Who spends almost all their money on the other?

He stared at disbelief at the gift in front of him, it had to of cost her nearly her full paycheck. She looked up at him with eager eyes, searching his face, trying to work out if he was happy or not.

"Betts, this is too much," he told her moving to return the gift to her hands, she crossed her arms over her chest refusing to take it back with a strong shake of her head.

"You need it," she reasoned with him. "I got a good deal," she lied. She had seen the sissapointment on his face when his laptop had packed it in. The blue screen as he swore at the device, rifling through his bag to try and find his flash drive trying to remember when they had last updated it.

She had taken it to Dilton Doiley who had been able to work his magic and recover his files but not the computer itself, that was beyond saving.

Seeing him mope around his father's trailer had filled her heart with despair, Jughead Jones wrote that was what he did, she could see him trying to write in his notebook, at the library and in the Blue and Gold office but it wasn't the same. When she got her first paycheck from Pop's she knew exactly where it was going. She took Dilton with her, wanting his expertise so she could maintain the surprise.

She had wrapped it earlier that night, it was still months until his birthday but there was no harm in an early birthday present.

"We need to take it back Betts, I won't let you-" She put up a finger to silence him.

"It's my money, Jug, I decide how I spend it." Her face was determined and he knew that once Betty Cooper had decided something there was no changing her mind. He relented, letting his genuine smile spread across his face as he spread his fingers over the keyboard, and she felt a shiver down her back at this action, looking at the way they moved gracefully, getting a feel for the keys. "Just don't forget to thank me when your published."

As soon as he reopened his document he went to the start of his novel starting a new page, a dedication.

"To Betty Cooper, for giving me the strength, will and tools to write."

Who sleeps in the other's lap?

She lives for these moments, when it is calm, when there isn't a murder investigation or a civil war occurring between two fractions of the same town, this. His head laid gently on her lap, his eyes closed, a small smile on his face as he dreams of who knows what. The movie is still playing on the TV in her lounge room, his Serpent's jacket laid over a dining room chair. She takes in a deep breath and sighs sinking further into the couch, as his breath hitches and she thinks that she has disturbed him. She brushes his forehead gently, her fingers moving through the dark waves the fall just over his eyes and she swears his smile gets a little wider.

She feels lucky that he is able to feel comfortable enough with her to allow himself to be vulnerable asleep in her arms and she makes a vow to always be his safe place to land. With whatever may come their way, she will keep him safe.

Who walks around the house half-naked and who yells at them to put on some clothes?

"It's hot," she exclaims as her mouth forms a pout as she looks up at him from her reclined position on the couch as he rolls his eyes at her. She's not wrong it is hot, hottest summer in 20 years, if you were to believe what they were saying in the news. She was reclined on their couch in just her underwear, a bowl of ice-cream in her hands while she read her magazine. He had already told her a number of times to put some clothes on that week but it was just the two of them in their small New York apartment and she couldn't work out why he was being so difficult about this.

"You don't see me walking around here in just my boxers, do you?" He was leaning with his hands braced against the back of the couch. She re-adjusted her pout into a smile that was much more seductive in it's intention.

"I wouldn't mind." She raised an eyebrow at him, before bringing her spoon to her lips and taking a very deliberate lick. Savouring the taste of strawberry ice cream on her tongue. He stood there his mouth slightly open, his eyes following her movements. She placed the spoon in her mouth, sucking on the cool metal, until she was satisfied and let it slip from her mouth before her tongue swiped her bottom lip, at which he couldn't help but groan, his hands gripping the couch tighter, his fingers digging into the soft material.

"I need to work on my assignment," he mumbled, as she was bringing up another spoonful to her lips. She nodded passively at him, as he watched some of the ice-cream fall from her spoon, dripping down the curve of her breast, his eyes watching as it disappeared between the valley of her breasts leaving a pink trail behind. His tongue darted out to wet his lips subconsciously.

"Ooops," she said coyly, her eyes full of mischief as she pulled the corner of her bottom lip in between her teeth. He practically leapt over the back of the couch leaning over her, his hands braced on either side of her shoulders up against the arm of the couch as he bent down to run his tongue along the sticky trail which had been left, she moaned at the sensation, his eyes meeting hers as he finished just below her collar bone, pressing an open mouthed kiss on her skin, and she leant further back in response.

