Another poll chapter ;)
The winner was LIBRARY with 26%! The other votes were:
Hot Tub with 17% (but, if you like a Sweet Pea x Betty couple, in my story 'Playlist for the Apocalypse' you do get this!)
Movie Theater with 14%
Car or Parking lot also with 14%
Elevator with 12%
In a closet with 6%
Outside with 5%
And on a boat with 4%!
Thank you to all of my reviewers: Boris Yeltsin, sophiecambellbower, thechosenpirates, dezibear57, bughead88, and winterbabyalways!
Betty had not heard from her parents for the better part of two weeks. She was almost sure that one day there would be a legal document on her doorstep which informed her she'd been taken out of the will. Or maybe, they'd simply never contact her again. Either would be preferable, Betty considered, when she thought about how angry she was about the entire night.
She usually always caved and apologized. Betty was never very good at letting things end on a bad note. It was part of her youngest-child syndrome, always wanting to please. Always wanting to be seen.
But usually, this apology was kick-started by her mother making some comment. Even if it was always something snide and catty, Betty was pulled to grovel by her mom making her feel like shit.
It was not so this time.
Alice was shockingly silent.
She'd had one lone interaction from her father. In a nondescript envelope, he'd sent her $200 bucks with a quickly penned 'sorry'. Betty wondered if this was the last assistance she'd ever get from her parents.
Betty tried not to over-analyze her mother's stony silence.
With Polly though, Betty wasn't trying to ignore her. Not actively.
When Polly called the first time, Betty was in the shower. Despite the memory of the talk at the diner rising to the surface of her mind, and that they'd left things in a better place than usual, she didn't call her back. Polly had not left a voicemail or a text, so Betty didn't think it urgent.
When Polly called back when Betty was making dinner, she let it ring nearly to voicemail before her mental battle with herself had a winner. With a sense of trepidation, since Polly wasn't one to contact often, Betty put it on speaker.
"Betty! Oh, hi!" Polly sounded surprised, as though she was not the one who had reached out.
"What's up, Polls," Betty asked, trying to make her voice sound lighter than she felt answering. She forced a smile in front of the stove. She'd read somewhere that smiling actually made you feel happier, even if you weren't.
"Do you have plans for this weekend?"
Betty stirred her stir-fry, "That depends entirely on what you're going to say next."
"I got offered this really fantastic training seminar for my job," Polly began. She worked in a bank as a glorified assistant, though Betty knew she was intelligent enough to do more, "So Juniper and Dagwood need watching."
"Oh." Betty put down her spatula, "I mean, yeah, I love watching them. I honestly don't have anything else happening this weekend, so I can really spoil them, as an aunt should. When would you drop them off?" She questioned, turning to survey her apartment. She would need to clean a lot, plus vacuum. Jughead's papers and books would need to be brought into his room, lest he wanted pages torn out by toddlers. They'd also need to move furniture in front of outlets, just for safety.
"Well," Polly coughed on the other end of the phone, "You see, the seminar is in Watertown, completely in the opposite direction of New York City. So, since you mentioned you don't have 'anything else happening', I was hoping you'd come back to Riverdale."
Betty clenched her jaw, "No."
"Betty, you already said-," Polly began to protest.
"No, no, no! God, how much money did mom give you to do this?" Betty said, half-way sure she was just going to hang up now.
"Mom and dad won't be home, which is why I'm calling you," Polly said quickly, "They're at some Journalism Symposium from Wednesday to Tuesday in…" Polly hummed, trying to recall, "Phoenix? Maybe San Diego? Somewhere hot and far away, point being. They wouldn't even know you're in the house."
"Who do they think is watching the twins, then?" Betty snorted.
"They don't even know I'm going! They don't know anything about it," Polly breathed, "Please, Betts! I'm terrified they wouldn't want me going anyway. They'd have no idea either of us wasn't where we're supposed to be."
Betty was silent, but Polly wasn't done.
"Consider it like this; you could grab whatever you wanted from home without having to have mom or dad send it, since who knows how long it will be until you talk again. You could hit up your old haunts…" A pause, as though she was considering her last bargaining chip, "...Jughead could come too."
