Author's Note:

So it's been... yikes, almost three months since my last Bughead story. No hard feelings, right, Bughead shippers? This one-shot is my imagining of a possible near-future following Betty and Jughead's first time during S2E12. Now, for this to be a light, romantic interlude, we're just going to collectively pretend that, first of all, Chic moved out following one of Hal's early complaints about him and, therefore, second, Betty did not come home from the Jones's trailer to find her mother sopping up a puddle of blood. Deal? Deal.

As ever, I hope you enjoy!

XO ForASecondThereWe'dWon

"It's called saving face, Betty, and I'm not surprised."

"I just can't believe that after all that, after we found the bronze head, made them accept that you were innocent, you know," she gestured, "cleared the good names of your friends and neighbours, that Mayor McCoy could still force everyone out of their homes."

"It's only for a couple of days." Jughead smiled at her and she could tell that he had relief to spare. It hadn't been an uncontested win, but it was something. What the two of them had won was something more.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather stay somewhere with your dad?" With her boyfriend's return to her so fresh, Betty wanted to brace herself against any unpredictability that might be on the horizon, if that were ever really possible to do.

"Honestly, the memory of him telling me that everything was my fault, that I was 'bringing down the Temple' or whatever, it's a little too fresh," Jughead replied. "Is your mom going to be ok with this?" he added as they stepped up to the Coopers' front door.

"Aaabsolutely not," Betty replied with a smile, taking his hand and pulling him inside after her.

It turned out asking wasn't enough for her mother. Betty had assumed it wouldn't be, which was why she'd brought Jughead in the flesh, to make her plea tougher to turn down. Of course, there was also the fact that Alice had never really warmed to the idea of Jughead as Betty's boyfriend… which was why the couple was keeping the fact that they'd gotten back together to themselves for now. The angle Betty was trying to work here was 'Unfairly Slandered Young Journalist Seeks Shelter Following Mayoral Exoneration,' not 'Guy I Lost My Virginity to Last Night Wants to Stay in Room across Hall from Mine.' Naturally (for Alice), maternal doubts were nevertheless expressed―with Jughead still in the room―which was when Betty played her trump card: that her mother had so lately allowed Chic to stay with them, and didn't they all know and trust Jughead more than they had their estranged family member? Could her mother really, ethically, deny shelter to a person who, the mayor and the Sheriff finally agreed, was doing more to heal the town's wounds than inflict new ones? Finally, she could see her mother's resolve weakening, could see defeat behind her eyes. This was the very woman who had taught Betty not to back down during this moment in a confrontation, but to find her second wind. To appeal to Alice's career-centric pride, Betty tacked on that Jughead was an admirable journalist and that putting him up for a couple of days was the noble thing to do, supporting freedom of the press, hell, democracy! By that point, she had really hit her stride; she couldn't pause to be curious about what her boyfriend must be thinking, standing just behind her. Her mother half-heartedly suggested that he could stay with the Andrews, but Betty argued that they'd done plenty for Jughead and it was someone else's turn. Alice seemed to want to counter, so Betty fixed her with a defiant look and just said in a reprimanding tone, "Mom." And that was that. The Coopers had a new housemate.

While there was still plenty of strong daylight in Polly's/Chic's/Jughead's room―and with the door wide open―the pair of them made up his bed and moved in the few possessions that were all he'd said he'd need to sustain him during his short visit.

"Wow," Betty started, "this has to be one of the first times you've come through our front door."

"Rather than the window."

"Mhmm," she said thoughtfully, wanting to flop down on the bed, but all too aware of the high chance of her mother showing up to 'lend a hand,' or some other excuse to explain her obvious desire to spy on them. Sure, it might have been warranted, considering that, since the previous night, Betty hadn't thought of much besides Jughead's skin against hers. She felt her face flushing and fluffed the end of the duvet, attempting to draw attention away from herself. Glancing at Jughead, she didn't think he could really be that oblivious. He was staring straight back at her.

