So I have two stories going that I update once a month, and the 'date' for the other one is the 12th. I thought both that one and this one were on the 12th, I forgot this one was on the 5th. Oops. That explains the latenes...

Thank you to my reviewers: victoriaalexington, Guest, Guest, Serpent818, and Ava!

Guest (April 5th): Now that it's summer, I hope to get these out more frequently, maybe every two weeks, but we'll see! Read the A/N at the bottom!
Serpent818: Eventually, you just get used to the climate haha

Ava: Thank you so much! Glad you're enjoying it :)

October 17th, 2018

Betty didn't even breathe as she lowered herself down on the foliage of the forest, ducking her head under a branch and moving her foot so carefully as not to snap a twig. Holding an exhale on the other side of her lips, she drew back the bow inch by inch, never blinking as she focused all of her energy on the deer in front of her. It was huge; a buck. The antlers on it alone were bigger than her arm span.

She could imagine how gleeful she'd feel if the first deer they bagged was one she got. It was only going to work if she made this shot, and if she made it well. Otherwise, Sweets would never let her live it down if she missed it.

She waited until the majestic animal padded a little bit closer. She leaned forward, angling the bow and using her chin as a anchor. She tried to remember all the things that Cheryl had taught her so many months ago, at Lodge Lodge, and all of her own tips she'd picked up while practicing.

The animal turned its head, its eyes shining and bright. One part of Betty hated killing an animal as beautiful and regal looking as this, and it brought back memories of Bambi traumatizing her, but her grumbling stomach reminded her of the more important things in life.

Like, well, food.

She sent a prayer up to anyone that would listen moments before she let the bow go.

The twang resonated, reaching her ears and the ears of the buck, but not fast enough for either to make any sort of move. The arrow went right through the deer's throat, embedding itself deeply, causing blood to spray upon the decaying leaves below its hoofs. It took off, startled and in pain, and Betty ran after it, whistling to Sweet Pea to indicate the animal was on the move.

Sweet Pea, who was keep watch a safe distance away, broke into a sprint with Betty. He managed to keep up with the deer better than Betty, but it wasn't going to last long. It was bleeding all across the forest and it wasn't long before Betty caught up to them. Sweet Pea had grabbed the buck and was holding it steady, and it was too weak to fight it's way out. Sweet Pea's entire shirt was saturated with blood as he pressed himself against it.

"Little help?"

He could have killed it himself, had he gotten the right angle, but Betty thought maybe he was waiting for her. Letting her do the killing blow.

She sunk her knife into it's brain. It slumped to the ground, Sweet Pea jumping back, as not to fall under the weight of the fur.

It probably was in pain before it died, Betty thought, looking at the blood running down the neck, as she extracted the weapons. A clean shot would have been right through the eyes. This wasn't a clean shot.

It was, however, a shot.

This was the first time a deer had stumbled across their path they'd been able to kill. They'd both been practicing against the side of the barn, sending arrows to a crudely painted bullseye when they had a moment to spare. Guns were too loud. Traps were only good if they were lucky. Knives were too close range.

They were going out daily now, ever since the temperatures in nights had dropped. A week ago, Betty noticed sometimes that when the sun dipped below the horizon, she could see her breathe.

When she pointed this out to Sweet Pea, he'd said 'Winter is Coming'. She'd only raised an eyebrow. She may been a geek, but Sweet Pea was a nerd.

They always went together. One notched the arrow and hunted, the other stood guard.

They were evenly matched in who was the better hunter.

Sweet Pea had experience. He'd hunted before, with good success, with guns. Arrows was a new experience for him. His strength also topped Betty's. When he sent an arrow flying, it could go right through an animal.

His biggest problem was that he was impatient. It. wasn't in Sweet Pea's nature to stay still for longer than a minute or so, even when trying his best. He would undoubtedly shift, and his large stature would cause a crinkle of leaves or breaking a branch. With something like a deer, that took utmost quiet and patience, he hadn't managed that yet.

Usually, he'd alert whatever animal he was stalking and hastily shot the bow, not caring much about accuracy but hoping to blindly hit something instead.

