A/N: Written for whisperilllistentohearit on tumblr, for the Riverdale Holiday Exchange 2017.

Prompt: bughead cuteness. I thought bughead + baking and snuggling was pretty darn cute. So much fluff!

Betty was curled up with Jughead on his couch, perfectly content to waste the day away and catch up on some much needed relaxation. It was the start of their winter break and her mother was busy following up on a story, which allowed her the opportunity to actually relax under the guise of working ahead on her school projects.

She was settled between his legs on the couch, her back pressed up against his chest. Every now and then, his fingertips would caress the back of her arm and she just snuggled further into his embrace.

Then she heard it.

A low grumble emanated from behind her, the low vibrations reaching her back. "Jug! How are you still hungry?" she asked. They had just eaten at Pop's about an hour ago, and he ate two cheeseburgers, fries, onion rings, and a large vanilla milkshake.

"I can't help it, Betts," he shrugged.

She turned in his grasp, before standing abruptly. She extended her hand to him and he laced their fingers together. She tugged him to an upright position and led them to his kitchen. "Come on, let's see what we can make."

She let go of their hands and started opening the cupboards. She let out a frustrated sigh when all she found was salt and pepper, an opened bag of brown sugar that had long since hardened to a rock, and a dusting of flour in a container that wasn't useful for any amount of baking.

She switched gears and inspected their fridge, but only discovered a handful of condiments and a nearly empty container of orange juice. She quickly closed the fridge with a sigh.

"Well this isn't going to work," she exasperated. "How do you two survive on ketchup and mustard?" she muttered.

He shrugged. The real answer was he survived on the kindness of Pop and the Andrews family, because if not for them he'd likely starve. "You know me, I manage," he replied, unsure if her question was rhetorical or not.

She rummaged through a few more cabinet and drawers, making a mental list of what they would need. Whisk, baking sheets, cooling rack, and all the ingredients to make… well anything.

She smirked at him and took him by the hand. "What do you say about us making chocolate chip cookies?"

Jughead immediately thought of the mouthwatering delicacies that were commonly found in the Cooper household. "I think I could be persuaded to bake," he teased.

"Come on, we need to go to the grocery store. And maybe Mal-Mart."

They bundled up and headed out.

Jughead placed his hand on her knee after he shifted into drive for the short trip to the grocery store, drawing small circles over her jeans.

They returned from their shopping venture with enough food to feed an army... Or the Jones men for maybe a week. Betty insisted that she make them a home cooked meal, and prepare several casseroles that they could pop in the oven for dinners during the week.

Jughead acquired quite the appetite while they were out shopping, so they picked up a pizza on their way back to his place.

Jughead carefully balanced all the bags from the grocery store and left Betty in charge of bringing in the pizza. Their shoes crunched over the light dusting of snow that accumulated since they left (luckily none stuck to the roads) as they rushed back inside to the warmth.

Betty set the pizza down on his coffee table and followed him into the kitchen. She selectively set out the ingredients they would need for chocolate chip cookies, while he put away the perishable items. She made sure to open the package of butter and set two sticks on the counter to soften.

"Did you mean to leave those out?" He asked.

"We need to let the butter soften."

"Why can't we just pop it in the microwave when we need it?"

"That will ruin the consistency."

"Of course," he remarked.

Semantics, he reasoned. But she was the one taking the lead on baking, so who was he to argue?

All the groceries and supplies were put away within a few minutes, and the pair spent a lazy hour curled up on the couch and eating pizza.

After the episode, Betty took his hand and stood up, bringing him with her. "Come on, Juggie. Time for cookies."

Helpless against her pleas, he trailed behind her.

She put on an apron (another item they needed in the Jones kitchen) and handed him the second. She got two identical aprons with a simple pattern, lemons and limes on an ivory background with a green border.

"I'll get the butter and vanilla going. Can you get me three-quarter cup each of sugar and brown sugar?"

She got out the electric mixer and tested the 'give' on the butter before opening the wrapper. It was the perfect consistency.

A second later, Jughead brought over a mix of sugar and brown sugar in one of the two cup measuring containers. He was about to pour it in, when she raised a hand to stop him.

"What's that?" She asked.

"Um, the sugar you asked for?" His tone ended the statement with a question.

"That's for liquids," she clarified.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "But it's the same measurement. Why should it matter if it's in the larger measuring cup or not?"

She pressed get fingertips to her forehead. This was going to be more difficult than she realized. She looked back up at him and gently guided the measuring cup onto the counter. "The big measuring cup with the spout," she pointed at the one he used for the sugar. "That's used for liquids. The individual measuring cups are for solids." She pointed at the stacked cups next to the sugar she set out earlier. "You make sure you have an even amount by running a flat edge over it to make it level. Got it?"

"I think I can manage... Can we just use what I got out? Even though I used the wrong measuring cup?"

"That depends. Did you pack the brown sugar?"

The questioning look on his face told her the answer was likely no. So, she tried a different approach. "Have you done any baking before?"

He smiled sheepishly. "Not exactly. I can cook. Granted only a handful of things like grilled cheese, and eggs… sometimes. But the Jones family doesn't really bake," he admitted.

She smiled warmly at him. "Well then, it's time to change that. Don't you think?"

With that bright smile, he couldn't resist anything she asked of him.

She helped him get the sugar. Then once he got the hang of that, she showed him how to crack an egg without getting the shell into the batter (something he still hadn't mastered in the few times he made eggs for breakfast).

She left him to his own devices to get their flour, and he only spilled a few times while trying to get an even layer before tossing it into the mix.

It wasn't long before they had cookie dough ready to go. They just needed to divide it up into baking sheets and put them in the oven.

