Archive of Our Own

HE TELLS HER
He tells her that the earth is flat —
He knows the facts, and that is that.
In altercations fierce and long
She tries her best to prove him wrong.
But he has learned to argue well.
He calls her arguments unsound
And often asks her not to yell.
She cannot win. He stands his ground.
The planet goes on being round.
Poem by Wendy Cope

.....

“For the love of God, FP,” Alice sighed frustratedly from under the comforter she had just tossed over her head. “This has to stop!”

Quiet giggles and hushed words echoed down the corridor from another bedroom.

FP grinned down at her from where his head was perched upon his hand, elbow digging into the mattress of his bed. “You weren’t complaining five minutes ago.”

Alice Cooper rolled her eyes and shoved the blankets off herself forcefully, sending him tumbling onto his back. Still glaring down at him, she rose from the bed and hurriedly tossed on a robe, pausing only briefly to glance at her reflection in the mirror.

“You know what I’m talking about, FP,” she huffed. “We have to do something about Betty and Jughead.”

FP rolled himself from the bed and swung his legs over the side. Pulling on his black T-shirt and a pair of sweatshorts, he ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

“What do you want me to do, Alice? I mean, what did you expect? You knew they were already- I mean they were… getting closer and then you up and left!”

“FP,” Alice warned.

“No, Alice. Don’t FP me, not on this one.”

Rising from the bed, he walked around to the other side and pulled over the gray armchair to where Alice leaned against the vanity. His room had begun to look more like their room over the past two months. New, patterned curtains hung from rods with jewels at the end, a make-up covered vanity took up wall space where he had once tossed his boots, and his bedspread had more tiny throw pillows than the cover of a Macy’s Furniture catalogue.

After the FBI had apprehended Edgar Evernever, Alice had nowhere to go. Betty had been house hopping for some time, but with witnessing the murder of her father, Hal, she had clung to Jughead for stability and had moved in with them permanently. FP would never deny her his comfort; with a missing mother and what she had gone through it was a wonder she was still standing. Betty was resilient. FP admired her for that and admired Jughead for stepping up to support her.

It had started off innocently enough. Betty had slept in her old room, Jughead’s current room, for comfort and familiarity. Jughead had insisted on staying with her because she had been having vivid nightmares, triggering panic attacks that she thought had been long gone. It seemed reasonable to FP so he hadn’t said anything.

When Alice left The Farm, FP offered her a place to stay as well. The situation was supposed to be temporary. Alice had taken her old room and FP had bunked on the couch. He had told himself that it would only be a few weeks and he could manage. As the days passed, they all fell into a routine; Alice packed lunches and cooked dinners. They laughed around the dinner table and curled up in blankets and watched goofy sitcoms after eating. FP found that watching Alice braid JB’s hair or help her deal with friend drama at school kindled something deep inside his chest and he was happy, content, for maybe the first time in years.

Alice had been working hard to repair her damaged relationship with Betty as well. FP knew that Betty was happy to have her mother home in some regards, but was still festering some resentment from being abandoned and for the cruel things Alice had said to her. Alice was trying to be better. She stopped criticizing Betty’s wardrobe, didn’t pester her about her lipstick choices, and even begrudgingly let her take Jughead’s bike, always yelling out, “put on a helmet!”

With the kids so busy, they wound up having plenty of alone time in the house. Their domestic routine became comfortable and welcomed and without it being forced or thought out, one quiet night Alice and FP had found their way back to each other. They had been watching a Netflix film on the sofa when she had yawned and rolled the tired muscles in her neck. Without thought or premise, he had pulled her back against him to lay down.

“I’m sorry,” Alice whispered. “I’m just so tired.”

Wrapping his arms tight around her, he inhaled the scent of her floral shampoo. “You’ve been working so hard to make things right and you haven’t given yourself a moment to let go since you’ve been back. Of course, you’re tired. What you did was huge, and wonderful, and important. But, it was also hard; hard for you and hard for Betty. You need to let go of some of that, Alice.”

So, she did. Her tears weren’t hard, heavy sobs like you’d see in a Hollywood flick, but soft and quiet, warm against his T-shirt.

“I had to go, FP. I didn’t want to, but I had to. I couldn’t let Polly and my grandbabies...” Her voice trailed off and she pushed her cheek further into his chest. “Betty is so strong- I knew she’d be alright, but I don’t know if she will ever forgive me for this and for so much more.”

FP dropped his chin lower, speaking softly into her ear, her hair tickling his nose as he spoke.

“Betty has your drive, Alice. Your instincts. She may still be angry and hurt, but part of her understands what you did because she would have done the same thing- she has done the same thing in the past. Pushing away Jug and Veronica when Hal sent those letters, publishing that article about you… Betty understands hard choices more than a teenager should.”

“Yes, but she’s a teenager. I’m her mother. I should be a constant for her, a safe space. I knew when I left that you’d take care of her and so would Hermione, but can Betty ever forgive me for that?”

FP couldn’t answer that question. He knew hurt and betrayal ran deep and stuck with you. All he could do was offer comfort. He pulled her closer and shifted the blanket over them both, and nestled her further into his arm. They both drifted off that way, TV casting soft shadows in the background. She had woken up after midnight and had softly woken him then, too, a palm on his cheek and soft stroke of her thumb bringing him back to reality. Without words, she stood and extended her hand to him. He hesitated, but only for a moment, before taking her palm in his own and heading upstairs.

