When Betty walked into her mother's office, she noted as many things as possible.

First, the room. It was neurotically neat, not to Betty's surprise. The different sized files and organizers lining the walls reminded her of what her mother used to say when she was a kid: A place for everything, and everything in its place, Elizabeth!

Even her mother's desk was organized very specifically. Things that made straight lines—pencils, pens, papers, folders, the stapler, the calculator —were strategically arranged either parallel or perpendicular to each other. She recalled another lesson: Anything that's not a right angle, is a wrong angle!

Betty hated all those rules.

Next, she noticed how the office lacked any of Alice's personality. No pictures of herself, nor of her two daughters. No family portraits or pictures of their old house, which she knew her mother loved dearly.

The nameplate on her desk said ALICE SMITH, and Betty looked at it curiously, wondering when her mother had dropped her father's last name and reverted back to Smith. Had it really been that long?

"Was the drive from the Farm ok?" Alice asked suddenly, pulling papers from one file into another.

"What?" Betty was startled by her mother's voice. She hasn't heard it in so long, she honestly forgot what it sounded like.

"The drive. Did you have any trouble getting here?" Her mother asked again, still sorting through her files.

"No...the drive was fine." The drive? Really? They haven't seen each other in four years and the first thing her mother asks her is how was the drive?

Betty frowned and started to sit down, but Alice stopped her. "Actually, we're in a little bit of a hurry. Follow me."

Walking together, Alice turned to Betty and asked, "What do you know about the DPD?"

"Actually...I've never heard of it," Betty replied, quickening her pace to match her mother's.

"Good. That's how we like it." As they walked, Alice explained for the first time in Betty's life what kind of work she does. The DPD, or Domestic Protection Division, was the first line of defense for any threats entering the United States. "Any threat that appears on our soil is handled by me and my team."

Betty nodded, slightly impressed by her mother's role in it all. She had no idea her job was this critical; she honestly grew up thinking her mom was some paper-pusher in an office somewhere.

Alice proceeded to remind Betty of a couple key rules of the Agency. Polygraphs every year; no cell phones in the building; no dating foreigners.

After a few moments, she finally asked her mom the question that's been nagging her since she had left the Farm. "I'm still a little confused as to why I'm here..."

Alice sighed. "It was actually my boss's request to pull you in, not mine. I didn't want you to come in until you completed your training at the Farm, but as it turns out—" her mother gave her a pointed look, "—you've got the best scores we've seen in years."

Betty was both surprised and flattered. "Really?"

"You scored better than any other woman we've ever had. And better than any man in the last decade, —except for one other agent." Betty wondered who , but didn't want to interrupt. "Today, we need you for your language skills."

Alice halted them both briefly, placing a hand on Betty's shoulder and looking at her with a small smile. "I want you to know, I am proud of you Elizabeth. You've truly...impressed me."

Wow .

Her mother never complimented her—like, ever . Betty recognized that this was probably a difficult thing for her to do, so she looked away and simply nodded thanks , not wanting to create any more weird tension.

Alice's expression then turned more stern. "But you have to understand, Elizabeth, that our work here is very important and very dangerous. And for that reason, I cannot show you any bias. If I were to treat you differently than everyone else, there could be consequences for the both of us. Or worse—you could end up on a mission you weren't qualified for, and you could get hurt, or—"

"Mom," Betty interrupted. "I understand."

Alice looked at her with a pained expression. "I can't be your mother in here, Betty. I can only be your boss."

Betty nodded. "I can live with that." We haven't been mother-and-daughter for a few years, so this shouldn't be any different, she thought to herself.

Alice regarded her carefully for a few more moments before finally dropping her hand from Betty's shoulder. "Okay, then." She gestured to the glass doors behind her that led to Tech Ops. "It's time for your first mission."


Betty stood next to Kevin in Tech Ops, watching in amazement as his hands flew over the keyboard. "Color me impressed, Keller," she whispered to him.

