HEHEHEHE THIS CHAPTER YA'LL! THIS CHAPTER :)
As always, thank you so so so much to my wonderful reviewers: Evelyn Santos01, and the five guest reviews!
Guest (1): You will get your wish ;)
Guest (2): That was by far like one of the most tense action scenes I've ever written! Whew...
Guest (4): Probably because Sweet Pea/Betty is like one of the most cracky crack ships there is. Oh well! I will write them until i DIE
Song for this Chapter is Dancing Queen, the remix by Vapor-Wave. Not that I don't love the ABBA one, but I promise you this version just fits so much better!
September 16th, 2018
They crawl into bed not long after, but it should have been clear from the start that neither were calm enough to sleep. Too keyed up. Betty still has her jeans from the day on, instead of PJs, a hallmark of unease that hasn't been used since they found this haven. She knows a walker has never gotten inside, but the idea that one might, and the stench of the hoard from the hospital every time she closes her eyes…
She swallows hard.
Sweet Pea is even more on edge. He still has his shoes on. Betty would bitch him out about it, but tonight, maybe they all need this. She can wash sheets. She can't put a price on the feeling of safety.
They lie there in the dark silence for what feels like hours, Betty staring at the ceiling.
"You awake?" She finally asks.
"Yeah. Haven't even gotten a minute." He groans, pressing his palms to his sockets.
It's not like they have a full day ahead of them tomorrow. Most pressing task is to unload the food from the van. Heck, the books could sit there nearly until winter for all they care.
"Let's face it. Neither of us is sleeping," Betty flops onto her side, staring at him. Or, his figure, since it's very dark.
"We could take shifts, like before," Sweet Pea whispers.
"Or, we could accept it and pull an all-nighter. Sooner or later we'll be tired enough, and then we'll sleep then." Betty argues, standing up, having already made the choice. She pats her pockets as she fishes for a flashlight.
She chuckles.
"What?" Sweet Pea asks.
"I have the lists," Betty says, pulling out the papers with a crinkle, "That we made. Wish Lists, more or less. Not like it's before, when we could just pull up to a Target and hit every item. Maybe one would be sold out, if we were unlucky. In mean, in Riverdale, Mason Jars and fruit was always sold out it seemed," She muses, setting the flash light between them. There is, definitively, a space that lies between Sweet Pea and Betty that hasn't really been touched. It's a King bed, more than enough space for Betty to stay on her side and Sweet Pea on his. Tonight, Betty thinks 'fuck it' with the gap.
A part of her just doesn't want to feel alone tonight.
She holds the flashlight in her lips as she settles herself right onto that dead zone on the bed. She grabs her favorite pillow and fluffs it, laying it right touching Sweet Pea's pillow. There's maybe six inches between the pair of them. It still feels like too little, but she's not about to jump his bones, she just wants to be near him.
Using the small light, she unfolds her own list first.
"We'll have to do a proper look tomorrow or in this next week, but we sorta know what we grabbed, and more specifically, what we didn't find." She says. She pulls a red felt-tip marker from her nightstand, and together then begin to comb through the list.
They didn't get a lot of things associated with farms, since they didn't hit up a farm. The question lies between them (Should they go back out again?), but both aren't too keen on leaving again, not without a very good, possibly life-or-death reason.
Firewood is something they can do themselves. It will take work, but they're in a forest. They have trees upon trees at their fingertips.
They didn't find a sewing machine, but they do have needles and thread. Betty can't recall how much salt they find. That will change what they can do with certain things, namely the smokehouse.
"Real talk, though. Did we get chlorine?" Sweet Pea says. Just like that, their anxiety starts to melt away. Betty can literally feel her shoulders unlock.
"Yes, yeah. I found some gallons in the Vet's." Betty confirmed.
"Hot tub?" Sweet Pea asks helpfully.
"After the day we've had, I feel like the answer has to be yes. Eventually." She adds, "It's still hot out. Who wants to go in a hot hot tub?"
"Me?" Sweet Pea guffaws.
"It will take lots of energy to power it up, so only for special occasions. Therefore, we should wait until fall or winter." Betty points out.
They hit less items from Sweet Pea's list.
No tractor, no pets. No fish, no boat. No grain crusher, but that was a specific wish. They can make one, they decide, to the best of their ability. He apparently did grab board games, which will be good.
"Dammit! I forgot a banjo." Sweet Pea bemoaned, and Betty stifled a giggle.
"I think I might be fine with the exclusion of that." She says.
"Oh, c'mon. If we're going redneck, we might as well go full-on redneck." Sweet Pea says.