Betty, on the other hand, knew all about biding one's time, about shutting her body down and just sitting...waiting.

She may not have the man-power that Sweets did, but she was willing to sit for hours until a deer passed by.

But her aim was awful. When Sweet Pea actually tried, his shots were near impeccable. Betty almost never had it hit quite where she was aiming, though she hit a good number. Enough to not be regaled immediately to 'watch' while Sweet Pea hunted. They took that job evenly.

Overall, they weren't the worst hunters out there.

Unskilled, Sweet Pea had corrected. Through the winter and into next year, they'd get better by practice. One day, they might even be as good as Cheryl.

Sweet Pea handed off his kills of the day to Betty as he began to tie up the deer to take back. Betty cleaned her arrow, putting it back, before taking the rope holding three rabbits and a fowl. Every animal was one more meal they'd get in winter. They were going to have to be mighty creative with their spices, Betty considered, since otherwise it would start to be pretty one-note.

Sweet Pea dragged the buck back, which Betty was grateful for. That thing looked like it weighed a ton. She was thrilled to imagine how much meat they could get off of it.

"Congrats," Sweet Pea said, nudging her shoulder, "On this."

"I got lucky," Betty shrugged.

Back at their house, they drug their kills into one of the detached garages, where they stored meat. Sweet Pea put down the tarp, brandishing a knife. Betty had never gotten comfortable with watching Sweet Pea gut an animal, which was strange, for she watched walker guts spill out all over and never got squeamish. It was something about knowing that this animal had been sentient, whereas walkers were just animated corpses.

She digressed.

She stuck around with him, though, on a stool nearby, watching him take out the innards and place them in buckets. Eating a deer's guts might have sounded gross once, but Betty would be upset if they didn't utilize every inch of this gift they'd been granted.

"You know," sweet Pea said, sitting back on his haunches, wiping sweat from his forehead, "It's a tradition that on your first deer kill, you're supposed to eat the heart."

"What?"

"You heard me," Sweet Pea was grinning. He fished around in the rib cage, taking out a bloody organ, "A-La-Game of Thrones. Just take a big bite out of it."

"Ew."

"I'm serious! It's totally something people do."

"That's unsanitary," Betty scrunched up her nose, "I'll take your congrats, but I'm not eating that. Don't you remember what happened when Daenerys ate that heart? She lost her baby."

"Dany lost her baby because she made that agreement with that witch doctor lady." Sweet Pea said like it was so clear she was wrong.

"In the show, sure. In reality, it was probably from eating an uncooked heart. Science." Betty threw up her hands. She gave a deep sigh, "I will meet you halfway. I don't want to waste any of the deer, so we'll cook it. Okay?" She gave him a sharp look.

"Fine," he pouted, "If you want to be a baby about it."

She was offended, but ignored him.

"I just realized," Sweet Pea said, making a horrified noise, "We're never gunna find out the ending to Game of Thrones."

"Oh, yeah, the last season was supposed to air next year, right?"

"Damn it," Sweet Pea sunk the knife into the deer, so upset he had to pause, "This is going to fucking kill me."

"We'll also never see the second Infinity Wars movie or the last Star Wars," Betty said after a second.

"Are you trying to make my cry?" Sweet Pea pouted.

"Is it really that big of a deal? Can't you just make up your own ending?"

"No," Sweet Pea guffawed, "I mean, half the time I hate what they do with stuff, but it's nice knowing what's 'canon'. That's a lost cause now. You think that if, like George R.R. Martin is kicking around somewhere, he'd tell his travel companions how it was supposed to end?"

"Suddenly regretting having me as your travel partner?" Betty giggled.

"A little," He said, but was grinning, completely in a way that made her heart thud, "You can't tell me who wins the Iron Throne."

"I hope it's Ned. He seems like a nice guy."

Sweet Pea squinted, "How far have you seen?"

"A few episodes. I feel asleep during a lot. I wasn't too into it. And I am very offended you are re-thinking your choices," She teased.

"Hey, c'mon now," He stood, coming up to her, "Just joshing you. Wouldn't trade you for anyone."

