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He swears the Christmas pyjamas start earlier each year.
He can’t really complain, because she did just cook the entirety of a Thanksgiving meal for them. But as soon as he had started on the washing up (the least he could do), she’d slipped off to get changed and reappeared in a red and green set, which was far too elvish for November.
November. He was sure she’d had the decency to wait until December in other years.
As roommates go, if all that he can complain about was Betty’s choice of nightwear, which, he had to remind himself was really none of his business, and not something he should have an opinion on, then he should count his blessings.
He probably wouldn’t notice except he really doesn’t like Christmas.
Actually, that's a lie. He hates Christmas. Everything about it. From the carols to the overwhelming in-your-face-happiness of everything, to the ridiculous decorations that appeared everywhere. Not to mention the idealised version of a family Christmas that everyone tried to live up to, and inevitably ended in disaster.
It’s a hangover of his upbringing. As a kid, he had one too many bad experiences. Balancing the art of endemic hopefulness with reality, waiting for the day that his father really did come home with a meal, a Christmas tree and presents. Instead of him inevitably being alone and ordering a pizza far too late because he hadn’t wanted to give up on the idea that he might still have something of a family, for Christmas day at least.
That was then, of course. But it still rankles.
The one good thing about being an adult is he gets to make his own decisions about Christmas now. Well, mostly.
Betty loving Christmas is something he’s learnt to accept, just as she’s learnt to accept that he hates Christmas. Well, she’s sort of learnt to accept it. Sometimes, he could swear that she’s goading him. Knowing how much he hates Christmas, she set out to provoke a reaction. He caught her smirking once as he tried to pull his face together when she walked out in pyjamas covered with tinsel. (How could that even be comfortable to sleep in?).
But of course, Jughead wouldn’t give her that satisfaction, so he learnt how to roll his eyes internally, and stopped the bah humbug from actually leaving his mouth.
Though he would never, ever, willingly admit it, there’s something very charming about her untampered excitement for the festive season. But he has a reputation to hold up.
---
Betty and Jughead met in the first week of freshman year at college. They were on the same corridor in dorms, taking most of the same classes together. So when their roommates started dating it seemed that fate was really insisting that they needed to become best friends. After surviving four years of college, exams, and more Archie & Veronica break ups than they could count, it seemed the logical step to get an apartment together when Betty accepted her grad school place, and Jughead was offered a role in the city.
Fast-forward, and Betty was within a whisper of getting her Doctorate, while working part time as a forensic psychological assistant and Jughead had finally stopped worrying that he was going to be found out and thrown of his job as an editor. The fact that he’d specialised in Crime Fiction certainly had nothing to do with the bubbly, blonde, soon-to-be-licenced psychologist he shared with – but he had to admit there was a certain advantage to tapping into her knowledge.
He did, however, wonder how the criminal minds she worked with on a daily basis would react if they knew she frequently typed up their case files while wearing Rudolph pyjamas during the festive season.
--
Tinsel, baubles and other decorations had been appearing around their apartment for weeks, but CAMPAIGN CHRISTMAS started in earnest on December first. Jughead considered that this was down to him putting his foot down and limiting the Christmas themed decorations before then, but even he knew he had no jurisdiction in that sphere. It was more likely down to the paper Betty had spent all hours writing before her November 30th deadline. Still, a man could hope.
He full well knew she had had a reindeer statuette up in her bedroom from sometime after Halloween. He made a point of ignoring it on the rare occasion he went in there, always standing with his back to it. She made a point of placing it in different parts of the room to make sure he noticed it.
It was like a vastly simplified game of chess, and even he could tell he'd been checkmate.
His job only required him to go into the office a couple of days a week at the most. The rest of the time he was happily locked up in his bedroom, editing whatever book had come his way. Normally, this suited him perfectly. Betty was in and out with classes, so he had a good mix of quiet and company. Normally this was an ideal arrangement.
That was, until the Christmas music started.
