Chapter Text
Archie convinced Jughead to live in East Village. Which was quite a feat in Jughead’s books as East Village is a corporate sell out of its once vibrant self. But the company is paying their rent and they might as well carry out juvenile Archie’s fantasy while they're stationed in Manhattan, however long this particular brand of torture is slated to last.
Jughead leaves his leather coat behind most days, he no longer ties his identity to the skin of a dead cow. He could be wearing rags from a gutter or the finest suit Gucci has to offer but he's still a Serpent underneath.
The flannel however, is a little harder to leave behind.
He knows it makes him stick out in the East Side bar. He's sitting between Archie, who looks like he walked out of a GQ catalogue, and the FBI agent who looks like....well, an FBI agent.
“Have you thought more about the case?” Agent Adams asked, his fingers rimmed around a dewey glass of water.
Jughead waited a second, and let the pause become pregnant as Archie cast a long pitiful look at Jughead. Adams’ papers all checked out, as did his background check and all the info Jughead got from him. The very same info that has Archie chomping at the bit to investigate and take on the actual mob.
“Do I need to remind you that time is of the essence here?”
Maybe it was Adams’ piss-poor attitude that had Jughead pausing.
Archie’s eyes burned into the side of his face, urging him to take on the case. The enthusiasm was nothing new. Archie had a bit of problem with the chain of command, which was that as far as the Serpents went; Archie was the bottom of the chain. Hell, even Cheryl was higher than him.
However, Jughead had his own chain of command to worry about. FP Jones said jump so Jughead said;
“We’re taking it.”
________
“There she is, the most dangerous woman in New York,” Jughead said, jerking his chin towards Magnolia Bakery, at the dark haired girl who stepped up to the counter. She's, of course, more beautiful than any other girl he's ever seen in his life, second only to her companion who looks like she should be stepping onto the set of a Hitchcock film to be terrorized by his particular brand of awful.
“Doesn't Hiram have a wife we could go after?” Archie asked, folding his arms and tucking his hands into the creases between his impossibly large biceps and his pecs.
“Hermione Lodge hasn't been seen in just as many years as Hiram lodge. The only member who is ever seen out in public is the one before us eating a carrot cake cupcake with her gal pal and trusted confidant, Betty Cooper.” The Serpents know him for his research skills, which is why it particularly irks that him all he knows is she eats vanilla cupcakes, she's friends with Veronica Lodge, and her name is Betty Cooper. Hell, he was the only one who could find dirt on Penny Peabody and get her excommunicated for good, but he can’t find anything on an All-American-Girl from Long Island?
“How'd you know they'd be here?”
“Well Betty strongly dislikes social media, no Facebook, no insta, nothing, but Ronnie here loves herself some attention and charity. They're buying up a few hundred cupcakes to bring up to some kids at a school in Spanish Harlem. The very same kids that Lodge Charities are sponsoring through college.”
Jughead shoots a sidelong glance towards Archie who is nodding, retaining information as he does his best to learn. It's hard to imagine that Archie is still technically in training, it feels like they've been doing this together forever. But FP only let Archie into the fold a year ago, finally breaking under those puppy dog eyes.
“The Lodges have a lot of charities–”
“Not the Lodges, Archie, the distinction is important here. Lodge Charities is Veronica’s baby. Hiram donates just enough to get the tax breaks. It's Ronnie who is trying to get in good with the lord on high.” Jughead looks back at the woman in question, flicking her hair back as a tall deceptively strong man loaded an SUV with boxes of cupcakes.
“How does she make her money?” Archie asked, and Jughead felt a sparkle of pride. His little protege is learning to ask all the right questions.
“She runs all the legitimate aspects of Lodge industries. She's a powerhouse.” Jughead pushed off the wall and started walking. Archie kept in close step behind him, looking around.
“So what's the plan?” Archie asked out of the corner of his mouth. Subtlety was another one of Archie’s weak points.
“No offense Archie, but it's best if you don't know yet. Just talk to me about sports.”
Archie took up the mission with grace as he lept into a lecture about the game the previous night. The very same game that Jughead had not watched as he’d been listening to a podcast about serial killers.
Jughead led them across the street, ever-so-casually, as if Magnolia was their goal all along. The tall man (Andre, a Capo, Jughead is sure of it) was by the trunk still, and not a problem to worry about at that particular moment. The women were deep in conversation, Veronica gestured with her carrot cake cupcake as Betty held her vanilla cupcake just in front of her chest, nodding in agreement. Neither of them were paying attention to the swirling arm Veronica used for emphasis.
It couldn't have gone better if Jughead directed it himself.
He waited, using his knowledge of Archie’s body weight and grace, for the opportune moment to trip him just slightly.
As if in slow motion Archie went flying, catching Veronica’s arm as he quickly met cement. His instincts kick in and he rolls, saving Veronica from the hard ground even as he grunted in pain. Jughead pretended shock, and hoped he lands his mark. Betty shoved her cupcake towards Jughead and he took it from her without thinking. Betty was bending down to help too quickly but Jughead’s plan was working anyways.
Veronica still had that split second when she was on Archie’s chest. Their eyes deeply locked with a crushed cupcake between them.
Success.
“Ronnie! Are you ok?” Betty asked as she helped Veronica upright, hands clenched around Veronica’s arms.
“I am so sorry!” Archie sat up, and is looking up at Veronica from at just about crotch level which is a little less subtle than Jughead meant but he hadn't taken into account how big Archie was when he flung him at Veronica. “I don't know what happened!”
“Dude, you gotta watch where you're going,” Jughead mentally made a note to apologize for the gaslighting later. He offered a hand to his best friend and tried to play the part of clumsy bro about the town.
“Accidents happen, even to this season’s dresses,” Veronica said carefully, studying the bust of her dress that had a smear of cream cheese and the barest hint of orange frosting.
“Aw man,” Archie said, looking at his own shirt, that got most of the cake component.
Take it off Jughead mentally pleaded as he added the statement to the list of “weird shit I've thought because of my job.”
He didn't have to worry, or even mentally plead much. Archie never missed a chance to take his shirt off. There, in broad daylight and in front of one of the most famous bakeries in the Americas, Archie tugged off his shirt, rustling his red hair as he held up the shirt to survey the damage.
Betty looked incredulous, if Jughead could read her thoughts he’d bet money it'd be something like who the hell takes their shirt off to look at a cupcake smear?
