April 3rd, 2019
"Okay, marry us then."
That's what Sweet Pea had said, Betty often thought about with a giggle. Just so simple. An easy, not overly thought out 'just do it' sort of vibe that she could never have had, and Jughead would have never done either. Not that it was bad, but certain moments like these really set the two dark moody Serpents apart from each other and she liked to remember those little things.
"Oh, sweet summer child," Octavia had cackled, "You think it's so simple?"
"I'm not an idiot. I know that in the before, it was a big to-do. I've been to five weddings, Blake," He snapped, which surprised Betty. It had never come up, but now she was curious. Had he worn a tux? A button-down shirt? Or had it been more causal affairs, jeans, American Flags, and Bud Light? Or was that classist of her to even be thinking that? Yeah, probably a bit.
"So you assume it's different now?" She pressed.
"Uhm, yeah," Sweet Pea stared at Octavia like she had gone crazy, "First off, invites. I can't even send wedding invitations to the graves of my friends because I don't know where half of 'em died. Her father won't be walking her down the aisle. Maybe we could manage a cake. Look, don't play dumb."
Betty didn't want to butt in and say that even if her father was alive and here, she didn't really want him walking her down the aisle. The other points were valid, though.
"Who says we can't have nice things?" Octavia asked, totally affronted, gasping and sputtering at Sweet Pea. When those two went toe-to-toe, it really was like they were the same person, just different genders. Same wit, same chips on their shoulders.
"Look, you can't just...get married. Tell them, Brad." Octavia finally said, hitting Brad's shoulder.
Brad just looked up and shrugged, as though to say that even if he disagreed, he was not going to say it in front of Octavia.
"Fine," Sweet Pea narrowed his eyes, "Pray tell. How do we do this?"
"You get a wedding dress and a tux. You get a bouquet of wildflowers. We make a cake. You make vows. We find rings. We get Illian; he's actually ordained."
Betty laughed, interjecting for the first time in this fight. She didn't think she really cared, since before she agreed with Sweets that it was a moot point, but she couldn't help but admit that some part of her wanted the princess experience. Yes, she'd mapped out her theatrical wedding on Pinterest in 8th grade, she'd been one of those girls. She hadn't thought any of that was possible, but now that it seemed Octavia was very much for this...she thought she might be too.
As she rolled through Octaviav's clearly thought-out plan, she was on board until she got to...Illian, was it?
"Who?" She asked.
"Oh, Illian. Right. He helped us." Sweet Pea short-handed, waving to say he'd fill her totally in later, "But you're shitting us, right?"
"Back before the world turned upside down, he did it as a dare one night. He actually has very legally married two other couples in the camp before all this. And c'mon, he'd want to be around to see this happy ending."
"Fine. Go grab him, come back, and we'll do it this weekend."
Octavia and Brad shared expressions.
"What?" Sweet Pea snapped.
"I think we have some shit we have to deal with," Brad said quietly.
"Oh for fuck's sake!" Sweet Pea threw up his hands, "Yes, what you're doing is arguably 'good', but seriously?"
"No, look, really, you'd be doing me a favor," Octavia added, "Give me a reason to come back to society. To return to humanism, you know?" She said, "It would really be doing me a solid."
Betty believed this. Why else would she care when the wedding was? From Sweet Pea's dark eyes it seemed he believed her too. He dropped his hands, sighing hard.
"Okay," He said slowly, "Let's pick a date. Like August 20th or something," He threw out, waving his hand.
"Well, you're the only person that has kept track, but even I'm not sure you're 100% right. No, we need an event, something that we can track." Brad said, rubbing his chin, bringing up a fair point.
They all paused in thought for a second, before Betty offered, "What about at Harvest Moon? That's like...September or October, isn't it?" She said, glancing at the sun, as though it would tell her, "That should give you a few months to go feral and come back," She said, trying to throw in a joke. At least Octavia gave a weak smile. Even if she didn't find it funny, she grinned for Betty's benefit.
"Can I plan it?"
"Jesus! Little Jughead, start wearing a bell," Sweet Pea nearly jumped out of his skin.
