Hello! This chapter was fun to write, and I'm all chipper. :-D (yeah, a good mood in no way makes sense in the global context, but the little things are pretty great these days... so feel free to come along with me to a good mood today! :-D )

Living Lucid Dream, thanks so much for the review! You held the fort this week, and it was very encouraging (nothing like a little radio silence to make me question EVERYthing, bahaha). FP is finding himself in a very odd position, yes, and it's disturbing... we may well hear more about the internal investigation as things close in. And yeah, Clark has been secondary (with enough space and time they'd all have their origin novels!), and to be fair Brand's family history is a total blank so far (mwahaha), but this was definitely a conspicuous moment where he'd be locked in a room on his phone if things were entirely normal for the poor lad. And yeah, Clark's trying to be tough, but I am with you (and Brand) - he'd make very easy pickings on his own. Also, I totally agree that it's not going to be pretty as the extent of the Rose double dealings comes to light. Poor Jug was difficult to write in that scene (he's been wrestling with this alone for a while now, and trying to put on a brave face, but...), and I'm afraid the buck may only have been passed... and obviously not entirely. The brewing is happening, and I'm having fun getting there! :)

Enjoy!

-Button

00000

Jughead was excited about learning to ride a motorcycle, and it felt like an immense weight had been lifted from him now that Brand had promised to call Rose. Or maybe it was just that Brand knew about Donn now, so Jughead could trust him to handle the situation.

There hadn't been a new message on the burner phone, but Jughead was increasingly tense about what might be coming - and he knew that Rose was a lot more likely to listen to Brand than to him.

However, despite his enthusiasm for the new adventure and his dad's obvious excitement about sharing it with him, it was clear that Jughead wasn't going to be welcomed into his father's club that simply.

Sweet Pea had not seemed begrudging in the slightest when he arrived, but it was soon obvious that he was pointedly focusing his attention on FP, and behaving as if Jughead did not exist.

"You're taking the Carter girl quite a ways, huh?" FP asked Sweet Pea gruffly. His affection for the younger Serpent was obvious, but somewhere along the way Jughead had gotten used to him being less guarded and it was almost shocking to recall that this had been his mode with Jughead not so very long ago. They really had made some major strides together. "You take it easy on the highways and if that tire gets soft you see to it right away."

"I will. Thank you. And if you're planning another game night, I can help you set it up."

"I am. I'll let you know, probably within the next couple of weeks." FP eyed him suspiciously. "No pool table for now, though."

"We'll see." Sweet Pea smiled mischievously. "I'm still keeping an eye out for you."

"I've no doubt." FP smirked and when Jughead gave him a questioning look he dropped an arm around his son's shoulders as if in a promise that he would fill him in later. Sweet Pea's smile flickered.

"Are you going to take Alice to dinner afterward?" Jughead asked, figuring he could at least help with that part, even if his very existence bugged Sweet Pea - or maybe just the fact that his dad actually liked him. "She likes burgers and French pastries, and there's nothing like visiting someone in jail - or prison, in this case - to work up an appetite."

FP's arm tensed around Jughead. The teen was careful not to react, but he knew his dad was probably not appreciating being used for street cred in this moment. Oh well; it was true enough.

Sweet Pea looked over at Jughead, almost as if he was surprised to find him still standing there. "Yeah? What do you know about it?"

"Alice and I are friends." Jughead met Sweet Pea's skeptical look with a challenge of his own, intentionally answering the question that he was fairly certain Sweet Pea had not been asking.

Jughead wasn't about to start discussing FP's time in jail with someone he was not entirely sure he could trust. Especially not while his dad was gripping his shoulders like he was considering hauling him back into the house. "She knows good burgers, too, so you might want to do your homework."

"Okay." Sweet Pea put his hands in his back pockets and rocked back on his heels. "Any other tips?"

"Maybe go somewhere you can walk for a while. Don't just sit in the car for hours." Jughead shrugged. "Alice does better when she can burn off some energy."