He just smirked.

"Images," Alice instructed. Kevin nodded, tapping a few keys, and several pictures of a man loaded onto a big screen in the room. "That man you see there is an ex-FSB agent by the name of Alexander Ordinov."

"Ex?" Betty questioned, taking in the man's appearance. Alexander had long, curly brown hair and several tattoos on his back.

"These satellite images were taken a few years ago when Alexander was in a Siberian prison in Russia. Alex made a deal with the FSB to get out of prison—and in exchange became one of their best top assassins."

"Lovely man," Betty said sarcastically.

"Wanted in over fifteen countries," Kevin chimed in, taking over. "Now he's on American soil and he says he wants to talk."

"'Talk'?"

"He claims he is unhappy with the current regime at the FSB. He is willing to hand over a list of their current targets in exchange for asylum and money."

"Okay…" Betty frowned. "So did you call me in here because I speak Russian?"

"Well, that, and…" Alice looked at her with a sigh. "You could pass as a call girl."

Betty was taken aback by the comment, but didn't protest. She would take any mission at this point.

Alice continued. "You've been assigned as Alex's handler. You'll go to the hotel where we have him, wait for his call, and...bring this."

Kevin handed her a pager and an old phone. "A Blackberry?" Betty asked. Kinda dated, she thought. She honestly expected more high tech devices to come out of Langley.

"Ah!" Kevin enthusiastically jumped in to correct her. "But not just any blackberry—It's a dedicated two-way encrypted transponder that only looks like a Blackberry."

Betty smirked. "Clever. I like it."

"You have one. He has one. Place them within three feet, press the center button, and—" Kevin waves a hand dramatically in the air. " Voila ! He gets the bank codes for his payment, you get the intel."

"Okay. Simple. I can do that," Betty said. "Do I need, like...an outfit or something?" she asked awkwardly, glancing down at her clothes. She wore a rather professional ensemble—a pencil skirt and a dark green collared long sleeve.

Alice regarded her outfit briefly before saying, "You should be fine. Hookers in DC dress conservatively. The Louboutins are a nice touch, though."

Kevin made a beloved little Oomf! sound under his breath as he eyed her red-soled shoes. "No man on earth can resist a woman in black kitten heels!" Betty couldn't help but giggle.

A knock on the door jam made Betty glance up. Jughead stood in the doorway, now clad in all black, and donning a leather jacket that made him look very sexy. "Van's ready," he said to Alice.

Betty involuntarily shivered at the sound of his voice, so she turned her back to him and looked the screen, hoping to hide the inevitable blush that was creeping up on her cheeks. Cool it, Cooper, she told herself. No office romances!

Kevin snickered from his desk, obviously catching on to her reaction.

"Something funny, Keller?" Jughead asked with a frown.

"Oh, it's nothing," he replied, coughing loudly in a horrible attempt to cover his laughter. "Betty just owes me a beer."

She grit her teeth and glared down him. "I do not ."

"Okay; I expect you three to be back within a few hours," Alice said, striding towards the door.

"Three?" Betty all but squeaked. Please don't say it—don't say he's coming...

"Yes. You, Kevin, and Jughead."

Thank you, oh-so-much, she thought sarcastically, looking upwards towards whatever god was working against her.

"Kevin, I expect nothing less than perfect surveillance and consistent audio coverage on Betty." Kevin nodded firmly to Alice, who then turned to face Jughead with a stone cold look. "And you . I hope I don't have to report any more misbehavior to your father. You understand your new duties?"

Betty watched the scene carefully, wondering what he did to get her mom so worked up. Jughead clenched his jaw tightly, replying with a quiet, "Yes ma'am."

"You drive the surveillance van. And you stay in the van, at all times. The only time you may leave is if Betty needs an extraction. Under no circumstances are you to engage Alexander, is that clear?"

