"Mom, what are you doing?"

Alice looked up from her whisking, her shirt dusted with flour and god knows what else. Apparently, the apron was defective.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"You're stress baking," the younger blonde sighed.

Alice ignored her daughter as she took the eggs out of the fridge and cracked them into the bowl. She started whisking again.

Betty leaned on the island and examined the wide array of baked desserts.

"What's wrong, mom?"

"Nothing's wrong," Alice says in a voice that sounds almost animated. She could've passed for a morning bird chirping excitedly.

"Mom, it's January and you're making Christmas cookies." Betty raised her eyebrow, like mother like daughter, and remembered the time she got the flu the day before summer camp when she was eleven. Her mother baked Santa shaped cookies that morning and forbid the rest of the Cooper household of having any.

"Just extending the happy occasion," she said, continuing her faux cotton candy tone. She spreads the dough on the counter and starts to knead it before shaping them into candy canes.

"No, mom, you're guilty of something." Betty took a star shaped cookie from one of her batches and devoured it in one bite.

"Betty, that's not for you," she snaps, pulling the cookies away from her daughter.

"Then who's it for?" Betty reaches for another cookie.

"No offense, honey, but where'd you learn to be so overbearing?"

"No offense, mom, but I got that from you." Another cookie.

Alice sighs in defeat. "It's for FP," she whispers under her breath.

Betty starts cackling at her mother's sense of humor.

"Good one, mom. Fine, don't tell me."

She takes another cookie before strutting out of the kitchen.

"Elizabeth!"

…

That night, she sauntered into his office without knocking, examining the office quickly upon entrance.

"Alice?"

"I like what you've done with the place." She took off her coat and her scarf and placed it on the couch, as if she owned the place.

FP stared at her incredulously, stunned that she's criticizing him in his own office. And most importantly, stunned that she's here at all.

Alice saw the look on his face and rolled her eyes, whilst celebrating internally that she was still very much capable of riling him up. "Calm down, I meant it in a good way."

"How the hell did you even get in here?"

"You keep the keys in the same place and no one else was in the bar, as if they were going to stop me anyways."

"Did you put it back?"

"Put what back?"

"The keys."

"Do you think I'm an idiot?"

Exasperated, she placed the gigantic bowl of cookies atop the heaps of paper on his desk. She wonders why he had so much paperwork. She guesses even gang leaders like to be organized.

"What the hell is that?" He takes a cautious peek at the cookies as if it were a bomb. Or a wire. Alice and her damn expose at it again.

"A peace treaty."

She walked over to his side of the desk and perched over the rest of the papers she hadn't yet exploited with her presence.

"Look, I want Betty safe. I can't control what she does out of the house. Especially when she's with your son. Now that she's a Serpent, I swear to god, FP, if any of your enemies go after her for whatever godforsaken reason, I'll have your head."

Alice praised herself for sticking to the script. She'd been practicing all afternoon trying to capture her inner Miranda Priestly. Keeping a neutral tone was never her cocktail during ultimatums. After all, explosions were her specialty.

FP leaned over his desk uncomfortably, careful not to let any part of his body touch her accidentally.

"Alice, I assure you that Betty will be fine." He looked into her eyes and made sure that she knows he means it. He will do anything in his power to keep her daughter safe.

"Will she? If only you could see the way her eyes light up when she talks about Jughead." She takes a cookie from the bowl and starts to munch stressfully. "I'm scared she'll follow him wherever he goes."

"I can't do anything about that and you know it."

He can't help but reminisce at how much their kids have followed in their footsteps. The second Jughead mentioned Betty Cooper, he had no doubt over what would happen next. He's very well acquainted with how alluring the Cooper women are.

"I can't have them making the same mistakes we did."

"Do you really think they were all mistakes?"

He's talking about them, when they were young. The kind of things they did when they were starry-eyed teenagers experiencing love for the first time.

Alice hung her head down. She's a good liar and a damn convincing one, if she say so herself. But not to him. Never to him.

"No."

FP is aware of the new territory they're stumbling on and it's probably a mistake. So he grabs a bottle of whiskey from one of the drawers as a weak diversion.

"Have a drink. Consider it as my end of the peace treaty."

"I can't. I'm driving."

"That didn't stop you before. Last time I remembered, I had to bail you out."

"Thank god for that. I was getting sexually frustrated."

He laughed and remembered when she said that to him a few weeks ago.

"Karma's a bitch."

Alice tapped his knee with her leg and smiled.

"We had some good times."

"Great times."

They stared at each other for awhile, not saying a single word.

"I've really got to go. It's getting late." She stands to leave.

He didn't object but instead stands up right behind her.

"Let me walk you out."

"Okay."

They walked towards the direction of her car in peace, their two bodies close enough so that their shoulders would touch here and there. Whether it was intentional or completely due to happenstance, neither were interested in seeking out the answer to questions they'd rather not ask.

The silence was comforting, a convenient contrast to their lives, which at the moment, has been preoccupied with the tenacious clamour of the dubious town they live in. And none of them knows how to extinguish it.

"Stay out of trouble for me," she said once they reached the station wagon.

"I'll try my best."

He suddenly leaned towards her, catching her off guard. His lips almost brushed hers and she waited anxiously for the collision. But instead, she heard the click of the door handle behind her.

She felt her cheeks redden as she watched him smirk. But it soon went away once the impending prospect of what could happen, what they secretly want to happen, dawned upon them.

