Chapter Text
Betty prided herself on her independence and her ability to turn misery into hours of production. She learned that she was a champion at this when Jughead first got shipped off, and then went missing.
When in the throes of missing someone to the point of pain, she worked with a vengeance, most especially when the fruits of her labor was finding the very person she missed.
Distraction or working towards a goal was key, and in the twelve weeks she found herself separated from Jughead to be with her family in Anglia, much was done.
Aside from tidying up her personal assets and finances, and spending hours virtually working on her engine, she worked tirelessly to put away her father and the corrupt officials at the ESDC.
The emotional toll of fighting both her father and the ESDC officials were oppressive. It kept her up nights with her family. It sent her to bed in tears, and it forced her to confront the disturbing truth that her father’s obsessions ran deep, especially for her.
In court, where most attendants appeared in virtual reality for both safety and expediency, he comported himself on the stand with charm and measured grace. He almost seemed likeable and for a while, Betty and her siblings were concerned that he was going to get away with murder.
Alice didn’t think he could keep it up and she was right.
The moment Jughead took the stand, Hal Cooper lost it. It was Hal’s charm versus Jughead’s Def Cor honor.
Next to Jughead’s calm conviction, Hal starkly resembled a snake oil salesman, and when it became apparent that Hal was being outclassed, he predictably lashed out, his entire facade crumbling in the twisted reality that in the battle for Betty he believed he was waging, he had lost.
When the verdict was drawn ten weeks after the trial first began, the jury proclaimed Hal “Guilty.” Betty’s relief was second only to finding Jughead in the detainment cells in Kestra Prime, and however poised her siblings and mother were, they, too, wept with relief.
Chic had been complaining for twelve weeks straight how being sober for all of it sucked, but Betty did notice that the frequency of his complaints, as the weeks wore on, lessened considerably. She liked to think that it was because being cooped up with his family, he had, just like the rest of them, been forced to interact on an unavoidably personal level, and that what he found was enlightening--perhaps even pleasing.
She had learned more things about her family the last twelve weeks than she had in the last eight years, when they had steadily drifted into a kind of familial apathy. Even Alice, who was always so difficult and emotionally walled off, gave a little.
“I can’t help but feel like I should’ve know what your father was capable of, sooner,” she admitted one night, halfway through an entire bottle of wine. “But he and I haven’t been emotionally involved for over a decade. I hardly knew him anymore. Apart from finances and the running of the company, we didn’t give two shits about each other.”
Betty had found that incredibly sad, more so when she realized that Alice’s emotional shutdown was a direct result of shielding herself from Hal and finding ways to protect her children. There was more to learn about Alice, but Betty acknowledged that her mother would have to take that wall down, first.
Her favorite moments, she had to admit, were when Polly was working and she and Chic had to take care of the twins. Polly was CEO and Chairman of the Board of Cooper Gestalt now, and with all the things happening with Hal, she was working tirelessly just to keep the company afloat. So while she attended virtual meetings and made stock-impacting decisions, Betty spent time with her brother, niece, and nephew along the beaches of Anglia.
Their bodyguards lurked in the distance, vigilant and intimidating, but unobtrusive enough that Betty and Chic could have long conversations about hopes, dreams, regrets, and the immediate future.
It was nice to get to know Chic again, and to remember that growing up, Chic took good care of her, because she was his baby sister.
“So Jones popped the question, eh?” he had said in one of their first beachy, babysitting outings. He had looked at the ring on her finger. “Mom noticed it the other night and refused to believe it. Polly said she wasn’t going to fuss about it until you told us. I figured this is the best time to bring it up.”
Betty had smiled, then, relishing the memories of Jughead’s proposal and the week leading up to their separation. “The engagement makes me happy. I didn’t want it getting tainted by all this shit. I’m not hiding it. I’d just rather talk about it at a better time.”
Chic had waved at the view of the beautiful beach and the twins calmly playing in the sand. “This seems like a better time, if temporary.”
And it was a better time, and she told Chic some of the plans she and Jughead had made for the ceremony. “After all the stuff with dad and the ESDC settles down, we want to get married in the City of a Thousand Veils in Bal Athuria. It’s such a beautiful, calm place. We don’t want anything fancy at all.”
Chic had laughed, perhaps amused by the idea that Polly and Alice would let her get away with “we don’t want anything fancy at all,” but he did not say anything to contradict her. He simply said, “I’m really happy for you, sis. I like Jughead a lot. Are you at least going to let me walk you down the aisle?”
She did get emotional about that. She hadn’t expected that he would ask, and maybe she had thought she would have to walk herself down the aisle, which was fine, but in light of Chic asking, she vehemently nodded and gave her big brother a tight embrace, telling him, “Yes, please.”
She talked to Jughead constantly, of course. The comm allowed for constant conversation. They messaged one another about the stupidest things and they commed, daily, more than once a day, for mundane matters like, “How much flour should I put in if I want the cookies to be chewy?”
Little June had become so familiar with Jughead’s face on the comm that when Betty mentioned Jughead in casual conversation, June would point to any blank screen.
Twelve weeks apart, she and Jughead naturally got frisky. They put in considerable hours using the comm for x-rated purposes. They both found themselves channelling their inner pornstars, which they only dared because they were on a completely secure network.
Betty couldn’t imagine surviving another explicit sex video scandal before her wedding.
All in all, at the end of twelve weeks, they were triumphant, but exhausted. The ESDC trial wasn’t completely resolved, but Jughead had done his part in it, and all they were waiting for was the end of the trials and the verdict.
A lot did rest on the generals being pronounced “guilty,” but it was out of their hands at this point. The good news was that there was a lot of pressure for the ESDC to make things right, and that rival generals had taken over the spots that had been recently vacated by the generals on trial, so the ESDC wanted that guilty verdict as much as Betty and Jughead did.