"I just want to make the bouquet and the songs and the arrangement and-," As she rambled on, Betty smiled. She'd been Jelly's age when she'd first started pinning ideas for her own wedding. To be so young and carefree really made Betty happy to see in her. Betty had been worried her experience would be too dark to be a child afterward.
"Of course, you can," Betty said, ruffling her hair, "I would want no one else planning my wedding."
"Except maybe Veronica. If she's not full of shit, she used to plan stuff for celebrities," Sweet Pea laughed. Betty rolled her eyes.
"I believe she was at weddings that celebrities were also at, but we know Veronica liked a few tall tales," Betty said, realizing that it didn't hurt as much to think of Veronica. Or Jughead. Or Archie. It was a dull ache, but a good one. A happy one.
"Then it's settled! We will host the best wedding the post-apocalyptic world has ever seen, and probably never will see again, on the Harvest Moon." Octavia seemed young in her excitement too, though she was equal in age to Betty, "C'mon, Jelly. We gotta start making a list."
April 10th, 2019
"Hold still!" Brad groaned as Sweet Pea jerked away from his touch.
"It tickles," He argued, trying to hold in his laughter, but as soon as Brad began tearing up the tape from his neck, he felt the ghostly touches that collapsed him into a fit of laughter.
"I'm going to have to grab your neck, and not in a kinky way, man," Brad said, "This is delicate work! It's your neck! Sit. Still!"
"You think it'll break the wound open again?" Betty asked nervously, placing her hand on top of Sweet Pea's as though to indicate that this was truly a time to sit still. He knew that. He wasn't doing this for shits and giggles.
"No, no," Brad frowned, pausing to look at her, "But I just wouldn't fuck around with this sort of injury, yeah?"
He went in again to try to lift off the tape to similar results.
"Goddamn it…Noah! Sit still!"
That paused Sweet Pea and occupied his mind long enough for Brad to begin to carefully separate his skin from the adhesive.
"Woah, you gotta give me that trick, Doc," Betty laughed at the way Sweet Pea just went absolutely still, scrutinizing him.
"Noah?" Sweet Pea asked with his eyes narrowed.
"Well, you're real name isn't Sweet Pea. Don't know what, don't care what, but I had to call you something." He waved a hand, "Noah seemed suitable."
"What if you're wrong?" Sweet Pea asked with a shit-eating grin, "What if my ma was high as a kite when I was born and named me after a goddamn flower?"
"Sure, wouldn't be the weirdest name I've ever seen," Brad agreed, "But I just have my gut. And my gut is saying that nah, that's not it."
Sweet Pea frowned and Betty could tell he was contemplating keeping up the charade or possibly telling Brad his real name. He never got the chance, because Brad stepped back after dabbing at his neck.
"There. Yeah, looks like it's healing nicely. I'll put another set of gauze on before we leave. Betty will change it maybe two more times, about every month," Brad said.
Sweet Pea craned his neck, wincing as the healing cut moved with him.
"How does it look?" He asked, standing up to search for a mirror.
He saw the jagged line of interrupted flesh through the snake tattoo on his neck and gave a laugh.
"What's the verdict on this?" He asked, directing his question to Betty.
"Well, I recognize it, but I know what it's supposed to be. I suppose if I were seeing it for the first time…" She shrugged, "You know, it may be a little hard to see."
"Huh," Sweet Pea gingerly touched the wound, and then his fingers traced the contours of what once was his beloved neck snake. He'd never named it, it seemed silly, but now he sort of wished he did, so he could give it a proper goodbye.
"How do you feel about that?" Betty asked.
Sweet Pea turned, giving a 'what can you do' sort of smile.
"It's done, right? And I'm alive. I guess the old me would get pissed, but the new me…well, I was very young and very dumb when I got this. It's just a remnant of the past."
"Like clean slate," Brad said, "Maybe your ma was high because I cannot believe she'd let a kid get a neck tattoo," He said with a roll of his eyes.
"She died years before this," Sweet Pea said, "I was left to my own stupid, reckless devices," He pulled his hand away, "I liked the design. Maybe I'll try to re-draw it and get it tattooed somewhere else later on."