"You know strawberry is my favourite, Betts."

She did.

Who wears the other's clothes constantly?

Wearing Jughead's clothes had become a habit for Betty. It had started when she wore his light grey sweater after the Jubilee. The material swamping her body as she moved from their sleeping positions on what use to be his bed in FP's trailer to get a glass of water. The material felt soft against her bare skin, and the remnants of his scent overwhelmed her. She felt his arms wrap around her from behind as she stood at the sink, looking out over the lounge.

"That's mine," he mumbled into her shoulder, before he pressed a light kiss on the side of her neck.

"I like it," She tilted her head to the side, allowing him greater access to her neck, which he gladly took advantage of, placing open mouthed kisses along the exposed skin. "It smells of you."

"Keep it." He pressed a kiss just below her ear, delighting in the gasp that left her lips, giving away her sensitivity. "Just come back to bed." She felt the wave of heat run down her spine at his words, turning around to face him, as he brought her hand up to his lips, brushing her knuckles with his lips, in a gesture so innocent compared to what they had just done in this very kitchen.

She did keep it though, and soon other items of his clothing were added to her little collection. A flannel shirt, a hoodie, a t-shirt, all neatly folded in the bottom drawer of her dresser, the drawer she hoped her mum would never open and have a panic attack about why her teenage daughter may be keeping items of her boyfriend's clothing in her room.

She was also aware of the effect that wearing his clothes had on Jughead himself. How much he liked it. They were at FP's trailer when he went to shower, a hard day working construction had left him tired and tense. She waited to hear the water running to take the opportunity to slip his flannel shirt on, before pulling the grey beanie on her head. She was laid herself out on his bed and waited. He soon emerged from the bathroom, towel hanging low on his hips as he took in the sight of her, his mouth dropping open. She crawled slowly to the edge of the bed, looking up at him as she raised herself to her knees. He took in the sight of her, blonde waves escaping from underneath the woollen hat, his hat. He couldn't contain the low groan that left his lips as she placed her hand on his neck, pulling him down and locking her lips with his.

He swore his clothes always looked better on her.

Which one spends all day running errands and which one says "You remembered [thing], right?"

She hated this, being shut up in her room all day and night completely dependent on others. It had been a routine hospital appointment, heartbeat was fine she was growing well, but there was an abnormality and further tests and investigations confirmed that Betty has pre-eclampsia. When she had heard the words she had squeezed Jughead's hand so hard, that a grimace crossed his face. She wasn't sure what it was but she had been so anxious that the mention of any kind of 'condition' set her on edge and her mind took her to the worst possible outcome.

The doctor assured her that it was nothing to worry about at least not if she followed the recommendations. She had let out a frustrated groan when he had mentioned bed rest and Jughead had smiled sympathetically, knowing how hard it was for his wife not to do everything and take some time for herself, which he had been urging her to do, not that she listened.

So here she was up in their bedroom, propped up on pillows like she was dying or something. She had written a list for him to follow, everything she needed done for the house, for the nursery that she was still setting up as well as some extras.

Jughead had paled slightly when he saw the list, wondering how one person managed to get so much done in one day, while staying sane. Jughead was a much more relaxed, go with the flow kind person, spreading out his errands, but he had assured her that nothing would be missed while she was laid up, it was all he could say to convince her to take some time for herself, to take it easy.

He dumped the arm full of groceries on the kitchen bench, placed the nursery items in the spare room and made his way to the bedroom to make sure that Betty was still following the doctor's orders. He was relieved to see that she was still in bed, surrounded by more pillows than when he had left if that was humanly possible and a face on her that said she was not to be messed with.

"Did you have a nice day?" She looked at him incredulously, and he then knew the answer. She obviously was still had not embraced the 'take it easy' attitude.

"I'm going insane," she huffed, crossing her arms in front of her, it had only been one day. "At least I have a Vanilla Malt milkshake from Pop's to make me feel better." She closed her eyes, licking her lips obviously imagining the taste of something from the outside world.

"Shit." He slapped his hand to his forehead.