"With your cut-off flannels and dubious bathing schedule, you're halfway there." Betty is laughing so hard it almost hurts.
"All I need now is a beer, a gun to kill an animal, and to be kissing my cousin."
"Eww, Penny?" Betty gags at the thought.
"Shit," Sweet Pea shudders, "Forgot that's her. Yuck, nope. Can't do it. Not even pretend. Not a redneck." He pouts, "I'll be country. With, you know, trains...trucks...prison...getting drunk."
"Yeah, that is country."
"It's a reference," Sweet Pea said, "Really? Not that one either? God, did you grow up under a rock, Cooper?" He asks, launching himself out of bed to grab his iPhone.
"Uhm, yeah. Pretty much. You met my mom?" Betty asks, "I still technically wasn't allowed to listen to explicit songs. At sixteen. My computer still had sites of 'adult content' blocked out."
"Whereas me, I saw my first porn video at age ten," Sweet Pea said off-handedly, "I thought it was gross, by the way. Don't want you thinking I'm some weirdo."
"Oh, me think that about you?" Betty grinned ear to ear, "Never."
Sweet Pea absently flipped her the bird as he scrolled, "Okay, okay. You've never heard the song 'You Never Even Called Me By My Name'?"
Betty shook her head.
He put up the volume, setting it on the end of the bed.
"Are you going to dance?" Betty asked, not knowing where that question came from ,"I mean, I danced, the Serpents...and at the Lodge Lodge…" she trailed off, feeling really stupid.
"It's not really a 'dancing sexy stripper' song." Sweet Pea tilted his head, "But I have those sorts. Do you have ones to throw at me?"
"First I have to see if you're worth my ones." Betty sat on her haunches.
"Shh! You're gunna miss the song," Sweet Pea quieted her. She pursed her lips, smiling, throwing up her hands in an 'I'll be quiet' motion.
After the song was done, and it was a very country song, Betty decided, Sweet Pea flopped back down next to her.
"I guess you're not getting my ones," She teased, but also a little glad she didn't have to see Sweet Pea stripping right now and figure out her feelings on the spot.
"I think at this point, your ones are my ones. This is all very domestic, you see," he said, waving his hands in front of him, "Like a married couple or something."
Betty almost said, 'but without the sex', but had the good forethought to bite down on her tongue hard. Where was all this coming from? She was usually better than these near slips!
"Ever imagine yourself married?" Betty asked quietly, taking it in a different direction.
"Dunno. My life attracted a lot of girls who wanted a bad boy. Bad girls, or prissy girls who woulda dumped me not long after," He thought about it, "I'm eighteen. Some people are getting married, but that just seems so far off. Christ, I've never had a stable relationship. Just one-night stands, or a couple friends with benefits."
"Jughead was my first...well, first everything," Betty corrects herself, thinking hard.
"But you would have married him?"
"If things were good, if the world didn't end," Betty's not pretending she wouldn't.
"You said you're not a virgin, right?" Sweet Pea's question comes from left-field.
"Yes, I mean, no, I mean…" The question flustered Betty, "I have had sex."
"But you said your mom wouldn't let you get on dirty sites or whatever," Sweet Pea put his hand behind his head, "So…"
"I know how to get around her parental locks. I'm seventeen, Sweets," Betty scoffs, "And much more technologically skilled than her or my dad. And maybe if they'd been more open about it, Polly wouldn't have gotten pregnant. Said that to my mom once in a fight."
"Oof, sure that went over well."
Betty gave a dry laugh, "Yeah. As in, not at all. But, I dunno, it was lots of experimenting with Jug. About what we liked. Both of us. I'm not stupid thought. I know A goes in B and all that jazz." She said, feeling less awkward to be discussing this with Sweet Pea as she would have thought, "I think , since both of us had no clue what we were doing, it made it better. I didn't feel self-conscious about my lack of knowledge because I had more, because I study and look things up. If I'd been with a guy who was experienced…" She made a weighing motion, "I might have figured it out faster, but I would have felt totally unsure the whole time."
"I have far less experience than I think I present myself to have," The admission came out quietly, all at once, "I've only had sex with like six people."
"Five more people than I have." Betty blew out.
"But people think I'm a sex god or something. I'm still fumbling too. Guys have it easier. If it gets us off, we like it. But, I haven't experimented much. Basic stuff."
Betty tries not to laugh, but she can't help it.
"What?" He asked sharply.
"It's just...god, um," Betty thought of her darker side, Dark Betty. About camming. About handcuffs, "Nothing, nothing."
Sweet Pea sits up, eyes gleaming, "My god. Is Betty Cooper secretly kinky? Oh, it's always the quiet ones." He looks pleased as punch.