That was three months ago and they were still holding strong. They hadn’t officially said anything to the kids or to anyone outside of their house either, but it was clear each night that the couch was now vacant and each morning after breakfast when they pecked each other goodbye.

Now, as he sat in their bedroom, his mind drifted back to the subject that had been irking Alice for weeks, their children.

“...I’ve been back for 6 months, FP, and they are still shacking up! And Betty, she doesn’t even try to hide it! I saw that hickey on her neck and she wasn’t even trying to cover it up!” Alice tightened the belt on her robe. “And you just let it go on…”

“We’ve gone over this, Alice! I was dealing with my own shit and the sheriff’s office wasn’t exactly as quiet as it is now with Gladys, Hiram, and Hermione gone,” he sighed, exasperated.

Another set of giggles followed by, “Jug!” could be heard from down the hall.

Alice’s eyes moved towards the closed bedroom door and a small, light smile graced her lips. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy that Betty has Jughead, has had him to keep her happy and to make her feel like she wasn’t alone. I just don’t want them to wind up like we did, FP. That ruined- everything. Us,” Alice explained, her face scrunched up in an indecipherable expression.

FP stood, groaning at the tight pull in his shoulders as he rose from the cozy armchair, and pulled Alice into a tight squeeze.

“It may be too little too late, but we’ll talk to them tomorrow,” FP agreed.

Alice grinned half a smile, the left corner of her lip turning up before dropping it back down into a small pout. She leaned forward to pop a small kiss on his lips before pulling back to look up at him from under her lashes.

“Thank you,” she said, pushing a lock of hair back behind her ear.

FP shook his head and let out a small huff. “Don’t thank me just yet. This may not go the way you want it to. In fact, with those two, I’m actually afraid of how this one may pan out.”

…..

JB had been the first to emerge from her room on Saturday morning. She sat in the kitchen, headphones on, reading through a comic book and ignoring the tension in the room.

“You’re sure you want to attack this today,” FP asked Alice over his cup of coffee.

“No time like the present,” she replied and headed towards the foot of the stairs. “Betty! Jughead! Could you come down into the kitchen, please?”

Upstairs, Jughead groaned and rolled over to look at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s 8:30 on a Saturday morning. I hate your mother so much right now.”

Betty pushed her face up from his chest, eyes heavy and still lidded with sleep and looked up at him, groggily.

“Yeah, well, take a number. There’s a long list for the I hate Alice Cooper fanclub,” Betty retorted.

Pulling her back down into a warm embrace, Jughead squished himself back into his pillow and Betty squished herself back into him.

“Maybe if we ignore her she’ll go away,” he murmured groggily, eyes already closing again.

“Betty! Jughead!” Boomed FP’s voice from downstairs. “Let’s go!”

“Mmmmm,” Betty moaned, dragging herself off of him reluctantly and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “C’mon. It will just be worse if they come up here and find us half-dressed and spooning.”

“But you’re such a good big spoon and it was my turn to be the little spoon this morning,” he quipped as his T-shirt hit him in the face.

“Get dressed,” Betty laughed from where she now stood at her vanity, putting her hair up into a messy bun and tugging a loose shirt over her tank top. “The faster we get down there the faster they can go off to do whatever it is they do and we can crawl back into bed.”

Jughead shifted himself off the bed, very much doubting that once Betty was up that he would get to go back to bed again. He tugged on his shirt and combed his fingers through his bedhead before heading down the stairs to see what fresh hell Alice Cooper had planned for them today.

When they reached the kitchen, Alice, FP, and JB, who was still consumed by her comic and headphones, were already seated around the table. A platter of pancakes sat in the middle alongside a glass pitcher of orange juice, a pot of coffee, some scrambled eggs, bacon, and croissants.

Jughead took in the scene before him. It was still fairly odd playing Brady Bunch over on the north side of town after so many years in poverty on the south side. The spread of breakfast out before him made his mouth water and his stomach grumble and he was grateful for it, but somewhere, deep down, also a little guilty; a bit guilty that they had all of this, more than they could use, and somewhere in a trailer someone else was feeling the familiar hunger pangs that he used to battle with each night.

At times for him, a box of Eggo Waffles was breakfast and dinner and he had to ration them to last the whole week. When the bills weren’t paid and the power was out he had eaten them cold. Now, he sat down and resolved himself to push the guilt away, just for a while, and enjoy the feeling of comfort and safety and not wonder when the shoe would drop and he’d be back in his former predicament.

As they sat JB finished her pancakes and FP looked over at her. “Hey, Jelly, did you just finish that issue?”

She glanced up at him and popped off her headphones, grinning up from the comic in her hands.

“Yeah. It was pretty badass,” she nodded back, chomping on another slice of bacon.

FP fumbled behind him for a moment and pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his back pocket.

“I hear the new issue gets released today. You rocked that math test so I think you earned it,” he said proudly, holding out the bill to his daughter.

JB’s eyes shone with pleasure and her grin began to widen. “Sweet!” she yelled. “Thanks, Dad!”