"You did remember it right?" There was a desperation in her voice, and Jughead had learnt quickly that Betty and pregnancy hormones did not mix well, and as he removed his hand he saw the tears behind her eyes starting to well, as she continued to look at him hopefully.

"I'm going now," he said quickly, darting to the bedside to peck her on the lips before he was racing down the stairs and jumping into the car.

He could remember her telling him now, that she could 'murder' someone for a Vanilla Malt milkshake and he could only hope now that she didn't mean him.

Which one drives the car and which one gives them directions?

"Why are you yelling at it?" He turned to face her briefly before turning his attention back onto the road. Betty tried to hide the smile that was on her face. Jughead and the navigation system in his car had a love/hate relationship. There had been a honeymoon period when he first got it, being in a new town, it had been a god send, he had sung it's praises to anyone who would listen. Betty herself did not have the same unwavering trust in the system from the start, she travelled around the town for her work all day long, she knew the little shortcuts the system didn't, what roads became gridlocked at certain times, but Jughead could not be dissuaded.

She had told him that day not to take the road he was taking, that although it seemed it would be longer if he took the side roads, they would get there quicker. But he had trusted the computer over her and she had simply folded her arms and sunk back into the passenger seat.

"I can't u-turn! Can you not see the cars?!" She tried to stifle her laugh as he continued his rant at the car, which continued to advise him to 'take a u-turn where possible' to escape the gridlocked traffic ahead of them. He gesticulated wildly at the cars through the windscreen as if this would help the nav system see his point. She couldn't help the little giggle that escaped her lips. He looked towards her again, his face softening as he realised the ridiculousness of their current situation. "Don't start, Betts, just tell me how we get moving again." His hands gripped the wheel tightly as she placed her hand gently on his shoulder and he felt the tension melt away almost instantly.

"Just follow my directions," she reached for the mute button on the system, he preferred the sound of her voice anyway.

Which one does the posing while the other one draws?

"I cannot believe you talked me into this."

"Just lift your arm a little higher, more relaxed, less rigid," she stated as she moved over to him to take his limbs in her soft hands and place them where she wanted ignoring his half-hearted protests. Even though her touch was light and gentle he felt the weight of it, the warmth of her skin through his layers of clothing, as he held his breath as she continued to brush ever slightly up against him.

"You sure this isn't something Archie could help you with?" His tried to get the words out without them getting stuck in his throat. Was that really what he would have preferred, Betty with her hands on Archie manipulating his body into the positions that she needed.

"He had football practice." Her forehead creased in concentration as she stepped back from him, her eyes surveying how he was placed against the chair in the art room. He had scoffed at her, nearly choking on his burger when she had asked him. But she gave him that wide eyed look and he agreed without even hesitating. Betty needed a model for her art project and she had chosen him. Well actually that wasn't true she had chosen Archie, but when he wasn't available she came to him. He knew that he should feel bad to be the second choice but he knew the torch that she carried for Archie and just how oblivious his friend was to this, but he could only jump at the chance to be alone with her, without Archie's all encompassing presence.

"Okay, hold it there." She picked up her pad and started her work. Her pencil scratched against the paper as she would glance up to look at him every now and again, while he tried to keep as still as he could.

Just as she was examining him, he was her. He watched the way her tongue stuck just barely out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrated. She would occasionally tap the pencil up against her chin as if pausing for thought, working out her next move. Then there were her eyes, every time they looked up at him, were trained on him, he felt a heat pooling in his belly, rising up to his cheeks before washing over him completely.

He knew he should tell her, make a move, kiss her, just… something. Instead he continued to sit back while she threw herself at Archie, wishing just once she would throw herself at him, cause he would catch her and never let go.

Which one keeps accidentally using the other's last name instead of their own?

"Name?" The usher standing at the ticket booth asked, from behind the small sliding window as they approached.

"Betty Cooper," she responds confidently, looking back at her boyfriend Jughead as he waits beside her. When she heard that the Bijou was doing a special Tarantino marathon she just knew she had to get tickets. She had wanted to surprise him, but of course he already knew about it, there was no way a Tarantino marathon was going to happen in their small town and him not know about it.

"We don't have you down here." The usher replied to her and she shook her head confused. She could start to feel the steady wave of anxiety already rising within her, as she was trying to remember whether she had actually booked the tickets in her excitement.