Veronica, on the other hand,is responding the same way their entire grade would respond every time Archie deigned to take his shirt off at practice.
With a generous dose of interest.
“I'm so sorry,” Archie said, damage inspected and holding his shirt, as if he suddenly able to commit himself to the conversation now that he’s sure he can get the stain out of his ten dollar Target t-shirt, “can you please let me buy you a cupcake to make it up to you?”
“You're going to have to put your shirt back on for that,” Jughead said dryly, deciding that his own personality was the best one to go with in this scenario. Provided he didn’t mention the whole killing people for money thing.
“It's fine,” Veronica’s eyes flit down his chest in unabashed lust, “I have extras, but you have to let me make it up to you.”
“I knocked you over, miss, uh, Ronnie was it?” Archie asked, glancing at Betty who still had a grip on Veronica’s arm.
Jughead was bursting with pride.
“Veronica Lodge, and this is Betty Cooper.” Veronica held out her hand and Archie took it, shaking it as slowly as he could get away with.
“What a beautiful name,” Archie said without a trace of dishonesty in his voice. Genuine adoration all day. Clearly a honeypot gig was going to be right in Archie's wheelhouse.
“I'm sorry, my space cadet friend here is Archie Andrews, I'm Jughead.” Jughead punctuated the introduction with a two fingered salute and a pat on Archie’s back.
“Well Archie, I must buy you and Jughead a drink to make up for this unfortunate and embarrassing encounter.” Veronica said gracefully, and Jughead wanted to pat himself on the back instead of Archie.
“There's nothing unfortunate about it,” Archie said with a dopey grin, before realizing that her expensive dress was smeared in frosting with a panicked flick of his eyes, “I mean– it's unfortunate that your dress–”
“A dress is a small sacrifice to make your acquaintance.”
Jughead locked eyes with Betty, and tried to share a long suffering glance just as he would if Toni or Sweet Pea was here. It worked. She half-hid her smile behind Veronica.
It took them a few moments to agree on a place to meet, a fountain near a bar that Jughead couldn't afford if he was the starving writer he just told Veronica Lodge he was. But Veronica flashed her pearly whites and slid into her SUV, telling them not to worry about it as Betty sent them one last apologetic glance. It was one Jughead recognized. Sorry my lovely friend is a little too lovely sometimes.
Jughead led Archie away, his hand strategically covered Archie’s Serpent tattoo on his back as another waved back. The tattoo always made Archie seem way more like a bad boy than he actually was. Archie was as goody-two-shoes as assassins got, even amongst a crowd of do-gooders like the Serpents.
“Dude you could've warned me you were going to trip me,” Archie said when they were a block away, pulling his shirt that he just de-cupcaked back on.
“You needed to be surprised,” Jughead said honestly. Archie’s biggest flaw was that he still got too into his head from time to time. “Good thinking on taking off your shirt though.”
“Wait, that was part of it?”
Jughead stopped walking to shoot a glare at Archie, “seriously?”
“I had cupcake on my shirt!”
________
The plan is simple. Infiltrate.
The FBI wanted Hiram alive, which meant that they had to find out where he's hiding, extract him, and deliver him to Adams without any of the capos catching on and killing Archie and Jughead.
The only problem is that Archie seems to really like Veronica.
A lot.
Archie spent most of the afternoon after initial contact talking about Veronica, and the brief interaction they both witnessed, and asking a bevy of questions. Jughead was used to keeping a close eye on Archie around beautiful women though. His chivalry often got the best of him.
“Do you see any problems with this mission?” FP asked. Jughead opened his mouth to respond. “Don't say Archie.”
Jughead let his mouth close.
“Dig deep boy, you're prepared for most Archie situations.”
Which is unfortunately true. Jughead is fairly certain that even after Archie completes his training they’ll be partners, because Jughead gets Archie on a level that only a lifelong friend can get someone.
He couldn’t bring up how annoying he found Agent Adams again or his father would be the one getting annoyed. He tried to find another thing, another splinter in his paw.
“The friend–” a blond beauty, a shared look of disbelief, “–she's an unknown.”
“Well then get to know her,” FP said, as if it was that simple. Crack her open like a book Jug, read all of her innermost thoughts Jug.
But FP said jump and Jughead said;
“Okay Dad.”
_____
He's had harder missions than “get to know the cute blonde who hangs out with your mark.”
For example; The Texas Child Ring. A man was kidnapping children off the streets of Houston to bring them to a brothel in the middle of Texas, far from where any cell towers gave service or gas stations twinkled in the night. His place was built like a pedo-friendly fortress with enough guns to take down a small country. Jughead had to slip in the middle of the night, get in, get the kids out, wipe the guy out, and do it all before the sun came up or a single one of the johns woke up in their beds. He’d been seventeen at the time, with distinct orders not to kill any of the johns.
That had been hard.
This, this was just walking in central park on a lovely day.
Jughead shoved his hands in his coat pockets as Betty matched his pace. Archie and Veronica were a few steps ahead of them, already halfway to running to town hall and hyphenating their name.
Jughead cast a sidelong glance at Betty, and she cast one at him, rubbing her hands against the chill air. It was an unseasonably cold summer night, and Veronica built a twenty minute walk through the park into their plans, presumably to vet if Archie was worth investigating further. Betty wore a sheer shirt made of intricate lace over a tank top. He’d bet the money he got from the Texas job that it was from Veronica’s closet. Her sleeves were pulled down over her palms and he wondered if he should offer up his flannel, or his sherpa coat.
When he was twenty one he’d spent a month living in a tent in Mongolia, just waiting for an American man who ran a non-profit that was a front for a drug ring. Drugs had been his grandfather’s downfall, and that one had been the hardest. Just him, the sheep, and the stark realization that addiction was a brutal mistress that would hold his family’s hand for the rest of his life. He'd been training to be a Viper, a sleeper agent who waited for the right moment. He’d made the death look like an accident, a steep fall on a cold night. He decided not to be a Viper.
That had been difficult.
“Are you cold?” Jughead pointed towards his coat and his flannel in turn, as if to say take your pick.
“No, no thank you, I’m fine,” Betty said, and silence lapsed again.
The mob lost control of one of their own, and needed it handled with quickly, discreetly. The man was in San Francisco about to embark on a vendetta that would leave twenty dead. But Jughead got there first, all of twenty-three years old, and made sure twenty slept soundly in their bed.
