Archive of Our Own

Jughead is drunk, and maybe even a little bit high, and he teeters between a laughing Veronica and an awkward Archie as Betty leads them, sure-footed and determined, to Pops. It's still open this time of night, surprisingly, but then again, they did leave the party earlier than most of the other attendees, much to Archie's confusion when Veronica dragged him away with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Maybe this was the plan the whole time. Who is Archie to know?

Betty peers over her shoulder, her blonde hair in its high ponytail swinging distractingly against her back. "How're you feeling, Jug?" Jughead can only reply with a delusional-sounding laugh, a high-pitched giggle as he stumbles along and leans heavily into Archie's side. It's all Archie can do to keep him upright. Betty beams at this and exchanges a knowing glance with Veronica, who has a perfectly manicured nail wrapped around Jughead's elbow. "Good boy."

Archie thinks that he's becoming privy to something that was previously a secret, or maybe not a secret, but something special and hidden behind closed doors. At the party, Betty kept handing Jughead new drinks almost as soon as he'd finished his own. First, she gave him red plastic cups filled with beer until he was tipsy, and then when he got sick of those she gave him shots of tequila and fireball in colourful translucent little shot glasses until he was drunk and slurring his words, and then she started giving him neon-coloured cocktails with fancy decorations and cutesy names until he was absolutely hammered, barely able to stay on his feet, having a hard time even remembering his own name. Throughout the night, Veronica had secretly handed him perfectly shaped brownies out of a little baggie she'd pulled out of her purse, and they had made Jughead doe-eyed and loose-limbed even before Betty handed him his first drink. When they'd gotten sick of the party, Betty had taken Jughead by the arm and carefully steered him through the crowd and out into the fresh air, and he clung to her as he struggled to stay on his feet, swaying dangerously. Veronica had fetched Archie, and at his confusion, she had shouted over the pounding music. "Tonight, you're going to see what we put Jughead through when he's fucked up enough!" And Archie had been too confused to ask any questions.

Now, they make a bee-line for Pop's, and Jughead is heavy against him. He keeps tripping over himself, his feet barely lifting off the ground, and Archie keeps having to catch him. He's a little bit drunk himself, but he doesn't think he's imagining the way that Jughead seems to rub himself against Archie whenever he gets close enough, the way he seems to cling to him at any opportunity. 

"You're probably wondering what's going on, right?" Veronica asks. She's looking at Jughead the same way somebody would look at a dog who's snoring in its sleep. Overly fond. 

"You can say that again," Archie answers. "You said you do this... often? What exactly is this?"

"Well," Veronica teases. She reaches into her pocket for the last bit of brownie and pops it into Jughead's slack mouth. He takes it without thinking, sucking on her fingers when she lets them linger, and swallows down the last of the weed. "Jughead has a lot going on in his life, you know. A lot of pain, a lot of angst. He thinks too much. Sometimes, he likes somebody else to do all the thinking for him, which is where Betty and I come in. We get him so drunk he can hardly remember his own name, and get him high just so he's fuzzy around the edges and really can't hold any thoughts in his empty little head, and then we... well, we take care of him the way he needs to be cared for. We do all the caretaking and he doesn't even have to think about it."

"So, uh," Archie swallows. "You do this often then? And never told me."

"Not often. Often enough. Whenever Jughead needs it," Veronica says. "And we didn't tell you because we thought you'd think it was weird. Jughead was nervous, and frankly, we were all a little bit worried that it would ruin the good thing we have going on. You're Jughead's oldest friend, practically his brother. He didn't want you to think any differently of him. But tonight, he said that he wanted to let you in on our little secret, so we gave him a little bit extra juice to keep him calm, and here we are!"

"Right," Archie says. "And why are we going to Pop's?"

"Oh Archie," Veronica says, almost sympathetically. Her expression is almost wicked, and it does things to Archie that he rather not think about while Jughead is stumbling between them. "You know what Jughead's like."

Jughead peers up at Archie as they pass under the yellowed streetlights. His eyes are half-lidded, his pupils blown so wide it's all Archie can see. His cheeks are flushed, and his breath smells of alcohol. "You're real pretty," Jughead slurs, so badly that Archie can hardly understand him. "''m real drunk."

