"Two burgers and one grilled cheese at your service."
Betty nearly jumped at the words, her hands shaking slightly as she took the bag of takeout food Pop was handing her over the diner's counter.
"Tell Jughead and Sweet Pea I said hi," he told her with an avuncular smile.
Betty tried to smile back, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. Of course, he recognized their order.
"I will," she mumbled, her thumb fiddling with the groove lining the handle of the plastic bag. "Thanks Pop."
"Are you alright, Betty?" Pop asked, noticing her nervous tension.
"Yes," she quickly covered up. "Just a long week."
That was an understatement.
Things had been off ever since their fight. She hadn't seen Jughead once since he left her apartment Monday morning. Their only communication since then a series of polite, cursory texts.
Even in their messages, it was like they were tiptoeing around each other, afraid of saying anything that might resemble their usual banter or teasing. Fearing it would set the other off.
Betty couldn't take it any longer. She hoped deciding to show up at the garage with lunch would finally thaw some of the ice between them.
The truth was, with only limited virtual interactions since he'd left her apartment, she had no idea where they stood.
And it scared her.
When she'd stirred awake that Monday morning, she realized he wasn't in bed with her. She rolled over onto her back, blanching as the bright sun from the window covered her face. Her eyes fluttered open unhappily and she saw him sitting in the armchair in the corner watching her. He was fully dressed, wearing the same pair of jeans he'd had on when he showed up after work on Friday. His overnight bag zipped shut next to him.
"Hey," he murmured, standing up when he understood she was awake.
"What time is it?" she asked groggily.
"Almost 11," he replied.
Betty shook her head. Had she really slept that late? She knew it was a holiday and she had nowhere to run off to, but still, it was unlike her. She felt emptied.
Jughead perched on the edge of the bed as she sat up slowly, bracing against the pillows.
"I'm going to head out," he said softly. "Sweet Pea and the guys want to drive down to Seaside to look at some motorcycle parts."
Betty blinked, bleary-eyed, swallowing down the start of a protest on her tongue.
They had been supposed to spend the long weekend together. But that was ruined now.
"Okay," she whispered instead.
Something unreadable passed through his eyes.
Relief she'd let him go so easily? Disappointment she wasn't begging him to stay? To talk about what had happened?
Had part of him wanted her to by waiting until she woke up to leave?
Before she could wrap her disoriented head around all the possibilities, he stood up, his expression settling back to a disarming neutral.
"I'll see you later," he said, leaning down over her to gently pull a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His hand lingered for a moment, but he made no other move to touch her.
And just like that he was gone.
Betty spent the rest of the day hibernating alone in her apartment, stewing in how shitty she felt.
For a moment she contemplated calling her best friend. But Veronica was improbably still smitten with Archie and had gone to visit him on tour. Even if Betty hadn't felt bad at bothering her on the last day of the weekend, she didn't think it would really help her to rehash everything.
Maybe this was her own form of self-punishment. Retreating in on herself and letting the witches' brew of hurt and remorse sizzle over her skin.
She was a shitty girlfriend, she berated herself as she made coffee, watching numbly as the hot water spilled from the kettle into her mug, dissolving the crystals. Not defending him against her family's prejudices. Once again thinking about her needs and not his.
And yet, even when she had attempted an apology, he'd retaliated by plunging the knife in.
A defense mechanism for his own insecurities, she intuited. But it didn't dull the sharpness of the blade.
His words during their fight hung in the air above her like ash after an eruption, refusing to be unheard.
Did he regret forgiving her all those months ago? Did he think of them as a mistake?
No matter what she did to distract herself, the thoughts clung to her. She couldn't escape or outrun them.
The worst part, though, was she didn't know how to fix things.
Because his leaving that morning suggested he too preferred not to talk about it. To pretend the ground beneath their feet hadn't in some way shifted. And where did that leave them?
Texting him later that night left her even more confused. She'd thought she might be able to start clearing the air between them by checking in, showing she was thinking of him.
But the words just felt strained, unnatural. Even as she typed them.
Betty: Hope you guys had fun today.
He wrote back after a few minutes. Each flash of blinking ellipses turning over her stomach as she waited.
Jughead: Yeah, it was nice. How was your day?
She bit her lip, trying to think of a way to express her regret without pushing too hard on their fragile impasse. Without breaking open the skin.