It was a few weeks ago, her and Veronica had been in her room, when she had come across it on her phone. Her squeal of delight had made Veronica jump in surprise. She had been gushing over what a perfect gift it would make, and Veronica had stated how cute they were and how she wanted to be the maid of honor, knowing that she would have to fight Kevin for it, at their inevitable wedding. Betty had just giggled in response as she dialled the number to book the tickets.

"Um," She leant closer against the small opening, lowering her voice, hoping that he couldn't hear. "Is it under Betty Jones?" she whispered. She pulled back to give an apologetic look to Jughead, shrugging her shoulders. The usher looked back at her computer screen, before turning back to Betty, who leaned forward again.

"Here are your tickets, Betty Jones." She said giving a knowing smile, as she looked briefly at the boy beside her. Betty graciously took the tickets in her hand and linked her arm with Jughead. Mentally scolding herself for once again slipping and using his surname as her own, it had happened a few times now, she loved the way it sounded, Betty Jones. She would say it out loud to herself sometimes just to see how it felt on her tongue. Betty Jones, it just sounded right.

Who's the first one to admit they have feelings for the other?

When she smiles at him like that he knows he loves her, that's her special smile, the one that is just for him only him. It's not the one she shares with Kevin, or Ronnie, or even Archie. No, that smile the one that tugs at her lips and crinkles her eyes just so, that's for him. He is not sure how to handle 'loving' someone new. He has always loved Jellybean, his mother and to some extent his father, but this is something very different to that familial love. He cares for Archie he always has, he is his best friend, but again it is something different. It is friendship and that's what he thought he had too shared with Betty, friendship. But as they continue to investigate Jason's murder, when he kisses her in her bedroom that first time he feels a 'tug' in the bottom of his stomach which feels unusual. He feels it again when she takes his hand in hers as he walks her home, as he rubs his fingers against her knuckles, a feeling washing over him which he doesn't think he has ever experienced before, contentment. When they sit alone it their booth at Pop's and she shows him the open weeping wounds on the palms of her hands, he feels a pull, inside of him, a deep seeded need to protect her at all costs, from the world but mostly from herself.

She sticks by him, even when he tries, and he tries so hard to push her away, to save her, she sticks by him. Her trust in him unwavering, and that's when he knows, all those 'tugs' in his stomach, the pull, the overwhelming need to protect is because he Jughead Jones is in love with Betty Cooper.

Who makes the bad puns and who makes a pained smile every time the other makes a pun?

She had been dreading Easter, she always did as it approached. It wasn't for the usual reasons one might expect, awkward family catch ups, too much chocolate, the Easter egg hunt and inevitable fight that would happen between their two girls about who had found the most eggs. No, those she could deal with. It was the amount of puns that Easter gave way to. The opportunities for him to make them seemed endless.

She heard her youngest daughter's exasperated voice from their kitchen.

"Muuuuuuum, he's doing it again." She walked in to see their youngest daughter Emily with her tiny hands on her hips, scowling at her father who was chuckling at the sight before him that reminded him so much of her mother. Betty looked at him and he just shrugged.

"All I said was that her Easter parade outfit was egg-cellant." He raised his eyebrows for dramatic effect. Betty just gave her usual pained smile at his use of puns and nodded in agreement. Emily turned to look at her, her face pleading with her mum to make it stop, before she stomped off.

She took a deep breath as she approached her husband, placing a hand on his shoulder and he knew what was coming. He wanted to be the cool dad so badly.

"We talked about this last year, Jug," she said softly.

"I know."

"And I think we agreed we were going to tone it down this year." She met his eyes, and he nodded in response. "Okay." She breathed a sigh of relief, the conversation going easier then she would have expected.

"I mean I think you may be egg-agerating, but -" He jumped of his stool and ran as she gave chase, an exasperated 'Juggie' leaving her lips. Emily just stood in the lounge room, watching as they ran past her up the stairs, shaking her head at her parents.

Which one gives the other a piggyback ride when they're tired?

"You're joking right?" she had her hands on her hips looking him up and down, as she tried to process his suggestion.

