valentine's day is for suckers.

- a bughead fanfic -

Summary: Childhood friends turned roommates Jughead Jones and Betty Cooper find themselves alone and drunk on Valentine's Day. Bughead Smut. College Roommate A/U.

Rated: M

Paiting: Betty/Jughead

Timeline: College A/U

chapter one:

love stinks (yeah, yeah)

Jughead made the decision to stop loving Betty about a week ago.

Should be simple enough, right?

It's not like she was ever his to love - never his to lose .

To be clear: in no way, shape, or form was she ever his in any way.

Jughead reminds himself that there's absolutely nothing special or differentiating about her.

She's just a girl. There'll be plenty more like her throughout his life. He convinces himself that he'll find some other cute blonde with whole galaxies in her eyes, wearing those little, white Keds around as though she doesn't know the effect she has on all the guys around her.

Maybe she'll even smell like lavender and sage and laugh at his dumb jokes, her head falling forward with laughter as she presses her hand against his chest.

She'll crinkle her nose when she pouts.

She'll worry about the amount of pizza and burgers he eats and try to get him to take more vitamins.

She'll make gut-wrenching documentaries Blackfish or Food Inc. her pick on movie night. He won't even make fun of her when she cries during it, only offer her his sleeve, because he is a gentleman like that. She'll take him up on his offer and pretend to blow her nose in it before laughing at his disgusted look on his face, only to show him that his sleeve is still clean.

"I got you," she'll boast through tears and laughter.

"You sure do," he'll think but never say to her.

She sure does.

Yeah.. girls like Betty are a dime a dozen. Replaceable.

Disposable.

...Right?

Well .

Turns out, it's easier said than done. Especially when Betty is not only his oldest childhood friend, but current roommate - which is problematic, to say the least.

He knew better than to agree to that, by the way. Being someone's roommate is about as far into the friend zone as humanly possible (he also hates the term friend zone with a fiery passion, but he has no other way to describe just how little interest Betty probably has in him without dippin' into the ol' cliche bank).

Because while being her roommate is fun and he's grateful for every second… he also has to endure seeing her traipse around in her little, pink boxer shorts that showcase that one heart-shaped freckle just below the crease of her ass (he was a human, of course he'd looked). He has to listen to her incessant singing show tunes in the shower, and her bi -weekly wine nights with Veronica (how could two people talk about so little for so long?).

All those things are agonizing but bearable.

But today is Valentine's Day. He'd never put too much stock in such a mass-produced, corporate-controlled faux-liday (he made that one up himself).

That is, until he woke up this morning to see that Betty had left a plate of homemade, pink-frosted sugar cookies on the counter with a ' friendly ' Valentine's Day card. It wasn't the most romantic Valentine… the card had a cartoon monkey on the front, "I'm BaNaNaS 'bout you, Valentine!" He wondered how people snagged jobs in this industry… but wondered more how they slept at night.

Her handwritten message inside meant a lot though. She thanked him for being her best friend and always being there for her when she needed him. He put it in a shoebox in his closet with the rest of the Valentines he'd received from her through the years.

Betty had given him a Valentine every year since they were 8. The class had a party, and his box was glaringly empty. So, she always went above and beyond to take pity on him. He pretended like he didn't care, but as he got older there were some years that was the only thing he received at all, and he ended up looking forward to whatever goofy, pun-riddled card she picked out for him.

The cookies were an added bonus.

But his mood sours when he realized he is going to have to watch her go out on a date with some random dude from her Women's Studies class tonight while he sits at home, melting into the couch with Chinese takeout. Not a bad way to go, but frustrating nonetheless.

Especially when Betty steps out of her bedroom with her hair coiffed to golden perfection and a short, tight , red dress that hugs every single curve of her body like a soldier going off to war. His eyes widen as he takes in the sight of her, carefully staring her up and down. Damn, she has never looked this blatantly… hot.

Jughead grits his teeth and closes his eyes, breathing slowly through his nose. He hates himself for the involuntary thoughts running through his head. Even more than that, he hates the very idea of objectifying her. She is so much more than hot.

"How do I look?" she asks before giving him a full spin, making him take in every inch of her. His words get caught up in his throat, so he clears it.

"Fine," he croaks, his eyes falling back down to his take out. He picks at his Beijing Beef with his chopsticks. He can see her arms drop and her shoulders slump in his peripheral.