"I don't even think he'd be interested. Helping his newly acquired girlfriend watch her baby niece and nephews? What a blast." Betty waffled, though her heart thud funny thinking of him there with her.
"If you don't ask him, you don't know the answer," Polly said simply, far wiser than usual, "But either way, Betty, I expect you here Friday afternoon."
XXxxXX
The bus-stop for the Greyhound line in Riverdale was the same as Betty remembered it being; cool gray paint flaking off of the metal, newspapers scattered on the ground, and the smell of fast food wafting on the breeze. As Betty sat on the little bench inside the safety of the waiting hut, she turned to Jughead.
He had his backpack over his shoulder and was looking around the outskirts of town with a keen sense of interest. Betty couldn't help but consider how he seemed to fit in here in a way she never had. Even now, she was wearing her skirt and sweater set and felt out of place in this setting. Jughead, however, in his flannel and woolen hat looked like he belonged to the overly-tall fir trees and muted color palette.
There was this weight pressing upon her chest, something that had only grown and grown since they'd gotten on the bus.
When she'd asked him, he'd hardly even hesitated. He wasn't doing much either, he claimed, so at least it would be a change of scenery.
However, on the bus, there had been this growing awkwardness that Betty did not know how to stop herself from thinking about. She was taking her boyfriend of about a month, and fuck-buddy of eight, back to not just her childhood town, but her childhood home.
She wasn't sure what the implications of this were. She was woefully understudied when it came to the mechanics of actual relationships since she'd never had one before.
"Tell me about this place," Jughead said, breaking the silence as they waited for Polly to arrive.
"Uhm, not much to tell. This is the bus stop," Betty said, but even as she waved her hand around, she chuckled to herself, "I remember waiting here back when I was sixteen. I'd gotten tickets to see Lana Del Rey in New York and snuck out."
Jughead's smile was bright and he turned, squinting as though trying to imagine a younger Betty sitting here, shivering with excitement and a slight chill, for a bus to come and take her away for a night.
"Did you get away with it?"
Betty pressed her lips together, snickering, "No. Hardly. That whole trick about stuffing your bed with pillows? It only works in movies. My mom actually drove down to New York and came and found me. It was a very Alice thing to do," She said, cheeks reddening at the thought.
"I would have thought you were the picture of perfect," Jughead shrugged.
"It was right after we found out Polly was pregnant. My mom became particularly frustrating and overbearing. I guess I needed an outlet." Betty mused.
Speaking of her mother, Alice's car turned the corner. She remembered that her mom used to drive a smaller vehicle until the twins were born. When she'd traded it in for a soccer mom van, Betty had just laughed. It seemed so unlike Alice.
"You two kids need a ride somewhere?" Polly asked, rolling down the window and winking.
"Where are you offering?" Jughead teased back while Betty hung behind, as though this were Jughead's sister and not her own.
"How about Pop's. I owe you two at least that," Polly said. Jughead looked back to Betty helplessly.
"Do you have time?" Betty questioned.
"Enough for this. I wrote out lists of things for the twins back at home and you can always text if you have questions," Polly said. Lists, yes, Betty liked that thought. They were sisters, after all, and did share a few similarities. Polly had gotten loads more responsible after the birth of her children too.
"Pop's?" Jughead echoed.
"The best place to eat in town," Betty said, opening the door. The twins were babbling in their car seats, "Err...you take the shotgun," Betty said, "I'll hop between them."
"Aunt Betty!" Dagwood cried, waving a little chubby fist, though when he spoke it sounded more like 'Nt Betty'. She smiled and kissed both of their foreheads. She was already feeling better.
"Okay, Pop's we go."
XXxxXX
On the stoops of her childhood home, with Juniper resting upon her hip and Dagwood standing next to her, Betty waved off Polly.
"I'll be back by six on Saturday, I swear, and I'll take you back to New York," Polly said, "Have fun you two," She added with a wink.
"So, the homestead," Jughead said, a step below her, gazing up. Betty pressed her lips together.
