Definition of Want (Bughead)

WILD CARD

Now that Jughead had explicitly asked her, Betty's browsing on Zillow, Apartments.com, and Craigslist was lit with a flame that would not go out.

She wanted it to be perfect with a capital P.

Neither was interested in moving out of New York City post-graduation and because the line between 'college' and 'post-college' was a bit blurred in terms of apartments, she very much realized this could be their first living space as adults and not just roommates in college. But their first living space...beyond.

The type of living space where you put up pictures of yourselves and got bold enough to paint the walls the colors you liked and considered changing out that awful showerhead in the bath for something with semi-decent water pressure.

That sort of living space.

When she initially asked Jughead, he said he wasn't interested, as long as it stayed within their agreed monthly payment.

That wasn't exactly true, which she should have guessed. Jughead was far pickier than he let on.

She'd bother him and show him a listing and he'd have two or three reasons why this wasn't 'it'.

"The carpet is a weird color. Reminds me of cat puke."

"The floorboards are slanted. Can you imagine if you spill anything on it? It will all pool to the center."

"Ugg, I don't like that countertop. It reminds me of an off-brand Picasso."

Finally, Betty snapped a bit.

"Are you rescinding your offer?"

Jughead looked up, startled.

"What?"

"To live with me," Betty closed her laptop, "You just vetoed like thirty apartments. Cold feet?" She asked, trying not to sound hurt.

"No!" Jughead's eyes were wild as he realized his mistake, "I just want it to be perfect. I know that's a tall order for New York City, but we still have a few weeks. I'd rather be really content with an apartment than settle."

Betty gnawed on her lip, "Fair, I get that," She obviously wanted something to be great too, but she was rather of the mind that they could make something great, "But we're going to run out of time soon. And then we'll have to choose between crappy places because we let all the 'oh, it's nearly perfect' ones go." She explained.

Jughead furrowed his brow, "Guess I didn't think of it like that."

"A compromise between gentlemen," Betty held out her hand, "We look without pressure for another two weeks. At that point, if we don't find anything, we take the first 'well, it nearly hits the boxes' that we see." She said.

Jughead went back through some of her closed tabs of apartments, nodding and thinking.

"Deal, Cooper, but let's settle this with something better than a handshake." He said, pulling her on top of him.

"Jug!" Betty laughed, slapping his shoulders lightly as he tugged one arm of her shirt down, "Do you seal all important agreements with sex?"

"Only the ones that matter," Jughead said casually, fingers teasing below her belt-line, "Archie was in for the surprise of his life when we made our pact to be best friends," He said with a mischievous wink, and Betty was almost sure he wasn't joking.

"Then let's seal the deal, babe," She purred against his throat.

"Should we grab the Wheely Chair of Sin?"

"Why?" Betty leaned back, glancing at the black chair just in the corner of her view near her bedroom door.

"Seems like it's been at the center of a few important moments. It's almost like a third person in our relationship."