Bugheads Baby

A night to remember

A memory from 16 years ago

Betty's pov

I walk hastily across the car park, just wishing for once I could go back to the invisible Betty I was in high school, but I clamber into my car and drive off to Jugs place, leaving behind the prying eyes of the serpents who just witnessed a hug fight between Jughead and me. I texted Veronica and told her I needed immediate R&R, and she said she meet me at 6 at Jugs place.

Around 10:30 pm Jughead arrives back home and Veronica and are practically drunk of our ass'. Next to him is a tall, tanned man, about the same age. The man next to him drops his jaw and says, "Damn. Holy shit your girls hot."

Jughead glares at him, "Stop. Don't look at her like that."

"I mean, fuck, look at-"

"Don't you dare fucking finish that sentence," Jug warned. The two men walk towards us at the bar stools at the kitchen counter. There are two bottles of amber and clear liquid, if I remember correctly, they were whiskey and vodka. I started with the vodka, but I soon took liking to the whiskey which had more flavour. "Betty," he says sternly, "how much have you drunk? And where's Emily?"

"Uhhh, not tonight Jughead, I'm not in the mood. And she's upstairs sound asleep. Cheryl dropped her home hours ago." He paces over to the fridge and pulls out two bottles of water, placing one of each in front of Veronica and I. I climb of the tall stool and stumble forward.

"Baby doesn't walk away, you're going to hurt yourself."

"Baby?" The man Jughead came in with erupts in laughter. "You. Mr Prince of Ice, called someone baby? Well, this is just too much."

"Do you want me to kick you out?" Jughead growls.

"Who are you handsome?" I coo.

"Betty," Jughead warns. I give him a sly look.

"Baby teeth."

"Your name sounds kinda funny."

"Come with me," Jughead urges.

"You can go wherever you please," I hiccup. "I'm having fun, like any other twenty years old. Such a double standard, you know. You were drinking and partying when you were my age, but I can't? Hmm?" I watched as his jaw locked and it gave me immense satisfaction to know I riled him like that.

"How much did you drink Bett?"

I shrug, "I don't really know, a few," I hiccup, "plus 10. Another!" I know at this point my sentences are barely comprehensible. I run over - well, stumble over - to the kitchen island and grab the bottle of whisky.

"Don't drink that, you're clearly wasted. Why don't you tell me what wrong and we can decide a healthier way to sort it out?"

I teasingly lift the bottle to my lips and, when he looks at me sternly I swing the bottle back and take a large sip, letting the liquid burn my throat on the way down. "This is healthy. I'm not breastfeeding and I can finally drink again."

"You're going to make yourself sick," he groans.

"Yeah, Yeah," I mock, using my hands for exaggerated emphasis.

I look over to Baby Teeth, "Don't you have a friend to entertain?"

"I'm pretty entertained," the man chuckles, and at the same time, Jughead says, "No I don't. Now let's get you some water and into bed."

"My bed is so far away, and soon it won't even be my bed, because I fucked that up to."

"What are you talking about?" he asks concerned.