Jughead shaving/cleaning up when bughead gets together (if you're still taking prompts!)
Betty wakes to an empty bed, and the scent of coffee brewing.
At first, she simply savors the moment: the soft, rumpled sheets around her, the sunlight peeking in through the gap in the curtains, the pleasant ache in her thighs. Last night was only the second that they’ve spent together since reconnecting, and the first where they had the house completely to themselves, a set of circumstances which they’d been sure to take full advantage of.
After a lingering, full-body stretch, she slips out of bed and back into her underwear, tugging one of his clean t-shirts over her head before she steps out into the hallway.
Betty finds him in the bathroom, standing before the sink in just his boxers, rubbing shaving cream over his chin.
She leans one shoulder against the doorframe. “Morning.”
Jughead looks over his shoulder, eyes crinkling a little at the corners when he takes her in. “Hey. Good morning.”
“What are you doing?” she asks, and steps closer, winding her arms around his torso as she presses her cheek to the back of his neck. His skin is warm, and he relaxes into her embrace, tipping his head back slightly so it rests against hers.
“I am taking care of this for you,” he answers, brandishing a razor before the mirror.
She gives him one quick, firm squeeze around the middle before letting go, moving to stand beside him. “For me?”
Her heart beats a little bit faster. It wasn’t that she disliked Jughead’s new, adult facial hair. Not exactly. She just found it…unnecessary. An opinion she may have shared with Kevin while gossiping in the teachers’ lounge last week, which she now realizes Jughead may have overheard.
Jughead pauses, chin tilted, the razor hovering a few inches from his face. “Yeah. You said it was too scratchy.”
“Oh.” She had said that, last night after he’d gone down on her. Her fingers drift absently to her inner thigh. “You don’t have to do that just for me.”
“If you don’t want me to shave it, I can keep it,” he offers. “I don’t have strong feelings either way.”
“No no,” she says quickly. “You’re right. It’s scratchy.”
She watches as he wields the razor carefully in the mirror. It doesn’t take long; there wasn’t much there to begin with. When he’s finished he pats his face dry with a towel, and turns to face her with a grin.
Betty beams back, cupping his cheeks in her hands. “Very handsome.”
Jughead leans down to peck her on the lips. He slips his hands beneath her t-shirt, rucking it up past her waist. “But is it a close enough shave?”
Betty gasps as he drops to his knees, tugging her underwear down with him. Her fingers curl into his hair. His breath sends goosebumps trailing up her thigh.
“Guess there’s only one way to find out.”