**********************
Betty was ready to go back to the Wyrm, and Chic and Alice were ready to take a vacation. Polly, too, wanted to take a three-day break, before jumping back into her corporate conquest.
“So are you vacationing together?” Betty had asked Chic and Alice as she stood poised to climb the House of the Dead’s gangplank.
They had both laughed like she was crazy.
“Fuck no,” Chic scoffed.
“Oh, don’t be indelicate, Charles,” Alice said, loftily, though with none of the venom she would have used with Betty or Polly. “But no, Elizabeth, we’re not vacationing together. I’ll be taking a couple of weeks in the vineyards of Ankhor Phat. I have no idea where Chic is going. Hopefully somewhere he can stay sober.”
“Said the woman who is going to a vineyard,” Chic drawled with a quiet sneer.
Alice merely gave a huff. Such was Chic’s privilege with their mother.
Enabled, he went on. “As a matter of fact, I do intend to stay sober--my vacation is a pretentious white dude adventurer’s dream, hiking through the mountains of Tibet, so I’ll ask no one to judge.”
Betty’s brows furled in worry. “Are you sure that’s a good idea--”
“I’ll have the most expensive and authentic spirit guide to escort me, so you don’t have to worry about me falling off a rock face. He’s also sponsor approved, so you can rest easy.”
She was still skeptical, and she made a note to speak to Chic about this magical, spiritual vacation of his again.
“Don’t think we aren’t talking about your wedding, Elizabeth,” Alice said, cutting through the discussion. “It felt ghastly to discuss the engagement while we were in the middle of that mess with your father, but with Hal put away, I do plan on going through the motions of a young couple, such as yourselves, marrying for--of all things, love.”
Betty had groaned and Chic could hardly keep himself from laughing.
“Be quiet, Elizabeth. God forbid, it’s entirely inappropriate to have a big wedding bonanza after that legal dreadfulness. We’re keeping it low key and tasteful--just the basics. First thing’s first: we must have a properly appointed dinner with the in-laws. All of them.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. I didn’t raise you in a trailer park.”
“Mother!”
“And then I’ll have to find a wedding coordinator that doesn’t mind travelling so far to meet with you--”
“There will be no wedding coordinator.”
“There will. You will have a perfectly elegant wedding, no matter how intimate it is, and please, if you’re going to invite people named Sweet Pea, at least write their real names on the invitations and placeholders.”
Betty got so incensed that she told her mother that they didn’t do placeholders at the local Snake Pit. She said this as she hurried up the gangplank to board.
Alice had looked properly outraged and knew just enough about Betty to suppose that she could quite possibly be serious. “Don’t you dare, Elizabeth!”
Luckily, the doors to the House of the Dead were already closing and Alice had no recourse but to direct all her rage at Betty through text messages, all of which Betty easily deleted.
***********************
The next three days were spent flying in the House of the Dead, and while Malachi flirted and made inappropriate jokes--not at all deterred by the ring on her finger, which he already knew was there since last flying with them, Betty spent most of her hours talking to all the members of the ship, but it was her conversation with Harvey that struck her as memorable.
“Stuff with your dad all done?” Harvey had asked her.
“Yes, hopefully. There’s some sentencing that still needs concluding, but he’s already put away, and that’s basically that for him.”
“That sounds great, Betty. And the ESDC stuff? What do you think?”
She nodded, throwing him a look of understanding. “I believe that’s going to take a while longer, but those generals are going away, Harvey. More evidence is being uncovered by the GBI everyday. You’ll be able to go home, soon.”
Harvey seemed calm, accepting of the outcome. “I kinda like space. I’m not hankering to go home just yet, so I’m fine. Besides, out here, I get to see Sabrina more regularly. I just--I guess I want justice. For all of us. It’s like--until the tribunal says ‘guilty’, I’m holding my breath.”
“I know.” And she did know. She had that feeling, too, and she knew that Jughead thought about it, daily. She knew he talked to his therapist about it, too. There needed to be some form of retribution and closure, so he could fully look forward and plan his life. “Major Weatherbee said there’s already talk of the ESDC and Alliance Peacekeepers mounting an all-out assault and rescue campaign at Kestra Prime. Servicemen are signing up for the cause. Is that something you might want to do?”
Harvey had looked at her like she had given him a new purpose in life. “For real? That would be--I need that, Betty. I’m going to call my squad leader first thing, tomorrow.”
“You should. I’m told commanding officers who sign up will be asked to contact their squads, but it’s best to let your commanding officer know you’re interested.”
“Is the Cap--you know?” Harvey had an inkling on how things went down for Jughead. They were soldiers. They’d seen it happen countless times to others.
Betty took a deep breath, feeling that twinge of compassion for Jughead. “It’s complicated at the moment. For one, he can’t go as an ESDC pilot anymore, even if he wanted to. He’d been given an honorable discharge by the ESDC--got his Purple Heart a couple of weeks back.”
“Oh.”
Betty could see it--the understanding in Harvey’s eyes that while Jughead had been given a proper and well-deserved sendoff, it was still a bittersweet way to go. She remembered Jughead telling her over the comm that they were giving him the Purple Heart. He seemed resigned rather than relieved, and for his sake, she acknowledged his mixed feelings.
The honorable discharge meant he would get his pension and benefits as a veteran of the ESDC. It meant the ESDC was grateful for what he did for them, that he deserved the full support of the ESDC for the rest of his life, but the Purple Heart was also telling him that it was time for him to go, to rest, because his mind wasn’t in its best shape to serve anymore. Jughead had expected it, accepted it, even, because he was going through a lot and he knew he still had a lot of therapy to push through, but it stung, nonetheless. His pride, his independence, and his strength felt diminished, somehow.
Betty had listened and understood, but she also knew that he needed to expel the negative thoughts in his head to see that this outcome was very positive, that this wasn’t so much a rejection as it was the ESDC taking care of him and making up for what its generals did to him.