Soon enough (too soon for Betty), calls to and from Jughead's fellow Serpents regarding short-term plans for their living situations distracted him. Repeating the conversation she'd had with her mother all over again with her father distracted her. Then there was lunch, together, but in the kitchen. Too public to make any suggestive movement, or even allude to what Betty would've guessed was both of their new favourite memory. The afternoon they spent in the living room, roughing out ideas for a story that they may or may not publish in the Blue and Gold regarding the handling of the Pickens statue affair. Would it be possible to do the story without coming down too obviously on the administration for their apparent targeting of lower income Southsiders? Which perspective had they not thought to cover? Perhaps they could make it a real community piece and test the waters for opinions on what should be done with the rest of the statue (remain decapitated, receive restoration, or be relegated to the fouler pages of Riverdale's history)? Betty's mom was calling her and Jughead for dinner before she realized that they'd spent all day together. When was the last time that had happened? As she helped her mother carry dishes of vegetables to the table, Betty smiled privately to herself.

Eventually, inevitably, it was night. Jughead got ready for bed in his room, Betty in hers. They said goodnight with nothing more than polite friendliness when they passed each other in the hallway, going to and coming from brushing their teeth. It was possible that she felt more than a little something when his gaze raced over the light pajamas she was wearing. She would've had to have been blind not to stare at the way his white tank shaped to his upper body and showed his arms. As soon as Betty saw her mother's blonde head pop back into her parents' bedroom, she glanced back over her shoulder. Jughead was lingering in the doorway of his room, watching her with evocative eyes. She pulled the door of the bathroom shut slowly, then silently, joyfully squealed to her reflection in the mirror above the sink, her giddiness making her feet tap up and down on the fluffy mat. He was really here with her.

When she went back to her room, her mother entered almost immediately. Looking totally calm and innocent was a challenge, yet not impossible; Betty had been training like an Olympian all her life to perform humble docility. Questionable whether Alice believed it as readily as she had in the past though. Betty had put up quite a fight earlier to make her allow Jughead into their home. It was clear that, ultimately, her mother had decided to trust her. The proof being that Alice Cooper, forbidder of locked doors, instructed Betty to lock hers tonight. Wanting to laugh, Betty instead assured her mother that she would, while also telling her with her mannerisms that such a concern was ridiculous. She and Jughead were just friends. The back of her pajama top lifted as Betty tucked her fingers above the hem to cross them out of sight of her mother.

Well, I'm all locked in, Betty texted Jughead from her bed ten minutes later, covers up and lights off.

Did she throw away the key?

I'm sure she would have if my door locked from the outside.

There's always the window, Juliet, Jughead replied.

Betty felt her heartrate speed up and held her phone to her chest, wishing he was climbing through that window right now. They'd been close to each other all day, but touches had been short and either accidental or made to look that way. There could be no doubt that a repeat of last night was inevitable, at least Betty thought so, the only question was when. Should they risk it while he was staying here? Was it even fathomable that they wouldn't? Betty had never felt so tempted by anything in her life.

Are you tired? he asked when she didn't immediately respond.

Tired of solitary confinement, maybe…

I think we could figure something out, Jughead sent back, making Betty grin.

Yeah? A breakout?

How about a break-in?

I'm intrigued.

10 seconds.

What?

9…

Betty realized Jughead was counting down and flung back her blankets, setting her phone distractedly on her bedside table. She scurried to the door without finding socks or slippers, hoping it would make her steps fleeter and quieter. Her parents tended to either not sleep at all or to fall asleep faster than seemed humanly possible. As she unlocked and eased the door ajar, Betty was hoping they were doing the latter tonight. Jughead was already standing there and darted through. As fast as she could, Betty shut the door and relocked it. It took a deep breath for her to be able to turn around and face Jughead in the near-dark of her bedroom.

"I was thinking," he whispered, "that we should've had a secret knock or something."

Betty felt herself smiling.

"They might have heard that."

"Right," Jughead agreed. She could see him nodding. "Yeah, of course." He inched closer to her, running his hand up the outside of her arm. Betty's palm found his chest, his heartbeat shouting from inside. "I missed you," he rushed out and pulled her body against his as he suddenly kissed her. From one second to the next, she felt warm all over. Jughead's arms were around her, hands shaping to the small of her back, then grabbing up higher as he held her to him. They swayed and stumbled in Betty's direction, causing her to bump softly into the closed door. That made them break their kiss, eyes wide with alarm as they stood still and listened hard, Betty still wrapped up in Jughead's embrace. There was no noise from the rest of the house, but even so they moved away from the door and snuck across the carpet on tiptoe like children.

