Hi again! Here's another small ficlet with the hopes that this ship survives next week's episode. Enjoy!

It wasn't that she minded. She's known him since they were children and she has seen him attend maybe two parties her whole life –including the disaster of last week. She was now particularly aware that parties weren't his scene and knew that if he did attend the homecoming dance, he would probably be bored, if not outright miserable. But she's never had a boyfriend before, not one who made her heart feel full and nerves spark with affection, and she would be lying if she said she wasn't a tad disappointed that she wouldn't get a chance to dance with him under some tacky cloud decorations. But she also knew that there were bigger things to worry about than dances that barely lasted a few hours, and was secure enough in her self-esteem that going alone didn't seem particularly daunting, especially when she'd have her other friends by her side.

With the chaotic storm that was the planning committee, she didn't have that much time to think about it either. She seemed to be one of the only few reliable people in the team and that meant not only doing her share, but making sure that everybody else was doing there's too. With everything else that was going on in her life, she felt a bit stretched thin, but then again, when has Betty ever been the carefree teen to begin with?

That was perhaps why she didn't notice him slinking into the room. He seemed to have a habit of moving around corners and existing at the edge of spaces, and even though she had developed a sixth sense for his presence, today she was too harried to notice. The conference room the committee was inhabiting was a clutter of flyers, art supplies and half-finished decorations and for the life of her, she couldn't find the bundle of tickets she had in her hands moments ago. She pushed back the single strand of her that had escaped her immaculate ponytail, released a frustrated breath and gently attempted to lift the huge banner that was occupying the center table, crouching low to peer underneath-

"Looking for these?"

She looked up to see him standing before her, all dark hair and lanky limbs, looking adorably sly as he held the up the wad of tickets she had been searching for. She straightened immediately, clapping her hands together. "Yes!" she exclaimed, grabbing the tickets from his hands. And then in a move that surprised them both, she leaned forwards and kissed him squarely on the mouth, in front of everyone in the room. She smiled at his surprised and slightly flustered expression. "Juggie, you're a lifesaver."

"I do have my moments," he muttered, fingers wrapping around her sleeve and tugging once before releasing. It was one of the things she loved about him, even though she could never have expected it: he was touchy when he was with her, his hand lingering on her back, or her elbow, or tugging at her fingers, and seeing how touch-averse he was with other people, this small habit sometimes made her feel almost giddy.

She started to move about the room, getting back into the gist of things, with him trailing behind her almost apprehensively.

"So, when are you going to be done with this stuff?" he asked, picking up a frilly tissue decoration from the tips of his finger and then releasing it like it was something diseased.

"Hopefully by tonight," she sighed. "The decorations are almost complete, but I still have these tickets to sell, and I have to get the list from Melody to see who hasn't gotten them yet and give them a piece of my mind."

"I can help if you want," he offered with a shrug.

She turned around to give him a smile, "No, it's fine, we'll get it done. But you're sweet for offering." Her phone buzzed and she fished it out of her pocket, shooting a quick reply to one of the other girls from the committee asking about seating arrangements. It was at that moment that she remembered, "Shoot! I had to ask Kevin if he'd drive me to the dance on Friday. Have you seen him around?"

She was already on the move again, but Jughead grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop. He was frowning, "Why would Kevin be picking you up for the dance?"

"Oh, he offered a few days ago." Betty explained, in the middle of typing out another text. "I would just tag along with Archie but I have no idea who he's taking and I didn't want to accidentally intrude on an awkward situation."

Jughead didn't stop frowning. Instead he grabbed her hand and started pulling her towards the door. She tugged at his fingers, "Jug?" but he only stopped once they were out of the room and into the empty hallway.

Quizzically, she waited for him to say something but he seemed to searching for words, looking at their intertwined hands almost in confusion. "I thought I was picking you up for the dance," he said finally, voice impossibly small.

Oh. Betty's heart picked up speed, a puzzling mixture of hope and excitement brimming up in her chest that she tried to keep down. Abandoning her half-typed-out text, she stuffed her phone into her pocket and brought up her hand to touch his check. "Hey, you don't have to do that," she said with a small smile, even though talking about it was making her feel sadder about the situation that what was warranted. "I know that this kind of stuff isn't your scene and you don't have to come just because of me."

His frown only deepened, a small indent forming between his eyebrows. "You're my girlfriend, Betty," he said, fingers tightening around her hand. "I want to take you to the dance."

The hope inside her blossomed, taking shape into something more concrete. Suddenly the fantasy of dancing with him underneath cheesy paper decorations didn't seem so far away. Hearing him call her his girlfriend still made stomach swoop low in her belly, and even though it was a bit ridiculous, she loved it.

But underneath her sudden delight, there was still this cloud of doubt, burrowing outwards, refusing to sit still after what had happened last week. She knew that he had said things in the heat of the moment and they had both later apologized, but something about his words must have stuck. Because now, even when he agreed to take her to the dance and was looking at her with that clear look of affection in his eyes, the doubt rose, unwanted and weighty, and she couldn't ignore it. "Jug…" she started, eyes suddenly flitting downwards, "I just… I don't want you to feel pressurized about doing these kinds of things for me, okay? I would love it if you came to the dance with me, but I wouldn't mind if you didn't."

She was suddenly having a hard time meeting his eyes. Maybe because organizing the homecoming dance was just another tick to check off in her perfect persona. Another one of the things that made them so different, that he had used against her at the party. And she hated that she was feeling guilty about doing something that she genuinely enjoyed, just because she had taken to heart words that she knew he hadn't even really meant.

Just like every other time, he seemed to immediately grasp the root of her distress. His hand cupped her cheek, tilting her head back towards his. He looked upset but determined, eyes flashing with something earnest and sincere. "I'm sorry I made you feel like you have to keep this side of you away from me," he said, brows still furrowed. "But you're much more important to me than a vague dislike of social gatherings, Betty. I- I want to make you happy." An almost intense look crossed his face, "I want to do stupid boyfriend stuff for you."

She let out a small laugh, almost an exhale. Bringing his forehead down to hers, she sighed, closing her eyes. "I want to make you happy," she echoed. And that was the essence of it. She like him so much and there was a still a part of her that was afraid that she'd suffocate him with all her cheerleader-slash-perfect-student-peppiness.

"Then you're going to let me pick you up on Friday," he said, thumb moving against her cheek. "All the way from the other side of the street."

She laughed again, bringing their face closer together and kissing him once. The doubt in her gut diffused and she almost felt lighter, like a physical weight had been removed from her body. "Next time, I'm going to ask you," she said. "All romantic style, with flowers and milkshakes and everything."

He moved away slowly, a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth to one side, "Not if I ask you first."