Betty, unable to think of a witty reply, noticed now close he was to her. He had sent one hand on the counter behind Betty, caging her into him, close to his chest.

"Really?" She asked, her tone completely serious.

Sweet Pea blinked, notching the shift in her tone. He too dropped his teasing expression, just for a moment. His adam's apple bobbed.

"Not even for Toni or Fangs?" She regretted the question the moment she asked it. How awful, to make him decide between his chosen family and her? For a girl he'd known less than a year in any serious way.

He didn't answer. Betty groaned, rubbing her hands over her face.

"Ignore That last bit. I didn't mean-,"

"No." The words fell over hers, a sharp and quick and very firm negation.

"No you're not going to ignore it?" Betty peaked between her fingers.

"No, I wouldn't trade you, even if it got me Fangs or Toni," He said, now sounding less sure as he explained it out. He was blushing.

"You're joking, right?" Betty whispered, "I mean, Fangs is like your brother. I'm just Betty."

Sweet Pea put his other hand on the counter behind her, his jaw tightening.

"Just Betty? You have no fucking idea, do you?" He asked, his laugh throaty and raw and like the sound of two wires sparking. Betty forgot how to breathe for a moment, and when the ability returned to her, it was like her mouth had been filled with cotton.

Betty's eyes flickered to his. She held it, his stormy chocolate eyes boring holes deep into her. He seemed to vibrate with energy, as though holding himself back.

She had two million thoughts going through her head right now, and all of them were dirty, dark, sexy things. She thought about how she wanted to kiss those lips, bit them between her own and lick all the day down his throat. She thought of how, if she wrapped her legs around his and pulled him closer, he'd sit perfectly in between her thighs. She thought about how they could go, fast and filthy, on the stool with the carcass of a deer inches away.

"Your shirt is disgusting," It was the only thing she could say that was decent. If she didn't say anything, she'd fear she'd say one of those other things. Of course, there was so much more behind just her statement. She thought about how she hated getting blood out of clothes, and how a good method hadn't been determined. She thought about how favorite shirts of hers had to be more or less burned after they were covered in walker guts. She thought about how, out of all of Sweet Pea's shirts, she would hate to throw this one away. The way it hugged his body was just so...awful and wonderful. It was tight enough to show the abs that he still retained, that it clung to his shoulders and made him seem godly. It left little to Betty's imagination, which caused the days he wore it to cause a mixture of stress and enjoyment for Betty.

Sweet Pea bit his lip in careful thought. His fingers played with the hem of his shirt, lifting it enough so that Betty could see a sliver of pale flesh underneath it. Was he going to take it off? Crap; she didn't think she could resist if that happened.

In a flash, she set her own hands underneath her body, sitting on them, as not to let her wandering fingers begin to undress him.

Sweet Pea's eyes flicker down, just for a second, and saw her action. He inhaled three times, then stepped back.

"I'll finish it up and try to get the shirt in the wash quick. Take the heart, go fry it up. It's distracting to have you here."

Betty felt mildly offended, but snatched up the organ between her palms. She sent one last look at Sweet Pea, stretched across the once mighty animal, and tried to keep her own heart inside her rib cage.

If Sweet Pea was aware of her internal struggle, he didn't seem it.

XXxxXX

October 22nd, 2018

If there was one thing Betty hated most in this world, it was waiting. As a Journalist, having her sources reply back to her quickly, and organizing herself in a similar manner, was of paramount importance. There was nothing in this world Betty liked more than something that came announced, on-time, and with little delay.

Online grading was awful for Betty. She'd been shoved off the computer more than once by Polly in her years, refreshing the online grade book over and over and over, waiting for a teacher to input her scores. Before that, back in middle school? Betty would be the first one in the room after a big test, and she favored teachers who got scores back after a weekend.

Point being, Betty believed in the idea of things coming at their natural times and being able to be properly prepared.

Winter in New York often came on schedule, or, at least in Riverdale it did. In late October, the coldness would drop in, by the third week of November there was dusting of snow, always a white Christmas, and then things would clear up mid-March.

Wisconsin was on no such time table.

