#They both feel like they failed Archie and wear that on their shoulders (albeit in complementary ways)

[soft-serve-soymilk]

Bitches be fighting (it’s the head children 😘☺️)

[daydream-believin]

The Never-Ending Roadtrip (Cavern Creeps)

SUMMARY: Reader joins Douxie in the quest for Nari’s safety. He’ll need company won’t he?  PART 8) Douxie is not having a good time, Nari is not having a good time, no one is having a good time.          start -> (part 1)  next -> (part 9) WARNINGS: swearing, lots of panic and anxiety, anxiety attack WORD COUNT: 2420 A/N: it’s becoming increasingly clear that i do not have any control over where the plot goes in this fic. i never have and i never will. seriously the outline prompt for this one was ‘some downtime in trollmarket’ idk what happened

Douxie opened his eyes. He had been having a dream in which he was lost in a series of caves. No matter how many walls he marked to keep track, he couldn’t remember which way he came from. The marks kept disappearing. He’d etch them with all his strength, and they would fade. The tunnels were endless. He was sure he was too far underground now. The oxygen was getting thin. He had to find the way back up. He had to. The others were waiting for him. His chest got tighter, his breaths shallower. Why was this so hard?

Turns out both Y/n and Archie were sleeping on his chest. No wonder dream-him couldn’t breathe. He wouldn’t move them. The gentle snores filled his ears. It was still late, or more, early. Doux wouldn’t be able to breathe well enough to go back to sleep without another strange dream, so he didn’t try. That was okay. He got a solid three hours in, and that was better than most nights. He felt relaxed in the embrace of his small family. Douxie listened to their breathing. It was cozy, snuggled with the two people who mean the most to him, feeling their heartbeats against his own chest. This is how it would always be, just the three of them. Three magic signatures. No one else in the room. Wait.

Douxie tried his best to keep from waking Y/n and Archie when he bolted upright. He failed. Y/n groggily took in her husband as his panicked gaze shot around the room. She didn’t know why he was panicked but it made her panicked. Y/n also looked around the room to help despite not knowing what she was looking for. Douxie gently nudged her off and moved Archie so he could stand up. Y/n reached her hand up to him, silently asking to be pulled up and Douxie obliged. As she stood to her feet, Y/n got another look around, taking in the whole of the room. Now slightly more awake, the gears turned and she realized what was wrong with the scene. Nari.

Bleeding balroths, they lost the veggie lady. The one person they were supposed to keep close, protect form the Order, or the fucking world will end, and they lost her. Granted, they were asleep when it happened, but still. They lost her. Douxie and Y/n burst out of the door with Archie in tow. Douxie had hoped Nari would have just been in the living room but nope he couldn’t be that lucky. Figures. He could feel his racing heart in his throat as the impact of what was happening settled in his chest.

Douxie quick as lightning scanned all of Trollmarket that his eyes could see. Nari was nowhere to be found. He could barely hear Y/n and Archie start calling out the forest spirit’s name above the incredibly loud screaming inside his head. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Merlin was going to kill him. The Arcane order wasn’t even going to get the chance to end the world before Merlin’s ghost strangled him right here and now.

They were running through the streets of the village, asking every troll they came across if they’d seen her. No luck. Archie couldn’t find her as he flew over either. Douxie kept checking shops over and over, despite Y/n telling him they’d been in every building already and he was looking like a madman. He was a madman. Dictatious was not any help. Beyond seeing the veggie lady leave the house, and not caring enough to alert Doux, he had no idea where she might be. At least now they knew she’d only been out for a little over half an hour. She couldn’t have left the settlement, could she? Could she? Douxie felt ice water flow into his veins.

A quick check of inventory and sure enough, no horngazzle. Oh, fuzzbuckets. FUZZBUCKETS! Y/n went off to acquire another horngazzle from Bagdwella, sprinting across the town, and leaving Douxie alone with his thoughts. The world was gonna end soon, and it would be all his fault. He knew he shouldn’t have trusted the forest child. He had a feeling she was going to have been his downfall, he just hadn’t expected it so soon, or like this.

It’s over. The Arcane Order will win. The universe will be destroyed. He will have failed the one thing he was supposed to be doing. He had one job. Merlin’s last dying wish. And he had botched it. His short reign as a master wizard would be incapsulated by failure. This was his fault. He started taking risks, he stopped listening to Merlin, he stopped studying, he started making his own path, and now he was gonna take everyone else down with him.

Douxie saw Y/n blast out of the shop and head towards the grand entrance gate. His chest felt tight, and he couldn’t breathe again, even though he didn’t have both a wife and a dragon weighing his ribcage down this time. He felt his own feet carrying him the direction of the gate to meet Y/n but barely registered the scenery going by in a blur. Doux barely registered Archie land on his shoulder and the dragon claws digging into his flesh as he watched Y/n drag the magic key across the cavern wall in an arch. If it had been any other time he would have enjoyed the cute little way she did it. She was like a ballerina, leaping as she made the motion. It was an effort to make the door taller so Doux could walk through it without hitting his head, and it worked. Good thing too, as he wasn’t paying enough attention to not when he absent-mindedly ran past her and out of the gate like he was on fire.

When Y/n caught up to the other two, Douxie was huffing and puffing hunched over while Archie made an effort to fan his brother with his wings. The dragon cool-off was not entirely effective. Douxie wildly tossed his head around as he visually searched the area around the river and bridge. His pupils were wide with fear. As scary as this was, it pained Y/n to see him scared like this. She knew he struggled with anxiety, and had even seen his attacks before, but this was amped up to an eleven. She didn’t like it.

As desperate as they were, with the time ticking away, Y/n decided what was best was to calm Douxie down before they did anything else. She pulled him close into her embrace, letting him rest his head on her chest. Her steady heartbeat was bringing him slightly back down to earth.

“Shhhh, I’m here.” Y/n rubbed comforting circles on his back. “Can you look up for me?” It took a moment, but Douxie managed to grant her request. His hazel eyes were still blown wide, haunted. “Good, good. Let’s take some deep breaths. Okay, can you tell me five things you can see?”

Douxie shifted, looking beyond Y/n’s back. “Uh,- river,, trash, in river,,- tree, other trees,, Archie, you.”

“Okay, four things you can feel?”

He breathing was starting to go back to its regular pace. “You,, your hands on my back,, Archie rubbing my legs- the wind.”

“Good. Three you can hear?”

Douxie straightened, his voice sounding a lot calmer, “the wind in the trees, the water in the river, Archie purring.”

This prompted Archie to purr louder in support. “You good now or do you need to smell?” Y/n chuckled.

“Yeah, I think I’m fine now.” Douxie smiled, albeit weakly. Y/n gave him another grounding hug for good measure. She looked past his shoulder as she squeezed, something catching her eye. She let go of her wizard and started off towards the trees behind him.

“Where are you going?” Y/n was a bit worried about how strained Douxie’s voice still was.

“Well,” She turned around to face him and gestured her hands as she spoke, “If I was a forest goddess, where would I be? The forest of course.” She motioned to the treeline. Yeah, she was right. That made sense. He caught up and grabbed her hand for her to guide him to wherever they were going. He needed to hold her hand. It was her left hand, he could feel the cool metal of the ring on her finger. That helped.

