Betty was humming along to the radio, tapping her steering wheel when her head beams bounced off a figure hunched on the side of the road. At first, she had no intention of stopping. She was very late coming back to her hometown, having meant to get on the road about four hours earlier but misplaced her wallet. As it was, she wondered if she'd subconsciously lost her wallet because she didn't want to come back. When she told her mother at the age of 18 she would never return to Riverdale, she'd meant it.
But those small towns always drew you back in, huh?
There was only one person in the world that could tempt her back and that was her sister, Polly. Well, and her two adorable twins, but they enjoyed visiting Aunt Betty at her house in Virginia. But the twins were turning ten and that was a Big Deal and Betty felt so inclined to visit. It was her first time back in eight years.
She would have ignored the creep on the shoulder altogether until she noticed that it was a person with something furry and fuzzy; a dog, perhaps? She tried to put it out of her mind, but she got two miles ahead before she angrily turned around. She couldn't take the chance someone was doing something horrible to some poor animal!
She stopped her car, looting through her purse for her taser (just in case) spilling the contents into her passenger's seat. She warily approached; yes, it was a dog. A figure in a leather jacket was hunched over, shushing it quietly and gently, rubbing its fur. Whatever was going on, it wasn't animal abuse.
She nearly turned, until the figure turned. They were silent; staring at each other for a few seconds, trying to sus the other person out on this abandoned road at 2 am.
"Is the dog okay?" Betty finally asked.
"Snared its legs in barbed wire...things in a lot of pain," The stranger answered. He seemed near her age, though it was hard to tell in this light. One thing she absolutely didn't miss was the snake curled on his jacket. This made her turn her taser out, ready and waiting. She'd grown up hearing stories about the infamous Southside Serpents...during her time in Riverdale, she'd never had a run-in with them, but she knew all the rumors...debauchery, drugs, and delinquency was their motto.
"What are you doing?"
"Trying to save it, duh," He snapped, "Do you have a phone to shine some light on this?" He asked in frustration. Betty realized this could be some grand ploy to kidnap her...it would be a step up from the puppy in a white van ruse. Still, the stranger had looked shocked when she'd appeared. Plus, there was something that, against her good sense, told her to trust him.
"What about yours?" Serpents likely had cell phones...stolen ones, she guessed, but they weren't cavemen.
"Dead."
Betty gave a humm in the back of her throat and pulled her phone. Just as she shined a light on it, the stranger laughed.
"Not squeamish I hope?" He asked. Betty laughed.
"Hardly! I-," She almost said she'd spent most of her formative years devouring the goriest murder mystery books, but realized that was strange, so instead said, "I watch a lot of Criminal Minds and Game of Thrones."
"Right." The man narrowed his eyes but wasn't going to be budged from the task. She leaned over to see a complete mangling of the poor dog's back legs. He'd really done some damage in his fear and attempt to get himself free, and as it was, Betty hoped the dog would walk again. The man had a pair of wire cutters and, now that he could see things a bit better, he split his time quietly petting the dog and whispering soft encouragements, and carefully freeing the pet from the fence.
Betty was touched. Everyone should be kind to animals, but there was a big difference between not kicking dogs and dirtying one's hands at 2 am to save what looked like a street mutt from an agonizing death.
They didn't talk as he worked. What would Betty say?
"Oh? You live here awhile? Smuggle a lot of coke?"
Yeah, she doubted that would go over well.
Finally, the dog was freed, though it just whimpered pathetically and flopped in the grass.
"Needs to go to a clinic," The man said, wiping his hands across his face, ignoring the blood he transferred with it.
"Well, okay then," Betty said, beginning to turn around.
"Hey! That was a hint-hint," The guy said sharply. Betty raised an eyebrow.
"Well, how'd you get to the dog out here?" She asked, waving a hand, "You could take it."
The man jerked a finger to something leaning against the fence she'd missed in the darkness; a motorcycle. How very on-brand, she thought.
"Hard to carry him on there."
"Well, you're not going with me," Betty said. Sure, she'd suspend her safety to stand with a light in the darkness, but she'd be an idiot to invite a Serpent into her car.
