"Kinda like art. I never know how to describe art, either."
The blush that had ravaged over Jughead's neck and face after that line came back to Betty even over a week later, and she sighed. The memory gave her a heady, swooping sensation somewhere near her navel and she struggled to tamp it down.
She wasn't really sure, here. Was she even ready to think about dating again? And maybe he wasn't even single - she was getting ahead of herself. Veronica was clearly with Archie, if the raven-haired woman's seat in his lap at the housewarming party gave any indication. Jellybean was his sister, but there had also been a few other women there. Maybe he was dating one of them.
She shouldn't even be entertaining the idea at all, about anyone, really. It was the last half of August and there were weddings almost back to back until slowing to a more reasonable pace after September. Most of her energy needed to be directed there, even if that sometimes meant subsisting on ramen and chocolate drizzled croissants out of sheer laziness and over-exhaustion.
Betty set her phone down to charge after a long conference call with a nervous bride and the florist providing the flowers for her wedding the following weekend. She needed a shower and potentially the whole bottle of rosé in the fridge.
She made a stop at the window that opened onto the fire escape, poking her head out to survey her urban garden. Over her time in the building, she'd managed to cram 23 containers of organically enriched soil - ranging in size from small potted plant to giant front step display - onto the old platform outside her window. They were all bursting with green and drinking up the sun. Noting that the daylilies need an extra shot of water later, she retreated to the bathroom and cranked the water on.
Everything was fine -
Until she near-simultaneously burst into song and got shampoo suds in her eyes. Which led to a blind flail.
Which caused the inevitable catastrophe.
Betty's hand closed around the shower head to keep herself upright and it fell away from the tiled wall with a shocking amount of ease, accompanied by her shriek and the metallic bang of it dropping to the floor of the tub.
Water streamed out onto her, over her, and the soap in her eyes hindered any quick thinking she might have been capable of otherwise. After an embarrassing stretch of time that had her feeling along the tiled walls and smooth curve of the tub, Betty fumbled with the taps, cutting the water off.
There was a knock at the door three minutes after her frantic call to the building manager, and she pulled the towel around herself tightly.
Jughead knew which apartment Betty lived in, and so he also knew who he would be seeing when the building manager called him, asking him to go down the apartment below his. Maria relayed very little information on what was actually wrong, but it involved water, and he was positive he didn't have much in the way of plumbing skills.
When they moved in, Maria had mentioned how she was looking for another 'on call handyman' for the building, and Jughead had offered himself up as a tentative solution. He'd already patched some drywall, repainted the railings in the back alley, powerwashed the front walk-up, and replaced about 87 lightbulbs around the property.
He wasn't really qualified, as in he never went to school for a trade and learned any skills officially. But he'd been known to MacGyver a solution to many a problem in the past, and extra cash was extra cash.
He hadn't really been expecting Betty to answer the door in a distractingly small towel, hair dark and saturated with water, soap suds still sitting on her shoulders. But then again, he'd only just gotten the call.
Her eyelashes were still damp, a few of them clumping wetly. She smelled like fruit.
"Jughead?"
"Uh, hi. Maria said you had a problem?"
"Yeah, she - isn't coming?" There was an unsure, anxious lilt in her voice, and he suddenly wanted to fix whatever was causing it.
"No, she's out of town and I kinda started doing stuff around here, so…" He held up the toolbox in his hand.
"Oh," she remarked, before opening the door wider to allow him entry. When she closed it behind him, he cleared his throat.
"I'm guessing something in the bathroom broke," he started, trying not to let his eyes linger on the damp skin covering her collarbones.
"Ha, yes, I don't usually sit around my house, half-showered. I, uh, almost slipped and grabbed the shower head and… well." She nodded in the direction of her bathroom and he made his way, her padding along behind him.
The bathroom was humid and warm, and smelled strongly of what he assumed was her soap, the smell he'd noted upon her answering the door. As expected, the chrome showerhead was sitting in the bathtub innocently, and he resisted the urge to snort. He felt her eyes between his shoulder blades as he bent to pick it up, inspecting the fixture and then investigating the bathroom wall where it should be affixed to.
When he turned back to look at her, she was fiddling with the edge of her towel, eyes wide and striking. Jughead's throat felt tight, so he forced himself to swallow, hoping to clear the feeling. It didn't work.
"I'm no master plumber but I think we just need a new showerhead."
Betty let out a puff of air, glancing down in relief.
"I didn't do irreparable damage?"
"No," he chuckled lowly. "I doubt it was even mostly your fault. It looks old, it was probably loose anyhow, and the washer inside is all dried up and crumbly. The coupler is cracked, but I think that's more out of age and you suddenly needing to grab it than anything else."
"So…?"
"It would have had to be replaced soon anyhow, is my guess." Jughead again looked closely at the exposed piping, nodding to himself. "So bad news is, I can't fix it this second, cause I have to go to the hardware store for parts. Good news is, it'll probably be fixed really quickly after that?" he offered.
