Yay! It feel so good to be here, posting a chapter!
Thank you so, so much for reading along. :)
Natureliesbeneath, thanks not only for reviewing, but for sending even more notes and impressions(!). It was such an encouragement, as you can see. I was having A Week And A Half and I actually got up early today and got my butt in gear in large part because I really, really wanted to get this chapter up for you. I hope you enjoy, and that it finds you at some perfect time and place! :) And yeah, I am wondering when the feathers will begin to fly too... and you put your finger right on so many of the dynamics, from Richard and Gladys to the wolfpack to the wolf pack girls (I love that!). Your notes never fail to help me see more angles and offshoots of the story, and you make it richer every time. A million thanks!
Woodscolt215, I am so glad! I hope it stays working (preferably forever!) and I don't have to migrate platforms(!). Keep me posted!
LeafGreene01, thank you so much for your note as well. And yeah, I am always on the verge of a sympathy migraine for poor FP when I write him in this story... He is having a rough time for sure. :-D I hope you enjoy this chapter as well, and that the story continues to be chaostastic for you!
Enjoy!
-Button
00000
"Hey, nice work, Sport," Richard said as he grabbed Jughead's shoulders from behind and gave them a shake.
"I, uh, I think I'm done," Jughead said with a shaky laugh.
"No way. We've got the best one coming up next. You can't drop the ball now." Richard pointed down the snow-covered path ahead of them now that they'd made it to the top of the boulder they'd just scaled.
Or, to be precise: the ice-slick, wet boulder they had just survived scrambling up, complete with desiccated moss – or was it lichen? – that had dislodged under Jughead's sneakers when he tried to get purchase. And, you know, not fall to his death.
Or at least not fall and get massively bruised.
They were bouldering, after all, and not scaling anything that absolutely required ropes or harnesses.
At least, that's what Richard had claimed.
Jughead was increasingly curious about what Google would have to say on the subject, once he had cellphone reception again.
He really didn't need to wonder what Brand would say. This was beyond forbidden as far as his godfather was concerned.
"You've got this. And those photos were something; your mother's gonna love them." Richard grinned. "Now, show me what you've got; take the lead on this next one up ahead."
Jughead took a deep breath to slow his heart and try to settle his quaking muscles. He'd been gripping the rock far too tightly, and he was shockingly sore after just the single brief climb.
"I'll be right on your tail, so let me know if you get into any trouble. Don't be a hero," Richard coached as they approached a boulder that was at least fifteen feet taller than the one they'd just attempted.
"Uh, well, I-,"
"Go." Richard made the command immutable with a shove between Jughead's shoulder blades. "I didn't take you out here because you're a wimp. Or a slacker."
Jughead stumbled forward and his hands made contact with cold, wet stone.
There was Richard behind him and a sheer climb ahead of him.
At least one of the problems made sense.
Jughead reached up and his right hand found what felt like a secure handhold. He pulled a handful of mud out of it, shaking the sludge off and then replacing his hand. Good; the handhold felt solid now.
It was just him against the wall. Nothing else had to matter; not until he was at the top and the rest of the world surrounded him once more.
Just the thought made Jughead want to slump with relief. He was warmed up and this was a challenge he could beat, cleanly and soundly.
When he pushed off the ground this time, Jughead wasn't holding on too tightly.
He was moving steadily from hold to hold when Richard called after him to wait up.
Jughead barely registered the sound, and didn't fully process the words until he was nearly at the top.
"Hey!" Richard shouted from where he'd barely gotten off the ground. "Are you listening to me? This isn't some kind of competition."
Jughead laughed. "Good thing; if it was, I'd be winning."
Something passed over Richard's expression, though he was too far below Jughead for it to be clear what the emotion was.
Oh well; they'd finally found something that they both enjoyed. Jughead fully intended to relax into the unexpected oasis that represented in their fraught relationship.
He hauled himself over the top of the boulder and was relieved when the world returned – but the flooding sensation of overwhelm that had been swamping him for days stayed at bay.
For the first time since the tour, Jughead felt like his chest could accept a deep breath fully and freely.
And then, a few sharp, cleansing breaths later, Jughead felt a sob rising in his throat to choke him.
