The very first thing that Betty registered when she woke up was that it was imperative she find a bathroom.

For a moment, that was really all that concerned her. Between her intense nausea and splitting headache, she was largely out of mental capacity to deal with anything else. And then she rolled over and collided with someone else, and just like that her concerns multiplied.

Betty gasped, scrambled a little to roll back, and then peeked an anxious eye open.

Jughead.

It was all coming back to her. It was hazy, and parts of it were blurred, but if she really thought about it properly, Jughead had actually been rather more a feature of her evening than he usually was. She wasn't exactly sure of to what extent, but she'd now registered she was at least wearing her bra and underwear, and that had to count for something.

Jughead's eyelids seemed to flutter a little at the sudden commotion. He rolled a little further into his pillow, but otherwise went on sleeping.

It took Betty less than ten seconds to surmise that the only way forward from here was to quickly and quietly extricate herself from the situation. That said, as easy a conclusion as that had been to reach, it was rather less easy to follow through on. Betty's bed was pushed up against the wall, and as the person closest to the wall, the only way she could envisage making an escape was going to entail climbing over Jughead.

That seemed risky. That seemed like something that would definitely wake him up.

But she was running a bit short of other options, and her stomach was churning such that she was also running out of time.

Betty wriggled a little to free herself from the sheet she was tangled up in. And then, with as much precision and care as was possible in her current state, and doing her best to minimise her movements, she sat up and proceeded to climb delicately over Jughead's sleeping form.

She'd all but made it when, without warning, Jughead rolled over. Betty lost her balance and collapsed somewhat haphazardly on top of him,

"Shit," Jughead mumbled blearily, sitting up as Betty scrambled off him and off the bed.

Her worst fears had been realised. He was awake.

"What are you doing?" Jughead's voice cracked through all five syllables, though that doing nothing to disguise his utter bewilderment.

"I'm making a discrete exit," Betty retorted, doing her best to regather herself and resume her mission to the bathroom.

"Why didn't you just wake me up?" he asked. He still sounding half asleep.

"Because that would have been awkward!"

"And this isn't?"

Betty thought it best not to answer that, and went about searching for an item of clothing. Absolutely any item of clothing, anything that would mitigate more time than necessary spent walking around in this state of undress. She grabbed an old oversized t-shirt that lay discarded on the floor, and scarpered for the bathroom.

Hunched over the toilet, Betty began to reconcile that her entire morning thus far had been very out of the ordinary. She was not, by nature, a heavy drinker. It was a rare occurrence that she drank enough to encounter a hangover, and even rarer that she found herself unable to recall parts of her evenings. As this one had, such occasions largely came about as a direct result of Veronica's doing. As good a friend as Veronica was, she wasn't always the best influence.

Furthermore, Betty had never unexpectedly woken up in anyone else's bed, let alone the bed of her roommate. She was reasonably confident nothing hugely regrettable had taken place. Her hazy recollections seemed mostly to feature a lot of kissing, and at some point both of them had discarded more clothes than was necessary and ended up in her bed. She wasn't sure what Jughead's excuse was, but she supposed hers was that she'd been a little drunk. That kind of emotional, needy drunk that blurred your inhibitions and made everything seem like a better idea than it really was.

None of this really meant anything, but that didn't make it any less awkward. It was awkward to wake up in your roommate's bed in any case, but even more so when it was Jughead. She'd known him for a good three years by now, and he had been her roommate for the last six months. In all of those years, she'd never been lead to believe he was even faintly interested in more than friendship - nor had she encountered any romantic feelings for him of her own.

All of which really begged the question of why she'd woken up next to him.

In the interests of preserving their friendship, and what was left of their roommate boundaries, Betty wondered if perhaps she and Jughead could pretend that whatever happened had, well, never happened. Or perhaps they could just pretend it was inevitable, and move forward without delving into it any further. Either way, pretending really did seem like the best option at this point. Her best hope was that, while she was busy throwing up vodka, Jughead would traipse off to his room, and they could both move forward with their weekend in feigned ignorance.

But that was apparently not to be so. Upon emerging from her ensuite, she found Jughead was still there. He was perched awkwardly on the edge of her bed, his hair mussed up and brows knitted in deep thought.

Betty gave him the kind of nonchalant look that didn't really convey anything, but which she hoped might encourage him to leave.

He didn't leave. Instead, he cleared his throat in a hesitant kind of way. "Feeling any better?" he asked tentatively.

"Not really." It was blunt, but it was also very true.

"Oh."

The was an uncomfortable pause.

Betty took a deep breath. "Look, about last night-"

"Betty, it's fine," Jughead interrupted hastily. "We don't have to talk about it."

Betty felt an overwhelming wave of gratitude towards him. Somewhere in the back of her mind she'd wondered if perhaps she owed him an explanation. She'd wondered if she was supposed to explain that all of this had somehow arisen out of self pity, and crippling disappointment and years of feeling invisible. That I didn't mean anything, and that maybe it was all just because they'd both been a little drunk - her more so than she really liked to admit.