"You lift people all the time, and my legs are killing me. I'm not used to this thing they call 'physical exertion'." He was sat on a nearby rock and Betty was regretting already the decision to take Jughead hiking. She wasn't sure why it sounded like a good idea in her head. She had suggested that they do something a little different to their usual Sunday afternoon spent curled up either on the Cooper couch or on the couch in his father's trailer watching movies and inevitably not actually watching the movie and making out instead. He had rolled his eyes when she suggested going 'outside' and gave an audible groan when the next words out of her mouth were 'Let's go hiking.'

"I lift cheerleaders, Jug, not teenage boys."

"You could try." He pouted, and she threw her hands up in defeat.

"Fine." Jughead jumped up immediately having not expected her to take his request seriously. She bent over slightly and waited as he awkwardly tried to get onto her back, needing several attempts before he managed to hoist himself up and she locked her arms around his legs holding him steady. His arms wrapped securely around her torso, settling just above her bust. She took a deep breath before she tried to move her legs, she was only able to manage a few steps before she became unsteady and felt herself begin to fall.

He fell with her and they landed on the ground in a mess of tangled limbs, and giggles.

"Let's never try that again." Betty managed to get out in between her fit of giggles and trying to untangle herself from her boyfriend.

"Agreed. We are never going hiking again," he said with a wink as she playfully swatted his arm.

Who takes a selfie when the other one falls asleep on their shoulder?

She delicately tried to move her hand to her jeans pocket, slipping it inside and pulling out her phone in a move that was precise and controlled as to not wake her sleeping boyfriend. They had been reading over the submitted articles for the Blue and Gold, when he had drifted off. They had been reading for hours now, in his father's trailer, hoping to find something that would be worth publishing for their latest edition. She had noticed the change of his breathing as she read out loud one of the articles on the latest football game, the slow steady breaths against her neck sending a tingle down her spine.

She didn't have a nice picture of Jughead on her phone, he wouldn't let her take one, she had plenty of ones of him scowling at the camera, and a few where he had pulled a face, but none where she could capture the true essence of her Jughead Jones. She pulled up the camera app on her phone, switching the camera to self mode, and directing it at herself and a sleeping Jughead on her shoulder, smiling slightly she took the picture. The sound of the 'shutter' filled the room, and she cursed the noise, the phone slipping from her hand as Jughead woke looking around the room, still groggy from waking. He looked towards Betty who just smiled back at him as she slipped her phone back into her pocket. He apologised for falling asleep, before pressing a quick kiss to her lips, gathering the pages that were still on his lap and starting to read the one on the top of the pile.

Back in her bedroom, after he had dropped her off, she opened her phone and smiled at the picture she had taken, her favourite one so far.

If your OTP went on vacation, where would they go and what would they do? Who would take the pictures?

He still couldn't believe the twist and turns that his life had taken. When he first agreed to help Betty with writing the Blue and Gold he never imagined that he would fall in love with her and that she would ever return that love, but here they were in the city of love itself, standing on top of the eifel tower as he took pictures of her, her wind tousled by the wind, her laugh echoing across the walkway. When he had received his first royalty check from his novel he had booked the tickets without hesitation, she deserved, for those late nights where he would stay up writing, while she went to bed alone, for the numerous agent meetings that kept him away from their small apartment. For the cancelled dinners when an urgent draft or change was needed, and she would simply nod her head, saying that it didn't matter when he knew she was disappointed.

He surprised her with the tickets at her work, a special delivery of flowers before he came in himself, whisking her away to an impromptu lunch in the park, carrying the picnic basket filled with french bread, cheese, terrine and a small bottle of wine. She had just been telling him how much he spoiled her when he pulled out the envelope, saying that he wanted to spoil her further, and give her a proper French picnic in Paris, she had looked at him confused until she opened the envelope, her eyes growing wide before she leant over to hug him, burying her face in the crook of his neck, while he breathed in her scent.

They had gone to all the usual tourist-y places, Notre-Dame, the Louvre, and finally today at the Eiffel Tower. She was bending over looking through a set of binoculars near the edge of the railing as his fingers ran over the small box in his pocket. The velvet soft against his fingers. She turned around to look at him, before smiling and beckoning him over to look with her. He ran his other hand through his hair, taking a deep breath before he headed over, ready to take the plunge.