"Yeah, Juggie, you're really drunk," Veronica purrs. "But we're going to take care of you."

"Pops?" Jughead asks hopefully, and when Veronica makes a sound of assent, he turns his gaze to Archie and licks his lips. "Good. 'm starving."

Betty holds the door open for them when they finally reach Pop's, and as Veronica and Archie drag Jughead to their booth, she marches to the front counter to order. Veronica pulls Jughead into the bench beside her, leaving Archie to slip into the bench opposite her. She looks excited, jittery with nerves, and keeps glancing over her shoulder at Betty. Archie is a little surprised at how long it's taking her to order- she knows they're usual orders, it doesn't usually take this long.

"Hey, Juggie," Veronica's hands hover close to his face, and instinctually his mouth falls open, his tongue peaking through his lips, and Veronica sticks her fingers into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue. His eyes immediately fall shut and he moans around her digits, sucking languidly. She seems more than content to leave her fingers where they are and actually smiles at the sight of him. Archie wishes that he knew what was going on, but he's surprisingly unphased by it all. "That's it, good boy. Betty will be back soon, don't you worry. We'll get you sated."

Archie doubts that Jughead is listening to a word she's saying, but he moans anyway, the sound of her voice enough to comfort him. He slumps deeper into the bench, struggling to stay upright. Archie saw how much alcohol he drank, how much weed he'd been fed- it's frankly a miracle he's still upright. "Uh, why is he doing that, with your fingers? He looks... really happy." Happy doesn't even begin to cover it, but it's the only word that Archie can think of.

Veronica smiles at him. "You know that Jughead craves having something in his mouth at all times. It's why he's always chewing on straws, putting pens in his mouth, sucking on lollipops. It gets worse when he's like this. He needs it more."

It makes sense. Jughead has been putting things in his mouth for as long as they've known each other. He didn't know that it had this kind of effect on Jughead, though. Or maybe this was just a new thing. 

Betty returns, and slides into the seat beside Archie, opposite Jughead. "They're bringing the food soon, so you don't have to wait long, Jug."

"Okay," Jughead mumbles around Veronica's fingers. "I'm hungry, Bets."

"I know, Jug."

"I'm so empty."

"I know, Jug, but you won't be soon."

Archie almost asks what she's talking about, but Veronica moves her other hand so that it's gripping the back of Jughead's neck, and she combs her fingers through the little hairs there, and he sinks into her touch. Drool drips from his lips and glistens his chin, and Veronica tuts affectionately as she wipes it away with one of the napkins from the dispenser at the table. 

Thankfully, it's late enough that nobody else is at the diner, and the employees aren't paying them any attention, on their phones or completing homework until their shift ends and they get to go home. It's a good thing, too, because Jughead looks like a mess, debauched and aroused and so obviously drunk that it's almost funny, his moans muffled by Veronica's fingers. Archie finds himself loving this. He loves seeing Jughead like this, loves seeing him carefree and thoughtless and cared for. He's been through so much in his life, so much pain and suffering, that Veronica is right- Jughead does deserve some time to stop thinking and let other people tell him what he wants. And if that means getting him so drunk he's incoherent, then so be it. And Archie is honoured that he's been let into this little secret. He wants to take care of Jughead. He wants to everything about him, even this secret part of him that he's never seen before.

Betty must notice something about him, as she always does, and leans over towards him while Veronica is too enamoured with Jughead sucking on her fingers to notice. "You too, huh?" She says quietly. It doesn't feel like she's teasing him, but there's a mutual understanding there, a similar need, a similar lust, a similar longing. All Archie can do is nod. He can't take his eyes off Jughead. "Yeah, me too. It's really nice, seeing him lose control like this. He used to get drunk and high without us, but then he used to get needy and desperate and he couldn't achieve his goal. Now, we get him brainless and then we take care of him. He'd never have to think again if he didn't want to. But if you think that this is good, then you ain't seen nothing yet."

