Betty awoke before Jughead, as she did every morning on their trip. Her eyes opened slowly, head still in Jughead’s lap. A smile still across her face. She moved slowly, as to not wake him. She crawled off of the bed and slipped her shoes on. She opened the door as quietly as possible and slipped out, guiding the door closed behind her. It is common knowledge that Jughead Jones was not, and probably will never be, a morning person. She walked outside to the clear, open sky of Peach Bottom. Almost back to reality. She walked slowly toward the little restaurant attached to the motel for coffee and breakfast. She pulled the door open and was greeted by a teenage girl.

“Good morning. What can I get for you today?” She asked, holding her pen, ready to write down her order. Betty listed the items she and Jughead would like for breakfast and sat at the counter, spinning to face forward. She heard the teen whispering to another young girl in the kitchen. “Ken said he was in room 16. That’s where she came from. I can’t believe Forsythe Jones, III is here in Peach Bottom!” she squealed quietly. Betty overheard their entire conversation; they spoke about how handsome he was and they wondered if they’d catch a glimpse before he left and what he was doing there. “Who’s the girl? Whoever she is, she’s lucky,” the girls whispered.

I guess I am lucky. She did not know who the girls were, but clearly they knew who Jughead was. Well, they knew who Forsythe P. Jones, III was. She chuckled to herself, anticipating the conversation to later ensue with Jughead. The young girls brought out the breakfast and coffee she ordered. Betty paid the girls, leaving a tip in the jar. They watched her as she walked away. Betty laughed to herself. I wonder if this is going to be a constant thing. Betty shook the thought from her head. She made it back to room 16, looking back to see if the girls were still watching her. They were. She turned the key and reentered the room, still shaking her head at the girl in the restaurant.

She placed the box on the desk and headed to the bathroom to get herself ready for the day. Betty took off her shirt, revealing a plain black bra. She washed her face, took down her hair from the sloppy half wet sleep bun from the previous night, and messed around with it before putting in in two french braids, which she was sure would be easier for the final leg of their trip. She walked back out, forgetting her clothes again. As she walked across the room, Jughead was stirring from his sleep. She leaned over into her backpack to take out the last clean shirt she had, paired with yesterday’s blue jeans. She looked over at Jughead as he sleepily groaned from having slept sitting straight up all night. His eyes fluttered open. The first thing he saw was Betty, half dressed, bent over her backpack.

“Good morning,” Jughead uttered in his early morning groan. It was deeper than usual. He smiled at her. Jughead had never seen that much of Betty yet, but he certainly did not hate the sight of her in the morning.

“Morning, Juggy,” she giggled, slipping her shirt over her head and smoothing down her hair. He kicked his feet over the side of the mattress and stretched backward. He grunted, moving the muscles that hadn’t moved in hours. He fell backward on the bed, his legs still bent over the edge. Betty laughed, louder than intended. She knelt on the side of the bed and kissed his cheek. He smiled again, something he still was getting used to. “I got breakfast.”

“You, Betty Cooper, are the best. I do not deserve you.” Jughead jested, but he really did believe that he didn’t deserve someone as wonderful as Betty Cooper. She patted his cheek. She slid over to the desk and brought the box of new styrofoam containers between them. He sipped from the paper coffee cup, relishing in its bitter taste. “Thank you,” he whispered half to Betty and half to the caffeine now entering his blood stream.

“You don’t have to thank me, Jug. Its morning. Morning means coffee and breakfast. I know it's early for your liking, but it's a beautiful day.” Betty started. He sat up and kissed her, leaving her nearly breathless. “But, if that’s how you say thank you just for breakfast,” Betty chuckled, her eyebrows raising in jest. Jughead continued to drink his coffee, smirking as he brought the cup to his lips. They finished their breakfast and continued to prepare for the day. Their jackets were still damp from the rain the day before, a few more hours to dry and they’d be ready to go. They packed the rest of their items into their respective bags and placed them by the door.

“Awake, breakfast, coffee, and packed all before 10:00am. What are you doing to me, Cooper?” Jughead laughed. “Let’s get out and stretch our legs before we head out on the road,” he suggested.

“Your fan club would love that,” Betty laughed. Jughead knitted his eyebrows together in confusion.

“Fan club? What’re you talkin’ about?” He turned to look at her, still confused.

“When I went to get breakfast this morning, there were two younger girls working. I overheard them talking about how they knew you were here, and asked who I was because they saw me leave this room. Apparently the receptionist recognized you and said something. Does this happen a lot?”