Betty: It was okay. I'm sorry I woke up so late this morning.
But if he read between the lines of what she was really trying to say, he didn't acknowledge it in his response. Or he withdrew into his own implicit subtext.
Jughead: It happens. You were tired.
Betty: Yeah…
Jughead: I'm pretty beat, Betts. Have a good night.
His use of her cherished nickname was like a tiny speck of light in a dark storm, but it faded quickly, and she fell into a restless sleep.
It continued like that for the rest of the week. The two of them walking on eggshells.
Each day, taking halting turns as the first one to write some sort of greeting. A few stilted, casual messages following. How are you? How's work? Nothing deeper. The exchanges petering out as soon as they veered even slightly too personal.
Betty knew they were teetering on a tightrope and someone had to be the first to let go and fall.
After yet another night of tossing and turning, feeling like her body was suffering withdrawal from him, she worked up the courage Thursday morning to ask him to come over that night.
Initially he'd agreed, and she hurried home from work with the idea to make dinner for the two of them.
As the rosemary roasted chicken and potatoes cooked in the oven, she took a long shower, covering every inch of her body in the vanilla body wash she knew he liked and shaving her legs in even lines. After drying off, she slipped into a lacy black bustier and matching underwear under a pretty yellow floral-patterned mini dress. Hoping that if she couldn't at least smooth things over with food and an actual conversation, seducing him might do the trick.
Maybe Sweet Pea was right about that fight kink after all, she thought with an optimistic laugh.
When she returned to the kitchen a few minutes after 7 pm, she noticed the notification from him on her phone.
Jughead: I'm sorry. Work's running later than I thought.
She frowned, her heart sinking a little. She didn't think he was lying, but part of her wondered. As she deliberated what to respond, another message came through.
Jughead: I can still come over if you want, but I'll probably just end up crashing.
Betty looked down at herself, cringing. Her face flaming in embarrassment even though she was alone. Who was she kidding? Pathetically dolling herself up thinking it would solve things. That connecting physically could bridge the distance between them.
As much as she wanted to see him, the anxiety it would provoke to wait up for him all evening, only to end with the two of them falling into another silent, awkward night of sleep in her bed, didn't seem worth it. Especially knowing he didn't really want to be there. Had only come because she'd begged him to.
She sighed and composed her response.
Betty: It's okay. I'll see you this weekend?
Jughead: Sure, Betts.
Not effusive, but enough. The slightest bit of hope.
She decided later, tucked under the warmth of her comforter, eyes staring helplessly at the last messages on her phone for five minutes straight, that she had to do something. Make the first move and show her face. She was going crazy.
Lunch, she told herself, as sleep began to overtake her. She'd bring him lunch the next day. A peace offering of sorts.
And maybe then they'd finally resolve things.
Betty kept repeating it to herself as a mantra on the drive over from Pop's. If she could just reach out to him, things would be fine again.
The determination steered her until she entered the repair shop.
"Hey blondie," Sweet Pea nodded in welcome as she walked in.
He seemed less brusque toward her than usual. As if he were clued into what was going on between her and Jughead and pitied her a little.
She flushed at the thought but endeavored a smile. Maybe she was just overreading his body language.
"Hey," she replied. "Jug around?"
"Yeah, he's in the office. Got a phone call."
Betty nodded, removing the wrapped burger for him from the Pop's bag. "This is for you."
"Thank you," he said, tipping his head toward her, before sticking it back under the hood of the car he was working on.
Betty trudged up the stairs to the office, tapping on the closed door, the muffled strains of Jughead's laughter sounding through.
When she got no answer, she turned the knob and peeked her head in.
Jughead looked up from his seat at the desk, his blue eyes momentarily surprised to find her there.
"Hi," she mouthed, her lips curling up softly at finally seeing him.
"Hey," he mouthed back, the hollow ghost of a smile outlining his face.
She continued to stand awkwardly in the doorway as Jughead held the phone closer to his ear, listening to the person on the other end demanding his attention.
"Oh, uh, Betty just walked in," he said into the device. Betty could hear the faint sound of animated screeching coming through over the line, but she couldn't make out the words. "I don't know, JB. Soon…." Jughead sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe she's busy tonight…Yes, fine, I'll ask her…No, I'm not bullshitting…I really will ask her….Okay, I'll see you later."