That seemed to give Sweet Pea food for thought.

"Other than that, you're on your own," Jughead added quickly, hoping he had not already overstepped. Alice would kill him if she found out that he'd been coaching one of her suitors.

"Thanks, Jughead." Sweet Pea gave him an assessing look. "You coming to the next game night?"

"We'll see." Jughead figured that was what FP would have said had he been given the chance to answer. "It depends."

Sweet Pea nodded thoughtfully and then accepted the car keys from FP. "Well, maybe I'll see you then. Thanks again, FP."

A few minutes later Jughead was alone with his dad in the driveway.

"You were good with him," FP observed. "You're a complicated topic - kind of a sore spot - with the Serpents, but with Sweet Pea you have an in through Alice. And you were generous; that was smart, because he won't forget that."

Jughead looked up at FP, surprised by his detailed analysis. "You really want me to get along with him, huh?"

"Nope." FP held up Sweet Pea's motorcycle helmet in one hand and gave Jughead a smile with a glint of humor. "I want him to get along with my boy, so that he and I don't have issues. So far so good."

Jughead smiled back at him.

"Let's do this." FP's smile spread into a grin, and Jughead's smile shifted to match his father's.

00000

"Have you heard from SAC Wilson today?" Agent Quinn had returned from taking Betty for a spin on Sweet Pea's bike into the neighborhood while FP went further afield on his own bike - riding behind Jughead, coaching him and laughing as they yelled back and forth.

Brand had taken a page out of the kid's book, compartmentalizing the situation as well as he could and trying to focus on the afternoon with family and friends. It helped that FP hadn't even blinked over the cryptic text from Brand and had not asked any follow-up questions when they'd gotten back with new boots, which seemed like another milestone in their relationship.

Or a sign that their life was more insane than it had any right to be.

Brand had also texted Rose, but did not expect that to mean anything until he could follow up with a real call and gauge Rose's reactions. It was chilling to know that so much had happened between Jones and Donn right under his nose, and Brand was shaken by the fact that there had been a successful end run around him to get to the kid.

He would not allow that to happen a second time. He had thought that he'd set things up so that it could never happen in the first place. Brand felt his shoulders tighten even as he tried to put all of that out of his mind for the moment.

Brand looked around at the folks gathered in the yard. Betty had joined Clark on the porch swing that FP had assembled and installed just that week; they were chatting while she waited for her boyfriend, and she was holding Trigger's leash while the dog watched anxiously for any sign of his master. Tim and Roger would arrive in about an hour, and they planned to fire up the grill at that point. Sarah was still astride Sweet Pea's bike, obviously considering whether she'd like to take it out again.

"You look good on that bike." Brand took a photo of Agent Quinn with Jughead's camera.

"I know." Sarah tossed her hair teasingly and laughed when Brand made an appreciative face. "But seriously, if you haven't heard from Wilson, you and I should talk. She's got a few things in place for you and Jughead for tomorrow, and you're not going to like them. And I don't think anyone needs to be subjected to your knee-jerk responses if they're sprung on you at work."

"Really?" Brand had a hard time picturing Sarah having more information than he did about this. "Like what?"

"Well, she had a particular assignment for Betty, to go with that footage - and her journalism background."

Brand's eyebrows lifted. "She wants the warrior queen to work up some sort of story? To cover… what? We didn't do much of anything."

"Apparently it's a story, and we need to get ahead of it. Wilson watched the footage, and then she watched that insane interview you and Jughead gave last spring-,"

"Hey. That was a work of art, right up until Jones-,"

"It was obviously propaganda, and one of the problems at this point is that he looks like he aged two or three years in a matter of months. You really dressed him young for that interview." Sarah shook her head. "He looks a lot closer to seventeen in the footage from last night, and of course the subject matter contradicts a lot of what you claimed about him in the spring."

"Don't release the footage then."

