Betty stepped back to admire the view.
The built-in chestnut wood bookcase filled the entire wall. Hundreds of hardcover and paperback books lining its shelves. It had taken a few hours, but she'd finally finished organizing them all by genre and then alphabetically by author.
To the left stood a matching wooden writing desk and a retro desk chair with a teak frame and beige faux leather upholstery.
Sitting like a crown jewel atop the desk sat a black Vintage Underwood typewriter. A neat stack of printer paper next to it. A decorative wooden mug with gold enamel serving as a pen holder.
It was perfect.
Unfortunately, Jughead would probably make it messy within hours, she thought with a rueful laugh.
As if on cue, Betty felt a pair of strong, sinewy arms wrapping around her waist from behind.
"It looks so much better," he murmured huskily in her ear.
Betty smiled, relaxing against his chest. His grasp was so firm and warm that she didn't even recoil at remembering the horrid antique desk that had once occupied the room.
He twirled her around after a moment, her arms immediately spidering their way around his neck.
"Doesn't it?" she agreed, her blue-green eyes sparkling. "The company's better, too."
"Aww, cheerleader," he whispered, nuzzling his nose into her neck, his lips pressing the tiniest of kisses against her pulse point.
Maybe it was the sweetness of the gesture. The uninhibited excitement thrumming through both their veins at this new adventure. But Betty found herself mewling, hungry for more.
Jughead chuckled softly at her eagerness, forcing himself to release her.
"Later, baby," he promised.
She let out another breathless whine.
"Don't blame me," he ribbed her with a smirk. "You're the one who invited friends to come over on move-in day."
"Ugh, remind me again why I did that," she grumbled.
"You had no idea how sexy I'd be lugging furniture and suitcases in a tank top?" he suggested, his eyebrow quirking up playfully.
"If by sexy you mean really sweaty," she scoffed.
"Ouch," he mocked. "Harsh words from someone who was practically begging me to ravish her ten seconds ago."
Betty giggled. Only he could get away with using a word like ravish unironically.
"Okay, Juggie, I surrender," she conceded, biting her lip demurely. She knew she had a better chance of getting what she wanted this way.
Jughead appraised her, his blue eyes beginning to darken with want.
"Say it then," he commanded.
Her tone turned sultry. "You're really sexy. I can't help myself."
"Good girl," he growled.
A wave of need pooled in her stomach, and she took a step closer to Jughead, looking up at him with big doe-like eyes and perfectly pouty lips.
"Have I earned another kiss, Mr. Jones?"
She knew he wanted to refuse her for her backtalk. But his Adam's apple was quivering. A sure sign he wouldn't be able to say no.
"Just one, Ms. Cooper," he granted.
With a coy smile, she leaned in, her mouth brushing so delicately against his it barely counted as a kiss.
"Just one?" she breathed tauntingly against his lips.
"Fuck, Betts," Jughead groaned, grabbing hold of her shoulders and pushing her up against the door. His lips crashed forcefully onto hers, hands skimming down her waist to cup her butt and pull her lower body into his. She rolled her hips against him, hissing when she felt the start of a bulge in his jeans.
"Jug," she gasped into his mouth, "More, please."
"Betty," he pulled back, his voice molten. "I have no problem fucking you on the desk right now, but I'm not sure you want our friends to walk in on that."
His fingers crawled between her legs, feeling for the undeniable heat spilling out. "Or do you?" he whispered.
She whimpered, as he rubbed slow, lazy circles over her, more than ready to give in. Veronica and her set of keys be damned.
Of course at that moment, her phone beeped.
"Goddamnit," Jughead swore at the interruption.
Sighing in displeasure, she extricated herself from Jughead's embrace to pull her phone out of her pocket.
"It's Vee," she muttered, pressing the screen to let the audio message run.
"Hi Bee," Veronica's voice sounded. "We'll be there in 10 minutes, so please try to untangle yourself from garage guy."
A car horn beeped angrily in the background, followed by the shout of "moron."
"You know, literally only you two could get hot and bothered by fighting about unpacking—"
"Ronnie," an exasperated Archie sputtered in the background, "please focus on the road!"
"Relax, Archiekins," she yelled over at him, before redirecting her attention back to Betty. "Okay, ciao, love you, see you soon."
Despite his very evident sexual frustration at being denied, Jughead was laughing as the message ended.
"At least she's funny," he chuckled, adjusting his jeans. "For a complete cockblock."