"Oh my god," Betty covers her whole face, rolling away.
"It's so true! You are? Like, what? Choking? Whipping? Are you a dominatrix?" He whispers, getting more excited, "Pleases tell me Jug likes getting slapped around. For all his Alpha posturing, you're the one with the pants on. If I slapped him, would he have gotten a boner?"
"God, Sweets! I don't know that" Betty is entirely red now, "I guess, a little? I mean, I had to have an outlet somewhere…"
"I can so see it. You kinda run this house too. I can respect that. I was raised around a bunch of strong women."
And, just like that, the conversation dips away from sex things. Which, maybe, is for the better, considering Betty had nearly been about to ask Sweet Pea if he'd like to see in person her kinky tendencies. But this wasn't the time. The conversation, though about sex, wasn't sexy in itself. It was more informational, casual...fun, almost. Not the right time and place.
Especially, Betty thinks as an afterthought, after so much discussion of Jughead, and so casually. Like he was an ex, a tragic ex-boyfriend, and not someone she'd lost. Once again, as though this life was normal.
But you make it normal, she thinks. As normal as one can.
XXxxXX
September 18, 2018
Back when Betty was younger, her family took a trip across the country. Due to time-changes and airplanes, when they returned home, even though it was hardly 10am, they were very jet lagged. Her mother just told everyone to go to sleep and Betty fell asleep in her bed with the morning sun streaming in, the rest of Riverdale awakening to a new day.
That's sort of how the next morning follows. Her and Sweet Pea lapse into a quiet companionship, eventually reading books until the sun is high. Their adrenaline from their near deaths is wearing off and the night sinks away into a beautiful new morning. They both unload the bins that have food and both promptly fall asleep.
It's one of the best sleeps Betty's had in a very long time. It feels effortless. It feels stress-free. It's wonderful.
Their schedule is a little messed up after that. Technically, they lose a whole day. The seventeenth of September? Just straight up gone.
Maybe it's okay. They deserve a day to collect their bones back together and re-adjust.
Betty dreams of...Riverdale.
She doesn't dream much. She never has. It used to bother her. Of late, it's just better, since she thinks her dreams would be nightmares if they were anything.
Tonight, or rather today, she dreamed of home. Or, of her old home, since when she thinks of home now, she thinks of the cabin. She thinks of her workspace, where she tinkers with electronics and has all the instruction manuals spread out before her. She thinks of Sweet Pea in the fields, his hands stained with dirt, and how he cooks them dinner. She thinks of his impromptu dance parties with music she's never heard of. She thinks of the smell of pine trees. She thinks of here.
When Sweet Pea had told her they were home the other day, from his tone, she knows he's made this change in his mind too.
But, all tangents aside, she dreams of Riverdale and her old street corner.
It's not an earth-shattering dream. It's not even a weird dream, the one where she opens doors that leads to bathtubs or frogs speak or some other strange connection made. No, in fact, it's fairly...normal. So normal, it almost feels like a memory.
It could be. It's just of her life. Her life pre-walkers, pre-apocalypse. Pre-Sweet Pea, to be honest. It's actually no set time, nothing specific, but she gets the feel of when it probably is set in.
She's just on her street. Archie and Jughead are in Archie's yard, playing with Vegas. Mr. Andrews is cooking a BBQ dinner on the grill. Her dad is helping him; they're laughing about something. Her mom is inside, talking to Polly, as they make lemon-aid. Veronica and Betty sit on her steps leading up to her house. Veronica is talking about something, but come waking, Betty won't remember. It's something nice and safe. Archie perhaps? Maybe singing. Maybe schoolwork.
Then, people start showing up. It's a whole block party. That's maybe the only strange thing about it; how this dream has shoved so many people from Betty's old life into this dream that, in truth, felt short.
So many people Betty has forgotten about until right about now.
Moose and Midge. Kevin and his dad. Josie and the Pussycats. Reggie and a whole group of Bulldogs, playing a pick-up football match. They've roped Jughead into it. He's smiling, though Jughead would never willingly play, much less laugh about it. The Blossoms are even there; all four of them. Jason is alive. He's flirting with Polly. Dilton and Benji and Ethel are over there, eating hamburgers and dancing.
It's nothing special, this dream. It's just a cook-out set on a summer's day. There's a timeless tinge to it, like old movies. It's freeing, it's simple, it's just a happy dream.
When Betty awakens, she stumbles to the bathroom and slams the door behind her, pressing her mouth across her lips.
It doesn't mean anything, she tells herself. Sweet Pea probably buys into dream meanings, but Betty does not.
