#BHlemondrops

[lilibug--xx]

Lemon Drops and Chocolate Chips

CHAPTER 5 — bughead neighbors au

Alright, sorry this took so long everyone! But it's here, finally! Thank you @strix​ for being my beta and my bff and for helping me when I've lost all direction. 

Read it on ao3 here, or search the tag #BHlemondrops on my blog to read the previous chapters there. This one has some flashbacks which was hard for me to write for some reason! But, I hope you guys like it. 

 She couldn’t breathe.

It felt like she was underwater; the rush of it filling her throat, leaving her breathless, gasping, choking for a breath of air. Her knees were weak, and there was nothing Betty  wanted more than to sink to the floor in a boneless heap, but she was rooted to the spot.

She was hyper-conscious of all the points of her body, simultaneously feeling dazed and muddled. Betty was aware of a pair of hands gripping her biceps tightly, holding her in place. She felt the strong warmth — a pleasant burn against the way her skin had turned clammy and chilled.

“... Betty...”

She blinked against the black spots in her vision until she found her gaze focusing on the tiled floor of her kitchen. There was a pair of black combat boots filling her vision and her stomach filled with dread. No, not my kitchen. Betty squeezed her eyes tightly shut as her body began to shake.

“... Betty,” she heard it that time, a distinctly male voice. Rough with unbridled emotion — concern, she realized, absently. Jughead, she thought with a start. Immediately she felt stupid, small, uneasy with the way things things had turned south so quickly. Betty never meant for this to happen — for his sweet kiss that she was desperate for, to trigger her into an unwelcome embrace of the past.

Her teeth were biting hard into her cheek, the coppery tang of blood sharp on her tongue. She licked her lip, sucking a breath of air in through parted lips when she realized her lungs were burning.

Betty was getting glimpses of the past she had tried so hard to move on from.

She was trapped — arms caging her in against the kitchen counter of a rundown apartment. It was dark, dingy, musty — the smell in the air a mix of chemicals and burn of smoke. Betty was looking down at big brown eyes as she pressed herself against the counter as hard as she could to create space between them.

“My sweet girl Friday, why so scared? Afraid I’m going to bite too hard?”

Betty’s lower lip trembled and her eyes widened. The dark gaze in the other girl's eyes was anything but playful.

Betty shook her head, tears pooling in the corner of her eyes.

“Jughead,” she choked out, a desperate plea. She was spiraling down and needed something to ground her.

His thumbs brushed her arms in a soothing manner. She focused on the press of the pads of his fingers against her, how the touch was gentle and comforting.

“Sweetheart, I’m here,”  His low voice brought a relieved sigh to her lips as she forced herself take a deep, agonisingly slow breath. She unclenched her hands, flexing her fingers experimentally.

“I’m so, so sorry. Obviously I hadn’t intended  for this to happen...”

Betty wanted to apologize to him; for the situation. Instead, she  choked back a sob — her emotions starting to unravel from the gentle, precarious hold she had just gathered on them.

Shaking her head, Betty sucked in a sharp breath, her words spilling out in a rush. “Don’t be sorry, please. None of this is your fault. At all. I promise ”

Then, the memories assaulted her once again; before she had time to do more than grip Jughead’s forearms to hold herself upright.

.

.

.

“Please. Please, just let me go home… ”

“Ah, ah, ah. Betty, baby, what would the others say?” Slender fingers with sharp, tapered nails traced the outline of the dark blooming bruise on Betty’s jaw where the other girl had backhanded her earlier.

“I told you: I’m not your baby anymore.”

Despite the shake of her hands at her sides, her own nails digging into the flesh of her palms, her voice was steady — defiant.

“We’re over, Toni. You chose the Serpents over me, let them lead you down a path you won’t let me help you escape. So, I’m done. I’m. Done. We are done.”  

She was impressed with herself then, managing not to let her voice crack or let the other girl’s snarling lip interrupt her. Toni was stunned enough by her courage that Betty was able to duck under her arms and head toward the door.

A hand grasped her wrist tightly, yanking her backwards. Betty hissed as she was pulled around, Toni’s grip a bruising punishment.

“You’re going to regret this, Cooper.”

“Doubt it, Topaz,” Betty snarled, showing her teeth, “I am so much better alone than I ever was with you. But you? There won’t be anyone to help you when you overdose. Or when this sick gang decides they want to push you past your limits. I won’t be crying over you anymore.”

.

.

.

They were happy, once, Betty was sure. They must have been.

Their beginning was sweet: Full of hesitant touches, lingering gazes; the subtle up-and-downs they would give, checking each other out.

They were total opposites besides the glaringly obvious.

Skirts, converse, ballet flats, sweaters, jeans, lace dresses, delicate jewelry, all soft and pastels. Blue eyes and golden hair.

Chunky boots, ripped jeans, flannel, studs and spikes, leather, and black black black. Caramel skin and brown eyes.

They had fallen in love slowly, gradually, day by day; it was an inevitable collision. Dancing around each other until the other was sure there must be something more behind those sweet smiles and hesitant lip bitings.

.

.

.

The first time she walked in and saw Toni with a syringe between her teeth and a tourniquet tightly looping around her bicep — Betty wanted to violently retch, so tightly had the swirling mix of apprehension and concern twisted within her. She couldn't believe things had turned to this. They had screamed at each other for what felt like hours, until Betty cried herself to sleep after the door slammed shut. Toni didn’t say where she was going, but she didn’t have to, Betty knew.

.

.

.

The first time Toni put her hands on Betty in a threatening manner, it had scared her more than the drugs did. (A fact which was, in retrospect, quite telling about the state of their relationship in and of itself.)

The smaller girl’s purple-stained talons were digging into the skin of her waist and drawing lines that welled up with sticky red, making bruises in delicate pale skin. She had screamed for Toni to stop, but instead found herself earning a swift crack across the cheek, splitting it. The blow was harsh, rough, the sting lingering well into the next day.

In the moment though, it had silenced Betty, as it had intended to.

.

.

.

They had always enjoyed each other’s bodies. All soft curves and delicate, smooth skin. Betty had never told her mother when she started dating Toni, afraid of what her family would think.

These days, she longed for the days when she worried about the choice of her partner’s gender. She would take it over worrying whether her girlfriend would show up high and loving, or angry and rough. Neither was a combination Betty liked.

They had fit well together at first — Toni’s head tucking under Betty’s chin when they lay in bed together. The contrast of their appearances was appealing, endearing even.

Toni loved to buy Betty a plethora of pink — it was surely her favorite color, despite her protests that it wasn’t. Betty was always thankful, even though it was never her favorite. Years of having it pushed on her by her mom, and now Toni.

Perhaps, she should have taken the hint when Toni brushed her feelings on the matter aside, despite multiple protestations of otherwise. Hindsight was 20/20, as they say. And Betty was in love.

.

.

.

It started to go downhill when Betty realized Toni was going through with the initiation into the gang she had been hanging around with. Betty had never liked the Southside Serpents. But it was because they were drug dealers and pushers, an embittered, violent, and angry lot.

Toni’s uncle was apart of the gang, however, and despite her insistence that membership was voluntary — she had proclaimed she wasn’t going to ever join — Toni had fallen into their insidious web.

When the other girl came home with a black leather jacket around her firmly-set shoulders, walking with a limp, Betty knew. She didn’t have to see the large snake tattoo winding its way up her girlfriend’s thigh, or the piercing red of the snake’s eyes on the patch sewn into the jacket. The split lip and bloodied knuckles — the look of exhaustion. It was enough.  

Betty didn’t know — didn’t want to know, what initiation entailed. She didn’t want any part of this. Despite Toni’s protests that this new part of her life would never touch Betty, she knew it was lie.

.

.

.

Her initial attraction to Toni was always something Betty was surprised by.

Betty was never into labels and as such had a hard time classifying herself. She let her feelings and thoughts guide her on matters of affection and attraction, not public opinion.

They had met in a Statistics class their freshman year of college. Betty being ever so prepared, had everything she could possibly need for class. She had sat herself in the third row, one seat in from the aisle — not too ambitious, but not lackadaisical either.

Ten minutes into the lecture a girl with flannel tied around her waist, skin on display in a crop top, sat in the empty chair next to Betty.

There was a lot of shuffling, papers, books, the rustle of fabric. Betty furrowed her brows, trying to block out the noise as she pressed her pencil against the paper a little bit harder.

“Hey, you got an extra pencil I could borrow?”

Betty turned to the girl with a frown on her face. Of course she had an extra. The frown on her lips twitched as she drank in the sight of the other girl. Brown hair tinted pink in the least obnoxious way possible — like strands of cotton candy, Betty thought absently.

