**For those who've read the previous incarnation of this story, sorry for yanking the rug out, but I wanted to extend the story. Following the general events of the show works better with the new pacing. Please bear with me.**

This is not a fluffy, romantic story. There is dubious and non-consensual sexual contact both mentioned in the past, and between the main characters. I write dark material. If you're not comfortable with this subject matter, please take care of yourself and don't read it.

Please read and review. If you want to give constructive criticism, I welcome it, but if you leave criticism anonymously, I have no way to reply so I won't post it. PM me if you have questions or concerns.

1. Nocturnal Mission

Jughead stirred from sleep when he heard the bedroom door squeak open. He was, by necessity, a light sleeper, and opened his eyes, not moving. He lay on his side with his arm tucked under his pillow, and could see clearly enough through his eyelashes without needing to sit up. The unfamiliar room came into focus and he remembered where he was.

Cheryl, in what was probably a misguided attempt at imitating kindness, had offered to let Jughead stay in the guest house when she'd seen him leaving the drive-in. After the talk he'd just had with his father, the sullen teen had accepted. He'd spent the first week anticipating eviction, or some kind of prank. When that didn't happen, he'd expected Cheryl to ask him to do some kind of favor for her, like help her hide dead bodies, or something. To his surprise she'd started showing up while he did his homework, or cooked, or washed dishes. She'd just sit on the loveseat in the small living room, texting on her phone, or reading a magazine, usually ignoring him like she did at school.

Jughead found he wasn't surprised when he recognized the feminine silhouette, briefly illuminated in the doorway, before his visitor shut the door and padded silently across the floor. He didn't know if she knew he was awake, but she didn't hesitate before lifting the covers and sliding into bed beside him. She didn't put her arms around him, but curled onto her side, with her back to him, and drew her knees up. They'd be spooning if she'd been lying a little closer.

"How can your feet be this cold?" he asked, hissing when her icy toes pressed against his shins.

"Shut up."

They didn't speak again for several minutes and Jughead had just decided to fall back to sleep when he heard her voice, thin and brittle in the darkness, devoid of its usual sarcasm.

"When we were little, Jason used to come and sleep in my bed when he'd had a bad dream, and vice versa." Despite Cheryl having her back to him, he could hear the tears in her voice, even if they didn't fall.

"Is that why you're here?" his own voice was rough from sleep, but he wasn't unwilling to talk, even if the company was uninvited.

"No, I don't remember my dreams anymore." She cleared her throat and sniffled. "Most of the time, anyway."

"Are you afraid someone wants to kill you?"

"Yes."

"Considering the rate at which you make enemies, Cheryl, you're probably right."

"Thanks for the words of comfort," she said blandly and he chuckled softly.

"You woke me up."

"Sorry."

"It's okay." He mused that it was probably the first time she'd ever apologized to him. It was also probably the last time she ever would. "Do you want me to take the couch in case anyone breaks in?" he asked.

"No," she replied, tucking the covers around her. "Nobody would ever think to look for me here."

Jughead smiled and rolled over, facing the window. He fell asleep fairly quickly considering the fact that he was sharing a bed for the first time in a long time.

Warm breath caressed the back of Jughead's neck and he woke, a little before dawn, feeling the unfamiliar sensation of being the little spoon. Cheryl had her arm draped over his waist and was tucked up behind him with her feet sandwiched between his. She hadn't struck him as the cuddling type, but she was warm and he drifted back off to sleep.

When Cheryl came back a week later, slipping wordlessly into Jughead's bed and curling away from him on her side, he rolled onto his back and gave up one of the pillows without a fight, or comment. He has nearly fallen back to sleep when she rolled over and tucked herself against the side of his chest. He smiled a little and drifted off, feeling a small amount of satisfaction that she trusted him.

Cheryl and Jughead didn't speak at school, and it suited them both fine since they didn't really have anything to talk about, but her visits to his bed became more frequent. After two weeks of sporadic nocturnal appearances, he barely woke when she came in for the third night in a row; he just lifted his arm from where he slept on his side and let her settle her back against his chest. Several hours later, he realized the folly of this when he woke to answer the call of nature and realized he'd been spooning Cheryl with morning wood.

Attempting to delicately extricate himself from her long hair, Jughead crawled over her to get to the bathroom. It was four in the morning, but he opted for a quick, cold shower in order to avoid embarrassment for the next few hours. The alternative solution to the problem, with her in the next room, was unthinkable. When he opened the door to the bathroom, Cheryl stirred and shaded her eyes from the overhead light.

"What are you doing?" She asked, grumpily as he pulled the cord, sending the room back into darkness.

"Showering," he answered, grunting as his toe hit the bedside table. His eyes weren't accustomed to the dark anymore. "I wanted to get in before the rush." He hopped nimbly over her and eagerly got back under the blankets. He turned away from her, in order to avoid any other anatomical mishaps and heard her sigh heavily before rolling over to throw an arm over him.

"You're freezing." Cheryl was surprised and lifted her head off the pillow, gripping his upper arm. "Like, your whole body is an ice cube. Is the hot water heater on the fritz?"

"No," he mumbled. He could practically hear her thinking.

"Did you have to take a cold shower?"

"Yes, go back to sleep." He felt the vibration of her laughter when she pressed her forehead against his spine. He rolled his eyes in exasperation, "It happens to all guys in the morning," he continued, defensively. She was chuckling softly, now. "It would have been …discourteous if I'd just left it like that while acting as temporary Big Spoon."

"Discourteous?" She laughed. "Oh, was that what was poking me in the lower back? I thought it was a finger."

"Believe me, you'd have known the difference," he replied, grumpily. "But I don't take advantage of sleeping bedmates."