Still, she cannot help the tears that prickle in the back of her eyes, because she's been shoving away those memories. Maybe her brain decided it was time to let them out.
"Betty? You okay?" Sweet Pea's voice is so concerned outside the door.
Betty swallowed. She splashed some icy water on her cheeks.
"Yes," Her voice cracked, but she opened the door all the same, "Just, felt sick for a second."
She obviously noticed her dream had no Serpents, which was stupid. The Serpentes are important to her. But, still…
The dream clings to her.
Half-way through the day, as they're unloading the tubs, Betty gets why it's bothering her.
It's because, while that life would have once been what she wanted, she no longer wants that life. She wants this life, with Sweet Pea. Even if someone came to her and and said they could turn back the clock and give her that, but Sweet Pea wouldn't know her and never would (or, they'd pass each other like ships in the night, in a world where she stayed with Jughead and was Serpent-Adjacent), Betty is sure she wouldn't trade it in. And that thought terrifies her.
She managed to be the one to unload the condoms and morning after pills. She stores those deep in her own personal box. As far as she knows, Sweet Pea didn't see.
All the discussion of house and belonging and normality, especially looking at the morning after pills, gives her pause. Condoms aren't just for preventing kids, but the morning after pills definitely are.
If things never go right, if things are always sideways...is this a possibility for them one day?
She can't think about that right now. She doesn't want to. She's seventeen. She for sure does. not want to be pregnant any time soon. She is very grateful, she decides, she has grabbed those.
They manage to get half the truck unloaded and organized before they stop for the day.
"Betty?"
"Hmm?" Betty said, sitting cross-legged and sifting through books and wondering the best way to organize them.
"I got you something."
Betty snapped her head up. "Really?"
"Really," Sweet Pea handed her a box, full of nail polish and other nail accessories, "There was a nail place near that Walgreens. Um, it reminded me of that story. About Veronica and the manicures. I mean, it's not someone else doing it, but it might help. Plus, you said you just liked having it done, so…" he shrugs, rubbing the back of his head.
Betty is moved, nearly to tears.
"Sweets, I...god." She says. It's so thoughtful. She hadn't even thought about that, though she'd seen the Nail place too, but it had been gone from her mind as she thought about other things. Admittedly, it had probably been that she was thinking about Sweet Pea naked.
She managed to get ahold of herself, "I actually got something for you too. Nothing like this," She added, feeling like her small thing was just so lacking in comparison, even if she hadn't known he was doing this.
She had been waiting to give it to him, but now seems like a good time. She held out about eight packets of seeds.
Sweet Pea took a look at the title and threw his head back, laughing.
Sweet Pea flowers.
"We'll plant them everywhere around us, the whole fucking house," He decided, acting like she'd given him gold or something, "So that there's no denying who lives here. Goddamn, if wish your name was a flower too. That would be poetic, huh."
"You could make my nickname a flower," Betty pointed out.
"No, no. Your nickname has to be organic, though I like that thought," He said, "I'm working on it, Cooper!"
"I didn't even know your name was a flower, until I saw that," Betty admitted, albeit a little bit embarrassed.
"I didn't until I was eight and a classmate asked why I was named after a girly prissy thing. I showed him exactly how prissy I was when I gave him a bloody nose." Sweet Pea recalled with a prideful smile.
"Sweet Pea!"
"Well, he deserved it, clearly," Sweet Pea scoffed, "I mean, he obviously doesn't hate me, since that was Joaquin way back when."
Sweet Pea looked down at the packs. The smile on his face never faltered. The sheer joy over packets of seeds makes Betty grin in turn.
"You know, Sweet Pea Flowers are sorta pretty…" She said with a mischievous grin.
"You calling me pretty, Cooper?"
"If the flower fits," Betty enunciated her words carefully. Sweet Pea gave a tooth grin.
"Fine. I'm pretty. I wont punch you."
"Because I'm a girl?"
"For your information, I have knocked Toni flat on her ass. No, not because you're a girl. Because, well, I like you so I'll take it. Just don't tell anyone," He said in a stage-whisper, "Don't want to ruin my reputation."
"Oh, damn. Guess I can't run and tell that family of deer outside," Betty waved her arms around, "Who's there to tell?"
"True, Coop. True."
XXxxXX
September 19th, 2018
Without the prospect of certain death staring them down, Betty wasn't as sure about mentioning her feelings. If they were about to die and Sweet Pea didn't like her, she'd only be disappointed for a moment. If she said it now and he didn't, it would just make things entirely awkward.
Could she risk that?
There were moments when she was sure he was flirting with her. There were moments when she thought she was making it all up and he was just being nice.