With everything that was happening--the court martials and the GBI, she had been pleased at how the ESDC was showing its total rejection of what its corrupt generals had done, and how they were going out of their way to make up for it with the servicemen who survived and the ones who perished in Ascension. Jughead just had to pick his way to that headspace, and that was going to take time.
“They didn’t just surprise him with it,” Betty explained. “They talked to him, and he talked to the ESDC therapist, too, who gave his recommendation to the Def Cor.”
She and Jughead talked about how his reserve status was coming to an end anyway, and he’d done his duty.
“It probably isn’t a good idea for him to go back into that particular warzone, anyway,” Harvey grumbled. The look in his eyes suggested that he wasn’t too keen about it, either. Even if Harvey appeared to have gotten out of that experience in better shape, Betty had no clue what was going on in Harvey’s head.
Betty nodded. “Perhaps. On the other hand, Jughead might look to other possibilities. Alliance Peacekeepers have a Vet Division, as you probably know, where volunteer veteran servicemen can throw in their hats during conflicts like this. He could easily hop in through there and help, but he’s working on being okay with the fact that he can’t right now.”
Harvey’s nod of understanding was reflected in the compassion in his eyes. “Yeah. They did a number on Cap over at Kestra Prime. He was our leader and they saw it, so they--well, you probably know all that by now.”
Talking with Harvey and not having to explain too many things was a relief that Betty hadn’t known she needed. She had struggled to make her family understand what Jughead went through, without making them think that Jughead was a trembling, screaming ball of trauma. Talking to Harvey about Jughead was so much easier. “He can still contribute to the effort, though. Eventually, he will, when he can responsibly say he’s better. The campaign will likely need escort pilots to fly victims from the refugee camps back to their homeworlds. He loves to fly, and he likes protecting people. It’ll be good for him, too.”
Refugee transport, Betty found out, was a perilous task, given that slave traders were everywhere in the galaxy. Slave traders liked the idea of having a group of helpless beings all packaged and ready for the taking, so if rescuers weren’t vigilant, they were easy pickings. Fighter escorts were employed specifically to protect the rescue train and that endeavor was right up Jughead’s skill set. His trauma had affected him in many ways, but flying a fighter craft was a talent burned into his bones, so deeply ingrained in him that nothing had touched it.
“I hadn’t known the cap for long,” Harvey said, quietly. “But the little time that I did, I always felt looked out for when he was around. When I met Sweet Pea and the rest of the Def Cor vets on your team, I realized that’s how he was as a person. That’s why they never stopped calling him Cap. That’s why I’ll always trust him.”
Betty wasn’t exactly the type to get overly emotional about things in general, but she was always so soft about Jughead, and hearing Harvey talk about Jughead this way made her eyes sting and her heart swell with incredible pride. “Yes. That’s how he is. That’s Juggie.”
At that point Harvey chuckled. “And I’ll never get over the fact that he lets you call him Juggie.”
She laughed, realizing that she was the only one who could get away with it. Even Malachi didn’t dare.
Harvey left that conversation visibly buoyed and Betty realized that Jughead’s impact on him was far deeper than she first thought. It was true what he said. Jughead took care of the people around him. He protected them. And nobody ever forgot that.
******************
She missed holding Jughead so much that it woke her up at night.
So on the day the House of the Dead was to rendezvous with the Whyte Wyrm, she was glowing, floating around the ship with almost unbearable glee.
“I’m so excited! I get to be back at the Wyrm today!” she squealed.
“Yes, we know. Heard you the first ten times,” someone, usually Shelly May, would say.
By the time cargo hold annexation commenced, Betty was buzzing, all her luggage strategically draped and clasped on her body so she could simply run across the cargo hold and not have to look back.
She made sure she had given her proper goodbyes and thanks to the House crew, knowing that she couldn’t possibly be mindful of anyone when she saw her Joneses.
“Unlock it,” Betty told Malachi impatiently as she stood waiting with them at the cargo hold. “Unlock it, now.”
“Jeez, take it easy, blondie,” Malachi said, grinning insufferably as he took his sweet time.
Behind them, Ibarra groaned. “Jesus Christ, Mal. Just put her out of her misery already.”
“Let’s see if she pulls a gun on him,” Shelly May teased.
Betty threw Shelly May a withering look. “Alright guys, I get it. You know I love you all, right? Even you, Mal.”
“I know, blondie. How about a kiss? Just one.”
“Eat shit, Martinez.”
He laughed and turned the lock.
As soon as bay doors cleared, Betty shot through the fog. She didn’t even think that she could trip over cargo—she could’ve, but she didn’t care. All she knew was Jughead was at the other side of it and she wasn’t going to waste a second.
*******************
He heard her voice through the fog and the amount of delight that it gave him was ridiculous, even to him, but he’d been waiting for this day feverishly since she told him she was finally coming home two weeks ago.
When she emerged from the clouds of smoke, the joy on her face made him feel like he could relive his entire life all over again if he knew that he would see that look on her face again--that unspeakable happiness at coming home.
As soon as she had the Wyrm underfoot, she dropped all of her things and came flying into his arms.
There was a distinct kind of warmth to Betty, places where her body touched his that gave that heat a shape in his mind. It meant comfort, intimacy, and support, like that calm on a cool night, sitting around a hearth with the people who matter to you.
As that blanket of her wrapped around him, he clung to her, his lips pressed to hers. He breathed in her scent, letting that feeling of missing her wash away.
Her closeness set his entire body alight, feeling in full force what he could only imagine having the last twelve weeks. Their late night comm sessions had fed what felt like a addiction, a short-lived high that gave them what they needed for the moment, only to leave him wanting more when reality set in--she wasn’t in bed with him, she wasn’t there when he woke up, he couldn’t just curl up and have an arm full of Betty. He felt that keenly.