“Honestly, not really.” Jughead was still wrapping his mind around the fact that he got recognized in such a small town in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania.

“It was funny. I didn’t say anything to them, but the look on their faces was pure excitement. They kept going on about how handsome you are and how lucky that girl must be.” Betty continued to laugh at the teenage gushing. “I mean, they’re right. You are handsome, and I am lucky. Who am I to deny the truth?” Jughead squinted one eye, scrunched his nose and smiled at her.

“So, a quick walk around before we leave?” Jughead said, ignoring Betty’s comments about the girls. “Let’s grab another cup of coffee and see where the road takes us.” He kissed her on the forehead before heading out the door, propping it open for her to duck under his arm. He locked the door behind them and they walked, his arm draped across her shoulders, hand cupping her rotator cuff, fingering it gently, mindlessly.

They walked in to the restaurant again for more coffee as Jughead suggested. The two girls were still working and froze in their tracks as they approached the counter. He pulled Betty closer to him. One of the girls excused herself, fearing she’d burst into tears from excitement. The other approached the counter. Jughead leaned down and read her name tag. Molly .

“Hey, Molly. May we have two coffees to go, please? Thanks.” The girl’s eyes widened at the use of her name. She scampered to the coffee machine and produced two cups of coffee for the pair. Jughead handed her a five dollar bill and winked, his arm still around Betty, gripping her tighter than he had been previously. Molly handed him back the change and he stuffed it in his pocket carelessly. Betty took her coffee and fixed it to her liking while Jughead merely placed a lid on his. Betty’s face had changed from her usual bubbly self to one of mild concern. She placed the lid back on her coffee and rejoined Jughead at the counter. He had been watching her the whole time, while Molly stared at him in a daze.

“You know she’s Jellybean’s age, right?” Betty half-joked, still slightly feeling out of place with this charming version of Jughead to her left. Jughead had no interest in this teen girl, but this quite obviously made her day, if not her year. Jughead took her by the hand, lacing his fingers in hers, leading her out of the restaurant. “Who was that in there? I’ve never met him before.”

“Forsythe tends to be more confident than Jughead. It made her day, and it didn’t mean anything,” he insisted. He had gotten into this habit after years on the road. He assumed it would be easier to create this persona than let anyone get to know who he really was, underneath his success. He cradled her face in his free hand, placing a gentle kiss to her lips. Betty glanced back into the window of the restaurant where the girls were still watching them. She smirked and her eyebrow flicked up as if it were taunting them with laughter.

“Well, lucky me. I get two for one boyfriends. I hope neither gets jealous of the other.” She smirked at him. He laughed. No one knew the tragic backstory of Forsythe P. Jones, III like Betty Cooper did. She lived it with him; the parts of him that he’d never share with publishers, fans, or complete strangers, Betty knew about and cared for him regardless.

Forsythe had this air about him that exuded confidence in a way that Jughead did not in his natural state. He was smooth and not nearly as awkward and afraid as the real Jughead Jones. “What am I supposed to call you in public?” Betty was suddenly very aware of their relationship and Jughead’s success as an author. I hope this doesn’t happen a lot. I’m not sure I can handle it. I just got him, I don’t wanna lose him to someone else. Betty sipped from her coffee, waiting for a response.

“That’s a pretty good question. I’ve never thought about it.” Jughead admitted. He had never had to worry about what to be called; no one knew Jughead Jones while he was on the road. He never really had a girl with him longer than a night or two. It was something he honestly did not think of when he and Betty left Riverdale.

“Alright, Forsythe.” She nodded, a crooked smile across her mouth. “Please don’t make me do that, I don’t like it.” She made a face as if she’d sucked a lemon. Jughead laughed at her. “FP3,” she joked. Jughead rolled his eyes. “We’ll figure it out, Jug.” She nuzzled into his shoulder. They continued walking around for an hour or so down the road they had driven in on. Along the way they saw exactly one car and one fruit stand. They really were in the middle of nowhere. At some point, they turned themselves around and headed back to the motel.

“Onward home,” Jughead said valiantly, gesturing as if he had a sword in hand, climbing onto his motorcycle. He shot Betty a sly smile. She kissed him before she straddled him and put her helmet on and zipped her jacket.

“Let’s go home, Forsythe,” she mocked. He shot her a glance that she couldn’t see, but he smirked alongside it. The vibrations under them began and they were off. Only an hour left until they were in the Inner Harbor of Baltimore to Betty’s apartment, soon to be home to Jughead, as well.