But then, before Jughead could figure out why he was suddenly being overwhelmed by a random emotion, something slammed into him from behind.
Jughead fell flat and landed sternum first on the rock face, troublingly numb from the cold and his own adrenaline, but hearing a sickening crunch of what he hoped was snow and ice – and not his ribs.
"Were you talking about winning? That requires undivided focus. At all times," Richard hissed into Jughead's left ear.
Jughead shuddered away from his stepfather's hot breath.
"You might think you're just climbing," Richard continued harshly, "but you still gotta keep your six covered. When you spar, you still watch out for a cliff. When you swim, you gotta think about drowning – but you never lose sight of the concept of flying and the possibility of crash landing."
Jughead began to struggle under his stepfather's weight, gasping for breath and wondering if the new crushing feeling in his chest was a panic attack or actual physical damage.
Or if he'd hit his head – again – because Richard's words were not making any sense.
"You don't get out of line, either. Doesn't matter what the activity is; you show some respect." Richard spat the last words out, grabbing the back of Jughead's neck as he did so, and pulling him up from the snowy ground.
Jughead gulped for air; thankfully it came easily.
Whew. No real damage had been done, then.
And yeah, okay, he knew Richard didn't like to be challenged. That had been a stupid, impulsive thing to say from the top of the boulder.
Jughead knew what to do now, though; he ducked away and kept his eyes down. "I'm sorry. You're right. I wasn't thinking; that was… wrong of me."
"Yeah. It was." Richard sounded calmer already. Good. "Completely wrongheaded. I'm glad to hear you can see that."
There was a long silence while they both caught their breath before Richard spoke again: "You're not a bad kid, you know. I just get the sense you haven't spent a lot of time with anyone outside of your home unit. And they're not exactly…"
Jughead wasn't sure how Richard would have ended that sentence if he hadn't trailed off, but it didn't matter: it was completely true that the wolf pack wasn't exactly anything.
"Anyway. No hard feelings. Just don't let it happen again." Richard held out a hand to Jughead.
Jughead nodded quickly, silently, and reached toward his stepfather's hand.
"You're shaking," Richard observed as he took Jughead's hand firmly. "Pull yourself together. I already told you you've got this. And you obviously need this. So let's do it again; next boulder."
Richard pulled Jughead so hard that he stumbled past the larger man, and his stepfather patted his shoulder once, almost comfortingly, as he did so. "You know, you've got potential. I see a lot of me in you. A lot of your mother, too, as long as I squint."
Jughead felt a rush of surprised pleasure as Richard's hand gripped his shoulder and then let him go with another rough push toward the next climb.
The more he got to know him, the more it was apparent that Richard wasn't so bad after all. Jughead had simply needed to learn the ropes with him – what the man wanted from his new stepson – and to then, crucially, remember those rules.
And you know, not to brag too much about an exceptionally hard-earned ability, but Jughead was pretty good at following the unspoken rules of a mercurial adult.
"I'm gonna talk you up this next one," Richard announced cheerfully. "We'll really put you through your paces that way; no cheats or shortcuts. It's the only way you'll get good at this."
Jughead nodded agreeably – silent acquiescence tended to go best with Richard, he'd noticed – and walked on to the next boulder.
Taking orders was another one of his well-honed talents.
And hey, Jughead thought with a warm glow inside, it was entirely possible that Betty was having the same epiphany about her own parents, now that Jughead had been able to put some of this realization into words in a text for her.
It had been an almost magical recipe with his mother and with Richard, and with any luck Betty would see a huge turnaround in her relationship with her parents as well.
She just needed to learn the rules. Follow orders. Do anything she could to figure out how to make the adults happy, and then her own happiness would follow - because the adults would be pleased, they would relax, and then they would be loving and affectionate again.
That would take a huge weight off of Betty.
Jughead was smiling at the thought as he approached the next boulder.
"Not there," Richard called. Somehow he'd fallen a little behind again; Jughead slowed his gait immediately to let his stepfather catch up.
He also needed to get more information. Jughead was clearly in front of the easiest place to begin his ascent of the next boulder.
"To the left, over there." Richard motioned to a steeper, slicker portion of rock with fewer obvious holds. "Let's give you a real challenge."