Even now, kissing her with the hunger of weeks past, his fingers combing through her hair, and the skin of her nape warm against his palms, he could hardly believe it.
He was still deep in this haze of her when he finally heard the clearing of someone’s throat, followed by, “Alright, break it up you two.”
He was inclined to go on, just to be stubborn, but Betty smiled into their kiss and began to giggle, pulling away from him and looking into his eyes as she said, “Hi.”
He could hardly muster the words to reply, as his eyes were too busy taking her in, how her smile made her look gorgeous and how a soft glow radiated from her skin, all without the filter of a comm screen.
She went to FP to give him a kiss on the cheek and a hearty hug, which he unabashedly held for a few seconds before he slapped her shoulder, saying, “Okay, okay. I missed you too, kid.”
Then ever mindful of Jellybean’s general repulsion to being touched, she gently put a hand on Jellybean’s shoulder and squeezed.
Jellybean’s wide smile and bright eyes were a rare enough sight, but she reached out and squeezed back, telling Betty, “I have so many things to show you!”
Hotdog, after waiting for her to greet his humans like the good boy he was, jumped her and licked her face, barking and wagging his tail. Betty laughed and got on one knee just to rub him behind the ears and give him a hug of his own.
Jughead felt his heart grow full at the sight of his father, sister, and dog looking so happy to see her. She had become a part of their lives, one of them, a Jones, whether she took the name or not.
He hardly noticed Malachi approaching him, until Malachi clapped a hand on Jughead’s shoulder and said, “Never got the chance to congratulate you on your engagement, Jonesey.”
Jughead was too surprised to think about holding out his hand to accept the handshake Malachi offered him. She never talked about Malachi over the comm, even when she was flying with them, but that may be because she knew any talk of Malachi irritated him on a deeply embarrassing level. “Thanks, man.”
The rest of his crew came over to say hello, including Harvey, who seemed glad to see him. He hadn’t even seen Harvey during the Hal Cooper or the ongoing ESDC trials. They, as witnesses, were called at separate times, and there was no need to have them in the same virtual rooms, but it was good to see Harvey looking well.
“You doing okay?” Jughead asked, looking for any hollowing of his cheeks, and dark circles under his eyes, or any drooping in his shoulders.
Harvey nodded. “I’m good, thanks to you, Cap.”
That gave Jughead pause. He didn’t think he had much to do with anything in the context of Harvey’s post-rescue health, but after the rescue, they didn’t get much of a chance to talk. Jughead had been too busy wrestling with his PTSD and Harvey hadn’t stayed long enough on the Wyrm. Jughead remembered Harvey thanking him before, but he supposed he had thought of it as, “Thanks for hosting me on the ship.” Jughead had been too caught up in his demons to think it was more than that.
And yet here was Harvey, thanking him because he was well. Jughead realized that it meant a lot for Harvey to say that.
“Are you guys heading out or would you like to stay for bit? We don’t mind--thank you for taking care of Betty,” FP offered.
Malachi shook his head, feigning exhaustion. “She was kind of impossible.”
Betty pouted. “Hey.”
“Kidding. She was a total wet dream.”
Jughead scowled.
Shelly May hit Malachi upside the head. “Why’d you always have to go there?”
“Ow.”
“We gotta go,” Udo said for all of them. “Got bounties to chase. It was great hosting you, Betty.”
Betty did go over and give them all warm goodbyes, thanking them for the ride. Even Malachi got a hug which, to his credit, he did not take advantage of.
When they left and cargo bay doors were sealed, they gathered Betty’s things and commenced deannexation of cargo bays.
It felt good to have Betty filling her seat at the bridge again, having that void filled so that the spaces in the ship can be re-occupied.
When the Wyrm and the House of the Dead were separated, they set a course for the 4th Quadrant immediately. Their first wormhole would give them at least 24 hours of auto-pilot time, hours that Jughead looked forward to dedicating to Betty’s return.
As soon as they were set in the wormhole, they gathered in the galley. FP had prepared a nice homecoming dinner, and while Jughead and Betty had talked regularly over the comm, there was a lot of catching up to do between Betty, JB, and FP.
Jughead didn’t mind. He was content to sit by Betty, parts of them in constant contact. He could focus on the animated expressions on her face and the sound of her voice. He could enjoy the smallest and softest touch of her hand on the skin of his arm, or the way her hair fell on her shoulders.
He smiled when she laughed and pushed her hair back when it impeded his view of her face. He was enthralled by having her here and she smiled, knowingly. She was pleased that she had his complete attention.
She told them, carefully (he noted) how her mother wanted them all to meet for a nice family dinner. “You know… Gladys included, if that’s okay with you.”
That knocked him slightly out of his blissful haze. “She wants mom there?”
Jellybean briefly made a face. “Wow. Okay, rock on.”
“Did she mention Gladys specifically?” FP asked, growing slightly tense.
Betty shrugged. “She said all. She was emphatic, so I can only strongly assume, but she’s handing out the invitation for that, and honestly, it feels weird not to extend one to Gladys.” She looked at Jughead apprehensively. “She’s your mom, and you’ve kind of been getting along, right?”
She looked so hopeful that he couldn’t bear to respond with any negativity, and really, her hopes were founded. Him and Gladys have talked a bit more since that first extremely uncomfortable hail. They were still hashing things out, unsure of how they were going to go about moving forward, but they’ve come to an uneasy agreement of being honest with one another and trying harder--something he did for his dad in the past, so he felt slightly obligated to do for his mother, as well. This means he would have to talk to Gladys about this dinner and expressing his affability to having her there, which in itself may be an uncomfortable endeavor, but he wouldn’t just be doing this for Betty, he was doing it for his relationship with Gladys, as well.
“Kind of,” he replied, softly. “I’ll talk to her about it.”
“Boy,” FP muttered.
“I got it, dad.”
