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It takes more time than he thought it would, getting his house back from the Ghoulies.
Technically, it’s no one’s house – his mom had sold it right after his senior year and it had been purchased quickly, then foreclosed upon, and now he’s pretty sure the bank (some bank, he’s not clear on which one) owns it. That’s why it had been so easy for the Ghoulies to squat there, to ruin the only place he’d ever known to be his home.
He’s been staying at the Cooper house – close enough to keep watch on the happenings of his childhood home, and to spend some time with Betty, who he’s missed more than he cares to admit over the last several years. It’s helped, being closer and watching his house with another person who’s been trained to stake things out.
Whatever this thing is with Betty, the thing that’s been here – whether he’s recognized it or not – since they were young...it’s back again, in a way he didn’t think either of them could ignore. He wasn’t naive enough to think it wouldn’t be, given that they were going to be around each other again – but being roommates has magnified it and it’s more apparent than ever.
It’s apparent when they’re sitting with their backs pressed to the side of her bed, watching for motion in his bedroom window and his wrist knocks against hers, and he hears her suck in a tiny little breath. It’s apparent when he catches her eyes on him while he’s walking into the kitchen, his shirt stuck to his body with sweat after a run. The way she looks at him, now, it’s different – stronger, bigger, hungrier. It’s the way he knows he’s looking at her, too, when she’s stretching her arms over her head on the couch and her shirt rides up, or when she’s walking around in a thin bathrobe with wet hair, her skin pink from the shower.
They’re adults now, and she’s not just his best friend...she’s more than that. She’s beautiful, and smart, and sexy, and Betty.
That, probably, is why it didn’t take him by surprise when she crawled into his lap one particularly boring night during their usual stake out hours and took his face into her hands. “Arch,” she had breathed, her voice low, and he’d found himself staring at her mouth, licking his own lips. He couldn’t exactly say this (having her in his lap) wasn’t something he’d thought about doing basically every night since they’d started doing these stake outs. “We’re not getting anywhere tonight.”
He’d furrowed his brow in confusion. He was quickly discovering that following her line of thought when she was in his lap wasn’t exactly a strong suit. “We’re not?”
She’d dragged her thumb along his jawline, down to his lower lip, pressed it against the center while she’d shaken her head. “Might as well,” she’d mumbled, leaning her face close to his, her hips settling against his in a way that had made him want to groan, “get something out of it for ourselves, don’t you think?”
Archie had let out a low laugh. He’d settled his hands on her hips, raising his brow at her. “Betts,” he’d chuckled, “if you want me to get out of my clothes, all you had to do was ask.”
For once, it seemed, they were on the same page. Betty had laughed, her cheeks flushing, but had slipped her fingers beneath his t-shirt and scratched her nails against his chest. He’d slid his own hands over her thighs, squeezing them lightly and smirking at the low sound she’d let out. They hadn’t talked about it until after, when they were tangled in a bedsheet, breath mixing as Archie’s hand ghosted over her hip, Betty’s face pressed to his chest. “So,” he’d mumbled, and she’d hummed. “We’re doing that again.”
“Oh, are we?” Betty had laughed, tilting her head up and looking at him with tired eyes. She’d lifted herself up and pressed her lips to the underside of his chin. “I didn’t think we were not doing that again, if that’s what you were concerned about.”
Archie had laughed, shaking his head. “Betty, we–,”
“We’re just getting to know each other, again, Arch,” she’d said, her voice soft. She’d rolled herself into his lap, straddling his hips and pressing her hands to his chest. “It’s been...I’m...I just think we don’t need it to be...anything more than this. This is fun, and,” she’d shrugged, taking one hand off his chest to pull her hair over her shoulder, twirling it around her finger. “I want my best friend back...and I want this. Doesn’t that sound...good?”
Archie had nodded, swallowing. “It sounds good, yeah.” He’d settled his hands on her bare hips, his fingers pressing lightly into her skin. “Okay,” he’d agreed. “So, like...friends with benefits, or something?”
Betty had winced, then thought for a long moment. She’d let her hair swing down and brush over his chest, leaning forward and brushing her lips over his jawline. “Best friends,” she’d murmured, “with benefits, if you have to put a label on it.”
She’d rolled her hips down against his and he hadn’t had the wherewithal to say much else.
Anyway, that had been about two months ago, and they hadn’t exactly adjusted much since. She’d tugged him into her bedroom more times than he could keep track of, he’d pinned her up against the wall in his office at the school on several instances, and they were still doing nightly stake outs to try and take the house back...only now those stake outs ended a bit earlier, and came with a lot more touching.
It’s not expected, when it happens. He has his hands beneath her skirt, his lips on her neck when she sucks in a sharp breath that doesn’t exactly sound positive to him. “You okay?” He mutters, and lifts his head, his brows furrowed. Betty’s eyes are wide and she’s shoving him off of her, her breathing hard as she juts her chin towards the window.