"Again, that's not the whole of the issue. Apparently we're not the only people who know there's a story here. Wilson thinks it would be better to do a package release and get it out fast. Control the message." Quinn shrugged apologetically when Brand groaned. "Footage, human interest story, and she even thought Betty had a good idea about branching out and profiling Andrews and his 'concept album' since it's on message and they were there last night as well. Not to mention they garnered a very nice response in the park and they're all photogenic."

"Uh, let's go with no. Jones is unpredictable, in case you didn't catch that from the live interview. Message control is not one of his strengths." Brand shook his head firmly. "I won't put him through that again. Or myself, for that matter."

"That's where Wilson's master plan comes in. She and I are personally working with Betty, and she's got a media manager coming into the RA tomorrow for you and Jughead. You won't be allowed to be unpredictable."

"No."

"Read your contract, Brand. You have options, but refusing is not one of them." Quinn shrugged one shoulder. "I think there will be perks, so you're not in a bad position, but you aren't going to be allowed to stonewall Wilson on this."

"I can make things painful enough that-,"

"Please don't." Sarah sighed heavily. "Honestly, Brandon, can't you just work with the agency on this? We've got enough going on with the RA, the Southside case, and now the internal investigation - which, by the way, you're being spared more than 'locked out of.'"

Brand had complained more than once about being held at arm's length from anything related to Russell, thanks to his ties to Jones.

"If you start kicking at the goads and that allows major news outlets to publish a harmful story about you and Jughead, we won't even be able to begin digging out. Williams would be thrilled, of course, but besides that-,"

"Oh, now, that's real mature." Brand rolled his eyes. "You can't use Williams to get me on board."

"I can try." Sarah smirked as she made her decision about a second ride and maneuvered the bike to one side of the driveway and dismounted. "Also, do you really think Jughead will appreciate it if you make a fuss?"

"I know he would." Brand folded his arms below the camera hanging from his neck. "Why? Do you think otherwise?"

"Yes, Brandon." Agent Quinn gave him a look that made it clear she thought this should be obvious. "I think he wants to help. I also think that he'll do better if he's able to contribute meaningfully to getting everything back on an even keel. I think that most of all he'd appreciate being given the option of deciding for himself."

Darn it. She might be right. "I'll think about it. I don't like the pressure falling on him, though, and I'd have thought you'd be on my side about that."

"Just listen tomorrow before you open your mouth. That's all I ask."

Brand ran a hand through his hair, but he smiled. "I might be able to manage that much."

"That's a relief to hear." Sarah smiled back.

The approach of FP's motorcycle was suddenly audible.

"You know... Jughead's never had a whole lot to say about his father."

"During debriefing, you mean?" Brand cocked his head curiously.

"FP's not what I expected." Quinn sidestepped the question, which Brand took as confirmation.

"Eh, he's not who he was." Brand shrugged, but his gaze was sharp - and he assumed his protective instincts were more active than usual since he didn't typically have this response to Sarah. "Don't make the mistake of discounting Jones on the subject. He wasn't rebelling against a responsible father. They've both worked hard for what you're seeing now."

"Fair enough." Sarah's tone was mild. "You seem to carve out a lot of space for just the two of them. You don't worry about FP going back to the way he was?"

"I keep an eye on things." Brand wanted to cringe at his own words; some job he'd been doing of that lately. "I encourage FP to stay on the straight and narrow. He on the other hand bullies me terribly, night and day."

Sarah smiled in response to Brand's exaggerated phrasing.

"To be fair, I am the guy who kidnapped his kid - and I had a few things to learn about playing well with others when I first moved in with them. It's worked out, though, and I like to think that we're both better people for it."

"I could see that. You... bring a lot to the table." Sarah's tone had turned shy and she didn't look at Brand as she spoke.

And suddenly Brand was overcome by frustration.

