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I.
Archie is nervous and Betty isn’t really sure why.
Yes, fine, it’s their first vacation as a couple – but it’s Archie, and she’s pretty sure he could take her to a shack in the middle of nowhere and she’d still be happy about it. She chews on her lower lip as he taps his fingers against the steering wheel of their rental car, the way he’s been doing on and off for the last five and a half hours of their drive up to Vermont. “Archie,” she says, her voice low, her hand moving to rest gently over his on the wheel. “What’s with the drum solo?”
Archie stops, raising his brows as he peeks over at her, a soft smile on his lips. “Nothing, baby,” he grins, shaking his head gently. “Just excited to get there, is all...it looked really nice online.”
Betty lets out a soft sigh, shaking her head and leaning over the console to press a light kiss to his cheek. She murmurs softly against his skin, “I’m sure it is really nice, Arch,” and pats him on the forearm before returning to her seat.
She turns up the music and pulls one of his hands off the steering wheel, playing with his fingers in her lap as he drives them along a wooded road, the radio reception dipping out as they close in on a secluded patch of farmland. She’s been on dozens of trips with Archie before, but never one as his girlfriend, and she’s excited to spend time with him outside of the city – to get to unwind in the woods, and not worry that her roommate or his neighbor is going to hear them through the wall.
They pull down a long, winding gravel driveway and Archie parks the car in front of a small a-frame cabin, taking the keys out of the ignition and lacing his fingers with hers. “Sorry, if I’ve been,” he swallows, resting his head back against the headrest and looking over at her with soft eyes, “you know, out of it, for the ride.”
“Arch,” she says, gently, “you’ve been out of it for like three days...safe to say I’m used to it, at this point.”
Archie shuts his eyes, nodding gently. “Sorry,” he murmurs, and Betty leans across the console, pulling him in and kissing him lightly.
“What are you so nervous about,” she breathes against his lips, then leans her forehead to his. “That I’m not going to want to spend time with you out here all alone?”
He lets out a laugh, shaking his head and slipping the fingers of his free hand into her hair. “I just want it to be good enough,” he shrugs. “Our first vacation, you know? I want us to remember it.”
She hums softly, brushing her thumb against his. “I’m never going to forget it, Arch. The first of many,” she kisses him again, biting lightly on his lower lip and letting out a soft laugh. “Now show me our cabin, hmm?”
He leads her inside and she swallows, her eyes wide as he flips on the lights. Edison bulbs hang from the white-painted wood beams of the ceiling, twinkling down over the dark wood of the cabin. There isn’t much to it: a small kitchen to the left, a lofted bed to the right, and a door she assumes leads to the bathroom on the back wall, but she swallows as she takes in the long, floor-to-ceiling windows along one wall that show off an incredible deck and lead out into a huge thicket of tall, bristling trees. She’s pretty sure she sees a hot tub out there, as well as a small table with a few chairs around it.
Archie’s staring at her tentatively, and she drops her bag on the ground promptly, pressing him back against the door and leaning up on her toes, kissing him gently. “You like it?” He still sounds a little nervous, albeit less so than before.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmurs, her hands sliding up to his cheeks, her thumbs brushing against them softly.
“You’re beautiful, love,” he breathes, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her tight against him. She grins, humming as she kisses him.
“You’re such a dork,” she laughs, then lets him lift her up and carry her to the bed.
II.
“I can’t believe a human can sweat this much,” she hears him muttering from the bathroom, and she rolls her eyes as she slides chapstick over her lips and presses them together. “People aren’t supposed to sweat like this, baby, it can’t be right.”
Betty purses her lips and shuts her compact, running her fingers through her hair and then getting up off the bed. She smooths her dress out over her legs and makes her way into the bathroom, wrapping her arms around Archie’s waist and ignoring the way he whines. She presses her face into his back and kisses the bare, sweaty skin softly. “You’re a big baby,” she mumbles, trailing kisses between his shoulders. “You know that? I married,” she slides her hand around to his chest, pressing her rings (there are two of them, now, and she’s kind of obsessed with the feeling of them) against his chest, “a big, whiny baby who sweats too much.”
