Work Text:
Archie’s lived in New York for a week and she hasn’t seen him yet.
Something feels wrong about that, deep in her gut – it’s not that she hasn’t talked to him, but it’s been a process: he’d moved into the tiny studio apartment she’d helped him find in her neighborhood, had furniture delivered, started his new job, and in between, his mom had visited from Chicago.
He’d texted her the morning before, and she could hear the grouchy gravel of his voice through the message: Slept on an air mattress so my mom could have the bed...I’m getting her a hotel next time, fuck that.
She’d answered as she’d waited for the downtown 2 train: Okay, old man...get some coffee and think of the middle aged woman whose back you saved last night instead of being grumpy. Tell her she can stay with me next time if you’re going to be mean about it.
He’d replied with the middle finger and heart emojis, and that’s the last she’d heard from him. Seeing him, she decides, is on her to do list today. She sips her coffee from a travel mug as she walks up the steps from the subway station near her office, slipping her phone out of her pocket with her free hand and typing with one thumb: Meet me at 7:30? 96th and Amsterdam. They have hot dogs and beer.
Her phone buzzes in her hand as she’s walking into her office building and she checks it once she’s in the elevator, chewing on the inside of her cheek to tamp down her smile at his response: About time, Cooper...thought I was going to have to take matters into my own hands. Only really in it for the hot dogs and beer, for the record.
Betty rolls her eyes, sending him back his combo of the middle finger and the heart emojis and slipping her phone back into her pocket. She ignores the rumbling in her stomach, chalking it up to a lack of breakfast.
By the time 7:30 rolls around, she’s pretty sure the rushing is just because she’s excited to see him. She walks into the tiny bar and glances around for a moment, not really looking – Archie’s not an on time kind of guy – when she catches a flash of red hair standing at the bar, and hears his laugh tear through the crowd. Her throat tightens and she makes her way over to him, sliding her hand over his back and grinning as he turns to face her.
He’s lifting her up and pulling her tight against him before she knows what’s happening, his face pressed sloppily against her hair as he hugs her, a squealing tearing from her throat. “Hey, you,” he laughs, settling her down and resting his hands on her shoulders, “I ordered you a hot dog.”
Betty rolls her eyes at him fondly, her face twisted into what feels like a permanent smile. “You were early, Arch. Do I even know you anymore?”
Archie takes a long sip of his beer and rolls his eyes, reaching to his other side and grabbing a full glass, handing it to her and narrowing his eyes as he licks foam off his upper lip. “You picked a place like five blocks from my apartment, I figured it was a fail safe for timeliness.”
Betty grins up at him, accepting the beer and taking a slow sip. “Wow,” she grins when she swallows, “well, I guess you still know me, then, huh?”
Archie taps his glass against hers, his face getting a bit softer as he leans down. “I couldn’t just forget you, Betty...I don’t think you ever need to worry about that.”
The tightening of her throat and the heat she feels rising in her neck, she notes, must just be because the beer is hitting her harder than usual.
–
Archie’s hand is on her waist and it feels nice.
She hadn’t wanted to come to her office holiday party alone, so she’d roped Archie into being her date at the last minute. He owned a nice suit and let her pick out his tie, and in return, there’d be an open bar...plus, she’d promised to take him out to a fancy brunch the following weekend. He’d told her he didn’t need the brunch, but she’d insisted with a shrug, “Pancakes on Saturday is practically a law for us, Arch...they may as well be fancy, expensive ones, for once.”
“Just say you don’t want to listen to my smoke detector when you’re hungover, Betts,” he’d grinned, rolling his eyes and tossing a dish towel at her.
He’d been right, at least a little bit.
Now, she’s holding a full wine glass in one hand, her other pressed to Archie’s back, her eyes wandering around the room so she can take in the winter decor. She’s also half-listening to her coworker, Jeremy, explain the merits of the Islanders defensive lines to Archie, who is lazily pressing his fingers against the curve of her waist. Betty can tell he’s annoyed – he doesn’t like the Islanders, but he’s trying to be polite.
“Arch,” Betty pipes up, the second Jeremy takes a pause, “want to come with me to grab another drink? This wine is,” she scrunches her face, shaking her head, “not getting the job done.”