Archie wants to ask what she means, but then the food arrives. Veronica takes her fingers out of Jughead's mouth as plate after plate after plate is rested on the table by multiple disgruntled waiters, so much fresh-cooked food that Archie feels a little bit lightheaded looking at it all. A tray piled high with burgers with multiple layers of cheese, patty, and bacon. A tray of onion rings, a tray of fries, a tray of wedges with sour cream. Three milkshakes all topped with whipped cream and cherries. All of it is fried, or cooked in so much oil it might as well be fried.

The second Jughead sees it, he moans wantonly. His mouth is slack and open, and drool falls from his slackened jaw onto the tabletop. But Betty waves her finger at him. "Not yet, Juggie. What do you say?"

"Please, please. Betty, Ronnie," Jughead is panting, his words almost intelligible. When he turns his gaze to Archie, his expression is desperate. "Archie. Please. I'm so hungry, I'm so empty, please-"

He continues to babble, begging desperately, and Betty leans into Archie. "I don't know, Arch. What do you think, should we give him permission?"

He doesn't even bother to ask what for. Pieces are starting to click into place in his head, forming a full puzzle in his mind, and he glances between Jughead and the food and says, without hesitating, "Go ahead, Jug."

Immediately, Jughead dives into the food and begins to devour it like a man possessed, like a drowning man desperate for air. He inhales it, a burger in each hand, alternating between taking massive bites of each. He moans and groans around each calorie-packed mouthful, and when he finishes the burgers and his hands are momentarily empty, he reaches for the fries and the onion rings and the wedges, and shovels them into his mouth with both hands. When he's done with the fries and the burgers, he moves on to the milkshakes, chocolate, strawberry and birthday cake flavoured, and sucks the first one down in record time. His eye flutter shut in bliss as he mouths and suckles at the staw, and Archie is keenly aware of what Veronica mentioned before, and wonders if Jughead always looks like this when he gets milkshakes, if it this is maybe why he orders them so often. He finishes a good half of the strawberry milkshake before he returns to double-fisting the burgers. There's sauce and crumbs smeared across his mouth and chin, staining his shirt. Nobody tries to stop him long enough to clean him up.

It isn't until Jughead starts on the second milkshake- chocolate- that Betty starts talking. Her words are like liquid honey, and Jughead's eyes roll further into the back of his head. "You're doing such a good job, Jughead. You're being so good for us."

"Look at you," Veronica says from beside him. Jughead seems to be struggling to hold onto the milkshake, the heavy glass coated in condensation at war with his slack, uncoordinated fingers, so she reaches out and helps him, and he eagerly returns the straw back to his mouth and sucks down the milkshake until he comes up with nothing but air at the bottom. "What a good boy. You're going to be our big boy after this, aren't you, Jug? We're so proud of you. Aren't we, Archie?"

He's a little bit surprised to be addressed. He's been so enamoured by watching Jughead consume more food than he thought humanly possible in such a short amount of time, and he feels like his mind has short-circuited. "Uh, yeah. Good job, Jug. You're really packing it away."

Jughead makes a desperate, garbled noise and pushes the milkshake away. he immediately reaches for more onion rings. Betty laughs and nudges Archie from where he sits beside her with a perfect view of Jughead's mindless debauchery. "Oh yeah, he really liked that. Go on, Archie. Why don't you tell Jughead how good he's being for us?"

"Uh," Jughead is watching him with a dazed expression. He's still eating though, bringing hand to mouth without so much as looking at what he's reaching for. "I don't really know what to say?"

"Here, let me show you," Veronica says. She leans in close to Jughead and pushes a fry between his lips. His mouth opens obediently. "You're looking huge, Jughead. Look at all this food, and it's all for you. I don't think that I've ever seen you this full. And afterwards, we're going to get you home, and we're going to give you exactly what you need."
Jughead pants like a dog and makes a low, keening sound deep in his throat. He finishes off the onion rings. Veronica meets Archie's eyes, and there must be something in his gaze that she likes, or maybe it says more than his mouth is willing to, because she laughs and stands suddenly, pulling Archie out of the booth. "Come on, swap with me. You're the newbie. You deserve to see Juggie and his bottomless stomach in action."