He hung up and placed the phone down, peering over at her expectantly.
"Hi," she repeated.
"Hey," he said, his voice light but maintaining an underlying cool. "What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to see you," Betty murmured, hesitantly taking a few steps forward. She held out the bag of food to him. "I brought lunch."
"Thanks," Jughead swallowed as she drew closer. "That's nice of you."
Betty's eyes narrowed, a chill running through her at how overly stiff and formal he was being. It unsettled her. She was quiet for a moment.
"Was that your sister?" she finally asked.
"Yeah," he replied. "She needed help with a writing assignment."
"Oh," Betty nodded, remembering JB had enrolled at Carson College in town. Classes started this week. "What did she, uh, want you to ask me?"
"I'm supposed to go over there tonight," Jughead mumbled, beginning to twirl a ballpoint pen lying abandoned on the desk around his fingers. "She wants me to invite you."
"Sure," Betty accepted, hoping it didn't seem like she was agreeing too readily. Jughead didn't exactly sound thrilled by the idea. But she sensed, too, there was an unspoken test in the request.
"You don't have to," he told her, his stormy eyes meeting hers for the briefest of seconds before looking away. "If you're busy."
"Of course I will," she said gently.
Betty reached out her hand to lay atop his, but he was already drawing his arm away before she could place her palm down. The pen clattering against the desk with a sharp clank.
Her hand fell against the cold metal, a lump forming in her throat. She tried to gulp it down and regroup. Maybe he hadn't been recoiling from her. Maybe he'd just had a cramp and needed to move his arm.
"Do you want to eat here or outside?" she asked, attempting to make her voice sound bright.
Her mind flitted to previous lunches they'd shared there in the last few months. Sitting on the curb outside if the weather was nice. Bantering about books and movies. Flirting about what they'd do to each other later that night in her apartment.
A nostalgic smile crept onto her face, immediately dampening when she noticed Jughead's apologetic expression.
"I still have a lot of work," he said sheepishly. "I should probably get back to it and eat later. Thank you though."
"Oh," she muttered, her eyes closing, blinking away the tears prickling before he could see them. "So I'll see you tonight?"
"Yeah, I'll come by your place around 7:30."
Betty nodded. She fished his burger out of the bag and deposited it gingerly on the desk.
"Okay," she whispered, turning away. "Bye Jughead."
"Bye Betts," he replied, his voice hoarse, barely audible over the sound of the office door closing with a soft snivel behind her.
Jughead seemed high-strung from the moment he picked her up.
He'd arrived a few minutes early, and Betty was still buttoning up her dress when she opened the door. His Adam's apple quivered as he took in the outline of her pink bra, before he forced his face into a disinterested grimace.
"I'm sorry," she looked down at the floor, not even sure what she was apologizing for. She could already feel the tension between them slowly but surely gnawing away at her. "I'm almost ready."
"It's fine," he mumbled.
She nodded and slunk back to her room to slip into ballet flats and a cream-colored cardigan.
Jughead was idling by the kitchen when she returned, his nose crinkling as he inhaled the scent of her leftover dinner.
"Did you want to eat?" she offered. "I made chicken last night, but…" she trailed off, worried he might misconstrue whatever she said as an attack on him for having bailed.
Jughead winced, looking somewhat embarrassed. "No, I'm not hungry."
"Well maybe when we get back?" she posed hopefully. The implicit question lingering between them.
"Yeah, maybe," he said gruffly, turning toward the apartment door and ending the conversation.
The ride over was mostly silent. Jughead giving her monotone directions to Sunnyside Trailer Park over the soft hum of the radio. Betty gripping the polyurethane steering wheel until her knuckles went white. Sneaking glances at him while he steadfastly avoided her eyes.
Until she parked her car near the entrance to Sunnyside.
"I know it's not exactly what you're used to," Jughead shot in her direction, his voice dark with sarcasm. "Sadly, we're forced to stay here while we renovate the mansion."
"I—" she started to reply, staring at him sharply, cut off when she saw the self-protective gleam in his eyes. "I don't care about that, Jughead," she finished lamely.
"Right," he muttered to himself, unbuckling his seatbelt and bounding out of the car.
Betty took a long breath before following after him.
She really hoped this night wasn't about to be yet another disaster.