Betty had found a particularly, in his opinion at least, obnoxious Christmas playlist, which she insisted on having playing round the apartment on repeat. At first, he’d shut his door and shoved headphones on, playing vintage rock to block out the cheery Christmas notes blasting around the rest of the apartment. However, when Betty had hidden a speaker under his bed and woken him up at 6am by playing All I Want For Christmas Is You on loop, he had to admit defeat. His door was open. He listened to the songs. He gritted his teeth, and reminded himself that December had to end eventually.
Besides, Betty sang along to everything and, even he had to admit, that made them all sound a lot better.
--
She cajoled him into coming with her to pick out a tree.
He’d sighed, and complained and muttered that they didn’t have any room - that they weren’t even going to be there for Christmas – not to mention what were they supposed to do after Christmas when the thing started to rot.
Betty had just eyed him, knowingly and said. ‘Hmm, that’s a funny way to say that you never want to eat any of my baked goods ever again.’
‘Wait, what?’
‘You heard me Jones. Deny me this one simple pleasure, and your on-tap supply of sugary confectionary and sweetness is gone. It’ll be redirected straight to Archie and you’ll never get a look in.’
‘Elizabeth Cooper. You wouldn’t!’
‘Want to try me?’ She’d grinned, and stuck her tongue out at him.
In the end, he told himself that he had only agreed to go with her because he thought it would be particularly ungentlemanly of him to allow her to lug the inevitably too-large tree back to their apartment. That and he didn’t want to miss out on the way her eyes lit up at the Christmassy-ness of it all. But he wasn’t going to tell her that.
The man selling the trees had an uncanny resemblance to Santa, even Jughead had to admit. His big, bushy, white beard didn’t cover the red of his face, or the twinkle in his eye as he spoke.
‘Well don’t you two make a good-looking couple.’ He said, as he bound up the tree Betty had chosen.
‘Oh no, we’re not –‘ Jughead interjected.
‘She won’t have you?’ the man replied.
‘Something like that.’ Betty laughed, slipping her arm through Jughead’s and beaming.
‘Well perhaps this Christmas you’ll change her mind,’ Bad Santa (as Jughead had just decided he was named), replied, winking.
‘In the spirit of that, I’ll give you 10% off this one.’
‘Great, thanks.’ Jughead mumbled, his face reddening, the tips of his ears feeling hot. Betty simply laughed again.
‘Thank you! Merry Christmas.’ She said, as she paid for the tree and looked at Jughead expectantly. ‘Come on Juggie, I’ll make sugar cookies if you get this home in one piece.’
‘She’s got you wrapped around her little finger, hasn’t she?’ Bad Santa chuckled.
He hated to admit how true that was, but knew that it was pretty obvious to anyone who might observe him struggling down the crowded streets of New York, carrying a tree that would dwarf their tiny apartment. He nodded once at the Santa, and set off after Betty, who was, as always, completely oblivious.
---
Jughead came home one night a week or so later, particularly furious about the number of Christmas shoppers filling up the sidewalks. It was bad enough it took him twice as long to walk home, but the headache inducing Christmas lights and cheery music was just too much. Bring on January and everyone going back to being miserable and keeping out of his way. He was about to say as much to Betty, but he knew something was up as soon as he stepped through the door.
‘Hey Betts, can you believe people are already going crazy over Christmas? It took me ten minutes to walk one block because people wouldn’t move out of the way,’ he called as he shook off his jacket and removed his shoes in the hallway.
Her response was a forced laugh. Not the laugh of festive-season Betty, which trilled as if she was poised to launch into a festive song at any given moment, but a robotic, forced one he’d only heard once or twice before.
Given the context that he’d heard that particular laugh before, he rushed into the sitting room, to find her sat on the sofa.
‘Betts?’ he said, softly, sidling onto the couch next to her.
Her eyes were red rimmed, as if she’d been crying a long time. She was holding a letter in her hand.
‘I’m just being stupid,’ she started. ‘I – I should have known this was coming.’
Jughead frowned. ‘Known what was coming?’
She thrust the piece of paper she was holding over to him. ‘Read it.’ She said, her voice wobbling a little.
