It's like clockwork, every night, same time, same booth, same hardened expression and black coffee. Of all the things that have simply become routine in Betty's mundane life, she'd never thought the patronage of one beanie wearing Southside Serpent would fall into that category.

Throughout high school, Betty had been something of a regular at Pop's Chock'lit Shoppe. Pop Tate has always been the sort of man to take on the role of the friendly face everyone needs. Not ever would you hear a soul mutter an ill word of the man. He was loved by the masses and that alone earned regular patronage to his lovely diner, never mind the to die for milkshakes and the always delicious burgers and crispy fries you can smell from nearly a mile down the street.

Over the years, Pop Tate had provided first job experience to many of Riverdale's up and coming. Betty herself had been offered a job a multitude of times under the praise of her delightfully personality and her spectacularly bright customer service smile. If it weren't for her mother's insistence that her school work was far more important than a "dead end job at a rundown diner," Betty would have snatched up the job in a heartbeat. Instead, she'd kept Pop Tate at an arm's length, assuring him one day she'd grace his diner with her impeccable people skills, and that was good enough for him.

Fast forward to graduation day, Betty still in her cap and gown made a beeline for Pop's declaring that today was the day she would take the job. Pop had been elated, congratulating her on graduating valedictorian with a vanilla milkshake on the house, and she started work the following Monday. Over the summer, she had worked the morning shift straight through the lunch rush. It was fast paced and she loved how busy she was able to keep herself. No one would ever guess, but Betty's home life had never been ideal. Her mother was controlling, to say the least, and it was refreshing to be able to escape from under the wing she'd been so firmly tucked beneath since grade school. Summer flew by in the blink of an eye, and much to her mother's dismay, Betty had "wasted her GPA entirely," by enrolling at the Riverdale Technical Institute for her associates degree in automotive technology. Subsequently, she'd swapped her shift to accommodate her classes and quickly found pleasure in working the "nighthawk shift," as Pop liked to call it.

On that very first night, her first nighthawk shift, she'd served him for the first time. It was a rainy September night, and it had been slower than slow. It was around eleven thirty and only one trucker had made a pit stop to use the bathroom and order a coffee to go over the past three hours. Betty had taken the opportunity to skim through her new textbooks and brush up on her already quite extensive knowledge of cars. Not long after she'd skimmed through the first couple of pages was her attention drawn to the chime of the bell over the door. In walked a tall, dark, and dare she say dangerously handsome man, absolutely drenched from his strange crown rimmed beanie down to his scuffed up black combat boots. He didn't even glance in her direction, making his way immediately to the furthest booth from the door and procured a laptop from its place tucked safely within his leather jacket. She did her best not to stare as he shrugged off his dripping jacket and removed the sopping beanie from his head.

"What can I get you," Betty asked politely after finally collecting herself enough to approach him.

His eyes never once shifted from the screen of his laptop, his fingers working away as he muttered, "Coffee. Black."

Betty took it for what it was, an obvious conveyance of, "I'm not interested in small talk," and stepped away to get him that coffee. At nearly two in the morning, she'd been shocked to find a double headed serpent displayed boldly on his back as he exited the diner much the same as he had entered.

Now, it's been six months, and every night, without fail, her Serpent prince (as she's called him for the crown on his head and his obvious association with the Southside Serpents) arrives much the same as he had that first night. She doesn't know exactly when it happened, but she brings him his coffee, always black, without even being called upon or told to do so. It's stupid really, the amount of time she has spent alone with this guy, and not once have they had a single conversation outside of his order of black coffee and an occasional basket of fries. Their lack of interaction has only been worsened by her need to bring him his order before he even makes it and she sort of hates herself for it. Most days she would kill to just hear him say, "coffee," in that deep husky, can't be bothered tone that makes her insides buzz like a thousand volts, but she just had to go and take that away from herself.