Their playful touches throughout his baking lesson left them wearing a bit of the flour and sugar as well. He brushed up next to her, secretly swiping his index finger into the cookie dough. "I think you have a little something, right here." He swiped the cookie dough on her cheek, delighted with himself that he got away with it before she noticed.

She swatted his hand away and glared at him. "I don't think you know who has the upper hand here," she challenged. "We only bought enough chocolate chips for one batch, and I haven't given you the recipe yet." She didn't volunteer that the recipe she used, but memorized probably ten years earlier, was the one on the back of the chocolate chip cookie bag.

His eyes widened, and he tried to tell if she was joking or not. After a split second of internal deliberations, he figured he would rather not risk it. "I concede." He threw his hands up in surrender. "Can we go back to making the cookies? Please?" He added for good measure.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Alright."

The tiniest dab of cookie dough was still on her cheek, so he swiped it off and popped it in his mouth, savoring the sweetness.

"Jug! You can't eat raw cookie dough."

"Says who?"

"The board of health for one." She playfully shoved his shoulder. "And because I say so. Just help me with the cookies."

She got out two spoons and handed him one. "Just get small rounded teaspoon full and drop them on the baking sheet."

She got a few on the sheet and looked over to see Jughead's were about three sizes too big. She laughed and corrected him.

"Why can't I have large cookies, Betts?" He protested.

"They won't cook evenly, that's why," she teased back.

They put the first two baking sheets in the oven, having to wait until the baking sheets were free again to bake the remainder.

Jughead nibbled on a few within a minute of taking them out of the oven, which just got a shake of her head at his impatience.

They got the second half in the oven, and as Jughead stood upright, she placed the (now nearly empty) mixing bowl over his head. His beanie was long discarded, as to not get flour all over it.

She stifled a laugh as she caught the sight of his black curls underneath the bowl. "You started it Jug," she reminded him.

He had a wicked grin as he removed said bowl and chased her back into the living room and tickled her in retaliation.

They spent the rest of their afternoon laughing and just enjoying each other's company, snuggled up on the couch for the remainder of the evening. Betty occasionally found a small remnant of cookie dough when she ran her fingers through his hair.

He didn't mind though. He was happier to spend his time stealing kisses in between their TV watching marathon, and only bothered to shower and wash his hair after she left late in the evening.

The next day

Betty was coming over later that day. Her mother was out following up on another story, so she didn't even have to make up an excuse. But knowing Betty she would probably actually make them study, or work ahead on their assignments, which they neglected to do the day before. Not that he minded.

After her little baking lesson, Jughead was determined to show off his newly found culinary skills by making a batch of chocolate chip cookies. Betty was kind enough to start a recipe collection on a few index cards, in one of their kitchen drawers; although she was insistent on getting them a recipe box, so they wouldn't get misplaced.

Jughead even made a late-night trip to the grocery store the night prior and stocked up on more chocolate chips, sugar, and flour. Especially after he spilled a good portion of the dry ingredients on the counter.

He prepared a batch of cookies, with a few mishaps- getting egg shells in the batter, spilling flour, accidentally melting and nearly burning the butter because he was too impatient for it to soften, and wearing a handful of the ingredients on his flannel shirt.

He successfully shaped the cookies in teaspoon sized (because Betty insisted that they wouldn't cook evenly if he made them the size that he wanted to), and placed them in the oven. He started cleaning up and eventually went to change clothes.

Apparently, he forgot to set the timer, and only realized it a few minutes too late when he removed the baking sheets to discover the cookies were burnt to a crisp. They went into the trash, and he started another batch of cookies.

He promptly took them out when the timer went off, and was about to taste test the cookies when he heard a few knocks at the door.

He rushed over and opened the door for Betty.

"Hi Juggie," she said, throwing her arms around his neck in a tight embrace.

"Hey Betts," he whispered into her hair.

"Mmm, are you making cookies?" She pulled back a little and looked over his shoulder, seeing the edge of baking sheets cooling on the stovetop.

"Yeah, I just took them out," he said proudly. "Come on, you have to try one."

"Don't tell me you ate all the cookies we made yesterday?" The batch made five dozen, and they ate about a dozen between the two of them.

"Maybe," he answered with a sly smile. Between late night snacks and breakfast, the Jones men polished off the remaining cookies earlier that day.

He pulled her by the hand into the kitchen. He carefully lifted one of the cookies with a spatula, and placed it in his hand to test how hot it was. Finding it acceptable to the touch, yet still hot, he handed it over to her.

"You're cute, you know that?" She smirked and accepted it from him. She took a small bite, mindful of the temperature.

Her cheerful expression fell to one of confusion. She promptly spit out the cookie into his trashcan, and the remaining cookie along with it. "I think you forgot something Jug."

He looked around the counter, moving the mixing bowl and discovering the untouched container of white sugar. "Oh," he muttered under his breath. He was wondering why this batch was slightly smaller than his previously attempted batch of about five dozen, and why the cookies were a little darker than normal. At least he remembered the brown sugar.

"Yeah, oh. You forgot to add the sugar, Jug." She chuckled a little and helped him dispose of the cookies. "Maybe I shouldn't leave you to your own devices in the kitchen after all," she concluded.

"Ha ha," he said dryly.

She placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Come on, let's make a batch together," she offered.

He wrapped her up in a hug circled his arms around her waist, running his fingertips on the small of her back, where her shirt had lifted and exposed her skin. "Have I ever told you what a great girlfriend you are," he muttered. He placed a gentle kiss to the crook of her neck, pleased when she shivered slightly.

She sighed happily and tilted her head up. She kissed his lips, smiling into the kiss. "You may have mentioned it once or twice."