She awoke the next morning to little kisses on her nose, little nibbles on her ear. As she opened her eyes, it took her a moment to get her bearings, the little white dog shaking on her chest with excitement. She sat up, moving Hotdog to the side, and saw she was alone in a bedroom. Dressers, vanity, bedside tables, tan and white bedspread, navy throws. He had planned on her coming back, because everything was almost exactly the same as their bedroom in California. Except for the little white dog that was now running in circles across the king-sized bed.
She set her feet on the ground, feeling the plush tan carpet under her toes, stretching and breathing in the new day. Outside of the warmth of the bed, she was chilly, wearing only a t-shirt and shorts. She wasn't sure where she had left her clothes, the bags she had brought from California. She remembered having them at Archie and Veronica's, but couldn't remember if they had come with her to Jughead's house.
She stepped over to a dresser, and started pulling draws open. The first one held socks and underwear, the second held t-shirts. She found jeans in the next one, and finally, sweat pants in the last one. She pulled on a pair, and headed to the closet where she grabbed a flannel, wrapping it around her and breathing in his scent. Fresh laundry and a hint of musk.
Her feet pattered lightly on the hard wood floors as she quietly walked down the hallway, and into the kitchen. The house had an open floor plan, and from the kitchen island, she could see him sleeping on the couch.
The pain she felt, the memories of the last month, still very much bubbled at the surface, ready to boil over at any minute. But underneath all of it, there was something else. He had told her he didn't want to move back here, that he didn't want to live their lives here, and yet, here he was. Waiting for her to come back, waiting for her to take the job. She wondered how long he would have waited, what would have happened if she would have said no to the job offer. But she knew, that he knew, she never would have said no. There was so much more to this town than just her family, just their friends. This town was where they'd grown up, together, where they'd fallen in love, together, where they'd felt like they could take on the world, together. This town was everything that held their relationship together, the foundation that they had built their love and their lives on. It didn't matter where they lived, what different kind of life they lived, Riverdale would always be there, always be their home.
The coffee pot beeped that the water was ready, and she watched as he stirred softly on the couch, stretching out his long limbs. She knew that Jughead Jones was handsome, but in the early morning hours was always when she felt he was most beautiful. His shaggy black hair curled and twisted, his dark lashes beating against his face as he struggled to open his eyes. Those beautiful grey eyes flashed open, the smell of coffee seemed to bring him to life.
"Morning, Bets…" His voice rasped as he sauntered into the kitchen. She grabbed a mug from the counter, filling it with coffee before handing it across the island to him. She slid into the space directly across from him, taking in his face and all of his beautiful morning glory, the sight of him in his sweat pants and dark grey t-shirt.
"Morning, Jug." She wanted to race around the island, mash her lips on his, become lost in his arms, forgetting everything that had happened over the last month. Self-restraint, B. "What's the plan for the day?"
"Well, I have an idea, but I'm not sure if you'll be up to it." She looked up to meet his eyes, saw flecks of gold dance in the grey, a smirk smeared across his face.
"That depends, you tell me what it is, and I'll tell you if I'm up for it." She raised one side of her mouth, smiling back at him, teasing him to push her further.
"Well. Christmas is in 4 days. And I don't have a tree yet. I thought we could go down by the river and cut one down. Maybe stop in town and pick up a few decorations, get this place looking festive."
He was like a little kid as they strolled through the store, looking at lights and tinsel and ornaments. She loved seeing his face light up over garland and star tree-toppers, picking out stockings for each of them. She had always kind of taken for granted Christmas at the Cooper house, but Christmas at the Jones had been very different when Jughead was growing up. They'd been through 9 Christmas's together, she'd even donated a box of decorations when she left California, but this felt new, different, fresh. A fresh start for both of them.
He drove his truck down by the river, parking it close to the trail that ran along the water's edge. They walked a good way, Hotdog running ahead and then running back, running circles around them as they walked. He loved playing in the snow, and he seemed to blend right in. A few times, he'd run off the trail and get lost in a snow bank, and come up a few yards away completely covered in snow.
She finally spotted it, a few yards off the trail. It was small, not much taller than her, but full and round, no missing holes or straggly branches. It took Jughead almost a half hour to cut it down with the hand saw, but they were soon dragging the tree back down the path that they had came. Once the tree was tied down in the back of the truck, Betty slid into the passenger's seat next to Jughead, and reached out to hold his hand. His fingers intertwined with hers, the rough calluses on his palms rubbing the hard scars on hers.
The long walk had taken a lot out of her, and they had barely made it back to the house before she had fallen asleep on the couch. One full night of sleep and two meals were all she'd had in the last month, and he wasn't surprised, she needed to rest, her body needed to recover.
He decorated the house while she napped, hanging lights on the tree and the stockings by the fireplace. When she opened her eyes later that evening, they seemed to dance and twinkle with the lights as she took in all the sights around her. He was careful with her, happy to just exist in the same space as her. He brewed her a pot of chamomile tea, passing her a mug as she slowly sat up on the couch. He moved to sit in the chair across from her, but the timer in the kitchen beeped and he stepped quietly from the room.
He pulled the pizza from the oven, placed it on the counter and reached for the slicer that was kept in the drawer. She was so quiet, he didn't hear her as she stepped into the room.
"It smells good, Jug." Her voice was quiet still, raspy from her nap.
"I was thinking about take-out from Pop's, but I didn't want to leave while you were still sleeping."
They sat in the living room, Betty flicking through Netflix before settling on reruns of Friends, but it wasn't long before she had fallen asleep again. He carried her into the bedroom, covering her with the covers, before returning to the blankets and pillows on the couch.