Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13861722.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Riverdale_(TV_2017)
  Relationship:
      Betty_Cooper/Jughead_Jones
  Character:
      Betty_Cooper, Jughead_Jones
  Additional Tags:
      School_Dances, riverdale_high, bughead_-_Freeform, Slow_Dancing, Music,
      First_Time, Romance, Angst
  Series:
      Part 6 of Bughead_Stories
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-03-04 Chapters: 3/3 Words: 8688
****** Rain Dance ******
by ForASecondThereWedWon
Summary
     Originally posted on Fanfiction.net. Betty seeks Jughead after his
     father's arrest, determined not to let him pull away from her. When
     she finds him back at Riverdale High, they're both willing to start
     the evening over, attending their first dance together as a couple.
     Rated E for Betty and Jughead letting the music speak for them when
     they run out of words.
***** The Dance, Deserted *****
                                       I
Betty looked back and forth between Archie and Veronica. She was already
feeling a desperate dizziness as she strove to find Jughead, to stick with him
the way she should have from the moment they heard his father had been
arrested. Now her two friends―the sight of whom frankly made her so furiously
angry Betty struggled not to tear her own dress apart with the blind ferocity
of Cinderella’s stepsisters―were suddenly on her side again? Bringing her a
theory about FP’s framing? Imagining those two snooping around and concocting
theories of their own was so baffling to Betty that she might have been proud
if she wasn’t already feeling so betrayed.
Beyond words, Betty brushed past them, out the front door of Pop’s and into the
rain that was once again trickling down. Tonight, Betty felt like everything
had flipped; Jason Blossom’s supposed drowning in Sweetwater River had set the
events of the past year in motion and now water was pouring down over them as a
few tried to seek the truth, and most tried to hide it. Betty imagined
Riverdale as a snow globe, inverted and shaken, clues drifting past on paths of
their own.
The trailer. The closet. The gun. Why? Betty balled her hands in the pockets of
her coat as rain beaded and raced down the sleeves. And where did Archie and
Veronica really stand? Could she trust them again after they’d gone behind not
only her own back, but Jughead’s as well? The two that Betty had admittedly
just about written out of the murder mystery narrative now slunk beyond her
reach, shadowy foils of Betty and Jughead’s more ethical investigations.
Betty craved one normal night, just one night where dressing up on the outside
didn’t mean becoming an uglier version of yourself on the inside. One night
where having her boyfriend and his dad over for family dinner wasn’t a front
for her mother’s around-the-clock interrogations and a chance for her closest
friends to try their hands at breaking and entering.
She had been stomping down the town’s sidewalks faster and faster, her shoes
filling and her fingernails only just resisting digging into the still-healing
trenches in her palms, but now she stopped. Betty closed her eyes and tilted
her head back until the raindrops beat against her face and snaked coolly back
into her hair. She felt like Jason Blossom. She felt like she was drowning.
Betty lowered her head and continued on.
When she got to Jughead’s father’s trailer, Betty knew her boyfriend had been
there. The lights were off, but the garishly yellow police tape hung limp,
battered down by the rain, making Betty think of the wilting streamers she was
going to have to go into school early on Monday to pull down. Of course.
She found him at the school.
Jughead was reclining in a metal chair; the shining soles of his sneakers
propped on the table in front of him were visible to Betty as she entered the
gym. He looked up at her as she turned the corner and held her gaze as she
approached. When she was near enough to read his expression, Betty was
surprised to see that Jughead’s stiffness wasn’t from anger, but rather an
attempt to not appear as in distress as he clearly had been before she’d
arrived. The wateriness of his eyes and unnatural flush of his cheeks were
Betty’s indications that he’d been crying. She sat down across from him, her
eyebrows pulling together in concern and sympathy.
“I’m so sorry about your dad, Juggy,” Betty said softly. “Especially…” she
started to get choked up and had to pause, “…especially after what I can infer
he must have said to you about bringing your family back together.”
Jughead made a noise that was half derision, half despair. “It doesn’t matter
now.” His head fell back as he stared at the ceiling. Betty wondered what he
could see. She’d looked for answers earlier, outside, hopelessly and probingly,
but had seen nothing but the underbelly of vast dark clouds.
“It does matter, Jughead.” Betty reached impulsively for his hand, lying
lifeless on the tabletop. She hoped the greatest victory she felt tonight
wouldn’t be that Jughead didn’t pull his hand away when hers covered it.
“No,” he replied. Jughead’s free hand shot up, his fingers chasing the tears
that flowed from the corners of his eyes and flicking them away.
Betty felt like her heart was breaking. She rose from her seat and came around
to Jughead’s side of the table, keeping hold of his hand. She was about to sit
in the chair next to his when he turned his head and looked at her. Jughead’s
green-blue eyes were unreally bright, his mouth red, the foremost curl of his
hair caressing the slight dip of his temple. To Betty, he was all teenage boy
beauty and a pain that’s worse than physical injury: the pain of
disappointment. She sat on his lap instead and when his arms came around her,
it wasn’t mechanical or automatic. He was alone and he needed her.
Betty pulled the hat from his head, holding it at arm’s length to shake as much
water from it as she could, then laid it reverently on the table. She took his
face in her hands, dragging her thumbs lightly beneath his eyes to dry them,
feeling his lashes wisp against her fingertips.
Embarrassed to have her the only one making an effort, Jughead pulled a Kleenex
from the inner pocket of his suit jacket and turned away from Betty, blowing
his nose thoroughly. He flung the tissue at a nearby garbage bin. Naturally
there was one placed conveniently close; Betty was an exceptionally thoughtful
organizer, even with her mind on so many things right now.
