If there had ever been a “normal” bone in Jughead Jones’ body, this might have been a moment of celebration. It was what some would have considered the peak of his masculinity. An illicit affair (albeit built on confusion) turned into the ever-so-cutting-edge menage a trois. They were so perfectly opposite that it seemed impossibly cliched; he was being offered the best of both worlds. One classically beautiful blonde and one sharp witted androgynous brunette. His dad would have been proud, he realized dryly, and that just made his chest so much tighter. It seemed that he’d taken after him far more than he’d have liked.
This was the epitome of everything that Jughead had ever wanted to avoid.
Yet in this moment he was still finding himself vaguely hopeful. If he pushed away all the uncomfortable thoughts, then it was perfectly logical. None of them wanted to be without the other. And Betty had...interests that Jughead didn’t. She had an appetite for certain things that he’d never quite developed. Ones that Audrey may have matched as easily. They were still testing the air like a pair of unfamiliar cats, and here he was dumbly holding his breath while wondering if their desires would fit together like a jigsaw puzzle.
“Whatever you want, Betty.” He finally agreed. It was better to leave it in the hands of the one who’d been hurt by their dalliances, the member of their newly formed trio who needed to take back the control she obviously longed for. Admittedly, it was selfish, too, because he was relieved to leave the matter in her carefully manicured hands.
Betty took a deep breath and moved to sit on the couch. She crossed her legs at the ankles daintily and rested her hands on her knees, focusing on anything but the feeling that she was still drowning in this situation. It would get easier. It had to. “Well, I don’t want to hide.” She assured Audrey, looking to her and forcing another cautious smile. The self deprecation revealed in that statement had tugged on her emotions in an unanticipated way. It was the same thing that had attracted Betty to Jughead; that feeling that beneath all of the tough exterior there was longing. “Maybe we should go on a date?” She offered in a weak attempt at humor. “Is there prison wine?”