Betty stared up at the looming building apprehensively, wondering if she had made a massive mistake by traveling all the way to the city to go to school. She knew NYU was one of the best and had an expansive journalism program. She'd undoubtedly have no problem getting acclimated to New York City, it was just the thought of leaving everything she knew back in Riverdale that made her stomach flip around uneasily. However, as Betty tightened her ponytail, she knew that if she could overcome the horrors of Riverdale, she could survive the big apple.

Tugging on her bag strap, she made her way through the busy quad, eyes flitting around for a notice board that would tell her how to get to her lecture hall. Once she found a board that looked promising, Betty directed her feet towards it, murmuring apologies as she brushed past hundreds of other students. There was a sizeable gap between the students milling around the board and she fit herself into it seamlessly, staring up at the board. It looked like her lecture was on the third floor, in the left wing of the building. She made her way towards it.

As Betty walked, she fiddle with her strap again, thinking about the past summer. She and Polly had spent the majority of it together, minus two weeks at the end when Archie and Betty had taken a road trip to signal the start of their adulthood. The two had been best friends since birth, and there wasn't anything Betty wouldn't do for him. They had even tried dating, simply because it felt like they owed it to themselves to try. Didn't work out in their favor but it did provide a stronger foundation for their friendship and for that, she was eternally grateful.

Then, there was Ronnie, Archie's current girlfriend and surrogate sister of sorts to Betty. She was surprised that they had gotten along so well so quickly, especially when Ronnie joined the group after years of friendship between Betty and Archie. But, things worked out well enough and Betty couldn't imagine having either one of them out of her life at this point.

Betty eventually made it to the room the lecture was in and took a seat in the second row, pulling out her laptop, pens, spiral, and highlighters. She was anything if not thoroughly prepared. Glancing at her watch, she realized she had about ten minutes to spare until the professor was due so set about straightening the supplies on her desk meticulously. It wasn't until she had started dusting off her laptop needlessly did she hear a voice.

"Is this seat taken?" Betty looked up to spot a beanie-clad guy who looked to be about her age staring at the seat. She quickly shook her head.

"Not at all…," she trailed off, hoping he'd fill in the blanks.

"Jughead Jones," came the reply, and Betty nearly snorted but disguised it as a cough at the last minute.

He looked at her in amusement. "The real thing is worse, trust me."

"Is that possible?" Betty teased, and Jughead smirked.

"Believe it or not, yeah, it is," he replied. "Your turn."

"My turn for what?" Betty asked confusedly, unsure of what he was referring to.

"Well, you know my name. It's only fair I know yours'," Jughead replied, and Betty felt her cheeks warm.

"Of course, where are my manners?" Betty murmured. "I'm Betty Cooper."

"Well, Betty Cooper, thanks for letting me sit here," Jughead said, and she nodded absentmindedly; the professor had just entered the room at that moment.

All throughout the introductory lesson, Betty took rapid notes, paying avid attention to every detail the professor expressed. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she thought of her mother and wondered if she managed to keep her 4.0 she had in high school if it would be placating enough for her. Then, deciding to not get wrapped up in the thoughts of Alice Cooper, whom she had purposefully left behind in Riverdale, Betty returned her attention back onto the subject material. Five minutes before the class was scheduled to be dismissed was when they were actually dismissed, and Betty began packing up everything.

Standing up from her seat, she heard a throat being cleared and looked towards the source; she spotted Jughead shutting his own laptop.

"Thanks for letting me sit next to you, Betty Cooper," he said, sheepish grin on his face. Betty smiled back in kind.

"Of course. You didn't distract me from my note taking so I count it as win," she replied teasingly, and Jughead laughed. She decided his laughter suited him and would like to hear it more often.

"I'll see you on Wednesday?" Jughead asked, and Betty nodded.

"I'll be the one in pink," she replied dryly, and he laughed again before they went their own ways.

XXX

Betty saved the seat next to her on Wednesday in case Jughead thought she might not want him to sit next to her again. Growing up with a strict mother, Betty was instilled with the fear of what other people thought of her and for some reason unbeknownst to her, she wanted to make Jughead like his first impression of her. When he slouched into the room, she smiled as he caught her eye, tilting her head towards the desk.

"Did you just save me a seat?" Jughead asked cheerfully as he sat down, and she nodded, biting her lip to keep from smiling. "What are we, in elementary school?"

Betty couldn't help it, she tilted her head back, opened her mouth, and let out a peal of laughter.

"Gosh no, when I was in elementary school, I barely talked to my only friend I had back then, let alone saved him a seat," she replied.

Jughead nodded. "Well, I'm honored. Oh, and Betts? You should do that more often."

"Do what?" Betty asked, brow furrowed.

"Laugh."

XXX

As the leaves began to change colors, Betty started counting down the days until Christmas break. She wasn't going home this year, having had enough of her controlling parents. So, after saving up enough money from the coffee shop she started to work at, Betty finally had enough for a one-bedroom apartment and planned to spend the holidays there. Sure, she hadn't told any of her friends that she wasn't coming home yet, but she knew they'd understand. Mostly, she was just looking forward to the peace and quiet. The peace and quiet that was currently being interrupted by a loud knock on her door.

Marking her page in her text book, Betty made her way to the door and unlocked it, opening it to reveal Jughead standing there, hands shoved in his pockets. Jughead Jones and Betty Cooper had become best friends of sorts in their own way. Him, the brooding writer; she the actively persistent journalist. It was a pairing that shouldn't have worked but it did, well at that, and she was grateful. She smiled at him.