"Uhm, yeah. This is that." She said, shrugging.
"Hmm," Was all Jughead said.
Betty mimicked the noise with the inflection of a question. When Jughead said no more, she used her elbow to open the door and gave a nervous laugh, "You gotta explain yourself, Jug," She pleaded.
"It's just...I guess what I expected."
"Oh. That's good?" Betty asked, unsure.
"It feels homey," Jughead said, a hint of wistfulness that Betty almost missed.
"It was. Once," Betty said, thinking back to when she was very small and this house seemed impenetrable from all bad feelings. Its where she ran back to when she scraped her knees or when someone called her a mean name. It's where she used to hide, reading for hours when she had no friends. When she was a child, this house seemed almost like a friend. A part of her longed again for that sense of innocence and simple associations. Things got more difficult when she was in high school.
"It's nearly eight. I, uhm, have to give the twins a bath and put them to bed. You're free to make yourself comfortable. There's hot chocolate and popcorn in the kitchen, I'm sure, if you want to make that."
Jughead dropped both of their bags, "Need help?"
"I should be able to manage, but thanks," Betty said, a little uneasy with Jughead around the twins. Not that she didn't trust him in their presence, but more that she didn't want him to feel required to help or feel things for them. He was here as a guest of hers, not a secondary babysitter.
It took far longer to bathe the pair than Betty anticipated (but, she should have known), and by the time she got them both sleeping in their bedroom, Jughead was not on the couch downstairs like she thought. There was a lone chocolate-stained spoon in the sink, indicating he'd at least mad hot chocolate, and his shoes were by the door, so he hadn't bolted yet.
She wandered around the main level and downstairs, wondering where he'd gotten off too. It wasn't until she passed by the landing and realized there was a light on upstairs.
"I was starting to wonder if the twins killed you or something," Jughead said as she cracked her bedroom door open.
"I thought we'd be...downstairs…" Betty said, picking up a mug. It was still warm, which told her he must have microwaved it to keep it hot.
"I got curious about what your bedroom looked like," He said and then winced, "That okay?"
"Sure, I mean," Betty sipped to keep from saying something really silly, "Obviously, erm, I'm not necessarily a fan of Barney anymore." She said, flicking a finger toward a stuffed Barney toy in the corner of her room.
"Oh, I figured." Jughead set down a perfume bottle from her make-up counter, "It doesn't feel very...you."
"It wasn't," Betty admitted far easier than she thought she would, "It was what Alice wanted me to be."
Jughead ran a hand over her bedspread, "Fuck any guys on here?" He asked.
"What? God, no! I hardly even kissed a guy, let alone there!" Betty said, registering his question a split second after he asked, belatedly, "Plus," She continued, "If I had...would you really want to know that?"
Jughead shrugged, his eyes wolfish and smile light, "No, probably not, you're right. Still." He set down his own mug, "So...want to?"
XXxxXX
Betty woke up surprisingly well-rested, even when she considered the fact that Jughead had thoroughly exhausted her yesterday. She had never thought that getting it on with her current boyfriend on her high school bed would be so exhilarating, but perhaps it was just the new location. Plus, Jughead seemed weirdly into it, like he was claiming this area. Since her fingers had been the only thing to ever make her come in this area, he was welcome to take that title. And oh, had he earned it.
He'd gone down to the pull-out afterward. Betty's bed was only a twin and she couldn't imagine asking Jughead to scrunch up next to her. He was particularly long and gangly and as it was, Betty never felt like she had enough space here.
Also, for some inexplicable reason, the idea that he'd sleep here in her old bedroom next to her felt more uneasy than soiling it with sex. As naughty as that had been, Jughead falling asleep next to her gave her more anxiety.
Perhaps it was tied to her memories as a high schooler. She'd had one kiss here and it had been someone she'd sneaked up. God forbid that her mother found anyone accidentally having spent the night, though. Betty was sure if she'd done that, as Cheryl often had, her mother would have kicked her out that next day.
Betty fished for her phone.