Betty grunted, not quite as forgiving. She smoothed down her own wrinkled clothes, unconsciously rubbing her thighs together.
Jughead grinned as he noticed her discomfort, a glint in his eye.
"Did I mention," he said, gesturing to Betty's outfit of tight overall jean shorts and a fitted white T-shirt, "how much I like this ensemble?"
Betty shivered, sucking in a breath as his eyes traveled tantalizingly up her exposed legs before settling on the soft swell of her breasts, still rising and falling under the denim straps.
"Very garage girl chic," he teased.
Betty rolled her eyes at that description, but couldn't hide the rosy blush alighting on her cheeks.
"I had an inkling, Juggie," she managed to fire back, "when you couldn't take your eyes off my ass as I arranged the books."
"I just have to say," Jughead smirked, his voice adopting an even more flirtatious lilt, "you on your tiptoes, ponytail swishing from side to side, butt out, reaching for the top shelf ..."
He shook his head in faux wonderment, pinching his fingers and thumb together to form a chef's kiss. "No notes, Betts."
Betty heaved out a long, ragged sigh. Instead of cooling down the simmering sexual tension, he was purposefully riling her up. And making her even more aroused.
"You're so mean," she complained.
She tried to hide how tightly she was squeezing her thighs shut, but Jughead could see right through the taut, goosepimpled flesh.
He angled in closer, his lips ghosting over her skin. "Are your panties soaked through?" he asked hotly, his tongue swirling around her earlobe.
An involuntary little moan slipped from her throat. If they weren't ruined before, they certainly were now.
"You know they are," she whimpered.
"Poor baby," he teased, kissing the mole on her chin. "I know just what will help."
"What's that?" she asked hopefully, tilting her head and offering him her prettiest smile.
Maybe if she acted innocent and sweet, he'd be nice and use his skillful fingers to make her come within the next five minutes.
But, of course, no such luck.
"If I knock down some of the books and watch you put them back," he quipped with a shit-eating grin.
"I hate you," she burst out, stomping deeper into the room, as if to shield the defenseless paperbacks from him.
Jughead chuckled. "You love me," he corrected.
"Supposing that's true," she taunted, "you still better not go anywhere near my books."
"Why not?" he mocked. "What are you going to do about it?"
"I—"
"And don't say withhold sex," he interrupted with a knowing smirk, "because not only is that a cliche, but you'd cave after five minutes."
"Easy then," Betty retorted, cocking her head victoriously to the side. "Withhold dinner."
Jughead's eyes went wide, actually looking worried. "Fuck," he croaked out.
Betty giggled in triumph.
She may have been very uncomfortably dripping into her panties, but at least she'd one-upped him there.
Trying to distract herself in the few minutes before Archie and Veronica arrived, her eyes once again found themselves studying the bookcase in appreciation.
She had liked the more modern bronze shelves that had previously graced the study. But she had to admit this vintage, dark academia vibe definitely fit Jughead's aesthetic more.
And since the rest of the apartment was already modeled to her style, she'd happily compromised.
In any case, with the addition of Jughead's books, the size of her library had virtually doubled. A new bookcase was essential.
"Fangs and Joaquin did a really good job," she noted, admiring the wood's smooth finish. "It matches your desk perfectly."
"It's nice," he agreed, offering her an affectionate grin. "But I'm still most partial to the Underwood."
"Even though it was a birthday present?" she ribbed. "And you hate your birthday?"
"But I like presents," he rebutted.
Betty stifled an eye roll, remembering the evening of the surprise party she'd thrown him back in October.
He'd looked like he wanted to murder her when they returned home from a Bijou double feature and their friends popped out. Until he noticed the typewriter covered in a big red bow on the dining table.
Not to mention the large quantity of treats she'd baked for him. Raspberry cheesecake, snickerdoodles, fudge-walnut brownies.
Then he just looked hungry. And turned on.
To be fair, Betty had known Jughead would mostly hate the party. But that was half the fun. Sparking a fight to keep things fiery between them.
And her "punishment" that night had been worth it. Her skin flushed a pretty shade of scarlet just thinking about it.
Jughead smirked, as if reading her mind, and she shook her head, trying to rinse away the wild thoughts.
Stop it, she warned herself. You're becoming a sex maniac. Teasing Jughead without any further innuendos was a much safer way to kill the next two minutes.
"You know I'm expecting something for my investment, Juggie," she told him.
"Oh yeah?" he winked at her. "A love poem a la Keats. Ode to the Grecian goddess that is talk-show host Betty Cooper?"
