Archive of Our Own ^beta

It all started on the five year anniversary of Betty and Jughead’s wedding- Jughead took the day away from writing and Betty told her boss she wouldn’t be in the office, and the two spent the hours from sunrise to sundown wrapped in nothing more than each other’s flesh and love. It wasn’t until late at night as sleep began to creep up on them that Betty looked up at her husband and whispered, “I want to have a baby.”

From that moment on, every time their bodies found each other, it was for the sole purpose of trying to get pregnant. Betty had been struggling with her eggs and the doctor warned them from the beginning that she may not be able to conceive a child. However, as she always did, Betty refused to give up. Night after night when she got home from work and had some time to relax, she and Jughead would be at it again. Betty had been so wrapped up in trying to get pregnant that she hadn’t noticed what it was doing to her marriage. Jughead was tired, more so than usual, and it took a strain on his writing. Anyone who knew Jughead was aware that when it came to his writing, if he was struggling so was every other aspect of his life.

It was no secret that Jughead had a drinking problem, having been admitted to rehab only months before his wedding to Betty and not a single drop of alcohol allowed even in his sight after his release. One night after they had sex again, Jughead crawled out of bed and got dressed before grabbing his wallet and leaving the house. Betty had a long day at work, and she’d be passed out until she had to wake the next day- so he knew he was safe not to get caught. Jughead took his car and drove out of the suburban area to a small bar he knew was open 24 hours, not from going in, but simply from passing by over the years. When he walked in, he only meant to have one drink- but for an alcoholic one drink was never just one drink.

Jughead found himself drunk to the point where he could barely walk, let alone drive home and the bartender was forced to take his phone and call for a ride. Mumbling out the name, “Betts,” the bartender was able to find her contact and get ahold of her to pick him up.

She walked into the bar with puffy eyes and mascara running down her swollen cheeks, anger behind the light shade of emerald and hands clenched into fists. Marching over to him, she grabbed his wallet and phone, mouthing a ‘thank you’ to the bartender and she helped walk him out to the van. When they got back to their house, Betty set Jughead down on the couch and threw a blanket over him, unable to look him in the eyes, she set off to their room and slammed the door shut- laying awake for the rest of the night with nothing but moonlight and her disaster of thoughts to keep her company.

The next morning Betty woke to the sound of groaning from downstairs and she sighed, realizing Jughead was awake and more than likely feeling the effect of his late night drinking. Before anything, she went to the bathroom and tried to clean herself up- refusing to show Jughead this broken side of her- she cleaned her face and put her up in a ballerina bun before walking downstairs. Jughead was leaning on the edge of the couch with his head in his hands and a small, angry chuckled escaped her lips. It wasn’t because this was funny- absolutely none of this was funny- but he clearly looked like he was in pain and all Betty could think was that it was what he deserved.

Jughead looked up to the sound of her voice and couldn’t bare to even look her in the eyes, putting his head down, he got up from the couch and walked over to her. “Baby, I’m so sorry,” Jughead tried to say, but she walked away from him the closer he got. “Come on, Betts let’s talk about this.”

“Talk about what, Jughead?” Betty snapped, “do you have any idea how many times I stayed awake at night wondering when I’d get the call? The call that you were found dead from crashing your bike drunk, or that you opened your mouth and got the shit beat out of you. Do you have any fucking clue?” Jughead finally met her eyes and the anger behind him made him shiver, without words, he shook his head. “Exactly!” She pushed him back with tears falling, “you have no idea what I went through and it took me so long to tell you I wanted to have a baby because I know how you are. This is what you do, things get hard and instead of talking you pick up a bottle. You pick up a fucking bottle and ruin everything around you.”

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated, saying it over and over again because there were no other words. No other words to describe how he felt because in the end, he was just so fucking sorry. “I know I fucked up, I fucked up so bad baby and I’m so sorry,” practically begging for her forgiveness now, Jughead walked over and tried to hold her hands. Against her better judgement, Betty melted under his touch and couldn’t fight her pain anymore. Of course, she was angry but more than that, she loved the man in front of her and knew that he couldn’t be alone during this. He needed someone to be there for him during this struggle, and as he had never left her side- she wouldn’t leave his.

“You can’t do this anymore, Jug,” Betty cried, “I know that none of this has been easy on either of us. Okay? I know what’s happening is killing you too.” She walked him over to the couch and they sat down, “I want to make a family with you, but when we hit bumps like this you need to talk to me. If you feel the need to drink, come to me. I don’t care if I’m at work or out with our kids or my mom, if it’s the middle of the night and you want a drink, come to me Juggie.” She leaned forward and rested her head on his shoulder, “we’re in this together and whatever pain you can’t bare, I will take some of it for you. You’re not alone baby, not with me, not ever.”