"Didn't ask." He snapped back. Despite his gruffness, he still shrugged off his jacket to reveal a flannel underneath. Something about the flannel, the colors, and the worn patches, rang a bell of familiarity, though Betty was sure she was getting confused. It was gone as quickly as it came, so no time to ponder it.
He wrapped the bleeding dog in his flannel and motioned to her car, "I'll set him down gently," He said, scratching between the ears.
"Fine."
She still had her taser out and just as she was opening the passenger door, the man coughed.
"Yo, ah, you won't tell anyone about this?"
"About what?" Betty asked in utter confusion.
"The dog thing. Spending two hours getting it freed," He said. Betty still didn't get it, "Got a reputation to uphold, right? I know you know I'm a Serpent, and well, we're not known for being touchy-feely."
"First, who the hell would I be telling?" Betty huffed, not sure why she was so annoyed, "And second...who cares? So what, you're not the monster under the bed everyone thinks you are, I'd expect you'd be yelling it to the town. It's a new era; be yourself."
The man stifled a laugh, "Oh, so then, you'd be perfectly fine with telling everyone that Little Miss Perfect Betty Cooper is a pot-head."
"What-," Betty stammered and the man tilted his head to her bag of weed falling from her purse. She blushed hard.
"I'm not perfect, and no one needs to know what I do in my spare time," She said.
"Right. We both have expectations and facades to uphold. So."
"And wait, hold on? How do you know my name?" Betty took five steps backward, holding out the taser. The man looked mildly offended.
"You think that's gonna do much?" He said, "I'm not trying to threaten you, Cooper."
"Not an answer."
He gave none. He instead very carefully settled the dog down, "I'll expect that flannel back. It's my favorite."
"How the hell am I supposed to do that when I don't even know who you are?" Betty asked, "Hey! Dude!" She yelled as he began to walk away. He started his motorcycle and shrugged.
"You're a smart girl, Betty! You'll figure it out." He saluted her, "Wash it too, would ya?"
Betty was so flabbergasted that all she managed to yell after him was, "You should really wear a helmet while doing that!" Which she realized sounded totally lame, but did he have to seem so...Serpenty?
The low keen of the dog reminded her of her new goal and she navigated her way to Riverdale General Hospital. They had a vet's clinic, but not at this hour, and she knew that most of the doctors knew a thing or two about animals in a pinch. The doctor on duty kept saying how old Betty was now, how grown-up and most of the night was spent with Betty trying to avoid just this...that small-town-return awkwardness.
She didn't have time to think about the weird guy that knew her name because she was totally exhausted pulling up to her childhood home. When she rang the doorbell, Polly gasped, throwing herself into her sister's arms and sobbing quietly.
"Betty, I'm so glad you're here for this, you came home."
"What, are the twins such a terror at ten?" She laughed at her sister's dramatics but sobered at Polly's face.
"Has no one told you…?" Polly said. Betty pursed her lips...the last time she'd talked to anyone had been Polly, and that was about three months ago? You know, you just got busy and life happened. She hadn't talked to her mom or dad in, whew, literally years, for a variety of reasons, "Dad's dead."
XXXX
Eight hours later, stumbling down the stairs in her house, Betty was no more rested than when she arrived. She hadn't been able to form words after Polly's revelation, but Polly had taken one look at her and commanded her upstairs in a mothering tone that would make even the most deviant kid listen. So, Betty did.
But sleep eluded her. She lay awake for hours, mind whirling before she made some realizations.
Then, knowing that she was not going to sleep yet, called her boss. He was extremely sympathetic and full of apologies and confirmed that Betty could work remotely, as long as she returned once a month for a formal check-in. She was glad her career as an editor-in-chief at the Publishing House lent itself to this since most of their authors lived flung everywhere in the world. Heck, there was a copywriter that lived in Key West and flew up for their staff meetings, but otherwise lived and worked entirely from the sunshine!
She had only assumed she'd be here for a weekend as a surprise to the twins, but it now seemed she would be here indefinitely. Her sister had her hands full and while she was a great mother, she wasn't good at the little details. Her parents had separated when she was sixteen and her mother held a deep dislike for her father, so Betty couldn't assume Alice Smith would give Hal any funeral he deserved. Therefore, she knew that everything - the funeral, the arrangements, cleaning out her father's house, and selling it- was going to be left to her. The perfect, prodigal daughter, as always.