"Funny," she countered. "I was thinking more the next great American novel."
Jughead laughed out loud. "I'll get right on that, Betts."
The doorbell rang before she could needle him about his writing further.
"Come on," he said, grabbing her hand and leading her out of the room. "We have guests."
"We?" she quipped, as he whisked her down the hallway. "You're making yourself comfortable awfully fast."
"Don't you forget it," he chuckled, pulling open the front door to reveal a poised Veronica and a red-faced Archie struggling to balance three wrapped boxes at once.
"Hello garage guy," she purred.
"Welcome to our humble abode," Jughead deadpanned back.
Slinking past him into the foyer, Veronica greeted Betty with a kiss on the cheek. "We bring housewarming gifts," she squealed.
"Thanks, Vee, you really didn't have to."
"Nonsense," she waved her off. "I picked them out and Archie—"
"Carried them," he supplied, depositing the pile with a groan on the dining table.
"Juggie, do you want to open them?" Betty suggested, mimicking his signature smirk. "Since you love presents so much."
Jughead stuck his tongue out at her.
Betty snickered, unable to stop giggling as she watched Veronica visibly shudder in response to Jughead's graceless ripping. Somehow most of the wrapping paper was already shredded in pieces on the floor.
"Okay, these would be nice," he declared, pushing aside the set of four thin rim, long-stem hand blown crystal wine glasses. "If I drank wine."
"I drink wine," Betty huffed. "And I think they're beautiful. Thank you, Vee."
"You're welcome, Bee," Veronica trilled.
"Don't worry, man," Archie volunteered. "I made her get something you'd like too."
Jughead raised his eyebrows in disbelief, until he opened the other two boxes to find a Chambord French press and burr coffee grinder. "Nice," he murmured.
"You seem like the kind of wannabee elitist who grinds his own beans," Veronica said with a sneer.
"I don't mess around with coffee, Veronica," Jughead defended. "Unlike you and the rest of the pumpkin spice latte-loving minions."
"I do not drink those, Jones!" she screeched, the two of them bickering their way into the kitchen to stow the presents away in the cabinets.
Betty rolled her eyes, smiling over at Archie, who was shaking his head.
"So how's Sweet Pea taking the move?" he asked her.
She opened her mouth to answer, but Jughead had managed to disengage from Veronica's diatribe about her caffeine habits long enough to call back with a laugh, "He still refuses to talk to Betty."
"Not true," Betty proclaimed. "This morning when you were loading the van, he grunted at me and said, 'That moody little shit is your problem now, blondie.'"
"Progress!" Jughead cheered.
Archie chuckled. "He'll get over it."
"He'll have to, Archiekins," Veronica concurred, returning with a bottle of rosé and two of the new glasses. "They've been together for a year. What did he expect?"
"That they'd go on living together forever?" Betty simpered.
"Oh!" Archie got excited. "Like Bert and Ernie?"
"Sweet Pea and I are nothing like Bert and Ernie," Jughead protested, carrying beers for him and Archie, as well as the tray of snacks Betty had prepared. "If anything we're Statler and Waldorf."
"You two will always have Jones Auto Repair," Betty teased. "He can at least let me have you at home."
"Two out of five star riff on Casablanca," he smirked, naming her reference. "But I agree."
"Adorable," Veronica cooed, half-sarcastically. "Let's sit."
"Please," Betty said, gesturing to the living room. The June sun was just starting to set, a pale pink light streaming through the open French windows.
Veronica surveyed the space, a gleam in her eye as she noticed the new armchair. Betty had reupholstered the somewhat dumpy, yet extremely comfy recliner from Jughead's old apartment with a light blue suede fabric. The couch's throw pillows had also been replaced, patterned in shades of cyan and cornflower.
"Now, Bee, this looks lovely," she pronounced.
"Not criminally underdesigned?" Betty joked, pouring them both a glass of wine.
Veronica laughed. "No, just right."
"Underdesigned?" Jughead questioned, plopping down beside her on the couch.
"It's stupid," Betty blushed. "Something Veronica said when Glen left."
"Ah, Scooter," Jughead said, his arm slinking around the cushion behind her, absently fingering the end of her ponytail. "I guess we have his idiocy to thank for this moment."
"Cheers," Betty cracked, winking over at Veronica, prompting a cackle back. The two women clinked glasses in a fit of hysterics.
A gorgeous man who could properly get her off. She'd definitely gotten that. And then some.