That had been a struggle.
“So what do you do for fun?” Betty asked.
This was torture.
“I …” Jughead couldn’t very well say beat the shit out of my best friend now could he? The trick to lying was staying as close to the truth as possible, which meant he was going to have to get a little vulnerable. “I write.”
“Oh, what do you write?” Betty asked.
Cornered again.
He could skirt close to the truth. He tried it in his head.
It’s about a boy who is raised to take over a deadly secret society of assassins posing as a run-of-the-mill biker gang, along with his rowdy friends er...Dry Potato and Gemma Gemstone. And how he accidentally lured his best friend Barchie Bandrews into the whole mess.
“I write crime fiction,” he said instead, nodding.
“What’s your favorite story that you’ve written so far?”
“Er,” Jughead tried to find an angle on a crime he committed that would make a good story, “a small town cop in Texas keeps finding men murdered with a single gunshot wound to the head. A sniper shot to be precise.”
“What was the commonality between them all?” Betty asked, and Jughead did a quick double take.
“What? You don’t think they’re innocent business men?” Jughead asked, aware that the corner of his mouth was lifting up.
“No, of course not.” Betty nudged him, “I’ll still read it when you publish it, what is it?”
Jughead can fondly remember the energy he had at seventeen. How he memorized their names and their faces. Their routes and their schedules. How he begged his father to give him those jobs in that part of Texas. Where all that stands between him, and his prey, is a M21 and a clear day.
“They were all were part of pedophile ring, the mastermind had been dead for months but the killer was slowly picking off each one of the men who had participated.”
“I’m definitely going to read that book.”
“Just because we talked once?” Jughead asked.
“Of course not, because it sounds amazing.” Betty tapped her fingers to her head and gestured outwards, “I cannot stand it when people think they can get away with heinous crimes like that. Did the killer have strict orders to not kill them the first night but he just couldn’t resist going back and picking them off one by one?”
Yes
“Strict orders? What makes you think he’s doing anything but preying on people that he knows he can get away with? Seedy pedos no one will miss?” Jughead shrugged, “I’m not done with it yet. The killer’s motives are still unclear to me.”
And while the killer’s motives are very, very clear to him (sobbing children on the side of the road, far from home and far from safety, slowly being lifted into a truck to be brought back into society. He’s only a few years older than the eldest. He can remember being that age) this conversation is revealing a lot about him, and not a whole lot about her.
“What about you anyways? What do you do for fun?”
“Um, read crime fiction, obviously.” Betty said with a smile, and he smiled back.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.
___________
“So your best friend from high school says, come to college with me and you just go. Then she says, run my charity organization, and you just do it?” Jughead asked Betty as he leaned back in the booth. Supposedly it’s a double date, but for some reason the bar only had two tops and no four tops near each other. The group has solemnly agreed to split up. He trusted that Archie is suave enough to get from point A (Veronica thinking he’s cute) to point B (Veronica asking him to go back to Daddy’s mansion) without Jughead hovering over his every word and judging his every flirtatious move.
“When you put it like that it sounds like I had absolutely no say in the matter. I liked the sound of NYU, and then I wanted to run a non-profit, so why not one that I could shape from the ground up with a businesswoman I really respect?” Betty shrugged, tugging the sleeves of his flannel down as she leaned forward to rest her arms on the table. Noting her current situation, that of wearing his favorite flannel, that he’d insisted she’d take when they arrived, she offered him a smile. “I’m blessed.”
“You really are.” Jughead said with a smile. “You’re just living the life.”
_____________
The night ends with Jughead saying a polite goodbye to Betty, only to turn around and see Archie making out with Veronica against the wall.
“Um, dude.” Jughead said, going against his every instinct to cockblock his best friend. The timing isn’t right. There’s too much in the air as of yet.
“Right,” Archie said, as he pulled away from Veronica, “Right, thanks for the drink…”
Archie and Jughead share a long look. As if they’re trying to agree on something with their eyes. If they were normal friends, it’d be something like hey should we invite these girls to this party we’re having tomorrow? but they planned this at the beginning of the day, and that makes Jughead feel a little guilty.
“So, we were talking earlier, and we, um” Archie tried to get out, turning up the adorably befuddled look to ten.
“Dinner tomorrow night?” Jughead asked quickly, as if he was saving his friend and it wasn’t orchestrated down to the moment.
“Yes,” Betty said quickly, causing Jughead’s heart to flutter in a way that is not at all job sanctioned. He nearly missed Veronica’s flash of a smile and a quick nod.
“We’ll catch you tomorrow, then. Look out for a text from us, and allow me to save my friend before he embarasses himself.” Jughead said, rushing them away from the uncertainty that he very nearly messed up.
__________
While they talked all night, for nearly five hours, he still considers Betty an unknown quantity. There’s a shield behind her eyes, as if she’s got something locked away that he can’t poke out. He’s gotten the most tight-lipped perps to talk, and all she gave him was a stunning smile. He feels somehow duped.
“We gotta keep this job light,” Jughead said as Archie does pull ups on their bathroom frame. Jughead’s phone is in his hands and his fingers are flying across it, pulling up whatever info he can find. Which is nothing.
“I know,” Archie said, with no difficulty as he tugged himself up for the sixtieth time.
“You can’t let yourself fall in love with this girl,” Jughead said, looking up and past Archie, into their toothpaste-stained mirror.
“I won’t, eyes on the prize. Hiram Lodge is a bad bad man.” Archie had begun to sweat as Jughead stands up, the info he needs on his phone.
“Right, and we’re going to make the world a better place.” He said as a parting shot, closing his bedroom door behind him as he dialed the number.
The tone rang once, Jughead opened up his computer and looked at the tab that held Elizabeth Cooper’s birth certificate, which frustratingly told him nothing about her secrets, only that she was born in Long Island to an Alice Cooper and a Hal Cooper. The tone rang twice.
“Hello, New York University Directory,” came a cheerful voice down the line.
“Hi, I’m writing about impressive alumni in the non-profit space, and I have a question about one of your students, Betty Cooper?”
There weren’t any secrets Jughead Jones couldn’t find.