FP rolled his eyes and sighed, but he didn’t say anything else. This was Jughead and Betty’s engagement. This was up to them.
To celebrate Betty’s return, FP had attempted to make a cake, in which he he seemed generally successful in, as far as the actual cake parts went, but the decorating left much to be desired.
“I couldn’t work the piper as well as I wanted,” FP said, bashfully.
Aside from the irregularly shaped globs of buttercream dotted along the edge of what would’ve otherwise been a perfectly round cake, the colored lettering on the face of it had said, in very wobbly, uneven, and visibly withering lines:
WELCome Home
Betts~~~~~~~
It took everything in Jughead’s willpower not to laugh, but Betty was genuinely touched, and when they tried the cake, it was delicious. In their little family gathering, that was more than enough.
As dinner came to a quiet close, and the dishes completely put away, Jellybean wiped her hands on a dish towel and tapped Betty’s shoulder. “I’ve got stuff to do, so I’ll see you tomorrow, sis.”
“‘Night, JB,” Betty replied, throwing her a warm smile.
Hotdog went for a drive-by pat as he followed Jellybean out the door.
Hearing Jellybean call Betty sis gave Jughead a pleasant pang.
FP nodded. “I’m turning in, too. Cake making is exhausting.”
“Thanks, FP. That cake was so good.”
“You’re sweet, kid. Great to have you back.”
He gave her shoulder a pat as he left, and the last Jughead heard of his dad was the galley doors hissing closed.
And then they were alone.
************************
Jughead gave a sigh of relief, pulling her closer. “I finally have you all to myself.”
Betty turned in her seat, smiling as she draped her arms over his shoulders and rubbed her nose lightly against his. “Did you miss me, Cowboy?”
“Like air.”
“Then breathe,” she whispered.
His lips descended on hers, and it was like gas to a slow burning flame. The flare of heat spread like wildfire, and it can only be doused by letting it blaze its worse.
Jughead knew he missed her, but the incredible need that blossomed from the pit of his stomach, the intensity of it, was shocking even to him.
“Betty.” He grasped her by the back of her thighs and lifted her onto the table, setting her down with her legs parted to accommodate him. He raked his fingers through her hair to coax her to look up at him and his mouth covered hers in a heated kiss.
She moaned as her tongue tangled with his and he could feel the heat of her body through the skin of her neck.
His mouth traveled to her throat, her head rolling back to give him more access as she leaned back on the heels of her hands
She gave a gasp as his hand slipped beneath her shirt and palmed her breast through her bra. “Jug.”
Her gentle push against his shoulder brought some of his senses back. This wasn’t the safest place to be doing this. He could possibly make it to the cabins without completely taking her clothes off. “Do you want to—“
His words were cut off by her swift removal of her shirt and her frantic grappling with the buttons of his pants.
“Now,” she gasped. “I want you now. We play later.”
Her words kicked his desire into overdrive. “Fuck, yeah.” His pants loosened and then he was working on hers, undoing her buttons and pulling her pants completely off. He pulled her boots off her as well, and when her pants fell to the floor, he dragged her panties down her smooth, beautiful legs.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he growled, helping her push his pants and boxers down. He was so hard and her so ready that he only needed to lean over her and he was inside her.
“Oh, God, Juggie!”
He was so caught in the bliss of her warmth surrounding him that when she gathered a handful of his considerably longer hair, he was too enthralled to feel the sting of her ravishing fingers. Her kiss, deep and consuming, brought him right back.
He looped an arm around her waist and thrust hard into her.
Betty’s cry of encouragement fired his desire, and all he could do between the insanely pleasurable sensations from his dick and the beautiful bowing of her body, was the continued driving of his hips into hers.
They moved with vigorous abandon, his arm tugging her to a rhythm, his hand touching parts of her where he could reach, and his lips tasting her lovely, tanned skin. Nothing else felt this good.
He could feel his own climax coming and he didn’t know how much longer he could hold it.
“Don’t stop!” she cried. “I’m so close. So close.”
He groaned and pushed up her bra, covering her nipple with his mouth and sucking as he moved inside her in a steady tempo.
She cried for him to go harder as he felt her coming, and when she threw her head back, crying out his name, he released and moaned against her throat, joining her in her climax.
**********************
She shed most of her clothes before getting into bed with him, which was perfectly fine by him. Her threadbare little t-shirt hitched all too easily up her stomach, giving him ample room to trace circles around her belly button and tease the ridge of ribs beneath her breasts.
It made her giggle and he leaned over her on the bed to kiss her, while letting his hands roam over the curves of her hips and legs. He wasn’t quite ready for round two, but he like this process of remembering the feel of her.
She had tan lines along her shoulders and hips, and some skin was flaking off the ridge of her nose. She had told him about the hours she had spent out on a beach taking care of the twins and babysitting with Chic, which made him want to spend their honeymoon on some beachy escape.
“You’re going to work me up if you keep touching me like that.” Her eyes were trailing along his shoulders and chest, and she bit her lip as she looked up at him. Her eyelashes fluttered, and if they hadn’t just finished, she would’ve gotten the desired effect.
He grinned, but he did move his wandering hand up to cup her face, brushing the pad of his thumb lightly over her cheek. “I just missed you. All of you. I thought the comm would be enough--talking and—“ his grin broadened “—other stuff, but it wasn’t. I’d miss you in a couple of hours and it felt like I hadn’t seen you in days.”
Her fingers feathered the line of his jaw, tapering off the point of his chin. “It felt that way for me, too. We’ve become that couple. We’re probably insufferable to other people.”
He didn’t disagree. Jellybean had already loudly complained about his pining and sulking the last twelve weeks. Even FP had joked about it a couple of times.
It didn’t bother him. He liked having been able to focus on something so dramatically satisfying. “It’s a good thing we’re getting married, then.” He threaded his fingers through hers, feeling the ring fitted around her finger.