She could feel it coming. She knew winter was arriving. The weather was playing tricks with them; it would be almost comfortable one day, cloudy and cold the next, and then it would get colder. Betty would count their food and check the firewood pile and the solar pads, thinking that yes, this was it. Then, it would warm up again and her anxiety would be for naught.

In all, it was making her cranky.

Sweet Pea, who was a bundle of chaos, seemed not to be bothered by this. His desk area was strewn of papers and notes, so this hardly surprised her. He probably noticed her grouchy snappish attitude, but he seemed to know better than to poke the beast.

Her hyper-attention to making sure that when things got cold and stayed cold lended itself as a hearty distraction. Most nights now, Betty was gnawing her fingernails under her blankets, and hoping they wouldn't freeze to death instead of imaging Sweet Pea with no clothes on.

What comes does come when Betty is not expecting it at all is the number one thing she had been semi-glad hadn't appeared frequently at all; her period.

In fact, it's been a blessing that she hasn't had to think about it much of late. If she was with Jughead, and they would obviously be having sex, maybe it would be different. Maybe that would be another added layer of stress, worried she was pregnant every time her period didn't show up. But, since Betty hadn't been laid in months, her lack of a period was on the very back of her worries and concerns.

She spotted on occasion for a handful of days, usually darker blood that told her it was old, but on the whole, she hasn't really had her period since the first month of the apocalypse.

Betty isn't surprised. She knows enough about her own health to know that the combination of her unintentional fasting, suspiciously un-nutritious diet, and constant worry has probably done a number on her body, mainly that of stopping her period. Her period was never 'regular' to begin with, but the strain placed on her womanly bits have just made the bloody bastard disappear entirely.

Maybe she should have been looking out for this more. They're in a place where food comes at least with consistency, although not in quantity, she's having protein on a regular basis, and for the most part, she's not stressed out of her mind anymore. It still startles her to see such a heavy flow one morning, and immediately, she sort of wishes it was gone again.

She hasn't really considered what she's going to do if her periods do become regular again. It seems like a huge waste to use tampons and pads, especially since Betty can go through nearly half a box on a really bad week of her period. When it was somewhat regular, near the end of her last year of school, she was getting it closer to every three weeks than every four weeks. This, she decides, is a consideration she doesn't want to have to be thinking about, not with everything else.

But, she buckles down and takes it like a woman. She knows her first day of her period is her worst, so she sacrifices two Advils to combat the oncoming cramps and headaches, starts to clean off her clothes, and goes about her day.

It's not an issue until the end of her cycle.

She doesn't mention it outright to Sweet Pea. Seems like a strange thing to bring up, and he might be grossed out by it. Jughead was always a little put off when she brought it up. Sure, it was just woman's bodies and sure it was normal, but frankly, Betty didn't like talking about it to other people either. To have old blood dispelled from her was a sorta yuck thing. It certainly left things messy.

Point being, Sweet Pea has probably walked around this whole week unaware, Betty thought.

She had taken to using tampons for the worst two days of her period, and then white cloth bits the rest, bits she would systematically bleach. She had decided to put two of her worst pairs of underwear to the job as ugly period underwear, and at the end of her cycle she sat in the bathroom (currently, with no running water, but a place for a sink and water in the tub that wasn't sanitized for drinking) and washed out her pair. It was only once this pair was thoroughly soaked with water and a little bit of bleach, she realized she hadn't brought her normal pair with her into the bathroom. She hadn't known today she'd end her cycle, and in the excitement and relief of having a glorious near-three weeks blood free, she'd taken off her underwear to wash immediately.

So, now she was underwearless.

She was wearing a dress, and her bedroom was across the house. Not an ungodly length to walk commando, but something Betty wasn't comfortable doing. She never felt comfortable commando, whereas Veronica had talked about that 'freeing feeling' far too often for Betty. Either way, she could put back on her soaked and damp underwear, wait in the bathroom for them to dry, or just it up and walk out into the house.

By matter of necessity and the idea of putting damp underwear back on seeming totally uncomfortable, Betty rolled her eyes at her own paranoia and walked outside.

Or, rather, walked briskly.