But because he didn't ask that of her, she brushed this idea aside. "Okay," she said. "That's good. I'm all for pretending it never happened."

Jughead scratched his head absentmindedly. "Technically nothing did," he shrugged.

Well, at least Betty now had confirmation of that. "Precisely," she quipped. "So really nothing's changed."

"Not at all," Jughead agreed quickly.

"And it didn't mean anything."

"No it didn't."

"It's not weird."

"Nah."

"And it won't be awkward."

"Nnnnope."

The very awkward silence that followed seemed rather to contradict this closing statement, but regardless, Jughead stood up and picked his sweater up off Betty's bedroom floor. He paused briefly to make eye contact with her one final time, smiled appeasingly, and then walked calmly out of the room.

Jughead closed her door behind him, and Betty was left to collect her thoughts, her regrets, and what very little was left of her dignity.

Having had a little more time to reflect on the events of the night before, Betty found herself in slightly more positive spirits by the time the afternoon rolled around. Such was always the way. The more time you had to distance yourself from poor decisions, the easier it was to dissociate from them entirely, and pretend they had been through no fault of your own.

Betty hadn't seen Jughead since this morning, something she suspected he might have orchestrated on purpose. While their agreement to move forward in feigned ignorance was in place, Betty was still relieved to have a little space. Time to get used to the idea, time to nurse her hangover, and time to conduct her share of the cleaning up.

Jughead's cleaning efforts the night before had been pretty thorough. Most of the rubbish had been disposed of, the majority of the cups and plates washed, and the mess from the broken potted plant swept away. In terms of fall out, the most problematic thing was that the fridge still read I LOVE REGGIE in angry, permanent black marker.

Betty was fond of Reggie. When he wasn't vandalising their fridge, he was actually very nice. While prone to making poorly thought out decisions, as evidenced by his self implicating scrawl, she appreciated his friendship, humour and loyalty. Ordinarily, Betty would have been highly concerned about the long term implications of Reggie's actions - both for her relationship with her landlord, and the risk that posed to her tenancy bond. But since her landlord was technically Veronica, and since Veronica had technically instigated the proceedings that led to Reggie's vandalism, Betty didn't quite feel the usual overbearing weight of responsibility.

Veronica's wealthy parents had purchased the two-bedroom apartment for their daughter at the beginning of her degree, wanting to ensure she had suitable ongoing accommodation throughout her tertiary studies. Located only a short distance from the student quarters, the apartment was safe, modern and well-appointed. As one of Veronica's closest friends, Betty had been lucky enough to have spent most of her university career as Veronica's roommate. Until, that was, the beginning of their last year, when Veronica had announced she would be moving out to live with her girlfriend Cheryl.

At the time, Betty had been a little hurt. As much as she'd been happy for Veronica, she'd been saddened by the idea of their living arrangement coming to an end, and saddened by thought of the potential impact that might have on their friendship. Having only ever lived with Veronica, she was also extremely apprehensive about the idea of having to find a new roommate.

However, as these things often do, everything had turned out okay. Their friend Jughead had been searching for a new apartment for his last year, and had taken over Veronica's room. Betty wasn't sure what kind of arrangement Veronica had come to with her parents about this, considering the apartment had been purchased for her specifically, but the details of that had never really come up. Technicalities aside, Betty had been pleasantly surprised by how easy a transition it had been. And as much as she missed Veronica, the two of them had successfully maintained their close friendship.

Jughead was easy to live with, easy to talk to and just generally easy going. He was also funny, albeit in a dry, sarcastic sort of way, and he wasn't one to pry for information that wasn't offered to him. Betty thought that may have been because he wasn't particularly forthcoming himself. Despite having known him for all of these years, she still found him to be something of enigma. And as a direct consequence of all of this, it had been very easy to reach a silent agreement about roommate boundaries. Neither of them got overly involved in the intricacies of the others' life. They shared similar hours, similar interests and a little of the cooking, but that was about it. Everything was just simple and easy.

Well, it had been. Until Betty got drunk and kissed Jughead, and spent the night with him in her bed.

She cringed just thinking about it, and then remembered that was why they'd agreed to pretend it had never happened, and tried to redirect her thought train.

If there was one good thing about her drunken misstep last night, it really had served as an excellent distraction from her previously all-consuming misery about Archie. There was nothing like a new negative development in your life to distract you from an old one.

Betty had just finished emptying the recycling bin and was on her way back upstairs when Veronica called. She paused a moment before answering, mentally trying get her story straight, and then swiped the screen to answer.

"Hello?" Betty said, trying to sound upbeat. She unlocked her apartment door and went back inside.

"Hiiii," Veronica trilled.

"Hey V. How are you doing?"

"I'm glorious! Isn't it such a nice day?"

Betty turned around and peered out the window. It actually did look to be quite a nice day, but having not been able to face the world in her hungover state, Betty hadn't quite realised this until just now. "Yeah," she said, trying to inject a little spirit into her voice.

"Are you hungover?" Veronica asked, correctly inferring this from Betty's half-hearted attempt at enthusiasm.