She laughed and nodded. “We’ll settle back down. We just hadn’t gotten the chance to enjoy being engaged, that’s all. I was jetting off so soon after, and everyone was kind of putting off talking about the nice stuff because of dad’s trial and everything…”
There was that pang of concern again, twisting in the pit of his stomach. After Hal had been pronounced guilty in court, he had asked her how she was, and all she told him was that she had felt relief, but he sensed that she didn’t want to talk about it much, so he didn’t push, and in some deeply twisted way, he couldn’t get the thought of him being the reason her father was going to jail out of his head. He was afraid that if he said it out loud, it would actually conjure a demon and become an actual thing.
But lying with her, skin to skin on his bed, he felt a little less afraid. “Baby, your dad… after all’s said and done, I’m sorry this happened. I’m sorry he’s in jail because of me.”
She cast him a mildly chastising look, holding his face in her hands. “He is not in jail because of you. He is in jail because of him. And if it wasn’t for what he did to you, it would’ve been for some other thing, and I might have gotten manipulated into helping him get away with it. It’s all--” she paused, a haunted look glazing over her eyes. “It’s not his incarceration that bothers me. I wasn’t lying when I said I was relieved he’s finally put away. I’d like to think that with him in jail, he can do no harm, or much less of it. We’re all safer this way. So yes, I’m glad he’s going to jail. I’m glad he’s exposed for what he is. What makes me think is what he was like in the past, and it disturbs me. The things he did to his family to manipulate us all, and the things--the things he did to me. How I got so easily drawn into what he wanted, and maybe there were moments that were--” She pursed her lips. “Creepy. Inappropriate. Like I should’ve known.”
He had to take a deep breath and calm some of the panic bubbling in his heart. “Betty, did he--did he touch you in any way--”
She shook her head vigorously. “No. No, he didn’t, but he’s made me feel uncomfortable, with his words and some of the things he did, but I always told myself it was permissible because he was my father. I made excuses for him to make myself feel better about it.”
His panic turned to rage, and for a brief moment he imagined himself storming into Neptune’s penitentiary facility and beating the living shit out of Hal Cooper. He would tell Hal that he was a monster, that his daughters weren’t brought into this world for his convenience, that they weren’t “assets” for him to use, and he would punctuate each declaration with the force of his fist. If Hal had never gotten found out, he could’ve been a danger to his grandchildren, present and future, how it could’ve been a little girl named Lily Jones, sitting on grandpa Hal’s lap and--
“Jughead!”
He blinked, and he realized he had been frozen, breathing heavily through the dark thoughts racing through his head. He swallowed, calming his anger. “I did it again, didn’t I?”
The look of compassion on her face told him everything he needed to know, and he sighed, but unlike before, having episodes like this didn’t defeat him. He now knew he had ways to deal with them. “I’m sorry. There are less of those, I swear. It’s just Hal.”
“It’s a process,” she said, firmly. “And yes, even talk about my father upsets me, so you’re not alone in that. We’ll talk about him some other time.”
He shook his head and took her hand. “I don’t want you to edit yourself for me. I’ll work this out. I brought him up, not you. I guess he still makes me angry.”
“I’d argue that you’re entitled to being angry with him.”
“And I’d say it would do well for me to realize that anger, in any form, can destroy me. So for my own good, I need to expunge it.”
He could tell that she was stifling a smile.
“You’re a champ, Juggie. I know you sometimes feel like this therapeutic lingo ruins your—“ she paused, and he could tell she was searching for a word “— aesthetic …”
He laughed, embarrassed at himself for even projecting that idea into Betty’s head. “Stop. I mean, I roll my eyes a lot, but I know it helps me. It’s just me being a dick. I appreciate what my therapy does for me. Flutesnoot’s a saint for putting up with me, too. And I haven’t read you my last journal entry, have I? Let me know when you have time. It’s a fucking masterpiece.”
“Jug.” There was question there, amidst the fondness in her eyes. He was deflecting and she knew it.
He just didn’t want her to worry too much. At least not like she used to. “I promise, I’m generally okay. It’s been--positive. And I don’t want everything to turn into something about me. That’ll just make me obnoxious.”
She exaggerated a thoughtful look. “Well, you’re going to be the groom in the proceedings so many things will be about you whether you like it or not.”
This topic he can fully get behind. “I don’t mind it being about me when it comes to that.”
Her chuckle was soft, making him think that she was letting this go because he was asking nicely, and he appreciated her indulging him, except he knew too that she was doing it for love, that she never wanted to push him into doing anything he didn’t want to do.
“How about I write about all of this in my journal,” he said more gently, more seriously. “And you can read about it in a couple of days?”
She tilted a smile and gave his chin a soft pinch. “How about your write about it, and then you can take it from there?”
He nodded, reminding himself that communication wasn’t about oversharing. It was a mix of things, one of which was about going easy on one’s self, going slow, and taking a moment to breathe and share thoughtfully with your partner. Leave the stream of consciousness to your therapist and your journals, because the former has the intellectual tools to parse it and the latter makes it easier for your newly acquired coping mechanisms to work to their fullest, most beneficial potential.
“I love you,” he said.
She didn’t answer back immediately, but she was smiling, and her eyes never left his face. “Love you back.”
He liked how she sometimes took her time with those words. It reminded him of just how much she meant it when she said it.
His fingers trailed to her belly button again, his idle circling gaining purpose and going lower as the twitching between his legs grew more insistent. What can he say? She was amazing and it turned him on.
She squirmed. “Don’t tease.”
He hummed and knew that he was definitely recharged for round two. It was going to take a while for the twelve weeks of missing to wear off.
He kissed her with deep promise while his fingers slid beneath the fabric of her panties, seeking her wet warmth. Her moan made him so erect that he sought friction against her thigh.
She hissed. “Slowly this time?”
