipe back on?"
"I was eleven years old!" Betty protested loudly. "At least I tried!"
Veronica was laughing so hard, she was wheezing for air. Betty, clearly unimpressed with her friends, rose to her feet.
"If you'll excuse me, maybe I'll go work on an article for the Blue and Gold," she announced in a huff.
"Don't go, B!" Veronica pleaded, reaching for her hand. "These hooligans will stop their shenanigans. Right?"
Jughead, recognizing they'd gone a step too far, tugged roughly on his beanie. "Don't go, Betts. Please?"
Betty hesitated, gripping the strap of her purse tightly. Jughead's hand pressed to his heart, his fingers fluttering: one, two, three. Her expression softened immediately, to his relief.
"Fine. But you two owe me a milkshake. Each."
Archie nodded. "Deal!"
Settling back into her chair, Betty reached across the table and stole Jughead's last fry. "That's what you get for starting it," she teased lightly.
Soft chatter continued, refocusing on the Pussycats' newest song, as Jughead's phone buzzed in his lap. A message from Betty was waiting.
You surprise me, Jug.
He replied quickly: How so?
The things you remember. You're so observant. It's why you're great at writing.
He watched as the ellipsis pops up, indicating she's typing, but no message follows. He stared at her askance but she shook her head, blushing.
Tell me the rest later, he sent back.
Someday, I will.
A cryptic reply. It haunted him for the rest of the day.
Pop's was packed, but he and Archie had years of experience with after-school hangs, and they arrived just ahead of the usual rush. Ordering shakes and a plate of chicken fingers and fries to split, they'd settled into light talk of class assignments and teachers while waiting for their food. Delaying the inevitable, Jughead supposed. It was only when their matching chocolate shakes arrived that Archie's mood shifted.
"Arch—"
"Jughead, I owe you an apology," Archie blurted out.
Jughead was completely confused. "You do?"
"Yeah." Archie hesitated, his hands fumbling with his glass. "Look, I don't have a problem with you and… Betty and I talked this morning, and I get it. She's not just my friend, she's yours. And she put you in a really difficult position of being a good friend to her, while being my friend as well. You know, with her arm."
"Oh. Like I said, I just didn't want to push her away from everybody. If she was pissed at me, I wanted her to still call you. And she did, when Polly left."
Archie nodded thoughtfully, taking a deliberate sip of milkshake. "I get it. As for the other thing…" Archie glanced around, mindful of their surroundings. "I'm fine with that. I'm happy for her. I just… Why didn't you tell me?"
It was Jughead's turn to buy time with a slurp of chocolately shake. This was a complicated, messy conversation, particularly in a crowded diner.
"I don't know. I guess… It didn't seem like anything would ever come of it, and our friendship matters more to me than anything. It was all I had to count on before Toledo."
"And that night?"
Jughead hesitated. "I'm not sure what you're asking. That was when it started, if that's what you mean?"
"Yeah, it was. So you weren't hiding it for weeks or anything like that?"
"Is that what this is really about? Thinking we've kept a secret from you for, what, my entire time back in Riverdale?" Archie's averted gaze was all the answer Jughead needed. "It wasn't even twelve hours before you knew. And even if you hadn't asked, we would have talked to you soon after. You're my best friend. Our best friend."
A waitress arrived, bringing a large platter brimming with Pop's gigantic chicken fingers and crispy fries. Archie thanked her and she moved to a nearby table, dropping off a plate of onion rings for a giggling group of pre-teens.
"Of course I would have told you," Jughead continued, absently toying with a fry. "I've never done this. Not for more than a movie or a stupid grade school dance. Fuck, what do you do? I barely get along with people in the first place!" The knot in his stomach was churning, swelling up anew. "I'm going to screw this up, Archie."
"Jughead, relax! It's just—"
"There is no just with her. She's… She's the only woman I've ever trusted enough to even think of trying to… be normal and do this." Jughead crossed his arms and buried his face into the cool Formica table.
"I just mean… There's a reason she's the only one, right? You already know her. She knows you. You don't have to hide anything, or be afraid she'll find out you're not as cool as you try to be. You won't have to explain your family to her, or your dreams. She knows them and she said yes already." Jughead felt Archie's hand upon his shoulder. "Just be yourself."