She handed over the pencil she was writing with, the other girl plucking it from between her fingers.

“Thanks, doll.”

Betty scrunched her nose up, reaching down for another pencil from her bag resting at her feet.

“You’re welcome,” Betty muttered. She was nothing if not polite.

The class went on, Betty took pages of notes. She kept growing frustrated with the fact that the girl next to her (who had been late) was just twirling the pencil between her fingers all class, only a few things scribbled in her notebook that Betty kept glancing at.

Betty didn’t realize the class had ended, or that she had stopped writing. Instead she found herself staring at her pencil that the other girl was holding out to her. She blinked, green eyes trailing up to brown. There was a smirk on the girl’s lips, mirth in her big brown eyes. Betty admired the way her eyelashes fluttered with the tilt of her head.

“A little lost in your head?”

Betty shook her head, snapping out of her thoughts. “Guess I wasn’t really paying attention to the lecture at the end there,” her fingers grasped the end of the pencil, tugging. It stayed firmly in the other girls grasp and Betty felt sparks of fire tremble up her arm when the girl leant forward, her other hand planted on the desk as she got closer to Betty’s face.

“Careful. Might have to pop a button on that sweater, loosen you up.”

Betty’s cheeks flushed and she tugged the pencil out of the other girl’s hand. “Yeah, I got it,” she grit out, her jaw already feeling achy from the clench of her teeth.

The pink-haired girl laughed and if the sound wasn’t so pleasant Betty might have wanted to punch her.

“I just mean you need to relax. See you Friday, pretty girl,” the smirk making her skin burn pleasantly hot, brown eyes lingering before she turned away.

Why was it that Betty was so excited for Friday now?

.

.

.

Shaking her head, Betty leant forward into Jughead’s comforting embrace. She wasn’t sure when they had moved to sit on the couch, or when she had snuggled into his chest, but despite the unfamiliarity of the position, she wasn’t complaining. He had one arm wrapped around her shoulders holding her protectively. The heavy, solid weight felt nice against her and she sighed softly into his shoulder.

His other hand was resting over her balled up  fists, in the small space between them. Betty was gripping the couch cushion harshly with her fingers, and she let go when she felt the ache in her knuckles. Jughead’s thumb immediately smoothed down the backs on her hands brushing the wrinkles of her skin soothingly.

“Hey,” he whispered, “Welcome back.”

Betty relished the smooth tone of Jughead’s voice flooding her ears. Taking another deep breath, which included an inhale of his heady scent — the pine and paper doing wonders to ease her mind.

“Jug, I am so sorry,” her voice got stuck in her throat, her eyes threatening to well with tears again. Strong hands gripped her biceps, pushing her gently back so that they could look at each other.  

“It’s okay, Betts. Nothing to be sorry for. Just take some time to decompress.”

Nodding at his sincere words, (her heart aching wondrously at the nickname he’d used) Betty wiped under her eyes with her fingers. “Okay… thanks, Juggie,” she employed her own, searching his face afterward for any discontent.

The smile that took over Jughead’s face was telling and it made her lips quirk up despite the situation.

“Should you eat something or..." his words trailed off and Betty gave a small shrug.

“Just… just don’t leave me alone yet. Sometimes the memories keep coming, even after my attack has passed.”

Jughead nodded, his thumbs brushing the skin of her arms absently. Raised goosebumps prickling her skin under his ministrations.

Betty appreciated the metaphorical space he was giving her by not asking questions; and enjoying the physical comfort of his closeness at the same time. Closing her eyes for a moment, she tried to calm the raging waters of her thoughts — like deep waves lapping at her toes in soft, warm sand.

Opening her eyes, she met Jughead’s — a smoky grey in this light and angle. “Can we… lie down? Here, on the couch?”

Seeming to think for a moment, Jughead then scooted back so he was sitting in the corner of the couch. Betty stood as he made himself more comfortable, slouching down and pulling his legs up and stretching out. His arms opened invitingly and Betty stretched herself out beside him, resting  on her side, her front pressed to his side.

One of Jughead’s arms curved around her shoulders, the other settling just along his hipbone and thigh. In a brazen moment, she considered grasping his hand with hers. But Betty thought better of it and curled her arms up to her chest, her fingers twisting in the side of Jughead’s soft, worn t-shirt.

In the quietness, Betty was calm. The sounds of their breath and gentle ticking of the clock hanging on the wall behind them, the soft hum of the tv.

Betty closed her eyes; not opening them again until sometime later.

Her body felt stiff and she wanted to stretch out her limbs, to uncurl herself like a cat. She realized that her and Jughead hadn’t seemed to have moved a muscle save for his arm that hadn’t been around her shoulders. It was curved behind his head like a pillow, similar to how she seemed to be using his chest as hers. Which, she noted appreciatively, was very firm.

Craning her neck, Betty looked to the clock hanging on the wall above them. It was late, just after 11.

In the soft light of Jughead’s apartment, she looked to his face. He was still sleeping — peacefully, she noted, with a serene calmness. His features that seemed tense and hard during the day were soft and worry-free now. Betty couldn’t stop the hand that reached up to smooth her thumb along the crinkle by his mouth, a frown line that she wanted to rub away.

Her hand raised higher, gently tracing the sharp angle of Jughead’s cheek with two fingers now, up the side of his face. Brushing back a lock of inky dark hair, Betty pushed her fingers into the rest of his hair. His beanie had come off at some point — she wasn’t sure when. The strands of his hair felt like silk, and begrudgingly, she thought about how much softer his hair was than hers.

Jughead seemed to stir under her actions and her hand stilled, her fingers still buried in his hair. He only seemed to nuzzle slightly into her hand, a sleepy sigh falling between his parted lips.

A smile bloomed on her face, the giggle welling up in her throat, becoming difficult to swallow. Betty ran her hand through his hair a couple more times before curling her arm back and relishing the warmth of being tucked into Jughead’s side.

She knew she needed to go, that she couldn’t just close her eyes and go back to sleep — no matter how much she really wanted to.

So — Betty carefully unfolded herself from the couch and from Jughead’s arm around her. She tucked his elbow against the cushions, placing his hand on his chest, and thinking for a brief moment, that she didn’t want this to end. Her eyes were drinking in the picture of him before Betty crept to his kitchen to write a note. Explaining her disappearance and her expressing her gratitude for his help. Now, she needed to tuck the note where he would see it. Boldly, Betty slid it into the front pocket of his jeans, the paper crinkling even as she tried to be careful. She couldn’t stop the blush that rose on her cheeks from the act, despite its innocence.

After putting some plastic wrap (which she had been surprised to find he had) over the dessert bars, Betty put them away on his kitchen counter and made her way out and across the hall. The door clicked behind her and enveloped her in a now stifling silence.

She wanted to talk to her sister. Why did her phone have to be broken?

Betty thought idly, maybe she ought to order a new one. Just a cheap one that would get her through for a while.

Sitting down at her kitchen table, Betty opened her laptop and did a quick ebay search. She found a decent option for just over $100, so she went for it. Slipping her chin into her palm, she scrolled through her facebook feed for a few minutes before growing bored.

Rolling her head around in her hand, she decided to pull up skype, clicking on her sister's name. The chances she would answer were slim, but it would go to her phone at least. The late hour was a bit of a problem, and Betty hoped she wouldn’t be waking Polly or the twins up.

It only took two rings for her sister’s face to fill the screen. Betty grimaced slightly at her own image, her mussed hair and eye bags — it was obvious she had done a bit a crying. But Polly was beautiful, as always. Long golden curls and wide bright eyes despite the darkness of the room she was in.

“Betty? What’s wrong?”

Her sister was ever so concerned, Betty was torn between smiling and laughing.

“Oh, Pols, I’m sorry for calling so late.”

Polly was walking, Betty could hear the click of a door shutting and a light coming on — she was in the bathroom now, sitting down on the closed toilet seat.

“It’s alright, J’s asleep and so are the twins. I was just reading before bed,” she seemed to prop her phone up on the sink counter. “Why are you calling me from skype?”

“I dropped my phone in the bath yesterday. It got fried like a piece of burnt toast. Just ordered a replacement a bit ago.”

“Oh, no... I told you to stop taking your phone in there with you. I’ve told you that maybe a hundred times, Betty —”

“Okay, mom ” Betty rolled her eyes.

“—I’m serious. I’m surprised it didn’t happen before now, to be honest.”

“I know, okay? It was… stupid,” Betty’s eyes were threatening to fill with tears again.

“Oh, Betty… what’s wrong? Did something happen? Are you ok?” her sister’s frantic voice made her shake her head and Betty ran her fingers under her eyes preemptively.