"Yes ma'am," Jughead repeated curtly. His face showed no visible anger, but she could see the emotions flare up in his eyes. She wondered if her mom did, too.


"I hate the van," Jughead muttered, as he drove them through downtown D.C.

"All you crazy agents take the field for granted," Kevin quipped from the backseat. It definitely wasn't an ordinary vehicle. From the outside, it appeared to be a normal white cargo van. But the back was fully set up with multiple computers, cameras, and other sound equipment Kevin would need for surveillance. "Y'all don't realize what you got 'til you've lost it."

"What did you do…?" Betty asked cautiously, looking at Jughead from the driver's seat.

She noticed how his grip tightened on the steering wheel. "It was stupid. I fucked up on a mission, and your mom benched me. Three weeks of van duty."

Betty started to ask what happened on the mission, but decided against it, not wanting to pry. He looked upset enough, so she didn't want to push him. "Sorry," she said sympathetically. Betty reached over to touch his arm in a comforting gesture, but a small jolt of electricity sparked where her skin connected with his, causing her to quickly withdraw her hand. She looked up in surprise and her gaze locked with his, prompting her to bite her lip nervously. His eyes lowered briefly, drawn to the movement, before he returned his attention to the road.

Did he just glance at my mouth..? she wondered, replaying the moment in her mind.

That's when Kevin suddenly decided to blurt out, "Wrinkly dicks! Toe fungus! Seeing grandma naked! Moldy pizza! Smelly—"

"KEVIN!" Betty shouted with a cringe, while Jughead yelled, "What the fuck, man?!"

"Sorry!" Kevin said with a smirk. "I just had to get Betty's undivided attention. Couldn't do it with all those thoughts running through your mind, right Betts?"

Betty, cheeks now pink, turned in her seat to give Kevin a look of pure hatred. "Damn you to hell, Keller."

"Oh, hush—you'll learn to love me," he winked. "Now put these on, you need to unleash your inner hoe."

"My inner hoe, huh?" Betty inspected the eyeliner, shiny gloss, and compact he just handed her. "This isn't exactly her style, Kevin."

"Betty Cooper!" Kevin said gleefully. "Are you telling me there's a secret slutty Cooper in there that I don't know about?"

Betty chuckled into her mirror as she adjusted her eyeliner, drawing a dramatic winged cat-eye and smoking out her bottom lash line. "I admit to nothing ," she teased, just to rile up Kevin.

It worked; he was all giddy in the backseat.

Moments later, the van turned into an alley. "We're here," Jughead stated, putting it in park.

Fuck. This is it, Betty thought, suddenly very nervous. She took a deep breath and released it slowly as she eyed the alley. "Okay."

"Relax, you're gonna be in and out before you know it. And remember—" Kevin tapped the side of his head, reminding her of the mic she had hidden in her ear. "We'll be with you the whole time."

She nodded, and put her hand on the handle to jump out when Kevin stopped her. "Wait—hang on." He reached over her seat and tugged on her hair tie, letting her ponytail loose.

"Hey!" Betty cried out, as her hair fell around her face in waves. "What was wrong with the ponytail?"

"Trust me ," Kevin replied. "Oh, and pop a couple buttons, sweetheart. Show off the goods." His eyebrows jumped suggestively and she rolled her eyes.

"Jesus," she muttered under her breath, but did as he told her. The last thing she wanted was to fail her first mission because she didn't look slutty enough.

So Betty unbuttoned her shirt from her collarbone down to her sternum, exposing the top of a black lacy bra. "Better?"

Kevin clapped cheekily. "Ooh, I love it! You look like the classiest call girl that ever hit D.C. Absolutely irresistible —right, Jughead?"

Another shiver crawled up her body as she watched him slowly rake his eyes up and down her figure, not saying a word. When Jughead's eyes finally returned to hers, he simply said, "Don't have a drink with him. Don't sleep with him."

Betty cringed. Sleep with a wanted Russian assassin? She was offended by the accusation. "You think I'd sleep with him?"