Jughead grimaced but did not object. He was also not surprised when he started up the wall, clinging to the barest of ripples in the rock, and Richard himself started up the easier route.
"Hey, don't give me that look," Richard snapped irritably. "I would much rather be where you are. But someone's gotta coach and keep an eye on things."
Uh-huh. Jughead hid his skeptical reaction, though.
He was finally catching on to this family harmony thing, and he wasn't about to screw it up now.
"You aren't shaking anymore," Richard observed with deep satisfaction. "You got some focus in you, too, after all. I'd say we're accomplishing what we came out here to do."
Jughead could only manage a brief smile as he focused on finding any purchase at all on the rock face in front of him.
But yeah. Richard had a point about that too.
Aside from that weird moment at the top of the last boulder.
But hadn't Richard been the one to snap Jughead out of that too?
Jughead grimaced thoughtfully as his left hand reached and then scrabbled when he didn't find purchase right away.
Family was often tricky, sure, but he was proving that the relationships could also be simple. Just follow the steps.
And then this could happen: a new stepfather might see things about you - things that you lack and things that you need - that you didn't even realize.
Hopefully Betty would find that too. And, in any event, Jughead fully intended to enjoy his discovery as much as possible.
00000
"Oh."
Betty had finally gotten a clear opening to pull Brand aside and to show him the text.
And that was his response, apparently: a single syllable.
Which, to be fair, was one more syllable than anyone else seemed capable of at the moment.
Sweet Pea and Tim were downing coffee like they were rehydrating after a marathon - and maybe also a stint in a sauna.
Betty wondered idly what the lethal dose of caffeine was, and how far along those two were so far in their pursuit of it.
FP had disappeared as quickly as he had appeared. Brand had made an obviously flawed bid for taking the blame - one of his more problematic, albeit endearing habits - and FP had raised one hand in a motion that looked for a split second like he was going to flip off Jughead's godfather.
Then, shoulders slumping, FP had waved the hand dismissively, turned on his heel, and headed up the flight of stairs to his bedroom.
Brand had smirked, walked over to the whiteboard, and made a dramatic, flourishing tick mark.
"Davies," Tim had groaned in protest of whatever the tick mark indicated.
"Eh, no, it stands." Brand shook his head slowly, in a pained martyr fashion that was only made more obviously false by his continued smirk. "Let the old man score his points where he can."
That more or less exemplified the problem with Brand taking the blame.
It wasn't done out of a sense of duty so much as a sense that he, the great Brandon Davies, could absorb all of the hits that the world could dish out - and shield everyone else... ideally without breaking a sweat.
It wasn't quite boastful when Brand did it, but it definitely was not private. Or anything that could pass for meek.
Betty's forehead wrinkled as she considered the text for a moment through that lens. Hmmm. Jughead might be taking after his godfather.
"I was worried about this," Brand muttered quietly as he continued to study the text message, almost to himself. "He's just..."
"A jerk? Or a guy whose brain took one too many hits," Alice supplied brightly, leaning over the kitchen island to bodily insinuate herself into the conversation.
Unfortunately Sweet Pea and Tim were not the only people to have downed altogether too much coffee.
So far it wasn't making Alice any more helpful with her opinions. Nor was the reveal that Sweet Pea was literally a brother to Finn. Foster brother, but Betty was pretty sure that not only counted - but was also somewhat secondary to the brotherhood of them both being Serpents. Sort of.
Being born into the Serpents wasn't quite the same thing as officially joining, if Jughead was any indication. But it certainly seemed like young kids were fully fledged until they came to the age where they had to declare allegiance - or break away.
Like the Amish.
Or... not like the Amish, Betty amended sheepishly. Basically nothing like the Amish. Except in that one specific procedural thing, anyway.
Anyway, for a time Alice had been uncharacteristically quiet. But she'd been matching Sweet Pea's coffee intake and apparently been fueling up for an outburst.
Brand massaged his eyes instead of responding to Alice.
"See? I'm right. I told you that was what was-,"
"Tim, take a look at this text," Brand interrupted Alice. "Does it sound like someone you know?"
