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In a perfect world, CJ Jones would have woken up to one of the loveliest sights he had ever been exposed to in his often miserably dormant life. But obviously this was Riverdale, a world in which there were many faults that were a result of external puppet masters constantly pulling on conflicting strings. And so when CJ woke up the next morning, subconsciously hoping to see streams of sparkling sunlight caressing the smooth surface of Cheryl's bare back as if it were the wings of angel, he was disappointed but not surprised to see the other side of the bed empty.
He rolled over with a sharp sigh, cupping one of his palms over his dark eyes to shield them from the harsh beams of daylight. It was certainly morning; if it wasn't the Southside, birds would have been chirping their daily songs. Instead, CJ was left to hear roaring engines of pimped out vehicles, driven by those who either had enough potential to work a proper job, or by those who were returning home in what could be described as a drive of shame.
Even with the lack of delight that was obtained by living on the Southside, CJ still had no reason to be on edge. In fact, he was calmer than he had probably ever been following a long night with his favourite woman. Speaking of Cheryl, he uncovered his eyes and noticed that her garments from the night before were still scattered around the bed. It was a relief to think that there was a very small probability of her leaving to trek through the vile parts of Riverdale so early in the morning, but it was an absolute delight when she finally reentered CJ's line of sight.
She was carrying a plate full of buttery toast in one hand and a bottle of water in the other; although the food projected a smell incredibly enticing, Cheryl gave CJ a view even more so. Somehow she'd managed to dig up a relatively clean khaki hoodie that stretched just below her mid-thigh, and it had honestly never looked so good. Because yes, red was her signature colour and she pulled it off phenomenally. But green was also a beautiful image, making Cheryl seem nothing short of otherworldly as she moved to the bed and sat herself down on the space just above CJ's knees with a smirk. The comforter between them was admittedly infuriating for CJ, however after the night he'd had he mentally refused to push his luck.
"Breakfast?" Cheryl questioned softly, making CJ prop himself up on his elbows before swiping a slice of buttery brown toast from the plate. It was a perfect slice too - buttered right to the corners just the way he liked it - and it hadn't been overdone. If he was asked to eat Cheryl's toast for the rest of his life he didn't think he'd have the heart to say no.
"You're perfect." CJ muttered bluntly in between bites of his toast.
"Well, obviously." Cheryl scoffed. "I've not gone through all of this ice and fire to come out a measly five out of ten on the other side."
"Yeah you've definitely become somethin' cherry." He grinned, watching as Cheryl took a sip from the bottled water she'd found buried behind the alcohol in the back of the beaten down fridge. "Now how come you're makin' toast?"
