#bhdc

“Now remember, dear, no one but the doctors are allowed to see these.  I could get in real trouble if anyone found out, the nurse - Rosemary, according to her nameplate - faux whispered as she leaned closer to Jughead to hand him the thick file.  They were so close a puff of air would have brought them together in a kiss.

Jughead winked at her - winked? What was he, eighty? - and tapped the side of his nose.  “Our little secret, Rosie.”

He handed the file off to Betty and shifted to lean against the counter, effectively blocking her out of his little tete-a-tete.

Well, Betty huffed.  If he wanted to be like that.

She sulked past the hard plastic chairs of the records room and wandered further down the hallway into the bowels of the hospital.  When she found a quiet spot, Betty opened up the folder.  Glancing up every now and then to make sure she was still alone, she riffled through the papers of all the underground who’d been admitted to the hospital in the last three months.  Even though it was after two in the morning, something in her gut warned her of imminent doom.  Paranoid though she may be, shades and shadows had been growing at the corners of her sight, a portent that never turned out well for anyone.  

The papers were heavy with jargon, seemingly routine, but there was nothing about missing time, missing organs, or missing people.  It wasn’t unusual for the underground to turn to human medicine.  After all, most of all the major medical discoveries were made by witches or the odd beneficent fae.  Betty glanced around once more and pulled out a thin disc in the shape of a four leaf clover and muttered the words she’d cobbled together long ago - Gaelic, Germanic, and Hindi - and cracked the charm over her head.  It dissolved into dust and she let it fall across her head and shoulders.

One more turn and there at the far end of the hallway was a nurses station.  Empty save for one sour looking man at the desk who most definitely did not want to be there.

“Excuse me,” Betty said with a smile.  She forced every bit of her exasperation with Jughead into it and tried her most innocent face.  “But the copier in Records isn’t working and Rosemary sent me -“

The nurse rolled his eyes and let out a deep sigh.  “Just one copy?”

Betty nodded.  “Yes, please.  I’m sorry to trouble you, it’s just -“

He held up a hand, more interested in his phone than in her explanation.  She gave him the file and watched as he disappeared into another door.  Betty waited, worrying at her already ragged thumbnail.

Jughead had never acted like that with her.  And they’d been intimate!  Well, as intimate as one could be under the influence of a lust heightening potion (Cheryl had a strange sense of humor, according to Jughead).  Even though the potions only enhanced the feelings on already had, Jughead hadn’t brought that night up since it had happened, almost as if he were trying to forget the whole thing.  

Perhaps he was trying to forget it.  Despite the lore, male vampires normally lacked the necessary blood flow for certain acts.  Feeding and abnormally warm temperatures could increase blood flow, as could certain spells, but -

The sound of shoes squeaking their way down the hallway sent a surge of panic through Betty.  Swallowing it down, she smiled at the doctor and noted how his eyes lingered on her face.  

Then again, perhaps she just wasn’t Jughead’s type.  Blonde, smart, and sport wasn’t really what those of the darker parts of the underground usually went for.  (Sporty.  Such a strange way to describe someone.  Blonde and smart were descriptors, but sporty?)  

And it wasn’t as if Betty was short on suitors.  So why in Gaia’s green earth was she stuck on a stupid vampire who didn’t have a sense of humor and wasn’t all that nice to begin with?  He was attractive, but every vampire was.  It was just a part of their nature.  And he certainly didn’t -

Betty almost jumped out of her skin as a stack of still warm papers slammed on the counter in front of her.  The man smirked.

“Your files, ma’m.”

“Thanks,” she said, despite wanting to slip a pepper in the man’s coffee.  “Have a good night.”

Walking back through the maze of hallways, Betty slipped into a bathroom.  Making sure she was alone, Betty shoved the copy into her purse.  With some effort, she slipped the strap over her shoulder.  As she walked out she was reminded of her spell crafting classes that required her to carry giant tomes to every class.  Somehow she managed to make it back to Jughead and Rosemary without toppling over.

“Sorry it took so long!” Betty chirped.  She set the folder onto the desk in front of Rosemary and let out a laugh.  “I got lost on the way to the bathroom.”

Rosemary smiled patronizingly and took the folder from her.  “It happens to the best of us, dear.  I do hope you found out what you needed for your mother’s case.  Your good friend Cody has been telling me about it.  How tragic that they left a sponge and a watch inside of her,” she said as she patted Jughead’s arm.  

He grinned and Betty wondered what part of the joke she was missing.

“Yes I did.  You’ve been ever so helpful.”  

“Don’t mention it.  You two stay out of trouble, and remember…”. Rosemary tapped the side of her nose and winked.

Disgustingly, Jughead mimicked her actions.  It was enough to make Betty gag.  Rosemary, however, giggled at the attention.  

