Author's note: This takes place right after the homecoming dance.

"Jughead?" Betty called through the darkness.

It felt like deja vu, Betty out in the middle of the night looking for Jughead. Except this is time it was snowing instead of raining. This time he was her boyfriend. This time she knew she loved him. And that she had hurt him.

Telling her mom that had been a big deal, almost as important as telling him. It wasn't just between her and Jughead anymore. It was public knowledge, and she didn't care who else knew it. She'd happily write a front page article announcing it in The Blue and Gold.

What she couldn't stand was that Jughead felt betrayed. It was bad enough that his best friend, Archie had hurt him, but Jughead mistakenly thought Betty had something to do with it, that he thought she had betrayed him, too. Only a few days ago, he'd expressed how he was still worried that he wasn't good enough for her, and she swore to always love and protect him, but then she let the wolves get to him. She should have warned him. Together, they could have stopped Alice's scheming, but he'd been so happy about their families coming together that she didn't want to break his heart.

God, he'd been so ecstatic, hinting at a real future together. Jughead's family finally had a chance at being together, and he was willing to give that up to stay in Riverdale. For her. She had to find him and set everything right. Because without Jughead, everything in her life was wrong.

She had looked everywhere in town she could think Jughead might be, the old, torn down drive in, the school, Pop's, even Archie's dilapidated treehouse in the Andrews' backyard. She checked her phone again. Jughead hadn't replied to any of her texts or calls. Where could he be? Archie and Veronica had wanted to go with her to look for Jughead, but she wouldn't allow it. They were the last people Jughead would want to see. They'd gone behind his back and hers, and they hadn't said anything to back her up when she told Jughead that she had no idea that they were planning to search FP's trailer.

She stopped in her tracks. She had considered going to his trailer when she first started looking, but she thought he wouldn't want to go where there were so many memories. The last time she had looked for him there, she hadn't known where FP had simply moved the trailer to another section of the park, but since then she'd been to his home. She stopped walking and pulled off her heels. With her shoes in her hand, she ran down the sidewalk, the rest of the way to Jughead's trailer.

She paused at the beginning of the trailer park and put her shoes back on so she could talk through the snow. Wrapping her shawl tighter around herself, she trudged on until she came upon the trailer. The yellow crime scene had been ripped from the entrance, and the door swung in the wind, but no lights were on. Betty climbed the steps and called out his name. There was no answer, no sign of life, but she knew he was there.

The living room had been ransacked, tables upended, couch cushions ripped open, the contents of drawers spilled across the floor. The trailer was so cold that she could see her breath. She took a step toward the kitchen and heard glass crunch under her heel. She reached down and out of the pile of belongings, picked up a cracked framed picture of the Jones family. Jughead was probably no more than five, a pink, screaming baby Jellybean in his arms. FP stood behind Jughead, his hand on his son's shoulder. Mrs. Jones stood next to her husband. It'd been so long since Betty had seen her in person that she'd almost forgotten how beautiful his mom was. She knocked the shatter glass out of the frame and placed the picture back on the mantel. Poor Jughead had to see his childhood home destroyed on the same night that his lifelong dream of having a good man for a father was crushed, too.

She came into the bedroom and found him curled into a ball on top of the bed. He didn't speak or look up at her, or even acknowledge that she was in the room with him. She stood at the foot of the bed watching him, longing to touch him, but not knowing if he wanted her to. She didn't have to wonder what to do for long because he turned his face up to her, his cheeks wet with tears, and held out his hand for her. He pulled her down with him onto the bed, and she rolled into him, wrapped her arms around him and he sobbed into her chest until the front of her dress was damp with tears. After a while, he pulled back and looked down at her.

"Sorry that I made a mess of your dress," he said.

She wiped his cheeks dry. "I don't care about the dress. I care about you." She looked down at herself, realizing something. "It could probably use a good dry-cleaning anyways. The last time I wore it, we had sex in a dressing room."

He chuckled at that. "Oh, yeah. And that was amazing. The only time I ever enjoyed a trip to the mall."

She looked around the bedroom, and it was much like the front room. Clothes had been pulled out of the closet and dresser and thrown onto the floor. Even the glass doors of the closet were shattered. "That kind of seems like overkill," Betty said, pointing to the broken glass.

"I did that actually," Jughead said. "I broke it."

"Oh, Juggie," she said. "This is so shitty. Keller shouldn't have let this happen. He should have had more respect for your dad than this."

"Why? Archie and Veronica didn't have any consideration for me or my dad. Your mom sure as hell didn't either."

