Some Reality

FP Jones & Alice Smith

celebrating their engagement

When Alice hadn't been at work, she had been baking, and the stress baking that had started when Betty and Jughead had gone off to investigate the maze had simply continued upon their return. FP suspected that the little one inside of Alice was making her crave junk food. He didn't mind. He was a Jones, after all. He was more than willing to be her official taste tester. With the kids out of the cabin the atmosphere had brightened considerably, and he had built a fire in the fireplace. He'd told Alice to change into something more comfortable.

"Hey, babe?" FP called as he headed into the kitchen. "I'm gonna make us some hot cocoa. You doing okay in there?"

Alice Smith, Betty Cooper, FP Jones, Jughead Jones

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"I can has cheezburger?"

FP Jones & Alice Smith (and later Jughead Jones)

What: Discussions and such
Where: Apartment 4B
When: Saturday
Warnings: Will update if necessary

CODE BY TESSISAMESS

SURPRISE

Each resident wakes up to find a nicely wrapped package outside the apartment door on Sunday morning. Residents will find one beloved item from home (player's choice).

Alice & FP & Jughead

Domestic Bliss * Friday Morning * No Warnings * Incomplete

The smell of frying bacon pulled Jughead out of the haze of sleep. He sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes. If he was dreaming, he didn't want to wake up, but he was pretty sure he wasn't dreaming. The bacon was real, and accented by the wafting aroma of coffee brewing.

He dragged himself out from under the covers, stumbled into the bathroom to do what he needed to do there as best he could with one arm in a plaster cast. Dressed in a T-shirt and sleep pants, he padded out to the main area of the apartment. Alice was at the stove, flipping the bacon over. She grinned at him. "You're just in time for breakfast," she told him, and he had the weird feeling he'd just walked into a 1960s family television show where everything was perfect and anything that went wrong could be set to rights within a half hour program.

He glanced toward the couch where his dad sat, and in Jughead's mind he was completely out of place. He was used to seeing his dad sitting on the dingy sofa in the dimly lit trailer they called home. Not on a plush sofa in a professionally decorated living room. He was used to seeing a beer in his hands, not a glass of orange juice.

The toaster popped, and Jughead practically jumped out of his skin. Maybe he was actually dreaming this whole thing, after all.