___________
For all accounts and purposes, Elizabeth Cooper is a perfectly nice girl, who went to a perfectly nice high school and went to a perfectly nice college. Her mother and father ran the newspaper of a small town and had absolutely no marks on their record. Her brother, which he did feel a little bad at uncovering, was a bit of a fuckup and generally a terror. Her sister was in a cult somewhere in San Francisco.
Jughead spent most of dinner (OH EM GEE, how strange? They only have two tops here too, ta lovelies! Veronica had said an hour earlier) prying these factoids out of Betty so he’d feel less bad about finding them on the internet all day.
“He did what?” Jughead asked, chuckling as if he was unsure of how to react (he spent an hour figuring out the best way to react if she brought up Chic, and the result was uncomfortable chuckle).
“He would cam people, from my sister’s bedroom. For money I guess.” Betty shook her head, “All I wanted was a brother, and when I finally got him, all I wanted was for him to go away.” She ran her fingers through her hair, and Jughead sternly reminded himself that he was working “Why am I telling you this?”
“It’s my face, I swear, even serial killers would tell me where the bodies were hidden if I asked right,” And they did. It was wild enough to make Betty laugh again.
“Well here I am rambling about my brother, what about you, siblings?”
“Well, I have a sister.” Here was a tidbit he could give her, as a silent apology for how deep he creeped on a random bystander in a mobster holy war, she probably didn’t even know what kind of man Hiram was, “She lives with our Mom. Well I guess now she just lives in Ohio.”
“Oh,” Betty’s shoulders shifted back. She was reading between the lines and he thanked her for it. “Your parents are seperated?”
“My dad uh, hit the sauce a little too hard for a couple years when I was a teen,” Jughead willed his mouth to close, but Betty’s eyes were wide and empathetic, his words kept spilling out, “Mom left, took Jellybean. But I was deep into school.”
“I’m so sorry,” Betty reached out and covered both his hands with hers, “that must’ve been really rough for you.”
He shrugged. As if he wouldn’t do every difficult job ten times over just so he’d never have to think about that year again. “I got through it. I stayed with Archie for a bit, I have some friends that let me crash.”
I began killing people for money and to make the world a better place
“Still, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, Jellybean and I chill all the time now,” I trained her in the ways of the Serpent would sound weird, and also would raise too many questions.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, my dad–” Editor-in-chief of the newspaper, has written a shocking number of opinion articles on the importance of family, “–lives in the basement apartment.”
Jughead tilted his head. That wasn’t something that came up in his research. He flipped his hands, taking hers in his. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, it’s just, they started fighting when Polly got pregnant, and then when Chic showed up it got worse. They won’t get a divorce, so now he just lurks down there.”
It’s somehow a reassurance that Betty still has secrets. He wants to know them all.
“Well, let’s have a drink to our shitty parents,” Jughead let go of one of her hands to grab his whiskey, she mirrored the motion with her own Captain and Coke. They took clinked their glasses and took a sturdy sip, setting both the glasses down with a thunk.
__________
“How goes the mission?” FP asked during the weekly report call.
Well Dad, I’m having the time of my life. This last week has been a dream. This girl is interesting, hilarious, beautiful, and I’m just using at her to get at a mob boss I didn’t even want to chase in the first place! Oh, and Archie is totally in love with Veronica. I have to pull him off her every night and pretend that it's normal to cockblock your bro that much. And honestly? I'm just jealous that my self control is better than his. I’m never going to tell you how sexually frustrated I am this week, but it will definitely go down in a record book somewhere.
“It’s going well. We’ve hung out with the girls a lot. Archie’s learned a stunning amount about Lodge Industries’ legal endeavors but absolutely nothing about it’s illegal ones.”
“Are you getting any closer to an invite to the secret inner palace?” FP stood upright, his frame fuzzy on the tiny screen as he tosses a towel over his shoulder, and rubs his hands together. He’s bartending at the Whyte Wyrm then, and bossing his son around. Business as usual in the Jones family.
“Soon I think, Veronica’s mentioned a pool at her parent’s penthouse. We’re think that’s our way in.”
“Good.”
__________
They’ve broken pattern. Archie and Jughead both said it’s to shake suspicion but they both know each other too well for that.
They’re in deep, over their heads. They’re so far down they don’t know which way is up.
This isn’t a casual group hang. This isn’t an accidental double date with a suspicious oh we only have two tops at the moment, this isn’t a casual stroll through the park to discuss books.
Jughead was alone at the top of the Empire State Building.
With Betty Cooper.
On a date.
“You’re quiet tonight.” Betty linked her arm through his. When did they start doing that? He’s not even sure anymore. It feels like he was born to stand here, one foot braced against the runner, and the other on the ground, leaning forward as he stares at the small cars racing by with Betty’s arm through his.
“Maybe I’m just used to having Archie around to bolster me into talking to girls,” which isn’t altogether a lie.
“Yeah, I can’t recall the last time I did something social without Ronnie.” Betty cast a glance along the street, stepping up onto the runner. It’s easy enough for Jughead to move his arm around her waist, keep her supported upright.
“You two are certainly glued at the hip, B and V forever.”
“Her dad is very overprotective, and doesn’t like V going anywhere by herself,” Betty leaned slightly back, her ponytail resting on his shoulder. “He always asked me to stay close, especially when he’s away on business.”
“Well, she’s alone tonight right?”
“Andre is probably close by. Those heiresses have to be safe. You never know who is out to get them.”
Jughead wished she’d just stab him in the gut. He could bleed out slow, it’d hurt less.
“Well since we don’t have our fluffers we should probably head home,” Jughead motioned to push her up, and away, but she grabbed his hands, keeping his arms around her.
“No, no, it’s been awhile since I’ve been off-duty.”
“Off duty?” He asked.
“How come you’ve never been to the empire state building before?” Betty asked instead, turning in his arms to stand in his embrace, looking up at him.
He went wrong somewhere. That’s all he can say. He definitely fucked up at some point. He’s standing on the Empire State Building, a beautiful girl in his arms. And he’s can’t do anything about it.
“Well, New York was always what Archie wanted. I just wanted to be near Archie,” Jughead rolled his eyes, “I mean, he’s like a brother to me. And moving to NYC and having that hipster bullshit life meant a lot to him.”
It’s the stone cold truth, he’d begged FP for weeks to assign them to NYC. There was a drug ring in Vancouver that FP wanted Jughead near. Jughead didn’t want to bust up yet another drug ring, he wanted to do the one off mercenary shots out of a major hub, and Archie wanted New York.