Jughead took a deep breath, seeming to recover from the worst of his upset, and
looked at Betty. At once, she took his face back between her palms and pressed
her lips to his. She wasn’t sure if Jughead had really thought of her this
evening―obviously, his father’s potential incarceration was a much larger cause
for worry―but she’d thought of nothing but him. And now she’d found him.
When she pulled back, Jughead’s fingers smoothed through her hair, which was
now drying and twisting out of the straight style she’d forced on it before
dinner. Dinner. Which now seemed like it had taken place at least a month ago.
Jughead brought her back to the present by glancing around and remarking, “It
really looks great, Betts.”
Betty looked around too. The streamers had not yet drooped. All of the balloons
were still fully inflated. Garbage had mostly made its way into the receptacles
she’d artfully scattered throughout the large space. She turned back to
Jughead.
“Thanks, Juggy. That means a lot.” She gave him a smile. “Though, it would mean
more if you hadn’t decided to put your soggy shoes up on one of the tables.”
She raised an eyebrow at him.
Jughead let out a laugh. “Actually, if you really looked you’d notice I picked
a table without a tablecloth for the exact reason that I was taking your
decorations into consideration.”
There was a squeak as Jughead moved his foot, highlighting the lack of coloured
paper beneath it, though displaying the dirty puddle that had begun to form.
“Thanks?” Betty replied, her expression one of exaggerated disgust.
Jughead rubbed her back gently over her coat, then flicked his hand to get the
water off. Betty unbuttoned her outer layer and shrugged it off, throwing it
over another chair. His hand immediately sought the bare skin between her
shoulder blades and Betty leaned into Jughead, resting her head on his
shoulder.
She was still for a few minutes as Jughead’s fingers traced back and forth
across the top edge of the back of her dress, but after the night’s surprises
and subterfuge, Betty needed to clear the air.
“So, are we going to talk?”
“Uuugh,” Jughead groaned. Betty felt the sound vibrate in his chest and smiled
in spite of the seriousness of the situation.
“I just want to tell you that I was wrong. I should have let you know that I
was suspicious of my mother’s intentions with that dinner. What I said about
not telling you because you were so happy is true, but that was no excuse.”
Betty shifted carefully in his lap so she could look levelly at him. “I had a
fight with her about it when I got home and made my feelings pretty clear.”
Betty sighed. That was another scene she didn’t really want to face. Not
tonight at least.
Jughead drew his chin back in disbelief. “And she was just fine with you
standing up to her and then taking off?”
“I knew you would need me. And I needed you.” Betty lowered her eyes, hoping
she didn’t sound selfish.
Jughead hugged her tight to him, resting the side of his face against hers. “I
do. You’re basically the only family I have right now, Betty.”
The corner of Betty’s mouth twitched up and she pulled back so he could see her
face. “That’s the same thing I told my mom.”
Jughead had the same sort of look he’d had when they’d initially spoken about
the family dinner, but somehow his smile was wider, the joy in his eyes more
evident. He didn’t ask her to go on, but Betty felt she owed it to him to show
more of what she was feeling rather than less.
“Nothing was getting through to her so I just told her that I needed to be with
you.” Betty’s eyelids dropped. “I said that you’re more like family to me than
she is right now.”
Jughead shook his head, marvelling at Betty’s strength.
“I said that I had to be where you were because…” She looked into his eyes. “…I
love you.”
Jughead’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open to speak.
“But,” Betty continued, “I should also tell you that I’m glad you’re not moving
away yet. That probably sounds horrible since the reason is your dad being
arrested, but I want to be honest. I love you and I don’t want you to go.”
She looked at him nervously and Jughead let out a deep sigh.
“I don’t want to go either. Everything that’s happened with my family has been
on my dad’s terms.” He lifted his arm and ran a hand through his hair. “I mean,
my mom chose to leave with Jellybean, but that’s just because of my dad. I
don’t want him to separate us too.” Jughead took her hand and stared at it as
his thumb smoothed across her skin.
“Somewhere you aren’t… isn’t the right place for me.” He lifted his head. Betty
smiled at him.
“I love you too, Betty.”
Betty wanted so badly to kiss him, but judged that Jughead needed oxygen just
then because of how much his heart was pounding where she leaned against his
chest.
Jughead went on. “Riverdale is my home. I don’t want to run. I want to finish
my book. It just feels like everything’s falling apart right now.” He shook his
head.
Betty laced her fingers through his. “Hey.” She stroked the side of his face.
“Not everything. We’ll solve this thing, Juggy. We’ll make it safe again, and
then you won’t have to leave because your mom and your sister will be able to
come back here.”
Jughead’s expression was bleak. “It’s not exactly going to be a Rockwell
Thanksgiving with my dad stuck behind bars.”
“Well,” Betty looked down. “I ran into Archie and Veronica at Pop’s earlier
when I was looking for you. They think your dad was framed.”
Jughead shrugged. “I think that too, but I’m not blind to the role my dad
conveniently fills for these people. Why look any further for a scapegoat than
the frequently unemployed, habitually inebriated, leader of the Serpents?”
“We can use that though, Juggy!” Betty started to get excited. “We make a list
of who would see your dad that way.”
Jughead snorted. “I can answer that right now: everyone.”
Betty shook her head, thinking. “Then maybe it’s not the right way to look at
it. Framing someone is all about misdirection, so we can’t assume their motives
will be straightforward either.”