Archie lets out a low laugh, sliding his hand over hers and pressing his own ring into the back of her hand. Betty can’t help the moan she lets out against his skin – the feeling of that ring does something to her, something she can’t explain yet. “Maybe I’m just not meant for Australia, Betty.”
“Maybe.” Betty takes a step back, prompting him to turn around and face her. She looks up at him and smiles, the little bit of sunburn he has on his nose amplified by the bathroom lighting. “Maybe,” she loops her arms around his neck, “you just haven’t been sweating in the right ways, love.”
Archie smirks at her, shaking his head and hooking his arm around her waist. “Trust me,” he chuckles, low, “I’ve been doing my fair share of sweating the good old fashioned way. From what I’ve noticed,” he lowers his lips to her collarbone, and she tips her head to the side to give him better access to her neck, “you have, too.”
Betty hums, letting him kiss her skin, shutting her eyes, enjoying it. They’re staying on Haggerstone Island in Queensland for their honeymoon, a trip they’d been planning for longer than they’d even been engaged – their resort was nestled in a jungle near the Great Barrier Reef, and they had an entire beach hut to themselves for nine days of sun-drenched relaxation. It had been amazing, so far, but they’d barely managed to leave their little hut for more than a few hours at a time and Betty was looking forward to the helicopter ride out to the waterfalls they’d planned to take this morning. Archie, on the other hand, appeared to just be sweating.
“I have,” she murmurs, slipping her fingers into his hair and scratching at his scalp lightly, “you know I have.”
“What time,” he mumbles against her neck, sliding his left hand beneath her dress and slipping it beneath the waistband of her bikini bottoms, “do we have to be there to catch the helicopter?”
Betty whines as his fingers brush against her, pressing her hips into his hand and tipping her head back, “Like, twenty minutes,” she sighs, “and it’s a fifteen minute walk.”
Archie circles her clit with his thumb slowly, chuckling against her neck, letting his teeth scrape against the skin as he mumbles, “I only need three, baby.” Betty rolls her eyes, gripping at his arm.
“If we miss the waterfalls,” she moans, her voice thick as she hooks her leg around his thigh, “I’ll kill you.”
They make it to the meeting spot for the helicopter ride just as they’re loading the guests in, and Betty notes, with a flush of her cheeks, that Archie’s fingers are still a bit sticky.
III.
Betty’s nearly asleep when she feels a shadow over her skin. She frowns, squinting as she opens her eyes, her lips twisting into a smile when she sees Archie standing over her, his hair dripping onto the concrete next to her lounge chair. “Arch,” she mumbles, her voice thick with sleep, “if you get me wet, your son and I are going back to the room.” Betty slides her hand over her stomach and hums, laughing as the baby kicks beneath her palm and raising her brow up at her husband. “See? He agrees with me.”
Archie chuckles, stooping down next to her chair and pressing his lips to her stomach. “My bud, going back to the room?” He shakes his head, letting a bit of the water from his hair spray onto her skin, laughing as she squeals softly, still sleepy. “Couldn’t be little Freddie Andrews.”
“Archie,” she grumbles, frowning at him and slipping her hand into his wet hair. She tugs and lets out a whine, chewing on her lower lip as she glares at him. “I was just about to fall asleep, baby. You know how shitty,” she feels herself starting to get emotional – a sure sign she’s over tired – and tries to swallow it down, “you know how hard it’s been for me to sleep lately.”
Archie’s face softens, and she watches as he looks over her face, his eyes gentle. She lets him sit her up a bit, humming as he scoots in behind her on the lounger and settles his legs on the outside of hers. They’re on a babymoon (which Archie has insisted they call it, even though she thinks vacation is more than enough of a word) in Hilton Head, South Carolina, staying at a resort with a prenatal spa package so she can get a massage the way she’s been wanting to for months. It’s been a relaxing few days, but the baby’s been shifting uncomfortably and she’s been having a hard time sleeping – even when Archie’s tried to tire her out completely.
Now, he settles himself behind her, wrapping his arms around her and sliding his hand over her stomach, brushing his thumb gently over her skin. “I’m sorry, baby,” he breathes, his wet face pressing into her hair as he moves his fingers lightly along her bare bump. She can feel the tie of her bikini pressed against his collarbone, and she hums as she slips her hand over top of his. “Lay back, hmm? Try to sleep.”