Dear Elizabeth,
I am writing to implore you, once again, to reconsider completing your studies, and join us at the Farm instead.
I need hardly remind you of our opinion of the false science that is Psychology. I trust you have read the pamphlet I sent you previously.
I’m afraid, Elizabeth, that unless you cease your studies immediately, then this must be our last communication. Edgar has reminded us that we must not bring those with challenging energy into the community, so I must ask that you too acquiesce with this.
If you stubbornly refuse to give up on your hedonistic goals, then from now on we must be estranged. Your sister is in agreement with me. We will not expect you for Christmas, and we shall not be visiting. Only write if you have done as we have asked.
Yours,
Alice Cooper.
‘Jeez’ Jughead muttered, wanting to say something much stronger but aware of not wanting to offend Betty even more. ‘Your mom is…’
‘A piece of work?’ Betty said, bitterly. ‘Yep.’ She swallowed. ‘It’s been hard. The farm’s a cult, you know. I didn’t think they’d do this, though. Cut me out completely, I mean.’
Jughead crumbled up the letter and put his arm around Betty. ‘It’s their loss, you know. I know that won’t make this suck any less, but it really is them that should be sad, not you. You’re doing such incredible things; if they’re not prepared to be proud of you, or even acknowledge that you study a particularly brilliant part of science then they don’t deserve to be in your company.’
Betty looked at him, wide-eyed. ‘I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.’
Jughead scoffed. ‘Well, don’t tell anyone. I can only use one compliment a year or I’ll turn green, or explode or something.’ He bent his head down, to catch her eye. ‘But I mean it.’
Betty shrugged. ‘I know you do. I guess I’ll just ask Veronica if I can tag along with her family this year. For Christmas I mean. Maybe my mom will have come to her senses by next year.’ She sounded wistful.
‘Or we could do something here.’ Jughead suggested, surprising himself as the words spilled out of his mouth.
‘What about your family? Aren’t you going home?’
Jughead shook his head. ‘I, er, never do.’ He winced as he said it, predicting with a scary amount of accuracy what would come next.
‘What? Juggie! I am sure you have told me before now that you were going home for Christmas. Have you been lying to me?’ Betty punched him in the arm, but not very hard.
‘Erm. Less lying. More omitting details.’ Betty was glaring at him, so he knew his explanation had to be good. ‘I did go home, sometimes, during college. But after that I just didn’t see the point.’
‘Jughead Jones, we left college nearly four years ago.’ Betty tutted at him. ‘Are you telling me that every Christmas since then you’ve – ‘
‘Sat here, in my pyjamas all day, reading books I didn’t edit and eating hamburgers and doughnuts. Yes. Perfect day if you ask me.’
Betty face switched between furious and sad in quick succession, like she didn’t know whether to hit him again or hug him.
‘It’s no big deal…’ he added, trying to placate her. ‘You know I’ve never liked Christmas anyway.’
‘Oh great.’ Betty said tersely, clicking her tongue. ‘So now I have no family and I get to spend my favourite day of the year with an actual Christmas grinch!’
‘Hey, hey, this is about you, not me and whether or not I like Christmas,’ Jughead protested.
‘It sort of is.’ Betty replied, petulantly, which Jughead took as a positive sign.
‘I promise to be on my best behaviour. But, of course, if you’d rather spend it on Lodge Island or wherever Veronica is booking out for the season, don’t let me get in the way.’
Betty shook her head. ‘It might be quite nice to make my – our – own traditions.’
‘Is that your way of telling me hamburgers are not an acceptable dinner substitute?’
Betty gave him a look and shook her head again. She smiled weakly and then burst into tears again. Panicked, Jughead launched himself at her, hugging her tightly. He rubbed her back in what he hoped was a comforting way. Betty leaned in to him, but didn’t stop crying.
‘Hey hey Betts, sorry. I know I’m a poor substitute. But we’ll make it fun. I promise, we can go as mad as we want. I’ll even wear a Christmas sweater. And, um, we can do everything. Even leave out milk and cookies for Santa if you want. And, er – whatever else it is you would normally do. It might look a little different but we can still have fun.’
