It started as a silly joke. Betty's mom is out of town and they have the whole house to themselves, and they've been watching Magic Mike, curled up on the living room sofa together, Jughead's head in Betty's lap, her fingers carding through his hair.
Betty had giggled at some of the racier scenes, an adorable flush on her cheeks, and Jughead had teased her, asking if it turned her on. She'd hit him with a pillow, and he'd untangled himself from her, and had gotten up and started shimmying his hips, untying the flannel shirt around his waist and humming obnoxiously.
"Do I turn you on, baby?" he asks, doing a truly dreadful Austin Powers impersonation, and Betty laughs. He whips the shirt around his head, and then he throws it at her. Betty catches it, whooping and cheering, grinning widely. Getting into it now, the pure stupid fun of it, Jughead's hands goes to his suspenders, undoing first one clasp, then the other, and finally reaching back and undoing the fastening with a flourish. They drop to the carpet with a soft 'thud', and Jughead does a little spin, hands karate-chopping the air.
Betty is still smiling at him, something bright and fond in her eyes, and Jughead likes seeing her this happy and carefree.
His hands go to his fly, and he keeps eye contact, trying to look sexy, chin raised a little, lips twisted in a small smile, fighting the urge to laugh. He pops open the first button, and Betty raises her eyebrows, mouth doing that impressed-surprised-appreciative little moue it did when she first saw him in a suit.
It's a button fly, which actually works pretty well, because it means he can be dramatic about it, sway a little from side to side, get his hips into it, put his thumbs in his belt loops and pull them down a little, just enough to reveal the top of his boxer shorts, before going for button number two. He puts his hands on his chest, and drags them down slowly, flattening the fabric of his t-shirt against his body, and trying very hard not to feel like a total jackass about it. Button number three, and Betty whoops again, clapping her hands and dancing a little in her seat.
He does buttons four and five quickly, and then he hesitates, because he's doesn't think he can take off a pair of jeans sexily, but Betty takes that moment to shout, "Yeah, pants off, baby!" in a really obnoxious bro voice, and this is where it could have ended, with Jughead scoffing and tackling her to the cushions in revenge. But he looks around, remembers the coffee table that's a few steps behind him, and backs up, thumbs on the belt loops, and swiveling his hips a little.
He tosses his head, getting hair in his eyes, and looks at Betty from under lowered lashes, biting his lip a little, and actually feeling a little sexy, because Betty is really looking at him now, not laughing, just eager and appreciative. It's a heady feeling, and one he isn't very used to, so he can't really be blamed for letting it go to his head a little.
He pulls down the jeans to his knees and quickly sits down on the table behind him, lifting one leg in the air and pulling off the pant-leg. It doesn't look quite as great as he envisioned, because it turns out skinny jeans don't have that much stretch in them (which is probably why actual professional strippers don't use them), but for the second leg, he can get it as high as he want, pulling off the pants completely before sending them flying towards the sofa, and quickly rolling back onto his feet.
Betty leans forward and snatches the jeans out of the air.
"Don't stop now. It was just getting interesting." There's a teasing lilt to her voice that Jughead finds pretty irresistible, so he shimmies closer to her, and with a cockily raised eyebrow he crosses his arms and grabs the hem of his t-shirt.
They're so close his knees are brushing against her, and she's looking up at him with her beautiful green eyes wide and hungry-looking. She's smiling a little, eyes darting between his face and his hands in a way that's really flattering, like she can't decide what she's more into.
He starts pulling on his tee, letting the movement stretch, revealing more and more of his chest, arching his back a little and lifting his arms and the shirt over his head, dropping it on the floor with a flick of his fingers. Betty never stops watching him, and he feels like the sexiest man in the world.
Sexier than Channing Tatum even, because he made Betty giggle, but she never got quite this flushed watching him, never bit her lip while raking her eyes over his body like she wanted to devour him.
Her eyes flick to his boxers, and he grins. "I'm not doing the full monty for you."
"Well then," she says, and reaches up, puts her hands on the waistband. She gives him a challenging look, raising her eyebrow a little. "Then I guess I'll have to do it for you."
