.
.
He hates being considered the bad guy.
Fred hates the mental image of his now ex-wife screaming and yelling obscenities before he left her apartment — "You're too soft, Andrews! You were never enough of a man for me!"
Archie's mother tossed an object off the mantle, nearly striking Fred's right shoulder. Her cheeks bright red, a hue lighter than her natural hair.
She's blowing off steam, Fred tells himself. That glint of hatred and rage in her eyes startled him at first, but he gets it. She wants Archie back. That's what this is after all. She wants her son.
It's close to midnight when Fred shuts and locks his hotel room's door. His cellphone buzzes.
Damn it.
Expecting the call to be Mary, he doesn't check first, answering on the third ring. "Listen, we can talk about this tomorrow if you need to—"
"Dad…"
The voice on the other line sounds low and rumbling out syllables, throaty. It's not Mary.
Fred raises his eyebrows, looking at the number.
… … Archie's own cellphone?
He paces towards the hallway, between the entrance to the bathroom and the mattress. "Archie, is everything alright?" Fred asks, glancing at the nearby alarm-clock. "It's late."
There's some muffled sounds — is Archie playing loud music downstairs? — and his son's heavy, slow breathing. But no reply.
"Archie?"
"I love you…"
"Me too, Arch," Fred says without hesitation, but his concern rising steadily. "You gonna tell me what's going on? Where's Jughead?"
He hears his son blurt out a repeated, faintly whining echo of "no, no no no" before Archie coughs, saying much more insistently, "I love you, Dad. I love y-you… so much…"
As if a dial rotates into the perfect position, right inside his mind, Fred feels his concern soften.
"Where's Jughead, honey?" he speaks up, pressing his mouth closer. His voice going an octave deeper. "Are you up in your room by yourself?"
"Yeah… hessnot here…"
Archie's words are definitely slurring. He must have found the liquor cabinet.
Fred's heart goes out to him.
Divorce wasn't going easy on any of them.
It takes a second to realize but Fred hears a quiver in Archie's breathing, and a wet, slapping noise. Jesus christ — is he really doing this? Are they really tempting fate like this again?
"What are you thinking about, Arch…?"
Fred seats himself on the edge of the hotel mattress, pressing his knees together. He listens to Archie masturbating, likely creaking the bed-frame, sweating and groaning. Fred's cock already getting hard in his trousers.
Archie sounds so good — sensitive and on edge, his breathing increasing to whimpering pants.
"Thinkin'… of you. Coming home."
Fred digs his teeth into his lower lip, dragging a hand through his hair.
"What do you want me to do when I get home to you?" he asks.
"Anything… everything…"
At the bold, straightforward answer, Fred chuckles, smiling against his cellphone. "That would be nice… you want me to touch you? You wanna be sucked off, baby boy?"
The unfamiliar pet name leaves him before Fred thinks it over, and he's rewarded with Archie's moan. "That'd be nice, wouldn't it?" Fred murmurs, listening to his son thrust into his own hand. "I miss you so much… I'll take good care of you. But you need to rest."
"Wanna come…" Archie cries out. "Dad…"
Fred tastes a smudge of blood on his lip, but licks it clean. "Keep going. I'm right here," he says gruffly, clutching onto the motel sheets.
Shit, shit. Fred let himself get so hard that it's painful — but this isn't about him. This is all for Archie. He sounds so beautifully wrecked, nearly sobbing out, before things go quiet.
"Archie?"
"Mhmm…"
"Go sleep it off," Fred tells him, assuming at this point Archie has either grown too tired or come all over himself already. "Love you, honey."
"Love you…" Archie mumbles on the other line, completely heartsick — and Fred hangs up.
He buries his head into his palms.
Shit.
What a mess.
.
.
Requested! The prompt came off the Riverdale Kink Meme on Dreamwidth: "Fred/Archie, incest, drunk dialing, phone sex" and based on events of Episode 10.