Ready to be done with this, with him, Betty headed towards the elevator.  She punched at the button and tapped her foot.  Betty knew she was being needlessly irritated with this whole thing - still no polly still no answers stupid vampires and stupider succubi -

With his annoyingly long legs it didn’t take but a few seconds for Jughead to catch up with her.  Betty shifted her weight away from him, wincing at the strain on her back.  Without a word, he reached out and took the purse from her.  

“You’ll throw your back out like that.”

“Oh.”  A beat, then she remembered her manners.  “Thanks.”

He nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets.  The arrival bell dinged and they stepped onto the elevator.  As they neared the bottom, he said, “Wontons?”

A hint of a smile tickled Betty’s lips and she tried to remind herself of all the reasons why she shouldn’t be charmed by him.  Just because he’d remembered that her favorite restaurant was near here even if he himself couldn’t eat human food -

Betty observed him closely, noticing his now clenched jaw, rapid breathing, and distant look in his eyes. He was tense. Nervous, even.

“Hypothetically? I wouldn’t say anything,” she answered, lowering the tone of her voice. 

He didn’t turn to look at her, but his gaze drifted back in her direction. 

“If you were jealous, I’d change your mind. I’d make sure you weren’t...” she continued. Now he was looking at her, eyes dropping to her mouth.

“And how would you do that?”

She didn’t respond. Instead, she slowly leaned in and gently pressed her lips to his. He froze for a moment before gradually unclenching and kissing her deeper, his tongue darting out to tease hers as his hand drifted up to rest on the back of her neck.

They both sighed into the kiss, neither one wanting to ruin it by picking up the pace. It was different, this one. Not heated and urgent, like their other kisses—but more languid and slow. Sultry. 

She moved her lips passionately over his a few more times before she broke away, as slow as humanly possible. They felt every single second it took for their lips to separate. 

“Well,” Jughead said, after another heavy silence. “Hypothetically... you would have a convincing argument, Cooper.” His gaze flickered back and forth between her eyes and her lips. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m not jealous, then.”

“Dirty pool there, Ms. Cooper,” he said in a posh British accent, one perfected in front of late night nature documentaries.  He was, after all, supposed to be Mr. Nick St. Clair, someone Veronica had unfortunately known in her younger days and thus had no qualms about having Jughead pretend to be him.  “I’d have expected at least a modicum of professional courtesy after the last time we saw each other.”

The detective’s eyes glanced at him a moment, but her gaze was drawn back to the crowd.  Her eyes searched among the faces, discarding each in turn when they didn’t hold what she was looking for.

“And I’d have expected you would have learned your lesson, Forsythe Jones.  Or is it still P.J. Gibbons?”

“Mr. St. Clair will do nicely,” he murmured.  He followed her eye line to the Blossom heiress. The Maple Diamond shone brilliantly around her neck, catching every movement of light and reflecting it ten fold.  For any common thief that would have been the highlight of the night, a grand coup and fuck you to the well-paid, well-practiced security that watched their every move.

“Well, Mr. St. Clair, may I ask what brings you here tonight?” Detective Cooper asked.  She raised her glass and murmured, “Not the diamond, I hope.”

Jughead’s eyes flicked up towards the balcony where the real prize lay.  It was an instinctive and amateur move. Thankfully, the detective was far more focused on something other than him to notice his folly.

“Excuse me,” she said, handing him her glass.  

Detective Cooper slipped into the crowd and Jughead took that as his cue to make his way upstairs before the commotion began.  A cacophony from the dancefloor drew the attention of the security guards and as one they failed to notice him making his way upstairs.  Without prying eyes, it was easy to find the room solely reserved for Hiram Lodge.  Behind a potted plant lay the briefcase Veronica had promised, placed there by an easily bribed valet.  As Jughead slipped the pick into the lock, he thanked the idiot downstairs who’d gone after the easy pickings.

Hiram Lodge and his buyer, an older woman dressed all in black down to her eyepatch, were entranced by the brawl down below.  Keeping to the shadows, it was easy enough to pick up the briefcase and replace it with the false one.  The job was easier than they’d been promised, and not for the first time Jughead wondered if it was a set up.  

But no one stopped him as he padded down the stairs and beneath Hiram Lodge’s balcony.  All attention was locked onto the heiress spitting fire at every hired goon for their idiotic failures to keep a common thief away from the priceless jewels.  Even from this distance, Jughead could see how Detective Cooper’s eyes flashed emerald green, jewels far more precious than any that hung around another’s neck.

At least, until they landed upon him.  They flared with anger - not against him, but against the amateur thief that lay handcuffed at her feet - and then pride.  It should have been a warning, but Jughead couldn’t help but feel a thrill that her mind had immediately gone to his own skill set.  He nodded his congratulations and slipped out of the party before Detective Cooper could set her insatiable curiosity on his own pursuits.