She tried to sleep one last time but found it fruitless. Coming downstairs, Polly had a pot of coffee already and her mother was sitting with a pinched expression. Betty hadn't cried yet. She didn't have the time.
"How? And when?" She asked with a hard edge, squaring her shoulders.
"Car accident. Three days ago," Polly croaked out, her tone raw and rough like she hadn't been able to stop crying since "Everything just went up in flames. I got the call to identify him, but Betty...there wasn't much left."
Betty's stomach clenched and churned. Polly was so soft, she shouldn't have had to.
"Why didn't anyone tell me? When did you intend to?" She asked sharply, to her mother.
"I meant to...but every time I picked up the phone I...I couldn't say it out loud," Polly sobbed, but Betty didn't blame her, not entirely. She met her mother's cold stare.
"Well, Elizabeth," Her mother waved a breezy hand, "I tried to call you, of course."
Betty frowned, "Okay, yes," She had gotten a call three days ago, "But you didn't leave a message. I just thought…" She hadn't been sure what she thought, but she screened her mother's calls and she figured it was something stupid and petty she had been calling about.
"It wasn't something to leave in a voicemail," Her mother chastised.
"I know that! But maybe a voicemail, or a text, saying 'hey, we need to talk'. Or if you had called me again, I would have called back," Betty seethed. Of course, her mom gave the barest minimum.
"I assumed you'd figure out when we sent you the obituary," Alice shrugged.
"Fucking hell, mom." Betty bit back a whole slew of other anger, "No matter. I assume nothing's been taken care of yet, except for the obituary…" From their faces, not even that. Betty pinched her nose, "I'll do it. No need to ask, I'll handle it all." She said snappishly.
"Thanks, Bett," Polly warbled, "I wouldn't even know where to start."
"Might as well now that you've finally decided to return home, to your poor, grieving mother," Alice sighed.
Betty snorted. She doubted Alice was torn up about it. Either way, though, it was probably a blessing her mother wouldn't touch this project with a five-foot pole.
"The twin's tenth birthday?" She asked, referring to their celebration in two days. Polly looked bewildered.
"I...in everything...you know…" She stuttered.
Betty pursed her lips, "They're turning ten. They should get time to celebrate." She dropped her shoulders, "Don't worry, Polls. I got that too."
XXXX
The next three days were chaos...between the first few steps one needed to take after the death of a relative, which would have been a monumental task in itself, Betty also wanted the best 10th birthday anyone could ever have. They shouldn't have their first big milestone overshadowed by their grandfather's death. Yes, they needed to grieve of course, but they shouldn't have to take a backseat when they were the ones still living.
It was a lot to juggle.
And then in the middle of it all, Betty got a call from the hospital about the dog. The dog which she'd basically forgotten.
"It's going to go to the pound otherwise…" The receptionist said, and the unspoken was inferred...after spending so much time saving its life, it would probably be put down.
"I'll come and get it," Betty said, cursing the gods for dumping so much on her plate all at once.
The puppy wagged its tail as Betty came in, trying to jump up to lick her face. The back legs were tightly woven in bandages. Now, in the daylight, it seemed to be a mixture between a poodle and some large dog, maybe a Saint Benard?
"I knew we could count on you to save this little guy, Betty Cooper," the receptionist said.
"Yep, that's me," Betty sighed. She would have taken the dog, and the washed flannel, back to the mystery's guy's house and transferred her responsibility, but she hadn't the mental capacity to think harder about who he was.
So, she brought it home. She forgot that the twins were home from school to enjoy a day off with their new birthday gifts (the party had been, by all accounts, as much of a success as Betty could have hoped for with twenty-five ten-year-olds swarming their house) and as soon as the puppy came inside, all shiny new gifts were forgotten.
"Woah, Aunt Betty!" Dagwood rubbed its face, "You got us a dog?"
"Best birthday present ever!" Juniper squealed, "I want to name it Mr. Cuddles."
"That's a stupid name, June."
"Nuh-uh! Better than your stupid names."
"Kids!" Betty groaned, about to crush their little hopes and dreams. She looked around her perfect, pristine childhood house that Alice so 'graciously allowed' her grandchildren to live in, and something like a rebellion bloomed inside of her. So, she grinned, "We'll do a vote for the name. Make a list and we'll have Mom and Grandma choose, how about that?"