His words only seemed to make her weep more. She clutched onto him, as if she would never let go, as her body shook from the tears. Jughead didn’t know what else to do except keep holding her.
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you more,’ he sighed.
Betty pulled away slightly so she was able to face him. She wiped her eyes and sniffed, then kissed him on the cheek.
‘Oh Juggie, no you haven’t. You’ve been so kind.’ She smiled slowly at him. ‘I feel awful making such a fuss when you’ve been on your own every year.’
‘That was my choice. This is totally different.’ Without realising what he was doing Jughead, smoothed down a bit of hair which had mussed up. He quickly moved his hand down to her shoulder because he’d suddenly been hit with a realisation of how close he was to kissing her. How, with a tiny movement, a slight shift forwards, his lips could have met hers and he’d have opened a can of worms that he’d been keeping carefully wedged shut.
It wasn’t a new thing, exactly, wanting to kiss Betty. It’d been there, lingering, for a long time, but he’d managed to shove the feeling down and ignore it. Nothing good could come of it. Certainly not trying to kiss her after she’d only just finished crying. She’d had enough horrible surprises for one day.
Instead, he leapt up from the coach, mumbling something about coffee. By the time he’d returned with two mugs, brimming with the strongest coffee he could make (milked down with extra sugar in Betty’s case), the moment had passed, and he was no longer in any danger of doing something stupid and potentially ruinous.
---
Two days before Christmas, Jughead was walking back from his last day in the office, feeling a little bit guilty.
Despite promising Betty that he would help her make Christmas special, he had rapidly come to the realisation that he didn’t really know how to. He’d tried to help her write the shopping lists for their Christmas meal, but she’d batted him away. He’d made her promise to let him take care of food on Christmas Eve, and she’d reluctantly agreed. (He’d immediately made arrangements with her favourite Italian restaurant to get takeout. At least he knew that was okay). But that seemed like very little compared to Betty, who he happened to know was currently baking an array of festive goods.
Betty had been doing her best to seem happy and upbeat. He hoped that organising their Christmas had been something of a distraction. But as the day grew closer, he could tell her smile was a little bit more forced, and on more than one occasion he’d caught her with red eyes when he returned home from work.
He was also starting to feel like his gift for her (a set of books on the psychology of true crime), was a little underwhelming. Normally he’d be feeling pretty confident about how perfect the gift was, but this year he felt the weight of trying to replace a family’s worth of presents for her. He was going to swing by the store to get some nice wine for the day, and then get her favourite seasonal latte from Starbucks before he got home, but he was half-heartedly considering a detour to a department store, even though he knew it would be hell on earth, to try and find something for her. He would go in a heartbeat and brave the crowds, but he had no idea what to get her that said I’m trying to cheer you up but that also didn’t say I would quite like to start kissing you on the regular. He did not want to add to her troubles. That can of worms needed to stay in the cupboard.
And that was the only explanation he could give for what happened next.
As he walked past the adoption shelter, he was suddenly hit with an idea. It was completely impractical, but there was no harm in enquiring about it at least. Betty loved animals after all, and she was always going on about the cat she’d had as a child. What could be more cheering than an animal who would love you unconditionally? He pushed open the door and was almost flattened by a large, very shaggy puppy.
‘Oh sorry sir, he’s just come back from his walk. He’s very excitable.’ The young woman who worked there apologised.
‘No worries.’ Jughead smiled and bent down to give the dog a stroke. The dog wagged its tail enthusiastically.
‘He likes you!’ the woman grinned. ‘I’m Alex. How can we help you today?’
‘I -er – I actually was thinking about adopting a cat.’
Alex’s face fell a little. The puppy was still sat at Jughead’s feet, wagging its tail and looking up at him expectantly.
‘You can come and meet the cats we have available. I’m afraid they’re a little long in the tooth. Would you be prepared to take on a cat with special medical requirements?’
Jughead hadn’t been expecting her to ask him that. ‘I was thinking about a younger cat, maybe?’