"Gee. Thanks for the confidence boost, Jug," she retorts, flatly.

Still, she hurries over to him. Her heels clomp against the hardwood floors - she's not used to wearing heels. She bends down to steal a piece of beef from the box and he tilts it toward her to help her get a better look - he can smell her perfume. She plucks a piece and pops it in her mouth before standing up straight and smoothing out her dress.

'No, but really. Do I look alright?" she wonders.

Why is she so nervous? Does she actually like this guy?

"Um, well, I don't mean to alarm you but…" he says nervously, and the low tone makes her eyebrows pull together in worry. He puts down his food carton and stands, walking around her slowly as he studies her.

"What, what's wrong?" she asks him her voice dripping with apprehension as she looks herself up and down. A sly, amused smirk grows on his lips.

"Nothing, it's just someone stole at least two-thirds of your dress." Betty's cheeks pinken and she smiles, shyly. She folds her arms over her chest, looking as though she is suddenly feeling exposed under his stare.

" Quit looking at me like that," she snaps, although it tapers off into an uncomfortable giggle toward the end. "I already feel overdressed. And I will have you know this was Veronica's doing." Jughead cocks an eyebrow and leans against the back of the couch, ever-so-coolly.

"That somehow doesn't surprise me," he mutters, his eyes meeting hers darkly. It makes her squirm again.

" What? " Try as she might, she can't hide the slight irritation in her voice, the kind he knows creeps up on her when she is flustered. " Seriously , would you quit it? What are you still staring at!?" She whines, playfully shoving him in the shoulder. Jug just hobbles on his feet a bit, but maintains his balance.

"The make up," he says, simply. He shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back and forth on his feet. "It's uh… it's a little thick. You don't look like you."

"Oh," she breathes. She looks at her face in the mirror on the wall, "Yeah… Veronica went a little heavy on the eyeshadow."

Jughead moves back to the couch, returning to his uneaten meal.

"Who is this guy, again?" He tries to recall his name… he's certain she's told him at least a dozen times. Randy? Ryan? Ryder?

"Josh."

Not even remotely close.

Jughead's phone begins to buzz for what feels like the millionth time. He reaches into his pocket and pulls it out: Midge. He silences it.

"Who has been blowing you up?" Betty wonders, her words mostly vowels as she slathers more pink lipgloss across her already pink, pouty lips. She smacks her lips together and checks her teeth in the mirror.

"Midge. Again."

" Ooooo ," she sings at him teasingly, turning to face him with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "Is she your Valentine? "

"She wishes," he mumbles back. "And no." Betty purses her lips and sits beside him on the couch, her hand reaching out to rest on his thigh.

"Jug… we have been friends for a long time, right?"

"Is that even a question?" he snorts back at her. "I mean… I don't think I have any memories from my childhood that don't include you, somehow."

"Right. And despite the random, short-lived romance here or there, you've never gotten serious about anyone. Aren't you lonely?"

Oh, Betty.

Always in love with love, always worrying about others. He really wishes she wouldn't worry about him like this. Especially his love-life. He feels the blood rush to his cheeks, slightly embarrassed by the callout. She was right. He'd dated here or there, but nothing substantial. He supposes that no one really struck his fancy too often.

That, or he was constantly comparing them to a certain blonde.

"I mean… I'm alone . But I'm not lonely. "

"Well, maybe you should give her a shot! Clearly, she likes you…"

"Maybe," he says quietly. Because maybe Midge does like him. The only problem is he doesn't like her . But he wants to make Betty happy, so he gives her a tight reassuring smile. "We'll see."

"You never know until you try... ya know?" Yeah.. he knows.

He sees her eyes flit over to the clock, " shit ," she hisses. "I'm gonna be late. Um… save me some Chinese?"

" Ha! " he huffs, "fat chance." She sticks out her tongue at him and grabs her jacket.

"Fine, fine, fine," she waves him off on her way to the front door, but catches herself on the corner, "Oh! But hey . If I text you 911, will you call me and get me outta there?"

" Seriously? " he laughs, shaking his head.

"Kthanksloveyou," she calls out, blowing him a quick kiss. "Byeee!"

The fact that you need an escape plan is a red flag, Betty!" he shouts after her, but the door slams behind her before the end of her sentence. "Love you too," he mumbles to no one.

So much for falling out of love with Betty Cooper.

Part II coming tonight.