"So it's really ours?" Dagwood looked close to tears.
"Yep! All yours."
XXXX
She got a call four hours later as she was checking into her long-term hotel. She could have taken the guest room at home (her room was now Juniper's), but she preferred a bit of distance anyway.
"Mother," She greeted, placing the phone far from her ear. Good thing too; Alice immediately descended into a series of swears, high-pitch screams, and lots of unfinished threats. Finally, she managed one sentence.
"You got them a flea-ridden dog?!"
"That's not nice, Mom. The vet, well the hospital, just gave him a clean bill of health. No fleas." Betty said with a self-satisfied grin.
"Elizabeth-,"
"You're really going to tell your only grandchildren, traumatized by the death of their grandfather days before their tenth birthday, that you're going to get rid of the one thing that brings them joy?" Betty threw back exactly what her mother often used against her and her sister.
She couldn't see her mother, but she knew her mother was fuming in silence behind the scenes. Finally, her mother curtly replied,
"If that thing pees on my carpets, it's on your bill."
Before Betty could respond, the phone disconnected. She considered this a victory.
XXXX
The issue of the unnamed Serpent and his flannel thrown over the hotel sofa did not come to pass for another week.
Hal's funeral was a good one. A lot of the town showed up, he got a proper send-off. Betty cried for the first time since she learned of his death when they put him in the ground, not sure if it was because she was actually anguished (she was, don't get her wrong) or because the mourners expected her to cry.
After that, she started at her dad's house.
Reggie Mantle, an old classmate who was now in real estate, informed Betty that the town's population was only rising. People were fleeing the city and the new Riverdale University, funded by Betty's old high school friend Veronica Lodge, was drawing in a large crowd of coeds. Because of this, Betty had decided she would rent out her father's modest house to uni students and put the money she made in a fund for Juniper and Dagwood to go to college or get the hell out of Riverdale or whatever they wanted once they turned 18.
But she needed to clean it out first. Hopefully, she'd be able to catch some late planners and rent by January.
Polly was busy being a mother and juggling her two jobs, so it was up to Betty alone to decide what stays and goes. Some things would be kept as keepsakes, most were ready for Goodwill. Some she would take back home with her.
Her father, in the divorce, had taken the boxes of old pictures. Her mother never was one for nostalgia.
She had plans to put all the photographs into virtual form (there was a company in Virginia that did that for you) and as she was gathering the boxes of their childhood history, one of the bottoms dropped out. She watched the photographs flit to the floor and began sweeping them up.
One caught her eye. Flannel in the same colors as the ones sitting in her hotel room; blue, orange, and white. Betty stood abruptly, inhaling hard. It was a picture of her, Archie Andrews, and the mystery man...but as a young boy. In this picture, his two front teeth were missing and he was beaming at the camera.
Frantically, she flipped it over, only to find a date; August 2006.
She dropped everything to head over to where Archie lived now. They hadn't talked much since middle school, but he and his father had still come to the funeral.
When Archie answered the door, it took him a second, but his eyes brightened.
"Betty! How are you doing-,"
"Who is this?" Betty thrust the picture in his face. Archie took it, holding it away for a second, squinting, before putting on some glasses. My, how time changes people.
"Oh, don't you remember? The three of us were inseparable as kids! We got into all sorts of mischief; well, we did, you usually were telling us not to. There was the time we explored that old train and I got stuck...there was the time we got lost in the woods...there was the time-,"
"Yes, Archie," Betty almost laughed, Archie was exactly how she remembered, "But who was it?"
"Jughead, of course! He moved away when we were in fifth grade to...er...Tel Aviv?"
Betty blinked; she sincerely doubted their childhood friend had moved to Israel. It was starting to come back.
"Err...you mean Toledo?"
"Ah! Yep, that one."
How Archie mixed the two up...the world would never know.
"He might be back in town. I've seen him around once or twice," Archie rubbed his chin, "Haven't said hi though...it's been a bit, ya know? And he's...not good news anymore. I would be very careful of him. Why do you ask?" He examined the photo again.