Betty lets out a soft sigh, shaking her head but tipping it back, letting her head fall against his neck gently as her eyes shut. “I’m not going to sleep now, with you doing that,” she murmurs, her voice soft. “Your son has other plans now that he knows you’re here.”
“No,” he murmurs, shaking his head, a low laugh in his throat, “he’s going to let his mom sleep a little, aren’t you, bud?” He taps his fingers lightly against her stomach, chuckling when the baby kicks against it. “Now, now,” he says, and Betty feels her throat tightening as she hears his voice slip into that tone she’s starting to recognize as his Dad tone. “Your mom needs to rest, buddy,” he says, his voice low, “we need to let her sleep so you can keep growing big and strong, and then when you get here, you can keep me up as long as you want, alright?”
“Love,” Betty whines, turning her head and kissing the hollow of his neck softly. She feels tears pricking the corners of her eyes, but she’s always feeling tears pricking the corners of her eyes lately, so she doesn’t bother trying to brush them away. “You know I’m going to stay up with the two of you.”
“Excuse me, Betts,” he says, a low rumble, “I’m talking to our son, here.”
“Sorry,” she laughs, sliding her other hand to the side of her stomach and pressing lightly against it, “sorry, go ahead.”
“Thanks, babe,” he murmurs, then continues, “So, you’re going to let her take a little nap now, and then later, when it’s time for bed, you’re going to let her sleep more, alright? As much as she needs...because once you’re here, I don’t think either of us are going to sleep for at least a couple of years.”
Betty yawns through a laugh, settling her face against his neck and listening sleepily, drifting off with the sun warming her skin, and the sound of her husband telling their son about all the fun things they’re going to do once he’s joined them in her ear.
IV.
“No running,” Betty hears Archie laughing as he catches Fred trying to bolt towards the castle and sucks in a breath, looking down at the twins sleeping in their double stroller, “no running, buddy.”
Fred giggles as Archie grabs him, hauling him over his shoulders and settling him as though he weighs nothing. Betty feels herself smiling despite the split second of panic she feels nearly every time Archie hoists their son over his head like he’s a piece of paper, or something. They’d decided, perhaps stupidly, that taking the kids to Disneyland was a good idea while they were on vacation in Southern California – at just over one, the twins wouldn’t remember it, but Fred might at three...plus, the look on Archie’s face at the idea of the five of them taking a photo with Mickey Mouse had clinched it for her.
Now, though, she’s a little concerned. “Maybe,” she says, as she falls into step with Archie, smiling up at him a little nervously, “we should’ve gone ahead and gotten the leash.”
Archie frowns down at her, but she can see the softness in his eyes. He holds tightly onto Fred’s legs, laughing as he leans down a bit so he can speak closely to her ear, “Who says I didn’t get one just in case, Betts?”
Betty rolls her eyes but grins up at him, standing on her toes and kissing his cheek, then pressing a kiss to Fred’s chubby little calf. “What do you think, bud,” she looks up at Fred, who’s grinning down at her with Archie’s smile on his face, “do you want to go meet Mickey?”
Fred squeals, fisting Archie’s hair in his little hands and laughing as he nods down at Betty. “Is he here, Mommy?”
“He’s somewhere, buddy,” Betty laughs, reaching up and scratching at his side, then pushing up the visor on the baby’s stroller. “We’re going to go find him.”
Fred sighs happily, leaning his face down into Archie’s hair. “Mickey’s my best friend,” he says, his voice certain, and Archie bounces him lightly on his shoulders as one of the twins whines from the stroller, the sun seeping in with the visor down.
“Mickey is your best friend?” Archie says, his voice thick with faux-concern, “You’re sure about that?”
Betty leans her head down into the stroller, laughing as Britta frowns up at her, squinting. “You okay, baby girl?” She looks over at Benji, sleeping soundly next to his sister and sucking his thumb, a habit they’ve been trying to break him of. Benji’s the softest of their three kids, so breaking him of anything has proven difficult, mostly because he’s probably the sweetest boy she’s ever met and taking things away is hard. Britta sighs, pressing her arm sleepily over her face, her fingers tangling into her wispy reddish hair as she lets out a soft cry.