Without hesitation, she tossed her arms around his neck for a quick, tight, hug, before grabbing her hoodie from the hook by the door.

“Be back in an hour!” she hollered as she headed out the door.

FP laughed to himself and shook his head while Jughead just smiled.

“You’re lucky if she’s home by lunch,” Jug said, loading a helping of bacon onto his already large load of pancakes and FP just shrugged back.

Betty, whose plate was still empty, looked back and forth and Alice and FP, calculating exactly what was up this morning. She knew all of this seemed a little prearranged and was waiting for whatever blow they were about to be dealt. A pancake and two strips of bacon flopping down on her plate courtesy of her boyfriend snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Thanks, Jug,” she hummed, picking up her fork and offering him a smile.

If he sensed the tension in the kitchen he didn’t say anything, but more than likely he was won over by the full of Denny’s Grand Slam spread set in front of him. She sighed to herself and thought, he’s so easy.

Placing her fork back down on her plate, Alice cleared her throat and nudged FP’s elbow with her own.

Betty rolled her eyes and sighed. “Here we go. I knew something was up. What is it this time, Mom?”

“Betty, Jughead,” Alice said confidently and with her usual Alice Cooper heir about her, “FP and I wanted to- well, we felt like it was time..” Alice sighed to herself, tired of being delicate, and decided to get right to the point. “We need to discuss the adult choices you two are making in regards to the bedroom.”

The clang of china could be heard across the kitchen as Jughead’s fork fell from his lips. FP’s sip of coffee sprayed from his lips and you could hear the locking pop of tension in Betty’s jaw as she set it hard, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at her mother.

“I don’t think my personal life is any of your business, Mom. Whatever choices Jug and I choose to make together are for us to make,” Betty stated calmly, eyes never leaving her mother’s face.

“Well, honey, we disagree. We can’t help but hear some of the adult choices your making and as your mother-“ Alice began, before being abruptly cut off by Betty.

“Oh, so now you’re my mother? Now you want to be here to offer me advice and have a say in my decisions?” Betty scoffed, voice rising as she spoke. She pushed her chair back from the kitchen table and stood.

“Betty, I…” Alice stuttered.

“No, Mom, you don’t get to do anything. You don’t want me making ‘adult’ decisions, yet you left me alone and homeless while you went off to marry a cult leader? Plus,” Betty yelled mockingly, “who are you to talk about adult decisions when you got pregnant as a teenager!”

“Hey, Betty,” FP warned. “Things were different then. It was, we didn’t know better.”

“What happened to FP and I changed our lives, Betty. We want better for you and Jughead,” Alice confessed. “And it’s just- uncomfortable. The way you two are around each other. You didn’t even have the decency to hide that hickey!”

Jughead could see Betty’s temper rising. Her fists were clenched and her jawbone was so tight it could cut diamonds. He stood and stepped over by her, sliding an arm around her shoulders.

“And you don’t think we’re affected by you two at all?” Jug asked, eyeing his father with slight animosity. “We were dating first and now we have to watch you two play tickle tickle at the kitchen counter?”

“Hey, boy!” FP scolded. “You watch your mouth.”

“No, Dad. I mean seriously? It wasn’t bad enough we had to find out we had a shared half brother? Now we all have to live in the same house while my Dad dates my girlfriend’s mother? It’s sick.”

“This isn’t about us!” Alice snapped, temper building.

“The hell it isn’t!” Betty shot back. “You want to feel better about what you and FP are doing and you can’t do that while your kids are dating. You’re trying to put space between Jug and I, Mom, and I won’t allow that.”

“Betty, I’m not saying you can’t be- intimate, there are other ways, I’m just saying to be careful and maybe slow things down. It’s not that hard.” Alice sighed.

“Oh my God,” groaned Jughead, pulling his beanie down over his eyes a bit.

“I think what Alice means is, that you don’t have to, you know, go all the way. I’m sure you’re using protection, but- wait you are using protection, right?” FP asked, a concerned look passing over his face.

“You ask them that now?” Alice yelled. “After months of shacking up like bohemian, wanderlust stricken nomads on a European pilgrimage?”

“That’s enough!” Betty’s voice boomed through the first floor. “As far as I can tell, mother, I’m an adult. You ensured that when you abandoned me last year. If I want to make adult choices with my own body then so be it.”

“Jughead,” Alice sighed. “Reason with her, please. You understand where I’m coming from.”

Jughead recoiled from the hard stare Alice Cooper was giving him. He wished he stayed in bed this morning.

“With all due respect, I am not getting in between you and Betty. But for the record, I agree with her. Our choices are not for you to decide. And if it’s a debate about whether we are ‘adult’ enough or not then I’d argue we act more adult than half of the actual adults in this soap opera of a town.”

“Well, if you two can’t see reason then you leave us no choice!” Alice warned, standing as well and slapping her palms against the kitchen table. “Betty, you can move into JB’s room with her.”

Betty and Jughead’s eyes went wide, and they searched back and forth between Alice and FP. The expression on FP’s face told them that this was the first he was hearing about this as well.

“You can’t be serious, Mom,” Betty chuckled.