They desperately wandered through the trees with no luck. It’s not like they had a veggie lady tracking device. They should get a veggie lady tracking device. Perhaps disguised as a bracelet cuff. She’d like that it was similar to Douxie, so she’d actually wear it. Or maybe they’d just get one of those baby leashes. Bad little forest goddesses have to wear the baby leash of shame. Maye she wouldn’t mind it, if it was shaped like a teddy bear or something. They’d cross that bridge when they got there. Once they found her. If the Arcane Order hadn’t got to her first.

The couple passed so many trees they started to all look the same. Oak, river birch, river birch, oak, sugar maple, oak, oak, oak, river birch. Every now and then there would be a troll carving on a tree or a rock, that they could use as landmarks, but they still had no idea where they were anymore. Thankfully, it was impossible to get lost with Archie around. Speak of the devil, the black dragon appeared through the trees again, calling them over to follow him.

The cat-dragon led them along many twists and turns in the forest. Every now and then Y/n would catch glimpse of a deer trail, but no signs of humans. Douxie accidentally bumped his head on a tree branch because Y/n had pulled him along so fast he didn’t have time to duck. Okay, so Doux didn’t accidentally bump his head as much as Y/n had accidentally made him. It wasn’t that low. She had had no trouble with it herself. It wasn’t her fault he was a giant. He should think of that next time before becoming over six foot. After what seemed like a lifetime, the started approaching a small tributary of the river. A small tributary that a small forest goddess was kneeling beside.

“NARI!” Y/n couldn’t help but cry out in relief at the sight of Nari safe and sound. The loudness of Y/n’s voice startled the veggie lady, and she whipped her head around to see the others as the joined her. Nari’s expression of surprise quickly morphed into one of guilt, like a child getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar. While neither of them looked particularly angry at her, she thought Hisirdoux was a little worse for wear. She supposed she’d caused that. She was always causing trouble for others it seemed. Just in the last week she’d gotten two homes destroyed, several humans injured, and worst of all, Merlin was gone now. It was all her fault.

Nari wasn’t aware of the tears streaming down her face until Y/n was wiping them away. She had crouched down to comfort the little spirit, “Hey, hey now, it’s okay, none of us are mad. We were just really scared for a bit there. But its alright, Nari. We’re just happy you’re safe.”

The forest child tucked her face into the crook of Y/n’s shoulder. Douxie stood a distance away. Archie was perched on his shoulder once again. He shifted between his feet, feeling the soft earth and wet grass of the riverside. Doux couldn’t shake a certain feeling of uneasiness and his familiar sensed his anxious energy. He had his staff raised and all ready to go if the trees so much as shake in the wind. Nothing happened. But he was ready.

He knew it was irrational, but Douxie couldn’t help but feel like they were near. The Order. Something was off in the air. They needed to get Nari back underground fast. However, he was worried that such a thing wouldn’t stop them, and he would just be damning the trolls and their new happy settlement. He hadn’t been too sure before about the plans Y/n had for tomorrow, but now he was. They would be safer if they got to a heavily populated area. It would mask their scent. They had lingered in Trollmarket for far too long now. They would be overstaying their welcome big time if the Arcane Order showed up.

Once Nari had calmed down quite a lot and the tears had long stopped flowing, Y/n wanted to get to the bottom of the reasons for this little late-night escapade. She fixed a braid on the side of Nari’s hair as she asked, “Can you tell me why you decided to come out here.” She was careful not to word it accusatively, lest she upset the poor frightened spirit further.

“I- I needed to get out from there. It’s so cold. There’s no stars down there. The air doesn’t move.”

Y/n nodded to express her sympathy. “I understand.” She really did. Trolls were great, but the underground vibes just weren’t for everyone. It was easy to feel trapped in Trollmarket. Like the world was weighing you down. The cavern over your head going to collapse at any moment. She stood to her feet, waiting a beat before asking, “Do you think you can go back down there for a little while longer? I promise we’ll come back outside in the morning.”

Nari looked up and smiled, taking Y/n’s hand as she helped her up, “Yes. I think I’m ready to go back now. For just a little while longer.”

~ ~ ~

Once they were all safe and sound back in Trollmarket, Y/n was relived. It was early morning by then, and the sun was rising outside, but they still had enough time to get a few more hours in. She looked up at her husband. Bags under his eyes as always, she didn’t think he’d be able to fall back to sleep after all this, actually. A few more hours of cuddle time, then. They passed by the pub on their way home. That could help ease poor Doux. Y/n nudged him with her shoulder, “Wanna go get a pint or two?”

Douxie chuckled, “Nah, I’m not one for glug. It’s a tad too gamey for me.”

“How bout we make some chamomile tea once we get home then?”

“Oh, that sounds heavenly.”

[adorebughead]

Multitudes - Part 2

/ Part One /

*Read on AO3*

Thank you so much for the response to this fic so far. I really hope that you’ll enjoy it as much as I’m enjoying writing it! I wanted it to be ever so slightly less heavier than my previous fic (which isn’t hard to do seeing as FBOW was crazy) but still with tonnes of angst - cause I absolutely live for that shit. I hope you like it, anyway! If you take the time to leave a comment, thank you so much. It means a lot to me and continues to drive me to write!

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This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,

Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,

Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the  themes

thou lovest best,

Night, sleep, death and the stars.

“Ok,” Veronica announced, emerging from the bathroom looking as though she were about to attend the Vanity Fair Oscar after party which, believe it or not, she had actually done twice before. “I’m ready.”

“V,” Betty replied with a smile, “you look beautiful… but now I do feel a little underdressed.”

Smoothing down her skin tight black dress, Veronica popped her red lipstick into her sparkling clutch bag and shrugged. “I have to make an effort. Archie’s going to be there.”

“Archie?” Betty teased, finishing up her faint layer of mascara and blinking at her own reflection. “So, you actually know his name now?”

Veronica laid a hand on her hip and rolled her eyes. “Ha ha. I always knew his name, thank you very much. You know, after Kevin stalked his Facebook profile in depth for me last night.”

“Oh, really?” Betty raised an eyebrow, chuckling as she ran her fingers through her hair and secured a tight, high pony tail with an elastic that had been beginning to hurt her wrist.

“Archie Andrews, former captain of the football team, part time musician, single, interested in women, dog lover; always a necessity, may I add-“

“Wait,” Betty interjected, throwing the mascara into her makeup bag and zipping it back up. “Archie Andrews?”

“Yeah. What? Do you know him?”

“Not really,” she admitted. “We went to high school together; he was kind of known for being a player. I haven’t seen him in a while but-“

“Ah,” Veronica mumbled, “the downside of going to school in New York. Well, whatever. Haven’t you seen those movies where the innocent, down to earth girl gets the town playboy to fall in love with her and completely change his ways forever?”

Betty smirked. “Sure, but life isn’t a movie, V. I mean, if it’s want you want then go for it. Just be careful, ok?”

“Ok, fine,” she replied, with a teasing huff.

“And since when were you innocent?”

“Anyway,” Veronica sighed loudly, narrowing her eyes as Betty giggled, “enough about me. Have you spoken to Trev since this morning?”