"Really?" Jughead raised his head, rolling his eyes. "We're going for that cliché?"
"Yeah, it's corny bullshit my dad would say, but that's all she wants. She told me so."
That statement had Jughead's undivided attention. "You talked about me?"
Archie hesitated. "I wanted to be sure she wasn't using you as a rebound. Chuck was a rebound from me, remember?"
Jughead dipped a chicken finger in plum sauce and took a large bite, because if anything called for comfort food, it was this discussion.
"And?"
"And she told me she would never, ever hurt you that way. That she'd liked you for a long time, but had assumed you'd never be interested and moved on from it. She's scared too, you know."
"Of what?"
Archie shrugged and smiled. "Literally everything you're scared of. It's kinda gross, how alike you are. This whole conversation's been a déjà vu nightmare."
They ate in silence, Jughead mulling Archie's words. Understanding where Archie's hurt feelings had originated from was certainly a weight lifted from his shoulders. That weird almost-jealousy hadn't been about a crush on Betty, but feeling left out of what was once a trio. And somehow, knowing Betty was equally unsure of herself eased his doubts. Normalized them, really.
"Your birthday's coming up," Archie noted, nudging the last chicken finger in Jughead's direction. "Any plans?"
Jughead huffed. "You know the plans. You, me and a Bijou double feature. And we tell no one."
"Dude, your first tip for dating: Betty's your movie buddy now. Also, you can't possibly keep your birthday from her. I'm surprised she hasn't figured it out over the years."
"She knows it's the first week of October," Jughead reminded him. "But she has yet to pinpoint the date."
"Jug, you have to tell her. She's your friend. Your friend," he stressed.
"I hate my birthday. Can't we just skip it entirely?"
Archie chuckled to himself. "You know Ethel helps out in the front office, right? Betty and Ethel are buds now. She'll have her pull your file, if she has to."
"Ugh!"
Their meal devoured and a second round of milkshakes ordered, the conversation drifted away from Jughead and Betty's relationship to Archie's feelings for a certain musician. To Jughead's complete lack of surprise, Archie confessed a crush on Valerie. It seemed mutual, but there was a stumbling block: Cheryl's invitation to the Blossom tree-tapping ceremony and accompanying dinner party.
"Valerie doesn't get it," Archie explained. "She doesn't believe that I'm going just to check in on Polly. Or worse, she thinks I'm doing that because of some crush on Betty."
Jughead winced, the latter concern cutting close to the bone. "And what did you tell her?"
"That she would date a guy to find out something important to Josie, wouldn't she? A friend is a friend. The fact Betty isn't a guy doesn't change things."
"Fair enough." Jughead glanced at his phone. "I'm surprised Betty hasn't checked up on us."
"Yeah, I've been expecting her to 'coincidentally' come to Pop's for a snack with Veronica," Archie echoed.
"Unless… You don't think she went after the playbook today, do you?"
Archie's troubled expression only fueled Jughead's concern. His friend threw down more than enough cash to cover their tab, calling out to Pop Tate in apology. Pop waved them away with a smile, unconcerned about two of his best customers. The two teens rushed outside as Jughead called Betty's cell. The call went to voicemail immediately, sending a chill down his spine.
"Veronica," Archie suggested, calling her immediately.
Straight to voicemail. Kevin, too, went to voicemail.
"Well, she said she wasn't going alone," Archie grumbled. "At least we know who's with her."
It did little to assuage Jughead's concern. "Any chance you have Trev's number?"
"Um… yeah, I might." Archie scrolled through his contacts, humming triumphantly. "Got it. It's ringing…. Trev! Hey, it's Archie Andrews… Yeah, I am looking for Betty."
Jughead perked up, leaning closer to hear the conversation.
"I'm watching the parking lot for them. They should be out any minute," Trev told Archie.
"Can you get Betty to call Jughead when they're out? I'll be with him."
"Sure thing… Wait, there they are! I'll tell her to call you."
The call disconnected and Archie sighed, leaning against a nearby car. "Betty Cooper. Always a step ahead of us."