As they walked toward the Jones trailer, the screen door slammed open and a teenage girl with mousy hair and bright blue eyes galloped toward them.
"Oh my god, you're real!" she cried, gaping at Betty. "I thought for sure Jughead was making it up when he said you were his girlfriend."
Betty smiled through her rosy blush. "You must be JB."
"That's me," she proclaimed, before looking over at Jughead, who was pursing his lips into a half-hearted grin. "Hey big bro."
"Hi Jelly," he replied quietly.
"You're even prettier in person," JB gushed as she returned her gaze to Betty. "Isn't she, Jug?"
Jughead's eyes glazed over her body, taking in the long, smooth legs, the feminine curves covered in soft blue cotton. Red flowers dotting the fabric. It was the first time since she'd opened her apartment door that he had really looked at her. She almost shivered at the intensity of his gaze.
"She's really pretty," he grunted, as if mad at himself for even admitting it.
"He's such a weirdo," JB faux whispered to Betty, who couldn't help but giggle.
It was hard to stay upset when JB was being so sweet and excited to talk to her. She couldn't control Jughead, Betty decided. If he wanted to act standoffish, that was his problem. She would get to know his family regardless of his scowling. Maybe if he saw her making an effort, he'd finally force himself to drop the attitude.
"How about you let them come inside, JB?" a voice called from the porch, and Betty caught sight of a handsome man in his fifties, his dark hair and beard flecked with gray.
"I was just saying hello," JB protested, scampering back up the trailer's steps. "By the way, Betty, I made dessert. From a recipe you had on 'B in Form.' I can't wait for you to try it!"
JB skipped inside before Betty could respond, and she turned to Jughead, offering an amused smile. "She's adorable, Jug."
"Yeah," Jughead acknowledged, granting her a small smirk back. "Come on."
He walked toward the trailer, stopping to hug his father in the doorway.
"This is my dad," Jughead introduced.
"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Jones," Betty smiled, extending her hand to him.
"Call me FP," he chuckled, shaking it back.
She nodded and followed them inside the small but cozy trailer, taking a seat on the worn couch beside Jughead.
"Coffee for you both?" FP asked. "Something else?"
"No, that's fine, Dad. Thanks."
"Sugar and milk, Betty?"
"Yes, thank you," she said graciously.
"Let me help you," Jughead proposed, standing up.
"I've got it, boy," FP waved him away, winking at Betty. "Sit back and relax."
He walked with a slight limp into the trailer's kitchen, nearly getting mowed down in the process by JB who was carrying a baking tray overflowing with chocolate chip cookies.
"Ta-da," she proclaimed, placing the tray on the paper-cluttered coffee table. "Jughead's favorite."
Betty couldn't help but smile in recognition. "Someone's always asking me to make them for him."
"That's hearsay," Jughead objected, already wolfing down a large bite. "They're really good, Jelly."
"Obviously you like them, human vacuum cleaner," JB ribbed. "But what do you think, Betty?"
"Delicious," Betty agreed, nibbling into one. "I like that you added more chocolate to the recipe."
JB beamed. "Dad, did you catch that?" she called. "Betty said my cookies are delicious."
"Happy to hear," FP laughed, returning with a tray of assorted mugs.
They continued to sit and chat over coffee and dessert, Jughead finally starting to lighten up as the minutes passed. Betty felt herself relaxing too. FP and JB were both friendly and down-to-earth. There was no interrogation or judgment. Just amiable conversation.
It struck Betty how kind they were being to her as opposed to how her family had treated him. She felt a pinch of sadness, a deeper understanding of his hurt from that night radiating through her body. Without thinking, she reached out to stroke his arm. This time he didn't flinch, squeezing her knee briefly in response.
And then the doorbell rang.
"Oh, that must be Jess," FP declared.
She could feel Jughead stiffening beside her. Betty's eyes narrowed. That name sounded so familiar.
"Jess?" he asked pointedly.
"She called earlier so I invited her to drop by," FP explained, standing up and walking slowly to the door. "She didn't tell you she's in town?"
Before Jughead could answer, his father opened the door and ushered in a slender dark-haired woman.
"Hey Joneses," she said cheerfully after giving FP a warm hug.