"You know, I used to think so. But there comes a point where I have to face facts. Even my greatest strengths aren't contributing much of anything these days." Brand almost stopped when he caught a flash of Sarah's worried expression, but the frustration kept welling up in him and he kept talking:

"I mean, I love to cook. I work at it. And yet the kid I care most about in the world keeps dropping weight like he's in a gulag. I pride myself on situational awareness, and I can barely keep up with the most relevant... circumstances of the people I live with. Leaving aside him nearly being killed yesterday - on my watch -, I literally don't know if Clark has a family, if they're local, or what. It's truly shocking how little I bring to the table, Quinn. You should know that now, because you'll find out soon enough."

"Well, I think I can help you out with some of that," Sarah spoke gently, a concerned expression creasing her features. "You are not a paid cook and literally nobody thinks you're here because of your talent for 'situational awareness.' Yesterday was a disaster that was averted thanks to it being your watch. You defied Wilson's orders and that's why everyone's safe and sound today."

Quinn looked directly at Brand this time, and her tone was matter of fact. "And I might be the only person at the RA who knows that Clark's only sibling - a brother - died as a teenager, before Clark was born. His parents aren't local. They're also older, more like grandparents to him, so it's entirely possible that they had Clark because they lost his brother. He doesn't talk about them much because he's protective, but I get the sense that they're his reason for trying to save the world."

Sarah made a pained face before continuing. "I also get the sense that he had to grow up in a hurry as a teenager, when they had some health issues and it basically became his turn to play caregiver. That's something you haven't done with Jughead, and I think it might even be part of why Clark gravitates toward you."

"What, my low expectations? Or my glossy sheen of youth and vitality?"

Sarah laughed at Brand's morose tone.

"Oh, give it a rest. You really are too hard on yourself, Brandon. Did Jughead say something to set you off? He's so young, and after everything that's happened this week you shouldn't take it personally."

"He… didn't tell me something. I try to make it safe for him to talk to me, and I screwed that up somehow." Brand figured that was honest enough without being informative.

Quinn shrugged. "That actually sounds completely normal for a teenager. And don't forget, he's on the brink of becoming an adult."

"Apparently." Brand rubbed the back of his neck.

"Well, anyway, I don't think it's either of those for Clark - low expectations or your youthful glow. I think it's more that you don't push him to be a fully-formed professional in every area of his life, and you don't treat him like the learning process is a grave failure on his part. And... you know more than I do about this, but I think the kids we care most about in the world are always the ones to give us fits. Often it's precisely in the areas where we think things should go most smoothly."

Brand's eyebrows lowered further and he scoffed. "I don't know much about any of this, Sarah. You're the professional."

"I've got nieces and nephews. I see them at parties and family events, and occasionally when I babysit. I also get to be there when kids are at their most destroyed, when baked goods and basic decency are downright miraculous to them." Quinn looked away again. "None of that is reality. Not like you have. You do the real thing here, day in and day out."

As if that didn't feel like sandpaper all over, rubbing raw all of the ways in which Brand was acutely aware of being an interloper and a criminal whose primary contribution to the household was (ineptly) trying to protect Jones and mitigate the damage he'd caused.

And failing.

Brand couldn't even begin to formulate a response, and he was relieved when Jones and FP chose that moment to quit circling the block and pull into the driveway.

Quinn and Brand both turned and Brand raised the camera when the bike pulled to a stop, Jughead grinning and FP giving him a proud slap on the shoulder as he dismounted.

"He's a natural," FP declared as he removed his helmet. "We'll have to look at bikes next spring."

Jughead pulled his helmet off and nodded. "I'll start saving for one. That was awesome."

Brand took a photo of the two together, and then another when FP pulled Jughead into a hug and motioned toward the camera. Their matched-set grins were probably going to have to make an appearance on a wall in the house before too long.

It occurred to Brand to hope that Jones was actually feeling the elation apparent in the photo. Based on their conversation earlier, the kid had become quite the actor - and it was worrying to consider that Jones might be hiding the fact that he was living through more nightmares than just the ones that occasionally still woke the household.