“Oh,” she can see him fighting the smile threatening to overtake his features, looking over to Jeremy as apologetically as possible. “Sorry, man, wine comes before hockey...or so I’ve been told.” Jeremy laughs, nodding politely before turning away and Archie nearly yanks Betty towards the bar. She stifles her laugh against his arm, glad she went for a light gloss instead of the deep red lipstick she’d originally wanted to wear. Archie’s laughing when they reach the bar, and Betty sips her wine slowly – it actually wasn’t that bad, for free wine. “Thank you,” he mumbles, running his hand through his hair and setting his glass down on the bar, smiling as the bartender grabs it to refill it. “I was about to rip my hair out.”
Betty rolls her eyes, settling her hand on his arm. “I know,” she shakes her head, flexing her hip slightly, “you were giving me bruises.”
Archie’s brow furrows and he settles his palm over her hip, tilting his head and then squinting up at her, “Was I?” Betty smiles, shrugging her shoulder softly and looking down at his hand as she brings her wine to her lips. The bartender returns with Archie’s freshly poured gin and tonic and he accepts it, lifting it to his mouth with a smirk on his lips as he mumbles, “At least you’re getting some kind of action, then, Betts.”
Betty scoffs, setting her wine glass down on the bartop and smacking him in the shoulder, laughing as she shakes her head at him. “I’m sorry, what was that?” she snatches the gin from his hand, taking a long sip and frowning at him over the lip of the glass. “You don’t deserve this drink,” she mutters, after swallowing a mouthful of gin, “you deserve to hear more about the fucking Islanders.”
“Hey,” he laughs, leaning his face down and brushing his thumb over the curve of her waist. “I didn’t say anything that bad.”
Betty scowls at him as she finishes his drink, letting him keep his hand where it is.
–
Betty’s drunk, but it’s not the alcohol keeping her warm – it’s Archie.
They’re standing in line to get into a club that Kevin had demanded they go to while he’s visiting the city, and even though they’d pre-gamed (and even though she and Kevin had pre pre-gamed), she’s not drunk enough to keep her teeth from chattering. Her outfit doesn’t exactly help: she’s wearing a short dress, sheer tights, and heels along with a thin coat that doesn’t hit much lower than her dress – none of it is really doing much to keep her warm.
She frowns up at Archie, who’s rubbing his hands together lazily and laughing at something Kevin had said, poking him in the shoulder and feeling her finger press into the puff of his jacket slowly. “Hey,” she hears herself whine, not caring about the sound, “you didn’t tell me it was going to be this cold, I blame you for this.”
“Me?” Archie snaps his head around at her, his brows high on his head as he looks down at her. “What’d I do?”
Archie is drunk, too – not as drunk as she is, she realizes, as she wobbles a little on her heels. “You’re rude,” she settles on, after thinking for a long moment. “And mean, and I bet you’re not even that cold , ‘cause you’re like...a heater, or something.”
“A heater,” Archie smirks, shaking his head and laughing down at her. He slides his hands over her arms and rubs them up and down to create some heat, laughing when she continues frowning up at him. “What? I’m trying to help.”
“You’re not helping,” she mutters, shaking her hair out a little and feeling a shiver running down her spine. She shuts her eyes, whining softly and shaking her head. “We should go home, Archie. Tell Kevin we’re leaving.”
Archie hums softly and Betty cracks open an eye, squinting up at him and finding him grinning down at her. “I have an idea,” he mumbles, and she purses her lips and opens the other eye, watching as he unzips his jacket and holds it open. “Get in.”
Betty tilts her head and sighs out a breath, her lips puckering as she considers. “You’re not going to be able to zip it with both of us in there,” she says, her voice thin in thought, “are you?”
“We’re gonna try,” he chuckles, taking a step towards her and pulling her into his chest. Betty hums, wrapping her arms around his torso and laying her cheek against his chest, shutting her eyes at the warmth of Archie pressed up against her. He feels good like this – she knows that already, because sometimes she falls asleep on his couch with her head on his chest – and she lets her body relax into his as Archie pulls his giant coat over the both of them and fumbles with the zipper. She hears it zipping and tips her chin up, letting out a loud laugh as she grins up at him and presses her palms flat against his back.
“Oh my god,” she laughs, scrunching up her nose as he smiles down at her, his eyes wide, “it worked?”