Her charming smile dipped slightly when she registered Betty on the couch. Betty sat up straighter as the woman's dark brown eyes bore into her. Finally recalling how she knew that name. The awful night he'd gotten drunk outside her apartment. Jess. One of the people who always left.
A wave of nausea swam over her, her nails unconsciously digging into the threadbare afghan folded over the arm of the couch.
"Is this why you've been ignoring my texts, Jones?" Jess teased, nodding toward Betty. She was smiling, but Betty could discern something darker in her expression.
"Sorry," Jughead apologized, standing up to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. "It's been a really busy week."
"Not a great excuse," Jess laughed, settling into a vacant armchair. "But, if you'd read them, you'd know I'm going to be in Greendale for the fall semester. I got the writer-in-residence gig."
"What?" he said, his face shining with pride. Although Betty could also detect a smidge of sadness. Jealousy, maybe. "That's amazing, Jess. Seriously."
"Thank you," she smiled, a soft glow filling her brown eyes.
Betty fidgeted, debating if to ask what exactly Jess wrote. She was curious, but she didn't want to show it. Especially since the woman hadn't introduced herself, let alone asked for Betty's name.
"Oh my gosh," JB squealed as an idea came to her. "She should be a guest on your show, Betty. Her personal essays are amazing."
"Show?" Jess questioned.
"Betty's the host of 'B in Form.' It's like a talk show with a baking twist," JB explained. "It's so fun."
"Cute," Jess sneered, quirking a disbelieving eyebrow at Jughead. As if to ask what he was possibly doing with her.
He pinched his nose between his fingers, but didn't say anything.
"I'll mention it to my producer," Betty said weakly, faking a smile for JB's benefit.
"No need," Jess dismissed with a laugh. "I'll probably be buried under the fiction-writing attempts of a bunch of overzealous undergraduates."
"You mean like we used to be?" Jughead snorted.
"We were actually talented," she countered.
"But definitely overzealous," he flung back.
"Are you referring to the time we used maple mushrooms for inspiration to meet our story deadline?" Jess teased, a glint in her eye.
"I don't want to hear this," FP chided. "And your impressionable little sister shouldn't either."
"It was only once, Dad," Jughead chuckled.
"You acted so ridiculous," Jess recalled, the two of them exchanging not-so-secret smiles at the memory. "I thought Samm was going to die of laughter."
"No, because you didn't start spouting lines from your medieval poetry course," Jughead retorted, before turning to Betty and explaining, "Samm was my roommate freshman year."
Betty nodded, but even him stopping to give her context couldn't shake away the feeling she was shrinking into the couch.
She tried her best to remain engaged as the conversation continued, making sure to smile politely at all the right moments. But she could feel herself tapping out. The sense of being a third wheel overtaking her. Jughead and Jess's easy rapport with each other obvious to anyone watching.
Did she and Jughead even approach something resembling that same intimacy, she wondered. Aside from their physical attraction and overlapping interests, what actually tied them together? They were from such different worlds.
The gulf was on full display before her.
The doubts continued to play on her mind as the evening wound down. So much of their relationship had been bound up with her previous partner, Betty realized. But she'd never given much thought to Jughead's history before. Now here it was. Looming right before her. Threatening her.
The possibility of losing him. How easily he could slip through her fingers. Like grains of sand.
It felt realer than ever before.
Her mind was in overdrive as they said their goodnights and walked back to the car. Jughead, though, seemed more upbeat. As if reminiscing with his ex-girlfriend had revived him in some way. It made Betty feel sick.
"Thanks for coming," he said, offering her a slightly more subdued version of his usual smirk as he adjusted his seatbelt. "JB really likes you unsurprisingly."
"I like her too," Betty murmured, her fingers fiddling with the ignition key. "And your dad."
She didn't say anything else, keeping very quiet as her foot hit the gas pedal and she turned onto the dark road that led from the farthest corner of the city's South Side back to downtown.
"You alright?" Jughead asked.
Betty gripped the steering wheel tighter. She didn't think she was.
"You guys stayed close after you broke up?" she asked in lieu of responding.
Jughead seemed a little taken aback she had figured out Jess was an ex-girlfriend. Although he shouldn't have been, she thought, with a dash of irritation. Interviewing people for a living tended to require perceptiveness and being good at reading situations. And even if she hadn't heard him mention her name before, the two of them had made it rather obvious.