“Oh, baby,” he whispered. “We’re going to be at this all night, I promise.”
She smiled, her eyes fluttering close as he slowly dipped his fingers into her. “I like the sound of that.”
********************
“Hello, Jughead,” Alice said, swirling the glass of wine she had in her hand. Behind her, the backdrop of a vineyard gave her a relaxed glow. It was also entirely possible that she’d had a few glasses already. “Thank you for joining us.”
Betty hoped that either way, it would make her less vipery. Softer. One, Betty thought, could hope.
Beside her, Jughead looked at ease, even as she gripped his hand with slightly more pressure than was necessary. “Evening, Alice. I appreciate you letting me. It shows that you value my opinion.”
There was that undertone of politeness, that courtesy that ESDC servicemen were expected to uphold, even with hostiles—to make one’s presence known by communicating, without saying, “I know you don’t want me here, but I’m here anyway, and honestly, you had no choice in the matter, but let me throw you a bone and help you act as polite as I am being.”
Betty had asked Jughead to be present for this, because she needed his support. She needed his physical presence. Telling Alice no was always an ordeal for her, and Betty was always afraid Alice would railroad her into giving in. Having Jughead there would help Betty stick to her convictions.
“Of course I value your opinion,” Alice said, a little sharply. “It’s your wedding, too.”
Betty’s fingers tensed a bit more, but Jughead rubbing the back of her hand eased them loose.
“Besides,” Alice continued in a more resigned tone. “It’s been made clear to me that Betty won’t agree to anything that she hasn’t talked to you about first, so here we are. I am nothing if not efficient.”
He was stifling a smirk, and Betty was certain Alice can tell. “Fair, but thanks, anyway. It shouldn’t really be painful for anyone, Alice. I swear I’m a reasonable guy, and ultimately I just want Betty to be happy.”
Betty felt so soft when he said things like that. “Jug, we want the same thing, right?”
He nodded vehemently. “Yes. Alice, we just want to keep things simple. I know you can afford to pay for everything--our budget’s chump change for you, but we really, really would prefer to pay for our own wedding. This way, we--”
“I get it, Jones, believe me. Control is my drug. I start throwing my money around and you won’t be able to say no to me.”
Jughead didn’t argue.
“But I concur that we can talk about things. This is your wedding, but she is my daughter. Contrary to popular belief, I want what’s best for her, too.”
“Betty,” Jughead said pointedly. Carefully. “What do you think?”
She took a deep breath. She could do this, just like she practiced. If she could stand up to her father and a whole room of board members, she could stand up to Alice. “I get to decide what’s best for me, mom, but of course we can talk about things. This is exciting for me, too, and I want to celebrate this with the people I love and only the people I love. Jug and I have an idea of what we want and we’d like to stick with it.”
“Understood. So let’s hear it. What were you two crazy kids envisioning?”
Betty looked at Jughead and he gave her an encouraging nod.
“Small wedding party, obviously. If I have bridesmaids at all, it’ll be V, JB, and Polly. That’s it. Jughead couldn’t even bring himself to have an actual entourage, because if he did, it could get out of hand.”
“My entire flight could qualify. I’ve been through so much with those guys. I take one, I have to take them all,” Jughead explained.
Alice was looking the slightest bit horrified. “So you won’t have an entourage?”
“He wants to keep it to FP and Chic.”
Alice huffed. “FP? Really? And isn’t Chic going to walk you down the aisle, Betty?”
“Yes and yes,” Betty replied. “I told you, mom. This is going to be simple, authentic, straight up about the people we love. The people that really mean something to us.”
“So how many guests are we talking about here? Do you even have a guest list?”
Betty bristled. “Oh, mother. Don’t be so sarcastic.”
Alice’s eyebrow was already arching, like the pulling of a bow to release an arrow.
Jughead put his hands up in a calming gesture. “Betty, Alice… this is just a discussion.”
“Fine,” Alice said, smoothing her expression. “How many on your guest list?”
Again, Betty took a deep, cleansing breath. “Between mine and Jughead’s list, we have about 30 to 35 people. No more.”
“God, you weren’t kidding about the ‘intimate’ part. I’ve hosted bridge parties bigger than that. Alright then, sounds reasonable. The wedding coordinator can work with that.”
“Mom, I told you--”
“You need someone to to make sure everything goes according to plan on the day of, Betty. You don’t want to be running around, managing the staff in your gown. I sure as hell don’t think Polly will be taking care of that--not with the twins fussing, and you can forget Chic. I refuse to putter around doing that and I highly doubt Gladys will be so obliging. If it’s the cost, don’t worry. I can foot that bill.”
Jughead made no protest with respect to the casual mention of Gladys. However better his relationship was with his mother right now, his fair assessment of it still waddled the line of “Couldn’t get any worse,” on most days, and Betty suspected that Jughead still didn’t want to ask his mother any favors.
Jughead didn’t appear to have much of an opinion on the wedding coordinator, either. It was something they hadn’t decided on yet but knew Betty was considering.
Having her mother pay for it was probably unnecessary, because ultimately, Betty could afford it, but that wasn’t the issue. A wedding coordinator meant they were going to have a lavish wedding, which was something they didn’t want, and more importantly, a wedding coordinator that Alice would be paying for could result in Alice gaining control of the proceedings. Betty was not going to be out maneuvered that way. “Jug and I are still discussing it, mom. Don’t start making calls. The last thing I want is for someone like Yifat Raffanelli showing up at the Wyrm and making me try on 27 Zuhair Murad dresses just to see what shade of white fits me best.”
Alice scowled. “Yifat isn’t that impossible…”
Betty shot Jughead a knowing look as she rolled her eyes. “We don’t know if we need a coordinator, at all--we don’t even know if we’re willing to pay the premium on one who will fly all the way to edge of the 3rd Quad.”