Although said man was now exchanging bemused glances with his friend.
"Any idea what's so funny, Arch?" Jughead said, his hand kneading the back of her neck.
"Don't look at me, bro," Archie said, swigging from his beer. "Not a clue."
Betty managed to stop giggling, a small smile remaining on her lips as she and Jughead locked eyes.
The gaze they shared was brief yet potent.
A wordless flash of understanding passing between them.
That perfect image she'd once clung to had always been an illusion.
Yet a glass pane with tiny little fissures. Though it might eventually shatter, that didn't mean it was bound to break.
That was her and him.
So yes, they still clashed and fought about silly things.
Whose turn it was to do the dishes. Jughead leaving brown-spotted banana peels on the coffee table. Betty bothering him with tedious anecdotes about her day while he tried to wind down with video games.
There were heavier disagreements, too.
About taking their next steps as a couple. Or how to handle her family's insults and drama.
But even when their arguments got so heated it felt like a cloud of smoke filling the room, they retreated until they could find the tunnel of fresh air to work through them.
He was there at the end of the day. By her side. Letting her be fully herself. Warts and all. Insecure, neurotic, impatient. It didn't matter, he accepted it. Teased her mercilessly for it, but accepted it.
Just as she shouldered his random snobbishness, cynicism, and stubborn temper.
And in some strange alchemy, it worked. They were good together. Better than.
Jughead offered Betty another tender squeeze as the conversation around them resumed, his arm hovering in close proximity for the rest of their friends' visit.
Two hours or so later, when it became impossible for Betty and Jughead to hide their yawns, Veronica nudged Archie as a signal to leave.
"We'll leave you lovebirds to it," she trilled, rising gracefully from the couch.
"You don't have to go, Vee," Betty told her.
She knew they were both worn out from the long day of unpacking, but it was still relatively early.
"It's fine, Bee," Veronica assured her. "We're going out dancing at Roving Eye anyway. We'd invite you, but…"
"You're old and boring," Archie finished with a grin.
"Hey!" Jughead mock protested.
"I saw the ratty bathrobe in the closet, Jones," Veronica snorted. "You're not fooling anyone."
Archie laughed aloud. "You still have that thing, man?"
"Okay," Jughead glared. "Definitely time for you guys to go."
Betty giggled, forcing Jughead up to walk Archie and Veronica to the door.
"Thanks for coming, Vee," she said, as they hugged goodnight. "Love you."
"Love you too, Bee," Veronica purred. "Bye garage guy."
"Night," Jughead called back, closing the door behind the pair.
Betty smiled at him before trudging back to the living room to clear the coffee table. She tossed the glass beer bottles into the recycling bag and began washing out the wine glasses and empty snack bowls.
Jughead stood by the kitchen's opening, watching as she carefully rubbed a sponge along the glass's rim.
"What?" she asked almost shyly, feeling his eyes on her.
"Nothing," he said. His lips were twisted up in a droll smirk, but his eyes were the softest shade of blue. "I just love your obsessive need to clean up right away."
"Someone in this apartment has to," she teased. "You're so messy."
Jughead chuckled, starting to tap his foot impatiently as he waited for her to finish.
Betty smiled, rolling her eyes. He thought he was so cute.
"It's hard to concentrate with you doing that," she sassed, parroting back to him the first words he'd ever spoken to her.
"I don't have all day," he responded, on cue.
Betty put the last glass down on the stainless steel dish drying rack, turning to face him with her hands on her hips.
"I think you have all night," she fired back, her blue-green eyes darting in mischief. "Actually every night."
Before he could summon a witty reply, Betty was brushing past him toward the living room. But Jughead was quick on her heels.
"Touche," he murmured, grabbing her waist and gently tackling her onto the couch.
Her back landed with a soft thud against the suede cushions, Jughead's willowy body pressing down on her, forearms bracing around her.
Betty released a little yelp of delight, reaching up to caress his cheek.
"Are you ready for your first official night at So-Dale, Juggie?" she asked.
"Should we order pizza and watch true crime for old time's sake?" he posed, with a wink.
"So like a regular night?" she ribbed him.
"Hmm," he grinned, propping himself up on his elbows so as not to crush her. "Maybe we should reenact the door scene."
"Oh yeah," Betty agreed. "I could ask you this time if you'd be interested in moving in with me."
"You know I'd never miss out on an opportunity to hear you admit you find me hot," he flirted.
"Was that up for debate?"