Perhaps a little too briskly, because she pretty much ran right into Sweet Pea. Sweet Pea, who had been clearly shoving around boxes or something downstairs, or maybe working out and chopping wood, because he was sweaty. And shirtless.

And Sweet Jesus…

Betty didn't think about sex or sex things while on her period. It was just too bloody down there, like the scene of a bad murder, for her to even consider such things.

The moment she was off her period, though?

"Woah, woah," Sweet Pea said, throwing his shirt over his shoulder, steadying Betty, "What's got your panties in a twist?" He asked, grinning. He maneuvered her back, so that she was close to a wall, patting her shoulder to walk past her, his other arm steadying her.

"Phrasing-," Betty couldn't help but stutter out, wondering if he somehow knew, or if God up there thought this was just some big cosmic joke to him. With most of the population dead, it probably was, and maybe Betty was the most interesting person to fuck with, she thought with a hint of anger and embarrassment. Sweet Pea paused his movement, turning his attention back to her.

"Hey, you okay? You're pretty flushed," Sweet Pea's hands were still on her arms. Betty couldn't look at his face. So she looked down.

Big mistake.

She could see the 'v' of his hips, the way his jeans hung off him, the bulge down there that might or might not have been his member, but God a part of Betty hoped it sort of was and then- and then she realized that she was just staring so blatantly at him, all the while getting wet herself, standing here in front of him with just a flimsy dress between him and her own nakedness.

Christ.

"Betty?" Sweet Pea's voice was tinged with humor, in a way that made her feel even warmer.

"I...was going to the bedroom, to," She swallowed. Find an excuse, she told herself, just say anything to get out of this moment before you do something you'll regret, "Well, because I'm not wearing underwear so I need to grab another pair."

Okay, so telling him the truth had not been on her shortlist of ideas she thought was a good one. She actually wasn't sure what had compelled her brain to form that sentence or her lips to speak it. She wasn't sure what part of her anatomy had betrayed her more, but she immediately screwed up her face in a wince, sure her face was approximately the color of a plum right about now.

Silence. When she opened her eyes to see Sweet Pea suck in hard.

His eyes flickered down, not as though he could see anything, but his face was almost unreadable.

Almost, except for a dark look that seemed to overtake his pupils.

"Really? Seems irresponsible to be running around without underwear on in the middle of an apocalypse," His words were lighthearted and teasing, but his tone was sexy and rough, just the way that made a whole shiver run up her body.

"Well, I," Betty fumbled, her voice a hair above a whisper, "Don't you go commando like half the time?"

When Sweet Pea shot Betty his grin, it was downright sexy. It made her legs quake a little.

"And how would you know that?" He asked, a chuckle finding its way from his mouth. She hadn't known, she'd been guessing. But from the way his head tipped, she got the acute confirmation that he was currently wearing no underwear under his jeans.

And the fact that they were both standing there, and if they both took off their clothes they'd be one step closer to having sex, caused Betty to more or less melt into a quivering pile. As her legs started to buckle, Sweet Pea went to catch her, one hand clasping harder around her arm, the other grabbing her at the waist.

He was inches from her. Somehow, he'd pressed her against the wall, and crowded closer, maybe to pull her against him if she actually did do something as totally embarrassing as fainting.

Betty met his eyes. She couldn't stop looking now, watching the minuscule changes on his face.

He knew how deftly he held her attention, because he bit his lip, as though considering something. She nearly jumped out of her skin as on of his hands began tracing lightly down her leg, just a finger ghosting across the top of her dress. It paused right below the hem. For a second, Betty realized she couldn't have predicted what was going on in Sweet Pea's head, or what his next action was, but he placed his hand on her lower thigh, the top of his palms brushing the end of the fabric of her dress.

A breath hitched in her throat.

This seemed to please Sweet Pea, because his lips part just a smidge, just enough so that when he breathes out and in, Betty can almost feel the tension that he holds. He swipes his tongue over his lips, and Betty finds she copies the movement on her own lips.

His hand moves up.

Just an inch, but enough so that now his hand is under her dress.

She's never thought about how large his hands were, not until they were splayed across her thigh now, curling around her skin, leaving fire tingling wherever it touched.