It hadn't charged and thus the alarm had never gone off. Ah, yes, that's why she felt like she'd gotten so much sleep. She totally had.
The clock next to her bed told her it was nearly eleven.
Betty jumped out of bed and rummaged through her old clothes for an outfit. She'd opted to just wear clothes from here since she wanted to pack light. Though, she'd forgotten how few cute things she had left, having brought most to college with her. It was something that made her feel like Freshman-Betty again, but this late in the day, she was too frazzled to care.
The twins!
Betty was shocked they hadn't come bothering her at the dawn of the day. Those two were worse than morning kids...they were 'it's basically still nighttime' kids.
She didn't think they'd still be in their room but probably causing some sort of mayhem downstairs. She heard a faint voice from the kitchen, though as she turned the corner, she was met with the most unbelievable scene.
"-And then, Vitor realizes that the monster wanted to kill his new bride, not him-,"
Jughead was standing at the counter, Dagwood in a high-chair and Juniper in his arms, both of them eating a plate of mac'n'cheese. Though, not the kind from a box, no. There was a big steel pot in the sink and the remains of cooking supplies scattered around. He had the twins' attention on him with rapture, both of them staring up at him with big eyes. It was only when Betty stumbled over a misplaced toy truck that the trio turned to the threshold.
"Good nearly-afternoon," Jughead said brightly, "I made lunch, but I'm not sure you're hungry for that yet."
"Juniper likes to be...held," Betty said, her brain not quite catching up. Something about seeing a toddler on Jughead's hip was doing things to her, things that her brain had no right doing. It was making a long-distance call to her vagina, mostly, at the most inconvenient of time.
Betty, though loved the twins, had never gotten baby fever when she was around them. Not until now, that is.
"Yeah, I figured that out," Jughead said, patting her head, "She's a cuddler, huh?"
"Were you telling them...Frankenstein?" Betty realized after a long second, frowning. Jughead shrugged sheepishly.
"I don't really know any other stories," He said, "Plus, a little Gothic Lit is good for them."
"The monster has been killing people!" Dagwood exclaimed excitedly.
"See!" Jughead defended.
"You should have woken me," Betty said, grabbing a glass of orange juice from the fridge. Jughead made a shrugging motion the best he could.
"You seemed exhausted. The twins found me early this morning and I just put in Moana for most of the morning. I knew you were really on-edge about this whole thing, so I thought I would just take the stress off the best I could."
"That's...thank you," Betty said after a second, her throat tightening as though she may cry.
She remembered something that Veronica had told her long ago. It had been buried beneath a haze of champagne until now, but something had knocked it loose. It was back right when they met and Veronica had been in a string of hook-ups and was lamenting the lack of any serious relationship.
"I have a theory about what it means to really be a partner to someone," She'd said, "What a good boyfriend is."
"Someone who makes sure you cum first?" Betty had teased, knowing that her friend was hornier than most guys. Veronica had laughed and toasted to that.
"Yes, but no!" She said, rolling her eyes, "I just think that a truly good partner is someone that makes your life easier. That's it, that's the whole definition of it. Of a good boyfriend or husband or life partner. Someone who just makes life a little less difficult."
If that was the singular ingredient, Betty had mused, then her parents were failing. It seemed at all times they were making their lives harder on each other.
And they were miserable, so maybe, Veronica might be right?
It was something she hadn't thought a smidge about until now.
"You okay?" Jughead asked, and Betty realized she hadn't spoken for a bit.
"Yeah," She said, trying to shake out the quivers in her tone, "I'm just really glad you're here."
XXxxXX
They spent all of Saturday inside. If they didn't have to take the kids and get them into car seats, by golly, they weren't going to.
Watching toddlers was hard enough as it was.
Watching one? Well, Betty used to think that between a pair, one should be easy. She was beginning to see the fallacy in that thinking. So, add two in? A pair of twins, no less, who seemed to have their own language to speak to each other and like a magical touch for trouble?
It seemed like they perpetually needed another pair of hands.