The dog was nudging his leg again so Jughead bent down again to give him a fuss.
‘This close to Christmas?’ Alex laughed, but not unkindly. ‘Our young cats have already been adopted.’
‘Oh.’ Jughead was crestfallen. ‘Normally I’d say yes, but er, my roommate has had a really tough time lately and as much as I would want to give a cat some comfort in its old age, I’d be, erm, worried about bringing her..’
‘A pet she’ll get attached to only for it to die? Understood.’ She nodded. ‘I’m sorry we can’t be of more help. You can register your details; we’re bound to have more cats in the new year.’
Jughead’s face fell, and he was furious for not being more organised. ‘Yeh, sure. I’ll do that, thank you.’
He followed her to the counter. She had the puppy on a lose lead, but he was stubbornly weaving in and out of Jughead’s legs.
‘Hmm, that’s odd. Normally he’s wary of strangers, but he’s really taken a shine to you.’
‘He’s certainly a sweetheart’ Jughead agreed. ‘Has he been with you long?’
She shook her head. ‘He’s our first unwanted Christmas present, bless him. He was taken home and ate the woman’s handbag, so they dumped him here the next day.’
‘Poor little guy. Does he have a name?’
‘Hotdog.’ She smiled.
Jughead couldn’t help think that that was a sign. A dog who seemed to like him named after one of his top five foods?
He caught Alex’s eye. Before he could say anything, she pulled out a form and held it up. ‘I don’t suppose you’d consider a dog instead of a cat?’
‘I don’t think this little guy is giving me much option.’
She beamed. ‘Fantastic. I was dreading this little one having his first Christmas here. I mean, we do our best, but…’ She handed him a form. ‘I’m going to need you to fill this out. Can I just ask a couple of questions first?’
‘Sure.’ Jughead nodded, hoping he didn’t screw up these answers. And that Betty loved the little pup as much as he already did.
‘So, you mentioned a roommate? Is there someone at home most of the time, or would you be in a position to get a dog walker if you’re both out all day?’
‘Normally one of us is in.’ Jughead said.
Alex pointed to a chart stuck to her desk, it listed a load of prices. ‘These are the average cost of dog care: food, vet bills, doggy dare care etc. Can you afford to commit to these?’
Jughead nodded, grateful of the promotion he’d had earlier in the year which had taken away the last of his financial concerns. ‘Absolutely. Whatever the little guy needs.’
‘His adoption fee is $80. $100 with a donation. Can I interest you in our puppy starter kit too? It’s got some toys, a dog bed, and some food, poo bags – you name it.’
‘Sounds great.’
‘Okay, fantastic. You fill this in. Do you have some ID I can check? We don’t normally do this, but since it’s Christmas, I’ll do all the checks while you wait, and you can take him tonight.’
Jughead’s eyes lit up. ‘Really? Hear that Hotdog? You can come home with me and meet Betty tonight.’ Hotdog woofed in agreement, and nuzzled Jughead’s leg a little more.
---
An hour or so later, after Jughead had signed away what seemed like his life, and spent a fortune adding to the shelter’s starter kit with some extra toys he thought were completely essential, he was finally heading home. He was glad he was only a couple of blocks away because juggling everything he’d bought while trying to keep a thoroughly excited puppy under control was no mean feat.
As he unlocked the door to their apartment, the sound of Christmas songs blaring told him that Betty was already home. And, by the sounds of it, in a better mood than she had been the day before. He shut the door quietly behind him, and tried to shush Hotdog. It had occurred to him that he possibly should have checked with Betty about this before he presented her with another helpless creature to look after.
'Okay buddy. You're about to meet someone special, so make a good impression, okay?' he said before scooping the puppy up.
‘Betts?’ he called, softly.
‘In here!’ she replied from the lounge.
‘Betts, I kinda did a thing.’ He said, before walking towards the room.
‘Jug?’ her voice was concerned.
‘Don’t be cross okay?’ he popped his head through, walking in sideways, nervous about her reaction. ‘Meet Hotdog. He’s yours – ours. I just adopted him. I know I should have checked with you first but it was kinda a spur of the moment thing, and I couldn’t leave him.’