There’s movement in his bedroom, and his eyes go wide. He wipes his fingers over her thighs and she shoves at his shoulders, getting herself up and adjusting herself. She tugs off her skirt and walks over to her dresser, and he wills himself to watch out the window as two leather-jacket-clad guys move around ominously across the way, stuffing things he can’t make out into a backpack. He can hear her pulling on pants and tying up her hair. “Archie,” she says, her voice low, “we’re going over there.”
“No, no,” he shakes his head, tearing his eyes off of the window and turning to her, “no, that’s dumb, we don’t know enough yet.”
She’s pulling her shirt over her head and he furrows his brow at her. She roots around in a duffel bag she’s produced from beneath the bed and pulls out a kevlar vest, settling her gaze on him. “We’re doing it,” she says, her voice low, final. He swallows. He can’t help it – his fingers were inside her less than five minutes ago, and he feels his cock twitch. She sounds sexy, giving orders. “Stop that,” she frowns, pulling on the vest, “this is serious.”
Archie feels his cheeks flush a little – he’s not sure how, exactly, she can tell what’s going through his head other than the fact that she’s Betty, but he nods. “Sorry,” he offers, even though he’s not. Betty reaches into the duffel and drops a second kevlar vest onto the bed. “Betts,” he lets out a laugh, raising his brow. “Do you just...have this?”
Betty sours. “I grabbed an extra from the office,” she shrugs. “I figured we’d need it.”
Archie sighs, nodding. “This,” he takes a step towards her and watches as she fiddles with her vest’s straps, then grabs a shirt, “this isn’t just...are you sure?”
“Best chance we have of getting them out of there is to take them by surprise, Arch. They’re not expecting us, there aren’t that many of them...,” she trails off and looks him over. She grabs his vest, holding it out to him and he takes it, sighing out a breath.
He squeezes her arm as he moves past her and heads into his (Polly’s, really) room, fishing through the closet and grabbing something he can wear over the vest. He gets himself situated and finds her standing in his doorway, her brows raised. “We’re getting that fucking house back,” she says, her voice low. Something in her eyes has shifted, and he raises his own brow at her. “There’s no other option.”
Archie doesn’t argue with her, even though he knows there are several other options. He grabs the bat he keeps behind his bed frame before they head outside, watching as Betty tucks her gun into the waistband of her jeans.
It all happens in a flash – Archie breaks down the door with Betty close behind him, and two Ghoulies are waiting in the front entryway, anger coloring their features. Archie grabs the first, landing a punch straight to his jaw as Betty shouts from behind him, her gun at the ready. A third Ghoulie comes in from the kitchen, and, seeing the chaos in front of him, bolts through the front door without a fight.
Archie lands another punch to the Ghoulie’s chest, his vest softening the blow of the punch that was aimed for his stomach. Betty lets off a straight shot, directly over her head, and the two Ghoulies bolt. The other two, the guys who they’d seen upstairs in his room, clearly having heard the commotion make their way downstairs. Archie drags one of them towards the kitchen, swinging the bat into his face and watching as he staggers into the kitchen table and then runs for the door. He glances over at Betty, her gun cocked at the final Ghoulie. The man begins to yell and lunges forward, but Betty reacts quickly, knocking the butt of her gun into his jaw. He falls to the floor for a moment, then scrambles up, looks between them, and runs out the door behind his friends.
Save for the lack of a front door and a place to eat, he’s pretty sure they’ve secured his house back, intact.
Betty is leaning over the remaining half of the kitchen table, breathing heavily, and he slides his hand over her back. “You okay?” His heart is still pounding as he watches her lift her head up and survey his face.
He’s never seen her look quite like that, before – charging around with a gun, fighting off grown men charging at her, yelling in a voice he knows he’s never heard. He stares at her. It’s overwhelming him in a way he’s not sure is right for right now.
Then he sees the look in her eyes, and he knows it’s very, very right. He swallows, looking down at his hands – his knuckles are bloody, and he doesn’t want to touch her when he’s not sure if it’s his blood or someone else’s. Betty blinks, nodding up at him, her eyes wide. “Let’s go...get you cleaned up,” she says, her voice soft. He slides off his jacket, setting it on the table as he raises his brows at her words, because he’s pretty sure she has no intention of cleaning him up at all, but he nods and lets her lead him up the tattered staircase to his old bedroom.
He swallows as his bedroom comes into view, and even though the state of it is atrocious, it’s still his. Betty seems to feel the same way, as he feels her slide her hand along the back of his arm. “We got it, Arch,” she says, and he can hear the smile in her voice.