With a shaky breath, she looked back to Polly who was worrying her lip between her teeth, brow furrowed in concern. “I had a panic attack.”

“And you’re alright now? When was it? Did you do your breathing exercises? You should have called me — skyped me.”

“Yes, I’m ok now. It was actually several hours ago. My neighbor… Jughead, helped me through it,” Betty paused for a moment, watching Polly relax some. “I was in his apartment. We were… kissing.”

“Oh… oh, and that led to a panic attack?”

“Yes. It wasn’t his fault, though. I haven’t talked to him about Toni, because we haven’t known each other very long. But I like him, and we kissed. I was being all tense —”

Polly snorted at that and Betty sent her a glare through the screen.

“—and he said I needed to relax. That, combined with the way he had said ‘sweet girl’ and the position we were in —”

“Hmm? Position? What position was that?”

“— would you stop interrupting me, Pols?” Betty was only semi-kidding, rolling her eyes at Polly.

Her sister’s tinkling laugh echoed from the speakers. “Just interested in the details, dear sister of mine.”

“Fine, fine, so he had me up against the kitchen table. Hands on either side of my hips. Happy?”

“ Very.” Polly’s grin could rival the Cheshire Cat’s.

“So, it just reminded me of… you know, Toni. I could hear those same words coming out of her mouth. I could feel her arms caging me in — trapping me.”

Betty sighed into her hands, running them down her face and then pressing her palms against her closed eyes, rubbing them.

“But… you said Jughead helped you through it? You didn’t totally freak out.”

Dragging her hands away from her eyes, Betty stared at Polly who had an eyebrow raised at her.

“Well, no, I guess not.”

“That’s good! You’re making progress then. This Jughead may be helping you more than you realize. It’s about time you moved on from this, especially with someone.”

“Yeah, I know. Three years is a long time, trust me, I know,” Betty shot her sister an incredulous look.

Polly let out a howl of laughter, her hand clamping over her mouth immediately as she quieted her outburst. Her giggles burst through her fingers and it was infectious — Betty’s lips turning upwards until she was grinning and shaking her head.

“Stop, Polly. This is a serious conversation.”

“Then why are you still laughing with me?”

“Oh, shush, you goose.”

A beat of silence passed, then, “So, Jughead is your neighbor?”

Betty sighed, “Yes. My very attractive, very interesting, in-possession-of-a-steady-job neighbor. But, he also wears leather, smokes, and rides a motorcycle.”

“Well… that sounds great to me.”

“Of course it does, Jason drives a volvo.”

“Hey! Volvo’s are a perfectly respectable mode of transportation,” Polly’s voice was full of indignation.

“Yeah, I know. But you always were attracted to the bad boy types. I’ll never know how you ended up with preppy, heir-to-a-maple-syrup-empire JJ.”

Polly ducked her head. “Let’s just say there’s a reason that I got pregnant so quickly…”

“Ok, wow,” Betty drawled. “That was a visual  I did not need, Polly.”

“Just so we’re on the same page, I’m talking about sex.”

Betty rolled her eyes at her sister, “Yeah, I got that, Mrs. TMI.”

“Alright, just wanted to clear that up,” her sister’s smug smile was as beautiful as it was annoying. “Well, anyway. What’s so bad about those things? With Jughead? Just because he may do or have some of the same things as Toni, does not make him like her.”

“I know, I know. But… while I may understand it on an intellectual level, subconsciously my brain has a hard time comprehending that,” and truly, it did.

Betty closed her eyes, repeating the mantra that helped her gain focus and clarity when she often felt herself slipping back in time, adding a new part to the beginning.

The person I like is different, the situation is different, my life is different. But I’m still the same.

Distantly, she thought that she could do this. It would take time and effort, but she could do it . She was going to have to eventually, now or later — and she definitely didn’t want to let Jughead slip through her fingers.

“Tetty was just never going to be a thing,” Polly said, suddenly, nodding with her words as Betty made a face.

“Tetty?”

“Yeah, it was the ship name I gave you and Toni.” Polly made a face. “The alternative was Copaz, and that just wasn’t going to fly.”

Raising an eyebrow at her sister, Betty gave her look that reflected her next words, “Really?”

“Yes, don’t judge me,” Polly huffed. “It’s all I have as a stay-at-home mom. Don’t begrudge me my shipping.”

Betty bit back a smile. “And your kids…?”

“Oh, yeah. Them too. Anyway,” Polly brushed some hair behind her shoulders a sly smile on her face that made Betty’s stomach flip, because she knew that smile.

“Now, Bughead? Yeah, that has a nice ring to it.”

  tbc.

[lilibug--xx]

Lemon Drops and Chocolate Chips

CHAPTER 4  ( 3, 2, 1 )

Here is the next chapter! Sorry this one took me a while. Hoping to turn out chapter 5 a little quicker. This ones ends in a bit of cliffhanger again. Thanks to my tol bean, @strix for being my super talented, amazing beta.

Read it on ao3 here. 

Betty swallowed a large gulp of beer from the bottle she had raised to her lips before Jughead spoke. His blue eyes staring at her in equal measures of curiosity and mischief — as if he knew what his words would invoke in her. He was being cheeky.

“Well, now that you mention it,” she started, standing up and heading over to the kitchen counter. Betty took out some smaller dessert plates and spoons, and pulled the pie from where it had been sitting. She took the foil from the top and cut some slices with a serving knife.

“I want you to tell me what you think is in this pie,” Betty was curious to his answer, wondering if his love of food could tell the difference between carrot and pumpkin. The spices might make it difficult as she supposed they would mask the taste pretty well. And cream cheese pretty much made anything taste good.

Once she had placed a good size piece on each plate, she brought them back to the table. Jughead had pushed their dinner plates to the side, stacked on top of each other. He was sitting casually, an arm thrown around the back of the chair. Betty admired the way the green cable knit stretched against his shoulders before sliding into her seat across from him.

He looked down at the plate, eyes appraising the pie. It had a layer of sweetened cream cheese and then the bulk of the carrot mixture with thinly sliced almonds (that she bad roasted and sprinkled with salt) on top. Jughead rubbed his hand over his jaw, fingers brushing out nonexistent hairs on his chin. Betty wanted to giggle.

“Well, it looks kinda like pumpkin pie. But, I’m guessing it’s not.”

He picked up the spoon, both arms back on the table as he swirled the plate around, looking at it from multiple angles. Jughead bent down and inhaled deeply, belting out a deep groan of satisfaction.

“It smells like Thanksgiving.”

Betty nodded to him, lips quirking up in a grin. She pulled her own spoon through her slice and popped it in her mouth. The burst of flavors on her tongue was all spicy and sweet at the same time. “Yup.”

Jughead was watching her for any reaction after she started eating. She rolled her eyes and gestured with her spoon at him. He finally took a bite, eyes fluttering as his lips closed around the spoon. She watched in trepidation, her free hand curling into a fist underneath the table. Betty’s fingernails were pinching into her skin of her palm.

He opened his eyes wide as he started to chew. Letting out a low whistle, he looked down at the piece of pie and shook his head.

“You could tell me there was dog shit in this pie and I would still eat it, Betty.”

A giggle escaped her mouth at that, her fist relaxing as she clamped it over her lips, her chest bubbling up and down.

“But, to be honest it tastes like pumpkin, but it’s creamier, sweeter. This cream cheese layer?” He paused and she nodded to his question. “Combination reminds me of carrot cake.”

Betty hummed, taking another bite of the pie and nodding along with his words. It was like the best mix of both desserts.

“So, carrot or pumpkin?” She asked after she swallowed. Jughead was looking at her warily, another bite on his spoon.

“This feels like a trick question.”

“Maybe it is?” Her eyebrows raised at him and she cut into the edge of her crust.

She let Jughead finish eating before prompting him to decide. He licked his lips, her eyes following his tongue. Betty tilted her head and crossed her arms on the table, leaning forward.

“So?”

“What do I get if I guess correctly?”

His question caught her off guard. She wasn’t really expecting this. To be fair though, she really hadn’t expected any of this. As in, Jughead being in her apartment at all. So she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe for a moment. It wasn’t like he was propositioning to take something, he was giving her the power to choose what she wanted to give. It could be as simple as a dollar bill, another meal cooked…

“A kiss.”

Okay, where the hell had that come from? Betty couldn’t help the way her lips started to tremble. She had to bite her bottom one to get it to stop. She maintained eye contact though, which was frightening, but simultaneously enthralling. The excitement tickled the back of her neck, prompting a smile from her.  

Jughead was staring at her from across the table, the same look of mischief flashing across his features.