"Yeah," he mumbled, shifting uncomfortably in the passenger seat.
"That must not have been easy after being together—" she cut herself off to look at Jughead with a sideways glance. Poking for an answer.
"Two-and-a-half years," he supplied reluctantly.
"That's a long time…" she noted, her tone leading.
Jughead scratched his eyebrow, before running his hand through his hair and exhaling.
"It wasn't like some big dramatic breakup," he explained. "After my dad's accident and dropping out, the distance became too much. And she was always planning to go to New York after school…"
"I see," Betty muttered.
"She's just an old friend, Betts," he said. The words were delicate but laced with defensiveness.
Something inside her screamed he was withholding. "Just a friend?" she pressed.
Before he could hide it, a guilty expression crept onto his face. Betty momentarily closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. Gulping down enough air so she wouldn't hyperventilate and run them off the road. She knew it.
"Tell me," she exhorted, the sharpness in her voice coming out like a hiss despite her best efforts.
"We hooked up several times after we split," he admitted. "Whenever she was in town."
A thrum of jealousy spiked in her stomach. "Until when?"
"Before we met, okay?"
"When before we met?" she demanded.
"Betty, come on," he said, rolling his eyes in annoyance. "What does it matter?"
"It matters to me," she stressed, the syllables simmering on her tongue. "When?"
Jughead sighed. "A year ago, maybe. A little bit less."
Betty shook her head. He'd basically been screwing the same woman on-and-off for 10 years, and he had never thought to mention it to her. Not once. And he thought she had a communication problem? Fuck that.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she snarled.
"Jesus, what's with the inquisition?" he shot back indignantly. "Why are you being so insecure about this?"
Fury rising in her throat, Betty abruptly twisted the wheel in the direction of the road's shoulder. Ignoring Jughead's bark of "what the fuck," she slammed hard on the breaks until the car skidded to a stop.
Her eyes flashed as she turned toward him, the words flowing out of her like a dam breaking open.
"Because you haven't touched me in days," she cried, the shout reverberating in the small car. "Like I have the plague or something!"
"God, you've barely even looked at me since our fight," she howled, her frustration mounting, even as the red shame of recognition tinged his ears.
"I hate it," she continued frantically, the words coming up too fast for him to interrupt. "I hate this weird coldness between us. I sat there watching you with her and I felt like I was shriveling up inside. That you were seconds away from leaving with her."
"I know you're still mad and I'm sorry," she wheezed, her voice losing its ferocity as she struggled to modulate her breathing. "I'm so sorry, Jughead, I wish I could do everything over, because I don't know how to fucking fix this. And all I want is for us to be okay."
"I just want us to be okay," she repeated in a whisper, finally allowing herself a glimpse of his face in the shadows.
Jughead was staring intently at her, his breathing ragged.
His blue eyes went dark as they met hers. Speckled with the last drops of residual anger, but otherwise molten. Filled with an almost animalistic desire.
Her breath caught in her throat.
"Turn off the car," he commanded.
"What, why?" she sputtered in protest.
"Turn off the car," he repeated, harsher this time. More insistent. Betty's fingers trembled as she reached for the ignition, powering the automobile down. She peered back at him for what to do next.
"Get in the backseat."
She felt her stubbornness kicking in. How dare he boss her around instead of actually responding to her outpouring of emotions? Pretending as if her fragile honesty hadn't torn down his barricades, when they both knew the truth. He wanted her.
"Make me," she fired back.
Jughead let out a low growl, unfastening his seat belt and kicking open the passenger door. Before she had time to think, he was opening her own door and yanking her through it. The sound of it clanging shut behind her in the cool night air sent a shiver racing through her. She grabbed onto the front of his t-shirt, pulling him in close, despite his hand still in the shape of a cuff around her wrist.
"Kiss me," she breathed out.
Jughead flung them against the backdoor, his hot mouth finding hers, bridging the distance between them. Betty kissed back hungrily. As if this were all a starry night's dream and any moment he could disappear.
Their hands wandered everywhere, touching, exploring, reacquainting themselves with the familiar shapes of each other's bodies. As he kissed her harder, Betty wondered how they had ever managed to go without.
They embraced eagerly, a mess of nipping teeth and swirling tongues almost violent in their desperation. Betty's lips clung to his, tasting him until it hurt. Marking her territory. Her arousal felt primal, a rush of blood dripping against her skin.