On an unusually warm night in April, Betty busies herself with filling salt shakers as she skims the chapter she'd been assigned for homework. The diner has been empty all night and with nothing but the buzz of a cheap fan doing its best to keep her cool, she's near ready to lose her mind. Her Serpent Prince has usually arrived by now and she finds herself desperate for the distraction of his silent presence. With a heavy sigh, she screws the cap on her last salt shaker, tossing the bit that had spilled onto the counter over her left shoulder, and begins to set them out on the tables.

The chime of the bell has her head snapping in its direction, her brow raising as an equally tall, dark haired, and again handsome leather wearing Serpent walks through the door. Said handsome Serpent has a shit eating grin and a neck tattoo, and her stomach sinks with the realization that he is most definitely not the man she was hoping to see.

"What can I get you," she asks kindly as she returns to her spot behind the counter where he's taken a seat at the counter.

His eyes scan her from head to toe, an even bigger grin spreading over his lips. "What's a pretty little thing like you working so late at night for?"

Betty offers a smile, not wanting to let on that she's a bit uncomfortable with his comment. "Only hours that make sense with my school schedule," she shrugs. "So what can I get you?"

The guy nods thoughtfully. "Coffee, two creams, three sugars, oh and a piece of that coffee cake," he nods at the display to their left.

Betty proceeds to make his coffee, placing the slice of coffee cake on a small plate and sets them both before him on the counter top.

"Thanks blondie," he winks before taking a sip of his coffee.

"It's Betty," she corrects, keeping her tone as neutral as possible. She doesn't know who this guy thinks he is, but she will not stand for a demeaning nickname from anyone, especially not a cocky Southside gang member.

"I can read," he smirks, nodding at the name tag on her blouse. "So, Betty, indulge me," he says with a mouthful of coffee cake. "What sort of school does a pretty Northside princess like you attend?"

"Northside princess," she scoffs under her breath. More like prisoner if her mother had anything to say about it.

"I'm sorry, what was that," he challenges. "You not one of them preppy privileged kids partying their way through an Ivy League school of their choosing?"

"Oh please," she huffs. "If I was do you really think I'd be working at a small town diner until two in the morning?"

"Guess not," he shrugs. "Sure look like a privileged Northie to me."

That's it. She's had enough of his assumptions and she's never been more inclined to knee a guy in the balls than she does in this moment.

"Not that it's any of your business, snake," she bites, earning a hardened glare, "but I moved into a shit hole apartment on the Southside after graduating to get my associates degree in automotive technology against my emotionally abuse mother's wishes. I work late night's for shit pay to afford my shit hole apartment and have the great pleasure of occasionally serving asswipes like yourself."

For a moment, she she's scared shitless. She just chewed out a notorious Southside Serpent over something she could have easily ignored.

She's so dead.

To her utter shock and surprise, neck tattoo burst into laughter.

"Well shit blondie. You told me," he laughs.

Betty grins nervously, her eyes darting from place to place as she tries to figure out what the fuck is happening right now.

"Automotives huh," he says thoughtfully. "You got a pen?"

Betty only nods, fishing out a pen from behind the counter and hands it over. He tugs the cap off between his teeth and smooths out his lightly used napkin to jot something down with the leaky blue ink.

"44 Hastings Street," he points to the napkin, talking around the cap still held in his teeth. "My uncle owns a garage, always looking for new hires. You tell him I sent you and you got yourself a job."

"Wha-why," she stutters, staring at him in utter disbelief.

"Call it community service," he shrugs. "Just doing my part to help out a pretty girl."

Betty only manages to roll her eyes before he's gone with nothing more than a wink in her direction.

It's been nearly a week since the guy with the neck tattoo offered her a job that was precisely the kind of work she's dreamed of since she was a young girl, but she just can't bring herself to go through with it. For one, Pop Tate has been wonderful to her and she would hate to leave him short an employee. Secondly, she doesn't even know this guy and for all she knows he could be some creep just waiting for her to give in to his trap. She doesn't even want to think of the things he might do to her if that were true.