"You promised you'd take a ride with me, Brand." Jones held out a hand for his father's helmet and then passed it to Brand. "Give Betty the camera, and come make sure I don't kill myself."

"You have an awful lot of faith in me." Brand smiled, but his eyes searched Jones' for any clue that the teen was likewise feeling as though life as they knew it was actively unraveling due to the developing situation.

"Yep." Jones slapped his godfather's shoulder and met Brand's searching look with a knowing smile. "I know you'll always bail me out if I need you."

Agent Quinn looked distractingly like she was going to swoon in response to Jones' words, and she gave Brand a meaningful look that he tried very hard to ignore.

"Just don't get into trouble intentionally and force me to step in," Brand echoed the kid's teasing admonishment from a few weeks prior.

FP snorted. "Go ride, you two. I'll peel you both off of the pavement if you get into real trouble."

"Aw, thanks. It's always reassuring to have backup, old man." He was joking, and so Brand was surprised when he felt that reassurance keenly as FP slipped his own jacket over Brand's shoulders.

But then, it was true. FP was still his secret weapon, should the worst come to pass with Rose. Brand gave the older man's shoulder a pat of thanks and then he took Sweet Pea's bike from Sarah.

Hopefully he would not need that secret weapon anytime soon.

"Take Clark out next." FP jerked his head to indicate Clark. "He can ride my bike, and Jug's gear should work for him."

"Yeah, okay." Brand watched as Clark's eyes tracked them bringing the bikes around. "We'll see what he's got in him."

00000

"I'm helping Jones teach Trig some agility basics." Clark perked up as he spoke to Tim, who had sat down next to him in a chair in the Joneses' back yard to get to know the member of the household who had not been present during his previous visit. "Did Roger ever do any of that?"

"Oh, yeah. His training was intense. I had to be trained too, just to try and keep up with him. Nowadays we both try to keep our skills at least somewhat fresh." Tim leaned back in his lawn chair, exuding ease in the conversation and turning his body so that he was fully oriented toward Clark. "How's the body armor feeling? It can take some getting used to, but trust me when I say it's miles better than the stuff we used to have."

"I feel a little silly." Clark shrugged and ducked his head. "Nobody shot at me. FP should have protection, obviously he should, but we caught the guys who were coming after me. I'm fine now. It's a lot of fuss over nothing at this point."

"So, what, are you crazy or just a really selfless guy?" Tim smiled warmly at Clark, and his tone was gentle. "I know death threats, young man, and it's not nothing. It's gotta feel like there's a smoking crater in your head right now if you're even remotely human. And who's to say that what happened last night is the extent of the threat? I don't believe in coincidences - such as you and FP just happening to have attacks on your lives at the same time, while living under the same roof. I don't get to believe in coincidences, because that's an assumption that might get someone killed. So you just wear the armor, and maybe don't say that you're fine for a good long while."

Clark eyed Tim with a tentative expression. "So, I don't get to be fine? Not even if that's what I want?"

"It's not a knock against your abilities. You can be an excellent worker, friend, family member, and dog trainer and not be fine - all at the same time." Tim patted Clark's shoulder. "You more than most, maybe, because you've clearly had such a full deck for so long that you haven't even learned that lesson. It's impressive."

Clark smiled at that. "I've been spoiled, you mean?"

"Enough so that I'm jealous. I'd love that kind of spoiling in my life. I'm real sorry for this hiccup in your plan, but I get the sense that your deck isn't going to lose any cards permanently." Tim chuckled. "It's always reassuring to meet your type. I wish there were more people with charmed lives to show us mere mortals what's possible in this world."

"I am, right?" Clark was suddenly serious and focused. "Charmed, I mean. Getting to live here, and have people like Special Agent Davies watching out for me, right at the very moment when I've attracted some kind of the wrong attention through my work. It's... weird. Uncanny."