Betty got over her hesitance for letting Jughead help out pretty damn fast when, somehow after that idyllic moment in the kitchen, Dagwood got a noodle stuck up his nose and Juniper somehow managed to tug out the blender and when Betty turned around after confiscating that Dagwood was just gone and Juniper was trying to open the fridge and-
"Divide and conquer?" Jughead had asked.
"Yes," Betty had said, "Oh, gosh."
"Hey, it's two three-year-olds. How hard can it be?"
By six-pm, Jughead was ready to eat his words.
"How did I manage them in the morning alone?" He was wondering, staring at the mess before the pair of them with wide eyes.
"Probably because they hadn't warmed up to you. They were too afraid to be monsters," Betty guessed, but she had no idea.
She'd thought she had a great relationship with her kin, but this was really putting her to the test. She'd never had to really be the 'bad cop' before, always handing them back to her mother or Polly before they really got on her nerves. She was 'Fun' Aunt Betty, who gave them candy and let them stay up a little later.
At least, she had been.
She was now 'For the Love of God Stop Doing What You're Doing' Aunt Betty and was perfectly fine with that.
She wasn't sure who started it, but they both were far too smart for their own good, but one of the twins started calling Jughead 'Uncle' and then the other had picked up and no matter how many times Betty corrected them, they were incredibly stubborn about it.
"Is that just a Cooper family trait, or did they get that from you?" Jughead asked after the umpteenth time of Betty saying in a sweet voice, 'No, Dag, that's Jughead,' and Dagwood responded (as though correcting Betty) 'Uncle Jughead.'
"It's a family thing," Betty grumbled.
It took an hour to get them to go to bed. Jughead finishing Frakenstine with his summary, which was not censored for children Betty would later complain to him about, was apparently too exciting. The kids just wanted more and it did not lull them to sleep. It was only when Betty began to read a paper she was writing for one of her courses, and completely bore them to death, did they settle down enough for her to read a nice and quick children's book. By the end of it, they were snoring.
When they were leaving the room, Jughead fumbled with the handle and nearly slammed the door. Both of them stiffened and froze where they stood, waiting for the tell-tale sounds of two children up and about again.
When five minutes went by without a peep, and they looked at each other and realized how ridiculous they both were in the way they were holding their bodies, it was all they could do to race downstairs at a safe distance away before they burst out laughing.
XXxxXX
The next morning, the twins had a full morning. Betty checked eight times that her alarm was set and her phone was charging (and made Jughead set three alarms himself) to be sure they would get up with enough time for food and getting them dressed.
Yesterday, Jughead had just sorta let them pick out whatever. Today, they needed to be somewhat presentable.
Polly had written the warning that they would act as though they'd completely forgotten how to put socks, shoes, and other articles of clothing on and to-under no circumstances-believe this ruse.
Betty wasn't so sure they were that intelligent, later, when Dagwood had his pants on his head.
They were scheduled early in the morning for 'baby yoga', which was just about the most pretentious thing Betty had ever heard of (but then again, her sister had named her children 'Dagwood' and 'Juniper'), followed by a playdate at a fellow toddler's house until 1 pm. Betty was thankful she did not have to be present for the yoga. Her and Jughead just had to drop the twins off at 8 A.M and then pick them up from the friend's house at 1 P.M. What did toddlers even do with each other? Betty was unsure.
Betty was all for crashing back at the house and just relaxing but Jughead wanted the full Riverdale Tour. Since he'd already been to Pop's, which was the Mecca of the city, Betty knew the tour would be rather lackluster. Still, he never seemed any less excited, nor did he act bored at her very average memories at each location they drove by. Her old high school, Sweetwater River, the lot where the drive-in used to be...They were all perfectly average spots in an overall average town. Jughead was drinking it all in, though.
"What was your favorite place?" He asked when they were taking a break to grab a drink at the little downtown coffee shop. Betty never thought she'd say she missed Starbucks, but she sorta missed Starbucks. Sure, the cafe had charm, but it was also overpriced and not even that great.
"Nothing exciting," Betty said, shrugging. When Jughead seemed like he wasn't going to let up, she sighed, "The library."