“So,” Jughead pulled his feet off the table and let the bottom of his shoes
smack the gym floor. “We ignore the usual suspects. It probably isn’t somebody
who had that generic view of my dad that anyone in Riverdale could get from his
reputation alone.” Jughead tapped the table sharply and repeatedly with his
index finger. “It’s personal. Somehow, it’s personal.”
***** Waiting No More *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                                      II
Betty touched her feet to the ground and jumped up. “You want to go start
working on this? I bet the Blue and Gold office is unlocked and we could―”
Jughead grabbed Betty’s hand, reeling her back in as she turned towards the gym
doors.
“You’ve done enough for me tonight, Betty.” He smiled up at her gratefully. “We
don’t have any concrete leads to add to the murder board and honestly, just
knowing that three other people believe me―even if two of those people aren’t
the most trustworthy right now…” Jughead frowned.
“I get it. You need a break.” Betty sighed and dropped her shoulders, releasing
some of her frantic energy. “So do I.”
“Well then.” Jughead slapped his palms on the table and got to his feet. “Back
to our regularly scheduled programming. I was supposed to take you to the dance
tonight, was I not?
Betty’s eyes went to the ceiling and she shook her head, smiling. Jughead
grinned at her, pulling her to his side and tucking her arm up under his. He
guided her out from behind the table into the open area in front of the stage.
“Sound system?”
Betty pointed towards the wings. Jughead hoisted himself up and strode out of
sight.
“Uh, Juggy?” Betty leaned her arms against the edge of the stage, craning her
neck to make out Jughead’s shape in the dark recess.
“Yep?”
“Do you want my phone? I made up a few different playlists for the dance…”
Jughead’s laugh came rolling out to her. “I’m sure you did. I’ve got this
though, Betty.”
A moment later, a clanking, pounding Bee Gees intro came flooding through the
speakers and Jughead appeared back at center stage, smiling. At the sharp dee-
dee-dee of the guitar, Betty shook her shoulders at him playfully. He stepped
to the edge and jumped down, taking her hand.
Betty suddenly felt giddy. “Interesting choice.”
He walked her well into the open area, bobbing his head lightly and turning to
look her in the eye as the song moved into the first verse.
“First of all, the theme of this dance is ‘Blast from the Past’, and the ‘70s
definitely qualifies as the past, and second…” Jughead stopped to lip sync the
words ‘my woman keeps me warm’ at her. “… you, of all people, should be
dancing.”
Jughead tightened his grip on Betty’s hand, raising it over her head, and spun
her in a circle. She came back around to face him laughing. They continued on
in loose, swirling movements, with Betty at first lip syncing then belting out
every chorus.
Jughead laughed as he pulled her close. “Finally. This is exactly what I needed
to cleanse my aural palate of your eerie rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’.”
Betty scrunched up her face at him and made an obvious move to step on his
foot, which Jughead dodged. He drew her against him again as the song faded
out, only to be replaced by a mellower tune, unmistakably also drawn from the
depths of ‘70s discography.
“Juggy, do you have an entire disco playlist?”
He smiled and shrugged, not meeting her eye. Betty sighed and leaned back in
his arms, trusting his hands on her lower back to hold her up.
“I used to do this in my room all the time. Mostly when something good
happened, like when I got a spot on the River Vixens back in the fall. Or when
you and I…”
Jughead raised an eyebrow at her. “Don’t leave me in suspense, Betts. What song
were you singing after we got together?”
Betty dropped her gaze and blushed. “Well there wasn’t just one, and they’ve
changed over time. As more has… happened.”
Jughead whistled. “This is getting good now. I haven’t been this riveted since
we found out just about every adult we know is implicated in this spider’s web
of a murder investigation.”
Betty straightened up and stared at him flatly. “Oh really? So not since like…
a couple of hours ago?”
He smirked at her sarcasm. “Really. I’d love to know.”
Betty’s face progressed from pink to red and, embarrassed, she pressed her
cheek to Jughead’s shoulder, facing away from him.
Jughead shrugged carefully against her. “You’re only hurting yourself by not
sharing.” One of his hands reached up to glide over her hair.
Betty remained silent, struggling not to smile as the smooth feeling of
Jughead’s suit rasped softly against her face when he moved.
He sighed exaggeratedly. “Guess we’re going to be waiting through a whole lot
more ‘70s music.”
“That’s fine,” Betty replied. “I actually like it.”
“You say that now, but wait til we get to the ‘YMCA’.”
She groaned and stepped back from him. Jughead’s hands settled on her waist.
“You really want to hear one of the songs I sing when I’m thinking about you?”
“Yes, the most recent one.”
Betty’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t renegotiate! This is my secret to
reveal!”
Jughead made a pitying noise. “You took too long to comply. I’m upping my
terms.”
Betty bit her lip, trying unsuccessfully to stop the smile that was breaking
across her face. Jughead crossed his arms, staring her down.
“Fine.” She gave him a tough look, but when she stepped past him, walking
towards the table to retrieve her phone from the pocket of her coat, she
widened her eyes in horror at what she was about to do. She fumbled getting her
phone out, her heart pounding and hands shaking, then turned back towards
Jughead, trying to act normally.
He smiled at her and swept his hand in the direction of the stage. Betty kicked
her shoes off, not wanting to attempt to climb up in heels when she was already
so shaken by nerves. She planted her palms on the stage and was about to hop up
when she felt Jughead’s large, warm palms grasp her waist and yank her off the
ground. When he set her on the stage, Betty moved awkwardly, causing the
shorter front hem of her silvery hi-lo gown to slide up her thigh, where
Jughead’s hand came to rest an instant later.