“See, here you are, criticizing me for never going a moment without Veronica, and you succumb to live in the most expensive city on Earth to be close to Archie. At least Ronnie pays rent on our Park Ave apartment.”
“Hey, I pay rent just fine, it’s –” what’s the bullshit excuse on Friends? “–rent controlled.”
“Well, I for one, am glad you agreed to live here.” Betty is smiling, and Jughead wants to bask in that moment. Where a girl like her can look at a guy like him as if the sun shines out his ass.
“Yeah, right now I’m pretty psyched about it too.”
Betty leaned forward, and Jughead thought two things in quick succession.
Finally
Oh Shit
He ducked away from her lips, sucking in too much air and starting a hacking wave of coughs as he doubled over.
“Jughead? Are you ok?” Betty asked, and Jughead stayed doubled over, wishing he’d thought of anything else.
He held up his thumb, and groaned, “You took my breath away, give me a second.”
A weak slap hit his back and had him smiling towards the ground. If it was going to end in flames at least he’d have the memory that she wanted to kiss him.
__________
“I don’t think we’ve thought enough about extraction,” was something Jughead never thought he’d say. Extraction was the first thing Tall Boy barked at him when Jughead pulled on his leather jacket. Or maybe it was the tenth thing, but it was definitely a part of the first conversation.
“Yeah, I was thinking that too.” Archie responded, keeping in step with Jughead as they strode towards the fountain Veronica decided to be the meeting place. It was always their meeting place. Jughead would never be able to look at that fountain without thinking of Betty’s careful and slow smile.
“What do we do? Just ghost them?” Jughead asked. It was easier when Veronica was a mark, and Betty was a friend to distract. Now...
Now things are complicated.
“What if we’re not successful? What if we can’t find Hiram?”
“Failure is never an option Arch.”
Jughead had never failed a mission and he wasn’t about to start now
___________
“It’s so hot,” Archie said, and the heat for once was working with their plans, and not against them. No haywire weaponry here.
“Well why don’t you take off your shirt Achiekins?” Veronica says, turning in her seat to face him. Archie’s hands go to his hem and Jughead sticks a hand out to quickly intervene.
“Please, for the love of all that is holy, stop taking off your shirt in front of me,” Jughead pleaded. Happy that he could be his real self for most of this job, other than the parts where they were trying to kidnap Hiram of course.
“Don’t you live together? Haven’t you seen it all?” Betty asked, holding a torpedo pop carefully in her hands where she’s been slowly torturing him by sucking on it for the better part of twenty minutes. Her shorts are too short, and there’s the barest hint of a tattoo curving under her shorts and damn it, he wants to see it. Another secret right there, and he could know if he was just a little more repugnant as a human being. He may murder people for money, but he drew the line at sleeping with women who didn’t know he was out for their best friend’s dad.
“Of course, I’ve seen him naked more times than I can count–”
“Color me Jelly.” Veronica cut in, with impeccable timing that Jughead came to appreciate over the last week.
“–but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be subjected to it in Central Park.”
“Lightbulb moment,” Veronica said. And Jughead would’ve fist pumped if he was the type of guy to fist pump.
“Ronnie…” Betty said, trailing off.
“B, it’s totally fine. My Dad is away for the week on business –” damn “–but I have the keys to his penthouse, and thus his olympic sized rooftop pool.” Veronica waggled her eyebrows and leaned back slightly.
“Are you sure your parents would be okay with us being in your house?” Jughead asked, knowing full well that if her parents knew who they were that they’d be horrified she was even talking to them. Archie bit his lip, dishonesty still wasn’t his forte.
“It’ll be fine, we’ll go up, swim a few laps, cool off a little bit.” Veronica flapped a casual hand, as if brushing away any concerns.
Jughead and Archie shared a look. And for once Jughead wondered if Archie hated how easy this was going. Jughead certainly wished that Agent Adams would show up and say “nevermind Hiram, we have another gig for you.”
Instead, Jughead found himself rubbing his arm as he waited for a hail mary before saying “sure, sounds like a plan.”
“Lovely,” Veronica said, leaning back, and looking like a kitten who got a fresh bowl of cream, “can’t wait.”
“Jughead, I didn’t know you had a tattoo,” Betty said, ignoring Veronica and the recently laid plans. She reached out for the hem of his sleeve, instinctively he moved away.
“It’s a symbol of my misspent youth,” He lied quickly. “I haven’t managed to scrounge enough money to get it removed yet.”
“Oh,” Betty said, her hand dropping in the space between, “the pattern looked familiar.”
“I’m pretty sure every idiot who happened to go to that parlor with not enough money to get an actual artist got the same tattoo,” Jughead said, trying for a wry grin as he sent up a quick apology to Toni, who had done a fairly good job drawing the snakes.
“Even I got one,” Archie jumped in, leaning back. “Dad nearly killed me.”
“Yeah,” Betty patted her thigh. “Mine too.”
_______________
Jughead squinted at his CallerID, partially in shock that he hadn’t deleted the number years before. He hit the green button and lifted the phone to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Jughead! It’s me, Kevin Keller, from high school, remember?”
They went to the same high school in the same way that Jughead theoretically lived on the same planet as Nicki Minaj. He knew it to be true, yet all he had to go on was Twitter and a vague understanding of how physics and time worked.
“Yeah, sure, what’s up man?” Jughead looked towards Archie, who was coming out of his room in his swim trunks, he pointed towards his phone and mouthed Kevin Keller. It occurred to him that there was a reason Kevin could be calling. “Do you want to speak to Arch?”
“You guys live together? that is so sweet. No. I wanted to give you the skinny on the weirdest thing that happened today.”
“Alright,” Jughead shrugged, itching his head under his beanie, “shoot?”
“So you know how sometimes, if I’m waiting for my dad, I just sit at the station and I answer the phones and pretend to work there?”
Jughead wanted to point out that it’s illegal but he doesn’t.
“Well, today I get a call asking about one Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Third–”
“Wait, someone called me by my name?”
“Oh yeah, hold on to your hat my baby darling, ‘cause it gets weirder. She says she’s writing a paper on up-and-coming crime fiction novels, and I had no idea you were writing crime novels. I figured that I should just roll with it, and I talk about how you were always clacking away at your keyboard while hanging out with your friends.”
“Yeah? What’d she ask?”