"Betty, you're talking to a writer. Why wouldn't I find that exciting?" He asked, throwing out his arms.
"Well, because it's just a library. I mean, it's smaller than most bookstores in New York. I had to leave to realize how tiny it is, but I guess back when I was little, it opened up the world for me in other ways," Betty said, her fingers scratching against the cardboard of her heat protector.
"No library is just a library," Jughead said, deeply offended, "We still have a couple of hours. Let's go."
There was almost no one present, not that it was usually crowded. The library attendant was someone new, someone Betty had never seen. She waved awkwardly and the woman returned a small, polite smile back.
Betty counted two other patrons. One was an elderly man who had seated himself next to Historical Non-Fiction Novels and looked like he wasn't going to move any time soon, the other was a Riverdale High Student frantically cramming for a test in the 'quiet study' area.
"Ta-da?" Betty said, waving a hand around.
"Where was your favorite spot?" Jughead asked, tilting his head. That was an easy question.
Betty led Jughead through the stacks, across the library to the Mystery Novels section.
"My dad used to let me and Polly go wherever we wanted whenever we came. My mom hated that I always wanted to come to this aisle. She would have preferred I read...other things."
"Isn't she an investigative journalist, though?" Jughead asked. Betty shrugged. She'd long ago stopped trying to figure out her mother's madness.
Betty's fingers trailed along the book spines. She had practically memorized the rise and fall of the book heights on the shelves. There hadn't been a new addition, at least not to here, in ages.
"Let's sit awhile," Jughead said, sliding a book from the shelf. Betty, whose fingers were already resting on an old classic, smiled warmly.
They read in silence for about half-an-hour, across from each other, slumped against the bookshelves. Betty's ankle crossed over his as they stretched out, but she was so deep into her book she almost didn't notice.
It was a quick read, made for middle schoolers. As she roused herself to find another favorite, one that was more suited for a high schooler, she realized it wasn't in the place she thought it would be.
As she craned her neck up, she groaned, realizing it was on the top shelf as they'd moved those books (the ones with blood, gore, and other unseemly things) to the uppermost shelves. It sure deterred most children, but also unfortunately short people like Betty.
She jumped, fingers almost touching the bottom of the shelf.
"What do you need, shrimp?" Jughead teased.
"The book with the purple spine. This. One." Betty growled, still trying to jump.
"Hey, hey, let me," Jughead said, but Betty was determined. She was going to get this book!
She didn't move out of the way. Jughead pressed up against her back, reaching easily over her short stature for it. She wiggled in a vain attempt to grab the book first, completely ignorant of what she was doing to Jughead until he had placed the book in her hands. When she tried to move, she realized Jughead was still standing behind her and was hard as a rock. Her attempt to sit back down only aggrieved the issue more, but Betty couldn't deny that she wasn't frustratingly turned on now too.
"You just had to jump for that book, didn't you?" Jughead asked, his hands finding their way to her hips and holding her against him, immobile.
"Wasn't my intention to…" Betty started, biting her lip.
"Sure it wasn't. But it happened." Jughead said, one hand dropping and tracing the hem of her skirt. As he kissed an open-mouth kiss on her neck, Betty squirmed.
"Jug!" She hissed, "We're...I'm…"
"Tell me honestly you're not hot and bothered too and I'll move away," Jughead said. Betty tried to form the words on her lips, but it would have been a bald-faced lie.
"That doesn't mean we should," She muttered, much to Jughead's delight.
"Ah, but why not?" Jughead's voice was far more casual than she thought it would be, "I've already ruined your bedroom for you...and the couch downstairs...and the basement bathroom, why not here?" He asked.
"Because that's public indecency!" Betty was trying to recall reasons why this was a bad idea (like, oh yes, something illegal), but even that sounded like a minor issue.
"Not if we just…" Jughead rocked against her and she rocked back, without meaning to, his voice a quiet whisper.
Betty opened her mouth to find another reason to say no, and found nothing coming out, except for, "The...people.."