He's so close to her that she can make out the exhaustion in his eyes, how sunken they look. She wants to kiss it away, make his world feel a little lighter even if it was only for a few seconds. A pang of pain crawled to her chest when she realized that she must've contributed to putting that pressure on him.

She thought about all the horrible things she'd published about the Southside Serpents, about him. They shouldn't have welcomed her with open arms at the party after all that she'd written about them. She'd broken every rule in the book and yet, they still shared their home with her.

She planted a soft kiss on his cheek, hoping that the small gesture would do for now. If it were another time, it wouldn't have ended with him stepping back and with her withdrawing to her car.

But they've never been that lucky.

"Thank you for the cookies."

"You didn't have any."

"I'm not in the mood for food poisoning."

She punched him in the ribs through the open window. FP stumbled back in feigned agony and laughed.

"Goodnight, FP," she says.

"Night, Alice."

She wanted to say something else but instead, she exited the parking lot and watched as he disappeared from her rear-view mirror.

…

FP walked back to his office and collapsed on the chair. He took a cookie then another. They were warm and sweet. Reminds him of her.

He poured himself a glass of whiskey then noticed her coat and scarf still on the couch. She forgot them.

He walked over to pick them up. Should he return them tonight? She probably needs them in the morning.

The fabric is soft and expensive, highlighting the widely different paths their lives took. He moved it closer to his face and smelled it. It smells exactly like her. Sultry and sweet. Very feminine and pink. He didn't realize you could even smell a color.

There's this sudden urge to see her, to be closer to her. For the past few months, they've been running into each other constantly, feeding his desire for her. It's easy to ignore someone when you don't see them. But when they pick you up from prison, goes out of their way to see you at work even it it was to pick a fight, and bake you cookies, the "moving on" thing quickly becomes easier to say than done.

Hell, it's not that late.

He took his keys from the desk and walked out before returning back to the office to grab the scarf, which he'd left on the couch.

Slamming the door behind him, he didn't get very far when he noticed her car driving towards him. Guess she remembered.

She got out of the car and he watched her march over to his direction with a determined look. Why does she look as if she might slap him?

She probably snapped out of whatever angelic trance that came over her. Too bad, he was starting to get used to the nice, cookie-baking Alice.

"You left your…" But before he could continue, she slammed her lips against his and kissed him hard.

He didn't waste any time before lifting her up and walking back to his office. He kicked the door shut behind him and placed her on the couch, his body looming over her.

She bit his lip and he immediately submits to her touch, their tongues dancing in a sweet tango. She pulls on his hair to find a deeper angle to kiss him and his hands start to wander, grasping at whatever skin he could find.

"Alice," he gasps, breaking their kiss.

"Don't talk." She kisses him again and unbuttons his flannel before throwing them aimlessly to the ground. Her hands caressed down his chest, strong and smooth. Toned at all the right places.

She undoes his belt and her hand immediately wraps around him, hard and throbbing under her touch. He moans deeply, the vibration of his voice sending earthquakes up her spine and the heat between her legs get impossibly hotter.

"Alice, fuck," he inhales sharply and she loves the way he says her name, like he's worshiping a god.

She stands up before him and unzips her dress from behind. He sits up and grasps her thighs as she takes off her dress, all the while not breaking eye contact with him.

He knows exactly what she's doing, stripping so slowly to tease him, making him want more of her. He scans her body gloriously, her smooth skin glistening in the dark, her blonde hair tousled just right.

When she drops her dress, he impatiently pulls down her underwear. And without further ado, she straddles him on the couch. He instantly takes her breast into his mouth, sucking, his thumb circling on the other. She pulls her head back and moans deeply in absolute pleasure.

She sinks down on him and gasps, the sound getting stuck in her throat. He feels just as she remembers and more, filling her right to the brim.

All those years of quietly pining for him, desperately waiting for this very moment, did nothing but increase her want for him.

She starts a painfully drawn-out pace, sinking down on him and feeling every goddamn inch. And when he thrusts up suddenly in that angle that makes her head spin, she slams her eyes shut in euphoria.

"Hmmm," she sighs. "Don't stop."

He stares at her in wonder, watches her every move, the sound she makes when he reaches the end of her. The way her brow furrows when she wants more, deeper, faster. She's insatiable.

"You're so beautiful."

He flips them over so that he's towering over her, enveloping her with his warmth and love. He thinks he might never let her go. Not again.

His finger starts to rub heaven between her legs, making her moan louder and louder until she's the only thing he can hear. Her nails start digging across his back, claiming territory, making him want to fuck her faster.

"FP," she gasps. She can already feel it, so ready to go over the edge as he pounds into her relentlessly.

He lifts her leg over his shoulder, and he's so deep inside her now, the change in angle making her back arch up in response.

And when he fucks her there, at that perfect spot only he would know, white, hot electricity rockets through her core as she bites his shoulder to stifle her scream. She grapples for whatever body part she could find for dear life, and he watches in awe as she falls deep into the abyss of him. His eyes memorizing every facial expression, remembering them and he thinks, she hasn't changed a bit.

He starts to thrust faster again, desperate for his own release. And when he finally reach the stars, he collapses on top of her, smiling, breathing hard.

He looks up and kisses her soft and slow, tasting her. Oh, what he would do to kiss her forever. He's completely under her spell.

She breaks the kiss and smiles up at him. She let her thumb brush gently against his cheek.

"What are you thinking?"

"I think you should bake me cookies more often."