“As a heart attack, Betty,” was Alice’s reply. “Since you can’t seem to keep your hands to yourself, maybe a little space will do you good.”

“Well, maybe I get that from you,” Betty spat back. “You can’t keep your hands to yourself either! Do you know what it’s like getting a glass of water at night and hearing you giggle his name like a schoolgirl?” Betty wrinkled her nose up in disgust and Jughead cringed at the thought.

“Betty, I really think-“ FP began before being cut off again.

“You know what, Mom? How about this. I’ll keep my pants on if you keep yours on, too. I’m so sick of seeing you two sneaking kisses and faking tired to go do whatever it is you do.” Betty sneered, rolling her eyes and crinkling up her face in disgust.

“You don’t think I can do it?” Alice challenged.

“Now wait a minute. Let’s think this through,” FP reasoned, a look of panic crossing his features.

“Yeah,” agreed Jug. “I mean, is this really the best solution?”

“Shut your mouth, boy. You should be keeping your pants on,” FP snapped. “Alice-“

“Fine!” Alice fumed, her icy glare locking on Betty. “It’s a deal. From this moment on this is a dry house!”

“Fantastic,” Betty exploded back at her mother, before turning on her heel and stomping her way back upstairs.

Alice huffed and turned as well, heading to the sink to wash the dishes, leaving a dumbfounded FP and Jughead standing at the table.

“What the hell just happened,” FP muttered, looking back and forth between Alice and his son.

“It’s a dry house now, Dad. Way to go.” Jughead clapped his father on the shoulder before heading upstairs to check on Betty.

FP looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes. “What is it with Cooper women,” he sighed before turning to help clear the table.

…..

Jughead jogged up the stairs, taking them two at a time, before stopping short in front of the bedroom door, second-guessing following Betty up there as he listened to clunks, thumps, and a muffled array of colorful, un-Cooper-like language flowing from behind the door.

Hesitantly, he pushed open the door only to briefly catch a glimpse of Betty’s denim-covered backside sticking out of the closet before a navy blue sweater slapped him across the face.

“...most infuriating woman… thinks she knows everything, but she has NO idea… pot calling the kettle…”

Listening to her indecipherable rant, Jughead raised his brows and shook his head, tossing the sweater onto the bed and walking reluctantly over to the closet.

“Betts,” he called cautiously from behind her, dodging another airborne cardigan. “Uh, what are you doing?”

“She thinks she knows everything about us, Jug,” Betty huffed, backing her way out of the closet on her hands and knees, box clutched in her hands then plopping down on the floor. “We haven’t even been… you know, while they are around. That would just be weird.”

Jughead shrugged and crouched down near where she had sat, before settling himself down on the floor as well.

“Why didn’t you just tell her that? I mean, that’s all she probably wanted to hear.”

Betty sighed, shoulders slumping, and for a moment Jughead thought she may have seen reason and decided to take his suggestion. As suddenly as it had happened, her shoulders squared, jaw tensed, and the fire was back, setting her pupils ablaze.

“No. She’s been winning my whole life. She never has any idea about me or my feelings, but always judges and sticks her nose in my business anyway and I’m tired of it, Jug. I’m tired of the judgment, tired of the facade, and tired of my mother acting like she’s my mother after abandoning me for months,” Betty ranted, voice escalating as she spoke.

Opening the box in her hands, Jughead saw Betty take out the contents carefully and mentally prepared himself for the carnage that was headed for 111 Elm Street.

In a last effort to preserve peace in the house, he pled, “Betty, do you think that this might not be a good idea? You once told me I was reacting too emotionally and I was. Maybe if you take a step back…”

Jughead snapped his mouth shut as quick as a mousetrap and Betty’s eyes bore holes into his own. He put his hands up in mock surrender and inwardly sighed to himself.

“You are with me or you are with her Jug. Those would be your two choices at the moment,” Betty leveled with him, standing and moving over to her nightstand. She quickly began shedding her current shirt and slipping on a corseted top which she had pulled from the box deep within her closet. Turning to Jughead, she dipped her head low and raised an expectant eyebrow, still awaiting his response.

“Of course I’m with you, but this is between you and your mother. Whatever happens I’ll take your side, but you should consider just talking to her, Betts,” he cautioned.

Betty turned around and gestured for him to lace up her back. Resigning himself to at least a week of tension knowing the stubbornness of the Cooper women, Jughead began to tighten and fasten the corset top that hung loosely from her frame, held up by Betty’s fingers, and couldn’t help but feel like it was a noose around his own neck.

“Jughead, the only thing you get from talking to Alice Cooper is a tongue lashing or in more trouble. I am tired of both of those things,” Betty muttered in a small, tired tone. “You’re living with her for a few months. For me, this has been my whole life. That shirt is too revealing, Elizabeth. You’re lipstick isn’t blotted enough, Elizabeth. You’re biting your nails again, Elizabeth.”

Tugging the laces once more fully, Jughead tied the strings into a neat bow at the top of the garment before placing both hands on her shoulders and meeting her eyes in the mirror. The anger he had seen earlier was replaced with melancholy and her pupils glistened like dewdrops in the morning sun. Her bottom lip was plump, red from the way she had been biting down on it, the pain curbing her anger.