Tim took the phone, shifting Finn to his other arm and slowly, reluctantly brought his gaze down to the screen. "I don't really want to get in the middle of-,"
Tim cut himself off as he squinted at the phone. "Is this from Jughead?"
"Uh, yeah." Alice's sarcastic tone could be forgiven. Tim must be really out of it if he hadn't gathered that much from their conversation already.
Tim handed the phone back to Brand, his expression worried. "Well. I don't like the sound of that at all."
Okay. That sounded really bad. Worse than she had thought, for sure.
"Do you think it's a symptom of his fall? When he hit his head?" Betty looked from one man to the other, feeling her heart beat faster.
"What? No." Brand gave Betty an impatient look. "It's a symptom of his being a good little soldier who can... I don't even remember all the ways Agent Quinn's said it. Contort himself until he fits into anything resembling a hospitable nook or cranny? And then make it his own private haven, even if there's a full on tornado and an avalanche-,"
"Pretty sure that's only possible in the marvelous land of Oz," Alice interjected super, super helpfully.
"-and a wildfire surrounding him," Brand finished, shooting Alice a baleful look. He tapped a finger against the phone screen to indicate the text message. "Look... definitely take his advice if you're ever cornered by a serial killer."
Tim sucked in a sharp breath. When Betty's eyes snapped to him, Tim grimaced.
"What?" Betty asked Tim.
"I wouldn't have put it quite that way," Tim said hesitantly, "but... Brand has a way with words."
Huh. Tim actually agreed with Brand. That meant Betty had to take this analysis very seriously.
"Jones can be overly compliant... at, uh, certain times." Now Brand looked as uncomfortable as a cat in a monsoon.
"'Certain times'?" Alice echoed with a harsh laugh. "Do you maybe mean, I don't know, when he's getting his wrists bruised to hell-,"
"Enough." Tim's voice suddenly boomed through the kitchen. "That is quite enough."
Brand was staring down Alice, who only then seemed to realize what she'd been saying.
Alice's cheeks turned pink and she dropped her eyes.
There was a long, tense silence.
Eventually Brand arched his neck to one side until it cracked, and then shook out his shoulders roughly. A moment later he seemed to have regained his composure - and his expression was studiously neutral.
Oh. He was literally shaking it off.
Betty bit her lip and thought it through. She did so silently, so she wouldn't follow Alice's lead and blurt out something that has been sealed, or classified, or the next best thing to it.
Yikes.
Okay. So. According to Brand, Jughead was recommending what (Brand and Tim assumed) he himself was likely doing with his own mother. And, according to Brand and Tim, it wasn't good advice unless Betty - or Jughead - was in severe and immediate danger.
The calculation wasn't difficult.
Brand figured that meant Jughead was being actively threatened, in spite of all appearances on every major social media platform.
Or... Betty considered Brand's words again. 'A good little soldier' hadn't sounded like a compliment.
Was Jughead reverting to active crisis mode out of habit, then, even though there was no active threat?
And if so, how would they be able to tell the difference?
Betty frowned, wondering how Brand could divine that.
And then, with all the force of a brick wall, she realized what was - and had been - bothering everyone.
In spite of the texts, in spite of the social media presence, and in spite of it being Jughead's actual mother...
There was no way of knowing whether Jughead was completely okay and having a pleasant breather reconnecting with his mother. Or if he was a hostage, fearing for his safety.
Or if he was fine, with no threat present, but having a panic attack anyway, out of... well, out of habit. A very nasty habit.
And, as long as they could not be sure, there was every possibility of screwing things up - badly - if they guessed wrong.
No wonder FP was acting like he was being coerced by someone holding Jughead at gunpoint.
No wonder Brand was acting like he desperately wanted everyone around him to shut up and leave so he could make some psychotically violent plan and execute it singlehandedly.
Jughead wasn't the only one with a pattern of reverting to nasty habits when he was stressed.
Betty felt her expression slacken with realization - so this was why Tim was staying here like a glorified babysitter - and she looked up to see Brand watching her closely.
"So. You got any other texts you want to share with me?" Brand's expression was still completely blank, but there was a tightness to his eyes that belied how tense he was.
