Christmas Varchie Oneshots

Part 2.

Did you seriously buy a Santa suit, Ronnie?” Archie’s coffee mug is paused half way to his mouth when a red blob appears out of the corner of his vision accompanied by the staccato of heels. He’s sitting at the kitchen table, innocently scrolling through the news on his iPad when dark hair peaks around the approaching monstrosity. 

“Archiekins,” she starts in a tone he knows very well, still holding up the yards of red velvet fabric in front of her like a prized fur, “This if for your godson’s Christmas! Think of how excited he’s going to be when Santa walks in!”

“Wait, you want me to wear that?” Archie’s expression falls even further. “I’m thinking of Jughead’s face when I walk in wearing that.”

“Don’t be silly. He’ll be staring at the delight on his child’s face.” She lays the offensive outfit out on the table in front of him, the redness now mocking him, and comes over to kiss his cheek, sneaking an arm around his neck.

“You obviously don’t know Jughead at all,” Archie replies, finally putting his coffee mug down and winding his arm around her. She’s beaming down at him with the look that often accompanies that Archiekins voice when she’s trying to talk him into something, her eyes dancing with delight. He sighs, giving in easily. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

She makes a small pleased noise in her throat and grabs his face this time with both hands when she kisses him on the cheek, allowing him to breathe in the scent of her perfume and put his mind in a hypnotizing warm and happy place. “I may have also bought something for a little later once Santa is done entertaining small children, and Mrs. Claus can reward him for being such a good sport.”

He tightens the hand on her tiny waist as he looks up at her, the innocent smile staring down at him now in contrast to the devilish one growing on his own. She starts to slip away from him, backing up with wide eyes, before he gets up and grabs her around the middle. She’s laughing as he lifts her up and over his shoulder, the sound better than any song he could ever write. 

“Santa may need an earlier reward,” he says playfully as he carries her down the hall to their bedroom, her heels dropping off her feet with dual clunks to the floor. “It’s Christmas for him too, after all.”