His eyes focus hard on hers as it continues upward.

He has reached her hip. It seemed almost cruel in the way he was deliberate so that his hand curled more toward the back of her, than the front. His thumb brushes over her hip bone, exactly where the fabric of underwear would be if she had any on. He seems to be thinking the same thing. His other fingers are around the back of her figure, his fingernails digging lightly into the back of her ass.

Betty wonders if she presses forward if he'd be hard, if she could feel the heat from him on her, if it would cause her to lose any sense of logic. She imagines slipping her dress over her head in a sleek movement, she imagines her fingers fumbling with his belt buckle and shoving his jeans down his legs, an she imagines pulling him up against her.

She, honestly, is super-super turned on right now.

Sweet Pea's hand starts to move toward the front of her again, and now his hands are right next to her center, the only other people who have ever gotten so close down in this area being Jughead and her own hand. If he just reaches out a millimeter, he'll feel how slick she is. Betty is still focused on his eyes, and makes a small whining noise in the back of her throat. Her hips buck up, just a bit, and she is another moment away from begging Sweet Pea to continue forward, to press his fingers up into her.

There is the sound of cans clanking and immediately both are drawn out of their trance. Sweet Pea runs to the window and cusses.

"A walker made it through. Go put underwear on, I'll deal with this," He says, grabbing a knife off the table and thundering out the door before Betty can protest or do otherwise.

He's gone a while; she does not see him kill the walker, but he has to drag it off their property, or at least the general area.

She wonders if he's avoiding her.

When he comes back in, he says nothing of what nearly just happened, so Betty does not either. They just got caught up in the moment, right? Good thing they hadn't, she thinks, because people do stupid things when they're horney, which she imagines Sweet Pea is equally so as her. It might seem like the logical thing to perhaps offer a friends-with-benefits situation, but Betty thinks overall, if things go downhill, it would just be so awkward and bad in the house.

Yes, strictly celibate friends it is.

Still, that moment remains lodged in her subconscious, and she plays through it when she's alone, because everytime she does, she feels the unquenchable embers lighting deep in her stomach. It's enough to provide her with a mental imagine that she brings herself to completion on later that night, crying out against her palm, as she imagines what might have happened if that walker had not stopped them.

XXxxXX

October 24th, 2018

One day, Betty gets her name.

Her nickname, that is. Rather, Sweet Pea announces it to her.

Well, announces is saying a bit much of it. It's about as unceremonious as one can get. He doesn't give a bow and deliver it on a silver platter or something, nor does he even tell Betty that's what it is. And to say that he'd been waiting to spring it on her might be overstating it too. If he has been, it's only been for a week. Sweet Pea has never been good at keeping secrets or withholding pleasure...and this for sure gives him some gleeful sense of joy that Betty is still glad he has.

Probably, she thinks, he settled on it just a day or two ago. She doesn't think he's been taking this un-seriously, no, not that. She just knows Sweet Pea well enough that when he was 100% on her all-important nickname, he'd release it.

It came ever-so casually. So casually that Betty, at first, thought he was sneezing or having a stroke or something.

They were trying to figure out a meal plan for the winter. Sweet Pea wanted a highlighter; his favorite color, specifically, a weird purple one that Betty thought was a pretty shitty highlighter to begin with. It was sorta just a maker to her, since it wasn't exactly fluorescent, but it was totally within Sweet Pea to like that specifically.

"Arianrhod."

At first, Betty just thought he was saying...well, she wasn't sure what he was saying. Song lyrics or something? Point being, she ignored it.

"Arianrhod."

Betty frowned, glancing up at him, nose scrunched up. He'd just said that, hadn't he? Sweet Pea was looking at her...expectantly?

She raised an eyebrow.

"Arianrhod, the purple one, please," He said, extending his hand out, speaking very specifically. Betty tongued the inside of her cheek, chuckling.

"You okay, Sweets? Are you...sneezing?" She knows he's saying the same word, but she couldn't tell you what that word is.

"No, Arianrhod, I'm not."

Betty tilted her head. She frowned.

Then, she understood.