"Have fun with sepsis," Brad rolled his eyes, clearly not trusting that they'd be able to sterilize the needles. Betty didn't totally disagree on that front.
"Right, true. Hmm," Sweet Pea sat down to allow Brad to put on the new set of gauze, "Whatever, man. It's just whatever. But remind me to take a shot of something later." He nodded to Betty.
"Why?" Brad asked, "Not that I don't love just taking shots, but why?"
"Always take one when a Serpent goes down," Sweet Pea shrugged.
"Your tattoo?" Brad asked dryly.
"Naw, man, me. Sorta feels like the death of 'Serpent' Sweet Pea, huh?" He asked, glancing at Betty and almost reaching up to brush his ravaged tattoo again.
No one had much to say after that, Sweet Pea was caught up in his own thoughts and Brad did not understand enough to ask more.
And this got Betty thinking. But it wouldn't be a real conversation for at least another month, not until she felt like he'd gotten the chance to mourn this as much as he deserved to.
April 13th, 2019
"Ahem! May I have your attention?" Betty said, clapping lightly at the end of dinner, "Up for your consideration…" She made a dramatic flourish of taking a slip of paper and the mandated black sharpie and writing in all capital letters (a rule made because Brad's normal doctor handwriting was illegible) and penned the name 'MILEY CYRUS'. Then, she took the slip and tacked it very conclusively to the 'Survived' of the board.
"Are we in agreement?" She asked, waving a hand.
"Wait, wait. Is it just Miley Cyrus?" Sweet Pea said, spinning in his chair, "Or Miley Cyrus and Hannah Montana."
"They're the same person," Octavia pointed out.
"I think they're two very different people. Like Jeckle may not be able to survive but Hyde could."
Betty made a beeping-blaring noise, "If you want to discuss that, that's another slip. We're arguing Miley Cyrus right now. I think she's scrappy. I think she could do it. I'm pretty sure she knows how to shoot a gun."
"No, no. Maybe like, a younger Miley Cyrus, but she's useless now. What with her mansion and tour buses and agents…" Brad made a dismissive wave of his hand, "Dead. For sure."
"But hey, money begets survival, right?" Octavia made a weighing motion with her hands, "Depends how stupid we think she is. Did she realize what was going on and get the hell out of dodge, or did she run toward the danger?"
"I'm not sure," Betty admitted and frowned. She did not move her to the 'unknown' middle of the board, because she was sure in her original statement, but Octavia did bring up a well-argued issue.
"All in favor of Miley Cyrus surviving?" Betty said, raising her own hand. Sweet Pea joined. Brad shook his head. Octavia waffled before winching and shaking her head. Jellybean raised her hand.
"Oh, not fair! She's just doing it because it's your slip," Brad huffed.
"Or she really likes Miley Cyrus."
"Doesn't matter," Betty slipped out the blue thumbtack for a red one, "It's been voted."
It was a stupid little game. Something silly to pass the time.
Simple, in conception. Think of a celebrity. Make the case whether they survived or not. Play devil's advocate if you disagree. Vote. Continue to add on.
There wasn't a lot to talk about. No sports games to watch, no new TV shows to dissect and obsess over, no political happenings to get into fights about. You needed something to fill the time. This was it.
"Okay, okay, I got one," Brad raised his hand. He took a slip and wrote 'WOODY HARRLESON' on one and started moving towards the 'survived' category, "Now, c'mon, if anyone had survived, it's this guy. He's been in lots of apocalyptic movies. Seems typecasted. I have to figure that some of that rubbed off on him and-,"
"All in favor?" Sweet Pea asked, reading the room that no one was poised on their seats to argue.
"Yep!" Betty gave a cheery agreement and Octavia followed suit. Brad pouted, as though he wanted an argument. They didn't count Jelly as Betty wasn't sure that Jellybean would know who this actor was.
"But...I...I've really thought about this one," He sighed.
"And we agree," Octavia snorted, "If you wanted to be divisive, you should have said he wouldn't have survived. Then we'd have a real fight on our hands."