"I should have known. She was adamant we talk tonight, explicitly because you didn't have practice. It didn't occur to me that she would take advantage of that for her own mission."
Jughead's phone buzzed in his pocket and he glanced at it quickly. One new text message, his lock screen announced. Swiping the screen, he read it quickly and felt his stomach drop.
I need you and Archie to meet me now. Somewhere private.
"Betty," he explained to Archie, as he replied. "Come on, we have to hurry."
"Where are we going?"
"The clearing. We need complete privacy and we're only going to find it in those woods."
Betty and Veronica were waiting at the foot of the pathway when he and Archie arrived. Somewhat breathless from jogging home, he staggered backwards as Betty launched herself into his arms.
"Hey! Betts, what happened?"
"We got the book," Veronica announced. "And we're both in it. But that's not the whole story."
He held her tightly, burying his face in her hair as her hands fisted the back of his shirt. She drew several shaky breaths, steadying herself, before slowly pulling away.
"I have to tell him," she whispered.
It took a moment to register, but Jughead clued in: the secret. The one she'd been keeping from Archie. The real reason Miss Grundy had abruptly ended their affair and left Riverdale. But why would she have to tell Archie now?
Unless… Glancing over at Veronica, he noticed the book she was clutching in her right hand. Unless Grundy is in the playbook, too.
"It will be okay," he promised her. "Come on, let's take a walk."
The four of them trudge down the path to the clearing, Veronica leaning on Archie as her heels sink into the soft mud as they curve downhill to the circle of stones. They settle onto them, Betty sharing a large boulder with Jughead, and Veronica and Archie seated across from them. Betty gestures to Veronica, who nods. It's clear to Jughead that Veronica has come for support, and to help Betty unburden herself.
"So, as you can see, we went on a scavenger hunt tonight. Thanks to Trev, we have the infamous playbook." Veronica waved it over her head with a look of disgust. "It is, as promised, a trashy record of 'scoring' with the women of Riverdale High."
"Chuck was the main player keeping a record," Betty adds softly. "I was apparently worth both a cheerleader and crazy girl bonus."
Jughead's fists curled at his side. "That son of a bitch!"
"Juggie? Let it go," Betty pleaded.
No, he would absolutely not let it go. But he would focus on Betty. His arm wrapped protectively around her shoulder, as if to shield her from the painful insult from her ex.
"I was the new girl bonus, and also an ethnic bonus," Veronica remarked scornfully. "But our boy Chuck was not the only one keeping tabs."
"Polly's in there," Betty told them, brushing away a tear.
Archie grimaced. "Oh Betty, I'm so sorry. For what they've done to both of you. I assume it was Jason with Polly?"
"Yes. But she… She's not the only one under Jason's name." Betty glanced over at Jughead, who nodded for her to continue. "Archie… I know about Miss Grundy."
Archie's eyes flashed angrily to Jughead. "You told her?"
"I've known since May," Betty quickly clarified. "It's why I stopped coming over. Why I started avoiding you."
Archie's hands twitched in his lap. "I don't understand. And I don't understand what you mean about the book."
"I caught you! I caught you in the music room, and you were clearly not just taking a lesson. I followed you to her house…" Betty bowed her head. "I knew there might be other students she was seeing, but I didn't expect…"
"Jason," Veronica murmured.
Archie rose slowly, connecting the dots. "She… Jason and Grundy?"
Betty nodded. "But Archie, I… There's something else."
Veronica made her way to Betty's side, crouching down to hold her hand. "Betty and I have been omitting certain facts from you."
Archie paced the clearing, his hands thrust deep inside the pockets of his letterman jacket. If Jughead stared closely enough, he swore he could see them fisted within the confines of the fabric.
"You knew about Grundy," he echoed, emotionless.
"I told Veronica about it. About how there were at least two people she was seeing. We confronted her in May. Told her she had to end it, or we'd report her."
"She blew us off," Veronica noted angrily. "But she did leave town."
"Why would you do that?" Archie demanded. "Why? Was this because of your crush on me?"
Veronica rose to her feet, stepping between the fiery ginger and her friend. "Her name wasn't even Geraldine Grundy! She'd stolen a dead woman's identity!"
"Ronnie!"
