Intimacy is not a concept Betty Cooper is entirely familiar with. She has seen her mother and father exchange countless chaste kisses and pecks but public displays of affection have never been their thing. The more Betty thinks about it the more she realizes that private displays of affection are not their thing either.

They are not partial to hand holding, she never sees her father put his arm around their mother unless it's for a photo opportunity or family Christmas card. She's never seen her mother's eyes glaze over with love when gazing at Hal Cooper. Maybe it is an entirely different subject when they are behind closed doors but Betty highly doubts it. Nor does she want to think about it.

She has been in love with her best friend for half her life and has never felt the press of his lips against hers. Has only pined and yearned and hoped that with enough constant love and patience the boy will look back and realize how steady, how patiently, how true her love has been.

But they are only teenagers, their families are not divided by name and house with their love written in the stars, nor are they wartime lovers. She is perhaps steadfast and true but Archie is a child who is still testing the boundaries of his whimsy. There are many places he could go, women he could kiss. The world is not enough, and she cannot see him being tempted to stay put or still with someone for very long. But that's okay, because she is learning what she wants too.

Betty Cooper is not entirely naive. She's seen plenty of movies, knows which areas (in theory) like to kissed and cuddled and where to put hands and how breathy sighs should sound against the mouth of her beau. Teenage heartthrobs used to adorn the walls of her bedroom until she no longer had any more use for them.

Polly knew things about love and sex and passion. She kept that information hidden from Betty until the knowledge swelled underneath her dresses and forced her to take notice of her sisters enlightened experiences.

She knows that among her friends she is the virginal one. The modest, high collared prude who blushes to hear the stories of her friends conquests. It is not that she doesn't want to know the same details, only that her mind has been bleached of any and all sensory information. It has been kept from her, perhaps on purpose, perhaps it is partially her fault.

Betty knows there is a lot more on her mind than that of the usual sixteen year old sophomore. She sleeps little, eats little, and is consumed daily about the fate of her sister, her friends, the town. At times she feels that there is no more room inside her head for new information.

But there are some things that Betty makes room for.

Like Jughead Jones.

Betty can't help letting out a gasp as Jughead trails his lips down the line of her neck. It is something new to them both, something Betty has never experienced but now knows she likes. She tilts her head back in pleasure as his lips move from one side to the other, sucking lightly on the sensitive skin of her neck.

The pair have sprawled out on the length of Betty's bed, her parents have gone to bed hours ago and Jughead spends most of his time these days sneaking into Betty Cooper's room. He makes sure to never wear his Serpent's jacket when he crawls through her bedroom window. Not because it scares her, but because this has become a ritual just for them. A safe place outside of the forces that seek to tear them apart.

He is leaning over her on his side, but Betty wants him closer. Tugging impatiently on the collar of his sweater Betty pulls his lips to hers and wraps her arms around his back, encouraging his body to move where she would like him.

Pulling away on a ragged breath Jughead takes the hint and settles himself between her legs, the foreign position making them both groan with newly alighted nerves.

They don't usually get this far. Between the stress of making sure that Polly's comfortable before the twins arrive, FP's upcoming trial in court, and Archie's dad still recovering in the hospital, there isn't time to be just kids. There never was to begin with. But their heated encounter in FP's trailer weeks before moved them out of grey area.

They are in a new place. Terra incognita. And Betty is more than happy to stop and explore. She can see Jugheads adam's apple bob up and down as he gulps against the dangerous sensations running through his body.

Betty places her hand against the smooth skin of his lower back and tugs his shirt up his back, fingernails scraping against his skin and Jughead lets out a choked groan before leaning up and taking off the offending garment.

She would have never thought it before. That his heavy jackets and layers of plaid might have concealed an impressive physique but Betty's mouth goes dry as his sweater is thrown to the ground and inch after inch of tanned skin is revealed to her.

His fingers waste no time in tugging at the buttons of her blouse. She helps him, biting her lip and watching his eyes darken as each button slips through the fabric. He doesn't bother taking it off. Just spreads the material open and kisses her breathless again, his fingers dancing on her belly and Betty throws her head back against the pillow.

She's about to grab his wrist and tug it down towards where she really needs him to touch her but the sound of a ringing cell phone has Jughead sighing heavily into the skin of her neck.

Sitting up he grabs his phone from his pocket and moves to the end of her bed, shooting her an apologetic look. Betty sighs and watches the tense line of his muscled back as he speaks quietly into the phone.

She knows who it is. It's a call from the Serpent's. They had been good at first about leaving him alone, but she knows that this is not a one-sided encounter. Jughead wants to be involved with them. For the first time in a long time she knows he feels like he belongs. Like someone will take care of him when he has taken care of himself for years.

Turning her head, Betty wonders where the fifteen year old boy who promised her that they're not their parents is. She watches as Jughead paces. His beanie forgotten on the ground as he runs a hand through his wavy, ebony locks.

She doesn't see a boy anymore. Only a man.

He hangs up the phone and pulls his sweater on. Betty doesn't bother with the buttons of her blouse.

"You have to go?" She asks.

He winces, sitting next to her again on the bed.

"Yeah. They need my help. Nothing big, I promise."

Betty nods, knowing he wouldn't lie to her. She asked him not to. It was part of the deal. Jughead does what he needs to do, what feels right, so long as he keeps her in the loop. She fears everyday that she is losing him. That he will start lying to protect her.

His hands envelop hers, but she doesn't feel the need to clench her fists. She trusts him, thoroughly.
"I know, Juggie."

He gives her that open look. The one that says that he can't believe how lucky he is to have her. But she knows that it goes both ways.

"Be safe. Come back in one piece. Or else, Mr. Jones."

Jughead smirks, his eyebrow raised, and a devilish glint is in his eyes. Like he might enjoy her punishment. Leaning down he kisses her once, twice, lightly. And Betty sighs.

Shrugging on his fleece-lined jacket he walks to her window and opens it.

"Hey." She whispers.

He turns back to her and Betty keeps this picture of him in her mind always. Light, happy, more himself than she's ever seen him. Even when Gladys and Jellybean still lived in Riverdale. Even when they were kids. Even before Ms. Grundy came to town.

"I love you."

He smiles. It is the only boyish part of him still left.

"I love you too, Betty Cooper."