She half-forces him into the seat beside Jughead, but he goes willingly because his legs suddenly feel like jelly. And holy fuck, she wasn't wrong. Jughead is fucking huge, just absolutely massive. His previously flat stomach is straining against his shirt, his gut peaking through the buttons to reveal pale, smooth skin beneath, tinted red. He can't help but gape at the size of it. He's just absolutely stunned. "Holy crap," Archie breathes. "Look at you!"

It seems like it takes a lot of effort, but Jughead turns his head to look at Archie. His eyes are dazed with drugs, his body slow with alcohol, his thoughts fuzzy with both of them combined, and Archie thinks he looks absolutely gorgeous, stuffed to the gills with greasy, fried food. "You like it?" He speaks for the first time since the food was delivered and burps into his first.

"Look at the size of you," Archie gapes. He can't help it. Jughead's gut- it can only really be described as a gut right now- is almost perfectly round and pushing at the buttons of his dress shirt. He resembles something of a beached whale, reclining in the seat but with his belly still pressing against the table. "We're gonna have to roll you out of here, Jug. You look like you're pregnant."

"Yeah," Jughead glances down as if noticing his state for the first time. Maybe he is. Archie recalls how much weed Veronica fed him, and how much alcohol Betty plied him with. He rests a hand on the side of, him and moans at the pressure. "I'm pretty big, huh? Do you like it?"

Archie bites his bottom lip. Why is he worrying? Jughead probably won't remember any of this tomorrow anyway. "Yeah, Jug. I really do. You're... fuck. You're enormous. I can't believe that all that food is inside you right now."

"Nope!" Betty says cheerfully, and both Jughead and Archie jump at the sound. She waggles her finger at Archie, whose hand has risen and drifted towards Jughead's belly without his permission. He can feel the heat radiating off of it even from inches away. "No touching."

"Okay," Archie agrees and immediately drops his hand back to his lap. He doesn't know the rules, but he doesn't want to break them now that they've finally let him into this joyous secret. Jughead pouts like a child being deprived of a treat. "Uh, but why?"

Veronica's foot kicks him gently under the table. It's mostly to get his attention, but when he looks at her, her eyes are knowing and proud. "Because he wants us to touch him, and we want to touch him too, but we don't want him to think tonight, and that includes thinking about his wants and needs. We try not to touch his belly after a session, and wait until we get him home. The anticipation is half the battle and the pain drives him crazy. We don't give him relief until he deserves it. So, we wait. Speaking of, can we use your house? Jug's overdone it a little bit, I don't think he'll make it to ours, and he'll probably pass out before he even makes it halfway to his trailer."

"Yeah, my dad's working the night shift tonight," Archie says before he turns his attention back to Jughead. The discussion seems to be too much for his drug-and-alcohol-adddled brain to comprehend, and he's returned to mindlessly eating, chewing on the wedges. Archie doesn't touch his belly, but he does poke at Jughead's cheeks, over-filled with food like a chipmunk with acorns. "You hear that, Jug? She says you've overdone it a little bit. Do you think she's right? Because I think you've overdone it a lot. You've stuffed yourself to the gills. You've gorged yourself. Does it hurt, Jug?"

"Yeah," Jughead gasps. "Hurt's so much."

"But you're still hungry, aren't you?" Archie reaches up and tugs at Jughead's hair and he leans his head all the way back, letting Archie see the line of his throat as he swallows. "You still want more. You're greedy, Jug. You can never be satisfied."

All Jughead can do is let out a garbled moan, maybe too loud for the relative silence of the mostly empty diner, but if none of the employees seems bothered by the rest of the sounds he's been making since they sat down, they probably can't hear him. He turns his attention to Betty, and suddenly he looks desperate, at the end of his tether, and grabs his belly with both hands. "Betty, baby, please," he begs. "I can't take it anymore. It's too much. I need, I need-"

"Shhh, it's OK," Betty soothes Jughead. "We can go home. You've just gotta do one more thing for me."

"Anything," Jughead gasps, desperate.