"No," he smirked. "But I like it when you try to resist my charm."
Betty squirmed beneath him, prompting Jughead to lick his lips and lean in closer.
"Like earlier," he whispered in her ear, his hips swiveling, grinding against her. The motion sent a delicious flutter through Betty's core.
"Mmm," she couldn't help but bait him. "I should have known weirdo loners were into kinky foreplay."
Jughead snarled, his fingertips finding her ribcage and tickling her under the overalls.
Betty busted out in a fit of giggles, barely able to breathe from how hard her sides were splitting.
The fabric of her tee was so thin it offered little defense against his delectable assault. She half-heartedly tried to wriggle away, but he was too strong.
"Jug," she panted into the crook of his neck. "Please, Juggie, stop."
Jughead relaxed his hands with another smirk. He rested his palms against her stomach, her abdominal muscles contracting as she struggled to catch her breath.
"Case in point," she muttered.
Jughead chuckled. "You want to tell me cheerleaders don't have kinks?" he said, cocking an eyebrow up.
"Oh, we do," Betty conceded. "Or at least this one does."
"Oh yeah," he questioned. "What's that?"
"Sarcastic garage mechanics with lots of books."
"Right answer," he growled.
His lips were on hers then, kissing her slow and gentle, but with a deliberateness that immediately had her heart pounding.
Betty curved her body into Jughead's to kiss back, extending her hand up to cradle his chin. She opened her mouth slightly, offering him entrance to explore.
But Jughead purposefully kept her at bay, holding back his tongue from their open-mouthed kisses.
Undeterred, Betty began a tantalizing chase after him, flicking little kitten licks against his lips until he groaned softly. Soon enough his tongue was sweeping gingerly against hers.
The malty flavor of beer he'd been drinking pervaded her senses and she sighed into his mouth, sucking on his bottom lip for an anchor.
Jughead's hand traced her curves, his mouth now exerting the slightest bit more pressure against hers. Enjoying their languid makeout but also greedy for more.
She matched his pace, her own hunger for him swelling. Until breathing became an issue.
Jughead broke away first, his head bowing forward to trail a series of featherlight kisses down her neck.
Betty whimpered when his lips nipped her pulse point, sucking it gently, but still enough to bruise.
"Let's go to the bed," she proposed, her hands clawing at the back of his ribbed tank top.
"Too fancy for the couch?" he teased, mumbling against her throat. He placed an additional kiss against the basin of her collarbone, adding, "You really are feeling nostalgic, aren't you?"
"No more than you," she whispered hotly back.
Jughead smirked, pulling himself off her and helping her to her feet. She was pleased to note the tightness in his jeans as he led her to their bedroom. She couldn't wait to feel all of him inside her.
Stopping at the door, Jughead leaned in to kiss her again, this time much more insistently.
His lips pried hers open, his tongue tangling with hers, savoring the sweet taste. Betty's back arched into his chest, a throbbing ache between her legs.
She sank deeper into the kiss as Jughead's hands roamed her body. Traveling from the bare skin of her thighs to the outline of her waist and up over her breasts.
When his thumbs brushed across her nipples, pinching the sensitive peaks, she lost any remaining composure. Her knees buckled, a moan gurgling in her throat.
Jughead took the opportunity to click open the clasps of her overalls, the denim fabric immediately sagging around her thighs.
Betty slipped off her sneakers to shimmy out of the garment. Her hands tugged blindly at the hem of Jughead's shirt. He broke the kiss to toss it off, before lunging for hers. She lifted her arms for him, and he pulled the tee off her, his fingers fumbling for her bra hook next.
When the scrap of lacy fabric fell to the floor, his eyes caught hers, filled with a burning need.
He was back on her within seconds.
"Do you want me to touch you, baby?" he asked, his lips gliding kisses down her neck and over the tops of her breasts.
"Yes, Juggie," she panted. He always knew just what she wanted.
His lips still nipping at her skin, he cupped her center, his fingers stroking her over the flimsy cotton of her underwear. Betty gasped, squirming against his hand.
"Take them off, please," she requested.
"Someone's eager," he ribbed her, sliding a finger past the waistband to run up her slit, smirking when he felt how wet she was for him.
Not to be outdone, Betty reached out to grip Jughead over his jeans, earning a hot hiss.
"That makes two of us," she countered.
Offering up a devilish grin, he relieved her of the panties. Betty punted them aside, her fingers finding the zipper of his jeans and undoing them. The pants pooled around his ankles and he kicked them off along with his socks and boots for easier maneuvering.