"I'd think he'd sleep with you ," Jughead replied coolly, eyes darkening slightly as they travelled over her body a second time. She felt like she was on fire under his gaze, her body beginning to react in a billion different ways.

Betty jumped out of that van before she jumped Jughead's bones, Kevin be damned.


"Why a call girl? " Betty protested quietly under her breath as she strode confidently into the hotel. Several people were already glancing in her way, eyes following her wherever she went. "Why not, like, a maid? Or hotel manager?"

"We're trying to make it look like he came to the US to drink and party, not sell secrets," she heard Kevin chuckle in her ear. "Now hush up, you'll look suspicious talking to yourself. You should be getting a page from Alexander soon."

Betty sat in the lounge area, grabbing a magazine and casually flipping through it. She placed her pager in her lap, hidden by the pages.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Betty glanced up in surprise. A rather handsome young man sat across from her, clad in a classy beige suit and a blue shirt that matched his eyes. "Maybe a coffee? Or a wine?" he prompted. He had some kind of Spanish accent—but it sounded strange.

" Oof, that accent! " Kevin said in her ear. "Indulge him, honey—I wanna hear more of that yummy voice."

"Will you stop encouraging her?" she heard Jughead snap back.

Betty stifled a laugh at their exchange. "It's barely after noon," she replied to the man, glancing at her watch.

The man just smirked. "Something stronger, then?"

Betty plastered a fake grin on her face, shaking her head shyly. "I'm good."

The man leaned back in his seat, stroking the stubble on his chin as he regarded her with interest. "Perhaps later, then. Maybe a nice cava."

"Spanish wine?" she quipped. "Are you from Spain?"

"Sí."

"Valencia?"

"Madrid."

Liar , she quickly decided. She had been to Madrid; she was familiar with their accents, and his sounded off.

Betty was ready to call the man on his bluff when her pager buzzed in her lap. Room 1315 , it read.

"Unfortunately, I can't get a drink with you," she said, placing her magazine off to the side.

"Ah...your mother told you to stay away from foreign men, huh?" He asked with a smirk.

"Something like that," she laughed, recalling how her mom had literally just explained the 'No dating foreigners' rule only hours earlier.


The elevator dinged as Betty stepped onto the top floor.

"There are no cameras inside the hotel rooms, so I won't have a visual on you once you go inside, okay Betty?"

"Yeah, got it," Betty replied, feeling confident. This was a simple mission; she'd been through harder tasks on the Farm.

Room 1315, as it turns out, was a penthouse suite. She knocked on the double doors, adjusting her blouse as she waited. No answer. Betty knocked again, this time calling out, "Alexander?"

"Check the door," Jughead said in her ear.

She did; it was unlocked. Betty stepped in cautiously and shut the door behind her, breathing out a quiet " Fuck " as she surveyed the state of the room.

"What's wrong?" Kevin asked.

The living room was trashed—clothes strewn over the couch, and take out boxes scattered on the coffee table. Empty glasses and bottles of various alcohols littered the bar top.

"Hello?" Betty called louder as she walked slowly into the living room. " Zdravstvuyte? " she tried again, saying hello in Russian.

Her eyes zeroed in on an arm, limply sticking out from underneath a pile of clothes on the couch. "Alex?" Betty panicked, worried now that maybe he had been attacked. " Alexander! " she shouted.

The limb suddenly flailed and the heap of clothes shifted onto the floor, revealing a very drunk (but very much alive) Alexander Ordinov. Betty let out an annoyed sigh of relief. At least he wasn't dead.

Alexander groaned and blinked hard, eyes adjusting to the light before he spotted her. He let out a sound of approval as he looked her up and down. "Whoa... zdravstvuyte," he drawled out, a stupid grin plastered on his face.

Betty placed a hand on her hip and looked down at him. This man was supremely wasted. "I'm here for the transfer, Alex," she said in Russian. "Do you have your Blackberry?"