“What kind of friends you had, I said you hung out with all the southside kids with a sprinkle of Archie and Cheryl. I didn’t name them of course. She asked if there was a tattoo parlor you all hung around to which I said that you certainly all had tats but I had no idea where you got them, and then she asked if you were in a gang, and at that point I realized you probably didn’t want me telling some reporter out of Long Island that you rolled deep with the Serpents so I said you were a good Christian boy. Who did his homework and kept his head down and wrote disturbing short fiction for the Blue and Gold.”
As Keller spoke, Jughead sank against the wall, covering his mouth as he tried to process who would call, and who would ask questions about him.
It’s been awhile since I’ve been off duty she said.
Fuck.
“Are you sure it was a woman out of Long Island?”
“No, she said she lived in New York but I recognized them Long Island digits–”
Jughead rattled off a number he knew by heart, he’d accidentally memorized it while waiting for Betty to text him back. There was a shuffle of paper and –
“Yeah! That’s it! Do you know her?”
“Thanks for letting me know Keller, I’ll see you at the ten year reunion.” Jughead said, and hung up as quickly as he could.
“What’s wrong man?” Archie asked.
“I think we have a problem.”
__________
“It’s not like Keller told her you’re a highly trained assassin, she’s probably just trying to make sure that we’re not in a gang. We were being very shifty about the tattoos.” Archie tried again, before turning and trying to walk up the block.
For the fourth time, Jughead grabbed Archie’s arm and tugged him back, “I’m telling you! I’ve had a bad feeling about this from the get-go, and now Betty definitely has something on us. She slipped up by calling Keller, she didn’t know that he would call me. I mean, who would think that? She’s not from a town like Riverdale.”
“So? She knows nothing Jug. Do you know who else knows nothing? Us. Adams wants Hiram or his location by the end of the week or they’re pulling the plug on this job.”
“So let him! That guy is shifty anyways!” Jughead let his arms fly up and drop back down, “we shouldn’t be talking about this outside anyways.”
“Listen, Jug. I’ll turn around and walk home with you right now, ignore all of the texts and calls from Veronica. Even if she sends me a nude, I won't respond but you,” Archie poked Jughead in the chest, “you’d have to be the one to tell FP you pulled the plug on a job without consulting him first.”
There are times in life, when students surpass their teachers. And sometimes their teachers love it.
“Fuck you, Arch,” Jughead said as he brushed past and started to stride up to the apartment building.
They ushered through the gold plated doors up to the Penthouse. A politely smiling doorman at every step of the way.
Hiram Lodge is a bad bad man Jughead told himself.
Elevator doors slid open and Jughead stepped into them, Archie close behind.
___________
Jughead Jones had been on her mind all week. A tantalizing bit of mystery to make the summer go by faster. Usually Veronica’s flings offered nothing in the way of entertainment for Betty, not that Betty minded. She was one for a deep abiding love or nothing at all.
But Jughead.
Jughead Jones.
Those were eyes a girl could get lost in forever.
He had no facebook, instagram, snapchat, or twitter. No stories published (yet he’d say before crossing both of his fingers, and that odd look crossing his eyes once again) anywhere that she could see. But after a flash of skin she decided to go a little deeper.
Jellybean Jones had a now-defunct tumblr under a user name Snakeygirl. Most of her posts were the musings of a sad teenage girl whose parents had suffered a messy break up. A fair number of political reblogs, and a few failed DIY attempts. Betty struck gold under the selfie page.
Jellybean, front and center with a tattoo, high on her chest, nestled under her collarbone, an open smile. A cluster of friends in the background in various states of celebration, including a surprise shirtless Archie, his back facing the camera, and one Jughead Jones, his tattoo on proud display, smiling with wide abandon.
The caption read: “With the fam”
Betty smoothed down her shorts.
With the fam.
“Betty, the boys just rung up. Pray to all the heavens in the world that today is the day I get Archiekins on his back in my bed or I don’t know how much longer I can handle this flirtation.” Veronica said, from the doorway. “If Jughead Jones interrupts my carefully crafted seduction one more time I’m going to snap.”
Betty turned to face her, tucking her phone into her back pocket. Veronica’s brow furrowed quickly.
“Is everything ok B?”
“Yep, I’m just …” Betty tilted her head, “desperate to get my hands on Jug too.”
_________
Veronica flowed into the room as if she was the queen of the world. A bikini that Jughead was sure he saw on a model at fashion week earlier that year plastered on her body and a long black robe flowing behind her. She carried a tray of green drinks and somehow made it look effortless even as she wore heels higher than Jughead had seen any real live woman wear in her own home before.
Jughead could hear Archie’s intake of breath and nearly rolled his eyes.
They should not have taken this job.
“Why hello there boys,” Veronica lifted the tray “I’ve got a present for you! Margaritas with a bit of a kick to get this summertime event started right.”
They both took a margarita, and Archie went above and beyond to take the tray away from her as well, tucking it under his arm.
“You both look good enough to eat as always,” Veronica said, and gestured towards a chair, “just put your bags there, and we can run and hop in the pool.”
Who the we was clear by the fact that she quickly took Archie’s hand and led him away,
“Oh Juggie, Betty is in the kitchen, why don’t you give her a hand?”
Great, the woman with the secrets is near all the knives He thought. And refused to gulp nervously.
So what if she had secrets! Jughead had secrets too. And a body count that was impressive for his age. There was a very specific area of Texas that was pedophile free thanks to his violent meddling. Betty had said, if indirectly, that she approved.
It’s not like she was a trained assassin either. There were only so many secret organizations like the Serpents and they all knew of each other. She didn’t have the Ghoulie mark behind her ear. Nor did she have any of the signs of the abroad groups.
No, she was just a woman, who researched him a little too deeply.
He could handle that.
It was a prewar apartment, marble and stunning details everywhere he looked. The kitchen looked to have a high tech version of all it’s ancient components. Betty stood at a chopping block, swiftly moving a knife against a board.
“Knock knock,” he said as he stood in the threshold, “Veronica sent me to help you.”
Betty didn’t turn, didn’t flash him a smile. That wasn’t normal. Something was wrong.
“Who sent you?”
Alarm bells rang in his head.
Play dumb play dumb play dumb
“Veronica? Ronnie? V?”