He was impatient, too. She could feel it.
Seconds away from begging Jughead to pull her underwear down and take her right there in full view of the road, his hands began to graze past her side. He fumbled for the handle behind her and clicked it open.
Barely breaking the kiss, and still clasping her tight against him, he half-walked, half-dragged her into the backseat, slamming the door closed behind them.
His hands released from her waist when she stumbled horizontal against the vinyl covering, but before she could whine a complaint, she felt the hem of her dress being pulled up, Jughead leaning in close, his fingers crawling past the elastic of her underwear.
Betty shuddered beneath him, a pleasure-filled mewl falling from her tongue as those probing digits melted into her wet heat.
Jughead began to stroke her opening up and down, his knuckles straining against the soft cotton fabric of her panties. He hissed happily as her wetness spread over his fingers.
Betty bucked her hips up, begging for more.
"Is this what you wanted?" he asked huskily, his tongue flicking against her earlobe, dousing her in a sweet stream of temptation.
"Yes," she gasped aloud. Two of his fingers instantly curled inside her at the right answer.
"Say it," he demanded, his thumb now beginning to circle her clit.
Betty whimpered, her head falling back against the side window as the sensation enveloped her. "I wanted your fingers inside me."
"How much?"
"So much, Juggie," she moaned, not caring she was relinquishing all control to him. "I missed you."
"That's right, baby," he confirmed, his eyes glimmering into hers, before another rivulet of pleasure swallowed her. Her eyes screwed shut and she thrust up, meeting his fingers in perfect synchronicity.
She was so close, so overwhelmed by once more being his to take.
But she wanted him to coax her over the edge.
Betty whimpered again, her arms folding over his back in a desperate squeeze, as his second hand slipped the panties down to her thighs. Relieving his thumb, he moved a finger onto her clit, caressing the swollen nub until her entire body was writhing beneath him.
"Oh god," she panted, the breathy hums now a steady drumbeat. "Please."
"Come, baby," he ordered. "I want you to come for me."
She fell apart instantly, her inner walls clenching tightly against his fingers, gasping out his name.
The orgasm was so consuming, she barely registered the loss of his fingers from inside her, until she felt him wiping the excess moisture against her thigh and pulling her panties off.
Betty purred, tugging on his shoulders and rubbing her core against his firm chest, begging his body to return and cover hers with its warmth. Jughead obliged her, one hand cupping her cheek, the other fumbling for the zipper of his jeans. He kissed her then, his tongue stroking delicious circles against hers until she felt they'd both burst from overstimulation.
Pulling them up, Jughead shoved his pants and boxers down past his knees. He sank back against the seat, settling her in a straddle on his lap. Betty teased him, running the slick wetness of her core over the underside of his erection, getting off on the displeased squirm it provoked.
"Don't you dare," Jughead growled as she attempted the move again, gripping her hips and maneuvering them so she had nowhere to go but sink down.
They groaned in unison as he filled her completely.
Betty rocked against him, angling her mouth to nibble on his neck. She pressed a few open-mouthed kisses against the sensitive skin, Jughead heaving out a lust-filled sigh.
Not to be outdone, Jughead propelled forward, ripping open the top button of her dress. His fingers reached out to knead a fistful of her breast under the lace detail of her bra cup.
"Jug," she mewled, her head lolling back until he grasped it forward for another passionate kiss.
Jughead began jerking harder into her as the kiss turned wet and frenzied. She matched his movements, riding him up and down like some sort of erotic merry-go-round she never wanted to get off.
"More," she pleaded, sucking against his bottom lip, and he plunged deeper and faster, his hands clutching onto her lower back as he let the feel of her overtake his senses.
"Fuck," he moaned, on the precipice of coming undone, "Fuck Betty."
Her own breathy moan sounded back, and they came together, the climax sweeping over her body as he emptied himself inside her with a final groan.
Betty didn't know when the swell of ecstasy ended, Jughead's soft, heavy breaths against her heartbeat her only measure of time. All she knew was that she refused to let go.
"I needed you," she whispered, clinging onto him, her limp body crumpling against his.
His head bowed down, nose nuzzling into her shoulder, as if murmuring a prayer. "I needed you, too."