She flinched at the sudden mention of his name, leaning back in her chair and placing her hands in her lap. “No. I’ll probably phone him tonight, after the party.”

“What are you going to say?”

Betty bit her lip, picking at a small piece of skin around her nail. “I don’t know.”

“Hey, I have an idea,” Veronica declared after a momentary pause, walking over to Betty’s bedside table and opening up the top draw before carefully rummaging around.

Betty’s brows furrowed as she twisted around away from the mirror. “What are you doing?” “Aha!” She cried, retrieving the diamond ring with a victorious smile.

Raising an eyebrow, Betty tilted her head and folded her arms. “Are you proposing to me now?”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “Wear it.”

“What?”

“Tonight,” she continued. “Wear it. See how it feels.”

Betty shook her head with a snigger. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Pretend for the night that you are engaged to Trev and see how you feel about it. Nobody’s going to know us at this thing, anyway. Kevin said it’s mainly going to be a bunch of out-of-towners who Archie went to college with.”

Betty hesitated, an uncertainty masking her face as she studied the ring sat in the palm of her best friend’s hand. It really was beautiful. Trev had always known what she’d wanted, if ever the day were to come. It was traditional and classy and not to mention totally breath taking. The ring was perfect. The ring wasn’t the issue.

“V, I don’t know-“

“Come on,” she insisted, perching on the end of the bed to face her and picking it up between her thumb and forefinger with a shrug. “You might surprise yourself.”

-

Upon approaching Archie’s house, which, Betty noted, was the size of about fifty of her tiny apartments put together, she and Veronica exchanged a sideways glance of utter astonishment. It wasn’t just the fact that the house was practically a mansion, but it was also located right at the edge of the town’s beach, completely out of the way and surrounded by the most beautiful view of the sea.

“So, he’s rich,” Veronica observed, pursing her lips together and nodding. “Can’t say I’m disappointed.”

Betty rolled her eyes, looping her arm through her dumbstruck friend’s. “Let’s go inside and get this over with.”

Just as she had anticipated, the place was practically swarming with people left, right and centre, either already drunk or very much on their way to it. The music, which was more just a tonne of repetitive bass than anything else, was earsplittingly loud. The interior was clearly very aesthetically pleasing when not overflowing with drunken youths and crumpled up red cups, a notion Betty expressed aloud to Veronica as they made their way through the crowd.

“Youths? Who are you, your gran?” Veronica chuckled between various mixtures of excuse me and can you get out of the damn way? The male gaze very blatantly following her as she did so.

That was the thing about being best friends with Veronica Lodge. You were usually always in her shadow, a fact that Betty had typically welcomed, the thought of being the centre of attention not something she particularly favoured. However, tonight, she could’ve sworn that some of that gaze had also diverted onto herself.

“Betty! Veronica!” A voice bellowed, the both of them twisting their heads to meet with the glistening blue eyes of one of their colleagues and closest friends, Kevin Keller.

“You look amazing,” he exclaimed, observing Veronica up and down, his eyes widening as he did so. “I would consider selling my soul for those heels.”

She chuckled in response before Kevin’s regard switched onto Betty, altering into an abrupt double take.

Of course, after a fair bit of disputing back and forth, Betty had finally allowed Veronica to give her that of a slight makeover seeing as her initial jeans and plain t-shirt were apparently completely unacceptable. Instead, she had ended up opting for a black pencil skirt paired with a white v neck blouse, a neatly tied choker and a pair of nude heels that had been gathering dust in her wardrobe ever since Veronica had given her them for her birthday two years ago. Not only that, but a deep burgundy lipstick lay perfectly on her lips, one her mother had always scolded her for even considering wearing, and her hair was half up, half down; a few soft waves perching just beneath her shoulders. Truth be told, she felt pretty damn good.

“Who would’ve thought our little Betty Cooper could look so fierce,” he cried with an impressed albeit slightly stunned nod.

Betty’s eyes fell to the ground as her cheeks turned a light shade of pink, hugging her chest with a small smile. “Thanks, Kev.”

“So, where’s your latest squeeze?” Veronica enquired with a wink, her eyes darting around the room.

“Joaquin is at home, in bed, pretty sick and pretty weak,” he replied with a sigh. “I think I’ve worn him out.”

Betty laughed as Kevin zipped his lips with his fingers. “Annnnd… that’s where this conversation ends.”

“So, let me guess, you’re looking for Archie,” Kevin sneered, tilting his head to catch Veronica’s attention which was clearly momentarily elsewhere.

She whipped her head back around and blushed. “Maybe.”

“And by maybe she means a damn straight yes,” Betty giggled.

“I can introduce you,” Kevin started, “our dads are pretty close so we chat now and again. Unfortunately, I had to turn him down when he told me he wanted me,” he teased. “We all have to make sacrifices.”

The three of them laughed, Veronica’s eyes lighting up at the sudden prospect. “Will you really introduce us?”

“Of course,” he replied, holding out his hand and gesturing them to follow. “But let’s get you a drink first.”

“Liquid confidence,” she smirked. “Good call.”

Grasping Veronica’s hand to shuffle after them both as they made their way to the kitchen, Betty scanned the room for a single familiar face, failing in her endeavour. However, it only took a few seconds before she saw it. A pair of dark eyes fixated firmly on her, but when she furrowed her brows and quickly looked again, they were gone.

“Double vodka and coke, B?” Veronica chirped, as Betty wrinkled her nose in response.

“Maybe just a single.”

“Make mine a triple,” Kevin winked, holding out his cup as Veronica poured the drinks. The three of them released a subsequent cheers as they clinked their plastic cups together.

Two, or maybe three, drinks later, paired with five minutes straight of crying laughing at Kevin’s college reminiscences, Betty was certain she was tipsy. The three of them had swiftly moved from the corner of the kitchen to the centre of the large, open hallway and started to dance, twirling each other around and chuckling loudly as if they had no problems in the world. Betty hadn’t done anything quite like it in a while. In fact, she wondered if she’d ever really had fun like this at all in her whole entire life.

“There he is,” Kevin yelled excitedly, seizing Veronica by the shoulders and swivelling her around to see Archie standing in all of his glory at the top of the staircase like some sort of Hollister model, chatting away to a couple of his friends with a drink in his hand.

Veronica’s eyes widened as she bit her lip. “Oh, Archie Andrews, you don’t know what’s about to hit you.” “Nice to see that liquid confidence is working a treat,” Betty giggled.

“Are you coming?” She asked, giving her hand a squeeze.

“Actually,” Betty started, “I think I’m going to get some air. It’s way too hot in here.��

Veronica raised a brow. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Ok,” she countered, “I’ll find you in a bit.”

Finally making it outside after awkwardly pushing through what felt like hundreds upon hundreds of people, Betty welcomed the cool breeze she had been craving as she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Yep, she thought, I’m definitely tipsy.

Almost instantly, she reopened her eyes and her gaze fell directly onto somebody sat out in the distance, on the ground just above the sand. He was perched over a book, his dark hair falling ever so slightly in front of his face, the rest tucked up inside of the crown-shaped beanie that she wondered if he ever bothered to take off.