“You know, you’re gorgeous even when you are angry and terrifying,” he whispered against her neck, fingers walking their way over her shoulders and onto her collar bone. “And you’re right. I don’t know what it’s like to have someone directing my life and worrying about my choices. Well, maybe in the past year that has changed. I just don’t want to see you falling back on old habits to cope, Betty.”

Placing a kiss on the side of her neck, he stepped back to allow her to finish getting ready. He hesitantly watched as she pulled on a shirt, red skirt and some knee boots he knew he had never seen her wear before. His palms were itching to touch the skin between her skirt and the boots and he suddenly wondered if he was getting punished more than Alice.

“Alright, Hester Prynne, what’s your plan?” Jughead asked, gripping the comforter with white knuckles to remind himself to behave.

Putting on some red lipstick and popping her lips in the mirror, she recapped the tube and turned to face him, arms braced behind her against the vanity’s top.

“First, I’m going to strut through the house in this get up to get Alice all flustered and aggravated. Then, you and I are going to go find somewhere a little more private to blow off some steam,” Betty smirked.

Jughead swallowed hard. “Blow off steam as in… like a jog or a nice stretch? Or blow off steam as in…” he raised his eyebrows, hoping he wasn’t misreading the suggestive glance she was throwing his way.

Betty’s grin grew more direct and predatory as she stalked over to him from her vanity perch, stopping just short of where his knees touched the bed.

“What can I say, Juggie? When Alice Cooper tells me no, it makes me want you even more,” she confessed, leaning in to leave a red lipstick imprint on the corner of his mouth.

Just as soon as she had made contact, Betty pulled back and flounced towards the door, holding her hand out for Jughead to join her.

“Maybe I don’t hate your mother that much after all,” he mumbled, following her back downstairs.
…..

Alice and FP were still in the kitchen, drying and putting away the dishes from breakfast when Betty sauntered into the room. She hopped up onto the kitchen counter and demurely crossed her legs.

“Juggie and I are going to head over to Pop’s. He’s still a little hungry seeing as you felt the need to ruin breakfast and all,” Betty broadcast, breaking the silence in the room.

Alice and FP turned from their work to find Betty on her perch, looking like a streetwalker out of one of the film’s FP certainly didn’t watch, well, not anymore thanks to Alice. The silence in the room was broken by a dish shattering as it slipped from Alice’s fingers as she reacted to Betty’s appearance.

“Young lady, you are not leaving the house dressed like… like…” Alice stuttered, her eyes bulging from their sockets and smoke billowing from her ears.

“Like a harlot, mother? Because that’s basically what you accused me of being earlier.” Betty stared her down, hard. She had always had a more deviant, rebellious side, but rarely let it show. It was one Alice Cooper had never seen for sure.

“Get upstairs right this instant and take the ridiculous costume off, Elizabeth!”

Betty hopped off the counter and turned to leave the kitchen.

“I’m serious, Elizabeth! FP, back me up here! She can’t go out looking like that!” Alice screeched.

“Your mother’s right, Betty. You look like-” FP interjected, only to be cut off my a hard stare from his son.

“What does she look like, Dad? Be careful with your word choice here,” Jughead interrupted in a low voice.

“We’ll be back later, Alice,” Betty spat. “I figured that since you basically accused me of working a cat house this morning, the whole town might as well know I’m in heat.”

With her final blow, Betty pulled Jughead through the kitchen and down the small corridor leading to the front door. Calls of, “Elizabeth!” and “Boy!” echoed behind them, but Betty didn’t honor them with a glance back.

Once out of the range of Alice Cooper’s wrath, Jughead tugged on Betty’s arm to halt her stride.

“So, what now?” he asked, interlacing their fingers together.

“First, we get you some food. I wasn’t kidding about that part. Then, we take care of my ‘heat’,” she purred. “I wasn’t kidding about that part either. Then tomorrow begins operation break Cooper/Jones.

…..

Betty had always been good at planning; thorough and meticulous with her details. It came as no shock to Jughead that she would be just as thorough with operation break Cooper/Jones. He had somehow been roped into helping Betty to put her first plan of action into play. Luckily for him, he could think much clearer today now that her Scarlet Letter attire was safely back in the box in her closet.

Betty and Jughead knew the key to breaking Alice was breaking FP. Alice’s sheer determination to come out on top would make her formidable foe. The plan was simple: set up a few decoy scenarios to aggravate Alice and a few mood moments to crack FP.

“You think kids in other towns across the country are just like, playing Monopoly on a Sunday night? Like totally normal family stuff? Or is everywhere as messed up as Riverdale?” Jughead pondered out loud while fiddling with multiple TV remotes.

“Whatever do you mean, Juggie?” Betty joked. “You mean most teens with serial killer fathers, drug lab running mothers, whose parents had a secret son and now are dating and living together in the same house with their kids who also happen to be dating don’t spend their Sundays trying to frustrate their mother and father into breaking a sex ban?”

“For the love of God, Betty. Never say mother, father, and sex in the same sentence ever again unless you want me to go live as a hermit in Fox Forest,” he grimaced without looking over at her.

Jughead was just finishing up rigging the apps and the Applezon Alera voice commands for the television and Betty was fiddling with the lighting from their Digital Electric Home app.