“See,” his grin turns smug and he leans his face down a little bit, his voice lowering, “I fucking told you it would work, I knew I could get you in this thing.”
She lets out a low laugh, shaking her head slowly and then pressing her chin into his chest. “Don’t be a dick just because you bought your coat a size too big,” she mutters, pressing herself tighter against him and sighing at the warmth.
“I’m not,” he chuckles, and she watches as his brows move a little higher on his forehead – a sure sign another comment is coming, “I’m being a dick because I knew better than the great Betty Cooper. Doesn’t happen all that often, so,” he scrunches his nose down at her playfully, “I have to take advantage, when it does.”
Betty rolls her eyes, standing on her toes and pressing her nose to his lightly, then returning to her heeled height, “Okay, dork,” she laughs, grinning at him. She narrows her eyes up at Archie, “you know we’re going to have to do this all winter, now, right?”
Archie frowns, shaking his head. “One time deal, Cooper.”
Betty rolls her eyes dramatically and she watches as Archie’s facade breaks, his face twisting in laughter. She tips her own head back and laughs, barely noticing out of the corner of her eye that Kevin is standing in front of them, snapping a photo with the flash.
–
Veronica’s getting married upstate, so they decide to go together – partially to offset the exorbitant cost of the hotel all the guests would be staying at, and partially to be able to get through the event with some semblance of sanity.
The ceremony, of course, is beautiful. She settles her hand on Archie’s knee as they sit down to watch Veronica and her fiancé, Chad, exchange vows, and he grins over at her, sliding his hand over her own. His thumb moves absently over her hand as the Justice of the Peace gives his speech, as Veronica and Chad pledge their eternal love to each other, as he dips her dramatically into a slightly-too-stiff kiss. Archie slips his hand into hers and pulls Betty to stand as they clap for the couple retreating down the aisle. She doesn’t mean to shiver when he leans down and mumbles against her ear, “Thank god it wasn’t me in that white tux.”
The reception is perfectly tasteful, of course – Betty and Archie are at a table with Josie, Reggie, Cheryl, and Toni, a few cracked bottles of champagne sitting in a large ice bucket next to them. Cheryl and Toni are deep in conversation with Josie, while Archie and Reggie are talking about something football related, Betty sipping her champagne slowly and nodding along to whoever seems to be vying for her attention at the table. She feels Archie’s hand slide onto her leg after a few minutes and takes a longer swig, her head buzzing a bit as she peeks over at him, a brow raised.
He smooths his thumb gently over her knee, which is covered by the silky fabric of her dress. He’s like this, sometimes – they’re both like this, sometimes, she realizes absently. They’re touchy with each other, and she doesn’t necessarily think it’s a bad thing...but it can be a little confusing, if she’s honest with herself – which she doesn’t know if she has a choice but to be after a few glasses of champagne.
She’s thinking about pushing Archie’s hand up a little higher on her leg when he slides over towards her in his chair, his lips brushing her ear as he mumbles, “Reggie’s stupid. Want to dance with me?”
Betty squints over at him, letting out a soft laugh and nodding as she settles her hand over his, squeezing it lightly. “Only you,” she says, her voice echoing softly into her champagne flute. She sets it down, letting him stand first and waiting for him to offer his hand, accepting it and getting out of her chair when he does. He tugs her out onto the dance floor and Betty laughs as she presses her palm flat against his chest, her thumb brushing along the lapel of his jacket while he hooks his arms around her waist. “You look really nice tonight, you know that?”
Archie chuckles, tipping his face down. She watches as heat creeps up on his neck, his thumbs brushing against her lower back. “I look like a guy in a suit. You on the other hand,” he hums, spinning her out and then pulling her back in, “you look beautiful.”
“Thanks, Arch,” she says, her voice soft. She presses her face against his chest and hums, laughing when he hums back at her. “Just thinking about weddings,” she murmurs, “how I didn’t think this one would turn out the way it did.” She looks up at Archie as he squints down at her, his mouth in a line. She swallows, shrugging her shoulder. “I don’t know. For the longest time, I thought you’d be the one in the white tux, is all.”
Archie shakes his head, almost instantaneously. “Nah,” he says, his voice soft as he sways them slowly, leaning his face down and kissing the top of her head. “You know better than anyone,” he rumbles, and Betty can feel how hard his heart is beating as he speaks, “that I wouldn’t be able to pull off a white tux.”