Betty laid down first, automatically, almost forgetting, until Jughead climbed in and laid half on top of her. His body heat under the covers was intense, but it was a problem he seemed committed to resolving as he began to unbutton Betty's pajama top. She'd learned just last night how keen he was to remove her clothes himself and it was a piece of information she treasured, already almost panting against his neck as he flicked the last button open and pushed the sides of her top lazily apart to bare her skin. Actually making contact seemed to render him shier. Luckily, the gentle tracing of Jughead's fingertips felt exquisite, peaking Betty's nipples to meet his touch when it came breezing over the curve of her breast. She shivered, pulling him down by the back of his neck to kiss across her chest. The feel of his tongue sweeping around each nipple in turn elicited Betty's first moan, muffled into the back of her hand. He continued and she started to wriggle, back refusing to stay flat on the mattress, hands jumping between tugging on his thick black hair and her own blonde strands. His palm landed on her stomach―maybe to calm her? His intention wasn't clear―where it warmed her skin as Jughead shifted, kissing leisurely up her neck. Betty sighed contentedly and began to roll onto her side, wanting to curl against her boyfriend. Suddenly, there was firm pressure to her stomach, Jughead's hand urging her to stay put as he teased her lips into a deep kiss. Betty felt liquid, pliant, prepared to swoon when his tongue pushed into her mouth. What she wasn't prepared for was the way his palm then stroked straight down her body, slipped under the waistband of her pajama bottoms, and his fingers bent to cup her between her legs.

Now, Betty trembled seismically and closed her eyes, knowing Jughead had discovered her wetness when he pulled his mouth from hers and groaned into her hair. She bit at her lip, fighting some kind of aroused paralysis as his fingers slid against her. A memory of spreading thick icing on the cake she'd made for his sixteenth birthday played in her mind. Opening her eyes like she was coming around from a fainting spell, Betty felt sideways for her boyfriend's body. Impatiently, she grabbed the front of his shirt, jerking it up over his stomach, where she lightly scraped her nails. He gasped and abruptly pinched her clit between finger and thumb, by the feel of it, so Betty stuffed her hand down his loose bottoms and grasped his rigid erection. Bucking himself against her hip, Jughead swore, but kept his hands careful on her body. Betty relaxed her hold on him, rubbing the incomplete circle of her fingers steadily up and down, feeling how he throbbed against her palm. His fingers twisted her clit experimentally and Betty kissed him, rough and eager, to ask for more. Rather than slip his fingers into her entrance, as he'd done the night before, Jughead kept playing with her clit, dragging it, agitating it, cautiously grinding it under the heel of his hand. Betty lost her rhythm, unable to do more than prevent herself from squeezing his cock too tightly. She was oven-hot now as Jughead raised himself up on his elbow to lean over her, biting at her nipple. With writhing hips and shaking legs, Betty begged Jughead using only one word: "Please." She was clutching at the back of his neck, fisting his hair to make him understand that her need was desperate.

He pulled out of her grip, lifting the blankets away from her as he got up on all fours, his fingers constantly petting between her thighs though she could no longer reciprocate as he moved away. Betty was too busy just trying to breathe to ask questions and anyway, Jughead didn't leave her in suspense very long. Tunneling deeper into the bed, he nudged her legs apart with his knees and took his hand off her to yank her pajamas off, pressing his tongue to her swollen clit. He sucked hard and Betty's back arched. She could feel warm, tortured tears running into her hair and fought to keep the struggling sounds of her pleasure from escaping her mouth. Her fingers closed around the corner of her pillow in a death grip. It was too much to bear.

"Please, Juggy," Betty hissed as he clipped her clit with his teeth. "Please… fingers…" she implored, longer for that more profound pleasure of pressure to her g-spot, her hips slanting to seek what wasn't there. He paused, hot breath feeling almost cool on her overstimulated center.

"The only thing I want you to feel inside you tonight is my dick," he murmured, lightly kissing her clit. Betty let out a choked sob.

"Now, Jughead. Right now."