Of course he’s here, she rolled her eyes to herself, walking over to where he was sat before she could even stop herself.

“Whitman?” She cried, folding her arms sarcastically. His head lifted slowly, turning to see the source of the voice before stopping slightly as his eyes studied every inch of her sudden change in appearance. After a fleeting moment, he turned back around.

“Jones,” he replied nonchalantly, tucking his pen into the crook of his notebook and closing it shut.

“Never heard of them,” she scoffed, taking a couple of steps forward to admire the view before her as she plonked herself down a few feet away from him.

She studied him from the corner of her eye, waiting for some sort of sarcastic comment, but instead noting how he’d quite briskly returned to silently scribbling away in his notebook.

“What are you always writing in there?” She asked, a tone of mockery and confidence in her slightly slurred voice that actually rather amused him.

He didn’t take his eyes away from his half-filled page as he replied. “The names of all of the coffee shop baristas I’ve pissed off this week.”

She looked away then, a smirk of annoyance appearing on her face as she rolled her eyes. “Well, no wonder it’s taking so long.”

Glancing at him once more, she shook her head and pulled herself back up onto her feet, the sudden movement causing his gaze to switch to her as she smoothed down her skirt and pushed her hair out of her face.

“Going so soon?” He jeered. “What a shame.”

Her eyes narrowed as she placed her hands firmly on her hips. “You really like annoying me, don’t you?”

He shrugged, passing the pen between his fingers. “I think you enjoy it more than I do.”

“Ha!” She cried, a little louder than intended. “Don’t flatter yourself, pal. Just because you’ve got a James Dean thing going on-“

His head shot up as he raised a brow in amusement. “James Dean?”

She froze, wondering how the words she had just thought inside of her head had somehow left her lips without any form of warning. “Well, yeah, no, I didn’t mean it like James Dean was hot. I mean, he was. But-“

“Interesting.”

“No, no,” she raised a finger and shook her head. “No.”

After a moment, his stare dropped to her left hand that was still resting on her hip and his grin faltered, if only fleetingly.

“Well,” he mumbled, “I sure as hell send my condolences to that guy.”

It took her a moment to comprehend what he was referring to before the realisation that she was in fact wearing her engagement ring, and had been doing so all night, suddenly overwhelmed her. She blinked, unsure for a moment, unexpectedly feeling its heaviness.

“I’ll have you know that my fiancé is going to be a successful businessman,” she boasted. The word fiancé dropping out of her mouth with a slightly bitter taste before she could even stop it. She wasn’t sure she liked the way it sounded.

He shook his head with a derisive leer, heaving himself up and tucking his notebook into his back pocket. “How very predictable.”

She frowned. Taking a single step closer, folding her arms as he turned away from her. “Excuse me?”

“What is it that you do, may I ask?”

“I’m going to be a teacher,” she said confidently as he rolled his eyes and faced her once more.

“Figures. The businessman and the teacher. What an utterly drab life you are going to lead. Just like everyone else stuck in this place.”

Her brows furrowed as her jaw dropped in astonishment, her eyes widening as his smug yet vacant face burned a hole into her brain. God, he was so irritating.

“I am not stuck anywhere. And my life is far from drab.”

He released an uninterested laugh. “Say it again and maybe you’ll start to convince yourself.”

Her lip quivered as she turned on her heel. “Stay away from me,” she ordered, “and stay the hell away from my spot.”

She stomped away, disallowing him another inevitable snarky remark, her sense of direction wavering slightly as the vodka mixed with frustration and adrenaline began to well and truly go to her head. How dare he speak to her like that.

She wasn’t stuck. She was perfectly happy in Oakwood Bay and she had never had any intentions of leaving. She had been born there, grown up there, just like her parents and grandparents before her, and that’s exactly the life she wanted, and had wanted since she was a little girl, for her children, too. Her life was far from drab, and the fact that this ridiculously rude and highly conceited stranger had even suggested otherwise caused her blood to boil.

“I see you met Jughead,” Kevin announced, leaning against the doorway as Betty trudged over, dangling her heels beside her.

She barely looked up as she tried to shake off her anger, pulling herself out of the depths of her, now rather clouded, brain. “Who?”

“Jughead Jones,” he replied, gesturing over to where she had just come from, the place where black-coffee-guy was now walking out of sight. “He lives here. Just moved in with Archie. You didn’t hear it from me, but he had some trouble back where he came from, so Archie’s dad took him in. I think they went to college together, but I don’t really know much about it.”

She lifted her head in confusion. “Trouble?”

“I don’t know the full story,” he shrugged. “Something with his family. All I know is that he’s had it pretty rough. Rough enough that he had to leave home, anyway.”

Betty gulped, her frustration still hovering slightly as she watched him disappear into the crowd. “Well, all I know is that he’s a nasty piece of work.”

Kevin nodded in agreement, a look of wonder subsequently washing over his face. “I’m surprised he’s even talking to you.”

She slipped her feet back into her heels and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Why?”

He shrugged, raising a brow as he studied where her gaze continued to rest. “Because,” he uttered, “he doesn’t talk to anyone.”

-

Once returning back inside, Betty decided that it was probably best for her to call it a night. She had drank slightly more than she was used to, and the exhaustion that followed was beginning to encompass her entire body.

Shaking her head with a smirk at the sight of Veronica’s face latched firmly onto Archie’s at the bottom of the staircase, she decided to sneak past and drop her a text in fears of ruining the moment she’d been dreaming of and obsessing over for weeks. What kind of friend would she be if she’d have broken them out of their slightly unconventional fairy-tale moment?

Betty (23:42): Need my bed. Stay and have fun. Try to come up for air every once in a while ;) Speak to you tomorrow. B x

The walk home wasn’t typically a very long one. In fact, she only lived ten minutes away, but for some reason it felt much longer than usual. She had grown conscious of the clip clop of her heels on the concrete quite early on, echoing throughout the rather deserted streets with every step that she took. Any Oakwood Bay resident who wasn’t at Archie’s party would most definitely have been in bed a good three hours earlier. The sense of isolation had quite rapidly grown a little bit unnerving.

Suddenly, and rather unexpectedly, she saw it. The same dark eyes from earlier, but this time they were approaching rather rapidly, and there was an unsettling coldness inside of them. The face they belonged to wasn’t one she felt she could trust. Something in her gut told her to turn back around, and to do so quickly.

“Where are you off to?” He said, something about the expression on his face causing her skin to crawl. She had never seen him before, he was much taller than her, he was wearing a red, v neck t-shirt, his dark hair was shaved and his lips were curved into a smirk.

She decided to ignore him, instead quickening her pace. Her apartment was so close that she could see it. The alarm bells in her head were blaring as her fingers ran over her keys inside of her purse. Everything started to move rather quickly.

“Hey, Blondie,” he bellowed, a little louder and a little closer this time, causing her to flinch, “maybe we can take the party elsewhere.”

She retained her gaze firmly in front of her, clutching onto her cardigan tightly, really wishing that she hadn’t worn heels. “No, thank you.”

“Oh, come on.” She could feel his breath on the back of her neck now, her heart slamming against her rib cage as her thoughts started to race. She knew she shouldn’t have left by herself. “Don’t walk away from me.”