"Wracked my mind. Couldn't figure it out. Was really bothering me." Betty wasn't about to admit she had saved a dog with him in the middle of the woods at 2 am, a) because he didn't want anyone to know and b) because she was embarrassed to admit she'd stared at him for two hours and had absolutely no idea they'd ever met before. Now that Archie had told her, it was like the floodgates had been opened and holy crap, they'd been really good friends as kids.
"Hey, I was about to head down to the local pub with some of our old high school friends. Join me," He said sincerely. Betty was about to decline because she had two million things she was expected to do and she hadn't thought about any of these people since she was eighteen, but Archie was looking at her with such hope. How could she refuse?
XXXX
"Forsythe Pendleton Jones III!" Betty cupped her hands and yelled at the house, "Born October 2nd, 2001, favorite color is charcoal gray, and your favorite dinosaur is the Plateosaurus!"
There was some commotion and then the door swung open to reveal Jughead, sans his Serpent jacket now, in just a pair of jeans and a gray shirt.
"Jesus, it's 11 pm."
"I found you," Betty said proudly. It had taken a bit of digging. FP had bought a house here after Jughead had gone to live with his mom, something small but nice for the kids. She'd had to go into town records...no way did she have the guts to walk up to a Serpent at Sunnyside and ask. Jughead's inherited home was back in the woods, secluded, but close enough to walk to the trailers where most Serpents lived. In fact, if you craned your neck, you could see the gleam of the first trailers through the treeline.
Jughead took three steps to her and frowned, "Are you drunk?"
"Tipsy," Betty corrected, "Here." She threw his flannel at him.
"Took you long enough. I only have one good one, you know," He scoffed, "It's cold. Come in, for god's sake."
"How gentlemanly and un-Serpenty of you," Betty giggled.
"I don't want to be a murder suspect for the town Princess," He huffed, "It's not out of the goodness of my heart."
"Sure, Juggie," She rolled her eyes, stumbling up the steps, "And I've been busy, ya know?" She said, registering his other words.
"Right," Jughead winced, "I'm sorry."
Betty shrugged. Her feelings about everything had been numbed by a few very dangerously innocuous tasting glasses of Long Island Iced Tea.
"And the plateosaurus isn't my favorite Dinosaur anymore, you know," He added, shutting the door behind him.
"Well, what one is it?" Betty asked, ready to re-write her mental logbooks. Jughead snorted.
"Don't have one. I'm an adult," He replied snarkily, as though she was stupid to think otherwise.
Betty frowned, "That's sad."
"My life is sad."
Betty examined him. "Everyone at the bar said you were bad news. Warnings. Awful stories. I-," Her body shivered at the memory of the collective horror everyone had experienced when Archie had brought up the picture of their youth.
"Weird to think monsters could ever be human," Kevin Keller had snorted. Their painted image of Jughead wasn't pretty. And Betty had been so tempted to say 'no, he saved a dog, he's not that bad', but saving a dog versus supposedly being behind the death of hundreds whether it be drugs or murder didn't make the scale tip.
"I am." Jughead said simply but still offered her bottled water from his fridge, "I'm not a kid anymore, and neither are you. We live in the real world now. The one where I have to scrape and fight and do terrible things to survive, but hell, I'm alive. If it's them or me, I'd rather- stop, why are you laughing?" Jughead frowned, watching Betty dissolve into giggles.
"Because... " She managed to say finally, "You always have liked your moody monologues, even when we were kids."
"It's not moody and it's not a monologue," Jughead argued, "I'm trying to convince you that all things considered, you shouldn't be in here."
"Or what?" Betty challenged, "Or you'll...you'll…"
"Nothing, but it wouldn't stop the rumor mill, nor would you like what you eventually saw."
Impulsive and intrigued, Betty had the passing thought that she wanted to kiss him. Whether it be the weight of the 'perfect princess' or the haze of rum, she acted on this.
Jughead was frozen at first but melted just enough for her to see that he was enjoying this as well. After that, he grabbed the nape of her neck and pulled her against him, an active participant.
It wasn't until Betty's hands slid near the belt buckle that he stepped back.
"What are you doing?"
"Should be obvious."
Jughead stared at her with a scowl, "You're drunk."
"And you're such a bad boy, so everyone says," Betty said, huffing. Jughead's jaw twitched.
"I might have blood on my hands and my moral compass might be skewed, but I'm not a rapist."