Of course, she tells herself, past Betty might be kicking her. This was the same thing she'd been thinking about before nearly dying. That she doesn't want to wait until they're nearly dying again to say what she should say.
And, if anything, didn't the trip show her how fragile time was? How they could die at any second, especially here?
But, what was her emotions for Sweet Pea? Well, frankly, she wanted fuck him.
Did she love him beyond that…?
She wasn't entirely sure. But, she knew it was a crush. More than a crush. Less than love. Was that worth telling someone about?
She decided, perhaps cowardly, until she was sure of it, to not say anything.
Then, for a second, she's a bit disgusted with herself. She is Elizabeth Cooper! She has actively hunted down two killers, at least! She does not shy away from love declaration.
And that, simply, is that.
She will tell him.
XXxxXX
September 20th, 2018
Finding the right time to tell him is difficult.
It's not something Betty wants to blurt out over the dinner table, or while the pair of them organize their food stash and argue about if cans should be stacked or put on their side.
She imagines it, the discussion.
"Sweets, you're just wrong if you think that cans should be stored anyway but stacked, and oh by the way, I think I might want to jump your bones and be nauseatingly cute with you."
Or,
"Hey, this corn is super good, is that a new spice on there? I think that's a winner. On the topic, but not really, I might be falling for you. Like in love."
At least, she considers, it would be over quick. Like a bandaid.
It was easy with Jughead. He kissed her first. She had only a couple days of wondering if he liked her the way she liked him before he made the first move. She didn't have to agonize about the possible outcomes, good and bad, while she was hyper-actively looking for the moment to tell him.
She thinks it will garner a discussion. She doubts it will just be Sweet Pea saying 'cool' and nothing else. Therefore, nights and mornings are out. Best choice is to mabe grab him in between tasks.
She's stalling. She knows she is. She knows there have been hundreds of times but she cannot possibly just get her lips to move.
She's making a much bigger deal about it. Hyping herself up. Like going to the doctor and getting a shot; the anticipation is worse than the event.
XXxxXX
September 21st, 2018
"Dammit all!" She heard Sweet Pea cursing from the van. The temperature has dropped about 15 degrees, according to their trusty thermostat sitting right outside the front door. However, 65 still isn't cold. It's downright comfortable, in Betty's opinion. Still, they're fearful that this might be a trend, and so they've been busting their asses all day to get out the last stragler boxes from the van.
"You okay? You hurt?" Betty popped her head in. Sweet Pea is one of the most accident-prone people she's ever met. In unloading the van, he's cut his hand no less than three times.
"No, just sad," He pouted. He stood over a crate, "I just cracked a whole crate of wine."
Betty hopped in, helping him lift the cardboard box. It's only a little damp, but there are at least four bottles that have fissures or cracks now.
Sweet Pea ends up pouring the four bottles of champagne into one big vat.
"Give me a second to pay my respects," Betty said, putting a hand over her heart. Then, she went to tip the barrel over.
"Woah, woah! Hey, what gives?" Sweet Pea said, and all but shoved her onto her butt.
"Uhm, dumping it out? We don't have a way to store it."
"Betty Cooper," Sweet Pea pinched the bridge of his nose, "Alcohol is one day going to be a rare commodity. It's rare to us now, at our ages of seventeen and eighteen. We are not going to dump this out!"
"Then what are we going to do with it?" Betty asked, snorting, "Bathe in it?"
"We should celebrate your birthday. Belatedly," Sweet Pea looks to the bin of fizzing drinks, "Properly."
"You're saying we should drink four bottles worth in one night?" Betty felt a headache just imagining it.
"Spoil sport! C'mon, I bet you can count on your hand the number of times you've gotten drunk," He goaded.
"Yes." Betty held up a single finger.
"You mean at Lodge Lodge?"
Betty nodded, her neck flushed.
"Well, let's remedy that. I'll be your sober-ish companion. My tolerance is leagues above yours. For every three glass you have, I'll have one." He said, "Aren't you always the one saying 'waste-not, want-not'?"
Betty is a little pissed that he's caught her with her own words. She made him keep a loose thread from his shirt the other day, because who knows how long thread will be just lying around?
"Well," She begun softly, "I never really got to celebrate my birthday." And, chances are, if she'd been back in Riverdale, Veronica would have insisted on some ostentatious party where there would have been alcohol anyway.
"Perfect!" Sweet Pea went to the cabinet, and dipped two glasses into the tub, "Bottoms up!"
"But, but...the rest of the van," Betty sputtered.