“Okay,” he started, nodding his head. “Pumpkin.”

Betty let out a shaky breath and as a lopsided grin grew on her face. She laid her hands flat on the table and shook her head at Jughead. She didn’t miss the slight droop of his shoulders or the twitch in his jaw.

“It’s made with carrots.”

He looked defeated, like he had lost his favorite game and was sulking in the corner. He huffed, scrunching up his nose. “It didn’t taste like carrots…”

“Trick question, remember?”

He rolled his eyes at her and glanced down at his plate. “Can I have another piece of this carrot pie?”

She nodded, hopping up from her seat and heading to the counter. Cutting him another piece, she pulled the pie plate over to the table and served it to him. Betty gathering up the dishes as he ate his second piece. She was fixing up a container of leftover vegetables and a ziplock bag of the matcha bark, in addition to the fact that she was going to make him take the rest of the pie home. Placing it all in the fridge, she wiped the counter down with a rag.

“So,” Jughead started, sentence ending as he looked at her questioningly. He was wondering what came next. To be honest, so was she.

“Do you like Netflix?” Were the words that came out of Betty’s mouth and she was thanking her lucky stars that it wasn’t anything else. She had this urge to blurt things out around Jughead for some reason. When she was usually very thoughtful and decisive about her actions and responses.

“Of course I like Netflix,” he had stood now, depositing his empty plate into the sink. Betty started to fill it with hot water, squirting some dish soap in as she plugged the drain. Drying her hands on a towel she looked to Jughead. He was leaning his back against the counter, observing the array of magnets attached to the front of her fridge.

“What kind of shows do you like?” Betty had reached out, wrapping her fingers around one of Jughead’s wrists. She was tugging him towards the adjoining living room and pushing him to sit on her couch.

“I like thrillers, mysteries, dark stuff -—horror. But, also older movies and shows. I’m a bit of a True Crime buff. But I like the occasional rom-com, too. Paul Rudd is a funny guy,” Jughead was settling into the corner of the couch, his arms up and resting along the back and side.

Betty eyed the space his arms had made, vaguely entertaining the thought that it was an invitation for her to sit right next to him. She dismissed it quickly, reaching for the remote on the coffee table and clicking the tv on. Then, settled on the couch a respectable distance away, so that his fingertips just barely brushed the middle of her shoulders.

“Okay, I can get on board with a good psychological thriller. I probably like romance movies more though. Like Titanic? That is one of my favorites. I adore older films, especially black and white. I also really like foreign movies and shows, I don’t mind having to read subtitles.”

With the Netflix menu open, she felt an odd feeling wash over her, as if someone was looking into her soul. Betty hadn’t realized that someone viewing her watchlist might make her feel so vulnerable. She tucked her legs up underneath her, which tilted her slightly in Jughead’s direction.

“Yeah? I guess I haven’t dabbled much into foreign media. I’ve watched some older ones, classics like Rules Of The Game and M, though.”

Betty had seen the first, but not the second title he mentioned. “What’s M?” she questioned, browsing the newly released titles section to see if anything caught either of their eyes.

“It’s a German film, basically the first serial killer movie. It’s great, we should watch it sometime.”

Betty couldn’t help the slow smile she flashed him, eyes crinkling up at the corners. She would love to.

“Okay, but I doubt it’s on Netflix, so another time. Have you ever watched Stranger Things? I’m a little obsessed with 80’s nostalgia.”

Jughead had turned to look at her, his elbow propped up on the arm of the couch. His hand was at his mouth, fingers fiddling with his lower lip. He had an eyebrow raised at her, incredulous look on his face.

“Of course, I’ve seen Stranger Things. I, too, have an affinity for the 80’s subculture, especially 80’s futuristic subtypes. One of my favorite movies is Blade Runner.”

Betty rolled her eyes at Jughead. “I suppose you like Star Wars, Back to the Future, Mad Max, Alien—”

“Wait, wait, hold up. Are you saying you don’t?”  

Betty grinned at him, her own eyebrow raising towards him as she took in the disbelief in his face. Finally she laughed, her head shaking.

“Jug, no. I love those movies.” He seemed to relax at her words, sinking back into the couch with a sigh of relief. “I just didn’t realize we had such similar interests.”

Betty was definitely a sucker for movies with a kickass female in the midst. The others were good too.

He nodded at her, eyes going back to the tv. “I am pleasantly surprised, Betty Cooper. Let’s just say that.”

“As am I, Jughead Jones.”

They ended up starting Stranger Things season 2 over again, as they were both at different spots and couldn’t decide which episode to start over. So the beginning it was. Betty was tapping her fingers against the couch with the music, the soundtrack of the show really resonated with her.

They fawned over Eleven’s new hair and kept pointing out how they positioned Mike in frames due to the actor’s height compared to the rest of the kids. Betty had also made Jughead a cup of hot apple cider with a fresh cinnamon stick that he wouldn’t stop talking about for 30 minutes.

They watched five episodes because they found it really hard to stop watching. Betty just kept letting the next one play until she realized it was after midnight and she had to get up early for work the next day. Jughead had told her “sleep is for the weak,” but begrudgingly got up from his spot on the couch.

He stretched his arms high above his head and Betty’s eyes were instantly drawn to the strip of skin that revealed itself where his sweater rose up. She had to force herself to pull her eyes away from the familiar trail of hair that had been taunting her in her dreams since the shower incident.

“I had a really awesome time tonight Betty,” his voice drifted over to her where she had found herself standing in front of the fridge, pulling out Jughead’s leftovers.

“Yeah? I did, too. Turns out you are pretty cool to hang out with,” Betty teased, putting the containers into a grocery bag for his trek across the hall.

“Gee thanks, I feel really validated now.”

He was smiling though as they walked toward her door and Betty couldn’t help reciprocating.

“Really though, we should hang out again,” her palms had turned sweaty, thinking about him possibly kissing her goodnight. She didn’t know if she could do it. Deciding to act first she gripped his shoulders in her hands and kissed his cheek sweetly.

“Goodnight, Jughead. I’ll text you,” she smiled at him as sincerely as she could, despite the clench of her heart.

Jughead nodded, his eyes darting to her lips before he gave her a small smirk, one that didn’t quite reach the far away expression in his eyes. “Goodnight, Betty.”

She saw him out the door and watched him enter his apartment. He didn’t glance back.

Betty shut her down and pressed her back against it, sliding down to sit with her knees pressed against her chest. She felt like she did something wrong. Her stomach was clenching uncomfortably and she had to press her forehead against her knees. Her heart wasn’t about to win out here, she had to be logical and think this through before making a rash decision that would be hard to take back later.

***

Two days later, while she was sitting at Starbucks, waiting to meet with a client, Betty snapped a photo of her drink cup and sent it to Jughead. The barista had somehow managed to comically spell her name wrong and she thought it might give Jughead a laugh.

B: so apparently my name is Betsie now??

She had also sent an emoji, the upside down smiley face.

First and foremost, Betty really did want to be friends with Jughead. She was really making an effort to put herself out there with him, while still standing in her comfort zone. She was waiting to see if these feelings for him grew stronger or faded with getting to know him.

So far, she was really regretting not kissing him the other night.

His text came in, some laughing emoji’s and a ‘nice to meet you, Betsie’.

Smiling at her phone, she chewed her lip, trying to think of something to say when her client arrived. Betty spent the rest of the morning with her phone burning a hole in her pocket.

She didn’t text Jughead again until she got home that afternoon. She asked him if he would be offended if she watched the rest of the Stranger Things episodes.

He never answered her.

She went to bed and lay there, staring up at the ceiling for what felt like hours. She was sure she had gone over every pro and con to admitting she liked Jughead. Betty was still comparing this to her previous relationship. There were a lot of similarities that scared her.

First impressions, had absolutely placed Jughead in the same category as her ex: Motorcycle, leather jackets, cigarettes, smirking, and sardonic humor. There was uncanny similitude between the two. But there was more to Jughead, too; he was witty, smooth, confident, and caring. He had a steady job, friends, had gone to college on a scholarship that he had to of worked hard for. He seemed sound of mind.

And the way Jughead looked at her… he made her heart beat faster, stomach flutter, cheeks flush, and her skin prickle with excitement. Betty felt terrible the other night, letting him leave her apartment with only a kiss to the cheek.

Conversation was easy with him and despite feeling nervous in his presence, it was only because she was worried that she was going to do something to turn him away for good.

She sighed, closing her eyes.

Betty decided she could like him, that she would let herself explore these feelings for Jughead. Even though it was frightening to be going down this path; it was new and it was different, but that wasn’t a bad thing. She was the same though, and that was the thing that grounded her. No matter what happened in the past, she was still herself, still Betty Cooper. The same strong person who fought her way out of hell, lived, and grew because of it.