Almost as soon as the words had left his lips, and just as she was gearing herself up to strike him and run as fast as she possibly could, a large thud stopped her in her tracks as she released a small shriek. There was an abrupt silence. She couldn’t feel his breath anymore.

“She said no,” a voice hissed.

Turning around slowly, Betty stole a glance at the guy with the dark eyes who was now on the floor just a few feet away from her, grasping his jaw which was starting to bleed. Beside him was the one person that she hadn’t expected to see again, his face filled with rage as his clenched fist hung in mid-air.

“Get out of here, Chuck,” he spat. “I mean it.”

She blinked, the cold air raising goose bumps on her arms as she stood fixated in her spot. Her feet were throbbing. Chuck laughed with not even a glimmer of remorse, his eyes flitting between the both of them before heaving himself upright, his smirk now turning into a snarl.

“Watch your back, Jones,” he growled, before turning on his heel and briskly making his way back to wherever he had come from in the first place. She watched after him and felt a shiver possess her body.

After a few moments of complete, deafening silence, he cleared his throat. “Are you ok?” He said quietly, the tone in his voice unlike the one she had heard before. He went to reach out his hand, but retracted it almost instantly.

Her breath caught in her chest. “…Y- yeah.”

His eyes burned into hers for a brief moment, so much so she could hardly breathe, his expression twisted into something she had not seen before. His once vacant eyes were now overflowing with something new. He wasn’t joking. He wasn’t smirking. His chest was rising and falling rapidly. He wasn’t wearing his beanie.

They drank each other in for a few seconds longer. It was as if he wanted to say something but decided against it, before releasing a single, subtle nod, and stepping backwards. Pushing a couple of dark curls out of his face and tucking his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, he turned, and he left. She stayed, frozen, for a good minute as she watched him fade further and further out of sight. He didn’t say another word, and he didn’t look back again.

Once she had returned to the safety of her apartment, she briskly locked the door and shrugged off her cardigan. Turning on the light switch beside her bedroom door, she bit her lip and walked over to the window, peering outside into the darkness of an empty street, lit by nothing but the moon and all of its stars. A clear midnight. She exhaled deeply.

Pulling her curtains shut and leaving just a small crack for the light of the moon, as she always did, she kicked off her shoes and perched herself at the end of the bed. After taking a few moments to stare into nothingness, she retrieved her phone from her bag and allowed the screen to light up.

One missed call from Trev.

She sighed then, placing it face down onto her bedside table and throwing her head into her hands.

As she laid her head that night, she thought not of the boy in his London hotel room desperately staring at a blank screen. She thought not of her future or of her mother’s forceful hand smearing her red lipstick across her face when she was sixteen years old. She thought not of the beautiful diamond ring which was again buried under a pile of books at the bottom of her drawer.

No, she didn’t think of any of these things.

Instead, her thoughts travelled to the words of Whitman. To the beauty of the moonlit sea, sparkling even when she wasn’t looking. To a pair of piercing green eyes. To the way his quickening breath had hung in the air. To the burning smothering the pit of her stomach.

And, with that, she fell into a deep slumber.

[onceuponamirror]

heart rise above

///// CHAPTER 4

summary: It wasn’t an experiment with freedom borne of some Americana fantasy; rather, a road trip of purely logistical intentions. The plan was simple. Drive from Boston to Chicago for his sister’s college graduation. That’s it.

Or, he drives a Ford Pickup Named Desire.

Mechanic!AU

fandom: riverdale

ship: betty x jughead

words: 16k

chapters: 4/?

[read from the beginning] [read the latest]

Can the child within my heart rise above?

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Jughead stares at her, and then crosses the room to place his bag in the chair he’d been occupying. He seems to hesitate. “Should I…do I need anything?”

Betty presses her lips together, trying not to smile at how oddly confused he looks. “No. Might want to take off your jacket, though. I’ll grab you a jumpsuit. This work is dirty.”

She quickly turns around, cheeks blooming at the way that had come out. He doesn’t seem to notice, because he’s busying himself with shedding his jean jacket, but she hadn’t meant it to sound so coy.

He follows her to the supply closet, where she sifts through the available uniforms. She normally keeps her work suit in her office, so she’s forgotten her father’s uniform was still there, stuffed in the back. Hesitating as her eyes fall on his embroidered name, she sighs and skips forward a few hangers.

Joaquin isn’t coming in today, so hopefully he won’t mind sharing his. Betty hands him the jumpsuit and he wordlessly slips into it.

“The truck is on spot three, if you wanna pop the hood. I’m just gonna change again,” she says, nodding to the other side of the garage. She hates wearing her clothes under her suit because she always overheats, but maybe she’d grabbed a new pink shirt because she’d felt slightly embarrassed about the state of her appearance when she’d first met him.

Betty moves to the corner blind spot to change out of sight. As she pulls her top over her head, she remembers her promise to investigate the relationship status of whichever Veronica had dubbed the cute one, but she’s still not totally sure who that’s supposed to be. Archie is good-looking too, if albeit reminded her a bit uncomfortably of her ex-boyfriend in personality.

Veronica seemed to have zeroed in on the redhead, though Betty silently decides there’s something cuter about the perennial pout of Jughead, even if she can’t tell if he’s something of a jerk, or just someone in a bad position.

But if she asks Veronica if Jughead is the one she’s interested in, her friend will just assume Betty thinks he’s cute (she does) and she’ll never hear the end of it (ever). Veronica has been borderline obsessed with getting Betty “back out there” since breaking things off with Trev, but it’s been barely four months and she doesn’t understand the rush.

More than once, she’s wondered if it’s Veronica’s looming guilt for leaving her in Riverdale at the end of the summer, as if Betty wasn’t the one who encouraged her to apply for law school.

Even if she does feel the imminence of her absence, eying it like some dark cloud thundering off over a far mountain, she still has Kevin and Joaquin, her sister, and even her mother or Cheryl on a good day. But by Veronica’s calculations, Betty would think she’s about to become some spinster recluse.

Then again, Betty has been at the garage since five to avoid her mother, so maybe she’s not too far off. Betty decides she’ll just cover her bases and find out about both guys for Ronnie. If she even can. She’s never been entirely good with subtlety, but she’ll have to find a way to sneak the question in.

When she steps out of her office, fully changed, Jughead is standing to the side of his truck, eying her rolling work cart. She bounces up to him and pulls the cart around to the hood.

“So this is all we need to get started, for now. Sorry, this is a little cluttered! I wasn’t expecting anyone. Here, can you move the book? Just put it anywhere with a clean surface.” She realizes that doesn’t give him a lot of options, but he hesitantly takes the thick book and quickly drops it on a storage shelf.

“Bit of light reading?” He jokes, walking back to her. His nose wriggles slightly.

“Sure, if you call 500 pages of paperback dedicated to murder light,” Betty smirks, jerking her head towards the engine in a gesture that asks him to join her. He comes to stand next to her, though noticeably keeps his distance and she instantly feels silly for her putting on the new shirt earlier. He peers over her shoulder into the engine.

“So what am I looking at? Besides the obvious,” he adds, eyes narrowed as they dart over the machinery.