“Mama,” she whines, and Betty looks over her shoulder to make sure no one’s behind her before she toes the break on the stroller, unclipping Britta and pulling her out easily. She cuddles the little girl to her chest, smiling as Britta presses her face against Betty’s neck, whining quietly for a moment before it turns into a soft coo.
“Hi, baby,” Betty hums, rubbing her hand in slow circles over the baby’s back, “you woke up in a whole new place, huh?”
She watches as Archie sets Fred down for a moment, keeping his arm against the boy’s back as he leans over and presses a kiss to Britta’s head. “Britt,” he murmurs, and she feels Britta shifting against her neck to look up at her daddy. “You want to meet Mickey?”
Britta looks at him softly, as though she understands anything he’s just said and is considering. She nods her head slowly, then presses her face back into Betty’s neck and giggles, pressing her little hands to Betty’s face.
Betty squints at Archie as he maneuvers Fred back over his shoulders, raising her brow. “Only you would speak toddler, love,” she mumbles, rolling her eyes at him.
He bounces Fred and grins as the boy giggles. “It’s a gift, baby,” he calls over his shoulder, taking a few steps away as Betty settles Britta back in the stroller. “Last one to find Mickey’s a rotten egg, right Freddie?”
V.
Betty stretches her legs and moans, the ache between her thighs both incredible and annoying at the same time. She reaches her hand across the plush sheets, swallowing when she finds the other side of the bed empty, no husband to be found anywhere. “Archie,” she whines, sitting up a little and pulling the sheet against her chest, her eyes adjusting to the still-dark room, “come back to bed.”
She hears Archie laughing from somewhere else in their room, and she lets out a low whine, sitting herself up further. They’re spending a long weekend at a rented cottage in Rehoboth beach, just the two of them – it’s their first vacation since the twins were born, their first vacation without a kid involved since she had Fred, and waking up with him out of bed hadn’t been in her plans. “Archie,” she says again, her voice just a touch whinier, her body settling back into the pillows, “we weren’t supposed to leave this bed for twenty-four hours, and yet, you’re not here with me.”
“Oh my god,” he laughs, making his way back to the bed and into her field of vision, still naked, holding a highball glass in his hand. He passes it to her and then slides into the bed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as he settles between the sheets. Betty takes a slow sip of the drink, moaning as the mixture of gin and grapefruit juice washes over her tongue and then passing it over to Archie, watching as he sips it, too. “You said you wanted a drink, baby. I was just,” he lifts the cup to her lips, tipping it so she can have another sip, “helping out.”
Betty hooks her leg over his hips, rolling onto him and sighing out a breath as she presses her lips to his collarbone, over his chest, smirking as he hums in contentment. “You,” she breathes, looking up at him from beneath her lashes, “weren’t supposed to leave the bed. That’s breaking the rules. You know what happens to people who break the rules on vacation, don’t you?”
Archie rumbles out a low laugh, and she watches him settle the glass on the bedside table, then pulls Betty up so her face is pressed to his and she’s straddling his waist. “You’re going to tell me, aren’t you?” He leans up, kissing her softly, “What happens to people who break the rules on vacation, hmm?”
Betty strings her fingers through his hair, her chest brushing against his as she lets out a soft laugh. “You’re just going to have to make it up to me, Arch,” she mumbles, her lips ghosting over his as she speaks. “I’m talking serious business, baby...you’re going to have to make me forget you were gone.”
“Oh,” he chuckles, his teeth sinking into her lower lip, “I’m going to have to make you forget, huh?” Betty nods, letting him tug on her lip as she scratches at his scalp softly. “You know, I think I can do that. Make you forget where you are,” he releases her lip and flips them over, his fingers trailing along her upper thigh, pulling her leg up and hooking it over his hip, “make you forget your name,” he presses his lips to her collarbone, and Betty lets out a low hum, her chest arching up against his, “make you forget you married me, and had my babies.”
Betty slides her hands over his shoulder blades, letting out a low moan as she feels his half hard length brushing against her still sensitive center. “I couldn’t,” she breathes out, softly, “I couldn’t forget that, baby.”
Archie hums, low in his throat as he finds her mouth with his own, meeting her gaze as he murmurs, “Oh, but I can make you try, love,” softly before he leans down and kisses her, slow and deep, the sting of gin and grapefruit still fresh on his tongue.