***

After a fitful night of sleep, Betty was thankful that she didn’t have a real work agenda for the day. She was going to work on editing today, so it was a work at home (and at your leisure) day. So, obviously a hot bath to start her day was in order.

She had chosen a lavender bath bomb to plop in the water, paired with a bubblegum bubble bath concoction to make a soothing, sweet combination. With her hair piled up on her head and a clay mask spread across her face, Betty relaxed into the water, eyes closed. Her phone was resting on the ledge of the tub, her favorite playlist on shuffle that had a large number of Halsey songs (Betty felt that the texture and tone of the artist matched her inner voice) to lull her to a relaxed state.

It wasn’t surprising then, when she fell asleep.

Betty woke sometime later, jolting suddenly when the dream that often haunted her ended the same way it always did. She braced her hands on the edges of the tub, the water had gone chilly and she was shivering. She looked to her phone to check the time but it wasn’t there, nor was her music playing anymore.

Frown marring her face, which was now very tight from the face mask having hardened, she looked to the floor. It wasn’t there. A flash of panic went through her as she looked down to her bathwater that had turned murky from her additives. She groped around the bottom of the tub, finally finding her phone by the drain.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

The screen was black and pressing any amount of buttons did nothing at this point.

Betty scrambled out of the tub, just wrapping her towel around her body and rushing to the kitchen. She pulled the back of the phone apart, the battery falling out in a puddle of water. She winced, the inside was completely wet. Drying everything with towel, she chewed on a fingernail.  Betty turned to her pantry and searched for her container of dry rice. She buried her phone and the parts in the whole container, hastily. She snapped the lid on and sat down on a chair with her head in her hands.

If this didn’t work, Betty really couldn’t afford a replacement phone, plus the fact that she was still paying for this one. She pulled her computer open and searched every possible way to save her phone. Rice seemed like the go to, but it depended on the phone and the amount of time submerged. Betty wasn’t sure how long it bad been in the tub.

According to her google search, she should leave the phone in the rice for at least 24 hours. Easy enough.

Or not, she mused, a couple hours later. She didn’t realize how often she relied on her phone for everything. Using her laptop was sometimes more of a hassle, but she had to make due.

Her thoughts kept straying to Jughead, wondering if he ever answered her and if he had, that now she wasn’t answering him. She groaned, head falling forward to the table with a hard clunk. Betty was having a hard time focusing on her work. She took a calming breath and decided to make herself a cup of coffee (she may or may have not added some Bailey’s to it).

Managing to make it through the rest of the day with little fanfare, Betty laid in bed that night wide awake. She had to turn on the tv after a while, propping her head up on her folded arm. Betty scanned the channels for something that might put her to sleep. Eventually she landed on Forensic Files, the only thing that seemed to be on that wasn’t an info-mercial.

She wasn’t sure if it was the three cups of coffee she had drank, the worry over her phone (and money associated with it), or Jughead.

Though, let’s be reasonable, it was all three.

Not to mention she was worried about her blog schedule. She had a couple of posts queued, but she needed to either get a new phone or a new camera or something if her phone was really dead.

Her head bobbed up from where she had pressed her cheek flat against her pillow.

“Jughead,” she whispered his name, an imaginary light bulb blinking above her head. He was a photographer, right? He had a camera. Would he let her use it or would he take some photos for her?

The thought calmed her racing thoughts for a moment. Sure she still wouldn’t be able to make phone calls or texts until she had found a cheap replacement, but her blog would still be okay. The internet was a fickle thing, and you had to keep people engaged or they lost interest quickly.

Betty was buzzing with anticipation and dare she say that she almost wanted her phone to still be out of commission when she dug it out of the rice in the morning. Yeah, that was silly. But it would be a legitimate reason to spend time with Jughead and she would be seeing more of his character if he agreed.

She finally relaxed enough to try to go to sleep.

Betty did not have a nightmare that night, but a dream like felt eerie and real at the same time.

It was a mid autumn day, the trees a brilliant mix of oranges and reds. She could feel the chill of the wind leaving goosebumps on her exposed arms. Betty was wearing a long, white dress, and her feet were bare as she walked the sidewalk, crispy leaves crunching under her feet.  

“Come on, Betty, lean against that railing there,” a voice said to her right. She turned and found herself watching Jughead fiddle with a camera. She blinked, voice lost in her throat. Her feet started to move towards the railing, and she leaned against it, elbows dangling over it as she pressed her back to the bars. Tilting her face to the sun, she heard the quick ‘snap, snap’ of the camera shutter again and again.

“Sweet girl. Pretty girl,” Betty realized with a start, that the words were coming from Jughead. They sounded lilted and soft, not like the usual rough timber of his voice. She could see the blue of his eyes glittering in the light of the sun. “My girl Friday.”  

Her lips parted but no noise escaped. Betty clenched her hands into fists, nails carving into her palm as her heart hammered in her chest. When the camera fell back around his neck his eyes had turned a dark brown. Their haunting familiarity reaching deep as she struggled to anchor herself to ground that seemed to be spinning around her.

The dream started to slip away then, and she wanted to reach a hand out, as if to grasp the edges.

She shook her head and fell back to the bed from where she had raised up to her elbows. Letting out a sigh, Betty stretched her limbs to each corner of the bed, grounding herself that she was alone. She must have broken into a sweat at some point, because she felt clammy and cold now.

Laying there, she contemplated the idea of dreams and their fleeting moments, wondering, if perhaps they held more weight than a just an unconscious plane of thought. She had never been a big ‘dreams have deeper meaning’ enthusiast before, but this one had left her curious.

Betty allowed herself to lay there for another hour, before getting up. She usually did ‘press’ for her clients on Fridays, so thankfully it was something she could do at home from her computer.  

Once she had set a schedule for the day, she pulled her phone from the container of rice. Betty had pressed the power button and got excited when the screen started to light up. Disappointment followed shortly when the screen was mixture of rainbow swirls with a green line running down the right side. The touch screen also was not responding, albeit very well anyway.

She debated just chucking it in the trash, but ultimately decided not too. Thankfully her contacts, messages, and photos were all backed up to the Cloud.

Later that afternoon, Betty had finished her work for the day early since she didn’t have her phone to distract her. Deciding she would go see Jughead to inquire about his services, she figured she should better bring a treat to make it worthwhile, and as something to photograph.  

She had planned to make these things next week, but moving her desserts up earlier wasn’t a problem if nagging at Jughead’s sweet tooth got her an in.

It took her the rest of the afternoon, but she churned out some very pretty strawberry lemon shortbread bars, and some spiced apple cake bars with brown butter frosting. Her kitchen had been smelling heavenly all afternoon and it took everything she had to resist eating more than one of each bar for her taste test.

As soon as her treats were bundled up in a decorative basket lined with parchment, Betty was ready. Once she raised her hand, knuckles rapping against Jughead’s door, there was no turning back. When he answered the door in a dark t-shirt and a pair of joggers, she felt better about her tunic top and leggings. A smile lit up her face and she held the basket out in front of her.

“Jug, hi,” her words came out in a rush, realizing she had been holding her breath. Jughead raised an eyebrow inquiringly and Betty took it as her queue to continue.

“I need a favor, so what better way to entice you than some treats?” she shook the basket at him and Jughead glanced down. He shook his head, but there was a playful smile on his lips. He had crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his beanie covered head.

“Pray tell, what’s the favor? I might be tempted to oblige… for a treat,” his words sounded smoky and smooth, sending her thoughts to dark places.

“Well, yesterday morning I sort of dropped my phone in the bath…”

Jughead’s eyebrows rose dramatically.

“And I buried it in some rice for a whole day, but it’s pretty much useless now. I just need some help taking photos for my blog until I can get a replacement.”

“So, you have come to me, professional photographer who lives across the hall that has a weakness for you.”

Betty could feel a blush blooming on her chest and proceeding with its inevitable sweep upwards. She shifted her weight from one leg to another, clearing her throat, “I’m sorry?”

“A weakness for food,” Jughead clarified, utterly unperturbed by his slip-up, and glanced down to the basket full of treats. In the low light of the hallway, his eyes were glinting impishly. She could have sworn…

“Yes. So you’ll help me then? I’ve got raspberry lemon shortbread bars and —”

“Yes.”

“—and some spiced apple—”

“Betty, I said — yes.”

“I, err… I wasn’t finished yet,” Betty blinked, her breath catching in her throat at the intensity of Jughead’s gaze.

“I don’t need to be bribed to help you, Betty,” he clarified, tone unexpectedly gentle. “I would do it just because you asked.”