Betty’s mouth widened to a huge O. She jumped off the couch and came running over to him. ‘Juggie!’ She reached out to pet Hotdog who tried to make a leap to her arms. Jughead laughed and passed him over. Hotdog licked Betty’s face before immediately nuzzling into her arms and falling asleep.
‘He’s lovely. He’s really ours?’ she asked quietly, staring in wonder at the dog.
Jughead nodded. ‘I figured we were both feeling a little bit unloved recently. Thought he might raise our spirits.’
Betty looked at him with wide eyes, her lip trembling a little bit. ‘Oh Juggie.’ She looked down at the dog in her arms. ‘I’d hug you but I don’t want to drop him. He’s perfect Juggie. We’re going to take such good care of him. What a wonderful Christmas gift.’
The tips of Jughead’s ears went pink. ‘Least I could do.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ll go get his stuff from the hall. We’ll probably need some more bits but it should tide us over while we order the rest.’
When he came to re-enter the lounge, he paused a second before entering the room again. He could hear Betty whispering to Hotdog.
‘Welcome home Hotdog, we already love you. You’re a very lucky doggo. Your daddy’s one of the kindest men in New York. He’ll steal your heart.’
Jughead’s ears went even pinker.
---
On Christmas Day, Jughead was woken up by Hotdog jumping on his bed to lick his face.
‘Okay boy, I’ll take you out for your constitutional. Give me a second.’
Hotdog padded in and out of Jughead’s room as he waited for him to get dressed. He could hear Betty’s laughter trilling in the kitchen. This was one of Hotdog’s quirks. Even though Betty was always the earlier riser, Hotdog always wanted Jughead to take him out for his morning walk.
Jughead pulled on some jeans, the only Christmas jumper he owned, and put his trusty crown beanie (now reserved for special occasions only) on his head.
‘Merry Christmas Betts!’ he called as he clipped Hotdog’s lead on.
‘Happy Christmas Juggie. I’ll get breakfast on while you walk.’
‘Hear that boy?’ Jughead spoke to the dog. ‘A quick once around the block and then we get started on Christmas feasting.’
It wasn’t a quick once around the block by any means, and Jughead quickly regretted not putting on a thicker jacket. Or gloves, or something. Hotdog couldn’t decide which tree he wanted to wee on, so they wandered around aimlessly, with the puppy sniffing each tree, patch of grass, or random bit of sidewalk that took his fancy, until Jughead finally lost his patience and stared hard at him. Hotdog looked a little put out but finally settled on the next tree they passed and they were finally able to go back. Just as well, because Jughead was pretty sure his hands were about to fall off.
When he got back to the apartment, the air was full of the scent of cinnamon. Hotdog bounded off to find Betty. That was loyalty for you, Jughead thought, but even he couldn’t be cross. His normal Christmas grumpiness seemed to have shaken off.
Betty had obviously been busy. Their tiny dining table, which was normally shoved to the corner of the lounge in favour of eating off their laps in front of the TV, was now in the center of the room, covered in decorations. Things he didn’t even know that she owned. Christmas everywhere. There were even some presents under that oversized Christmas tree she’d made him lug through the city. Most excitingly, a pile of cinnamon rolls, fresh out of the oven, were waiting for him. Meanwhile, Betty was holding a tiny sprig of mistletoe above her head and giggling as Hotdog licked her face enthusiastically.
Evidently, Hotdog was firmly team Betty when it came to Christmas celebrations. Traitor.
‘Can I do anything?’ He asked before taking a seat at their table.
‘Nope.’ Betty shook her head. ‘Except drink this and warm up. You were gone a long time!’
‘Well monsieur here took the significance of his first Christmas pee very seriously. It was a big decision, but he bore it manfully. If not quickly.’
Betty looked at Hotdog. ‘Were you winding your daddy up? Good doggy.’
‘Hey! I heard that.’
‘You were meant to.’ She grinned at him. ‘Anything you want to do today, besides eat?’