As she's mildly panicking in her head, the bell chimes over the door and in walks her Serpent prince. Exactly the man she could talk to about this, but what more reason does she have to trust him over neck tattoo? Is she really just willing to take his word over the countless days she's spent ogling him from afar?

Yep.

"You know a guy with a neck tattoo," she questions, earning a brow raise as she sets his coffee in front of him.

"More than a few," he nods, eyeing her curiously as he sips his coffee.

Shit. Of course he knows more than one guy with a neck tattoo, he's in a fucking gang!

"Dark hair, probably about our age," she goes on, earning only a slight raise of his hands as he shakes his head, signaling he's going to need more information than that. "Never mind," she sighs, quickly walking back to her post at the counter.

She knows he's staring at her, she can feel his eyes on her and her whole face turns bright red. What the hell is it about this guy that has her so messed up?

Not ten minutes later does the bell chime once more and in walks the man in question. Neck tattoo.

"Blondie," he exclaims with his arms wide as he grins in her direction. "You back out on my offer princess?"

Betty shakes her head, "Just thinking it over, trying to decide if it's legit or if you're planning to tie me up somewhere."

"That could be arranged," he winks.

Betty's heart jumps into her throat at the implication.

"That's enough," a heavily authoritative voice calls out, startling both Betty and neck tattoo to turn in its direction.

"Shit boss, I'm just fucking with her-"

"And now you're leaving," the Serpent prince commands, leaving no room for argument.

Neck tattoo rolls his eyes but follows the order he was given, shooting an apologetic glance in Betty's direction as he exits the diner.

"What do you want to know," the Serpent prince questions out of nowhere as he takes a seat at the bar.

"What," Betty chokes out, still confused by what exactly she had just witnessed.

"You asked if I know a guy with a neck tattoo," he reminds her. "I assume you meant Sweet Pea, so what did you want to know."

"Oh," She shakes her head, "I, uh, does his uncle really own a garage on Hastings Street?"

"He does," he nods, his brow raising with intrigue.

"Ok, great. Thanks," she nods before busying herself with menu organization.

The Serpent prince watches her momentarily, his questioning gaze boring holes into her back before he gets up and promptly leaves. Only once the door latches into place does Betty release the breath she had been holding. Quickly she locks up and high tails it for home, replaying the strangest half hour of her life she's experienced in quite some time.

The following Saturday, Betty gets up early, downing two cups of coffee in the first twenty minutes her eyes are open. She takes a quick shower, before dressing in a pair of denim overall shorts and ribbed white tank. She sprays her hair with a bit of dry shampoo, mussing it up and pulling half of it back into a loose messy bun before applying just a touch of mascara and her favorite strawberry lip balm. After a breakfast of cinnamon oatmeal, a low calorie staple ingrained in her by her mother's years of body shaming, Betty steps outside and makes her way towards Hastings Street.

"You lost," a dirty looking man with hair longer than her own calls from his place ducked over an engine.

"Uhm, no," she calls back a bit nervously. "Your nephew said I could find a job here. Sweet Pea I think?"

"He did, did he," the man questions, scrutinizing her as he wipes his greasy hands on a rag. "I don't need no secretary. Sorry Blondie."

Oh they're definitely related, she chuckles to herself.

"I want to work on cars," she tells him, earning a choked out laugh.

"Alright," he nods, his grin suggesting he's challenging her to something utterly impossible. "Somethings up with that van." he nods his head in its direction. "You figure out what's up, you got a job."

"That's it," she wonders aloud.

With his nod she moves over to the van in question and pops the hood.

"Corroded battery," she announces within seconds, her face screwing up as she wonders if that was supposed to be difficult.

"What," he scoffs, stepping around her to look at it himself. "Well shit. Looks like you got a job."

And that's how Betty Cooper found herself working in a garage on the Southside of Riverdale.