"English is fine," Alex said. "I'm in your country now, baby ." He laughed wildly, wiggling his eyebrows as he stared shamelessly at her lace-covered breasts that popped out of her shirt.

Betty sighed, switching languages. "Do you have your Blackberry, Alex?" she asked again.

He smirked and began to get up off the sofa—but in doing so, his robe fell open, exposing his dick in rock-hard glory.

"Uh—" Betty quickly averted her eyes and cleared her throat. "Can you, uh—your robe. You're about to lose your robe…" she stuttered.

"Wouldn't want that," Alex replied sarcastically, retying his robe shut. He shot her a wink and waved his hand. "Come on, baby."

"Morning wood?" Kevin asked.

"God," was all she huffed back in return, prompting a cackle from Kevin.

She followed Alex into the bedroom, seeing him stop by a table in front of the window. He was waving his Blackberry in his hand. "Shall we do the, uh, hot-sync? " he asked suggestively.

Betty fought an eye roll, placing her Blackberry on the table next to his. "I thought you'd never ask."

They both placed a finger on the center button. "Ready?" he asked. "Three… two… one… beeeeeeep!" Alexander laughed like a child.

Betty sighed contently, seeing both screens turn green with the words "Transaction complete."

Alexander looked at her with a smug smile and joked, "Was that as good for you as it was for me?"

She started to laugh, but suddenly something flew threw the window with a loud CRASH! Betty yelped in surprise and blinked rapidly as something warm and wet splashed up on her face. " What the— "

She looked up in time to see Alexander fall over, blood staining his white robe, spreading fast across his chest. Too shocked to move, Betty stupidly glanced back at the window, spotting the small round hole that had broken through the glass.

He was shot.

"Betty!" She registered Kevin's voice in her ear, prompting her to unfreeze. Betty quickly dived to the floor, just in time to dodge a second and third bullet that flew through the window. A second later, and she would've been dead.

Then, the room began to explode with bullets—glass raining down around her. It was loud—so loud—and the air quickly started to get dusty from the debris flying everywhere.

"Betty, get out of there!" Kevin shouted.

"Trying!" Betty shouted back, her fight-or-flight response finally kicking in.

She was able to make it to the doorway of the bedroom by hugging the wall and keeping close to the ground—but she stopped, looking between the living room window, and her exit. How the hell was she supposed to get to the door without exposing herself?

Think. Think. Think . Betty racked her brain for a solution, desperately trying to remember her evacuation training.

Then, her eyes landed on the bar. It was between her and the door; she could use it to shield her from the bullets.

The rapid fire suddenly ceased. He's reloading his weapon, Betty realized, seeing her opportunity. She took off her heels and sprinted out from the doorway, tucking herself behind the bar just as the shots started up again.

She shrieked as a bullet blasted through the wood, mere inches from her ear.

This bar is weak—made of wood. She's dead if she doesn't move quick .

She took a chance—sprinting this time for the sofas—and thankfully made it, flattening herself to the floor. A few bullets cut through the backs of the sofas, before all shots were suddenly directed upwards.

Breathing hard, Betty looked up at the ceiling, confused—but at the sound of the chandelier's creaking metal, her eyes widened in realization.

She glanced at the front door, then back to the chandelier that was under siege, directly above her. She had no choice.

At the sound of groaning metal, she made a fast break for the door—reaching it just as the chandelier crashed into her previous spot.

Betty barreled out blindly into the hallway, slamming into someone hard.

She shrieked when they grabbed her wrists from behind, and her defensive training instinctively kicked in. Forcing their locked arms above her head, she ducked down, twisting her body 180 underneath. Then she stood abruptly, yanking down with enough force to break their hold on her wrists. She threw a hard punch—successfully striking her opponent in the gut and eliciting a "fuck!" —and then attempted to throw an elbow. But they blocked it, gripping her forearm and her other fist in their hands.