"I thought you were hot from when we were saving that dog. I'm consenting." She said, head held high.
There was a moment of hesitation before Jughead grabbed her hand. Betty seriously thought he was going to throw her out, but they veered down a hallway. Jughead's teeth were grazing against her neck, his firm body against hers.
"Last chance," He warned.
Betty couldn't think of a witty reply, but she didn't need one. Just closing the door behind them was more than enough said.
XXXX
"Betty? Betty!"
Betty dropped her concealer in the sink, and it clattered in the porcelain. She cussed, picking it up, and smeared the semi-formed liquid over the very purple hickey on her neck. Polly came into her hotel room anyway, the door having been left ajar from moving.
"Woah. Tornado much?"
Betty stepped out of the bathroom. A few boxes from her house in Virginia lay scattered on the ground; her necessities while she lived here. She'd been looking for a scarf, and nearly torn apart the boxes, and settled for concealer in the end, though it was a rough love mark.
"Never seen any space of yours dirty," Polly joked, "Hey, so, I got a hold of that guy about some of dad's furniture and they'll pick it up tomorrow."
"Golden, cool," Betty said nervously. She felt like it was going to be immediately obvious she had a hickey and she couldn't very well explain where it was from.
They'd agreed on complete secrecy. Jughead didn't need anyone thinking he had feelings for her, as she'd be used as a blackmail piece. Betty didn't need anyone knowing who she was seeing behind closed doors. Well, 'seeing' was generous. Literally, sure. Metaphorically? They were booty-calls.
After that night, a month ago at Jughead's house, it seemed they'd lit a fire. They were sneaking all over Riverdale to have sex, and frequently. He got a little bit bitey last night, thus the mark.
"We're still on for lunch?"
"Well, uhm…"
"C'mon. We haven't talked just me and you for a while. Not without the twins."
Betty relented, "Fine."
They went to Pop's because where else would they be going? Betty got a burger and Polly got a wrap. They both ordered milkshakes.
"So…" Polly's eyes were gleaming, "I know you've been seeing someone."
Betty nearly dropped her milkshake, "What?" She choked.
"Oh, it's so obvious. Leaving at weird hours, insisting on your own hotel room instead of living at home, the text messages with the specifically unnamed contact…" Polly gleamed and Betty mentally kicked herself, "No! Don't look like that, Betty, it's wonderful! It's stupid of me to say, but I sort of hope...well, maybe it will turn into something. And you'll stick around." She murmured.
Betty laughed out loud before she could stop. She and Jughead? Serious? Yes, she'd come home from work, and her Drug Kingpin husband would be just casually castrating someone in their bathtub. And then she'd make dinner and Jughead would come in with Jingle Jangle on his fingers from making sure the product was sound. And when they fucked at night, hard and aggressive as they both preferred, he'd set his alarm in the morning to go and make a shady deal with the Ghoulies at 3 am.
"I, erm, don't think so. It's not like that." Betty snorted quietly to herself.
"Just sex, then?" Polly sounded disappointed. Betty opened her mouth but had a split-second pause. They did talk...a lot. Before sex, after sex...they'd never met just for this, but it wasn't 'wham, bam, thank you ma'am'.
"Of course it is," Betty still said confidently because even though she'd never felt so free to reveal her darkest thoughts, those things could never come to light either.
Polly slurped her milkshake. Betty did not offer any information, lest someone make some quick connections. If anyone could...it would be her sister. Equally as nosey and certainly had that snooping gene, if she chose to use it. And this might just be that time.
XXXX
Betty squealed and Jughead slapped a hand over her mouth as he thrust into her. Her fingers clawed his back and his palms were at her waist, shoving her into the semi-decent hotel mattress with vigor.
"Mhh, you like that?" Jug asked, smirking.
"You know I do, you animal," Betty groaned. She couldn't remember the last time she was so sexually satisfied. Sure, she didn't go out looking for it often at home, but this was on another level.
Maybe it was the knowledge that she should not be doing this? Yes, perhaps that was all it was. The continual adrenaline from her logical, good side scowling deeply at her.
They were at Betty's hotel, a rare occurrence. Jughead had walked so that there was no evidence of a vehicle here. Apart from someone seeing Jughead slip into her hotel room at an unfortunately coincidental time, they were good.