Their eyes met and Betty’s heart skipped like a worn record at the fire in
Jughead’s gaze. His fingers squeezed her thigh gently, then he let his hand
slide over the curve of her leg to rest at her side. Betty got her feet under
her and sped across the stage into the dark.
She scrolled through her music, finding the album titled “JJ.” Betty’s finger
hesitated over the Norah Jones song. She wished she’d just played it without
telling Jughead it had any special meaning to her; after what she’d said,
hitting play felt like signing her own death warrant.
“Do I have to cry again to get you back out here?”
Betty leaned out towards the light to see Jughead lifting himself up onto the
stage. Her breathing quickened.
“No, Juggy, just… wait there! Almost done.”
Shit. Now she had to do it. Betty’s finger tapped the screen with far more
confidence than she was currently feeling in the whole rest of her body. The
opening chords seemed to pound physically down on Betty, making her legs wobble
as she walked to the edge of the stage. Jughead had evidently just finished
pulling his shoes off and he hopped down ahead of her, offering Betty his hand
and helping her to the ground.
“Jazzy,” he remarked. “I like it.”
Jughead took her hand and held it aloft, as though he were escorting a princess
into a ballroom instead of his girlfriend across a gym floor permanently marked
with red and blue for the school’s basketball team. Betty looked at him out of
the corner of her eye and knew she’d take her understatedly handsome boyfriend
walking her over the free-throw line over any sort of prince, real or
fictional, any time.
He stopped and turned to face her, putting his hands on her waist, then drawing
her in even closer. Betty looped her arms up around his neck, smelling the
clean scent of Jughead-meets-rainstorm.
“A slow one, huh?” His lips brushed her hair.
“What were you expecting?” Betty answered softly.
“I don’t know. Taylor Swift or something.”
Betty laughed weakly, her heart thudding and her legs feeling weak.
“I don’t think that’s going to be the only surprise.”
Norah’s lovely metaphors slipped over them like Jughead’s hands on the back of
Betty’s silky dress. When he didn’t offer further comment on her song
selection, Betty relaxed into Jughead’s arms. This was the longest she’d ever
spent in them, and Betty smiled at the feel of his body pressed so lovingly to
hers. She let the butterflies in her stomach have their moment and felt
shallowly thankful that on top of all of the other qualities he happened to
possess, Jughead also looked killer in a suit. Betty startled herself when the
thought of that same body not in a suit popped into her head and the delicate
muscles between her legs gave a desirous little tug in response.
She and Jughead had had so many other things on their respective and
overlapping plates that there hadn’t really been time for… well, the sort of
stuff Betty had on her mind when she hummed this song to herself. The furthest
she’d come had been singing it under her breath at night as she watched the
window across the street. Even then, she’d only imagined Jughead somewhere in
that room, the recipient of her sultrily delivered line ‘I’m just sittin’ here
waiting for you/to come on home and turn me on.’ Betty didn’t think she could
have managed if she’d been able to see him over there. That was why the song
hit home with her, because, despite her confidence in many other areas of her
life, with Jughead, she felt like she needed to wait for him to make the first
move.
And now she’d played the song that reflected that hesitation over the
loudspeakers to him. Ironic.
Unfortunately, the return of Betty’s nerves coincided with the end of the song.
She had no time left to spend thinking of something to say to mitigate the
weight of the song’s message. No time to finesse it from a blatant, lusty plea
into an inconsequential “I just like the piano.”
Before she could compose even that much of an excuse, Jughead stepped back from
her. Betty sheepishly met his eyes, but Jughead was already slanting his face
down and the next second, he had his lips pressed firmly to hers.
Again the little squeeze from up inside her as Jughead ran his hands up through
her hair to cup Betty’s face. The gym was silent, yet Betty’s heart pounded in
her ears like a drum. Her head began to swim as Jughead persuaded her deeper
into the kiss. Lightheaded, Betty worried that her dress was too tight around
her ribcage, for that had to be the reason her lung capacity seemed diminished.
Her mouth kept moving against his anyway.
Finally, Betty lowered herself from her tiptoes, which she couldn’t remember
reaching up on, and took a step away from Jughead. His hands stroked down her
back, his fingers drawing a line parallel to the vertical stripe of her zipper.
Betty let her hands run over his chest, dropping them to her sides when it
seemed that touching him any lower would be indecent.
“Well,” Jughead started with a smile, “now I know what to expect.”
Betty looked at him with confusion.
“I want you to play it again, Betts.”
His gaze was gentle but sure. Betty just nodded slowly and rotated to face the
stage. Adrenaline carried her back into the alcove with Betty hardly realizing
how she got there. This time her hand shook, her finger leaving a smudge over
the title of the song. For a moment, Betty leaned forward, resting her face on
the cool wall, to allow some blood to flow back to her brain. She took a deep
breath as the surge of adrenaline settled into a simmering giddiness, then
returned to Jughead.
He was coming back from the table, where he had evidently deposited his jacket.
He still struck her as incredibly, effortlessly suave―for someone in formal
wear and sock feet. Jughead looked like he was trying to calm himself too as
Betty watched him carefully unbutton and roll up his shirtsleeves to expose his
forearms.
Betty dropped back to the ground before Jughead could reach the stage. She was
now feeling equal parts anxious and excited at the thought of him touching her
again, and the thrill running through her made her prolong their separation.
She stopped in front of him as, once again, the open chords sounded. Jughead
took Betty’s hand and spun her in a slowed imitation of their movements to the
Bee Gees track. This time, he surprised her by letting her twirl past 360,
halting Betty when her back was to him. She looked over her shoulder at
Jughead, but his eyes weren’t on her face; he was staring at the expanse of
skin between her neck and her bared shoulder. Immediately, Betty felt as though
her skin were tingling.