"Betty— Betty stop! "

She recognized the voice instantly and stilled, finally looking up through her hair to see Jughead. "Oh," Betty breathed. She tried to relax, but her chest heaved painfully as she tried to catch her breath.

"Betty. Look at me."

She couldn't; she wanted to cry. It was so hard to breathe, and her head was still spinning from the chaos in the room. Her heart was still racing with adrenaline.

"Hey—" Jughead released his grip on her and placed both hands on either side of her face, forcing her to look up at him. "Look at me," he demanded. She did. "You're okay. You're safe."

Safe?

She swallowed hard and glanced nervously at the door to Alexander's room, reminding herself of the fact that she almost died—several times.

Jughead was quick to catch on, and shocked her by pulling her in for a tight hug, tucking her under his chin so he blocked the room from her sight. "You're safe. You made it. I got you."

Betty squeezed her eyes shut and took several deep breaths in, trying to rein in her fear. She tried to distract herself by focusing on Jughead's words, inhaling deeply and catching subtle hints of his cologne. She made it. She was safe. She was with Jughead.

Jughead…

She suddenly brought her hand up, slapping him hard on the shoulder.

"Ow!" he yelped. "What was that for?"

"You came out of nowhere and scared the shit out of me!" she yelled into his chest, her voice muffled by his shirt. A deep rumble traveled through his chest as he chuckled. "That's not funny," Betty defended weakly.

"It's a little funny."

"You're a jackass."

"You hit hard."

"Sorry," she mumbled, not really meaning it.

Jughead chuckled again. She didn't realize that she had calmed down until he leaned back to look down at her. He pushed her hair aside, placing a hand under her chin to tilt her face up towards him. Her heart started to race again, this time for different reasons. "Are you hurt?" he asked seriously, searching her face.

" Guys, move it—I hear sirens. The police are on the way . Take the fire exit, now."

Jughead cursed under his breath and grabbed her hand, practically dragging her down the hallway and into the nearest stairway.

They entered the alley in time to see the van's back doors wide open. Kevin was already jumping into the driver's seat. "Into the back—" he commanded. "Let's go!"

They didn't speak for several blocks, until the sirens died away and Kevin could drive at a normal speed.

"You didn't answer my question," Jughead finally asked quietly. They were seated next to each other on the floor of the van. "Are you hurt?"

Betty shook her head mutely. He gave her a look of disbelief, reaching up with his hand to slowly run a thumb across her cheek. Betty closed her eyes, subconsciously leaning into his palm. After the violence she just witnessed, she relished the gentle touch. Maybe she imagined it, but it felt like his hand lingered a few moments longer than necessary. He eventually pulled away to show her the blood that coated his finger.

"His blood. Not mine," Betty said, and he nodded. She took a deep breath, disappointing herself when it came out so shaky. The blood was still pounding in her head, and her ears rang from all the gunshots; she was starting to feel dizzy.

"Close your eyes," Jughead said, keeping his voice quiet. She obeyed, finding the sound of his voice to be soothing. "Focus on your breathing. Relax." Betty felt him reach over her lap to gently grasp her wrist. She opened her eyes slowly, watching him touch his neck with his other hand; he was checking her pulse. "Too high, Betty," he told her. "Breathe."

She closed her eyes again, taking in several more deep breaths. About a minute later, he let her go, and Betty reopened her eyes. "You good?" Jughead asked, watching her closely.

She began to nod, but then she stopped herself. "You know what, no —I'm not good. I almost died in there! I thought you guys said this was a simple mission?"

"It is a simple mission!" Kevin defended from the driver's seat.

"How on earth was any of that simple ?" Betty shot back.

"Tell us what happened," Jughead interrupted.

"One second we were doing the hot-sync, and then the next—Alex got sniped and the room was exploding!" She shook her head and scoffed, bitter. "You know, they teach you all this shit at the Farm—asset entanglement, deception, evasion techniques—trying to make everything sound so clinical and definitive. But it's not. It's messy ."