“Oh… oh. Okay, thank you,” she was a little dumbfounded, as she felt Jughead had been a little hot and cold the past couple days. But maybe he had just been busy or she had been reading too much into things.

“So you want to do it in my apartment?”

And just like that, Betty felt like they were back to those first two interactions where her mind instantly went places it shouldn’t.

With a blush blooming on her cheeks, she nodded and brushed past Jughead as he stepped aside to let her in. She was taking in the somber, dark colors of his decor when the door clicked shut behind them. He still wasn’t completely unpacked, not that she expected him to be.

In his kitchen, which mirrored hers, Betty set the basket on his table and adjusted the bars laying on top. She grabbed one of apple spice ones and held it out for Jughead.

“Thank you,” he took it from her, taking a bite. Betty watched with her lip drawn between her teeth, fingers fiddling with the parchment paper.

“‘mm god, Betty, ‘is is ‘mazing” Jughead spoke with his mouth full, but she found it oddly endearing. The way he immediately took a second bite, licking his upper lip of the icing that had landed there.

“Oh, thank you.”

Betty pulled a strawberry lemon shortbread out and set it on a napkin she pulled from a stack on the table.  

Jughead finished his treat and held his hand over his stomach with a sigh.

“Okay?”

“Oh, better than okay. Fantastic,” He rubbed his hands together then, watching as Betty pulled the plate of bars from the bottom. She separated the two flavors from each other, stacking the strawberry ones back in the basket for the photos.

“Ready when you are,” she beamed up at Jughead, hands clasped in front of her. He had been watching her work, and nodded as he gestured towards his bedroom.

“Sure, boss. Just gotta get my bag.”

Betty felt a swell of excitement at the title, despite feeling very much out of control of the situation. She took a calming breath and looked around at his kitchen, finding it sparse. She knew what she was getting Jughead for Christmas now, some kitchen things.

Maybe she would teach him how to use them? She attributed the warm fluttering in her belly to all the sugar, and definitely not the thoughts of herself in this kitchen with Jughead pressed up against her back, chin in her shoulder as she showed him how to cut noodles or to ice a cake…

“Alright, how do you want me?”

Fighting down the blush that was threatening to take over her entire body, Betty straightened her back and went into professional mode.

“I want a wide angle shot of both desserts together, and then closer shots individually. Several, so that I can choose a few when I’m making my post layout.”

“On it.”

And they danced around each other then, for several minutes as Jughead took various photos of the desserts. He played with the lights in the kitchen and eventually brought out a tall stand in light which helped the fine details show up better.

He had stood close to her, leaning in and showing her some of the shots and Betty nodded enthusiastically. His photos looked so good, how was she ever going to be able to go back to hers?

She would have to make it clear on her blog that this was a guest photographer. Of course, she would drop Jughead’s name as well. Might as well see if she could help drum him up some business, too.

“Why don’t I take some photos of you?” he fiddled with a knob on the camera. “With the desserts,” he added, when she hadn’t spoken.

Betty wasn’t sure. She hadn’t posted any photos of herself besides the one in her blog bio. But she longed to see herself captured in Jughead’s photography. Like in her dream…

“Okay,” she found herself saying. Though she certainly wasn’t dressed for it, at least the dark teal tunic top brought out the green of her eyes.

“Why don’t you…” Jughead brought a hand up to the back of her head, fingering the ends of her ponytail. Her eyes widened when he tugged gently on the strands.

“Oh? Okay,” Betty brought her hands up, her fingers brushing against his as he brought his own back to the camera hanging around his neck. It felt like electric fire shooting up her arm and it had her heart racing as she pulled her ponytail out and shook her head out a little.

“I like it when you wear your hair down.”

Jughead’s words were soft and sweet, and Betty wanted nothing more than to sling her arms around his shoulders and bury her face in his neck. Instead, she finished combing her fingers through her hair, gliding it back and away from her face.

“How is this?”

“Perfect,” he said, then blinked owlishly and coughed into his fist. “I, err, I want you lean on the table, rest your elbows on it, by the basket.”

Betty did as she was told, bending at the waist and trying not to feel self conscious with Jughead’s eyes on her. She popped her hip, bending one knee forward.

“Yes, now tuck your chin to your shoulder a bit… yes, now bring your eyes up to me Betty.”

Green eyes drug up Jughead’s legs, to where he was holding the camera in front of his face. She noticed he had taken his beanie off, his hair wild and free, much like hers. He was leaning back against the counter, pressing himself into it as he played with the angle of her in his lens.

She heard the shutter click several times and she couldn’t help her smile that continued to grow as Jughead danced around the kitchen.

“Okay, now plant your hands flat against the table, hunch your shoulders.”

He continued snapping shots of her even as she was moving into the new position.

“Yes, yes. Good…good.”

Betty shook her head at him, biting her lip. Jughead groaned in response, the shutter clicking faster.

“Yes, baby.”

Her heart thudded in her chest at his words, cheeks turning pink. She didn’t think this was so much about the desserts anymore.

“Hop up on the table, sit with the plate on your lap, legs crossed.”

Betty complied, legs crossing over each other, dangling from the table. She placed the plate with the strawberry lemon bars on her lap and picked one up. Deciding to bite into it she heard Jughead’s hum of appreciation.

She chewed slowly, then swiped her tongue over her lower lip to catch an invisible crumb. Pinching the bar between her middle finger and thumb, Betty licked the pad of her index finger.

“Great, just like that.”

A giggle escaped her throat and then she couldn’t stop, laugh bursting from her as she tossed her head back. The turn of events currently unfolding was not a scenario she would have imagined when Betty had decided to come over to Jughead’s apartment.

He was chuckling behind the camera, but the clicks didn’t stop. As her giggles wound down and smiled fondly at him, tossing the bar back onto the plate and setting it aside. She leaned forward on her hands, gripping the edge of the table. Her feet brushed the floor, tips of her converse sliding against the linoleum. Then, she was sliding forward, the table starting to tip a little.

Jughead was suddenly in front of her, one arm wrapping around her waist and hauling her up against him, his other hand holding his camera out to the side.

Betty let out a shuddered breath, her hands had clenched onto the sides of Jughead’s shirt when he grabbed her. She was staring at the strip of skin above the neckline, his collarbones were peeking out.

He was pressing forward against her, her back against the edge of the table as he set the camera down. “Betty…”

Looking up she was met with his baby blues, staring her down with a look of unease. Betty was about to question what was wrong when he bent forward, his arm tightening on her waist. Her eyes fluttered closed as Jughead’s lips found hers.

It was sinfully sweet, the gentle way his lips moved against hers. She wanted to sigh against his mouth and settled for parting her lips slightly. Jughead’s hands ran over the curve of her waist, both settling on her hips and pulling her body closer against him.

Their chests were pressed together and she could swear Jughead could probably feel her heart beating against him. Her body felt tingly from the press of their lips, warm, wet, and sweet. She could taste the brown butter icing on Jughead’s tongue when he swiped it against hers.

Betty’s body was stiff, and she didn’t know what to do with her hands other than grip fistfulls of his shirt as she tried to press closer to him.

Jughead pulled back from her mouth, leaning his forehead against her, lips hovering just above hers. Betty opened her eyes to look up at him, the pad of his thumb brushing against the curve of her cheek as his breath fanned against her lips.

“Baby girl, sweet girl, you need to relax,” his words against her lips had her breath literally catching in her throat.

It was an uncomfortable rush of emotions as a familiar voice rang through her ears, a vision of her in this same position, crowded against a countertop with too tight hands on her waist, nails digging into her skin. Hot breath whispering into her ear and making her squirm uncomfortably.

Betty felt trapped, walls starting to close in as her vision turned black and spotty. Her whole body became rigid, her fingers shaking in their vice-like grip on Jughead’s shirt.

Her chest was heaving now, it was like she was trying to breathe through a straw. Her lungs were on fire and her shoulders felt heavy, like someone was pushing her down, trying to shove her under water. Everything sounded muffled, like someone had clapped their hands over her ears. All she could hear was the fast beat of her heart, hammering in her chest like it wanted to break through her ribcage.

Her eyes clenched tightly shut as the words came rushing forward in her memories. That sickly sweet, deceiving voice. “Sweet girl, relax for me. My girl Friday…”

tbc

[lilibug--xx]

Lemon Drops and Chocolate Chips

CHAPTER 2 

Ao3 -  chapter 1   chapter 2 

Read chapter 1 here, on Tumblr. 