"I'm so sorry about everything. I didn't know what Archie and Veronica were doing. I would have stopped it if I did. Archie and Veronica cooked up this plan with my mom behind my back. I should have told you everything I knew, but I swear I had no idea what Archie and Veronica were up to. All I knew was that my mom wanted to grill FP about what he knew about Hiram Lodge. I didn't know the rest. And you were just so happy, so excited about your dad. I didn't want to ruin that. I still wanted you to have hope."

"Archie and Veronica sent me about a thousand texts explaining things. They admitted that you had nothing to do with any of it." He held her hands in his. "Betty, I'm sorry. For not believing you. For lashing out at the one person who was trying to protect me." He sat up and brought his knees to his chest. "I was so stupid. People don't change."

Betty sat up, too. "Your dad didn't do it, Jug. He was framed. That gun was planted."

"That info was in Archie's texts, too, but how do we really know? Maybe they just missed it."

"No, FP didn't do it. I know it. I feel it. So do you. You know your dad didn't murder Jason. While we were all at the dance, someone put that gun there to frame your dad."

"Who wasn't at the dance that we already suspect?"

"My dad," Betty said without hesitation. "He also wasn't at the drive in the night Keller's murder board was stolen."

"So it's either my dad or your day, either we're screwed."

She'd always had a sneaking suspicion Hal was behind the murder of Jason Blossom, but this late piece of speculation made it seem more likely, and FP being arrested made it ever more real. If Hal really did do it, FP would go free, but then her dad would go down for the crime. Jughead was right, there was no winning here.

"I'm sure your dad didn't do it."

Betty shook her head. "You don't know him like I do, and my mom told me some stuff one night when she was drunk. He's not been the nicest to my mom or to Polly."

"But do you really think he could have shot Jason in the head? That's more up my dad's alley. And it doesn't matter who really killed Jason. The Joneses are known as the white trash of Riverdale. FP will take the fall for this, even if he didn't do it."

"No, he won't."

"You don't get it. People trust you, just by hearing the last name Cooper. Hal Cooper is the golden boy of Riverdale. FP is the leader of the Southside Serpents. He's tainted. No good. That's why I was so terrified when Keller brought me in for questioning. I was guilty just because of my last name."

"But Keller let you go. They'll let your dad go, too."

"The only reason I'm not still locked up is because Fred lied for me and gave me an alibi."

"Well, your dad has to an alibi, too. We'll find out where he was that night and who he was with. We'll find the evidence we need to free him."

Jughead lay back on the bed and covered his eyes with the crook of his arm. "I don't know if we can. FP was probably alone that night, so drunk off his ass that he doesn't even remember what happened."

"Do you still believe he's innocent?"

Using the back of his hand, he wiped the fresh tears from his eyes. "Yeah. Goddammit. I do. I want him to be at least."

"We'll figure this out. Just you and me. Cooper and Jones Detective Agency."

That got him to smile. "I always want it to be just you and me. Maybe one day it'll just be Jones and Jones detective agency."

It took her a moment, but she understood what he was saying. Like if they got married one day. They were way too young to be talking holy matrimony, but she knew whenever she thought about her future, Jughead was beside her.

"Were you really willing to give up everything for me so you could stay in Riverdale?" she asked.

"Yes, and I still am," he said. "You're my whole life, Betty. I could never be happy without you. From now on, wherever you go, I go."

"You're all I've ever wanted. You're my family. You're everything."

Jughead sat up and cupped her face in his hand. "I'm so sorry for how I've been lately. I love you more than anything and I trust you. I'm sorry."

"Jug, I get it. I'm sorry I kept things from you. I won't do it again. I promise."

"We're in this together, Betts. Everything, all of it. We'll figure this out together."

He smiled, even though there was still a sadness about him. Betty loosened his tie and pulled it from around his neck. "You looked so handsome tonight," she said. "I only wished we could have gotten the chance to dance at homecoming. I know it's silly, but all that planning and stress would have been worth it if I would have gotten my boyfriend all to myself for just one song."

"The night's not over yet," he said. He stood up and pulled her to her feet. He hit a button on the clock radio that had been knocked onto the bedroom floor, and an easy listening radio station came on, an old, bittersweet song from the 80s playing in the background. Jughead placed one hand on the middle of her back, causing her to step forward, bringing her in tightly against him, while his other hand took hers. He swayed in time with the rhythm of the song and she followed his lead.

His father had just gotten arrested, his childhood home and life had literally been destroyed, and here he was in the middle of the chaos, slow dancing with her in a ransacked room because she had expressed the regret that they hadn't gotten to dance at homecoming.

He spun her out and then brought her back into his arms, dipping her slightly before bringing her back up. She rested her head on his chest as he wrapped his arms tightly around her. God, she was so lucky to have him, to continue to be his girlfriend. The way he loved her was selfless and generous, a kind of love she thought only existed in fantasy. He thought of himself as the outcast, even in his own story, but he was the altruistic hero of her narrative.