"If it's helpful, you can read them all," Betty offered, her eyes wide. "He's been texting a lot since... the tour."
Betty couldn't bring herself to repeat even a portion of the highlight reel of horrors that had presaged Jughead leaving with Gladys.
Brand handed Betty her phone. "Nah. Why don't you just pick out the weirdest ones. I'm going to be in enough trouble for even that much once he finds out about this."
Betty had to stifle a smile at that. And... maybe it wasn't all dire if Brand was thinking about preserving Jughead's privacy or worrying about getting a lecture from his godson.
"Are we looking for a code?" Alice asked perkily. "Secret code phrases?"
"No. We are looking for Jonas," Veronica suddenly spoke up, correcting Alice sternly. "So listen up, because you might actually have some insights."
Betty looked over at Veronica, surprised and grateful.
"Not a bad call, Lodge," Brand said, his tone similarly surprised. "That's one way to play it."
"Why are you surprised? I have been paying attention," Veronica folded her arms. "Start with the one about the coat. I still can't figure out why he'd be replacing Richard's and that was like a minute after he left the tour."
Brand's eyebrows went up.
And yeah, now that Betty was looking for it, everything about Brand's expression screamed 'psychotically violent plan.'
It was a testament to Brand's immense self restraint and, presumably, his desire for Jughead to have a shot at renewing his relationship with Gladys that Brand had acquiesced so far to what was now abundantly clearly someone else's plan.
It had to be SAC Wilson's plan, Betty realized. There weren't really a whole lot of other possibilities.
Betty frowned down at her phone, every text suddenly morphing into a clue that she should have been cataloging - piecing together - and analyzing all this time.
What an idiot she'd been, taking Jughead's enthusiastic correspondence at face value. How silly, reading his texts wholly in terms of their relationship and what they meant to one another.
After all, their relationship was never that simple.
"Never mind, I'll just read all of 'em and take the heat later," Brand interrupted impatiently. He had the phone away from Betty in an instant and began to scroll.
Yeah. Brand's expression was a little too hungry as he eagerly devoured each text - each clue - for any shred of evidence that his godson was in danger.
Or, perhaps, for any excuse to take out his stress, frustrations, and regrets on someone. Anyone.
That was completely possible. She felt her stomach begin to ache with tension as Brand continued to scroll and began muttering under his voice as he did so.
Betty looked over at Tim, and it was a relief to see that he was staring at Brand uneasily too.
"Yeah. I see what you mean. I don't like the sound of this coat thing either," Brand finally said, his tone eerily cold. He gave Alice a sharp nod as he held out the screen to her. "Give these two texts a read. You getting Jonas from them?"
By now everyone in the room had picked up on the scary energy Brand was giving off. Even Alice was staring at Brand nervously, and that was wildly out of character for her.
"O-okay, that's enough," Tim interjected, moving to block Alice from reading off of the phone screen. "I don't think this is productive. In fact-,"
"Let me see it."
Everyone's heads swiveled to look up the stairs to where FP had reappeared without warning.
"Uh, FP, you know what? I was just saying that I don't think-," Tim held up both hands as if he was directing traffic.
"You want to have a prayer of keeping Davies from upping his body count?" FP asked in a low tone that Betty had never heard from him before. "I'm your only hope, Tim."
His voice radiated with a dark emphasis that made Betty's skin crawl with the urge to get away - it felt like a reflexive instinct to get out of range from whatever would come next.
Brand was staring at FP with an icy expression that Betty had never seen before, and the body count comment was just hanging there with nobody acknowledging it as a joke.
Tim pulled out his own phone and began to dial.
"By the time the SAC gets here-," Brand began, but Tim cut him off.
"I'm not calling her."
"You cannot call Jughead," FP said flatly, but somehow it came out as an order.
"Oh, don't you worry, I'm not doing that either," Tim said, his watchful eyes never leaving the two men in front of him as his phone began to ring.
Both Brand and FP made identical faces of confusion - and then someone picked up on the other end.
"Get over here. They're losing it."
Tim's assessment seemed completely correct for about a second longer - and then, in unison, both FP and Brand relaxed their postures... and their expressions lightened.
"Tim," FP said gently, chidingly. "Seriously?"
