a shot in the dark, chapter 6
Resolute, she sets her jaw. “We can treat the wound and burn out the infection.”
Jughead winces, but exhales when his face curves into her hand. “Raise my fever?”
Betty nods. “Only a little. The fever is your body fighting. We could make it fight just enough for it to win, and thus it may break.”
“Perhaps,” he licks his lips, wishing he had the strength to sit up. “I’m rather partial to the idea of you slowly and tenderly nursing me back to health.”
Her smile is reluctant, but she can’t hide it all the way. He wishes he could tug it all the way loose.
“Perhaps you ought to like the idea of living long enough to keep running from the half blind bounty hunter and Texas Marshall looking for us,” she tuts, turning and standing already to make preparations.
Jughead feels suddenly like a child. That foreign, desperate yearning for affection. No one ever tended to him then, and he wants to be less foolish than that now. Instead, his eyes fall closed and he’s remembering last night. The soft fever of her kiss, the way she begged—everything feels like a dream. Not in the poetic sense, but faded and foggy. He’s awoken to Betty on mission, and this mission did not seem to include stripping off his clothing, much to Jughead’s dismay.
“You’re going to sweat quite a bit.”
read chapter 6 / start at the beginning