She moved her hands to the front of his shirt, undid his tie, and pulled it from the collar. He removed his beanie, placing it on the bedside table, then reached for the zipper at her back. Betty shrugged the dress off her shoulders and pushed it over her hips before stepping out of it. She stood in front of him in only her sheer, grey strapless bra and matching lace panties.

"You are truly the most beautiful girl in the world," Jughead said. He reached out and removed the pin tucked into the hair behind her ear so her blond locks fell softly around her shoulders. He ran his fingers over her collarbone, moving to her breastbone over her heart. "Thank you for always supporting me, Elizabeth Cooper. You have no idea the difference it's made."

She mirrored his position, placing her own palm over his heart. "Forsythe Jones the Third." He winced at his hated name, but she just chuckled. They both didn't like their given names, just one more thing the perfect girl and the boy from the wrong side of the tracks had in common. "You will never know how grateful I am that you climbed through my window and kissed me. You changed everything. You have loved and supported me in ways I never knew were possible. You are the best of us, and you're mine. For that I am eternally thankful."

She unbuttoned his shirt, and along with his suit coat, pushed it off his shoulders. Her hands glided over his biceps, to his chest, down his abs, to that thin line of muscle that divided his hips from his lower stomach. "You are the most beautiful boy in the world, Jug."

Ducking his head, he blushed a little as he smiled. Her fingers went to the waistband of his pants, undoing them and pushing them down. He stepped out of them. Moving her hand to his rear, she circled him, taking in the view until she was standing in front of him again. She grabbed his ass, yanked him forward until his erection had to fold up against her stomach.

His hand splayed across the small of her back. Her fingers tangled in his thick, dark hair. The kissed they shared was long and thorough, both of their tongues exploring. After a while, his mouth moved to the hollow of her throat, nipping lightly on the thin skin. He leaned down to kiss her collarbone, and then reached around her and unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the carpet below their feet. Her head fell back and she arched against him as his hands took an exploratory course over her breasts, palming and squeezing lightly. Then his mouth took the place of his fingers. He kissed each peak in turn, and then took one nipple between his lips, laving it with his tongue. She made low, erotic sounds in her throat.

He moved her toward the bed, and when the back of her knees hit the edge of the mattress, she sat down on it. Forming a fist, she wrapped her fingers around him, moving from the base to the tip, over and over. She leaned into him, her tongue darting out, taking him into her mouth. His hands went to her hair, feeding through the long, soft locks. He groaned as she worked faster. She could tell he was getting close, so she stopped and sat back.

He smiled down at her as she scooted back onto the bed, making room for him. She held out her hand and pulled him to her. He knelt, nudged her knees apart. His fingertips rounded the nub of nerve endings at the heart of her sex. She was slippery wet, pulsating with feeling. Every fiber of Betty's being buzzed to life at his touch.

Betty blinked at Jughead, his image going blurry as she was seized by purling climax. Despite the chilled night, her skin was flushed and shiny with perspiration. But he wasn't done. He moved down her body and positioned himself between her legs. He scooped up her hips in his hands, lifting her against his opened mouth. His tongue delved into her sweet, wet core. He nuzzled her, kissed her in the most intimate way.

"Please, Jug. I need you. Now," she whispered.

He thrusted into her, immediately going deep. He stayed there for a moment, motionless, giving her body time to stretch and adjust for him. He breathed hotly against her neck as he murmured a prayer of thanksgiving to her. The skin of his back was damp, his muscles tense with concentration. She wrapped her legs around him, affixing him further into her until she could feel every throbbing inch of him. They kissed and his mouth tasted musky.

His hand moved between their bodies, his skilled, searching fingers finding her center. Her back arched off the mattress as she said his name on a sharp cry. She felt him shudder and release. He collapsed into her, his full weight pressing her into the bed. She rubbed his back. His labored breathing tickled her neck.

He rolled off of her, kissed her temple, and stood up from the bed. He went over to a small box that had been upended, and when he put it upright, and plugged it in, Betty realized it was a space heater. He stood in front of the window, the silver moonlight hitting his slender yet toned body. He was too far away. She wanted to be near him always. She came up behind him and wove her arms around his waist, her bare breasts pressing into his back as she looked out the window with him. The landscape of the trailer park was covered in a blanket of silky, white snow.

"I love how pure and pristine everything looks," she said.

"It's just covering up all the ugly parts," Jughead said.

"The perfect snow hiding all the darkness beneath." She was talking about herself now, and he knew it.

"Nothing is perfect." He turned around in her arms and kissed her, his lips just brushing against hers. "And that is perfect."