Work Text:
No one was expecting Archie Andrews to be tackled before he even got to the football field.
Archie was making his innocent, meandering way to football practice when Jughead Jones intercepted him in the hallway.
Archie went pale. “Jug.”
“Archie.” Jughead spat out the word like he would a strawberry poison-dart frog.
“Look, I’m sorry, I—“
“YOU STOLE IT,” Jughead bellowed.
Veronica stared from the periphery. “Wait—Betty’s not an it—“
“YOU STOLE IT!” Jughead repeated, and this time he shoved Archie with a strength he definitely didn’t normally have.
Archie stuttered out, “I don’t—I didn’t know—“
“You knew perfectly well what you were doing, Archie,” Jughead growled. “You’re so goddamn lucky, you’re so—you have everything, okay? And you won’t just let me have this one thing!”
“Jug, it was just—“ Archie began breathlessly, but Jughead was beyond reason.
“SHUT UP!” he yelled, running at Archie like a rampaging bull and knocking the much bulkier teen off his feet with the sheer surprise of his attack.
“What is wrong with him?” Reggie asked, fascinated.
-10 hours earlier-
Jughead slid into the booth next to Archie. Archie looked up, gave him a small smile, and said, “Hey—you wanna get some fries or something?”
Jughead smiled wanly. “Sure, but—“
“—only if I’m treating. Yeah. I got it.” Archie pulled out a wad of cash and gestured to Pop. Meanwhile, Jughead pulled out his laptop and started typing.
It was an age before the fries arrived. When Pop finally brought them over, Jughead was ravenous. He scooped up a bristling fistful and shoved it into his mouth.
The door opened with a jingle, and Betty walked in. “Hi,” she said easily, sitting down next to Jughead and pecking him on the cheek. “How was your day?”
“Good,” Jughead said through the fries. “Normal.” Mm. Salty, with softness and just a hint of crunch. “Delicious.”
Betty stifled a giggle and grinned at him. “Same.”
She took a fry from the very top of the stack with delicate precision, as though playing a game of pick-up-sticks, and bit it in half. Jughead swallowed, staring at her with a smile and the taste of the fries lingering in his mouth. This—this was what a perfect moment was. Fries, smiles, and Betty.
Across the booth, Archie stared too. The corner of a fry was dangling from his mouth as he chewed absently.
Jughead took another handful of fries.
-Present day-
Jughead kicked, punched, and scratched every inch of Archie he could reach. A small crowd was gathered to watch the drama.
“Wow,” Reggie remarked, eyebrows raised. “That is…wow, Freakhead must really like her. Weird, she didn’t seem that hot to me. But then again, he’s Freakhead, he probably doesn’t dig chicks that way—”
“Shut up, Reggie. No one cares what you think,” Veronica snapped, “about anything.” She crossed her arms with a firmness that promised vengeance. “Where’s Betty? I was gone for one day...”
Jughead, who was in his own world, tore out a chunk of Archie’s hair with a roar.
-9.79 hours earlier-
“—so if Polly went through the woods to the car, she probably would’ve come home when Mom and Dad were there—but she could’ve just waited…” Betty chewed her lip.
“I don’t know, Betts,” Jughead remarked, chewing another handful of fries. “It’s confusing.”
-Present day-
“AAARGH!!!” Jughead yelled, kicking his friend repeatedly as Archie struggled to get back up.
“GRRRAAARRHHH!!!!”
-9.75 hours earlier-
“Yeah…” Betty contemplated the ceiling. “But someone has to have burned the car, so it’s either Polly or the murderer—“
“Or the murderer’s accomplice—“
“Or a random thug,” Betty admitted. “Or my dad.”
Jughead sighed. “Betts—“
“I know,” Betty said, “but we can’t rule him out. We know he took evidence before, so it stands to reason that he might do it again.”
“Uh…” Archie interrupted. Jughead and Betty both jumped slightly, startled. “Uh…what’s going on? I feel like I’m missing something.”
Jughead and Betty shared an agonizing glance, sweet as a crisp pickle. “Arch,” Jughead began.
Then something caught his eye, and his face drained of all color.
“Archie…”
-Present day-
Betty ran up. “Juggy! Juggy! Get off him—get off him, Juggy!” She tugged on a flailing arm. “You’re—overreacting—“
“Yeah, sure,” Jughead spat, “Take his side, then—you do that—“
“Jughead, stop being so dramatic, it’s just a—“
“It’s NOT ‘just’ anything, Betty, it’s more than that, it meant something when he did that, it represented something greater, a betrayal, a breaking of ties, a fracturing of the bro-bond—”
“IT’S JUST A FRY!” Betty shrieked.
-9.70 hours earlier-
“Who…took…the last…fry?” Jughead whimpered.
There was an excruciatingly still and agonizingly extended silence, before a trembling Archie raised his hand.