“They make it way too easy, Betts,” Jughead chuckled. “They have no idea how to use any of the stuff they had installed. This will be hilarious.”

Betty grinned back at him. “You go grab that popcorn we stashed and I’ll get the ball rolling once they get back from dinner.”

With a quick peck on the lips, Jughead headed out the front door and over to Archie’s and Betty settled into the couch with a mug of hot tea and a book. It was actually quite a nice, therapeutic feeling to have some time alone in her old home. She hadn’t had much time to herself in months to just kick back in her pajamas and get lost in a novel. As the headlights of FP’s truck shone through the window, Betty smiled to herself and took a deep breath.

“Showtime,” she mumbled.

The front door banged open and she heard JB first. “...It was a great meal, but I could still eat and Josh and Mags are down at Pop’s now.”

“You ate an entire steak, potatoes, an appetizer and a sundae, Jelly,” came FP’s astonished voice.

“And now, I need a milkshake,” she agreed.

Shaking his head and smiling, he nodded to her.

“Be home by eleven, JB. No later.”

Hugging him tightly, JB skipped out of the house to wait for her ride.

As Betty slouched down on the couch, she heard FP whisper, “Alice, are we actually alo-“ stopping as he saw Betty on the couch wrapped up in her blanket.

“Hey FP,” she said lazily, “Mom,” in a bit of a darker tone. “Did you guys have a nice dinner?”

“It was very nice dear,” Alice replied. “And what nonsense have you been up to this evening?”

“Alice,” FP snapped, “Give the kid a break.”

Alice’s glare went through to his bones and Betty just shook her head.

“It’s fine, FP. I’ll have you know, Mother, that I spent all night right here drinking tea and studying for an exam. Hard to imagine such I’m such an uncontrollable, wanton, teenager.”

Grabbing her books, Betty tossed back her blanket and rose from the couch. She took her tea mug and shot her mother a dirty look. Stomping her way to the stairs, she turned back one more time to add, “Oh, and if you’re worried about my uncontrollable lust, Jug is at Archie’s for the night playing video games, so all clear.”

As Betty headed upstairs, Alice flipped on the couch and sighed. FP dropped down next to her and put an arm around her, fingers working out her tension.

“Alice, she’s a good kid,” he said. “She needs you. You have to find a way to fix this.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” she snapped back.

After a few moments of silence, Alice took in a deep breath.

“Wine,” she muttered. “I need more wine for this.”

Laughing, FP rose from the couch. “I’ll get the wine, you find us a movie to watch.”

From the top of the stairs, Betty texted Jug.

BC: Go time.

JJ: I’m in place.

When Betty heard the wine glasses hit the coffee table, she texted him their go signal, and the fun began

“Did you pick a movie yet, Ally?” FP asked.

Betty’s scrunched her nose up and blanched at the pet name.

“I can’t get this damned Avera, Alana, whatever the name of this TV is, to even work!”

As Alice struggled with the remote, which Jughead had disabled earlier, the lights in the room began to dim to a more romantic setting, thanks to his remote control of their home electric system.

“Did I just do that?” Alice asked confused.

“Uh, no idea. Do you know how the new smart home electric stuff works?” FP asked her.

“This is why we just need old school, hardwired goods. These digital things never work,” Alice cursed, rolling her eyes as the lights dimmed even more.

“Let me try,” he said. “Alera, put the lights on.”

The lights stayed dimmed but soft music began playing low throughout the room. Alice threw her hands up in frustration and chucked the remote on the couch.

Betty took her place closer to the sensor now and queued up the series of films they had preset on the TV. The screen flashed onto the film Atonement, perfectly starting in the scene where Robbie has Cecelia pinned to a bookcase.

Damn this scene is hot, Betty thought to herself.

FP and Alice looked on as the two main characters swallowed each other’s sighs, her dress straps slowly drawn down, his lips trailing across her neck before her nimble fingers deftly undid his buckle.

“Can’t you change it?” Alice coughed out, eyes still glued to the scene.

“I’m trying,” FP complained. “There’s like nine remotes and I don’t think any are right. And the damned TV won’t answer to its own name.”

Betty suppressed a giggle behind her hand before switching the scene in front of them.

A soaked Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams appeared on screen in The Notebook, the film poised to begin as the couple reunited and fumbled their way up the stairs, lips locked in a needy connection before falling to the bed in a wave of ecstasy.

Unable to control the lighting or the TV, FP and Alice sat back confused and a bit hot and bothered.

Betty, still silent, flicked to the next video.

Blue Valentine popped onto the screen and Ryan Gosling’s face was once again present, however blocked as his lips were buried elsewhere on Michelle William’s character.

“Oh dear God,” Alice huffed, as FP looked on in intrigue.

Satisfied with the implications, Betty flicked off the TV and tiptoed back to her room, sitting at her vanity to ‘study’. A few moments later she heard frenzied footsteps heading up the stairs. As FP and Alice passed her doorway they stopped and looked straight at her in surprise.

“Betty,” Alice said, clearing her throat. “I thought you’d be asleep by now honey.”

“I have so much studying to do, Mom. Can’t fall back on my studies, isn’t that right?”

Alice, flustered, fumbled for her words.