Betty gets a cruel, mischievous glint in her eye, and Archie immediately feels pity for Jughead as she starts moving empty trays out of the way. She piles empty trays on one end of the table, and trays that still carry food on the other end, and makes a clear portion of the table in front of Jughead. He watches her, confused, before she reaches for the full, remaining birthday cake milkshake and places it in front of him. "You've gotta drink this whole thing first."

"Betty-" Jughead whines.

"Come on, Juggie," Veronica encourages. "You can do it. You asked us to take care of you. Now don't you trust us?"

Jughead eyes the milkshake with a weary, disbelieving expression, but it isn't when Archie takes the initiative and reaches out for the milkshake and brings it to Jughead's mouth. He directs the straw past his lips, and while Jughead is reclining there, clutching at the sides of his belly, pinned to the bench by the size of his gut, Archie holds the glass and watches, mesmerised, as Jughead steadily begins to suck down the sickeningly sweet birthday cake milkshake. It's a painfully slow task, but Archie can't blame him. It takes so long, in fact, that Betty slides silently out of the booth and marches to the front counter, her heels clicking loudly on the tiled floor, and asks the under-pained and overworked wait staff to box up the remainder of the food. They seem marginally surprised to see how little remains, but they box it away regardless and leave it on the table stacked in little styrofoam boxes with Pop's logo on them and don't even spare Jughead a glance. Jughead is so mindless right now that he doesn't even notice any of that happening. 

Eventually, Jughead finishes the milkshake and he leans back as far as he is able with a groan. There's mess smeared across his chin, and he looks about ready to blow. Nobody else is allowed to touch him, but that doesn't stop Jughead from rubbing at his stomach like his life depended on it, soothing circles that calm cramps and finding pockets of air that he can press on to release some tension. Archie suspects that it's not just for function but that Jughead probably enjoys the sensation.

"See, Archie?" Veronica says as Betty heaves Jughead out of the booth. It's not an easy task. Jughead doesn't help her at all, and he's pretty wedged into the booth. Every movement seems to cause him pain, and Betty has to undo his belt to give him more room. He moans in relief as his belly surges forward just that extra little bit. He'd probably feel better with his shirt unbuttoned too, but Betty doesn't seem to be about to allow it. "This is exactly where we want him. See, the alcohol and the weed gets him soft and pliable, it helps him give up control and let us take over. It also puts him in a good mood and makes him hungry. Well, hungrier than usual. Now that he's stuffed to capacity, he can think of nothing but the sensation, and we can have our way with him. He's pretty much mindless right now. We can do whatever we want. Of course, we want to make him feel good, but you know what I mean."

Archie has to help half-carry half-drag Jughead out of the diner. He's too busy cradling the bottom of his gut like a pregnant woman as he waddles out into the cool night air. He's gravid, enormous, absolutely massive. Archie has to do most of the work, both he and Veronica with their arms hooked through Jughead's as he tries to protect his gut from the downward drag of gravity, cradling the lowest, puffiest part and moaning like a backroom whore as he rubs slow circles over the surface. Betty follows close behind them, holding onto the leftovers. Archie wonders what they plan on doing with them. He hopes that Jughead eats the rest of them and that Archie gets to watch.

Veronica whispers dirty words into Jughead's ear as he stumbles, and Archie can only imagine what she's telling him. That he's a good boy, that he's gotten so big for them, that he has no self-control, that he just can't help himself, that he's so swollen and huge and engorged, that he's going to get fat if he keeps eating like that, that if they keep him drunk enough and fat enough they'll be able to use him as their own little piggie and feed him all day every day for the rest of his life. Or maybe that's what Archie is imagining saying to Jughead when they finally get him situated on Archie's couch, or even better, in his bed. Even though he's not allowed to touch him, he finds his knuckles gracing the side of his gut as they walk, his movements hidden in the dark, and he gets a fleeting feeling of how taut Jughead is, how hot his skin is beneath his shirt, how absolutely stuffed he's become. Jughead moans at the fleeting contact, but thankfully, it's indiscernible from the rest of his blissed-out moaning so Archie doesn't get in trouble for the indiscretion.