"Yeah, you might have walked out of here with a broken jaw," Sweet Pea teased, "He's an easy one."
"You know," Betty said, eyeing the board, "Once we get more people on here, it would be fun to do a study. You know, categorize their age, gender, ethnicity, what skills they have and maybe keep track of how quickly we agreed which categories they fit in."
"You and I have very different ideas of fun," Octavia said, giving Betty a weird look.
"She's a journalist," Sweet Pea said with a hint of pride, "To her, it is fun."
"Yes, maybe interesting would be a better term," Betty rubbed her chin, "See if there are any...criteria that make you theoretically more fit to survive than not. Of course, it's just for shits and giggles. I think that the Predators would be a good example that the type you think would have the deck stacked in their favor in actuality exploded hard."
"Thanks to us!" Octavia cheered, smiles all wide, "Theoretically, we have the deck stacked…" She pointed to each of them, "A doctor, who knows exactly how a body runs...or doesn't. A former gang kid. A daughter of a serial killer. A loose canon that has 'poor decision-making skills', according to my brother Bellamy," she pointed to herself, "And a kid. No one suspects or wants to kill a kid."
"So, you think we're the ideal team?"
"Hell, we're not dead yet."
"If we survive and if things turn around, we're so making this a book deal. Maybe a movie deal." He rubbed his hands together, "Hey, who do you think will play us in the movie adaption?" He asked with a wink, "Can that Timothee guy play me? I think he has the cheekbones to pull me off."
"If he's survived." Octavia put the young actor's name on a sheet, "So, what do we think, all? Dead or alive?"
April 21st, 2019
"I come with snacks."
Betty pulled herself from the pretzel she'd contorted herself to underneath the sink.
"You are my favorite person, ever," She said, reaching eagerly for the plate of chips and dips.
"So, has Octavia talked to you?" Sweet Pea asked, shimmying himself down to sit against the bathroom cabinets.
"About her plans?" Betty shoved an entire chip-boat into her mouth, "Yeah."
"I mean, specifically, about sending people- girls - here."
Betty paused, "I said I was okay with it. Are you not?"
"No, I am. I mean, it's a good thing to do. And it'll only make us stronger having more people to do chores and hunt and cook. I don't think that that part of it bothers me."
Betty set the plate aside, knowing now it was a ticket to talk to her, though that was silly. Sweet Pea could always talk to her, about anything.
"What part does?"
"It's going to sound really stupid," Sweet Pea warned with a quiet laugh.
"No, never," Betty said, knitting her eyebrows.
Sweet Pea locked his jaw, "Do you know why the Serpents have nicknames, Betty?" He asked after a long second. She had a feeling this was connected to whatever was bothering him but couldn't figure out the relationship between the pair. Yet.
"For fun? To make sure that you can't tell the cops anything? I mean, sure, Cayenne Pepper did it, but if you don't know Cayenne's real name, it's sorta moot, right?" She said with a laugh.
"That's an awful nickname. Remind me to never let you have a part in that process," Sweet Pea said and she was pleased to see him smile, "And honestly, sorta, yeah. It protects us. It's a more mental sort of protection. You know how long it took for me to tell you what my real name was. Not until I trusted you."
"Fair. Is that what's bothering you? Sweets, no one is expecting you to welcome them at the door by saying, 'Welcome! My name is Jordan Peabody, I'm a Libra and my favorite color is tangerine."
Sweet Pea, whatever he was about to say, paused, "You know my favorite color?" He asked.
"Of course you doofus. You're my fiancee."
"Right, right. Well, that's not what I mean. I don't even consider Jordan to be 'me'. It's Sweet Pea. And technically Betty is a nickname too. And I'm thinking of Jelly. There are lots of creeps out there, and I dunno, that's her chosen name too and I…" He gnawed his lip, "Would it be really stupid to admit that I don't want to use those names with people? That they can earn the trust like anyone else?"
Betty scooted over to sit next to him, "That's not stupid at all. It's really sweet actually." She tilted her head on his shoulder, "I mean, I can go by Arianrhod. There are a lot of nicknames I could go by. Maybe I'll make a list of 'em and I'll take a vote with everyone here." She said with a smile, "What about you, and Jellybean?"