“Yes, that’s, well you, you do need sleep too, Betty. We can’t have you run down and sick, now can we?”

“I’ll be fine, Mom,” Betty grinned wickedly. “I’ve been through a lot worse lately. Oops, but you missed it all. You guys heading to bed already?”

Alice and FP looked back and forth between themselves.

“Uh, Yeah,” FP said. “I have an early shift tomorrow.”

“Well, goodnight,” Betty smiled. “I’ll probably be up studying for another few hours.

Turning back towards her notebook, Betty smiled to herself biting her lip. Payback was a bitch and so was she tonight.

…..

In the past week, Betty had been subtle but ruthless. She had left Victoria's Secret catalogues around the house, purposely stayed up late every night, and strode into the room interrupting any private moment her mother had.

Seven long days later, FP and Jughead were silent, playing a game of pool in the old Cooper dining room. Alice had tried to get FP to reinstate the dining table, but on that, he wouldn’t budge.

Jug sunk two stripes in a row before missing, then it was FP’s turn. He lined up his shot and then scratched for the 3rd time that evening, which was unusual because FP never scratched.

“Geez Dad, you can't seem to get a single shot in tonight,” Jughead joked. “Something else on your mind?”

Jughead grinned at his father and got a knowing glare in return.

“Watch it, boy,” he warned.

“I just mean, you’re usually so much better at… poking around, Dad. It’s odd to see you scratching so much.”

FP tossed the cue down on the table, tossing another angry glare his way.

“How can you joke around like that, huh boy?” he yelled. “Don’t you see how much they are both hurting? This isn’t about us or sex. It’s about Betty being hurt by Alice and Alice feeling guilty over leaving Betty and trying to over-parent her now.”

Jughead couldn’t meet his father’s eyes. He leaned on his pool cue, clicking his tongue in his cheek before nervously scratching at his nose. He’d been on top of Betty since last spring when Alice disappeared and Penelope had shot Hal in front of them. He had convinced himself that he was all she needed, and in truth, he had taken good care of her; he held her through the nightmares, kissed away the tears, and talked her down from panic attacks. But Alice was her mother and, though she may be crazy, sometimes a girl just needs her mom. Sighing, he looked up at his father.

“So, what do we do?”

…..

FP had arranged a game night. Monopoly, Parchese, and Clue all littered the card table he had set up in the basement.

Neither Betty or Alice had wanted to participate, but FP seemed so excited and Jughead had confessed to Betty that he had never had a family game night before and was looking forward to it, despite how messed up their family was.

Climbing down the creaky steps, Betty was the last to join them in the basement.

“So,” Jughead said, rubbing his hands together. “Clue first?”

Betty grinned at his boyish excitement and sat in one of the chairs, lifting the cover off the Clue game.

“You would pick the mystery game, Jug.”

“Jug,” FP interjected. “Help me with the snacks?”

FP headed up the steps and Jughead stood to follow him. He paused, dropping a kiss on the top of Betty’s head chastely, causing her to look up at him questioningly.

When he reached the kitchen, he turned to FP and nodded as his father nodded back, taking a deep breath, they closed the basement door and locked the deadbolt to keep it shut.

At the sound of the lock, Betty and Alice both turned towards the stairs.

“FP?”

“Jug?”

Alice headed up the stairs and tried the doorknob, twisting it first left and then right, finding that it wouldn’t budge.

“Is this some kind of a joke?” she huffed.

“No,” said FP through the door. “No joke. You two work your shit out. And until you do, you are staying down there.”

“Forsythe Pendleton Jones Junior, how dare you. Open this door immediately!” Alice yelled out, fist pounding on the wood.

“Sorry, Ally. It’s not gonna happen. There’s water, wine, and pretzels in the corner. Now get talking. The faster you fix this, the faster you get out.”

Groaning, Alice marched back down the stairs to find Betty, arms folded across her chest with a fierce expression on her face.

“I can’t believe them!” Alice groaned.

“Don’t like the feeling of betrayal, Mom?” Betty said sarcastically. “Yeah, me either. Tastes a bit sour.”

Sighing, Alice dropped her arms and sat down in a chair, placing her hand on her forehead and laughing. Her laugh began slowly, but then grew into a louder, more persistent sound. It took Betty a few moments to realize that she wasn’t laughing but crying.

“Mom?” she asked, hesitantly crossing the room to her aide.

“You don’t think I feel terrible for what I did to you, Betty? You don’t think it haunts me every second of every day- your face in that bunker?”

Alice’s sobs came harder, her chest heaving throat hitching with their force. Betty was surprised to find her own cheeks wet as well.

“You’ll understand one day, Elizabeth. When you and Jughead have children of your own.”

Betty was surprised by her mother’s words. Acknowledging their relationship as solid and long term was something Alice had never done before. She had always acted as if Jughead was just a rebellious teen phase of her life.

“When I took you to that bunker, Mom, how could you sit there and look me in the eyes?” Betty cried out. “I was so alone and you…”

Betty turned away tears coating her cheeks. Wiping them away angrily she tried to gain her composure.

Rising from her chair, Alice headed over to the wine bottle in the corner, chilled and waiting like FP had promised.

“There’s no excuse, Betty. Just an explanation I should have offered long ago.”