"Whew." Betty grinned thankfully. She raised a hand to her hair, and Jughead heard the faintly sticky sound the shampoo residue made as she pulled away again.
"That has to be uncomfortable," he gestured in her general direction, ignoring the renewed burn on his cheeks. "Do you wanna rinse off?"
"You're holding my shower fixture," she commented bluntly, as if it was obvious why she was soapy.
"I meant in our shower, upstairs. Jelly won't mind." He paused, thinking. "Unless that's weird. Is it weird?"
Betty laughed.
"Uh, it might be, but I don't care. I'm cold, and sticky. So yes, please."
Jughead's stomach fluttered more insistently, and he set about grabbing his tool box and the pieces of the showerhead in order to take it with him to the store. Betty had disappeared, and a minute later she was back, flip flops on her feet and a bundle of clothing in her hands.
The made their way to the stairs after she locked her door, and she followed him up to the third floor. Jughead tried not to glance at her too many times, keeping his eyes front and centre as he let them into 308.
"That was quick," JB's voice drifted into the hallway from the living room. "What sort of disaster has befallen our neighbour?"
"Uh, her shower head broke mid-shower, and she's here to use ours," Jughead called, praying JB didn't make any of the comments she had taken to making about Betty in his presence. A moment later, Jellybean was at the corner, poking her head around to see.
"Killer outfit, Betty," Jelly remarked with a grin, and ushered Betty back towards their bathroom, the edge of her towel disappearing behind the door jamb. Jelly's voice chatted away quietly, and he stopped trying to listen.
"I'm gonna go now!" he called after them, and received a chorus response of vaguely reverberating 'okay's. Jughead set his toolbox down by the front door, and made sure he had his keys and wallet. Trying not to think about what leaving Betty alone with Jellybean would result in, he shut the front door behind himself, locking the deadbolt into place.
When Betty emerged from the strangely familiar bathroom that was not precisely like her own downstairs, Jellybean was sitting cross-legged in the centre of their couch with a thick book in her hands.
"Better?" she chirped, a smile flicking over her features.
"Much, thank you."
Jellybean patted the empty space next to her.
"Jug's not back yet, but you can hang with me if you like."
"What are you reading?" Betty questioned, lowering herself onto the couch.
JB flipped the cover up so she could see. What to Expect When You're Expecting stared back at her.
"Super cliche, but since I know nothing about babies or being pregnant, it helps me trick myself into not having a meltdown." Jellybean shrugged.
"My sister was terrified. I think she read that book like 17 times, probably." Betty laughed.
"How old are they now?"
"They'll be four next February."
Polly and Jason had gotten the added surprise of twins on top of an unexpected pregnancy. Betty remembered the sheer panic but also the incredible joy her sister and her then-fiance had gone through.
"I'm super glad I didn't get the two-for-one deal, myself," JB said, setting the book down on the coffee table. "I think one is about as many as I can handle - on a good day."
"Everything will be okay," Betty consoled. "Your brother really cares about you, huh?"
"Yeah." She nodded. "He didn't even… It took him like two seconds to ask me to live with him here. He didn't even hesitate. I owe him big time."
Betty heard a catch in her voice, and a fraction of a second later, the other woman's eyes glossed over with moisture. Betty's heart ached for her.
"Oh, Jellybean, everything will be okay," she repeated, reaching out to clasp her hands tightly. They hadn't known each other that long, but Betty had already felt a strong need to help the younger girl.
"You think?" JB asked, unsure, and Betty was struck with the notion that this was probably an abnormal trait for JB to be showing to other people. She recognized the flash of insecurity in her eyes.
"I know. I think everyone thinks they won't be a good parent, or won't have a enough money, or they'll screw their kid up. Like I said, Polly was terrified. And she had Jason, the world's calmest human. Everyone's worried they can't do it, but you're in a better position than most. You'll be a great mom."
JB was quiet. She didn't pull away from Betty's hands, and they stayed like that until Jughead's key scraped the lock back, announcing his return.
A/N: Thank you so much for the support of this fic. You guys continue to blow me away with your comments and love.
Some people talk/ask about JB in this fic, and what her story is (which, btw, thank you because I didn't know how well she was going to go over as such a central character, considering how I see her in my head has no basis in anything other than 'it feels right'). Don't worry, enough of her past will come out soon enough. There's a story there, though it's not the central point because Bughead is always my central her story line plays a part in things, so...
There's also some seriousness coming up, as well and ridiculousness. I may have accidentally fooled you into thinking this was just a fluff piece full of neighbourly love, but it actually has some more serious and dark points I'm going to touch on.
(SDCC2017 is over and we have been blessed. Let us bask in this from now until October 11th.)
Please leave me a comment, and let me know what you thought, what you think might happen, what you hope against hope for your little fangirling heart, whether it's about this or Riverdale in general. I am HERE for it all.