"Oh!" She breathed out, grinning, "Is that it? My totally awesome protagonist name?" She asked.

"Yeah, yeah, it's just a name, though," Sweet Pea tried to play it off, but he was bouncing with unhinged excitement. She knew he'd picked a few of the former Serpent's names, but there was probably something really special about him picking hers. She just couldn't put it into words, or rather, didn't want to say the words out loud.

Betty paused, "What is my name?"

"I've said it four times."

"No, yeah, I mean…" She waved a hand, "What is it?" She wasn't even sure if she could pronounce it properly. Couldn't he have picked an easier name?

"Arianrhod," Sweet Pea said slowly. A shiver ran over Betty's skin, raising her goosebumps. When he curled his tongue around the 'r' sound in it, it was downright sinful. There was a certain breathiness to the name too, something that made it her new favorite word to hear him say. It sounded like hers, as she listened intently to the way he said it, and leaned into the pronunciation. As the words settled over her, she felt it was right.

That's how a name should be, though? The feeling that you owned it.

Betty owned this name.

"Okay, 'aaron-rod'?" She asked, trying to move her lips in the same pattern he had, but even as she spoke it, she knew it was a butchered attempt.

Sweet Pea laughed, his tongue flickering out to lick his lips.

"No, no. Not quite. Arainrhod." He said again.

"Air-rain-rod?" She tried again. Sweet Pea nodded.

"Closer."

"Okay, how do you spell it, then?" She asked, frustrated, but had expected nothing less of Sweet Pea. Giving her a name she could actually pronounce or recognized? Far too easy.

"Last freebie," Sweet Pea announced, holding up a finger, finding a scrap piece of paper. In big block letters, lunging across the table for his damned purple highlighter, he wrote 'A-R-I-A-N-R-H-O-D', which is not the way that Betty would have guessed to spell it in a million years. Underneath, wrote 'ari/an/rhod' which she assumed was the pronunciation. He gave the slip of paper to her in a flourish, and Betty carefully folded it to put in her back pocket, to then put in her bedside table.

"Cool. What is an Arianrhod?"

Sweet Pea made an irritating buzzer sound, crossing his arms, "That's now how the game works, Betts."

"What?"

"The game. Duh. You gotta figure out your name; what it means and why I gave it to you. I did give it to you for a reason. I didn't just pluck it from thin air. It has meaning." He said, scoffing, going back to highlight what their actual work was in the first place.

"Okay, okay," Betty aquiested, "What are the rules of the game?" She asked, when it was clear that he wasn't going to offer those up.

Sweet Pea looked up, a wicked smile on his face.

"Oh, Arianrhod, I'm so glad you asked."

Sweet Pea got up, going to their kitchen. Betty watched as he raided the kitchen for a second, before returning with a bottle of Jack Daniels. Betty winced at the sight of it; the last time she'd drank, it hadn't gone well. Or, she assumed it hadn't gone well, that being that she didn't remember any of it. That in itself was a pretty good indicator.

"Every time you want to know anything about the name, you have to take a shot. It used to be a shot of alcohol or a shot of something gross otherwise, like melted butter or tabasco sauce, but since we're saving those alcohol is the only thing we got left. Lucky for you," Sweet Pea said, looking pleased with himself, "Yes or no questions only. When you think you've figured your name out in full, you take a double shot to 'confirm' it."

"That sounds awful," Betty moaned, "Did you have to do that?"

"Well, when I joined, they hadn't made those rules yet. Plus, I already came with a nickname. This is strictly for those that wanted in on the fake-name fun, like Lann or Fangs." Sweet Pea tilted his head, "Fangs found out his name three times, but every time got so drunk he didn't remember the information he'd previously found out."

"That won't be me," Betty said firmly, "Gah, don't we have better stuff than that?"

"Well, we have wine, but that's not a shot," Sweet Pea scoffed, though Betty was a child learning a lesson, "Plus, we want something that can stay open a long time. Knowing you, you won't opt to figure it all out in one night."

Betty stared dubious at the colored liquor.

"No, I won't." She agreed.

"Are you going to do one right now?" Sweet Pea asked, shaking the handle.