"I know I just said I didn't want you picking names, but well, pick mine," Sweet Pea said, "Think real hard on it, though. Don't just give me the first stupid one off the top of your head." He said jokingly, "And I'll think about Jelly's. Maybe we'll work on it together. Just…another layer of protection." He kissed her crown, "We gotta protect what's ours."
Betty curled into him, "Damn right we do."
April 25, 2019
"Hey! Brad! Yes, you," Octavia wildly waved Brad over to the living room, "We're about to start watching The Office. Want to join?" She asked, motioning to where Sweet Pea was carefully stacking the mini DVD player so everyone could see it and Jellybean was curled up against Betty with a light blanket thrown over the two.
"I prefer Parks and Rec," Brad said with a roll of his eyes and a sneer, "Or, you know, even Community is far superior. Or oh! Arrested Development. Huh, yeah, Octavia knows what I'm talking about. I saw that grin." Brad continued, as though they had the luxury of a Netflix library.
"Okay, then don't, dude. Jesus." Sweet Pea huffed.
"Did you sign a deal with the devil or something?" Betty said, more offended than apparently, Sweet Pea was, "That you have to be divisive to literally everything? That you can't ever just be un-grumpy?"
"Babe, if he doesn't want to watch, his loss," Sweet Pea waved him off. Sometimes it seemed like they were good friends. Sometimes, to Betty, it seemed like Brad and Sweet Pea hated each other with a passion of a hundred suns. She supposed that's what happened when you become as close as blood to each other.
"Actually yes," Brad said, responding to Betty's snarky question, "How else do you think I paid for med school?"
"Hey, that's one good thing about the end of the world," Betty said with a laugh, "No more college debt."
"Look, look," Octavia interjected, "I enjoy The Office, sure, but I didn't think it was like…god's gift to man before this happened. But, well, you know," She shrugged. Brad just made a grunt, grabbed his water, and disappeared downstairs.
Octavia turned, then peered back to where he'd left, "Anyone wanna bet me their dessert tomorrow that he finds excuses to be up here to watch it secretly, unable to admit he wants to now that he was a jerk?"
"No. I take my dessert seriously," Sweet Pea said, aligning the player just right.
"Plus, I mean, it's a given, isn't it?" Betty said, "What else is he going to do? It's not like we can be picky with media. Heck, I'd even watch Avatar the Last Airbender - the bad live-action- just to find something to do."
"No way," Sweet Pea laughed, "I'd rather watch paint dry. Still."
"You mean the blue dudes?" Octavia frowned.
Betty and Sweet Pea blinked at her.
"Note to self. Find Avatar box set," Sweet Pea said, "And force Octavia to sit through a marathon."
"Can we start?" Jelly asked impatiently.
"Of course. Yeah, let's fire her up, Sweets," Betty said, kicking Sweet Pea's leg with her socked foot.
It didn't really matter that neither Octavia nor Jellybean were starting with the first episode. This was the sort of TV show you could jump into it anywhere. And, as Betty pointed out, it was just nice to watch something from the life before.
As expected, Brad first came up with the excuse he needed more water. Then, he just lingered. When he came up again, it was searching for his glasses, which he almost never wore. Finally, on the third time, Sweet Pea paused it.
"Come sit down you idiot," He said, "We won't tell anyone you actually find joy in anything. Secret's safe with us."
"I…I'm not watching that," Brad stuttered, jaw locked.
"Brad! Sit down!" Jellybean commanded, screwing her face into a frown, "Sit down and shut up!"
"Hey, hey, language!" Betty tutted.
"High-five, sister," Octavia said with a wicked grin.
To everyone's shock, Brad obediently sat on an armchair. At everyone's surprised expressions, his face red, he muttered, "I'm not gunna say no to a kid."
And they continued to watch.
After an episode and a half, Brad just gave a long sigh. Betty kicked his shin.
"Shoo, if you're going to be a grump," She said.
"No, it's not that," Brad bit his lip, letting it go slowly, "I just miss this."
