Mine (a Riverdale fanfiction)

Wearing the Jacket

They sat over plates of food in the strange emptiness of Pop's. Jughead had plowed right into his burger, but Betty hadn't been hungry to start with. It seemed wrong to be sitting here eating when Pop was still mopping up Archie's dad's blood.

She poked at the sandwich on her plate, her thoughts going back to last night and the way Jughead had looked in that Serpent jacket. It was almost as inappropriate to be distracted by that now as it was to be eating, but she couldn't help it.

"I don't want to be thinking about this while Mr. Andrews is—how he is, but last night, when you put on the Serpent jacket—" Jughead sighed, looking away from her, and Betty went on, "It meant something, Jug."

"Yeah. It meant there were, like, ten biker dudes standing in front of me and I didn't think I could say no."

"It fit you like a glove, Jug. Like a second skin. And the look on your face? You weren't acting for the Serpents. And now you're riding a motorcycle, which you've never done ..."

Jughead was staring at her like she was the one who had put on a new skin. "Betty. I'm not a Serpent, okay? That might be my dad's life, but it's not mine."

She wished she believed him, but it felt as though something new had come between them almost as soon as they had removed the last barrier. "What about your soon-to-be foster family? They're from the South Side. I mean, if they have ties to the Serpents, they could try to—"

"Indoctrinate me?"

Yes, he definitely thought she was crazy. But Betty knew what she had seen, and she could feel the danger in the air like something crawling on her skin. She looked at him, waiting for him to acknowledge the issue, and at last Jughead looked away, nodding.

"Don't worry. I've actually made a decision about that. They'll cover for me with my social worker, but I'm not even going to be staying with them. I'm going to be at the trailer. My dad's trailer."

"What? Why?"

"Betty."

He wanted her to understand without him needing to say it, but as far as Betty was concerned, they needed to start talking to each other more, trusting each other with what they were really thinking and feeling.

Jughead must have picked up on that from the way she was looking at him. "Archie ... almost lost his dad. He may still. Facing facts, my dad is going away for a long-ass time. Wearing the jacket, riding his bike, living in the trailer ... does mean something. I'm kind of hoping that it means I'll always be close to him no matter what."

She couldn't fault him for that. His dad was the only family he had left. And she treasured the fact that he trusted her enough to put that feeling into words. But she couldn't help still feeling uneasy. "I don't want to see you get hurt. Or hurting someone else. Not because you did it on purpose, but because that's the Serpents' world. That's how they live. Isn't it?"

Jughead looked away, playing with a french fry. "I need to do this, Betty." He reached for her hand. "And I need you. To make sure I don't take it too far. Can I—can I count on you?"

Betty nodded. "You can." She didn't intend to lose him again.

*****

They walked out of the hospital together. It was raining harder now, and something in Jughead was excited about driving the bike through the rain, letting it fall on him, feeling it splash his legs. He felt like maybe he understood something about his dad that he had never thought about before.

He turned to Betty. "Sure I can't give you a ride home?"

She looked at the bike, wrinkling her nose in the way he found utterly adorable. "I think if my mom saw me getting off your motorcycle, she'd come out with a shotgun."

It was hard to argue with that. "That's fair enough."

Betty laughed.

Jughead turned to go, but stopped when she called his name.

"What you said at Pop's ... I heard you. Whatever you need to do, or explore, I support you."

He studied her face. She meant it. He had trusted her, and she had listened, and she understood. A rarity in Jughead's experience, and to be treasured. Cupping her cheek in his hand, he pulled her closer so that he could kiss her, slowly, wanting her to know how important she was to him, how touched he was that she was willing to put her preconceptions aside and let him figure out who he needed to be.

The kiss deepened, strengthened, and Jughead pulled away. This wasn't the time for that. But ... "Speaking of last night ..."

She must have known which part he meant from the way his voice rasped over the syllables, because she flushed a very lovely shade of pink. "Yes, Jug?"

"Someday. Someday soon."

Betty smiled, and he could see a glimmer of that darker, more adventurous Betty in the back of her eyes. "Yes, Jug."