"It is messy," Jughead agreed. "And it's dangerous. But we do it, because we do a good job at it."

"A good job?" Betty looked at him in confusion. "Alexander is dead ."

"Even better for us," Kevin said from the front seat. "The CIA can save some money, and we still get the intel."

The intel.

Betty's eyes widened in horror, realizing her huge mistake. She buried her face in her hands, muttering "Oh my god" over and over.

"Betty?" Kevin called.

" I forgot the Blackberry!" she blurted.

"What do you mean you forgot the Blackberry?!"

"I didn't grab it, in the confusion, I—Kevin, you have to turn around!"

"Betty!" Kevin cried. "I can't turn around now, it's too late."

"The place will be swarming with cops and the FBI will be on the scene," Jughead added. "We won't have jurisdiction anymore."

Betty shook her head vigorously. "No, you guys don't understand. I can't go back to my mom empty-handed."

"Betty, honey, like you said—you almost died," Kevin reasoned. "Alice can work out a deal with the feds for the phone."

"No, no, no—Alice—my mom won't be okay with that," Betty said in a panic. The idea of disappointing her mother triggered her badly. "Kevin, you have to turn around. I—I can go back and get it!"

"No way." Kevin and Jughead said together.

"Oh, come on!" Betty exclaimed in frustration, looking between the two of them. "All I have to do is get back in the room before they bag the evidence. If we turn around now, we can make it back in before it's too late!"

Kevin glanced in the rearview mirror at Jughead, who gave him a hard look and shook his head slowly. He then looked back at Betty, who returned it with a pleading expression. Finally, Kevin rolled his eyes, cursed angrily, and made a sudden U-turn. "You're crazy, Betty," he said, but drove back towards the hotel anyway.

Betty wanted to cheer and cry at the same time.


"You are crazy, Cooper."

"Shut up," Betty hissed to Jughead as they reached the elevator. They stepped inside and pushed the button for the thirteenth floor. "You're not even supposed to be out of the van, remember?"

"And you were supposed to grab the device, remember?" he shot back.

She glared at him for the low blow, but let it slide. "This is my mistake, I can fix it by myself. I don't need you to fix it for me."

"I'm not fixing anything!"

"Yes you are! There is no other reason for you to be coming with me!"

"God, you're as stubborn as your mother," Jughead muttered, causing her to whirl on him furiously.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Jughead ran a hand through his hair, now irked, but clearly trying to restrain himself. "Nothing, just forget it."

"No ," Betty replied, slamming her fist on the emergency stop button. The elevator grinded to a halt at level four. "Explain," she demanded, crossing her arms and glaring up at him.

"There's nothing to explain!" Jughead said, voice starting to rise. "Just let me go with you, okay?"

"No! Not okay!"

"Betty," he said, clenching his teeth. "I'm coming with you, and that's final ."

She shook her head stubbornly. " No— I'm telling you, I don't need your help in there!"

"It's not about the damn device!"

"Then what is it?" Betty shouted. "What is your problem?"

" Goddammit Betty— " Jughead angrily slammed his hand on the wall next to Betty and she jumped, stepping back a foot. He was shouting now. "You are making it so hard to protect you, do you know that?"

"I don't need you to protect me!"

"That's my job!" he blurted angrily.

Job? Betty shook her head vehemently. "What the hell does that even mean, Jughead?!"

He rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Okay, fine. Act like you don't know."

"I don't!" Betty cried, letting out an insanely frustrated huff. "God, you know, for someone so hot you are so thick-headed!"

If he caught what she said, he didn't show any signs of it. Instead, his eyebrows shot up in surprise and he took a dangerously close step forward. " I'm thick-headed?!"

"Yes— you! " Betty jabbed him hard in the chest with her finger. "You are so...so…" She was so pissed off, her vocabulary was failing her.

"What?" he challenged, taking another step closer.