Letting go of her hand, Jughead stepped up behind her, wrapping an arm around
her to splay his fingers from under Betty’s breasts to above her waist. Betty
could feel the heat of his palm through her dress, then more as his chest came
in contact with her back.
He held her against him, swaying them gently, and Betty let her head fall back
to rest on his shoulder. The swing of their movements felt lazy and unconcerned
compared with what Betty was feeling on the inside.
After the words ‘turn me on’ played for the first time, Betty felt a shift in
Jughead, both physically and in some other way she couldn’t define. It started
with his fingertips pushing against her a little more firmly. Then his other
hand rubbed down her side to hold her hip. His lips touched her neck and Betty
sighed against him. When her body came fully up against his, she felt the other
change. Jughead’s hips were pressed to hers from behind, but so was his
swelling erection.
Betty breathed in sharply. She pushed back against Jughead ever so slightly and
he emitted a soft groan that seemed to reverberate through Betty’s very bones.
Sighing shakily out, Betty turned in his arms, running the fingernails of one
hand across the back of his neck as she reached up to hold him.
Jughead looked hotly down into her eyes and Betty nearly swooned. His hands
slid over her dress, molding to the shape of her waist, her hips, and even
daring to trace across the curve of her butt. Betty pressed her palm to his
chest, feeling his heart pump back at her, then rotated her wrist so his tie
encircled it. She grasped the tie just below the knot and tugged Jughead’s face
down to hers, parting her lips to meet him in an open-mouthed kiss.
Jughead groaned and reflexively bunched the fabric floating over Betty’s hips
in his grasping hands. The black lock of his hair tickled her cheek as he
worked his lips against hers, nudging her face with roughening movements to
pass his tongue into her mouth. Betty’s hand was on his back, feeling the way
his muscles surged and tightened as he gripped her dress. Using the material of
her skirt, Jughead held her securely to him, letting her know exactly how
excited he was by keeping his stiffening dick trained on her abdomen.
His face drew back from hers as Jughead let out a pant. Betty trailed her lips
slowly down his neck as his pulse raced on the other side of his skin, letting
him feel the edge of her teeth. Jughead held her shoulders, his skin hot
against hers and spoke with a choked quality in his voice. Betty leaned back to
look up at him.
“Well, Betty, you got me feeling well enough to head home for the night.” He
laughed softly. “And then took me right on past that, so now leaving here is
the last thing I want to do.” Jughead looked at her heavily and Betty smiled.
“I’m not really sure whether Archie’s going to be expecting me back tonight or
not.”
“My mom knows I went looking for you, but I didn’t say when I’d be home.” Betty
eyelids fluttered down as she rapidly flicked through possibilities in her
mind. “I could call her and say I decided to stay over at Veronica’s.” She met
Jughead’s gaze steadily.
He exhaled with a controlled slowness. “And, we could tell Veronica and Archie
that we came back here to do some brainstorming after their suggestion about my
dad being framed.”
Betty laughed. “Yes, those two will definitely be swayed by flattery. Nice
touch.”
“On top of that, you obviously couldn’t stand the thought of leaving all the
decorations set up until Monday.” Jughead’s hands smoothed over her shoulders
to Betty’s upper arms.
“And you―” Betty gasped as Jughead fingers traced straight across the front
line of her gown to run along the top of her breasts. “―just wanted a night of
high school normalcy.”
Jughead nodded distractedly, dipping his fingers just below Betty’s neckline.
“The best lies stick close to the truth.”
Betty fingers found the knot of his tie and began working the end back through
the loop. “Of course, even disregarding all of those practical reasons to stay,
it would just be wrong to leave the dance before anyone’s crowned king and
queen.”
Jughead swallowed as Betty loosened the tie enough to start undoing the buttons
of his dark blue shirt. “It would be bad form. Just because the rest of this
town’s going to hell doesn’t mean we can afford to shirk anymore traditions.”
Betty nodded and added: “Unspoken regulations, really.”
“So you ready to go?” Jughead kissed her quickly, looking eagerly into her
eyes.
Betty’s eyebrows rose. “But you just said we shouldn’t go…”
Jughead hands left her skin and Betty immediately missed them. He hurried to
the table and back, pulling his hat down over Betty’s spiraling hair. He
stepped back and appraised her.
“Close enough to a crown,” he determined.
Betty laughed. “I’ll grab our phones.”
“I’ve got the coats.”
Betty squeezed his hand with hers and they dashed apart.
Chapter End Notes
     Just in case it wasn't clear, Jughead's song selection is "You Should
     Be Dancing," by the Bee Gees, and Betty's is "Turn Me On," by Norah
     Jones.
***** Like a Lightbulb in a Dark Room *****
                                      III
Necessary phone calls made and feet back in shoes, Betty and Jughead
respectively clicked and squeaked down the hall. Watching Jughead stride
moodily and with purpose through the halls of Riverdale High had always made
Betty a little weak in the knees; the transformation of his brooding severity
into a subtle smile in her direction when he passed her would have Betty
gripping the unyielding open door of her locker for support. She cast her eyes
down to the nondescript linoleum passing under their feet and smiled to herself
at the thought of what a fool she’d been for him, and still was.
Jughead looked sideways at her and smirked, his hand tightening around hers.
Betty felt torn between the elation of getting to walk with him for once and
the slight disappointment of not getting to openly admire him as he went by.