“We did,” he looks down at her, his voice low. He turns a little to face her and she grabs onto the tails of his shirt, tugging him towards her. He slips his bloody hand over her cheek, pulling her up to him and kissing her roughly.
“Fuck,” she groans into his mouth, and he’s about to pull his hand away when her own hand slides over it, pressing his fingers harder against her skin. He hisses at the pain but they both ignore it and he pulls her against him tighter.
They stumble backwards down the hallway towards his bathroom, kicking their shoes and socks off as they go, her hands fumbling against his vest to unhook it, his hands sliding down to her sweatshirt, bloodstains be damned.
Betty’s the one that starts the shower. He’s tugging at her sweatshirt with one hand, the one that isn’t causing him pain, and she swats him away breathlessly. “Stop,” she laughs, “stop, I got it, get your vest off.” He knows she’s speaking, but he’s barely paying attention as he watches her move around, starting the shower, tugging off her sweatshirt and her vest, pulling the tie out of her hair and shaking it out down her back. She kicks off her jeans as he fumbles with his vest one-handed, shaking his arms out of his shirt and groaning as he reaches down to unbuckle his belt, Betty laughing as she rolls her eyes at him and shoves his hand out of the way. “It’s not like it’s broken, you big baby,” she mumbles, shooting him a smirk as she grabs his belt roughly, unbuckling it and standing on her toes, pressing her lip to his neck.
“Hurts,” he mumbles, sliding his hand to sit on her bare waist, his palm flat against her skin.
Betty hums, raising her brow as she pulls back. “Maybe,” she fiddles with the button on his jeans, licking her lips as she glances down at it, then back up to his face, “we shouldn’t, then.”
“Oh my god,” he mutters, shaking his head, “fuck off.” He slaps her hands away, wincing as he unbuttons and unzips his own jeans, his eye on her as he kicks them to the ground along with his boxers. Betty laughs, tipping her head back and he grins at her, shrugging. “M’better, suddenly,” he mumbles, managing to get his vest and his shirt off, tossing them onto the tile floor with a loud thwack. He pulls her against him, slipping his fingers beneath the back of her bra and fiddling with the clasp as he lowers his lips to her neck, chuckling against her skin. “Miracle, isn’t it?”
“Okay,” Betty laughs, breathless, “okay, shut up.” She grabs his bloodied hand and brings it down to her hip, letting out a soft whine as he brushes his fingers beneath the waistband of her underwear. He grins, tugging at them, grumbling against her neck when they don’t move. He manages to get her bra unhooked and Betty steps back, letting it fall down her arms and tossing it to the ground, then raising her brows at him as she swallows.
Archie doesn’t hesitate. He wraps his arm around her waist and lifts her up, laughing as she giggles and grabs onto him before pulling back the shower curtain and stepping in, pressing her back against the far wall and lowering his lips to her neck in one swoop. Betty lets out a low moan as Archie drops down in front of her, her fingers moving to card through his hair as he peels off her wet panties, sliding them down her legs, smirking up at her as he leans in and presses his lips to her bare hip. “Arch,” she breathes, and he chuckles against her skin, feeling the warm spray of the shower pelting him in the back. He raises his brow at her, humming against her skin, chuckling as she lets out a whine. “Please?”
“The magic word,” he chuckles, scraping his teeth along her hip bone and then pulling back a bit, lifting up her leg and sliding it over his shoulder, settling himself between her thighs. He presses his bad hand to her hip, pinning her back against the wall and letting out a soft groan as he kisses her inner thigh. He grins as she tips her hips forward and he runs his tongue along her tentatively, flicking it lightly against her clit and smirking at the sound she lets out.
He laughs against her softly, sliding his other hand down to her knee, pressing his fingers lightly against the side of her kneecap and letting out a slow breath as he nudges his nose against her clit. Betty whines, one of her thighs pressing against the side of his head. “You’re being a shit,” she mumbles, her fingers pressing into the back of his head, pulling him against her as she rocks her hips against his face.
“M’not,” he lies, and then pushes her hip back against the tiles, flattening his tongue against her and sliding it along her wet folds slowly, torturously. He slides the hand he has on her knee up to her waist, pressing her back harder and running his tongue along her quicker, flicking it out against her clit before he sucks at it roughly, chuckling as he hears her moaning above him.
He licks at her, his tongue slipping into her entrance and curling, his hands holding her firmly back into the tiles. She rocks her hips as best she can against his face, even though he’s doing his best to hold her still – she’s stronger than she looks, and she looks pretty fucking strong. He hears her hand clamber at one point, grabbing onto the shower curtain, the rings jangling beneath her hand, the curtain sticking to his back as she jostles it. “Betts,” he pulls his mouth from her and Betty moans, tipping her head back, sliding her hand deeper into his hair and shaking her head as she pulls him tighter against her. He laughs, licking at her teasingly before slipping his tongue back into her, feeling her leg starting to shake against his neck.