Betty laughs, tipping her face up and grinning as he smiles down at her, his eyes sweet as he hums along to the music.
–
Archie’s turning 22 and Betty knows she has no choice but to get him incredibly drunk.
She’d missed his 21st birthday – in part, because she’d been underage, and in part because he’d still been out of state – so she needs to make it up to him this year. She’s pretty sure she’s doing a decent job as she watches him grin down at her, his eyes half-closed as he sloshes his beer in his fist.
It’s a few minutes til midnight when she tucks herself against his side, leaning up on her toes to laugh against his ear as he tries to bring his beer up to her mouth. “I have a beer, Arch,” she yells, so he can hear her. He shakes his head, continuing to try to give her his beer. “What about another shot? We can do another shot.”
“You’re gonna throw up,” he laughs, dipping his face down clumsily, her ear against his lips as he speaks, “I don’t want you throwing up, we’re supposed to be having fun tonight.”
“I’m doing just fine,” she laughs, shaking her head and using his chest as leverage to push away from him. She’s definitely not sober, but Archie’s drunker than she is at this point. She’ll get there, but she’d wanted to make sure he was pleasantly wasted before she let herself go. “Let’s get another shot, ring in your birthday, hmm?”
It hits midnight as they’re standing at the bar waiting for the bartender to serve them and she grabs onto Archie’s arm, a grin on her face as she looks up at him. He’s chuckling at her and she shakes her head, reaching up and looping her arms around his neck. She stands on her toes, pressing a kiss to his cheek as she lets out a soft, “ happy birthday to you,” against his skin, happy when she can feel his face flush beneath her mouth.
“Thank you,” he grins down at her, his thumb pressing against her hip, “best one yet, I’d say.”
They get their shots and order two more before Betty taps her glass to his, tipping it back and grinning up at him as he squints through the burn of the tequila. She leans up, looping her arm around his neck and letting her fingers slip lazily into the hair at the base of his neck, her other hand clutching his arm, “How’s it feel, Archie boy,” she giggles against his ear, nearly yelling, “how does it feel to be twenty-two?”
Archie grins at her, his smile huge as he laughs and leans into her a bit. “Nothing yet, Betts,” he chuckles, humming, “you know it won’t change ‘til you turn twenty-two.”
She scrunches her face up at him, scratching lightly at the back of his neck as she smiles. “You’re allowed to feel different, you know,” she murmurs, letting go of his arm and poking him in the chest, “you’re allowed to do things without me.”
“Don’t like to,” he shrugs, his smile soft. “Rather do things with you, Betty.”
Her face softens and she leans up, kissing his cheek (closer to the corner of his mouth than she cares to notice, really) and humming against it. “I’d rather do things with you, too, Arch,” she murmurs, sliding her hand around to his cheek and pressing her palm to it lightly. He laughs, and the bartender comes back with their shots, clearing his throat as he pushes them over the bar.
Betty settles onto her flat feet and grabs her shot, watching as Archie lifts his and taps it to hers. “To doing things together,” she says, her voice loud enough that she can hear him, her eyes wide as he smiles down at her softly.
“To together,” he repeats, his hand sliding down and wrapping around hers as they tip their shots back.
–
Betty’s not sure what she expected for their actual first date, but it hadn’t been this.
They’ve been doing this thing for a few weeks – they’d woken up on the morning of his twenty-second birthday and within minutes, Archie had been kissing her, had been sliding his hands beneath the t-shirt she was wearing, had been coaxing her into a third orgasm (which, holy shit, by the way). It wasn’t unwelcome, but she’d been surprised to say the least – now, they’ve been at it for weeks, and she can’t really tell if it’s serious or not.
She thinks it is. She hopes it is. He can’t think it’s casual, can he? It’s them.
She’s sipping a beer when she feels him slide his hand onto her back, feels him leaning over her shoulder and kissing her cheek softly. “Hi, you,” he mumbles against her cheek, “can I have a sip?”
Betty laughs, turning her body so she can wrap her arm around his waist and pull him close to her. She lifts her glass to his mouth and he helps tip it so he can take a long sip – longer than she’d wanted him to have, anyway. She frowns, shaking her head. “You can order your own, you know.”