‘I’m easy. This already beats my normal Christmas. We could watch a Christmas movie?’
‘That’s a given. And no, Die Hard doesn’t count.’ Betty replied, taking up the seat opposite him and helping herself to a cinnamon roll. She was still in her pyjamas, he noticed. A new pair, covered in Christmas elves and presents. Jughead stopped himself from saying anything, but Betty noticed him looking.
‘I started buying these to annoy my mom years ago. It worked, so I built up a large collection.’
‘How could these annoy your mom?’ Jughead asked.
‘They annoy you.’ Betty replied simply.
‘I hate Christmas.’ Jughead started through a mouthful of food before correcting himself. ‘Hated Christmas. Past tense. Having my mind changed rapidly here.’ Betty’s face lit up.
‘Mom likes Christmas done properly. Nothing tacky, or gimmicky. Christmas pyjamas should be serviceable all winter. Preferably one colour, with just some embroidery on the pocket. Dull and tasteful. Like all the cardigans she made me wear through high school.’
‘So that’s why you’ve never let me see your high school graduation photos.’
Betty gave him a stare. ‘I’m sure yours would be no better. Didn’t you wear that hat every day? Even in the summer.’
‘It was my statement piece. It had magical powers.’
‘Oh yes, and what were they?’
‘Mostly repelling all the girls I had crushes on.’ Jughead admitted laughing. ‘Let’s not dwell on past mistakes.’ He raised is cup of coffee in a toast. ‘To starting afresh, and what promises to be my best Christmas yet.’
‘Mine too.’ Betty agreed, meeting his eye as they chinked mugs.
---
Betty disappeared after breakfast to get ready for the day. She’d always dressed up for Christmas and some habits were harder to quash than others. Jughead took the opportunity to do the small amount of washing up that she hadn’t already done, and give the kitchen a wipe over. He knew it wasn’t enough but it was something.
After that he sat on the couch. Hotdog looked at him reproachfully.
‘What is it boy?’
The puppy tilted his head at Jughead, staring at his jumper.
‘You don’t like this?’
Hotdog woofed in agreement. Jughead couldn’t exactly blame him. He’d bought the cheapest jumper he could find last year, when his boss had impressed upon him that Christmas Sweater day was compulsory. It was hideous, and to add insult to injury, the design was even slightly wonky.
‘You think I should get changed?’ said Jughead, rapidly questioning how he had become the person that spoke to his dog and expected an answer. Hotdog got up and walked to Jughead’s room, pointedly. Jughead followed him.
‘Ok, but you’ll have to turn around when I get changed.’ Jughead sighed.
Hotdog hopped onto his bed and curled up, watching Jughead as he walked over to his wardrobe. Jughead picked out a new shirt that he’d bought but never worn. He showed it to Hotdog who wagged his tail.
Before he could think about what it meant, he changed his jeans for chinos, combed out his hair and sprayed himself with the aftershave Betty had once said she liked.
He felt self-conscious walking back out into the communal area of the apartment. He couldn’t sit still, so he went to the kitchen to turn on the oven for Betty, as per the huge printed list of timings she’d pinned to the fridge. He’d just poured two glasses of champagne when Betty appeared, wearing a silver, crushed velvet wraparound dress that made his heart skip a beat. Her hair was down and she’d added a touch of colour to her cheeks.
Jughead could hear that old can of worms starting to split open.
He passed her a glass.
‘Wow, Betty. You look beautiful.’ He leant forward and kissed her cheek and Betty blushed.
‘You don’t scrub up too bad yourself.’ She smiled and reached out for his hand, holding it in hers very softly. ‘Thank you for agreeing to today. It means a lot. I know it’s not exactly your thing.’
Jughead’s ears went warm. ‘An extra Christmassy Christmas? Totally my scene. Or it will be from this moment on.’
She didn’t let hold of his hand, so he didn’t let go either. They stood there in silence, half smiling at each other, both waiting for the other to move, until Betty suddenly said.
‘Lunch! I need to start putting things in the oven.’
‘I’ll help.’