"Way to hit the panic button," Brand added with a smirk.
Betty felt the tension disappear from the room almost instantly. The intensity of the abrupt relief made her want to laugh, even though that didn't make any sense.
Man, she must really be tense. She'd gotten herself all worked up as if they were actually going to do something crazy, like-
"Cut that out. Don't you even think about playing me," Tim snapped at the two men, glowering at them.
Both men reverted in a split second to their glaring intensity, and Betty felt her own breath catch.
"I wasn't born yesterday. She'll be here in fifteen minutes or less, and she will talk some sense into you both." Tim crossed his arms as if he was a sentry standing between FP and Brand and... insanity. Or something. At the very least, bad decisions.
"Take your phone, Betty, and go home. Don't tell anyone we're here." Tim motioned for the teenagers to leave, without looking away from Brand or FP. "I don't think I need to tell you that I'm serious about that."
Betty nodded and then obeyed without hesitation. She was even more relieved when Alice was the first one out the door; she hadn't wanted one more battle with her over-caffeinated and overly contrary friend.
The door clicked shut behind them.
"I don't think Tim can take them if it comes to a fight," Veronica said worriedly as they stood on the stoop, unsure whether they should stay or leave. "I mean, even if he wasn't holding a baby."
Her words should have sounded insane.
They didn't.
A car pulled onto the street, moving far too quickly for the residential neighborhood.
Betty recognized it, and felt confident for the first time that day. "Maybe not. But she can."
Sarah Quinn hopped out of the car, gave them an exasperated look, and then pushed past into the house.
And, just like that, the spell was broken and they were back to a regular sunny winter day in Riverdale where these kind of concerns were completely, even laughably, unfounded.
"Drama queens," Alice said dismissively, her flippant tone back in force. "All of them."
"Yes. Clearly that is the issue," Veronica responded sarcastically.
"Agent Quinn will figure it out," Betty said with more assurance than she felt. "Whatever's going on with them."
Her phone buzzed with a text.
It was a photo of Jughead, taken somewhere in the woods. He was muddy and pink-cheeked from being out in the cold.
He also had a large bruise purpling the left side of his face and a filthy abrasion on his chin.
Betty stared at the photo, her expression creasing with concern - and conflicting emotions.
The caption was brief and cheerful: 'Rock climbing! Back on the horse. Or hair of the dog, maybe?'
And... that really was the question, wasn't it?
Betty shoved her phone in her pocket. She was going to need a minute before she was up to responding.
00000
Sarah Quinn eyed the standoff before her. It spread from the kitchen area to the living room to the stairs that led to the bedrooms.
Every eye was on her, waiting for her to make the first move.
Fine. Game on.
"Riddle me this," Sarah drawled, hoping she'd be able to get their attention and firmly – finally – put this fool impulse to bed for the two men who were obviously fighting (and losing) against every instinct in order to stand down and resign themselves to leaving Jughead with his mother and Richard.
Which, to be honest, was an arrangement that made Sarah cringe too, albeit for reasons that the two men were not privy to.
Quinn saw the carpet with Jughead's blood-soaked silhouette in her nightmares. It wasn't any sort of a leap to believe that Jughead was in far worse shape over experiencing the events that had led to its creation.
Nevertheless, sympathetic though she was, that didn't change the current situation and what Sarah needed the wolf pack to do.
The men were staring at Sarah, waiting for her to continue. Good; she had their attention now, and she wasn't going to squander this opportunity.
"Why are they here?" Sarah motioned to Tim, Sweet Pea, and Finn.
"So nobody comes after him," Brand said, jerking a thumb at Tim.
"But... why?" Sarah asked again. The men looked at her like she was asking a foolish question. She sighed. "How about this. What is the rallying cry of the Southside right now?"
"That law enforcement is stealing their children," FP rumbled. He was clearly in rough shape, and Sarah felt a sharp stab of guilt over the information she was keeping from him about Jughead.
She forced her expression to remain neutral as she nodded. "Yeah. And right now, FP, you're the natural ally of the Southside. Brand here is law enforcement and he took your kid."
Sarah waited a beat, but none of the men seemed to get it.