"B, he needs to know!" Pivoting on her heel, Veronica walked Archie down. "That woman was a predator, taking advantage of you and who knows how many other guys. Her real name was Jennifer Gibson."
Archie leaned against a tree, shaking his head in disbelief. "Betty, is this true?"
"I'm so sorry, Archie. I just wanted to protect you."
"Maybe so, but you had no right to go behind my back and, what, threaten her?" Archie's hand slapped angrily against the rough bark. "Why didn't you just tell me?"
"We were barely talking by that point! I didn't feel like I could. But I couldn't stand by and let her hurt you. I didn't want to call the police, because it would expose you too." Tears streamed down Betty's face as she stood up, meeting Archie's gaze. "Archie, please? Please forgive me?"
"Us," Veronica chimed in. "I was there too. We did it together, B."
Jughead approached Archie slowly, cautiously laying a hand on his trembling arm. "Hey, we've talked about this. About how that whole relationship began. I think you know Grundy was never as committed as you were. And I think you know Betty meant well, even if she should have tried to talk to you first."
"Yeah…" Archie ran his hand roughly through his hair. "But Chuck made that impossible. He likes to destroy things. Hurt people."
Betty shrugged her shoulder sadly. "I know. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to see what was happening."
"That has nothing to do with strength," Jughead rebutted her.
"Jug is right, Betty. He abused you. And… Even if you did it wrong, it's probably for the best that Grundy and I are through." Archie nodded to Jughead, approaching Betty slowly. "But you have to promise me you'll never do that again. That you'll come to me if you think I'm in trouble."
"I promise, Archie. I've felt awful about it for months."
Archie embraced Betty, accepting her apology as a relieved Jughead looked on. He'd told Betty that Archie would forgive her, but seeing it come to fruition filled him with an intense peace. Betty had spoken true the night before: they needed all hands on deck. They needed the strength of their friendship in a town filled with secrets and lies.
"No more crying, alright?" Archie teased her lightly. "I prefer you smiling, or telling Chuck to go to hell."
"I'll work on it," Betty replied, chuckling softly as she brushed away the last of her tears.
"Speaking of Mister Asshole, what are we going to do with this?" Veronica waved around the playbook. "Pretty sure he wouldn't like being exposed for the misogynistic pig he is."
"True, but the Jason Blossom entries might help us find his killer," Betty countered. "We need to comb through it before we do anything else."
"Being shamed by Jason could have infuriated someone enough to hurt him. I know I feel the urge to bury Chuck for what he wrote about me," Veronica spat.
"Which means if the police find it, Polly becomes a suspect," Jughead reluctantly observed.
"So we keep it to ourselves for now," Archie agreed. "More ammunition if Chuck comes after Betty again."
The group in agreement, they separated: Veronica drove Archie home, leaving Betty and Jughead to the privacy of his trailer. His father was at his meeting, affording them an hour of solitude before his return. It was clear from the weary pace of their return to the Jones home that the evening had taken a toll on Betty. It occurred to Jughead that she'd probably skipped dinner in her eagerness to track down the playbook, and he immediately rectified that. Urging her to settle on the couch, he found a container of potato salad in the fridge and poured a glass of orange juice.
"Betts?"
"Hmm?"
He sheepishly presented her with his offerings. "It's not much, but you need to eat."
Reluctantly, she accepted the glass of juice. "Don't really have an appetite, but I know you're right. Thank you."
Jughead settled onto the couch beside her, leaning into the ragged pillow propped against the arm. What a day, he mused, relieved to see Betty down half her juice before gingerly reaching for the salad container. At least their trio was back on solid ground. But this playbook… He couldn't think of it now, or he'd want to hunt Clayton down at school.
The Blossom angle, however, did intrigue him. Had Jason shamed a woman who, like Veronica, would want to go full dark, no stars?
Betty glanced over at him, nodding in his direction. "Juggie? Can I…?"
"Always."
Stretching his right leg along the length of the sofa, he gently pulled her close, resting her back against his chest. His arm wrapped loosely around her waist as she sighed happily and slowly began to eat.
"Did you want some?" she offered.
"All yours," he murmured.
