Could you do a fic about Jughead and Betty telling each other how they feel about each other?
Yes, of course, anon! Hope you like it!
Jughead blinked at the blank screen in front if him, squinting at the cursor as if it were an enemy he was facing in battle that he loathed with every fiber of his being.
“I wonder if Arthur Conan Doyle ever had this much trouble figuring out the wording for one of his novels, or if I just suck as much as I think I do,” he mumbled into his keyboard, slamming his forehead onto the keys, causing random letters to angrily pop up onto the empty Word document in response. Betty jumped at the abruptness of it all, squirming uncomfortably in her seat next to him in their regular booth at Pop’s.
“Juggie?” Betty’s voice was small, almost unsure of whether or not it wanted to be heard at all. Jughead lifted his head to stare back at the screen again, but did not make the effort turn his gaze to meet her eyes.
“What is it, Bets?” Jughead raised one eyebrow to show his curiosity, but had yet to pry his eyes away from the computer.
“I think we should talk,” Betty suggested, straightening her sweater and turning in the booth so that Jughead would finally look up to meet her gaze. “You know, about what happened the other day? In my room?”
Jughead slowly closed his laptop, his brows furrowing together the way they did when he was unsure of what was going to happen next.
“Was that just a heat of the moment, rapid emotions surging through our veins, could have happened to anyone, kind of thing?” Betty blurted out quickly, her words stumbling over one another as she rushed to get the answers she had been wondering about for days. “Or was it…”
“My way of declaring something that neither of us knew, or at least were too afraid to admit, even existed?” Jughead finished for her, turning his body slightly so that he was face to face with Betty in the booth.
“Kind of?” Betty scrunched up her nose, an air of uncertainty washing over her expression as she waited to hear his answer. Jughead took a deep breath, his lips tilting up into a distant smile as he prepared to tell her what he had wanted to say for so long.
“Betty, I’ve watched you pine over my best friend since we were kids,” Jughead began, and Betty lightly pushed back his shoulder in protest.
“I would hardly call it pining,” Betty argued, but the small smile forming on her lips contradicted her disgruntled disapproval of his words.
“And I think I’ve always known, although I’ve buried it deep inside that gaping black hole that some may call my heart, that I believed you didn’t belong with him.” Jughead let the words linger for a moment. Having never said them out loud, he wasn’t sure how he felt about them being out there now. “And it’s not like I could say that out loud, for a thousand different reasons, but I think the most important one was that I didn’t think that was fair to you.”
“And what about now?” Betty’s words barely came out above a whisper, but Jughead was close enough that he would hear them, his body scooting closer and closer as their conversation continued.
“Call me selfish or delusional even, but I think that I stopped thinking about what was fair, or right, or in the realm of being even the slightest bit sane, and acted on what I was feeling in that moment.” Jughead lifted one arm and placed it behind Betty on the cushion that lined the booth.
“And what was that exactly?”
“That you were Betty Cooper, the girl with the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever known,” Jughead explained, their gazes locked on one another and never wavering. “Betty Cooper, my friend who had always been there for me when I needed a shoulder to lean on. Betty Cooper, the girl who I’ve had a crush on for years, and who had absolutely no idea. And…”
“And?” Betty prompted, kicking his leg slightly with her foot underneath the table to urge him to continue. “And what?”
“And then, I thought, this is Betty Cooper, the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met,” Jughead whispered, leaning in so close that his nose practically grazed the tip of hers. “This is the girl, this is her, and you have to kiss her.”
“Kind of like now?” Betty breathed, her forehead tilting forward to rest against his for a moment.
“Exactly like now.” Without another word, Jughead closed any space that was left between them to take her face in both of his hands and meet his lips to hers. In that moment, every word that he had been trying to write earlier came back to him. Everything made sense. Everything was right. Everything was perfect.
“Juggie, you were wrong earlier,” Betty told him once they had pulled back from the kiss. “What you said about me not knowing how you felt about me? I knew.”
Jughead’s eyes went wide, unsure of whether to be relieved or completely embarrassed.
“Um,” he mumbled, his eyes darting down to focus on the markings in the table in front of them.
“I knew, because even though I liked Archie and I’ve spent so much time wondering if he’s felt the same way about me, you were always the one there for me when he couldn’t be,” Betty admitted, reaching her hand out to place it gently on his cheek. “And that speaks louder than any sort of declaration of something we didn’t even know existed.”
Jughead’s mouth twitched up into an amused smile as he placed his hand over hers and lowered it to rest comfortably intertwined with his in the small space between their laps.
“And what about you?” Jughead asked. “How do you feel about me? About us?”
“I feel like you should kiss me again,” Betty admitted. “And the rest, we can figure out later.”
“I can live with that,” Jughead shrugged, trying his best to look nonchalant as he leaned in to touch his lips to hers once again.