She blushed thinking of the opportunity she was about to have to admire him up
close and for a curfew-less length of time.
They stopped outside the storage closet that Jughead had previously made his
temporary apartment. He’d explained this to Betty during one of their attempts
to divulge any information that would make them uncomfortable if it were
revealed by a drunken, vengeful jock at a hijacked birthday party. After
Jughead’s birthday, they’d learned their lesson well.
Jughead jiggled the handle and kicked the door until it opened. It was finicky
from infrequency of use. At first, the two of them stared inside in shock.
Betty had never been in there before, but even she could tell that it looked
exactly as Jughead must have left it. Her boyfriend traveled light and wasn’t
exactly flush with possessions, so nothing physical of his remained behind, but
the rumpled sheets on the floor (courtesy of the home ec classroom) covering
the makeshift couch cushion mattress (courtesy of the teacher’s lounge)
combined with other subtle clues to speak of the time he’d spent there.
For a moment, Betty was severely uncomfortable. It was a brutal reminder of the
difficulties her boyfriend had faced. Stepping into the scene also made her
feel bizarrely like she’d walked in on him with another girl, or like she was
looking at a museum exhibit of the parts of his life she didn’t really
understand. It was eerie.
“They never cleared it out?” She turned to look at Jughead. He shrugged.
“I’m not surprised. Nobody noticed when I was living in here, so why should
they notice when it went back to being empty?”
He stepped into the cramped space and Betty let out a deep exhale she hadn’t
realized she’d needed. With Jughead standing in there, the room instantly lost
its horror for her and she followed him in, pulling the door closed after her
when he flicked on the light.
“It smells like you.” She smiled, but Jughead narrowed his eyes at her.
“Thank you?” he asked uncertainly, turning his head and looking at her out of
the corner of his eye.
Betty laughed. “I don’t mean it smells like your dirty laundry or a slice of
pizza you ate for lunch six months ago. It smells like you. It’s comforting.”
Jughead smiled, then pulled Betty into a tight hug, tossing their coats on the
ground. She buried her face against his chest, pressing her nose to his skin
where she’d started undoing the buttons of his shirt. Betty made loud, rapid
sniffing noises to exaggerate her enjoyment of his scent and Jughead cracked
up. Getting into it, she nuzzled up neck, making his head jerk at the ticklish
sensation. Inspired, Betty’s hands leapt to Jughead’s sides and she dug her
fingers in sharply.
Jughead jumped back, his hands suddenly out and clawed as though he were
preparing himself for an MMA grappling match. Now Betty started laughing at his
overreaction and Jughead relaxed back into a regular posture.
“I―” She gasped in a breath. “―had no idea you were so ticklish!”
“I… well…”
Betty raised an eyebrow condescendingly at the way his usual eloquence had
abandoned him.
“Alright, fine. Let’s see how you like it.” Jughead grabbed for her and Betty
took a quick step back.
“It wouldn’t work on me. My dress is too thick. And the structure―”
Jughead didn’t wait to hear her explanations, he just wrapped an arm around her
waist and grabbed her side. Betty shrieked and struggled, tears pouring down
her face as she laughed hysterically. She tried to squirm away, twisting around
in Jughead’s arms, but was met with the solid barrier of the door she herself
had shut. Betty decided to adapt her strategy, reaching behind her to go back
on the offensive, but at the same moment, Jughead closed the space between
them. Suddenly, it wasn’t a game anymore.
Her seeking hand touched down on the fabric of his shirt just above his hip and
Jughead caught her by the wrist. He pulled her now unresisting arm up, pushing
her palm flat to the door, where he held it still. His hand on her waist
smoothed across the silky material, pressing to the curve of her side, then,
after a short hesitation, sliding up to cover her breast. Betty’s heartrate
quickened. She could feel Jughead’s doing the same with his chest leaning
against her bare upper back. The position they’d stumbled into reminded her of
how they had danced to the jazz song the second time. It was also nothing like
that.
Jughead lowered his head, dragging his nose and mouth teasingly up the side of
Betty’s neck, giving her goosebumps. His motions were slower, but in the dim
room, staring at the door, her sense of touch told her enough to know that he
was mimicking her quicker, playful nuzzle of only minutes earlier.
“So, Betty.” His voice was low next to her ear. “How is it, getting a taste of
your own medicine?”
The silent scream of hormones that were instantly convinced Betty had fallen
into the 50 Shades trilogy demanded that she do nothing that would compromise
the chance of Jughead bending her over and violating her where she stood. It
took a minute for Betty to mentally tamp this down, time that was marked by her
pulse throbbing under Jughead’s fingertips where he held her wrist.
Unable to verbally reply, Betty looked down and turned slowly to face her
boyfriend, his hands falling from her to allow this movement. Her eyes darted
up to assess his expression, widening when she read the honest need in it.
Overwhelmed, she lowered her eyes again, knowing his stayed on her face. Betty
smoothed a hand down Jughead’s chest in an unconscious calming gesture. Her
gaze dropped a little further and she saw his erection pushing the front of his
dress pants out, as if they were drapes being blown by a gust of wind. Betty’s
fingers stopped their soporific caressing and clenched around Jughead’s tie.
Before he could react to the change in her demeanor, Betty threw her arm around
Jughead’s neck and stretched up to kiss him.
His hand came up to grip the back of her hair, serving the double function of
supporting Betty as he moved in against her and keeping his hat from slipping
off her head. Jughead’s actions were loose and eager, his lips communicating
something urgent to hers. Betty could feel in his every motion that she’d
ignited something fierce and desirous in Jughead. His hands moved to her waist,
then rolled over her hips. She released Jughead’s tie and ran her palm up his
neck to discover the slant of his jaw, her other hand tugging gently at his
hair, so seldom uncovered.