"I like how that sounds," she whispered, tilting her head backwards to see him.
Jughead leaned forward, kissing her forehead lightly. She giggled softly, stretching her hand up to touch his cheek. He leaned into her touch, mesmerized by her, by how she innatelyunderstood how much little gestures could mean.
"Eat," he urged her.
"Stop distracting me."
Jughead mulled this for a moment, then grinned. "The quicker you finish that salad, the quicker you can kiss me as much as possible before my dad gets home."
Her cheeks flushed crimson but it paid off: she quickly dove into the potato salad, despite her continued protests that she wasn't hungry. He toyed with her ponytail as she ate, twirling strands about his fingers before releasing them. She pushed her sleeves up to her elbows as she snacked, Jughead noticing that her bruised arm was beginning to heal. A welcome sight, and oddly poetic, given her freedom from Chuck's cruelty.
"I can't eat anymore," Betty protested, waving the nearly empty container at him.
With an exaggerated rolling of his eyes, Jughead relented. "Fine, you can stop."
The container discarded on the coffee table, Betty twisted herself around, half-straddling his lap. Their kisses were soft at first, a teasing taste, but the intensity grew as hands fumbled and wandered between them. Betty's hand grabbed his, sliding it firmly against her breast, and he shuddered as he squeezed gently. Her own fingers, keen to grab, tugged at his beanie, releasing his messy waves.
"Wear it," he murmured breathlessly, breaking away from her soft lips.
Betty tugged it on with a sly grin. "Careful. I might not give it back."
"I don't need it when I'm with you."
She bit her lip, flushing as she glanced away. "Oh, Jug…"
"Hey, no hurting that lip. I like it a lot."
Her fingers laced through his hair, tugging gently as his lips melted into hers. Tangled limbs and tangled tongues and Jughead's body was on fire. He peppered kisses along her neck, groaning as she shifted in his lap and brushed against a growing problem. Her soft gasp of recognition went straight to his groin.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"For being incredibly beautiful? You're forgiven," Jughead scoffed.
She leaned back slightly, her shirt halfway up her stomach now. "I mean, that can't be comfortable…"
His hands cradled her face gently, feeling strangely proud of how well his beanie fit her. "How about you let me worry about that, and we enjoy the last minutes of privacy we have before my dad comes home?"
Betty shivered as his fingers danced along the bare skin of her stomach. Her hands gripped his shoulders tightly as she leaned back, pulling him on top of her. He groaned softly against her pale pink lips, his hand gripping her hip and pulling her heat against him. A rumble in Betty's throat left him reeling.
Too fast. They were moving too fast.
"Betts?"
"Kiss me one more time," she pleaded.
He couldn't deny her, couldn't deny himself as her lips parted anew, her mouth as hungry as his. His heart was racing, slamming into his ribcage, longing to be free, to be with her, to be hers. Reluctantly, his hand slid between them, pressing gently against her chest, willing himself to come up for air.
"We need to—"
"Cool down," she finished breathlessly. "I know."
She straightened her clothes, smoothing her sweater with her palms. Jughead paused briefly, admiring the flushed glow of her cheeks before heading to the bathroom, where it took several splashes of cold water and thinking of disgusting scenes in horror movies to calm things down. Thank you, Kevin, for that tip! Running a hand through his dishevelled hair, he returned to the couch, where he found Betty fluffing the cushions and straightening the throw blankets.
"You know, the place usually looks messy."
Betty shrugged her shoulders. "I needed something to occupy my mind."
"Yeah, but this just looks suspicious." Reaching down, Jughead threw a throw pillow on the ground. "Now that's more like it."
Outside, the familiar rumbling of a pick-up truck signalled the return of FP. The two of them burst into giggles, well aware of how close they'd come to being busted by a no-nonsense biker.
"Guess that's my cue to go home."
Jughead frowned. "Or you could stay a little longer. Watch TV?"
Betty shook her head sadly. "I would love to, but I have a quiz tomorrow in History that I haven't even begun to study for. Raincheck?"
"Definitely."
FP's footsteps plodded up the porch steps and the teens took a step apart in synchronicity. FP, however, smirked as he entered his home, eyeing his son and his guest suspiciously.