“I know,” he shrugs, “but we’re not staying.” Betty squints at him, lifting her hand and thumbing the foam off his upper lip gently. He kisses her thumb and she softens a bit, raising her brow in question. “I was thinking you might want to go on a date with me, Betty.”
Betty laughs in surprise, setting her nearly empty beer on the bartop. “You were thinking so?” Archie shrugs, nodding. “I didn’t realize we were,” she swallows, turning so she’s facing him on her barstool. “I didn’t realize we were doing that.”
“Going on dates?” Archie slides his hand up and brushes some hair behind her ear. Betty nods, feeling his hand against her cheek. “Well, I mean,” he swallows, keeping his eyes on her, “we don’t have to, if you don’t want to. I...I’d like to, though.”
Betty settles a hand on his chest. “Of course I want to,” she breathes, and Archie grins at her, leaning down and kissing her softly. “Why wouldn’t I want to?”
Betty shakes her head, snaking her hand to the back of his neck and pulls him down, kissing him a bit more deeply. They don’t need to talk about that right now.
She pays her tab and they make their way down to the subway station, Archie steering her towards a downtown 1 train and pulling her into his side as they wait for the train. They settle into seats in a nearly empty car and Betty slides her leg over Archie’s, leaning her head on his shoulder. She leans up and presses a kiss to the underside of his chin. He laughs, sliding his hand over her knee and humming softly, dragging his thumb over the fabric of her jeans. “Why wouldn’t I want to go on dates with you,” he murmurs, turning so he’s looking at her, his face earnest. “I’ve wanted to go on dates with you,” he lets out a slow breath, laughing to himself, “for a stupidly long time.”
Betty sighs, shrugging her shoulder and pressing her head into his. “Yeah?” He nods gently. “Me too. I just wasn’t sure, since we hadn’t yet.”
Archie nods again, lacing his fingers with hers. “You…,” he swallows. “You seemed to need to come to terms with...the fact that we were doing this, at all. I didn’t want to scare you off, or something.”
Betty laughs, squinting up at him. “You couldn’t scare me off if you tried, Andrews.”
Archie nods, squeezing her hand. “Noted, Cooper,” he grins, leaning down and kissing her lightly.
“Now,” Betty hums, raising her brows at him, “where exactly are you taking me, on this date?” Archie shakes his head, pulling her hand up to his lips and kissing it, and Betty whines, knowing what he’s doing. “You have to tell me, Arch – you can’t just kidnap me.”
Archie snorts, settling their hands in his lap. “I’d hardly call it kidnapping, babe.”
Betty swallows. She’s still not used to that, yet. She pesters him for the rest of the subway ride, whining into his ear and at one point, biting down on his earlobe gently, smirking at the growl it gets her. He pulls her up from her seat as they get to the Houston Street station, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her against him as they walk up the stairs, then another mile down Houston until they reach a neon lit diner nestled into the corner, across from a tree-lined school playground. Betty slides her hand into his and lets out a slow breath, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she peeks up at him and squeezes his hand. “Arch,” she smiles, looking up at him fully, raising her brow.
“I know it’s not Pop’s, the way you always thought,” he says, his voice soft. “But I figured if we waited until there was a weekend we could take the train upstate, we’d be waiting even longer, so,” he shrugs, “I thought this could do.”
She leans up on her toes and pulls him down, kissing him slowly in the neon glow of the diner sign, grinning when he laughs against her lips. “It’s perfect,” she whispers against his mouth. “You’re perfect, I think.”
Archie trails his thumb lightly along the side of her neck, chuckling. “We have to try the milkshakes, first, Betts,” he mumbles, “then you can decide on perfection, alright?”
Betty shakes her head, but pulls him inside. She makes the decision as they slide into their booth, as he grabs her hand over the table, as they order, as he slides his leg against hers beneath the table when he has to drop her hand so she can eat, and once again when he pulls the bill fold towards him when the waitress drops it off at the end of the meal.
He’s about to stand up to go up to the register and pay when she hums softly, hooking her finger at him and leaning over the table, pressing a slow kiss to his lips. “Perfect,” she says, pulling back. She nods once, definitive. “That was perfect, Arch.”
He chuckles, low, shaking his head. “Just wait,” he slides out of the booth, reaching down and brushing his thumb along her jaw lightly, “until you see what I have planned for our second date.”