"Yeah. We'll do that. Or, just put it in the entrance. Not organizing medical supplies won't kill us. We have tomorrow. And the next, and the next, and the next."
His grin once again gave Betty flutters.
She thinks to herself it will be far easier to tell him with a little liquid courage, therefore, she finishes the first glass of champagne in one gulp.
She is Betty-fucking-Cooper. She has this.
XXxxXX
They hurry to bring the rest of the items in. By glass three, Betty is already feeling a little bit floaty, like she's walking on air. It makes her sort of giggly.
"I love seeing people's drunk-alters," Sweet Pea told her, "Everyone is different and you can never guess it until you get someone drunk. Toni? She's the type that starts getting really touchy-feely, all, 'Have I ever told you how much I love you Sweets? Oh I just love our friendship' and all the things she'd never say sober. Fangs always feels like he's overheated and tries to take his clothes off."
He tells Betty he's sorta an angry drunk. Well, not abusive drunk, but he wants to fight things. He finds fighting things fun when drunk. You ask him to participate in a boxing match while drunk? Sweet Pea is all over that. He wants to hit things.
"That sounds like normal Sweet Pea," Betty quipped, thinking of how he was always the first one throwing a fist in tense situations.
"I go looking for fights when drunk, and do it laughing," He explained.
"How often did you get drunk?"
"It's not like the Wyrm was carding," Sweet Pea shrugged.
For dinner, they heat, over the microwave, a can of Spaghetti-O's and have a granola bar each. Betty, even fuzzy feeling, knows soon they'll have to start hunting and canning and preserving. Their dry-food is supposed to be emergency only. Caught and picked food is supposed to sustain them. She makes a reminder to think about this later.
"Oh, nope. I can see your mind whirling. Drink." Sweet Pea shoved another glass under her nose, "No survivalist planning."
"Fine. But remind me tomorrow that we have to start hunting." Betty narrows her eyes. Sweet Pea had accused her of not being able to let go earlier in the day, which she protested. She was going to show him. Betty Cooper could have fun. Betty Cooper could let loose.
And she should! This was her birthday celebration, albeit a month and a handful of days late.
"Noted." Sweet Pea said, "Now, chug, chug, chug…"
At her sixth glass of wine, Betty Cooper lets her hair out of her ponytail and throws her jacket off.
At her eight glass of wine, Betty insists Sweet Pea make a playlist of songs for her birthday. Club music only. Things that Veronica would would squeal when it came on and drag Betty onto a dance floor while insisting 'this is our song, girl!'. Songs that Betty Cooper, excuse me- sober Betty Cooper would feel really awkward dancing to. Songs like that. Sweet Pea holds up his hand, and Betty becomes a backseat DJ, pointing at titles on his iPod that always made her say 'they play this on the radio?' when she'd listen to the lyrics.
"Do you just want to make the playlist?" Sweet Pea finally asks, but his eyes were bright.
"No, oh no, no," Betty stumbles, "You're the music master."
"That I am. So can it. God, you're a lightweight."
The playlist, as far as Betty remembered, was very good. She still thinks her additions were what made it, though.
At her ninth glass of wine...that's around the time that Betty's attention span is that of a squirrel and she is sure she won't remember this the next morning. This worries her, since she hasn't told Sweet Pea the things that need to be said,and maybe she should do it soon. Then, the thought is gone, and Betty doesn't care because already, she does not remember.
They're playing a two-person drinking game with cards. Since Betty is super drunk at this point and it's all about reflexes, she had the thought it as terribly unfair. And, everytime that he wins a point, Betty has to take a shot of the wine. It's getting down to the bottom of the barrel, maybe two or three glasses left. For sure drinkable. It had seemed like Everest at the beginning of the night. She's sure she's had most of that. Sweet Pea hardly seems different at all. He might even basically be sober.
"Betty? Hey, two more shots," Sweet Pea snapped a finger in front of her face. He flashed his winning cards in front of her face, catching her attention.
Betty lets her cards fall. She stumbled over the couch, taking the most direct route instead of going around it like a normal, sober person.
"Sweet Pea! It's raining." She gasps, looking out at their little yard with the chicken-wire.
"Uhm, yeah. It has been for the last hour." Sweet Pea snorted.
"It's raining!" Betty repeated.
"Yes…?"
"We need to go outside." Betty says with as much seriousness as she can muster. She isn't sure why, but she has to go outside, "Bring the iPod!" She yells back, throwing open the door.
The rain is just cool enough to feel good on her warm, exposed skin. The whole night is actually perfect. It's not too cloudy, not too windy, not too cold. It's like something out of a cheesy Hallmark-movie, the ones Polly would make her watch and always cry at the end.