Jughead hummed, moving four books at Betty's eyesight to the floor. He bent down to her level, nodding to himself, "You see? You have a view from here of our receptionist- still at her desk. Binging Game of Thrones, might I add, so she probably won't be standing any time soon. We have a clear view of The War Vet that way and you can just see the hat of the college kid through the windows. The door is also just in view, so if anyone comes in, we'll know." A finger slid between her legs, causing her to jump an inch, "You say when and I'll stop, but we're not going to be found out unless there are cameras."
"This place is ancient. They can't afford cameras," Betty said, realizing a moment too late she'd just switched sides. Damn horny brain!
"Excellent," Jughead said quietly, but she could almost hear his self-satisfied smirk, "Oh, Betts." He'd pushed up her skirt around her waist, or just enough so he could slide her underwear down her legs. It was indecent and embarrassing how wet she was. If they were at a different stage, she probably would tell him it had all to do with the idea of Jughead holding a toddler. They should probably talk about kids, if they stayed together, she considered. This wasn't the time and-
Oh, sweet lord.
Betty went stiff as he slipped two fingers in, focusing on her breathing and keeping her eyes flickering between the four locations; three patrons, one door. She would die of shame if someone found them, but she'd be more upset if they had to stop.
Betty felt his cock hover above her for just a second. She held onto the book with one hand and her other grasped the lip of the shelf above her, clenching down around it as Jughead slid into her. The angle was deep and burning inside of her already and Jughead paused for a second, his body shuddering as he let the feeling wash over him.
"I think books just turn you on," Betty muttered under her breath.
"Maybe," Jughead snorted, grasping her hips and pulling her back to meet his pelvis as he began to move. Betty almost closed her eyes, until she remembered that she was supposed to be on the look-out.
The War Vet got up. Betty opened her mouth to tell Jughead to move backward until she found she didn't have a voice. Goosebumps raised on her skin as she realized how hot this made her feel, to be dancing on the edge of danger, so close to someone walking in on them...all the while getting closer and closer to peaking.
"Fuck," Jughead hissed, "Yes, Betty."
The War Vet was just grabbing a drink from the water fountain. He returned and Betty's whole body felt slick with sweat and the relief of the moment of most delicious panic.
As Jughead pushed her down on him and his fingernails dug into the exposed area of her midriff, Betty let out a moan far too loud for any situation in the library, sex or not.
"Oh, Betty," Jughead whispered right at her ear, tutting, "We're at a library. Have some decency."
Luckily, the receptionist was too far into her show to have heard, but Jughead still snaked his hand around her lips to keep her from making more unexpected noises.
She was like putty underneath him. Trying not to make noise and watching the people in the library was all that her brain could handle, so when Jughead moved her leg up so it was resting on the second shelf, hitting even deeper, Betty's leg moved for him without restraint.
His finger dropped down to play with her clit and she grabbed his other hand, biting down hard as she finished. Jughead muttered something and the next thing she felt was the absence of, as he stumbled back and grabbed his discarded flannel off the ground to finish in.
As Betty pulled back down her skirt and Jughead zipped up, holding the soiled shirt in a ball in his hands.
Betty looked down at the book that was trapped between her body and the shelf, the entire precursor to that little adventure. She checked her watch, noting the time. With a sense of equal parts of regret and butterflies remaining from minutes before, she set the book back down.
"We should, uhm, get going. Get the twins home and Polly will be here soon to take us back to New York."
As she was turning to leave, Jughead reached out, trailing along her wrist gently. She turned around to see him right close to her again, but this time he tipped her lips up for a soft, gentle kiss.
"Ahem."
Jughead and Betty broke away to see the librarian tapping her foot at the head of the aisle.
"Yes?" Betty squeaked.
"This is a library, not the underside of bleachers," She chastised. Betty blushed, not from being caught, but from the knowledge that something far worse had just happened right under her nose.
"Sorry ma'am," Jughead said, the apples of his cheeks a reddish tone as well, "Just got a little carried away in the moment. Sometimes my emotions get the best of me around good literature; books are a magical thing."
The librarian was not half as amused as Betty was.