Definition of Want (Bughead)

CUDDLING

Betty should have known that after the highest of the highs, fate was bound to deal them a hand that had the lowest of the lows. And it was the truth; she could not imagine a more perfect scenario than skipping through Paris with her best friend and her boyfriend for a week without worry or care of any outside forces. No Alice Cooper, no impending college stress, no drama. Just one utterly utopian vacation.

So, she should have been expecting that the wheel of fortune was going to turn. And, in a way, she was. She just didn't expect it would show up on their front door in less than twelve hours after they returned.

They opened the door of their apartment, still far too hot and humid and now had the feeling of walking into a simulated Rain Forest room in a zoo or the Rainforest Cafe, and coughed in the dampness with a groan. This was hardly upsetting on a cosmic level, just annoying. This is when they also discovered their internet had gone out, the modem blinking in angry orange near their TV. Betty's hopes of curling up on the couch with the windows open and watching a movie were pretty much dashed. It was a problem for tomorrow, though still aggravating.

It was around 9pm and Jughead just shrugged and said, "Bedroom?"

Though, in the end, it was far too humid for either of them to be able to reach any sort of pleasure and they both just ended up sweaty. They both underestimated how tired the plane had made them (they were just sitting for like twelve hours! Why were they exhausted?! Betty wondered) and ended up falling into fitful and uncomfortable slumber on the top of Jughead's bed, curled as far away from each other lest they kill the other by overheating.

They woke groggily to a loud, annoyed ringtone. Betty reached for her phone but found it dead. It was also 10 am. She almost always woke at 8:30, but her blank phone would explain why her alarm hadn't gone off. Jughead flopped over, rubbing his eyes and patted around the nightstand for his phone, and then on the ground where it must have fallen last night.

When he read the screen and saw either the caller or the number, he shot up, sweating profusely.

"I overslept! Shit, fuck, damnit," He spat, fingers shaking as he answered the phone. Betty was wide awake now, reading his ashen expression and the way his shoulders were tight.

"Yes! Yes! I realize I'm late," Jughead said hurriedly, up and throwing off his old clothes and throwing on new clothes at a frantic speed. She didn't even have time to appreciate him undressing, not with how he was moving like he needed to be out the door hours ago.

Betty couldn't hear the reply as Jughead balanced the phone on his shoulder and sprayed deodorant underneath his pits, but it was a low male's voice.

"I just returned from abroad and I-," Jughead started to say, voice entirely apologetic, but was cut off, "No, you're right. No excuses. I agree." He swallowed hard and Betty saw him blink rapidly, keeping back tears. There was something that sounded like shouting over the other end and she watched as his jaw clenched.

"I realize, sir." He said, his voice monotone and toneless, "I'm on my way."

He closed his phone, throwing it down on the bed and rubbed his eyes hard, "Fuck!"

"What's wrong?" Betty asked, getting up and went to rub his back. He was already reaching for his wallet and keys and shrugged her off.

"That was Professor Kean."

"The guy who you were a T.A. for this summer?" Betty's mind whirled.

"Yes! He offered me a position this upcoming fall, but I think I just blew it. I was supposed to meet him at 9:15 today...four missed calls already and I...so many people want this job, but I need this job, Betty. I'm going to have to grovel and-," Jughead was in near hysterics.