Betty threw off her shoes, walking to the center of the field. She squished her toes in the mud, feeling gleeful and so unlike herself. Sweet Pea watched from the front porch, stifling his laugher behind a hand.
He set his iPod on a dry table under the awning.
The current song- Low by T-Pain faded out, and the next song on felt like fate.
Oooh, you can dance! You can jive!
"Sweets! Look, it's perfect," Betty said, "I am the Dancing Queen! I'm seventeen!"
"You have told me directly, on more than one occasion, that you do not dance," Sweet Pea was giving her a weird look.
"Betty Cooper might not dance," Betty corrected, spinning around in a couple circles, "But my drunk-alter, uhm, how did you say you did it? Cetty Booper? She is the Dancing Queen. See?" She tried to be like a ballerina. Her mother had put her and Polly in dance lessons at the age of five. Betty had stayed in it for about four years before deciding it wasn't for her. She doubted she still had access to all the forms, but maybe, if she thought really hard…
"Oh, yeah, yep. I was totally mistaken." Sweet Pea gave a slow clap.
Betty stopped her spinning, which was good since she was feeling a wee bit nausieated now, holding out an accusatory finger, "I feel like you're being sarcastic. But I can't tell. I think I'm tipsy."
"I think you're totally shit-faced, Cooper."
"Stop just standing there like a log, Sweets-,"
"Do you maybe mean like a tree?"
"I mean like a log," She had meant tree, but she wasn't going to tell him that, "I say what I mean and I mean what I say. Come on. Be my dancing king," She pleaded.
"Well, how can I say no to that?" He scoffed. Sweet Pea shook off his leather jacket, leaving it next to his iPod and coming out. Betty grabbed his arm, and he danced with her. They must have looked like idiots out there in the rain, pretending like it was normal.
"Oh, gosh," Sweet Pea pushed the hair from his eyes, "I can't remember the last time I danced," He breathed once the song stopped.
Betty gasped, for some reason, finding this very unacceptable, "You don't dance?"
"No. We've had multiple conversations about this, Betty," he reminded with a grin.
"Well, why'd you come out then?"
He shrugged uneasily, sticking his hands in his soaked jean pockets, "Dunno. You asked me to."
Tell him, tell him!
Betty licked her lips, but all her words suddenly seemed lost on her. She couldn't remember how to speak. But it was imperative she tell him. This was that grand moment she'd been searching for!
So, Betty did the next best thing to convey to him how she felt.
She grabbed his head, pulled him down, rose up on the balls of her feet, and kissed him.
XXxxXX
Sweet Pea will tell anyone who asks that he is sort of a selfish person.
He was born and raised on the wrong sides of the tracks. He is a little rough around the edges and was taught from a very young age two truths that have served him well; never say no when someone is giving you something you want and if they aren't giving it, take it.
It takes a milliscent for Sweet Pea to realize that Betty Cooper is kissing him, and only another to respond back.
He knows that a do-gooder like Archie or Jughead would have pushed Betty away. She was maybe too drunk to be thinking straight. But he wasn't the one who kissed her, you see. She'd kissed him. And, he has a theory about drunk Betty. Drunk Betty is not haunted by her strict upbringings. Drunk Betty, as proven the entire night, only does what Drunk Betty want and nothing more. She's stubborn like that, in way that equally infuriates him but also sets his blood on fire.
Sweet Pea does not push her away. He pulls her closer.
He grabs onto her hair with one hand, the other tugging on her cami (which, lucky him, is practically see-through in the rain), to encourage Betty to all but climb on top of him.
He's been thinking about her like this for awhile now.
Awhile now? Scratch that. That doesn't even cut it. He's wanted Betty since she was with Jughead, since the world wasn't overrun by undead cannibals. Back then, it was purely sexually. He for sure imagined the one-off time where maybe Jughead and Betty would be off-again in their light-switch relationship and he'd be there to comfort her, or something like that.
Now? Well…
Here's a truth. Sweet Pea's never been in love. That's how he's pretty-nearly-almost sure he might be falling in love with Betty. He's just never felt how he feels about her with anyone else.
He's selfish, as already established. He'd be the first one to trip Toni if a bear was about to maul them and it was just a matter of one being faster than the other, which is not something he likes to admit.
Yesterday, though? Damn, son, he'd been willing to die first. He was purposely putting himself in harm's way, just so Betty had a chance to stay alive. He'd lay down his fucking life for her, and this means a lot to him. It's not sisterly-Serpents protect each other bullshit either. This, he thinks, this could be real.