Despite their interaction last week, bordering on flirty, Betty hadn’t seen Jughead since then. He still had her Tupperware container, so she supposed he would bring it back eventually. She really doubted those cookies had lasted the rest of the night with the way those three had been eating them before she even left. She was glad they enjoyed them though, could hear their groans and pleased ‘mmmm’s when she thought about it, the smiles on their faces.

She really liked baking, cooking too. It gave her satisfaction to see others eating, enjoying the things she made. Betty liked it so much that in addition to working as a freelance editor (working from home but meeting with authors, publishing houses, bookstores, as well as editing manuscripts) she started a blog online called ‘Burnt Cooper’ (it started as easy recipes for those burnt out on life – time, money, etc.) which has gained a pretty decent following and with the ads from the site she actually makes some money from it. She posts at least once daily if not more. Whether it’s about a dish she’s made from a recipe she found, one that she created herself, or a review of a restaurant or food product from a store.

She’s still saving up for a better camera than her phone. It takes decent enough pictures, but as her blog continues to grow, she’ll need something a little fancier. However a large portion of her income goes toward the student loan bills she’s been paying (and will be, it feels like) forever. The price of a good education, even with the scholarships she had acquired, was steep. Her monthly payment was almost more than her rent. It didn’t afford very many luxuries. She didn’t have a car, but did have a bike she rode or generally walked places. She also used uber if needed, though it could get pricy.

Since, Jughead had moved in she had noticed a shiny black motorcycle parked near or in front of their building most evenings when she came back from running. It had to be his. He just seemed like the type, his scent creating the picture in her mind – him on the back, cigarette between his fingers, smoke clouding around him as he leaned forward, leather stretching across his back. A hand pushing through his hair as he looked over toward her, expression a mix of cold fearlessness, pupils wide with desire. He tilted his head toward her, cigarette perched between his lips, pulled up in a smirk.

Betty blinked, reality coming back to her. She was sitting on her loveseat, plate of leftover Chinese food teetering on her lap. She righted it, placing it on the coffee table, appetite gone. Leaning her head back, she stared up at the ceiling. Why did she always have a type?

Betty hadn’t even seen Jughead in passing. She gazed curiously at his door a few times. Found herself with her fist raised, poised to knock, but always lowered her hand at the last second. She didn’t want to be a bother. So instead, each time, she slipped back into her apartment.

The silence was deafening.

A loud knocking at her door started her, she jumped, eyes moving to the door and then back to the clock on the bookshelf by her tv. It was almost 10, on a Tuesday and the front door was key only. Her heart rate started to slow a little, the thoughts of someone coming to murder her dying down.

Betty jumped up from the couch and started toward the door, got halfway there before she froze. Her feet were cold on the hardwood and she chewed her lip. Should she throw something on really quick? She was only wearing a thin pair of mid-thigh shorts (that might have kittens on them) and a white v-neck shirt – the red lace of her bra fairly visible underneath. Another loud knock on her door brought her closer, hand reaching out and pulling it open. Her pajamas were fine.

“Betty, hi,”

She blinked.

Jughead was only holding a towel around his waist, one hand clutching it closed at his hips. 

His chest was bare, his skin and hair were wet.  He was leaning against the door frame, all bare skin, and arms, and hands, lips being chewed nervously. Her throat felt dry and scratchy, her fingers clutching the door under her grasp. Damn it, why did he have to be so attractive? She brought her eyes up to his, an eyebrow raised as she stood straighter, composing herself.

“My shower isn’t working. Or, well. It was working until I got in and started washing my hair.” He explained, pointing to where there seemed to be soap suds in the locks that were pushed back on his head, colored darker with the water.

Her eyes flicked back down to his, blue eyes looking at her pleadingly.  

“You want to use my shower?” she questioned, mentally emphasizing the whole sentence, because she really couldn’t deal with this being reality right now.

“Yeah, if you’ll let me. I don’t know anyone else in the building. Plus you said ‘knock anytime’, the other day,” he started to try to run a hand through his hair, but pulled it back immediately, fingers soapy.

On instinct she wanted to scream ‘of course’, but obviously that would seem over eager. Thinking about Jughead naked in her shower, wet, possibly using her soap? Yeah, of course.

The time it took to picture him was enough that he must have thought she was leaning towards ‘no’ because he spoke again.

“Don’t make me beg,”

Maybe I want you to.

A flash of him kneeling before her, towel slipping down his waist as he pleaded with her. His fingers would disappear into the waistband of her shorts, tugging them down her thighs. “Favor for a favor..” His lips tickling her skin, as he kissed down her belly. Her fingers threading through his hair, pushing his head further down.

Betty shook her head, pushing the fantasy away. “Yes, sorry. I don’t think I’m cruel enough to let you stand around like this,” she offered, opening her door further and letting him step inside.

“Thank you, Betty. I really didn’t want to have to go upstairs and try someone up there,” He was looking around her apartment, eyes taking in the eclectic mix modern farmhouse, vintage, and pastel colors she had used in her furniture and décor. The soft click of the door closing behind her back reminding her that she was going to be all alone with him.

“Yeah, of course. Follow me,” she gestured as she walked towards the small passthrough to the right of her living room. The small room had a stacked washer and dryer and storage shelves. The door to her bedroom was open and she flicked the light on, trying not to think of the state of it.

“Pink your favorite color?” Jughead asked as he shuffled behind her, almost running into her where she stopped halfway to the bathroom. He stepped beside her, eyes sweeping over all the pink in her room. Her breath caught in her throat and her hands curled into fists, shaking slightly. She clenched her eyes shut tightly and counted to three, slowly.

“Betty?” he laid a hand on her shoulder, her eyes springing open. She gazed up as him, fingers releasing and stretching out the stiffness.

“No, not my favorite color,” she said simply, crossing the room quickly and pushing the bathroom door open. She glanced quickly at her sink counter to make sure there was nothing completely embarrassing sitting out. With an exhaled breath Betty pulled the flowered curtain back from her tub.

“So, I’m sure my shower is the same as yours. Just don’t go breaking mine now, okay?” she teased, smile on her face as he stepped up beside her, peering up at the shower head that was just a couple inches above his head height.  

“Right. Can’t promise I won’t break something, but I do promise I’ll try not to,” his words light and playful as he leaned a hand against the door, swinging it a little under his hand. Betty rolled her eyes at him, backing out of the room and catching the door from him, tugging it closed after her.

“Take your time, Jughead. I already showered earlier, so plenty of hot water,” the door clicked shut and she stepped away, further into her room. She never heard the click of the lock on the knob.

She looked around her room, fingers smoothing the wrinkles in her pastel floral bedspread.  After making her bed, she picked up a couple items of clothing she had tossed on the floor earlier in her haste to get undressed. She turned on her bedside lamp, flicking off the overhead light. The room bathed in a softer glow, the pinks reflecting the orange of her window curtains.

Betty ran a hand over the jewelry box on her dresser, pink. Fingers twirling a scarf she had curled around her full length mirror, pink. Her hamper, the shades of her lamps, the bedskirt, the blanket she had folded on her bedspread, the cozy reading chair she had tucked against the window – pink.

She sighed, hand resting on the closed lid of the jewelry box, the little treasures inside haunting her.

The sounds of the shower turning on making her think of Jughead, and him dropping his towel. She quickly left the room, heading to the kitchen. Grabbing her plate from the coffee table, she put her leftover Chinese away. She pulled out a box of brownie mix from her pantry and decided to whip it up real quick.

Betty had set the timer on the oven for 25 minutes and then set about cleaning up her dishes. She was wiping the kitchen counter down when she heard the water shut off from the bathroom. Her heart started to race a little again.

She busied herself, picking up around the living room. She changed the channel on the tv to The Golden Girls, one of her favorite shows. She had settled down on the couch with her feet tucked underneath her when Jughead stepped back into her living room. He looked much the same as before, skin slightly damp, hair wet, but his skin was flushed with heat from the water. He ran his hands through his hair like a comb, playing with the strands.

Betty realized she had only seen him with his beanie on before, and was curious what his hair looked like dry.

“Nice shower?”

“Immensely. It’s always nice when the water actually comes out. Bonus if it‘s hot,” he was striding over to the door, and she hopped up from the couch quickly.

“I’m making brownies, if you want some?” she offered, biting her lip, fingers playing with the drawstring of her shorts. His eyes lowered to her hands momentarily before shooting back up to her face. He licked his lips.

“Brownies sound great. But, Betty..” Jughead trailed off and her heart plummeted. “I gotta go put some clothes on first,” he chuckled, eyes glancing down at himself.

Her cheeks burned and she stumbled over her words. “I – shit, right. Duh. Sorry,” she sat back down on the couch and he smirked at her, slipping out her door but not closing it all the way.