"Hey, Juggie," she said, opening her door further to grant him entrance into her home. He kicked his shoes off by the front door, the way she liked it, and turned to look at her.

"I'm not going home for Christmas," he said without preamble, and she quirked an eyebrow.

"Funnily enough, neither am I. But, you already knew that," she replied.

"Funny how things work out, huh?" Jughead asked, smirking at her. She shook her head.

"Juggie, go spend the holidays with your family," she said. "I'll be fine."

"Betty, you and I are past the point of not recognizing the fact that we're a package deal now. Where one is, the other is surely to follow," he said.

"I'll be fine," she reiterated, but he just shook his head.

"Nope!" Jughead commented cheerfully. "You got me for the holidays, Coop."

Betty sighed, knowing in her heart it'd be useless to argue the point. Besides, if she was being honest with herself, it was nice to know that she'd have a friendly face to see for the holidays after all.

"Fine," she acquiesced. "But, I have studying to do right now."

"That's where you're wrong, Betts," Jughead said, and she looked at him.

"What?"

"We, my dear friend, are going Christmas tree shopping!" Jughead enthused.

Betty laughed. "I told you one time, one time that I have never gone Christmas tree shopping and suddenly we're going? Are you a magic genie that I don't know about?"

"Tell me you haven't been watching Disney movies lately," Jughead implored, groaning. She feigned offense.

"Only the good ones," she rebuffed.

"Well, Elsa, forget your studying material – you know it by heart by now. We are going out and getting into the holiday spirit," he said, tone leaving no room for doubt. Betty knew this was one fight she wasn't going to win.

"Alright," she grumbled. "I'll go, but I'll hate every minute of it."

"That's the spirit I'm looking for!"

XXX

Betty had to admit that the tree farm Jughead had brought her to on the outskirts of the city was pretty impressive. The ten-foot-tall trees loomed all around her, begging to be chopped down and taken home. Jughead said that picking out a tree was an art to be crafted, not rushed. So, here they were, walking arm-in-arm, looking at all the trees.

"What about that one?" Betty asked, tilting her head towards one in the thick of farm.

Jughead appraised it. "Too dry."

Betty didn't even know a Christmas tree could be dry. She nodded and kept looking.

"Jughead?" Betty asked a few moments later.

"Hmm?"

"Why is Christmas so important to you?" Betty asked softly.

Jughead thought about it, before shrugging. "I just have really good memories of Christmas with my little sister when we lived together. Waking up Christmas morning and finding her crawling into my bed, too afraid to go wake up our parents by herself to see if we could open the presents."

Betty knew enough about Jughead's family to know that his father was a recovering alcoholic and his mom had taken off his sister, Jellybean, when he was a kid.

"I bet you were a great older brother," she murmured, and he smiled, the kind that lit up his eyes.

"I like to think so," he replied quietly. She squeezed his arm affectionately as he paused.

"This one," he said.

"What?"

"This is the tree," he reiterated, and she looked at it. Even she had to admit it looked better than the rest.

"It's so green and thick," she said in wonderment.

"It's perfect," he emphasized, and she nodded her agreement.

"This one," she said fondly, and he smiled.

XXX

By the time they got back to her apartment and put the tree up, Betty went to go unpack the box of decorations she had taken to the city with her. They were decorations she had bought over the years and promised she'd put them on her own tree, if she ever got one. While she was digging out the decorations from the back of her closet, Jughead was making hot chocolate for them to sip on.

When she got back into her living room, Jughead was sitting on the couch with two mugs of hot chocolate.

"They're not much," she said apologetically, nodding her head towards the box in her arms, "but they're all I've got."

"It'll be fine, Betts," Jughead promised. She nodded and they set about putting the lights on first. Betty had bought multicolor lights, knowing her mom had always said white was more traditional. Betty didn't want to be traditional anymore. They paused intermittently to unwrap themselves from the lights, and to laugh at one another when they pulled silly faces. Eventually, the lights got on properly, and they started hanging up the ornaments.

"These are great, Betts," Jughead complimented her, and she felt warm with pride as she tried to keep her smile from stretching across her face too much.

"Thanks," she replied.

"Where did you get them? These don't look like the type of ornaments Alice Cooper would have, not based off what you've told me about your mom," he said. Staring at the little Frosty and Rudolph ornament in her hand, she chuckled.

"They're not. I think my mother would have a heart attack if she had something as "tacky as Frosty the Snowman" hanging on her perfect tree. I picked these up over the years at yard sales or secondhand stores, liking the fact that they all once belonged to another family. I like to sometimes pretend the families are happier than mine," she murmured.

Jughead nodded. He knew all about her family; well, the information she had divulged to him. He knew Alice Cooper fought tooth and nail to attain the perfect, wholesome image of what a family should look like and that Betty was desperate to shed herself of that image. He didn't press anymore about the decorations.

When the tree was finally done, they stepped back and admired their handiwork.

"So what do you think Betts? Still a horrible afternoon?" Jughead asked, and she shook her head.

"No, and I can think of one thing that might make it even better," she replied quietly. He looked at her curiously and she placed her hand on his cheek, smiling when he nuzzled into it. She brushed her lips across his once, savoring the taste of chocolate emanating from them, before pulling back.

"Merry Christmas, Juggie," she whispered.

"Merry Christmas, Betts."

Author's notes: Because I love the holidays (but tend to deal with depression during them), I'm writing oneshots for bughead during Christmas. Hope you enjoy and prompts accepted in the comments. I'll come up with my own, too. Xxx