Betty plopped down on the old folding chair again and soon felt Alice plop next to her. She didn’t glance over, but soon felt something cool touch her arm. Alice held out a glass of Pinot Grigio to her and raised her eyebrows in a ‘you in?’ manner.

Betty looked up at her questioningly and Alice put on a small, wry smile.

“Betty, I ditched you to live alone and homeless while you dealt with your serial killer father, investigating The Farm, school, and your own anxieties. I think you’re grown up enough for one glass of wine.”

Taking the glass from her mother, Betty took a small sip. They sat there in relative silence for a while, listening to the billiard balls blank on the table upstairs.

“I made a lot of mistakes in my lifetime, Betty. More than I care to admit. I never wanted that for you, so I pushed you, hard, maybe too hard.”

Alice paused to sip again, her eyes adrift, staring at a cobweb in the corner.

“I know I abandoned you, but I knew you’d be okay. You were always the strong one, Betty. You knew who you were and you knew what you wanted. These past few years you grew into a fierce young adult. I was nowhere near as confident and sure as you are when I was your age.”

Betty wanted to comment, to tell, to scream, but instead she sipped her drink, the slight burning it left in her throat combined with the acidity rising from her stomach felt good, felt alive.

“Polly was never that strong, Betty, both in her emotions and in her will. I agreed to help the FBI because I couldn’t let Edgar get his hands on Juniper and Dagwood. It made me sick, Betty, just the thought of it.”

Alice’s tone was deep and fierce and her sobs began to wrack her body again.

“I think being a grandmother changes your perspective. I felt… fiercely protective. Maybe because you and Polly were in me which means, in a way, so were they at some point. I felt like they were a part of me and they couldn’t protect themselves yet.”

She looked up at Betty, staring directly into her eyes.

“I’m not proud of… the thing- the things I did, had to do, to get close to Edgar. But Junie and Dag are safe, so I can’t say I regret them.”

Betty placed an arm across her mother’s back, rubbing in soothing circles and looking at her in a new light. She couldn’t imagine what oddities being Edgar’s wife entailed, and quite frankly, didn’t want to.

“But Betty, don’t think for a moment that I don’t regret that you were the casualty in all of this. I-“

Alice broke down, no longer able to formulate words, and Betty enveloped her mother in an embrace, tight and comforting.

“It’s alright, Mom,” Betty reassured her softly.

“It is not alright!” Alice yelled. “What you went through was not okay, Betty. I’m sorry and I know you can’t forgive me, but maybe you can start over with me and let me try to rebuild things. I know you’re a good girl, Betty. Not even a girl anymore, a woman. And I’m so proud of you and who you’ve become.”

The embrace lingered and Betty let the floodgates open. Months of pent up anger and resentment left her body in the form of large droplets of tears as they hugged even tighter, barely leaving space for air.

Moments passed before Alice pulled back, offering a small smile and lifting her hand to wipe off Betty’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry about what I said to you and Jughead. I know you’re being safe, but it’s just hard to see you all grown up.”

Betty laughed and shook her head at her mother.

“What?” Alice smiled.

“Nothing. It’s just, that night you were referring to. With us giggling and doing whatever it is you thought we were doing? We were playing Mario Kart and Jughead kept tossing banana peels at my car.”

Alice huffed her head back and laughed, once again bringing her hand up to Betty’s cheek.

“Thank you, Betty. Thank you for giving me another chance.”

“We’re family, Mom. It’s just what you do.”

Feeling exhausted from the heaviness of the moment, Betty changed the subject.

“So, what are we going to do to the guys for this arranging this little intervention. We can’t let them think they are in charge.” Betty smirked.

“That’s my girl,” Alice chuckled. “Let no man rule the roost.”

…..

Upstairs the boys heard the basement grow silent. They stopped shooting pool and turned to look at each other.

“Do you think they reconciled or do you think they killed each other?” Jughead asked his father.

As if to answer, there was a soft knock at the basement door. FP and Jughead looked at each other and slowly opened the door, peeking down at their respective girlfriends. Their eyes were puffy and mascara smeared, but they held hands at the top of the steps.

Smiling, FP opened the door and stepped back to let them back into the kitchen, arms opening wide to hug them both. His grin was quickly replaced with a yelp and a scowl as Alice pinched him in the shoulder and Betty slapped Jughead in the chest, the girl’s smiles turning into frowns.

“Ow!” Jughead yelled, rubbing at his chest. “What was that for?”

“For locking us in the basement!” Betty chastised him.

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” FP tossed back at her, cockily.

“Well, I hope you two enjoyed your alone time because you’ll be having a lot more of it. Betty and I will be up in the bedroom. We plan on having a girls movie marathon all night, so hope you two enjoy spooning.” Alice sneered, linking arms with Betty and heading up the steps.

Watching them ascend the stairs, Jughead clapped his father on the back.

“Way to go, Dad. It’s still a dry house.”

Readjusting his beanie, Jughead grabbed his sweatshirt and headed out and over to Archie’s to drown his woes in video games. FP was left standing alone at the base of the steps.

He shook his head and looked to the sky for answers.

“What is it with Cooper women?” he said to himself.

“We heard that,” came two perturbed female voices from upstairs.