"Am I interrupting, kids?"
"Not at all, Mr. Jones. Jughead and I just wrapped up some work on an article for the Blue and Gold." Betty reached for her bag, hoisting it onto her shoulder. "I should head home before my mother worries."
"Alice isn't exactly the most relaxed woman in Riverdale," FP concurred. "Jughead lend you his thinking cap?"
Jughead cursed inwardly as his father chuckled. Betty was still wearing his beanie. There was no way he was getting around it: FP knew something was happening between them. An embarrassed Betty plucked it from her head, handing it back.
"I was cold," Betty offered weakly.
FP's exaggerated nod made it clear he wasn't buying her explanation, although he mercifully relented. "Need a drive home, Betty?"
"Yes," Jughead answered, as quickly as she answered in opposition.
"Jughead, your dad has had a long day and I am perfectly fine to walk home," Betty protested.
"Jughead's dad is a grown man and a father, and would feel much better about you getting a drive home," FP countered.
"And so would I," Jughead insisted. "Or let me walk you, at least."
Betty, clearly uncomfortable with accepting a favour, fidgeted with her bag. "Or I could call my dad for a ride. He should still be at the Register."
FP grimaced at the mention of Hal Cooper, something Jughead made a mental note of. "Betty, you're part of our family. We take care of our family, alright?"
A frantic glance from Betty was met with a firm stance from Jughead. Realizing she was outnumbered, Betty threw her last card on the table.
"Okay. But only if you let me bake you some cookies as a thank you."
Like father, like son: "Deal! You coming for the ride, Jughead?"
FP's tone left no room for argument. Not that Jughead would turn down a chance to spend more time with Betty.
"Coming," he affirmed, tugging on his beanie.
The drive to the Cooper home was relatively quiet, with Betty lobbing softball questions to FP about his favourite cookies, whether he would be at Fred's Sunday dinner, and, to Jughead's horror, a pointed ask for his son's birthday. FP deflected that one, noting only that it was soon, to Betty's dismay.
Betty, ever the clever one, bid FP goodnight with a kiss on the cheek. Jughead laughed as his father flushed and stammered at the unexpected gesture of affection. Jughead, too, was kissed on the cheek, with Betty promising to see him in the morning for the walk to school. As the door to the Cooper home swung shut behind her, FP revved the engine and made a U-turn.
"I was right," FP crowed triumphantly.
"Right about what?" Jughead deflected.
"You two are subtle as a sledgehammer. You lied to me the night she slept over."
"Dad, I promise, we weren't dating then."
"But you are now," FP concluded.
Jughead slumped in his seat, annoyed at his slip. "Literally since Sunday night. Fine, you're so clever. But Dad, you can't say anything to anyone."
"Why not? She embarrassed to be dating a Southsider?"
"No! Betty's never, ever judged us. And if you were sober, you would have noticed that when we were growing up."
It was a low blow, but his father had crossed a line Jughead hadn't realized he'd drawn: he and Betty versus the world.
FP winced, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "I just know what it's like… to be treated like a dirty secret. I don't want that for you. You're a good kid, Jug."
Reluctantly, Jughead explained their situation with Chuck, pointing out how Betty had been hurt defending Jughead from his unjust arrest. How she'd stayed over because of the abuse she was enduring. By the time they'd reached home, FP was nodding sympathetically.
"I get it. Your secret is safe with me."
"Thanks." A beat. "Your meeting go okay?"
"As okay as they can be, considering." Killing the engine, FP sighed. "I wish I could be around for you more. That I didn't need to go every day."
"You don't need to apologize for that."
"I'm trying, Jug. I really am." FP's voice cracked as he looked away. "I want to be a good dad for you."
"You are a good dad. I'm glad I came home," Jughead added sincerely.
The smile on his father's face was proof his honesty was worthwhile. FP's arm wrapped around him as they headed inside, and for the first time in his life, it truly felt like home. His father headed straight to sleep in anticipation of an early start at the construction site, but Jughead lay in bed, sleepless with swollen lips, smiling as he looked at the pictures he'd taken of Betty over the last few weeks. The photo of her in his beanie, bedhead and bare-faced, was his favourite.