"Kiss me, Betty," he demanded as he inched closer, his breath hot against her lips. "I want your mouth on mine when I touch you."
Betty let out a little mewl, leaning forward to meet him in another dizzying kiss.
Jughead's hand returned to her drenched folds, two fingers probing her slickness before slipping inside and curling them against her walls.
Betty whimpered, clutching his shoulders as he proceeded to finger fuck her against the door.
His palm was grinding against her clit, sending delicious tingles through her body. She clasped her eyes shut, hips rocking against his hand in desperation.
She wouldn't last long.
Jughead groaned into the kiss, fingers pumping in and out faster, keen to drive her over the edge.
Betty's head fell back against the door at the sensation. "Don't stop," she breathed out. She was so close.
"I got you, Betts," he muttered in her ear, his soaked fingers easing out to rub circles over her clit.
"Yes, Jug," she moaned aloud as the pressure built, shuddering against his fingers until nothing but pleasure raced through her.
"That's it, baby," he murmured, his hand caressing her hip bone as she caught her breath.
Her eyes fluttered open to his smile, and she instinctively raised her thumb to skim over the crown tattoo covering his heart.
Jughead grinned wider, grabbing her from the door and lifting her up into his arms. She kissed him hungrily as he carried her into the bed, the two of them collapsing in a mess of limbs against the fluffy comforter.
Embracing feverishly, Betty palmed Jughead over his underwear, his cock twitching in her hand. She swirled her thumb once around his tip, jerking her hand up and down until he was as hard as possible.
He groaned, his mouth going slack against hers, turning on his side to wrangle his boxers off.
Pulling her ponytail loose, Betty propped herself up against the pillows. In a moment, he was back between her legs, leaning down for a sweet, lingering kiss on her lips.
With her thighs bracketed around his hips, he slid into her, eyes rolling back at how fucking good it felt.
Betty sighed, her fingernails digging into his spine as he began to move inside her.
"I wanted you all night," he mumbled, trailing messy kisses down her neck and throat. "I couldn't wait for them to leave."
"Don't lie," she panted, wrapping her legs in a bow around his waist. "You enjoy hanging out with them."
"I enjoy being inside you more." He nestled deeper to prove it.
Betty arched into his thrust, emitting a soft moan.
"I love you," she told him, groping for his hands to interlace their fingers.
He gripped them above her head, squeezing the skin tight as he continued to plunge into her, sending Betty's body into overdrive.
"I love you, too, baby," he grunted.
Jughead began moving faster, making sure she felt every last inch of him. When the head of his cock brushed against the back of her walls, she saw only stars.
Her center pulsed, tightening around him, and Betty cried out. "Please, Jug," she begged.
"Fuck, Betty, yes," he groaned.
With a final thrust, Jughead spilled himself inside her, Betty's own orgasm rippling through her on the heels of his release.
He fell atop her in the aftermath, both of them grasping onto each other as they regained their equilibrium.
After a few blissful moments, she loosened her legs to let him pull out of her. Jughead rolled onto his back, reaching over to grab tissues from the night table. He offered a few to her.
Accepting them with a grateful smile, Betty wiped the traces of him from between her thighs. Jughead absently stroked her calf, taking the dirty tissues from her when she finished.
He forced himself up from the bed, walking into the en-suite bathroom to toss them in the trash bin. When he returned, he began picking up their used clothes from the floor to throw in the hamper.
Betty watched him with an affectionate smile.
"What?" he joked, feeling her gaze on him, "I can clean up sometimes."
"Come here," she said, her eyes shining.
Jughead settled back beside her in bed, scooping her against him. Betty rested her head on his chest, listening for his heartbeat.
Her eyelids grew heavy to the sound of its safe, steady hum. She could fall asleep just like this, she thought. Naked in his arms. Every night. Forever.
She hoped he felt the same. She sensed it. But just in case he didn't, she had a warning.
"Juggie," she whispered.
"Yeah Betts?" he mumbled back, his eyes fluttering open to look at her.
"If you ever plan to move out, you better tell me to my face."
Jughead did his best to suppress his smirk. "I'll keep that in mind," he murmured.
"And if you take any of my furniture," she informed him, "I'll cut you."
At that, Jughead let out the laugh he'd been holding in. He ran his fingers through her hair, offering her his tenderest smile.
"You have nothing to worry about, cheerleader," he promised.
And Betty believed him.