"The Office? Didn't we just have a long discussion about you hating it?" Sweet Pea raised an eyebrow.
"No, I miss T.V. You know, having a T.V. show air every week and getting excited to watch it. Or binging an entire series when Netflix releases it. The anticipation of something new," He looked up, out the darkened windows, "We're never gunna get that again, not without a miracle."
"Well, okay, Mr. Doom and Gloom," Octavia gave a half-choked laugh, "Way to be a pessimist."
"I just miss it," Brad said simply, and Betty couldn't help but agree and she found herself nodding her head in agreement with that statement.
"You know what I miss?" Betty asked, "Dominos Pizza. Stupid, I know. It was terrible. It's not good pizza. But I miss it; the childish joy when your mom announced you were getting it for dinner to congratulate me or my sister for a good grade or something…the arrival…the gooey cheese. Ugh," Betty laid her head back against the couch, "Mouth is literally watering right now."
"I miss Softball games," Jellybean said, and it seemed Brad had unintentionally begun something. But perhaps they needed this- a sort of catharsis to mourn what they'd lost. Stupid things. They all obviously missed their family and loved ones, but maybe they did need to talk about the silly things that were gone too.
"Hell, we can play Softball with ya!" Sweet Pea nudged Jelly, "Before these two head off, we'll do a game."
Jellybean gave him a withering pre-teen look, "Are you twelve?" She asked sarcastically, "Can you re-create the smell of the fresh-cut grass? The hand-me-down uniforms? The Concessions hot dog in those little paper boats? Can you gossip with me like you're in middle school?" She asked, "Can you…make sure my dad or mom is in the stands to cheer me on?"
"Awe, shit, kid," Sweet Pea sighed, "I was feeling pretty confident I could try to do all of that before you got to the last one. I'm still going to do my best to try."
"I miss my brother. Specifically, I miss annoying the crap out of him about stupid things. Like leaving the keys somewhere other than the very specific key ring he labeled for it. Or eating half of his takeout that he didn't write his name on, so it's free game for anyone, even if I knew it was his. Or asking him a million questions right before he went to work on things I could totally Google myself," Octavia gave a twitch of a smile, "And I miss this little Farmer's Market we'd go to on the weekend after Bell decided we were 'going more green'...as in eating more leafy things and taking fewer trips to grocery stores. I would give anything for one more summer day there."
"I miss my favorite perfume I used to wear every day," Betty added.
"I miss the smell of antiseptics in this hospital I used to work at," Brad jumped in, "And the particular soap that I'd use to scrub in. It smelled like nothing and every soap ever all at the same time."
Soon it was a flurry of everyone just quipping little things they missed; anything from favorite flavors of Ice Cream, spots they used to frequent, little things they'd had in their room or around their town, or moments that they probably weren't going to get back again.
Sweet Pea stayed silent, wondering how many of these- at least for Jelly or Betty- he could try to fix? He didn't want them sad. He could trample around a TJ Maxx to find Betty's perfume. He could try to organize a softball game. Doable, see?
"What about you, big guy?" Brad finally asked, realizing that Sweet Pea had been silent.
Sweet Pea waffled. He really enjoyed this life and didn't think about home often. And when he did, it was the big things he missed - like Fangs or Toni- and if he started, he was seriously worried he'd start crying because he hadn't let himself think about them for a very long time. All the little things were just paper in the wind, things he could so easily let go of.
But everyone was being vulnerable right now with each other, a bonding experience he could not let go to waste. So, he thought hard and then smiled.
"I miss those warm nights you could just walk outside and the temperature didn't change. And I miss sitting on the roof of my house with my friends and trying to re-name the constellations." He said, feeling something bubbling in his throat, "There's not a whole lot I miss otherwise, though," He added, looking away, "My life was pretty terrible before this, so…"
"I think it's okay not to miss things," Jellybean said sagely, and he realized that out of any, she'd understand the best, "Because I'm pretty happy with things here and now."
"Yeah," Sweet Peas said, looking at his little found family with a sense of relief and finally feeling like he fit perfectly in the space he was, "Me too."