Author's note: I don't own "Riverdale" or it's characters. Free virtual hugs for everyone who gets the reference in the title. ^*

Out of the blue, into the gold

It was so nice to be held by him. Recently, these moments had become the best part of her weeks.

Somehow, Jughead could make everything seem less scary and confusing in an instant. Every time.

.

"You're so much stronger than all that white noise...", he'd said, and now, while the sound of his steady breathing was filling her ears, his words held nothing but the truth. His comforting smell surrounded her, as his arms pulled her even closer.

.

The last tears had been blinked away minutes ago, but she didn't loose her hold on him. He simply was too warm, too strong, too him, to already let go again.

The luridly dipping light from the window fell on them like invasive head lamps, but for the first time in days, they were completely alone. No agitated, vengeful mother there, about to burst into the room every ten minutes. No friends, no drama, no scandal once in a while. Just them inside of their editorial office, where everything had started in a way to begin with.

.

His fingertips were grazing her ponytail, and as she lightly pressed a kiss on his neck, he sighed contentedly.

"Thank you so much.", she whispered against his skin, and watched as his eyelids fluttered open, looking down at her expectantly.

"What for, Betty?", he replied, his voice raspy.

"For all of this! I can't imagine what I'd have done without you around these last few weeks, Jughead."

He rolled his eyes, smirking warmly. She knew what he'd say next. He was so close to her that they shared the same air and the same thoughts right now.

"That's exactly my point, Bets. You are stronger than you think."

She wanted to say much more, but she let the matter drop. "Thank you.", she repeated, smiling slightly.

"You're welcome.", he murmured, and pulled her closer again, as Betty cupped his face in her hands to press a kiss on his lips this time.

.

It was gentle, and sweet, and meaningful, like most of their kisses were. Kissing Jughead was like watching someone expose their entire soul to you, somehow. It felt like the physical epiphany of their connection. It felt right.

His lips were rough and incredibly gentle. His fingers drew little circles on her back.

Perhaps, she really was stronger than her parents. Perhaps, she really could be that brave, courageous person Jughead seemed to see in her.

.

Watching her mother throw a brick through that window yesterday had been horrifying. Just like finding out about her dad's feud with the Blossom's, and the fact that this had even led him to expulse his own daughter and grandchild. It all had been a disaster.

It had been horrifying to be abandoned by Polly, as well. It had been horrifying to feel all powerless and barred.

.

But then, there was Jughead. Jughead, who was listening to her when no one else was, and who never condemned and always understood Betty. Jughead, who laughed about her James Dean references and who spent his time reading Kafka or Mark Twain. Jughead, who liked to put his arm around her, and who defended her against people like Cheryl. Wonderful, intelligent, sarcastic Jughead, her detective colleague and knight in woollen armour. He was the golden lucky bag in the mess their little town had become.

.

In this instant, the tip of his tongue lightly touched her bottom lip, and she gasped, but didn't break the kiss. On the contrary, she pressed herself closer to him, her mouth, her arms, her chest, her greedy fingertips. Suddenly, the dizzying sweetness of what they were doing turned into a serious longing for more of it.

Betty had felt this a few times already, mostly, when they were in her room together and knowing about the brevity of their privacy. Betty stroked his cheek and opened her mouth slightly. Jughead hummed quietly, and it took her a moment to realise that he was groaning because of it all. And just as his thumb was almost imperceptibly starting to sneak underneath the hem of her shirt, and as the sweet sizzling in her ears and the lovely bubbling in her stomach grew stronger, Betty heard something loudly clanging outside. The janitor, probably, or one of the cleaning ladies. It was getting late already. Time to go home.

.

Jughead reluctantly pulled back from her, irritatedly eyeing the door. Betty laughed at his expression, taking his hand. "Come on, Juggie, let's go."

He grinned a little at this, content to see her happy again. Her fear and panic from earlier seemed forgotten. Her cheeks were rosy and her lips a little swollen by now. Her fingers were warmly curling around his own.

"Okay.", he murmured. He gently put his arm around her shoulder, as they left.