He pulls his hand from her hip and replaces his tongue with two of his fingers, sucking at her clit and curling his fingers into her as he lets his eyes linger on her body, her face, flushed and wet with her lips parted, her chest heaving. He can feel her tightening around him and adds another finger, her thigh shaking hard against the side of his head. “C’mon,” he breathes against her, “come, baby.” He sucks once more at her clit, rough, curling his fingers deeper at the same moment and he feels her coming undone with a loud, breathy moan. She comes against his fingers, digging her nails into his hair and holding him still.
“God, Arch,” she breathes once she can speak again, once he’s pressed his hands back against her waist and let his head rest against her thigh. He kisses it gently, smirking up at her. “Get up,” she tugs at his hair and he chuckles, scraping his teeth over her thigh and then getting himself up, pressing his body against hers. He feels her hook her arms around his neck, and before he knows what’s going on she’s got her lips on his, her tongue in his mouth. Something he’s learned about Betty Cooper? She likes the taste of herself on his tongue. She moans into his mouth and he lets out a low groan, his hands roaming down to her ass, pulling her up a bit and chuckling as she squeaks. “Your hand,” she breathes, and he shakes his head.
“S’fine,” he mumbles, “m’busy.” He feels himself pressed against her thigh and moves his hips against hers, trailing himself against her folds and chuckling as she whimpers, knowing she’s already sensitive enough coming down. “Need a minute?” He breathes against her mouth and she growls, biting down on her lower lip and shoving at him with a small shake of her head.
“Shut up,” she whines, rocking her hips against him. He lets out a low chuckle and teases at her again, then flattens his palms under her ass and pulls her up, groaning as she wraps her legs around his waist. He kisses her roughly, slipping his tongue into her mouth and sliding backwards a bit on the wet floor, laughing into her mouth as she squeals. She whines, dragging one hand into his hair and keeping the other tight against his shoulder, her nails digging into his skin. “Archie,” she whines, and he laughs against her mouth as he takes a step back and turns, pressing her back against the wall, this time directly beneath the spray of the water.
He slides one of his hands up against her back, pulling her flush against him and letting out a low groan into her mouth as he feels her fingers wrap around him, guiding him to her entrance. She pulls back from his lips, breathing raggedly as he blinks his eyes open, finding her gaze and grinning at the look in her eyes. “Fuck,” he breathes, brushing his lips against hers. He braces her against the wall with his torso, swallowing as he slides one hand up and brushes the wet curls of hair off her face, chuckling as he pushes it over her shoulder. “Better?”
“Better once you fuck me, Arch,” she whines, biting down on his lower lip as she squeezes him, a little more roughly than he thinks she means to. He bites out a low groan, shifting his hips and slanting his mouth over hers, kissing her as he pushes into her and her hand falls away from him, landing on his waist and gripping it tightly.
He fills her completely, growling against her mouth as he pulls out slowly, nearly all the way before he snaps his hips against hers, hard. He repeats the motion, groaning as he drops his face to her neck, his jaw slack against her skin as he fucks into her. She digs her heels into his back, her nails into his shoulders, grabbing onto him as tightly as she seems to be able to – he thinks, fleetingly, she might draw blood and it gets him going, moves him to fuck her harder into the wall.
Betty moans his name and he lifts his head, finding her mouth as he feels her tightening around him – he knows she’s close, and he’s not far behind, so he slips his fingers between them and rolls his thumb over her clit, circling it roughly as he kisses her, his tongue pressed to hers.
“Betts,” he whines into her mouth, his hips moving faster, harder against hers. His voice sounds desperate and he hears her moan in response, rocking her hips into his erratically. He presses down hard on her clit and he feels her come, hard, tightening around him in the most perfect fucking way as she cries out. He rocks into her as he comes, his face pressing down against her neck, his breathing heavy. He hears her laugh, breathless, her fingers running shakily through his wet hair, the shower running cold against his hot skin.
He pulls out of her after a long few minutes, then leans down and slides his fingers into her hair, tilting her head back and leaning down to kiss her, his tongue teasing at her lower lip before he curls it around hers. He pulls back, nipping at her lip as he mumbles, “Been thinking about fucking you in this shower for too long to feel comfortable sharing.”
She tilts her head back, rolling her eyes up at him. “Shut up,” she laughs, shoving at his chest before she leans into it, pressing a kiss to his wet upper arm. She turns off the water and wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her face against his chest. “Do you think those stupid squatters kept any towels around here?”
He swallows, furrowing his brow down at her. It takes more time than he thought it would, more time than he’d care to admit, to remember what exactly she’s talking about.