She waited, poised on the edge of the couch. She kept her gaze on the tv, fingers tapping against her knees. When the timer on the oven went off Betty jumped. She held a hand over her heart, cursing silently. Why was she so twitchy?

She went to take the brownies out of the oven, putting her oven mitts on and sliding the brownies out. They were brown and golden, steam rising and filling the air with the chocolatey aroma. She placed the pan on top of the stove, closing the oven door. Mitts were stuffed back in their drawer and she was pulling out a couple bowls, spoons, and a tub of vanilla ice cream out of the freezer. Warm brownies and vanilla ice cream were the perfect combination.

She was setting the bowls up, 2 scoops of ice cream in each and threw the spoons in. She had her little notepad out, making notes about the batch of Betty Crocker’s boxed brownie mix. Pulling out her phone she snapped a couple of pictures of them in the pan before slicing them into squares and placing them strategically on a teal cake plate. She snapped some more pictures.  

“Those smell fucking amazing,” Jughead’s words blew into the shell of her ear and she could feel the press of his chest against her shoulder as he leant around her to get a deeper whiff. He groaned loudly, heading falling back. Betty stayed still, even as he pulled away to lean back against the counter on the other side of the pan. She looked over to him with a smile. She hadn’t heard him come back in, nor the click of the door, or his footsteps up to her. She steadied her breathing. He smelt like her soap – vanilla and honeysuckle, the scent of his leather and cigarettes muted underneath.

He was at least wearing clothes now. Red and black plaid pajama pants, dark grey t-shirt, feet and head still bare. His hair was getting fluffy, air drying right before her eyes. He had set her Tupperware container she had given him with the cookies on the counter by the sink, though it did look like he had washed it already.

“Thank you,” she had put her phone back on the counter, depositing two brownies in each bowl beside the ice-cream.  “Milk?” she had gone ahead and pulled two glasses down from an overhead cabinet, shaking the glass at him.

“Yes, please,” he brought the bowls to her little round kitchen table, black porcelain stark against the white lace table cloth. Betty poured milk into the glasses and sat them down on the table, folding herself into the wooden chair and tucking one knee up to her chest.

Jughead was already spooning a bite of both brownie and ice-cream into his mouth. He moaned around the spoon, pulling it out clean and pointing it at her. “Will you marry me?”

Betty laughed, hands clutching her chest. It faded into a giggle and she tilted her head at him. He was smirking around another bite. “It’s literally just a boxed brownie mix, Jug. I’m sure you could make it the exact same,” she took a bit of her own, chewing the warm brownie, chocolate melting on her tongue and filling her belly with warmth.

He shook his head her though, eyes filled with mirth. “That’s where you’re wrong, Betty. I would have to have a baking pan, and eggs, and oil. And I would have to want to make them.”  

Rolling her eyes, Betty licked the bite of ice-cream from her spoon. Her eyes watching Jughead’s fixed gaze on her lips. “It’s really easy though,”  

“It’s really easy when I can come over here and just eat yours,”  

She pointed her spoon at him. “You’re pretty lucky your shower ‘broke’ then, huh?” he laughed at that, hand coming up and missing through his hair, scratching a little.

“I swear it’s broken, Betty,” they each took a drink of their milk, continuing to each their late night desserts.

“So, what do you do Jughead?” she was curious, after all.  

“Ah, I’m a photographer, actually.” He paused, chewing the rest of his food and sipping his milk again. “I do headshots, portraits, weddings, magazine shoots, anything really,” he was fingering a ring on his right middle finger. A dark metal band that looked raw, maybe homemade, with sharp points laying flat against his skin. She realized it was shaped like a crown, much like his beanie.

“That is really cool. Maybe you could give me advice on a camera to buy? I’m looking for one that’s not terribly expensive, but photographs well with mostly indoor light,”

He let out a ‘hmm’ fingers stroking his chin as he leaned back in his chair. “Maybe a Canon EOS 80D, not terribly expensive but has a lot of focusing points and a popup flash if you need it,”

Betty repeated the name, getting up to grab her little notebook. Sitting back down, she scribbled the name of the camera down to look up later.

“Thanks. I’m a freelance editor, but I also run a food blog that makes a little money. I’m just taking pictures with my phone right now,” she said sheepishly, spoon scraping against the bottom of her empty bowl.

Jughead looked interested though, hands tapping against the sides of his bowl. She stood back up and grabbed another brownie for him, which he took from her happily. “No, it sounds really cool. I mean, your blog. What’s the name?” he said around a bit of brownie.

“Really? It’s called ‘Burnt Cooper’, on WordPress,” she felt nervous at the thought of him looking up her blog and reading her work, seeing her photo’s, considering his profession.

“I’ll look it up later,” he smiled at her, setting her fluttering heart at ease. Jughead had this easy quality about him, and she felt eerily comfortable around him. She smiled back, pulling her knees up to her chest, ankles crossed. Her arms hugged around her knees, fingers rubbing her cool skin.

“Cool, let me know what you think,” She was working on a post right now comparing boxed brownies, hence her choice for tonight. She chewed her lip for a moment.  

“Oh, I’ll be knocking on your door again. Trust me,” his eyes darkened and she felt a shiver run down her spine. His blue eyes running down the bare skin of her arms and legs, roaming over her chest, lingering on her lips, before he pulled up to lock his eyes with hers. “I am so fucking glad that Veronica is a pain in the ass to live with,” he sighed, sounding happy.

Betty rose an eyebrow at him. “I’m sorry?”

“I used to live with Archie. Veronica moved in with him and, while I can stand her in short intervals and not invading my personal space, she is infuriating to live with,” he groaned, head falling back as he sunk into the chair, hands crossing over his stomach. “I had to leave before I killed her,”

Betty laughed, hand covering her mouth. The girl who answered the door the other day seemed nice, and she would have liked to get to know her. It seemed like her and Jughead clashed though.

“Well, I’m also glad you moved in. It was getting lonely here, that apartment has been empty for over three years,”

“Maybe that’s why the shower doesn’t work? They must have forgotten to check the apartment before renting it to me,” he said with a snort, sitting back up in the chair. His hair falling forward into his eyes, now almost totally dry. A couple of locks curling in front of his face. His hand pushed them back and she almost sighed.

“Oh, maybe?” she gave a shrug. She hadn’t seen a soul enter or exit until the day Jughead moved in.

“Well, anyway. You don’t have to be lonely anymore, you have me Betts,” he winked at her, her heart thumped loudly in her chest. She loved her name coming from his lips, but Betts sounded even better.

“Thanks, Jug,”

He looked down at the table, searching for something. He reached out and grabbed the pen she had used to write down the camera name. He scribbled some thing underneath that, laying the pen down on top of the writing. “My phone number,” he gestured, getting up from his chair. Betty also stood, heading over to the door behind him. “Feel free to text me anytime you need a taste tester,”

“Oh, so you only want to come over for food, huh?”

“Now, I didn’t say that was the only thing I’d be coming over for,” he drew his gaze down to her chest, from his angle and the way he had stepped closer to her, crowding her against the door, he could see the red of her bra against pale skin. Could see the obvious flush spreading from her cheeks down, disappearing beneath the rest of her clothes. “I like you Betts, I wanna get to know you. All of you,” he hand tugged gently on the end of her blonde pony tail.

She gaped a little at him, at a loss for words. She wasn’t used to this. “I – thanks? I want to get to know you too, Jug,” she said sincerely.

He gave a little grin at that, pulling the door open and slipping out into the hallway. “Text me, I mean it. Not just about food, even though that is the way to my heart,” he was opening his door now and they each stood leaning against their doorframes.

“Good to know,” she had kind of already suspected that. “Have a good night,” she said, glancing behind him to still see stacks of boxes hanging out in his living room.

His eyes didn’t stray from hers. “Goodnight, Betty,” he closed his door and that was the end of their conversation. With her back now against her own, she slid down to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. She buried her head in her arms, wondering if this was something worth pursuing. He was definitely interested in her. She was interested in him as well. It had just been so long since her heart was broken, she didn’t know if she could do it again.

She took a deep breath before standing up and finding her phone on the counter. She plugged in Jughead’s number and texted him a smiley face. She debated adding that it was her, but she figured it would be obvious, they had just spoken.

Immediately he texted back, his own line of emoji’s including a crown at the end. She smiled, adding that in beside his name in her contacts. Another text came in and she smiled at it.

J: Sweet Dreams, Betty

B: You too! 

J: I will, cause I’ll be thinking of you.

Betty bit her lip, climbing into her bed and snuggling into the sheets. She didn’t respond, just put her phone on her nightstand.

Maybe she could do this after all.