Yesterday, while cowering together and considering that they might die, they were uncomfortably close. 'Uncomfortable' being the key word, in the sense that if he was literally at any inch of a level below 'oh my god this could be the end', it would have been very awkward very quick. As it was, while one part of him was praying that they'd live to see another day, another-albeit very small part of his mind- was praying he wasn't going to pop a boner right then.
Sweet Pea is a guy. He thinks about sex. He thinks about it a lot. And, sue him, one fleeting thought in that cabinet was that he totally regretted that he hadn't had a go at it with Cooper, and also that there were a lot of things he was sure he was going to come out and say to her, like a total softie.
When Betty had bit down on his shoulder, even though he knew it was so she didn't make noise, oh man.
But he hadn't wanted to bring it up directly after. Both of them were so spooked, it didn't seem right. They were both just thanking their lucky stars they survived the day.
He'd been sure that her little admision had meant so much more than she was letting on, the words she'd said to him in the darkness of the hospital, awaiting an excruciating death.
But he was a guy. He was dense. Unless Betty Cooper came dancing near naked up next to him, he couldn't be sure.
So he thought, until he'd stumbled across her box of...well, party favors.
He'd been absentmindedly opening crates, when he'd noticed an array of sweaters folded very strangely in a box with a lot of things from Walgreens. So, he'd investigated.
Imagine his surprise when he'd found a whole stockpile of condom and morning after pills.
He'd wrapped them back up exactly, shut the box, and then sat on the lid of it in the shadows of the moving van. Then, he'd bit the area between his pointer and thumb hard, willing his very aggressive erection to vanish before Betty returned back to the van to grab another box. He thought of Fangs' grandmother naked, a true and unfortunate sight he'd had the displeasure to see once. He thought of FP yelling at him for something stupid. He thought of Jughead naked. Ah-ha, that did it.
And then, that first night, he had to change the subject in the bed or else he was going to show Betty more than he bargained for right now. The idea of Kinky Betty? Sign him the fuck up.
If he wasn't entirely sure, he was more than sure now.
Betty sort of tackled him, shoving him down into the grass. He was soaked, but who cared? Betty Cooper was kissing him like he was water, and she was in a desert. This hadn't been his intention, by the way, to loosen Betty up enough for her to kiss him or make a move. He'd just wanted her to have a good time and not waste that perfectly good champagne. This was just an added bonus, the best end to her celebration.
Betty detached from his, breathing hard.
"Betty, do you think-,"
His questions of perhaps moving to the bedroom (and doing everything but sleeping) was cut off as Betty moaned. Not a sexy moan, a sick moan.
"Sweets, I don't feel so good." She whimpered.
He helped her up, "Hey, that's fine, let's just...goddamnit," he cussed as Betty promptly threw up, sort of all over his clothes and her own. To be honest, he should have seen this coming. He felt stupid he didn't.
"I'm so sorry!" Betty gasped, but she still looked a little green.
"No problem, no problem," He grumbled. He helped her inside, into the bedroom. He helped her peel off her shorts and tank-top, throwing them in a bin to deal with tomorrow. Betty was now in just her bra and underwear, but in the exact worse scenario that lead up to it.
As much as he so desperately wanted to go further...not tonight.
Nothing killed the mood like vomit.
He found Betty a bucket, putting it by the bed. He went into the bathroom, stripped off his own shirt, and proceeded to hit his head against the wall a few times.
His momma had always said that he was unlucky.
He was pretty sure no truer words had been said.
MWAHAHHAHAHHAAA
So, now, as for notes
*First and most foremost, RIP Luke Perry. If you haven't heard, the actor that plays Fred Andrews died yesterday from a stroke. He was only 52 and seriously, in good health. It's just so utterly awful. He was multi-generational; me (a grad student), my teenage sister, and my mother all liked him. My mom was talking about how he was one of the first celeb posters she had on her wall. Just, have your thoughts be with his family, because this is absolutely just so unexpectedly heart-wrenching. I wrote this chapter about a month and a half ago, and when I came to the part that had Mr. Andrews in it when I was editing yesterday, I very seriously had to sniffle and hold back tears.
*Originally, there wasn't going to be a kiss this soon! But you all wanted it SO bad that, well, who doesn't love a tropey rain kiss?
*The song, when I originally heard it, the first thought I had was 'huh, sounds like it would be played during the apocalypse'. Apparently, everyone in the YT comments thought so too. Go check it out! It's super coolio.
*I, cough, didn't know that a Sweet Pea was a flower until like this summer...I just thought it was a weird name...
*I have decided that this will update monthly! So, be on the look-out for updates around the 5th of each month or so :)
As always, review!