His head raised and he repositioned himself until he was entirely suspended over her, twirling her hair in his fingers. Betty grabbed his hips, guiding them down to hers with a manic certainty that letting him feel her arousal seeping through his pajamas would persuade him to get inside her all the faster. Unrestrainedly, he grunted, then kissed her, allowing Betty to peel his tank up and off of him. Jughead pulled off his bottoms himself, bouncing the mattress as he kicked them away from tangling around his ankles, but Betty halted him before he could push into her. Shouldering against him in an inelegant dance, Betty managed to exchange their positions so that Jughead dropped onto his back and she ended up above, legs caught up with his. She laughed―she couldn't really tell why―and he stared up at her adoringly, brushing her hair out of her face with a tender hand.

"What happened to 'right now'?" he asked quietly, smirking.

"I want to try something first," she explained.

Betty scooted south and Jughead grabbed her knees.

"Oh no, Betty, you don't―"

"Let me have my turn," she whispered with a sly smile.

He let go, chest rising and falling heavily. When Betty judged that she was in a good spot, she placed both palms on that heaving chest of his and caressed down his body, hungrily tracing his muscles, rejoicing in this moment of just feeling him, just having access to the guy of her dreams. Below his navel, her palms lifted away and only her fingertips remained to stroke the inner V of his hips. She told herself she could do it, she could be as much his fantasy as he was hers. As soon as her fingers left off, she closed her hand once more around Jughead's straining length and lowered her mouth to accept the first couple of inches. At his side, she saw his hand clutch the bedsheet. Betty drew back, gently curling her tongue, then plunged back down a little further. Jughead's hand closed into a fist.

"Now, Betty. Please," he gasped. Betty gradually released him from her mouth.

"Right now?" she teased, not sure if she was mocking him or herself.

Jughead pushed himself up on his elbows and shuffled backwards towards the wall. Betty crawled after him and he adjusted the covers, then reached over to the other side of her bed for her second pillow, stuffing it behind his back. Propped up, he watched her with a self-satisfied smirk. Frankly, it made Betty feel a little self-conscious.

"Close your eyes," she requested, finally shrugging out of her open pajama top. Jughead let out a suffering sigh, but obeyed.

Under no one's gaze but her own now, Betty straddled Jughead's hips, bringing her knees in close on either side. She glanced at his handsome face and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. His hands smoothed up her back and dug pleasantly into her hair. Incapable of resisting, Betty kissed him on the mouth and while Jughead cradled the back of her head, finding her tongue with his own, she grasped his cock and eased down on it. She felt him hiccup his breath, then dive back into the kiss groaning as she wiggled on his lap, the wetness he'd coaxed from her now slicking her path. Betty began to raise and lower herself shallowly, stomach muscles jumping. Jughead gathered her hair up in one hand and with the other, greedily fondled her breast. She tilted her face back from his, panting. Hands stumbling up to hold his shoulders, Betty began to ride him harder, hips snapping down and angling to scratch her most erotic itch. She rocked faster when Jughead's hips thrust sharply upward, putting even more force into every connection. The feeling was raw and sensual and Betty parted her knees to mount him more loosely, gliding her fingers towards his face, cupping his cheek and dragging his lip under her thumb. Both of Jughead's hands went to her hips, superfluously guiding her. Betty moved one of them to her abdomen and smiled a sloppy pleasured smile when he lowered it to rub harshly at her clit.

With nowhere else for her energy to go, Betty climaxed, head falling back with a satisfied groan. Jughead's arms closed around her and he heaved her over onto her back without pulling out. Raising weak knees to bracket his hips, Betty let her bent arms float around her head as she watched Jughead pound into her. The primal forward drive of his hips, the bold, possessive way he looked into her eyes, his smell… Betty felt another blip of aftershock orgasm when Jughead released inside of her with a low growl. He laid his weight carefully onto Betty, embracing her so that their chests rose and fell together and their hearts hammered back and forth like Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots.

"Holy shit, Betts," he breathed. "You're stuck with me now."

She rubbed his back, then took both his hands in hers as he rolled off of her.

"You're ok, right?" he asked suddenly, letting go of her hands and starting to sit up.

"Right," Betty laughed. "Never been better." She patted Jughead's chest and he laid back down on his side, maneuvering one arm under her neck and reaching across her body with the other to hold her hip. She turned her head and kissed him, barely brushing his lips as she told him she loved him.

"I love you too," he whispered. "Never stopped."