"No, I don't suppose you would." She settled down behind him and eventually they fell back to sleep.

Cheryl was absent for several nights before she came back. Jughead hadn't exactly missed her, but he'd grown accustomed to her warmth and found himself sleeping more fitfully, like his sleeping self was waiting for her. Then the door squeaked and he opened his arms when she got into bed, resting her head on his chest. He tucked his chin against the top of her head and smelled her fragrant shampoo, drifting into deep sleep.

Jughead stirred from a pleasant dream and rubbed his face against long, silky hair. A warm hand ran over his chest and a long, slim leg slid up over his knees. He turned into the familiar embrace and felt full, soft lips press into his. He opened his mouth with a sigh and returned the kiss, hesitantly while leaning into the gentle caresses. It felt good, just to be touched, and this touching was so gentle, soft, and affectionate. The warm waves of sleep gave way to a deeper heat of arousal. He opened his eyes and found himself wrapped around Cheryl. She was lying with half of her body on top of him, and in the dim light from the moon, he could see that she was looking down at him. Confused, he pulled back a little.

"Mmmh, what are you doing?" The teen mumbled, rubbing a hand on her lower back, absently while dragging his other hand over his eyes. He wondered when he'd arrived in the Twilight zone. Her knee inched higher and came dangerously close to an area of his body that had been awake for a while. He turned quickly onto his side, trying to fend off the discovery. Her leg kept moving up until her knee was near his hip and her lower leg draped over the back of his thigh. She moved her hand down his chest and to his abdomen before he grabbed her wrist. Their faces were inches apart and she closed the distance, kissing him a little harder. He kissed her back, for a moment, before turning his face away. "Wake up, Cheryl," he said.

"I am awake." She arched her back and pressed her breasts against his chest. "And so are you."

"Yeah, now." Jughead pushed away from her, falling to his back and left one of his knees cocked up to hide the status of his lower body. He scrubbed a hand over his face, and stared at the ceiling. "If I hadn't woken up, would you have taken things too far?" He felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment and anger. He had left himself open, vulnerable, while sleeping.

"What's too far?" The Cheryl from school was in his bed now, not the one he'd been sleeping beside for the past few weeks. She sat up, suddenly and straddled his hips. He gripped her thighs, automatically, as if he could hold her off. She settled her weight on him, letting the warmth from her body press against his thickening erection, and making his whole body go rigid. He noticed she only wore a tank top and panties, which meant that she'd ditched her cotton pajama pants before she'd begun touching him. The realization confused him even more. She placed her hands on his shoulders and he moved his grip to her forearms.

"Cheryl," he said, trying to hide the tremble in his hands. "I'm not used to the way you play games." He jumped when she rolled her hips and ground down against him. He grabbed for her waist in a panic, to try and stop her movements. "I swear, I wasn't going to try anything!" He heard his voice crack in desperation.

"I know, you were being …courteous." Her voice was velvety soft and she moved her hands down his chest and under his t-shirt. "Your skin is so soft, it's like sleeping with a skinny plushie." He gripped her wrists and stopped her exploration.

"This isn't funny, Cheryl."

"I'm not laughing." She rolled her hips against him, and to his embarrassment, he gave a quick jerk of his hips. She smiled when she felt him and did it again, pulling an involuntary groan from him. "You were right, there's no mistaking it for a finger in the dark." She inched her way lower on his hips, and his erection sprang up between them, tenting his pajama pants.

"Happy now?" he asked, coldly. He felt humiliation blaze through him like a forest fire. Unable to hide, he was stuck with his body's response on display. She stared openly at him. "You've proved you can get me excited with very little effort. Congratulations, I'm a guy."

"Intrigued? Yes. Happy? Not yet." She slipped her wrist from his grip and wrapped her cool fingers around his stiffening shaft. He started to grab for her, but when she began to stroke him through the thin cotton of his pajamas, he fisted his hand in the sheets and gritted his teeth. His brain refused to work properly and he arched, involuntarily, bucking up into her hand. Her touch felt amazing, despite his reluctance and he couldn't bring himself to try and hold her still. He felt her hand stop and she rested her palms on his legs, and moved down from his hips to his thighs.

"Cheryl-" His voice was rough, as he tried to make his brain work. He didn't know what he wanted to say to her, but any words died in his throat when she tugged down the top of his pants and bent over, taking the swollen head of his penis into her mouth.

The pleasure was too intense, and Jughead couldn't speak. He closed his eyes and pressed a hand against his forehead. His other hand held Cheryl's wrist and he squeezed it when she began to suck. He let go and reached up to grip the bars of the headboard. He rolled his hips as she moved up and down his shaft, slicking his flesh with her saliva. His breath was coming in short pants and he knew he couldn't hold out for long. Suddenly her mouth left him and he opened his eyes, looking up at her.

"Do you want me to stop?" she asked.

"Uh, I can't-" He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. "Don't stop."

"What's the magic word?"

"Please don't stop!" he gasped, and then sighed with relief when she enveloped him again. She took her time building him back up with slower, firmer pulls with her mouth. Eventually he let out a hoarse cry an arched up into her mouth when he climaxed. She sucked him through the spasms before spitting his semen onto the sheets beside him.

"Do your laundry." Cheryl got up and left the room after that, and Jughead loosened his aching fingers from the bedpost. He took a shower and washed the sheets, like she'd ordered. His stomach burned with shame at how she'd managed to control him, so easily. She'd showed him her vulnerability and gained his trust, so he wouldn't push her away. He wished he'd resisted her, and he couldn't help feeling like he'd failed some test, and that she was disappointed.