With the two of them at it, it didn’t take long to have everything done, and they soon retreated to the lounge.
‘Presents?’ suggested Jughead. ‘You already had your main one,’ he looked pointedly at Hotdog who was dozing in his bed. ‘But there are a couple of others under there for you.’’
‘Sure.’ Betty grinned.
When Betty opened an expensive looking necklace and bracelet set from Veronica, her eyes widened. ‘I only got her a diary! I had it monogrammed with her initials but still…’
‘She’s a lawyer, you’re still in grad school. I don’t think she’ll be counting the cost.’
‘I guess.’ Betty agreed. ‘Help me with the clasp?’ She turned around, pulling her hair out of the way.
Jughead did as she asked, letting his hands settle on her neck for just a second too long after securing it.
‘Looks perfect.’
‘V does have impeccable taste.’
Betty went on to unwrap a set of cookbooks from Archie, a new coat from Cheryl and a set of notebooks from her brother, Charles. Jughead unwrapped a scarf and gloves from JellyBean, a gift voucher from his mom, and some bourbon from his dad.
When it came time for him and Betty to exchange gifts, she seemed to go a bit shy. She seemed thrilled with his choice of books for her, even if they were a very predictable choice. He opened the neatly typed package to find a very elegant fountain pen. A little notecard in Betty’s handwriting read:
You edit for a living, but don’t forget your passion for writing. I always love to read your words. B x
‘This is incredible Betts. Thank you so much!’
She nodded and swallowed hard. ‘Actually. That’s not all. You got me two presents, so it’s only fair.’
She got up and crossed the room, picking up the small sprig of mistletoe she’d had earlier. Jughead sat frozen as she walked back towards him, standing just in front of their tree.
‘I, uh, I hope I’m not shooting wide here.’ Betty stuttered, in a very quiet voice. ‘I realised something recently. All of my happy memories have you in them. You’ve always known how to make my bad days better. You know me in a way that’s more than a friend. I can’t always read you that well, but sometimes I’ve wondered if you feel it too.’ Slowly she lifted the mistletoe above her head and shut her eyes. ‘So, because it’s Christmas and at Christmas you tell the truth. Juggie, I want nothing more than to start next year with you. And then spend every year after that with you. So if you –‘
Jughead didn’t let her finish. He got up, closing the distance between them in a second. He put one arm around her waist, and held her face with his other hand. Before he could think twice, he kissed her as hard as he could. Her arms came around him, and she threaded her fingers through his hair.
‘It’s always been you Betty.’ Jughead said in between kisses. ‘I didn’t think you’d want me.’
Betty laughed and kissed him again. ‘I literally told you how I felt weeks ago.’
Jughead pulled back and looked at her with confusion.
‘That wake-up call. Don’t you remember?’ she giggled.
Jughead groaned. ‘All I want for Christmas is you? I was meant to figure it out from that?’
‘Call yourself an editor? What’s the number one rule in books? It’s only included as a detail if it’s essential to the plot.’ Betty giggled again, so Jughead quietened her by kissing her again.
‘If you’re lucky, there might be another present for you to unwrap… later.’ Betty said in a tone which made Jughead feel lightheaded.
Before he could compose himself, Hotdog interrupted them by barking at the tree.
‘We have got to work on his timing.’ Jughead groaned, but tickled Hotdog’s ear affectionately as he did so.
‘I’m not sure they teach that in puppy class.’ Betty tucked herself into Jughead’s side. ‘Thank you. Again.’
Jughead kissed the top of her head. ‘My pleasure. Thank you for making it easy for me. We could have been circling each other for years more if you hadn’t provided some sort of idiot's guide.’
‘Sometimes you’ve just got to go for what you want.’ Betty hummed happily. ‘Who’d have thought my very own Christmas Grinch would be the one to save Christmas?’
‘Well, don’t tell anyone because I have a reputation to keep up, but Christmas might just be my favourite holiday now.’
Betty beamed. ‘And you haven’t even seen the extra special Christmas pyjamas I’d been saving for this moment.’
Jughead couldn’t wait.