"Now that's just called having friends." Tim chuckled again. "It's no coincidence that they step up when you need them. Same with me and Roger. We aren't here by accident, and when you don't need us, we'll be doing something else that keeps us sharp. So do me a favor and keep needing us for a little while longer, will you? I like Brand's cooking, and this whole carpe diem party is fun."

They both laughed, looking over to where Brand was manning the grill and lecturing Agent Quinn and Betty on marinating techniques.

"It's not a party; it's just Sunday. Jones and his father always do something together on Sunday."

"And when you've nearly been killed, they invite a crowd over to make a show of strength and protection. And break out the motorcycles to pass on life lessons and family traditions," Tim added with a wink. "I was also told that you have a suicide pact I need to watch out for."

"A what?" Clark was horrified. "Does Mr. Jones think that I made a suicide pact with his son?"

"No, no - hang on. It was said with quite a bit of sarcasm; I thought it was a joke, and that you knew about it." Tim held his hands up to indicate his own innocence. "No pact, I guess. I must have misunderstood."

"Oh." Clark grimaced. "Well, uh, there kind of is a pact. Just nothing to do with suicide. Except we both nearly died last night, I guess, so-,"

"It was kind of a... laughing sarcasm. Like it was one of your charming quirks. It was nothing bad, I promise, though I do recommend not using it to get the two of you hurt or killed," Tim qualified swiftly. "FP's got a dark sense of humor, but it was definitely humor on that topic."

"Okay." Clark was still frowning.

"I won't tell you that he called you Speed Racer if that's going to be another problem."

"He did?" Clark couldn't help a small smile at that idea. "I learned to ride a motorcycle in a country where you basically wanted to get where you were going as quickly as possible, since people didn't enforce rules of the road. But I'm not a professional."

"Yeah, I'm not sure he meant the comparison to be on the basis of professionalism either." Tim laughed. "But it was a compliment. Apparently you have some chops, and you showed up Davies at something-,"

"I'm kind of fast. It's just a habit."

"Well, FP appreciated it." Tim leaned back contentedly.

They fell into a thoughtful silence for a few moments.

"So… How do you fill in the, uh, smoking crater?" Clark leaned toward Tim and lowered his voice. "I'm not entirely sure where to start."

"Well, I'm gonna tell you a few stories, and I think they might help you figure that out for yourself." Tim seemed to weigh something and then he nodded decisively. "I think you're probably a lot like a young fellow I worked with about eight years ago. You might like his style, and I could see some of his approaches working for you."

Clark leaned in further, all ears.

Jughead watched this play out from his own lawn chair as he tossed a tennis ball for Trigger and Roger to compete over. He knew Clark was still feeling unsettled and probably wildly unsafe after the events of the previous day, but this was the most relaxed and engaged that he'd seemed since before they'd rescued him in the park.

"Taking notes?" FP leaned over to speak quietly to Jughead.

"Kind of." Jughead turned toward his father. "I want to help."

"It's not your job," FP said carefully, "but I wouldn't mind helping either. If you come up with anything, let me know. We can work on it together."

Jughead nodded. "Sure. An intervention."

"Oh, boy." FP laughed. "Maybe not that. But maybe some of the things that helped you, adapted to suit Clark?"

"Uh, how would they be adapted? Don't they just work or not work?"

FP massaged his eyes briefly. "You think everyone responds exactly the way you do to trauma? Or therapy, for that matter?"

"No-o, but-,"

"Look, you've been in the middle of a lot of this, so maybe you don't see how people adapted to you." FP looked at Jughead assessingly. "You can't just recreate what helped you. It has to work for the person you're trying to help."

"How will I know what works for other people?" Jughead was frowning.

"Trial and error. Just like we did with you."

"Oh."

"Yeah. 'Oh.'" FP smiled. "Give it some thought. You know Clark better than I do, but we'll make it a joint effort. Brandon's doing a lot for him too, but you always responded well to having a variety of approaches coming from different people in your life. Talk to Betty, maybe. She gets it, and in a very different way than you or I do."