As long as Betty didn't moan his name through the walls for her neighbors to hear, that was.
Someone knocked on her door. They ignored it, until she saw a figure pass by the window, rattling it, and try to peer through the curtains.
"Betty, hey! I'm pretty sure you're in there…"
"Fuck! Fuck!" Betty cursed. Abruptly, Jughead and Betty sprung apart. She'd forgotten she was supposed to meet Archie at her father's house. Jughead made her mind mush, that was for sure. All he had to do was take his shirt off and Betty forgot everything, dumped unceremoniously from her mind. Someone could ask her her name during their sessions and she'd just be bewildered.
Betty shoved Jughead onto the floor and motioned under the bed. He sent a furious look at her, but he had to hide. Betty didn't want Archie to spot a second figure silhouetted against the curtains. She kicked Jughead's clothes under the TV stand, wincing at the timing of it all. She was about to open the door before she stopped.
She was buck naked. She grabbed the first and closest thing she saw; her stadium winter jacket. Quickly fluffing her hair, she opened the door.
"Betty, so I've got the quotes-uhm," Archie's eyebrows knit as he stared at her. She'd contracted his family to do the renovations inside, of course.
"I was just, err, finishing some work for my job. Last track of time." She lied.
"Wearing just a winter coat?" It was pretty obvious there was nothing else on underneath.
"It's the Virginian way," Betty said with a completely straight poker-face.
"Oh. Rad, I guess?" Archie believed it, bless his heart. He stepped inside, despite the panic lights going off in Betty's head, "I have the plans right here. Should we go over them?"
"Sure," Betty said nervously, "But we can go out-,"
"Ah, gotta be now. I have a job in Greendale tonight and I'm supposed to leave in about half an hour."
"Right," Betty mentally swore, "Of course. Sit."
Archie turned and began moving toward an armchair...one that would have a straight view of Jughead hiding under the bed.
"No! Here!" Betty abruptly said, "It's just...comfier. That one's awful, really uncomfortable," She said, motioning to a chair pointed the other way. She quickly moved past him and sat and made a fake groaning noise, "Yep, awful chairs."
"Right, good call."
If it were anyone else, they would have been suspect. Archie wasn't, though that didn't mean they could let their guard down.
From under the bed, Jughead was making a 'what the heck am I supposed to do' sort of face.
"Leave." Betty hissed, a half cough, tilting her head to the door left open by Archie, behind him.
"What?" Archie looked hurt, "But I thought-,"
"No, not you! I just...I coughed. Sorry, sounds like that sometimes," Betty laughed, "Err, the plans?"
Archie began to swipe through his iPad, excitedly rambling about all the great things they could do with her father's old and outdated house. Jughead began to slowly dart his hand out to grab his clothes from across the space.
As he was reaching for his pants, Archie must have seen something out of the corner of his eye, a flash of skin.
"Wha-."
"Oh!" Betty all but yelled, and once Archie's attention was back on her, she cleared her throat, "I just, erm, really love this sink."
"It's a pretty standard sink," Archie said, confused.
"Right." She was sure her face was bright red.
As Jughead struggled to put clothes on in a tight space under the bed, there was some bumping. Archie looked around and Jughead stopped moving.
"A cat," Betty said breezily, sure at any second Archie would catch on, "There's a very loud cat next door. A cat that if he knows what's good for him will be a bit quieter."
"Golly, Betty, that's harsh." Archie laughed nervously.
Jughead managed to dress quietly, but agonizingly slowly. Finally, when he was completely dressed, he rolled from under the bed spy-style and carefully stood. Betty felt like she wasn't breathing, and tried not to look beyond Archie, but focused on the plans.
He left and the door slammed behind him. Archie jumped a foot in the air.
"Oh, that darn wind," Betty said, letting forth a sigh of relief.
"I didn't think it was windy today," Archie replied.
XXXX
Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.
Betty knew this quote well. She knew that the possibility that someone would find out was increasing each day.
She knew she should have stopped when Polly began poking.
She should have stopped when Archie nearly found out.
But she told herself she was only going to be here another month; after that, she'd come back down every last weekend to see the progress on the house and set up a tenancy with students.
And she should have told Jughead when she left after that month, that was the last time.
But as you can guess dear reader, she did not.