His phone buzzed in his hand and he opened a message from his Muse.
Your dad knows, doesn't he?
Jughead chuckled. He does but he won't tell anyone. I told him about Chuck. Pretty sure he wants to kick his ass. I told him to get in line.
Betty replied quickly. Does he like me?
Jughead rolled his eyes. Betty, how have you not noticed this town doting on you for your entire life? Besides, you offered food to a Jones. Guaranteed approval.
Several minutes passed, before a reply popped up. I didn't notice you wanting to kiss me for five years.
Let's chalk that up to my defensive anti-social demeanor, he sent back.
And we'll chalk my failings up to perpetual insecurity from a family that expects more than perfection 24-7, Betty replied quickly.
Jughead sighed, flipping through his photos and finding one from the party. Betty was laughing at a joke Veronica was telling, her curls flipped back and her green eyes wide and bright. Hitting send, he added a message.
I'm dating that beautiful, intelligent woman. Me. I'm the one who should be insecure.
Setting his beanie on the bedstand and turning off the late, Jughead chuckled as his phone buzzed twice in quick succession. She'd retaliated with a photo of her own: Jughead, bent over his laptop in the Blue and Gold office, checking over an article on the Blossom case. When had she taken this?
I'm dating an intelligent, loyal, loving guy that I can't believe was single. That's never happening again, world. He's mine.
Jughead knew he was grinning like an idiot, but he couldn't help it. Shouldn't you be sleeping? Or studying for that quiz?
I'd sleep better if you were here, came her response, complete with a series of hearts.
Put your phone on silent, he fired back, counting to ten before dialing her number. Betty answered on the first ring, her voice hushed.
"Juggie?"
"Are you in bed?"
"Yes…"
"Close your eyes," he told her. "Are you comfortable?"
"I'd be more comfortable if you were here to hold me," she whispered.
"Imagine it," he told her. "I'm right there, right beside you. Just like Sunday night. My arm's wrapped around you, keeping you safe. The sheets are soft, but your skin is softer. It's heaven. Your hair is tickling my nose, but I won't move, because your shampoo smells like strawberries and let's be real, I love food."
Betty giggled softly, and he could hear her shifting around in bed. "You do love food more than anyone in the world."
"I'm right there, Betts. Imagine I'm whispering this in your ear, right beside you. Can you do that?"
"Mmmhmm. I remember Sunday. I remember you being here."
Jughead rolled over, stifling a yawn. "We're both so tired, so we burrow into the pillows together. And I know you're worrying about your quiz, even though you're the smartest person I know, so I kiss your head and tell you that science has proven that a goodnight's sleep is better than another half an hour of reciting facts in your head."
"You know me so well. But you're right." She yawned softly on the other end. "Juggie?"
"Yeah?"
"Will you finally tell me your birthday?"
"Nice try, Betts."
"But I want to get you a gift," she complained sleepily.
"You're my gift, Betty Cooper." He swallowed hard, fighting the unexpected wave of emotions within him. "I don't need anything else."
"You're too sweet to me." Her voice was faint, mumbled and soft. "But I… need to know…"
"You falling asleep?"
"Mmmm."
In an impulsive moment—perhaps a courage fueled by Betty's barely conscious state, he whispered, "It's sometime this week, sleepyhead."
"Hmm. That's soon…"
Her breathing was shallow, her voice muffled against the phone. He closed his eyes, imagining her beside him. How her body would curve perfectly against his. The warmth of her skin radiating through her shirt. Yeah, he'd have to slip out and climb that ladder again soon.
"Time to sleep, Betts," he murmured.
"Night… Juggie…"
Jughead smiled, listening to her breathe for a long moment. "Goodnight, Betty," he whispered at last, ending the call.
Now that's all fluffy and taken care of... it's Jughead's birthday this week in the fic timeline.
(Did it ever bother you that Betty never knew Jughead's birthday in the show, despite knowing the guys her whole life pretty much? I tried to explain it here, that Jughead has literally been evading telling anyone since he was small.)
Review, leave me love, tell me about how the finale made you feel and what you hope for season 3. In the next two chapters, we find out Betty's super secret, the one Chuck knows. Any guesses?