"Okay." Jughead thought it over for a few seconds. "Okay. I'll let you know what I come up with."

00000

Sweet Pea paced as he waited outside of the restroom for Alice. He was no expert, but it seemed like she was taking a long time.

When she eventually came out, it was obvious that she'd been crying.

Sweet Pea took a few steps backward, motioning for Alice to follow him.

They both walked toward the water's edge.

"Worth the extra drive?" Sweet Pea squinted out over Lake Ontario. "Or should I have just taken you home?"

Alice was silent for a few moments. She sat down on the grass.

Sweet Pea waited for a reply, and when it did not come he felt himself stiffen over the implicit rejection.

And then Alice began somersaulting down the hill, toward the water.

"Ohhhh, crap." Sweet Pea moved swiftly, but wasn't sure what he planned to do - or what Alice was doing, for that matter - and then Alice popped up onto her feet with a flourish.

"Hello-o-o, Toronto!" Alice shouted toward the lake. "Are you happy now? Is this what you wanted from me?"

Alice kicked off her shoes and socks and moved forward onto the sandy strip of beach, her feet splashing into the water, and she did a cartwheel - and slipped when her left hand landed on a slick stone, nearly falling completely into the water.

"Hey!" Sweet Pea kicked off his own socks and shoes in a hurry and followed her into the water. "Be careful."

"Oh, like that makes anything safer." Alice laughed, a hysterical note in her voice. "I'm pretty sure I can make things a whole lot worse - and okay, yeah, I've proven that again and again -, but is there really any way of making things better? Do you believe that's even possible, Sweet Pea?"

"Up until, like, two minutes ago, I was kind of hoping." Sweet Pea looked down at Alice in consternation. His plan of surprising her with a view of Toronto and the best burgers he could come up with suddenly seemed pathetic. Inadequate. Maybe even like a terrible mistake, as though he'd selfishly thrown a whole lot of pressure on top of what was already a dangerously high-octane day.

"Based on your years of experience seeing things turn out 'all for the best' or because you've always been able to force the ending by fighting to the death - or at least to first blood?" Alice was suddenly enraged on Sweet Pea's behalf. "You deserve... more. I don't think you're getting a better deal than I am, though, so don't worry about that. It all sucks, and obviously it sucks more for you than for me."

Sweet Pea was completely lost now. He figured he'd better keep his mouth shut and see where things went, since it was a pretty long drive back to Riverdale. With any luck he could steer things back toward neutral territory before then, but luck was not likely to be on his side if he said the wrong thing right now.

"I'm getting the bank accounts back. I'm going to college. My mother has everything set up through a lawyer so that she never has to see me again. Which is good, because she's not getting out anytime soon. But apparently I can get out and rent an apartment. Buy a place. I could just-,"

Sweet Pea wasn't sure what possessed him to change his plan without thinking it through, but he grabbed Alice's shoulder and started to steer her out of the water.

"Seriously, Sweet Pea. I thought that was the problem, you know?"

Sweet Pea snorted at that. "Even if I had a clue what you were talking about, I sincerely doubt that I'd 'know,' Alice."

"Exactly! Because everyone thinks it's money and independence and the ability to bankroll a life, but as it turns out that's the ultimate kiss off." Alice stumbled slightly and came to a halt when the sand transitioned back to grass under her feet. "There are no more excuses or reasons or pretexts for running into each other, for living with Veronica and Hermione, for getting a ride with you out to-,"

Sweet Pea tugged on Alice's shoulder and they both sat down on the edge of the grass and faced the lake once more.

"Do you hate me, Sweet Pea?"

"Alice," Sweet Pea ran both hands over his face, "not really, no. Why are you even asking me that?"

"Because I'm rich. I have options. I have nobody, I have nothing, but now I have to go have a life apparently. Because God forbid that I squander the ill-gotten gains of my parents."