Jughead wrapped his arms eagerly around her in a primal urge to feel her body
against his, sending Betty’s mind reeling; she wondered if this impulse were a
foreshadowing of how he would behave at the moment of orgasm. The muscles at
her core reacted with a sudden, focused pressure like a small stone hitting
water. Jughead loosened his hold around her, running his hands down her arms as
he leaned back just enough to look into her eyes.
Betty shuddered violently under his touch and, locking eyes with him, pressed
her damp palm to the front of his pants. Jughead startled, rubbing against her,
at which point Betty made the concerted decision to spread her fingers, seeking
out the shape of him through the fabric, and applying a light, stroking
squeeze. In response, he pushed his hips towards her, kissing hotly up Betty’s
neck. She drew her hand away, replacing it at the spot where his shirt
disappeared under the band of his pants, and scrunching the dark blue material
up until she could place her hand on his bare abdomen. Jughead groaned near her
ear and Betty felt wetness escape from between her grasping muscles as they
pleaded for the fulfillment of Jughead’s swollen cock.
Her hands went to the buckle of his belt, fumbling it open without the aid of
her sight; Betty’s eyes were turned to the room’s ceiling as Jughead bit down
on her neck just enough to make her skin tingle and increase the thump of her
pulse between her legs. She got the two ends separated, but as she began to
feel out the fastening of his pants themselves, Jughead decided to do Betty one
better. He bent quickly at the knees and caught the hem of Betty’s sheeny
silver dress. He jerked his head to get his hair out of his eyes in order to
maintain eye contact with Betty.
Her heart seemed to tumble end over end as Jughead gave her the same shy,
quietly proud smirk he’d offered the day he’d come to her bedroom wearing a
suit to go with her to Thornhill. That day, Betty had been floored to see him
so dressed up. Now, she wanted nothing more than to undress him.
Jughead kept his eyes on hers as he straightened, pulling the bottom of her
dress up and letting the edge trail up her legs. Just below her butt, Jughead
let go of the material, letting it pour out over his arms like water as he
shaped his hands to the backs of her bare thighs. With a serious expression
that challenged Betty to try to stop him―with one hand pressed to his chest
under his partially open shirt and the other manipulating the rest of the
buttons out of their holes, she couldn’t have been less inclined―Jughead moved
his hands up, feeling her ass.
Betty finished with his buttons, yanking the shirt up to untuck it, and drew a
line down the center of Jughead’s chest with her index finger as he dug his
fingers into her skin. Her stroke was as steady as if she were marking a
connection between two items on their murder board. Betty slipped her fingers
under the band of Jughead’s boxers, circling the head of his dick until he
gasped, then withdrawing her hand.
Jughead pulled her forward, pressing their hips together as he found her mouth,
shaping it persuasively with his own. Betty reached behind herself, sliding her
palm over the back of one of Jughead’s hands, tangling her fingers with his to
drag it away. It came willingly, the other hand making up for the loss by
groping her ass that much more enthusiastically. One hand linked with
Jughead’s, Betty brought the other up to get a solid grasp of his shoulder then
lifted her feet off the floor, one at a time, to shake her heels off.
With her feet flat on the ground, Betty was as physically prepared as she
thought she could be and guided their joined hands up under the front folds of
her gown, placing Jughead’s palm between her legs. He moaned against her mouth
and used one finger to hook the crotch of her panties to the side, rubbing the
rest of his fingertips through her arousal. Betty let out a squeak, then broke
the kiss, panting, as Jughead’s slickened fingers brushed forward over her
clit.
He repositioned both hands on her hips, peeling her underwear down until Betty
could flick them away to join her shoes. Jughead stared at the intimate garment
lying on the ground and Betty watched a fiery blush spread across his cheeks.
Suddenly, his eyes shot up to hers and he grabbed for her, hoisting her up to
stack her thighs atop his hips. Betty gathered her dress up around her waist,
unpinning it from between their bodies. She kept her pelvis tilted away from
his while she got Jughead’s pants undone.
Meanwhile, he cradled her against him, until the feel of her fingers brushing
against his dick made it impossible for Jughead to resist moving his hand so
the fabric of Betty’s dress wasn’t a barrier to her skin. Betty gave the front
of Jughead’s now visible boxers a downwards yank, smirking at him as she
exposed his erection. He gave no sign, keeping his poker face firmly in place,
as his fingers danced across the underside of her thigh to dip ever so slightly
into her opening. Betty jerked in his arms, her eyes pleading for him to give
her what she needed.
Jughead kept his eyes on hers and felt for her clit, wiggling his finger
quickly against it. Instinctively, Betty wrapped her legs the rest of the way
around him, her foot ticking up and down of its own accord as he played havoc
with her nerves.
Jughead’s face was totally sympathetic, except for his smirk.
“What’s the matter? Ticklish?”
Betty groaned, letting her head bang back against the door. Jughead’s hand came
up to hold the back of her neck.
“Finally some compassion,” Betty joked.
Jughead’s hand moved up to the top of her head.
“Just making sure you didn’t knock the hat off. That thing is the defining
element of my entire identity.”
Betty’s head tipped forward and she glared at him.
“It’s the false leg to my Ahab. The embroidered ‘A’ to my Hester.”
Betty crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.
Jughead scrunched up his face in dissatisfaction.