She points to the dark spot burned in on the left side. “See that there? That’s where your compressor fried. That’s why your car started smoking; the engine overheated when it failed. The first thing I’m gonna do is pull that out.”

Jughead nods once, eyes moving rapidly around the spot she’s hovering over. She gesticulates to the main engine. “And this is the head gasket. It basically locks everything in place. Without it—”

“I’m dead in the water,” he summarizes correctly. “So why do I need a new one?”

“Head gaskets are tricky, because they’re not always symptomatic. The whole point is that they’re sealed. So you have to look beyond what’s right in front of you. It takes a bit of detective work, but between you and me, that’s my favorite part. See your cylinder block?” She points to it.

“That’s why you think I need it replaced? That rust on the underside?” Betty gives an mm-hm. The rust is almost fully hidden, and not everyone would see it right away. “So it’s leaking,” Jughead guesses.

“You’re a fast learner,” she says truthfully, impressed. His eyes dart down and to the side as he shrugs.

“It’s the long-earned habit of a slacker,” he replies dismissively. “So you weren’t kidding about an engine being more than the sum of its parts. Wouldn’t have thought Aristotle would be this relevant to 20th century machinery. Huh. And you said something about a valve?”

“Right. It’s called that for a reason. The whole engine works like a heart.”

“That’s apt,” he says softly.

Betty glances over her shoulder at him, meeting his gaze. Something indiscernible but vaguely intense moves across his face. She takes a breath of air to steady the buzzing across her chest and looks back at the engine. “So that one, on the right? You can see where it’s thinning.”

Jughead leans in over the car, moving closer to her. “Yep,” he says, as she grabs a rag to wipe off as much of the carbon remnants from the compressor as she can. It’ll be a lot easier to remove if she can see what she’s doing.

“So, what’s in Chicago?” She asks, deciding to push an opening to investigate. She resolutely keeps her eyes on the engine, lest she burst into the same flames that claimed the compressor.

“The women in our lives,” Jughead says off-handedly. When she looks up, surprised, he adds, “Archie’s mom and my sister. Respectively.”

He grins down at her, and she realizes it might be the first time she’s actually seen him smile. She finds it suits him, especially for a guy who seems to wear a scowl like it’s a personal edict. “Why do you ask?”

She turns her gaze back down to her work and tries to keep her voice innocent. “I can’t make conversation?”

He pauses. “Yeah, sorry, of course. I’m kind of bad at…small talk. Uh, my little sister is graduating from Northwestern, hence the firm deadline. Archie just tagged along for the ride since his mom is in Chicago too. And we’ve been talking about a road trip on and off since high school, so we figured we might as well give it a shake. Although it ended up being a pretty pathetic attempt, obviously.”

She chuckles. It’s not exactly the firm answer she’d hoped to get for Veronica, but the derisive tone in Jughead’s voice when he’d talked about the women in their lives seemed to imply an equal shot. “You and Archie have known each other a while then?”

“Since we were nothing but mindless wee babes. We grew up in the same town, a bit outside of Boston.”

She glances over, feeling amused. “All those remarks about Riverdale and you’re from a suburb?”

Jughead turns bright red. “I didn’t mean it like that. Yesterday, I was just…you might’ve noticed I’m already not the cheeriest guy around. My beloved truck breaking down not 5 days into a road trip I hadn’t even planned for didn’t do wonders for my mood. Somehow.”

“I know, I could tell. You’re forgiven,” she says, with mock seriousness even though she means it. Privately, Betty decides that even if she weren’t her pitifully lenient self, she’d still let it go after seeing that anxious look in his eye.

“Thank you, I can now sleep easily once more,” he says, rolling his eyes, but he’s smiling again. Then he rubs at his neck. “So, do you like that book you’re reading?”

She blinks, surprised by the question and the suddenly informal pitch in his voice. “Yeah,” she says. “It’s been sitting on my shelf for a while, and I finally got to it last week.”

“That’s not much of an answer. What do you really think of it?” He asks, squinting at her.

Betty raises an eyebrow, but he’s got a hard look in his eye and she might as well be honest. “It is good. It’s lonely, but good.”

He wrinkles his brow. “What do you mean, lonely?”

She sighs, trying to think of a way to summarize her thoughts. “There’s a lot of open space in the writing. Like the main character is always waiting for something that doesn’t come. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

Jughead scratches at his temple. “No, it…does. That’s a very editorial thing to say.”

It’s Betty’s turn to look away. Considering that’s more or less what she went to school for, she takes it as a compliment.

“So you’d recommend it, then?” Jughead presses. He quickly adds, “I’m looking for something to kill the three weeks with. Was gonna try to find a book store.”

“Sure. I like that it’s not a vendetta. I like true crime books, but they’re always about some guy whose wife was murdered in front of him. Sometimes that works, but I decided I’m kind of done with the fridged female character. But I’m only halfway through, and it’s a little lacking in diversity.”

He shifts against the hood, frowning. “Meaning?”

Betty shrugs and switches back to the engine, tools now in hand. She starts unloosening the screws of the burnt compressor. “I like that it’s really about this guy’s relationship with his family, especially his father, but there just isn’t much presence of women in the book.”

Jughead is silent next to her, but she can feel his eyes on her, so she twists back. “What?”

His tongue digs into his cheek thoughtfully and shakes his head. “You just didn’t strike me as a true crime kind of girl.”

She leans next to him against the truck. “What did I strike you as?” She asks, feeling unusually bold.

Here in Riverdale, she’s the same old Betty Cooper that she’s always been. Everyone knows her here, knows her to be kind and giving and good. Simple and plain. But Jughead is a stranger, he’ll be gone soon, and she wants to know what he sees.

His lips lift slightly, but his face betrays nothing. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

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He leaves not long after that, with some vague excuse about work (though she’s forgotten to ask what it is exactly that he does)—but then, much to her surprise, Jughead comes back the next day. In fact, he’s already there waiting when she pulls up the drive.

“Nice car,” he greets, with an impressed kind of look.

“It’s just advertising,” she laughs, shutting the door to her blue Chevy Bel Air. “If I didn’t drive something like this, people would think I wouldn’t know how to handle an old engine.”

“Fair point,” Jughead says. His eyes run over it, and then her. “Well, you’ve convinced me.”

She tries not to flush under his curious gaze, but seizes the opportunity to shield her face by grabbing her bag from the open window. When she turns back, he’s shifting on his feet. “Sorry to come back unannounced,” he says, clearing his throat. “I wasn’t sure how much of me you’d signed up for. I mean, whether or not I could shadow your work again today. I didn’t want to presume, and I thought about texting you first, but—”

“Jughead, really, it’s okay,” she insists, even though it’s a bit adorable watching him ramble. She gets out her keys and fiddles with the garage padlocks, smiling over at him. “I think it’s good that you want to learn. This truck isn’t getting younger, and maintenance is important on a car like this.”

And yesterday she found him to be good company, despite the recurring frown, so she genuinely doesn’t mind. Jughead looks relieved, and scurries over to help her push up the rolling overnight gates.