The walk to Archie's house takes hours and is also a blur. He can't focus on anything other than putting one foot in front of the other and clinging onto Jughead to keep him from falling. He puts the key in the lock and the door swings open Jughead nearly falls flat on his face tripping over the welcome mat, and Archie can't stop laughing as the three of them carry him up the stairs and throw Jughead flat on his bed. Immediately, Betty crouches down between his spread legs and rips the shirt off of him, sending buttons rolling across the room, and Jughead moans loudly with relief. Archie turns on the bedside light. he wants to see every inch of Jughead.

And what a sight it is. His gut is almost globe-like, a solid rounded mass that pins Jughead to the bed and settles into his lap, pushing outward in such an obscene manner. Betty drums her fingers across it, and it makes a dull sound. The skin doesn't shift, too full of food and drink to do much else. Veronica sticks her fingers into Jughead's belly button and uses it as leverage to shake the impressive mass, and Archie has seen Jughead shirtless before, and does his belly button look less shallow than it usually does? There is no wobble, no shimmy, no jiggle. His gut moves in one motion, sending half-digested food and enough alcohol to kill a horse roiling inside Jughead. He hasn't stopped moaning since the ladies have gotten their hands on him, and Archie thinks that this is what an out-of-body experience must look like, this is what it means to transcend. 

"Come on, Archie, don't be shy," Betty takes Archie's hand and places it on Jughead's underbelly, and Archie falls to his knees in reverence. He's so hot here, so heavy, the skin red and swollen with all the effort it's putting in to handle a meal for a family of ten. No wonder Jughead was cradling it the way he did as they walked. Where the rest of his belly is deliciously taut with no give and no relief, this small section, this smooth sliver of skin is deceptively empty, and Archie realizes with a burst of unexpected energy that Jughead can fit more in him. He's not full yet, no really, not the way he needs to be. Jughead needs this. He's always needed this, it all makes sense now. This is the only way that Archie can make sure Jughead is being cared for is by doing it himself.

The ladies have been taking while Archie has been having his epiphany, and he tunes into them now as Jughead gets lost in the sensation of finally having all their hands on his aching gut. "Our good little piggy, look how big you are!" Veronica purrs. "You ate so much, didn't you? That's right. You just wanted to be full. But you're full now, aren't you?"

"Our hog, more like," Betty adds. "If you keep at it, we're going to be rolling you around like a beach ball. Look at you," Betty whacks the side of Jughead's stomach and it made a dull thunking sound. Jughead moans, tossing his head back and forth, making his hair halo out across the pillow. "If you keep eating like this you're going to get fat."

"I want it," Jughead garbles. "Please. I want it so much."

"You wanna get fat for us, Juggie?" Veronica scratches under Jughead's chin like a dog, and Archie can almost imagine the extra skin there, fat that blossoms out from under his chin and rounds out his face and makes him look healthy for the first time ever, proof of his gluttony that he can never really hide. "You want us to keep you stuffed all day and make sure you never go hungry again? You want people to see how much you like eating because you'll never be able to hide that fat belly of yours underneath your shirts. Everybody will know, Juggie. Everybody will know how much you need to be filled."

Jughead's hands have become rougher as they rub at his tummy, and he grabs and tugs and snatches as the mass. It protrudes outwards from his body like a pregnant woman, and Archie suddenly has the intense desire to find out just how much he can really hold. "What about you, Archie?" Betty pulls him from his thoughts with a gentle hand on his arm. "What do you think about Jughead and his cute little belly?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, Archie, you're here too. What do you think? Jughead wants to hear it."

The words leave Archie's mouth before he can stop them. "I think he can eat a little more."

The whole room goes still. Even Jughead's hands have stopped moving mindlessly across the great expanse of his gut, and they've all turned to look at him. "What?" Veronica asks, stunned.

Emboldened, Archie reaches out and pinches the soft patch of Jughead's underbelly, where the tautness hasn't quite reached, and Jughead throws his head back against the pillows and moans so loudly the neighbours might hear it. "Look at this. He's still got some room left, I don't think he's full yet. Give me the leftovers. I think he can fit some more in there."