“No, you’re right. There’s a better one I’m missing.” His removed his hand from
her head to snap his fingers rapidly, encouraging the spark of inspiration. All
of a sudden, Jughead smiled smugly, closing his eyes for a moment as he
savoured what had come to him.
He cleared his throat.
“The portrait to my Dorian Gray.”
“Juggy!” Betty walloped him on the chest.
“Mhmm?” he managed through a chuckle.
Betty rolled her eyes and once more snatched Jughead’s tie, bringing his face
to hers as if she were competing at tug-of-war. Jughead’s hand shot up to slap
the door, bracing himself so Betty’s harsh tug didn’t result in either of their
noses being broken, and kissed her passionately. His lips pulled roughly at
hers and Betty reached between them, pushing Jughead’s boxers down enough to
let her run her palm completely over his length. His dress pants swished to the
ground without resistance and Jughead let them lie.
He gripped the underside of her thighs firmly where they met her hips, leaving
Betty to maneuver his cock inside her. She took her face away from his for a
second and a smile grew steadily on her lips as she observed his tousled black
hair, open, dark blue shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbows, and mouth red
from moving against her own.
Shifting her gently, Jughead leaned in to give Betty a lingering kiss on the
cheek. His head moved back and he swallowed with the effort of focusing while
Betty kept a loose grip on his dick, but managed to look at her with earnest
eyes for as long as it took to say, “I love you, Betts.”
She had just aligned him with her entrance and murmured, “I love you too,” as
he pushed inside. Betty’s muscles tensed angrily at the intrusion, but Jughead
brought a hand to her lower back, smoothing soothingly across her skin. When
she relaxed in his arms, Jughead widened his stance and thrust up into her,
strong and slow.
“Uh!” Betty gasped as he opened her up, feeling her muscles clench thoroughly
about him. Jughead let out a wavering breath and Betty felt his dick twitch
deep inside her. When he began to draw out, she worried that her muscles would
not let him go, so permanent did the connection feel. Evidently, her grip did
force a considerable effort from Jughead, who panted, his eyes closed.
He bit his lip but the word, “Fuck!” slipped out. Jughead opened his eyes to
give her an apologetic look, but Betty shook her head frantically. His mouth
widened into a drunken smile and he slid back inside her, assisted by the
wetness Betty’s channel was now expeditiously producing.
Encouraged by this new ease of movement, Jughead pulled nearly out and slung
his hips forward, driving up into her. Betty felt her chest vibrate with a low,
pleased hum, unconsciously made. A determined look on his face, Jughead
continued thrusting at this hurried pace, Betty clutching the fabric of his
open shirt deliriously.
Jughead’s fingers scrabbled hungrily for the zipper at the back of her dress,
bringing it stop-and-go down her back. In his distraction, his thrusts became
languorous and shallow, causing him to bump against Betty’s clit on each
upstroke. Jughead brought her zipper to the end of its path, pressing his palm
to her bare back. Thanks to Jughead’s unintentional stimulation of her clit,
Betty was full of anxious energy; once her dress was loosened, she squirmed,
pulling her arms free of the off-the-shoulder sleeves that had been
constricting her movements all night.
Jughead folded the bodice down, cupping Betty’s breast as he began to increase
his pace once more. Betty groaned as his fingertips dragged over her nipple and
was thankful for the team effort of her fairly small breasts and the stiff,
thick material of her dress that had allowed her to go braless.
She passed her hands inside Jughead’s shirt, stroking the taut muscles of his
chest. When he simultaneously pinched her nipple and pistoned the head of his
cock into her g-spot, Betty’s fingers became claw-like and scraped across his
skin as she cried out.
Jughead’s tongue passed over his bottom lip and he moved both hands to hold
Betty still as he concentrated on striking that spot again. Betty started to
shake in his arms as he found it over and over, alternately digging her heels
into his lower back and letting her legs hang limply over his hips.
“I―I―” he said.
“Metoo,” Betty rushed out, blurring her two words into one.
She reached for his face, kissing Jughead for as long as she could before her
lips parted and she called out his name.
Jughead only managed a pant of, “Beh―” next to her ear before he came, but
Betty had never heard her name spoken so sweetly.
As he heaved against her, Jughead’s arms did indeed come around to hold her in
a secure embrace. Betty smiled weakly against his hair and kissed the side of
his face as he struggled to catch his breath.
He pulled his hips back, drawing gingerly out of her. Betty bit her lip at the
brief, sharp soreness, feeling strangely bereft as he set her on her gelatinous
legs. She wondered what she should say to him now, but Jughead just confidently
took her hand to lead her away from the door. On the first step he tripped and
Betty grabbed him around the waist, laughing; Jughead had forgotten his pants
were still looped around his ankles. He snorted and bent to pull them up as
Betty slipped her arms back into her dress. Buckling his belt, Jughead looked
at her, smiling, and Betty knew that her happiness had never felt more real.
===============================================================================
 They stood in the dark at the glass front doors of the high school, looking
out at the rain splattering down. For good measure, Jughead pressed his hands
to the door’s bar, rattling it back and forth. There was still no give.
“I can’t believe we got locked in.”
“Ican’t believe nobody heard us!”
Jughead shrugged. “I told you, Betts, that closet is like the Room of
Requirements: nobody ever seems to notice it.”
“Looks like we have some more calls to make.”
She sighed deeply in hopeless acceptance and Jughead put an arm around her
shoulders, pulling her cooling body against his warm one. Betty slipped her
hand under his coat to press it against his back. Jughead turned and kissed the
top of Betty’s head. He pulled back, making a face.
Confused, Betty reached up to touch her hair. She felt Jughead’s knitted hat
instead.
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