He hangs around a few feet behind her at first, but after she hands him an engine manual to study, a switch seems to flip between them. Or, she realizes, he just relaxes. Somewhere between Jughead’s scowl smoothing out and her cracking her father’s worst car joke—

(“I try to think of a good car pun, but I’m always too exhausted.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Because of the exhaust pipe.”

“Yeah, I got that. Terrible.”)

—Betty decides that Jughead is not only good company, but he’s also a surprisingly calming presence. She’s not sure if it’s his dry humor or his blunt honesty, but all he has to do is roll his eyes her way and stretch his long legs out against something as he makes some clever quip and she’s laughing again in a way she hasn’t laughed all year.

She’d gotten so used to the hours ticking by unaccompanied in this garage that she’d nearly forgotten what it was like to work alongside someone—even if Jughead isn’t actually much help. He doesn’t quite have the natural talent for mechanics, though still an observant, diligent student. He occasionally asks questions while leafing through the manual or leaning over her shoulder, but mostly seems content to watch her work.

After an afternoon of switching between his engine and the other cars she’s responsible for, she decides it’s time for a break. She stretches her arms high over her head. “I’m gonna make a pot of coffee, do you want some?” She asks, rolling her neck.

“A woman after my heart,” Jughead says, glancing at her over the top of the manual. Only his eyes are visible, but that’s enough to find herself blushing. Then, with a flash, it just reminds her that she forgot to update Veronica on what she’d gleaned yesterday.

“I’ll be right back,” she says.

“And I’ll be right here,” he replies, attention returning to the manual. He gets up and wanders over the truck, head turning between engine and book as he studies the two.

When she gets to her office, she settles into her desk to catch up on her work emails. She shoots off a request for the compressor she needs to her friend Adam—who runs a much bigger garage up in Hudson and is usually the one she turns to when she’s in a bit of a mechanic bind—and then responds to a thank you email from a satisfied customer. There are more things to sort through, but she owes Veronica a response first.

V, not 100% sure, but I think both boys are single, she texts.

Veronica’s reply comes almost instantly.

C’est magnifique, isn’t it? One for me and one for you!

Betty looks up from her phone and across the garage, where she can see Jughead sticking his head over the engine and muttering to himself. She turns back to her phone keyboard. Wait, what? Did you already know?

Of course. Archie tracked me down yesterday and asked me out. Of course, we’re going to have to drive down to New Paltz for any kind of decent dinner. Candlelight should be present at all first dates.

So it was Archie that Veronica was interested in. She tries to ignore the quickening of her heart. Then there’s a pause, the little ellipsis appearing ominously as Veronica begins to type.

Wait, how do YOU know?

** Well, you left me with very vague instructions, V! **

?? Did you think Archie’s friend was the cute one??

It’s impossible for a text to gasp, but Veronica somehow manages it. Betty supposes there’s some kind of satisfaction in predicting exactly how this conversation would go but there’s not much.

** I just asked him when he was at the garage yesterday because I wasn’t sure who you were interested in! that’s it! **

He was hanging out at the garage with you?

** V, I’m fixing his truck, it’s not unreasonable for him to be here. **

Is he there again today?

Shit. She shouldn’t have used the present tense. Betty definitely doesn’t want to tell her that. But Veronica doesn’t wait long for her not to answer, sending over a flurry of angel and heart emojis.

B!!

This is going just as badly as she’d expected it would, so she quickly puts her phone on silent and sets it face down on the desk. Exhaling, she decides to busy herself with making coffee. While it bubbles and percolates, she muses with what’s just transpired.

She’s not sure why she feels so defensive; probably because she wants her next relationship to be developed on her own terms and not pushed into it because her well-meaning but boundary-stricken friends are overly invested in her life.

Still—it wouldn’t be so crazy for her to like Jughead, would it?

Granted, she doesn’t know him very well, but she’s already admitted to herself that she finds him attractive. And he’s since apologized for his occasionally rude behavior, which was her main put off. And she’d been ready to break up with Trev long before actually summoning the courage, so it’s not like she’s not over him. If anything, she feels bad at how much she is over him.

Really, there are only two problems with allowing a crush on Jughead to bloom. One, she finds him hard to read, and with the amount of literal space he keeps putting between them, she guesses he really is just here to learn about his truck. Two, he’s leaving. In three weeks. And she’ll never see him again after that.

And that is the bottom line. What if she ends up really liking him and all she’s left with is an empty garage and feeling more trapped here than ever? The risk just doesn’t seem worth it for a guy who, right after meeting her, said: “let’s get this over with."

She’s never been able to separate sex and feelings, so the last thing she needs is to put emotional stake in some rolling stone. So she decides right then and there that she won’t let her mind consider it any further.

As she’s making that vow to herself, she spots Kevin moving silently across the garage, clearly mindful of where he steps. Jughead is bent over the truck, his nose pressed against the manual she gave him and unaware of the sneaking figure creeping up behind him.

Betty comes out of her office to watch it unfold more closely. She’s unsure what Kevin is doing, but then he wraps his arms tightly around Jughead’s torso and says, “Surprise!”

Jughead freezes. “No shit,” he says, after a long pause. Kevin scrambles back.

“Oh. You’re not Joaquin.”

“Definitely not,” Jughead replies, turning around. His eyebrows are so high on his forehead they’re practically in his hairline.

“Joaquin isn’t working today, Kev,” Betty says sheepishly, coming around towards them. Jughead looks over at her. “He had to go up to Catskill to see his mom.”

“Oh, damn. I forgot. He did say that,” Kevin sighs, scratching awkwardly behind his ear. “Sorry about that. I was just trying to surprise him with lunch. Trying to extend the honeymoon period and all that.” He lifts up a brown paper bag and shoves it at Jughead. “Here, you can have it. It’s the least I can do.”

“I was gonna say you’d have to buy me dinner first,” Jughead mutters, accepting the bag and peeking inside it. “But this’ll do.”

Kevin grins at Betty. “You didn’t tell me you hired a new guy. About time.” But he doesn’t give her a moment to reply, immediately offering Jughead his hand. “One day we’ll laugh about this. I’m Kevin.”

Jughead takes it, but exchanges a look with Betty, who jumps in. “Kev, this is Jughead. His truck broke down in Riverdale during a road trip. He just wanted to learn about fixing his engine, so that’s why he’s here.”

Still shaking Jughead’s hand, despite his mounting discomfort, Kevin stares at Betty with the kind of expression she’s learned to hate on him: one of mischievous curiosity. He looks back at Jughead and seems to realize he’s been forcing him to shake his hand for about half a minute.

He releases Jughead from his grip. “You don’t say. How long are you in town for?”

Jughead glances at Betty, who nods. “She said three weeks.”

Kevin cocks his neck, gears clearly working. “And what are you doing here again?”

But a ringing from across the garage saves either from answering. Betty raises a pausing finger in the air. “Uh—hold on. That’s my office phone,” she says, already cutting across the room. She catches it just before it goes out. “Cooper Garage, Betty speaking.”

“Hey, Betts, it’s Adam. Got your email—I do have the compressor part you need, but I’m out of town till next week. Will that work?”

She lets out a thankful breath. “That’ll be great, Adam. Lemme know when you’re back and I’ll pop up to Hudson. You’re a lifesaver!”