"A bit, yeah." This was a severe underestimation.

"What happened after I left last night?"

"Nothing much. Jughead cleaned up, I went to bed."

Veronica laughed on the other end of the line, seeming not to notice Betty's forced nonchalence. "So I'm guessing you don't want to come for a walk with me and Cheryl on this beautiful afternoon?"

Betty very much did not want to join Veronica and Cheryl for their work, though that was rather more multifaceted than her just being residually hungover. Although she'd never been brave enough to admit it to Veronica, Cheryl had always terrified Betty a little. She had something of a sharp personality, and a slight tendency to make rapid fire cutting comments. As much as Betty put up a good front of being friendly, she was always a little reluctant to spend more time with Cheryl than was entirely necessary.

"Not really," Betty said. "Not today."

Veronica laughed again. Betty again marvelled how she was in such fine spirits after last night - though in all fairness Veronica was typically much better than her at handling her alcohol.

"Okay, well I'll see you tomorrow?" Veronica pleaded.

"Of course," Betty reassured her. "Have a nice afternoon."

Betty ended the call, and dropped her phone onto the kitchen counter. She dragged herself over to the couch and, for the second time in twenty four hours, collapsed down onto it a somewhat defected state.

She really needed a nap.

Betty woke later that afternoon to the sound of Jughead arriving home. Before she'd even opened her eyes, she registered he had someone else with him. She immediately recognised Reggie's dulcet tones.

The couch lurched a little as someone sat down in the free space at Betty's feet.

"Hey Betty," she heard Reggie say, his voice jarringly loud in contrast to the earlier silence.

"Sshh," she mumbled. "I'm sleeping."

"It's 4pm," he said incredulously, shaking her foot.

Betty opened her eyes and rubbed the sleep out of them a little, sitting up to glare at Reggie.

"Reggie, leave her alone," Jughead called from the kitchen. "I specifically asked you to come over and clean this shit off the fridge."

Betty and Reggie both looked over to see Jughead brandishing at the fridge.

"It looks good though," Reggie argued halfheartedly.

Betty saw Jughead fix Reggie with the kind of death stare that she could foreseeably imagine threatened imminent death. "I does not look good," he intoned. "Please fix it."

Reggie hauled himself up off the couch and went over to make amends.

Jughead and Reggie's friendship had always intrigued Betty. As far as individuals went, one would struggle to find two people with quite so many differences. For a long time, Betty had assumed that they were really only friendly because they were both good friends with Archie. But since living with Jughead, she'd come to see that perhaps they shared more of an understanding than she'd originally thought. There was something about Reggie's brash exterior that offset Jughead's dry, sarcastic manner. They balanced each other out surprisingly well.

Jughead looked reasonably pleased with himself when Reggie sat down in front of the fridge, cleaning materials in hand. He turned to Betty. "Thanks for cleaning up."

"S'all good."

"I would have helped."

"No it's okay. You did most of it last night," Betty reasoned.

Jughead nodded slowly, and a slightly tense silence followed. The kind of tense silence that indicated it was easier said than done to forget about the events of last night.

Reggie turned around, suddenly in possession of inconveniently accurate intuion, and glanced back and forward between the two of them. "What's gotten into you two?"

"Nothing!" Betty and Jughead said in unison, a little too hastily for it to be convincing.

Reggie smirked. "Are you suuuurreee?"

"Yes," Jughead said, sounding awfully defensive. "We just…" He trailed off uncertainly.

"We just had an argument about cleaning," Betty interjected quickly, having noticed Reggie's interest at where Jughead's admission might be going.

Reggie looked disappointed in this faux revelation. Behind him, Jughead's furrowed brow indicated a degree of contempt that that was the best Betty cover-up story had been able to dream up.

"Okay," Reggie said slowly, glancing around the impossibly clean apartment. "That sounds unnecessary, but okay." He paused. "Like, this apartment is way cleaner these days than when Veronica lived here."

"That's because Jughead cleans obsessively," Betty went on, ignoring Jughead's glare and improvising wildly. "I complained to Veronica about it behind his back. And since he found out, we've been avoiding the topic because it's awkward," Betty finished lamely.

Jughead shook his head, apparently now in utter disbelief.

"Would we say that's awkward?" Reggie pondered, finding this sufficiently anticlimactic that he'd returned to scrubbing at the writing on the fridge.

"Yes," Jughead said dryly, having been left no other option but to play along.

"Well, I'm sorry for making things awkward," Betty said, glancing at Jughead apologetically so he knew what she was referring. "I should have thought about the consequences of my actions," she added. "I wasn't thinking."

Jughead sighed heavily, recognising her apology as genuine. "It's okay."

In that moment, Betty knew he meant it. They could move past this.

Reggie stood up abruptly, abandoning his duties altogether. "Right," he said. "Well I really want you guys to remember that I helped you work through that. Because I have to tell you, I don't think this shit is going to come off."

He had the decency to look moderately guilty. The three of them stared at Veronica's fridge, the angry lettering still very much there, if a little faded.

"Lucky you both love me," Reggie quipped.