Alice took a deep breath, probably to restrain herself. Their destination wedding’s location was unknown to Alice until now. No doubt, she had assumed they would stick to the 2nd quadrant, since the 3rd and 4th were considerably thin on wedding venues that would pass muster with Alice. “Where in the 3rd Quad could you possibly hold a wedding?”
At this, Jughead smiled. “Have you ever heard of the City of a Thousand Veils?”
“Never.”
Betty tried her best to ignore Alice’s clipped tone. “It’s the largest settlement of monks in the galaxy. It’s a city filled with temples and houses of worship, from different denominations and faiths. It’s culturally rich, diverse in its beliefs, and it’s the perfect place for self-reflection, spiritual journeys, and--little known fact--weddings. It’s a beautiful destination. Jughead and I fell in love with it when we first visited. If we can get a booking there, we probably won’t need a wedding coordinator, or at least not one with an obscene price tag. It’s not going to be anywhere near as ostentatious as the weddings you’ve attended in New York, but this is what Juggie and I want. I don’t know if it will be ‘elegant’, but I promise you, it will be charming and tasteful.”
Alice’s sigh of exasperation was the most drawn out Betty had ever heard. “I suppose the farther away it is from the 1st and 2nd Quadrants, the easier it is to keep off the news. Penny needs to know all this, by the way. Whether you like it or not, she’s the only one who can ensure that your wedding doesn’t get swarmed by reporters.”
Jughead made a sound of discontent, which could have meant anything, but Betty knew it was because he hated Penny, and she didn’t blame him.
To appease him, she flashed him an apologetic look before turning back to her mother. “Fine. Better her than TMC. Anything else?”
“Who is designing your gown?”
“To be determined. It’s not top of mind.”
“Not top of--I swear to God, Elizabeth, if you tell me you’re getting married barefoot--”
“Not my aesthetic, mom, but I am considering getting married in a cowboy hat.”
Jughead grinned and Alice finished he glass of wine in one go, but to Alice’s credit, she said nothing about it.
“I’ll be hosting this dinner with the in laws, at least. I don’t suppose you want me to run everything by you with regard to that?” Alice said in a haughty tone, pouring herself some more wine.
“Have at it, mom. Just make sure that wherever that is, they either allow Hotdog on the premises or host him somewhere he won’t feel lonesome.”
Alice rolled her eyes. “Of course. Let’s work our plans around the family dog. Jughead, will your mother be attending this dinner?”
“Don’t know, but she’s getting an invite.”
The neutrality on Alice’s face made Betty slightly nervous. “Should be interesting. She hated me back in the day.”
Betty was about to blurt out that Gladys still did but Jughead put gentle pressure on her thigh, which made Betty clamp her mouth shut.
“Hate is such a strong word,” Jughead said, wincing.
Alice drank her wine. “I’ll bet. I’m sending out the invitations in a couple of days so expect it in the mail. Are you still sticking to your four-month timeline for this? Not even half a year? You’re not pregnant, are you? Because that would make the whole dress situation complicated.”
Sometimes, Betty actually wondered if they’d worn down their mother that she could so casually mention unexpected pregnancies. “No, I’m not pregnant. It’s just a window in time. It’s far enough for everyone we’re inviting to clear their schedules and it’s as soon as we can make it. We just--” She looked at Jughead and she cast him an affectionate smile, which he returned, his brilliant blue eyes never failing to make her feel like she was his entire universe. “We just want to get married. If we didn’t have to invite everyone, we’d do it in the next Alliance outpost, with FP and JB as witness.”
She sighed at the fantasy, and she knew Jughead wanted that, too. She pecked a kiss on his lips, and she supposed it could be interpreted as her being unafraid of what her mother would think, which always let loose Jughead’s tendency to do whatever the hell he wanted. So he grinned and tilted her chin up to kiss her again, and Betty found her mind getting soupy with thoughts like, “What’s mom going to do, ground me?”
“Oh, for goodness sake,” Alice hissed. “Is this conversation over, then? Because I don’t need to watch you two getting all hot and bothered. Honestly, let’s just talk again some other time. Get whatever this is out of your systems.” The comm transmission was cut.
Betty could feel Jughead smiling into the kiss and she couldn’t help giggling.
“You realize that everytime your mother starts to get on your nerves, we can always diffuse the situation this way exactly,” he said.
She laughed, holding his face in her hands. “I think that entire discussion went pretty well, don’t you think?”
He nodded. “I think we won that skirmish. Do you think I ever have to call Alice mom? It’s weird, but that would be kind of funny.”
“Do it. I dare you.”
His laughter, so light and true, it made her anxieties for Alice wash away. “I’ll debut it at this In Law dinner, where everyone can hear it. It’ll be incredibly uncomfortable.”
“Chic would love it. Maybe even JB, too.”
“She lives for shit like that.” He took her hands in his and brought her knuckles to his lips, a gesture that made her truly melt on the inside. “Are you good, then? With Alice trying to take control?”
She nodded, appreciating how much he could lift her up and make her stronger. “I think you really helped set the tone, Jug. Thank you. I know my mother can be impossible…”
“Baby, I just want you to be happy, and I want this wedding to be a happy occasion for you, not turn you into a ball of nerves. It’s going to be alright, okay?”
She nodded, letting Jughead soothe her.
“Oh, you know what else would be funny?” he added, a glint in his eyes. “What if you were actually pregnant and--”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, no. God, you and your baby fever.”
“Just asking. You never know.”
********************
A week later, the invitations for dinner arrived.
FP called his sponsor, Gladys called Jughead to ask him if “that bitch Alice Cooper” hadn’t sent her an invitation by mistake, Polly hailed Betty to rant about Ezekiel’s exclusion, Chic commed from the mountains of Tibet to tell her the culmination of his life was to see FP, Gladys, and Alice sitting at the same table, and Jellybean--well, she played video games.
TBC