Too much
“Was it the Lowensteins? In Pennsylvania? Or Kowalski? Or was it someone else? I could stand here all day and list people but you and I both know that Hiram has a long list of enemies and you are not as dumb as you pretend.”
“Betty, what are you talking about?” None of the names rang a bell, which is a small mercy in of itself, he can keep pretending the floor underneath him hadn’t dropped away.
The chopping stopped.
Betty spun, and in one quick movement threw the knife across the room. It was always going to miss Jughead, he could see that, but it was his training that had him catching it out of the air and flipping it into a ready hold. It took every ounce of his strength not to throw it back.
Belatedly, he realized his mistake. He hadn’t screamed, he hadn’t ducked, he hadn’t panicked. He caught the knife.
Should’ve walked away
“Oops Juggie, you let your facade slip,” Betty said, tsking her tongue. She shook her head, that beautiful ponytail swaying behind her.
The next knife she threw had more of a direct path to his face, but it was easy enough to pick up a frying pan and smack it out of the air. He lifted his leg and shoved the center table towards her, the heft of it skidded and hit her in the gut as he ducked along the side and dodged the third knife.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Betty!” Jughead shouted, spinning to hide behind the refrigerator.
“Well maybe I want to hurt you Jughead!” A fifth knife, purposefully bounced against the wall to glance off at him. He caught it and spun quickly, catching her in the sleeve. It thankfully pinned her to the wall, giving him a moment to gather himself.
“Well then maybe you shouldn’t’ve worn a flowy top to a knife fight,” he said, not his best, as Betty tried to pull the knife out. She lifted her whole body by the handle, planting both her feet on the center table, and kicking.
Jughead dodged and rolled through the center, coming out onto the otherside, before rolling again to avoid a pot thrown towards him.
“Will you just listen to me? I can explain everything!” Jughead said, as he stood upright, facing Betty who was still partially pinned to the wall. She was standing on the tip of her toes struggling against the fabric. Her shorts were riding up and she looked furious.
“You think I don’t know what you’re here for?” Betty shot a butcher’s knife towards him with terrifying precision. “Everyone wants to take out Hiram Lodge!”
“I don’t want to take him out,” Jughead muttered as Betty yanked out the knife. Her tattoo was a flash of green high on her thigh. “I didn’t even want this stupid job!”
He threw another knife and trapped her to the block. This time she freed herself far quicker.
She spun to face him, a fury come to bring wrath down onto mankind.
Alright, hand to hand combat
She lunged first across the small space, striking out at him. He parried and striked back as hard as he could without actually hurting her. As they traded blows with their fists and the solitary knives they both held, it became clear that they both trained under the same masters. Their moves mirrored each other a bit too much, the strikes a little too clean. Belatedly he realized that just as he was pulling his punches, she was pulling hers too. Just like the knives, she wasn’t aiming to kill, just lightly maim.
“Now, if you want me to believe that you’re mad at me, you’re going to have to actually hit me,” Jughead said, a bit too cockily, as he held Betty’s arm far over his shoulder, and kept her weapon from stabbing him.
Which was when Betty picked up a frying pan and smacked him in the face.
Stars burst behind his eyes and he lost his balance, stumbling down.
“I deserved that,” Jughead grunted from the floor, he rolled on his back and dodged another blow from Betty, who straddled him quickly.
It was a less elegant fight, with Jughead on his back, and Betty doing her level best to hit him again with the frying pan,
“Who sent you?” Betty shouted one more time for good measure, cracking the floor with a well aimed warning shot.
Jughead’s head jerked up, and he came eye to eye with it, or rather, eye to pair of eyes. A two headed Serpent coiled on Betty’s leg.
“You’re a Serpent?” He asked, her response was to punch him in the ear with her free hand that he hadn’t quite managed to grab.
He rolled her onto her back, and she used the momentum to fling him backwards. He slammed into the stove with a grunt and lunged to his feet, putting his hands up, scraping a knife off the ground as he went, ready to grapple again.
“What the fuck are you guys doing?” Veronica shouted from the doorway, a confused Archie behind her. “If you’re into kinky stuff, please keep it out of the kitchen and in your own bedrooms!”
Betty and Jughead locked eyes for a quick second, and did exactly what a Serpent was trained to do when they were backed against a wall.
Jughead grabbed Veronica, holding the knife as far away from her neck as he could while still being intimidating.
Betty grabbed Archie, who, despite his extensive training, was surprised and quickly got him into a hold, pressed against the ground with a knife against his neck.
“What is even going on?” Veronica asked, struggling in Jughead’s arms.
“Veronica, please, I’m telling you, I really like you as a person and I’m not here to hurt you, or Betty. Neither is Archie. Please stop struggling because I feel like there has been a misunderstanding and we should just talk this out.”
Archie grunted into the floor, and Betty pressed harder against his spine.
“What misunderstanding could there possibly be?” Betty asked, and Jughead wanted to point out that she’d been the one attacking him, he’d purely done defensive moves thus far.
“You’re a Serpent, we’re Serpents. We’re always on the same side Betty. Rule number five betty, a Serpent never betrays their own,” Jughead stared at her imploringly.
“No, Juggie, it’s a Smith never betrays their own,” Betty tapped her thigh, “this is my family’s heritage.”
“Betty, work with me here. –We have the exact same tattoo. There’s no way that two assassin organizations have the same–”
“Who are you here to kill?” Veronica cut in, “Betty isn’t an assassin! She’s my Capo–”
“Ronnie don’t tell them anything, we don’t know who these guys are,” Betty gestured with her elbow as she spoke, and Jughead hated that he still found it cute.
“Ok here’s the plan. We each ask five questions. Then we’ll let our friends go. And we’ll leave. And you’ll never see us again. Other than a check to repair the damage in the wall. Agreed?”
Betty waited, then jerked her head in a quick nod.
“Now, how are you a Serpent?” He asked. Betty bit her lip and shook her head. “This only works if you answer the questions.”
“I only have one question Juggie, the rest is just bullshit. Who sent you?”
FP was going to kill him “The FBI.”
“What?” Betty asked, her face screwing up in confusion.
“Why?”
“To get information on the whereabouts of Hiram Lodge and bring him in for questioning. We’re the good guys. We never kill just for greed and we never do a job unless it’s for justice.” Jughead looked to Archie for backup, Archie was nodding his head against the floor.
“That’s bullshit, Daddy is in witness protection, the FBI knows exactly where he is.”
