Riverdale Imagines

"Happy Birthday"

Request: Prompt from tumblr

Words: 545 (still super short - what is this)

Pairing: Archie x Reader

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The walk to Archie's house was eerily familiar, the journey permanently etched into my mind. The cool pavement clicking beneath the heels of my shoes as I trudged toward his house.

Archie's house came into view as I rounded the corner to his house. He had offered to pick me up but I'd turned him down, thinking that I'd enjoy the brisk walk. I was very wrong. His house grew as I neared it until I was standing on his porch, relief bubbling up inside me along with another feeling I shoved into the recesses of my mind.

I pressed my finger against his doorbell, shifting from my feet in a feeble attempt to stay warm in the freezing weather. After what seemed like an eternity I pushed the button again, and again, and again.

Until a very flushed Archie yanked open the door, his eyebrows raised, "Was that really necessary?" he asked, attempting to sound angry but the grin the played on his lips betrayed his annoyance.

"Yes, it's freezing," I replied, pushing past him into the warm, familiar home.

He chuckled following behind me as I walked to his kitchen and propped myself up on a stool. Archie moved to the other side of the bench, he held a finger to his lips and reached under the counter top and fished around before producing a bottle of wine.

"For me?" I asked with a smile, holding a hand to my chest in mock shock.

He nodded moving to the cabinet behind him and removing two glasses. He turned back to the counter and filled them up far further than they should be filled and handed one to me.

"Happy birthday," he said, his tone barely above a whisper but his body language bold as if toasting to a room full of people.

I shook my head but took the glass from him, clinking it to his when he held it out expectantly, his eyebrows raised.

"I told you I didn't want to do anything," I sighed, sipping the wine delicately despite the overwhelming urge to gulp down the bottle, to feel the buzz I knew it could provide.

"Not even get drunk?" he asked, moving back around the counter to sit on the stool beside me.

I chuckled, "maybe," I muttered in reply.

My sips of the wine gradually become bigger and bigger until I gulped most of the bottle, Archie only having had a glass. We laid on the carpet of his living room, my head resting on his chest - rising and falling with his breathing - and our legs intertwined.

"How's your birthday going?" he mumbled into my hair.

"You know, I could beat the shit out of you," I drunkenly slurred, lifting my head wearily from his chest.

He smiled, "I know."

I moved my hand to his cheek and lowered my lips to his, my eyes fluttering shut. His hand went to the nape of my neck, his fingers twisting in my hair. The kiss was drunken and sloppy but managed to have a million emotions sown inside of each movement.

I pulled away after a moment and rested my head back on his chest and whispered my reply into the thin material of his shirt, "My best birthday, yet."