"Frustrating!" Betty finally shouted, jabbing him again. "And domineering !" She moved to jab him a third time, but he slapped her hand away, giving her a dark look. "And you just—you make me so...so—"

"Hot?" he suggested cockily, smirking now as he repeated her earlier words back to her.

Betty flushed and let out an indignant screech, furiously smacking him in the chest with two fists. "You! Are so! Infuriating! God!" she shouted, hitting him harder with every word. She tried to shove him away, but he caught both her fists in one of his hands. He placed the other on the elevator wall, effectively trapping her in a corner.

" Betty," Jughead threatened lowly, but she was too busy yelling to hear him.

"Let go!" she shouted, following it up by calling him a dirty bastard in every language she knew. Betty was onto her sixth language when he abruptly released her hands, dropping his own onto her waist and slamming her roughly into the wall. She yelped in surprise, looking up at him angrily, when he suddenly swooped down and captured her lips in an unexpected kiss.

She stilled, caught completely off guard. But when he hastily moved his lips against hers, she unclenched her fists and let them drop to his chest. A soft moan escaped her unintentionally and she quickly kissed him back, moving a hand over his shoulder and up the back of his neck.

Effectively turned on—yet still reeling from her anger—Betty threaded her fingers into his hair and tugged harder than necessary on a good chunk. Asshole, she thought. It prompted a deep growl from Jughead, who bit her bottom lip and tugged in response, causing her to moan a little loader into his mouth. She felt his fingers dig deeper into her hips as he pressed her more firmly into the wall.

Betty was heated—in a multitude of ways. How could she be so impossibly turned on and insanely frustrated at the same time?! She was so mad; she didn't need his help, didn't need anyone fixing her mistakes.

But good lord, she needed him to kiss her harder. She clenched a hand in his shirt, yanking him closer in a powerful motion. When she ran her nails across his scalp with her other hand, he groaned into her mouth. She took advantage of this sweet opportunity to slip her tongue between his lips, sweeping her tongue sensually across his.

One of Jughead's hands travelled north from her hips to the small of her back, pulling her body flush against his. She gasped in surprise; he was hard— in many, many places.

They were an angry, breathy, needy mess.

"Betty," he warned with a growl, breaking their kiss and nipping at her lip furiously. "You need to stop this before I take this further."

"Me?" she breathed, nipping him right back. "You're the one who started this."

"Only because you wouldn't stop yelling," he said with several harsh, quick kisses.

"What?!" Betty shrieked, pulling away and glaring at him.

"This was the only way to shut you up! Besides," he looked down at her smugly. "I didn't see you complaining."

"I don't see you complaining, either," Betty fired back, daringly rolling her hips over his growing hard-on.

Jughead clenched his teeth, releasing his hold on her hips so he could step back.

They stared at each other heatedly for several quiet moments, both of them attempting to slow their breathing and calm the fuck down .

"Fix your blouse," he eventually said, adjusting his leather jacket and reaching over to restart the elevator.

"Fix your pants ," she replied hotly, eyes flickering down to the bulge that was still very prominent. He growled in reply, looking away from her.

They adjusted the rest of their clothes wordlessly, watching in silence as the elevator moved up.

Seven...Eight...Nine…Goddamn, this elevator is slow. Betty thought in irritation.

"You know six languages?"

"What?" Betty asked, taken aback by his random question.

"You got pretty busy calling me a dirty bastard —in six languages. I counted."

Betty just sighed and said nothing, watching the elevator's floor count. Ten...Eleven...Twelve…

"Seven," she finally said, after not responding for several seconds.

"What?"

"I speak seven languages," she corrected.

Thirteen….Finally. The elevator dinged and they walked out.

"You only used six," Jughead said, confused.

"I know," Betty replied with an eye roll. " You didn't let me finish."


Drop me any comments, questions, concerns, or requests below! :) Thanks for all the support so far!

xoxo - A