Betty hands him the styrofoam with an eagre expression, and Archie wastes no time in popping open the container and shoving lukewarm fries into Jughead's mouth. Having him feed himself doesn't even cross his mind. He doesn't think that he'll be able to manage it anyway, and this way Archie can make sure he eats however much he wants, and Jughead can't say no. Jughead shifts onto his side to get closer to him, his mouth instinctually opening and Archie shoves food at him, and the movement makes the half-digested content of his stomach slosh about like a water balloon. He watches, mesmerised, as his whole midsection shifts like it's filled with water, but Archie knows for a fact that it's filled with three large milkshakes and enough digested food to satisfy a party. That doesn't stop him from feeding Jughead handfuls of food. Jughead sucks at his fingers when they enter his mouth, licking away any remains on his fingertips. 

"Have you ever been this big, Jug?" Archie asks idly. He thinks he already knows the answer.

Jughead shakes his head, mouth filled with food. "Did it for you," he says. "Wanted you to see what I can do."

"I certainly see it alright," Archie pauses in feeding Jughead to reach over and shake his gut roughly. Jughead's moan is muffled by his most recent mouthful, and the sloshing is more audible, and Archie presses his ear to it to listen to it settling. Even Veronica and Betty lean in closer to listen. It's melodic, a song that Archie can listen to forever. He thinks that if he can get Jughead to let go like this more often he'll be hearing it all the time. "You slosh, Jughead, like a water balloon. And you're still hungry? I almost can't believe it, except it's you. Of course, you're still hungry. You'll never be sated, will you? You won't be happy until you've filled up every little space. You wanna get bigger."

"Bigger," Jughead mumbles. "Fill me up, Archie, please, I'm still so empty-" 

Archie shuts him up by shoving more food into his mouth. Jughead takes it obediently and starts to chew. "You're about ready to pop, and you still want more? You're insatiable."

"He's always been this way," Veronica cards her fingers through Jughead's hair, scratching at his scalp. "I'm just glad that you're finally getting to see it for real."

"We've been wanting you to see the real Jughead for a while," Betty admits, pressing kisses to the apex of Jughead's swollen and growing belly. She leaves lipstick marks in her wake. "So, Archie, now that you know who he really is, what do you think?"

Humming, Archie scans Jughead from top to bottom, taking in his jeans with the belt missing and the buttons opened, trying to give his gut as much room as possible, and his shirt with the missing buttons lying open on either side of him, showing off the pale swell of him tinted red from exertion to the sight of his face, slack-jawed with alcohol and dull-eyed with drugs, grease and sauce and drool smeared all over his face as he chews languidly and obediently at the most recent mouthful Archie shoved through his greedy maw.

"I think," Archies teases, pressing down on Jughead's belly and revelling in the lack of give. They did that. He did that. "That we should do this again tomorrow."

Somehow, Jughead finishes all the food and promptly passes out. Whether it's from the food coma or the alcohol or the weed, or all three of them combined, nobody really knows. They tidy up, throwing rubbish in the bin and cleaning up the mess that Jughead has become, and they stip off his constricting clothes and settle him under the covers. They all fall asleep around him, within touching distance, and Archie knows that he will remember the way that Jughead falls asleep with his hands curled around his belly for the rest of his life.

(In the morning, Archie is the first to wake. Sunlight streams in through the blinds, his dad moves around in the kitchen downstairs, and birds chirp loudly outside his window. He lunges for his phone and fumbles for the alarm before it can interrupt this sleepy moment. He glances down at Veronica and Betty, curled up around the fourth person on the bed, and then he glances at Jughead and is overjoyed to see that despite his body having valiantly digested last night's binge and his gut having shrunk into something more natural and less obscene, there's still a little bit of puffiness there, his midsection is still a little more swollen than usual. Archie can't help but poke at it, and though Jughhead grunts in discomfort and curls more protectively around it, the brief contact means that Archie can tell that it's still full from the night before. But he knows now from experience that Jughead has plenty of room. He lays back down, satisfied, and wonders what they've got in the kitchen for when Jughead eventually sleeps off his food coma and will be ready for round two.)