"You want to hand control of the Southside over to Gladys? The woman who is well-liked, but not beloved?" Sarah left a long beat for emphasis before she finished her thought: "I'll tell you how. You make yourself look like a turncoat. You come into the Southside with law enforcement," Sarah pointed at Brand so he would not miss her meaning, "and you take her child away. A child who is demonstrably and emphatically fine, according to every social media platform."
That shut them up.
For a few seconds, anyway.
Then FP ran his hands over his head with agitation. "So this is about the case?"
Oy.
"Obviously it's not just about the-," Sarah objected, but FP talked right over her.
"Because I have a big problem with-," FP continued heatedly.
"Who is enemy number one?" Sarah interrupted loudly.
FP shut his mouth again, but he was glaring suspiciously at her and was obviously reluctant to answer – he didn't want to risk playing into her hands.
He was awfully smart; Sarah was reminded of that again and again.
"Brandon Davies," Sweet Pea offered dryly.
Well. That might actually be true, Sarah thought. She cocked her head to one side and waited for another response, though, because that wasn't the answer she needed them to come up with. And so far at least, the Socratic Method was getting somewhere with them; she wasn't going to risk changing it up now.
"No, Sweet Pea," Tim said wearily. "It's whoever turned over the information about all of the minors."
He was another smart cookie, Sarah reflected. People being a little too smart for their own good were making her job far more difficult than it needed to be, but in this moment, it was working in her favor.
"Bingo," Sarah said. She snapped her fingers sharply, startling FP and Brand, both of whom looked as though they were a million miles away as they absorbed what she was trying to tell them.
"So. We don't rock the boat. We don't change the status quo. Not yet." Sarah looked from Brand to FP. They both frowned but neither objected this time.
Whew. All right. Crisis averted.
Only then Sarah caught a slight movement in the corner of her eye as Sweet Pea looked from FP to Brand and then back again.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Sweet Pea said loudly. "Jughead's the reason we're here?"
Make that three men in the room who were altogether too smart, Sarah corrected herself as she silently cursed the teenager's astute observation.
"Ha." Brand's laugh sounded bitter - and involuntary. He massaged his forehead and his neck.
Sarah stared at him; something looked off about the gesture. She couldn't put her finger on what it was, but–
"Oh." Sweet Pea's voice was flat with disdain, and he had lost any trace of indignant surprise. "Never mind. I guess Davies really is public enemy number one."
Sarah made her expression blank as she realized why the gesture looked wrong, and clocked what Brand had just done: with a single syllable and nervous gesture – faked, she was realizing, since his dominant hand was massaging his forehead and usually it was the other way around – he'd thrown Sweet Pea off the scent.
Brand's eyes came up just long enough to lock with hers in a plea that was easier to understand than to comply with: 'please do not screw this up.'
"Leave it." FP interrupted, summoning Sweet Pea's attention to himself. "Davies isn't worth it. And we need him."
Sweet Pea looked completely thrown by FP addressing him, let alone taking his side against Davies. The teen stared up the stairs with wide eyes, as if he was afraid to trust what he had just heard.
"Is there any more coffee?" FP added, motioning Sweet Pea toward the coffeepot. "I know you know how I take it."
When the teen nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to get FP a cup of coffee, FP took advantage of his distraction to give Sarah a weary nod of acquiescence.
Brand motioned in order to get FP's attention - and gave him a heartfelt gesture of thanks.
FP's eyebrows lowered in response; in fact, he looked downright offended.
Well, that made sense. If Sarah was reading the room correctly, Davies was thanking FP for protecting his own son. Brand must think it was some sort of big deal for FP to distract Sweet Pea.
Tim made his way over to Sarah and, when it could not be seen by the others, he widened his eyes meaningfully and then tipped his head toward FP and then Brand. Then he shook his head with a grimace.
Yeah.
She and Tim were in way over their heads trying to keep those two under control.
Sarah just had to hope that she'd managed to put the situation into enough perspective to persuade them not to do anything stupid. At least for a day or two.
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Everyone is ready to combust. :-D (just the way I like it? Maybe?) I hope you enjoyed! As always, I will love any and all notes. Thanks so much for reading along! I hope you are doing well and having a lovely week!
-Button