"Well, in that case... I guess I have to take it back." Sweet Pea raised one eyebrow when Alice's head snapped around so that she could study his expression. "I am honor bound to hate all rich people. On principle. Irrevocably, completely, and especially when they're total psychos who make me take my shoes off and get wet in late October in freaking Lake Ontario."

Alice's jaw dropped slightly.

"Almost as much as I hate people who have an honest reaction to being bought off and packed off by their parents." Sweet Pea dropped a large hand onto Alice's head and impulsively pulled her hair free of its ponytail. "The poor little rich girl thing is just so passé, and criminally insane parents are totally overdone. I mean, come on, be original."

"I seriously cannot believe that you just messed up my hair." Alice gaped at Sweet Pea.

"Yeah, but at least now you know the truth: it's because I hate you." Sweet Pea shrugged, wondering if he'd entirely taken leave of his senses, but also a little giddy with the feeling that maybe he had. "So what did you expect?"

"Civility? A little understanding?" Alice shook her head slowly, a small smile starting to crack through her dark expression. She reached for the hair tie that Sweet Pea was now twisting around his fingers. He pulled it out of reach. "Appropriate regard for how hard it is to look cute after crying in a public restroom?"

"My bad. You made it look so effortless. I had no idea." Sweet Pea's deadpan expression cracked then and he met Alice's smile with one of his own. "You have my respect, madam."

"Madam?" Alice lunged for the hair tie then, and as Sweet Pea playfully fought back they tumbled off of the grass.

Sweet Pea spared just a thought for how much trouble they'd be in if they tracked sand all through FP's car... but he quickly decided that it was well worth any trouble he got into later.

Sweet Pea pinned Alice under himself on the narrow strip of beach, but when she gasped in surprise he flipped them swiftly so that she was straddling his chest instead and he had a firm grip on her wrists. "Better?"

"Than what, you nutter?" Alice yanked hard on her wrists, and Sweet Pea released her without any resistance - so she nearly fell backward.

"Are you okay, miss?"

Oh. They had not gone unnoticed. A man in a park uniform was striding toward them.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just... getting frisky. You know how it is." Alice stood up, then offered Sweet Pea a hand that he ignored as he stood up quickly as well. "Inappropriate time and place, right? I always mess that up. I need to write a note on my hand or something, but I just keep bathing. Hygiene, am I right?"

"It won't happen again." Sweet Pea ducked his head and tried to look non-threatening when the uniformed man clearly identified him as the main offender in spite of Alice's bizarre monologue.

The man crossed his arms and merely blinked at them as they grabbed their shoes and hurried toward the car.

They made it a full block away before they were both laughing so hard that tears were streaming down their faces.

They were still laughing when Sweet Pea navigated them into the drive-through of the burger place he'd researched online.

"How did you know that I love burgers?" Alice looked at the menu in delight. "This looks fantastic."

"Jughead gave me some ideas when I picked up FP's car this morning," Sweet Pea confessed. "Although to be honest, it's kind of a cliché. Burgers, prisons, long wrestling matches on the beach-,"

Alice felt laughter bubbling up again and she swatted Sweet Pea. "Give it a rest with the jokes until I order. My pity laugh can only extend so far."

Sweet Pea grinned, but bit back his reply in the name of getting through the drive-through swiftly and without further incident. Instead he took a long, indulgent look at Alice as she studied the options for the burgers.

"Take a picture, why don't you?" Alice quipped.

When Sweet Pea did, raising his phone and taking several in quick succession, Alice lost it laughing again.

"I'm just gonna-," Sweet Pea steered the car out of the drive-through, "-give you a minute to compose yourself. Then we'll go inside and eat."

"Sounds good." Alice grinned up at him, still giggling. "That sounds really good."

00000

So much fun! Aaaaand I think we're going to start seeing collisions very soon. As always, your notes are loved and inspire me greatly as I hack through all the plots and then (ideally!) weave them into something. I hope you're all staying safe and sane, and I wish you a lovely and restful weekend!

-Button