He chuckles across the line. “You’ll have to owe me,” he says, which is what he says every time. They make a bit more polite chatter (Adam always manages to make her look like a comparable introvert, somehow) and then Betty finds her goodbyes.

Kevin corners her as she’s coming out of her office. “So, were you planning on telling me about tall, dark, and broody?”

“There’s nothing to tell, Kev. Just because that’s your type doesn’t mean it’s mine,” Betty says, although she’s already decided that’s not strictly true. Still, she resists the strong urge to tell him to keep his voice down. “And he can’t wait to get out of here, trust me.”

“If you say so,” Kevin says, crossing his arms. “But for the record, he’s been staring over here the whole time we’ve been talking.”

They both turn and look over at Jughead, and his head immediately jerks upwards to the ceiling, like he’s found something very interesting up in the high beams. He sulks off, shoving his hands forcefully in his pockets.

Kevin grins back at her smugly. “Stop,” she sighs.

“I didn’t do anything,” he replies innocently.

“I can hear you thinking,” Betty mumbles. “Besides, he might’ve been looking at you.”

Kevin seems to consider this. “That’s fair. I did practically just grab his ass. And I am something of a Kennedy, so I wouldn’t really blame him.”

She raises a hand in the air as if to say “see?” but the smile drops from his face, his lips pinching together. “I’m not trying to push Veronica’s agenda on you, to be clear. I’m just all a-flush with new romance and I can’t help but want that for my best girl too.”

Betty smiles softly. “I know that. And I appreciate that. But if I’ve learned anything, my next relationship needs to have…meaning. I can’t get that from a guy with one foot out the door. And besides, honestly, I don’t think he’s interested. And I’m not—I’m just fixing his engine. So please, just—”

But Kevin doesn’t look satisfied. “I’m not just talking about dating though, Betty. I want you to be happy. I never see you anymore unless I come here and… If it were me, and I’d just gotten out of a two year relationship that dramatically, and I was spending all my time at work and my dad had just—”

“Stop,” she repeats it again, but this time with force, closing her eyes briefly. “Kevin, please. I’m fine. I’ve just been busier with everything since Joaquin started classes. Which is fine, Mr. Boyfriend, I’m not complaining, I’m really happy he wants his degree, but it just means I need to put in more hours for now.”

Kevin doesn’t look convinced and she hates the concern in his eyes. “But what happens when he and I go to Europe? What are you gonna do when it’s just you alone in this garage for two months?”

“I’ll hire someone,” she huffs, tightening her ponytail. “When he leaves.”

He puts up his hands. “Whatever you say. It’s your business. Literally. But can we at least make some plans to see each other outside of this grease trap? I mean, you should appreciate the depths of which I care for you and Joaquin to show up here in my best khakis.”

She smiles, finally relaxing. “Yes, definitely. How about tomorrow at Pop’s?” Kevin nods approvingly, and just then, Jughead wanders back over towards them. She turns to him, happy for a break from the ghost of the Spanish Inquisition inhabiting her friend. “Hey, Jughead! Good news! I heard back from my guy in Hudson and he has the part for me. I can go get it next week.”

“Oh, he’s definitely got a part for you,” Kevin mutters under his breath, much to Betty’s annoyance. She shoots him a warning glare, unsure how many times she has to insist Adam doesn’t think of her that way. Then again, most of her defenses had come about in the era of Trev, and she’s not sure how’ll they hold up with her single. She’s secretly suspected it’s not a completely unfounded theory.

Jughead glances between them. “Great,” he says finally. His voice is back to its usual flat tenor.

Kevin gives him one long, parting look before bidding them both farewell, saying he has to get back to the mayor’s office. They’re planning a 4th of July parade that has been one misstep after another and he is very needed, apparently.

Afterwards, she brings the coffee pot out to her work station and they settle in on folding chairs. Jughead guzzles down two cups of black coffee without seemingly taking a breath in between and amiably asks her about good examples of books that don’t fridge their female characters (a topic on which she has nothing but thoughts).

Later, once Betty can no longer excuse a longer break, she and Jughead fall back into their routines (her working, him hanging around observing). It’s quiet but comfortable, and she lets him pick the next music, even after he jokes that he’s a loyal metalhead.

Instead, he puts on The Beach Boys (he gives, “it’s the road trip playlist that never was,” as his excuse), and when Wouldn’t It Be Nice comes on, she thinks simply that maybe it would.

He excuses himself to the restroom halfway through the song, but she’s spared from analyzing that as the red garage phone rings across the room.

“Cooper Garage, this is Betty,” she says into the receiver. Polly’s voice breaks across the line.

“Hi Betty! Sorry to bother you at work, but I was wondering if you minded picking up the kids from day camp in an hour? You know I hate putting this on you, but I thought I could get off earlier today but something came up last minute here. And Jason is so picky about nannies and we just haven’t found a new one we like. And you’re so great with them.”

Betty pulls the phone away from her mouth in order to take in a long breath. Jughead walks back into the room as she’s straightening up. “Of course, Pol,” she says, forcing a bright voice. “No problem. I came in early today, so I can close up by then.”

“You’re the best,” Polly says, with evident relief. “Do you wanna have dinner tonight? You can hang out with the kids till we’re home and then I’ll order us some well-deserved take out of your choice.”

It’s a roundabout way of asking her to also babysit, which frustrates her. She’d appreciate Polly just being direct about it at this point, since it’s been two months since Jason fired the last nanny and essentially hired her, minus the pay.

But since she’d come home last night to her mother very pointedly saying Trev had dropped off another box of Betty’s things (if one could call a couple of socks and books that) and tried to wait around for her, she’ll take the excuses to stay out that she can get.

“That sounds great. I’ll see you tonight,” Betty says, and then hangs up with a bit more force than she’d like Jughead to see. She pivots back to him. “I’m gonna have to close up. Do you want me to drop you somewhere on my way out?”

His gaze is eagled and she doesn’t like it. “Uh, sure. That would be great. Everything…okay?”

She waves a hand and starts putting tools away. “Absolutely. Everything’s fine. Just babysitting duty again.”

Jughead hums. “You just don’t seem too thrilled.”

Betty cocks her neck up at him, momentarily thrown off guard. She narrows her eyes. “I love my family,” she says sharply. “I’m happy to help out.”

He shrugs indifferently, but there’s still something working behind his eyes. “Okay, sorry. That wasn’t my place.”

“It’s fine,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m just gonna finish packing up these tools and then get changed. Do you want to wait in my office?”

It’s an unspoken dismissal, and Jughead nods, scratching behind his neck. Once he’s gone, she lets out a shaky breath, trying to convince herself she’s unsure why she suddenly feels so frustrated. In reality, she knows it’s because she’s spent 25 years perfecting perfection and it’s unnerving that a guy she barely knows can spot her discomfort right away.

But she is fine. It is fine. She does genuinely love her family, but she also wants to appreciate having them. Life is fickle and she’s learned the hard way that no amount of rigorous planning can hold up against fate. So if that means she needs to hand her time over to her sister once in a while, she will.

After a few minutes, she’s ready to go. He emerges from her office looking pensive and frowning once more.

She locks up. Jughead follows.

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