Betty frowned, settling her clasped hands under her chin, pulling out the sheet of paper and staring at it in front of her for a long time.

"One," She finally decided, "But I'm going to do this right." She said firmly. She got up, jumping over the multiple books and resources they had scattered around their desk area, going to a cabinet on the far side to grab her notebook. They'd realized that notebooks were going to be a scarce commodity one day, and it was necessary to have records of certain things, such as crops or food- as they were doing now. They couldn't rely on electronics to work forever. Shitty thing about Mac computers, and computers in general, is they were made to be expendable one day, as they made new ones. So, even though it seemed to them now that they'd raided a Staples, there might come a day that they'd be savoring every scrap of paper their way. Therefore, they agreed that per every two years, they'd each get a 'personal notebook' each. They could do whatever they pleased with this notebook; diary, journal, make notes, write love songs...whatever. Betty got hers out. She'd written sparsely in it. She wanted to continue to journal, and did, but not on this. She'd have to figure out a more sustainable way later.

On a new page, she wrote 'Arianrhood' across the top margin. Then, a number '1'. Sweet Pea rolled his eyes.

"Only you, Coop," He said, which told her the name 'Cooper' wasn't being retired, not entirely.

"I'm not going to go through the process more than once," Betty scoffed, "Do I take the shot before or after?"

"I suppose it doesn't matter much."

"Okay, first." She said resolutely. Sweet Pea found a shot-glass, something Betty hadn't even been aware they had. However, it had a deer on it, which told her that maybe it was already present in the house when they'd arrived. It was a corporate retreat, why did they have shot glasses?

Maybe, she thought, the best way to truly bond with co-workers was through roaring parties and heavy drinking. Or maybe it was for the owner to have in between groups, as they cleaned up and wondered what they were doing with their life.

That was too sad. Whoever had owned this place was gone now, probably dead. Or not, and he'd show up here, and then that would be a whole other can of worms.

Or-,

"Stop thinking so hard. You'll pull a muscle," Sweet Pea said.

"I'm not even thinking about the name," Betty admitted after a long second.

"Bottoms up."

Betty looked at the shot with displeasure. She grabbed her water bottle sitting on the counter. Had the world been all good, she would have chased it with soda or something else, but water would have to do. She held her breath and poured it down her throat. Then, she chugged half of her water bottle.

"What is the point of that?"

"Usually, people do multiple questions in one night. It makes every question count. Still does for you, since you have to do that every time you want to know something. Plus, it's just fun to watch."

"I feel like you're bored," Betty grouched.

"A little, thank you for noticing."

"Okay, my question; in all of the books that we have in the house, is the name in one of them."

She wrote the question down as she spoke. If it was, then she just had to search for it. It may take forever (they had a lot of books, and maybe she'd take a couple more shots in later days to narrow it down), but she could find it. If he said no, it was going to take a whole lot longer to figure this out.

Sweet Pea smiled. For a second, she feared he was going to say 'no', just to irk her. Just to make this so much harder. She had never wished for the internet as much as she did right now.

"Yes, Arianrhod, it is."

Hello good people!
As you can see, we're moving into some of that delicious unresolved sexual tension territory. I even tried to find a name of a song that was that, or a song about UST, but to no avail. if you find one or have one lemme know! There are lots more of these sexy chapters ;)

*I like to imagine that Sweet Pea is a huge nerd. Originally, when i was planning this, I thought that this chapter would debut in April, before GOT, but May still works. However, as the season is going now, maybe SP should feel good that he'll never have to watch the burning trashcan that D&D have made it...

*Betty has her nickname! If you wanna play along to guess her name, you can! I think there's six connections between Betty's name to Arianrhod that SP took to get there. So, you can ask through the reviews, you can PM me, you can go to my tumblr (youngbloodlex22) and PM me there or ask a question, as many as you like, but I'll only answer in yes or nos. I'd be interested to see if any of you can figure it out ;) Figuring out what the name means is only a very small part of it! There's a reason he picked it!

*Finally, I have already written two chapters, nearly three a head. If I get a ton of reviews, I may consider updating in two weeks! So, show me some love :)