In fact, she did the exact opposite. She agreed to see Jughead for a night whenever she was back. They'd both clear their calendars, find reasons to be absent from the rest of the town. Indulge, as it were.
Betty didn't like hard drugs. She has zero interest, or so she'd thought. Jughead was a dangerous drug. He was everything her mother had warned her about. He was the culmination of every bad decision she'd never made, and now she was addicted.
And this, she knew, was a problem.
But like a true addict, she squashed that thought as her mind fiend for another hit of his lips, another pass at his body, the delirium he induced from their sex.
XXXX
"Are you sure you have to go, Aunt Betty?" Juniper sniffled, hugging Betty's waist and refusing to let go.
"I'll be back in three weeks, berry," Betty patted her hair.
"It's been cool having you around, though," Dagwood added, not willing to be as openly emotive as Juniper, but his lip still quivered slightly.
"We have gotten used to you around," Polly sighed, "But Aunt Betty has to go back to her job, and she'll still come back...more than she used to."
Betty winced; that was a slight at her.
"You're better than Grandma though," Juniper pouted, clinging to Betty as she tried to fill her car, which was incredibly awkward. There were only a few things to put in the front seat, but still. Her car was mostly already packed. She'd taken the twins out for ice cream as a temporary goodbye.
"Hey now," Betty laughed before she could stop, "Grandma loves you two."
"Hard to tell sometimes," Dag grumped.
"Hmm. Well, take good care of this pup," Betty rubbed the ears of 'Sergeant Salami', a compromise between Dagwood's 'war/blood/death' type names and Juniper's whimsical picks, "We both know how much Grandma just loves him," She added with a sly smirk and a wink.
Salami was wriggling all over, jumping and licking. He was still very young, just shy of not being able to go home with them in the first place. What such a young dog was doing out where he was is a question even the vet, once they'd taken him to a proper animal clinic, had asked. Either way, the twins had a loving dog and it simultaneously pissed off Alice, so Betty was far from complaining.
Salami squirmed so much he came free from his collar.
"Dagwood, I thought you said you tightened it!" Polly groaned.
"I felt bad for him! I didn't want to choke him," Dagwood panicked and the group of four ran after the dog, chasing him through downtown Riverdale.
"This little guy's fast," Betty huffed as they turned yet another corner.
"We'll never get him back!" Juniper wailed.
"Hey, no, we'll catch him!" Polly assured, and as they turned the corner, they did.
Or, rather, someone else had.
Sergeant Salami was jumping up on Jughead's denim-clad legs, yipping and licking and wagging its little tail. Jughead was crouched down, rubbing his head, until he realized there was an audience. He stood, stiff as a board.
Juniper whimpered and Dagwood took two steps back, into the safety of his mother's hands, placed on his shoulder warily.
"He yours, Betts-Betty?" Jughead asked, picking Salami up. The dog snuggled into him, looking none too concerned to be picked up by a man that had three of the four Coopers scared stiff.
"Yes, theirs," Betty said, jerking a hand back toward her niece and nephew. Jughead's smile was almost friendly, but just a bit off. He'd never done well in social situations.
"Bleeding heart, adopted him. Of course."
He handed the dog off.
"Thank you," Polly stuttered out, forcing it more unevenly than she likely would have liked, "Kids, come on," She added in a hissed, harsh whisper.
Betty petted Salami as the four exited into the sunlight from the alley.
"How does he know Salami?" Dagwood asked, frowning.
Betty shrugged.
"It is strange that Salami went right up to him…" Polly looked back, as though the passageway would give her the answers she wanted.
"Do you know him, Aunt Betty?" Juniper asked, "Mom says we shouldn't talk to him."
"We were friends as kids," Betty said quickly.
"Hmm," Polly said knowingly. Of how much she knew, Betty wasn't sure.
"What's that sound?" She tried to sound joking, but she was pretty sure it fell flat.
"It's just...so few people call you Betts. Just...hmm."
"Well, childhood nickname from you all," Before Polly could respond, "Keep Salami in his collar from now on."
"Yes! Of course! I'm so sorry," Dagwood shivered.
Polly still had that look on her face.
Before she could fit all the pieces together, Betty hopped in her car. She saw her family disappearing in the rearview window and part of her prayed whatever Polly was about to guess would vanish too.