I knew it
“Well, we have found the miscommunication. Sorry to have wasted your time. If you don’t mind getting off my friend Archie’s spine, we’ll be on our merry way. I won't even press you to answer the question as I’m rushing on my way to go die of embarrassment now.”
Betty nodded, and did nothing.
They stared at each other, and Veronica gulped in Jughead’s arms.
Betty gestured with her knife, “You first.”
Jughead released Veronica. She rushed across the room to take her place behind Betty, her capo, her on-duty bestie.
“Now, my puppy-like friend, if you don’t mind,” Jughead said, gesturing towards Archie.
Betty hesitated for a fraction of a second, a whole fraction that Jughead’s throat stayed closed, before standing up.
Archie rolled towards Jughead and jumped up onto his feet.
“It’s been real ladies, and I hope you instantly forget this ever happened,” Jughead said with a wave and dragged Archie out of the room.
Jughead didn't stop dragging him until they were in their apartment halfway across town and his father was on the phone.
“–she knew my name Dad, my real one.” Jughead paced the floor of his bedroom, feeling like at any moment an angry Betty would appear and throw another knife at his head.
“Calm down, what'd you say? Her name was Betty Cooper? There's no Serpents named Cooper.” FP hadn’t yelled at him for messing up yet, that would come after Jughead calmed down.
“I know, and when I quoted Serpent law she changed Serpent law to– wait she didn't say Cooper she said Smith.”
The line went quiet, Jughead pulled his phone away from his face to make sure the call hadn't been dropped.
“Dad?” Jughead probed.
“Smith? You said she's blonde right? Hot? Smart?”
“Yeah,” Jughead ran his fingers through his hair, taking off his hat for the briefest of moments before jamming it back on.
“You, Archie, come back now.” FP gritted out, “You've gotten in the path of a Viper and I don't know what she wants.”
“Betty?” He asked. Sure, she was probably the best fight he’d ever had, but a Viper? She didn't even know the code.
“No. Not Betty. Alice.” Jughead opened his mouth to ask more but FP was already barking out orders. “Get on your bikes and get back here in the next hour.”
And the line was dead, leaving a confused Jughead standing in his room, holding his phone.
_________
“Why are we even here?” Veronica asked, throwing her arms up as she walked through the hall of the apartment. The whole place screamed men in the boring sort of way that a tv show would design an apartment two guys lived in. Dark colors, framed art, a few choice photos framed about the rooms. Even their apartment was a front. There was nothing truly personal about their living room.
“Is it so we can breathe in the beautiful scent of a traitor?” Veronica asked from Archie’s doorway, a room that Betty already swept for traps.
“I gotta figure out who the FBI agent is that sent them, and then we can figure out what happens next,” she explained, which is partially true.
She was also curious.
It wasn't lost on her that they used the same moves, the same tactics, hell they had the same tattoo.
Who was Jughead Jones?
Or Archie Andrews for that matter?
There was a tiny bit of personality in Jughead’s room, and a lot of flannel. The man liked blankets as much as he liked layers. There was a photo of him standing behind a bar, his arm thrown around a bartender, a wide smile on his face. The resemblance was uncanny, a father maybe? Another photo of Jellybean. Photos with friends, Archie, a pink-haired girl, a round faced guy winking at the camera, a red-haired girl.
Betty ran a gloved finger under the desk, checking for triggers, secret spots.
If she was a secret whatever where would she hide her guns?
Betty turned towards the irresponsibly big bed. The luxury didn't match up with the self-flagellation she came to expect from Jughead.
The trigger was at the front of the bed, the mattress, blankets and all, lifted up to reveal a small arsenal of guns, pressed into memory foam. A handgun was missing.
Jackpot.
Her phone rang out, “Brand New Key” by Melanie. Only two people called her, she didn't bother to check the caller ID.
“Hi Mom,” Betty said lightly, as if she wasn't standing in the bedroom of a killer.
“Hi sweetheart, sorry I missed your call. Mrs. Williams would not shut up about her prize winning labradoodle-”
“Mom, who are the Serpents?” Betty asked, also not wanting to hear anything about the labradoodle.
“Where'd you hear that word?”
“Jughead saw my tattoo. You said we’re the only ones,” Betty was leaving so much out and she knew it. She was not saying how she he knew Jughead’s reflexes were a little too quick, his statements just a tad bit calculating at times.
It's going to be high school all over again, they're going to call her crazy, emotional, unhinged. Her one emotional outlet, the family legacy, now has been tainted. someone's been lying to her and she knows she should want it to be Jughead but she wants it to be her mother.
“He said what?” Alice asked, her words stumbling over each other.
“We have the same tattoo. I called his hometown and he used to run with this group called the Serpents. He said rule number five mom, what’s going on?” Betty should've driven out to Long Island to interrogate her mother instead of Jughead’s empty room. Alice would always have the answers.
“What's Jughead’s real name?” Alice’s reporter voice came quickly, replacing the panic.
“What does that even matter? Who are we, mom?” Betty feels like she’s on the teetering edge of a precipice, about to slide into oblivion.
“His name Elizabeth!” Alice said in the tone that brokers no arguments. It's the same one she’d bark directives at Betty with as they trained, day in and day out.
“Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Third.”
She held the phone away from her ear as her mother swore a blue streak, scrunching her nose. It was so like her mother to deflect.
“Betty, roundup Veronica and some clothes for a few days.”
“Why?” Betty shrugged, nudging the bed with her feet and lowering the mattress back onto the guns, “The boys are long gone.”
“We’re going to get to get to the bottom of this, and we’re going to make sure none of Veronica’s so-called family try to take a hit out on her again.”
“They didn't take a hit out on her.” She's already defending him, which feels off and a little wrong. There’s no reason why he couldn't be lying about the hit actually being on Veronica.
He kept the blade far from her neck.
His hand was shaking with the strain of it, the natural position of holding blade against skin, and his arm was two inches in front of Veronica’s neck.
That means nothing, you have no idea who this guy is
He caught the knife like it was nothing, like she threw a pen at him.
Don't I?
Standing in his arms on the Empire State Building, watching the cars drive by.
“Do you want to get to the bottom of this?” Alice asked.
“Of course,” Betty never wanted to know anything more. And she's wanted to know a great number of things in her life.
“Then we’ve got to go into the Snake’s pit.”